From my tavern window I saw the entire scene. Moat House Gold marching into the center of town only to find the burnt corpse of their companion Onthar Frune still smoldering. Edward beat his chest threatening revenge against Rahadean unaware of the evil his tiny frame holds. The tell tale look on Erasmus’s face told me he could hear the chorus of torchered souls. I don’t know how or when Luthandar’s light shone upon Erasmus. It is a powerful but dangerous alliance to have in Barovia. When Erasmus’ prayer went out to stop Rahadean’s perverted chore I was surprised Erasmus was not killed on the spot. Nobley Erasmus’ faith never faltered even with the edge of a blade to his throat.

Whatever Edward haphazardly said in that moment caused Rahadean to show the true nature of the undead choir. Moat House Gold fell to their knees. I could hear Stebe’s muffled screams through the thin pains of glass in Wulf’s Lair as he writhed in pain on the ground. Edward my be brash but he proved himself to not be stupid when he ask for forgiveness from Rahadean. When I saw Moat House Gold’s tensed muscles relax and Rahadean donned his top hat I assume he offered his customary carriage ride to Strahd’s castle at dusk.

After Rahadean exited the gruesome scene Moat House Gold, being the true pragmatists that they are, went straight to the blacksmith to outfit themselves with weaponry. Blargous and Pimperwinkle need to invest in curtains because Edward’s flaming sword was quite the site. Hopefully having a tangible symbol of Tempus will start Edward on a path of redemption.

As the three limped toward my tavern licking their wounds there will be much to discuss but all I, Wulf, Son of Wulf, Son of the Wilderness want to tell them is to run. Run while you can.