The Burgomasters Guest House had seen many visitors come and go over the course of it's existence.  It's doors would always be open for those that came to challenge the Devil in Castle Ravenloft.  The long, rectangular, and sturdy stone house possessed enough room to sleep ten comfortably within the confines of its four bedrooms up on the second floor.  From its core, within the living room was a great fireplace that was more then capable of keeping everyone warm and cozy, even in the dead of winter.  A pair of soft and supple leather sofas were arranged about the fireplace.  Warming blankets were always nearby along with enough fluffy pillows to keep even the most ardent of pillow hogs content.  The nearby study offered a place of solitude where its guests might find some peace and quiet from the hell that surrounded the home.  And the kitchen, with its massive iron stove, offered up enough amenities to make a chef envious.<br/><br/>But those times had faded away, mostly.<br/><br/>Though it had fallen into neglect, the Burgomaster would never deny its comforts to those who came into these lands to challenge Strahd.  He pinned his hopes on each and every soul that ventured to his estate and claimed they would rid the land of the vampires evil.  He would gladly give them the key to his guesthouse.  The kitchen would be stocked adequately with what fresh food that the Burgomaster could offer.  There they could stay, collect themselves, and find sanctuary from the night when no one else would offer it.<br/><br/>Though visitors were a rarity in Baroiva, nearly every soul that had ever stayed under the clay shingles of its steep roof had come to meet their end.  More then a few had perished right inside its very walls.  The lucky ones remained dead.<br/><br/>With every failure the guesthouse grew darker and more ominous to the superstitious populace of Barovia.  Between themselves they called it cursed, hexed, and believed it to be haunted.  That latter rumor was supported on more then one occasion by those who stayed the night there.  They spoke of unsettling apparitions, strange phenomena, and eerie auras, but nothing that ever openly possessed any malice.  Over the years many of the natives had come to give it a name.  "The House of the Hunted."