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mickume
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dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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He extends his hand, and pushes Roes and me back fifteen feet.
Gorm attacks unarmed again, missing and then hitting the old man. Roes shoots him with Nibbler, but my Chill Touch doesn't pass muster.
The old man stamps his staff on the ground. He and the druids glow green and seem to be healing. Because that's what we needed in this fight – more healing spells on the enemy team.
Gorm hits the old man with a Radiant Sunburst, and spears a druid with that bloody spear. I try to cast Chill Touch again, and this time it's a success!
The old man reaches out towards Roes and snaps his hand down. A thorny vine whip snaps out between them, which Roes barely evades.
Gorm hits the druid again, and it disperses the damage through the whole pack of them.
Roes runs up, slides the last few feet, and stabs the old man straight through his Achilles tendon. I mock him for it viciously, and my words do their intended damage.
The old man holds out a hand again, and suddenly Roes drops, lifeless, to the ground. Gorm, who doesn't see this, continues hitting the nearest druid until they all fall down as one.
I run to Roes and cast my largest healing spell, which restores them roughly halfway to health. They are just struggling to sit up when the old man hits them with a club!
Gorm turns to see us then, and sprints over, stabbing the old man with his bloody tribal spear, killing the supposed son of Strahd.
The crackling energy finally stops.
Roes throws one of their vials of alchemist's fire at the effigy, and the two of us watch as it burns.
Gorm runs towards the tree, and, with a flying leap, stabs it with the tribal spear. The vines begin to wither.
"Drink up!" Gorm shouts.
The spear itself "drinks" until the evil in the tree is finally gone.
We head back to the Martikov place afterwards to make sure they're well. Though everyone is sad about the loss of Dag and young Martin to the tree, the Martikovs thank us profusely and kindly. It's too much for Roes's guilty mind – which wanted to save everyone – and they keep apologizing to the Martikovs, who respond ...
Still, we decide to stay at the winery, and give them their space to mourn in their own wereraven ways. On the way, Gorm shows us a nifty battle ax he lifted off an enemy from our battle on Yester Hill. It's carved with leaves and vines. Such a beautiful instrument, used for such an ugly purpose.
Roes and I are craving those damned pies, something fierce. We know Gorm still has some, but he won't share, the asshole.
The night passes in an instant, and neither Roes nor I feel rested at all. 
Gorm, the asshole, is just fine.
We head back to Vallaki with alacrity, though I feel terrible. We make it as far as the tower of the wizard Khazan before we need to sleep. Gorm seems pretty happy to putter around the tower, though Roes and I are wary as we settle our bedrolls on the ground floor. This is Barovia, after all, and I pray to Melil night ...
As Roes and I are trying to sleep, we hear the clanking, not to mention the music, of the elevator coming down. We act as though we're not totally annoyed with Gorm for waking us, and for not sharing his pies, because what he does share is some fish he caught. He seems so proud of it that I cannot help but smile.
We do sleep, eventually, and I wake less exhausted than I was when I went to bed. I am near desperate for a pie, though, and I don't like how these pies are making me feel.
The next morning, we set out again for Vallaki. We make it to the bridge without incident. Just a peaceful walk in the woods – admittedly, they are creepy Barovian woods on a creepy Barovian overcast day, but still, there is no additional foreshadowing of what happens next.
At a distance, from over by the bridge, we see someone walking towards us. An outsider! It has to be, with the purple skin and Tiefling horns. His black hair is raggedy, and he is wearing armor I know as well as my own clothes. As he gets closer, I can see the jagged hole in his throat, where my shadow's rapier pierced...
"It's..." Roes begins, then trails off, horrified.
It is. It's Django.
"Where is she?!" Django screams at us in the voice of Godfrey, the corpse knight. 
He pulls out his whip.
I instinctively cast Chill Touch, but... it's Django.  Our friend. Back from the dead. Sort of. My shaking hand flies wide and I miss. Roes shoots at Django/Godfrey with the Nibbler, but their bolt misses too.
Django/Godfrey walks up and snaps his whip across my chest, and I begin to cry, more from heartache than the pain.
