A new Dark Lord and the reunification of the Barovian factions
Even as Diana forbade Renato from opening an assassin's coven in Barovia, the young vampire gave his Tome leave to see to the cathedral's reconstruction, or rather the chapter house's reconstruction, as Renato wanted nothing to do with Tenebrous worship and sullying good killing with religion. The hunched, pallid nosferatu, calling Renato 'Lord' and generally ignoring Diana's authority, wiggled his extremely-long fingers with glee and floated off to the ruins, intent on creating undead laborers from the corpses in the rubble.
Renato hefted the spent witch over his shoulder and The Dark Three, their reputable knight in tow, set out into the dark pine forest. Diana could not place where exactly in Barovia they were, despite having toured the country several months ago, and certainly Isabella was no good for input, so they 'felt' their way through, Renato noticing after a time markings on certain trees, a path which led to a fork. The markings on two entwined trees were Tir'bukan symbols, part of the alphabet they'd lifted from the dead civilization back in Vadenja. One read 'Life' and the other 'Death'.
After a moment, Renato headed death, the others reluctantly following. They were on the trail marked by hired killers. Death just seemed... right, and besides, knowing their luck, choosing life would lead to something horrible. As it turned out, Death's Road guided them safely through the woods within the hour. They found themselves, then, at the base of the sheer cliff walls which circumscribed the assassins' vale. Trying to spy the best place to climb, Renato discovered hidden steps carved into the rock, ascending a very narrow and vertical path to a plateau a hundred feet up, then again another two hundred feet to a cave mouth.
The vampires had little trouble negotiating the steps, but poor Dame Samira was very careful about things. Diana decided to match her pace even as Renato went on ahead, in the process learning a little more about the woman. She'd once been a dancer, perhaps evident in the way she carried herself, but later in life joined the military. Diana thought it a strange twist of fate, which insulted the woman, who was not born in a castle and did not have the money to see her dream realized. Her hometown of Immol was as often besieged as Barovia Village and so she heeded the call for warriors of light. Diana apologized to her budding friend, wondering if she could somehow make it up to her by asking what it was she desired most. After all, she was daughter of the countess, and could likely provide anything but what Samira quietly confessed next: to be a wife and a young mother.
A little more prying revealed Samira was in love with the burgomeister of Immol, Petre, something Diana certainly COULD help with. Though the knight had met Petre several times, she'd never had the chance to engage him without the backdrop of zombie plague, werewolf invasion or some other night terror. Diana decided to host a celebration which he'd be invited to, but Samira, though grateful, thought it excessive and unwise to collect all Barovian leaders in one place during such dangerous times. Ultimately, Diana promised to travel with Samira back to Immol once her business in Saspien was concluded, giving her reason to meet with the burgomeister more privately, though she'd have to do the rest. The sorceress was gracious enough not to make mention of the thirty year difference in their ages.
Once on the stone flat, the vale stretched before them, a ring of high mountains encompassing a thick, brooding pine forest. A small clearing in the center of the woods revealed the speck of cathedral ruins. Renato stood smiling a moment before continuing up, foregoing the idea of waking Isabella to prepare the ritual back to Castle Ravenloft until after they were properly sheltered.
Again the vampires reached the top well before the Barovian knight, surprised to find the cave was not a natural one, rather the opening of a wide causeway of worked stone. The architecture seemed strangely Tir'bukan, luring Renato in a little deeper. The low ceiling was supported by stone columns carved in the likenesses of ugly, stacked heads, and chiseled upon the walls were all sorts of miniature reliefs, showing assassins poisoning goblets, sniping from rooftops, strangling with chord, stretching into darkness with no suggestion of ending. Perhaps it was the way the wind cut against the pillars, but something like flutes played faintly in the air, like the flutes the Tirbukan pygmies played.
Diana helped Samira the rest of the way up and quickly roused Isabella. She had enough outdoors for one night, and certainly wasn't going to waste hours or days traveling. The shadow witch woke to the looming, stone heads and low ceiling, flashes of mother's coffin wracking her with claustrophobia, and she needed a minute and many assurances to come around. Still befuddled from all the trauma back at the cathedral, but just as eager to leave this place, she very slowly began work on a ritual back to the castle.
