A new world order,
That’s what you’ve promised,
If Ireena can do it,
Vallaki will be astonished.

But a plea heard from Krezk,
Means her presence is needed,
Her citizens left stranded,
Father Lucian’s warning unheeded.

Luckily for all that are worried,
Garn’s left in charge!
In his favourite village,
His fortunes to write large.

And so to the Abbot,
You return with great purpose,
To kill an Angel?
It makes you all very nervous.

Just an every day occurrence,
In fair Barovia!

In consultation with Father Lucian, Ireena agreed to accompany you to Krezk — the life of Ilya taking priority over the establishment of her rule. Realising that some stability was needed, Garn volunteered to stay behind and keep the peace, much to your surprise given his vocal dislike of spending time in Vallaki.

An uneventful and drab ride returned you to Krezk by late afternoon. Burgomaster Dmitri Krezkov suggested a prayer at the Shrine of the White Sun, and you agreed. After you prayed, Ireena walked to the pool edge and gently laid her hand in the water.

She suddenly threw her head back and her eyes glazed over. On the surface of the pool you could see the image of a handsome young man start to form, and as he took shape he spoke: “Tatyana! It has been so long — my love, come to me. Let us be together at last!”

Ireena cried out in confusion: “S..Sergei? Tatyana?? No…my name is Ireena…” She fell to her knees clutching her head, and running through a litany of names: “Zandra…Mindora…Svetlana…”

The image spoke again: “Tatyana come, we must leave, now!” Reeling, she suddenly stopped and spoke with cold determination. “Too many. 63 lifetimes, gone. I cannot save you Sergei. I am not Tatyana. I am Ireena Kolyana, and this cycle must end.”

She pulled her hand from the pool and the image on the surface vanished in the water ripples.

You spent the night in the Krezkov household, retrieving Ilya’s corpse the following morning before making your way back to the Abbey.

Otto and Zygfrek greeted you again, and led you into the courtyard of the chapel. You all knew you were walking into some kind of trap, so Bannor was particularly wary and careful with his checks. As you entered the courtyard, he had the immediate suspicion that the well in the centre was trapped in some dangerous way.

He circled it slowly checking the mechanism, and noticed markings that indicated something regularly entered and exited the well. Zygfrek hopped from one foot to another as Bannor got closer, clapping and snorting with excitement. Deciding it was wiser to leave it alone, Bannor walked away. Zygfrek look crestfallen, and encouraged him to take another look.

For some reason this infuriated Bannor, who swiftly grabbed the half-lizard half-wolf woman and held her over the well threateningly, promising to throw her in at the slightest provocation. The provocation came quickly, though not via Zygfrek.

From within the well, a half-human creature with three red spider eyes, a crows talon, and a frog foot hand came bursting forth. It slashed twice at Bannor, scoring him badly, who reacted by tossing poor Zygfrek down the well.

This caused the entire courtyard of trapped and chained mongrelfolk to burst into a cacophony of howls, the sound like something from your deepest nightmares. The well dweller didn’t last long before being dumped down there too, Zygfrek wailing in despair.

Finally you entered the Abbey of Saint Markovia. The Abbot stood with his back to you, contemplating the Morninglord’s symbol hanging above the hearth. Without turning he welcomed you back, said he was pleased you had bought Ireena as… instructed… and begged you to please sit.

Like your last visit, the conversation didn’t go quite as you expected. At least you were prepared this time. He made it clear that he wanted Ireena to replace Vasilka (“oh, I discarded her, your advice was right — Strahd would never have accepted her”), having realised that Ireena’s remarkable likeness to Tatyana was surely the answer to ending the curse. Ireena naturally refused. As did you all. This was not an option.

He wondered what was? Here you were asking for him to resurrect young Ilya (“not an easy task”), save Krezk, and hand over an item of great import. But how could the scales be balanced? Surely Ireena could see that her small sacrifice — and perhaps great happiness with Strahd — was not too much to ask? Why, she could save everyone in Barovia!

Eventually the mongrelfolk were once again discussed, as you found yourself spiralling down into the madness of his ‘logic’ and trying to find a way out, a way to show him how wrong he was.

Instead, the Abbot summonsed the viol player from above. A misshapen man made his way downstairs, a crab pincer replacing one arm, a bear paw one foot. And two heads: one with stubby goat horns, the other a cherubic baby with half-crocodlian hide skin.

Hunchbacked mongrelfolk with viol

Clovin Belview

The Abbot enquired with Clovin as to his happiness (‘very, happy, very very happy, master’), while you incredulously probed his claims, how we had been created, and fruitlessly tried to prove to the Abbot that this was *not* normal. The poor creature did his best to answer you about how he was bred, his parents, and more, but it was clear he struggling to make sense of your questions.

The Abbbot grew tired of this and dismissed Clovin. Sighing, he waved his hand in the direction of Ilya’s body, which immediately drew a sharp breath and spluttered into life. Dmitri cried out and ran to his son, shock and wonder in his eyes.

