Morgantha pushed her old cart of pastries through the dark, empty streets of the Village of Barovia. Her regulars would come to her, but it was always nice to make a few new customers. Her wares were growing thin and she had a bit of collecting to do that evening. As much as she despised her daughters, they were much more manageable when fed and rumor had it that the Burgomaster was dead. With no one to protect them, it was almost too easy. The parents of Barovia were entirely addicted to her wares and would willingly give over their children as payment for a few more pastries to get them through the dark, cold miserable nights.

Then she saw them, a group of travelers looking like lost children stumbling through the muddy streets. They came up to her cart and were clearly not from the area. She hadn’t seen any non-humans in decades and these folk did not have the ever frightened look of the typical Barovian. Two Dragonborn, one adorned with a shiny shield and armor, her pink scales immaculate. The other Dragonborn looked a bit more road worn, her green scales flaking off in a few places and her armor dented from use. With them was a Tiefling with rather short horns and strange molted skin of green and gray; he worn priest vestments and a holy symbol in the shape of the sun. Morgantha almost laughed at that, this one would soon find out far away he was from his god now. There was only one human among them, but he looked like he was ready for battle; weapons upon his back and at side. They also, strangely, were traveling with a large black bear with a crescent white moon upon its chest.

They seemed excited about her pies, so Morgantha gave them a discount. Afterall, if they had one, they were more likely to buy more down the road and having these well equipped folks under her sway could be very useful. Especially if the rumors were true. Usually people do not eat her pies right then and there, but these people must have been very hungry and ate their pies right away. The only one that did not partake, besides the bear, was the pink Dragonborn. Two of their number, the green Dragonborn and Tiefling, fell under the spell of the pies right away and of course, their friend with all the weapons questioned Morgantha.

“Oh dear,” she said, “I just put a nice spell in my pies that give people the most wonderful dreams.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?” the human asked.

Morgantha shrugged, “Dear me...did I forget to say that? No harm though, they will snap out of it in no time.”

Morgantha slipped away as the human, Mithias, shook his friends awake.

“Are you okay?” Mithias asked Corvid and Firestorm.

Ismark spent the day searching for anyone willing to help him and his sister, but the people of Barovia were either too frightened to travel beyond the safety of the village or had too many of their own problems to deal with. His father would have known what to do, what to say, but he was at a loss. Still, he needed to get Ireena as far away from The Devil as possible, but stubborn as always, Ireena refused to leave until their father was buried. No one would even help with that simple task and the two of them alone could to bare his casket to the church cemetery.

So, he found himself at the Blood on the Vine Tavern drinking a glass of wine and hoping to convince someone, anyone to help them. As luck would have it, just the right group stumbled into the tavern. They were clearly fresh from the mists and far more likely to help given their naivety of Barovia and its ruler. The only problem was they looked like monsters and the only human among them was well armed, which meant they could potentially be allies of The Devil and just the opposite of what he needed.

Ismark sat back, eyeing they carefully. The pink-skinned lizard lady was talking with the Vistani women that owned the tavern. Their conversation was innocent enough. The one that had horns like a devil ordered a drink from the bartender and tried and failed to start a pleasant conversation with him. Ismark shook his head slightly, he would get nothing more than a word or two out of the bartender, that’s all anyone ever got out of him.

The human, who Ismark soon learned was called Mathias, joined him at his table. The conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant and it was clear the Mathias was very cautious to the point of paranoia. That, Ismark thought, was a very good trait to have in Barovia, perhaps these people could help him afterall. However, just as he began to discuss his sister’s dilemma, the sound of a large growling beast and the twang of an arrow leaving a bow sounded from outside. The three travelers rushed outside at once and Ismark followed, drawing his own weapon. Fights in the streets of Barovia weren’t common as the majority of the residence stayed inside at night.

As Ismark followed the group around the corner, he saw the cause of the disturbance. Upon the ground of the alleyway laid the corpses of two zombies and standing over them was a large black bear, the shape of white crescent moon glowing upon its chest. Farther back in the alleyway was another lizard person, this one with green scales, a bow in her hand and a wind grin, toothy grin upon her face. Ismark stared down at the corpses, they had made quick work of these zombies. Yes, they would be the perfect group to escort his sister to safety.

