Dead Pretty's Curse of Strahd - Play-By-Post - D&D Beyond General - D&D Beyond Forums (2024)

This Curse of Strahd Play by Post game is for our face to face group who have called their adventuring party Dead Pretty. So far they have not lived up to that name - in either sense.

An idea to try a Play by Post game was put forward as a way of getting out D&D fix between our few and far between games. And so here it is. We're starting at level 1 and know it might be tough to start out.

The characters so far are:

• Asha Nightmeadow - female dusk elf rogue (Goldirocks7)
• Cumquarts - female half-elf warlock of Vecna (cumquarts)
• Danu - female halfling druid (MidnightVengeance)
• Einnob Rehsab - female dwarf fighter (BonnieReborn)
• Zap Bindragon - male bronze dragonborn sorcerer (Schtefe)

Just a note - a lot of the entries about the characters' actions are from me. Whether I include "(from chat)" or not, these entries always reflect decisions made by the players which are posted in our online chat.

It’s the evening before Highharvesttide, the autumn festival to celebrate the end of the harvest. A storm has descended over the town of Daggerford, with dark clouds pouring cascades of rain down upon the town below. Despite the weather, the town buzzes with anticipation of the impending festival, each home filled with warmth and joy. Bright, cheery candlelight twinkles from every window, and the sounds of song and dance echo throughout the wet and muddy streets.

Amidst the merriment, however, you stand apart. Neither a local or here to visit, you’re just passing through, a traveller. For the amount of attention being paid to you you might as well be a ghost passing through an unfamiliar town. As laughter rings out from inns and homes, you face a simpler, starker dilemma: the quest for shelter.

Every room in this town is claimed, every hearth filled to bursting, leaving you in the grip of the bitter storm. Until, that is, the owner of the ramshackle Nightmare’s Bridle tavern offers you, and a few others who seem to be in the same predicament, a grudging reprieve: the hayloft above their stable. It’s nothing to boast about, leaving the biting cold and the lingering scent of musty hay as your only companions. But it’s a roof over your heads nonetheless—a small mercy on a night such as this.

One by one, you find a home amidst the muck and hay. Overhead, rain lashes the stable, thunder punctuating the rhythmic drumming on the roof. Flashes of lightning lance across the skies, casting the stable’s interior in stark lights and darks. Rainwater drips steadily down through a leak in the roof, snaking its way across the floor until it pools in the corner.

Here, then, you find yourselves: huddled in the darkness amongst strangers, while joy and mirth dance just out of reach.

Well! How lucky that I got here first and have claimed a lovely dry section well away from the leaking room. I’m Einnob, a mountain dwarf. Hope no one snores, cause luckily I don’t snore! 🫣🙄. But I do like to GET sh*t DONE!!!!!👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

Which way are you all headed?

*Quietly shifting around to find a comfortable, dry spot to retire to for the evening.*

Cumquarts let's out a nonchalant "Hey". Coming off some day drinking and trying to dodge the hustle of Highharvesttide, desperately wanting some chill out time.

Attempting to fill the awkward silence...

"This weather sucks, took forever to find a place to crash for the night."

I survey the room cautiously knowing that some folk can react to the non-humankind. An interesting mob.

The room is damp from the pooling rain and I can see those huddling to try and find a dry spot amongst the hay.

I take a small amount of hay and broken pieces of wood then use my breath to spark a fire. I invite the others to join me and introduce myself as Zap Bindragon. I reply to Einnob that like a storm I go wherever the winds take me.

Eyes downcast, Asha ducks her head and makes a beeline for an unclaimed spot in the farthest corner. Suddenly aware of the gaze of eyes on her face and an expectant silence, she glances up, offering a quick nod andgreeting,before curling on her side with her back to the wall.

"Asha".

A searing bolt of lightning rends the sky, illuminating the evening in a blinding flash of stark white. The booming thunder that follows is so loud it shakes the very ground beneath you, causing the timbers of the stable to creak and groan.

The light of the strike lingers unnaturally, silhouetting small wisps of fog that twist through the air. A thick, ankle-deep mist gathers outside, shrouding the earth in a ghostly veil. Its tendrils curl invitingly, as though beckoning you to the darkness beyond.

The rain continues to pelt the roof above, but the wind no longer howls, and the merry sounds of Daggerford’s festivities seem muted and distant. The horses in the stable beneath stir uneasily, their whinnies echoing loudly in the stillness. An uneasy feeling sweeps through the hayloft, a cold shiver that has nothing to do with the wind or rain.

