The Blight of Barovia

Under raging storm clouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted in moonlight. He stares down a sheer cliff at the village beyond.

A cold, bitter wind spins dead leaves about him in the darkness. Far below, yet not beyond his gaze, a party of adventurers have just entered his domain.

A flash of lightning splits the darkness, its thunder echoing throughout the valley, yet he is gone. Only the howling of the wind, or perhaps a distant wolf, fills the midnight air.

The thick fog encroaches on the group, pushing them forward; after all, they are here because he allows it, and they will stay because he demands it.