Adrian's Journal

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### A tale from the past, from Faerun:

 I remembered today the first time we met Ronin. Sometimes it’s easy to think just of yourself. The trip to Krezk would be treacherous so I recalled why I’m doing this. Well… this is how I met Ronin.

Sigmund and I were fresh recruits in the Order of the Gauntlet. Just a few months ago, Father Gabriel initiated us in the great hall of stone. He told us to be ready, that Faith is the strongest weapon against evil. That punishing an evil act is just, but punishing an evil is not. As a Paladin, he had a sense for that. He taught me that things aren’t as simple as labeling someone as good or evil. One should only judge an action, not a person.

Faith in one’s god, one’s friends and one’s self. I don’t know if I have true faith in a god or myself, but I do have faith in my friends.

Sigmund was unhappy as usual in initiation, Father Gabriel wanted to test us in combat on our very first day. We were used to studying scripture in a cloister, what did combat have to do with being holy and good? He told him to stand, looked at his frame and gave him a mace. Sigmund never looked back after that, even breaking Dickard’s arm in a spar as the frail boy held a shield against Siggy’s mace blows.

By that time we were both trying to learn simple clerical spells. I memorized all the lines, I could write them back to back in Celestial and Infernal. But there was nothing. Sigmund was lazy and barely could remember them but… he was casting spells before long. I was jealous.

Father Gabriel told me there are many ways to serve, and gave me a rapier. He taught me fencing practiced by his noble peers. I’m a wharf rat from Waterdeep but he said a dagger isn’t a man’s weapon and that my build suited the rapier.

However, while fencing he withdrew his own dagger and held it to my neck, then said to use any advantage you can against evil. That as long as you had a will to fight you should, in any way you can.

Father Gabriel wasn’t your usual Paladin. Apparently, using a dagger with a rapier is a classical fencing style. He said every skill must be used in the fight against evil, for they evil will do the same.The man could fight in six different martial styles, said things to your face and assigned us to jobs we were way too unready for. One of them was going after rumors of Necromancy. Us! Lanky and Lumpy, we knew nothing but we were told to consult with one Ronin.

He was an elf, lived out in the gash. Rumors said smoke and the smell of burning chemicals came from his little house in the gash. A wizard of sorts without any ties to the magical guilds in Neverwinter.

An expert in undead creatures and mysteries.He had dealings with The Order before and could help us track whatever skeleton or zombie was hidden away by the necromancer. The guards found rotting corpses, half a zombie and magical paraphernalia in an abandoned house in the same area that Ronin was staying in so maybe he knew something too. If such a man would leave his house and mingle with the people anyways.

I sent Sigmund to get us rations but as usual he forgot something. He just came back with five pounds of bread and two gallons of water. Damn him, I need protein. We found an old lady, the elderly usually know their way around and she pointed us to Ronin’s house. As we approached we heard him through the thin wooden door. Sigmund rudely just opened the door and there he was. He looked so very young with beautiful blonde hair.

This was the wise eccentric consultant? Looking like a high tier fashion model from Madame Jessuad’s sitting cross legged in an armchair as books were thrown around him in the floor. His house didn’t match his own grace, everything was in disarray with books and notes. Maybe with their own organization to him but to an outsider it looked like the mess inside a man’s mind. Everything was like a wizard’s scholarly mess except for a corner that was devoid of furniture. A small shrine, a sword hung on the wall. Beautiful Elven tapestry with elegant writing was by the sword that was magnificently polished. Simply looking up Ronin said in a calm rather deep voice ‘Can I help you?’

We explained that we needed his help and he listened intently. Taking notes and demanding no consultant fee even though we were ready to pay. He was more interested in the mystery of it, where the evidence of Necromancy was found and what magical items and their descriptions.

Sigmund couldn’t answer so Ronin and I compared notes. Something we would do many times in the future. We went to the house and he closed his eyes detecting remnants of magic in the weave. He said that the corpses for necromancy needed a wet dark place like a basement. Not many houses in the gash had basements after the destruction there. By going through house plans and talking to the locals we narrowed down the possible houses and checked them one by one. Just as we were about to give up we found the house in question.

 Sure, at that time we could fight somewhat. But we were not ready. As we descended the rotten wooden stairs I lit a torch on the wall and then the stench hit me. In the basement five zombies were shackled to the wall, large glass containers held bile and floating organs. The wall had scribbles and diagrams in blood. A man's corpse in tattered laid in a heap on the floor.

