Session 21

Xalen easily picked the lock to the front door and pushed it open to reveal a small entry chamber. A shield emblazoned with a stylized golden windmill on a red field hung on the wall to the right, and a narrow set of double doors stood closed ahead of them.

Brabara eased those doors open to reveal a large, well-appointed hall. A fire burned low in the fireplace on the exterior wall and opposite that, an ornate wooden staircase curved gracefully up to the second floor. Several doors exited the room on either side, but the area was empty of people.

They entered the hall and checked the doors.

To one side was an oak panelled room decorated to resemble a hunter’s den. It had a stag’s head fixed to the wall above a fireplace, and three stuffed wolves positioned around the walls. A comfortable leather chair sat before the fireplace atop a bearskin rug that covered most of the floor.

“A bit on the nose if you ask me,” Brabara said.

Xalen chuckled. “It’s the third wolf that tips it over the edge, isn’t it?”

Across the hall were four doors, with one standing slightly ajar. Brabara moved over to it and opened this one fully to reveal a small cloakroom. Hooks lined the three walls upon which were hung several travelling cloaks, some still damp from the rain.

She then moved to the door beside that and opened it. This room was a wood panelled dining room with an ornate chandelier hanging low over a huge mahogany table. The table was set with resplendent silverware and crystalware and surrounded by high-backed wooden chairs.

Brabara let out a low whistle. “Lots of wealth on display here.”

“I wonder how much is actually real,” Ebyn said as he peered in from behind the hulking warrior. “Remember the priest told us this place was burned to the ground a few weeks ago. It’s possible everything in here is a magical projection of some kind.”

“I guess that makes stealing it a waste of time,” Xalen said with a sigh.

Brabara stepped into the room to get a look around the corner when a sudden clank sounded from up near the ceiling and a curling chain flashed out to wrap around her.

Brabara squeaked as the chain tightened and flung her over the table to the wall opposite the door. The tiny flames of the chandelier flared, and a searing heat burned Brabara’s skin as she struggled to regain her feet.

Ebyn jumped back from the door and sent a firebolt at the animated house fitting. His missile struck solidly but did little to no damage.

“Fire resistance,” Ebyn said as he ducked around the corner and out of sight.

Seknafret’s eldritch blasts had a visible impact, but the chandelier was made of strong stuff and continued to crush and burn Brabara. Xalen hovered around the perimeter of the combat not sure if his arrows would be of any help while Sarusanda, her blade burning with a cold blue flame, chopped at the chain with her sword.

It took three solid hits from the sword to break the chain, freeing Brabara so she could join the fight.

The chandelier appeared to shrink away once the chain had broken then spun around quickly to fling fire at everyone around it. The flames clung to their clothing and no amount of shaking or padding would douse the sticky globs of fire.

Brabara, already burned by the initial attack and badly wounded by the crushing chain leapt onto the table to grab the chandelier. She wrapped her big meaty arms around the light fitting, screaming in pain as it burned, and ripped the entire thing from the ceiling before tossing it to the ground by the doorway.

The chandelier lay still on the floor, looking very much like a normal chandelier now that it had been separated from its mount.

“What the fuck was that?” Brabara said as she awkwardly climbed down from the table. “We have to be worried about the furniture too in this place?”

“Keep your voice down,” Ebyn said. “That fight might have attracted some attention.”

For several long moments they waited breathlessly for any hint of footsteps or other sounds of approach. Hearing nothing they took a few minutes to dress their wounds. It wasn’t until they were ready to resume their trek through the house that they noticed that Sarusanda had gone.

“Did anyone see her leave?” Seknafret said.

Brabara shook her head. “I didn’t, sorry. Still feeling a bit tender from the fight.”

“Hmm,” Ebyn said. “I hope we didn’t make a mistake in bringing her in here with us.”

Xalen shrugged. “Does it matter? With her running around the cultists will have more than just us to deal with.”

They finished patching their wounds and did a quick check of the remaining rooms on the ground floor, finding nothing of any interest before climbing the ornate wooden stairs to the second floor.  

Helmed statues stood either side of a pair of double doors to the left and right of this large upper hall and a fireplace burned brightly on the far wall. The staircase continued upward in a sweeping curve.

Brabara strode across the room, opened the doors on the right wall and stepped into the room.

“Hold!” Ebyn called out, stopping the big warrior in her tracks. “Have you forgotten what just happened. Let me check for the presence of magic before you go blundering inside.”

Brabara, the burns from the fight with the chandelier still raw, nodded and stepped back giving Ebyn space to survey the room once his spell was cast.

The room appeared to be a well-stocked library.

Two comfortable looking velvet chairs sat in the east and west corners of the wall to the left with a mahogany desk in the centre of the room. Book lined shelves filled the space to the right of the doorway.

Ebyn scanned the room from the doorway with his magically enhanced vision. “The urn against the far wall behind the desk is magical,” Ebyn said. “Everything else appears mundane.”

Brabara nodded, hefted her glaive and strode menacingly into the room intent on destroying the urn. As soon as she drew close enough to strike, the figures painted on the exterior of the vase shifted and a crackle of electricity shot forth, striking Brabara solidly. At that same moment, the helms flew off the four statues and began to wreak havoc among the group standing in the upper hall, stabbing everyone violently with their horns.

“What is it with the furniture of this place,” Brabara said as she winced from yet another fresh burn.

Seknafret triggered the magic of her talisman to teleport away from among the animated helms and into the room beside Brabara who smashed her glaive down on the urn.

Both Xalen and Ebyn flew clear of the helms. This time Xalen was able to pepper them with arrows, but the flying helms proved surprisingly resilient to Ebyn’s magic.

Brabara and Seknafret together smashed the urn to pieces before it could do any more harm and moved into the upper hall to lend a hand to the others. Xalen dodged and weaved but Ebyn found himself cornered by the nimble animated helmets. One had lodged itself into his thigh while another two harried the mage from either side.

Xalen dropped one helmet then flew up to wrestle one of the three away from Ebyn who vanished into a cloud of mist to appear beside Seknafret, blood flowing freely from multiple wounds.

Brabara moved out and used her reach to keep the helmets at bay while Seknafret tended to Ebyn’s wounds. Together, she and Xalen were able to finish off the remaining three helms, and as each one fell it clattered noisily to the ground.

“It appears we can’t trust any of the rooms in this house,” Ebyn said as Seknafret’s healing magic took effect.

“This house is weird,” Xalen said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere like this before.”

Ebyn nodded. “It is unique, no doubt. I hope that uniqueness extends to the books within that library.”

“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” Brabara said.

Ebyn gave her a wide grin and entered the library, keen on scouring the shelves.

