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mx-lamour · 3 months

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"CoS is actually a Western."

Hang on. I have something for this. (I was going to reblog this, but things got out of hand fast, so here's an entirely separate post instead. Be warned... it's long.)

I usually like to share just some of the most dramatic/cinematic moments from our game, and Ezra's perspective in particular, but hoo boy. Hopefully this will give you some insight into the utter weirdness that also went on through most of our campaign.

The party was traveling south, toward the ruin of Berez.

We notice a bizarre row of thin wooden walls on either side of the road ahead, propped up from the behind by long angled beams. Only a couple of small one-room structures jut out from the back of them.

The wheels of Ezmerelda's wagon creak lightly, crunching along the dirt road as we approach the anomaly. We can see that the front of the walls are painted to look like buildings. Amongst them are a few figures. A man wipes his brow with a handkerchief. Jaunty piano music wafts through the scene.

In a sudden shattering of glass, something crashes through the window of a building labeled "saloon". Ezra approaches the object now lying in the road. It's a thin wooden cutout, painted on one side to look like a man.

We look around. All the figures in this theatrical setpiece are painted cutouts, animated by a series of ropes and pullies. Dulan spies a zombie or two through the gaps between facades, operating the mechanisms.

This is undoubtedly one of Strahd's works.

For context, we were aware of two separate personifications of Strahd von Zarovich, but were still not entirely sure why the duality existed or what to do about it.

Our first was one we dubbed "Strahd von Strahd", an unhinged caricature with a deep and thoroughly exaggerated Dracula voice, who had encouraged us on other occasions to participate in small theatrical scenes (this wild west town was an escalation of a sort we had not yet encountered).

The other, we labeled "Business Strahd", who we had begun to speculate the existence of only after meeting Ezmerelda, and had only recently confirmed/witnessed at Yesterhill.

Ezra lights one of his shoddy cigarettes.

We peer through the busted saloon window. It's set up with a few tables and chairs, some of which are occupied by more ambient cutout figures. Off to one side, a zombie sits at a harpsichord. There's a man behind the bar, wiping the inside of a glass with a rag.

"Do we want to start placing bets that's Strahd in disguise?" Ezra mutters warily.

After some hesitation, we steel ourselves—Ezra casting a protection on himself—and bust dramatically through the swinging doors.

As we enter, we're startled by a tray lowering jerkily down to us on ropes from the ceiling above. Presented on it are a stack of black cowboy hats, and a pile of metal brooches shaped like stars, the word 'deputy' etched on each of them. A sign suspended between the ropes of the apparatus reads: Choose your role.

Kreig scoops up one of the shiny metal stars. Dulan, who acts like an elder brother around Kreig, joins him, and pins a star to his vest. There's a silly moment where Krieg sees this and goes to mimick Dulan, but then we remember the barbarian isn't wearing a shirt, so he kind of just stabs it into his pec instead.

Ezra dons a black hat. The tray raises back up into the makeshift rafters.

"What can I get you?" The line is flat and stilted. The human bartender is sporting a thousand-yard stare.

Kreig asks for water, since we've been traveling a while.

"Good choice. Three sasparillas."

Ezra sniffs at the substance this the poor man hands us, which was described as essentially a brownish watered-down apple vinegar. Kreig tries to drink some of it and resists the urge to make a sour face, in an effort to be polite.

While Dulan tries to chat with the barkeep, Ezra wanders away with his cup of swill to survey the rest of the setup. There are more zombies, dressed in western outfits, suspended from the ceiling. For now, the corpses hang inert.

The saloon doors swing open again, and Rahadin stands in the doorway. He's decked out in classy outlaw attire: black leather jacket, black boots adorned with shiny silver spurs, and atop his head is a black cowboy hat. But he still wears a sword on his hip.

He catches Ezra's eye and nods to him. "I don't know how you can stand to drink in here, ol' Dynamite McCoy." The background music and other ambient sounds abruptly cease.

Ezra lifts his glass slightly. "Ale's ale," he says blandly.

"I know what you mean, but I wish they would serve a better class of folk in this establishment."

"What do you mean?" Dulan chimes in.

"I mean that you two," says outlaw Rahadin, addressing deputies Dulan and Kreig, "are scum of the earth."

Dulan plays into it, puffing up his stocky dwarven chest. "I'm the long arm of the law in this town!"

"You won't talk so high and mighty when Gravedigger Jim comes into town." We naturally assume that this is in reference to Strahd.

"Them's fightin' words," Dulan declares, trying to figure out what the end goal of this playacting is supposed to be.

"Gravedigger Jim sent me to tell you, you've got one last chance to leave this town. If you want to see another sunrise, you'd best be gone by high noon."

"The junior deputy and I ain't goin' nowhere," Dulan retorts. "Go find yourself a new town to harrass."

The human bartender interjects lamely, "Now now. I don't want any trouble in here. Take it outside or be done with it."