The necromancer fell prey to the creatures he was meddling with. The sight shocked me and then I tripped down the stairs. The basement was cramped and the creatures looked up. Smelling dinner as the corpse of the necromancer was no more but bones and cloth. They foamed at the mouth and clawed at me. I could see their faces a few inches from mine, the smell of rot and decay...

Ronin hesitated, it was the first time I saw him afraid as he descended the stairs. Sigmund foolishly and bravely picked me up and rushed into them with mace high. They pulled against their restraints and then I pulled Sigmund back after one bit his forearm. I tried to cast a simple healing spell but as usual failed. I'm never going to become a cleric.

‘Just stay back and hit them from afar.’ I said as I calmly aimed my dagger and threw it but it did nothing.

A zombie pulling against the chains with a dagger in its shoulder. Ronin opened his book and tried to cast something. Then… they pulled and pulled. The creatures screamed, something unearthly. It sounded like Common though. 'Feed..Kill Me...So Hungry..' I almost saw sadness in their eyes. Then, the restraints that were holding them broke free, my heart sunk.
The chains were attached to the rotting wooden wall and with a loud crack the wood splintered. They rushed forwards. I said my prayers.

I tried to fence the zombies and Sigmund kept forgetting his spells. Just as we lost hope we heard Ronin humming. He twisted into the crowd of zombies alone. We stood back. Somersaulting and twisting in the cramped space, leaping on top of them... as his sword cut into them.

After he stopped humming he recoiled in fear, going upstairs to vomit. It was a sight to behold.

After that day the three of us would meet up occasionally. He clarified to us the difference between a ghast and a ghoul, Elven history and magical architecture. Sigmund mostly was focused on trying to convert him and the pastries. Ronin had... has a fondness for tea shops.

He was a mentor of sorts, we were young and foolish at the time. Maybe still are. He kept calm and brave when things got bad, even though he was cowardly at times but when it mattered he was fearless and graceful.

So, we won’t give up on you Ronin. You still have much to teach us, you’re not dying yet.

Faith in your god, in yourself

 and in your friends.

### Entry 5, Barovia, 1493

Again, fuck this place. Finally we found a moment of rest only for one of our companions to get his soul sucked into a flesh creature as described by Ronin and another to lose all his physical belongings.

I'm not sure what the other two did to Kai and myself... however..

The gypsy camp was a much needed respite. Focusing on simple pleasures seems almost alien now, like watching a past self dance and be merry. The hearty breakfast prepared by our Vistani hosts helped quell a throbbing head ache from some questionable opium. At least the pounding in my head quieted down Sigmund's usual complaints about not getting enough food. I always knew how to convince Mother Lisa to give me an extra cookie or two. However, his voracious appetite did help on the climb.

Moger, Kai and I probably were still drained from our ordeals in the previous days since the climb was difficult. Or maybe just spent more time on bolt crafting, literature and deduction or Lathander knows what Moger does in his free time involving livestock. Sigmund and Ismark helped and with a rope we ascended. Ronin showed unusual grace in the climb, he seems lithe and dainty but continues to surprise.

The rest of the climb was mere drudgery, mist and a dark sky making it even more bleak. However, I did have a conversation with Ireena. Ronin did remark that she didn't look much like her brother. He questions a lot, I tend to not conclude without the proper information. But, he was right. I pushed her for information, a little insensitively. Apparently, there were no pictures of her mother in the house while growing up.

We managed to gather later with comments from Ismark the following:

-Ismark and Ireena are not blood relatives.

-His father mentioned this to Ismark on his death bed, he withheld the exact words.

-She was found in the woods as a babe.

-Strahd rarely shows such interest in just ordinary women (He was mostly just a folktale to scare children, stayed in his castle)

Our key out of this prison is Strahd, learning why he is so interested in our charge is vital information. When Father Gabriel had me interrogate criminals for the order, we had to first learn what motivates them. Then use that to break them. Back to the day... we reached a bridge.

A stone bridge, structurally sound and flanked by two dark but beautifully crafted gargoyles. The view from above was breath taking, a rare moment of beauty of a waterfall below and gentle mists in this dimly lit place. A beauty broken only by our timid hesitation, paranoia, and Sigmund's complaints.

Again, this place teases you with the promise of relief only for you to notice the soothing rain is Devil's piss. The gates, the boundary of Strahd's realm while he was alive within reach only for horse hoofs in the distance. We hid. A carriage, no driver, magnificently crafted, black and surrounded by an eerie mist.

