**The Vargol Pact, The War of the Wretched & The Rise of The Blood Siren**
Long before the accursed mists embraced the valley of Barovia, Voldaris – the Sunken Kingdom – existed below. Sequestered beneath the waves of the Sea of Sorrows, Voldaris is the domain of the Tritons of Barovia. 
Ages past, the Varrow's of Voldaris contested the dominion held by the von Zarovich family over the surface world.
Spilling forth from the sea, Queen Dahlia Varrow and her Triton nation challenged first King Barov – then his tenacious son, Strahd. As with all who opposed his family, Strahd – in the aftermath of his father's death – would lead his army to a hard fought, yet decisive, victory over the Triton invaders.
Driven back beneath the sea, the defeated Tritons returned to Voldaris – where Queen Varrow would be forced to swallow both her pride and ambition. Though seething, Dahlia had little choice but to bide her time, momentarily forgoing her designs for the surface of Barovia.
As she lay in wait, a new dark influence would instead assert itself over the land above. Having pledged himself to the Dark Powers of the Shadowfell, Strahd had unknowingly ushered in a choking mist that now surrounded Barovia – sealing it away on a sinister demiplane. Just as the deadly fog encircled the land, a vile and viscous black tar-like substance would form around Voldaris – stretching from the seabed to the waves above. The Blacktide, as this new border became known, was not impenetrable – but few who ventured within would return from its inky grasp.
Queen Varrow vowed to discover the true nature of the Blacktide – piercing its imposing murk to find all who had been lost inside. Accompanied by a small regiment of her personal guard – along with her captain, and son, Alisdair Varrow – she led an exhibition into the dark waters.
After seven nights, Alisdair would return alone.
The Blacktide had changed him, twisting and retching his mortal soul. Like Strahd above, Alisdair Varrow now craved blood. He had become a creature of darkness – a vampire.
Though some would whisper rumours of treachery – claims that Alisdair had murdered his mother in the inky gloom of the Blacktide – none would dare speak such accusations aloud. Alisdair's ascension to the throne of Voldaris was unchallenged, and the Vampire King swiftly set about shaping his new domain to his whims.
A trusted inner circle of his closest friends were the first to be offered Alisdair's new “gift”. Turning each to join him in undeath, Alisdair appointed them to positions of power – surrounding himself with governors and aristocrats that shared his taste for the excess.
Dubbing themselves the Shrouded Court, this party of nobles cared little for the obligations of their station. Rather than govern Voldaris, they indulged in the luxuries afforded by their status.
Worst among them was the Vampire King. Alisdair Varrow grew to crave this newfound lifestyle of unbridled excess almost as much as he ached for the sustenance of blood itself. His love for his seat of power was tempered only by a single, consuming fear. Above all else, Alisdair feared Strahd. The count had defeated Voldaris before, and Varrow grew to see him as the one man who could strip away what he loved the most – his status.
Trapped together in the misty demiplane, Varrow feared that a day was fast approaching when Strahd would consolidate his power by eradicating ancient foes. After all, stories abounded of von Zarovich being changed as Varrow was – but in ways more powerful and terrifying. He was the lord of the land, and had already brought the sea to heel – even before his nightmarish transformation.
Just as Varrow feared, the day did come – Strahd appeared in the halls of Voldaris. Though the Tritons believed none could walk so far below the waves as them – there he now stood. Nowhere, it seemed, was beyond the count's reach.
But it was not war that brought von Zarovich before them. Instead, to Varrow's shock, Strahd had arrived to offer a truce.
A pact.
The Vargol Pact was an agreement forged between Strahd von Zarovich and Alisdair Varrow - which segregated the kingdoms of Barovia and Voldaris. As per the terms of the pact, all which naturally belonged on land would be bound to this domain, while everything native to the sea was strictly disallowed to emerge from it. The pact effectively formed a border between the surface and the depths, with Voldaris permitted to remain sovereign - under the leadership of Alisdair - and free from Strahd’s influence so long as its terms were continually upheld without fail.
As part of the pact, Alisdair pledged his vampiric daughter - Valeria - to Strahd as a political prisoner to further demonstrate the unwavering allegiance of Voldaris. Valeria was taken to Ravenloft - spending a number of years captive within its walls. While Strahd remained cold and distant to her presence at first, he did not mistreat her - extending the fullest hospitality of his home as a gesture of apparent respect to her and, by extension, her father.
