Church

Village of Barovia

Atop a slight rise, against the roots of the pillar stone that supports Castle Ravenloft, stands a gray, sagging edifice of stone and wood. This church has obviously weathered the assaults of evil for centuries on end and is worn and weary. A bell tower rises toward the back, and flickering light shines through holes in the shingled roof. The rafters strain feebly against their load.
The doors open to reveal a ten-foot-wide, twenty-foot-long hall leading to a brightly lit chapel. The hall is unlit and reeks of mildew. Four doors, two on each side of the hall, lead to adjacent chambers. You can see that the chapel is strewn with debris, and you hear a soft voice from within reciting a prayer. Suddenly, the prayer is blotted out by an inhuman scream that rises up from beneath the wooden floor.

Design

Office

An old desk and chair stand against the south wall, a wooden holy symbol mounted above them—a sunburst. A ten-foot-long iron rod attached to the north wall stands bare, suggesting a tapestry once hung there. Against the far wall stands a wooden cabinet with four tall doors.

Chapel

The chapel is a shambles, with overturned and broken pews littering the dusty floor. Dozens of candles mounted in candlesticks and candelabras light every dusty corner in a fervent attempt to rid the chapel of shadows. At the far end of the church sits a claw-scarred altar, behind which kneels a priest in soiled vestments. Next to him hangs a long, thick rope that stretches up into the bell tower. From beneath the chapel floor, you hear a young man’s voice cry out, “Father! I’m starving!”

Doru's Bedroom

This room once belonged to Doru, Donavich’s son, who is trapped in the undercroft. It hasn’t been used in more than a year and contains nothing of value.

Donavich's Bedroom

This dirty room contains a wooden bed with a straw-filled mattress, next to which rests a small table with an oil lamp burning brightly on it. Mounted above the bed’s headboard is a wooden sun-shaped holy symbol.

Room with the Trapdoor

Time and neglect have punched holes in the ceiling of this moldy room, which contains a few broken roof shingles amid puddles of water. In one corner, set into the floor, is a heavy wooden trapdoor held shut with a chain and a padlock. A young man’s screams of anguish can be heard through the door.