An invitation, a familiar script with a long graceful I like a swan's neck.

The same as the letter the Order received.

He brought us here, he wants us here for some reason, he was inviting us in. Ronin tantalized the foolish notion of accepting. That day, maybe the Devil was whispering in his ear. Probably by that time the scent of death and deception tainted him. Who knows what drove him to... well.. that happened later. We declined, most agreed. Moger and his laissez-faire attitude probably would have went in as well.

 Maybe to finally face him, to just go there and be done with it all is what tempts us. Even in death.

The exit was so close until we were confronted by the howls we heard as soon as we step foot in this cursed place. Wolves. Wolf men, werewolves and gigantic dire wolfs. Fucking huge.

As large as Aunt Gertrud's prize hog if not larger. We were the hogs though, their dinner. The first two came from the north, I spotted them in the foilage. So proud of my keen eye was I before they nearly gouged it out. Once again Sigmund's healing words brought me back... By then it was chaos.

Bolts of magic from the meagerly clothed Moger, Ronin dancing between fur, Kai retreating covered in blood. I pulled back to some trees and looked at my wounds, then saw Sigmund face to face with a Werewolf. I couldn't leave him. Remembering Ismark's words and old stories I loaded a silver bullet in my revolver, that I now named Lisa after Mother.

The bullet pierced, it howled. A smile broke across my face as Sigmund deflected a blow. A crossbow pierced its shoulder. Ismark cut into a wolf with grace and things were going well. I smiled, then... Ronin was surrounded by three wolves. His elven arts were strange, humming as he dodged blow after blow, I think I saw him smiling. He stepped back, then the Devil whispered. With bravado he stepped forward, curious, challenging almost taunting them. Then this place showed us again.

Teeth.

Blood and angry eyes.

They ripped at his throat.

He was dead.

I don't remember the rest, my lips tasted blood and the strange powder this device emits. Ears ringing as we carried his broken body. To Vallaki... Maybe another safe haven where we can gather information. Meet up with whatever Dukus is now and find a way to bring us all together.

We need to be stronger.

Or we'll all end up hanging from those gallows.

### Adrian's Journal, 1472 DR, Day seven (?) in Barovia:

We found the hag. I heard... The boy.. I try to forget his name. Freek. Such a sad name. Morgantha, Offalia, Bella... I won't forget their names. How many more children will we leave to die? Maybe we could have defeated them, but things scare me in this place. I thought the docks and crime at Watedeep taught me to not be afraid. But I am. Death waits for us in this place, and the devil watches. Kai and I did not tell them about the boy.

We've arrived at Vallaki. Maybe we can finally have a change of pace, a place where we can return to some normalcy and collect ourselves. Moger's tales about us being great heroes got us in, I never knew he could lie so elegantly. Even though taming an undead dragon and an orgy with seven Dryads was a bit too much to believe.

Sigmund, Kai and I decided to check the chapel here while Ismark and Ireena headed to the Inn lead by Moger. In retrospect, sending Moger to the inn alone was a bad idea. The chapel was more like a cathedral, Sigmund spoke to the priest as we brought Ronin's body in. Resurrection is a near myth done by rare and powerful clerics back home, but it was possible and well recorded. Here, our only option seems to be this Abbot.

Interstingly, Sigmund uncovered that the cleric; Father Lucian Petrovich is worried about the church. St. Andral of whom the church is named after hallows the grounds with his bones. They are missing, the altar boy Yeska admitted to me that Milijov the gravedigger knows of the bones. He must be tied to this... Maybe I was too harsh on the boy, I used to interrogate criminals and demons but this was but a child. This place wears one down.

In the morning we'll find out whatever Dukus has become, the night was uneventful. Moger 'lost' his clothes again. I'll continue this tomorrow.

Lathander's holy ball sack...

Sigmund doesn't usually talk about prophecies. For one not so gifted by the more cautious arts his mystical senses ring true many times. The curse of the bitten, Kai informed us that Werewolf bites can.. infect. We stripped but it was difficult to distinguish Werewolf bites from ordinary Wolf ones. We should keep a close eye on everyone, something I tend to be good at. Although, I don't know how easy it would be to kill one of my comrades... I would have to be ready to hurt even Sigmund if it came to it. I'm not dying here. What am I writing? Of course not.. It won't come to it.

