A Ravenloft A Ravenloft® Campaign Setting Supplement Campaign Setting Supplement Ravenloft Gazetteer Volume IV WW15023 ISBN 1-58846-087-8 WW15023 $24.95 U.S. www.swordsorcery.com Legacies of Violence, Landscapes of Despair Twisted shapechangers and immortal tyrants strike terror into the denizens of Ravenloft’s southwestern Core. The twisted desires of Borca’s dual rulers, the curse at the heart of Invidia’s ruling family, the savagery that reigns in the dark forests of Verbrek, the cruelty of Valachan’s master and the greed that marks the rulers of Sithicus evoke an atmosphere of horror that touches all who journey through those forsaken lands. The fourth Gazetteer explores the lands of Borca, Invidia, Verbrek, Valachan and Sithicus, noting landmarks and dangers, relating history and legend and providing a practical assessment of each realm. Bold adventurers may experience these lands for themselves, if they dare. Requires the use of the Dungeons & Dragons Player’s Handbook, published by Wizards of the Coast®. This product utilizes updated material from the v.3.5 revision. The Ravenloft® campaign setting is an officially licensed Dungeons & Dragons® property.
1 Ravenloft Gazeteer lV Credits Authors: James Lowder, John W. Mangrum, Ryan Naylor, Anthony Pryor, Voronica Whitney-Robinson and Andrew Wyatt Developers:: Jackie Cassada and Nicky Rea Editor: Mike Johnstone Sword & Sorcery Managing Editor: Andrew Bates Art Director: Richard Thomas Layout and Typesetting: Ron Thompson Interior Artists: Talon Dunning, Jeremy McHugh, Veronica Jones, Richard Thomas, Beth Trott and Jason Walker Front and Back Cover Designer: Ron Thompson © 2003 Wizards of the Coast Inc. Ravenloft, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons and its logo, the d20 System logo, and Wizards of the Coast and its logo are trademarks or registered trademarks of Wizards of the Coast Inc., a subsidiary of Hasbro Inc., in the USA and other countries, and are used by Arthaus under license. PRINTED IN CANADA Special Acknowledgements Andria Hayday (1st ed. design) Bruce Nesmith (1st ed. design) Tracy & Laura Hickman (original concept) Additional Thanks Based on the Original Dungeons & Dragons ® rules created by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson and the new Dungeons & Dragons game designed by Johnathan Tweet, Monte Cook, Skip Williams, Richard Baker and Peter Adkison.
2 Foreward Table of Contents Foreword 3 Report One: Borca 8 Report Two: Invidia 38 Report Three: Verbrek 62 Report Four: Valachan 85 Report Five: Sithicus 106 Attached Notes: DM’s Appendix 131
3 Ravenloft Gazeteer lV Foreword Foreword The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep. — Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
4 Foreward I now take quill to the fourth Doomsday Gazetteer. Upon its completion I shall have dedicated two years of my life to this ambitious project, traveling over half the lands of the Core. My prior research had well established my own remarkable talent and resolve, and when Azalin, my patron, miraculously returned from the Gray Realm in 755 BC, he approached me for an epic undertaking. The king of Darkon retained me to survey all the lands of the Core. For nearly a year my patron chose to remain anonymous, and to date I have yet to face him in person. I am unsatisfied with the scant reason he has given for sponsoring this ambitious project. Perhaps a monarch of his stature mistakenly presumes that he can treat a peerless scholar such as myself like a common scraping courtier. The second, more unsettling possibility is that my patron is waiting for some event that will set a grandiose plan in motion. Is he anticipating some momentous occurrence that will reveal the reasons for this fool’s errand? Is this bracer a poisoned seed that only blossoms when the proper conditions are met? I am my own woman, my patron. I have received nothing from you but sinister commands and the wholesale suppression of information. Though the challenge of these Doomsday Gazetteers appeals to me, I have no particular attachment to your patronage. The fate of your schemes means nothing to me, and if I chose to abandon our arrangement, my work would suddenly be available to the highest bidder. Your sheer confidence in your erudition and thoroughness continues to provide me with much amusem*nt, little scholar. Let us hope that you remain amusing rather than annoying. In the spring of 756, my journey began, while this spring saw my path wind through Dementlieu, Mordent and Richemulot. Now the chill in the air has returned, and it is with a leaden spirit that I turn my eyes once more to the Balinok Mountains. Borca lies before me, as well as all the other lands of the southwestern Core. The recent months have been bereft of word from my patron, which vexes me. Yet I have undertaken this journey out of my own intellectual curiosity and not due to any loyalty to or fear of my patron. The leather and onyx bracer that I have worn — as my patron requested — since I departed Darkon is the source of my current unease. Since I cannot remove it, I have found ample time to dwell on its purpose. I have seen no evidence that it is a “protective” device as my patron claimed, meant to shield me from his enemies abroad. Significantly, my patron has not contacted me since I first donned this bracer nine months ago. This silence invites one of two hypotheses. The first possibility is that my patron’s gift serves as an arcane monitoring device. If this is indeed the truth, I wish he would simply say so and save me considerable effort, parchment and ink. Such insolence; such lethal presumption. Rest assured, my little scholar, the benefits of my patronage will become apparent soon enough. Talent can take you only so far, and your luck, however remarkable up to this point, can last only so long. Report Format shall preface each volume of the Doomsday Gazetteers with a summary of my standard practices and formatting. I shall continue to uphold the regular travel schedule I have maintained this past year, allotting roughly six weeks to study each country, taking more or less time as required. I shall then immediately relay each report back to Darkon upon its completion. When so-called “local color” proves intriguing, I will provide direct excerpts of my interviews with the native populace. For clarity’s sake, I shall present these anecdotes in illuminated sidebars. Given that my travels are taking me farther and farther away from Darkon, I will no doubt become dependent on my patron’s lackeys to deliver these pages into his moldering hands. To avoid confusion, all reports adhere to the following standard format: Landscape In this section, I present a naturalist’s view of each region, focusing on noteworthy features of its
5 Ravenloft Gazeteer lV landscape, flora and fauna. I also take note of important waterways and trade routes, and I describe prevailing architectural styles. Local Animals and Native Horrors These sidebars present natural wildlife and unnatural monsters that are particularly well-suited for adventures in the domain; they are not exhaustive lists of all the creatures to be found. Creature lists are divided into “Wildlife” (common, natural animals) and “Monsters” (uncommon, unnatural threats). To make it easier to prepare an encounter quickly, creatures are listed in order of ascending Challenge Ratings. Any creatures in italics are under the influence of the domain’s darklord (see “Enchantment” effects the Ravenloft Player’s Handbook). Unless noted otherwise, all creatures can be found in the Monster Manual or Monster Manual II. Creatures marked with an asterisk can be found in Denizens of Dread. Creatures marked with two asterisks are included in the Attached Notes. History As this letter marks the opening of a new Doomsday Gazetteer, I should once again address the frustrations of historical study. Objectively speaking, many lands in our world have existed for only a very short time. On those occasions when the Mists have parted, the lands they revealed have typically appeared fully formed and fully populated. The inhabitants of these new lands own full memories of lives well before the emergence of their home. In addition, their historical records often stretch back centuries. In short, dear patron, these folk believe themselves to be as real as you or I, and in truth I cannot disprove the claim. Common wisdom holds that these new lands were simply “revealed” to the world, having existed all along while hidden deep in the Misty Border. Occultists in some circles, however, posit the existence of other worlds — the supposed origins of the “outlanders,” with which my patron is assuredly familiar. These occultists theorize that each of these realms was possibly drawn into our Land of Mists from one of these so-called outlander worlds.
6 Foreward I once scoffed at such wild theories, but I have now come to accept them on a theoretical basis. Yet when one probes into the recorded history — or even living memory — of a region before its emergence, such history often proves to be vague, incomplete, or even self-contradictory. This situation leads me to the disturbing hypothesis that many lands in our world were potentially created from whole cloth on the day that they first appeared in the Mists. Every aspect of the region’s history, memories and lives predating that day may be nothing more than an unfathomably complex phantasm. I hesitate to guess at the power of the nameless forces capable of such creation, but the facts speak for themselves. For the sake of clarity, I endeavor to establish a “seminal event” during which each land first emerged — or, perhaps, materialized. Following this seminal event, cross-referenced historical documents from surrounding lands establish the region’s objective existence. I cannot confirm that anything before this seminal event actually occurred in any real sense. Therefore, although I include this “false history” in my accounts, I endeavor to focus only on those historical events that still resonate in the present. The historical record of some countries reads as a chain of usurpers, one tyrant overthrowing the next. If one or more of the past rulers of a country proves particularly interesting, I provide a brief biography in an illuminated sidebar. Populace In this section, I present a census taker’s view of each land. My survey includes physical characteristics, fashions, demeanor, customs, cuisine and an overview of prevalent religions. I also present brief primers on the foreign tongues that I encounter. The Realm In this section, I turn my eye to the flow of power and the manner in which it is exploited. First, I provide an overview of each region’s formal government, including law enforcement and prevailing opinions regarding current rulers. Next, I turn to economic power, including forms of currency, natural resources and notable industries. Lastly, I focus on matters of diplomacy, examining how each nation interacts with its neighbors. In addition, my Requiem research and my year-long trek across the Core have taught me much about the true nature of power. My patron is of course intimately aware of the legends of what I term “dread lords”: vile individuals who mystically bind themselves to their realms in the pursuit of power, receiving dire curses in return. It has come to my attention that my patron almost certainly already knows the identities of these dread lords, but to assuage my own intellectual curiosity, I shall continue to ferret out likely suspects whenever evidence presents itself. Though I suspect that my endeavors have something to do with these dread lords, in recent months I have come to believe that my patron’s true motivation lies elsewhere. Without a doubt, he is searching for something, and I am his proverbial eyes and ears. If my patron would be so kind as to tell me what my quarry might be, it would save us both time and aggravation. Sites of Interest Here I present a brief travelogue of my journey through the significant settlements and other intriguing locales in each nation, including noteworthy structures and inhabitants. To capture the flavor — and at times, annoyances — of my travels, I list communities and sites of more esoteric appeal in the order in which I visit them. Simply for my own reference, I also include a few notes on food and lodging for each community; to be thorough, my surveys have often required convoluted routes and extensive backtracking. Final Thoughts Upon the completion of my survey of each land, I compile my notes and conclude with my executive summary of the region as a whole. For my patron’s benefit, I shall distill my impression of the land, including potential causes for concern and weaknesses that might be exploited.
7 Ravenloft Gazeteer lV How to Use This Book The book you now hold is an annotated version of the Doomsday Gazetteer Volume IV, compiled from the narrator’s reports and correspondence. The bulk of this text is a travelogue, relating the narrator’s experiences and observations during a six-month survey of five domains of the southwestern Core: Borca, Invidia, Verbrek, Valachan and Sithicus. The narrator’s patron, Azalin Rex, may also occasionally remark on the narrator’s commentary, perhaps to offer a differing opinion, as can be seen above. Sidebars such as this one present special game material that should be read only by the Dungeon Master. If you are a player, reading these sections may spoil some of the mystery your Dungeon Master has in store for you. Keep in mind that Rule 0 still applies; “Dread Possibility” sidebars in particular present secrets and adventure ideas that may or may not be true. The Dungeon Master should decide whether these scenarios apply to her campaign. The final section of this book, Attached Notes, covers new game rules, magic, creatures, NPCs and locations. Whenever the narrator refers to attaching extra notes at the end of a report, game material on that subject can be found in the appendix. As with sidebars, players should refrain from reading the Attached Notes. A single copy of each Doomsday Gazetteer exists within the game setting, written in Draconic and carefully encoded (requiring a successful DC 30 Decipher Script check to interpret). Heroes may use the information found within these pages, but first they must obtain the book. This should entail an adventure in itself. Heroes would most likely intercept a Doomsday Gazetteer report as it is being delivered to the narrator’s patron. Of course, Azalin will seek to recover his property…. While the primary purpose of the Gazetteers is to enrich the Ravenloft setting, Dungeon Masters are just as strongly encouraged to plunder these books for chilling NPCs, locations and concepts for use in any horrortinged campaign. The Realm of Dread is a jigsaw world, and each element can be easily imported to other settings, including those the Dungeon Master creates herself. Domains at a Glance Each domain report opens with a brief account of the domain’s vital statistics, in the following format: Cultural Level: The domain’s degree of technological and cultural development, ranging from Savage (0) to Renaissance (9). See Chapter One of the Ravenloft Player’s Handbook for more details. Ecology & Climate/Terrain: The domain’s ecology rating (Full, Sparse, or No) and terrain types (see the Monster Manual). These factors determine the effectiveness of summoning spells within that domain. (See “Conjuration” effects in Chapter Three of the Ravenloft Player’s Handbook.) Year of Formation: The year on the Barovian Calendar when the domain first appeared. Population: The domain’s approximate total population. Undead and full-blooded Vistani are not included in population statistics. Races: A racial breakdown of the domain’s population. “Other” indicates a mixture of standard nonhuman races that are not explicitly cited, as well as a smattering of living, intelligent monsters that can pass for human. When more than one human ethnic group lives in the domain, these groups are also broken down in descending order of social dominance. Languages & Religions: Local languages and religions are presented in descending order of popularity. The official or dominant language(s) and religions(s), if any, are labeled with an asterisk. Government: The domain’s officially recognized form of government. In Ravenloft, however, the true, hidden chains of power may take a significantly different form. Not all domains have a centralized authority, and some have no formal government at all. When applicable, sidebars also include notes and game statistics for typical members of local law enforcement. Ruler: The domain’s publicly recognized political ruler, should the domain have a centralized government. Darklord: The domain’s true master. Individual darklords are described in full in the Attached Notes. The Native Hero These sidebars offer special notes and advice on creating PCs native to the domain. Such notes include the local role of the standard races and classes, recommended skills and feats that capture the domain’s atmosphere, and examples of typical names. Law Enforcement For quick reference, each report includes a brief sidebar offering game statistics for the typical member of local enforcement. Sites of Interest Each settlement includes a sidebar presenting full community statistics. (See “Generating Towns” in Chapter 5: Campaigns of the D&D Dungeon Master’s Guide.)
