Intro

Hello! I've got a big campaign/game coming this winter but wanted something to put my teeth to in the meantime! That isn't to say I don't plan on seeing this the whole through!

I wanted something more consistent and faster paced so I opted for a 1x1 campaign!

Rules/Warnings

1: Death is very possible as it is a very dangerous campaign

2: Pictures can be graphic art/anime/ai as long as they are not IRL pictures for you're character.

3: Tasha's classes/spells are allowed and origin stats but extra features like harness divine power.

4: We of course be respectful to one another

5: Multiclassing and feats are allowed but point buy no rolling for stats.

6: I'll be only choosing one person someone that matches my own style closely. Sorry I'm not making multiple threads ><

Session Zero

I've learned making these that it's impossible to put every rule/caviat in one post and if I do it'll be massive (I've made these flooded before) I think a session 0 is certainly needed but below I will put all possible triggers.

Triggers

• Child abuse and death 
•  
  Torture and mutilation 
•  
  Mind control 
•  
  incest 
•  
  necrophilia 
•  
  Stalking and sexual assault (Anything graphic is fade to black)
•  
  Suicide 
•  
  Drug addiction 
•  
  Body horror 
•  
  Fantasy Racism 

Solo Party

So the idea is I'm raising the cap of the adventure from 10 to 12. 

Instead of starting the adventure LV 1, You will start the adventure LV 3 as well. (Gaining levels a little faster at first)

You will likely need to find and recruit NPC allies on the journey. (No more than a party of 6 all together)

You can (And probably should) control the NPC's in combat as to make things more engaging for you as to not wait on turns from them. I'll still roleplay them narratively and you'll gain affections and such with each companion.

I'm willing to play 1 DMPC. (Whatever class you want them to be honestly.) But I'd make the level cap LV 11 instead of 12 as a PC is more powerful than NPC's with more utility. 

Expectations

As a horror campaign, even with a full party fleeing is always considered when overwhelmed. However too much caution and inaction can cause pain to the valley/world. 

Things can get really dark and very difficult on the journey. Let me know what you are okay with. 

For example I don't mind romance with NPC's and the like.

So let me know in you're post what you won't do like romance for example.

And there is always a chance that even if chosen we may not click and no hard feelings if that happens! I do hope to find someone to enjoy a story rich 1x1 with!
I'd like someone new to the module but won't reject anyone who has played it before! Thank you for reading! >~<

Really fun idea! Never played CoS but the adventure seems perfect for this sort of play. It's right up my alley.

I personally enjoy participating in narrative rich PbP. I'm a roleplayer more than a power-gamer and I tend to write very detailed thoughtful posts and focus on character-based actions and choices. Horror is my personal genre of choice writing-wise and I've been dying to try a PbP version of Strahd for that exact reason. 

I have a Level 1 character I created for an earlier Strahd PbP that never made it past the front door. Happy to level him up to 3 for the game. He's a half-drow bard, already a bit jumpy from his own traumatic experiences in the Feywild... but happy to play around/collaborate on different ideas if there's something in particular you're looking for.

I spend a lot of time around the computer, so I'm a post-a-day type guy. More if there's time... I'm currently involved in two other campaigns at the moment. One of which posts daily and the other is currently on hiatus, so I have plenty of attention for this. I can send you some links of some of my favorite posts if you want so you can see my style and know if it jibes with your own.

Oh awesome!
I should mention that while there is a ton of social in this campaign (So much so I shoulda put a warning)
There can be grueling combats too, a lot of the 3 pillars! Course a lot of situations are roleplay heavy too. 

No power gaming needed, but a certain level of optimization helps survive too!

I do like the idea of frequent post! 

Would you prefer LV 11 cap with a DMPC (While recruiting NPC's)

Or LV 12 cap no DMPC while recruiting NPC's?

Also I would love to share a little lore and give you're character a backstory that can tie in and help you feel invested in the valley of Barovia.

Being from the Feywild can work with that idea actually ^^

Honestly you seem like a perfect fit looking at you're post! (Didn't think I'd close this on the first person!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2Oegv_axZg

Osselorn had heard that many adventurers had gone missing as of late, the source appears to be from a city called Daggerford. People.. vanishing in the forest, he knew all to well what being whisked away to another place could be like. He had already saved one woman from such a fate before but perhaps.. He could help others. Maybe it was to be kind, compassionate to prove a Drow could be more. Maybe it was a distraction from all the pain before, or perhaps it was merely his curiosity. Ahh the truth is it could be all those things and even more things were never quite so simple.

He had made his way through the Daggerford road, old broken signs and so far.. it was a normal forest with no sign of anything at all. In time the young half drow would need to rest.

