Lake Zarovich
December 18th, 756

A fierce knock on the door woke Maegan up from her beauty sleep. "Now who the devil Strahd could be up at three in the morning?" she muttered to herself, dusting off some flakes of dirt that settled on her velvet nightgown.

She looked out the window just beside the door and breathed a deep sigh. "I don't believe this. I absolutely don't believe this." She quickly unbolted the heavy oak door and turned the knob. On the doorstep stood Druinor d'Yantra's friends from the Malodorous Goat Bar: Gotten Grabmal, Dmitri Stanislaus, "Lord Arijani" and Megan Llewelyn.

"Look, it's three in the morning, no one's in the Observatory and Druinor won't be home until a day before Darkest Night, so I suggest that--"

"Oh no no no," Gotten interrupted, a wide grin on his face, "we have something for both you and Mr. d'Yantra." He turned towards the witch Megan, "give the kind half-elfin maiden the fruits of our work."

Beneath the Lost Hedgewitch's robe folds lay a newly bound-book that reeked of fresh varnish. Maegan could clearly see that it contained flattened scrolls of different sizes and ages.

"What in the world is that?" Maegan asked.

"Scrolls, madame, hundreds of them!"