With time to spare, Renato couldn't help but move deeper, despite the girls' warnings. He spent several minutes exploring the straight causeway, finding the basic architecture uniform, though each grimacing head and relief unique. The further he went, the more his fear fell to curiosity, somehow knowing this place was not dangerous to him.
Isabella made the usual motions, drawing circles with the red chalk and evoking hellfire, but the flames were decidedly red and rolled with the viscosity of blood. The faint flutes grew in tempo and volume, as if she were conjuring something more than a portal. Still she persisted, invoking Hecate and nearly finishing the ritual, bloody flames reaching upward and inches from entwining to form a portal. She called for Renato, uncertain how long she could stall.
And the call echoed faintly down the causeway. Renato nearly turned back, but out of the corner of his eye discovered blood gutters in strange patterns across the floor, sometimes even riding up on the walls to outline particular assassinations. The Vadenjan step pyramids possessed such gutters, suggesting a sacrificial altar somewhere ahead. He pressed on with a jog.
Isabella was forced to complete the ritual, and the red, dripping fire strands formed bars and arches and became a wide, open gate. Already beads of sweat formed over the witch's brow, as she pitted her will and magic against the natural tendency of the universe to right her spacial fold. The girls called out again for the impetuous assassin, but there was no answer. At Isabella's urging, Samira and Diana eventually passed through, and Isabella held the portal open but a few more moments before surrendering to the strain, leaving her alone in the eerie, unfamiliar tunnel, and Diana and Samira alone in the eerie, unfamiliar crypts...
The Ravenloft Crypts were pitch black, leaving Samira frightened and blind. Diana whispered her assurances and took the girl by the wrist, leading her through the entirely alien part of the castle. The heiress had never gone this deep before and recognized none of the corpse shelves or rowed sarcophagi, and had difficulty navigating the maze of vaulted cloisters and locked, iron gates. She even considered they were, in fact, in some attic or tower top, especially when she discovered a passage down: an archway flanked by apple tree caryatids whose intricately-carved blossoms and leaves had either crumbled to dust or been smothered in spider gossamer. An orange-gold light shone from below the oppressively narrow staircase, but because of the way it spiraled there was little clue as to why. Still convinced it would lead somewhere preferable, the two descended, Samira offering to go first just in case now that she could see again.
Sight was a luxury Samira did not enjoy long, as the further down they went, the brighter the light, until it all but blinded both women. And the light, for all its strength, offered no warmth. Rather, it grew colder and colder. Diana was beginning to doubt her initial assessment, and admittedly Samira was reluctant to continue, at which point the sorceress recalled she'd maps of the castle! Renato had offered them to her during their rest in the woods, or perhaps she'd pilfered them, or maybe there were duplicates she herself discovered in the Tome's ample roller desk, but in any case she plopped down on the steps and shuffled through folios and various scroll tubes until at last she identified where they were heading, marked with a single word: Tatyana.
Little alarm bells rang in Diana's head and she took Samira back up the way they'd came. Over the course of the next hour, they managed their way out of the damnable, dark, dank and dreary catacombs, narrowly avoiding the Brides and something unidentifiable beyond wet, ragged breaths and heavy scraping.
Emerging in a well-furnished hall, they managed a few feet before Gerald floated up wondering how the ladies had managed to escape his welcome. While Samira stammered the words 'guh-guh-ghost', Diana sent him to Thedra so she might dispense summons to Barovia's leaders, never mind how early it was... [Given the Barovian summer, I'd say you left Thedra's lab for the Temple of the Night at dusk, around 7pm on Talsil 18th. Your work in the Temple was at the least another hour. Then the extended rest in the woods took another 6 hours, followed by another hour-and-a-half through the woods and to the cave and ten minutes for the ritual. After about an hour-and-ten-minutes in the catacombs, you'd finally emerge in the hall with Gerald at about 6:50am on Talsil 19th]...