The Abbot spoke: “There. It is done — I have shown my good faith, now it is time for you to show yours.”

You ordered Dmitri to leave, Zandery subtlety confirming as they left that Ilya was in fact ‘living’. You drew deep breaths realising it was time to confront the Abbott.

But before you could, he caught you once again by surprise: “Now. Who’s the strongest of you? Go upstairs and bring down what’s resting on the plinth up there.”

Viktor and Xarann warily made their way upstairs. Clovin slept in a drunken stupor on his bed, and atop a marble plinth there was clearly a body lying under a black cloth. Viktor ripped the sheet off, to find a Vistani woman laid out, dead. She didn’t look long dead — perhaps only days — and she was dressed in typical Vistani clothing, a rapier strapped to her waist.

Vistani woman with rapier

Vistani woman

The body was carried downstairs, the Abbot clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Ah, here she is. Much better, don’t you think?”.

You studied her with horror and a creeping sense of dread: it occurred to you that this might be the Vistani ally that Madam Eva had foretold. And now she was dead.

The Abbot explained that if Ireena said no, perhaps this Vistani would be a good substitute, and asked your opinions. Ireena was horrified. She grabbed Zane and dragged him away, whispering urgently that this had gone too far — he had to be stopped. Zane nodded grimly and agreed.

Zandeyr asked how the woman had die and the Abbot was evasive, saying only that he had found her dead in the Madhouse wing of the Abbey. Viktor lent close to the woman and whispered to her, communing with the dead and asking her to tell the story.

The Abbott was impressed, and leaned in to hear the answer too. The corpse whispered that she had been attacked by a golem, surprised, pummelled until dead. The Abbott was thrilled with Viktor’s work.

You needed to find out if she was the prophesied enemy of Strahd, but her answer was confused and unclear — it was obviously beyond her knowledge. As you considered the next question, Ireena suddenly ran across the room and ripped Viktor from his interrogation: “STOP! No more!! Not again — never again — stop him!”

Zane looked directly at his father, who nodded sharply, and Zane plunged his sword deep into the Abbot’s chest.

The Abbot looked surprisingly unsurprised. He almost smiled, before reaching beneath his robe and drawing out a beautifully crafted golden mace.

As he did, Xarann unleashed a bolt of pure energy into his back, the Abbot jerking as it struck. Zandeyr’s arrows started flying, and Bannor appeared out of nowhere to bury a dagger deep into the holy man’s flank. Even Ireena charged into the fray, swinging true with her long sword .

The Abbot retaliated by thumping to enormous blows into Zane, both hitting true, and both causing an extra explosion of scorching pain that seemed to come from deep inside Zane’s body. Seeing his son struck so, Viktor exploded. Almost literally.

Suddenly the room was bathed in a golden light as the butcher’s eyes shone with the light of the sun, and luminous incorporeal golden wings spouted from his back. He flew across the room and crashed into the Abbot, attacking in a way that loosed his foes grip on his mace which clattered to the floor. Bannor sprung to the mace and flicked it over to Viktor.

The Abbot glanced at Viktor and warned, “I wouldn’t if I were you”. Zane yelled out agreement, crying “Never swing another man’s mace!” Wise words from such a young soul.

Not wanting to be outshone, the Abbot himself transformed into something you half expected: a stunning angel, with perfect features and a golden halo, with two enormous and beautiful wings unfurling from his back.

Angel with spread wings and golden sceptre

The Abbot transformed

He smiled at Viktor and attacked with divine fury, recovering his mace as arrows and witchbolts continued to torment him. He took his next attack to Zandeyr, who suffered the same soul burning pain that went well beyond the mace’s hefty blows.

Bannor seized the opportunity to put his second-story skills to work, scrambling up the wall and reaching into the hidden niche to draw out an ancient leather bound journal with a familiar glyph and a gold embossed inscription on the cover: The Tome of Strahd.

Xarann tried desperately to bind the Abbot to the floor, but he was too quick for that. Due to the distraction, however, he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the incoming blows from Zane and Ireena, working almost telepathically together to land complementary blows — they made a fine couple.

And as the Abbot rose up on his wings to face them, he was met in turn by Viktor, who had abandoned his shield and drawn his holy sword. Filled with a thirst for vengeance for the generations of women Strahd and the Abbot had pursued, including his own Thomasin, he struck with dreadful resolve, and slew the angel where he stood, plunging his sword into its chest.

For a moment you couldn’t believe what was in front of you. A dead angel lay on the stone floor of the chapel, graceful even in death, wings spread, face a picture of perfect repose, an envoy of the Morninglord slain by your own hands. But it was true.

Ireena collapsed sobbing, and you all stood in shock. Bannor drew out the Tome and laid it on the table.

This had better be worth it.

Session played: December 2 2019