There is never a dull moment in Barovia, apparently. If its not an undead horde, it’s Strahd; if its not Strahd its werewolves. Its never ending here.
I greatly admire the people still standing here. After such calamities and disaster some still manage to keep their heads up, spirits unbroken.
We went to meet with the caravan, only to immediately meet with a large band of wolves right after. After seeing their numbers and abilities I called for a retreat. We did what we came here for: get the caravan to safety. We held the line for them. No use dying when we could close the town gate and get reinforcements from there.
But my pig-headed party members wanted to keep fighting. I dont know if it was for glory or what. Jolias was with me. But I could not in good conscious leave them to die.
After taking a couple of icicles in the gut and having a few ballistas land dangerously close to my face, something rather unsettling happened. Antonio echoed my call for retreat and collapsed, not before the bridge collapsed and every werewolf still standing fell to its own shadow, a stone paver from the bridge magically landing on their skulls.
Axe dove into the water to retrieve Antonio while I pulled him back in with the rope. Everyone else pulled back, and we eventually made it back to town.
There was a panic about the ballista bolts and the draconoid that Dakras and Antonio saw, but luckily nothing came of it. Ismark shut himself in the bar and Irina was left to treat with the Madame Eva.
The couple more days we spent there resting proved to be useful. I poured over my maps and past reports to prepare for the infiltration of the castle. The gypsies brought much needed trade. Jolias began worshiping Lord Tyrent, which in all honesty is a wise thing to do in these times.
We leave for Castle Ravenloft in the morning. Unlike before, I feel retreat is not an option. I just hope we are all prepared for what lies there waiting for us.