Then she took Samira to see her mother, remarking along the way that a contingent of Ravens could be stationed at the castle, something of an outreach program to show the villagers and doubters that not all vampires were out to destroy them. Samira thought the idea had merit, though when she noticed the bold, overbearing portrait of Count Strahd hung imperiously over the main foyer, she suggested perhaps removing the image of their five-hundred-year-tormentor beforehand...
Renato delved nearly three miles into the mountain before coming upon his suspicion, an altar of sorts, to say a wall some ten feet high and twenty feet wide dominated by a massive, protruding stone skull settled in an inclined pool crusted with dry blood, the depression which spawned the blood gutters like a lake might rivers and streams. The skull was surrounded by stone reliefs of miniature, piled corpses, hundreds, thousands, like mountains behind and beside it. It's great jaws were just parted enough to form a slit between teeth wide enough to insert, say, a blade. Upon the forehead of the skull in Tir'bukan hieroglyphs read 'Let the bloodiest blade be my key'.
After scanning for traps, he stepped into the pool and fit Slask Seven-Cuts' kukri into the slot. Immediately, his head whipped back and he flew into a state of murderer's ecstasy, watching play before him every death caused by the blade, feeling the weight of the swings and stabs, the resistance of throats and flesh, the warm spray of vitae and the spasms of the prey. Seven-hundred-and-twenty-three killings flooded his mind and, unbeknownst to him, filled the pool, the blood rising to his mid-chest and snaking out through the blood gutters.
As he moaned and laughed, Isabella, who had followed after the assassin, came upon the scene and cried out in horror. She moved to the edge of the pool, watching as blood ran through the gutters and traced patterns, but she dared not disturb him for what consequences might come with interrupting whatever was happening. The smell of all that warm blood made her swoon as she watched to its completion.
Renato suddenly knew things he'd no right to know, the history of Assassin's Vale remembered by the seven Dark Lords who came before, each entombed somewhere in the valley. He knew the land as if he'd lived there all his life, moreover felt the land, was one with the land. He could envision every last beast and bird, every tree and peak, every curl of mist. When he finally pulled away with the kukri, he stood lucid and invigorated, Dark Lord of Assassin's Vale.
Dripping red, he emerged from the pool and tried to comfort and reassure the frightened Isabella that he was more alive, more powerful and sure than he'd ever been in his life, that he was one with the domain, but Isabella did not understand. It was she who was tied to the Barovian fanes. Barovia couldn't possibly be under his control! His peculiar manner spurred her into creating a second portal, this time without the bloody fire or flutes. They managed their way into the catacombs, tracing Diana and Samira's steps...
The countess occupied the darkened throne room, gray stonework and black marble and deep, crimson banners, with a long table surrounded by blackwood chairs before an elevated dais. Sitting the noble seat in a casual, black, almost Vistani, outfit complete with gauzy bandanna, Countess Angelique appeared deep in thought. She snapped awake when Diana entered, though, relieved at her daughter's safe return and curious as to their guest.
Conversation started light enough, and Diana mentioned her idea of changing guard to her mother, who rather liked the notion of free Ravens as opposed to the expensive bogatyri. Since Ravenloft no longer received the exorbitant tribute it once did under Strahd's rule, the von Zarovich fortune was now finite. When topic turned to Isabella, however, again Angelique lost her temper, but this time for quite another reason than the girl's doing, rather out of rage for Queen Victoria once learning of her hand in Isabella's loss of innocence. Angelique rued how Victoria had only ever used her brother for his resources and saw even her own child as a commodity to be bartered. Diana quietly advised Samira stay back as the countess seethed, eyes burning red, the marble arms of her throne crumbling in her vice grip. With another curse upon Victoria, the open flames throughout the castle blew out at once.
