#Gregor Zolnik

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklord Gregor Zolnik

Domain: Vorostokov Domain Formation: 731 BC Power Level:💀💀💀 ⚫⚫ Sources: Domains of Dread (2e), Dark of the Moon (2e), Darklords (2e)

Gregor Zolnik, the Darklord of Vorostokov, is a classic example of the hero’s fall and why I will forever question the motives of one who ‘does good’ especially when they constantly seek recognition for these so-called good deeds.

Vorostokov was originally located within the northern provinces of Cerilia within the world of Aebrynis. Once a temporal land, within the Mists, Vorostokov is now a land of perpetual winter. The people struggle for survival, only the bravest venturing into the wilds to hunt for dwindling resources.

When winter came early in Gregor’s homeworld, it decimated Vorostokov’s crops and without the aid of hunters, the entire village would have died of starvation. Gregor was one of those hunters and continually set forth to into the wilderness to provide for his family. During yet another fruitless hunt, he encountered an injured wolf. Watching the beast, he yearned for its keen senses and strength. For if he had them, he could sneak up on his prey and feed his mother and sisters for the winter.

As he watched the dying wolf, he recalled a tale his grandfather had told him of people who could change into wolves by donning their hides and calling upon the magic of the night. Desperate for that power, Gregor decided to see if there was any truth to the tale. I do not recommend attempting to see if magic based on folktale works without research, but Gregor isn’t known for his intellect.

Once the moon rose, he killed the wolf and drew a circle in the snow with its blood. He then skinned the beast and placed its hide upon his back. Lastly, he ate it’s brain for its cunning and its hearth for its strength. I wonder if Gregor thought about what he would do if his made up ritual didn’t work…he would have wasted likely the only food he would have found for his family for some time.

Regardless, it worked and Gregor took on a very painful transformation, his limbs bending and snapping as they reshaped into the form of a wolf. In his new form, Gregor easily took down a caribou and dragged it back to his mother’s house. He transformed in secret in a nearby cave then informed his mother where he had left the carcass.

While he slept, his mother shared the caribou with the entire village. At first, this angered her son, but then as the villagers regarded him as a hero, he decided to use the wolf pelt to continually provide for the people.

After the winter thawed, the Duke of Vorostokov praised Gregor and named him the hero of the village. While visiting, he met the Duke’s daughter Ireena. The two fell in love and married shortly after. The lure of the wolf, however, was not easily ignored and Gregor fell to sneaking out at night so he could experience the power of this animal. Ireena thought he was being unfaithful and decided to be unfaithful herself. This, as you imagine, did not turn out well. Gregor, in his wolf form, discovered his wife in bed with another and gave into his savage nature. He killed everyone in the Duke’s household that night and enjoyed the slaughter. This act brought Gregor and Volrostokov into Ravenloft and an endless winter. In Vorostokov, Gregor became a powerful loup du noir, donning his wolf skin pelt to force his change from man to beast almost on a nightly basis. He rules the land as Boyar and created werewolves under his control to serve him under his Boyarsky. Among the Boyarsky are his own sons as well, the only other loup du noir of the pack. Gregor and his Boyarsky continue to provide for the village of Vorostokov, often hunting humans from other villages when food in the wilderness is scarce. The people are fed, but often turn a blind eye to the source of their meat or remain in blissful ignorance. Gregor is a skilled ranger, fighter, and unless one has access to powerful magic and weapons of pure silver, nearly invulnerable when in his wolf form. If one does manage to defeat him, his body disappears and he finds himself by his wolf skin pelt in a protected cave. The only way to really defeat him would be to destroy his pelt, then deal with the man himself. Not an easy feat when protected by his Boyarsky.

