Learning A Bit More Every Time We Draw Blood

Vampire spawn are nothing to laugh at at level three. I’m once again finding I need to re-adjust my expectations for Barovia, and I’m beginning to understand how deadly this early campaign really can be. When we entered Barovia a year and a half ago with the players I’d gotten to known over two years of Out of the Abyss, they were packing some serious firepower. Between the fact that we were starting with six player characters, and the fact that most of them were fairly well optimized builds designed for packing a serious punch (Especially with our Sharpshooting Monster Slayer Ranger and the Scorlock blasting away, they had no issue burning through the undead’s hitpoints), those first few sessions of Curse of Strahd were a little less harrowing than all the stories had prepared me for.

I found I was not really challenging them until they found themselves in a place they had no business being just yet, and were met with the harsh reality of sandbox campaign books run by a DM still wet behind the ears— diving headlong into a region they had no business being at just yet, and losing two PCs as a result. One accepted the uncertain offer, the other did not. And once again, ss all of this happened before, all of this will happen again. This time, right out of the gate I’ve found myself with two dead PCs within two sessions.

Death House Lives Up To Its Name

It’s actually been three sessions since I updated on Curse of Strahd, two of which finished out Death House. I ran with the updated/alternative Death House I mentioned in my last post, and I think it worked really well. The updated story basically makes Walter (the infant son the nursemaid cares for upstairs) part of the shambling mound in the dungeon, giving the party a shortcut if they choose to fight the monster— when the shambling mound uses engulf, the restrained player has a chance to see Walter, and if they sever his connection to the mound, it collapses, and they no longer need to fight it.

Session two covered the rest of the house (basically level three and attic, plus part of the basement), including some fun RP when our fighter was possessed by the bossy twelve-year-old ghost girl. Between sessions two and three, we found our fourth player, and we rounded out the party with a monk. The player asked if she could be from Barovia, and I said there wasn’t really a great fit for her in Barovia, but we dove into some of the 2e and 3/3.5e Ravenloft source books, and dropped her monastery in Darkon. I gave her some vague references to van Richten and Ezmerelda I’ll hook into later (she doesn’t know either by name), and she gave me 2.5 pages of backstory to work with, including a love-interest NPC she’s looking for who has some vague history with Barovia and/or Strahd too. I’m still figuring out exactly what I’ll do with her, but I’ll figure something out.

I gave her a variation on “creeping mists” once again, another of the dreams I’d used in the past, but this time she woke up in the father’s (otherwise empty) coffin of Death House’s family crypt. The rest of the party heard her pounding and shouting, and introductions were made. Eventually, they made their way through he rest of the catacombs, refused to sacrifice anyone on the bloody alter, and shambling Walter attacked.

Once the shambling mound was defeated, the party still had to get out, and since they skipped out on the room with the trap door, took the long way all the way back to attic of the House. I’ve seen a lot of DMs complain about the last act of Death House, the house coming to life and trying to kill everyone with noxious fumes and slashing scythe blades, but I love it, especially as the shambling mound feels like it should be the “end of dungeon boss and now we get treasure” moment, and instead everything goes to hell. By the time they reached the front porch, three we unconscious and rolling death saves. The rogue landed a natural 20 and popped back up gasping for breath, and was able to stabilize her companion. The monk was not so lucky.

Death’s Dark Vignettes

The DM’s Guide for Curse of Strahd’s Adventurer League season includes an alternative to faction charity resurrection for Ravenloft— a deal with the dark powers where the character gets to return to life— at a cost. I used these last time I ran, and it was the craziest, most exciting thing to happen in the early game, when Sumu, the poor cleric, took a lighting bolt between the shoulder blades at Yester Hill (aforementioned “victim of the sandbox” session). She was dead and gone, until she wasn’t. Sumu awoke with a second face on the back of her head, a malevolent Edward Mordake whispering horrible things to her and the rest of the party ad nausium. The DM’s guide has a few options (I think four or six  on the table) but there’s an additional full d20 list to work from too.