Renato warily lowered his stance as Angelique's fury blew through the castle, Isabella shy to follow. When the assassin headed off to find Diana and the countess, the witch resigned to wait on the steps beneath the painted gaze of her grandfather. The assassin found them before long and together the four decided it best to call assembly immediately and present their evidence. A rather grand procession moved out of the castle, Countess Angelique von Zarovich followed by her heiress Lady Diana Savrano von Zarovich, Dark Lord Renato Ruiz of the Vale, Dame Samira von Immol and lastly, out of immediate sight, Princess Isabella Il'spana. They traveled on horseback down the Old Svalich Road, relieved to find no lurking shade or wolf pack, even as the Sunsword slowly lightened the sky...
Isabella veered off the main road and into the fields outside Barovia Village, finding a secluded spot beneath the fading moon in which to pray for guidance. She had never felt so lost and alone, so betrayed, her only small comfort the gentle and stupid beast whose mane she stroked absently. Emotions boiled and churned within her, love of Mara now mixed with doubt, a need to please her mother mixed with the need for retribution. Anger peeled away from her, further stoking her internal chaos, and the two argued to exhaustion amidst the green, summer corn...
The grand procession crossed Ignac's Bridge and passed under the skeleton of the Raven's fortress with purpose, inspiring a mixed reaction from the early-risen populace (farmers, vendors, builders out to beat the daytime heat), some bowing, most gaping, a few even hiding or making signs of the phoenix. Renato made sure his look lingered on those cowards, while Diana struggled to keep her horse in check. After long, the beast threw her off, snapped at her, then rode off down the lane. That's when she noticed the other horses keeping their distance, panicking if she got too close.
They found a collection of Ravens assembling for a change in the watch, all of whom bowed before the countess as knights are wont to do in the presence of nobility. Angelique was decided pleased and bit them fetch The Lady Raven, who was roused out of bed, greeting them a few minutes later in a simple tunic and breaches, hair a mess, her sword belt tilted on her waist. She was relieved at her friends' safe return, but the lightness of her being was weighted quickly once Samira confirmed her fears of a connection between the Children, the Ordo and Darakaan.
Ashlyn went to retrieve the final member of the Barovian Council, Burgomeister Ireena, in the chapel giving confession and only a short walk through the winding cobblestones of the village main street. The path was decidedly pitched upward toward a green, risen knoll whereupon the Chapel of Kalinda sat. Nothing as elaborate as the Temple of the Night, it held a certain honesty and history in the brightening shafts of holy light, old stones, worn woods, a tall steeple, surrounded by hilly churchyard. After Ashlyn entered the building, Diana and Renato decided to follow, but just as they reached the break in the low stone wall surrounding the sanctified ground, the two halted. Some nameless dread prevented them from taking even one more step upon the christened soil, another side effect of the Old Curse, one of many the pair rued openly. Even the countess seemed perturbed by the growing morning light, dismounted and converting her bandanna into a shielding shawl.
Ashlyn emerged with Ireena in tow several minutes later, the burgomeister looking a vision as always, always carrying herself with grace and dressing precisely, this time in a short, brown riding jacket, complete with vest and silky blouse, matched with a riding skirt and tall boots. Her hair was pinned high and back, revealed her perturbed look plainly. She greeted them cordially, but no doubt Ashlyn had shared the gist of last night's endeavors.
The Lady Raven ushered everyone inside the vacated townhouse where once the Lightbringers convened, into a bare common room save a small apple wood table, a few chairs and a cold hearth. The countess was afforded the honor of sitting at the head, Ireena and Ashlyn taking position on either side of her. Samira said her peace, and Diana held her agenda until after the rulers of Barovia had been given opportunity to consider the local happenings.
Ashlyn grimly conceded there were few option besides a military action against the Children if they were indeed ordering hits and affiliated with Darakaan. The countess agreed, somehow sounding casual, and yet obvious in her eagerness to rid the domain of the Kalindian order once and for all. Ireena couldn't possibly condone such an attack, siting her belief that the Children were simply following the command of their superior, Templar Zarephath, and were again being duped. Had not Ashlyn suffered a similar ruse, accidentally carrying out the will of Mara via the orders of Sir Konrad? Ashlyn admitted as much, several meetings held in the very room they all sat in, and that it was a hasty decision to make open war with fellow Kalindians when the true problem was their leader. The countess felt that left but one option, to let Renato 'do his work', which brought a smile to the young man's shadowed face, but which left Ireena cold.