[ravenloftian]

From Torgov to Kirinova

Some Unknown Date in Vorostokov. Game Sessions 8/30/24, 9/6/24, 9/13/24, and 9/20/24)

A Mysterious Light in the Wilderness

The day is bitterly cold, and the silence across the snow-covered landscape is eerie, as if the very air itself were holding its breath. The adventurers trudge forward through the frozen wilderness, each step through the deep snow draining their strength. As twilight begins to fall, Gray spots something unusual in the distance—a dim, orange glow piercing through the oppressive cold. It's the light of a campfire.

Gray, straps on his skis, moves ahead cautiously to investigate. As he approaches, he finds a small clearing where the fire crackles merrily in front of a lean-to made from pine boughs. Sitting by the fire is a dark-haired young man, warming a cup of steaming tea. He wears weathered buckskins and a thick fur parka draped over his shoulders. Close at hand lie a sturdy bow and a large battle axe. Over the fire, two rabbits roast on a spit, filling the air with the comforting smell of cooked meat.

Gray observes for a moment before stepping forward. The young man greets him warily. After a brief conversation, Gray learns that Mikhail Zolnik is a young hunter from Torgov, the village they are seeking and may just save them from getting lost in the wilds. Gray soon signals for the rest of the party to join them.

The adventurers gather around the fire where Mikhail freely shares his food and hot tea, grateful for the company.

As the adventurers warm themselves, Mikhail asks many questions, curious about who they are and where they come from. “What brings you to Vorostokov?” he asks, his tone friendly but probing. “And what do you know of Gregor Zolnik, the boyar of these lands?” He watches the adventurers closely, gauging their responses, especially whether they are allies of his father, Gregor. Once satisfied that they mean no harm, Mikhail relaxes, openly sharing his knowledge of the land over endless hot tea and the comfort of a fire fed by endless wooden dowels.

"This is Vorostokov,” Mikhail explains. “I’m from Torgov, a small village not far from here. The winters here… they never end. I’ve never seen spring, nor has anyone else in my lifetime. The elders say it's a curse. Whatever it is, it’s all I’ve ever known." He talks about the wolves—“The true masters of the forest,” he says, warning the adventurers to avoid them at all costs. “There’s a great black wolf who leads them, the grandfather of all wolves. He’s more cunning than any man.”

Mikhail’s own story is striking. He reveals that he is the marshkoulk of Torgov, the leader of its warriors. He is also Gregor Zolnik’s son, though he hasn’t seen his father in years. “Gregor is a cruel man,” Mikhail says bitterly. “He and his boyarsky enforce his reign with brutality, demanding tribute from the villages and starving the rest of us. Torgov refused to give him tribute last week, and I fear we will soon face his wrath.”

Seeing potential allies in the adventurers, Mikhail offers to lead them to Torgov. “You’re lucky you found my fire,” he says with a smile. “You might have frozen to death out here. I’ll take you to Torgov in the morning—it’s about a day’s march from here. You’ll find shelter and supplies there. And perhaps you can help us stand against Gregor when he comes.”

Grateful for his hospitality, the adventurers spend the night sharing stories and learning more about the harsh realities of Vorostokov. Mikhail's warm demeanor puts them at ease, but his underlying desperation is clear—his people need help, and he hopes that the adventurers may be the allies he’s been searching for.

Journey to Torgov

The next morning, the adventurers follow Mikhail through the endless snowfields, making steady progress. The day is cold, and the sky is a flat, dull gray, but Mikhail’s knowledge of the land keeps them moving efficiently. As they crest a small ridge, the village of Torgov comes into view.

Nestled at the base of a barren, snowy hill, Torgov is a small, humble hamlet. A dozen cabins form a rough circle in the village center, surrounded by empty farmland blanketed in snow. The granaries and livestock pens are nearly empty, and the village has a worn, desperate look to it, with the marks of hunger and cold visible everywhere.

Mikhail leads the adventurers to a small cabin at the heart of the village. He stomps the snow off his boots and shakes the ice from his fur parka as they enter. Inside, warm firelight fills a cozy taproom, where a handful of villagers drink hot tea or hard cider. Their faces are somber, but when they see Mikhail, their expressions soften with relief and curiosity.

