"Descent Into Darkness" Compiled from events in the Golden Unicorn Tavern by Richard Ryley Situations created by Micheal Hourshad ---------- Petri tapped his fingers on the top of the bar, thoughtfully. Frowning, he glanced up at Malfread, the enemy of Brandon's, who sat next to him. Something would have to be done. This evil stranger in the black cloak and strange, colorful clothing claimed to be from the future. That made no difference to Petri. The Druid had seen Malfread's kind before. Even now, as Malfread glanced across the room at Brandon, Petri knew that he was hatching some plot... some plot that meant trouble for everyone in the Golden Unicorn Tavern. Further away from the bar, Brandon Dragoncove stood chatting with Rav'oth. The big fighter didn't seem discomfited by the dark shadows that wrapped themselves around Rav'oth, and all who stood near him. In fact, Brandon didn't seem bothered by Rav'oth at all, which, given what Petri knew about the shadowy wizard, meant that Brandon was either extremely powerful -- or a fool. As for the dark elf himself, his arm was wrapped around the shoulder of the priestess Yavanna. She, in turn, clung to him, as the two elves spoke to each other in low, hushed tones. Brandon stood a little away from the two, clearly not wanting to intrude upon their more intimate moments. Petri snorted. As if Rav'oth had a heart -- or any other 'human' organs, for that matter. The only other adventurer in the Tavern was Kalgon, a healer, who was a friend of Brandon's. The cleric sat alone at a table in the corner, watching Malfread from across the room. He looked harmless enough, but Petri could sense the man's confidence. Although he wore no armor, and didn't seem to be carrying a weapon, Petri knew better than to underestimate a cleric. The Druid turned his attention back to Malfread. Somewhere under that cloak he wore, Malfread was hiding an amulet that belonged to someone else. It was more than just jewelry -- the amulet was a holy symbol, once owned by Miranda, the Amazon who'd become such good friends with Yavanna. In a moment of despair, Miranda had thrown the amulet away, but Malfread found it, and was trying to use it in some plot against Brandon. Petri sighed. He'd managed to stop him from gaining Miranda's help in this plot, but who could tell what he would try next? He nodded, ironically, as Malfread noticed him staring, and the time traveller raised his glass, in a mock salute. Petri shook his head, as he looked away. At least Miranda was safe from his plots now. All the women, except for Yavanna, had gone to the stable, to set off on some errand. They wouldn't be back for a couple of hours, so Malfread's plots would have to wait that long, at least. By the time they returned, Petri hoped to have something he could use against this evil schemer. As his eye again fell on Yavanna, Petri paused a moment. He could have sworn Yavanna had gone outside with the others... No, she was still here, so clearly, she had stayed. The memory does play tricks sometimes, Petri reflected, particulary at my age... A few moments passed, and then the air in the Tavern began to feel stale. Petri looked around, disturbed. It was getting hard to breathe. The Druid put a hand to his chest, as mist began to roll in underneath the door to the tavern. Rav'oth's eyes shifted from side to side, his shadows flitting about. The dark elf moved closer to Yavanna, gathering her to him protectively. Brandon wandered to a window, but it revealed nothing but a dense fog, surrounding the Tavern. The city outside could no longer be seen. There was a crackling, as of lightning, and the tavern was bathed in brilliant light. Brandon blinked, holding a hand over his eyes, as his sight slowly returned. Everything was as it was before, and yet, there was something missing. The big fighter glanced around the room, confused, but then his eyes widened. "The Wards!" he yelled, pointing at a wall, where a faint blue rune had once been scribed. "They're gone!" "C***!" Malfread dropped from his stool to the ground. With both hands he slid the coarse fabric of his pants leg up, and pulled a weapon from a sheath there. It was an oddly shaped wand, formed of rolled metal, looking something like a tiny crossbow. The shadows around Rav'oth leapt upward, cloaking him tightly in a field of black -- and wrapping protectively around Yavanna, as well. As his right hand gripped Yavanna's shoulder