Page 1
My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past, and so I record them here, even if just for myself. I was the warrior, I was good and just.
I thundered across the land like the wrath of a just god. My army settled in the valley, which I named after my father, the good King Barov. I called for my family, long
unseated from their ancient thrones, and brought them here to settle in the castle Ravenloft, which I named for my deceased mother, Queen Ravenovia van Royen. They came with a
younger brother of mine, Sergei. He was handsome and youthful. I loved him for both. I hated him for both.
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With words she called me “brother,” but when I looked into her eyes they reflected another name – “death.” It was the death of the aged that she saw in me. She loved her youth and enjoyed it. But I had squandered mine fighting the wars that would keep this land safe. Fighting them for her. But the death she saw in me turned her from me. And so I came to hate death, my death. My hate is strong: I would not be called “death” again so soon. And then the offer -- Vampyr... a pact of Blood. On the day of the wedding, though it hurt me to do it, I killed Sergei, my brother. The pact was sealed with his blood.
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I have studied much in the ensuing centuries. I still lust for life and youth, and I curse the living that took them from me. Even the sun and the rivers are against me now.
But I was once a great general, and I do not lack for resources or time. Through my studies, I blunt my weaknesses.
I have seen Sergei's cursed blade shattered. Cast great spells to cloud the sky. Taken the gem of sunlight that the Kreskovs coveted, and made it my heart. If I am killed in battle,
I simply return to my resting place to rise again the next night. Even a stake through my old heart cannot slay me as it can my lesser spawn... unless, perhaps, I am already near death.
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I know I am not mad. I am seeing familiar faces reborn. Something in the mists is trapping the souls which would pass beyond -- forcing some sort of reincarnation among
my people. Do the Dark Powers mean to taunt me? Trap an entire people in an endless cycle of misery alongside my own? Perhaps they torment me with false hope -- that my Tatyana will be reborn too.
Page 14
It seems Exethanter erodes his own mind in some ploy to avoid fulfilling Teneborous' bargain. On my most recent visit I found him delirious and distracted. He seems unable to remember much, not even his magic. I do not envy the lich, nor do I pity him. It would seem that I chose all the more wisely in the means of immortality. I will sentence him to an eternity behind his canvases and stone walls, barred in that wicked temple. His Sunsword makes a wonderful trophy.
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Khazan has been absent as of late. Her work as my arcanist has come to a screeching halt as she holes herself up in that tower, surrounded by those damned waters.
I would have her killed for subordinance if I hadn’t the smallest inkling of faith left for her. She hasn’t disappointed me yet, but while she brings me efficiency in her results, I cannot
deny her ambition. She takes after Yahel. I can only hope she will not fall into the same habits. That lapdog has lost its way.
Page 16
Curious about this latest adventuring band, I visited Vallaki again today. My disguise continues to amuse me... I could not find myself above the irony of it. Madam Wisenne was a most gracious host. I do not think she realised who she was dealing with, only that I was, somehow, important. At very least, I did not have to cast Suggestion or implant memories in her mind as I did with so many others. Though, I suppose I did enjoy the cheap thrill of it all.
The adventurers were not much to speak of. I only caught them on the tail end of their time there unfortunately. Rather infuriatingly, they’ve taken Tatyana under their wing, and Kazhan did not notify me of such in her ambitious pursuits. That 'Jesse' fellow seemed competent though, at least. His care for that horse intrigues me… it is simply a beast of war and yet he treats it as family. I look forward to our inevitable conflict.
I have other business here in Vallaki though. The Huntress is to be given a new target. I would see to it personally that she hears my orders.
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Tatyana… why did you run? (The rest of the page is empty but for drawings of Tatyana, who looks distinctly akin to Ireena Kolyana).
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Vladimir's accursed silver knights in Krezk have made light work of another adventuring band. From what I witnessed while scrying, the knights slew them for seeking my destruction. I do not understand why my mortal enemies would defend me. I can only reason that Vladimir believes mere death to be too good of a demise for me. Perhaps he wishes to bear witness to my eternal sentence, or to somehow avenge the fallen.
Regardless, the premature death of my entertainment vexes me more than it amuses. Perhaps I should wipe his little manor from the land for a second time... but revenants are so hard to kill.
I will send Natalya in my stead. The other adventuring party has me more intrigued anyway…
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The great crystal of Mount Ghakis remains dangerous as ever. I am thankful, I suppose, that it serves its purpose in guarding the
mountains of Tsolenka Pass. If I could tame it then I wouldn’t need any guards for the Amber Temple therein.
Appendix 3
- Animate Dead
- Fireball
- Nondetection
- Counterspell
- Dispel Magic
- Fly
- Intellect Fortress
- Sending
Page 2
From the families of the valley, one spirit shone above all others. A rare beauty, who was called “perfection,” “joy,” and “treasure.” Her name was Tatyana and I longed for her to be mine. I loved her with all my heart. I loved her for her youth. I loved her for her joy. But she spurned me! “Old One” was my name to her – “elder” and “brother” also. Her heart went to Sergei. They were betrothed. The date was set.