“Anna, Pyotr, Kerin,” Mikhail calls out, introducing the adventurers to the villagers. “These are travelers I met in the forest. They’ve had a hard journey and could use some warmth and food.” At his request, the villagers bring blankets, bread, and cider to share.

The villagers, while hospitable, are wary of outsiders. They ask many of the same questions Mikhail did, wanting to know if the adventurers can be trusted, especially given Gregor’s looming threat. Anna Karelia, Mikhail’s fiancée, is a kind-hearted young woman with a bright smile and dancing eyes. She tends to any injured adventurers with care, offering a gentle touch and soft words of encouragement. “We need your help,” she says softly. “Gregor’s boyarsky will return soon. We can’t stand against them alone.”

The mood darkens as Pyotr Bolshoi, a grizzled old farmer-turned-blacksmith, chimes in, his voice low and bitter. “It’s no use,” he grumbles. “We’ve resisted before, and Gregor always wins. We’ll just be throwing our lives away.” His pessimism hangs heavy over the conversation, but despite his words, Pyotr is a stalwart defender of the village when it counts.

Kerin, a tall, wiry youth with keen eyes, listens intently to everything the adventurers say. He’s the village’s finest archer and is eager to learn more about the adventurers’ world, clearly impressed by their courage and experience. He’s quick to support Anna in urging the adventurers to help Torgov fight back against Gregor.

As the evening goes on, the adventurers share their own stories, warming up by the fire. Val gives them his mule for food and there is much celebration and gratefulness for the abundance. He also makes quick friends with his magical bag of wooden dowels by stockpiling their supply of firewood.

After some time, Mikhail sits down with the adventurers to discuss their plans. He explains that the village needs help, but he also acknowledges the dangers ahead. “If you’re serious about defeating Gregor or escaping this cursed land, I’ll stand with you. But I need to make sure the village is defended first. We can’t leave Torgov vulnerable.”

As the evening winds down, Greta, Mikhail's aunt and the owner of the taproom, shows the adventurers to a small room with straw-pallet beds and heavy sleeping furs. For the first time in days, they find a measure of comfort and warmth, knowing that tomorrow will bring new challenges.

Gregor’s Assault on Torgov

The next day, just before dawn, the adventurers are abruptly awoken by the sound of clashing steel and shouting outside. The village is under attack—Gregor Zolnik and his boyarsky have come, their torches already lighting the early morning darkness.

As the adventurers step into the open, chaos greets them. The wind stings their eyes and whips their cloaks, making it difficult to see. One of the peasant huts in the center of the village is already ablaze, casting a flickering light over the battlefield. Tall warriors in chainmail, Gregor’s men, are spreading out with torches in hand, ready to ignite more homes. The villagers fight back with whatever they can find—pitchforks, axes, and hammers—while Mikhail, the village’s young leader, leads them with his axe raised high, shouting, “To me! To me!”

Mikhail rushes into the fray, yelling for the villagers to rally to him. The adventurers, some half-armored, grab their weapons and follow. Outside, the scene is one of chaos and fire. Warriors in chainmail cut down the desperate villagers, and one of the huts is already ablaze.

The villagers are fierce, but the boyarsky are better equipped and fight like wild animals, cutting down the peasants with savage brutality. The adventurers throw in with the villagers, turning the tide with their skill and magic. Despite the confusion and the overwhelming odds, the party helps Mikhail and his people hold the line. Through the smoke and flames, they spot Gregor himself, directing the assault with cold, calculating efficiency. His fur cape flaps in the wind, and beside him stand Alexei Zolnik, his son, and the hulking Dmitri, a grim lieutenant wielding a massive battle axe.

The battle rages fiercely, and after several bloody minutes, the combined strength of the adventurers and the villagers begins to push Gregor’s men back. Gregor realizes he’s lost the element of surprise, and with a harsh curse, orders a retreat. “Listen to me, people of Torgov!” he bellows as his men begin to fall back. “Surrender, and I will spare your village! Defy me, and I will return with more warriors, and none of you will live to see another dawn!”