Setting up camp Osselorn may note that the woods are quiet this night, and the air grows chill. His fire sputters as a low mist gathers around the edges of his camp, growing closer as the night wears on. By morning, the fog hangs thick in the air, turning the trees around you into gray ghosts. Then you notice these aren’t the same trees that surrounded you the night before 

To the west the fog had revealed an old road continuing upon his lonesome path.

As Osselorn opens his eyes to find the world changed around him, he blinks for a moment, refusing to allow the reality to take root.

The fog is thick, after all, and he knows how his mind can drift into flights of fancy when he spends long stretches of time alone. While his gut cries out in alarm, Osselorn does his best to keep to his regular morning routine. He prepares a quick breakfast - a form of hot cereal he makes out of crumbled and boiled hardtack from his rations - as he hums a common ballad of the realms, "Lost and Away."

"Even the sun, it looks for my love
Where lies she now, where can she be?
Cruel hawk's talons a-downed my dove
Look in valley, deep glade and lea"

He pauses for a moment, hearing a phantom sound that was, most likely his own shuffling feet. He gazes into the mists around him trying to identify any immediate signs of danger...

 Not seeing anything, he continues singing his song as he finishes preparing the sad little meal and takes a seat on a log to eat it.

"Even the wind is calling my love
Crying mournful, crying high
Cruel hawk's talons a-downed my dove
Laughter lost e'er, in silence die"

Even while he eats, he begins thoughtlessly toying with the wolf's tooth around his neck, constantly glancing into the mist, trying to see if any new dangers approach.

"Even the deepnight remembers my love
Cold of the tomb, patient the grave
Cruel hawk's talons a-downed my dove
Too late too late her life to save"

Finally he stops, and realizes what he's doing. He looks at the tooth and regards it, gesturing to the mists with his head. "Is this strangeness your doing?" He waits for a moment, as if expecting an answer. Finally he harrumphs. "Fine then. Keep your secrets." With that, he goes to work, breaking down his small camp and packing up his gear.

"Even her sword it sings for my love
Singing, sighing, echoing her name
Cruel hawk's talons a-downed my dove
So I'll fall on it now, this sadness to tame."

With his gear packed and ready to go, he casts his gaze out toward the old road. "Westward to destiny, eh?" He says to himself. He looks around at the heavy mists in every other direction. For a moment he considers taking his chances by walking into them... But he thinks better of it. "Well then, let's have it." He says to himself, sticking to the foreboding road, continuing his tune to keep himself company.

"Even the forests will miss our love
No more our dancing, no more our glee
Cruel hawk's talons a-downed my dove
I'll join her in silence, from sadness be free..."

And off he walks, towards whatever lies ahead...

As the bard began to move westward with a song in his lungs, the forest had offered nothing in return but silence.

Up ahead black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist.

Several hours had gone by traveling down this muddy path... Before coming across anything of note until...

The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind him. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet him only with silence.

Osselorn's singing fades into nothing more than a breathy whisper as he approaches the gates. He examines the statues, seeing if he recognizes anything about who/what they might represent...

 He'll also take a good look around for signs of any danger or ambush...

 If he sees nothing, he'll keep moving toward and then through the gate.

From his perspective the architecture is ancient at least hundreds of years old but to a land he knows little about. He looks around himself but he does not seem to find anything of note.

Ahead in the forest are towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling of an unvoiced scream.

His footsteps quicken once more on the path, boots squelching in the wet brown mud. Gray-tinged light filters weakly through the treetops—and then darkens, an enormous avian shadow overhead briefly blocking out the day. It disappears, leaving not even a stir to the air in its wake.

Not moments pass before the daylight blinks out once again—this time, by a reptilian silhouette that soars across the heavens, batlike wings spread wide. It, too, plunges into the mists, devoured by the fog as dozens of tiny, birdlike shadows flit among the ancient branches far above. The birds' silhouettes follow the dragon's into the mist, and silence falls once more.

More visions come, fleeting and ephemeral, like whispers on the wind. A tall, slender figure looms in the darkness, feathered wings spreading elegantly from its back before it, too, melts into the shadows. In the distance, a broad-shouldered silhouette lurks among the moss-covered trunks, the shadow of an greatsword across its shoulder as it slowly curls a clawed, swollen hand. It hold your gaze for a moment, then fades back into the fog from whence it came.

A final figure—a tall, cloaked silhouette sitting atop a horse whose shadowed mane seems to ripple like flames—flickers in the fog betwixt three ancient yews. It seems to appraise him, its presence palpable even from a distance—and then a roll of distant thunder echoes across the skies. Before he can even blink, the figure is gone, the forest falling silent once more.

"Charming..." Osselorn whispers to himself as he continues along the path, keeping to the shadows trying to stay relatively beyond notice of any of the creepy things he's spotted behind the treeline...

 ...but he pushes onward, looking for some sign of hospitable life in this strange place.

Osse had managed to make himself rather scarce it would seem. 

