The party rested within the safety of [[Morgar Goldgard|Morgar]]’s _Tiny Hut_, their breaths steadying after the chaos at Yester Hill. However, the tension was far from gone. The battle had taken its toll, and the spear now resting in [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]]’s hands seemed to radiate an unsettling energy. As the party discussed the events, [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]]’s expression grew distant. He heard it again—a voice, soft yet commanding, whispering directly into his mind. “Chosen champion, blood of Kavar,” it said. He looked around, but nobody else seemed to hear it. “[[Karrut Styk|Karrut]]?” [[Ellette|Ellette]] asked, noticing his distracted state. “It’s nothing,” [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] replied, gripping the spear tightly. [[Morgar Goldgard|Morgar]]’s eyes narrowed. “That thing is dangerous. We don’t even know what it is. Let me take it.” “No,” [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] said firmly. “It’s mine. I can handle it.” “Handle it?” [[Morgar Goldgard|Morgar]] snapped. “You just grew a plant for an arm because of it! How much more are you willing to lose?” [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] stepped between them, his voice sharp. “Enough. We’ve been through enough fighting each other. Let’s deal with this later when we have more answers.” [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]]’s grip on the spear tightened, but he said nothing further. The party, though tense, agreed to leave the argument unresolved for now. They settled into a restless sleep, with watchful eyes on the cursed spear. The next morning, after a long rest, the party packed up their belongings and resumed their journey. They deliberately avoided the winery, the memory of Strahd’s intervention still fresh in their minds. The road to Krezk was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of dead leaves in the cold breeze. As they travelled, the silence was shattered by the sound of groaning. From the shadows emerged a horde of undead, their decayed forms shambling toward the party with malicious intent. “Here we go again,” [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] muttered, drawing his revolver. The party quickly engaged the undead, spells and weapons flashing in the dim light. [[Qwimby|Qwimby]]’s sharp eyes caught a figure in the distance—Strahd, watching silently as the chaos unfolded. Rage boiled over, and [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] lost all sense of restraint. “You!” he screamed, raising his weapon. “I’ll end you!” He fired, but the bullet missed its mark. Strahd raised a hand and cast a spell, trapping [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] in a shimmering magical sphere. [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] thrashed and struck at the barrier with all his might, but it held firm. “Focus!” [[Ellette|Ellette]] shouted, her blade cutting through an undead. Strahd gestured again, and a wave of magic swept over the party. [[Morgar Goldgard|Morgar]] and [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] collapsed into a deep sleep, leaving [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]] and [[Ellette|Ellette]] to fend off the remaining undead. [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]] played a desperate tune on her lute, weaving a _Dispel Magic_ spell that shattered [[Qwimby|Qwimby]]’s prison. “Back in the fight!” [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] roared, his revolver barking as he re-joined the fray. [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] stirred awake and, with renewed vigour, wielded the cursed spear against the undead. Its energy pulsed, and the tide of battle turned in the party’s favour. When the last of the undead fell, they roused [[Morgar Goldgard|Morgar]], who groaned and rubbed his head. “What did I miss?” “Too much,” [[Ellette|Ellette]] muttered. “Let’s keep moving.” As the gates of Krezk came into view, the party’s relief was tempered by the sight of them firmly shut. Demetrius stood atop the wall, his expression grim. “We’ve heard of the trouble you brought,” he called down. “Strahd’s wrath is not something we can afford to invite.” [[Zara Blackwood|Zara]] stepped forward, her voice sharp. “We didn’t ask for this! We’re trying to help you people!” Demetrius hesitated, but before he could reply, Esmerelda’s voice rang out from behind him. “Let them in. They are our allies.” With reluctance, Demetrius ordered the gates opened, and the party entered the town. They made their way to Esmerelda’s base, their exhaustion evident in every step. As they approached Esmerelda’s base, they noticed a procession heading toward the abbey—a tall man dressed in white robes flanked by figures in red with their faces obscured. The sight was strange, but the party pressed on. Inside, they recounted their journey to Esmerelda, who listened intently, her expression darkening as they spoke. “This spear,” [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] said, holding it out. “It’s cursed, isn’t it?” Esmerelda nodded. “It belonged to one of Strahd’s generals. The curse binds it to its wielder, granting power but at great cost. You need to be careful, [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]]. It will demand more of you than you realize.” [[Qwimby|Qwimby]] unsheathed the sword Strahd had thrown at him. “And this? It has a name: Sergio. What’s the story there?” Ezmerelda’s face grew somber. “Sergio was a knight in the days before Barovia’s fall, a hero who opposed Strahd. The sword’s presence here means more than you know. It’s tied to Tatyana—the woman Strahd’s obsession centers around.” As she explained the tragic history of Strahd, Tatyana, and the cursed land, the party’s determination solidified. [[Karrut Styk|Karrut]] listened intently, his vine-covered arm tightening around the spear. “What about the abbey?” [[Ellette|Ellette]] asked. “Who was that holy man we saw?” “The Abbot,” Ezmerelda replied. “He may have answers about Tatyana and Strahd’s plans. If you’re seeking the truth, he’s your next lead.” The party spent the evening gathering supplies and resting, their resolve growing stronger with each passing moment. As the dawn broke over Krezk, they prepared to leave for the abbey, their path illuminated by the faint hope of uncovering the truths that might free Barovia from its curse. [[Chapter 63. Path to the Abbey]]