8 Report One Report One: Borca … if he who rules a principality cannot recognize evils until they are upon him, he is not truly wise. — Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince Report One: Borca
9 Borca s the barge carried me up the Luna, I noted the colors of the forests — not the red and orange of turning leaves, but tree bark choked by bluish-gray lichens and the livid violet of lethal fungus glistening in the shadows. The Borcan woodlands exhibited an aura of lurking, subtle sickness. Several hours after we crossed into Borca, we encountered a tiny thorp, little more than a mill and a river landing. As we neared, the waterwheel turned and dredged up a thick, slime-coated chain from the riverbed, stretching from one bank to the other. River blockades are not unique to Borca, but we crossed no less than four before reaching Sturben. At each blockade, coarse thugs bearing the Borcan colors rowed out to inspect the craft. These militiamen cared only about the cargo manifest; their interest in the crew and passengers extended no further than the bulge of our coin purses. After each band of enforcers extracted their toll, they would inevitably suggest that we make additional donations to their coffers, assuring us that these would fund extra patrols to combat murderous brigands who preyed on river traffic. Otherwise, they would be unable to guarantee travelers’ safety. Once payment was extracted, the chain was lowered and we continued on our way. As I disembarked, I asked the captain if the river guardians were always so effective at driving off brigands. He shook his head in disgust and said, “They are the brigands.” Such is Borca. Landscape orca lies near the heart of the Core, its hilly terrain climbing to the northwestern edge of the southern Balinoks. Cool, pleasant summers fade into crisp autumns. In colder months, frigid winds and severe blizzards scourge Borca. In both culture and geography, Borca is the borderland between the genteel western lands and the backward, mountainous realms of the southeast. Its oddly pinched shape is a remnant of its past; modern Borca is a melding of two formerly independent nations. Until the Great Upheaval, everything northeast of Sturben fell within the borders of Dorvinia. Borca’s hills rise from the convergence of two major river valleys, the Luna and the Vasha. Western Borca rolls in gentle slopes and ridges covered in verdant forests and grassy dales. Most commoners here fled when Richemulot first emerged, chasing dreams of economic freedom. Many hamlets emptied virtually overnight. Today, the west is home only to a handful of thorps, river landings and remote country manors. The typical Borcan considers life in the western woods to be scarcely short of exile. Most local landholders either control their lands in absentia from the east or live as recluses, shuffled away from the dance of Borcan politics due to their incompetence or eccentricity. Two vast forests cover most of western Borca. The House of the Sages continues from Richemulot to cover the lands northwest of the Vasha and lower Luna, while the Blightwood covers the southwest. Cross-country travel is a chore, but Borca’s deepest forests are often safer to traverse than its back roads. Small bands of Borcan enforcers patrol the holdings of their aristocratic masters, and these supposed guardians often deal in extortion. Additionally, I collected numerous rumors of Falkovnia using the sparsely populated wilds to conceal large troop movements to and from Invidia. These soldiers may murder witnesses to avoid the attention (and taxation) of Borca’s masters. I can confirm that Borca has rebuffed numerous Falkovnian attempts to establish a trading enclave along the Luna’s banks. Borca at a Glance Cultural Level: Chivalric (8) Ecology: Full Climate/Terrain: Temperate forest, hill and mountains Year of Formation: 684 BC (Borca); 709 BC (Dorvinia) Population: 34,200 Races: Humans 95%, halflings 4%, other 1% Languages: Balok*, Mordentish*, Falkovnian, Luktar, Halfling Religions: Ezra*, Hala Government: Pseudofeudal despotism Rulers: Sefeasa Ivana Boritsi; Sef Ivan Dilisnya Darklords: Ivana Boritsi and Ivan Dilisnya
10 Report One Borca is much more densely populated to the east, along its major trade routes. With sprawling farms, vineyards, grazing lands and private estates, eastern Borca’s woodlands have been tamed, reduced to private hunting preserves for the elite or kept as sources of timber and rare herbs. The Viorea Forest lies at the heart of central Borca, wedged between the Vasha and Luna Rivers. These woods were once thick and unbroken, but the Crimson Highway and generations of development split the Viorea into halves, surrounded on all sides by settled lands, including the communities of Sturben and Levkarest. The Balinok foothills grow more rugged as one travels east into the Dorvinian uplands, rapidly ascending to the ragged, barren peak of Mount Gries (4,480 ft.), the highest point in Borca. A thriving source of silver in centuries past, Mt. Gries is now a forlorn reminder of past glories. A thin ring of clouds continually obscures its peak, and the mountain is riddled with caves and exhausted mines, home to uncountable hordes of bats that plague the surrounding slopes. Borcans are not overtly superstitious folk, but many trace their ancestry to Barovia, and a few latent fears remain. A swarm of bats can drain an unsheltered animal dry of its blood overnight. When combined with the appearance of unusual strangers, these exsanguinations occasionally spur lethal vampire panics. Evidence indicates that Mt. Gries may be the origin of a legend I have traced throughout the Balinoks concerning the Night Swarm, a monstrous swarm of bats so vast that their leathery wings block out the moon, so voracious they can exsanguinate entire herds of goats overnight. Borcans who live in the shadow of Mt. Gries are often as terrified of sunset as the most superstitious Barovian. Mt. Gries divides the Dorvinian uplands into two regions. The Steading spreads out from the southwestern slopes, while the Doldak Heights extend to the northeast. The settlement of Vor Ziyden marks the heart of the Steading. The Ziyden Woods spread north, while the Tainted Wood sits across the Strecura River, stretching to the border. Together, these forests have gained a reputation that extends even into Barovia. Lethal herbs and fungi sprout in such remarkable quantities — even for Borca — that they reputedly leak toxins into the soil, warping the trees and tainting the crystalline mountain streams around them. The Steading
11 Borca is too rocky and hilly to support widespread agriculture and is thus occupied by grazing lands and highly prized vineyards. The mountainous and forbidding Doldak Heights are treacherous and barren, sparsely populated by mining camps that seldom see visitors. The Royal Grove, the private hunting grounds of Ivan Dilisnya, clings to the jagged earth just east of Lechberg. Informally, this forest is better known as the Twinwood. Most trees here have two trunks growing from a single root system. In many cases, one of the trunks is parasitic, growing strong while the other shrivels and dies. In other trees, the trunks spiral and twine around each other, as if frozen in the midst of a dance — or a fight for dominance. To the north and west, the Doldak Heights reach an abrupt end at the cliffs of the Shadow Rift. Three major rivers tumble down from the Balinoks to the east, with mountain runoff bringing floods each spring. The Luna River flows from Barovia, winding through the country’s heart before joining the Musarde in Richemulot. Fed by numerous lesser tributaries, the Luna is navigable throughout its entire length, forming a crucial trade route with the west. Only small craft can continue upriver past Levkarest, however. The Vasha River is Borca’s vital northern thoroughfare, linking Lechberg, Ilvin and Sturben before joining the Luna. Prior to the Great Upheaval, the Vasha originated on the northern slopes of Mt. Gries, flowing into G’Henna before curving back around into Dorvinia. The Shadow Rift severed that natural course; now, the upper Vasha remains a whitewater brook, but uselessly pours into the abyss of the Shadow Rift. The lower Vasha is low and sluggish, particularly above its main tributary, the Strecura River, where only minor brooks and springs feed its flow. In summer, the morass is a breeding ground for stinging insects. Ivan Dilisnya, however, funded the construction of a levee near the Vasha’s new headwaters and a series of new aqueducts to swell the river enough to support small vessels, though large craft still risk running aground upriver of Ilvin. Lake Srebro, Borca’s largest body of water, is a crystal pool at the southern foot of Mt. Gries. The Strecura River rises from these headwaters, but flows directly between the toxic Ziyden Wood and the Tainted Wood, so its waters do not remain pure for long. The Strecura curves around Vor Ziyden, often passing between high cliffs, before ultimately bolstering the Vasha. Its entire length is navigable by small craft. Borca’s water supply is fed by lesser rivulets and Borca’s natural hot springs. The country is geothermally active, but does not suffer from earth tremors. Mineral waters boil up from the earth in the form of geysers and natural, eternally steaming cauldrons. The sediment in their sulfurous waters produces garish colors and stone formations resembling molten wax. Tight clusters of these hot springs — traditionally called hellspouts — are scattered randomly, even appearing high atop hills and submerged in riverbeds. These latter hellspouts are known as river devils for the way they churn the currents like frenzied sharks. Common lore holds that ancient Borcans feared and shunned the hellspouts as lairs of demons, dragons and similar bogeymen. Centuries ago, the Borcans lost their fear and developed methods of safely harnessing the springs’ thermal power. Most modern Borcan settlements cluster around hellspouts, and the Borcans’ irrigation and water engineering techniques are quite advanced. Aqueducts feed their towns’ water reservoirs, cramped drainage sewers shield towns from spring thaws, and many hot springs have been harnessed to heat greenhouses or create fountains and soothing baths. A few manors even boast hot and cold running water. These structures, however, incorporate the waters through iron pipes and springhouses. All attempts to build large structures directly atop the hellspouts have been doomed, with the seething waters quickly undermining the buildings’ foundations. Such boiling vats could doubtless hold appeal for other cunning predators as well, to say nothing of those who wish to dispose of unwanted corpses. Every Borcan knows tales of the super-heated water boiling the flesh from a hapless victim’s bones. The most dangerous hellspouts cannot even be seen. On rare occasions, a cauldron forms just beneath a thin, brittle, cooked crust of earth, which can collapse under an explorer’s weight. When walking near a hellspout cluster, one should be wary of round, barren patches of earth or wisps of steam rising from the soil. Many Borcans report seeing strange lights and shapes in hellspout vapors, particularly near dawn and dusk. Although I
12 Report One am inclined to ascribe these apparitions to natural gasses escaping from the springs, Borcans claim they are the tortured spirits of those who lost their lives to the searing waters and now want others to share their misery. passing through the dreaded Svalich Pass to link Borca to the distant Vaasi Plateau. To the north, the seldom-used Lech’s Road cuts west from Lechberg to join the Seelewald Road in Falkovnia, where its name has been spitefully corrupted into the “Lecher’s Road.” The Borcan militia stamps out banditry on the highways by hiring out mercenary escorts for merchant caravans, but lone travelers can seldom afford such protection. The corrupt militia inevitably collects its due, caring little whether it does so as guardians or brigands. Borcan architects are widely and deservedly praised for their artistry, skill and discretion. Many Borcan homes contain one or more secret passages, ranging from long escape tunnels to concealed doors that open to reveal a privy or servants’ staircase. Borca’s architects occasionally accept commissions in neighboring lands; one can safely assume that all such structures contain at least one secret their owners did not want revealed to local builders. Most homes and businesses are broad, massive buildings of whitewashed brick, with gabled, steeply sloped rooftops shingled in thin wood of charcoal gray and topped with slender, knobby spires. Most are two stories high, but a few reach three or four. Interior walls are plastered smooth, often painted in lush colors. Arching wooden trim of dark green or blue graces the doors and windows, usually carved with stylized vines and toadstools. Most large townhouses center around an open-air atrium overlooked by balconies supported by distinctive, rounded arches. These courtyards sometimes house a private garden or mineral bath and are traditionally where the master of the house first greets visitors (perhaps with a phalanx of crossbowmen watching from the balconies). Country manors are sprawling affairs, with an extended family, guests and servants living in separate, connected wings. The surrounding grounds divide into numerous, lovingly organized gardens. Many of the herbs, vegetables and flowers grown here are known for their medicinal properties. Borcan settlements follow the same basic principles as individual buildings. Narrow, winding streets covered in smooth flagstones seldom see daylight, cast into shadow by the buildings’ overhanging upper floors. These dark mazes connect the great town squares, which emerge as islands of light and warmth in contrast. Depending on their placement and purpose, these plazas may be home Hellspouts Cauldrons are always dangerous, but geysers present a threat only when they erupt. Some geysers erupt on a regular, predictable schedule, while others erupt once every 1d20 minutes. Once it erupts, a geyser continues to billow boiling water for 1d6 rounds. Its steam offers concealment as the spell obscuring mist, to a radius equal to half the geyser’s height. Boiling water inflicts 1d6 points of heat damage if it splashes a victim. If a victim is standing in the same 5-foot area as a geyser when it erupts, she suffers 5d6 points of heat damage per round of exposure. In either case, the victim can make a DC 18 Reflex save for half damage. If a victim is completely submerged in boiling water, such as a cauldron, she suffers 10d6 points of heat damage per round of exposure and does not receive a saving throw. Fire resistance is effective against scalding damage, but creatures of elemental water are immune. If a water elemental is conjured from a boiling water source, it temporarily retains that heat, inflicting an extra +1d6 points of heat damage with each of its natural attacks for 1d10 rounds. Borca sports numerous winding country roads and a pair of true highways, which the Borcans keep passable and in good repair throughout the year. The Scythe Highway crosses south from Falkovnia into central Borca, gradually twisting to the northeast, following the course of the Vasha and connecting Sturben, Ilvin and Lechberg before reaching the gates of Degravo, Ivan Dilisnya’s private estate. The Crimson Highway, Borca’s most vital and heavily traveled trade route, enters from Barovia to the south, passing through the city of Levkarest before terminating at Sturben. In addition to these interior highways, the Old Svalich Road emerges from Levkarest on an easterly route,
13 Borca to marketplaces, fountains, monuments, or scaffolds for public announcements and executions. Any Borcan community worth mention also has at least one public bathhouse. Anyone can come to these elegant and airy — but often crowded — structures to avail themselves of the hellspouts’ recuperative sulfur waters. Most settlements are walled, as are most country estates. The cities’ fortifications all date back at least to the Terg Invasion, but are still maintained today due to widespread unease concerning aggressive neighbors. The walls of country estates are built to delineate property lines and dissuade casual trespassers. Shards of broken glass are often sealed in the mortar atop these walls, but they present a minor obstacle to the dedicated intruder. Flora Hardwoods (beech, oak, cherry, hazelnut, chestnut) predominate in the hill country of western Borca, while evergreens dot higher elevations. Throughout warmer months, the forests produce a myriad of fruits and nuts and countless varieties of wildflower blanket grassy dales. A blight of bluegray lichen afflicts most Borcan trees. While harmless to most forms of life, the lichen slowly chokes tree roots, stifling their growth. Should a tree reach its hundredth year, its stunted roots can usually no longer support its weight or supply it with nutrients. Such trees usually collapse to rot on the forest floor. The lack of ancient, immense trees allows sunlight to pierce the canopy much more effectively, dispelling the most ominous shadows and fostering a dense, thorny undergrowth of tangled brambles and ivy. Intriguingly, the blight shows no sign of spreading beyond Borca. Even though the House of the Sages and the Blightwood stretch into neighboring lands, the blight can provide the observant traveler with a telltale clue that he has crossed the border. The rich soil and rotting tree trunks provide a fertile perch for countless spongy mushrooms and toadstools. The sheer diversity of poisonous plant life is astounding. Borca’s plants lack the truly predatory nature of Forlorn’s flora, but they are no less dangerous. Fortunately, most poisonous Borcan foodstuffs are marked by a telltale purplish tinge. The correlation is useful as a general guideline, but not all that is violet is deadly and not all that is deadly is violet. Borcans are skilled herbalists, well schooled in the specific properties of individual plants and fungi, but a few odd cultural traits have emerged. Purple, not black, is considered the color of mourning here, and people with violet eyes are often assumed to be untrustworthy. Plums are considered lethal, a reputation arising from dew plums, a dangerous look-alike that grows wild. Connoisseurs rightfully laud the quality of wines pressed from Borca’s vineyards, yet even grapes are not above suspicion. On rare occasions, Borcan wines may spontaneously spoil, becoming deadly toxins, particularly if transported out of the country. Two plants are of particular interest for their frequent appearance as symbolic motifs in the Borcan arts. The exquisitely sweet passionflesh fruit resembles an eggplant but is marked by deep purple and crimson striations. Regarded as an aphrodisiac, its pulp is addictive and mildly toxic. One slice does no real harm, but folk with uncontrolled appetites have died for its lethal pleasures. Passionflesh fruit is thus used to symbolize illicit love. In some circles, particularly among the darkly attractive courtiers of Lady Ivana Boritsi, erstwhile lovers who must remain chaste sometimes feed each other passionflesh fruit sections to sate their longings. Caldura roses, notable for their long thorns and pink-tinged blooms of white, exhibit a delicate aroma that reputedly drives out disease and similar bodily taints. If a caldura rose is severed from its roots, however, its violet sap spoils, subtly subverting the aroma’s properties. Cut caldura roses apparently drain the vitality of those who linger nearby. Caldura roses often symbolize marriage when intact, but adultery when cut. Fauna Borca’s wildlife is less dangerous than its toadstools. As a heavily settled region, large predators are rare. Wolves are known to creep into the Blightwood from Verbrek, and the occasional bear wanders through the woodlands. The bats of Mt. Gries darken the nocturnal skies of eastern Borca, but their nefarious reputation exceeds the actual damage they cause. Borca’s hills and forests are home to countless varieties of crawling insects and reptiles, some nearly as long as a human. Travelers should beware of any creature with luridly colored natural markings. Borcans have little fear of the natural world, but they do have an avid appetite for the monstrous legends of neighboring realms. Superstitions often simmer beneath the surface until some disturbing
14 Report One event brings their sleeping terrors gushing forth. When Borcans work themselves into a panic, they speak of shapeshifters living in their cities, goblins roaming the west, evil fey from the Shadow Rift, and hideous, man-eating ogres out of Invidia. When calm is restored, few Borcans worry about such “legions of the night” — the Church of Ezra’s term for the forces of evil in the world. They have more pressing concerns. A musician in Lechberg explained the true focus of the typical Borcan’s dread: “There is no demon so cruel, no dragon so rich, no wolf so ravenous as a Dilisnya.” Although few Borcans admit to fearing monsters, they hold strong beliefs concerning the spirit world. Many old homes and lonesome places here are said to be haunted by unhappy spirits. I suspect a hint of Mordentish cultural influence, though the Borcan tradition of ghost stories exhibits little of the elemental dread found in Mordentish folklore. Borcans, perhaps through ignorance, view the incorporeal undead as harmless oddities or amusing curiosities, not true threats. Borcans, however, do warn that the restless dead have been excluded from Ezra’s grace and are considered potentially dangerous. Borcans believe that all spirits arise from sudden or violent deaths. Such ghosts obsessively seek vengeance for the betrayals that ended their days, but are unable to affect the physical world. When an angry spirit demonstrates that it can lash out at the living, this jaded dismissal of the dead quickly evaporates. I collected numerous outlandish ghost stories, such as those of the Pale Hog, the Headless Horseman, and the Scalded Waif. The most notorious was that of the House of Lament in the Blightwood. This grim manor, permanently held in the grip of autumn, allegedly appeared from nowhere eleven years ago and claims the lives of almost all who enter. Historyorca’s history is deeply entwined with that of its neighbor, Barovia, and records I studied in Barovia’s Teodorus Archives provide invaluable insights on Borcans’ commonly accepted truisms. Most intriguingly, records predating 351 BC usually refer to Barovia’s neighbor as Borcha or Borjia. “Borca” is a Barovian distortion and likely indicative of the pronunciation used by the Dilisnyas after their centuries of Barovian exile. Local Animals and Native Horrors Wildlife: CR 1/10 — bat; toad; Wildlife: CR 1/10 CR 1/8 CR 1/8 — rat; CR 1/8 CR 1/6 — CR 1/6 donkey; raven; CR 1/4 — cat; owl; pony; weasel; CR 1/4 CR 1/ 3 — dog; hawk; snake, Tiny viper; 3 CR 1/2 —badger; CR 1/2 eagle; snake, Small viper; CR 1 — dog, riding; horse, CR 1 heavy; horse, light; horse, light war; hound, mastiff*; mule; snake, Medium viper; wolf; CR 2 —bear, black; CR 2 boar; CR 4 — bear, brown. CR 4 Monsters: CR 1/8 Monsters: CR 1/8 — monstrous centipede, Tiny; Monsters: CR 1/8 CR 1/ 4 — goblin; kobold; monstrous centipede, Small; mon- 4 strous scorpion, Tiny; monstrous spider, Tiny; CR 1/2 — CR 1/2 geist*; monstrous centipede, Medium; spider, hairy†; CR 1 —bakhna rakhna*; bat, carrion*; homunculus; 1 CR 2 — dire bat; CR 3 — drownling*; fungus, violet; remnant, CR 3 aquatic*; CR 4 — gargoyle; lycanthrope, werebat†; CR 4 CR 5 Arak, shee*; odem*; wraith; 5 CR 6 — corpse candle*; CR 6 ermordenung*; red widow*; will-o’-wisp; CR 7 — ghost; CR 7 spectre; CR 8 — treant, dread*; CR 8 CR 9 — valpurleiche*. CR 9 † See Monsters of Faerûn., published by Wizards of the Coast. Borca in the Spirit World Most spirits haunting Borca’s Near Ethereal died in agony, the victims of venomous duplicity or scalding hellspouts. These ghosts may choose the following as one of their special attacks: Death Rattle (Su): With a successful melee touch attack, the spirit can affect a single living creature with the symptoms of the attack that took its life. The specific attack varies. For example, a ghost that died by poison inflicts a single dose of that poison; a ghost killed with a weapon rolls the same amount of damage used in the fatal strike (such as 1d10 for a halberd attack); a ghost submerged in boiling water inflicts 10d6 points of heat damage. The victim is entitled to a Will save (DC 10 + 1/2 the spirit’s Hit Dice + the spirit’s Charisma modifier); if successful, the death rattle has no effect. If the save fails, the wound seems entirely real to the victim, though other creatures cannot sense it. The death rattle remains an illusion, and cannot truly harm the victim. All hit point damage is automatically converted to nonlethal damage, and all other effects (such as ability damage) vanish after a number of minutes equal to the ghost’s rank. If a death rattle reduces a victim’s Constitution score to 0 or below, she falls unconscious for the effect’s duration. A ghost can use its death rattle attack a number of times per day equal to its rank.
15 Borca Having already presented my patron with an account of Borca and Barovia’s mutual false history in my initial report last year, here I revisit a few crucial events from the Borcan perspective. The oldest extant records of Borjia depict it as a collection of independent city-states. A rising class of merchant guilds increasingly controlled the coffers and the true reins of power. When the nation of Barovia was founded in 1 BC, the city-states were united under the von Zarovich banner, and several mercantile families used their wealth and influence to obtain hereditary, aristocratic titles. Among these houses were names such as Cosco, Boritsi and Olszanik. The Dilisnya family of bankers rose to power at this time, though centuries would pass before their treachery distinguished them from their peers. The history of Borca is the tale of this infamous clan. The portrait of modern Borca emerges in the War of Silver Knives. A century of bickering and perceived insults between the competing Dilisnya, Katsky and Petrovna families eventually coalesced into a heated dispute over the rights to the then thriving silver mines of Mt. Gries. In 314 BC, an unknown party murdered Izabela Dilisnya, the aged matriarch of her line, and her son Pidlwik swore bloody vengeance on his family’s rivals. For the next two years, the noble courts of Barovia were beset by a vicious, escalating cycle of revenge killings. This was a war fought with assassins. Count Barov von Zarovich commanded an end to the strife in 316 BC, soothing the feuding families by granting them new lands. The conflict left Barovia ill prepared to face the Terg onslaught that soon came and left Pidlwik Dilisnya nursing a private grudge against Barov, believing his mother’s murder demanded much greater recompense. Pidlwik’s resentment and power-lust infected his children as well, including his youngest, Leo, born in 320 BC, the year of the Terg invasion. Then as now, Borjia lay west of the Barovian Balinoks, and the Tergs invaded from the east. The barbarian hordes conquered the entire nation with terrifying speed, shattering its power, but Barovian armies pressed the Tergs back from the Borjia region by 325 BC. While Borjia sat behind the battle lines in relative safety and rebuilt, war continued to rage throughout the Balinoks for two more decades. Borjian craftsmen supplied the Barovian armies with all their needs and grew rich in the bargain. Petre Raluca’s account of the war in The Exile and the Return reads: Resentment pecked at living hearts as ravens worried at the dead. Old women complained, “If your sons have spilled their blood, you are of Barovia. If your coffers have spilled their silver, you are of Borca.” In 347 BC, Strahd drove out the last of the Tergs and claimed the Balinoks for himself. Borjia prospered as the rest of the nation struggled to rebuild. Pidlwik Dilisnya died in his bed, his dreams of vengeance unrealized, but his son Leo — now a man with a wealth of ambition and a paucity of pity — set forth on a murderous plot to ensure that the von Zaroviches never regained their dominance. In the summer of 351 BC, the aristocratic families of Borjia left their estates to converge on Castle Ravenloft for the wedding of Count Strahd’s youngest brother. The nobles were expected to return within a matter of weeks — they would be absent for centuries. Included in Leo Dilisnya’s entourage were a score of disguised assassins concealing poison-tipped crossbows. Leo’s killers came to the wedding intending to wipe out Strahd’s kin and all of the Dilisnyas’ rivals to the last, cementing his own family’s power. The resulting massacre is the stuff of legend, a nightmarish tale told throughout the Core. Mists swept across the land, cutting off Barovia from the rest of the world and engulfing the country in a haze that would not lift for centuries. A mere handful of guests escaped Castle Ravenloft, fleeing in terror with tales of butchery and rampaging monsters. Leo himself feigned illness and excused himself from the festivities before the ambush began, but he left all his relatives behind, unwitting sacrifices to cover his tracks. A paltry number of Leo’s kin lived to see another dawn. Today, all Dilisnyas can trace their ancestry back to Leo himself or his eldest brother Reinhold, whose wife escaped with their children. All other branches of the family tree were sheared away. Although Leo Dilisnya is reviled as a villain in Barovia, few Borcan commoners know of his role in the massacre. The Dilisnyas themselves consider him a source of shame, a man destroyed by overreaching ambition; they rarely speak of him. Rumors Distortion? Bah. More taunting lies from the tormentors that built this wretched prison. No doubt the true “Borjia” still lies beyond the Mists, untouched and pristine.
