Strahd's Answers to Questions

On Ireena:

Ah, Ireena, She reminded me of someone dear from my past—a fleeting chance at reclaiming a lost love. A cruel jest by fate, perhaps.

You see, in Barovia, echoes of the past have a way of intruding on the present. I sought her not merely out of desire, but out of a yearning to rewrite history, to mend what was once broken.

But as with all things in this land, the past has a habit of slipping through one's fingers. Ireena may be gone, but the memory lingers—forever a reminder of what was and what could have been.

...

Her Body

Ireena's fate weighed heavily upon me. After her untimely death, I took her to the Abbot in Krezk, hoping to reincarnate her and break this cycle of sorrow. Alas, the curse that binds me thwarted this attempt. The Abbot and I then laid her to rest in Krezk, where she now remains. Her grave is a place of solitude and reflection, where I have since oft gone to ponder the cruelties of fate and the unyielding grip of this land's curse.

On the city beyond the mists at Yester Hill:

A long-ago place. The city of my childhood. It is not so near as it would seem. The mists have a way of bringing the past into the present.

On the Vistani:

My glorious, beloved itinerants. So much of the flavour of Barovia, wouldn’t you say? The scent of their spices, the strum of their stringed instruments. I am forever indebted to them, and they therefore have privileges unafforded to my other subjects. They saved my life once. True. Long ago, such a thing was still possible.

On Yester Hill:

I am a god to many, and not only those who cover themselves in the trappings of civilisation. There is a purity to the forest folk, borne out of their allegiance to the old gods, now finding a home in their worship of me as their lord and master. I hold only the Vistani in higher esteem. Give me a man who cloaks himself in mud and furs, and whose loyalty is unquestionable, rather than the unctuous merchant, twisting his rings of gold, brushing his finery, flattering with hollow words, all the while plotting to advance his own station.

On what brought them to Barovia:

Perhaps I did, to make you my playthings. Perhaps you are merely the last in a long line of sordid fortune seekers brought here to amuse me. Children have their dolls, men their womenfolk, their wine, their games of chance. I have you.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps you brought yourselves here, by the force of your yearnings. For there is something or someone each of you wants in Barovia. You must not underestimate the power of desire. It has built empires, slain invincible kings. It can shape the world you inhabit.

Or perhaps there is no reason at all. There is nothing wrong with a mystery. You will learn that in time. I will say no more on the subject.

On why they are still alive:

Because you have broken no laws which would warrant execution. At least, none which I care to enforce. The arson at Bonegrinder? The place was an eyesore, and I am glad to have it gone.

If you are alive, it is because you have done nothing to earn your death. You are no threat to me. Did you think it otherwise? Did you think you were storybook heroes, fighting valiantly against tyranny? I am afraid not.

On Ravenloft:

A thousand artisans, wizards and workers loyal to my family toiled for four years, and when it was done, I named it for my mother. It is an architectural marvel. The man who designed it was a genius in the true sense of the word. Artemis Fidatov.

On Vallaki:

I am told that until recently the people of Vallaki believed that I could not pass beyond their walls. Andral’s bones may have prevented me from entering the church, but an entire town? A ludicrous notion. And Vargas's festivals a complete farce. If I have not visited that place in some time it is only because I have had no interest in it. The petty squabbles, the idle politics, the contemptible barony? No. I have no need of it.

On Andral:

Unlike everyone else at this table, I knew Andral. He was a fool, a pale imitation of a man, who harboured assassins and rogues from justice. His deification would anger me if it were not so pathetic.

On Spies:

Yes, as ruler of this valley, I must ensure the safety and security of its residents. As such, I of course, employ a number of agents as would any gracious ruler.

On Pelanil:

Ah, Pelanil. Such a valiant soul, yet so easily swayed by darkness. You see, the mists of Barovia have a way of corrupting even the most steadfast. Pelanil, in his misguided efforts, has been touched by powers beyond his comprehension.

You must understand, I do not pursue Ireena for mere amusement. She was to be my bride, my companion in this eternal night. But now, her fate is sealed, and Pelanil bears the weight of that outcome. Perhaps he believes he can atone for his sins, but in Barovia, redemption is a rare and precious thing.