Ravenloft Campaign: Woven Fates

Tonight, I relate the story of a group of strangers that met here in the Land of Mists and, forced by destiny, wandered its roads in formidable adventure. Join us as I lead you from their first meeting along through their travels, their misfortunes and their shining moments. Grace them with your compassion in their losses; bless them with your support when the sky is dark and bleak. Do not forget to bestow your praise upon them as they vanquish terror and hold back the minions of darkness. Raise your arm to cheer for their victories!
And above all, share your glass with us for them, both in sorrow and elation, as you accompany them in the thorny road from lost adventurers to heroes of the mists.

Come, huddle with us by the fire here in the dark. The night is cold, but within the ring of Vardos, its evils cannot touch us. Tonight, you are a guest of the Vistani and nothing will harm you. Come, the Prastonata is over and now is time for the Doroq. Let the tales now unfold, let the revelations begin...

Thursday, November 10, 2005


Gregor is 18 years old, but looks older. He's very fond of food and cooking lessons at the Monastery proved to be his most cherished memory after Ramirez and his teachings. Accordingly, he's overly large for his height which is worsened by the fact that he's short for a man of his age. He's well-humoured and, although given to fits of melancholy, mostly cheerful. He is lightly-tanned, and his hair and eyes are black.

Gregor was born in 733 in a poor family, and the last of many brothers. Unable to feed so many mouths, his parents abandoned him at the doorstep of the Monastery-School of Ezra in Irvanika, three years later. Thus, Gregor was raised as priest of Ezra, but during his early adolescence he found that was not his true calling, and that Ezra meant nothing to him.
Gregor was 17 when the monastery harboured a wounded man from far away lands, named Ramirez, asking for solace. They granted him residence within the walls of the monastery until he became wholly sound again. Unfortunately, this never happened and this man died the next year. In the meantime, Gregor befriended him and Ramirez saw him as a son that came to ease his last days after a whole life of bohemia and adventure, for this Ramirez had often times stolen for need and then for pleasure of a good challenge. Much of what he gained was then wasted away in brief revelries and exquisite extravagancies. Within that year, Gregor learnt from him the basic of his craft, but he also learned something more determinant for his future: true faith in another god, whom Ramirez called the Morning Lord. And this new God's message seemed to Gregor to make much more sense, so that he turned, inwardly, to him and shunned Ezra. Equally, Ezra began to gradually forsake and remove her boons from him.
When Ramirez died, the last link that attached Gregor to the Monastery was broken, and he ran away to the nearest city: Keshgel. However, the forsaking of Ezra didn't bring recognition by the Morning Lord, and Gregor began to feel empty. A void within his soul, a sensation of solitude, the very absence of the warmth he had felt since childhood: the comfortable feeling of a divine presence in his heart was gone, and this threw Gregor near despair. He longed to feel again that heat, that assurance, and so his steps conducted him to Ezra's temple, surely the one place where he could receive guidance.


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