Trapped by the Ravenloftian Mists in Barovia, under the tyranny of the Count Strahd Von Zarovich, a glimmer of hope appears as the heroes discover a powerful artifact to be used in the fated battle with the Dark Lord. Meanwhile, elsewhere within the dreadful realm, his evil forces expand.

A lantern faintly shines upon the gloom within the horrible walls of Castle Ravenloft. A tall, slender man with pointed ears and grayish skin, a Dusk elf, dressed in dark coloured leathers and a light-gray furry cape, commands the light as he passes from one sepulcher to the next.  Soon enough he reaches a dead end. He pauses and carefully places the lantern on the cemetery’s crumbled floor in front. He rests his breath and swiftly starts chanting in an unfathomable necromantic language. His speech echoes around the ghostly hall until the screeching of an ancient-sealed stone door dragging itself vertically, halts the blasphemy and brings a smile to the Dusk elf’s face. He grasps at the lantern quickly and moves forward, delving deeper into the Dark Lord’s esoteric mazes.

Endless layers of dust and webbing quake with each step the Dusk elf descends further. Finally, he reaches the end. With an equally anxious and excited look on his gaunt face, he raises his lantern forward. A pitch-dark empty room with only a highly reflective statue at its center, resembling the figure of an entombed and restrained live man screaming. After a few extra glances, the statue appears to be made of iron and at the eyes and mouth, large holes are formed. Those with experience into the dark arts, and most specifically with methods of torture, would dismiss the description of statue and instead would recognize the device as an iron maiden. A few weak breaths can be heard and spotted from the inside. The elf speaks after the dust settles.

–“Are you awake?”

A sick grungy voice of a man responds, pausing amidst his dreadful speech copious times.

–“What …  do …  you …  seek here … chamberlain?”

–“The master instructed me to speak with you.”

–“Does he not wish … to lay upon me … his eyes himself?”

–“The master is resting. He inquires, your skills.”

–“Surely, … his grand forces exceed the limits … of my own. Even you … Rahadin …  a man capable of genocide.”

–“You know that even the master cannot interfere with the Dark Powers’ game.”

–“The … prophecies. So, the cycle … is soon to be … anew.”

–“Maybe. Maybe not.”

–“Why … me?”

–“Because even in this form, you are an outsider to this world. The rules don’t apply to you.”

–“Is … the girl … alive?”’

–“Irrelevant. You need not occupy yourself with this matter. There are others.”

–“What … do I … gain … from this?”

–“If you succeed with the task, the master will be kind enough to free you of this curse.”

–“Can he do that?”

–“This is part of his own game, knight.”

–“Then … let’s get on with it!”

Rahadin, the Dusk elf, takes a few steps back and places once more the lantern on the floor. He raises his sight at the grim ceiling and yells.

–“Your excellency! Your request has been accepted.“

A creepy, satanic, laugh echoes through the above halls and into this decayed tumulus. The light of the lantern instantly goes off and shadowy tendrils begin to descend through the stairs and encircle the torturous device. A hideous dance of death between the maiden and the darkness. Suddenly the floating shadows storm inside the iron tomb and the man within starts screaming.

A merciless minute later, silence fills the room, the iron maiden unlocks itself and Rahadin exclaims.

–“Rise ! Rise Lord Sidhus !”

Pitch black darkness inside, apart from two flaming red eyes striking at the Dusk elf with hate untold.

–“Where … are …THEY?”