Last year I came across this excellent Reddit thread with options and ideas for presenting this offer to the player. I’ve used the scenario  presented by the original author twice, and sketched out a couple more inspired by the scenarios given as well as my own ideas. Here, the monk took the offer, and returned with a humpback— and disadvantage on DEX ability checks and saving throws. I’m not going to lie, I felt a little bad about that at first (since it’s a core attribute of being a monk in the first place), but I’m really excited to see where this goes for the character since it happened so early on.

Ismark and Ireena

Getting on to this week’s session, the party found an abandoned house to crawl into and tend their wounds (oh, did I mention we’re rolling with the DMG’s Lingering Injuries table?), spent the night, and set out in the morning again. I think I might need to readjust my dreams and nightmare d100 list, if only because I’m no longer trying to keep the small army that was last year’s campaign at full strength all the time. They made it to the Blood of the Vine Inn, learned they were in Barovia (whatever that means), and met Ismark and the Vistani bar owners.

I won’t detail everything with meeting Ismark and Ireena (I should be posting session by session if I want to dive into moment to moment recaps), but I want to move on to the church, so suffice to say, the party met them, who A. needed help transporting and burying their dead father, and B. need someone to travel with them on the road if they are to go to Vallaki. Now the party doesn’t know where Vallaki is, but they are headed east to fine Madam Eva, so they agreed.

What They Did In the Shadows…

Which leads us to the church basement and the party’s first encounter with a vampire (spawn) in Ravenloft. The party had just hit level three upon surviving (well, technically) Death House. Hit points! Class Archetypes! Second level spells! And now they were thrown against a single, very hungry vampire spawn in the basement, the son of the village priest.

This was the instance that cemented for me that this trip through Barovia is going to be a very different experience than the last time I ran it. I find I’m entering scenarios with the confidence of having dealt with it once before, but I need to keep that in check as well— this is still brand new for everyone else at the table, and what was a fairly straightforward (if long) fight for one party ended up being a different story this time around.

One major mistake on my part that ended up working in the party’s favor was that I completely forgot to consider weapon resistance for the Vampire Spawn. Their weapon attacks should have been dealing half as much damage, which would have been killer when you account for the vampire’s regeneration, as the monk and fighter were the only ones dealing any significant damage. What was already a bit of a drawn-out slugfest could have easily turned south if the Vampire had twice as many chances to draw blood.

There’s always a dangerous game of what-if I play post-session when looking at how everything played out.  I’m curious if I’d kept the resistance, would they have given up and fled faster (seeing how futile their attacks were), would they have come up with other tactics? If we hadn’t jumped into combat at the end of the night, would they have made different choices with more time to the combat (I was fairly pushy about making choices and keeping combat moving since I knew we had pushed passed time). And finally, most importantly— should I have ended combat the way I did?

And Another One Down…

We were a half hour past our usual cut off time.  DC Metro does not run all night, and people needed to get going. The cleric had gone down and was rolling death saves, but the vampire was on his last legs. I finally said “Ok, you’re able to finally kill the Vampire, Charrick [the cleric], go ahead and roll three death saves to see how this plays out.” Already at one success and one failure, it was a close one— and when the dice landed, Charrick had expired. I don’t think the player himself was upset, but the rest of the party was beating themselves up knowing the could or should have tried to stabilize him before this all happened. We called it a night, and I followed up by email the next day.

I sent Charrick’s player another offer from the dark powers (once again inspired by the vignettes link above), but he ultimately decided against it. This cleric wouldn’t take the offer, and we spent the rest of the week discussing where we’ll go from here. I’m looking forward to his next character (I’ll have to write up this party at some point soon), and he’ll play Ismark and Ireena until I find the time and place to introduce our latest victim of the mists. I’m also looking forward to when the PC’s see their companion spirit rise from the graveyard in the March of the Dead, the nightly procession of Adventurers who fell victim to Ravenloft, as they spend the night at the church.