16 Report One have arisen that Leo was a bastard, possessing no true Dilisnya blood. Of course, these dire accusations are more common on the side of the family that is not directly descended from him. Like many of the deaths that plague this historical account, the murders were unsolved at the time but are now open secrets. Camille’s parents shipped her off to distant kin in Invidia to evade the Mordentish authorities. Her coach lost its way in a thick fog as it rumbled across the countryside. Camille emerged from the Mists in an unfamiliar land, which the locals called “Borca.” Camille Grymig’s rediscovery of her ancestral homeland is the seminal event that marks Borca’s appearance in the Core. The Borcans acknowledge this date as well, believing that the same curse that fell on Barovia doomed their nation to 333 years of bondage within the Mists, completely isolated from the outside world. As the legend goes, only a drop of true Dilisnya blood upon Borcan soil could once again win their freedom. Records of the years 351-684 BC are suspiciously spotty, but indicate that this so-called “Vacancy of Power” passed remarkably quietly. In essence, Borca simply waited for the Dilisnyas to return. Word of Camille’s entourage quickly spread. A group of bankers and guildsmen soon presented themselves as the regents of the Dilisnya holdings, the descendants of the original seneschals appointed to watch over the departed nobles’ estates. The regents had faithfully executed their duties during the Vacancy, craftily protecting — even expanding — their masters’ properties. If Camille were indeed a blooded Dilisnya, she would now inherit all. Camille thus submitted herself to a long series of painful tests to prove her identity. One regent, however, had developed a taste for power and sought to cheat Camille. She discovered the banker’s plan to falsify the tests and sent a basket of ripe fruit to his home. The delectable gifts contained a slow, lethal poison, taking the lives of the traitorous banker and his entire family. Duly warned, the remaining regents confirmed Camille’s identity and handed over the deeds. Camille Grymig had indeed inherited everything: she now owned Borca in its entirety. Ruling as the sole, uncontested aristocrat in Borca, Lady Camille invited her scattered family to join her. Most Dilisnyas jumped at the invitation. As they converged, the Dilisnyas brought with them cultural traits and economic ties from half the Core. Within a decade of its emergence, Borca had firmly established its reputation as a cosmopolitan — even decadent — center of trade. Lady Camille proved to be a competent ruler, frequently relying on her family’s counsel. Her A pity for the usurper’s sake that he was unable to mold his reputation from the grave, unlike his vainglorious Barovian rival. The few surviving Dilisnyas fled from the wrath of the von Zaroviches. Leo coordinated the diaspora of his kin, helping them establish new identities in remote mountain villages. This done, he faded into obscurity, his final fate unknown. The Dilisnyas’ eccentric reputation arose from the generations of seclusion that followed. Family records indicate that the false names and secrecy resulted in occasional, unintentional inbreeding, thinning the bloodline. Madness did not dull the Dilisnyas’ keen minds or ruthless natures, however, and they slowly rebuilt a small measure of their former fortunes. The Dilisnyas continued to spread to new lands as the Core expanded. Once safely beyond Barovia’s borders, they reestablished their true identities and connections. Leo’s descendants migrated west, primarily settling in rural Mordent, where the local gentry viewed them with much suspicion. One such scion was Lev Dilisnya, born 300 years after his infamous ancestor. Today, Lev is significant primarily for two of his six progeny: a son, Yakov, born in 641 BC, and a daughter, Camille, born in 662 BC. At the age of twenty-five, Yakov suffered a seizure while out riding. Feverish and raving when found, upon regaining his wits he insisted that he was the chosen messenger of a goddess named Ezra. Yakov wrote what is today called the First Book of Ezra from his sickbed, then spent years unsuccessfully trying to attract worshippers to his private cult. His family considered him deranged but harmless, hoping he would prove the most eccentric member of his generation. Camille would prove them wrong. She was lovely and cultured, but jealous and prone to bouts of rage. In 681 BC, Camille married Siegfried Grymig, a minor Barovian boyar. Three years later, she caught him in an affair. Poison had been a subtle tool in the Dilisnyan repertoire since the War of Silver Knives, and Camille was an eager student. She murdered the lovers with a gruesome poison of her own design.
17 Borca closest advisor, her half-brother Yakov, still scrabbled to establish a following for his goddess. Yakov proposed the Church of Ezra as a tool to control the hearts of the masses, but cunningly manipulated Camille toward his own ends. He persuaded Camille to sponsor the construction of a grandiose temple despite her utter lack of faith. Ground was broken for the Great Cathedral in 685 BC. Yakov ministered to the workers as they laid the temple’s foundations, and although he failed to find an audience in Mordent, the downtrodden peasants of Borca responded to his teachings. Within a decade, the religion had spread throughout the country. The anchorites started holding services in the Great Cathedral’s rising shell in 695 BC, and by the time the final stone was set in place just twelve years ago, the Church of Ezra had become a major power. Due to her lethal temper, Camille was never popular among the members of her court. Forced to fend off numerous minor coups and infidelities during her reign, she particularly resented Yakov’s growing popularity, eventually seeing his divine delusion as a challenge to her power. She married three more times during her life; all three unions ended in death and recrimination. She took her second husband, Klaus Boritsi, in 688 BC and bore him three children before she learned that he had taken a commoner mistress. She poisoned them both in 697 BC, then married Stephan Taroyan within the year. He too took a mistress and soon fled the country. In 698 BC, Camille entered into her fourth and final marriage, to Oleh Fortich. Soon after the wedding, Fortich attempted to murder Camille, but she turned the tables. In a desperate bid to save his life, Oleh confessed that he was a pawn and that her entire family had conspired to kill her. Whether this accusation was actually true is moot. Camille poisoned Oleh. Then she poisoned everyone at his funeral. The killing spree nearly wiped out her entire branch of the family. The most significant victim was undoubtedly Yakov Dilisnya, by now the first Praetorius of the Church of Ezra. Rumors of Camille’s guilt spread like wildfire, and Ezra’s followers rioted in the streets. Camille’s remaining advisors warned her that she must make amends to prevent a full peasant revolt; the murder had transformed the politically neutral Church of Ezra into the threat Camille had feared. Camille publicly disassociated herself from Yakov’s death, donated enormous sums for the cathedral’s construction, and offered to erect a memorial statue of Yakov on the steps of the Great Cathedral. Church records I examined in Mordent, however, indicate that the gifts came with strings attached. Camille privately warned the anchorites to do nothing to stir insurrection and that refusing her gifts would wreak dire punishments. Her public acts of contrition and mourning assuaged the commoners just enough to end the riots, but the statue would have entirely unexpected results, exposing a brewing rift among the clergy. In the ecclesiastic debates now known as the First Schism, the majority argued that the Church’s very survival depended on keeping Lady Camille and her ilk appeased, even arguing that Camille played some part in Ezra’s Grand Scheme. The minority faction, led by Sentire Felix Wachter of Sturben, insisted that erecting a monument to Praetorius Yakov, a mortal man, before Ezra’s own cathedral was complete blasphemy — a clear indication that the Church of Ezra had become too embroiled in materialistic concerns. In a momentous decision, Wachter’s faction broke from the Home Faith and retreated to safer shores in Mordent, where Bastion Sarlota Otrava, a Borcan expatriate, today oversees the flock. The rift between Ezra’s first two sects would take a decade to heal. Any additional Borcan thoughts of revolt were stifled by Falkovnia’s massive — if futile — invasion of Darkon two years later, marking the beginning of the Dead Man’s Campaign. Borcan eyes fearfully turned to their northern neighbor, wondering if and when Drakov’s aggression would turn to them. Borca had not seen battle since the Tergs, but the landholders now raced to repair town battlements. Drakov sent a small force into Borca in the fall of 706 BC, presumably expecting little resistance. A single soldier managed to stumble back to Falkovnia, his flesh bloated with toxins. From the Borcan point of view, the Widow’s Massacre was over before it began. While Drakov disparaged Borca’s militia and female ruler as weak, he never concerned himself at all with the Borcan merchants operating in Falkovnia. Merchant, diplomat, spy — these words are interchangeable in the Borcan purview. As the Falkovnian troops stormed across the border, their food supplies had already been poisoned. Falkovnia would not intrude on Borca again.
18 Report One Borcans spent the next decade in a state of dread, likely the root cause of an alarming number of monster panics that claimed the lives of numerous scapegoats. The elite lived in fear of Camille’s lethal outbursts, while Drakov’s shadow loomed over all. Borca’s economy remained steady, but Lady Camille’s reign was still undermined by a string of unorganized attempted coups and assassinations. More sensible landholders bided their time, awaiting the day when Camille finally fell. Ivana Boritsi, Camille’s eldest child and heir, was considered a lovely girl, but starry-eyed and starved for affection. Her family’s advisors expected her to be easily manipulated once she rose to power. Ivana’s dreamy demeanor changed starkly in 706 BC, following the death of a paramour. Ivana threw herself into Camille’s lessons on herbalism, alchemy and poison craft. Five years later, it is widely believed, Ivana used those skills to take her mother’s life. Ivana Boritsi inherited her mother’s holdings and powers without incident. Rumors of the girl’s complicity in her mother’s murder were bandied about, but the elite landholders were glad to be done with Lady Camille. The attempted coups stopped. Young Lady Ivana fulfilled her courtiers’ expectations, showing little interest in the daily responsibilities of rule. Her advisors were happy to assume greater responsibilities. Ivana’s most significant change to her mother’s rule was the creation of a Borcan aristocracy from whole cloth, a decidedly eclectic class system. Although this appeased the elite, she also raised taxes significantly to support her lavish lifestyle. Borca’s government had stabilized, yet its new ruler was sapping the strength of its economy. If any of Borca’s new nobles feared for their safety under Camille’s heir, they had only to look to Lady Ivana’s distant cousin, Ivan Dilisnya, to know that their lot could have been much worse. Ivan and Ivana were both born under the same new moon in 689 BC. Many folk still consider them soul mates, calling them the “Dark Twins.” Ivan was unlikely to inherit anything of significance, but many courtiers mused that he was heir to Camille’s madness. Even as a child, Ivan was surrounded by suspicious deaths and was unnaturally fond of his older sister Kristina. When Ivan murdered Kristina and her husband in 709 BC, his own family pursued him into the foggy night. As dawn burned the mists away the next morning, a new realm had reshaped the Core. Ivan Dilisnya’s flight from justice shares intriguing parallels with that of Camille before him. SomeThe tactics of the War of Silver Knives have not changed, it seems. Borcans always aim for the back. Former Darklord: Camille Boritsi Camille Boritsi ruled Borca from 684711 BC. Like her daughter, Camille was the Borcan epitome of feminine beauty, but she aged normally. She earned her domain for fatally poisoning her first husband and his lover. The Dark Powers gifted Camille with the ability to create any poison she could imagine, even those with supernatural effects, but Camille was not herself immune to poison. The Dark Powers cursed Camille to be betrayed by every man who gained her trust. Her life was punctuated by an endless string of cheating lovers and backstabbing courtiers. Ironically, because she always suspected the motivations of her half-brother Yakov, he remained true to her to the day she killed him. Camille had been jealous from childhood. She mocked the concept of romantic love, yet any hint of adultery would launch her into murderous rages. When Camille secretly discovered that her second husband — and father of her three children — was dallying with her handmaiden, Camille gave her servant a gift of aromatic body oils. When the lovers next fell into each other’s embrace and used Camille’s present, the oils caused their flesh to meld together. After a subsequent flurry of ruinous, politically motivated marriages, Camille reverted to the Boritsi surname and swore off all further unions entirely, poisoning any man who dared to appeal to her heart. So intensely did Camille despise the men in her life (even her sons), that she never suspected her daughter’s resentment would bear deadly fruit.
19 Borca how, his presence revealed more of ancient Borjia, this time the lands surrounding historic Mt. Gries. Ivan claimed the deeds to the entire demesne, which he then renamed “Dorvinia” after a distant ancestor. In an intriguing wrinkle to Dorvinia’s false history, Dorvinians claim that their lands had lain next to Borca all along. To this day, old Dorvinians obstinately insist that their land emerged from the Mists in 684 BC. On this issue, Borcans find Dorvinians a bit odd, and vice versa. Ivan ruled as he saw fit, demanding punitive bribes and actively turning his courtiers against each other for his own petty amusem*nt. The combination of Dorvinia’s wealth and Ivan’s mercurial demands ensured that his court filled with the greediest and cruelest of Borjia’s ancient families. This drew Falkovnia’s attention. In 727 BC, late in the Dead Man’s Campaign, Drakov’s Talons launched a surprise attack on Lechberg, catching its corrupt and callous militia entirely off-guard. The raid seems to have been an impulsive, spiteful decision on Drakov’s part, giving Borca and Dorvinia’s spies no time to send warning. In the attack, now known as the Gold Claw Massacre, Talons butchered hundreds of Lechberg’s men, women and children. No sooner had the raiders loaded their wagons full of pillaged goods than they started vomiting black blood and dropping dead. Supposedly, the corpses were so toxic several people died merely from touching their armor. They had to be burned where they lay. Ivan Dilisnya claims that he disguised himself in Talon armor and moved unseen among the enemy, personally poisoning them, but having met the man, I’d say his boasts are bluster. the League of Five Nations until the Great Upheaval. I can find no record that Lord Ivan and Lady Ivana ever visited each other, but they remained on good terms and their lands were closely allied. When the Great Upheaval struck in 740 BC, the cousins reputedly fled to each other’s arms in terror. When the tremors ended, the cousins decided to merge their realms peacefully under the Borcan banner. Weeks of intense bargaining followed, in which Ivan and Ivana — frequently overruling their advisors — traded deeds and indentures until they reached a new, integrated balance of power. The years following the merger have not been kind to Borca. The bonds between the long-separated cousins quickly spoiled; they appear to have liked the idea of each other more than the reality. Elder Borcans whisper that their homeland now suffers under two Lady Camilles: Ivana has inherited her mother’s misanthropy, while Ivan acquired her unpredictable rage. Borcan politics have degraded into gamesmanship and corruption as the two branches of the Dilisnya lineage struggle for supremacy. Populace orcans are a diverse ethnic group, united by culture and bound by indentures: a system of legal contracts central to Borcan life (see “Government”). Borca is also home to a significant halfling population, one of the largest outside Darkon. Despite their numbers, halflings have a negligible voice in Borcan affairs. They crave personal freedom, so few are willing to bind themselves to Borca’s indentures. As such, they have disenfranchised themselves from Borcan society. Most drift from one community to the next, settling in ghettos within human towns for a few weeks or months before moving on. Without indentures, they subsist on menial jobs and frequently turn to criminal trades. Halfling pickpockets posing as human street urchins often plague Borca’s towns. Unlike the human Borcans, however, these creatures of wanderlust are often well traveled. Those who respect the law hire out as guides and translators for travelers from distant lands. Appearance Human Borcans have average, athletic builds, though both sexes tend to be slightly tall. Many are The fop’s madness merely disguises his cunning, my little scholar. Do not underestimate the mouse that thrives among serpents. Ironically, prior to the massacre, Dorvinia had secretly considered proposing an alliance with Falkovnia. Dorvinia would have traded iron, weapons and even gunpowder in return for Falkovnian grain, gold and promises of peace. The plans were scrapped following the attack and two years later Ivan and Ivana eagerly signed the Treaty of Four Towers. As a note, only in Borca did I learn that the symbolic “Four Towers” refer to the ruling families who signed the pact — Guignol, Weathermay, Renier and Dilisnya — not the five countries they represented. The resulting alliance was known as
20 Report One graced with long, delicate hands, which they boast indicates an artistic nature. Borcans begin life with smooth complexions, ranging from fair to creamy tan. Their skin often ages with unseemly haste. A few healers blame this weathering on overindulgence in the mineral baths. I disagree. The wrinkles and liver spots are faintest among the rich recluses of the west and most prominent among the peasantry. Borca’s underclasses work themselves to the bone to fill the nobles’ coffers, while those nobles endlessly maneuver through the courts to protect their wealth. Exhaustion is the culprit here. Individuals are grist for the mill, fodder to maintain the nation’s wealth. Borcans are resigned to lives of toil and trouble, with countless expressions of fatalism, such as the local folksong “My Bones Will Rest for Me.” Borcan hair and eye color varies widely, with dark brown most common for both. Men grow their hair roguishly long, letting it hang wild and loose to their shoulders, and typically go clean-shaven. Facial hair is seen as a sign that a man has gone to seed. Borcan women take great pride in their tresses, regardless of social class. They grow their hair extremely long, often below the waist, and adorn it with whatever they can afford, from painted wooden pins to thin ribbons to tortoiseshell combs and clasps to fresh flowers during the summer. The aesthetic ideal for both sexes is a statuesque figure, with smooth porcelain skin contrasted against inky black eyes and hair. This aptly describes both Lady Ivana and Church iconography of the goddess Ezra, but this is not why I note it. Simply put: in Borca, beauty can kill. Lady Ivana has a keen eye for beauty, but few of the lusty young men who enter her parlor live to kiss and tell. Borcans dub her the “Black Widow.” Those suitors who survive the Black Widow’s web often win lives of idle luxury in Ivana’s circle of courtiers and confidantes. While many Borcan women use herbal cosmetics, Ivana is widely rumored to have derived an alchemical method of subtly and permanently perfecting beauty. Lady Ivana and a significant percentage of her entourage have not visibly aged a day in decades, leading to widespread gossip that Ivana possesses a mysterious elixir of life. This elixir would be invaluable if it exists, and numerous aging patrons in Borca and beyond have reportedly hired adventuring mercenaries to steal Ivana’s secrets. I have heard of no successes.