The battle is fierce, and for a moment, it seems the village might fall. But with the adventurers fighting alongside them, the villagers rally. Slowly but surely, the tide turns. After losing many of his men, Gregor orders a retreat, shouting, “This isn’t over! I will return with more men, and none of you will be spared!”

Mikhail, bloodied but unbroken, steps forward, his axe held high. “Go back to Vorostokov, father! We will die free rather than live beneath your heel!”

Gregor’s eyes burn with hatred. “You have not seen the last of me, my son. Your outlander allies will not be here to save you next time.” With that, Gregor and his remaining warriors disappear into the darkness, leaving Torgov silent except for the cries of the wounded.

As dawn’s pale light creeps over the horizon, Torgov stands scarred but standing. The villagers are shaken, but they offer what little they have to the adventurers in gratitude—rations, winter furs, and gear to survive the frozen wilds of Vorostokov. Mikhail, weary from battle, spends the morning ensuring Gregor and his men are truly gone.

At midday, the villagers notices a figure stumbling down the snowy hills. Val is incredulous when he recognizes Brother Andrei. The priest's body is frostbitten, and his once-proud robes are tattered. He explains he's been lost in the wilderness, searching for the monastery but found himself in a nightmare realm of ice and death. The adventurers take him into the taphouse, offering warmth, food and much healing. Andrei shares his haunting tale—of wandering through a land that no longer seemed connected to the world he knew. The monastery that appeared like a mirage and then as quickly vanished, replaced by a frozen wasteland filled with terror.

Later that day, Mikhail enters the village tavern where the adventurers have gathered. “Gregor won’t return for at least ten days,” he says. “He needs time to gather reinforcements, and the weather will slow him down.” His face hardens as he leans forward. “We can’t wait for him to come back. I want to go to Kirinova and persuade the men there to join us. If we’re going to stop Gregor, we need allies—and we need them fast.”

He pauses for a moment, looking at the adventurers with a determined gaze. “I ask you to come with me. We cannot spare any more of Torgov’s men, but with your help, we might stand a chance. Besides, Kirinova might hold the answers you’re seeking.”

After some discussion, the adventurers agree to accompany Mikhail to Kirinova, hoping to rally support and perhaps uncover more about the dark powers plaguing Vorostokov. In the following two days, the paladins silver the villagers' weapons in the forge and teach them some basic defensive maneuvers. They decide to leave the horses behind but charge Gretel to keep the animals safe. His mule, Val figures, should keep them fed for several weeks.

Daciana finds time to gather more stones for her sling and begins a process of atonement for her role in Elara's suicide.

Meanwhile, Gray finds time to woo Gretel and the two disappear for quite some time.

Mission to Kirinova

The journey to Kirinova begins under an ominous sky. Mikhail guides the party through the snow-covered wilderness, his experience in survival proving invaluable. The first several days are grueling but manageable. The biting cold is constant, but the weather is clear, and the party makes good time. However, as the second day draws to a close, the air suddenly grows colder, and the sky takes on an unnatural darkness.

The wind begins to howl, and the temperature plummets further. Mikhail’s eyes widen in fear. “It’s the Zilinya Neshka!” he shouts over the roaring wind. “We must find shelter, or we’ll die!”

The adventurers are caught on an open plain, with no immediate cover in sight. Desperately, they begin digging into the snow, creating a makeshift trench to protect themselves from the deadly winds and cold. As they huddle together, the storm intensifies. The wind rips through their furs, and the temperature drops to a deadly level. The Zilinya Neshka, a storm born of dark magic, threatens to freeze them alive.