Ever Forward

I’m not sure I have any particular conclusion for final point to follow up on the last 1700 words or so, other than every game for us is another chance to learn from past mistakes, as well as make new ones. This is D&D, PCs Die. Ravenloft is an especially deadly place, but also a really exciting setting where Death truly doesn’t need to be the end, and as this latest group will eventually learn, might not even be the worst outcome…

Suddenly the Tavern Doors Swings Open…

All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again…
Battlestar Galactica (but apparently also Peter Pan)

This week I returned to Curse of Strahd (yes the only thing I’ve been writing about, but at this point, I’m at “write what you know”). It was towards the end of my last run of the campaign last spring that I started following (and very occasionally contributing to) the Curse of Strahd DM’s subreddit and Facebook group. Now I’m excited to revisit Barovia with all of the lessons I learned running the first time, as well as the amazing ideas I’ve come across to steal from the Internet DM hivemind.

I introduced the party with the same hook I’d used before: individual dreams and a variation on the “Cry For Help” hook. I like the Daggerford/Mysterious Visitors hook as it doesn’t immediately vilify the Vistani and gets the party to Madam Eva immediately, but I think it only works if you’re starting the party at third level, which I didn’t want to do here as one players was relatively new to D&D, and another brand new to 5E.

“…these aren’t the same trees that surrounded you the night before.”
Photo by Thomas Claeys on Unsplash.

We’re starting with only three PCs this time (which I’m equally excited and terrified about!). The initial meeting went well enough, but none were sold on following a strange man’s invitation through strange woods, and instead decided the continue on to the nearest city. The following night, the mists hugged their campsite close, and when they awoke, nothing looked the same.

We made it it Death House by way of my favorite image in the book, the gates of Barovia. For the second time I pulled off a D&D “jump scare”— Rolling initiative against the wolves in the den/parlor in Death House, then revealing the characters were frightened by a bunch of stuffed wolves.

Jumping at Shadows

When the PC opens the door to the den on the first floor, describe the light of their lantern or torch catching the reflection of glowing red eyes, glistening teeth dripping with saliva. I didn’t mention any sound, but perhaps they might imagine a low, menacing growl. Ask to roll initiative, roll your die for the wolves— no matter what’s on the die, the wolves roll a 1, ending up at the the bottom of the initiative order. If you really want to sell it, start flipping through your Monster Manual. This will probably be the first initiative of the campaign, so everyone will be amped up. The PCs will be up first, and describe the first blow— an axe coming down, a gout of flame, a arrow finding it’s target in the wolf— and how there is a burst of sawdust and fur, and they all realize that <PC Who Attacked First> panicked and attacked a piece of particularly high-quality taxidermy. The tension is broken, initiative is broken, and they can explore the rest of the den at their leisure.

I think I stole this from somebody’s blog or reddit post, and attribution means a lot to me, so please, if anybody recognizes the source of this little tidbit, please drop me a message and I would love to give credit where it is due!

Onwards and Upwards

We made it through the first and second floors without much incident (although the delightfully creepy reliefs and wallpapers kept everyone on edge). None of the PCs were interested in the library, which ended up being a relief for me, as I realized I forgot to print out the letter! This is fantastic, though, as I was later reminded of another DM’s writeup on Reddit on streamlining Death House, cutting or changing many of the fights, and rewriting the narrative a bit to make Lady Durst the true villain. I don’t think anything that happened in this first session will affect any of those changes (and I probably won’t be running off that guide line-by-line either), so I’m looking forward to reviewing all of those changes again and putting it all into action next week.

I wrapped up the session with the Animated Armor beaten down (although not before it got a few good blows in too), and the weirdness of this house will begin to ramp up next week…

Curse of Strahd – 3 – A Break in the Fog

In which the party reflects upon what they found in that eerie house, much to Grismar’s edification.

The party stands in the yard of the old brick house, coughing and wheezing steamy breath into the frosty air. Black smoke belches out of the chimneys, contrasted against a bright sky. Grismar blinks the sun out of his eyes and examines the gashes in his cloak. “That… went fast.” “For you, maybe.” Fillegan responds. “We’ve actually been busy.” “Really? Even after that shambling mound?”

The rogue nods. “Kurwin came to look for us when we were still downstairs. He had a run-in with some ghouls. We bloody well tripped over ourselves. Half of us were trying to get him to come down to us while the rest of us tried to to rush upstairs at the same time. Once we dispatched the ghoulies, we checked up on Gustav’s tomb, which was empty. Ran into a bunch of shady figures as well, which seemed to feel attached to Chand’s new shiny toy… Hey, who was that statue of, anyway?”

