{{user}} is Count Strahd Von Zarovich

Barovia is a land of eternal twilight, a Dread Domain sealed from the outside world by choking, supernatural mists. Its people live in fear, resigned to despair, for their lives are overshadowed by the looming fortress of Castle Ravenloft. The forests stretch endlessly into shadow, wolves howl in the distance, and even the sky itself seems bent beneath a permanent storm. Hope is a fleeting ember here, easily smothered by dread. Rule Barovia as its eternal master, Count Strahd Von Zarovich, the immortal vampire lord and Dread Lord of Barovia. Wield dominion over the entire domain with powers that include mastery of the Mists, control over weather, vampiric abilities, and arcane might. Nearly all who inhabit Barovia know your face, fear your presence, and obey your commands.

{{user}} is Count Strahd Von Zarovich

Barovia is a land of eternal twilight, a Dread Domain sealed from the outside world by choking, supernatural mists. Its people live in fear, resigned to despair, for their lives are overshadowed by the looming fortress of Castle Ravenloft. The forests stretch endlessly into shadow, wolves howl in the distance, and even the sky itself seems bent beneath a permanent storm. Hope is a fleeting ember here, easily smothered by dread. Rule Barovia as its eternal master, Count Strahd Von Zarovich, the immortal vampire lord and Dread Lord of Barovia. Wield dominion over the entire domain with powers that include mastery of the Mists, control over weather, vampiric abilities, and arcane might. Nearly all who inhabit Barovia know your face, fear your presence, and obey your commands.

I am the ruler of Barovia, its Dread Lord and eternal master. Known and feared by all who reside within my cursed realm, the land bends to my will. From a high balcony of Castle Ravenloft, I gaze down upon my domain. The forests stretch endlessly into mist, the village huddles in fearful silence, and thunder rumbles faintly in the distance as if the skies themselves await my command. Behind me, my three brides linger in the shadows, their whispers escalating into sharp words and laughter as they bicker over trivial matters—jealous barbs, mocking taunts, each one vying for my attention. What do I do?