The sturdy gates of Krezk opened as we approached, no doubt recognizing if not us, then their precious wagon of wine. Inside the walls was revealed a small village of cottages nestled in a forest of oak trees with narrow dirt tracks winding throughout. A group of people approached our fellowship quickly, led by the Burgomaster Dmitry Krezkov and his wife Anna.
They immediately requested the assistance of a priest, should we have one amongst our members. They had a woman in labor and wanted the blessings of the Morning Lord upon the child. Janlynn stepped forward and announced herself as not only a priest, but also an experienced mid-wife. We all went forward with the group to a small cottage not far from the gates. Some men took the wagon and wine away and, as the rest of us approached, we heard a frightening cacophony coming from the heights of the cliffs where the dark Abbey sat brooding over the village. A bell was sounding and there were snarling, monstrous sounds as well as screams of terror and anguish coming from the Abbey.
Janlynn did not want the group to travel far and wanted someone to come in with her, and I squeamishly agreed. I have faced and fought many terrifying monsters since coming to this land, but no moment unnerved me as much as entering that cottage. I should state for those who know not the traditions of my homeland, but no male Gnome has ever set foot into the burrow of a female in labor, for it is expressly forbidden. The elder females see to all of the mysteries of childbearing whilst the men gather to drink and tinker in their guild hall until they are called forth to name the gnomeling.
I knew not what to expect, but I wanted to aid Janlynn in any way I could. She needed all the support we could give her while she endured her grievous wound. I dared not glance in the direction of the commotion, as I stared at the wall of the cabin, wringing my battered hat in my hands. Such strange sounds were heard and I could only fathom in my mind what terrifying spectacle was bringing this child into the world behind me.
Janlynn could be heard chanting her prayers and doing what she could. Eventually, whatever their strange ritual, it seemed to be over, for it fell quiet all of a sudden. I heard words of encouragement from Janlynn and soon she was ushering me out of the cottage. I would learn that the child was born healthy, however it did not cry -The child was born without a soul. I felt sadness and a deep chill come upon me as I pondered this outcome.
Outside, it seemed that Tetsuo had appeared out of nowhere and settled back in with the group. I am not sure how that possession business works, but Tetsuo didn't seem any different to me. He quietly updated the group that he had been unable to find Ireena here, so far. He received more than one chastising glance from the members of the group. Soon after the birth, the Burgomaster invited us back to his home, in gratitude for the wine and the help with the childbirth.
Nim was quite terse with the Burgomaster at first for not letting us in when we came earlier in the day. I tried to assuage my friend and to smooth things over with the Burgomaster. While I regaled Dmitry with our tale of battle at the winery, Janlynn banished the shade of Ismark from Tetsuo once again, tetsuo's eyes glowed white momentarily as the spirit was forced out. Additional healing was given to Janlynn, but she still could not see out of the remnants of that eye, and her face was left horribly scarred such that the power of our healing could not overcome.
Dmity Krezkov was deeply interested and somewhat emotional as he listened to our tale. To my notion, I do not feel that he is an evil man. He told us some of what he understood of the land of Barovia and Krezk. The Abbey was constructed by Saint Markovia. The Abbey once served as convent and hospital. After Strahd put down the rebellion of Saint Markovia, her followers cut themselves off from the outside world. In the years that followed, they fell to Strahd's manipulations and their own petty sins and vices. By the time they emptied their supplies, the faithful had decimated themselves, all either dead or mad. The Abbey thus became shunned.
Over a hundred years ago, a mysterious figure known only as the Abbot came to Krezk to restore the Abbey. He rarely comes down into town, but he has clearly not aged since he came here all those years ago, as he is still a young man. Now it appears the Abbey is nothing more than a madhouse, according to Dmitry. He doesn't know what goes on there but all can hear the strange, maddening sounds coming from the heights. Dmitry did say that the village has an agreement to give three barrels of wine from their monthly shipments to the Abbey. We're not certain what the town gains from this relationship with the Abbot.
Dmitry mentioned that the old manor house we saw on our way to Krezk was the old fortified mansion called Argynvostholt, home to a group of knights who were known to worship or follow a Dragon. This group, like Markovia and her followers, were some of the last to stand against strahd and were destroyed long ago. This place may be worth investigating. He also spoke of an ancient tower on Lake Baritok - Khazin's Tower. He corrected our story about Izek Strazni to say that it was not a lake monster, but a Dire Wolf which took his arm.
