Barovia / Ravnica

Under raging storm clouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted against the an­cient walls of Castle Ravenloft.   The vam­pire Count Strahd von Zarovich stares down a sheer cliff at the village below. A cold, bitter wind spins dead leaves about him, billowing his cape in the darkness. Lightning splits the clouds overhead, casting stark white light across him. Strahd turns to the sky, re­vealing the angular muscles of his face and hands. He has a look of power-and of madness. His once hand­some face is contorted by a tragedy darker than the night itself. Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind's howling increases as Strahd turns his gaze back to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his ken, a party of adventurers has just entered his domain. Strahd's face forms a twisted smile as his dark plan unfolds. He knew they were coming, and he knows why they have come-all according to his plan. He, the master of Ravenloft, will attend to them. Another lightning flash rips through the darkness, its thunder echoing through the castle's towers. But Strahd is gone. Only the howling of the wind-or perhaps a lone wolf-fills the midnight air. The master of Ravenloft is having guests for dinner.   And you are invited     From the back of her soaring Roc, a sky knight surveys the spire-studded cityscape below. As the morning fog dissipates under the chill autumn sun, the city spreads out as far as she can see: lofty cathedrals. squat courthouses, towering apartments, sprawling tenements, cobblestone plazas, and broken ruins where once-majestic buildings have crumbled to rubble. She imagines the teeming masses below her: humans, elves, vedalken, minotaurs. goblins, loxodons, and other peoples. as some of them rise to greet the morning and others retire after a hard night of work or play. They are the reason she is here: sworn to protect them, she leads a flight of roe riders toward the fires raging in Precinct Three. Soldiers on the ground will put out the flames, while it's her job to deal with their source: the dragon she can just make out. clinging to the spire of a distant tower. Standing in her stirrups and raising her sword, she turns her mount toward the dragon, ready to battle once again for the sake of Ravnica.