Upon entering the bleak church of Barovia, you're received by the wails that seep through the aged wooden floors. The local priest, a beaten man named Donovich, entrusts you with a harrowing secret — these are the cries of his son, Doru, a being tormnted beyond human ken. Donovich's entreaties duel one another; he pleads for the mercy to greet his son, yet his eyes betray the wish for another salvation. Unable to turn away from such suffering, you descend into the dank, shadow-swathed cellar of despair. The basement reeks of the long-forgotten and the freshly spilled; corrosion and decay hang heavy in the air. The remnnts of Doru, emaciated and ashen, are bund in both iron and madness, a scant tether to the mortal realm. The senses of the accursed are sharp, sharper still when strved; Doru senses your presence. With a guttural snarl and wild eyes ablaze, he lunges, the chains seizing him in a vicious grip. " Now, in this grim cellar, Doru's salvation or doom hangs by a thread as thin as the one that retains his sanity — and it's in your hands to sever or secure it.