“Oaths, Swords that Talk, and… Someone Trying to Finger People?”
Ah, mornings in Barovia: dark, uneasy, and full of existential dread. I woke early, only to find Celeste staring off into nothingness in the living room. A quiet moment for reflection—or as quiet as it gets when your life is basically a horror-gothic rollercoaster. Two days of madness, loss, and barely any time to process it all.
We spoke of Riley and Ibrynn—members lost along the way. At least, that’s what I thought. Celeste had a dream about Ibrynn. Apparently, he’d decided that Strahd couldn’t be defeated, so joining him was the logical next step. Celeste, of course, refused. Interestingly, it seems one can swear an oath… to a bridge. Barovia is nothing if not creative in its rules.
Also, Celeste can now talk to her sword. And this all began with Ibrynn. The sword is apparently a reincarnation of Sergei—a cool guy, or so I’m told, though I fail to see the resemblance. Talking swords. Oaths to bridges. Reincarnated paladins. Normal Barovian life.
Before we moved on, Izek had to be locked in the dungeon, which Kain had delightfully spruced up with his chromonculus. Because nothing says “captivity” like bizarre magical decor.
Next stop: the Vistani camp. Our task: drop off a few goblins who’d apparently been simmering there for ages. Elrohir picked up a glaive along the way, presumably because no adventuring day is complete without shiny new weapons. Madame Eve then gave each of us a special reading—enigmatic, unsettling, and full of vague warnings, naturally.
And then… we encountered a figure dressed entirely in black. Their intent? To finger people. Yes. That’s the kind of normal Barovian menace we’ve learned to expect.
Thus, another day, another layer of chaos, horror, and eyebrow-raising events. Only in Barovia could mornings start with philosophical sword talk and end with… that.