21 Borca Ivana’s hangers-on supposedly repay her gifts of vigor, beauty and wealth by obeying her orders without question. In their roles as spies and assassins, the members of this select society are called ermordenung, a term incorporated from the Falkovnian that refers, intriguingly enough, to the act of murder rather than a murderer. Many Borcans darkly muse that their mistress is literally “followed by her murders.” When I learned of the existence of these pale, ageless aristocrats, I first suspected that Borca suffers from an infestation of nosferatu, a strain of vampire that has no fear of daylight. Yet when I studied likely suspects from a discreet distance, I discerned no taint of undeath. My spells indicate Secret Society: The Ermordenung Most Borcans believe the ermordenung are a secret cabal of poisoners reliably identified by their dark beauty and their loyalty to Ivana Boritsi. In fact, the ermordenung are a loose social clique of individuals who are no longer entirely human. Ivana poisons most of the young men and women who catch her eye, but over the decades a few have impressed her both with their charm and grace and by their skill in negotiating her seductive overtures. When Ivana chooses to share her empty existence with these “worthy” folk, she infuses their bodies with a horrific mixture of deadly toxins. Most subjects die thrashing in agony, but a few survive (requiring a successful DC 18 Fortitude save) and lapse into a coma that lasts 1d4 weeks. The subject awakens permanently transformed into an ermordenung, the embodiment of venom. The ermordenung template is found in the forthcoming Denizens of Dread. Ivana chooses subjects based on aesthetic appeal, always selecting attractive and charming humans. She may have inadvertently transformed one or more living subjects that merely appeared human over the years, however. Most ermordenung focus on the skills of etiquette and seduction, with high ranks in Bluff and Diplomacy. Artistic talents, such as Craft (painting) and Perform skills, are also common. Ivana Boritsi infused her own body with unnatural toxins in 706 BC. In 711, as part of a plan to avenge herself on Camille, Ivana attempted to refine those same poisons to give the carrier a lethal touch at will. Ivana’s closest friend and confidante, Nostalia Romaine, volunteered to be her first test subject. Nostalia became the first ermordenung, the living weapon with which Ivana took her mother’s life. The ermordenung’s ranks have since swelled into dozens. Doomed to kill all they touch, they share the intense loneliness of their creator. Ivana can survive an ermordenung’s embrace, but her venomous kiss remains lethal to them. Ivana encourages her creations to drown their sorrows in hedonistic pursuits, further alienating them from society and deepening their loyalty to her. Nostalia Romaine (female human ermordenung Ari4/Wiz4/Rog2, LE) is still devoted to Ivana. She is the informal leader of the ermordenung, relaying orders and helping new members adjust to their changed lives. Decades of murder and solitude have petrified Nostalia’s passions. She feels only the empty husks of love and remorse and draws her only satisfaction from the suffering she inflicts. Nostalia is still haunted by the sensation of Camille’s lips upon her own and finds the touch of other women loathsome. She will not use her toxic touch attacks against female foes, instead relying on her dagger of venom, the only weapon she carries. Although she is actually 66 years old, Nostalia appears to be in her early twenties. After becoming an ermordenung, Nostalia turned to the dark arts of alchemy. With Ivana’s aid, she created venom of life (see the Attached Notes) and shares its formula with any ermordenung willing to collect the needed ingredients. The ermordenung try to be subtle in their harvests, typically selecting prisoners, paupers, or foreigners as their victims. that these ermordenung are living humans, but I did invariably detect poison on their persons; their reputation as Ivana’s assassins thus seems warranted. Sadly, I was unable to indulge in more intensive analysis. Unlike the Kargat, Ivana’s courtiers are prominently positioned in society, and disappearances would be noticed. Fashion As with much of Borcan culture, fashion represents a mix of east and west. Commoners often barely own the shirts on their backs and dress for practicality. Men wear loose shirts, usually left hanging open during the warm summer months, and loose britches tucked into tight stockings at
22 Report One the knee. Here and there the traditional Barovian sheepskin vest makes an appearance, particularly in the uplands. Women wear loose, modest blouses under tight bodices and loose, knee-length layered skirts over stockings. Working women also don the cusma, a tight leather bonnet that protects their precious hair. Commoners prefer drab, earthen shades such as black, gray and various shades of brown, a good match for their dour demeanors. Their clothing is often heavily patched. Landholders are expected to engage in ostentatious displays of wealth. They borrow their fashions from the west, particularly Dementlieu, though Borcan styles typically lag at least a year behind the trends in Port-a-Lucine. Borcans have their own stylistic flourishes. They eschew the bright colors of the Dementlieuse gentry for strikingly stark garb of black on white and traditionally don long, fine gloves of satin or silk. The elite adorn themselves with copious amounts of jewelry, usually crafted from silver or precious stones, and their finest garb is often delicately embroidered with silver thread. The Borcans’ cultural ties to silver date back to the War of Silver Knives; while gold is perfectly acceptable as adornment for one’s manor, to wear gold is seen as laughably gauche. As a note, courtesans — regardless of gender — are legally forbidden from wearing jewelry of any kind, to distinguish wealthy concubines from the true nobility. Ezra’s congregations traditionally dress all in white during worship ceremonies, while nobles reserve their colorful coats and gowns for the most prestigious festivals and banquets, favoring vibrant hues and patterns inspired by insect or reptile markings. During the frigid winters, Borcans don thick felt caps and wrap themselves in long cloaks of leather or wool. The elite typically line their cloaks with fine furs such as ermine or rabbit and warm their hands with matching muffs. Some hunters and guards prefer the pardesiu, a sheepskin coat that hangs to the ground. Like the Barovian vests that inspired them, these coats are woolen within and exquisitely embroidered without. Language Historically, Balok is Borca’s native tongue. When the Dilisnyas returned at the end of the Vacancy, however, they also brought Mordentish with them; the two languages are now thoroughly intermingled here. High Mordentish is the language of court, while Balok largely replaces the Low dialect for common talk and daily trade. Nearly all Borcans are at least functionally fluent in both tongues, and they casually switch between them to best express themselves. Borcan merchants typically have rudimentary familiarity with one or more foreign tongues. The Borcan accent is easily distinguished by its soft consonants. On Borcan lips, guttural Balok is very nearly pleasant. Tellingly, the Halfling tongue has become something akin to the language of crime. Lifestyle & Education Borca is home to a highly baroque society, intricately structured yet capable of grandiose emotional gestures. Many aspects of Borcan life seem inherently contradictory to outsiders; these are people who have knowingly constrained intense passions within a rigid web of allegiances and obligations. Borcan Language Primer Mordentish Dialects English Balok Low High man om, oamensc carl, mann, rinc homme woman femeie fæmne, wif, (married) æwe femme child copil bearn enfant life viata feorh, gast, lif vie death moarte feorhgedal, swylt, (murder) cwealm mort, (murder) meurtre love iubire lufræden amour poison (n.) méreg ator, lybb poison, toxine, venin conspire comploia reonian comploter money bani mynet, sceatt argent
23 Borca Technically, all Borcans are born as freemen, but lest they spend their entire lives begging from the gutters, they must enter into indentures. All Borcans of any means are indentured servants, voluntary slaves more tightly bound to their masters and peers than any true serf. The indenture system’s impact on Borcan culture is vast. Borcans place great significance on the written word, disdaining oral agreements as vaguely illicit. It is said that Borcans demand to know the rules that shape their lives — if only to learn how to cheat. They know countless ways of subverting their own moral and ethical tenets; the “subtle slumber” of poison, for instance, often solves what debate cannot. The vast majority of Borcans spend their lives trapped in crushing poverty. Despite the pretensions of its elite, Borca has no true aristocracy; its nobles are merchants playing at being princes. All power rests in the hands of Borca’s two owners, who grant and retract it at their whim. A pauper who impresses Lord Ivan with cunning or Lady Ivana with charm may be elevated into the gentry overnight. The fall from grace comes with equal speed, often arriving in a bottle of tainted wine. Thus, any ambitious Borcan must be a master schemer. This inherent instability of power stresses the importance of family. A supporting family stabilizes the social status of the individual; the more relatives one can call upon for aid, the greater the odds that all family members will be able to meet their responsibilities. In a sense, each great house is a nation unto itself, and its members grant their allegiances accordingly. Borcans have a wildly romantic view of love, but never confuse it with marriage. Wedlock is seen as an inviolate legal contract, politically and economically strengthening two houses by uniting them on a common foundation. Both rich and poor observe arranged marriages and often marry young. Legally, they can wed as soon as they learn to sign their names, but few marry before the age of fourteen; marrying off a child bride or groom is seen as a sign of desperation. Borcans never marry outside their social class; only fools would bind themselves to debtors. Details of the marriage contract are determined through lengthy negotiations between the two families. All such contracts include the expected oaths of fealty between the spouses, but many include dowry demands, mutual assistance pacts, or even additional stipulations such as the husband maintaining a minimum income or the wife producing a certain number or gender of heirs within a set number of years. Technically, Borcans do not divorce; they simply annul their marriage contracts if either spouse fails to meet his or her obligations. Annulments are just as involved as marriage negotiations, with a focus on finding fault; the spouse guilty of reneging on the contract typically faces steep monetary repercussions and has difficulty remarrying. One wonders how many errant spouses have been saved from their indiscretions by lethal happenstance. Better to be widowed than ruined, no doubt. Married Borcans who desire true love often turn to illicit affairs. Unfettered by economic concerns, romantic affairs frequently cross class boundaries. Some folk manage to elevate their social station by becoming the “kept” lovers of wealthy patrons, while courtesans make it a true profession. Adultery seems to be far more common than the Borcans will admit; Borcan spouses are not so much jealous as extremely possessive. In a sense, spouses are each other’s property, and adultery is seen as a form of trespass. Borcan herbalism is quite advanced, with local healers diluting numerous lethal poisons to create natural medicines. Borcans also regularly indulge in mild stimulants, narcotics and aphrodisiacs, but overuse is disdained as weakness. Thanks to Borca’s herbs, women need not bear unwanted children, and childbirth itself is relatively safe. Infant mortality remains high, however. Borca has no orphanages, so unwanted babes are often smothered. Numerous toddlers succumb to Borca’s enticing but deadly flora, while many others starve or fall to disease. Children are the legal property of their parents until they learn their letters, usually at the age of six, at which point they can sign their first indentures. Families typically groom their children to fill specific roles from birth; indeed, producing a child without a clear niche for it to fill is considered as reprehensible as bastardy. Peasant families require laborers, while more powerful houses require scholars, scribes, accountants, healers and other specialized roles. Lesser children exist simply to be married off. Borca’s formalized schooling is no match for that found in the lands to the west. Elite families utilize private tutors; older children may be sent to expensive finishing schools in Levkarest, where
24 Report One providing a classical education takes second place to lessons in poise and etiquette. The most promising heirs of wealthy families often complete their education in Richemulot or Dementlieu. By no coincidence, this practice also removes such ripe young men and women from the Black Widow’s view. Commoners rely on apprenticeships to teach their children basic trades. Peasants strive to provide their children with the basics of arithmetic and — above all else — literacy. Those folk who cannot or will not enter into indentures are nonpersons in the eye of the law. These nothings hold no legal rights. Beyond the fundamentals, Borcan commoners are wretchedly ignorant, often spreading pseudo-scholarly blather as trusted wisdom. Away from the hellspouts, Borca’s lowlands are fertile but underutilized; shortsighted landholders refuse to pay the considerable costs of clearing their lands to create arable fields, and most food is channeled directly to the tables of the elite. Thus, despite Borca’s respectable yields, most peasants still go hungry, requiring Falkovnian grain to survive each winter. Commoners subsist largely on grains, potatoes and beans, occasionally supplemented by eggs, poultry, hard-crusted breads, goat’s milk, butter, or cheeses. Mutton is a rare treat usually saved for feast days. Most commoners sup on ciorba as their daily meal, a charmless buckwheat porridge mixed with lentil beans. Commoners of all ages drink heady, dark barley beer from local breweries. Borca’s elite enjoy countless delicacies from across the Core. Affluent Borcans partake of three meals a day, each served in several courses. These meals are heavily spiced and frequently include tender cuts of beef, veal, or mutton as the main course. A popular dish is foie divisé en beurre: thinly sliced liver and diced onions cooked in olive oil and butter. The main course is accompanied by dishes of chicken, duck, goose, or freshwater fish, as well as mixed fruits or vegetables such as corn, apricots and peppers. The meal concludes with small cakes, nuts, or similar treats; honeyed almonds are particularly popular. Breakfasts
25 Borca are simpler affairs, usually consisting of omelets. The Borcan elite accompany their luxurious meals with fine wine and apricot brandy, produced in their own vineyards. Many folk carry small flasks in their coat pockets. Taking a sip from the flask before offering it to a companion is a sign of trust and confidence. Borcans are also notably fond of coffee, an exotic beverage imported all the way from the Amber Wastes. Coffee is a status symbol, rare even among the elite. Rich or poor, families use mealtimes to commune or discuss business. Borcans take great pleasure in their cuisine and in observing strict etiquette. Meals are traditionally served in common bowls and platters, from which everyone at the table takes their own portion. The head of the household or host is expected to take the first bite of each dish or provide a taster to do so. In the case of inns and eateries, the server fills this role. Ingrained by their indentures, Borcans interpret the written word entirely too literally. Literature has little audience here. Local written works are generally restricted to contracts, holy texts and the boastful memoirs of successful merchants. Other forms of art — portraiture, sculpture, music and theatre — fare better. Borcan chamber music focuses on strings and woodwinds, featuring elaborate, baroque sonatas. She may be a dilettante, but many artists live or die by Lady Ivana’s patronage. Indeed, many of Levkarest’s resident artists are rumored to be ermordenung. Lord Ivan has long supported the theatrical arts. Ivan pays acting troupes exorbitant fees to perform at his manor, but few accept the invitation twice. Ivan considers himself a master thespian and is a notorious meddler. When viewing a new work, he often shouts out “improvements” from the audience. When he is familiar with the play, he is prone to storming onto the stage, mid-performance, to replace actors who displease him. Troupes who cannot or will not comply with his demands often pay for their perceived lack of talent with their lives. Lord Ivan’s tastes have shaped a distinctly Borcan style of opera, focusing on grandiose tales of passion, treachery, justice and revenge. On the rare occasions that Borcans relax, they prefer intellectual pursuits over the physical. Gambling is endemic, with commoners often squandering their few coppers on co*ckfights. Borcans prefer tests of skill to games of chance, so cards and chess are favored over dice. Particularly popular among the elite is a complex board game known as Debts and Favors in which four players move their pieces around a checkered board. Pieces may be traded between players after being captured, as players try to rebuild their positions on the board. Players can even trade opponents’ pieces if it nets them a better bargaining position to recover one of their own tokens. Some jaded aristocrats are rumored to make private wagers about how skillfully they can manipulate their peers or lessers, often ruining lives for nothing more than their own jaundiced amusem*nt. Attitudes Toward Magic Borcans have little experience with or talent for arcane magic, but most are familiar with alchemy and elixirs both wondrous and foul. No Borcan expects ever to see a display of arcane might, and none hope to; however, I sensed a subtle yet pervasive fear that supernatural forces lurked unseen within their society. In times of unrest, this suspicion can curdle into dread, producing panics. Culturally, Borcans associate mages with poisoners, but this connection is not as nefarious as it may seem. Both poison and magic are seen as means of circumventing standard rules. While the price of poison is the risk of discovery, the supernatural world demands its own costs. Parents teach their children countless tales about spellcasters — arcane and divine — bargaining with dark faeries or signing pacts of blood with gloating devils. These contracts all offer power in return for dreadful sacrifices — lives, souls, happiness, beauty. Such tales are commonplace across the Core, of course, but many stories here have a distinctively Borcan twist: the mortal sorcerer often successfully pays the price or in some way twists the wording of the contract to his advantage, winning power without inviting doom. Every new pact carries new risks, however, meaning new occult forces with which the mage must bargain. Mages who meet their diabolic match are ushered into the so-called “Legions of the Night.” Corrupted in life, the Legions cannot join Ezra beyond the Mists in death and thus must wander the world as spirits or worse. Ezra herself is viewed as one of these supernatural patrons, though she is considered unique in her benevolence. The moral of such tales is clear: supernatural boons demand steep costs, but all is well if the bill is paid. Corruption is by no means certain for the skillful.
26 Report One Religion Surviving ruins indicate that the ancient Barovian sun god Andral was once worshipped in Borca, but the religion faded during the Vacancy, replaced by centuries of distinct apathy toward divine meddling. The explosive growth of the Church of Ezra over the past century represents a remarkable cultural shift. Today, Borcan veneration of the goddess Ezra is nigh unavoidable. Most manors feature private shrines, and small, white marble statues of Ezra grace the main entrance of many homes. The icons act as spiritual wards, symbolically placing those that enter the home under Ezra’s gaze. Ezra’s followers are dismissive of other creeds, but seldom hostile. Not all faiths are tolerated, with worshippers of the rival Lawgiver faith particularly loathed. Borca’s temples are grandiose affairs, but its graveyards pale in comparison. The morbid grandeur of Darkon and Mordent’s memorials are here replaced by rows of bland, numbered posts. The reason is simple: Borca’s graveyards belong to the Dark Twins. To remain in the earth, one must have descendants willing and able to pay rent on the grave. Most Borcan dead remain interred for only five years, after which the bones are exhumed and cleaned, the skull labeled with the deceased’s name and date of death, and the lot stacked in catacombs beneath the local temple. Only the most stable and affluent families bother to honor their ancestors’ corpses with ornate headstones or mausoleums, usually erected on their private estates. Borcans celebrate many of the same seasonal festival days found throughout the Core, including the Feast of the First Epiphany, held by each temple of Ezra on its first worship day in May. A commemoration of Ezra’s visitation to Yakov Dilisnya, this joyous celebration is the most enlivening holiday for Borca’s masses and a popular day for marriages. December brings Winter Festival, an event of great political significance. Privately known to many as Night of the Dead Moon’s Get, this event marks the Dark Twins’ mutual birthday. Nobles await Winter Festival with a growing sense of dread. Since the unification of Borca, both cousins have taken to inviting all of Borca’s landholders to their separate galas, using the respective attendance as a petty contest of allegiances. Ivan and Ivana also use these gatherings to tally harvest incomes, settle year-end payments, and reallocate titles. Fortunes — even lives — can ride on whose party an individual attends. The great houses always divide their most prominent members between both galas, wisely playing both sides against the middle. Ezra: At long last, after studying each of the three breakaway sects, I have arrived at the wellspring of the Church of Ezra, known as the “Home Faith” by the faithful. As elsewhere, anchorites of the Home Faith steadfastly seek to protect Ezra’s faithful from the monstrous Legions of the Night. Unlike the Nevuchar Springs sect, however, the Home Faith is content to clearly separate the blessed from the damned, trusting their ultimate fates to Ezra. The heart of the Church lies within the Great Cathedral, which towers over the rooftops of Levkarest. With its last stone set in place just twelve years ago, the Great Cathedral remains a gleaming monument to Ezra’s glory — and less overtly, to the wealth and power of her church. The Great Cathedral is a fortress of white marble and stained glass, employing its own phalanx of guards. With such extensive material holdings, the clergy is deeply embroiled in courtly politics. The anchorites under Levin Postoya, Ezra’s fifth Praesidius (high priest), tend toward pragmatism in politics, remaining neutral whenever possible, but holding frequent meetings behind closed doors to appease prickly nobles and appeal to them for donations. The Home Faith also serves as a hub between the Church’s splinter sects. Envoys from The Church of Ezra Revisited Ezra (EZ-ra) Symbol: A silver longsword superimposed on an alabaster kite shield and adorned with a sprig of belladonna. Alignment: Lawful neutral. Domains: Destruction, Healing, Law, Mists, Protection. The Mists domain is unique to anchorites; see the Ravenloft Player’s Handbook for details. Anchorites of the Home Faith typically select the Mists and Law cleric domains. Favored Weapon: Ezra’s blade (longsword). More extensive details on the Home Faith can be found in Ravenloft Gazetteer III.