Well, we met Dukus. He seemed so accepting of this change, so matter of fact. Thinking of mechanical benefits of his new body, but isn't there more to a body than that? Is me just my soul or the sum of all it's parts, the scars I've gained, the crook in my nose, the lines under my eyes. Surely there is some worth to that, or maybe losing that body made him that way? More... mechanical.

He did rise up to the occasion with the fisherman though. Another child murdering son of a whore. I don't want to recall that any more. I enjoyed slitting his throat, Lathander forgive me. I hope he does not have a new beginning. I hope him and all like him just, end.

The girl was adorable but was insistent that we return her home, seeing her father embrace her made it worth it. I waited outside and examined the elves we saw there from afar. They built their houses in the hill, they are not new to this place. Maybe they can help or give us insight. Being from a mostly human and poor area in Waterdeep I did grow up with some resentment of the 'point ears' and their fine exotic wares... but, seeing an elf was like being home again... Anyways, I shall not record why I want to leave this camp lest someone read this journal, but we should.

There was some noise about arm wrestling and Sigmund complaining. I just listened on to make sure it didn't get too heated. Moger loves waffles, maybe I can use that to bribe him into behaving.

That's all for now... to new beginnings. Except to children murdering sons of whores.

### Adrian's Journel, 1472 DR, Day seven (?) in Barovia:

Well, we’re on our way back to Vallaki. We had an interesting encounter with the elves at the Vistani camp. Apparently now called Dusk Elves. Originally they went against Strahd but were cursed when one of their women fell in love with the devil. In retaliation, they killed her. At that time Strahd had already turned into something not… human. And in response for murdering his Dusk Elven bride, all their women were killed by the devil.

It sounds more like a fairy tale than real life. The one we spoke to, Cassimire… I believe it was his sister who’s now undead and resides in Castle Ravenloft. Their only hope of reviving the Dusk Elves. He mentioned an ancient artifact in an Amber Temple. Madame Eva’s cards mentioned a relic behind an Amber Door…

Do I believe in magic? Prophecy? Maybe I do, but if it exists I want it for ourselves. So many people to help, now a dying race… let them die off. Or marry into humans. Is maintaining the blood of a lineage more important than having children or the currently living?

A part of me doesn’t want him interfering, if something will help me survive. I will get it and use it for my own justice, I can’t trust his. So I smiled, and promised we’ll help. A promise I doubt I’ll be keeping, for now… the town is in danger. Ronin is dead. Lathander’s piss rain on Barovia.

*(A drop of blood smears the parchment before the next entry)*

If we’re imprisoned, whoever confiscates this know that the coffin shop store is filled with vampires, brides of Strahd. Our new horrific friend Dukus approached the gravedigger and with some gentle intimidation told us: He sold the bones to the owner of the coffin store to be able to feed his family. I looked into his eyes and knew him to be truthful and simple. He did not know what he had done. So we went to the house of one Henrik Van Der Voort the coffin shop owner and most likely culprit. Knocking on the door was futile so we scouted around the back. Again, our stealth was affected by our louder friends. We really need to work on that… He threated us…I rushed up after him. Then, they came out of boxes and coffins. Why would Kai open a coffin in a dark house in Barovia. We scurried like rats, breaking at windows and running. Well, of course the guards will be able to persuaded, there are vampires in town after all.

*(The next entry is scribbled in even poorer handwriting, the paper crumpled a bit)*

The guards didn’t help, they wanted to go through official channels. No time. We had our own plan, destroy the windows flush them downstairs with sunlight and quickly investigate where we thought the bones were most likely hidden. Like most plans we underestimated the intelligence of our enemies. They were guarding the area most precious to them. If not for Sigmund's and Kai's magic we'd probably be dead. At times like this Lathander I wish you graced me with your light.

Well, we got the bones. Moger and Dukus blew out the windows, Sigmund probably saved my life. The room next door filled with Kai's smoke and he vanished, they were clawing at the door as I rummaged about. I found the bones but I knew it was too late, until Sigmund rushed into the doorway and I heard the sound of claws on metal... Kai reappeared and vanished as he usually doe but we escaped, barely.

We're probably going to prison. A man with a demon hand called Ireena his love. I could still hear their hissing as we leaped into the dim sunlight. Yeah, well… I’ll have time to write more later… Talk our way out of this, maybe try to post pone the festival. I’m done helping these people. They have a sanctuary now, I hope they appreciate us. If not, Ronin is waiting. Let them take care of their own. Forgive me Lord… please show us a new beginning.

