Session 14: St Andrals Feast

General Summary

Welcome to the Blue Water Inn

After the long road to Vallaki, the party arrived at the Blue Water Inn, a beacon of warmth and respite within the otherwise tense and suspicious town. There, they were welcomed by the innkeepers, Urwin and Danika Martikov, who lived in the inn alongside their two young sons, Brom and Bray.

As the group made their way toward the bar, they took in the scene:

• Nearly a dozen Vallakians sat at scattered tables, nursing mugs of wine or bowls of steaming stew, the quiet murmurs of conversation filling the air.
• Along the staircase, a colorfully dressed man—clad in a feathered, wide-brimmed hat—gestured wildly at the head of a long table, captivating an audience with his animated storytelling. His booming voice carried across the inn, punctuated by bursts of laughter and applause.

Urwin greeted the adventurers warmly, offering them free rooms for the duration of their stay. As the players took a moment to converse among themselves, Urwin and Danika shared whispers of Vallaki’s state of affairs—mentioning:

• The Festival of the Blazing Sun, which would take place in five days at noon.
• The many festivals of Vallaki, a forced attempt at "joy" under Baron Vargas Vallakovich.
• The Vistani camp outside of town, a gathering of outsiders who the Baron does not trust.
• Rictavio, the strange half-elf storyteller, who had only arrived that morning.

Dinner and a Story

As the evening meal was served, the party found themselves sitting near Rictavio’s table—but not by chance. Two young noblemen, Nikolai and Karl Watcher, waved them over with smirks, urging them to join. The two sons of Lady Fiona Watcher were drunk, brash, and seeking entertainment.

At the center of attention, Rictavio regaled the room with the tale of Count Belasco, a foolish and arrogant vampire lord, whose pride led to his downfall. His voice swelled, mimicking the Count’s pompous arrogance, and then shrank into a whisper of terror, as the Count was tricked, betrayed, and ultimately slain by his own hubris.

His audience booed, laughed, and applauded as he finished the tale, taking a flourishing bow before introducing himself:

• He was Rictavio, a traveling ringmaster in search of new acts for his circus.
• He was unsure how he came to Barovia, but he was determined to make the best of it.
• He had been graciously offered residence at the Blue Water Inn, in exchange for his stories and humor.
• He frequently asked the party about the Village of Barovia, claiming it was in search of new tales.

Though he seemed open and inviting, there was something about his intense curiosity that left an air of mystery around him.

The Shadow of the Baron

As Rictavio prepared to retire, Nikolai and Karl groaned, urging him to tell another story—this time about a "stupid Baron."

The room fell silent.

From the bar, a gruff voice rumbled:
"Best not, boy."

Behind him, a second voice echoed, "Best not." The two hunters, Szoldar and Yevgeni, cast dark glances toward the noble brothers.

Karl rolled his eyes, scoffing at the room’s uneasy tension.
"Cowards, the lot of you. Not a funny bone in your bodies."

Sensing the danger, Rictavio cleared his throat, bowing once more.
"Alas, my friends, the day has been long, and I must retire. Another day, perhaps."

With that, he ascended the stairs, leaving the tension in the room unbroken.

Urwin, sensing the party’s curiosity, leaned in and shared more about Vallaki’s fragile state:

• The Baron rules Vallaki with an iron grip, forcing its people into constant, forced festivals in a delusional effort to ward off Strahd’s darkness with joy.
• Dissent is not tolerated—those who speak against the festivals are punished.
• Strange flashes of purple light have been seen from the attic of the Baron’s mansion.
• Izek Strazni, the Baron’s enforcer, is brutal, strong, and utterly loyal to his master. "Many have tested his strength," Urwin muttered, "All have failed."

A Cold Morning in Vallaki

The night passed without trouble, and by morning, the party awoke to the subdued bustle of Vallaki’s streets.

Over breakfast, Urwin reminded them of:

• The upcoming Festival of the Blazing Sun, set for four days hence.
• The Baron’s strict enforcement of Vallaki’s "joyous" traditions.
• Izek’s cruel nature and the fear he instills in the townsfolk.

With their next objective clear, the adventurers set off to fulfill Ismark’s wish—they would escort Ireena to St. Andral’s Church.

A Public Display of Power

As they stepped into the streets, a sudden silence fell over the town.

A procession approached from the south. At its head rode Baron Vargas Vallakovich, his chestnut horse trotting through the mud, flanked by his two mastiffs, Claw and Fang, and followed by three stern-faced guards. Izek Strazni marched alongside, his monstrous devil’s arm curling with suppressed power.

