Session 61

Journal Entry - Felix Sable
Keltavar Village - The Last Sanctuary

Sometimes the best-laid plans of mice and investigators get steamrolled by the practical necessities of keeping innocent people breathing. Today was one of those days where my methodical approach to mysteries had to take a backseat to good old-fashioned monster hunting.

Eugene's workshop was a revelation - like stepping into the fever dream of a mad inventor who'd somehow achieved the impossible. The dwarf's got more arcane engineering packed into his basement than most kingdoms see in a century. Automatons that could pass for living beings, brass pipes humming with contained energy, and enough firepower to make even Strahd think twice about a frontal assault. The man's been waiting decades for news from his homeland of Eberron, desperately hoping to learn who won some war he got yanked away from. There's something tragically familiar about being trapped in Barovia, cut off from everything you once knew.

We equipped ourselves for the werewolf war ahead - silvered weapons, enchanted armor, and Eugene gifted me a pair of his experimental grenades. "Fuck You orbs," he called them with characteristic dwarven understatement. Pull pin, throw, count to three, exclusively in that order. Simple enough, assuming I can avoid throwing the pin instead of the explosive. The man's exact words about following directions properly suggest he's seen that particular mistake before.

The trek to Keltavar took us through frozen hell masquerading as a winter forest. Every step earned through snow that wanted to swallow us whole, wind that cut through every layer we wore. But we made it without incident.

The village itself tells a story written in claw marks and barely contained terror. Forty-foot walls marked with werewolf scratches, but the damage looks more like intimidation than serious assault. These people are hanging on by threads of hope and the grace of whatever deity still watches over them. Mayor Agnes carries herself with the dignity of someone who's watched her world shrink to the size of wooden walls and prayer.

But it was the shrine that changed everything.

The Lady of Moonlight - their forgotten goddess whose name has been lost to Strahd's erasure of history. A weathered statue stands at the edge of a pool fed by an upstream waterfall, arms outstretched, surrounded by offerings of food, coin, and carved devotions. Among them, one piece caught my eye immediately: a wooden statuette carved in the exact same pattern I'd seen Mariah Toranescu working on two centuries ago. Same hands, same style, weathered now but unmistakably connected to our missing werewolf matriarch. With the Mariah connection, it's clear that Their Lady is actually Selûne.

The inscription at the statue's base read simple initials: "For Z and R." A message across the centuries, waiting for someone to read it right. When Ambition cast her divination spell to Selûne, asking about the current location of the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, the response came as a shaft of moonlight illuminating just the R. Not the most eloquent divine communication I've encountered, but gods apparently prefer their guidance cryptic.

The pieces are starting to form a pattern, even if I can't see the complete picture yet. This village worships Selûne under another name. The werewolves attack at night but never seriously threaten the place - almost like they're coming to pay respects rather than wage war. Mariah's carving suggests a personal connection to this shrine. And somewhere out there, she may still possess the amulet we desperately need to save Ireena and Barbara.

But first, we've got a more immediate monster problem.

The Permafrost Demon - a winter elemental corrupted by Strahd's influence into something that hunts heat and snuffs out warmth. During the storm that'll provide cover for our evacuation, this thing will be at peak power, hunting anything that glows or burns. Agnes made it clear: encounter that creature during the evacuation, and we'll lose people. A lot of people.

So tomorrow, we hunt it first.

Our plan's straightforward enough in concept: build a bonfire in the dense forest west of town, use it as bait to draw the elemental in, then hit it with everything we've got. Arsinoe will play lighthouse with her fire magic, drawing its attention while the rest of us provide supporting violence. Ilya's wall of arcane fire should let us trap it in the ravine we've chosen as our killing ground.

The terrain works in our favor - rocky, uneven ground with elevation changes and a natural chokepoint. Perfect for an ambush, assuming we can stay hidden until the right moment. I'll be coating arrows in oil and lighting them off our bonfire, adding what ranged support I can manage. My grenades will be held in reserve for when things inevitably go sideways.

There's something poetic about using fire to fight a creature that exists to extinguish it. Arsinoe's confident she can control the flames enough to keep us from burning down the entire forest - a reasonable concern given that we're essentially planning controlled arson in werewolf territory.

What concerns me more is the timing. Two days until the storm provides cover for evacuation. One day to kill this elemental and prepare the villagers. If we get delayed chasing leads about Mariah or investigating that waterfall upstream, we could lose the whole town. The mathematics of heroism in Barovia always come down to impossible choices and acceptable losses.

But maybe, if we're fast and efficient, we'll have time to investigate that river source. Sacred waters flowing from werewolf territory, connected to a shrine where ancient devotions wait to be understood. The pattern's there, waiting for an investigator skilled enough to read it.

Tomorrow we kill a demon made of winter and malice. Then we shepherd a hundred souls through hostile territory toward the last free city in this cursed domain. Simple work, if you ignore the thousand ways it could go catastrophically wrong.

At least the grenades should be fun.