The journey to Krezk is long and slow. Through the woods, passing many side trails, often more worn down than the path they follow. They number 12 - four dwarves, two rangers, six hired drunkards lured by the promise of coin.
When they finally arrive, the gates are closed. The guards aren’t friendly. “The Burgomaster will not allow anyone to enter Krezk. Strahds enemies abound, we cannot be sure where your allegiance lies.”
It’s a long way back to Vallaki, and time works against the group. It will be nightfall soon. They have to enter Krezk.
An argument ensues. The burgomaster is summoned to settle it. “To the south of here, along a small forest trail, is a winery that we were expecting an order from. It hasn’t arrived, and our stores are low. If you can receive a cart full, we will allow you entrance into Krezk.”
A nobles busywork isn’t ideal, but it’s preferable to being eaten by wolves. One problem, the winery is too far down the road to make it there and back before the sun goes down. The burgomaster is unwilling to help. The night will be spent in the woods.
Perched upon trees, the dwarves and the rangers establish a watch. The retainers require more coin to be sated. Staying out at night wasn’t in the job description.
Kuzome takes third watch. Part way through, his ears prick up. The sound of dripping emanates from the woods. He squints his eyes and peers into the darkness, but cannot locate the source. He quietly wakes Daznit, who quietly wakes a ranger, who goes to wake his companion, but his companion isn’t there.
The camp rouses as the two dwarves draw their weapons and step closer to the sound. Their eyes widen in fear as they come across a despicable scene.
In the middle of the forest sits a golden throne. Floating above it, as if suspended upside down from an invisible gallows, is the body of the missing ranger. His face is contorted into a silent scream, his side is dyed red from the blood that pours out of his wounds. The flow pools at the victims head, coalescing into droplets that drip one by one into a goblet, held by a pale hand. The pale hand is connected to a man who sits in the throne, one leg crossed over the other. His hair is black and slick, his vest is black and red, he wears the very image of splendor, but his form provokes revulsion, fear, cowardice. His eyes a brilliant amber, staring at the approaching dwarves.
"Well, my stout trespassers..."
The figure pauses to take a horrid sip from the goblet. His pale lips are dyed crimson.
"It seems we meet at last."
There is no question in the dwarves minds. This is the Count Strahd Von Zarovich.
Dwarves are no cowards. They master their fear.
“Foul villain, you slay one of our own! If you are to slay us then fight us in open combat! Enough of your games!”
"Not so hasty, my intrepid friend. Though I commend your bravery, such foolhardiness does not lend itself to survival in these lands of mine."
The second ranger has caught up to the dwarves. The scene fills him with rage.
“Bloody bastard, I’ll kill you!”
Waiting for this very action, two wolves pounce from the darkness behind the throne, pinning him to the ground. The man has time for half of a scream before his throat is ripped out. With a wave of his hand, Strahd commands the wolves back to the throne. Blood staining their muzzles, they sit and stare maliciously at the dwarves.
“If you are not to kill us, then why come to us now? Does a man such as yourself waste away his days playing with his food as would a child?”
Strahd ignores the insult.
"All the lands enclosed in the fog belong to me. You, who come from without, do not belong in these lands, and yet here you find yourself trapped. You are forbidden from this place. Yet... I have use of you. There is a girl, Irina, who resides in the town of Vallaki. You will retrieve her for me, and bring her to up the slope to Castle Ravenloft."
Daznit is shaking with rage. “Contemptible wretch… what plans does a fiend such as yourself have with an innocent girl!?”
Strahd takes another sip from the goblet. “I… desire her. She is to become my wife.”
“If you think we’ll hand her over to you, you’re–”
"There is no argument in it. You will do this. Retrieve the girl. Spare yourselves the agony of what will happen should you refuse."
Strahds face has lost its smug composure. His mouth forms a straight line across his handsome features. His rotten core showing through his outward vanity.
The wolves stand up, baring their fangs. A fog rolls in from the surrounding woods, and in but a moment, the throne is left deserted. Strahd, and the wolves are gone. A stunned silence is interrupted by the broken body of the ranger falling out of the air.
—
The dwarves decide it’s best to push on to the winery, then return to Krezk, before considering the devils proposal. In their hearts, they know they have no option but to do it, but each resents the thought. Daznit spends the rest of the night thinking of his daughter, longing for the chance to return home at last.
Grimly, the dwarves arrange for the gold of the rangers to be redistributed amongst the remaining retainers. In the morning, one has fled with half of the money. Kuzome swears a vow to find whoever took it. For dwarves, robbing the dead is highly undignified.
The winery is off the beaten path, overgrown with long grass and shadowed by trees. Two cloaked figures are spotted at the far end of a vineyard. Despite their grim appearances, they are quite friendly.
“Our winery has been taken over by damned druids. They’ve always hated us, but their force has increased in recent times. The very trees themselves attack us!”
A cartload of wine is promised to the dwarves if they can aid in retaking the winery. The dwarves agree, and make their way to the distillery on the other side of the vines.
The building is large, and looks abandoned. The only sound is the wind in the trees. The group makes their approach, weapons drawn.
At once, the sound of creaking branches from behind them. First five, then 10, then 15… the tree-men are uncountable in the chaos. The dwarves have to decide quickly if they will stay and fight or flee into the cottage.
Their morale holds. They will fight the trees outside.
The animated branches are as brittle as normal ones, and the dwarves fight fiercely. The tree-men can warp their shape, scratching and puncturing the groups skin with their branches. In the battle, all 5 remaining retainers lose their lives, but the army of tree men is slain.
Fearing the druids that could have created such an army, the dwarves wait by the entrance of the house, while Daznit enters, going as quietly as he can. The interior of the winery is a large room with four giant barrels for brewing wine. Underneath the wooden platform that overlooks the barrels, Daznit watches a green-cloaked figure pour a viscous liquid from a vial into 3 of the four vats.
Outside the door, a dwarf accidentally steps on a creaky floorboard. The druids attention is instantly drawn. She makes her way down the central staircase, and peers out the door. Daznit runs up behind her, tackling her to the ground, restraining her arms. The remaining dwarves bash her until she loses consciousness. They tie her up with rope.
While they wait for her to regain consciousness, Ranak and Daznit sweep the winery, while Benri identifies the substance in the vial as a herbaceous poison. The rest of the winery is empty. The remaining unpoisoned wine and the cart used for transporting them is still intact. It seems the druid was banking on her army of tree men to keep her safe.
The druid is given to the cloaked figures. What they did with her, the dwarves do not know. While the wine is loaded, the dwarves dig graves for their fallen retainers. After a short rest, they begin dragging the cart down the overgrown path, back towards Krezk.
As they depart, they observe a flock of ravens depart from the distillery they just left behind.
Strange, they don’t recall seeing any ravens in the vineyard.