tightly, a sword materialized in his left. It was katana, of a deep, dull black, that almost seemed to be a sharpened extension of the shadows themselves. "Someone's coming!" Brandon hissed. All eyes turned on the doors, as a slender, snow white figure burst into the Tavern. It was a snow elf, Arion, one of the women who'd left on the errand. The look on her face was one of sheer terror. "We are no longer in Phantasia!" She cried. "The... the tavern. I felt something strange and tried to get here before... but by the time I turned around the city was gone!" The elf dropped to her knees, sobbing. "I am sorry Petri...I have failed." Malfread pulled a second device from his belt. Still crouching on the floor, he studied it, intently, as it beeped at him, glowing from a crystal mounted at its front end. "Damn! Damn damn damn damn! And everything was going so well..." Petri made his way over to the sad maiden. Gently he knelt next to her, lifting her back to her feet. "It is not your fault, child. This is not your responsibility, it's mine. I am the one that failed to keep the gate closed... and now the darkness has come to claim its prize." The Druid rose to his feet, staring at the door. As the mist wrapped itself around him, he fell to his knees, unleashing a hellish scream, "AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH GET AWAY FROM ME!" Malfread started, looking up at Petri. He pointed the device in his hand at the Druid, his brow furrowing. On the far side of the room, the healer Kalgon got to his feet, glancing at Brandon in confusion. The fighter just shrugged, looking down at the mists that swirled around him. Next to Brandon, Rav'oth's cold, grey eyes flared with reddish flame, as he studied the figure on the floor, trying to find the source of the assault. His cloaking darkness began to flicker at the edges, dancing nervously, as the elf crouched, ready to spring. The hellish scream stopped. Slowly Petri rose to his feet, his face worn, his eyes a hellish green. "I am fine, for now," he says, but voice is suprisingly weak. "The dark forces are strong here... I...will..." Petri pitched to one side, collapsing on the floor. Arion rushed to him. "Petri, are you okay? Answer me!!!" She looked up at Malfread with a furious anger, "If you intend on harming him now... YOU WILL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME!" Staring at Arion, Malfread replaced the beeping device in his belt. He then transferred the steel weapon to that hand. He made a motion with his wrist, flipping the device open. Pulling a small bullet out of the weapon, he sniffed it, then returned it to its place. "I think that we have bigger fish to fry." Arion stared at the time traveler a moment more, but then returned her concern to Petri. Kalgon, dropping to his knees next to her, tried to revive the Druid. Brandon watched for a few moments, but then he looked at Malfread. "So, where are we?" Malfread shrugged. "We're in some kind of pseudo plane, just off of this world's version of the Negative Energy plane. Its base frequency's hard to pin down, but it looks a lot like Petri's. I'd say we're somewhere near his home universe." "It's similar to our world," he continued. "Magic should work here, but I'm none too sure about chemical reactions. My gunpowder smells a little funny..." Brandon thought for a moment, but then started, as a thought struck him. "Arion! Where's Morgwaine! Wasn't she with you?" Arion looked up at Brandon. "She was just behind. Surely she would have been caught by the mists..." She glanced at the doors to the Tavern, but behind her, Petri arose from the floor. "If she were touched by the mists she would be near." The creature that stood before them looked like Petri -- but it wasn't Petri. His once silver streaked hair was solid black, and his eyes glowed evilly. He spoke with a voice hollow and cold. "As far as where you are... I guess you could say this is Petri's home -- Ravenloft." Petri looked the others over, reserving his coldest stare for Malfread. "Do you think your precious wards will save you now? Will your wits save you even though the rules are at my disposal? Soon the Lord of Ravenloft will be here, but until then you are at MY disposal." He held out his hand, staring intently at it. "He tried to keep me away. To keep me from gaining control." "You seemed to have changed from what you were before," Malfread said, "but your attitude has