Most of the books were common pulp he had seen in libraries everywhere and those that were unique used an arcane script with which he was not familiar. He wanted nothing more than to sit at the desk and pour through the contents of each one of these unusual tomes, but Ebyn could feel Brabara’s eyes boring into the back of his skull while the others waited.

“You could check the other rooms on this level rather than stand there and be bored,” Ebyn said as he flipped pages keenly.

“And split the party?” Brabara scoffed. “Have you forgotten all our basic training with the watch?”

“Fine,” Ebyn sighed, and swept several of the more interesting books into his portable hole. “Happy now?”

“I think there’s a door hidden back here,” Xalen said from the corner of the room.

“A secret door? In a library? How wonderful,” Ebyn said. “Have you checked for traps?”

“Yes,” Xalen said, his voice oddly muffled. “And I opened it, and now I’m inside. There’s a chest in here.”

Ebyn swallowed. “A chest?”

“Wait there while I check it,” Xalen said then set about examining the chest with his tools.

“Looks clear,” Xalen said after a minute. “I’m going to open it.” He reached out to flip the catch and lift the lid.

“Well, shit,” he muttered when he heard the faint click.

The small room filled with a cloud of noxious vapours, and despite Xalen’s lightning reflexes he was not quite fast enough to make it all the way clear without breathing some in. He emerged from the secret room coughing and sputtering, his throat and lungs burning from the poison.

“Should have used the mage hand,” he said once the coughing subsided.

“What’s in the chest?” Brabara asked.

Xalen looked at her flatly. “Why don’t you go in a see for yourself?”

“Doors are my job,” Brabara said. “Chests and desks are yours.”

Xalen held her gaze for a long moment, then trudged back into the room with a cloth held to his mouth. Inside the chest he found three well-made books with soft black leather covers, and three scrolls that buzzed with magic. Xalen quickly pocketed these items and stepped back out to the expectant expressions of his party.

“So, what did you find?” Ebyn said.

Xalen reached into his pack and removed one of the books. “I found this book.”

Ebyn’s eyes widened, and Xalen handed it over to the eager wizard who immediately flipped it open. The pages were all blank. “It’s empty,” Ebyn said, almost sadly.

“What about this one?” Xalen reached down and removed another of the books from his pack and handed that to Ebyn.

“This one too,” Ebyn said.

“And how about this one?” Again, Xalen reached into his pack and removed the last of the three books.

Ebyn cocked his head to the side. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Xalen smiled. “I am actually.”

“Hmm,” Ebyn sighed. “Was there anything else in that chest?”

Xalen’s smile widened and he took out the three scrolls. “Just these.”

Ebyn snatched the scrolls and the last book from Xalen’s grasp and moved across to the desk. “This book is empty as well,” he said after a few seconds of study. “But the scrolls contain spells for Bless, Protection from Poison, and Spiritual Weapon.”

“Could have used that second one before opening the chest,” Xalen mused holding a hand to his chest and breathing in painfully.

Satisfied that the library held nothing more of interest, the Succulent Juices resumed their search of the house. They opened the door in the wall opposite the library and peered into a large room. Chairs lined the walls on either side of a wooden harpsichord and an upright harp which stood at the centre of the room.

“We’re not falling for this again,” Ebyn said, and stood in the doorway while he destroyed the chairs, the harpsichord, and the harp, with magic. “That should take care of that.”

“Should we go in?” Brabara said.

Ebyn shook his head. “Why risk it. Besides, there’s nothing else in there now.”

Brabara shrugged and turned away to climb the circular staircase to the level above, with the others not far behind.

The landing at the top of the stairs was smaller on this level, and a black suit of armour stood against the wall to the north.

“Nope,” Brabara said and sprinted forward. She lifted the entire suit from its mount and threw it over the edge where it crashed noisily on the ground two storeys below.

She looked over at the others who just looked back. Nobody said anything.

“I think I hear something behind the door over there,” Xalen said after an awkward silence.

Brabara walked over to the door Xalen indicated and pulled it open. Inside was a bedroom with clean but simple furnishings. Two dead bodies lay on the floor, one at the foot of the bed and a second by the window. Sarusanda sat in the far corner bandaging a nasty wound to her leg.

“You guys sure do make a lot of noise,” she said wincing as she tightened the bandage.

Seknafret stepped forward. “How bad are you? I can heal you if you need it.”

Sarusanda shook her head. “I’m ok for now, but these guys didn’t go down easy.”

“These are Priests of Osybus?” Ebyn queried, indicating the two bodies.

“They are,” Sarusanda replied. “Their bald heads and tattoos are distinctive. And no, neither one is my father or uncle.”

Brabara studied the room, noting a broken window that let the heavy rain in, and a slight trail of water leading from the bedside to the wall that suggested something, or someone, had been dragged away from here.

“What happened?” Brabara asked.

“I got here just after the Priests took whoever was in here prisoner,” Sarusanda replied. “There’s a hidden door in that wall, I think. I saw it closing just as I got here but I was forced to fight these two so I couldn’t pursue.”

“Whose room is this?” Brabara said.

Sarusanda shrugged. “Can’t say for sure but based on the simplicity of the furniture it looks more like servants’ quarters. From what the kids said outside I’d guess it’s Bridgetta, their nanny’s room.”

“And she was taken by the priests, you say?” Ebyn asked.

“That’s what I saw.” Sarusanda said.

Brabara set about trying to find the mechanism to open the hidden door. “They can’t be far away. The house has only one more level above us.”

“There’s a basement, remember,” Xalen pointed out. “That’s where the kids said the monsters were.”

Xalen helped Brabara search and soon the pair found a latch concealed behind a mirror that allowed the wall to swing open. There were stairs leading up, with several wet footprints on them.

“Looks like we go up,” Brabara said and disappeared into the staircase.

Ebyn looked at Sarusanda. “Stick with us this time.”

Sarusanda looked down at her wounds. “I will. Sorry for leaving you.”

The group followed Brabara up the stairs as she followed the wet tracks left behind by whoever passed this way before them.

The attic was dark, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning outside and Brabara could feel the hairs on her arm stand on end.

“Is everyone okay?” Brabara said, not because she was concerned for their safety, but more because she didn’t want to be the only one who felt like this.

She hated this house, with its stupid animated furniture and its stupid cultists and its crazy priests. But most of all, she hated Barovia. From the moment she arrived, she’d felt it pressing on her. It seemed to have wormed its way into her mind whispering at the edge of her awareness. Listing all the things she hated about herself and eating away at her confidence.

“It is a little creepy in here,” Seknafret said.

Brabara smiled, she could always rely on Seknafret to say the right thing. “Stay close,” Brabara said. “And keep an eye out. This would be a good spot for an ambush.”

