Curse of Strahd
Bound by Fate
Under raging stormclouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of Castle Ravenloft. The figure stares down a sheer cliff at the lights of 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. The figure turns to the sky, revealing the angular muscles of his handsome face. He has a look of absolute power, control—and of madness.
Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind’s howling increases as the figure turns his piercing gaze back to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his keen sight, a band of adventurers has just entered his domain. His face forms a wicked smile; he knew they were coming and he knows why they have come—all according to his will. Like any gracious host, he will attend to them.
Another lightning flash rips through the night, its thunder echoing across the valley. But the figure 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.