Gorm, who is probably wondering what the hell is wrong with us, casts two Radiant Sunbolts, one of which hits, then runs up to throw an elbow in Django/Godfrey's face.
Snapping out of my grief a little, I send my ghostly hand Django/Godfrey's way, and it grabs on tight, refusing to let him go.
Roes rallies too, and shoots a bolt from the Nibbler straight into Django/Godfrey's face!
Django/Godfrey turns his attention to Roes and, crossbow bolt sticking out of his cheek, says, "Grovel."
Roes drops to their knees and begins begging Django/Godfrey to stop, to leave us alone. They are crying, real tears, their hands clasped before them.
Gorm misses his attack with the bloody spear he got at Yester Hill, but then hits Django/Godfrey with two Radiant Sunbolts, like a one-two punch to the gut.
I stab Django/Godfrey in the armpit with my rapier, knowing from experience what his weaknesses are.
Roes uses their crossbow to shoot another bolt into Django/Godfrey's face. Then, something in them breaks and, sobbing, they grab a stick off the ground and hit Django/Godfrey in the chest until the stick breaks on his armor.
As Django/Godfrey roars in pain, his whip glows red. He hits Roes across the face with the glowing whip, and their little ears bleed.
Gorm takes his bloody spear and stabs Django/Godfrey in the thigh twice. I stab him in the armpit again, near enough to the first wound to be almost through it.
Roes's crossbow bolt bounces of Django's chest plate. They throw a dagger at him, and it sticks in his clavicle. 
"I was aiming for the face," Roes says, disappointed. 
Django's whip glows white with Godfrey's magic, and he claps Roes across the face again.
Gorm stabs Django/Godfrey in the underarm, where my rapier has already left two wounds, then pulls his bloody spear out and stabs Django/Godfrey through the neck.
Django/Godfrey falls again.
"It's not over." Django's mouth forms the words, but the voice is that of the corpse knight.
This time, we strip Django of his armor and burn his body. Roes keeps his whip, because they are more sentimental than they would like us to think.
We cross the bridge and continue until we see the walls of Vallaki, until Roes suddenly hisses, "Get down!" and I see that someone is approaching us again. We start to hide, but then we recognize him: it's the coffin maker, all out of breath and running straight for us.
"Vampires," he wheezes, "in the church!"
The three of us share a look of horror, and I know we're all thinking of Ireena. We head for the church as fast as we can run together. 
When we arrive, we can see five figures crawling on the outside of the church like roaches. Roes, rightly terrified of being bitten a third time, hides outside while Gorm and I run inside the church.
It's packed inside, wall to wall with people. Father Lucien is preaching his sermons loud enough to be heard over the fearful crowd, calling on the Morning Lord to protect us all from the Devil.
The church doors fly open with a loud bang, causing the crowd of parishioners to cry out.
"Dare you speak my name even now?" a smooth, low voice asks.
I look over, and there he is, standing in the doorway of the church. Tall, and terrifying, his black hair pulled back from his pale, angular face. He has a pronounced widow's peak. His narrow eyes never look away from their target, Father Lucien, who is still preaching his sermon despite obvious fear.
"Name me, priest," says the Devil in the doorway. "Show me the strength of your faith. Show us all."
Father Lucien cowers; he cannot do it.
Strahd strolls forward, walking into the church. 
"Your flame has endured long enough," Strahd says. He is walking towards Father Lucien. No one stands in his way.
Gorm and I make our way through the crowd to Ireena,  who looks terrified. Gorm discreetly pulls out his spear, though it drips blood on the floor, and we stand at the ready, both of us frightened out of our wits.
The five vampires who were crawling on the outside of the church break in through the windows. The crowd screams.
A man from town – I recognize him; he offered to show us around – steps forward and attacks Strahd with his paltry sword. The wound closes up. Strahd crushes the man's throat and keeps walking casually forward. Always forward, eyes on Father Lucien. 
Until he gets to me.
He stops, and looks over with a smile. 