not. You really have no idea what you are dealing with. I would suggest..." Before Malfread could finish, a flare of golden light interrupted him. He turned toward Yavanna, the source of the light, as she glanced down at her hand, her eyes wide with surprise. A sword formed there, a golden sword, with an unusually wide blade. "The Renegade!" Brandon drew his axe, but then stopped, obviously unwilling to hurt Yavanna. Malfread, also, stared agape, too stunned to act. Even Rav'oth seemed caught off guard. Yavanna's confusion, however, soon gave way to a smile of understanding. "Morgwaine wanted you to have this," she said, to Malfread, extending the weapon to him. The wizard started. "Morgwaine... wanted me to have... you're kidding." "No. Morgwaine says that she knows exactly what you were up to, that you'd used the properties of the Tavern to summon the Renegade, and that you were going to try to escape with it." "Of course." Brandon frowned. "That's why you wanted me out of the way. Once you had the Renegade, you could take on Morgwiane, but not the both of us." Malfread bowed, as Yavanna continued. "Phantasia has many time lines, all running at once. That's part of the magic of this place. Malfread was able to draw the Renegade out from the space between time, where Morgwaine had trapped it." She grinned. "But you forgot something. The very time protraction that allowed you to free the Renegade also weakens him. He is not much more than an ordinary sword, now. You would never have been able to defeat Crystal." Malfread nodded. "So, why are you giving him to me?" "We need your help." Yavanna stared off into the distance. "Morgwiane is here -- in what's left of the Tavern -- back in Phantasia. Something has set up a barrier, and she's trapped there. She cannot follow us." "But she found the Renegade, lying at the base of the field, and figured out what you were up to. She then sent me to give it to you." "What?" Brandon said. "Are you with Morgwaine right now?" Yavanna nodded, but before she could speak, Malfread interrupted. "Yavanna is precognative... a psychic. Because of her power, she has an unconscious control over the protraction effect. She can choose to be in more than one place at once. So, when she went with Morgwaine to the stables, she also remained here in the Tavern." "Exactly," Yavanna said. "Morgwaine united me with my alternate, so I could bring you the sword. When I have done that, she will call me back." "Then I should give you this." There was a flash of silver, and the jingle of tiny chain links, as he tossed Miranda's amulet to Yavanna. "I no longer need it. Call it... her reward... for keeping me on my toes." Yavanna caught the amulet, hanging it from her belt. "I will give it to her the moment I return." There was a moment's pause, and then she hesitantly looked at Rav'oth. In a swift, fluid motion, she took the shadowy figure in her arms, hugging him fiercely. "I am sorry. I will not be able to stay long. It is only through Morgwaine's doing that I was carried with the Tavern in the first place. At least we had these few moments..." There was a long, long silence, before she let Rav'oth go. "Hurry," she said. "There's no telling what we're up against, and Morgwaine can do no more. You will have to find your own way back to Phantasia, and quickly." Yavanna then handed the sword to Malfread, and faded away into nothingness. Rav'oth stood staring at the vacant space that had held the priestess for a long time, shadows flitting about him uncertainly. When he turned to face Brandon, however, the shadows fell away from his face... and he was smiling! The shadows seemed to rise up and darken nearby, but before Rav'oth could take a step into them, he paused. Inside this patch of darkness there could be seen many pairs of floating red pin-pricks. Rav'oth hesitated for a moment, then made a pass with his hand, dispelling the shadow-portal. "That must be a last resort, it seems," he commented jovially to Brandon. "Yes one that would bare your dark soul. There is no escape from Ravenloft. Please Shadow-walker, give in -- Walk the planes." The being that was once Petri paused for only a moment. "You can sense the darkness fighting to be released. Petri was still too weak from his... journey... to hold me back. Do you have the strength he lacked?" "Do not mistake me, Possessed-One," Rav'oth answered, coldly. "Nothing of the dark holds fear for me -- We are