#welcome to barovia

[immortalarizona-art]

“This isn’t love, Monty. It’s obsession. I’m your unfinished business.”

Achlys has been having a completely fun and normal time in Curse of Strahd (lying)

so last session Achlys found out that one of her ghost buddies that's been following her for like the past few years is actually her husband from her first life in Mordent >:) he's been waiting all this time for her to remember him (she should be able to if she really loved him, right?) and so never told her who she used to be, despite knowing that she's been desperate to figure that out ever since she woke up again after dying. (for the record, he wasn't always like this. something something undeath corrupts even the purest intents and emotions)

this was a conversation I improvised with myself in-session, and this is honestly some of the best dialogue I've ever come up with on the fly imo. so I decided I wanted to commemorate it with art :D

I reeeeaaaalllly wanna draw more comics now, having dipped my toes in the water with this one!!! composing this one was a very fun challenge. very Enrichment. I will be keeping my eyes out in future sessions of all my games for more Fun Dialogue Moments to illustrate >:D

also, this is my first time drawing Achlys with her updated scar design, featuring darkened blood vessels, muscular paralysis, and strabismus since first sketching it out, and I'm REALLY happy with how the visual update looks in action!!! as a treat for reading all the way to the end of the post, here's another sketch of my gal :DDD

[immortalarizona]

“Many are the days I’ve wanted to cease

Lay myself down and find some release

Heavy is the head that gets no sleep

We carry around our lives in our memories

Take away this apathy

And bury it before it buries me.”

— The Oh Hellos, “Cold is the Night”

a full-body portrait of my disaster pan bard Achlys Ghost-Speaker, my beloooved <33

more party drawings to follow shortly!!

shoutout to @jookpubstock for the pose ref, @adorkastock for the hand ref, and whoever put together the amazing fabric ref that I found on google :]

[natalievoncatte]

There had been a time when Kara was almost relieved when she lost her powers to a solar flare. The silence was like a lover's kiss to her ear, the peace like the embrace warm maternal arms. It was almost like being home. When her powers were active, the sounds and sights and sensations were always there, just around a corner made of concentration, beyond a door made of discipline. Kara could never tune out the cacophony. She could only tame it, bend it to her will.

Now the world around her had shrunk, it seemed, to a span of twenty or thirty feet, occupied by her sister, Samantha Arias, and a bedraggled, harried Lena Luthor. Kara could barely tear her eyes from Lena. Her best friend looked like she'd been through something terrible, bloodshot eyes wide, the tracks of tears still fresh on her face. One hand was stuffed firmly in her pocket, clutched firmly around what was probably a gun.

Alex, by contrast, had her sidearm out, held in the low ready position, scanning the mists around them with seeking eyes. Kara turned slowly, feeling as boxed in by her lack of superhuman sight as she was by the oppressive silence of this place.

"Where the hell are we?" said Alex.

Sam cleared her throat. "We're not going to find that out standing here."

Alex looked at her. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

She gave that little roll of her neck, the way she did when she knew that they were in trouble, and smoothly holstered her gun under her jacket.

"My car is gone, somehow, so we're going to have to walk. Which way?"

They were standing in the middle of a road, maybe twenty feet wide and paved with smooth cobbles, slowly being swallowed by the mud beneath them. The road was lined on both sides by dense forest, mostly pines with a few bare deciduous trees clawing their way up between the dull gay-green branches. Between the trunks was a deep and dense thicket, with thorns as long as the smallest of Kara's fingers. They weren't going that way.

Lena tilted her head, pointing with her chin the way she sometimes did.

"That way. I think I see lights."

Kara stepped up beside her, peering into the mist with her natural Kryptonian eyesight. Her vision was more acute than that of a human, just as her skeleton was denser and had more bones and her muscles had different attachment points and denser fibers, all of which made her about fifty percent heavier than she looked. She still had strength. She could still protect Lena, and the others.

There was a little flutter in her chest. There always was.

"Lena," Kara said, turning to her. 

"Not now. Let's get home, then we'll talk," Lena said, a tremor beneath the professional chill in her voice.

"I'll go first," said Kara.

"I'm the one with the gun," said Alex. "Kara, maybe I should take point."