27 Borca each sect can always be found at the Great Cathedral, though few choose to stay longer than a year before being transferred back to their homelands. Ezra is the only true source of refuge for Borca’s downtrodden commoners. Worship ceremonies are held every five days, measured from the founding of each temple, but scores of people pass through the Great Cathedral’s cavernous worship hall each day to offer thanks or to pray for aid. The Church of Ezra has become the opiate of the masses that Yakov Dilisnya promised. Hala: Hala’s witches maintain several small hospices in Borca, particularly in the rural west, but keep a low, wary profile. Their unease stems from 701 BC, when Praesidia Donella Borovsky issued an edict bluntly calling witchcraft hag magic, declaring that it invariably produced physical and spiritual corruption. The Home Faith never actively persecuted witches, but Borcans grew cold toward Hala’s followers. Ironically, common Halite myth holds that the mortal Ezra was herself one of Hala’s priestesses, a legend the Home Faith declares as heresy. Praesidia Kristyn Stoyista, Borovsky’s successor, rescinded the edict in 732 BC, but to this day, Hala’s witches often become scapegoats when “panics” arise. The Borcan Hero This section presents information potentially useful in creating PCs native to Borca. They can choose either Balok or Mordentish as their native language; whichever they pick, nearly all Borcans take the other as their first bonus language. Races: Humans are the overwhelmingly dominant race in Borca; halflings hold no true power. Other races are extremely rare, and Borcans generally see them as freaks and curiosities, reacting with disdain rather than superstitious fear. Classes: Bards, clerics, fighters and rogues are the most common classes here. Bards are seldom traveling minstrels; instead, they appear as actors, composers, or musicians who channel their tortured imaginations into arcane artistry. Many Borcans are devout followers of the Church of Ezra and hold anchorites in high regard, but reactions toward druids and clerics of other faiths range from indifference to mild hostility. Fighters can easily find employment as enforcers, but are usually dismissed as mindless thugs; they are paid to fight, not think. Rogues are common, but depending on their role in society may be respected or despised; Borcans admire cunning as much as they loathe thievery. A few rangers monitor undeveloped estates in the western lowlands for absentee landholders. Borca has few talented sorcerers or wizards. Those who do emerge typically conceal their abilities, hoarding their gifts as a valuable commodity. A tiny handful of folk have been popularly labeled as paladins of Ezra over the years, but these holy warriors remain largely the stuff of legend. Other classes are virtually unknown. Recommended Skills: Bluff, Craft (alchemy, leatherworking, painting, poison-making, sculpture, stonemasonry), Diplomacy, Forgery, Intimidate, Knowledge (architecture and engineering, local, nature, nobility and royalty), Profession (apothecary, bookkeeper, brewer, farmer, herbalist, herdsman, miner, scribe), Sense Motive. Recommended Feats: Dodge (plus derivatives), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (firearms), Jaded, Skill Focus (Craft [alchemy, poisonmaking], Profession [herbalist]), Sympathetic Spell (see Attached Notes), Voice of Wrath, Weapon Focus (dagger, musket, pistol). Borcan Male Names: Arturo, Cheslav, Edik, Fredrik, Kiryl, Lorenz, Raphael, Rodrigo, Salvatore, Stepka, Zivon. Borcan Female Names: Acquilina, Charlotta, Duscha, Irena, Katarina, Lubmilla, Miranda, Natasha, Oleska, Urola, Zinerva. Outcast Ratings in Borca If an ermordenung’s true nature is revealed, her OR increases by +2.
28 Report One The Realm he Borcan insignia depicts a black and silver serpent on a burgundy field, its coils severed into nine parts and flanked by nine silver stars. Officially, it symbolizes the nine original city-states of Borjia, though cynics muse that it now aptly represents the foundations of Borcan culture: wine, wealth and treachery. Money and power are inextricably intertwined here. Despite its pretensions at a traditional feudal society, at heart Borca is a crass plutocracy. All power flows from wealth, all wealth flows from property, and ultimately all property belongs to just two landowners. Lord Ivan still retains a few properties in the Doldak Heights, including his estate and the city of Lechberg, but the rest of Borca is wholly Lady Ivana’s. Since the Unification, Ivana and her advisors have primarily focused their control on Borca’s trade guilds and other economic matters. To the horror of many, Ivan now oversees Borca’s law enforcement and military defense. The Dark Twins are highly public figures, frequently touring the country to cordially intimidate their elite tenants. Ivana’s entourage is often seen in Borca’s more luxurious establishments, while Ivan inspects his militia on an erratic schedule. Despite their visibility, the cousins are remarkably unpopular; many folk consider them dangerously mad. Ivana, of course, is the notorious Black Widow of Levkarest, a temptress whose past is littered with poisoned paramours. Ivan is particularly volatile, prone to ordering executions at a whim and possessed of unseemly appetites. He adopts new “roles” as the muse strikes him, donning one of his many theatrical costumes. Ivan may spend a given day posing as anything from a prince to a pauper, but demands the respect due a king. In truth, most folk reserve the brunt of their hatred for the Dilisnya clan as a whole. They believe that the cousins’ advisors are Borca’s true rulers, using their demented kin as scapegoats to distract the populace from their own excesses. In my brief dealings with the cousins, I observed keen, tactical minds hiding behind eccentricity. The Dark Twins are their own masters, and I posit that one of them is Borca’s true dread lord. Ivana is my prime suspect, due to her political dominance and prolonged youth, but I cannot fully dismiss Ivan’s infamy. Most Borcans would gladly see their rulers dead, but few think that coups or killers stand a chance. The only assassins that concern the cousins are those they throw at each other. Rumored reasons for the collapse of their relationship abound, but most folk blame Ivan’s jealousy toward Ivana, be it due to his reduced holdings, a thwarted desire to share her vital elixir, or even a rejected marriage proposal. Neither cousin is ever seen without a phalanx of private bodyguards and trusted courtiers. Ivan’s closest protectors are informally known as his “Borrowed Men” — borrowed from death, that is. Ivan has reputedly assured their allegiance by addicting them all to a narcotic only he can create. Subjects addicted to Ivan’s elixir cannot survive without it. Fortunately, Ivan can create only so much elixir; otherwise, he would doubtlessly attempt to addict the entire populace. Ivana has a high turnover rate among her guards, but does boast two stalwart companions. The first is her lifelong friend and aide Nostalia Romaine. A classic Borcan beauty, if chillingly passionless, Romaine oversees most of Ivana’s daily affairs. Ivana’s primary guardian is a lithe mute called the “Jongleur” for his colorful, concealing garb and the bells and ribbons he ties to his doublebladed sword. As much a dancer as a duelist, the Jongleur has served Boritsi for nearly a decade — remarkable tenure for any man in her company. The puckered scars that mar what little of his skin is visible lend credence to the theory that the Jongleur is too hideously burned ever to catch Ivana’s eye. Rumor holds that the Jongleur is of Vistani blood; supposedly, his gypsy parents cast him into their campfire when he was born, but the infant crawled to safety. The Jongleur is no less tenacious today. Intriguing. Is power drawn to power? Despite the claims of wagging tongues, neither of the Dark Twins has produced a legal, surviving heir. Should both die, the Dilisnyas will likely collapse into bitter, internal squabbles for power — a revisited War of Silver Knives. Government I hesitate to call Borca’s system of rule corrupt, for corruption is the system. Borca does possess a codified set of laws, built up over time from the original trade agreements that united the citystates of Borjia.
29 Borca The foundation of Borcan law — and the only element still considered sacrosanct — is the indenture, a binding legal contract detailing the duties, entitlements and duration of an agreement between two parties. The contract is written and signed in duplicate on two halves of a single sheet, which are then carefully torn apart along a unique, jagged line. Each party keeps his half of the indenture, using it as proof of the agreement during further negotiations. As the most basic defense against forgery, the jagged edges (called teeth) must match. Indentures are used for every conceivable social contract, from inheritance to employment, from property leases to the guestbooks I signed at inns. Signers who fail to uphold their end of the contract face steep repercussions. A typical peasant has only a few indentures (binding him to his work, his home and perhaps a spouse), but typical stapans (landlords) fill their safes with employee and tenant contracts. Borcans consider these scraps of parchment more precious than any coin. To call a Borcan “toothless” is a dire insult, indicating he does not honor his contracts. Even the Dilisnyas find such folk contemptible. Of course, they craft their indentures so that fault can always be found under the right circ*mstances. Property leases give Borca’s government its structure. Ivan and Ivana rent large properties to their favored landlords, who then sublet their lands to their own tenants, and so on. In a large town, two or three tiers may separate a commoner from his landowner. A seamstress rents a room from her employer, a fabric guildsman who rents a workshop from his stapan, an idle landlord who rents several city blocks from his stapan, who is the baron renting the entire town from Lady Ivana. Indentures usually express rent as both a percentage of tenant earnings and a minimum based on population; the tenant must pay the higher of the two. The Dark Twins typically demand 20% of all earnings made on their properties, with each successive stapan raising the rent on his own tenants to support himself; many commoners pay fully half their meager wages to their landlords. Most stapans employ tolleres — a sort of investigating accountant — to scrutinize suspicious bookkeeping practices. Aristocratic titles are based on the amount of annual tribute a stapan pays to his landowner. A few hundred gold earns one the title of baron or baroneasa, while more than a thousand buys a conte or conteasa before one’s name. These lofty titles are purely honorary. A Borcan conte has no more true power than a Barovian boyar. The result is a grossly bloated pseudo-aristocracy: more than a score of “noble” houses, most of which exist solely to leech off the peasantry while providing Lady Ivana with fashionable companions and playthings. Titles are not hereditary and can fluctuate each year as rent payments are tallied. Ivan and Ivana reserve the title of sef and sefeasa for themselves, respectively, a generic honorific meaning leader. Etiquette permits a simple Lord or Lady to suffice when addressing any noble. Stapans are largely free to rule their properties as they see fit. The revenue they draw from their land is limited only by their own greed. Stapans facing a shortfall often invent or inflate fees to preserve their station, but landlords who consistently overtax their tenants eventually see their income collapse with their population. Failed stapans are stripped of their holdings and replaced, but this is little comfort to those tenants who have been worked to death in the meantime. Most stapans bleed their tenants for no more — and no less — tribute than they can sustain. In my time in Borca, I crossed not one bridge, entered not one town, and followed not one road or river without having to scoop a copper from my purse for the privilege. Leases also require stapans to hire enforcers to collect fees and keep the peace. Prior to the Unification, stapans employed small, individual units of bodyguards to oversee their lands. None of the mercenaries in this ungainly patchwork held any power beyond their employer’s lands, but were largely honest in their dealings. Ivan expanded his power by consolidating these private armies into a unified militia, and stapans are pressured to sign indentures adding their enforcers to his troops. Militiamen can sew the Borca insignia onto their uniforms, and their jurisdiction extends to the estates of every stapan in the coalition, giving them the ability to coordinate their efforts. In larger communities, guard captains in Ivan’s direct employ further organize the militia. The Church of Ezra has not joined the coalition, so the militia has no jurisdiction within the Great Cathedral. Borcan law reveals the true corruption in its execution: Ivan’s militia is a grandiose extortion scheme. In addition to the rent and tolls they collect for their stapans, the militia demand bribes for the smallest basic services — investigating crimes, dispensing justice, providing information,
30 Report One or just leaving folk unaccosted as they travel, work their fields, or operate their businesses. As such, the modern militia is a haven for Borca’s greediest thugs. Their employment indentures brazenly stipulate that Ivan receive a percentage of every sundry bribe and protection payment they collect. Accused criminals and feuding parties go before their stapan for trials. Such trials are almost invariably decided in favor of whoever throws the most money at their case. Parties can appeal rulings to their stapan’s stapan (and so on up to their sef), but a noble’s time is bought, not borrowed. A landlord can confirm or overrule any of his tenants’ rulings, at his whim. Criminal sentences focus on restitution. The guilty party must repay all damages suffered by the wronged party, with tolleres on each side debating the exact amount owed. This is normal in cases of theft, fraud and vandalism, but Borcan law goes so far as to codify the monetary value of human life: a murderer must pay the next of kin a sum equal to twice the victim’s annual net income. A noble’s life can thus be worth thousands, but the price to kill a peasant is exactly 73 gold coins. Criminals who cannot promptly pay restitution are imprisoned in wretched, privately owned workhouses. There they toil until their debt is repaid, with all earnings going to the wronged party after the workhouse’s operator takes his cut. Naturally, skilled craftsmen can repay their debts much more quickly than untrained laborers. If the court decides that a debt is utterly beyond a criminal’s ability to repay, then it invokes the dreaded death debt: the condemned loses his life. In this debased and biased system, it is no surprise that many Borcans take the law into their own hands. Vigilante justice is common, be it mobs chasing suspects through the streets or more affluent folk hiring adventurous mercenaries to conduct private investigations. When tempers flare, many individuals invoke the death debt and settle grievances through duels. So long as both duelists are willing participants and provide witnesses, such duels are legal and socially acceptable. Even here, justice favors the rich; duelists are entitled to hire “seconds” to take up a blade or pistol in their place.
31 Borca Economy The Borcan economy operates on two distinct tiers. At its base, commoners labor at agrarian tasks, providing basic necessities. Farmers raise poultry and harvest numerous crops, with wheat, rye, corn and potatoes most dominant. Others tend orchards of succulent fruits, such as apricots, cherries and peaches, or a wide variety of nuts. In the western woods, folk set traps for small game, fell trees for timber, or gather valuable herbs and exotic fungi, either through their own skill or with prized, trained hogs. Herdsmen tend their cattle and sheep in the grassy hills of the Steading, the region of Borca’s finest vineyards. The silver mines of the Doldak Heights are exhausted, but the region remains rich in lesser mineral resources. Miners still toil beneath the earth to produce iron, copper, lead, salt and finely veined marble. Most workers are destitute. Stapans claim the goods produced, then pay them a pittance. Commoners receive most of their wages as meager meals and cramped lodgings provided on their employer’s property. Employees cannot legally quit their job. Those that try lose both their income and their home. Most stapans are bankers, craftsmen, or artisans. Borca’s craftsmen take the raw materials produced by their tenants or import it from foreign lands, then their workshops transform it into exquisite luxury items. Livestock and trappers’ pelts become fine fur rugs and leather goods. River mud and sand is baked and blown into fine ceramics, mirrors and glassware. Herbs are used to create medicines, cosmetics and perfumes, while timber becomes furniture and housing fixtures. Ores are forged into everything from weapons to delicate birdcages. Still others create artwork and baubles. They cater to an exclusive market, as wealthy as it is small: the nobility of the Core. Borca’s most significant industry is usury, the trading of money itself. Borca’s banking families possess wealth to rival some countries, and they wield their assets with all due power. The vaults beneath Borca’s banks could keep a dragon’s hoard secure, while a signed Borcan promissory note can bankroll the creation of a vast manor or a mercenary army. So long as the money’s usage will not threaten the bankers’ personal interests, they have little interest in the borrower’s intent. Bankers, however, are not so foolish as to hand their riches to itinerant adventurers. To qualify for a loan, a borrower must prove that he can repay the debt. This comes in the form of collateral: property that, once appraised by the bank’s tolleres, is signed over to the bank until the debt is repaid (with interest). Should the borrower miss even a single payment, the bank swoops in to claim the collateral for itself. Obviously, bankers prefer collateral that cannot be hidden should the borrower default. Land is most favored, but banks accept valuables so long as they remain in their physical property. Borcans sneer at barter; even commoners prefer hard currency. Each Borcan coin displays a valued herb on its tails side: the foxglove is the copper piece, the hemlock is the silver and the Law Enforcement The enforcer below can represent any typical bodyguard or militia member. The veteran enforcer represents an older, more experienced guard. Veteran enforcers usually appear as elite bodyguards or guard captains. Borcan Enforcer: Borcan Enforcer: Human War1; CR 1/2; Medium human- Borcan Enforcer: oid (human); HD 1d8, hp 4; Init +0; Spd 30 ft.; AC 12, touch 10, flat-footed 12; Base Atk +1; Grp +1; Atk +2 melee (1d10/x3, halberd) or +1 melee (1d6 nonlethal, sap) or +1 ranged (1d8/19–20, light crossbow); Full Atk +2 melee (1d10/x3, halberd) or +1 melee (1d6 nonlethal, sap) or +1 ranged (1d8/19–20, light crossbow); AL NE; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 11, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 10. Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +2, Intimidate +4, Listen +2, Ride (horse) +2, Spot +2; Alertness, Weapon Focus (halberd). Possessions: Halberd, sap, light crossbow, 20 bolts, leather armor. Veteran Borcan Enforcer: Veteran Borcan Enforcer: Human War4; CR 3; Medium Veteran Borcan Enforcer: humanoid (human); HD 4d8, hp 18; Init +0; Spd 20 ft.; AC 15, touch 10, flat-footed 15; Base Atk +4; Grp +5; Atk +6 melee (1d10+1/x3, halberd) or +5 melee (1d4+1, bayonet) or +4 ranged (1d12/x3, musket); Full Atk +6 melee (1d10+1/x3, halberd) or +5 melee (1d4+1, bayonet) or +4 ranged (1d12/x3, musket); AL NE; SV Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +1; Str 12, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 10. Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +3, Intimidate +7, Listen +3, Ride (horse) +2, Sense Motive +2, Spot +3; Alertness, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (firearms), Weapon Focus (halberd). Possessions: Masterwork halberd, musket with bayonet, 20 bullets, chainmail, gunpowder horn.