 Because I’m starting to care less. I don’t want Sigmund to die for people who bring death upon themselves. He’s too kind hearted to look away. But… he did save me today. Maybe, I can learn from him too sometimes? No, or else we would have died a long time ago.

Hard choices have to be made. I’m ready. Maybe this is my path Lathander? To see that whenever you want to ignite a light, you cast a shadow. Let a boy die to save a town, let a town burn to save a dead friend. The best we can do is sanctify the church and explain ourselves. Let the festival begin, put on your happy face.

Maybe no one has to die tonight.

But they probably will.

### Adrian's Journel, 1472 DR, Day seven (?) in Barovia:

So much has happened today. I’m writing this in the little time we have at the Church. I’ve used up the last of the fabric I kept to patch simple wounds. Kai’s quick suturing of Izek’s battleaxe wound itches. Where to start? I left off last surrounded by many guards with spears:

Izek, the captain of the guard with a demon hand called Ireena his sister. Instead of being imprisoned straight away we were escorted to the Burgomaster’s mansion. However, things were tense the whole time. Izek kept Ireena close to him, he even took her upstairs… If only we stopped him faster, but we thought to convince the Burgomaster first.

We couldn’t take on the captain of the guard surrounded by all of his men. Dukus was upfront and matter of fact as always but I know his type, leaders like to be coddled. So I put on the accent I learned from imitating nobles from Blacklake in Neverwinter. Ismark being nobility proved useful in our negotiation. We presented the bones and stroked his ego, confirming his favorite mantra of ‘All will be well’. He even invited us to the festival as his guests and invited us to stay in his home.

We had an hour to act to fulfill two objectives:

A)Hallow the church as a safe haven for the people
B)Get Ireena out of the clutches of Izek

The lady of the house also was the one who owned ‘the most beautiful wedding dress’. So Kai, Moger, Ismark and I decided to pretend to be his guests, go upstairs and free Ireena.

We met a maid, I was only concerned about finding how much access we had to the mansion but she mentioned missing people. Unusual for Moger, he did show some sympathy… He listened, I planned. We acted like drunk nobles and went upstairs, we found a man there. One Udo… Imprisoned for the ridiculous crime of ‘malicious unhappiness’. I was going to leave him but Moger showed me just how callous I was starting to become. Our moment of humanity was interrupted by… Something horrible. Izek was… His own sister.

The resemblance, the dolls. I don’t want to remember. Naked, sobbing. He blocked the doorway to the room. Standing firm, guarding his 'prize' surrounded by dolls that looked exactly like her. Blinsky dolls like the one given to us. Kai shot him between the legs, still he stood. After magic and sword slices... But eventually..He went into the room, bleeding heavily everywhere as he picked up Ireena with his monster arm.

I tried to finish him but... he struck me down. I awoke to Ismark, like a demon as he hacked away at Izek's corpse. Rage in his eyes as Ireena layed on the bed, crying and broken. I felt something, a thread away. A taste. Then I heard the words, De Morte Vitae... Of death. As that giant axe came crashing down across my chest. Then Kai’s face as I gasped, an empty potion bottle in his hand.

I reverted back to the times I used to steal from warehouses with Rat Feet and Lucky Louse. We played this game where we had to steal as much as we can before the guards came, so I analyzed the mansion and found the room with the dress. The best rooms are always at the end of long hallways. The stupid fucking dress. Mother Lisa... breaking my promise, I said I wouldn’t steal any more after you caught me with one of your trinkets in my pockets. I’m sorry Mother, no more stealing I promise.

Tying bedsheets we escaped through an open window, classic. Using a few of us walking through the front door in a drunken fashion as a distraction. I barely remember the walk to the church. The town seemed emptier, the faggots of wood that were in the hallway gone.

The Festival of the Blazing Sun they called it... will be soon, the release of the children of the night, of the Devil.

As we all rest and heal we’re contemplating if we should stay in the Church overnight or go to warn the town. I’m conflicted. Forgive me… So many have died. I’m worried now though… About my soul. As we entered the Church I was going to joke (maybe belittle) Sigmund, but seeing him in prayer. His real devotion to his cause, to his Lord. I was jealous. He looked so serene, confident. Rape, murder, children dying, how can there be a Morninglord in all this darkness?