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I found Tatyana weeping in the garden east of the Chapel. I soothed her, and at long last she melted into my arms. We embraced in a kiss which lasted an eternity. But alas, eternity was too short, for her love for me turned to fear before my eyes. She fled from me. She would not let me explain, and a great anger swelled within me. She had to understand what I had done for her! I pursued her. Finally, in despair, she flung herself from the walls of Ravenloft and I watched everything I ever wanted fall from my grasp forever.
It was a thousand feet through the mists. No trace of her was ever found.
The judges of my royal court had chosen this night to betray me, and attempt to overthrow my rule. I returned to the chapel to find the wedding guests slaughtered by their men. Arrows from their guards pierced me to my soul, but I did not die. Nor did I live. I welcomed the slaughter. Kazhan made the Jurers into quite fine works of art.
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The sorrow which filled my heart after the death of Tatyana came to fill all of Ravenloft. As is my hate, mine is a powerful sorrow. It pierced the hard stone walls,
and took on a life of its own. Within one of the towers of my castle, a cruel heart has grown out of the gem I embedded for this purpose, coursing its painful reminders of my loss throughout
my home. And yet, through grief, I have found strength. As I need sorrow, it needs me too, and so it becomes wounded in my stead during battle.
It is not so strong as myself, but so long as my Heart of Sorrow beats, I need not fear injury. The Krezkov’s heart of sunlight has enhanced it even further. I needn’t fear injury.
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I have learned much, too, about this land of Barovia. Ancient are its ways, ancient beyond the knowledge of the simple folk of the valley, or even the dusk elves who came before. Three powerful monasteries dwelt in this valley long before my coming, and each of them held tremendous powers over the elements. I have resisted temptation for a great deal of time, but very recently, I approached them in want of such powers. The Weaver agreed, but asked of me the bounty of a fresh harvest crafted to a pristine brew; the Huntress asked of me the life of three hunters for a ritual, one built on the foundations of immortality; the Seeker asked of me the blood of a child, willingly given.
I fulfilled the Huntress’ request. I pity the fourth hunter that I did not kill, a dusk elf, who thinks he will attain revenge. He was never meant to stand on Barovian ground. Perhaps I will offer him escape through the mists.
The squabbles of these fanes became petty and annoying after I fulfilled the Huntress’ request. I responded to the other monasteries in turn by desecrating their shrines and burning their homes. All their servants faced death, bar only the Krezkov line of which Natalya heads, and thus I have become the Land, the Wind, and the Shadows.
The Krezkov line was smart to submit. I have great use for them going forward.
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I cannot be sure, but I believe Exethanter’s life soul to be stored near his chambers in the vault. I could pry and find it, but I fear that would lead to hostilities, and Teneborous is one of the few who can threaten my rule. Little remains of Exethanter's memory. I ought to record the passwords of the Amber Temple so that they do not pass into the mists of eternity.
Dhaviton. Thangola. Shalx. Etherna.
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I was so close. She pleaded for me to stay and I left... when I returned to see Marina's blood... no, Tatyana's blood had stained the earth before I could have it all
for myself... I will spare the people of Berez, but the leadership responsible will have my undivided attention. I am the Land and the Wind, and I will curse the river valley they so treacherously
stewarded with Shadow so great that they will never feel the light of hope again.
Page 20
Khazan's ambitions will finally claim her, it seems. The Dark Powers never share their gifts easily. Her mind would have been better used in the castle.
Her body will lay still upon the tower’s floor. I have seen this in my dreams. Perhaps this band of adventurers has more to offer than I anticipated.
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Grayson. That is his name. His brother Jesse makes sense to me… hope is a fragile tenet. But Grayson evades me. He reeks of Koreleva Voronov’s influence,
and yet I sense no death in him. He is always absent when I scry, and yet he always finds the fray alongside the others. I wonder if he knows the power he holds. There are other Dark Powers
in this realm it would seem. Perhaps he would take my place.
Let us see if he can breach my walls and take the throne for himself. I will write this fate for him in challenge. Once the raven is dealt with, the Huntress will have his scent, as with Cassandra,
that miserable daughter of mine. If they are to live… then perhaps they are to ascend.
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Peterfii.
Appendix 1
- Comprehend Languages
- Sleep
- Fog Cloud
- Shield
- Absorb Elements
- Disguise Self
- Silent Image
- Identify
- Mage Armor
Appendix 4
- Blight
- Greater Invisibility
- Polymorph
- Storm Sphere
Appendix 5
- Shadow of Moil
- Cone of Cold
- Danse Macabre
- Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting
- Power Word: Kill