Kara shot her a sharp look and started forward. Lena hesitated for a brief moment, then took up position just behind Kara's left shoulder, so close that Kara thought she could feel the other woman's presence.

As she walked, Kara chewed her lip, fighting the urge to look back and try to strike up conversation again. It ended up a kind of walking fidget, with Kara worrying at her palms with her thumbs.

She's mad. She must be furious. I should have told her. Why didn't I tell her?

"Did you hear that?" said Sam.

They all stopped. Alex turned.

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard... laughing," said Sam.

"I didn't," said Kara, "but then again, I don't have my powers."

That wasn't true. She had this maddening sense that it was all there, just out of her reach somehow. She scanned the mist again, feeling her frustration mount.

"I hear voices up ahead," said Lena. "Look."

There were lights ahead, swaying gently as in a breeze. Kara squared herself up and led them all ahead, chin down, ready for a fight. She had to make sure they were all okay. 

The lights grew brighter. As they grew nearer, they began to flicker more clearly. Candles, or gas lamps. Shapes resolved in the mist, first the vague impression of vertical members and timbers, but as they grew nearer, Kara saw they were trellises and there were lamps strung between the uprights, swaying gently over rows of long picnic tables, each covered in an elegant silk cloth that must have cost a fortune. On the tables, a feast was laid out, half-eaten meals still on fine porcelain. Tall wine glasses stood still with their contents remaining, some half drained, the odd one here and there stained by the blush of wine or lipstick.

"Where is everybody?" said Alex. "I don't like this."

A larger shape formed in the mist as they walked between the tables. Kara glanced back and froze.

"That wasn't there before."

"What?" Alex started.

They all turned. There was a wall behind them, a high stone barrier topped with foot long wrought iron spikes, a tall barred gate in the center. Kara took a moment to work out the worked iron letters cresting the arched gate, as she was seeing them backwards: DURST MANOR.

[thetalesofno-one]

Played tag in a graveyard

You know, like you do in Barovia

[immortalarizona]

TRUE

Get your "I went to Castle Dracula and all I got was deeply traumatized" mug here!

[wrraiith]

Heelloo first sketches of Dread in the Dark Viktor (and Salem)

[kolyyanas]

projecting my mental illnesses onto whoever i am at the moment so sorry to all my nonexistent curse of strahd mutuals who get to watch ireena discover the wonders of being anorexic

[grantihare]

pray for my players yall lmao

[immortalarizona]

yes, hello. I (the resident aroace) was the one who suggested seducing the guards to find the werewolf. I cannot explain myself

dnd arcventures continue… she wasn’t even the one who suggested the “seduce everyone” plan! she was extremely down to try it though.

it didn’t end up working very well, but she did get everyone a new place to stay, and has also learned what the colour green is.

[barovianblood]

Prime Meridian

@stcrmborne has been cordially invited to dine

The mist wafting off the ocean had been thicker than normal. The discolored grey soon blotted out even the rays of the sun, and the sounds of waves breaking beneath their ship had subsided. For no longer did the Aasimar stand on the familiar deck of the ship she traveled on but on the decrepit planks of a dock too small to harbor any sort of ship and that had not seen use in a very long time. A portly man sat legs crossed, dangling a fishing line off the side of the dock. Filthy sweat stained clothes clung to him like a second skin, though he paid the newcomer no mind, all too caught up in dangling the bait less string in the water. An other figure however approached baring lantern light. One arm hidden beneath his regal robes while the other held a lantern out in front of himself to illuminate the way. "Good evening" Spoke Strahd, with only the imitation of pleasantness in his tone. "You look so terribly lost, perhaps you will let me be of some assistance to you?".

[immortalarizona-art]

“Come, my dear, and be a part of my home Missing stitch and flowers on a headstone But I will crawl like a sinner to be at your feet Should God or the devil ever ask for me Oh my love, oh my love.” — The Crane Wives, “October”

hehe new official art of Achlys >:) feat. her updated design, her cane, her bone lyre, her holy symbol of ravenkind, more Ravenloft motifs, and also her own gravestone. I'm super super proud of how this one turned out, especially the composition!! (it's something I've been trying to work on lately.)

pose is this one I found on pinterest:

and the hand is referenced from the same image from @adorkastock that I used for her last character art:

[immortalarizona]

“I keep my closet free of skeletons ‘Cause I’m much better at digging graves But I always dig up bones in your sympathy I can’t trust a single thing you say.”