Before them, an old woman lay sprawled in the dirt, having just been flung from the Baron’s path.

The Baron sneered down at her, voice thick with disgust.
"Filthy peasant hands… soiling my cloak with mud."

The woman pleaded through tears, her voice trembling.
"Please, Baron—my son, Udo! He meant no harm with his foolish joke!"

The Baron’s expression darkened.
"Your son needs rehabilitation for his malicious unhappiness… and perhaps you do as well."

With a wave of his hand, he ordered Izek to seize her.

Raya Intervenes

As Izek reached for the woman, Raya stepped forward, attempting to persuade the Baron to reconsider.

The Baron’s eyes narrowed, and his mastiffs began to growl. Izek’s monstrous arm crackled with crimson light, his grip tightening on his silvered battleaxe.

"Who are you, outsiders? Spies of the Devil Strahd?"

The party prepared for conflict, but before blades could be drawn, a calm voice rose above the tension.

Father Lucian Petrovich, stepping forward from the crowd, urged for peace. He apologized for Willemina’s outburst, offering to escort her to the church and see to her well-being.

The Baron hesitated—then, with a sneer, waved the matter aside.
"See to it, then. But mark my words, outsiders—should you break my laws, mercy shall not be given twice."

Turning to the crowd, he raised his voice:
"Let this be a lesson! The Devil’s hand is long, but our joy shall overcome his shadow! All will be well!"

The crowd responded—but their voices were hollow, forced.
"All will be well."

With that, the Baron rode on, Vallaki returning to its uneasy normalcy.

A Clumsy Introduction

As the party approached St. Andral’s Church, the sanctuary stood quiet in the dimming light of day. But just as they reached the entrance, a figure stumbled out—arms full of planks and nails, his half-cracked spectacles slipping down his nose.

One of the adventurers barely had time to react before colliding into him.

• If they failed their reflexes, the man went tumbling down the steps, sending nails and wood scattering across the ground.
• If they succeeded, they sidestepped just in time, but the impact still made the man lose his balance and trip onto the steps.

Scrambling to collect his fallen belongings, the flustered man dabbed his forehead with a soiled handkerchief, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands.

"Oh dear—oh, I—I do apologize! These blasted stairs—always out to get me!"

He introduced himself as Henrik van der Voort, Vallaki’s resident coffin maker. He explained that he had been delivering tools and supplies to Father Lucian for minor repairs to the church’s floorboards—damaged, he claimed, by a falling tree branch the night before.

The party helped him collect his things, and after thanking them profusely, he excused himself and departed.

And yet, there was something off about the whole encounter…

A Fragile Sanctuary

Inside the church, warm candlelight flickered across rows of pews. The scent of aged wood and melted wax filled the air, yet the space did not feel at peace.

At the far end, a tall, broad-shouldered young man—his face hardened by toil—stood on a stepladder, hammering a tarp over a broken window. Nearby, a timid young boy swept the floor, his head downcast.

At the pews, a graying priest—dressed in crisp but worn vestments—held a broom of his own, gazing into the distance, lost in thought.

Father Lucian Petrovich welcomed the adventurers warmly, recognizing them as newcomers to Vallaki.

As pleasantries were exchanged, the young man on the ladder scowled. He stepped down and crossed his arms, glaring at the newcomers.

"Father—are these outsiders bothering you?"

Father Lucian sighed, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

"Milivoj, hospitality is a virtue. We should not turn away those in need."

Still wary, Milivoj muttered, "You can’t be too sure about strangers." He eyed the adventurers carefully, then added, "They could be vampires. Or worse."

But when no ill intent was found, he relented, grumbling under his breath.

"Be safe, Father."

He remained in the church, continuing his work—but it was clear he wasn’t eager to talk.

A Terrible Truth

The party then revealed why they had come—they sought sanctuary for Ireena Kolyana, away from Strahd’s grasp.

At this, Father Lucian’s expression darkened.

He ensured no other congregants were listening, gently dismissing Yeska before speaking in hushed tones.

"I would love nothing more than to protect her," he said softly. "But… the church’s sanctuary is not what it once was."

He revealed that the church had once been hallowed ground, protected by Saint Andral’s bones, which prevented Strahd’s influence from touching it.

But now, the bones had been stolen.

Without them, the warding magic would fail in a matter of days—on the morning of St. Andral’s Feast.