The wet footsteps led across the open space to a door at the far side of the house. Brabara stepped up to the door and pulled it open, peering inside. Just then, lightning flashed to show her a room filled with ghosts.

She sucked in a breath and took an involuntary step back. “Whoa.”

“What is it?” Xalen said softly.

Brabara narrowed her eyes and peered closer. Not ghosts, just bits of furniture covered in white sheets. Relieved, she stepped forward again and pulled one of the sheets away to reveal an empty wooden liquor cabinet with glass shelving and a mirror back.

Brabara shook her head. “Keep it tight, idiot,” she hissed, then, loud enough for the rest to hear, she added, “It’s clear, come in.”

The thick layer of dust on the floor made it easy to see where the priests had gone with their captive. Once again, the trail ended at a blank wall which had to be hiding a secret door.

Xalen quickly found the mechanism to open the door, behind which was a narrow circular staircase made from wrought iron winding down into the darkness.

“What kind of a crazy house has the way down to the basement in the attic?” Brabara said as she started down the stairs with the others close behind.

“Nothing about this place is as it should be,” Seknafret said, suppressing a shudder. “The quicker we get the rod piece and get out of here the better.”

“I agree,” Ebyn said. “This place makes me uneasy.”

“I don’t know,” Xalen said with a grin. “A lick of paint here and there and it could be rather homey.”

The stairs wound down steeply for a long way, easily fifty feet below the ground, and opened into a stone clad tunnel filled with the smell of wet dirt. Ebyn, having transferred his vision to Hoot, sent the familiar flying as silently as it could around the nearby tunnels.

Several crypts set in alcoves were in the immediate area as well as one room a bit further away that appeared to be set up as a bedroom complete with its own ornate chandelier.

“I’m not going in there,” Brabara said. “Not first anyway.”

“Chests are my job,” Xalen said. “Doors are yours.”

Brabara grimaced. “Hmmm, very funny.”

The tunnels were all dark, save for one area not far away with a short set of steps going up to a large room with some low burning torches on the wall. Ebyn called Hoot back and the group decided to make their way to this lighted area first.

They climbed the steps and entered the lit room as quietly as they could, but Brabara lifted a hand for them to stop before she’d taken a second step.

“There’s someone sleeping up ahead,” she whispered. “We might be in a barracks area.”

“Stay here,” Xalen said. “I’ll go on ahead to check.”

Xalen crept forward and stuck his head in each of the four alcoves in the room and confirmed that there were at least two figures sleeping nearby.

“Remember we’re connected telepathically,” Ebyn said. “No need to whisper.”

“Sarusanda is not linked,” Seknafret pointed out.

Ebyn nodded. “Sure, but we can still use this as we move around. I think I might be able to charm these sleeping cultists. Perhaps they’ll tell us where we can find the rod piece.”

“Okay,” Brabara said. “Which one?”

“I’ll do both,” Ebyn said. “But we will only wake them one at a time. You go back and explain what’s happening to Sarusanda while I cast the spells.”

Ebyn padded up to the nearest of the two alcoves and reached for the weave, plucking at the threads of magic while he spoke the words of power. He released the spell on the first sleeper then repeated the process with the second cultist.

“I’m ready,” Ebyn shared over the link. “Don’t let them see you until I say so, okay?”

“Got it,” Brabara said then ducked back down the stairs with the others.

Ebyn bent down to shake the sleeping figure. “Hey buddy. Wake up.”

The man rose from his bed with a yawn, using his fists to rub sleep from his eyes. Ebyn noted the many ornate tattoos that marked the man’s bare skin.

“What?” he said once he’d woken.

“It’s me,” Ebyn said with a smile. “I need you to take me to the bosses.”

The man looked about his alcove and saw that he was alone with Ebyn. “You need me to do what?”

“I need to see the leaders,” Ebyn repeated, adding a sense of urgency to his words. “And you’re going to take me to them.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. They’ll be mid ritual and won’t like being interrupted.”

“You let me worry about that,” Ebyn said reassuringly. “Just get me to them and you can come back and finish your nap. They won’t even know you were involved.”

“Okay, just let me get dressed first.”

“I’ll wait out there, but just so you don’t freak out I am not alone,” and with that, Ebyn stepped outside. Over the link he said, “You can come up now, but keep it quiet we don’t want to wake the other one.”

The man emerged from the alcove a minute or so later, dressed in leather armour and with a sword strapped to his side. He stopped dead when he saw the others standing before him. “Who are these guys?”

“Like I told you, they’re with me,” Ebyn said. “Don’t worry about them.”

The man’s hand fell to the grip of his sword and, for a heartbeat, it looked as though he was going to cry out in alarm, but the moment passed and he relaxed once more. “Right then, follow me.”

He led the group down a series of passageways, up another small flight of stairs, then down a third, much longer, set of steps that switched back on itself several times before reaching the bottom. Up ahead, the sound of chanting could be heard echoing off the stone walls.

“She is slain, she is risen, she is slain, she is risen,” the chant repeated as they walked.

“Not far now,” the man said, beckoning the group forward. “The ritual chamber is just through here.”

The floor of this chamber was covered in rotting filth with an inch or so of fetid water. The smell was terrible, and Brabara brought a hand to cover her nose and mouth as the man led them between two rows of columns toward a brightly lit tunnel in the middle of the large chamber’s right wall.

The floor of the chamber came alive as soon as the man stepped up to the exit tunnel. Tangles of choking roots and weeds shot up from the filth covered floor and formed into two hulking mounds of twisted plants.

Their guide shrieked as the closest of these monsters slammed him out of its way. His body spiralled through the air and cracked hard against a stone pillar where it fell, unmoving into the slime.

The second creature lashed out with a twisting limb of plants to grab hold of Brabara. The spikey vine wrapped itself around her and started dragging the stout fighter toward that creature’s gaping maw.

Brabara, not wishing to be swallowed by the beast, used the magic of Seknafret’s talisman to teleport away from the creature and back to the room’s entrance where Seknafret stood, mouth agape.

Brabara immediately brought her glaive up. “Stay behind me,” she hissed. “I’ll hold the choke point, you guys hit them from range.”

Seknafret and Sarusanda together used eldritch blasts to great effect. The magical force hitting the beasts and pushing them back and away from Brabara who battled the many grappling limbs as they flailed toward her.

Xalen’s arrows seemed to have little effect on the beasts, as did Ebyn’s firebolts that fizzed out upon striking their damp flesh.

While their strategy proved successful at keeping the foul beasts at bay, their attacks did not seem to be causing the creature’s much distress, their bodies appeared to have a never diminishing source of filth and other detritus to repair anything that was cut or blasted off.