Hours pass as the storm rages on, but the adventurers manage to keep their fire alive—barely. The magical teacup is passed around or just held as they cling to any shred of warmth. As they begin to hope they’ve survived the worst of it, shadowy figures appear in the blizzard. The Arayashka, primeval wraith-like predators of the frozen wilds, stalk them through the storm. Their black ghostly forms loom through the blinding snow, attacking without warning.

In the howling winds, missile attacks are nearly useless, and melee strikes are clumsy at best. The adventurers are forced to fight in the storm, battling the fiends in the freezing white-out.

Brother Andrei stays inside during the battle. He is too weak from the cold to face creatures of paralyzing ice. He prays fervently to the Morninglord and his prayers are answered when the party vanquishes the darkness.

The wraiths are relentless, but the adventurers hold their ground. After a brutal struggle, they manage to slay creatures, who leave behind dark negative stains where they fall.

The storm continues to rage for another day, forcing the party to remain in their trench, huddled together for warmth. When the Zilinya Neshka finally passes, they continue their journey, exhausted but alive. Still, they have lost valuable time. What should have taken five days has now taken a week.

Kirinova’s Devastation

After seven grueling days in the wilderness, the adventurers crest a ridge and finally see the village of Kirinova in the distance. The surrounding farmland is eerily still, and as they approach, it becomes clear that something is terribly wrong. There are no fires in the hearths, no lights in the windows. The village is silent, shrouded in an unnatural quiet.

Suddenly, the howls of wolves break the silence, echoing from the nearby forest. Gregor’s pack emerges, watching from the treeline. The adventurers realize they are being hunted. Without hesitation, the wolves begin their chase, sprinting across the snow with terrifying speed.

Val's first valiant thought is to attack, but when the rest of his comrades flee, he sees the wisdom of it.

The adventurers run toward the nearest building, their legs struggling through the deep snow. The wolves close in behind them, but the party reaches the village just in time. They throw themselves inside a darkened cabin, slamming the door behind them. Inside, the horror becomes clear—the cabin is filled with the remains of the family that once lived there, torn apart by savage claws. The village has been utterly destroyed.

Several party members puke at the sight of the slaughtered family–their entrails strewn about.

The adventurers barricade the doors and windows, knowing the wolves will soon be upon them. Outside, the howls grow louder, and the wolves’ shadows flicker through the windows. Gregor and his boyarsky are coming. The adventurers steel themselves for the fight of their lives, trapped in the heart of a ruined village, hunted by the Boyar’s pack.

The night grows colder, and the howls of the wolves echo across the frozen village. The battle for survival begins now…

[ravenloftian]

Gretel's Grim Tale

In the warmth of the Torgov taproom, with the fire crackling and the adventurers gathered around, Greta leans in with a glint in her eye. “You want to hear about Gregor Zolnik, do you?” she begins, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “He wasn’t always the tyrant you know. No, in his youth, Gregor was a different man.”

She shifts in her chair, eyes reflecting the flickering flames. “Gregor was the strongest, most skilled hunter in all of Vorostokov. Proud, brave, and feared for his ability to track and kill. But there was one winter, long ago, that changed him forever. It came early—snowfall heavier than anyone had ever seen. The crops were ruined, buried beneath drifts so high that even the sleds couldn’t move through it. It didn’t stop. Day after day, the snow kept falling, and soon, Vorostokov was in danger of starving.”

Her voice drops, drawing the adventurers closer. “The hunters went out every day, but found nothing. The forest was barren. The only sign of life? Wolves. Hunters would scavenge the leftovers of wolf kills, but it wasn’t enough to feed the village. Gregor—he wouldn’t accept that. One day, near midwinter, he was out tracking, and it was so cold, so dark… even the sun refused to rise. He was returning home empty-handed, and that’s when he found it—a great black wolf, wounded after a fight with a bull elk. Or so they say..."

