Tag Archives: curse of innistrahd

Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 26

Ireena Kolyana was surviving. She had always, and would never stop doing so. But now, today, left in this building she felt so small. She propped her cushioning better against the wood of the wall, and looked down at her book of nature lit by the flickering lantern light that managed to reach her. The words she hoped would sweep her away for now, from this subtly warmed cell and dark of the night and paranoia. She was wrong.

She didn’t hear those few words muttered from the other end of the structure, starting with “Excuse me why are you-”, before the guard’s voice vanished with a thick gurgling sigh. She didn’t smell his red black blood the color of her hair as it spilled across the planks. And she didn’t hear the approach of the tall blonde woman that walked up to the door. But she did hear when she spoke.

“Hello miss Kolyana.” she spoke, in an even and sweet tone that Ireena had not expected coming from the visage before her. “I think it’s time we get you out of that cell.”

Ireena struck to her feet to gaze across at this woman she had seen before, but who seemed so oddly elegant now standing outside her bars. “Grimhild?”

The woman smiled. “Not quite.” she said in a devilish whisper as Ireena took in more of the scene, the scent of blood and the reddening spots on this woman’s dress. She waited until the quivering gaze and stiff chin of the proud Stensian looked back up before speaking again.
“But you’ll find we have something in common. We both wish to protect you from the beasts that lurk out there. The only difference,” she paused, as if savoring the taste upon her tongue, “Is that I know the game they’re playing. And I know how to win.”
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 25

She could feel them watching her. We see the Inquisitor, Seeta Venliss, hat off her head staring out the window. She had sealed her letters, the burning sensation of heated wax remaining on her hands reminding her of every word and failure. This town was dying. It had been for a long time, but she refused tooth and nail- Though the sentiment had come back to bite her. When she closed her eyes she could hear them, the screams, the crackling of buildings as she saw them casting harsh orange across her face and the streaks of blood and tears across the people. Her people. She awoke with a start, no time for that. No time for sleep.

The vampires had to fall. Or everything else would. His madness was contagious, and she was certain that this town would buckle under the weight of his ego. If it hadn’t already.
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 24

It was not vampires that brought the redheaded Yulia with her endless seeming optimism to the outland valleys, but rather two things: Stories, and truth. And it was in departing from the ways of Maurer’s hunters that she endeavored toward the second. The Silver Temple, ancient and caked in ash and disuse was nestled in the mountains in the burning shadows of the Ashmouth. The only way to get there was the treacherous winding path of the Needle’s Eye, avoided by all but the mad and the dead. Yulia wasn’t sure which one she was, but she was willing to take it. There was much in there waiting for her. Speakers of knowledge trapped in its ancient walls and ancient stones.

She smiled her usual confident smile, a guise that no one saw but she felt on her face nonetheless, a reflex, as she lazily grazed her hand along the rough hewn walls of the staircases to her goal. This land had forgotten. Forgotten what it was like before the angels. The people reliant. The vampires confidant but contained. And any talk of gods… Vanished. But that was no more. Not today. Today she would find proof. Find proof that her stories lead somewhere. That life didn’t serve faith, but rather the inverse. She would take this whole temple down, demon and trap, one step at a time. She would get there. Or die trying.
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 23

Listener, sometimes I feel at a loss. It is you and I with this bird’s eye view, seeing a story of the dark and the hopes and fears of those caught within.

We see the crying tears of a mother in Shadowgrange that doesn’t know her where in that manor her daughter is kept, wallowing in the decrepit corpse of a house. We see the inquisitor Seeta being stirred from her sleep as the sound of bells and the scent of smoke rouses her from her tenuous slumber. We see the hidden man Rem Karolus battle with fiends in the streets with flashes of steel and holy light, but fleeing at the sounds of the church he serves. We see the druids and savage folk of the hills gathering around the mountainous bones of the earth in prayer of a lord who will free them of their loss and pain. We see the caves of the burgeoning howlpack, and a strong dark skinned woman looking for something to believe in. We see the shattered remnants of soldiers praying with a conflicting but nonetheless real faith in the righteousness they hope to serve again. We see the vampire progenitor Strephan Maurer, calmly and idly contemplating his words, and the days to come as he gazes out of the shrouded window of his wagon. And we see a woman that looks remarkably like Grimhild but dressed in a red dress that cascades and flows like a river of blood as she leans in an whispers something secret, something dark to a glass and metal contraption flowing with ice white light. Though I suppose most notably, we see her smile. A true smile, not fiendish, but the confidence of someone who has made up their mind.

And yet despite seeing all these things listener, we are still caught along this story. Hoping we will see how it ends. Whether this is a story of redemption, vengeance, or just purely tragedy. Though I suppose that is for them to decide. But now plans are in motion, and there is no turning back.
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 22

Dressed in red and black finery the cost of multiple men’s lives, Strephan Maurer idly sips at a goblet of wine and eyes the sky with a placid face. The peace was a practiced neutrality, holding back a steady tension with gossamer and decorum. He was ruminating. Ruminating on life. On death. And on his deep and utter boredom. Things were supposed to get exciting, another set of slayers and warriors, users of magic and prayer stepping into his valley. His drummed a set of manicured nails across the polished wood of his arm rest, each beat like that of his languid heart.

They had her. Tatyana, his soulmate trapped in the breast of another. His brow furrowed as he still stared toward the graying cotton of the clouded sky. He didn’t mind waiting for her, but the game had been patient. And like everywhere else he had set up the pieces. And then they came in, upturning the board as they didn’t even know the game was being played. Maurer lowered his golden eyes to stare across the western gate of the estate, the storms clearing to simple rain on the other side of the walls, hills and forest blocking his eyes but not his vision.

It had been long enough coming. He hoped they would play along, stumbling haphazardly into the affairs and secrets brewing in Pallas. The neonates he smuggled in. The efforts of Lady Wachter. The cultivated paranoia and obsession of Inquisitor Seeta. But alas, they were simply a distraction. And waiting just to show off, well… It seemed desperate. As the first line of smoke came up from the direction of the forest nestled town, Maurer smiled a gentle tired smile. “Rahadin,” he said clearly to the darkness beside him, “I think it’s time we paid them a visit.”
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