— The Crane Wives, “Metaphor”

bonus: the full piece without the tarokka frame, and with a higher resolution!!

kinda feel like I over-blended the highlights, but oh well :/

please pretend that I know how to draw feet

shoutout to @jookpubstock for enabling my Achlys brainrot once again by providing the pose I referenced for this drawing, as well as my reference for the skirt and shirt!!

[utilitycaster]

You've mentioned a few times about Matt making this the Moon Plot Campaign and the cast not realizing it was the Moon Plot Campaign and how the characters aren't necessarily the best for a Moon Plot Campaign and I'm just curious: if you could pick what type of character build the cast played to best fit a Moon Plot how might that look?

Oh man I think I've answered this before but I will always answer it again because my answer is evolving.

The first two things are just general advice:

In retrospect I think Matt should have treated this campaign as sort of a semi-module format. If you will be playing a module (eg: Curse of Strahd, Call of the Netherdeep, etc), your DM should tell you this and essentially say "you can have your own character struggles - in fact you should - but they should be largely internal/things that can be addressed without you going on an extended quest." For example, you can (and should) play a character in Curse of Strahd who is struggling with self-esteem, or religious faith, or cowardice; but you can't have a character who, to address these things, must confront their father, because they're going to be in Barovia and he's not going to be there. I recommend checking out the rivals in Call of the Netherdeep, because their throughlines are great examples - they' develop and engage with the story, but it's very much driven by the plot of the story and not a delving into their backstory. So essentially, have simpler backstories or backstories that inherently tie into the quest, and let the players come up with that by giving them the most spoiler free outline. I think Matt tried to do all that tying up himself, and at times it made things a little too pat; or those characters who had elements that couldn't be woven in as gracefully (Chetney and the Gorgynei; Laudna with Delilah; some of Ashton's stuff) got very brief arcs so we could get back to the main moon plot.

Do not dump intelligence. DO NOT DUMP INTELLIGENCE. Have at least one PC in your party who is not just intelligent but like, educated. Percy, Beau, and Caleb all fit this. Chetney's pretty smart but not terribly educated so he's great at investigation but he's not going to do very well on religion checks. This party should have had a fucking wizard or artificer or cobalt soul monk or knowledge cleric, but also every party should unless you're going full murder hobo. I think it's valid to be into actual play (or d&d itself) for the character moments and the romance but you know what makes that possible? FIGURING OUT WHAT'S FUCKING HAPPENING INSTEAD OF DICKING AROUND CLUELESSLY. My one true house rule for myself as a DM is that one person in the party has to have high intelligence (or like, be a bard or rogue with decent intelligence but expertise/jack of all trades in everything). Play a high int character for the sake of your DM, PLEASE.

On a more specific note:

would have been good to have more Marquesian characters, but also someone from the Empire would have added a significant dimension. I do love Chetney, and I think Travis is the player who pivoted fastest to fit better within this campaign and has a good understanding of what it could have been with a bit more commitment, but yeah I think if Matt had told them a bit more of what was going on he'd have made like, a more serious werewolf member of the Gorgynei who had noticed lycanthropes becoming susceptible to Ruidus and decided to investigate, for example.

I think having more divinely aligned characters would have just made for much more fun interactions. The issue with the god debates wasn't that they were having them, for all I think that anyone who wants to kill the gods is a fucking idiot. It was that none of them knew jack shit about what they were talking about so it turned into an unending Emperor's Nose discussion. Having either someone who was actually trained (a la Braius, who is a welcome addition for this reason, among others) or again just. a person with religion proficiency and a decent INT score would have made it an actual compelling argument of different perspectives, and not a bunch of idiots yelling out nonsense.

It honestly wouldn't have looked much different. In fact, I think you could have kept the bottom table mostly as is with just tiny alterations, and done the following:

Make Chetney a Marquesian member of the Gorgynei with a mission tied to investigating what's going on with Ruidus. He could still be a weird woodworker.

