Mortavius wrote:
I also thought that perhaps there should be two *versions* of Ravenloft. Gothic Horror, and Fantasy Horror. The difference between the two wouldn't be great, but a few things would be there. For example, in Fantasy Horror Tieflings would definately be playable, whereas in Gothic Horror, maybe not. It refers more to the flavor of the setting the DM wants to run, rather than the actual game mechanics.
Well, hence the
option of playing Dragonborn. I've no doubt that most GMs will want to leave them out, but there's no reason not to toss them in if you want them. Not to mention, there's kobolds, crocodile men and fish men already in Ravenloft cannon - a bigger lizardy creature can hardly be that much worse..
Good idea on Hazlan, Doc, although I dunno if I want to toss the entire Mulani race just yet. Here's what ideas I had written on the subject.
As for not being mobbed... I can only assume it's like playing an elf in Tepest - it involves a lot of hiding your face.
Dragonborn
Souragne - 715
Victor shook slightly and huddled at the bottom of the boat, silently willing it to go faster. The inescapable heat seemed to permeate every fiber of his being, and in the mist the twisted mangrove roots toyed with his imagination, forming twisted figures that danced just out of sight. He turned his eyes to a mass of floating logs that looked to block their path.
"Best try to move around that log jam up ahead," he said, pulling out his spyglass to get a better look.
Viktor dropped the spyglass in horror. The "logs" were nothing of the sort, but a huge mass of the devil lizards his countrymen had told him about. And they were all dead. Their lifeless bodies stared blankly up as they bobbed in the still waters of the Souragnen swamp.
His guide noticed his reaction, and shook his head. "Merrshaulki have been stirred up 'bout here lately, m'sieu," the man said. Viktor had never bothered to learn his name. "Seems something showed up in the swamps a few weeks ago. Half think it's rivals to their leader and ruined kingdom. Half think it's their new gods. We best keep moving through."
Staring at the mangled reptile corpses, Viktor could not agree enough...
Sithicus - 698
That the Redwood Keep even bothered keeping watch was a grand testament to the ways of the past, Foxglove thought to himself. Enemies these days either came charging in, roaring their challenges, or cloaked in disguises impossible to pierce. Either way, there was no point in posting a lookout for them. Yet here he was, sitting in the cold with two other elves, not allowed to speak, staring endlessly at the same few trees.
One of the other elves' ears perked up. Foxglove casually looked over to see what he'd spotted; if he was lucky, a stag might have passed by for some quick target practice...
Hold on. There was something.
Foxglove expertly dropped from the trees without a sound, padding over towards the creature with his bow at the ready. He was circling around to flank it when the creature whirled, letting loose an earsplitting shriek. Foxglove only caught a glimpse of it as it swung at him; the scaly skin, the long muzzle filled with hundreds of glittering sharp teeth, the glowing yellow eyes-
One of the the other elves let loose and arrow, thudding into the creature's shoulder. The creature's mouth lit up like daylight as lightning blasted forth from its mouth. His muscles moving faster than his thoughts, Foxglove just barely ducked in time, as the tree behind him exploded into splinters of smoldering wood. By the time his eyes had recovered, the creature had fled.
It took a while before anyone said what they were all thinking.
"Draconian..." Foxglove whispered.
They looked at each other, then one elf fired a whistling arrow high into the sky. For the first time in his life, Foxglove
ran back to to the keep...
Falkovnia - 735
It was meant to be a routine mission. A nest of kobolds had been found under the foundations of the new barracks, and the Falkfurher wanted them out of his way. The little vermin had been known to cause major trouble once they got themselves barricaded into a place, so troops were quickly dispatched to flush them out. Once all of their tunnels were found, they could easily be smoked out of their tunnels and exterminated.
It was just meant to be a routine mission. But that was before the Basilisk came.
No one knew what it really was, or what its really called. It looked like an oversized kobold, but there was something far more grand and terrible about it.
They called it the Basilisk because if it saw you, it would kill you.