one. Rather, I was concerned for the safety of my companions. We shall all leave this cursed plane together." Rav'oth paused for a moment. "You are correct, though," he said slowly, quietly. "I CAN feel the pull of this place. A million tiny whispers in my ears urging me to commit heinous acts, to abandon my friends, to revel in the power that I may command..." The dark elf's eyes glowed a fierce red, his back hunching, as he gazed around himself at the Tavern. Brandon spared the elf a glance, but if Rav'oth's words bothered him, he gave no sign. "Well, if you can't get us back, maybe the Renegade can..." He turned to Malfread. "So, can you?" The wizard shook his head. He held his sword out in front of him, absently stroking it. "He doesn't appear to be completely here. It must be a side affect of the way I summoned him. I'm only just barely able to touch his 'mind'. With time, he should get stronger..." "Perhaps I'd better take a look outside," Brandon said. "Kalgon, keep an eye on these two." The fighter wandered across the room, and over to the doors to the Tavern. Opening them carefully, he took a look around. Petri looked on amused. "You will find no escape out there..." Suddenly, the Dark Druid stopped in mid sentence, and dropped to one knee. His body seemed to shake uncontrollably, as his hair shifted back to the silver streaks that used to line his hair. His eyes, too, returned to their natural emerald green. Petri seemed to be straining, his voice weak and soft as he spoke. "You must... not allow this creature to return to Phantasia. The gate will let this demi-plane shift, and take over... You do not understand the evil that will be... AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!" Once again the shaking started. It ended quickly this time. "It would seem he had a bit more fight in him," Petri said in his former voice, "but I have taken care of that now." Arion's gritted her teeth, drawing her two long swords in one quick motion. "Petri warned me about you... He said something followed out of the realm of death, but he did not know what." Her muscles tensed, as she moved toward the Druid, ready to strike. "And now you must die." Petri only laughed. "Now, now child... to destroy me you would have to kill your precious Druid... and besides, I believe I am protected within this Tavern." His eyebrow raised a bit. "Can you take the chance that the wards are actually not working?" Rav'oth looked up, smiling, "And if we were banished from the Unicorn while in Ravenloft, where would we go?" Malfread sheathed his sword, in a scabbard he apparently had been wearing all along. "Since you seem to know what is going on," he said, to Petri, "who or what brought us here? How do we get back?" Rav'oth nodded, his smile hard as he watched Petri. "Yes, Ye- With-the-Eyes-of-a-Displacer-Beast -- Dark Druid -- I now find myself in the unaccustomed position of demanding answers. We will return to Phantasia, whatever the cost." "The trip here was an easy one." Petri answered. "The Mists come when someone beckons them, voluntarily or not. First you must discover why you are here and then..." He smiled widely. "But that would be giving it away, wouldn't it?" "It is answers that I want." Malfread stared the Druid in the eye. "It is answers that I demand." "You are in no position to demand anything..." Petri met Malfread's stare with equal strength. "The game is mine, schemer, and your precious wards cannot save you. If I wanted you dead..." "You would still be wanting me dead tomorrow." Malfread leaned back, folding his arms, as he stared at Petri. "Interesting that to Arion the Wards are working... but for me, they are not..." "Save your breath, Malfread," Brandon said, from his position at the door to the Tavern. "He's not worth it." The dark man suddenly smiled, his green eyes glowing brighter, as he turned toward the fighter -- and the door. He spared a glance for Rav'oth. "Ah... Shadow-One... did you say whatever the cost?" Behind Brandon, the doors swung open, seemingly of their own accord. In the doorway stood a tall figure, with coal black hair and pale skin. His black cloak hung low to the ground, and black gloves poked from within the sleeves of his crimson shirt. The newcomer raised his hands in the air. "Welcome to your new home." "I think not, Fiend," whispered Rav'oth. Closer to the door, however, Brandon stepped forward. "The Lord of Ravenloft, I presume... Your 