Rahadin fixes the deputies with a look. "You've been warned."

He's about to leave. But Kreig pipes up. "Well, wait. Why don't we put aside our quarrels and you have a drink with us?" He plops a coin down on the bar. "A round for this... gentleman."

The barkeep pours another drink. Rahadin strides up to the bar and levels Kreig with a look. "You're not going to win me over with a drink, so what's your game, junior deputy?"

"No game, just trying to enjoy my day. It's mighty hot out there, so I figured you could use something to quench your thirst," Kreig says. Rahadin reaches for the glass, but then Kreig adds, "Unless you ain't up for it," in some unfathomable challenge.

At that, Rahadin takes the drink, throws its contents on Kreig, and sets the glass back down on the bar with a decisive thunk.

"Thank you," Kreig says. "I needed that." And pours his own drink over Rahadin's head.

Rahadin steps back, pausing to let the liquid drip off of him. "Thanks," he says dryly, and picks up a chair from a nearby table.

Dulan raises a hand. "Now, the barkeep asked us to take it outside," he says loudly. "This is a civilized place."

With incredible mid-swing restraint, Rahadin merely lays the chair down on its back atop the bar. He tells Dulan, "Your junior deputy would have preferred the chair," and walks out.

"As far as I can tell, you've just invited yourself to a duel," Ezra observes from his place far on the sideline.

"Get your kind out of my town!" Dulan grumbles emphatically, gesturing at Ezra's black hat.

With a pointed look, Ezra sets his own glass down on a table, turns, and walks out after Rahadin.

Outside, wagons have been moved into the road at either end of the set. A couple new cutouts, depicting gangs of tough-looking outlaws, have come into play. And Strahd is there, standing in the middle of it all, dressed in his usual Count attire, but with the addition of a black cowboy hat.

Rahadin reaches into a barrel on the side of the road and starts pulling out hand crossbows. He offers one to Ezra.

Strahd also acknowledges him pleasantly. In his most outlandish Dracula voice, he says, "Good evening, Ezra. You have chosen an interesting part to play today. Welcome to the other side."

Ezra plays it cool. He tips his hat in reply.

Back inside the saloon, the piano music resumes. The zombies in the rafters are lowered down and become vaguely animate. They seem to follow Dulan and Kreig, but do not attack. So Dulan continues to play the game. "You were born in this town," he says, rallying the mock townsfolk. "We will defend this town. No low-down cattle rustlers are going to take it from us!" The zombies grumble and groan in raucous agreement. There are ambient cartoon sounds of bullets loading into chambers, and cylinders spinning, despite a distinct lack of weaponry. A table is flipped on its side and hefted up by zombie arms. Dulan, Kreig, and the unlikely crew huddle behind it like a massive shield.

A hawk cries in the distance.

"Come on out of there, you yellow-bellied cowards!" Strahd calls richly from outside the saloon. "Face Gravedigger Jim!"

Dulan, privately reeling at the absurdity of all this, somehow plays that classic Western sound [wa wa waaa... wheeooo-oo...] to inspire Kreig, who rages as they stomp through the doorway with a gaggle of zombies and a table in front of them.

"Howdy pilgr—Oh no, they're rushing it!" Strahd yells. "Next cue! Next cue!"

Strahd throws his cape aside, and draws out not a crossbow, but an actual, literal hand gun. Something none of our characters have ever seen before. He aims, and just obliterates the head of one of Dulan and Kreig's loaner zombies. The other zombies keep moving, treading over the now mostly-headless corpse.

Kreig advances toward Rahadin, slapping the crossbow from his hand with the flat of his blade. "We can still settle this calmly," he says.

"You should have let me keep the crossbow," Radahin replies coolly. He draws his sword. "And, by the way... this is calm." The man makes three melee attacks.

"Gravedigger Jim!" Dulan improvises, "Unlike your name, you'll be hangin' from that tree, like your father before you!"

As an aside to Rahadin, Strahd comments, "He's totally off-script, but I love the energy."

Ezra takes another puff of his dwindling cigarette, playing the cool observer, letting the bosses handle it. He keeps his eyes trained on the barrel of Strahd's gun.

"You keep my papa out of this," Strahd banters, leveling it at Dulan.

Ezra's eyes flash when he sees the spark. The revolver backfires in a gout of flame that billows back at Strahd's face, igniting his clothing.

Strahd blinks. "Son of a bitch," he remarks. "Rahadin, you warned me, but I really wanted to give it a try."

Kreig attacks Rahadin, who vanishes in a puff of smoke. A molotov cocktail hurtles at Kreig from above, smashing to the ground by his feet. Kreig dives out of the way, glancing up at the trajectory to see Rahadin standing on a makeshift balcony.

Dulan pulls a rope from his pack and ties a lasso. He makes himself invisible.

