[Marching onward, meandering eastward and crossing yet another bridge over the Tser river, the party would find themselves coming upon the village of Barovia within the next hour. Mist blankets the village, smothering streets and marooning the buildings, forming an archipelago of crumbling masonry in a gray, hopeless sea.]
[At the village's lonely edge, most buildings are abandoned burnt out husks. Charcoal lies thick on the air, but that choking odor can't overpower the underlying sickly sweet smell of carrion and spoilage. Claw marks rake some of the vacant homes, ominous not merely because of their presence, but because of the five-fingered hand-like shape they suggest.]
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[At the village's lonely edge, most buildings are abandoned burnt out husks. Charcoal lies thick on the air, but that choking odor can't overpower the underlying sickly sweet smell of carrion and spoilage. Claw marks rake some of the vacant homes, ominous not merely because of their presence, but because of the five-fingered hand-like shape they suggest.]
[Welcome to Barovia...]