Then the light came down on Sigmund and I stood in his shadow. The sun shone. I looked down, and as I looked up the light shone on me as well, on all of us. I’m cleaning my pisol named Lisa, my rapier called Gabriel. I am not Mouse anymore. I am Adrian Blackwater, Acolyte of Lathander and a Sword of the Order of the Guantlet. I will not hide in this Church as people die in the hundreds, I’d rather die.

Never to see my loved ones back home, in a foreign land. Never to see Lucky again. The way her eyes shine in the blue of the seaside... That’s okay. My friends can stay safe, but I hope they come too. We’ll fight together. I have to believe, I want to believe. I don’t… but I’ll try.

Maybe when we head to the festival we can save everyone. Maybe the light will shine again and no one has to die. Maybe it doesn’t, maybe we all die. But at least we did something. At least we die as people who try to be something better than we are.

I was going to formulate a plan, talk with them all and convince my allies that we can rouse the people against a Burgomaster who risks his people by doing festivals while his whole town is at risk. A man who employs a foul sister rapist of a man with a demonic arm. Maybe, we could appeal to the masses to save their lives and fight the darkness together. Line up the spearmen and use holy magic to weaken them, tactically... A whole town would be able to defeat the vampire spawn we encountered, but there are no tactics when fear reigns and men fight among themselves.

No more tactics, no more analysis. I’m slipping out alone.

 It’s their choice to make.

I have made mine.

### Adrian's Journal, 1472 DR, Day eight in Barovia:

In the dawn, the way is clearer. I’m writing this on a pew in the cathedral of Saint Andral. Flipping the recently slain Burgomaster’s dagger in my hand. Last I left off I was heading to the town square for the festival of the burning sun. The party joined me shortly, the insane Vallokovich was going to burn people lashed to a giant sun effigy as a sacrifice.Dark times make people do crazy things to save themselves.

Surely the lord of the Dawn would never accept that mockery of an offering, the sacrilege...

However, there are no fanatics in a burning carriage. With their life in danger they came to their senses.

With rousing words the guards rallied against the Brides of Strahd. No one wants to see their wives and children slaughtered. They crashed into the crowd like waves unto pebbles, clawing and drinking their blood. Sigmund cried out for the people to flee and we rallied north to clear the way to the Church. Moger initially fled but came back, pantless and blasting some sort of energy. Dukus tried to kill the Burgomaster but was wounded...

I saw Kai’s bolt pierce the man’s neck though. We yelled for the pikemen to stop the vampires, the groups down south and east bravely held them back as the townspeople fled. So many died, helpless. But, we did close in on the northern group. Lars and his men circled them, those fucking things just wouldn’t die. Each time a bolt, pike or bullet pierced them they simply bit into a guard or fleeing peasant and as they looked back up the wounds sealed. Until Sigmund burnt them with light, but the healing was too much for him. Then she came, in holy fire.

Her name is Sevi, a barbarian of sorts. She fought like our northmen in Faerun did but with a zeal I saw only in the most aggressive of the followers of Torm in the Order, the loyal fury. Her axe work was nothing new but after each yell she burnt all around her with a holy fire. The pikemen closed in on one of the wounded, riddled in bolts and blows. Impaling it. Only one remained in the north blocking the way to the Church, my chamber was nearly empty and I used up my throwing daggers. Giving a humble prayer to Lathander, a real one. Not in fancy Celestial, I stepped in and pierced its heart. Fire burned in me but, I looked behind me... A sea of corpses.

We had done enough, and the children of the Devil were running towards us, claws extended and mouths bloody.Kai caused smoke to appear and we retreated. We escaped the vampire ambush, slaying two of six and hid out in the Church.During our rest, I overhead Sigmund and Sevi talking.

Sevi was an adventurer like us I believe, who knows from where. She was once a hero too. Something terrible happened and she decided to stay in Vallaki. She said we too would eventually learn to give up hope on escape and adapt to life here. Maybe, who knows? Sigmund as usually strongly disagreed.

Moger’s snoring kept me awake, he was mumbling something about waffles and his mother. Sometimes he reminds me of Lucky Louse, innocent like a child but capable of things I can barely understand. I couldn’t even guess what he has been through. . Kai as usual organized his inventory and was meticulously notching his bolts and trinkets. From the way he worked I could tell he’d been crafting and fussing over bolts and gear since childhood, probably a lonely one in the woods.

