The longer I remain in this land, the more certain I am that I will not return to Faerun anytime soon. Whether by fate or the machinations of some yet unknown malevolent forces, I believe that I have come to this dark place for a purpose. Where this journey will lead remains unknown. With that uncertainty in mind, it seems wise to document events as they unfold in case of need for review in the future and to set right any misconceptions about that which has taken place. To that end, I suppose that I should begin with a few words about myself.
My Found Family in Faerun named me Diana Arken, "Dee" by those with whom I am close. I do not know what my Birth Parents called me, as the offspring of Celestials are typically sent to live among mortals rather than remaining to live in the Upper Planes. Because of this, I have no true memory of my parents. As a rule, Aasimar have no specific homelands from which we hail. Because of this, Angelkin commonly move among humanity rather than seeking out our celestial parentage for a misplaced sense of "belonging". Sometimes, I have dreams of a handsome man in armor walking through a castle shrouded in the clouds, which I assume must be my father, but that is as close as I'm likely to come to knowing either of them.
Like so many before me, I spent my life before coming to this place among the mortals of Faerun. By joining the Arena as a player in the gladiatorial games, I was able to obtain both lodgings and a regular stipend, as well as the opportunity to observe the citizens of Waterdeep. The city has little crime owing to the fairness of its lawbringers: a council of ruling lords, impartial magistrates, and just city watchmen allowed no quarter for organized crime. It was because of this that I found myself un-prepared for my first encounter with true evil, which was also my last day in the Arena. Many good men and women were felled by the monstrous creature that found its way into the ring that day. Those that survived left bearing some mark of the demon's power.
It was after that day that I turned to the Church of Abadar to begin my training as a paladin. It was there, on what I now know to the called the Old Svalich Road, that I met a traveler. A young man by the name of Roderick Stone happened upon me on his way home from bartering for supplies in a nearby town. His brightly painted wagon was filled with goods, but Roderick offered me a seat next to him as he drove on. He had many questions about where I had come from, saying that what had happened was not at all uncommon. Unknown forces would regularly bring strangers from far off places to his homeland, which he called "Barovia". As I had nowhere else to go, he offered the hospitality of his community's camp for the night with the promise to take me to town the following day. Whether we reached a mutual understanding of the mind or the Vistani simply liked the added protection my sword offered, I ultimately ended up staying with them rather than seeking the "comforts" of town.
The most obvious landmark is the towering "Pillarstone of Ravenloft". The mountain surely has another name, but that is how the citizens of Barovia Village refer to the cliff-face upon which the dark silhouette of Castle Ravenloft is perched. To the north stands Mount Baratok, an immense mountain capped in snow, which provides the source of Lake Zarovich at its base. To the south is Mount Ghakis, which is whispered to hold ancient evils, and the Vistani people will not travel there. As long as I have been here, we have only ever travelled as far away as the town of Vallaki. The town is an uninviting place, surrounded by a high wall. The Vistani do not venture into the town, rather they will meet up with other groups of travelers outside the walls for trade of both goods and stories, inevitably followed by food, wine, and dancing.
I have alluded now to suspicions aimed at and mistreatment of the Vistani people, and I feel I should elaborate some on my hosts for clarity. The Vistani, like the Aasimar, have no set homeland. They wander the lands in tight-knit communities, or tasques. Each community has its own elders and overseers, its own rules and methods of interacting with "outsiders", but there is also a cultural fabric bringing different tasques together in certain commonalities. The people of Barovia seem to believe the Vistani as a people to be roving bands of thieves and swindlers out to cheat others. Unironically, these same citizens inflate the price of goods when Vistani enter their shops, or simply refuse them service because of their ethnicity.
Perhaps one aspect of their culture that is off-putting to outsiders is the casual display of wealth. Rather than a means of identifying status, the Vistani believe that the wearing of gold honors those who have worked and struggled for the family's prosperity. Those without means to adorn their attire and wagons with gold and silver ornaments will still use bright fabrics and flowers to honor their families. Sharing one's good fortune with others is considered an honorable act and an investment, inviting good fortune to come back around in the future.