Over time, the two began to converse - with Valeria’s alluring beauty and sharp mind slowly piquing Strahd’s interest. Though drawn to the count’s newly revealed charm, Valeria could never take his beloved Tatyana’s place in his cold, unbeating heart. Strahd allowed both her affection and attraction to grow, but only so long as she continued to amuse him. All the while, Valeria had simply become yet another of the count’s playthings.
Unbeknownst to Valeria, however, she was not the only prize offered to Strahd as part of her father's attempts at appeasement. The Crown of Voldaris, held by the Varrow family for generations, accompanied her as a gift to Ravenloft.
To maintain his status, Alisdair had gladly renounced the title of king – so as not to appear to challenge Strahd's dominion. Instead, Varrow took the title of the Deep Warden. Voldaris, consequently, was no longer a kingdom – but a sovereign state.
The change in title meant nothing to Alisdair. His status – and cherished lifestyle – remained intact, little else mattered.
It was shortly thereafter that the true nature of Strahd’s intentions with the Vargol Pact came to fruition.
A century earlier, Vasili and Vasa Rudivik were twin Necromancers who had challenged the count’s reign over Barovia. Through their combined dark magic, the siblings had amassed a sizable army of the undead to march against Strahd. Though covetous of a new regime to rule Barovia in his stead, Strahd was outraged by the twins’ impetuous defiance - quickly meeting their brazen display with a show of his own resolute power.
The twins had made their home in an enchanted tower that levitated above the sea, near the coast of Barovia. Laying siege to this tower, Strahd fought off both necromancers - along with their small army of the undead. His zealous attack crippled their tower, causing it to crumble into the sea below - taking their secrets of mastery over death with it.
Though victorious, Strahd was wary. Such a mastery was not to be taken lightly and there was little to say death could truly spell finality for the Rudiviks. Pre-empting their possible return, Strahd entered into negotiations with Alisdair Varrow - leading to the eventual signing of the Vargol Pact. In a single calculated move, Strahd had taken a former, and potential future, foe - the sunken kingdom of Voldaris - and turned it against another likely threat, the return of the Rudiviks. Should the necromancers attempt to claw their way back from their watery graves, the pact now ensured their efforts to reach Barovia would be harshly contested by Varrow’s forces.
Just as the count had predicted, death held little sway over his necromantic adversaries. 
Obsessed with harnessing their own mortality, the Rudiviks had long experimented upon themselves - binding their wretched essences to means beyond their mortal forms. Deep below the Barovian waves, the eyes of both Vasili and Vasa flickered open - burning with an unnatural glow enkindled by the desire for revenge.
Newly reanimated, the twin liches set their plans against Strahd and Barovia - dragging the souls of all who had perished in the sorrowful depths of the sea into their service. Their army grew, its festering ranks bolstered by every single life claimed by the unforgiving deep – their watery means of death lending its name to the relentless faction.
The Drowned, as they became known, crashed mercilessly against the surface - their endless waves threatening to breach the terms of the Vargol Pact.
Desperate to maintain his position, Alisdair Varrow rallied Voldaris against the decaying swarm - leading a tireless retaliatory defence against The Drowned. The swiftly escalating conflict became known as the War of the Wretched. Every attempt made by the shambling legions of the Rudiviks to escape from the sea was met with constant and steadfast resistance by the Tritons of Voldaris. Ignorant of their true nature as beings from the surface world, Varrow believed it to be his duty to deny the liches access to Barovia.
The War of the Wretched dragged on for decades, with souls long lost to the depths continuously dredged up to bolster the Rudiviks’ onslaught. The Drowned crashed against Voldaris with endless ferocity and, though consistently repelled, all victories came at a continuously steepening cost for Varrow’s forces.
The Shorestalkers, a last line of defence led by Skaull Varrow - the eldest of Alisdair’s grandsons - were made somewhat exempt to the terms of the pact, permitted to venture a short distance inland to hunt down any Drowned that may have slipped through the net and found a way ashore.
Skaull was a brutal warrior, whose relentless pursuit and barbaric slaughter of all trespassing undead earned him the nickname of “”The Bloodhound”.
The few Drowned that made it passed Voldaris’ vigilant lines were swiftly hunted down by the Shorestalkers – dispatched before they could upset the balance imposed by the Vargol Pact.