'dog' has been keeping us busy." Brandon indicated Petri. "But finally the mastermind is here." "I am no dog," Petri cut in. The dark figure raised a hand, his eyes cruel, as he gazed at the Druid. "Don't fool yourself, Brayzel. You are mine to command... as is everyone in this Tavern, now..." "I am Strahd," the newcomer said, to Brandon. "I rule this realm, and I am, indeed, the one responsible for your being here." "Good," Brandon said. "I do not deal with hired thugs." Petri -- or rather, Brayzel -- frowned at the comment. Malfread, on the other hand, chuckled, grinning at Brandon with a look of respect. "So," Brandon continued, "what is it that you want from us?" "Do you not think that your very life is prize enough for me?" Brandon grinned. "You didn't go to all this trouble just for us. You want something else..." Strahd laughed, a low, wicked-sounding laugh. "Very well." He turned toward the others in the Tavern, taking a step toward the center of the bar. He looked over each person in turn, Rav'oth, Malfread, a glance for Kalgon, and finally Arion. He stopped in front of her, staring at her for a long time. "I am looking for someone... a lost love, a woman by the name of Tatyanna. When you find her, I will return you, and the Tavern, to Phantasia..." He glanced at Brayzel. "... And you can have your 'Petri' back, as well." Brayzel's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't what we agreed..." Strahd turned back to Brandon, ignoring the Druid. "All you need do is find Tatyanna, and turn her over to me." "So. Where do we find this 'Tatyanna'?" Brandon asked, almost carelessly. "Is she here, in Ravenloft?" Arion stared at Brandon in shock. Rav'oth, too frowned at the fighter. "You are not thinking of bargaining with this... creature, are you?" He looked at Strahd. "I do not deal in flesh..." "I shall hear him out," Brandon said, "and then decide whether to deal with him." "No." The glow of Rav'oth's eyes grew brighter. "Do not make me stop you, my friend." "And do not underestimate me, Shade..." he paused, as he voiced the Drow elf's secret. "You would not survive the confrontation." But with his head turned away from Strahd, Brandon winked broadly at the elf. Rav'oth's eyes widened just slightly, and then there was the faintest hint of a smile at his lips. "I see..." he said, keeping the threat in his voice. "Then we are agreed." Walking over to the bar, Strahd sat down at one of the stools. He glanced up at the bartender, and Allan's eyes glazed over. "Bring me whatever it is you mortals drink, here..." Dazedly, staring straight ahead, Allan turned to head toward the back kitchens. Rav'oth, however, swept around the bar, and caught the man by the arm. He stared Allen in the eye, until the bartender stook his head, as if clearing it. "Wha... What's going on here?" Allen looked around himself, his eyes finally settling on Strahd. "What have you done?" "Nothing that concerns you, bartender," Strahd answered. "Frankly, you'd have been better off in the trance I placed you in..." Allan pulled himself up taller. "Look, whoever you are... I don't know why the Tavern didn't break your control over me, but it's broken, now. You may think you've disabled her defenses, but I assure you, the Tavern is even now working to return itself to Phantasia." Strahd waved his hand, a submissive gesture. "I am Strahd, Lord of Ravenloft. All within Ravenloft is mine to command. Your Tavern will not return until I tell it to." "Too many strings weaken the puppetmaster, Strahd. There are too many wild cards on the table as it is... and you are playing with an unknown deck. If you had made a quick move you might have won the pot, but you do not know when to Call." "I strongly advise you to call it a night and go home, Strahd. Bringing this tavern here only put you out of your element." Strahd shook his head. "I AM home, mortal. All of Ravenloft is my home. And how long can I keep this up? I am immortal and will live to feed on your great-grandchildren." Allan looked up as a rune, behind the bar, flared with blue light. He smiled. "Oh?" There was a sudden commotion from the kitchen. Women's voices, raised in shock and surprise, counterpointed the clatter of falling pots and pans. Only one recognizable voice rose above the din. "Allan! Get in here! And bring a healer!" Allan's smile faded. Brandon nodded at Kalgon, who charged through the door to the kitchen. Allen started to