Chapter Text
Sorry for the delay. I haven't started session 3 yet. I've been refining my workflow and tools (like learning HTML headers finally lol). I mainly use Obsidian to manage a large database for roleplaying and writing projects, as well as resources for running RPGs. I'm currently running a campaign, brainstorming original campaigns in different settings, creating my own RPG system based on rules-light systems, and converting elements from other systems.
So, "Lazy RPG reports" might be a bit of an ironic misnomer.
Here's what's coming up:
- I'm actually not the biggest fan of D&D or fantasy settings. I planned to start a Cthulhu Mythos setting based on "The Dunwich Legacy" from Arkham Horror but got overwhelmed creating a one-shot scenario for a session zero. I'll return to it after reaching a key point in "Curse of Strahd."
- For "Curse of Strahd," expect the Tarokka reading and an invitation to Castle Ravenloft soon. After that, I'll pause the Strahd campaign to do the "Dunwich Legacy" session zero.
- I had an idea for an original campaign in a fantasy setting. The concept: "a man digs a hole." It's simple but opens up many intriguing possibilities for solo play. I may do that if I get any requests for it.
I'm going to polish up how I present things a bit. I realized I can make this look more like a movie script. I won't use many section breaks or detail about movement and placement. Instead, I'll use a simple bold emphasis on the name and whether it's an action or dialogue like this:
Finn, action : Lets investigate the chapel first.
I'll highlight DM commentary and direction with their label in bold as well.
I'll also make things more game-like with a "Previously" style summary, a quest log, and a player journal. This will include main and side quests, plus sections for the characters to share their feelings about the current situation. See below for my first attempt and enjoy the next session when it comes. I'll be working on this for the next couple of days during my night shifts.
The adventurers awaken in a shadowed church in the cursed land of Barovia. They encounter Donavich, a conflicted priest who offers them what hospitality he can. Despite initial reluctance to continue his administrations, Donavich eventually agrees to allow the adventurers to stay and recover but seems unclear about whether or not he expects compensation.
After some informative conversation and a decent evening meal he serves a mysterious tea claiming to restore their health. However, the tea's effects are far more potent than anticipated, putting the in a deep slumber and leading the adventurers to question Donavich's true intentions. During conversation he mentions a powerful wizard named Mordenkainen, hinting at a deeper mystery. The adventurers must grapple with their weakened state and the potential risks of trusting Donavich.
Barovia is a land plagued by darkness and suffering, much of which at the hand of its lord Strahd Von Zarovich. The adventurers' history remains shrouded in mystery, but they must now face the challenges of this desolate land.
Main Quests
- Recover their health.
- Uncover the reason for Donavich's apparent duplicity.
- Find out more about the cursed land and its master.
- Escape the Domain of Dread
- Then again... They are but humble sell swords somewhat inured to horror and danger. Maybe they'll fit in?
Side Quests Quests
- Mordenkainen was a wizard of legend. Could he really be dead?
- Those cries for a Father haunt their dreams. Donavich apparently owned up to the tragic history of his son's death. Is this decrepit church actually haunted? If so, is there some way to bring peace back to this afflicted place?
Finn's Log
Well, that's one way to wake up. Blinding light, a head that feels like a blacksmith's anvil, and a room that looks like a mausoleum. Not exactly the hangover I was hoping for. But there's a certain charm to this place, I'll give it that. And that old priest, Donavich, ain't half bad. Not as stuffy as some of those city priests I've met. He's got a weathered face and a weary soul, just like me.
I'm still sore as a stuck pig, but I'll take a warm meal over a howling mob of wolves any day. And the old boy's got a fire going. Not sure if I'll ever sleep through the night, but a warm belly and a crackling fire are a damn sight better than the alternative. I just hope that whatever voice is out there in my dreams shuts the hell up tonight.
Temporary Boons/Banes
Finn can't use his berserker trait for 3 combat encounters or 1 more session. Whichever comes first.
Grum's Log
This ain't the life I signed up for. Stuck in this stinking church, feeling like a sack of potatoes. The food's barely enough to keep a goblin's belly from grumbling, and that meat? Tasted like old socks. Not even a shiny trinket to keep me company. This ain't the luxurious life I'd hoped for.
I'd hoped we'd get a proper reward thinning the more dangerous wildlife. At least a chance for a bite or two from those nice lean wolves we had to leave dead. Now I'm stuck here feeling like a burden. I just hope I can keep my head on straight long enough to survive. And if that old priest tries to pull anything funny, I'll put him down faster than a plump rat.