Though often tempted to stray closer to Castle Ravenloft – to see the mother he missed so dearly - the Bloodhound remained loyal to the wishes of his grandfather. Instead, a bitter resentment would begin to enkindle itself within Skaull as his younger brother - Thalion - was appointed to be the Warden's Envoy. Thalion would be regularly sent to Ravenloft with news of the war's progress – catering to his grandfather's obsessive need to assure Strahd that Voldaris had the situation under control.
While Strahd would feign interest, it was Valeria who grew to cherish these visits – eagerly awaiting each opportunity to see her youngest son.
Having orchestrated the War of the Wretched – effectively twisting the gaze of two enemies away from himself and towards each other – Strahd simply watched from a distance as the conflict continued to play out.
His plan fulfilled, the Count saw little reason to continue his charade with Varrow’s enamoured daughter. More to the point, von Zarovich had long since grown bored of Valeria.
Valeria had come to admire the surface world, as much as she did Strahd. It broke her heart to be so coldly dismissed from Ravenloft - cast out as yet another victim of the count's indifference.
Though despondent, her keen mind remained sharp. Ever perceptive, she saw through the seemingly coincidental nature of her banishment. While Alisdair believed his daughter's return to Voldaris was a gesture of goodwill from Strahd – an appreciative reward for his tireless efforts to contain the Drowned - Valeria remained cynical. She began to suspect Strahd's hand in the onset of the war, realising Voldaris had been reduced to little more than a pawn acting on behalf of Castle Ravenloft's interests at the expense of its own.
The War of the Wretched could not be won by Voldaris. To Valeria, this seemed as cold a fact as the doom that awaited any who swam beyond the Blacktide. For every soldier that fell against the Drowned, the ranks of their enemies gained a new conscript. To combat this, Alisdair and the Shrouded Court had begun to turn more and more of their subjects, creating an army of vampires that included his own grandchildren.
Even still, Valeria saw the conflict for what it truly was. Voldaris was not fighting a war. Voldaris was merely delaying a nuisance on Strahd's behalf.
The situation grew even more dire with sightings of a gargantuan beast fighting for the Rudiviks. Cryptmaw, a long-dead Dragon Turtle dragged back to a twisted mockery of life, decimated the already dwindling Voldarian ranks.
Worse still, stories quickly spread of the Rudiviks securing both of their phylacteries inside the rancid stomach of the undead leviathan.
Not only did this make planning for the liches' joint destruction seem virtually impossible – it also meant every soul torn asunder by Cryptmaw would be trapped within one of the vile jars, further fuelling the powers of its masters.
To Valeria, one thing seemed perfectly clear. Voldaris would fall, crushed into the seabed beneath the relentless march of the dead – and nobody would mourn, least of all the master of Castle Ravenloft.
She beseeched her father, desperate for him to see the hopelessness of the situation. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Alisdair had long been wilfully ignorant of the assured defeat bearing down upon his forces. Even as the banners of the Drowned grew ever closer, he could not be convinced of the extinction at hand. His status remained intact, his lavish lifestyle unaffected by the mounting losses that now – denied even death on the field of battle – turned their swords inwards towards the halls they had fallen to protect.
Strahd would intervene. He was beyond sure of it. Voldaris simply had to uphold the terms of the Vargol Pact until Strahd saw fit to aid in the annihilation of their joint enemy.
Valeria was not so sure. Even as she tried to convince Alisdair of his folly, a burning rage clung to her. Her indignation only grew when she learned of her father's decision to bequeath the Crown of Voldaris to Castle Ravenloft. Dismissed first by Strahd, and now by her own father, the blood in her veins boiled with bitterness and resentment – a fury that would slowly take form in a whispering voice, faintly uttering in her ear.
For almost thirty years, the War of the Wretched dragged on – a conflict as bloated and unending as the decaying ranks that contested it. By this point, Voldaris was a crumbling shell of its former self – its past glory long since surrendered to Strahd, while the promise of its future rotted amongst the endless souls lost to the war. 
All the while, the voice in Valeria's ear grew ever louder – calling to her softly from beyond the Darktide. It whispered promises of victory, of power – of the strength to not just vanquish Voldaris' foes, but return the Sunken Kingdom to its former glory. Braving the dangers of the Darktide, Valeria swam out to find its source.
There, in the murky darkness – in a cavern lost to time, she found something ancient. Its voice was clearer now, its promises affirmed. With only shadows to bear witness, Valeria made a pact of her own.