"Why don't you let me give it a whirl," Ezra offers, extending his hand to Strahd and nodding toward the gun. "Those things can be a bit finicky."

In a miracle of dice rolls, Strahd practically shrugs as he relinquishes the revolver. The fire consuming his sleeve licks Ezra's hand in the exchange. Ezra doesn't flinch. With a breath like blowing out a candle, he extinguishes the flames.

Relieved of the gun, Strahd draws his sword instead. He and Rahadin converge against Kreig, Rahadin flinging a terrifyingly dark rusty dagger at the barbarian from aloft. Together, they take him down. Rahadin remarks, "I told you he would have preferred the chair."

Dulan catches Strahd with the lasso. He pulls on the rope, calling the remaining zombies to help him. "Pull!" he yells.

Strahd topples over. He rolls on the ground a bit, palms up in mock despair. "No! You have captured me! How can this be? I, the great Gravedigger Jim, will go out the same way as my pappy."

"This is why one shouldn't get tangled up in the wrong side of the law," Dulan declares.

Ezra makes his way over to Kreig. Goes to remove the nasty-looking dagger from him, but it falls apart in his hands, disintigrating into nothingness and leaving behind an infectious-looking oozing black wound in Kreig's hide. Ezra carefully burns it away, sparing him his descent into death.

Dulan and Ezra spare a glance at each other, trying to figure out where to go from here.

Rahadin watches the conclusion of the little episode with his elbows propped on the balcony railing, chin resting on a closed fist.

"Oh no, you won," Ezra says lamely.

Dulan leans down to Strahd, still wriggling on the ground. "You have to hang me," Strahd insists.

With aid of the zombies, Dulan sets out to hoist the rope up somewhere nearby. He avoids moving the lasso from Strahd's arms, so Strahd does it for him, positioning it around his own neck like he's adjusting a bowtie.

And then he hangs. He makes a dramatic show of gurgling and going limp.

"And, cut!" he announces, slashing easily through the rope and dropping gracefully back to the ground. "Good work everybody. You really studied the material this time. A marked improvement on your last show. Great work. Get some water, stay hydrated, and... we will move onto the next scene." And with that, he simply walks away.

Strahd makes his exit between two of the building facades. Rahadin turns, too, leaving through a doorway behind him on the balcony. The zombies de-animate and crumple to the ground.

Ezra hurries after Strahd, still intent on gleaning some additional insight. Throughout this encounter, the man has been wholly committed to his act, completely devoid of caution or care, never once breaking character. There's been no trace whatsoever of the Strahd von Zarovich from his own journal, nor their encounter at Yesterhill, nor even Vasili von Holtz. He would truly have to be the most talented actor in the world, or this is a completely different entity. So, who is he really? And why is he wearing Strahd's face?

Strahd is standing with Rahadin by his black carriage, giving him notes. "I think we need to do better next time. They seemed to be a tad confused. Maybe a bit more stagecraft. But they seem to be taking hold, starting to dig into their parts. Fantastic." Rahadin opens the carriage door for him and Strahd steps inside.

Ezra approaches them as Rahadin climbs up to the coachman's place. "Good evening, Ezra," Strahd greets him again. "You made an interesting choice today. I think perhaps you need more practice, but I like this new direction you are taking your character."

Ezra takes off his black hat and sets it on the carriage seat next to Strahd. He touches Strahd's arm. "I said I was here to help," Ezra reminds him, and surreptitiously casts Remove Curse, just to see what it will do.

It does nothing. He can't feel any difference, can see no change in Strahd at all.

Strahd pats Ezra's glowing hand amiably. "Oh, but you seem so hot and clammy. Perhaps you should see a doctor." He settles into the carriage, then, closing the door.

Before they depart, Rahadin leans toward Ezra, regarding him over his shoulder. "There are always more black hats available, should you decide it suits you, Ezra." He flicks the reins, and they're off. The ominous black carriage rolls north, back up the road.

In the background, Dulan had the spirit of the wizard Emari [it's a magic item situation] trail after Ezra. When Ezra returns, Dulan regails the group with the information Emari gleaned from the interaction [Dulan is the only one who can see/hear the wizard's spirit].

When Ezra was speaking with Strahd, Emari said, Strahd's mind was a minefield of incessant cacouphanous screams and wails. And Rahadin's thoughts were shielded completely from detection.

A direct reversal of a previous encounter we'd had with both of them.

#so we concluded that rahadin (this time) was in fact strahd in disguise but what the fuck actually was possibly-rahadin-as-strahd-von-strahd #ezra's shell game theory was well and truly confirmed but we still had no real answers as to how many beans were in play and where #check my pinned post for other campaign tales #cos is actually a western #ezra sunstar #campaign notes #curse of strahd #there's basically no spoilers in this despite its length #this had effectively nothing to do with the module #my dm is insane #i was reeling #this was session 11 #wild wild west #ravenloft #strahd von zarovich #rahadin

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