The very familiar creeping suspicion of being watched that has dogged the group since their very first tentative steps into the mist-wreathed lands of Barovia now bears the form of many pairs of yellow eyes peering balefully out of the trees at their prey, accompanied only by the silence brought on by apex predators in the immediate area. The quiet is broken by a low growl and a smug question seemingly directed at everyone but replied to instantly by Lucian. The hulking forms of werewolves flit between the trees, Lucian fervent in denial at being in anyway similar to Strahd's attack dogs, as the surely now hostile pack of werewolves spring into action. Vicious claws and teeth, powerful blows, hidden attackers, spells and acrobatics of terrifying magnitude engulf the formerly quiet night, echoing in the mists as our favourite heroes battle for their very survival! A harrowing fight ensues, the churned and muddy earth drinking deep of the blood of mortals, as the ground is peppered with bodies falling every so often. Valdr wrestles one of the beasts still as Lucian tears the head off of it, both watching it sail off into the underbrush as another is felled by the feather light dagger of Daven, Nikael unleashing a blistering hale of kunai from the cover of darkness and the trees! Soon, silence reigns supreme once more, as the final death knell of the werewolves came and passed. Injured but still breathing, our intrepid heroes follow Valdr out of the clearing and right to the causeway leading to the wizard's tower they saw earlier. The old wooden planks stretch a hundred yards across the water to the foot of a dilapidated stone tower covered in rusted griffon statues. A huge jagged scar mars one side of the otherwise stable if rickety tower, and at its base is a mud splattered, barrel topped wagon.