follow, but Brandon caught his eye. The fighter shook his head, just a tiny motion, almost unnoticable. As the healer vanished, Strahd glanced at Brayzel. "Go see what's going on." Brayzel paused for just a moment, his lips pulled into a tight line, but then turned and followed Kalgon. Malfread watched him leave, then turned an eye on Strahd. A grin sliding across his face, he followed Brayzel into the kitchen. Inside, Malfread found Amilynn, and Barbie, with a young, badly wounded girl. Kalgon was helping them carry her into a back room. The healer set the girl down, gently, then examined her closely. "It's all right, Mary," Amie was saying. "This man's a healer. I've seen him work before. He's okay." Malfread stepped up behind Brayzel, who was watching as Kalgon began his healing. He paused, as if considering his words carefully. "That Brandon's never going to go along with Strahd. I know Brandon, and that was just an act. His 'morals' are going to cost us our only chance to get out of here." He made an angry noise. "I'm beginning to regret this alliance..." Brayzel snorted. "You're not the only one." Malfread's grin widened. "I've noticed you seem to be having second thoughts about your friend Strahd." "He's no friend of mine." "Neither of our 'friends' are turning out to be what we expected. Maybe we should think about an alliance, you and I..." Back out in the Tavern, Brandon continued to confront Strahd. "Who is this Tatyanna? Who is she to you?" "No one important," Strahd said, with a glance at Arion. "I simply want to... see her again." "And if we do return her to you, what will you do?" "Nothing nice, I'm sure," growled Rav'oth. "*I* will decide that!" Brandon snapped. "It's not like we're kidnapping her. Once she's here, SHE can decide what to do with him." "And what if she does not wish to go with him?" Rav'oth's shadows flickered as he stood crouched, staring angrily at Brandon. "We don't know anything about this Tatyanna! If she's in the wrong, then she SHOULD go with Strahd!" "I'm not going with anyone against my will!" Arion yelled, drawing her swords. A huge grin spread over Brandon's face, as he drew himself up, turning to Arion. "Oh, so YOU'RE Tatyanna! Finally, the truth comes out..." Brandon raised an eyebrow at Strahd. "Your game's over, vampire. Arion stays. You leave." "No." Strahd smiled back. "You ALL stay." With a battle cry, Arion launched herself at Strahd. "No!" yelled Brandon, "Let us handle this!" The snow elf dodged as Brandon tried to grab her, whirling around him, as she raced toward the vampire. Strahd laughed maniacally, reaching out his arms as if to embrace her, as Arion slashed out with her twin swords. Suddenly, there was a roar, as of the wind, and a single, musical, powerful sound was heard. A wave of white, chilling energy erupted from the door to the back rooms, and swept over the Tavern. Just before Arion's blow could strike, the wave swept over them, twisting Strahd's face into a mask of agony, and the snow elf vanished in a wisp of smoke. Out the window, the city of Phantasia flickered back into existance. Rav'oth, like Strahd, doubled over, but the look on his face was one of deep sorrow, and dark tears ran down his face. Brandon reacted instinctively, crouching low, throwing his arms up to shield his face. As the wave swept over him, however, he rose, revelling in the purity of the energy that flowed through him. In the back rooms of the Tavern, four figures stood, stunned, as Kalgon crouched over the space where Mary had lain. She was gone, swept away by the wave, just as Arion had been. Kalgon dropped his head, sighing. "Well done, Kalgon," Barbie said. "What did you do, disintegrate her?" Kalgon shook his head. "Wherever she is... Whoever that was... She's safe now. She's safe with him..." Petri, meanwhile, doubled over, his hair alternately greying and clearing, his fists clenched in rage. "No. No! You will NOT regain control!" "But why not..." Malfread put a hand on Petri's shoulder, his voice gentle, persuasive. "You know that Strahd's just using you... He'll let Petri take over anyway. What's the use in fighting... When you can give in, and let Petri handle Strahd..." There was a long, long silence, and then Petri raised his head. His hair was once again streaked with grey, the demonic glow gone from his eyes. He took a long, ragged breath, and then looked at Malfread. "You can thank me later," Malfread said with