In Osse's careful reproach ahead are towering trees, whose tops are lost in heavy gray mist, block out all but a death-gray light. The tree trunks are unnaturally close to one another, and the woods have the silence of a forgotten grave, yet exude the feeling of an unvoiced scream.

As Osse travels further he catches.. the scent of death on the air. Away from the main trail, he can follow this scent in the forest. Or.. he could continue on the old road in hopes of finding a town before it becomes too it seems for this massive forest... it's already approaching mid afternoon and it won't be long before it's dark. 

OOC
So I'm sure you know of traveling pace rules, with stealth traveling it requires a slow pace. (Slow,medium,fast pace)

https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Movement#content

It doesn't affect much except arriving later (And Osse has no deadline for anything right now lol.)

Osse finds a bit more pep in his step when he catches the smell of death on the air... He continues at a rather fast pace along the road for the next hour or so to get distance from whatever that smell might be... but then slows back down into a careful creep, staying on alert for danger, constantly having to stop himself from humming a tune to calm his nerves.

His mind flashes back to the Archfey's court, the way the mad queen Saravannia Starswirl's eyes grew unsettlingly wide with panic when she got into one of her breathless laughing fits... He can't help but fear that he's wandered back to her kingdom... That his brief escape from her has ended. He mouths a silent prayer to the goddess Oghma, begging for protection... Literally because she's the first deity he could think of. As far as he can remember, it's the first time he's ever prayed his father's goddess... or any goddess for that matter... but now is as good a time as any!

As Osse slows back down he can see it's rapidly coming to night as he avoids the smell of death his pace certainly had made careful progress but it was now growing late. The bard, making his first prayer continued upon his venture.

Ahead tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. Not a sound cuts the silence, save for the quiet flapping of wings.

It seems his prayer had found purchase, or perhaps it was simply luck. Now Osse wouldn't be out in the wilds during the night at the very least.

OOC
Caution over speed can certainly be a good thing! 

So fast pace or normal pace to get away from the smell of death? 

 Osselorn breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the village. Even as uninviting as it seems, he hasn't found a hearth yet that he hasn't been able to warm with his music.

He immediately goes about searching for the nearest inn.

As he searches for the nearest inn,  he see's a statue in the middle of the town.

The old, chipped stone statue stands at the center of this town square, depicting a man wearing leather armor and holding a sword. 

"It reads, Mordred ANTONOVICH THE GREAT. Bane of vampires, 618-662 BC"

There is an odd raven, upon the statue cawing at the bard. Tilting it's head it caws loudly flying off but not before returning and insisting he follow. Regardless if he does or does not... As time passes it's clear the raven's intent.. Was the same as this young bards."

A tavern with a single shaft of light that thrusts illumination into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in the heavy fog. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the Blood on the Vine tavern. The raven perches upon the sign cawing at Osse. It seems hearth and ale await one door and perhaps a chance to perform.. Despite the dreary appearance.

OOC
The inn is easy enough to find here but may have asked for perception for a sight check. Though I do know the slopes of investigation vs perception can be slippery haha

Osselorn stares at the statue for a moment, wondering if he can recall anything about his obviously significant vampire killer...

He's distracted by the sound of the cawing raven. He looks up at it, caution in his eye. He remembers the attendants of the fae court occasionally talking about ravens. Omen-bringers, servants of The Queen... He remembers his own mother's teaching about ravens... A group of ravens is called an 'unkindness'... a rather disquieting thought at the moment.

"Hello there, fellow." He says. "Come for a chat? Or just flying by to rattle my nerves..." Osse watches as the bird then flies off, circling back with a suggestion that he should follow.

Osselorn hesitates for a moment, reaching into his pack to pull out some nuts and dried fruit from his rations. He starts walking in the direction of the bird, starting to snack as he thinks to himself. "Probably unwise... But, then again, if I let wisdom guide my feet, I'dve never left home." And, with that, he continues on, snacking on trail mix while humming a bawdy tune about "The Baker's Daughter"

As he walks he keeps his eye open for any signs of life. Any other people. Any signs he's being watched by anyone besides the black bird.

Osselorn inadvertently bites his tongue the moment he sets eyes on the inn, drawing a small amount of blood. He looks up and sees the raven perched on the sign. He holds out his hand, offering a few nuts for the bird to eat. 

"Unkindness, indeed..." He says to the raven. "...your species' reputation seems wholly unearned to me, dear Corvus. I must do my part to help amend it."

With that, he steps into the unwelcoming building while trying to dream up a short composition about a traveler and a helpful raven... 

It seems that he can't recall of this man, would it have been possible to? His mind was a bit fogged at the moment.

The bird had watched him curiously with a soft caw as he entered the tavern. 