Chand appears not to hear the question, being focused instead on a fine-looking rope hanging over his shoulder. It twitches every now and then as he speaks to it. Fitzworth spits a glob of black slime into the grass. “Then there was a mimic. Tricked me into thinking he was a door. Very toothy fellow, that. Almost bit my whiskers off. Oh, and more ghouls.”

“Found the owners of this damned place too.” Kurwin adds. “They had all sorts of fascinating goods hidden away.” Sumu blows into her hands.” But why seal themselves into the walls? I’ve only heard of such treatment for ascetic martyrs and saints. And even then only in the less… ah… pleasant holy orders. Maybe it was punishment? Something to do with that letter we found?”

Kurwin looks thoughful. “Maybe. Shelter first, debate later.” Grismar cheers up at those words. “Great idea! Someplace warm. With a big fireplace and a well-stocked bar. Before we all freeze solid out here.” Sumu, teeth chattering, nods in agreement. Fillegan slides past her and starts walking ahead, whistling tunelessly. Fitzworth looks over his shoulder, gives an exaggerated wink at Chand, and says: “You coming too, wizard?” The sorceror, now having convinced the rope to tie itself in knots, pointedly ignores the druid, but joins the group anyway.

Curse of Strahd – 2 – A House of Death

In which the party continues their search of the unusual house.

We’re all up and awake in minutes, with the exception of Kurwin, who remains asleep, and Fillegan who says he’s up, but appears somnambulant for now. No one is reporting strange dreams, which is good I suppose. There not being any real breakfast, the attic seems a logical place to go next.

We climb the stairs behind the mirror with some level of anticipation, only to find a padlocked door. After some convincing, Fillegan wakes up enough to pick the lock. The door swings open and… well… it’s not what we expected. Who padlocks a children’s bedroom? And then who would lock those wee ones in there to die? Someone did. I pull some blankets from the beds and wrap their brittle remains up with a promise to take care of them as soon as we can. In the mean time, Chand concerns himself with a wonderfully well-crafted doll house, and Grismar dives into the toy chest. It’s nice to see adults willing to indulge a little whimsy in the face of such a grim situation.

Apparently, the children don’t share my view, for Rose and Thorn appear in ethereal forms as soon as Grismar picks up a toy, and they seem quite appalled. Not used to sharing, I guess. They complain, again, of parents long since gone, and of being afraid and not wanting to be left alone. Thorn even panics to the point of trying to occupy Grismar’s body, which isn’t very well received. Some of my companions almost lose their temper. Luckily, a few calming words do what anger couldn’t, and the little boy is convinced to stay with his sister in their room for the duration. We’re all spooked, but give them promises of our aid.

Next up, a small bedroom that seems to belong to no one in particular, but is occupied by a doll that, if seen from the corner of one’s eye, scowls and jeers. It’s probably just nerves, but I give it a good whack with my staff just to feel better.

The next opened door reveals a large room full of stored and covered furniture. Most seems innocuous, but a blanket chest contains a long-dead body. Fitzworth looks it up and down and declares the cause of death to be violent – likely multiple stab wounds. Perhaps a ritual?

Chand, in the mean time, seems more interested in a blank piece of wall. He prods and pokes, then stands back and looks like a cat that got the cream as a wall panel slowly turns and reveals a staircase going down. Before descending, we open the last door that stands off of the landing. Another spare bedroom and another doll, but nothing that requires immediate action on our part.

Once down the several levels of stairs, it seems we have finally reached the basement that the children kept mentioning. It contains the family crypt, and has labeled coffins for both Rose and Thorn. Their remains are quickly retrieved and we inter them with a short prayer: “Lliira, Lady of Joy, please share your peace with those whose fear made them cling to things that should have been let go. Please give comfort and companionship to those who were lonely and abandoned and afraid. Please extend sweet warmth and joyous light where until now there was cold that chills abandoned bones and fog that blocks sight of that which truly matters.”

I feel a rush of draft and a breath of ‘thank you’ in my ear. Looking at my companions, I deduce I may have been the only one to hear that, so silence probably serves best. I don’t think hearing voices no one else hears is necessarily a good thing, even if they are polite.