32 Report One nightshade the gold. Heads sides feature the profiles of significant historical Dilisnyas, ringed by the phrase “Laws Are Written In Silver” in Mordentish. Specific portraits depend on the identity and mood of the sef who had the coin struck. Note that Borcan merchants often devalue foreign currency, while moneychangers are ubiquitous in even the smallest communities. Both options are opportunities for the local stapan to skim a tithe from foreign pockets for the dubious honor of access to Borca’s markets. Diplomacy By necessity, Borca is one of the Core’s most diplomatically active countries. Flanked by expansionist tyrants and no-man’s lands, yet dependent on steady trade for its economic survival, Borca’s continued existence stands as testament to the skill of its foreign merchant-envoys. Most operate under the guidance of Lord Ivan, whose tactics follow the adage, “Stab the hand that hides the blade.” These emissaries quietly seek out and smother smoldering threats before they ignite, always by the most expedient means. The untimely deaths of many prominent folk in surrounding realms have been blamed on Ivan’s poisoners over the years — so many, in fact, that I believe Ivan’s neighbors use him as a convenient scapegoat for their own machinations. Barovia: Many Borcans have distant kin in Barovia, Borca’s gateway to the south and the Vaasi Plateau. Still, Borca keeps its neighbor at arm’s length. The ancestral rivalry of the Dilisnyas and von Zaroviches has long since faded into history, yet some of Borca’s elite remain wary. Most Borcans have heard the rumors that Count Strahd XI is a vampire, though few admit to believing them. Overall, the countries’ relationship parallels that of Dementlieu to Mordent: most Borcans see the Barovians as their simple cousins, stifled by rulers with no taste for progress. Borcans were unnerved when Barovia first invaded Gundarak, but a generation later, no trader would dream of trading Count Strahd’s steady fist for Duke Gundar’s mad fits. Falkovnia: Borcans live in fear of Drakov’s bellicose whims and deeply resent the suspected intrusion of his troops as they cross the western lowlands. Falkovnia remains Borca’s link to the economic titan of Darkon, however, and Borca’s larger towns depend on Falkovnian grain each winter. Thus, like the rest of the League of Four Nations, Borca still trades with Falkovnia out of cruel necessity. Invidia: Borca engages in little direct trade with Invidia, and their relationship has deteriorated since the rise of the warlord Malocchio Aderre a decade ago. Aderre frequently sends his mercenaries across the border to engage in clandestine Vistani hunts. This flagrant violation of Borcan sovereignty rankles Lord Ivan. For years, his threats of armed retaliation accomplished nothing, so Dilisnya has hired his own squads of killers to play cat-and-mouse with the Invidians in the increasingly bloody borderlands. Lord Ivan reportedly wants to place an open bounty on Aderre’s head, but the Invidian tyrant hides behind his alliance with Drakov. Should Ivan overplay his hand, he may well provoke Falkovnia and Invidia into closing their jaws around Borca, an assuredly brutal conflict. Richemulot: Richemulot is the gateway to the west and the Musarde and is Borca’s one true ally. The two share cultural and ethnic ties and are bound by the Treaty of Four Towers, but most Borcans are confounded by the Richemuloise rejection of Borca’s stringent social and legal commitments. Borcans find the fact that vast portions of Richemulot’s cities are legally unclaimed nigh inconceivable. Even as Borcans eagerly import Richemulot’s arts and fashions, they consider Richemuloise soft, irresponsible and directionless. Most Borcan commoners who could comprehend Richemulot’s freedoms fled there generations ago. Now, the Borcan elite spread exaggerated warnings that Richemulot’s lax property laws and lack of a strong, centralized leadership leaves it vulnerable to hostile forces and even contributes to the disease and vermin that supposedly overrun its cities. The Shadow Rift: Borcans shun the Shadow Rift as an unnatural wound in the earth. Ivan Dilisnya is an exception. His estate once looked out over the arid valley of G’Henna, but since the Great Upheaval he has enjoyed a prime view of the void. Something in this bottomless abyss seems to inspire Ivan, and he has recently had a large balcony constructed at the (literal) edge of his estate, to better take in the scenery. Verbrek: Beyond fireside tales about fearless wolves that slink into the Blightwood, Borcans know little about Verbrek and care less. As far as they are concerned, Verbrek is nothing but wasted space flanking the invaluable Musarde River.
33 Borca Sites of Interest y journey through Borca truly began as I stepped onto the docks in Sturben. With summer coming to a gentle end, I chose to focus first on the densely populated eastern uplands. Sturben Sturben sits in central Borca, hugging the northern banks of the Vasha River near the Falkovnian border. Its fortifications are well manned and still scarred from the Widow’s Massacre. Several stapans’ expansive estates overlook the southern banks, protected by the Vasha itself. The Scythe Highway enters Sturben from Falkovnia through Commerce Hall, where merchant cargo is inspected and transit papers issued. Commerce Hall provides offices for Sturben’s various guildmasters, including Baroneasa Ritter, the meticulously attentive head of the trade guild and stapan of Sturben. The Scythe Highway turns to exit Sturben through the east gate on its way to Ilvin. The Crimson Highway approaches from the south, crossing the Vasha via ferry before meeting the Scythe in Sturben’s large central plaza. Sturben operates primarily as a trade crossroads. Goods are collected here before being shipped north, so workshops and long rows of warehouses line its main thoroughfares. These lanes slice Sturben into three “quarters,” tucking its residential areas out of sight. Western Sturben, a crime-ridden slum, teems with cramped tenements and gambling halls. The northeast quarter is home to the townhouses of the middle class and the elegant stone House of Grace, wellspring of the First Schism. This edifice is the oldest standing temple of Ezra (disregarding the debate surrounding Ste. Mere des Larmes in Port-a-Lucine), its construction started after but completed well before the Great Cathedral. The southeast quarter houses marketplaces, hot springs, Sturben’s bathhouse, and its most notorious landmark, the Wyrmsbreath. This looming marble fountain depicts a legendary two-headed dragon hunched over a large iron cage. Condemned prisoners are locked in this cage to meet their doom; once every three hours, the geyser ingeniously incorporated into the sculpture blasts a torrent of scalding water from the dragon’s maws, dousing the cage’s contents. I witnessed the execution of a smuggler, and I can attest that the end was quick, if not painless; however, I observed a few folk in the eager crowd wagering whether the man would survive the first gout, only to have to wait for the next. Where to Stay in Sturben Sturben’s finest inn is the Green Mirror (good quality rooms, good quality meals), just off the central plaza. Rooms are warm and finely furnished, and the inn claims a private mineral bath for the use of its guests. Lesser folk can turn to the Plum Truffle (common quality rooms, common quality meals), which sits on the northern docks by the ferry. It caters primarily to boatmen, but the sparse décor of its rooms also draws a fair amount of Falkovnian emissaries, should they travel openly through the country. A few townhouses in the northeast quarter are also kept vacant, rented out to visiting nobles on the occasions that they converge on Sturben’s central location to debate policy. Sturben (large town): Sturben (large town): Conventional; AL NE; 3,000 Sturben (large town): gp limit; Assets 303,000 gp; Population 2,020; Isolated (human 94%, halfling 5%, other 1%). Authority Figures: Baroneasa Beatrice Ritter, female human Ari5; Captain Marcu Nutretta, male human Ftr8. Important Characters: Sentire Geofri Solda (anchorite), male human Clr6; Samuel Iacomo (merchant guildmaster), male human ermordenung Exp7. Lechberg Another cab coach bore me north to the city of Lechberg, Dorvinia’s former capital. Lech’s Road and the Scythe Highway merge on the sluggish Vasha’s west banks before crossing the Raudraci Bridge, so named for the hellspouts around its foundations. East of the Vasha, Lechberg’s heart rises nearly 800 feet above the river on a broad, rocky tor. Lechberg’s main thoroughfares gradually coil their way up the hillsides, which the residents’ ancestors worked into wide terraces onto which they built their homes. Numerous steep staircases provide shortcuts for foot traffic. Originally, this hill was home to a remote monastery dedicated to the Barovian sun god Andral. Roughly 600 years ago, the Borjian merchant-prince Lech Cosco seized the tor, dubbing it Lech’s Mountain. Under his reign, the monastery was expanded into a fortress, and its support build-
34 Report One ings gradually spread down the slopes. The vertical city’s natural defenses proved invaluable during the Terg Invasion, and although the sprawl surrounding the tor is unfortified, central Lechberg is considered a natural stronghold. Lech’s small, weatherworn fortress is now incongruously called the Golden Palace, housing both the headquarters of Lechberg’s militia and Ivan Dilisnya during his visits. Lechberg lies off the major trade routes, so it relies on industry and bloody lucre to support itself. Miners in the Doldak Heights cart their ores to refineries along the city’s eastern edge, while the tor itself is home to Borca’s largest currency mints and banking houses. Complex subterranean vaults carve deep into the tor, storing treasures most of Lechberg’s inhabitants can scarcely imagine. These vaults are fearsomely guarded via methods both mundane and arcane. Lechberg is home to a thriving theater community, thanks largely to Ivan’s patronage and the popularity of Cezar Vercezzo, resident composer for the cavernous Sommet Theater. When the weather cooperates, the rear wall of the stage can be opened to use the stunning Balinok Mountains for a backdrop. Lord Ivan divides power between two stapans, Conteasa Buchvold and Conte Dilisnya (a cousin to Ivan), who are the heads of the two largest banks. Neither has held a noble title for long, and considering Ivan’s erratic habits, neither is likely to do so. Where to Stay in Lechberg The first inn most travelers encounter is the Tarnished Cup (common quality rooms, poor quality meals), which rests at the base of the tor, just past the bridge. The rooms are bland but agreeably warm, not unlike the nightly specialty, cheese and onion soup. The clientele leaves much to be desired, however: a seedy throng of gamblers and likely criminals. More affluent visitors should continue uphill to the Outlook (good quality rooms, common quality meals), a stout little inn sitting halfway up the tor. The Outlook’s rooms are quiet, secure and provide commanding views of Mt. Gries. Degravo I knew enough of Borca’s sefs to see that their vanity could become my skeleton key. I wrote to Lord Ivan, presenting myself as a travelogue writer and claiming readers would be fascinated by Sef Dilisnya’s exploits. A week later, I received an invitation and proceeded to Degravo in the company of a small troupe of Dementlieuse actors invited to perform there. North of Lechberg, the Crimson Highway narrows to a hilly road leading directly to the wrought iron gates of Ivan’s manor. The walled estate chokes with overgrown gardens and brambles. Most are poisonous and dead or black with rot, with only the kitchen and medicinal gardens tended. A dozen bodyguards met us at the gates, confiscating our weapons and anything they thought suspicious. Ivan presented himself once we were disarmed, “idly” carrying a few pages of an operetta he claimed to be writing and offered us the grand tour. Degravo is built in a variation on the classic Borcan style. Numerous interconnected branches coil around a massive central hall like a maelstrom — or a viper poised to strike. Ivan calls the central hall his “Laughing House.” Our tour through its twisting corridors passed lofty ballrooms and dining halls; Ivan’s private theater; display chambers for toys, weapons, clothes and all manner of esoteria; and opulent lounges thick with the aroma of incense and exotic narcotics. We soon had dinner, the first social obstacle course Ivan subjected us to throughout our stay. The opening dishes were exquisite, but were soon followed by courses of live worms, rancid horseflesh and worse. My Darkonian palate served to mask my distaste well; Ivan partook of both opulence and offal with the same jaded discontent, reacting to his guests’ pleased sighs and stifled gags with the same sneers of contempt. After the feast, we moved to the theater, where the troupe attempted to perform despite Ivan’s obtrusive and bizarre advice. The wings surrounding the Laughing House are separated by use. The help live and work in the servants’ wing, while Ivan and his few kin dwell in Lechberg (small city): Lechberg (small city): Conventional; AL NE; 15,000 Lechberg (small city): gp limit; Assets 4,125,000 gp; Population 5,500; Isolated (human 94%, halfling 5%, other 1%). Authority Figures: Conte Edmondo Dilisnya, male human Ari8; Conteasa Sofia Buchvold, female human Ari9; Captain Zivon Doritor, male human Ftr12. (All are addicted to Borrowed Time.) Important Characters: Sentire Benci Cochetari (anchorite), male human Clr8; Cezar Vercezzo (composer), male human Brd10; Ambrosia Hillstride (city guide), female halfling Com10.
35 Borca the family wing. The latter is divided into numerous separate suites, most of which go vacant. Our guestrooms shared yet another wing with the garrison for Ivan’s enforcers. Ivan moves his own living quarters from wing to wing with the changing of the seasons, displacing other residents at his whim. One last major wing stands at the rear of the manor. Ivan calls this hall his “Playroom.” Servants murmured that no one is allowed inside the Playroom without Ivan’s invitation; none of them had ever seen its interior. One of the actors, however, earned just such an invitation after he finally broke down and railed against Ivan from the stage. With a wave of Ivan’s hand, guards swarmed the fool and escorted him through the Playroom’s doors. I strongly doubt he will ever emerge. Levkarest I turned south to the bustling capital. Levkarest is a roughly heart-shaped city that straddles a low rise along the western banks of the Luna, just upriver from where the great river’s twin heads merge. Its marble fortifications are well maintained but sparsely patrolled. The Crimson Highway cuts a winding path through the city’s heart, bookended by two gatehouses: towering Sunset Gate to the west and smaller Sunrise Gate to the southeast. Just beyond Sunrise Gate, the long, low Fen Bridge spans the marshy outlet of one of many rivulets in the region. The Old Svalich Road comes in from the northeast, terminating at Caina, a small satellite community that largely acts as a fortified landing for the Luna ferry. Levkarest is a major trade center; the shops and eateries offer goods from throughout the world, for the right price. What the merchant guilds do not have, the trade guilds can obtain. Locals also see their city as a cultural center to rival Port-aLucine, but most foreigners would call this overstated. Levkarest is home to the Academy of Style, a respected finishing school, and numerous art galleries and music halls. Friends of Lady Ivana operate many of these establishments; some folk whisper that she sponsors the arts solely to ensure Levkarest does not lack for entertainment. Levkarest is undeniably scenic, surrounded for miles by the rolling farms and estates of Ivana’s favorite stapans. The city houses several stunning monuments to the artistry of Borca’s architects, most notably Marsav Hall and the Great Cathedral.
36 Report One Marsav Hall is a true palace, hidden behind high walls at the northern edge of town. Marsav is the official seat of Borcan government; its expansive grounds include record halls, militia barracks and private quarters for the family of Levkarest’s stapan, Conte Sulo Boritsi. Boritsi is Lady Ivana’s brother, though at 63 he more closely resembles her grandfather. He is also her closest advisor. The Great Cathedral looms a few blocks away. Its cavernous worship hall’s ceiling is covered in marble gargoyles that represent the Legions of the Night, all shying away from the serenity of the huge icon of Ezra above the altar. I was more intrigued by the Cathedral’s ecclesiastic library, which is open to scholars only by appointment and under strict supervision. These quiet halls are a literary treasure hoard, storing supposed religious relics, holy texts of countless religions, the original copies of each Book of Ezra, and scores of heretical works collected over the years. Levkarest’s main thoroughfares are broad, colorful and remarkably clean, kept so by the dictates of Lady Ivana and with the aid of several aqueducts supplying water to the city’s fountains and waterworks. The true cleaners, however, are a ragged army of peasants sent out each day from workhouses, and once I wound my way into the narrow side streets, I quickly encountered squalid slums. Sludge oozing from the city sewers has rendered the marshes beneath the Fen Bridge toxic, perhaps even producing the huge vermin supposedly sometimes seen squirming through the muck. Levkarest is not a pristine city; it merely sweeps its wretches beneath the proverbial rug. Where to Stay in Levkarest Affluent visitors should turn to the Rosebud’s Thorn (common quality rooms, good quality meals) at Sunset Gate; the inn boasts an extensive selection of liquors. Desfraya Manor (good quality rooms, good quality food) is an aristocratic townhouse turned boarding house. Camille Boritsi favored the Desfraya family, but their fortunes fell with her. Debts shriveled their holdings to this manor, but the eccentric ex-aristocrats seem to enjoy their lesser station. Staying here is as close as most folk will come to staying as the guests of nobility. Patrons of lesser means can stay in the old servants’ quarters, or they can cross the Luna to the Sun’s Peak in Caina (common quality rooms, common quality meals), which caters to Barovian tastes in both décor and cuisine. Last and least is the Dark Maiden (poor quality rooms, poor quality meals), a squalid gambling den near Sunrise Gate that apparently adopted its current name (and lurid sign) in a cynical — yet successful — bid to attract Lady Ivana’s patronage when she and her entourage go slumming. Levkarest (small city): Levkarest (small city): Conventional; AL NE; 15,000 Levkarest (small city): gp limit; Assets 6,375,000 gp; Population 8,500; Isolated (human 94%, halfling 5%, other 1%). Authority Figures: Conte Sulo Boritsi, male human Ari6/Exp4; Captain Victor Momeala, male human War13. Important Characters: Praesidius Levin Postoya; Clotilda Taroyan (tollere), female human ermordenung Wiz8; Garret Tallgallows (burglar), male halfling Rog12. Misericordia While in Levkarest, a repeat of the tactics I had used in Lechberg earned me an invitation to a social gathering at Misericordia, home to the Black Widow. Misericordia means “loving kindness,” but many Borcans secretly call it Miseria Corpa: the “body of misery.” The sprawling estate covers a high hill southeast of Levkarest, overlooking the Old Svalich Road. The manor boasts several “widow’s walks” that stand atop the steeply sloping roofs, accessed by trapdoors. Ivana reputedly haunts these walkways whenever one of her lovers dies. Most of the party guests were as lovely and shallow as panes of stained glass. I quickly tired of pale young things offering me advice on how to make my face less “harsh.” Misericordia’s interior is ostentatious, a collection of spacious chambers linked by narrow passageways. Vaulted ceilings soar above floors of polished marble or inlaid hardwoods. Fine, soft carpets mingle with heavy, faded tapestries. Ornately carved furniture and tasteful statues and paintings fill the galleries. By all accounts, Misericordia is riddled with secret passages. I found three while wandering the halls, but all of these proved to be innocuous routes for servants. According to rumor, escape tunnels run the length of the estate, and Ivana’s private suite can be accessed only through a series of concealed corridors.
37 Borca I eventually found Ivana herself, gossiping amid a circle of overly eager young men while the Jongleur looked on from a discreet distance. I introduced myself, and Ivana graciously turned all of her attention to me, granting me an interview as we strolled through the party. During our conversation, Ivana struck me as charming, if vapid; most of her questions to me focused on my knowledge of the latest fashions in Dementlieu, Hazlani cuisine and other such trifles. I was almost convinced she was the wounded, naïve innocent many suitors believe her to be. Only as I reviewed my notes during my trip back to Levkarest did I realize that Ivana’s “vacuous” questions had drawn travel details of my entire itinerary for this past year and a half. Final Thoughts Borca possesses vast wealth, its purse strings clutched by corrupt and unpopular rulers. It would be a great prize for the conqueror who can claim it, even more so if its guilds and trade routes remain intact. Yet a steady stream of erstwhile usurpers have lost their lives in pursuit of that prize, learning too late that the glittering jewels of Borca lie at the heart of a nest of vipers. Not even Borca’s feuding sefs have succeeded in their schemes to eliminate each other, despite their best attempts. Assassins aiming for one of Borca’s sefs should choose their target carefully. If Ivan Dilisnya dies, laws would stabilize and commoners’ lives would likely improve, strengthening Ivana Boritsi’s rule. Without Ivan’s treacherous diplomacy, however, Borca’s borders would be far more vulnerable to its foes. Were Ivana to die, Ivan’s militia would likely expand its corrupt control even as society spiraled into total collapse. Ultimately, the choice is whether Borca would rot from the inside out or vice versa.
