Observations of a spirit of Yester Hill
I saw a girl on fire. It was only for a moment, but she lit up so bright I don’t know how no one else saw.
I followed her and her pack. She killed Wintersplinter with her skinny little sword like it was nothing, and the druids who darkened the sky had no idea their plans were already foiled.
They hid from the druids awhile and when they were gone they killed many of the spawn from the blighted tree with ease, then burned it and slunk away. I would’ve liked to stay and watch the impending blaze, but these adventurers put the first spark of curiosity in me since before I can remember. I had to follow.
They went to a lighthouse looking for someone called Rictavio. There is something familiar and wrong about that name all at once. They read a sad story he wrote about a son named Erasmus, a lich, and a Vistani curse. They pitied him until they hated him for abandoning them to fight Strahd alone.
They took everything he had. I suppose he won’t be needing it since he’s walking straight into his own grave.
I followed them to a mountain with a gate that admitted them and a wall of green fire that did not. The girl with the starlight wings nearly burned her arm off in it, even after watching the others unsuccessfully get things past the flames.
In time they found a way around it. Not through, just around. I’m ever so interested in what they’ll do next.