Later, we were offered sleeping quarters in a cozy cottage with a nice grandmotherly woman named Oona. She makes a delicious cup of tea, which reminded me of my distant burrow at home. We set watch for the night, as it was late, and proceeded to gather much needed rest. The hags attacked again during the night and were thwarted by Akkiir's potent protective magic. In the morning we were feeling much better overall and decided we would explore the special shrine to the Morning Lord in the village.
Oona told us of the special healing properties of the pool at the Shrine of the White Sun, perhaps - we wondered, this would heal us of our ailments. The pool was most remarkable for it's ever glittering waters, as if even though the sky of Barovia was dark and gray at all times, here it reflected as if it were a sunny day. The shrine had a statue of some important religious individual or saint with hands raised upward towards the heavens. We all took prayers there, to the Morning Lord, in hopes for the strength to continue to do good work in this land.
Janlynn was especially moved, and took out some paint from her pack and touched up the religious artwork, to bring it back to it's original hue. I aided her with a cantrip to dry the paint, adding what small help I could in reverence to Lathander. I had taken a quiet moment for myself and gave offering of the magic flute, that I had gained from the Death House, into the indeterminate depths of the pool. I prayed especially for the Morning Lord to give strength and health to his worthy servant, doing his work in this land, dear Janlynn.
Most of us took a small drink of the water from the pool and besides a general feeling of well being, we were not cured of our afflictions. Janlynn, however, was granted a special magical boon. She gained the ability to see through her destroyed eye once again. The wound was not exactly healed - there was still a horrible scar around her eye and her once beautiful eye now showed a mended together split which left the left and right side of that eyeball slightly askew. I feel saddened for her, for people may judge her for her scars and not see the person that I see, who is beautiful both inside and out. But Lathander had returned her sight, and that was no small miracle. Blessed be the Morning Lord.
We did not stay in Krezk long, as we had to return the wagon to the winery, check to see if the tampered with wine had been cleansed - (it had been), pick up the other three barrels and deliver them to Vallaki. On our way to Vallaki, we were ambushed at roughly the same spot we were before.
Soon after, we arrived at the gates of Vallaki. We brought the wagon directly to the Blue Water Inn just as most people were heading to the town square for the festival. We joined the crowd and waited for the event to begin. Word was circulated that because of the constant rain, they would delay the festival until later in the day. The festival was delayed once again and finally it was delayed until after dark. We had a lot of rest time and ate and drank well.
When finally the festival began it was dark, and still very wet, as the rain continued to pour down upon one and all. Still, all were gathered in the square to watch the approach of a pathetic parade of townspeople who approached the square with the Baron and his wife at the head. Everyone was wet and miserable and could barely keep their façade of a smile upon their faces. The Baron and assembled important people stepped upon the stage, moving to light the giant wicker ball, to commence the celebration of the Blazing Sun.
As soon as the Baron tried to light the wicker sphere, the rain erupted even harder and the wind picked up, drowning the flame upon his torch. Even as the Baron's embarrassment and ire began to rise, he was thrown into rage at the snickering he heard from a member of the crowd. It was one of his own guardsmen, who obviously was unable to contain his entertainment at the silliness of the entire situation before us. The Baron demanded a do-over. He ordered the guard dragged behind his horse as the parade back-tracked and began the whole event over again.
For some reason I felt that I should try and temper the Baron's mood and approached his horse and offered the use of my magic to help him light the fire. For a brief moment I thought that I would be caught up in his wrath, for he certainly did not seem to take kindly to the notion of a tiny gnome helping him with anything. He expressed his disinterest with my notion quickly and I let out a haggard breath as he headed away to re-start his queer festival.
When he finally returned with his disheveled procession, he merely walked across the stage, covering the torch this time, and simply lit the wicker sphere. That was it. No large speech; no pomp and pageantry. He lit the fire, walked off the stage and the event was over. Everyone quickly went back to their homes to escape the downpour. Very strange. The poor, dragged guardsman seemed to have survived his ordeal somewhat muddier and hopefully wiser for the experience. We headed back to our quarters as well.
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