Danu the halfling feels a vibration in her pack. She pulls out the stonecrest which emits a low hum and smells of pine needles and earthy soil. It's never done that before! And even more amazing, as Danu moves the stone crest, it seems to vibrate more when pointed in a particular direction.

Einnob is distracted by a feeling of prickling from where her own pack is touching her body. She pulls out the bronze dragon scale, which hastiny arcs of lightning playing over it. One end of the dragon scale is glowing with abronzelight.As Einnob moves the scale around in her big hands the glow ismoving around the scale so to be always pointing to a specific direction.

Zap and Asha both cry out at the same time as the feathers they are carrying - Zap a black feather and Asha a white feather - are seemingly pulled out of wherever they were stored and fly up into the air, carried on an unseen wind. They both dance around each other before the door mysteriously creaks open slightly and the feathers dance next to it, as if beckoning their owners.

Meanwhile Cumquarts stares at her amber shard which she carries on a cord around her neck.The shard glows with amber light and tugs its cord in the directionin a specific direction - the same direction that all the other items seem to be indicating.

(from chat)

Cumquarts looks at her amber shard, the feathers, the stone crest, and the dragon scale. Something...interesting is happening. A force or power obviously has a connection to these items and is using them to draw everyone here ... somewhere. She thinks if she's going to get answers about the amber shard then perhaps she needs to follow.

I suggest to the group that we should brave the weather and follow the feathers and shard, there is clearly a connection to something greater going on.

I look outside to see if there is anything waiting for us before we depart

(Steve rolled a 4 for his character Zap's perception on the game log for our campaign)

You emerge from the hayloft into the swirling mists beyond, the stones of Daggerford's streets slick and gleaming beneath your feet. Zap Bindragon the dragonborn doesn't detect anything threatening but notices - as do you all - that the city’s laughter and cheer is now but a hollow echo, the brightness of its revelry drowned in the fog that encircles you. The taste of the cold, damp air is sharp on your tongue, and the sound of your own breath loud in your ears.

Your relics call you forward, the mists parting to make way. You move slowly at first, then faster, your hearts pounding in your chest. As you venture deeper into the fog, each step you make feels heavier, each echo of thunder a beat in this relentless march.

The fog swallows the town, buildings reduced to looming shadows, their shapes dancing and flickering in the storm's sporadic flashes of lightning. Rain drums a relentless rhythm, the patter of drops on cobblestone accompanying the distant, mournful peal of thunder. For brief moments, you can feel something else beneath your feet: the steady pounding of a deep and distant heartbeat.

You're pulled left, then right, then left again, the relics guiding you through the murky labyrinth. Distance and direction have lost all meaning, the shadows around you contorting in twisted shapes. Your blood sings in your ears, and the air grows denser, electric, as the energy of the storm—of the chase—swells with reckless abandon.

And then—the pounding stops.

The thunder pauses.

And the mist breaks.

The fog pulls back like a curtain, revealing a tall, eerie silhouette that towers in the gloom before you.

A grand manor stands before you, four stories of cold, soot-stained stone, tall narrow windows, and high peaked roofs forming a picture of austere, chilling grandeur. Midway up, a narrow balcony juts out from the third floor, offering a grim perch from which to survey the surrounding grounds.

The centerpiece of this imposing facade is the portico, a stone arch standing sentinel before the house's oaken doors. A wrought-iron gate fills this arch, its rusty hinges creaking as it sways in the wind.

On either side of the gate, oil lamps hang from chains, their light dim and flickering, casting a sickly glow that barely pierces the surrounding fog.

Beyond the gate, a set of sturdy oaken doors stand closed, framed by the gate and the lamps. The doors are old and weathered, their wood darkened by time, but they stand strong and proud—an unwelcome entrance to the house beyond.

A gust of wind sweeps past you, carrying with it a whisper of cold dread that sends shivers down your spine. It carries the two feathers - one black, one white - which land on the house's threshold just beyond the portico. Danu's stone crest is buzzing loudly, exuding a strong scent of pine needles and earthy soil very pungent, Cumquarts' amber shard is tugging hard, as if it were a piece of iron and the house was a magnet. Einnob looks at her bronze dragon scale, seeing the glowing end pointing at the house.

Actions?

CQ (Cumquarts) casts mage hand to knock on the door.

"Lets see if anyone is home, from a safe distance."