Much like her father before her, Valeria did not return from the Darktide unchanged. To some, Valeria did not return at all. Long ago, Strahd had bested the kingdom of Voldaris – and even now, the impotence of her father's rule had forced the Sunken Kingdom to experience the humiliation of that defeat for generations. Until the Blood Siren came.
Bolstered by sinister powers gained from the unknowable pact, the Siren washed mercilessly over Voldaris. In short order, both her father and the Shrouded Court were deposed – removed from power, and from the status they clung so greedily to. With little resistance, the Siren claimed the throne of Voldaris.
Her attention turned first to the bitter frontlines of the unwinnable war. While her newfound abilities could likely wipe the Drowned from the Sea of Sorrows, she needed to bide her time. Strahd could not know of the power she'd gained. She was not yet strong enough to effectively challenge him – his retaliation would be swift, and crushing. She needed to be sure she could defeat the count before declaring open war against him – and so, she continued to play his game.
The war raged on, but Voldaris slowly and steadily began to regain ground that had been lost for decades. The Siren's powers surged through her soldiers, boosting both strength and morale, while granting them a brutal new magic of their own – the gift of lycanthropy.
Though her patience often waivered, the Siren maintained her resolve. Every day, her connection with the Voice grew – but she remained unready to issue a challenge to the lord of Castle Ravenloft. Instead, she continued to test the count through subtle political manoeuvring. Repeatedly, her envoy – Thalion – journeyed to audiences with Strahd, continuously pressing for a repeal to the terms of the Vargol Pact. Though a dutiful host, Strahd did little to hide his boredom – and even less to compromise on the terms of the pact. It was one such visit – during which the young envoy asserted himself too arrogantly for Strahd's liking – that a definitive message was sent back to Voldaris, in the form of Thalion's lifeless corpse.
The Siren was furious, stricken with a mournful lust for revenge – but the time had not yet come. She vowed to take everything from Strahd, as he had taken first from Voldaris – and from her. She would flood Barovia with a tsunami of blood, washing the very walls of Ravenloft out to sea.
Even as the Siren waited, other forces began to move against her hated foe. An adventuring party known as Sordia Vignti defeated the count, finally freeing the land from his immortal grasp.
Though robbed of her vengeance, the Siren remained heartened. The land above was now hers for the taking. Issuing an invitation to parlay with the Rudiviks, both parties set foot on Barovian soil for the first time in decades – meeting on the shores of the Sea of Sorrows to discuss the terms of a treaty. Unbeknownst to the liches, however, they'd stepped directly into the Siren's clutches. Finally unleashing her fullest power, the Blood Siren decimated the twins – while her Shorestalkers ambushed Cryptmaw.
During the desperate battle with the towering beast, the newest Shorestalker – the Siren's youngest son, Graxen Varrow – was very nearly killed. Skaull saved his brother, acting seemingly against his own nature. The two had never shared a brotherly bond, and their relationship had only worsened after Thalion's death. Graxen was left to ponder whether Skaull's actions had been driven by fraternity – or simply to prevent the soul of a powerful Varrow being used to fuel one of the phylacteries in Cryptmaw's gullet.
Though wounded, the Stalkers were unable to fell Cryptmaw – who retreated below the watery depths in the aftermath of its masters' defeat. Having finally crushed the Rudiviks, the Siren seized control of the remaining ranks of the Drowned – calling them up to march upon the land.
The very army Voldaris had long held at bay would now act as the vanguard of its second invasion.
Graxen – newly appointed to the office previously held by his fallen brother – was dispatched to one coastal settlement after another, urging the denizens within to renounce their fearful allegiance to Strahd in favour of the new power now marching forth from the sea.
Few bent the knee – unwilling to believe the rumours of Strahd's defeat, nor be seen as swearing loyalty to one who would lay claim to his domain. These doubtful masses would quickly fall victim to the shambling wave now sweeping inland.
As more and more of the land was taken by the sea, the Siren once again tasked Graxen with a mission of warning. This time, the recipients he was to seek were the very same that had previously denied her retribution.
The adventurers had proven themselves powerful enough to defeat Strahd; she could not risk them interfering in her affairs now that her grand campaign had finally begun.
Departing Voldaris, Graxen was sent to speak with Sordia Vignti – warning them never to return to Barovia, or face the Siren's wrath.