In the tavern were three brightly dressed women, different from other patrons dressed almost like dancers drinking wine from glasses. A sullen looking bartender, and scarce patrons about most were groaning or frowning. A few even had torn clothes and most if not all had a wound or two some healed some fresh. A few were armed but one man had stood out, a blonde wearing dark armor worn with many scratches and claws. The man looked... rather similar to the statue outside although younger. His face was stern like many patrons here but... There was a light a bit of spark in it's eyes. He had looked to Osse curiously before standing up and walking over. Standing up reveals he has a longsword on one side a shortsword on the other. A shield on his back and even a heavy crossbow. 

Are the three women patrons or servants? Are they seated together or in different parts of the room?

Osse eyes the colorfully dressed women when he sees the man approaching. The bard stands straight and greets the armored figure with a smile. "Hail, sir, and well met. I am Osselorn Fenmore... Musician, traveler and storyteller. I deal in delightful diversions to disperse distress and dulcify dreariness. I'm afraid I seem to have wandered away from my charted path. Could you be so kind as to tell me where exactly I am?"

These women are all sitting together as for what they were to this place? That was hard to tell with a single glance to be sure. Many patrons stare at Osse with distrust.. and even more so to his ears. This bar is filled to the brim with only humans and his skin.. His ears many see him as something to be feared. The colorful women however don't care and the bar tenders face is blank.

However this stern armored man lets out a half smile, it seemed hampered... by something (DC 10 insight check.) He is surprised by the ears but he doesn't seem to be as distrusting as the others.

"H-Hello, I am Mordred it's a pleasure Osselorn... are you.. a strange variation of dusk elf? If that isn't rude to ask I mean! Jeez... hearing my steps on the wood.. I realize my approach.. both verbally and physically was.. Far too much I apologize. Still, I have always loved music. We recently lost the town bard I'm afraid, many here may not enjoy a song.. But a song for a weary soul would do me wonders. If you do not mind I would like to get you a drink and welcome you to our humble village of Barovia."

His voice was gravelly and even tired, it was deep despite his pretty boy features but there was a warmth that had somehow managed to reach his eyes when hearing upon Osse's love for music.

OOC
I added the women on the VVT as "Colorful" sorry should have said ><

Osselorn does his best to get a read on the Mordred as he speaks...

"You honor me, dear Mordred, with the request." Says Osselorn, slightly offput by Mordred's questioning of his linage. "I, myself, am a descendant of the deep elves... But I'm afraid the fuller tale of my lineage is sealed behind a door that only a night of free-flowing mead will unlock." Eager to change the subject, as he sets down his pack and produces his viol. "For now. Allow me to embark upon a bard's business...  I dare not hope to hold a light to the town's own music maker, but perhaps I can summon a humble tune to cheer the air."

With that, he places bow to string, takes in a deep breath and begins playing a surprisingly merry tune.

"Not fortune found, nor fate divine,
Come close to toping the Blood of the Vine.
With cherry crew, we sip and sway,
Let's tip the tankard and waste the day.
Reeraw! Well ye ken, our toils can wait for a time.
We saw the folly of men who rather than revel repine.
Reeraw! Well ye ken, our toils can wait for a time.
We saw the folly of men who rather than revel repine..."

As he sings, Osselorn scans the room, seeing if any of the suspicious patrons have any ill intent toward him that they might be bold (or drunk) enough to act on...

By peering a bit deeper than the surface he see's.. that he is weighted by bereavement and grief. 

Mordred sits at the bar looking to the bar keep than back to Osse.

"I apologize I must admit I'm not as fanciful with my wording. You are just.. a strange and rare sight here in Barovia but you must be an adventerer.. Beyond the mist none like you hail from the valley. Ahh, a drink between strangers doesn't sound so bad right about now. Arik! Two dragon crush ales please.

He says the last part.. softly but Arik the human bar tender who wore nothing but grays and blacks in his outfit maid an expressionless face. He had.. almost as a dog on heel gone to complete the command preparing their drinks with zero vigor. 

The patrons all seem... quiet uncaring despite his impressive performance. The three woman however clap and seem to enjoy the merry song. One stands up and begins to make her leave with a smile across her face. There is one large plump man drinking and grumbling but next to him.. a youth with rippling muscles wearing a tunic. The youth has a childlike smile despite being a young adult and grins he sings along rather off key. He seems to be the happiest man in this bar.

"Ahh, that's Parpol, he loves music even more than I. The large man next to him is his uncle.. Bildrath only mercantile in the town and.. Taking a break it seems."

Mordred however slowly claps along, his expression seems harsh but again his eyes seem to betray that harsh exterior. 

That was.. impressive truly.

With that Arik hadn't reacted.. even in the slightest instead handing them both their drinks. 

The door to the tavern swings open once more after the colorful woman's exit. Now instead a woman steps through, clad in a tattered and threadbare cloak. Her hair, tied into two loops that fall around her neck, is unkempt and tangled, and her wide eyes dart across the room with fearful energy.