“Merlin’s Tea Time: Nightmares, Bloodthirst, and Kresk Plans”
Ah, Barovia. Never a dull moment. My, ahem, adventuring companions are quite the handful. One moment, they’re screaming bloody murder and upsetting the tea, the next they’re huddled in the living room complaining about Celeste’s hard leg. Thirty minutes of chaos later, and I’m certain poor Elrohir will be thrown into yet another nightmare before breakfast. Truly, the joys of companionship.
While the others slept uneasily, I took the opportunity to work with Izek. Quiet, uneventful, but a start. Poor soul. Unlike me, he has no luxury of training or guidance—only thirst and struggle. I hope, even briefly, to ease that burden.
Burden of my own, however, made a fleeting appearance: a wretched little monstrosity, all clicks and blubs, circling me before vanishing. I recognized it instantly. It left as quickly as it appeared, yet the old fear planted its roots again. Marius’s perspective on the creature gave me food for thought—more questions than answers, certainly—but I feel it nudging me toward the path I must take if I ever hope to banish it.
Plans were made. Surprisingly. Our next destination: Krezk. Vallaki is only a stop along the way. Part of the plan involves Karl Watcher, whose “rescue” by his mother leaves me uneasy, yet I trust the group’s judgment. There’s also the Abbott’s note and his misbegotten dream of restoring Ireena. Let me be clear: even if he succeeds, he risks creating an empty husk of a person. Watching someone you love turned hollow is a thought I refuse to entertain.
Thus, Krezk becomes the priority: find Karl, acquire supplies in Vallaki, and complete the tasks that actually matter. Complicating matters, Elrohir is tangled in a duel with Stefan, a revenant formerly in service to the Silver Dragon. Will they hold their own? Only time will tell.
Meanwhile, I sit back, observe, and record—the gossip, the chaos, the heartbreak, and the occasional clever plan. Watching them brawl is infinitely preferable to explaining the intricacies of my own past (or my ex). And as for Rahadin… well, let’s hope no one mistakes him for a suitable candidate.
Ah, the delights of Barovia.