--
The Basilisk sat in the warm sun, watching bemusedly as the kobolds swarmed over the abandoned barracks. One of the little blue creatures broke off from the work lines and skittered over to where he sat, offering some meager strips of jerky. The Basilisk took it without complaint, tearing into it with its massive jaws. He shook his head incredulously.
"I've never seen anything like this," he said. "I've never seen the like in my life. All I had to do is tell them about a plan that someone else made and three different warrens agreed to help me."
"You're the chief now, you have big sway," the kobold said in its rapid Draconic speak. "Besides, we all want to see it when these barracks collapse right on top of the Talons."
"Don't tell me that's the only reason," the Basilisk scoffed. "You're only doing this because
I asked."
The kobold nodded soberly. "In truth, we are not used to fighting like this. We needed a hero. A Drakov, a Gondegal. Someone to believe in."
"But why all rally behind me?" The Basilisk asked. "I'm no war hero or King in Exile."
The kobold paused for a minute. "You're really big," it offered.
The Basilisk threw back its head and roared in laughter...
Darkon - 760
Death flew in the night skies.
The shadow dragon Ebb screamed in fury. Her egg! Someone had
dared steal one of her eggs! Shadows boiled forth from her jaws unabated. She would find them. And they would
not be permitted to die a quick death.
Woe be it to any who ignored Azalin's curfew this night.
--
Vespiear moved silently through his arcane lab. The apprentices were nervous tonight, he could tell. Fools. They would not be discovered. He was too skilled for that.
"Progress," he commanded. One of the apprentices immediately ushered him to the cage where his creation sat.
It had worked far better than he expected. His creation was already conscious, regarding the world with unsteady eyes. It stared in horror at its taloned fingers, wordlessly hissing a few times before managing to speak.
"What have you done to me?" it wailed, tearing bloody gashes in its arm as if to peel the scales off of its body.
"Sedate it," Vespiear commanded. He'd come too far for it to destroy itself now. His creation breathed forth a cloud of shadow, but it dissipated harmlessly against Vespiear's cold flesh. The apprentices quickly enchanted it, forcing it into magical slumber. The creature let loose a cry of anguish as its eyes shut...
Nidalia - 761
She didn't know what to do now. She didn't know where she was, or how she had gotten there. She didn't know why people screamed in fear and ran when they saw her. She didn't know who to turn to for help. She didn't even know if this was some strange nightmare, that she would soon awaken from and shake from her mind.
She didn't know why she hid when she heard the sound of marching troops. Perhaps she had heard that sound too often in her life. The troops barricaded the town and set it ablaze, with the people inside screaming questions that went unanswered.
A young boy somehow squeezed past the soldiers and ran, badly burned on his arms and legs. When they followed with their swords she picked up a stick and fell upon them. The boy kept running.
She didn't know why she returned to the town, or when such sights stopped horrifying her. Maybe it was when she had lost her faith, when the endless war had finally taken too much out of her. There were no survivors, save the boy, who she could see returning to hunt through the ruins of his hometown.
"She was supposed to protect us," the boy murmured.
"Who?" she asked, stepping into his view.
The boy started. "Back! Back, servant of Banemaw!" he cried, trying to run, but his burned legs could take no more abuse.
"So Lady Faithhold
was protecting us... from you!" the boy sobbed, as she towered over him. "She will prevail! She will prevail!" he yelled defiantly, before collapsing into hysterical laughter.
She left him there, still crying Lady Faithhold's praises, and traveled back to where the dead soldiers were lying. She picked up one of the swords, hefting its familiar weight.
"Perhaps Lady Faithhold should "protect"
herself instead," the dragonborn mused aloud. Slinging the sword over her shoulder, she followed the road away from the town.
"No, but evil is still being — Is having reason — Being reasonable! Mousie understands? Is always being reason. Is punishing world for not being... Like in head. Is always reason. World should be different, is reason."
) and updating the 3.5 Ravenloft materials to 4e. Normally I would be concerned about updating stats to such a new system, but take heart! We can't make any more errors than Denizens of Dread did, right? 
) and focus on the tiefling and rest.