Ismark wasn’t sure how Ireena would feel about bringing strangers into their private grief, but they needed help and this strange group of friendly monsters were the only ones to offer. Ismark stroud by the broken gate of his home, saying nothing about it nor the claw and scratch marks all along the outside edges of the mansion. It’s not like it looked any worse than any of the other houses in Barovia and he hoped it would illustrate a point to the outsiders - staying there was folly.

With some trepidation, Ismark introduced Ireena to the outsiders. Somehow she looked paler than she had when he left the mansion only hours ago. They were a bit rude with their questions, but Ismark remained silent and told himself he may have asked the same things if their positions were reversed.

He watched from the doorway as the strangers looked over his father’s body. He let out a heavy sigh, there would be time for grief later, once Ireena was safe. The strangers agreed to help them bury their father at dawn, easy Ireena’s fears of not giving him his last rites. Ismark still believed their father would have wanted them to leave him, his body was just that now, nothing more, but Ireena could be incredibly stubborn and he knew there would be no arguing with her.

Ismark showed the strangers to a few rooms they could have for the night, then made sure Ireena was safely behind locked doors before he went back downstairs. He would not sleep tonight and risk Strahd visiting Ireena again. He sat in the most uncomfortable chair they owned, the one with half the upholstery missing and the wood dug into his back, and read a book he had read far too many times. It was one of his favorites, but he could not concentrate on it and must have read the same paragraph five times before he gave up, laying it upon his knee and bounced his foot rapidly as he stared at the front door.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ismark sat up in his chair, cursing as he realized he must have dozed off. He lit the lantern at his feet and went to answer the door. At this hour, it was likely anything but good news. A couple of the house guest must have heard the knocking as well as they were stumbling, rather loudly down the stairway. Ismark turned towards the stairway and saw the rather boisterous pink lizard and the man with the dark shadows under his eyes and swords strapped upon his back. He held up a hand, urging them to stay back. Ismark had no idea who would be visiting, but he didn’t think it was these strangers business.

Ismark paused, ensuring they stood back, though they still stood within ease-dropping range. Ismark suppressed a sigh and opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Strahd and that’s exactly who was standing on his front steps as if he visited on a nightly basis. He had visited, that much was clear given Ireena’s current state, but he had never bothered to knock before. Ismark’s fist clenched tightly by his side, wanting nothing but to destroy the creature that stood in front of him, but he knew he was no match for Strahd.

Ismark glanced back at his guests, then stepped outside and with much trepidation closed the door behind him. They may have been well-armed, but he did not want to risk them meeting with Strahd. There was always the possibility he would either simply kill them or worse, convert them to his side. The creature, as much as he loathed to admit it, could be charming when he wanted to be.

“Lord Strahd,” Ismark said through clenched teeth, refusing to bow his head.

“Not going to invite me in?” Strahd asked, a touch of amusement in his voice.

“It’s a bit late for house guests,” Ismark responded dryly.

Strahd ignored his rudeness and said, “I’m here to offer my condolences on the death of your father to you and your sister.”

Ismark did not respond to that. Strahd stood there as if the Lord of Barovia frequently descended from his castle to offer condolences on the many deaths that occur in his land. Ismark new his true motive was to get to his sister, well, that would not be happening tonight. It took all of his effort not to attack him for his feigned sympathy. Could the Devil understand grief? He sure looked the part well, but Ismark was not fooled.

“I also wanted to remind you that the duties of Burgomaster of Barovia now fall upon you,” Strahd continued, “You father did a decent job of it, but things could always be improved...the town seems to have fallen into disarray since I last visited.”

It had been decades since Strahd was last seen in Barovia, Ismark thought and he almost pointed this out. But then as he listened to what Strahd had to say, it seemed more and more reasonable. It was Ismark’s duty to take care of his people and if he was to leave on some futile mission with his sister, he would be leaving them to their own fate. No, Strahd was right, he would have to stay and protect his people. Perhaps Strahd wasn’t as horrible as Ismark first thought.

Ireena hated feeling weak. She hated the stigma that surrounded young ladies of her upbringing that rendered them “helpless” in the eyes of those around them. The morning of her father’s funeral, that was exactly how she felt, weak and helpless. Her father’s health had been rapidly failing for months, so his death did not come as a surprise, but that did not lessen the pain or make the grief that filled her heart any more bearable.