“Be ready,” Ebyn said. “It’s going to get bright in there.”

Ebyn stepped up behind Brabara and pointed to a space between the two shambling creatures. A searing column of pure light, like the first light of dawn, appeared, its radiant fire set the shambling mounds ablaze.

The monsters fled the hateful fire only to have it move to cover them again. With no way for the creatures to escape the terrible light the two monsters eventually fell still.

Ebyn, while maintaining his concentration on the magic, moved the column of light ahead of him as he crossed the filth covered room to see into the ritual chamber beyond.

Chants were replaced by shrieks as the cultists tried to flee the light, some tried running away past them, but these were quickly cut down by Brabara and Sarusanda, others sought refuge in the distant corners of the room, but Ebyn’s magic found them anyway.

After a minute, the light dimmed, and the tunnels fell silent.

“What was that spell?” Xalen asked, eyes wide. “It’s incredible.”

Ebyn nodded. “It’s called Dawn, it can be devastating in close quarters like this.”

“I do hope this poor thing was already dead before your magic cleansed the room,” Seknafret said pointing to a lone figure suspended by chains from the ceiling in the centre of the room above a stone altar.

Ebyn shrugged. “It would have been a mercy if she wasn’t.”

Sarusanda entered the ritual chamber and started checking the fallen cultists’ bodies, turning each one over as she hunted for her father and uncle.

The room was mostly flooded in murky water, perhaps a foot deep, with a raised area around the edges. A dais in the centre carried the stone altar, above which the unfortunate victim of the ritual hanged.

The young woman’s body had a spear thrust through her chest, and judging from the amount of blood on the altar she’d been dead long before Ebyn’s magic lit the room.

The murky water came from a disgusting pool, revealed by a partially collapsed wall opposite the entrance tunnel. Water dripped from above and flowed into the pool in a slow trickle that had, over time, flooded the lower parts of this room.

“They’re not here,” Sarusanda said after checking the last of the cultists’ bodies.

“Your father and uncle?” Ebyn clarified.

“Yes,” Sarusanda said, her hands balled into fists. “We must have missed them?”

“Well, we haven’t explored very far,” Brabara pointed out. “Maybe they’re still down here in a different part of the tunnels.”

Sarusanda shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Ebyn flew across the water to land on the raised dais. He looked up at the dangling corpse of the young victim. Her arms had been chained to the ceiling, and her ankles were chained to the altar, so her body was arranged in a wide X. Ebyn barely suppressed a shudder at the wounds covering her. Strategically placed so that they would bleed without being fatal until at last the spear was thrust into her chest.

“A nasty business, this,” Ebyn said with a shake of his head. “This girl would have suffered terribly before the end.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted a dark rot that had formed around the spear wound. He leaned closer and frowned.

“There’s something happening to the body,” Ebyn said. “A type of rot that seems to be growing.”

Ebyn cast a spell to allow him to see the auras of magic and focussed his attention on the body. The girl’s flesh itself was not magical, but the tip of the spear glowed with the intensity of an artifact.

Ebyn gasped. “The fourth rod piece. It’s the spear.”

The rot continued to spread over the girl’s body, growing faster as it expanded. Soon it will cover her entire torso.

Xalen, who flew nearby, cast his mage hand and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull the spear out. “It’s stuck fast.”

Brabara made as if to leap across to the dais, but Ebyn shook his head. “Wait! I have another idea. Everyone, get back into the outer chamber and wait there.”

The group filed into the tunnel. Brabara stayed by the entrance to see what Ebyn had planned.

Ebyn weaved his magic, his mind finding the links between the weave and the physical world. He focussed his attention on the spear and pulled with his mind, using telekinesis to remove the spear. It didn’t budge, despite the strength of Ebyn’s magic.

Undeterred, Ebyn changed the focus of his telekinetic grip from the spear to the girl’s body. His mind gripped the rot covered torso and yanked with the full force of his power. Arms and ankles tore free, and the rest of the body slammed against the wall beside Brabara.

“Brabara!” Ebyn called, “Take hold of the spear while I use my magic to pull against you.”

Brabara stepped up and wrapped both hands around the haft of the spear.

She pulled toward her while Ebyn pulled back with his mind. At first nothing happened, then, by degrees, the spear started to come free.

Brabara’s joy soon turned to horror as a meaty fist emerged from the woman’s chest and gripped the spear. Her eyes widened, still not sure what she was looking at when the woman’s corpse exploded in a shower of gore to reveal a muscular warrior holding the spear and wearing a helmet in the shape of a rhinoceros head.

“What the fuck are you?” Brabara said, taking an involuntary step back.

The creature leered at her, lips curling into a cruel smile before vanishing into a cloud of mist, to appear a heartbeat later behind Ebyn where it buried the spear deep into Ebyn’s back.

Ebyn shrieked as the spear punched through his ribs, his spell fracturing into sparks. Pain overwhelmed him, raw, blinding, and he stumbled against the blood-slick altar, smearing runes with his own blood. The warrior struck again, and again. Ebyn’s mind, once a lattice of arcane precision, collapsed into chaos. He fell, gasping, eyes wide with disbelief.

Brabara surged forward, glaive spinning, fury burning in her chest. But the spear warrior was a phantom moving around the room in a blur, stabbing, slashing, vanishing. Every time she thought she had its rhythm, it changed. Her arms ached, her breath came ragged, and doubt crept in.

Then it rose. Levitating in the centre of the chamber, limbs splayed like some crucified god and detonated.

A cloud of metal shards burst outward. Sarusanda barely had time to scream before she was flung against the wall. The impact cracked stone. Her body crumpled, spikes jutting from her chest and thigh. Brabara’s heart seized. She wanted to run to her, but the fight wasn’t done.

Xalen darted through the chaos, blades flashing. He was fast, but not quite fast enough. A shard caught his thigh. Another sliced his shoulder. Blood soaked his tunic. He gritted his teeth, not from pain, but from the bitter taste of failure. He was supposed to be untouchable.

The battle dragged on. Brabara’s arms trembled with each swing. Her thoughts blurred: Was Ebyn still alive? Had Sarusanda moved? Was this the end? But she kept fighting. She had to. With a final cry, she drove her glaive through the warrior’s chest.

It convulsed, then melted into a pool of black ichor. Its spear clattered to the ground; the fourth rod piece fused to its haft glowing faintly.

Silence fell.

The only sound was breathing, wet, ragged, desperate.

Seknafret leaned over Ebyn, lips moving as she poured her healing powers into the wizard’s body. He coughed once, blood spattering Seknafret’s clothes as he slowly sat up. Brabara dropped her weapon and staggered to Sarusanda’s side. Her fingers trembled as they searched for a pulse. Nothing.

