By Bruce R. Cordell
Revisit a vintage D&D experience, now elevated and updated!Expedition to citadel Ravenloft is a 224-page D&D event that harkens again to vintage 1st-edition event, Ravenloft. This experience expands at the unique experience, introduces a few never-before-seen threats. It additionally includes a new stumble upon structure designed to make operating the journey more straightforward for the Dungeon grasp. This new structure comprises such information as extra pix and available stat blocks, either one of that may shorten prep time and gameplay.
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He shook his head sadly. "A man of evil, and a wizard. I dared to stand against him, and he bound me in the glass with a spell. But do not fear. " Domenic's smoldering eyes bored into her. " Before she even thought of whether to do as he asked, she found herself standing once more before the hundredth window. "Look through the glass, Clarisse. " Clarisse leaned forward and peered through the colored shards. She expected to see the village huddling meagerly at the foot of the tor below, or the endless, rolling moor.
So utterly unlike Gareff. She reached toward the window. Her fingers brushed strangely slick glass. Then suddenly her hand closed about warm, living flesh. She backed away, not loosening her grip, and as though he was surfacing from deep, murky water, Domenic stepped from the glass, a living man. " he cried. " He swept her into his strong, encircling arms and kissed her passionately. His burning eyes seemed to light a fire in her. She clung to him fiercely, kissing him back again, and again. Domenic whirled her about, and a faint, disconnected fragment of Clarisse's mind noticed that they were no longer in the attic chamber, but in the ballroom downstairs.
Of course, had it been so simple, it would not have been a game at all. Clarisse moved into the library, her gown of dove-gray silk whispering across the worn stone floor. Heads of boars, stags, bears, and feral beasts she could not name snarled down at her from high walls, each draped in a shroud of cobweb and dust, as though wearing a funeral veil. She tried not to look at them. She concentrated on the windows. They were smaller here, trickier. Some hid behind the corners of overburdened bookcases, and others were all but obscured by tarnished suits of armor or tapestries whose idyllic hunting scenes had been dark- 34 MARK ANTHONY ened by years of soot and dust.