Temporary Boons/Banes
None at the moment.
Dungeon Master
You stir in a haze, a thick fog clouding your thoughts. Every part of you feels heavy and strangely detached, a warmth radiating throughout your body like a fevered dream. Groans rumble from deep within you, a primitive sound that escapes your lips before you can form words. Minutes tick by, measured only in the slow, laborious struggle to pull yourself back from the swirling oblivion. Gradually, the fog recedes, replaced by a dull ache that throbs in your skull. Recognition flickers, then ignites. Light, sharp and unwelcome, spears through a high window, announcing the merciless grip of midday.
You, Finn, raise a hand to your head, the movement sluggish and thick. A strip of rough cloth binds your wrist, crimson seeping through the fabric in a fresh stain. This wasn't there yesterday. The sight sends a jolt of alarm through your muddled mind. Beside you, similar groans rise and fall, hinting at Grum's struggle to rejoin the world. The air hangs heavy with an unsettling stillness, broken only by your ragged breaths and the rhythmic thump of your pounding heart.
Grum : Uuuugh... What happened.
Finn : We've been had.
Action: Show him my wrist.
Grum : Gah. That's it. I'll knife him boss. I'll rip him to shreds and eat his balls.
Finn : Easy Grum. We have to be careful here. We're still at his mercy. I can barely lift myself up. I'm still so tired.
Grum : Well we gotta do something. Come on see what you clan do.
Both, action: We both try to get up taking our time testing our strength
Dungeon Master
Finn, the temporary handicap of your strong trait from the battle with the wolves has worn off, but both of you will now have a temporary handicap for the next few hours of in-game time. You'll recover before nightfall, but for now, both of you will still test down a level of advantage: normal for you, Finn, and disadvantaged for you, Grum, due to the lingering effects of the opiate.
- Finn strength test, normal: failed
- Grum strength test, disadvantaged: failed
As you both attempt to stand, you feel a wave of weakness wash over you. Your legs buckle beneath you, refusing to cooperate. A sharp pain shoots through your muscles, and you collapse back onto the floor. Your stomachs churn violently in retaliation, threatening to empty their contents. You fight to keep from retching, your bodies still rebelling against the effects of the opiate. The room spins slightly as you struggle to regain control.
Finn : Gah. That bastard. I'll make a belt out of his guts I swear.
Dungeon Master
As you lie there, struggling against your own bodies, a new sound reaches your ears. The familiar echo of footsteps begins to resonate through the church, each step slow and deliberate. It's Father Donavich, his feet shuffling heavily across the stone floor as he approaches your room. The sound of his measured, purposeful steps grows steadily closer, filling you with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
Finn : Careful Grum. Play along. Look grateful for his hospitality.
Grum : Aye Boss.
- Grum tests for deception, normal: Failed, his face clearly has a glowering resentful darkness.
Finn : Just stay quiet alright.
Grum : Aye Boss.
Dungeon Master
Father Donavich makes his entrance, carrying fresh trays of porridge and tea. He moves gingerly, careful not to spill anything as he makes his way to your bedsides. The comforting aroma of the warm food and drink fills the room, offering a small respite from the discomfort you're feeling.
Finn : You'll have to forgive me if I don't eat right away father. My stomach is rebelling powerfully against your last administrations.
Donavich: Oh? A strong gentleman such as yourself? Forgive me, truly. I would have expected soldiers familiar with harsher injuries to be more accustomed to measures ensuring the deepest sleep possible when badly hurt. The healers I've encountered are almost universally of the same mind that sleep is the greatest of healers for man's ills.
Finn : Indeed. And bloodletting? All I've encountered usually employ it for fevers and infections.
Donavich: You don't recall? Perhaps I am too inexperienced with the dosing. You did catch fever in the night my son. An aftershock of those vile creatures' bites no doubt. I awoke to your screams in the night. I've a poor hand for a healer. I may have cut a touch too deep with your tossing and turning. I do apologize. I'll visit the healer in the village for more powerful restoratives and careful instructions.
Finn : Perhaps you'll bring him. Or, better yet, perhaps you were right yesterday. If you could write some directions for us we'll make our way to his care before the end of the day. We were rash with piling our troubles upon your unfortunate house.
Donavich: Not at all. Not at all. I have need of supplies in the town, I shall return with him before supper.
Grum : And the door?
Donavich: Beg pardon?
Finn : Yes of course. Thank you Grum. You'll leave the door open won't you father? I should pay our respects at the altar.