Dukus passed out in the back, it was strange to see such a large creature wounded. Not even waking when Ismark came in and… transformed into a werewolf.

Yes, Ismark is the one we were warned about cryptically. His bones… broke. As he formed. It was a wonder to me how the others could remain asleep. The cry of a man losing his humanity shook in my head as I yelled for Kai to wake the fuck up. He had fallen asleep with his bolts. Sevi tried to stop him leaving and Sigmund tried to push him back in fear, but he escaped. He came back the following morning, bloody with bad dreams but fully healed. Ismark dreamed of a mountain in the north, other werewolves and eating a child.

We followed a werewolf kidnapping a child into Barovia, another lost innocent soul. Breaking it to him was hard, and I saw him lying to his sister. Though he knew, he knew it was real . I lied to him saying maybe his dreams are inaccurate. Deep down, we all knew.

The father found the corpse of Burgomaster Vallokovich, we convinced him that it was for the best and it was out of our hands. He said he’s try to help us, many knew the Burgomaster for the cruel insane man that he was. However… changing the balance must have consequences. Hopefully, the town will be safe when we return.
For now, we had to leave town until things settle. Lest we be imprisoned for this upheaval. We were ready to leave but Kai reminded me of Izek’s axe. When we were strategizing we recalled that magic and magic weapons seemed more effective. We needed to be stronger. So in the morning I will break into the Burgomaster’s mansion again and attempt to retrieve it.

(Here the quill stroke breaks into an erratic line before resuming)

By Lathander’s holy left toe this dagger, it flew out of my hand as I was tossing it spun and return right into my grasp! I’ll call it the Boomerang Dagger until I can think of a better name. Dawn Fang... Spin Fang... we'll see. Fucking magic, I can read and write in three languages but I can’t wrap my head around it. We need Ronin. To Kresk, until next time.

 De morte, vitae.

### Adrian's Journal, 1472 DR, Day nine in Barovia:

On the way to Krezk, three things of note happened. First of all, we were shadowed by a giant swarm of ravens. A large white one stopped and placed stones to point out a direction, it seems like the ravens want us to go to the Wizards of Wine Winery. This is not the first time we were guided by ravens, one warned Kai and myself at the windmill a few days ago.

We were also attacked by twig and needle blights, apparently an ancient vampire was staked on a nearby hill according to local stories. This stake, absorbed whatever evil magic that was released and transformed into a dark tree. The tree would periodically grow a single apple that could heal all ailments but its seeds would turn into these blight creatures…

Well, this could be useful but no time for that. Sevi nearly stepped into a bear trap too. She makes a mean breakfast. I'm getting tired of travelling with a party of men who can't cook to save their lives. Continuing to Krezk. Sigmund stained my journal again.

Bah, not again. Entry was difficult. The Baron Dimitri Krezkov, we were told by the Father in Vallaki that his son was brought back to life. However, he had great sadness and wariness in his eyes. A young priest from the Abbot revived his son, but he was returned…different. With some negotiation and promises of wine and investigation he let us in. We also picked up that Krezkov has no love for Vallakovich the deceased burgomaster of Vallaki.

 Well, if he doesn’t like that bastard maybe this man isn’t as bad. He was sad though, and prefers hiding behind his walls rather than considering ever fighting Strahd or finding a way out of this place.

Although, I guess to the people of Krezk this realm and their city is all they know. They have everything within their walls… Livestock, trees, roads and shops. One could be tricked into thinking they can find peace here, maybe… But if we were able to get in, I’m sure the Devil is even trickier than we are. Maybe Ireena and Ismark can find refuge here? Although… if we ask Ireena to find safety here. Then surely the Devil would target Krezk next. I think Krezkov had a point in not letting us in. Anyways, on wards to the abbey.

I’m sorry journal, I can write now that we’ve taken a break in the belfry of the abbey. Donkey man, Cat eye girl, Cloven baby face, Screaming bat lady… It’s hard to think of these creatures as people. But they are right? We even saw a silent version of Dukus… This place is unsettling, like a child’s nightmare. A zoo of madness. The Abbot is a strange… creature. He’s obsessed with his ‘holy mission’. He did try to go down to the town to help, he’s the one who revived Krezkov’s son. Dukus just took the dress out and presented it straight up. If the Abbot decided to just take the dress and told us to fuck off... Never let a paladin negotiate. We did do our show and dance though, tailors Adriano and Mogerelli, the lovely assistant Sevi and I guess Kai and Sigmund were bodyguards? Who knows, it probably wasn’t necessary but it was fun. ‘Best dress ever.’ We were then awarded three uses of his power.