a crafty smile, and turned and walked out the door. Back in the Tavern, Strahd unleashed a hellish scream, "NOOOOO!!! THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN!" The shutters shut with a bang, then opened again, and the scene out the window returned to the dark and dismal plain of Ravenloft. Strahd rested on his hands and knees like a slave begging for mercy from its master. "It...is...not...over." Allan looked over at Strahd, his pinched countenance smoothed into a calm victory. "It looks like your prize got snatched back into Phantasia, Strahd. And you still do not know when to quit. Even now that the game is going against you." "If I can not have her then Phantasia shall not have the Tavern." Strahd's voice was low, dangerous. The vampire rose to his feet, his breath ragged, but his eyes hard and determined. He stared at the others, crouched, ready for anything. Brandon stood with his eyes locked on Strahd's chest, waiting for any movement. He held his gigantic axe in front of him, like a quarter staff, one hand at each of its dual grips. The weapon's head glowed brightly, enveloped by a field of blue energy. "You've lost, Strahd!" Brandon said, his voice firm. "Your ally is gone, your prey has fled. You're all alone! Return the Tavern now, while you still can! It's your only chance!" Strahd stared, with death in his eyes, as mist began to roll in through the door. "Mark my words Warrior, attack me and everyone in here will die." Allan backed away, his eyes darting to the rafters. "God, I hope the wards are strong enough. If I burn them out then how will we get back...?" Brandon stole a glance toward Allan. "Do what you must. If you or Amilynn cannot get us back, I'm sure that Malfread and Morgwaine eventually will." "Indeed." Malfread stepped through the door to the kitchen, his sword held defensively in front of him. He made his way around the bar, Petri walking beside him. Clearly, the Dark Druid was no longer under Strahd's control. Petri stepped forward, to confront the vampire. "Did you think it would be so easy? Did you think you could end your banishment to Ravenloft and have Tatyana... all in one swoop? You have learned nothing in the last thousand years, have you?" Anger flared in Strahd's eyes, "Do not bait me, Druid. You are in my homeplane. Even your Gods can not reach you here. Soon you will call this your home -- because the Tavern is going to be staying." "Know what you are playing with, Strahd of Ravenloft." Malfread stared the vampire in the eye, brazenly. "This is no simple gate or portal. This Tavern is a nexus, a tying point in the fabric of the universe. If this nexus comes unravelled, through your toying with things that should not be, it may not stop here. It probably won't even stop with Ravenloft. It may NEVER stop." "Think about what you are doing, Strahd. You could very easily be about to destroy the very universe itself..." Strahd stared back at him. "I am no simple vampire -- and that is where you will be defeated. The Gambit is up. You all will be citizens here now." Strahd raised his arms, and mist began to flood the Tavern. "When the Tavern is full and you have breathed the mist you will remain here... or die a slow death... because the addictive poison within the Mist can only be cured by me." Malfread raised his sword in a warding gesture, as the mists began to roll in under the door. He held Strahd's gaze, without the slightest touch of panic in his eyes. The vampire stared back at him, locked in a battle of wills, while Brandon and Rav'oth gathered up the others in the bar, vainly trying to get them away. The Dark Druid watched as the mists rose to knee level. His fists clenched. "This shall not be happening." Petri leaped across the room, with speed impossible for a man his size. He locked arms with the Ancient Vampire, the momentum of his attack throwing them to the ground, and sending them rolling towards the door. As the two men struggled, Strahd twisted, and sank his fangs into the Druid's neck. Then they both rolled out the door, and dropped out of sight. An energy wave swept through the Tavern. As the light flickered madly, Phantasia appeared -- but then Ravenloft returned. Neither scene remained permanent. Every few seconds it shifted, from light to darkness, and then back again. The Tavern's inhabitants looked around at each other, uncertainly, as Strahd's mocking laugh slowly faded away into the distance.