As long as I have been staying with the Vistani, I have been attempting to learn more about the land which is to be my home for the foreseeable future. "We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten—a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads. One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp, his side pierced by a broken spear. He collapsed, near to death from his terrible injury. We nursed his wounds and quenched his thirst with wine. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn't say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn't give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.
"This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we had protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, 'I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.' That is how the Vistani people obtained the favor of the lord of this land. No one knows what precisely happened to our noble prince to turn him into the vampire that he is today, but he has served this nation to the best of his abilities for hundreds of years, always taking care to honor the promises made to the Vistani people. As long as he does, we shall remain loyal to Lord Strahd. Many strangers have been drawn to Barovia over the years, but those who attempt to leave the land choke on the poisonous fog, and those who oppose our lord meet a swift end for their betrayal. Lord Strahd is the land, and if you are to remain here, then you must know that and respect all that it means."
I also learned from the Vistani that while the people of Barovia fear speaking the name of their lord, carrying holy talismans to "ward off" his evil presence, the Vistani people display their respect for him by not speaking of him to others. Much as they do not speak about Vistani culture and customs to "outsiders", they do not typically speak of or about Lord Strahd to avoid giving others power over him in any way. In the months I've lived with them, the only other information that I've learned is that it is said he renamed this land "Barovia" after his father, King Barov and named Castle Ravenloft for his mother, Queen Ravenovia.
Bearing all of this in mind, I believe that I was brought to Barovia for a purpose. This land is filled with lost souls, some searching to improve their meager existence, others wandering in search of their final rest. I believe that I can aid in both of these matters. Roderick believes this plan to help put lost souls to rest to be a good one, but I'm somewhat concerned about the way he laughed as he said, "You're going to be busy."
Once I came of age, I wished to immerse myself in the culture of mortals, and there was no better place than in Waterdeep. While Angelkin are more common to be found in the eastern lands of Faerun, I traveled to the north lands, to settle in the cosmopolitan city filled with talented artisans, artists, and scholars from across the Realms. Waterdeep's diverse population made it easy to blend in amongst the elves, halfings, and dragonfolk.
I had naive plans at first to set out into the world, seeking out evil-doers, perhaps even eventually finding the monster that injured me. Throughout my training, however, it became clear that not all evil wears the face of a monster, and not all that is evil acts unjustly. Many of my fellows disagreed, but to me, the teachings of Abadar are obvious: when those in power allow the economy to suffer, society cannot thrive, and that is the kindling that feeds the flames of crime and injustice. Lords, free men, serfs, and slaves alike will make rash decisions against the greater good when they do not have food or their families are endangered. Starving men cannot till fields, and families without prospects cannot better their country. As a Knight of Coins, I will always uphold the law, bringing to justice lawbreakers and evildoers, regardless of position or status. To serve my Church, I will always act with honor, treating others with dignity and respect. As a loyal servant of Abadar, I will lend aid to and uplift those less fortunate or in need.
It was not long after swearing my vows to the high priests and leaving the church grounds that I encountered the roiling mists that brought me to Barovia. I had only just set up camp for the evening along the Sword Coast, not far from the Misty Mountains. I had assumed the fog coming in hard and fast was because of the warm ocean breeze hitting the colder air of the mountain range to my back. It was not until my entire camp was fully engulfed that I knew I was wrong. There was nothing natural about the mist that surrounded me. The faint cry of wolves could be heard through the oppressive silence, but nothing else. The crashing of the tides on the beach was gone, and in fact, as the mists at length receded, the entire beach was gone, replaced with mossy earth and thick woods. I made my way carefully through the wilderness for two nights, set upon in the darkness by unspeakable creatures not of Faerun.
Although I was certainly no longer where I had been when the mists consumed me, I was not cut off from my connection to Abadar. His continued shining presence gave me the strength to press on through the darkness. At first, I believed the thickness of the trees to be the cause of the darkness, playing in combination with the fear I had to consciously stamp down. However, on the morning of the third day, I finally found a road winding its way through the forest. That clearing allowed me to see that, in this land, even with the sun rising higher and higher in the sky, hardly any light shines through the cloud cover. While not cast in eternal darkness, the land was enshrouded in unending gloom.