“She’s dead,” she whispered.

Xalen turned away, jaw clenched. Ebyn groaned, still alive but barely. No one spoke. The chamber felt colder, heavier, as if mourning with them.

Brabara closed Sarusanda’s eyes. “She fought well,” she said, voice hollow. “Shame it had to end like this.”

They’d won, yes, but it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a toll.

Seknafret used what little magic she had left to heal the others, and even after that they had to dig into their supply of healing potions to supplement Seknafret’s work. Once they had recovered to the point where a stiff breeze would no longer kill them all. Ebyn used a mage hand to collect the fourth rod piece.

“We have what we came for,” Ebyn announced. “Gather close so I can teleport us back to the portal.”

Ebyn spoke the words, visualised their destination and released the magic.

He knew instantly that something had gone wrong.

Reality warped around them for a moment then snapped back leaving the group standing exactly where they were. The others blinked and looked around, mouths opening to ask questions when a gust of wind blasted them.

The temperature dropped precipitously.

Candles and lamps snuffed out, plunging them into darkness for a heartbeat before everything relit, but this time with a dark-purple flame that cast strange shadows on the walls.

The wind still blew, taking on a monstrous timbre, like screeching bats or howling wolves before it reached a deafening crescendo. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

For long moments, they stood in silence, hearts hammering in their chests. Then, as clearly as if it were happening right beside them, the front door of the house opened with a creak, before slowly closing again, latching with a crisp click. Booted footsteps clacked on floorboards for several paces before ending in an ominous silence.

“I hate this place,” Brabara said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ebyn said, his usual caution replaced by a sense of urgency everyone understood.

The group climbed the zig-zagged stairs out from the ritual chamber and stopped. At the top of the stairs was only a deep impenetrable blackness.

“Pretty sure there used to be a tunnel here,” Brabara said as the others milled on the stairs behind her.

Xalen took a coin out of his pouch and tossed it through. The coin disappeared without a sound except for a cold cackle of laughter that echoed all around them.

“Do we go back down and see if there’s another way out?” Xalen said.

“The water has to go somewhere,” Ebyn said. “Maybe there’s a way to swim out.”

Seknafret shuddered. “I’d rather take my chances with that darkness.”

“Me, too. I think.” Brabara took a deep breath. “Okay, grab hold. We’ll all go together.”

The group linked up, each one placing their hands on the hips of the person in front and started moving. Brabara crossed the plane of darkness and felt a sudden pull. She lurched forward and dragged the others along with her.

There was a moment of warped disorientation and their vision swirled.

When the strange feeling ended, the Succulent Juices found themselves in an impressive stone walled dining room. Lightning flashed above them, visible through long windows in the ceiling high above. They stood at one end of an impossibly long wooden dining table in the hall of a stone keep. Gilded plates, cutlery, and goblets of blood-red wine were set for each of them.

At the other end of the table stood a tall, pale man, dressed in regal red garb with raven hair coming to a prominent widow’s peak. He smiled at them, long fangs visible behind dark lips, and raised a goblet in a toast.

“Welcome, my guests,” the man said in a deep baritone voice. “I am Strahd Von Zarovich, ruler of these lands. I hope you will find my hospitality to your liking, for I am nothing, if not a cordial host.”

The figure froze as soon as it finished speaking, a charming curl to his lips with the arm still raised expectantly.

Ebyn’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of test? The vampire’s stillness seems unnatural to me.”

“Nothing in this whole cursed place is natural,” Brabara said. “Why should this be any different.”

Xalen took a few steps toward the figure of Strahd. He’d taken no more than a dozen steps when he noticed something strange. The end of the table seemed to lengthen so that no matter how far he walked he could never close the gap.

“What are you doing?” Seknafret asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Xalen said. “I’m trying to get closer to him, but the room keeps getting bigger.”

“You’re walking in place, you fool,” Brabara said.

Xalen frowned. “I am?” He stopped walking then and turned to face the table. “Well, the food looks pretty good at least.”

“I’m not eating any of that,” Brabara said with a sneer.

Ebyn chuckled. “Never expected to hear those words pass your lips.”

Brabara looked at him flatly. “Oh yes, very funny.”

Seknafret had a quizzical expression on her face. “If this is a test, what is it we’re supposed to do?”

Xalen picked up a glass of wine and brought it up to his nose with a swirl. “Oh yes, it’s the good stuff.”

Ebyn stepped forward and picked up a glass himself, swirling it and holding it up to the light. “It does appear to be wine.” He poured the deep red liquid out onto the floor, marvelling as the glass never emptied despite the growing pool of wine at his feet.

Indecision gripped them.

“There’s got to be a way out of here,” Brabara said. “He seems to be toasting us, maybe we all just have to drink the wine.”

The figure of Strahd at the far end of the table dissolved into dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of tiny bats that swarmed about for a moment before sweeping toward them.

Ebyn dropped the glass and covered his face with his arms, the others did likewise as the screeching cloud of sharp teeth and battering leather wings engulfed them. The cloud of bats grew and grew until nobody could see anything, and then with a sudden lurching shunt the noise stopped in an echoing cackle, and the smothering bats were gone, replaced by a cold cotton sheet.

Almost as one, they pulled the sheet off to find themselves back in the Death House, in the attic storage room. With hearts pounding, their rapid breaths blew clouds of mist into the uncomfortably cold air.

“Is everyone here?” Brabara hissed.

The others all indicated their presence, and the sense of relief was palpable.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Xalen said as he wrenched the door open and all but sprinted out of the room, the others only a short distance behind.

They made their way down the narrow staircase and into the nursemaid’s room. The bodies were gone and the window here was no longer broken. Outside a thick fog had formed making it impossible to see anything.

Brabara moved to the door and pulled it open. Once again, an utter blackness obscured the room beyond.

“I really hate this place,” Brabara said and turned to the group. “Come on then, you know the drill.”

The others nodded and formed the line as before, and Brabara started forward. Another disorienting lurch took them and this time they stepped out into the middle of an enormous graveyard.

The night was mostly clear with occasional clouds passing by the bright full moon. Mist clung to the ground around endless rows of headstones that disappeared as far as anyone could see in all directions. Wolf howls sounded in the distance and all around them large shapes moved at the limits of their vision.

“Now what?” Brabara said with a deep sigh.

“I don’t see any notable landmarks,” Seknafret said. “Every direction looks the same.”

Ebyn shrugged. “So, let’s just pick one and walk.”

The group walked in silence for several minutes. They passed row after row of headstones and still more filled the horizon. The ground undulated slightly, and the grass of the well-kept graves crunched under their boots, but nothing came at them from the mists nor rose from the soft earth below.