She agreed with Ismark and knew she had to leave the village as soon as possible, but she couldn’t do so knowing what could become of her father’s lifeless body. She would not let the monsters of this world use him in death as they had used him in life. Father Donovich would grant him his final rites and she would see him properly buried in the church yard before leaving this place for good. It saddened her that no one in their village agreed to help them, especially after everything her father had done for the villagers ensuring they all had enough food, water, and shelter to see them through the harsh Barovian winters. In the end, none of that made them brave enough to go against Strahd and Ireena knew he had marked her in some way.

The strangers Ismark had found to help them seemed nice and gave all appearances of wanting to help, but they were like nothing Ireena had seen before. They may have a tough time in Barovia, given how quick the people here were to judge based on appearances alone. Ireena had tried not to do so herself, though some of them were quite alarming. Corvid was the most alarming, though she soon learned him to be a holy man. A holy man with horns of a devil, his appearance in stark contrast to his beliefs, Ireena wondered what Father Donovich would make of him. They had such unusual names, particularly the reptilian women, Firestorm and Bubblegum. They reminded Ireena of the dragons from the stories her father used to read her when she was small. Strong and fallible, Ireena could only hope to exert the same confidence in leaving Barovia.

Ireena felt the eyes of the elven woman, DJ, upon her as they prepared to carry her father to his final resting place. She wanted to tell her that the last thing she wanted was to be turned into a blood drinking feind, but the trust wasn’t there yet so she left it be. She hoped she could trust them in time and they would, in turn, trust her, but for now they would help bury her father and that was what she needed. Ireena donned her father’s sword from the mantle as an afterthought. As much as she did not want to use it, there may come a time when he would have no other choice.

As the procession made their way through the streets the mist gathered around them, billowing out of the landscape, surrounding the muddy streets and broken homes. Mathias, who hadn’t spoke more than a few words suddenly let out a gasp of surprise. Ireena turned and saw what looked like canine shapes gathering in the mists. They were far enough away to not threatened them yet, but the procession quickened their pace without a word. The wolves, for what else could they have been, kept the same pace as they followed the procession into the churchyard.

Ismark went into the church with Corvid to ask Father Donovich to perform their father’s funeral rites. Ireena did not want to leave her father’s body unattended and stayed outside with the others. No one spoke as Ireena ran her hand over the cold, rough wood of her father’s coffin. The man had been a brightness in this desperate land. She did not know what she would do without him.

“Father!” A voice screamed from inside the church, “I’m hungry!”

Ireena’s eyes darted towards the church door. That sounded like Doru, but he was said to have died after he joined that foolish wizard on his quest to destroy Strahd. All he succeeded in the deaths of so many loved was and upon waking the devil who by all accounts had not been active in the region for quite some time.

Ireena took one last look at her father’s coffin, drew her sword and ran into the church, the others following close behind. The church had been completely decimated; the pews in which her family once sat lay in piles of shattered debris upon the torn up wooden floor of the old church. Father Donovich was talking with her brother and Corvid, his eyes darting back and forth between them and his face glistening with sweat despite the cold draft that wafted through the many cracks in the church’s walls and ceiling.

A voice, shouting that he was hungry came up from below them. This time Ireena was sure it was Doru. It all came out in waves of despair and horror. Doru had come back to Donovich a few days ago. At first, Donovich rejoiced to see his son once again, but soon realized the creature that stood before him was no longer his son, but an unholy blooddrinker, turned by the Devil himself.

It was not a light decision, but Donovich agreed that something had to be done for Doru and the strangers agreed to help after they saw her father buried. Doru was safely locked beneath the church and seeing he had already been held there for days, there was no rush to deal with him now. Her father, however, needed to be buried and the looming figures of the wolves in the distance was making everyone leery of leaving his body unattended outside.

The funeral service was not what she wanted. Donovich was stumbling over the correct passages as wolves continued to gather all along the border of the churchyard. Ireena tried to ignore it, focusing on her grief. She longed to hear his voice one last time or see the way his smile could light up a darkening room, but she knew she never would. She said a silent prayer as the began to bury her father in the cold earth. She would wear her grief like a shield, allowing it to protect her from the harsh realities of this world, keeping the monsters at bay.