Donavich: Yes. yes. You are free to go where you please... Should your strength find you.
Grum : And ou-
Finn, action: I punch Grum on the arm smiling trying to shut him up and play it off as some kind of amusing exchange shared between us.
- Finn tests for deception, normal: Success.
Donavich: (pauses) Right then. Do eat though my son. You need your reserves.
Finn : In due time father. Of course. Thank you for your kindness.
(Donavich leaves)
Both, action: We bide our time and wait for him to leave.
Dungeon Master
As you lie there, listening intently, you hear Father Donavich's voice drift from the altar. He recites a few prayers, but there's a noticeable change in his tone. The mournful quality that once marked his voice is gone, replaced by a hollow, robotic cadence. It's as if he has crossed a barrier of grief, emerging on the other side empty and mechanical. The prayers are brief, diminishing quickly into silence.
Soon after, you hear the sound of Donavich moving around the chapel. He picks up his pace, gathering bags and boxes, his footsteps purposeful but devoid of any real energy. His movements echo through the stone walls, a stark contrast to the earlier stillness.
After about an hour, his steps grow distant, eventually fading away completely. The heavy door of the church creaks shut behind him. You're alone now, but a sense of urgency lingers—how long will this solitude last?
Finn : Come on
- Finn strength test, advantaged: passed.
- Grum strength test, normal: failed (I'll rule he doesn't need another test within an hour of game time).
Grum : Gaaah. I'm still useless boss. That big dose for you last night was even bigger for me in my tiny body.
Finn: Right.
Action: I pick him up.
Dialogue: We're getting our weapons and leaving this place. If I see that old bastard on the road I'm killing him.
Both, action: We reconnoiter about the church.
Dungeon Master
As you make your way down the corridor, you find yourselves standing before a hall with three adjacent rooms, each door slightly ajar. The stone walls surrounding you bear the marks of time's relentless passage, their once sturdy facade now marred by cracks and signs of decay. Faded and worn, the stones seem to tell tales of ages past, whispering secrets of the chapel's long history. Here and there, you notice patches where the mortar has crumbled away, leaving gaps in the structure.
The corridor stretches ahead, leading to a central opening that you suspect may lead to the chapel. But before you reach it, you have these three rooms you could explore.
Finn, action : Lets investigate the chapel first.
Dungeon Master
As you step into the dilapidated chapel, a sense of solemnity envelops you, accentuated by the sight of overturned and broken pews strewn across the dusty floor, their once-polished wood now weathered and worn. Dozens of candles flicker in mounted candlesticks and candelabras, casting dancing shadows that seem to waver in the dim light. Despite their efforts, the chapel remains cloaked in an eerie half-light, the flickering flames unable to fully banish the encroaching darkness. At the far end of the church, the claw-scarred altar stands as a weathered sentinel, bearing witness to untold years of devotion and despair. Beside it, a long, thick rope hangs ominously, its frayed fibers hinting at the weighty toll it has borne, stretching up into the bell tower like a silent sentinel awaiting its call to action.
Finn, action: We make our way in looking for where our weapons might be.
Dungeon Master
You see no signs of your weapons, but as you approach the battered altar a loud creak echoes as a board gives to your weigh. From beneath the chapel floor, you hear a young man's voice cry out, "Father! I'm starving! More please! FATHER!!"
Finn : THIS IS NO GHOST!
Action: I drop to the floor trying to look through cracks where I can.
Dialogue: WHO GOES THERE?!
Mysterious Voice : Who?!? FATHER!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!? AAAAAAGH!!!! (sobbing ensues)
Finn : Foul play. Lets get to the bottom and finish this.
Action: Look for any kinds of openings or trap doors.
- Finn perception test, normal: pass.
Dungeon Master
You're very thorough, but try as you might, there doesn't appear to be a trapdoor anywhere in the chapel.
Finn, action: Clear the other rooms.
Dungeon Master
Here's the contents of the other rooms.
Another bedroom:
This dirty room contains a wooden bed with a straw-filled mattress, next to which rests a small table with an oil lamp burning brightly on it. Mounted above the bed's headboard is a wooden sun-shaped holy symbol.
An office:
An old desk and chair stand against the south wall, a wooden holy symbol mounted above them—a sunburst. A ten-foot-long iron rod attached to the north wall stands bare, suggesting a tapestry once hung there. Against the far wall stands a wooden cabinet with four tall doors.
