Rudolph "Rictavio" Von Richten's Diaries

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> For more than three decades now, I have undertaken to investigate and expose creatures of darkness to the purifying light of truth. But in truth, this virtuous calling began as an obsessive effort to destroy the monster that murdered my child, and it has become for me a tedious and bleak career. Even as my life of hunting monsters began, my guilt and the weight of time was heavy on my weary shoulders. Today I simply have lived too long. Like a regretful lich, I find myself inexorably bound to this existence I sought out of madness and, seemingly, must now endure it until the end of my days.
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> Though some may see me and my deeds as heroic, the truth is I am the object of a baleful Vistani curse. More tragically, the nature of this hex is such that I have not borne the brunt of it; instead, far worse, those who surround me have fallen victim to it!
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> Years ago, my only child Erasmus was taken by Vistani and sold to a vampire. Erasmus was made a minion of the night stalker, and it was my miserable role to free him from that fate at the point of a stake. In fact, the Vistani took Erasmus with my own, unwitting permission. They brought an extremely ill member of their tribe to me one evening and insisted that I treat him, but I was unable to save the young man’s life. In fear of their retribution, I begged the Vistani to take anything of mine if only they would withhold their fabled curses. To my lasting astonishment, they chose to surreptitiously take my son in exchange for their loss! By the time I realized what had occurred, they were already an hour gone.
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> Incensed beyond reason, I strapped the body of the dead young man to my horse and doggedly followed the Vistani caravan through the woods, naively allowing the sun to set before me without seeking shelter from the night. Shortly after darkness fell, I was beset by undead that would have slain me, had not their master, a fierce wizard bearing the sigil of the yellow sign, intervened and spared my life for reasons that I do not completely understand. He fixed me with a baleful gaze and with his powerful magic, took control of a pack of zombies that wandered in the forest. He spoke to me through the mouths of the dead things and whispered “I have a task for you…” and placed a magic ward against undead on me, then animated the dead Vistani and bade it tell me where I could find its people.
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> Unfortunately, this plan worked. I found the child-stealers, and my unwelcome entourage included a growing horde of voracious undead that could not touch me, thanks to the wizard’s ward. When I found the caravan, I threatened to set the zombies on the Vistani unless they returned my dear boy. They replied that he had been sold to a vampire, one Baron Metus. Something inside me snapped. I released the zombies, and the entire tribe was eaten alive.
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> But the story does not end there. Before she died, the leader cursed me, saying, “Live you always among monsters, and see everyone you love die beneath their claws!” Even now, so many years later, I can hear her words with painful clarity. A short time later, I found my dear Erasmus made into a vampire. He begged me to end his curse, which I did with a heavy heart. The darkness had torn him from my loving arms forever, and I foolishly believed that the curse had exacted its deadly toll. I wept until an insatiate desire for vengeance filled the bottomless rift in my heart.
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> In my research into the ways of these gypsy bastards, Baron Metus proved to be only a minor player in this tragic tale. Metus was a minor noble from the Svalich Valley east of the now desolate Barovian Steppes. The Barovians were tight lipped about the Svallich and any mention of Metus, or the other families that hailed from those dark woods, were met largely with superstitious gestures and hasty departures. But the more I pried, I learned that history of Svallich Barovians was intertwined with the greater history of the Great War. Bribed by strange treasures and strong drink, they revealed to me that the residents of this region supported the Leddig Slatte armies as scouts and escorts through the region in attempts to strike even harder against their southern foes. But as difficult as it was to get them to tell me these stories, any tales beyond that period became even more fiercely guarded. Bribing the stories from tight-lipped Barovian Elders cost me dearly, but I soon learned that the villages of the Svallich suffered greatly for their relationship with the Northern Empire and the ruthless general Prince Bannoch Von Drovis.
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> From what I can piece together, empowered by the patronage of the wicked Fangs of the Veil, Bannoch exploited the lands of the Svalich building a massive castle he intended to become the Winter home of his royal line. But his thirst for power was a weakness his so-called allies the Fangs of the Veil exploited. Exposed to their dark arts, and the even darker power behind them which the Barovians only called “The Yellow King”, Bannoch descended into madness and undeath. Those he slaughtered were the lucky ones, as he indiscriminately turned others like Baron Metus into his undead minons.
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> But as the tide of the great war turned, and the shining armies of the South pushed into the steppes driving the hordes of the Fangs before them, suddenly a great silence descended upon the Svalich Valley. No more tales of Bannoch’s tyrannical rule seeped out of the wood. It was as if the entire region were erased. And the trail I sought for my vengeance appeared to dry up.
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> In the modern City of Vistania, I was able to track the secretive few wagons that still travelled East. Despite the dire warnings of the general population, I tracked them. Past the ruins of the Phodras Monastery and now into this misty prison. I have found my quarry…
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> Bannoch still reigns here. The Barovians that once thrived here are now mere shadows of themselves, withering in the misty darkness that seems to cling to everything like a rot. They’ve all but given up on their old ways, the few last standing churches cling superstitiously to their old rituals. But I sense very little true belief in the old Barovian Gods. Lathander is still known as the Morning Lord here, and like most Barovians the reverence for Savras, Myrkul or Torm are reduced to a few old carvings. All my hopes for divine assistance have run dry, and I will need to seek other strategies to combat this evil.I know not how to end this tragic tale. Bannoch’s power over the land seems complete and there are precious few safe havens.
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> The Vistani I followed here are no longer to be trusted. I’ve seen Bannoch himself materialize from the very mists and walk into their tents. I know not their business, but if they have shared any inkling of my presence, I fear Bannoch will come for me at once.
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> Kazan’s Tower I found near lake Baratok provided some safety for a period. It’s there that I learned how the promise of the power held by the Fangs brought down yet another power hungry fool who sought to reclaim the magic of the Fangs to challenge Bannoch. Kazan was a powerful mage. Indeed his wards last to this day, but his path to lichdom failed… it seems whatever source of power those wizards drew from their fabled Amber Temple has faded, or like all other living things in this accursed valley, slowly wastes away, cut off from the light of the real world.
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> Kazan’s writings are the twisted thoughts of a madman, but within them I found recurring reference to a “Dark Queen” and “the Shadow Gods” summoning forth the mists that imprisoned Bannoch and this entire valley. I know not what this means, I can only hope that ending their prisoner can be my own passage through these choking mists.My efforts now center on the Martikovs. The gracious owners of the Blue Water believe me their friend, but I have seen the unnatural gatherings of Ravens in their barn. I suspect them to be some kind of shapeshifters. I know not whether they are friend or foe… but I will not make my challenge on the black castle of Bannoch until I know upon whom I can trust.
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