Strahd Shorts

What Lurks in the Dark

     Strahd watched from a safe distance, careful not to be seen. The cold night, worsened by the wind, was quite eerie. The dark shadows elongated by the moonlight added to the off-putting effect. He had allowed the moon to break through the clouds tonight. The moon was full, but even so the light was . . . dim. Shadows moved and stretched as the wind blew past the trees and bushes, whistling as it passed over the sharp rocks.

     It was best that the party didn't see him. Not for his own safety, of course, but for their own. After seeing them fight with desperation to escape his home, he itched to test them himself. It had been . . . so long since he last dueled. His eyes trailed over to the flickering light.

     Over the course of many, many years, Strahd had learned the shocking truth that people were not afraid of the dark. Rather, the fear arose from what lurked within it. But, of all the creatures lurking in the dark tonight, he was sure he was the one to fear. Even so, they had made a fire. Strahd frowned. Was the moonlight not enough for them?

     The trio was at the base of one of the sets of the massive Gates of Barovia. The Gates stood over fifty feet in height, large gothic pillars of stone that climbed into the sky, connected by a series of interworked brick. Parts of the wall had been destroyed, of course, either by siege or simply erosion from the biting winds and storms that tore through the valley.

     The two large iron gates were flanked by two stone statues. Each was armored in Plate, their weapons of choice planted into the earth in a show of resolve. Each stood at attention, a rather powerful guarding stance. Their heads however, lay at their feet. One broken, smashed beyond repair, and the other giving back support to the one who called himself, Vaughn, at dinner.

     He sat there now, on watch, it seemed. His eyes kept darting around. Any tiny noise, a shift in the wind, or other small disturbance caught his attention. That elven girl, Valyria was asleep. A safe distance from the flickering fire, but still close enough for warmth. Strahd was rather surprised she was able to sleep after the little show he put on for her in Ravenloft's spire. Not only sleeping, but seemingly soundly as well.

     And so was that damn human, Ismark. That infuriating pest of a man.

     Perhaps he should rush in and snap his neck? He very well could, as Vaughn was nowhere near as fast or as strong as him. The Cleric girl had used most of her spells trying to escape Ravenloft, so she wasn't an issue either. Even so, her spells were nowhere near what he could muster.

     It was so tempting. His hands twitched in anticipation, but no. He had promised no harm would become of them that night. And what is a man who doesn't keep his word?

     Even so, he couldn't help but creep closer. Without a sound, he stalked forward, stopping only a short distance away. He could hear them breathing, see the soft rise and fall of their chests as they slept. He studied them, curious, rather amused they were unaware of his presence.

     When was the last time he had taken a breath?

     Shocked at the sudden thought, he tilted his head and squinted his eyes. Undeath had been an interesting thing to adjust too. Not needing to breathe was probably the most shocking and difficult to understand. Rather like riding a bike, he was sure he could do it, but could he really? It had been . . . no, had it really been that long ago?

     Ismark, that insufferable bastard, grumbled and rolled over in his sleep. If the fool were to only open his eyes, he would realize he was face to face with the closest thing to death in Barovia.

     A powerful gust tore through the valley, whistling as it made its way past the broken statues and through the iron gates behind them. The fire flickered, withered, then died, plunging the night into darkness. Strahd took the opportunity to stalk closer to Vaughn. How would he react to the sudden darkness? He was human as well, and human eyes were far inferior to his own. What creatures did Vaughn see in the night?

     Strahd was rather surprised to see the boy's own hand spark into a brilliant orange flame. Though his expression was stoic, vision trained on the distant Castle Ravenloft, Strahd saw through the act. He could hear the boy's heart thundering in his chest, see the rapid twitching of his eyes, and the cold sweat upon his brow. His breathing had increased. Short puffs of smoke escaped into the chill night air.

     He's scared, thought Strahd. Vaughn did another sweep, using his produced flame as a torch. He searched with passion, but the fear distracted him. His eyes passed right over Strahd's location, without registering the black suit was not, in fact, another shadow.

     Strahd smirked. Oh, how he loved these interactions with his play things. Moments like these were so precious to him, but the three members in the camp would never know about them. He knew he had only just begun to play with them, but he couldn't help thinking about the most fun he had with his toys: Breaking them.

     He wondered if they would be harder to break than the rest. Silently stepping away, he made his way back towards Ravenloft, but not before sending a familiar looking zombie towards their camp. He would stay to see Vaughn's reaction, but even Vampires need their beauty rest.