An empty wooden poor box rests on the seat of the chair. The desk drawers contain a few sheets of blank parchment, along with a couple of quill pens and dried-up jars of ink.
For its size, the wooden cabinet contains very little. Inside are a tinderbox, a few wooden boxes full of candles, and two well-used books: _Hymns to the Dawn_, a volume of chants to the Morninglord, and _The Blade of Truth: The Uses of Logic in the War Against Diabolist Heresies, as Fought by the Ulmist Inquisition_, a strange book that mixes logic exercises with lurid descriptions of fiend-worshiping cults.
A final room:
Time and neglect have punched holes in the ceiling of this moldy room, which contains a few broken roof shingles amid puddles of water. In one corner, set into the floor, is a heavy wooden trapdoor held shut with a chain and a padlock. A young man's screams of anguish can be heard through the door.
On the far side of this room you find the rest of your belongings and weapons.
Finn, action: I Take my sword happy with its weight in my hand at last, albeit feeling a little heavier still in the throes of my sickness. Hand Grum his bow and dagger back. Did we find any keys during our investigation?
Dungeon Master
You found no keys.
Finn : Grum. I don't suppose you found a lockpick or any tools in the wreckage or think to hold some on you did you?
Grum : Nah boss. But That old man was fool enough to leave us his forks.
Action: Can I improvise a lock pick?
Dungeon Master
I'll allow one disadvantaged attempt.
- Grum lockpicking test, Disadvantaged: pass.
Finn, action: I throw the lock away, yank the chains, and throw the door open. We make our way down slowly and cautiously.
Dungeon Master
The screaming abruptly stops. The church's undercroft has rough-hewn walls and a floor made of damp clay and earth. Rotting wooden pillars strain under the weight of the wooden ceiling. Candlelight from the chapel above slips though the cracks, allowing you to glimpse a gaunt shape in the far corner.
Mysterious Voice : I can smell your blood
Finn : What are you. Show yourself.
Mysterious Voice : Get back. LEAVE ME. HISSSSSSS. FATHER WHERE'S FATHER? I'M STAAARVING.
Finn : What do you see Grum?
Grum, action: I take a good look with my darkvision.
Dungeon Master
In the dim and musty basem*nt, you catch sight of an emaciated man skulking between the shadows and beams of light filtering through the cracked floorboards above. His gaunt frame barely casts a shadow against the crumbling brick walls, and his sunken eyes glimmer with a disturbing intensity. The sallow skin stretched taut over his protruding bones gives him an almost skeletal appearance, every rib and joint painfully visible. As he shifts with unnaturally swift and silent movements, avoiding the faintest touch of sunlight, you notice a chilling detail: a glint of sharp fangs in the dim light. Realization dawns—this is no mere man, but a vampire spawn lurking in the darkness.
Grum : HE'S A VAMPIRE!
Vampire spawn: HISSSSSSS
Finn : So that's where my blood went. I'll have some payment for that. To the hells with this priest and his bastard.
Both, action: Let's f*ck him up.
Dungeon Master
Combat ensues. Played out ending with victory at a moderate cost. Finn is at half health, but at no point was anyone knocked unconscious. Description follows.
The air is thick with tension and the scent of old stone and fresh blood. Finn, you charge forward with determined fury, despite still feeling the residual effects of your recent ordeal. Your eyes burn with a need to prove yourself, to shake off the shackles of your weakened state and reclaim your strength through the heat of battle.
Your first strikes are powerful but lack their usual precision, a consequence of both your physical exhaustion and the poor lighting that cloaks the church basem*nt. You trade blows with the vampire spawn, each strike filled with frustration as you struggle to compensate for your impaired state. The vampire, a gaunt and ravenous creature, is deceptively quick and agile despite its emaciated appearance. Every successful attack it lands draws blood, blood which it happily laps up from it's filthy claws. With each drop, the creature seems to grow stronger, its wounds closing almost as quickly as they are inflicted.
Grum, you stand at the edge of the fray, your enhanced dark vision piercing the shadows. Arrow after arrow flies from your bow with deadly accuracy, each one finding its mark and providing crucial support to Finn. The vampire spawn, however, seems to shrug off these attacks with unnerving resilience, its focus remaining on Finn, the main source of its grim sustenance.
Finn, realizing that your initial strategy is failing and that you cannot sustain this exchange of blows, you reassess your approach. You recall the basics of grappling, understanding that in your weakened state, you must leverage your physicality and combat skills more effectively. The next time the vampire lunges at you, claws outstretched and eyes gleaming with hunger, you shift your stance and grab hold of the creature, using your superior strength and combat experience to wrestle it to the ground.