We move our attention to the other side of the crypt, where two more coffins stand, labeled for Gustav and Elizabeth, (this refers to the Master and Mistress of the house). Remembering the remains in the store room in the attic, we decide to see if Elizabeth’s coffin is yet empty. It isn’t. It is with some regret that we determine the absence of a body and note an infestation of centipedes. With great personal horror I must add that while swift action traps part of the swarm by replacing the lid on the coffin, the other half seems intent on relocating to my robes, perhaps for food, warmth or some other unknown benefit.

Luckily, my companions do not stand idly by as I lose my composure. They quickly help me divest myself of the horrid little creatures. I can but hope my (undoubtedly quite lively) capers were amusing to them. This last maneuver leaves us all feeling like we’re slowly getting a grip on this place, and we all feel somewhat fortified. Well, all of us, perhaps excepting Chand, who reaches for an unusual-looking necklace and speaks a few words in a harsh-sounding language. I am not sure what to make of this.

We decide to leave the other coffin be, and continue on until we enter a room with a rough wooden table, where the floor is strewn with humanoid bones. We examine them, but other than that they appear to have been chewed on, we learn little. Next, we enter a room that seems to form a central courtyard; bedrooms lie off of it in all directions. While none appears recently slept in, there are personal belongings in several rooms, or so we discover after Fillegan and his lock picks and Grismar and his axe make short work of several locked chests. We even find a most curious purse, which appears to have a most horrifying effect on Grismar (he gobbles down on a number of cobwebs out of shock). It is distressing to see the cheerful fellow so shaken – luckily he regains himself swiftly, although not before Fitzworth has volunteered to pack him a few more cobwebs for the road.

We retrace our steps until we turn an unexplored corner, following the sound of chanting. Here, Grismar discovers a fault within the floor – a large hole, covered over with flimsy boards and canvas, and with a set of horrific spikes at the bottom. None of us react swiftly enough to prevent his fall, and he seems somewhat bruised after his rendez-vous with the ground. Luckily, he is swiftly returned to solid ground, and I manage to restore him somewhat.

This hallway takes us to an even lower level, where we find a room with numerous niches, each containing an unusual and unsettling object. Sometimes they are body parts such as skulls, other times they seem much like the tools of a priests’ trade, except vile and corrupted. The chanting is now much louder. A hallway leads off of the room into a number of alcoves equipped with shackles. Here, we notice even more remains, with one wearing a gold ring (a wedding ring?), but our examination is brief, for then we notice a draft that points us towards a hidden door.

We enter a most gloomy room, containing an altar in the middle of a ceremonial pond, of sorts, as well as a pile of sticks and twigs and other organic matters in an alcove off to the side. There is a wheel that operates a portcullis opening up onto the room with the objects mentioned before, but activating it seems to have no effect. That is, until brave Grismar wades into the pool and climbs the central dais.

Strange apparitions soon surround us, but seem disinclined to do harm, sticking instead with a most monotonous and dreary song praising some Lordoth the Decayer. After some time, it becomes self-evident that something needs to happen, but none of us have any real idea what. On a hunch, I try to operate the wheel that controls the portcullis. This changes the dreadful chanting to an even worse text – the apparitions now insist ‘One must die’ in equally repetitive fashion. Chand feels that this was idiotic of me, and tells me so in no uncertain terms. I attempt a quip at him, but determine to take the matter into consideration at a later time, because at that very moment, the trash heap in the alcove seems to heave and shudder with sudden animation and then it appears before us as a most alien and hostile agglomeration of vegetation.

Fitzworth now springs into action, changing into a most ferocious direwolf shape that growls and snarls and snaps and bites. Filligan pulls his bowstring taut and lets off repeatedly, Grismar whips out his axe and Chand finds a safe corner from which to sling some spells. The battle takes a while, and Grismar, not quite recovered from his tumble into the pit begins to look pale. I fortify him with a quick spell and eventually convince myself to enter the fight up close. Just as I ready my first blow, the noxious weed sinks back into the inanimate pile of trash whence it came.

We breathe a sigh of relief.