"Our true meeting is long overdue," he says to me, his voice smooth and low.
Then his whole demeanor shifts, as he mock-pleads, "Please, Milil, save me! Rescue me from this awful place!"
I have only ever spoken those words in my mind, to Milil herself. I feel all the blood drain from my face.
I'm completely unnerved, but determined to stand guard over Ireena, so I ignore him, my hand twitching on my rapier, and my mind supplying the rhyme for "widow's peak" as "weak" – just in case.
But Ireena, the brave, foolish woman, runs out from behind us to stand between Strahd and Father Lucien. 
"You'll have to kill me," she says, and her voice does not waver. 
Strahd smiles at her like people smile at flowers in the sunshine. Well, in normal places, where the sun shines, ever.
"I will, eventually."
She tries to attack with her rapier. Strahd catches the blade through his pale palm and throws it to the side.
He grabs Ireena, dragging her close.
"The third bite, I will save for our wedding," he purrs, and throws Ireena to the side like a rejected toy.
Gorm hits a vampire with his Radiant Sunbolt, and runs to check on Ireena. I cast Chill Touch on the same vampire, backing Gorm's play as he dodges vampire claws.
Ireena is looking for her rapier, which belonged to her father, the dead Bergermeister, before her.
Father Lucien has been preaching his sermon the entire time. He continues his sermon right up until the moment Strahd grabs him by the robes, pulls him close, and bites him in the neck. Strahd drops the body of Father Lucien, drained of blood.
"Welcome to Barovia," he says in his smooth voice, with his smooth grin.
The lights on the street all extinguish as one. 
"Dine with me in Castle Ravenloft," Strahd says, as if five, six people hadn't just died making a meal for him and his lackeys.
The mist pours in, obscuring and disappearing the vampires before any of us can answer.
Roes comes in on silent feet.
Father Lucien and six others are dead. There is blood all over the church. People are devastated by the Father's death, talking in loud voices about how the festivals didn't keep them safe.
Ireena isn't safe in Vallaki anymore, if she ever was safe here to begin with. We need to get her out, before anyone takes notice of her.
More people are coming in, including the guards, so we leave at a brisk pace, but not fast enough to be suspicious, you know?
On our way back to the inn with Ireena, we decide to pursue the sword next. When we first arrived in town I heard a rumor about an abandoned village south of Vallaki that sounds like what Madame Eva was talking about with her cards.
Once we get Ireena safely to our room at the inn, we go to talk to the innkeeper, Urwin Martikov, to tell him what happened at the winery. We take him down to the wine cellar to talk in private, though he looks at us like we're daft.
I try to explain, but it's been such a long day that I just start to cry instead, and Roes has to take over telling the story of what happened on Yester Hill. But their speech, surprisingly, is gentle and kind. I've rarely, if ever, seen this side of them before.
Through tears in his eyes, Urwin pays us what he promised and gives us a room for the night.
After that, we decide we are definitely going outside for some pipeweed. We're running low, but the stress is clearly getting to me.
On our way out to smoke, a man walks in. There is something about him that strikes me, something odd, but I cannot put my finger on it.
Roes can, though. They walk up to the man and, with a little wave, say, "Hey, fellow outsider! You're part elf? What's your name?"
With a grin, he answers loudly, "I am the great Rictavio, traveling ringmaster!"
Roes's eyes flicker, and I recall that, before they threw in their lot with me, they were in the circus.
"Where are you from?" Roes asks. "How did you get here?"
Rictavio shrugs. "My caravan brought me here three weeks ago. I rode my wagon through the mists. Let me buy you a drink. You must be the outsiders I've heard so much about."
Over drinks, he tells us the most amazing stories of his adventures and the people he has met. We are all enchanted. I don't know if any of his stories are true or not, but they are enrapturing. He's also paying a lot of gold for wine for the whole table, all of us.
One of the stories he tells us, we instantly recognize. It wasn't that long ago, after all, when we arrived at the wizard Khazan's tower for the first time, and read the story of the monster hunter and his son, Erasmus. That is one of the tales Rictavio tells us.