“What are we doing here?” Xalen said, his voice muffled by the sombre surrounds.

Ebyn reached into his pocket and removed the sending stone. “Maybe I can try and contact Mordenkainen?”

“Can’t hurt,” Brabara said.

Ebyn touched the stone to activate it but there was no response. “Hmmm, it should be working as long as we are on the same plane of existence.”

Seknafret looked around. “I am not sure that we are. This graveyard must be a demi-plane created by the dark lord to toy with us. We will not escape until we pass whatever test he has set up for us.”

“The last one just ended after a few minutes,” Xalen pointed out. “We’ve been here much longer than that.”

“Let’s keep walking,” Ebyn suggested. “Perhaps we need to reach an exit or something.”

“Fine,” Brabara said. “It’s not like we have a choice.”

They walked for miles.

The moon never moved in the sky and the terrain of low rolling hills never changed. As they walked, Xalen began to take note of the names on the headstones. At first, they were all unfamiliar but soon he started seeing names he recognised.

“Guys,” he said, stopping and pointing at one of the headstones. “Arris Barker. I knew that guy from my early days in the guild.” He moved to another headstone nearby. “And here, Rikhard Gunther, he was the man who taught me to use a bow.”

“Are these men dead?” Ebyn asked.

Xalen shrugged. “Could be. I’ve not seen either in a while, but I can’t say for sure.”

Brabara started to look around as well. Not far away she too spotted a name she recognised in the row of headstones adjacent to Xalen. “Let’s walk this way for a bit and see if we come across anything interesting.”

Ebyn shrugged. “One way is as good as any other, at least we have a purpose now.”

They continued moving along that row of graves. The names on each side became increasingly familiar, moving from casual acquaintances to frequent contacts then colleagues in the watch, until finally they came upon four adjacent graves with their own names carved into the granite headstone.

“Now what?” Brabara said, staring down at her grave with a shiver, unable to keep from glancing at the headstone beside hers. Tiny’s name was carved with the epitaph, ‘Dead alone, and unloved’.

Xalen reached into his portable hole and removed a shovel. “We dig.”

Taking turns, the group dug down over Xalen’s ‘grave’ until they reached the coffin some six feet below the surface. Xalen handed the shovel back up to Brabara and opened the lid – not sure what he expected to see inside.

The coffin was empty.

“You know what to do,” Brabara said, her body silhouetted by the moon causing her shadow to loom over him.

Xalen felt a sickening cold knot in his stomach. “I think I do,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

The young rogue climbed into the coffin and lay down. As soon as his head touched the satin pillow the lid of the coffin slammed shut and all he could see was darkness.

Brabara squeaked as the lid closed. She dropped down into the hole to wrench it open, fumbling about for a moment as she moved to keep from standing on it. Eventually she figured it out and it came open.

Empty.

“What happened,” Seknafret called out from above.

“He’s gone,” Brabara said.

“I hope that means he’s found our way out of here,” Ebyn said, his words lacking any hint of optimism.

“I guess we’ve got some digging to do,” Brabara said climbing out from Xalen’s grave and picking up the shovel.

Even with everyone helping, it took another few hours to dig the remaining three graves. Once done, the three of them stood over their own empty coffins.

“On three?” Brabara said but got no reply, so with a shrug, she lay down and lowered her head.

The coffin lid slammed shut with a dull thud that seemed to linger far longer than normal. Darkness took her as another warping sense of dislocation twisted her gut.

They all awoke back in the Death House slumped over the dining table. They were in the room where the chandelier attacked them. Brabara jerked away and looked up to see the light fitting still fixed to the ceiling, its many candles burning with that strange, unsettling, purple light.

The table was a mess, as though a raucous dinner party had taken place, and they’d all fallen asleep there in a drunken stupor. Food scraps littered the floor, and spilled wine stained the tablecloth, the floor, even their own clothes. Brabara let out a loud belch, flavours from an opulent meal filling her nose and the thought of it almost caused her to retch.

“Are you all okay?” Brabara said, scratching at her neck as she eyed the leftovers. She pushed herself upright, fully expecting to be feeling the effects of alcohol, but she felt good. Not hungry, not thirsty, fully sated for probably the first time in a long time. “Do you guys remember eating any of this?”

The others roused and got to their feet, all experiencing that same strange sense of confusion after waking up in an unexpected location.

Xalen eyed a half-eaten chicken leg in his hand. “Nope,” he said and flung the drumstick away.

Ebyn stood up, looking down at his heavily stained clothing. “Last thing I recall is laying down in those coffins.”

Seknafret rubbed sleep from her eyes and picked a few large crumbs from her hair. “We’re not far from the exit,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They crossed the floor and opened the foyer door to reveal a depressingly familiar blackness.

“Here we go again,” Xalen said.

Brabara sighed, waited for them to grab hold of her and stepped through.

The disorienting step caused her to stumble forward, and she passed through what felt like a heavy curtain before stepping out into a theatre box that overlooked a wooden stage. Below them, eight translucent figures played a haunting tune on various instruments. They watched and listened for a time, noting a pair of kettle drums that stood behind the ensemble without a player.

“Maybe one of us has to join the band,” Ebyn mused as they looked on.

“I have some musical training,” Seknafret volunteered. “Anyone else?”

The others all shook their heads.

“I’ll do it, I guess,” Seknafret said with a sigh, “but I have never played drums before.”

Xalen chuckled. “How hard can it be?

“I guess we’ll find out,” Seknafret said, and stepped over the edge of the theatre box to drift slowly down to the stage below.

The spectral musicians continued their playing as she walked around behind them and took up the mallets.

Seknafret listened intently for a few bars, trying to pick up the rhythm of the tune, before giving the drums a first tentative strike. She continued to strike the skin lightly as she grew more comfortable with the ebb and flow of the music. The pace of the music increased and at first Seknafret was able to keep up but soon her beats were coming out of time and the entire piece collapsed in a discordant cacophony.

The players threw down their instruments in disgust, and turned their ghastly spectral faces toward Seknafret, a murderous gleam in their eyes.

Entirely prepared for this eventuality, Brabara used Seknafret’s talisman to teleport beside her and took up a defensive stance with her glaive held before her.

One of the musicians glided toward them but Brabara stopped it in its tracks. She landed several blows in quick succession and the spirit’s body dissipated into mist.

From his position up in the theatre box, Ebyn pointed at one side of the stage. A bead of light shot from his finger and exploded into a fireball that burned the bulk of the players away.

Only one remained and Xalen picked them off with cold efficiency.

As soon as the last musician fell, the theatre scene dissolved with a gut-wrenching twist transporting the four of them onto the mist choked balcony outside the nursemaid’s bedroom on the third floor.