Entirely rework Laudna's premise. You could have kept her creepy and undead, even, but get rid of Delilah and make her a wizard instead. Make her tied to the Grim Verity or an archaeologist who got kicked off the Tishtan site. You could even keep her aligned with Imogen although I'd have made it a more recent meet up of her being on the run and having gone through Gelvaan in trying to avoid the Grey Assassins

I like what happened with FCG ultimately but I think a different subclass would have still helped; make them a knowledge cleric and more intelligent.

Make Imogen and Ashton much more aware of the Apex War and Otohan's history from the get go. Also give Laura a heads up that her character's going to be super central and she will be in the hot seat for much of the campaign.

[wetcatspellcaster]

Metapost: "The Ascendent"

**this is a meta for my fic, Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth, and NOT a discussion of the BG3 game canon in any way. If you try and make this into a disk-horse, I will BITE you**

(spoilers under the cut for Chapters 1-23 of Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth).

So... remember in the Chapter One endnote when I said I was a Spike/Buffy fan first, and a person second? x

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In more seriousness, there was a number of fictional seasonings/ingredients that went into creating what I felt was the villain of a Gothic horror, and what I felt could turn the Ascendent into something that was both 'fixable', and something I enjoyed writing.

Those ingredients were:

Spike and the idea of 'soulless' vampires in the BtVS canon - do I like this conceit of BtVS worldbuilding and how it's used in the show? No. I think it often underlines how bad Whedon is at writing romance. BUT I do think it gives Buffy this free pass for which vampires she can/can't like or adopt, and I needed some of that for my protagonist. I need a 'I can fix him' moment - BtVS has those in fucking SPADES.

Howl's Moving Castle (this one was accidental, I'm still mad at myself but I can't deny it's there) - man conducts magic ritual for power, removing an essential part of himself in the process that needs to be returned

Picture of Dorian Gray (the idea of an exterior staying pristine while something hidden suffers and decays)

Curse of Strahd (the soulless in Barovia, which I mentioned in Chapter 23)

The idea of default moral alignments in D&D. I have a whole chapter arguing against this in my thesis (mostly bc it's often applied to entire races) but I was fascinated by creating a set of circumstances where I feel like a default moral alignment is valid, actually. 7,000 deaths seems like a good set up. I wanted to imagine a being that was trapped within a default moral alignment, and the laws of its very being prevent it from being good no matter what it tries, and it knows that (this kind of creates a feedback loop with the Spike/Buffy stuff)

The parts of the BG3 canon I took and REMADE (I'm stressing this throughout, I was making a horror story and a horror monster your honour):

Astarion conducts the Rite of Profane Ascension with scars on his back, but has to scar Cazador's back personally, suggesting that um... the Rite REALLY SHOULDN'T BE CONDUCTED BY SOMEONE WHO'S GOT THOSE SCARS. Cazador wasn't going to do it that way, is all I'm saying!!

The idea that Ascended!Ending Astarion is a concentrated version of certain traits that have persisted throughout his story - his flirtiness, his understanding of sex as a mechanism and expression of power, his use of a façade as a mask for trauma he refuses to acknowledge.

The lines alluding to dissociation in the brothel foursome, post-Ascension.

The idea that Astarion seduced Tav to survive or protect himself- in my case, because I made the Ascendent empty save for Astarion's survival instinct, the idea that he would gravitate towards Tav as one of his default modes to potentially survive made sense to me - this is why it becomes an obsession.

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

For me, when writing, the Ascendent is a few things:

An intensification of vampirism in a different, fucked-up direction. Yeah, A!Astarion, you can walk in sunlight and you can eat and drink and don't need blood. But you are still a hungering maw of emptiness that feels like it will never be whole or close and connected to the living - just now in a wildly different, metaphysical/existential direction! Welcome to depression, alienation, and otherness!

A soulless being, that knows it is soulless - that initially was very happy with its life but then as the years passed, increasingly spends its every waking moment knowing there is something innately wrong with it that it can't seem to shake, no matter how much it engages with life and all the pleasures of life. (see the 'every meal without savour' speech)

A magically literal metaphor for Astarion's dissociation in moments of extreme trauma, up to and including the fight with Cazador - essentially, the moments when there is nothing but a performance or an exterior, because the self/soul are suffering and they cant' come to phone right now

Astarion's survival instinct. As I say in Chapter 23 - Mephistopheles thinks it is an empty body, who's performance is trying to deny the reality of it's own existence. Rosalie, who has a bit more understanding of Astarion, sees that the performance is not just a coping mechanism but one of Astarion's main modes of survival. The Ascendent is Astarion's survival instinct/techniques for endurance, without any soul or person behind them to protect. This is how I tried to tie in the flirty, hypersexual persona and wrap it with a bow.