The theft had not been reported—Father Lucian feared the Baron’s reaction, and the town’s safety hung in the balance.

The Investigation Begins

Determined to uncover the truth, the party began their investigation.

• Searching the altar, they found splintered floorboards, torn up with rust-stained dirt smeared across them.
• In the crypt, they found clumps of earth, containing white flower petals and pale green blades of grass—from the ramson plants growing in the church’s graveyard.
• A strand of black hair was found near the stone slab where the bones had once rested.
• A torn scrap of gray fabric was snagged on a nail near the floorboards.

As the pieces came together, Milivoj stood nearby, arms crossed, his scowl deepening.

Something wasn’t right.

Milivoj Breaks

With careful words, the party pressed Milivoj for the truth.

At first, he resisted, his gaze hardened with defiance.

"What does it matter? The church ain’t safe, bones or no bones."

But as they pushed further—offering understanding instead of blame—his resolve cracked.

With a heavy sigh, he finally confessed:

• Henrik van der Voort had offered him coin to steal the bones, claiming they were a family heirloom.
• The reward? Enough money to feed his six younger siblings.
• His parents had fallen to Dream Pastries, wasting away in opium-like stupors, leaving him as the only provider.
• He had pried up the floorboards, climbed down into the crypt, and taken the bones himself.

Milivoj looked away, his voice tight with anger and shame.

"I did what I had to do."

His hands curled into fists at his side.

"What do you want from me?"

Charity asked if he understands the nature of his mistake and if he seeked redemption for his actions. Milivoj said he does and he will and that he is sorry that he resorted to this. He was desperate.

Father Lucian advised that he would take the party to the Coffin Maker as he believed that Henrick could be reasoned with.

The Coffin Maker’s Shop – A Den of Darkness

The coffin shop loomed over them, its shutters drawn tight, the air thick with unease.

Billy rolling a 20 on a strength check, bashed through the door and the party confronted Henrik. After a tense exchange, Henrik—his eyes darting with guilt and fear—reluctantly let them inside.

The shop reeked of sawdust and decay, coffins stacked haphazardly like wooden tombs waiting to be filled. Henrik’s hands trembled as he admitted his crime:

"I… I gave them away… but I had no choice! They came to me—they—those things !"

Pressing him further, he confessed everything:

• He had been approached by a noblewoman—a pale beauty with crimson lips and laughter like silk.
• She promised him gold, power, safety—but in return, he had to deliver her the bones..

Henrik led the party to his room where the bones were hidden in a compartment in his wardrobe.

However, there was noisemaker that went off in the adjacent room as soon as the compartment was opened...the sound of 4 coffin lids opening and the sound of something sinister appoaches...

The Ambush of the Spawn

Three vampire spawn emerged, their clawed hands gripping the wooden edges. And behind them, perched upside-down on the ceiling, her dress flowing unnaturally against gravity, was Volenta Popofsky.

Her porcelain-white face twisted into a grin as she regarded the party with playful amusement.

"Ah, my Lord’s new toys!" she purred. "How very disappointing. I’d expected something… grander."

The vampire spawn shifted, moving between her and the party—her living shields.

Her eyes gleamed with cruel delight as she slowly turned her head upside-down.

"Still, I suppose you’ll make for some fun."

With predatory grace, she pushed herself off the ceiling, landing effortlessly behind her minions. She strolled forward, her fingers trailing along their shoulders as if deciding which piece to play with first.

She smirked.

"You know, neither Ludmilla nor Anastrasya could ever see what I see."

Her lip curled in distaste.

"And Escher?" She scoffed. "That skinny new plaything my Lord has taken? Pathetic."

She tilted her head, eyes filled with delightful madness.

"But me?" She placed a hand over her heart, sighing dramatically. "I know how to make an impression. Once I make the pews of your little church run red with blood, my beloved will finally recognize the real gem of his realm—me!"

Her grin widened, revealing pearly white fangs.

"And how lucky that we’re in a coffin shop."

She gestured lazily at the stacked caskets.

"After all… we’ll need somewhere to put your pieces when I’m through with you."

Her eyes burned crimson, and with a sharp, elegant motion, she snapped her fingers.

"Kill them."

Battle Begins!

With inhuman speed, the vampire spawn lunged.

• One leaped onto the rafters, using Spider Climb to strike from above.
• The other rushed forward, its claws gleaming in the candlelight.
• Volenta remained behind them, watching, waiting for her moment to strike.