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<span class="mu-s">Recap (6/6)</span>
After taking Strahd's carriage ride, it was a challenge to talk your way into Krezk, the snow-touched city at the edge of Barovia. The guards were suspicious at you, and it took a promise to the burgomaster you'd look into the wine delivery issue (which, it seems, is affecting all of Barovia) for him to even consider your entry.
Inside, had you been expecting anything like Vallaki, you would have been disappointed. The mist-shrouded village of Krezk was nothing more than a scattering of humble wooden cottages along dirt roads that stretched between stands of snow-dusted pine trees - so many trees, in fact, as to constitute a forest.
As you followed the burgomaster through town, you passed a small handful people - men, women, and children - who lived within the walls. Most of them stared at you as you passed; a few shouted greetings, but most kept their heads low. The streets were mostly cleared of snow.
The burgomaster, Dmitri Krezkov, apologized for his behavior, revealing that he was preoccupied by the death of his last son, Ilya. Supposedly, a fever had taken all of his children, but affected nobody else in the village. Now he had no remaining heir. He had no more information about this unexplained tragedy.
From inside the walls, you could now spot the imposing road winding up to the abbey. It rises up to the northeast, clinging to the gray cliffs. The abbey itself sits atop the highest hill in sight, crowned by a bell tower. That's where Strahd said you would find your sister. It almost looked like a town of its own up there, surrounded by a wall with towers at each corner.
Dmitri told you the legend of the Abbey and its dark history with the village. According to him, no one had been up there in centuries due to a curse that drove the old monks mad. Generations ago, a mysterious man known to the village only as "The Abbot" showed up and claimed the ruined abbey as his own, ignoring any opposition. Ever since, the bell rings at erratic hours, day and night. Nobody knows what it signals. Those who are unfortunate enough to live by mountain trail say that they can hear horrible noises coming from the structure when the moon is high.
That brings us to the present: you are in the Abbey, waiting for the Abbot, rocking the fetal position on the cold ground, clinging to your wounds from your battle with the mongrelfolk, and squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears to block out the sound of baleful screams and horrible, inhuman laughter echoing through the courtyard walls.