I wanted a monster that was undeniably scary, and monstrous to me (oh? you can't fit in or be happy no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try, and you think there's something intrinsically off? how's that autism diagnosis going Emma) but that I also felt sympathy and true sorrow for. I needed to have motivations for him chasing after Tav that I could write meaningfully from and sympathise with.

Not only has Astarion used Tav as a life-raft once before, they've also proven to be the most secure thing he's ever clung to. Of course a rabid survival instinct Astarion would become obsessed, and see them as a potential solution to the problem (this was then intensified by Rosalie also being a walking, overbearing moral compass, and having bound him in a contract in the first week of living, accidentally - a lawful good immoveable objects meets a default moral alignment unstoppable force.)

...Because I also wanted that moral alignment spice!! Wizards of the Coast, default moral alignment is fucked up actually!!! Imagine something trying so desperately to be good - literally being bound in a pact and having been told to be good - but the laws of the universe and its very essence are like "nah mate, we kind of want to destroy and annihilate everything, we're neutral evil personified". That's scary!! that's fucked up!! that's what a birth from 7000 deaths gets you!!!

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

So, now for the actual timeline, for people who aren't interested in my silly musings but mostly just want answers lmfao.

Rosalie makes the decision not to intervene in Cazador's mansion, making it seem like she'll support whatever decision Astarion will make there.

Rite of Profane Ascension happens. Astarion conducts the ritual, rips his own soul from his body, the Ascendent is born with literally zero context. Mephistopheles is fucked in Cania, because a bunch of stuff has just gone wrong.

(oh, by the way, the Ascendent knows Infernal as a default language. Bc it's born from an Infernal rite.)

The Ascendent is now default neutral evil, and feeling some kind of way. Rosalie and him break up. He's supposed to have everything, but the one thing he thought was a done deal - his most stalwart suppporter - just rejected him.

Netherbrain defeat (the Ascendent is not invited. Imagine being an all-powerful, hypersexual survival instinct vampire, and your ex-girlfriend neither wants you for sex, nor your power.)

Rosalie accidentally binds the Ascendent (a soulless devil) in a pact demanding that he never kill anyone, when that's literally what the Ascendent's new existence/new default moral alignment is driving him to do. Then, she fucks off and goes into hiding.

Well. The Ascendent can just get another wizard, to help him learn all of Cazador's secrets to cope [Hemlock is recruited].

The years go by! The Ascendent is doing sooooo well. Everything is great, guys! I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I have lavish parties and lots of sex - why do I feel nothing? I'm a vampire perfected - I have no hunger for blood, I can walk in the sun, I can enjoy all the freedoms of a living, breathing man - why do I feel like I'm starving? Why does everything turn to ashes in my mouth? I have friends - oops, I've sabotaged all those friendships with my innate neutral evil destruction. Why can't I feel anything? What's wrong with me? I'm doing everything right? Why doesn't it feel that way?

Also, I can't kill anything to feel better about it, because my hidden ex-girlfriend bound me in a pact.

In this time, to reflect the gradual degradation of the Ascendent's happiness and it's increasing awareness that it is something Other and innately wrong, the reflection starts going weird. Starts going strange. Starts getting a bit fucked up. Almost as if, when he looks in the mirror and sees a person, *nothing* should be what's there. Imagine being a spawn who couldn't see your reflection, and then a vampire who could see it's reflection, but knows that they're innately empty. Knows there's nothing there. I'd freak out a little bit about it as well tbh, I'd go a bit tooth and claw and elongated jaw about it.

The Ascendent finally admits that's there must be something kinda fucked about it. Life just ain't working out, lads. He starts looking for any and all impossible cures that will help with the malaise in his soul (and that innate essence problem, caused by default moral alignment). These include: more bad decisions, such as a house in Cania bc the Ascendent is hoping he'll feel more at home with devils than he does with mortals. All it does is make him feel more isolated and alone.