My new friends have helped to give me a better understanding of the land they say will now be my home, as no one brought to Barovia has ever left again. The Vistani say that no creature can leave without the liege lord's permission, and those that try become lost in the mist. With that in mind, I began exploring more of this new world with Roderick, following him to town to buy and sell goods or into the woods for supplies. I was struck by how magnificent Barovia once was, filled with skilled artisans and craftsmen. That much is obvious, as you approach the towering gates of Barovia. In contrast to its previous prosperity, the country has fallen into considerable disrepair of late. Despite the heavy gloom and thick fog, the valley nestled in the Balinok Mountains is a beautiful place in its own right, although even the plant life here can be lethal.
The village of Barovia has been run for many years by the burgomaster, Kolyan Indirovich. My first instinct upon seeing the dilapidated houses and closed storefronts in Barovia was to think that Indirovich was a tyrant, taking the town's taxes for his own prosperity. What I can discern from attempts at subtle conversation with the village's inhabitants is that they believe him to be a good man in a bad position. Decades ago, the village had been thriving. Much of its economy was tied up in the castle: exporting food and trade goods, wine, cloth, and more. Unfortunately for businesses, without any explanation, orders stopped coming from the castle. Just as unexpectedly, lights have recently been seen again around Castle Ravenloft. Over the last few months, envoys have been dispatched from the castle to determine the extent of the damage done and to take stock of improvements needed.
As far as I can tell, there is little left in the village of Barovia to speak well of. The people are overcome by fear, making them wary of strangers. As has been said, it is not uncommon for people from far-off lands to be brought here by unknown means, which makes the citizens of Barovia more suspicious of newcomers. Within the town, Bildrath Cantemir, proprietor of Bildrath's Mercantile, has done well for himself despite hard times. His doors are open to all, locals, Vistani, and stranger alike. He also price-gouges everyone alike, which is undoubtedly what has kept him in business for so long. There are other shops and stores throughout the village, but none with the selection available from Bildrath. The Blood on the Vine Tavern is one of the few entertainments left in the village. The tavern is owned by three Vistani sisters. The food isn't much to speak of but is decent for the price asked.
After several months of living among them, I have been able to see that the Vistani live by their own system of rules, stressing respect, honor, and justice. As a paladin, their rules of law are ones that I am quite familiar with and fully endorse. Each tasque has slightly different rules, but basically the Vistani believe that they should always behave with dignity and respect. Each tasque is led by a voivode who is elected for life as a chieftain of sorts, typically an elder woman who looks after the welfare of the group. Communities usually involve members of the extended family living together to support each other and their tasque.
When asked about the lord of the land, the Vistani were initially hesitant to speak of the ruler that some Barovians believe to be a devil sent to plague the land as a punishment for past sins. Popular opinion amongst the villagers is that he is vampire, who controls the monsters of the forest and murders those foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the village. Less popular is the theory that "Lord Strahd" was simply a man who died long, long ago, and it is his name passed down from heir to heir that holds fear and power. Regardless, the man whose face looks back imperiously from the local currency has not been seen nor heard from in at least a generation. Needless to say, I was very curious about him and his history. After six months among their people, I have managed to learn some of the story...
One evening, after a considerable amount of wine and sharing of more and more extravagant and impossible tales, one of the tasque's elders finally gave in to my request to learn more about the mysteries of Barovia. Stanimir Machvaya is one of the oldest Vistani in the community; he had three beautiful daughters before finally being blessed with a son, Ratka, who serves as a sort of captain-of-the-guard for the encampment. Many of the camp's children came to settle around the fire to listen as he began to tell his tale, which went as follows:
The Vistani seem to be the only ones I've met that are pleased to see activity once again coming from Castle Ravenloft. Regardless of the feelings of the general populace, I have heard tell that a minor lord from Vallaki has been traveling between Vallaki and Barovia as an envoy from Castle Ravenloft to determine the extent of the disrepair. Whatever comes of this, it's encouraging that the lord of the land seems to care enough to attempt to restore order. The Vistani elders say that this is not the first time over the centuries that the castle has gone silent, but never for so long: nearly sixty years.