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Having finally snuck out of Vallaki, Zane and Zandeyr decided sneaking back in was a worthy plan. And so they did, in order to quiz poor Father Lucian (woken from his slumber) on the exact lineage of town drunk Bluto Krogarov. Unfortunately for your plans of finding a hidden motive or plot, Lucian was able only to tell you that he was an orphan who enjoyed his wine a lot too much. There was nothing here that was going to convince the Vistani to side with you.

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Regrouping, you continued up to the Vistani camp where you were met by some gruff guards who begrudgingly led you to Luvash. Within the tent you saw the gypsy funeral rites were still underway, the body of Arabelle wrapped in colourful ceremonial wrap. He and Arrigal listened to your request — that the Vistani move their allegiance from the Burgomaster to Irena. Their response showed that they cared little for the politics of the day in Vallaki — they merely worked with whoever requested — and paid — for their help as needed. You presented arguments that they brushed off, not wanting to engage. Eventually Luvash told you what it would take: find a way to bring Arabelle back. Do that and the Vistani are yours. You told him you had no way of doing so, to which Arrigal almost smiled: “I know this. But I also know of someone who can. It is said that the Abbot of The Abbey of Saint Markovia can return the dead to life. Convince him.”

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You were provided with a wagon, and Arabelle’s carefully wrapped body. Under the advice of Arrigal you made your way back to the Wizard of Wines to pick up a wine delivery — Krezk was not known for welcoming wandering strangers.

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A long miserable days journey and climb an steep escarpment to the snow dusted gates of Krezk. You were glad of Arrigal’s tip, as once they saw the wine the guards were quick to summon the Burgomaster who immediately allowed you to enter.

He introduced himself as Dmitri Krezkov, and made you feel most welcome as he toured you into the town. Krezk was a self sufficient commune, with wine being their only import. You noted each small house had a complement of pig and chickens — and a small graveyard. The village was almost a forest, and as you walked heard occasional cries and outbursts of screaming from the Abbey above — cries to which Dmitri appeared oblivious.

Dmitri took you to their most sacred spot, The Shrine of the White Sun. A frail gazebo with a statue of the Morninglord stood by a pool of crystal clear blue water. Built and blessed by Saint Markovia before her assault on Strahd’s fortress, you felt at peace for the first time in the weeks since your arrival in Barovia.

Ireena reached her hand down into the pool, gently running it through the soothing water while she looked into the pool. Suddenly she withdrew her hand and recoiled from the pool, gasping and shaking her head. When questioned she couldn’t explain why she had reacted as she did, except to say that she saw visions of herself — but at the same time not herself — in the water.

Even the holy places in this land are somehow corrupted, it seems.

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You spent the night with Krezkov family, Anna welcoming you to their home. A meal and some wine loosened the tongues of the two town leaders.

The Burgomaster explained that they had little to do with the Abbey that loomed over the town. It was once a hospice and sanctuary for the less fortunate, but has long since housed only the mad and worse. Occasional appearances from the Abbot — a young man despite having lived here for over a century — and some unpleasant graverobbing by the denizens of the Abbey was the only interaction.

Anna also revealed that they had lost their fourth child recently, a teenager named Ilya. It was natural causes, but it means that the Krezkov bloodline — the family that built Krezk in ages past — ends here. His body was recently interred in the graveyard out the back of the house, and Viktor kindly ensure that his body would lie undisturbed. And despite some reservations they allowed you to bring Arabelle inside.

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The following morning you made your way to the Abbey of Saint Markovia, climbing above the mist to the snow covered gates. They weren’t locked and you moved through into the frozen garden beyond. The cries you heard yesterday were more piercing and disturbing up here.

As you entered, two horrifically disfigured creatures emerged from the gatehouses.The first, Otto, was a squatting beardless dwarf, with patches of donkey flesh covering his face, a wolf’s ear, leonine feet, a tail, and a face with protruding wolf-like snout and fangs. The other, Zygfrek, stood no taller, the left side of her face and body covered with lizard scales and the right with tufts of grey wolf fur. A human face split the middle, and her fingers and hands were like cat’s paws.

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Neither seemed worried by your presence, and Zygfrek gruffly agreed to lead you to the Abbot while Otto snuffled around your feet.

They led you through to a courtyard that split the two main buildings. On your right stood what looked to be the chapel, and on the left a long building from which the occasional outburst of screaming could be heard. Around the perimeter of the courtyard were several stone sheds. And chained to a post was a short humanoid with bat wings and spider mandibles, who on seeing you started madly screaming gibberish and straining against her chain uselessly. Her cries appeared to wake some other creatures trapped in the row of sheds, and soon a hideous screaming hollering cacophony filled the courtyard. Otto and Zygfrek paid no attention as they led you to the doors of the chapel and departed. You wasted no time pushing the doors open and shutting off the screaming behind.

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The change was abrupt. A large fifty foot square room with arched, leaded glass windows greeted you, and soothing music trickled down from above. A cauldron bubbled gently on the hearth, while above the fireplace hung a golden disk engraved with the symbol of the sun. A wooden table stretched the length of the room, set with wooden dishware and gold candelabras.

A young woman with auburn hair and alabaster skin stood strangely still behind the table, dressed in a torn and soiled red gown. Next to her stood a handsome young man in a brown monk’s robe, a painted wooden holy symbol depicting the sun hanging from a chain around his neck.

He gently took her hand and kissed it. She stared blankly at him, before dropping her hand limply back to her side.

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The man turned and took a few steps toward you, moving with the grace of a saint, and welcomed you warmly: “Visitors! Please, come into the light, sit with us, and tell me of your troubles.”

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Session played: 14 October 2019