Greta pauses for effect, her voice growing hushed. “He watched the wolf dying and thought about its strength, its cunning. ‘If I had your stamina,’ he muttered to the beast, ‘I wouldn’t be starving. I’d feed my family and more.’ The wolf stared at him with those eyes… you know the kind. Cold, intelligent. And in that moment, Gregor remembered an old story his grandfather had told him—a legend about how the fiercest hunters could take the strength of the beasts they conquered.”

She straightens up, gesturing with her hands. “Gregor decided that he wouldn’t return home empty-handed. He killed the wolf, butchered the elk right there in the snow, and dragged the carcass back to Vorostokov. By the time he reached his mother’s house, he was near collapse, but he had done it—he had saved his family.”

A brief smile plays across her lips before she continues. “But that’s not the end of it. When Gregor awoke the next evening, he found that his mother had shared the meat with the whole village. At first, he was furious—he’d wanted it for his family. But then he realized… he could do it again. Night after night, Gregor hunted. While others starved, he brought food to the people of Vorostokov. He never told anyone how he managed it, but he kept the village fed for the rest of that terrible winter.”

Greta leans closer, her voice softening as the fire crackles. “Come spring, the duke himself—Andrei Vladimir—came to meet the man who had kept Vorostokov alive. Many other villages in the region hadn’t survived the winter as well as ours. That’s when Gregor met the duke’s daughter, Ireena. They say the two fell in love at first sight, and soon after, they were married. Gregor went to live at the duke’s castle, leaving the village behind.”

She gives a knowing look to the adventurers. “But it wasn’t a happy ending, no. Even in the warmth of the duke’s halls, Gregor couldn’t shake the call of the wild. He’d find reasons to leave the castle—‘visiting his mother,’ he’d say. But in truth, he was returning to the forest, back to the hunt. And Ireena… well, she began to suspect something. She thought Gregor was sneaking off to see another woman, and in her grief and anger, she took a lover of her own.”

Greta shakes her head, her voice tinged with sorrow. “That betrayal—it broke something in Gregor. When he found out, he flew into a rage. He killed the lover first, but it didn’t stop there. He went to Ireena’s chambers that night… and she didn’t live to see another dawn.”

The room falls silent as Greta’s tale comes to an end. “After that, Gregor changed. The man who had once saved Vorostokov became a tyrant, a cold-hearted ruler who cared only for his own power. Some say it was grief, others say it was the wolf in him. But whatever it was, the hero of Vorostokov was gone, replaced by the monster we know today.”

She leans back in her chair, letting the firelight dance across her face as the adventurers absorb her words. “But, like all stories, who’s to say how much is true?” Greta adds with a shrug. “Folk around here love their tales. Still, something changed that winter, and Gregor hasn’t been the same since.”

As the fire flickers in the dim taproom of Torgov, the adventurers lean in closer to hear Greta spin the darker part of Gregor’s tale, her voice hushed as if sharing forbidden knowledge.

"You see, it wasn’t just Ireena and her lover. The night Gregor found out about her betrayal, he didn’t stop with them. The tale goes that Ireena’s screams woke one of the maidservants. Poor thing went to see what had happened… and Gregor, already lost to madness, killed her, too. But that wasn’t the worst of it."

Greta’s eyes dart around, making sure no other villagers are too close to hear. “They say something took over Gregor that night, something more than grief or rage. The scent of blood, it drove him mad. He stalked through the corridors of the duke’s castle, killing any who crossed his path—servants, retainers, even the duke himself, still asleep in his bed.”

She pauses, the fire crackling as if echoing the bloodshed she describes. "By morning, the castle was a tomb, and Gregor awoke… not in the duke’s halls, but back in Vorostokov. The following winter was colder and darker than before, and the village was starving once more. Gregor tried to hunt, but the forests had turned against him. No elk, no caribou—nothing lived in those woods anymore."

Greta lets the silence hang for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle. “The only thing left to hunt… was people. Oh, yes. Gregor turned his attention to the villages. His people. At first, they praised him as their provider, the man who brought them meat when all else failed. But over time, the villagers noticed the game he brought back was… strange. The meat, they whispered, wasn’t from elk or caribou. It came from something else.”

