The morning began suspiciously quiet. As we passed through the towering Western Gate of Barovia, the woods around us were eerily quiet. It wasn't long that we traveled before learning the reason why: a lone figure stepped out of the mists into the road, flanked by a pair of dire wolves. Any creature with more common sense than we possess (apparently most of the woodland critters, just not us) were perceptive enough to be nowhere near the trio who were blocking the path. On the path beside me, Doru's face lit up as he announced that the figure before us was none other than Strahd von Zarovich. I... didn't want to say that I had honestly been expecting something a little more than the man who swirled his black cape around him, then spread his arms out like bat wings, and pronounced "BLEH!" to the group.

Behind us, Roderick could be heard valiantly attempting not to laugh himself silly. As one of the pair of dire wolves growled slightly, it was probably for the best that he held it in. Doru didn't wait for any sort of explanation or invitation, instead running up to his vampire master with all the excitement of a young man who had been forcibly imprisoned by his father for the last year and kept from his... husband? Honestly, I'm still not exactly sure what they are.

I don't think that "Strahd" knew what they were, either. Although Doru greeted him with enthusiasm, "Strahd" stated that he didn't know who this young vampire was. To say he was crushed would be an understatement. Roderick was starting to lose control over his laughter, which all things considered, was not very charitable of him. While Doru attempted to explain to the other vampire that he was not just his sire but was to be his lover, Roderick waved everyone over and very briefly explained:

The man in the road was a local by the name of Zarek. Many years ago, Zarek had been part of an angry mob of villagers that had attempted to storm the gates of Castle Ravenloft. None survived, and Zarek had risen as one of the many undead that roam the lands of Barovia. Unfortunately, he went quite mad and now believes himself to be Count Strahd von Zarovich. It has become something of a joke in the valley, as everyone -- except Doru -- knows that the man dresses up like the count and goes around the valley telling all who will listen that he is the Lord of Barovia. Apparently, according to Roderick, the true Count Strahd also knows about this and finds it to be as good a joke as the rest of the valley's inhabitants, even going so far as to dress the poor man in the fine clothes of a noble and to give him an escort of dire wolves to keep him safe.

Regardless of how awkward the whole encounter made us feel, it didn't seem to bother Zarek in the slightest. He reiterated that he had no memory of Doru whatsoever, and although he could feel his connection to the vampire spawn, Zarek seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he should care about the young man standing before him. In an attempt to end the conversation as quickly as possible while still maintaining out skins in one piece, I greeted "the lord of the land" as politely and properly as circumstance warranted. (Thank you, mother and father, for the early lessons on elocution and the stream of boring social functions that were befitting your station; who knew that would come in handy for bullshitting a vampire one day?)

His ego properly stroked, "Strahd" welcomed us to "his" lands and allowed us to continue on our way. Doru wanted none of it, though. Instead, he climbed into the wagon to curl up in Mire's lap. Roderick, being a good friend, attempted to cheer him by teasing him mercilessly. Being a good friend in return, Doru kicked him in the knee instead of more delicate bits. I would swear that the velociraptor was even laughing by the time we returned to traveling. I'm not sure how much he can understand of what's going on around him when Ragnar isn't directly instructing him. Druids. Don't understand them at all, but they're both nice to have around. Especially considering how quickly Finrar can dash about when, say, three giant horrifying spider abominations leap unexpectedly out of the forest at us.

There may have been some undignified squeaking about "Kill it, kill it, kill it!" Because spiders have TOO MANY LEGS and are WRONG. Doru, still lying in Mire's lap in the cart, too a minute to rally, but he seemed happy to have something to take his frustrations out on. Mire seemed to enjoy having a nice line of vile fiends to blast with fire. Finrar just seems to enjoy having anything in his mouth that he can rend and tear, and it puts such a happy smile on his little reptilian face.

Spiders slain, we carried on. Sounds of the forest began returning, a clue that Zarek and his wolves must have moved on. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. We found a raven in the road picking at something, but it was only a toy lost by other travelers on the road. Doru turned himself into a bat, which is without a doubt, one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed, and he scouted ahead to look for other travelers. Not seeing anyone who might have lost the little plush dire wolf, we tucked it in with our possessions. It also had a small maker's tag with the name "Blinksy" on it, which is similar to the one given to us by Ms Mary to find her daughter.