“Here again!” Brabara roared. “Seriously! We’re back up near the top of this cursed building.”

“You could always try jumping off the balcony,” Xalen suggested, indicating the formless grey of the mist over the low railing.

Brabara looked over the edge, seriously considering taking the rogue’s advice, when Ebyn placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t,” Ebyn said. “There’s no telling what you will find out there. I suspect we’re not actually in the real house just some intricate facsimile.”

Brabara sighed. “But the exit was just there.”

“We are all feeling the same way,” the pale skinned mage said. “But we just need to push through. We’ll find our way free of this place sooner or later.”

“Fine,” Brabara said and brushed his hand away. “Let’s go then.”

The group once again headed back downstairs. The suit of armour Brabara had tossed over the edge was back on its mount against the wall. She growled in frustration as she grabbed the whole thing and tossed it down the stairs again, watching smugly as it bounced from the stair rails on its way down.

“Feel better?” Xalen said.

“Yes, I do,” Brabara said and trudged down the stairs muttering to herself as she walked.

They reached the landing of the second level and started down the final spiral to the ground floor when Brabara stopped short and let out a loud anguished scream. A field of impenetrable blackness covered the space at the foot of the stairs. Brabara rolled her eyes in frustration and this time, without waiting for the others to form a chain as they did before, she roared defiantly and sprinted into the unknown beyond.

She emerged into what appeared to be a kind of creepy child’s bedroom. There were no visible windows or doors, and the room was filled with hundreds of sinister looking dolls of all shapes and sizes that covered the floor, the bed, and the dresser.

Rose and Thornboldt stood in the centre of the room crying. Rose held her arm protectively over her brother’s heaving shoulders and their tears streamed down their faces to pool at their feet.

Brabara bent down to try and comfort the two children as the others popped into the room one by one.

“There there, little ones,” Brabara said. She reached out to lay a reassuring hand on their arms, but her fingers passed through the children as if they were nothing. “Illusions,” she hissed.

Ebyn nodded. “Perhaps, but their tears appear to be real.”

They all looked down and could see that the floor was already covered in water, and the level was steadily rising.

“There’s got to be a way out of here somewhere,” Brabara said, standing up and looking desperately around the room.

Ebyn’s lips moved as he did some mental calculations. “At the rate the room is filling we have about ten minutes before we run out of air.”

“Do you have any magic that can let us breathe underwater?” Xalen asked.

“Just this cap,” Ebyn replied, “and that will only help one of us. I can maybe use our portable holes to buy us more time, but they will eventually fill and explode which might be worse for all of us. We just need to puzzle this out and find the way to escape.”

Seknafret studied the dolls she had collected. “The dolls are all meant to be of us,” she said, “just twisted or warped in various ways. Here is a tall and thin Ebyn with clawed hands and there is a comically rotund Brabara. We have one of me as a zombie or corpse, and here is Xalen with his throat cut and a knife plunged into his chest.”

“I really, fucking hate this place,” Brabara muttered.

“Like the headstones in the graveyard the dolls must be the key to the way out,” Ebyn reasoned. “You keep digging through them and I’ll cast detect magic to see if anything stands out.”

The children continued to cry.

The water had risen to their knees by the time the spell was cast, and Ebyn scanned the room. Not surprisingly, the children and the source of water glowed in a combination of Illusion and Conjuration magic, but at first glance nothing else in the room showed as magic. Ebyn concentrated further pushing his awareness deeper and he spotted a faint glow at the base of a massive pile of dolls in the corner of the room.

“There,” he pointed. “Something magical is in there.”

Brabara tore into the pile with reckless abandon, pulling dolls clear fistfuls at a time. The water had reached their waists now and dolls floated on the surface like flotsam after a storm.

The children continued to cry.

“You’ll have to go under,” Ebyn said. “The magic, whatever it is, is stuck to the floor.”

Brabara took the water breathing cap off Ebyn’s head, slapped it on and dived under. She rummaged around in the doll choked water using Ebyn’s directions as a guide until she grabbed it.

She rose to the surface, now at chest height, with the doll in her fist and looked down. This doll was different from the rest. Instead of some wild caricature of themselves this one appeared as a handsome pale skinned humanoid dressed in red velvet with long dark hair in a pronounced widows peak.

Strahd.

“Now what?” she said, thrusting the doll in Ebyn’s face.

The wizard took the doll and turned it over in his hands. There didn’t seem to be any kind of button to press nor any arcane markings that might suggest a command word.

The children continued to cry.

“Rip it’s head off,” called Xalen, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Ebyn looked up, indecision plain on his face. “Ripping it like that might break the magic and leave us trapped.”

“Or,” said Brabara snatching the doll from the stricken mage, “it’s exactly how you stop the magic and get us out of here.”

Ebyn watched in horror as Brabara tore the head from the Strahd doll’s body. At first, nothing happened but then a loud sucking sound began and the water from the room was drawn into a hole in the doll’s neck.

Brabara let go of the doll as the water swirled in a giant vortex spinning everything and everyone in a jumble of furniture, people, and dolls around until it was sucked into that impossibly small opening into nothing.

The four of them were spat out from the air to come crashing down in the conservatory. The harpsichord and harp they’d destroyed on their first visit were again intact and stood proudly in the centre of the room.

“Is everyone ok?” Brabara asked, looking the others up and down.

“I’m good,” Xalen said breathing hard.

“Just wet, is all,” Seknafret said while squeezing excess water from her clothes.

“You know,” Ebyn began, still marvelling at their luck after destroying the doll. “That could have gone terribly wrong.”

Brabara shrugged, “But it didn’t. Let’s go.”

They opened the door and descended the stairs back to ground level. The foyer door was still open and Brabara allowed herself a moment of hope as she saw the entryway beyond.

She practically ran to the front door, ripped it open and stepped out into the cool Barovian air. The others filed out behind her, all of them visibly relieved to have made it out of that vile place.

The sky above was overcast. It was mid-afternoon, judging by the position of the weak sun behind the heavy cloud cover.

“Right then,” Brabara said. “Let’s get back to Mordenkainen and the portal as quick as we can.”

“Can you teleport us?” Seknafret asked.

Ebyn nodded. “I could, but I worry doing so will result in us being caught up in another of Strahd’s mind mazes.”

Brabara shuddered. “I could do without that.”

“Me too,” Xalen said. “I say we walk.”

Nobody disagreed with that course of action.

The group had taken only about a dozen steps when Xalen pointed up at the sky. “What’s that?”

A grey smudge moved through the air toward them in curves and loops. As the smudge drew closer, they could see it was made up of hundreds of tiny dots. These grew to become chittering bats that flew down from the sky above.