But eventually, he settles on two things! - Wish (Hemlock's idea), and Rosalie (the Ascendent's idea). Clearly, we just need Rosalie back! Her leaving is actually what fucked him up in the first place - none of this existential bullshit! She fixed us one, she can fix us again.

But looking for Rosalie hasn't worked out. In order to get a shot at her, the Ascendent goes and bargains for his own soul from Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles, adding a new sheet in excel titled 'what the fuck happens when i give this soulless monster a soul to play with?', agrees and starts tracking his new data.

Obviously, just putting the soul back in yourself will fix you. But the Ascendent, the nothingness living inside Astarion's body, will die. Taking the soul back would erase itself. The Ascendent - who is survival instinct personified - would never do this.

So instead, it starts interviewing and cannibalising the soul. Bc a soul is what it needs, this is the closest it's ever felt to being alive. Bc it's made this all about Rosalie, he thinks he's found his solution. The chase is making him feel alive again. It's true love, lads! not the soul.

Wish auction happens - the Ascendent is beaten to the punch by some unknown (hot) wizard.

This avenue cut off, the Ascendent makes the decision to try and win Rosalie back.

Astarion advises that to make her come back to the Gate, he should murder a bunch of people. Because this comes from the soul, not the soulless devil nothingness, it circumvents the pact.

...The events of Pieces begin!

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And finally - the Ascendent tries to destroy Jar!Starion for many reasons in Chapter 19:

The Ascendent knows that it dies, if the soul and the body get reunited (or is that constant high alert survival instinct just no longer needed, because the problem is fixed? you decide.)

The Ascendent values Tav above itself. Tav is going to fix them. Astarion believes he could never fix himself.

Dissociation - that soul isn't me. I'm here, looking at my soul. If I get too close, it'll kill me.

Self-hatred - that soul isn't me. That man made a mistake, and I've had to live with the consequences. He doesn't deserve to live, for what he's made me become.

The knowledge that Rosalie/Tav will only ever want that version of him, not the one that's living and breathing, that sees itself as the most wretched, fucked-up version of itself. So... give them no choice. They have to deal with me and love me at my worst.

And if the Rite didn't work - if the version of the Ascendent walking around isn't the best one, and the one people want... what was it all for? Why does the Ascendent feel like this? Why does it have to suffer?

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....And, that's my little meta post! If anyone has any questions about the timeline or any motivations at any points in the fic, I'm obviously more than happy to explain things via ask/comment, as always!

TLDR: I just wanted to make a Gothic horror. I wanted a dark romance, fucked up obsession vampire/mortal dynamic, but I also wanted a situation that was scary for both Astarion and my Tav. I personally think an Astarion who is so dissociated and separate from reality that he feels that in his bones daily, is scary. It's the lingering impact of the traumas the Rite and those 7,000 souls embodied.

I was literally just trying to make it a horror, for everyone involved.

[yandereheathen]

The Cost of Protection [Yandere elf guard x Fem Reader] 18+ Chapter #1

Based in Barovia (Curse of strahd, some dusk elf lore spoilers) Warnings: Non-con touching/kissing/ some violence, obsessive treatment, death threats necromancy?

Living in Barovia was hard enough; trying to do business in it is quite the other. Besides all of the ghosts, Undead creatures, and living under the tyranny of a centuries-old whiny vampire, everything was complicated. Still, you had your own set of struggles. Your Tavern was not necessarily famous, but it did good business. You had your regulars, Travelers who would sometimes come and try their hand at defeating the vampire lord Who you never saw again unless it was their Undead body, and some other travelers who were peddling wears pies, toys, weapons, anything that you could imagine then there was the common folk and Crafts People. Everyone was welcome in your Tavern. You offered a warm smile, a glass to drink, and whatever you could scratch up to cook that day; however, you had one unwelcome guest who changed your path forever.

 Maverick

 It wasn't uncommon that Dusk elves would come into your Tavern. They followed Vistani and often went through the cities of Barovia on a standard route, and more and more did you feel like you saw them integrating with the town, so seeing one dressed in a guard uniform was unusual but not unheard of. His long dark hair was braided up in leather twine, and his eyes were the standard golden color, but you did see a tiredness in them. He was only an inch or two shorter than you. After all, you were pretty tall for a human, but he was well-built and had hands that showed both work and strength. His smile and his voice were the things that stood out most. It had a ruggedness that you admitted caused a little heat in your cheeks the first time you spoke with him.

