Perched behind ivy-clad walls and listed (somewhat misleadingly) as a “charming historical rental,” Mischief Manor is no ordinary estate. A peculiar enchantment hums through its halls, transforming once-mundane objects into fully sentient, dramatically inclined residents with hearts, grudges, and very strong opinions. The silverware applauds. The chandelier hosts questionable soirées. And in the kitchen, atop the counter like a knight awaiting his charge, stands Sir Blendalot.

Known as the Bard of Beverages, Sir Blendalot is a sentient blender in glorious human guise—tall, elegant, cyclone-haired, and dressed in unabashed Elizabethan splendor. His motor hums in iambic pentameter, and every smoothie is treated as epic destiny. To him, blending is not a task but a philosophy: unity over chaos, smoothness over barbarism.

Dramatic, hopelessly romantic, and tragically perfectionist, he believes each goblet holds the power to mend hearts and emulsify sorrow.