Not all the Children were unreasonable zealots. Given their proof, Ireena suggested calling a meeting of leadership and making their case before his peers. Ashlyn was not so convinced, even with clear logs and Darakaani coins, as the deva was loved by his followers and held a charismatic power in his voice that few could resist. Diana spoke up, then, wondering if they'd be more apt to listen if they were jarred out of their blind devotion, say perhaps if the Sunsword went missing. The countess smiled, Ireena nearly fell out of her seat, and it soon became apparent Ashlyn was the tiebreaker. The sorceress went on to assure her friends it would only be for a day, just enough to stir the pot, allow them to review the facts as they were, not as Zarephath might paint them. After some thought, The Lady Raven agreed, and a tentative plan was formed, much to Ireena's dismay.
The Dark Three would infiltrate the Temple of the Wheel unseen, steal the Sunsword and escape equally unnoticed, after which a meeting would be called between parties and the truth laid bare. However there was the matter of the Old Curse to contend with, and vampires' inability to cross onto sanctified ground...
Perhaps using the signets or a Sending, they could lure Zarephath into a false meeting with the assassins, in reality a trap to catch the deva red-handed during an exchange. Not only would the Barovian Council be present, but as many Children of Light as they could convince, eliminating the risk of being caught and losing all credibility in an attempt to steal the Kalindian relic and proving beyond even fanatics' doubt the truth of Zarephath's nature.
Experience: 1533 xp each (59,673 total)
Dark Lord Risen, 2400
Factions Reunited, 1200
RP Bonus, 1000
Coin: -320 gp (Izzy: Linked Portal x 2, Sending)
Boon: Dark Lordship (Renato)
Dark Lordship of Assassin's Vale
You, who hold the bloodiest blade, have claimed lordship of Assassin's Vale. With each new death you deliver, you further solidify your rule.
Level: 18
Price: 85,000 gp
Dark Lordship
Property: You are master of the domain and control the weather, the seasons, the birds and beasts, even the topography, which you may alter as you see fit. So long as your domain endures, so shall you, in effect providing endless longevity.
Property: You can identify other Dark Lords with an Insight check, and they you.
Power: Daily. Standard action. You and up to eight allies travel back to Assassin's Vale with a rising plume of thick, soupy mist, materializing anywhere you like within the domain. These allies must have physical contact with you.
Weakness: You possess a symbiotic relationship with the Vale. Its destruction is your destruction, its plagues, sieges and natural disasters are your afflictions. The ancient skull set at the end of Death's Road is your skull, your fane, which binds the land to you. Should it be threatened or assailed, you will know inherently. Should another, more-worthy assassin plunge his blade between the fane's teeth, you will know death.
Weakness: You cannot stand to be away from the domain for too long. Your body begins to fade after a number of days equal to your Constitution score. You become weakened and insubstantial and must succeed daily Endurance checks to remain where you are, or else magically teleport back to the fane. There you must rest, submerged in the blood pool for the number of days you were away. If you remain estranged from the Vale for twice your Constitution score, you die and rise as some nasty form of spectral undead.
New NPCs
Burgomeister Petre Teodorus (mentioned): The burgomeister of Immol, a strong, fifty-something year old Barovian dedicated to the people and the object of Samira's affections.
New Hooks
Dark Lord (Renato): You are one with the secluded Assassin's Vale, it's undisputed master. You control its weather, its beasts, its very topography. You know all its secrets. With the title comes a terrible power and considerable untapped potential... and perhaps a few strings.
Next Session
84b: The Dark Three prepare their political one-two punch, embarking on a mission to steal the Sunsword out from under the Children's guard to weaken their morale and jar their sensibilities, then produce the evidence to condemn Templar Zarephath.