  Speaking of the first time, You remember clearly the first time he stopped by your Tavern. You treated him sweetly, flashed a smile, and put your arms down in front of him, looking up at him with innocent eyes leaning at the bar.

"Anything to drink, sir?"

You Tend to be flirty with everybody. It was basically in a bar person's job description. Still, you noticed that some visitors would give you an extra coin or became regulars if you gave them special treatment. However, his smile made you a little uneasy, almost excited. It was a smile that said he appreciated your treatment and wanted more, how much more you didn't quite understand that time. Did you know that that smile would lead to many other things? He just put your hand just under your cheek and, tilted his head, and said

"I think a beer or mash number 8 would be okay before I have to eat. I could live off your voice and those beautiful eyes forever.

 You just left thinking he was making some flirtatious joke, pulled his draft, and handed it to him. From what you've gathered, asking him simple questions about his life gave you non-committal answers or general mods. He was pretty new around town and it was just getting to know all of the local businesses, and he heard that you could get a good cup for cheap and that a cute shop girl was serving the drinks. You laughed again at his flirtatious joke, but you noticed that his eyes never left you from your lips to your shoulders, down your neck to your chest. Even to your backside, when you were turned around and helping other customers with their drinks, you didn't think much of it then. Still, it definitely left you a little unnerved.

 After that, he became one of your regulars. You knew his drink by heart, you knew what he liked to sit in at what time, and you learned exactly how to speak with him. Not too much, but he did enjoy hearing a little bit about your day. He wasn't much of a talker, but you don't mind, or you did not have the time. 

One night, a set of particularly Rowdy young men was causing ruckuses in your Tavern. You tried to compile them with free drinks and sweet words, but you needed more. It all came to a head when one of them tried to get handsy on you, and he was greeted with a sword to his neck. The man went still as Maverick whispered in his ear, pressing the dagger a little bit closer enough to cut into his neck. He looked at the other two men and said in his low, deep voice. 

"Oh, did you both want to be next? As much as I would joy putting all your heads on a platter and making it for the next stew, this one would not appreciate making a mess of her Tavern. How about all of us be nice to you all? Get the hell out of here before I make an example."

 They tried to avoid messing with a guard, let alone a dusk elf. There were rumors of them knowing dark magic. Magic rants to them after the travesty of their women being wiped out, dark magic that was taught to them by Rahadin, the right-hand Master of the lord of the world. The ability to raise the dead and control minds are abilities right from hell."

 They all scurried off. You were thankful, bowing to Maverick and taking his hand, promising free drinks for the rest of the night. Still, he took your hand and looked at you, his golden eyes hidden behind something mischievous, something lustful that weighed heavy on your heart. In your chest, you felt the heat rise up from your stomach.

"Darling, we can make a better arrangement. How would you like me to offer my protection?"

 You looked at him, confused, but still held his hand, your head tilted. 

"I would always be thankful, but isn't that what you usually do? I wouldn't want you to give me special treatment."

 "Oh well,"

 He takes your face and his hand. Squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly, 

"If you give me special treatment, I'll give you and your customers special treatment. After all, you wouldn't want anything to happen to you, your Tavern, or your customers, would you, darling?"

 He forces your eyes up to his and brings your lips closer. The rest of the Tavern, already daunted by the commotion, looks away. You simply nod in agreement, and he lets you go, patting your shoulder and laughing good-heartedly. 

"well, perfect, I think I'll take my first payment tonight."

 You panicked, thinking about how much she could get into the day, and said, 

"How much are you asking for? I've already offered you free drinks. I don't know what more I can do.-"

 He cuts you off, putting his finger to your lips. 

"Don't worry. You have everything that I could want to need."

 And he walks off.

 After closing, when all of the lights in the streets were out and the spirits were already roaming the streets, you clutched to your apron, putting up the last of the chairs. The candle lights were just barely about to go out. You counted up all of your money from the day, and while you made enough of an earning, you were very worried that he would not have enough to pay for this new extortion. You had heard stories of guards and heroes extorting young men and women for protection. You did not think it would happen to you that living in a place of cold and darkness was curse enough, but it looked like the fates had a little more for you. 