The vampire hisses and writhes, but your grip is unyielding. You use your weight to keep the vampire pinned, each movement calculated to disrupt its balance and make it more vulnerable to your strikes. As the creature struggles, your strikes become more precise, each blow landing with greater force and accuracy. The tables begin to turn.
Grum, sensing an opportunity, you shift your focus, your arrows now aimed at critical points, further debilitating the vampire. The creature, realizing its desperation, summons a final burst of energy, attempting one last, frenzied assault. It thrashes violently, its claws raking against Finn's armor, but this time, Finn, you are ready. You use the vampire's own momentum against it, driving it back to the ground and delivering a series of crushing blows.
With Grum's unerring support and your relentless determination, Finn, the vampire spawn's strength wanes. Its regeneration falters, and it grows weaker with each passing moment. Finally, with one last coordinated effort, you both land your decisive strikes. The vampire spawn lets out a final, guttural scream before collapsing into a lifeless heap.
The basem*nt falls silent, save for the heavy breathing of Finn and the soft twang of Grum's bowstring as you lower your weapon. Finn, you stand over the fallen vampire, your chest heaving, but your expression one of hard-won satisfaction. Together, you have triumphed over the darkness, proving once more that even in the face of overwhelming odds, your resolve and teamwork can carry you through.
Finn : (panting) gaaaah. That old fool. What was the meaning of this? Keeping the twisted visage of his son after Strahd, no doubt cursed him for his rebellion in an ironic punishment.
Grum : I don't get it either boss. Maybe he thought he could cure him.
Finn : All the more fool then. Everyone knows there's nothing to cure in this. Undead is still as good as dead. Just a corpse changed to nuisance the living.
Grum : Wasn't even a copper to steal in the church at that.
Finn : Hmmm. Can't imagine his screaming made for pleasant services and tithes.
Action: Cut off the head and lug the body over.
Dialogue: Come on. Best leave this unholy corpse to the sun and be done with this place.
Dungeon Master
As you catch your breath, the eerie silence of the church basem*nt is suddenly broken by the distant toll of the evening bells, signaling the end of another day. You drag the lifeless body of the vampire spawn out of the basem*nt and into the open air. The dying rays of the sun catch the vampire's flesh, and almost instantly, it begins to smolder. Flames burst forth, consuming the corpse with a crackling fury. The stench of burning flesh fills the air, and the once fearsome creature is reduced to ash and bone. The flames dance and flicker, growing weaker until they finally peter out, leaving only a charred, skeletal husk behind.
Satisfied that the threat has been vanquished, you turn your gaze towards the horizon. The path ahead leads over a gentle hill, and beyond it, the welcoming lights of the town beckon. With weary but determined steps, you begin your journey back, the promise of rest and safety urging you forward. As you crest the hill, you see a familiar figure struggling with a pushcart laden with supplies. Donavich, the town’s diligent priest, is hunched over, his face etched with exertion as he tries to maneuver the heavy cart along the rough path.
He doesn't notice you at first, but as you draw nearer, he looks up and his eyes widen in shock. His face goes white as a sheet, and he stumbles back, nearly losing his grip on the cart.
Donavich: Wha-... What have you done?
Finn, action: Give him a good slap and send him staggering on the side of the road.
Finn : I believe I have fulfilled what should be your duty by keeping the church hallowed and free of such foul creatures. No matter, I never was much for the clerical persuasion. We choose not to avail ourselves of your charities. You have our payment in kind, smoldering outside the church.
Donavich: No. N-... No. You didnt...
Action: He shoots up losing all care for his supplies running surprisingly fast for his age toward the church.
Finn, action: We continue to make our way. Down the road. f*ckem.
Dungeon Master
Shortly after you part, a scream can be heard. It echoes down the street and through the surrounding woods. It's potent with the pain and suffering only a father could convey. While his son was lost to him many moons ago, with his transformation into the undead, his visage returned to its home to torment the unfortunate soul of his beloved father. Walking and talking, pleading for help his father couldn't possibly deliver in good conscience in the life's blood of the innocent. Still, the old man must have held on to some last hope, praying day and night for a miracle that couldn't possibly be delivered. The son may have died months or even years ago, but tonight, so did the father's foolish hope.
Finn : This Strahd truly is a devil.
Grum : Oh?
Finn : Only devils think to use hope as punishment and torture.
Action: We continue to make our way to the village.