Why would the Morninglord bless such a man? In a dark place such as this… Maybe it is his utter devotion even while twisted. Is this what you want from me Lord, faith in a moral vacuum? Would you have blessed me if I’d just believed, regardless of how I acted? I'm smarter than both of them combined. I can notice the smallest detail and memorized exactly how to cast tomes upon tomes of spells. Nothing, just Shar's darkness.

You seem to favor fools and madmen while you ignored me. Mother always told me you worked in strange ways, help me understand. I guess Ronin is back though. So that’s good. What upset me though is not that he was feeling down, we all get that but… He was losing faith in who he is, his sense of investigation and adventure.

Tomorrow I will bring his things and notes, and try to remind him. Of all the stories and mysteries he always wanted to discover and read about. Sure this place is dark and depressed but if anything it’s interesting and mysterious as well. Ronin seemed a bit paranoid as well, probably a byproduct of his resurrection… I wonder, what differs in this realm from Faerun? I can’t cast magic but I’ve studied theology for years. The soul is transported to different realms outside the material plane, traditionally the practitioner of divine magic evokes his God to return a soul that was not meant to depart in its time to shift back to our plane. However, in Barovia the soul is trapped in the material plane. Possibly distorting it and causing damage to it, I assume the longer it remains trapped the more the person is affected by its return to the body. This is just a theory.

We took Ronin upstairs to rest, then we got ourselves into trouble again. As usual. The Abbot asked us to help clear the old sanitarium/infirmary. Dukus probably was planning to have a cleared out area of the abbey just in case he needed to escape or for us to reenter. I could see him planning coldly and could read his intentions.
Sometimes, he does seem less like a mortal and a bit more… about practicality. Fighting, getting to the point, getting things done. I wonder if he’ll eventually lose all trace of emotion. Maybe his soul was affected as well... Although, it is reassuring seeing him get upset by Sigmund’s constant attempts to convert everyone, and amusing.

So we crossed the battlements from hunchback’s tower, we left Ireena, Ismark and Cloven (We were sharing the room with the baby faced, goat man hunchback clawed violinist. Ugh) Entering a smaller side room, Dukus warned us about entry since there were specters and shadows in the nearby room. I took post on top of a counter and readied Lisa. Then, Sigmund went into the room calling out to the darkness. We saw one shadow in the very far corner. Remaining wary, I took shots in the dark managing to mark it once. Sevi, Moger and Kai also rushed into the room. I heard Sevi saying ‘What, you are scared of dark man…’ or something like that. They stepped towards the shadow, then they sprung their trap. What form of malevolent intelligence do these ghosts have? An intelligent evil hunger as they circled the foolish group circling them with one blocking the exit.

On the docks if I was running with a new group on a job and they got circled like that I would have left them for the guards.But… I’m not Mouse anymore. The shadows reached their fingers into Kai and Sevi. They looked like hospital patients, one had a gaping wound half stitched, one had its face ripped open, and there even was a pregnant ghost. Her belly ripped open. I could see them sap the strength from my comrades. Dukus rushed in and his trident glowed. Sigmund again probably saved us, yelling out as he gave out a light. Half of the ghosts fled. I shot the pregnant ghost in the belly, then Moger ripped her to shreds with his eldritch blast. But, every time we killed a shadow a white ghost took its place. Their spirits seemed to be covered in shadow, only able to truly exterminate them once we took off that shadowy veil. Things were going well until one ghost, a young girl with her chest ripped open started screaming, blood fell from her eyes.

Her shouts echoed into my ears, I could see myself looking like her. My chest ripped open, I felt her pain. Bloody tears fell from my eyes. Fear took my heart. I could see Sevi age, Kai nearly being consumed by the little girl, she was pulling at him. Almost dragging him to the floor, weakening him. Sigmund struck with his mace, Dukus struck again glowing very brightly and with a holy fury.

Even with my fear, I tossed Spin Fang into the little ghost girl’s head. The screaming stopped and we all took a breath. Sevi still looked like she was fifty years old though. When the ghost girl vanished, I noticed that it was all in my head. An unnatural fear made me believe that I was dying like she did. I’m writing this huddled in the side room, waiting for the spirits to come back… Shar end the loss of these souls. Help them understand their sadness. My weapons are ready.