Greta lowers her voice further, leaning in. "You see, the black wolf of the forest was no longer a hero. He became a terror. Villagers started to disappear—hunters, woodsmen—any who dared to enter the forest alone. Gregor wouldn’t allow it. He hunted the hunters. One by one, they vanished, and only Gregor returned, his hands stained red, always with food to offer… but never saying where it came from."

She lets out a breath, casting a glance toward the door as if expecting someone—or something—to walk through it. "The people feared him, but what could they do? They were starving. Desperate. And Gregor, well… in his twisted mind, he still thought of himself as the hero of Vorostokov. A provider. But the truth was, the man who once saved the village had become its worst nightmare."

Greta takes a sip of her cider, pausing before continuing. "There were rumors, though—whispers that not everyone would stand for it. A young man named Yuri rallied the bravest of the villagers, a small band of loyal men who demanded to know where Gregor went each night and what he truly hunted. Gregor, they say, nearly killed them all for their insolence. He wanted to. But his mother, Antonina, she stepped in. She called him out, saying he had betrayed his people and the memory of his father. Some say it was the only thing that stayed his hand."

She leans back, her eyes flicking over the adventurers with an almost somber look. "That’s when it really began, you know. Gregor couldn’t have his power challenged. So, they say, he created his boyarsky, men loyal only to him—enforcers, really. He recruited them from those still desperate enough to follow him, men who feared starvation more than they feared the truth. And from then on, no one questioned Gregor Zolnik. Those who did… well, they never returned from the forest.”

“Then there is… the story of my sister, Sasha—Mikhail and Alexei’s mother. Sasha was the most beautiful woman in Torgov. Gregor met her while traveling through the villages, back when he was still building his power as Boyar. When he saw her, he decided she would be his wife, no matter her fear of him. He had strength, yes, but his temper… it was vile. Still, Sasha, in her innocence, agreed. She left Torgov and went with him to Vorostokov.”

Greta pauses for a moment, her voice softening. “My sister was kind, gentle, and pure-hearted. Gregor, for all his savagery, doted on her. His temper would soften in her presence. But even though he loved her, every night he would leave her side to roam the forests, disappearing into the cold darkness. He forbade Sasha to speak of his absences, but she grew uneasy, wondering where he went. As time passed, she gave birth to their first son, Alexei. Gregor adored his son, but the rest of his family—Antonina, his mother, and his sisters—were jealous beyond reason.”

She shakes her head, her voice tinged with sadness. “When Mikhail was born, Sasha hoped it would bring peace to their lives, but it only deepened the divide. Mikhail was different—gentle like his mother, quiet and reserved. Nothing like Gregor or Alexei. It was Alexei who Gregor favored, and when Alexei turned eighteen, Gregor decided to initiate him into his inner circle, the boyarsky.”

Greta’s voice drops even lower, her face hardening as she speaks. “That night, Mikhail was visiting us here in Torgov, staying with me. The rumor goes that Gregor took Alexei deep into the woods, preparing to bring him into his dark world and Sasha and Antonina followed him. Together, they spied on Gregor and Alexei in the forest. And what they saw… it changed everything. That night, my sister must have learned the truth; the horror she had married into.” Greta's voice falters for a moment as she stares into the fire, her eyes distant, lost in memory. “A week later I learned that Sasha was dead. Gregor said she had fallen to her death…but I do not believe him. Whatever horrors Gregor and Alexei were involved in—must have shaken her to the core."

Greta takes a sip. "Now, I can’t say for sure how much of this is true,” she says with a slight shrug, “but folk around here, they still whisper about the black wolf of the forest. About Gregor. Whether he’s still the man who once saved Vorostokov, or something far darker. You saw for yourself.”

With that, she leans back into the shadows of the taproom, her tale lingering in the adventurers’ minds like a chill creeping in from the cold outside.