Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > Dungeons & Dragons: Ravenloft: Heir of Strahd > Status Update

Kah’s light could not be dimmed. She had flown—for just a brief moment, she had flown. And now she had friends who cared about her. That was a lot more than she’d ever hoped for before she came to this place named for dread. This was her great adventure.

“If you do not wish to watch this part, I can have my servants bring tea to the salon.” “Tea?” Chivarion made a face. “Is there anything stronger?” The doctor started up the saw, and flecks of blood sprayed the room. “We’ll take tea.” Alishai grabbed Chivarion’s arm and steered him toward the lab door, where the homunculus waited. Rotrog swiftly followed, plugging his ears as the saw bit into bone.

“You there!” he said, brusque and accusatory. “State your business.” Alishai seemed at a loss for words, so Chivarion said, “Um…not getting caught?” And then his elbow crunched into the man’s nose. “We talked about this,” Alishai said. “He’s a guard. He would’ve raised the alarm. And look! He’s not dead, and now we have another coat.”

Chivarion was more than happy to avoid the university. Anyone who would choose books and learning over swords and fighting couldn’t possibly be much fun, in bed or out of it. Unless the book was about things to do in bed, but Chivarion didn’t know if books like that existed. If they did, he hoped they were mostly pictures. He prodded Rotrog in the back to get him walking again.

“I can’t believe it,” he crowed. “You should believe more,” Kah told him. After a bowl of stew and a cleaning spell, they all fell asleep around the smoldering fire, surrounded by trees that whispered in the voice of needles and rust monsters restlessly prowling and scratching at the makeshift door.

“Come, come!” Kah urged him, tugging at his cloak. Alishai was already running toward the forest. Chivarion was collecting his dropped blades—the ones that had not rusted. All Rotrog could do was stand on numb feet and follow the others toward a forbidden forest of rusty blades and a future where he’d lost everything.

“But…he is our host!” Rotrog cried. “A great man! A count! Surely he wouldn’t—” “He would. He has. Please stop giving your trust to a monster. You’re smarter than that.” Alishai sounded exhausted. “Again, can we just kill him and stop all this nonsense?” Chivarion held up a dagger. “Yes! Killing! Love the sound of that!”

“So what are we dealing with?” Alishai asked. The man took off his glasses and cleaned them on his cloak. “We are dealing with only the most merciless and cruel creature in all of Barovia. I take it you have heard of vampires?” After a brief pause, Alishai, Rotrog, and Kah burst out laughing.

“So delicate,” Strahd said, his voice even again. His eyes met Chivarion’s, and it felt just like looking down that endless shaft to the bottom of the castle. “Bodies are such tender things, are they not? So easily broken. So easily crushed. I only hope you and your friends are careful as you enjoy my hospitality. Even under my protection, there are so many accidents waiting to happen in this musty old place.”

Every particle of Alishai’s body urged her to leave the chapel immediately. She did not feel Selûne here. She did not feel any gods. The gods, if they had any sense, had abandoned this place long ago. Strahd could rot. This place was cursed.