Brabara spat and stepped forward as the bats coalesced into a familiar humanoid figure about forty feet away between them and the north road.

“It’s not often I have uninvited guests to my realm,” Strahd said in that same deep baritone they heard in the first of the reality bending rooms.

“Well,” Brabara said. “We were just leaving so there’s really no need for us to become acquainted.”

“I see,” the vampire said and looked directly at Xalen. “But you have the blood of the betrayer among you. Give me the elf and the rest of you can go with my blessing.” Strahd’s lips curled in a cruel smile. “I shall take great pleasure in ending their line a second time.”

The party didn’t waste any time trying to reason with the Dark Lord.

Xalen immediately nocked an arrow and sent it at Strahd, striking the vampire squarely in the chest. Strahd’s mouth opened into a snarl, fangs bared as he tore the shaft free, the wound closing immediately.

Seknafret darted to the side and slammed her staff on the ground. A sandstorm sprung up around her obscuring the area. “If you need to you can hide in here,” she shared over the telepathic bond.

Ebyn took out a sunburst pendant and touched the weave again. A radiant cylinder of light beamed down over Strahd’s location. Ebyn’s lips quirked upward as he saw the vampire’s exposed flesh start to sizzle and ducked into Seknafret’s sand cloud.

Strahd shrunk back from the light, burning fingers moving feverishly mapping arcane symbols in the air and a fog rose up from the ground to shroud the area around him, hiding him from sight as well.

Brabara stood at the edge of the dawn’s light, her glaive moving from side to side ready to thrust at anything that might seek to escape its radiant glow.

“He’s summoned a fog,” Xalen said, as he sent a few more shafts into the area in the faint hope his arrows struck something. “Can you get rid of it?”

Ebyn stepped out of Seknafret’s concealing sandstorm and cut the threads of magic holding Strahd’s fog together. The mist burned away in a heartbeat to reveal the area, but the vampire was no longer there.

“Where’d he go?” Brabara said, her head on a swivel.

Seknafret dismissed her whirling sandstorm and silence settled on the area. She scanned the skies above them. “There,” she said.

She spoke an eldritch word and pointed, causing a magical barrier of force to appear around the area where the bat flew. The small beast proved too nimble and managed to avoid being trapped by the powerful spell by moving at preternatural speed.

“Damn it,” Seknafret said as the bat disappeared into the thick grey clouds above.

“Let’s move!” Brabara shouted. “We have to get to the portal.”

The Succulent Juices sprinted through the few scattered buildings that made up the village of Barovia and started north along the road to where Mordenkainen waited with their means of escape.

As the group crested the rise overlooking the tiny village, they looked back to see Strahd’s castle in the distance. Somehow the view became impossibly clear, and they witnessed the castle’s huge iron gates open.

Four armoured figures riding massive black horses emerged from the gate with flames gusting from their nostrils as they galloped down the road. The rhythmic beating of the horses’ hooves cracked like lightning splitting stone before settling down to a persistent distant thump.

Xalen swallowed. “We’ve got a few miles headstart, at least.”

“Let’s not waste it,” Ebyn said.

As tired as they all were from being on the go for so long, the party pushed themselves as hard as they could.

After three hours of relentless flight, the thunder of hooves behind them had grown from a distant murmur to a steady, pounding rhythm that echoed through the sodden forest. Rain lashed the canopy, turning the road slick and treacherous. Then, without warning, the trees ahead shivered and from the misted gloom emerged a monstrous wolf, its fur ghost-white and matted with old blood. Eyes like twin moons locked onto Brabara, and she froze mid-stride as the beast let out a low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate in her bones.

The rest of its pack followed in silence, shadows with teeth, fanning out in a crescent to encircle the party. These were no ordinary wolves. Their movements were too precise, too coordinated, puppets on invisible strings. One bore a tarnished silver collar, while another had crimson eyes that glowed faintly in the dark.

The vampire’s will drove them.

Brabara raised her glaive just in time to block the alpha’s lunge, its jaws snapping inches from her throat. The impact sent her sprawling, mud splashing up as she rolled to her feet. Ebyn loosed a bolt of lightning, searing a path through two of the smaller wolves, but more surged in to take their place. Xalen danced between them, his blade flashing silver in the rain, while Seknafret’s eldritch blasts kept most of their number at bay, keeping the pack from overwhelming them all.

The fight was brutal and fast. One wolf sank its teeth into Xalen’s thigh before he drove a dagger into its eye. Brabara, bloodied but unbowed, hacked through the flank of the alpha, and with a final, thunderous blow from her glaive, the great beast collapsed in a heap of steaming fur.

The survivors scattered, yelping into the trees. but the damage was done. Brabara limped, Xalen’s leg bled freely, and the storm had turned the road to mire. Worse still, the sound of pursuit was closer now, much closer. The vampire’s minions had not slowed.

An hour later, soaked to the bone and hearts pounding, they reached the familiar game trail. Without a word, they plunged into the tall pines, the forest swallowing them once more. Escape was near, but their pursuers had almost reached them.

Xalen looked back as he ran, and from between the trees he saw the flare of flames as the nightmare horses drew closer.

Rain poured between the tall pines and lightning flashed overhead, followed almost immediately by a terrible thunder that shook the ground. The clearing was just ahead, and they burst out from the trees calling desperately for Mordenkainen.

The archmage stood up as Seknafret emerged into the clearing. “Quickly!” He called out, the howling wind all but swallowing his words.

Seknafret started to sprint, but she stopped short as one of the four riders emerged from the trees to block her. One by one the enormous beasts entered the clearing to surround the group.

Another figure flew out of the darkness, his pale features revealed in another flash of lightning, laughing as he pointed a gloved finger at the portal. A crackling bolt of eldritch energy flew from the tip of his finger and into the portal where it was swallowed by the swirling energy of the gate.

The portal changed, its usual silvery glow darkened and black lines like lightning crackled across the surface.

“Hurry!” Mordenkainen yelled. He ran forward to place himself between the portal and the approaching enemies. “The portal is collapsing. Run, there’s little time left. I’ll hold the path.”

Ebyn hesitated, indecision gripped him as the famed archmage stood before Strahd and his nightmare cavalry. He reached for his component belt to try and help, but Brabara grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along as she ran for the portal.

Seknafret and Xalen were just ahead of them, and they disappeared into the portal’s swirling threshold with a loud pop. Brabara too stepped over the threshold leaving Ebyn staring back over his shoulder into the clearing.

Mordenkainen turned back, face pleading. “Fly, you fool!”

Ebyn nodded, then stepped into the portal as the four horsemen advanced on the lone wizard.