38 Report Two When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy? What art can wash her guilt away? — Oliver Goldsmith, The Vicar of Wakefield ’Twixt kings and tyrants there’s this difference known: Kings seek their subjects’ good; tyrants their own. — Robert Herrick, Kings and Tyrants Report Two: Invidia Report Two: Invidia
39 Invidia referring to risk a seldom-used road between Borca and Invidia rather than the highways (and rapidly lengthening autumn nights) in Barovia, I set out on foot from Levkarest to my next destination. It was a dark day when I crossed the frontier into the sad realm of Invidia. The land’s bright leaves had only recently fallen, leaving behind trees like twisted skeletal hands reaching desperately toward the slate gray sky. Cold winds blew, chilling me to the bone despite my heavy woolen cloak and setting the trees into ominous motion. On occasion, icy rain rattled against the coach’s glass windows. My thoughts turned inward, for Invidia seemed likely to hold some of the darkest secrets of all the Core. suspicious than normal. Had I been suspected of dealing with the Borcans, Gundarakites, or — worse in the view of the realm’s ruler — the Vistani, my fate might have been grim indeed. It was with this most unpleasant incident that I began my sojourn in Invidia, a realm of hatred, violence and betrayal. Landscape nvidia is a wild, sparsely populated realm, with vast stretches of dark and forbidding forest; rounded hills; broad, slow rivers; no real mountain ranges; and no major settlements outside of Curriculo and the capital, Karina. Civilization is limited to isolated farms, vineyards and hamlets with populations of fifty or less. Invidia’s inhabitants are a suspicious and insular lot. The realm’s frontiers stretch from the Bonesliver River along the northern frontier with Borca to the meandering, somewhat arbitrary western border with Verbrek, and the southern border with Sithicus, cutting through the thick, feyhaunted reaches of the Breadth Forest. Invidia’s eastern border is likewise arbitrary, a straight northsouth line drawn when Invidia and Barovia divided Gundarak’s territory between them in 740 BC. Between these borders lie vast forests of oak, redwood and maple rising from tangled undergrowth, More than you or anyone can possibly imagine, my little scholar. The secrets you uncover may yet shake this wretched prison to its foundations. My unease was made greater by the fact that my visit to Invidia was to take place incognito, for the land’s ruler, the tyrant Malocchio Aderre, is infamous for his brutality and suspicion of strangers. His hatred of the Vistani is well known, but of more personal concern was his sensitivity to criticism and outside “troublemakers” who might expose his excesses to the rest of the world. Additionally, his military allegiance with Vlad Drakov, whose personal hatred toward my patron need not be recounted, meant that this visit would be scarcely less risky than my survey of Drakov’s own demesne, Falkovnia. After I trudged across the Borcan frontier, the tyrant’s hand made itself evident in the form of a squad of Invidian soldiers, who confronted me with spanned crossbows, then searched my person and packs. I was then subjected to harsh questions about my intentions and business in the realm. I presented myself as Chantal Leroix, a Dementlieuse author visiting relatives in Karina. The guards took particular interest in a few items — notably my dissection kit, encoded notebooks and the strange vambrace given me by my patron, but the Invidians eventually allowed me to go about my business. At the time, I suspected that the soldiers’ main concern was determining whether or not I was a spy sent by the house of Dilisnya. Later I learned that the presence of Gundarakite rebels, based at Castle Hunadora to the south, were making Invidian patrols in the region even more watchful and Invidia at a Glance Cultural Level: Chivalric (8) Ecology: Full Climate/Terrain: Temperate forests and hills Year of Formation: 603 BC Population: 6,900 Races: Humans 99%, other 1% Human Ethnic Groups: Mixed (primarily Barovian/Kartakan) Languages: Balok*, Mordentish, Falkovnian, Luktar, Vaasi Religions: Ezra, Hala Government: Formerly independent villages shifting to despotism Ruler: Malocchio Aderre Darklord: Gabrielle Aderre
40 Report Two and the deep, rich Musarde River Valley, which harbors most of Invidia’s villages and farms. In the north, the ancient oaks and firs of the Padure Duce— or Ducal Forest, so named because they were originally the exclusive territory of Gundarak’s ruler, Duke Gundar — harbor the Gundarakite rebels, Vistani refugees, outlaws and other undesirables, including rumors of wolfweres. Lord Malocchio wishes to pacify these woods and drive out their inhabitants, but so far the renegades, as well as the woods’ wild animals and monstrous residents, have frustrated the tyrant’s plans. Among eastern Invidians, the Ducal Forest has been synonymous with danger and death since the day Duke Gundar claimed it, and few go there willingly. The black, forbidding trees of the Dreadwood dominate the central highlands of the nation. Growing along the slopes of the Crucible Hills, the Dreadwood is aptly named and largely avoided by Invidian commoners, who believe it to be haunted both by spirits and by more substantial horrors such as wolves (both of the natural and unnatural sort), trolls and gremishka. This ancient, tangled wilderness of oak and maple contains only a handful of human settlements, most clustered along its southern edges. The realm’s capital city Karina lies at the south end of the Padure Lup, also called the Wolfwood or the Vulpwood. The forest’s proximity to Invidia’s largest settlement makes the Vulpwood reasonably safe for travel and settlement despite its ominous name, and a majority of the land’s villages and farms are located within a day’s ride of Karina. The woods are sometimes troubled by wolves — lycanthropes, according to some peasants — and undead, but Lord Malocchio’s troops are quick to respond to such immediate threats. The dense and intimidating Breadth Forest covers the southern portion of the country along the frontier with Sithicus. The Breadth’s towering redwoods and hardy pines stand like guardians, and in their shadows live some of the strangest creatures in the realm. A few human outlaws and rebels inhabit the Breadth, but various forces — both natural and arcane —keep civilization from encroaching too closely. Between the Gundar and Narov Rivers lie the Mantie Padure or Mantle Woods, another tangled and inhospitable wilderness, shunned and almost entirely unsettled, save for the occasional brave hunter or foolhardy traveler. Once part of Gundarak, the Mantle Woods are a great mystery
41 Invidia to the Invidians and the subject of many legends. One such tale claims that it is secretly controlled by a powerful hag or sorceress, who can offer supplicants a glimpse of the future through her scrying crystal but almost always demands a fearful price for the service. Invidia is a rolling, hilly land, though few of these hills rise high enough to be considered mountains. Exceptions are the Bleak Sisters, which taper off into Borca’s Blightwood, and the low and rugged Prestige Mountains, which form part of Invidia’s northern frontier. Travelers entering the realm from Borca pass between these two ranges, skirting the edge of the Ducal Forest before turning south to Curriculo. In the central part of the country, a small range of hills rises into granite slopes called the Creuzet, or Crucible. Cold, lonely, and mostly uninhabited, they serve primarily as a barrier between Lord Malocchio’s troops and the Gundarakite rebels to the north. The Crimson Hills — or Rosudeal — surround Castle Hunadora itself and help provide the rebel stronghold with additional defenses. These hills are also called the Sangerosdeal, or Bloody Hills, since they were the scene of a fearful incident in which Duke Boldiszar Gundar crucified and dismembered hundreds of rebellious nobles and their followers after the Third Unwise Rebellion. It is said that the spirits of the tormented rebels haunt these hills. Many Invidians consider their homeland to be at its most scenic when viewed from the deck of a riverboat. Invidia’s rivers are broad, sluggish and dark, but they are important to travel, trade and the economy of common citizens. Most Invidian settlements are small thorps clustered along the rivers, connected to each other by rough, often impassible roads. The two major rivers are the mighty Musarde, which has carved a fertile valley through the realm’s central portion, and the Gundar, which links Invidia to its uneasy neighbor, Barovia. Most Invidian towns and villages are clustered along the Musarde’s banks. The settlements of Curriculo and Karina depend upon the trade carried along the region’s rivers, as they provide the major travel routes to lands beyond her borders. Though relations between Invidia and Barovia are increasingly strained, traffic continues to flourish along the rivers, and the docks of Karina are crowded with Barovian trade vessels, many of which
42 Report Two continue on to Verbrek and points north. The route back to Barovia is a bit more problematic, as vessels must be rowed or poled against the current, but the value of trade between realms ensures its continuation. Boats and barges from other lands throughout the western Core also pass through Invidia, and tariffs on goods are an important source of income for Lord Malocchio. Recently, the tyrant has increased these fees, prompting grumbling among merchants, some of whom consider bypassing this troubled realm altogether. A small tributary of the Musarde, the Limbasarpe— or “Serpent’s Tongue”— flows north from the rugged Barské Hills, then abruptly turns south to join the Musarde. The Limb_sarpe begins with two forks that join as they leave the hills. An unusually clear and fresh river, it harbors several species of fish and sports bustling villages along its banks. The capital Karina sits along the northern bank of the small Noisette River. Well patrolled and settled, the Karina Valley to the north of the city is probably the richest and safest region in the realm. The Nharov River flows in from Barovia before joining the Gundar. As it passes unsettled wilderness, however, the Nharov is not well traveled. Only a few tiny thorps cling desperately to its banks. Beyond these, grim and forbidding forests rise. Invidia has only two significant roads, neither of which is well maintained. The Duke’s Road winds its way from Borca, passing between the Bleak Sisters and skirting the western edge of the Ducal Forest before reaching Curriculo. Bandits and rebels often prey on travelers here. It then turns southwest, crossing the Musarde River via ferry before reaching Karina. Few travelers continue on the Duke’s Road after it leaves Karina, where it crosses the Noisette via another ferry, then plunges into the Breadth Forest, eventually entering Sithicus. The other major road, the Gundar Road, extends from Curriculo to the Barovian border, across what was once Gundarakite territory, eventually reaching Zeidenburg. Normally, this road would be an important trade route, but the rebels of Castle Hunadora control it,seizing goods or levying heavy tariffs. With such problems, most commerce with Barovia takes place via the Gundar River. Invidia’s climate is temperate, with long, pleasant summers, wet springs and cold, rainy winters. In the fall, the vast forests burst into color. Harvest time is a joyful occasion, with many raucous celebrations and much drinking and singing. Regrettably, my journey took place soon after harvest, when the autumn winds began to blow. The bright leaves turned brown and gray, falling from trees and choking the rivers or lying in stagnant ponds surrounded by tangled blackberry thickets. During these days, greenish moss grows from tree trunks or waves in the wind among high branches, and black balls of mistletoe cluster in the branches of ancient oaks. When cold rain does not lash the land, chill fog clings to hills like a gray shawl or blankets the wet, muddy farmlands. The people stay indoors during late fall and winter, emerging only out of necessity, spending most of their time huddled around fires, desperately trying to hold the cold at bay. Invidian architecture varies depending on the size and wealth of the individual village. In small, rural settlements, stone- or wood-and-plaster huts with wooden or thatch roofs dominate. In Curriculo, Karina and some larger villages, buildings are reminiscent of the Barovian style, with steep gabled roofs covered in black wooden shingles. These buildings are either wood or brick, usually covered with dun-colored plaster. They tend to be tall and narrow, with three or more small floors, and are often in poor repair, their façades crumbling, their weak foundations causing them to lean at alarming angles, especially in poor neighborhoods. Cupolas, gables, towers and other architectural flourishes are common, most often on the mansions and villas of the wealthy. When night-fogs creep through the streets of Karina, the sight is grim and forbidding indeed, as the chill seeps through doors and windows and causes occupants to shiver and draw blankets closer. Flora In the north, mixed forests of evergreen fir, pine and redwood with deciduous oak and maple predominate. Undergrowth is thick here, with salal, blackberry, rhododendron, trefoil and numerous species of ferns making travel difficult. Fallen timber disintegrates quickly on the moist forest floor, sprouting with mushrooms and other fungi. Several types of shelf fungi sprout from the trees; some are quite colorful, with rich browns, yellows and oranges. Most notable of these fungi is
43 Invidia a nondescript gray polypore called hermitshawl, which can be turned into a potent sleeping potion and — in higher concentrations — a poison that causes a death-like coma that can last for days or weeks. Hermitshawl is said to be used to simulate death in those who wish to disappear or escape their foes, but there are many tales of such schemes backfiring and ending with the victim returning to awareness only to find himself buried alive. A number of malign plant species are found throughout Invidia as well, though they do not pose a major threat. Central Invidia boasts deciduous forests consisting primarily of oak, birch and ash, with occasional stands of fir and cedar. Undergrowth here is also thick, with many species of edible berries and roots. Some Invidians keep orchards of apple and pear trees; a few of these orchards still exist in the hills near Curriculo, but since the Great Upheaval, many have been abandoned. These old orchards are slowly returning to their natural state and lie choked with brush, their fences rotting away, their barns and farmhouses collapsing. South of the Musarde River, the grim spirit of Sithicus has spread to the Breadth Forest, where the trees are thick and seem intent on actively preventing intruders from entering. Here, nettles, blackberries, ivy and unhealthy looking ferns crowd together in the trees’ shadows, and club moss, mushrooms and fungi grow in great profusion. Mobile, carnivorous trees are said to inhabit this region as well, causing most Invidians to avoid the forest, though travel is possible along the Duke’s Road. Fauna Even the mundane creatures of Invidia represent a challenge to lone travelers. Great packs of wolves roam the realm’s forests and hills, and many accounts speak of travelers being stalked by the beasts, which keep pace but never attack unless an animal or party member falls behind. Unlike the beasts roaming many of Invidia’s neighbors, these wolves do not seem to carry a malign taint, but are simply influenced by hunger and an instinctive drive to hunt. The humans of Invidia are not numerous enough to drive out or otherwise damage the wolf populations, and so the creatures have little fear of humanity. Elsewhere, the forests harbor deer, elk, fox, badger and wolverine, as well as small rodents and flocks of birds including ravens, crows, starlings and many species of thrush. Besides the wolf, the largest significant predator is the cougar or mountain lion, found in substantial numbers in the realm’s northern portion. Hawks and eagles are less common, but can sometimes be seen. Invidia harbors several species of snakes, but non-venomous and lethal, and the rivers and ponds are home to countless salamanders and frogs, whose loud songs are known to keep travelers awake during the springtime. Most of these creatures represent a minimal threat. Not so the realm’s unnatural beasts, which hold the wilderness with a ferocity that sometimes implies malign intelligence and hatred of civilization. Huge breeds of the region’s animals — most prominently wolves, foxes and mountain lions — stalk prey with great cunning and tenacity, and draw no distinction between ordinary animals and humans. Hermitshawl Travelers occasionally encounter hermitshawl spores in the wild. When five doses of these spores are combined and distilled by a skilled herbalist or poisoner, they can be used to create hermitshawl elixir. Hermitshawl spores: Inhaled, Fortitude DC 12, initial and secondary damage drowsiness. A victim who fails one saving throw is fatigued for 2d4 minutes; a victim who fails both saving throws falls asleep for 2d4 minutes. If the sleeping victim is awakened, she remains fatigued for the remainder of the spores’ duration. Market Price per Dose: 30 gp. Hermitshawl elixir: Ingested, Fortitude DC 17, initial and secondary damage 1d6 Wisdom; Craft (herbalism or poison-making) DC 15. Market Price per Dose: 150 gp.
44 Report Two Invidian legend is rife with lycanthropes and other shapechanging monsters. Some wolf packs initially appear natural, but prove to be led by (or worse, consist entirely of) deadly wolfweres, while Invidian legends often speak of werewolves who live as normal humans by day and then stalk the land as beasts when the moon grows full. Outbreaks of lycanthropy have been known to devastate entire hamlets, and other settlements — particularly those located far from main roads or larger villages — have been completely wiped out by savage shapechangers. Fortunately for the Invidians, many of these creatures seem to despise each other as intruders on their territory. Vicious infighting appears to keep Invidia’s shapechanging population in check. The southern portions, particularly the Breadth Forest bordering on Sithicus, are said to draw outsiders such as shadow fiends and fenhounds, as well as various hostile fey such as baobhan sith, drownling and teg. More exotic shapechangers such as wereravens and werefoxes dwell in the deep forests of southern Invidia as well. Tales also speak of shadow unicorns, dread hounds and deadly fiends, but none of these has ever been conclusively proven. History nvidia has always been a violent realm, governed by the passions of its people and the ruthless brutality of its rulers. Its false history chronicles a series of decadent, bloodthirsty rulers more intent on their own personal vendettas than on the welfare of their subjects. This sad tradition continues to this day, though now the unfettered passions of the Invidians may bring them all to ruin. Local Animals and Native Horrors Wildlife: CR 1/10 — bat; toad; Wildlife: CR 1/10 CR 1/8 — rat; CR 1/8 CR 1/6 — raven; 1/6 CR 1/4 — cat; owl; weasel; CR 1/4 CR 1/3 — hawk; snake, Tiny viper; CR 1/2 — badger; CR 1/2 eagle; snake, Small viper; CR 1 — razorback*; CR 1 snake, Medium viper; wolf; CR 2 — bear, brown; CR 2 boar; CR 4 — bear, black. CR 4 Monsters: CR 1/3 — dire rat; gremishka*; skel- Monsters: CR 1/3 eton, Medium; CR 1/2 — stirge; zombie, Medium; CR 1/2 CR 1 — bakhna rakhna*; dire raven (see CR 1 Ravenloft Ravenloft Gazetteer I Gazetteer I); hound, mastiff*; dryad; ghoul; plant, Gazetteer I bloodrose*; CR 2 — dire badger; dire bat; lycan- CR 2 thrope, wererat; plant, crawling ivy*; worg; CR 3 — ankheg; baoban sith*; dire wolf; drownling*; lycanthrope, wereboar; lycanthrope, werewolf; shadow; CR 4 — dire boar; dire wolverine; CR 4 ettercap; owlbear; plant, lashweed*; unicorn, shadow*; CR 5 — ettin; lycanthrope, loup garou*; CR 5 lycanthrope, werebear; troll; winter wolf; CR 6 — troll, dread*; will o’ wisp; CR 7 — dire bear; CR 7 vampire; CR 8 — mohrg; treant; CR 8 CR 9 — plant, CR 9 death’s head tree*; plant, undead treant*; CR 10 — plant, quickwood*; roper; CR 11 — fomorian. CR 11 Once again, my little scholar, your observations are at the same time insightful and naïve. Roughly three centuries ago, a nobleman named Treholan rose to power by his merciless willingness to use more violence than any of his rivals. The region was divided then, with petty local dukes controlling their own minor domains and fighting incessantly with their neighbors. Treholan invited several powerful nobles to his estate, saying that he wished to hold a grand council whereby the land could be united under a single ruler. Not all nobles responded, but enough did so that when Treholan ordered his soldiers to slay his guests and their escorts, he was left as the most powerful warlord in the land. Claiming the crown of Invidia, Duke Treholan proceeded to exterminate all his rivals, hunting down and destroying the remaining lords and their families. He then erected the now-infamous Castle Loupet as a symbol of his power and sired a long line of treacherous heirs. This terrible crime, involving not only murder but the betrayal of guests by a supposedly honorable nobleman, was apparently not the seminal event that brought Invidia from the Mists. That came in 603 BC, the year Treholan’s direct descendant Bakholis, known to history as the Traitor King, came to power. Bakholis savagely suppressed dissent, murdering suspected rivals and ruling entirely by terror and intimidation. In addition to levying crushing taxes on his peasantry, Bakholis considered them his personal labor pool, abducting young men from their farms to build his palaces and young women from their beds to serve his perverse pleasures. One such young woman was the peasant girl Marta, to whom Bakholis took a fancy when his hunting party passed through the village of Grûnlan. As he had done dozens of times in the past, Bakholis
45 Invidia ordered his soldiers to seize the girl, but when they arrived, Marta’s lover Karlus as well as her father and brothers resisted, killing an Invidian soldier. In retaliation, Bakholis ordered the entire village razed and its citizens crucified. Marta’s father sacrificed himself to allow Karlus to escape, and from a nearby hill, the young man saw his village burned and watched as his friends and family died in agony. That night, Karlus swore vengeance against Bakholis and set off on a career of banditry, gathering an army of outlaws and eventually attacking Bakholis’ castle north of Karina. Karlus’ act proved reckless, however, for Bakholis was ready for him. The outlaws were put to flight and Karlus was captured. Bakholis dragged both the young rebel and Marta to his dungeon, where he showed them a bloody pit filled with ravenous, rabid wolves. His torturers then chained Karlus’ arms and suspended him above the pit, slowly lowering him to the maddened beasts as Marta was repeatedly ravished and brutalized by Invidian soldiers. When at last Karlus was torn apart, and the wolves fought over his bones, Bakholis smiled and told Marta that she would now join her lover. As her broken body was carried toward the pit, Marta fixed Bakholis with a hate-filled stare and, as famously told in Invidian legend, uttered a dying curse: As a traitor were you born, as a beast did you live, and as a monster did you kill. Let all know that you are a beast without as you are a beast within, and let your foul jaws never be free of the blood of your loved ones. Bakholis laughed loudly at this and watched with pleasure as the wolves dismembered his victim. After a hearty feast, Bakholis retired to his bed. That night, a strange mist descended upon the land, taking the entire kingdom in its cold embrace. The next morning, the sun rose above a realm that was changed forever. As far as the local commoners are concerned, the land of Invidia has always been part of the Core, but it was at this point that neighboring Gundarak first noted the appearance of a new land, and pondered whether it would prove a rival or an ally. Here I should note an especially troubling historical contradiction, of which I have already spoken in my report on Kartakass. The Kartakans claim that they were once conquered by a neighboring realm also called Invidia, which brutally occupied the land for many years until they were at last expelled by a rebellion led by the bard Harkon Lukas. As I wrote in my earlier report, I do not believe the Invidians of Kartakan history to be the same as the Invidians that we know today. Yet, the powers of darkness are indeed subtle and devious, and there may be an answer to this riddle that no one has yet guessed. For his part, Lord Bakholis continued on as normal, oppressing and exploiting his suspects and brutally killing any who even contemplated plotting against him. Not until the next full moon rose did the peasant girl’s curse made itself known. That night, Bakholis took to his bed with a blinding headache. The next morning, he awoke alone to find his entire castle awash in blood, with the ravaged corpses of his servants and councilors strewn about the halls, rooms and stairs. Horrified, Bakholis rushed through the castle, searching for the bedchamber of his son and heir, Rukhen. When he saw the boy’s sundered remains, so it is said, Bakholis suddenly remembered Marta’s curse and touched his own face, only to find his fingers red with congealed blood. The tyrant wandered the halls in a daze, finding his wife and daughter also savagely slain, and realized that he himself had committed these terrible murders. Soon, it became obvious what had happened: Marta’s curse had transformed Bakholis into a bloodthirsty werewolf and very likely the first dread lord at Invidia’s heart. From that day forward, Bakholis’ rule grew harsher. He employed new guards and councilors and bade them bring peasants to him to feed his insatiable bloodlust. Those he drafted for slave labor often suffered foul deaths at his hands; the few who escaped spread lycanthropy across the land. Within a few years, pleasure and violence became indistinguishable to the cursed lord. In time, Bakholis learned to live with — and even revel in — his cursed condition. He forged trade alliances with Arkandale (modern Verbrek) and Gundarak and maintained polite relations with the von Zaroviches of Barovia, though the rulers kept each other at arm’s length. Bakholis’ curse soaked the land in blood, and the true nature of their ruler became apparent to the common folk within a few years, though no one spoke of it openly. Bakholis’ rule continued for a century and a quarter, ending abruptly at the hands of the most unlikely of saviors — a peasant girl named Gabrielle Aderre.
