Exit Windmill; Enter Vallaki

I remain within the windmill kitchen, long past sensible waiting benchmarks for my companions, as Bella continues her tasks. I expect I am truly alone now, and this is a gambit I take in waiting upon an audience with the crones' matriarch. Every lead must be exhausted in my investigation and to skip it is to elect failure. I do not falter.
 
She returns, this "Morgantha" we encountered in the village of Barovia. She is quite shocked to see me, but Bella reassures her I have maintained respect for their home. She is suspicious-- a moment of assessment on her part as she carries in a burlap sack containing another stolen child. Such is not my business, but I acknowledge my understanding of her secret and state that she need not bother with disguises in her own home (in front of me, no less). While she doesn't discontinue her disguise, she accepts my presence as genuine.
 
We speak only for a few minutes, but it is the most fruitful minutes of the days of effort I have expended here. I learn much over the course of them.
 
It urges me to continue my search with confidence that entering this plane was the correct action, even in the face of new terrors I am sure to discover. I must see what she witnessed, and deliver it resolution or extermination. I graciously thank her for her time, and leave without any complication.
 
Darkness has returned out here, and as expected, my companions have moved on. I walk to the end of the path of the windmill, unable to see my companions, before I manifest and fire a soul knife into the air as a marker of my location. Glimpsing the horizon, I spot higher ground, and head for it. On the way there, I am reunited with the others, who have some variation of surprise that I am unharmed by the interaction. Quicknife tells the others that I was fornicating with the hag, but I am unable to finish my elaboration before the others exclaim in apparent disgust. I question to myself, in the moment, if their willpower is up to the task ahead. I mention only that the conversation I had was extremely valuable for my mission here, and at their inquiry, I take a moment.
 
If they are not of sufficient will, then I cannot yet share my purpose here.
 
I am honest in explaining that, and add that I will share my full mission's details and parameters if I deem them capable of being trusted with it.
 
We continue on to the top of the hill. Old runic stones are here-- I recognize these glyphs as ancient transportation arcana, but am unable to determine their destination. I advise against interfering with them. We return to the road heading West, closing distance on Vallaki. Requiring camp, we opt to rest off the road. Lenore and I agree to first watch, and I can see she still withholds something in fear. Of me, perhaps, or perhaps something else. Everyone else is utterly transparent next to this one. Partway through our watch, we experience noises and sensations of touch in the shin-high fog. It is passable, for a moment, before I recognize the pitiful illusion arcana. We take our rests and wake without word of incident from Belmont or Alphonse.
 
We near Vallaki, and I don my guise of Mannheim Hulemann, coloring my clothes in sharper reds and navy than my traditional black wear. This town is a place of buzzing life, so much more animate than Barovia. It is perhaps not without consequence; it is clear that many are trapped in repeated superstitious cycles of local leadership, continuing celebratory events that claim to repel Strahd and his agents. Without substantive detail of practices, it sounds rather masturbatory for minds disfigured by fear.
 
Quicknife spots the toymaker's shop-- Blinskys-- of which, the rotten doll from Barovia was made. The others insist we enter, though I am fixated on finding a suitable blacksmith to craft these ghast claws into paralysis weapons. Upon entry, the oafish man running this business struggles to keep his miniature primate in line. I have little interest in what he has to offer, but the exotic nature of the pet urges question. He mentions the name Rictavio, but this information becomes unimportant; this Blinsky is visibly uncomfortable in the presence of Ireena. With some urging by Lenore, it is revealed he makes dolls of her likeness--without ever having met or seen her-- each month for a client he refuses to name. There is some strange plot in this place of ugly playthings, and it either involves Strahd pursuing an obsession, or is of no consequence to my mission. My focus peels away from the conversation and back towards the offerings of Vallaki, until we finally leave.
 
As we find the stockyard, the initial child to greet us has little to offer, but claims a visitor of the past several days can offer more. We round the corner and discover a gnomish craftsman, Raj, paired with a large mechanical canid of his creation, Elwin. Raj is not only competent but a brilliant inventor, easily the most intelligent creature we've seen in Barovia. This interaction evokes a sensation akin to breathing freely after a period of strained gasps. He enters a bargain with me and Quicknife to craft and silver the ghast paralysis sword. I am satisfied in full by his offering and continue to be impressed by his abilities; artifice remains my favorite of the arcanum beneath psionics. Friendly as he is, he decides he would like to join our gathering, and says his goodbyes to the stable boy.
 
We make way for the Bluewater Inn, and upon arrival, Raj pays for our accommodations in hopes of winning favor. I thank him and move away from our group as the companions eat, talk, and laugh among each other. I ask the owner about any reports of banditry, but he instead begins to bemoan the break in his establishment's supply chain of wine. I do my best to politely redirect him to my companions, before I go upstairs and enter my room. As my guise breaks, I return to my studies of the spellbook for the hours of light that remain, and rest up for the anticipated complications of the morrow. When I wake, my mind feels like it has stretched from the work here. I sense old sparks of psionics and there is some chance that my former strengths will return in time. It motivates excellence to come.
 
As we meet in the street, morning slow to break, I have not bothered with my guise; rather, my collar is pulled high and my hat pulled low. Raj is quick to notice my clothes have returned to black colors. Almost immediately, he sees my true face, but is reassured by the others that I am not (currently) a threat. Returning yesterday's kindness, I share my name, my position of information broker, and my current, resumed role of Inquisitor. As a "corsair" (an investigator in kind), he exclaims that he holds respect for fellow investigators. I anticipate we will become fine allies in the days to come, if he is without deception.
 
We arrive at St. Andral's Church. This place of worship has been kept with far greater effort than the institution in Barovia, but a similar gloom hangs over it. As we enter, we immediately find an older woman in distress. She is Willemina, and cries over the arrest of her son, Udo. There is apparent complication in this town, and Udo spoke out against leadership; I would initially agree that they were right to reprimand him, but Willemina elaborates that-- as part of their fear of Strahd and continued practice of celebration-- it is against Vallaki law to display unhappiness.
 
The concept confounds, befuddles, and positively infuriates me. Such utter stupidity has cascaded from these bottom-dwellers in this wasteland, bare of logic, that it demands violence on those responsible. Strahd is the seed, but these fools only water his garden of terror with this impudent, moronic drivel. Fortunately, my companions agree with my sentiment before I even have to voice it aloud.
 
Willemina also states that Udo spoke highly of Lady Vakter, who others seem to follow as well. From descriptions, it sounds as though she may have a cult-like following. Perhaps there will be more threads to sever with exterior justification. My specimen jars demand to be filled.
 
Further in, the gathering's spiritual leader Father Petrovich guides his shaken people in hollow worship. Before we enter, I ask Quicknife aside and request his consent for a harmless test of psionics. He and the others perk up in anxious concern before he agrees, and I open myself to his thoughts successfully. Of my lost psionics, this power's absence was felt most, and its return sparks feelings of pride and confidence. I thank Quicknife for his participation.
 
We hope to leave Ireena and the absconded child Myrtle here, but Petrovich says the bones of St. Andril are what protect the church-- and they have been stolen. We implores us to help him find them, and suggests some names which we can investigate: the groundskeeper, Milivoj, and the children of Lady Vakter. We agree to investigate.
 
On our way out, we caution Ireena and Myrtle about the protections afforded in this safehouse. I am sure to remind Ireena-- in the event she is assaulted by Strahd again-- to threaten suicide, and she is without shock, but instead, maybe sorrow and acceptance. The interaction seems to deeply disturb Raj. It continues to be the most tactically-sound plan, if she knows that Strahd wants her, and that becoming his thrall is (in her opinion) worse than expiration.