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as we crested the hill and spied a very sad-looking mill in the distance on a hill just off the road. It looked quite similar to the windmill motifs we noted in the Durst manor, and from its rundown state, I would not be surprised if this was the property spoken of in the deeds we delivered to Ismark. (When we see him next, we will need to let him know about the property.) Although it seemed unlikely that anyone from the Durst family was still alive, there were clearly signs of life from within. There was smoke coming from a small chimney pipe and there was the smell of baked goods in the air.

As it was beginning to grow late, we decided to pull over and ask the inhabitants if we could spend the night in the shelter of the mill. It turns out that the old lady we met in Barovia, Granny, who sold us the maple nut pie was the one who answered the door. After explaining our situation, she was more than happy to let us stay the night. Which in retrospect, could have been an absolutely horrible fate. The short of it: Granny was not a sweet old lady. She and her sisters were a coven of hags, because of course they were. Were. I want to stress that. Doru and Ragnar, fortunately, were far more observant than the rest of us. I was completely taken in by this odd barrel of green-black glop in the center of the room. There was something dreadfully wrong about it that I just couldn't figure out. Which meant, of course, that I missed the littered remains of slaughtered children lying about like so much debris on the kitchen floor. Finrar was also completely occupied, as the hags kept a cage of chickens against one wall. I don't believe that when we left there were as many chickens remaining as when we arrived... But chickens were the least of our worries.

Doru rather cleverly got myself and Roderick outside on the premise of tying up the horse and getting out bags from the wagon. Outside, he informed us that we were idiots for missing the bones of dead children lying all over the place. Whoops? Roderick suggested that we leave, but I wasn't going to let the hags continue to hurt people. Moreover, Doru wasn't done working out his anger over the whole Strahd-Zarek issue from earlier. He force-marched us back into the mill, intent on killing him some hags.

Granny told us that we could put our bags up on the second floor, but she forgot to say anything about not exploring the rest of the mill. So naturally, we SPLIT THE PARTY. Because I'm learning that's just what we do, and it seems to be working pretty well. We'll probably keep doing that until something truly tragic happens to us. That awful thing may end up being Ragnar's rage, as he really doesn't seem to like it when we split up. Regardless, Ragnar, Finrar, and I went upstairs with Mire, while Doru, Ireena, and Roderick stayed in the kitchen with Granny to distract her so we could look around.

As we climbed the stairs to the third floor of the mill, there were "Granny's" two sisters. Night hags, dancing and cackling about the center gears of the mill, wearing the skins of people they had killed. It was intolerable, and to my great relief, they attacked us first, unprovoked. And so they got everything that they deserved and had coming to them. While I typically applauded entrepreneurial ingenuity and would under ANY OTHER circumstances be inclined to assist up-and-coming small business owner, baking children into pies and then feeding them to an unsuspecting populace? Absolutely not. Calling upon the holy powers of Abadar, it was my duty and pleasure to smite these monsters from existence. Finrar (again) displayed his excellence at speed and agility, sneaking around to pounce them from behind while providing flanking assistance. Mire flung spells at them from the cover of the stairs to break their concentration and keep them from easily casting spells at us. Ragnar... valiantly distracted each of them in turn so that I could get the upper hand in my attacks. Team effort and success!

Downstairs, the rest of the group had an even easier time taking Morgantha out of commission. She was cut off from her barrel of ick, which was, on inspection later, an object of considerable power that would have summoned terrible fiends to assist her. Doru had her blocked off from it, and he had a lot of rage to work out. Roderick and Ireena cut off her attempts at escape, and soon, the whole coven had been cleared away.

Mire hurried to check the room, and her fears were confirmed when she found crates with two small children inside.

Myrtle and Freek were children from the Village whose parents had traded them to the hags in exchange for more pies. One crate in the closet stood empty. The smell of baking pies wafted through the air, and everyone shuddered to know just what was inside those pies. In the kitchen, there were containers of flour holding the ground bones of children taken from the land. The remains of an untold number of small bodies were, once again, taken outside to be buried. The flour and assorted locks of hair from the pantry were also taken outside for burial and prayers. The children upstairs were cared for as well as we could, although they were clearly traumatized by all that had happened. The chickens, rooster, and an unreasonable number of toads were all liberated and set free outside. I don't think they made it far, based on the happy, toothy expression from Finrar. There were three containers in the pantry: Youth, Laughter, and Mother's Milk. I'm nervous to know what these are, and I don't think I have the strength of will to find out tonight. Tomorrow, we can do an examination of the fluid within. Tonight, we are all going to bed down in this forsaken mill, although I doubt anyone will sleep well knowing what's happened.

Except Doru. He doesn't sleep at all, because, well, vampire. Lucky bastard.