In Barovia, exhaustion isn’t just a condition. It’s a worldview. And when Session Twenty-Three began, that’s exactly where we were—drained, bruised, and barely held together after ghosts, scarecrows, giant spiders, and one very opinionated abandoned manor. We left Argynvostholt like survivors crawling out of a collapsed mine, heading toward the only place in Barovia that still feels remotely like home: the Wizards of Wine Winery. A place with warmth, family, and maybe even joy, if the mist isn’t listening too closely. But Barovia never lets you walk in peace. At dawn, we spotted the glow of a bonfire hidden in the trees. Urihorn scouted ahead and found—of course—a ritual sacrifice in progress. A druid and a pack of wild men preparing to carve open a bound stranger smeared with wolfsbane and nightshade. Classic Barovian hospitality. That stranger was Riven Thal. And he joined our party in the most Barovia way possible: crawling through the dirt, blasting his captors with Moonbeam from the top of a pine tree, and then refusing to come down because he did not trust us at all. Fair. Riven’s introduction said everything we needed to know: this man survives. And he survives suspicious. After a tense standoff, he agreed to travel with us, keeping one eye on the road and one eye on us. But the day had other plans. Further along the Svalich Road, we found a small camp where Izek Strazni—the executioner who beheaded our former companion—was quietly chopping wood. Traxidor saw him and immediately tried to smite him out of existence. And that’s when the forest exploded in fire. A teenage wizard came screaming out of the trees—Victor Vallakovich, the old Burgomaster’s son—and launched a Fireball straight into our group. Urihorn’s panther died instantly. The rest of us barely stayed standing. Traxidor tried to heal himself, but Victor Counterspelled him like he was swatting a fly. Daermon charmed the boy before he could kill us all. And then came the twist. Izek, freed from the Hold Person spell, didn’t attack. He explained. Calmly. Honestly. Maybe even painfully. Our friend Valen’eir—the wizard Izek executed—had murdered a young gravedigger, confessed to serving Strahd, and threatened Vallaki. Izek claimed he was carrying out justice, not vengeance. The explanation didn’t fix anything, but it changed everything. Suddenly the question wasn’t “Is Izek evil?” It was “What do we not know about each other?” Riven watched this unfold like someone judging a very poorly run cult. Urihorn remembered that Van Richten once warned him Radley and Daermon might secretly serve Strahd. And at that moment, it didn’t feel crazy. Both sides stepped back. A truce. A temporary ceasefire. Izek dragged the charmed Victor away. Ravens descended to pick at the scorched remains of Urihorn’s panther. When we finally reached the Wizards of Wine, the Martikovs welcomed us like family returning from war. Dinner was warm, loud, and painfully normal—until Danika reminded us of a truth Barovia never lets you forget: “Barovia has only one ruler.” The table fell silent. And in that silence, someone noticed something impossible. Urihorn—our halfling ranger, our loyal friend—did not cast a shadow. In a land ruled by a vampire, a missing shadow isn’t a quirk. It’s a warning. And that’s where Session Twenty-Three ends—not with a battle, but with a question. If Barovia takes pieces of you one at a time… who will you be when it’s done?
