The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are stone buttresses looming hundreds of feet overhead. Massive iron gates hang on the stonework, dew clinging to its rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. You feel for the hilt of your longsword at your side, finding comfort from its grip as you regard the statues silently.

You are Aranuel Caniella; 18-year-old human girl, Cleric of Kossuth, and novice swordsman. Ever since the moment you were old enough to carry a weapon and a backpack, you have been traveling alone, foregoing your doomed house to pursue the one person your heart longs for: your elder sister Joannus, who was kidnapped by a mysterious group of traveling merchants when you were very young.

You had no notion of the world back then. But now, a decade later, after years of exploring the world, gathering anecdotes about wandering merchants in colorful robes, and cross-referencing details collected from hundreds of tavern stories, the clues have all converged here: to an ancient land known as Barovia, a valley that does not appear on any map, that innkeepers, adventurers, and bards across the realm have only spoken about in cautionary tales and warnings. Some have said the valley doesn't even exist. Others have said they had friends who went looking for the place and never returned. You had meant to keep track of your travels and record the location of this elusive place, but, in a cruel twist of irony, when traversing the Svalich woods, you became lost, and emerged here at the gates.

Alas, you've traversed continents looking for your sister. This is your last respite. "If you're not here," you say, "the Lord of Flames would've known my search was useless, and corrected my path. This is where I'm supposed to be!"

You step toward the gate, and the wind causes your torch to flicker and dim. The towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave. You feel unwelcome here, as though the darkness itself is warning you, urging you to turn away and go home. But you didn't make it this far by turning back every time your mind perceived danger. You touch the holy symbol of Kossuth around your neck for comfort, and continue down the road.

<span class="mu-s">Character/Quest Info</span>
Info / FAQ: https://pastebin.com/sTurBdHZ
Stats, Spells, Inventory, Character (updated in real time): https://pastebin.com/chuTtwgW