Doremor walks over to Crypt 28, peering at the epitaph.

"Well, wealth certainly is a marker of gold coins. Perhaps I'll visit this one later, after the devil is done."

He'll cautiously examine the door for traps before opening it quietly.

Investigation: 22

Stealth: 12

This crypt is empty. Its walls are painted to depict mountains of gold coins.

Doremor, Fae, as you step into the room, you find that the floor is a trap. It goes out from under you and you fall 30 feet onto spikes. You take 11 bludgeoning damage and 7 piercing damage. But you also spot a human skeleton wrapped in bits of studded leather armor  amid the spikes at the bottom of the pit. A shattered lantern and a rusty crowbar lie nearby. Tied to the corpse’s leather belt is a 50-foot coil of hempen rope, a dagger in a worn scabbard, a pouch containing 25 pp, and a stoppered wooden tube containing a spell scroll of magic circle. You also spot a very old looking tome next to the body.

Doremor blinks slowly, coughing as he reaches for the tome and the rest of the items.

Fae blinks, landing lightly. "That was exciting, now c'mon, let's hop out." She giggles and scoops up about half the items. "We can look not at the bottom of a pit."

Once Doremor and Fae exit the pit, you read the Tome. This is what you find.

I am The Ancient, I am The Land. My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past. I was the warrior, I was good and just. I thundered auoss the land like the wrath of a just god, but the war years and the killing years wore down my soul as the wind wears stone into sand.

…

All goodness slipped from my life; I found my youth and strength gone and all I had left was death. My army settled in the valley of Barovia and took power over the people in the name of a just god, but with none of a god’s grace or justice. I called for my family, long unseated from their ancient thrones, and brought them here to settle in the castle Ravenloft. They came with a younger brother of mine, Sergei. He was handsome and youthful. I hated him for both.

…

From the families of the valley, one spirit shone above all others. A rare beauty, who was called “perfection,” “joy,” and “treasure.” Her name was Tatyana and I longed for her to be mine. I loved her with all my heart. I loved her for her youth. I loved her for her joy. But she spurned me! “Old One” was my name to her – “elder” and “brother” also. Her heart went to Sergei. They were betrothed. The date was set.

…

With words she called me “brother,” but when I looked into her eyes they reflected another name – “death.” It was the death of the aged that she saw in me. She loved her youth and enjoyed it. But I had squandered mine. The death she saw in me turned her from me. And so I came to hate death, my death. My hate is very strong: I would not be called “death” so soon. I made a pact with Vol, a pact of Blood. On the day of the wedding, I killed Sergei, my brother. My pact was sealed with his blood, his…divinity.

I found Taryana weeping in the garden east of the Chapel. She fled from me. She would not let me explain, and a great anger swelled within me. She had to understand the pact I made for her! I pursued her. Finally, in despair, she flung herself from the walls of Ravenloft and I watched everything I ever wanted fall from my grasp forever.

It was a thousand feet through the mists. No trace of her was ever found. Not even I know her final fate.

Arrows from the castle guards pierced me to my soul, but I did not die. Nor did I live. I became undead, forever.

…

I have studied much since then. “Vampyr” is my new name. I still lust for life and youth, and I curse the living that took them from me. Even the sun is against me. it is the sun and light I fear the most. But little else can harm me now. Even a stake through my heart does not kill me, though it holds me from movement. But the sword, that cursed sword that Sergei brought! I must dispose of that awful tool! I fear and hate it as much as the sun.

…

I have learned much, too, about this land of Barovia. Ancient are its ways, ancient beyond the knowledge of the simple folk of the valley. A ancient saints dwelt in this valley long before my coming, and three hidden fanes still give tribute to their memories. I visted the Swamp Fane, the Forest Fane, and the Mountain Fane, and claimed their power for my own. Their servants now serve me, and thus I have become the Land.

…

I have often hunted for Tatyana. I have even felt her within my grasp, but she escapes me! She taunts me! She taunts me! What will it take to bend her love to me? I now reside far helow Ravenloft. I live among the dead and sleep beneath the very stones of this hollow castle of despair. I shall seal shut the walls of the stairs that none may disturb me.

You all hit Level 8 as a reward for stealing this treasure from Strahd!

Doremor groans, taking another moment to lie on the ground, "Fiiine. We'll go get the sword. It's not like they're meeting Strahd right now or something."

If the walls aren't easily climbable, he'll take out his hammer and pitons and make a path to the top before going to check out Crypt 32.

Investigation: 13

He'll peer inside without going in, checking for danger.

Investigation: 25

If nothing seems amiss, he'll head into the crypt.

This crypt is empty except for two alcoves in the back wall. Above the alcoves are carved the following words: Pass Not These Portals Ye Foolish Mortals

Doremor will repeat the process with Crypt 29.

Investigation: 21

Investigation: 23

In the center of this crypt, atop a marble slab, human bones lie amid the empty shell of a suit of rusty plate armor. Plunged through the armor’s breastplate is a longsword. You see traps or threats in this room.

Doremor looks at the longsword, trying to see if it has any value beyond a normal sword.

Arcana: 10

Investigation: 19

Crypt 5, let's go!

Investigation: 22

Investigation: 8

You are able to spot the pressure plate in front of the door that would trigger a poison dart trap and circumvent it. You open the door to find that this crypt smells of roses. The remains atop its marble slab have disintegrated, except for one thighbone.

Doremor touches the thigh bone.

A ghostly form appears above the dust, so faint that you can barely discern more than part of a face. From this apparition comes the faintest of whispers: “The vampire must be destroyed. Use me as your weapon.” With that, it fades away.

Doremor makes this face:

before taking the thigh bone and exiting the crypt. He'll then head to Crypt 6, again searching for danger before entering.

Investigation: 14

There is no danger.

The stone door of this crypt lies on the floor, its inscription obscured by fog. The crypt gapes open. A skull, some bones, and a few bits of rusted armor lie atop a marble slab with a leering stone gargoyle squatting at each end.

Doremor approaches the marble slab, looking for any sort of magical glowing weapon that could probably help kill Strahd.

Investigation: 15

If any strength is needed, he'll ask Buff Dude to help him out.

Hadrian listens with great interest as Belzo talks about other planes, but doesn't interrupt. 

Fae and Doremor:

As you approach the bones, one of the gargoyles springs to life and attacks you!

Emil: 15

Gargoyle: 11

Belzo, Hadrian, Samael:

Belzo has Strahd's full attention as he speaks about the Shadowfell and even Winter has her eyes on Belzo, although her face continues to show no emotion. Strahd seems to have an incredible amount of interest in a land occupied by the undead and creatures who are the living embodiment of negative emotion. He does not seem to be too enthused about the Raven Queen. "A rather interesting tale. What do the rest of you have to contribute to this conversation?"

Samael is likewise, listening as Belzo speaks, but his attention stays on Strahd, attempting to gain any flickers of insight as to what is going on in the man's mind or heart.

Insight (if allowed): 8

Once asked to share a tale of his own, Samael pauses for a moment, "...I suppose compared to a tale from the Shadowfell, I have little to match. The most worthy stories I have are of those with me and my company fighting for victory, or quest as a paladin of Helm." He gives a measured gaze to the vampire, "And with no disrespect intended, I doubt the latter would interest you."

Doremor lets out a string of curses, drawing his shortsword and dagger.

Initiative: 6

Gertrude Initiative: 16