You almost didn't hear him come in as he stuck his hands around your waist and up your throat. You tried to yell out, but his hand covered your mouth, and he kissed just the side of your ear as you immediately felt yourself wanting to flee. Then he whispered in your ear, 

"Oh, now that's a pleasing darling. As much as I would have so much fun chasing you, I don't have the time tonight to have my cute little rabbit." 

He put his hands down your hip, lifted your dress, and ran his hand up your thigh as he kissed your jawline and neck. You stammered, still trying to get free. 

"You said you wanted payment. I'm really to pay. The draw is open. Take what you want. I don't care. Please, just don't hurt me."

 You cry through your struggles, but he just laughs, nipping where your neck and your shoulder mean, 

"Oh no, my little rabbit. As much as it delights me to hear you after having to endure hearing you simper over every man who can give you coin, I'm finally able to take the prize that is Rightfullymine after all that will be our deal."

 He lifts you up and plenty down on the closest table, the wood scratching into your shoulder, your head banging painfully on it. You cry out in pain. It is silenced by his mouth crashing into yours in a kiss. A rough kiss. He pins your hands down, holding his fingers In times with yours as his tongue searches into your open mouth, wrestling to pin it down. You see his golden eyes boring into yours like a beast unleashed. You stand there stunned, unable to move with his weight pushed against you. Even with your slight height Advantage, his trained muscle and sheer force can do nothing. 

He breaks apart, your lips bruised and your tongue hanging out of your mouth, a stream of saliva connecting both of your mouths. 

"Please, why are you doing this?"

 You manage to choke out as you feel him grinding into your lower half just underneath your dress. 

"Well, it's pretty simple, my cute little rabbit. I only joined the guard because I was bored, and I thought I could find some fun beating up the locals or helping young maidens. Still, I saw you, a bright Lily, and a swamp of muck to see simpering and pampering to everybody who entered your Tavern was so endearing I knew I needed to have you. I knew that you were mine, don't you understand? When elves mate, they mate for life, so that means."

He cried to you rougher you feel his hard cock rubbing into your own sex with a need want to be inside you. 

"You will be mine for the rest of your life. I will ensure that. If you don't want to be mine, it's pretty simple- you don't have to."

 You blink this as he lets you sit up, but he still stands between your legs.

"You mean you'll just let me go. You won't do anything?"

 You look at him, hoping that this is some weird pass, and you would know he would just leave you alone. But your hopes are soon crushed.

"oh no, my darling, if you say no," 

he moves in closer, and his sword falls at the back of your neck. 

"I will kill you and make sure you are raised as a zombie who has no free will and who is forced to do my bidding for the rest of your Undead life. Do you understand me, my cute little rabbit?"

 At that, you feel a heat emanating from his sword, a Blackness clouding around the edges of your eyes, and you know that his promise holds truth. Your body goes rigid and shakes, and tears silently stream down your eyes as he takes you in his arms, rubbing your back oddly comfortingly or trying to be with his sword. His other hand grips your bottom, pulling you closer as he snuggles into your neck, inhaling your scent.

"so you decide to make, my darling. Either I can have you here of your own free will, where I will love and protect you in this Tavern, or I will have the pleasure of seeing your beautiful blood dripping down your chest. I can have you as my perfect little Undead doll."

 "The choice is yours. You pretty little rabbit."

[thetalesofno-one]

No worries and thanks so much too!

If you do write up some stories of your campaign, I'll absolutely read them as well. Must be some wild tales with patron Strahd!

The sheer difficulty of trying not to run into Curse of Strahd spoilers

The way our DM is running this CoS campaign is by having us players create Faerûn fantasy PCs that end up spirited away into Barovia. Our characters thrown into unfamiliar lands where they are complete strangers trapped in the mists.

What brings us to Barovian lands are relics.

We players know our relics (those of us who have chosen to walk into Barovia with them) and they were picked and bestowed by the DM based off a series of questions we answered and the backstories we've crafted.

These relics clearly play an important role and I'm trying so hard not run into answers of what they mean. Walking into this as blind as my PC is the goal.

Tell me without spoiler

Did your PCs come from distant lands as well or did you start in Barovia? Did you start the campaign with relics? Or did your characters find them later on in the story?