46 Report Two Born around 710 BC, Gabrielle was the daughter of Isabella Aderre, a half-Vistani woman, and a Falkovnian nobleman who kept her mother as a captive and cruelly used her for his pleasure. Escaping with her daughter, Isabella wandered the realms, making a living by fortune telling, petty larceny and begging. Gabrielle grew into a beautiful young woman, only her dark eyes and lustrous hair betraying her Vistani heritage. After Isabella was slain by a murderous werewolf in 729 BC, Gabrielle was transported to Invidia, where Lord Bakholis’ troops found her. After a brief pursuit, the Invidians captured Gabrielle and dragged her to Bakholis’ castle for his pleasure. The act proved Bakholis’ undoing, for when he approached Gabrielle, she realized that he was a lycanthrope like the one that had killed her mother. As the monster approached, Gabrielle fixed him with a fearful gaze, and Bakholis froze in terror, seeing the same look of hatred that Marta had given him years before. As her foe stood transfixed, Gabrielle drew a hidden silver dagger and plunged it into Bakholis’ throat. The tyrant staggered back, gaping in horror, then collapsed in a pool of black blood, his reign of terror at an end. It is said that every wolf in Invidia uttered a fearsome howl at Bakholis’ death and that his soul still wanders the land, pursued by the ghosts of those he slew. Within days, the flames of rebellion had spread across the land, and Bakholis’ toadies — a sad*stic lot never terribly loyal to begin with — were utterly overthrown. As symbols of the tyrant’s bloody reign, Castle Loupet and the keeps of many of his vassals were set to the torch, leaving most as gutted shells; in some cases, the land beneath was sown with salt. Many of the sites remain cursed and haunted places to this day. Proclaimed queen by the grateful rebels, Gabrielle claimed the still-smoldering Castle Loupet for herself and settled into rulership, but soon grew as lax and uncaring as Bakholis had been brutal and repressive. She amused herself with lavish entertainment and took many lovers, while the peasants were abandoned to go their own way, degenerating into independence, free of the iron hand of their rulers. Of course, they were also free of their rulers’ protection as well, and bandits or what remained of Bakholis’ lycanthropes soon overran many settlements. Within a decade of Bakholis’ demise, Invidia had degenerated into an anarchic realm with little, if any, central authority. In 730 BC, Falkovnian merchants established a trading colony in Karina. Under the watchful eye of Drakov’s soldiers, they slowly expanded their power until several city blocks were effectively under Falkovnian rule. Thus was created the first, and to date only, Falkovnian “trading enclave” to survive and succeed. Gabrielle was driven by boredom, anger at the failures of her past life, frustration at her mother’s cursed legacy, and hatred of the Vistani who had rejected Isabella and condemned them to a life of misery. In those days, the first persecutions began as Gabrielle seized and imprisoned Vistani, punishing them harshly for the most minor of crimes and allowing her followers to spread foul legends about Vistani treachery and wickedness. Though brutal, Gabrielle’s persecutions were nothing compared to what was to come. She was a queen who ruled not through proclamations, but by whispers in the ear and, so it is said, incantation. “Queen Gabrielle” was soon forgotten, all but replaced in the commoners’ minds by “the witch Aderre.” Gabrielle’s tastes grew more lavish and jaded, and she diverted huge amounts from the treasury to pay for her amusem*nts. She took on more and more unusual lovers, among them a Kartakan bard named Matton, and treated each of them with increasing cruelty. Though a thoroughly malevolent individual, Matton nevertheless felt affection for Gabrielle and was heartbroken when she abandoned him. He never stopped loving her and later proved a valuable ally. In 736 BC, Duke Gundar of Gundarak was assassinated by Dr. Henrik Dominiani, warden of an asylum near Teufeldorf. Gundarak plunged into chaos, and in 740 Strahd XI of Barovia ordered his boyars to annex the realm. As Barovian armies struck deep into Gundarak, Aderre went from village to village, advising the militia captains to take advantage of the situation. Soon Invidia had occupied Gundarak’s western regions, facing surprisingly little resistance from the Gundarakites, and had taken Castle Hunadora. Invidia barely possessed the means to occupy western Gundarak, much less stave off the incoming Barovian forces, but the expected clash of arms never occurred. The Barovians simply ceased their westward march after claiming Gundarak’s cities, never making any serious attempt to seize Hunadora.
47 Invidia Remnants of the Gundarak population resisted, and low-level uprisings continued for several years thereafter, but they never amounted to the level of the revolution Strahd now faces. The light touch of the Invidians is no doubt at play here; for several years, the Invidians were entirely content to leave their new lands to Gundarakite rebels and their anti-Barovian plotting. The end of Gabrielle’s reign began inauspiciously enough late in 746 BC, when a handsome, dark-eyed gentleman caller appeared at the gates of Castle Loupet and immediately swept Gabrielle off her feet, despite all reason. The two spent a torrid night together, after which the stranger vanished, and Gabrielle discovered that she was pregnant. Aderre’s son, Malocchio, was born the next spring, seemingly normal save for a sixth finger on each hand. Gabrielle was overjoyed, but within days, the baby learned to walk and talk, attaining the stature of a young boy within weeks of his birth. Gabrielle’s divinatory gifts revealed that her progeny was actually a Dukkar, a legendary anti-messiah destined to bring death and despair to the Vistani. Gabrielle was at first happy with this turn of events, for her hatred of her mother’s people had grown even blacker and more ferocious over time. Malocchio proved a truly miraculous child, growing into adolescence in mere months, reading and absorbing every book in the castle and showing himself to be a talented and intelligent politician and schemer. He also possessed occult gifts, commanding the lesser creatures of the forest at his whim. Gabrielle began to plan a future for her son — a future that would see the final destruction of the Vistani at his hands. Her son had no intention of serving as her puppet. Slowly, he turned the tables on his mother, corrupting her servants, buying her lovers, restricting her movements about the land, and eventually imprisoning her in her own manse. Events came to a head during Karina’s Harvest Carnival in 747. Malocchio had now reached adulthood, and his mother was no longer useful to him. Having come into his full power, Malocchio intended to discard his mother and spread his evil across the world. The emergence of a new Dukkar had not gone unnoticed by the Vistani, however, who wove a powerful incantation to forever bind Malocchio’s evil to his homeland. His plans thwarted, Malocchio vented his rage upon his mother, fraying her sanity and leading her into the hands of her enemies. Gabrielle’s life was spared only through the direct intervention of Gabrielle’s spurned lover Matton, who found her body abandoned in the Dreadwood, battered and near death. Matton retreated into the Invidian wilderness with his lover. While Malocchio Aderre announced his emergence to the world and used his mother’s resources to seize control of Invidia, Matton spent months in hiding, slowly nursing Gabrielle’s mind and body back to health. Together, the pair plotted Malocchio’s downfall. Matton journeyed to Kartakass, where he began to recruit woodsmen — wolfweres, by some accounts — to his cause. Meanwhile, Gabrielle found her way to the Ducal Forest and made contact with the Gundarakite rebels. As the Gundarakites in Invidia had generally been well treated, the rebels accepted her as a figurehead leader, and by mid-750 BC they were strong enough to storm and hold Castle Hunadora. Alarmed, Malocchio sent a small army to take back the fortress, but they were driven off with heavy losses, and Gabrielle’s position as the rebels’ patron was set in stone. For the moment, Malocchio turned his attention from the rebels, consolidating his rule throughout the rest of the nation and launching murderous pogroms against the Vistani with even greater zest and hatred than his mother. Throughout the land, Malocchio’s mercenaries pursued, arrested, robbed, tortured and executed Former Darklord: Duke Nharov Gundar Duke Gundar ruled Gundarak from its creation in 593 BC to his apparent assassination in 736 BC. Gundar was a vampire and ruled for centuries by masquerading as his own descendents. Older and more physically powerful than Strahd, Gundar was already an ancient vampire when granted his domain, but he was not equal to Strahd in spirit. A hero in his long-distant life, Duke Gundar became deranged in undeath, a rampaging sad*st who delighted in crushing throats with his bare hands. He ruled through the power of fear alone, and when word came of his death, he was not missed. Neither were his children, when they in turn perished.
48 Report Two Vistani with the full force of law. Where Gabrielle’s persecution had been random and impulsive, Malocchio’s campaign was systematic, official and institutionalized. Anti-Vistani laws were posted in every town and village. Rewards were offered for anyone who provided the authorities with the location of Vistani, and harsh punishments were imposed on those who offered them refuge. One strange facet of the anti-Vistani pogrom stands out. Other than the magic that binds him, Malocchio seems neither afraid of nor affected by the wrath of the Vistani, despite the many dying or wronged gypsies who cursed his name with all the venom they could muster. Vistani curses, feared throughout the Land of Mists, appear to be totally powerless against the Dukkar, and the Vistani have suffered all the more for it. Hunadora and its environs. Some rebels began to talk openly of replacing her with a true Gundarakite who would fight openly for the cause. In 748 BC, the Gundarakites of Barovia came under the leadership of the young and charismatic separatist Ardonk Szerieza. A master strategist and talented propagandist, he wove tales of an ancient, idealized Gundarak that never existed. The bloodthirsty, corrupt rulers were recast as patriots, their excesses conveniently ignored. Slowly, the Gundarakites of Barovia rallied to Ardonk’s banner, and the rebels of Invidia, seeing in Ardonk the leader they so desperately needed, talked of joining with him in a grand alliance for Gundarakite independence. Were you not so intent on your own agenda, my little scholar, you might now see exactly how this demonspawn fits into my plans. But you will see someday, little one. You will indeed. To bolster his forces, Malocchio spent much of his resources to draw mercenaries from across the Core and soon thereafter brokered an alliance with Vlad Drakov. The alliance brought an influx of Falkovnian soldiers, bolstering Invidia’s army and providing Malocchio with sufficient troops to contemplate action against the Gundarakite rebels and disliked neighbors. The details of this pact remain unknown; in fact, I could find no written records of any official treaty. The relationship between Malocchio Aderre and Drakov seems to be personal, if distant. They are, simply, two men bound by the common desire to grind the world beneath their heel. Meanwhile, all was not well with Gabrielle and the Gundarakites. After several years, the rebels began to grumble that their leader was more interested in her vendetta against her traitorous son than in the cause of Gundarakite independence. After all, they said, she had seized huge portions of their realm for herself and claimed their ruler’s castle as her own. She had not been as merciless as the Barovians, true, but still she only endorsed the Gundarakite cause when the rebels seemed useful to her. Though Matton’s wolfwere allies were kept secret from the Gundarakites, rumors of its existence circulated throughout Castle Secret Society: The Sons of Gundar Most Invidian Gundarakites live in the northeast, the heart of their old country. Not all are rebels —the militant wing of the Gundarakite independence movement consists of only two or three hundred dedicated members. The remainder of the region’s populace either maintains neutrality, hoping not to attract too much negative attention from Malocchio’s soldiers or police, or secretly supports Invidian independence through a hidden brotherhood called the Sons of Gundar. Though not as blatantly violent as the rebels, the Sons of Gundar are nevertheless a potent threat to Malocchio’s rule. Members of this society give aid and comfort to the rebels, observe Invidian activities and troop movements, help with rebel communications by a series of secret signs and code words, sabotage Invidian supplies, and generally harass and delay Malocchio’s forces wherever they can. Malocchio has met with little success at infiltrating the Sons of Gundar or learning the true extent of their conspiracy, for most are unwilling to betray their comrades. Clearly, this was a situation that Gabrielle would have to nip in the bud, lest her army of retribution be taken away from her, along with her best chance at a return to power. She presented
49 Invidia herself to Ardonk Szerieza when the great liberator visited Castle Hunadora, and within a few days the Gundarakite messiah openly endorsed her leadership of the Invidian rebel forces. Several rebels, who still resent Gabrielle’s presence and wisely insist on remaining anonymous, offered their suspicions that Ardonk and “the Invidian witch” were secretly involved in a passionate affair and that she had gained his allegiance by placing him under her spell. Should this be the case, Gabrielle maintained a delicate balancing act for several years, continuing beneath the noses of her two oblivious lovers. Befuddled by emotion, Ardonk remained ignorant of Matton and his wolfwere allies, while Gabrielle assured Matton that Ardonk was nothing more than a political ally. Gabrielle knew that one day the gambit could explode in her face, yet she likely had no choice but to continue her deceptions. Both Aderres have recently suffered setbacks. After years of saber rattling and escalating tempers, Malocchio sensed frailty in Sithicus’ ruler and amassed a mercenary army in 752 BC. Intriguingly, none of the Falkovnian troops participated — apparently, their Talon leaders received orders from the north that this folly should be left to Malocchio alone. This bodes ill for Invidia’s other neighbors, indicating that the Falkovnians wished to keep their forces strong for some conflict not yet come. Regardless, Malocchio ordered his motley army across the Sithican border that autumn, with orders to seize Castle Nedragaard and put its ruler to the sword. What occurred at the castle remains poorly understood in these lands; all that is widely known is that this battle somehow sparked the infamous Night of Screaming Shadows. The Black Rose of Sithicus was slain, his castle shattered, and not a single Invidian soldier present at the siege was left to tell the tale. The troubles that befell Gabrielle in 753 BC were less epic, though they may prove scarcely less catastrophic. Gabrielle discovered herself to be pregnant again, and her daughter Lucita was born later in the year. Gabrielle has never spoken publicly about the father of this child, though disgruntled rebels say she has told both Matton and Ardonk that they fathered the child. Apparently, she may not know the truth herself. Gabrielle must know that she is only delaying the inevitable. Blood will have blood, and eventually the child will show her heritage. When that day comes, she will lose one of her lovers and the allegiance of that man’s forces will be so much dust. Today, Invidia hangs in a precarious state of balance. Malocchio’s persecution of the Vistani has reached new heights of cruelty and fanaticism. His troops pursue fleeing Vistani across the frontiers into foreign lands. In Barovia, Count Strahd’s own forces have intervened, enforcing the count’s edict that no Vistani in his realm be harmed. Likewise, Malocchio has enraged Ivan Dilisnya, who recently decreed that Invidian troops on his soil will be attacked and demanded that the pursuits cease. So far, Malocchio has responded to the demands with icy silence, and relations between the two realms have deteriorated. Gabrielle’s rebellion hangs by a thread. She supposedly considered sending Matton, Ardonk, or both in a direct assault against Malocchio, a fight in which they will certainly perish. Other rumors claim that she has toyed with telling one that the other violently forced himself on her, a falsehood that would surely bring the rivals rushing at each other’s throats. Some claim she has considered taking her daughter and fleeing, traveling the realms as her mother did, passing the pain and tragedy of her past onto another generation. Populace nvidia is a place of unbridled passions, where love and anger are frequently indistinguishable and where hard work leads to equally hard play. Though their faults are well known (and in many places infamous), the Invidians have many better qualities as well. Appearance The Invidians are primarily descended from Barovian and Kartakan root stocks, with mixed heritage being common. They greatly vary in appearance, with hair ranging from black to blonde and complexions from swarthy to deathly pale. Eye color is similarly varied. Most men wear their hair above the shoulder, women below, but styles range across a wide spectrum. Describing a definitive Invidian phenotype is impossible, but it is fair to say that they tend to exhibit the best physical traits of their ancestors. In the north, the ethnic Gundarakites have olive or swarthy complexions, stocky builds and dark hair usually worn shoulder-length by both sexes. Unmarried men tend to have thick beards,
