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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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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 21

It was years ago that the Abbess, still tall and fair, came to reside in the confines of Krezk. The abbey had been there almost as long as she could remember, a cloistered building of of bone white, it’s graying walls visibly darkening against the fresh snow from disuse. But then it was named. The Abbey of Saint Traft. And that was when she took responsibility. She could still remember him, the legendary man who brought justice to lands near and fair to the shining field and towers of Gavony. His face was stern, but not grim. There was a softness behind his strength. And now he was dead.

She has seen him once, just the once before taking ownership of the old and poorly maintained stone walls of the abbey. A wispy figure, faint and flickering, candescent manifest will of the man she served. There was nothing she could do for him. But all those years ago as she looked toward the rest of her existence, she thought she could perhaps help others.

That was a long time ago, and she had changed much. The town had changed much, grown about her like roots from a tree. And she had became a rumor, a whisper on lips. She knew what they thought of her and her quiet solitude up on the snowy hill, only surrounded by those under her care. But she had fixed them. “And soon.” she spoke out loud, tracing a hand along the red haired head of the woman resting on smooth sheets before her. “Soon you’ll fix him. And they’ll be safe. But first… They must remember we care.”
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 20

It was on a cold day, filled with slowly falling snow that we see Baron Krezkov. Bald on top with his earth brown skin and wiry ring of white hair he was resolute, a dark spot amongst the pale ground. He was kneeling with a face so stony if appeared carved, glancing into the uncovered rectangle of dark dirt growing lighter with frost. He had lost so much. His wife, sturdy and willed had run out of tears before he had. And in this moment he did not think himself a strong man, simply there, broken and cold at the grave of yet another child.

But as we pull back we know he is wrong. A kneeling man, sturdy, holding the crumbling world together in the cold of snow, surrounded under the Hawthorne forest by other dark figures. Carpenters, farmers, blacksmiths, weavers all. His people. They stood around him in reverent mourning, a town supported by one man. And though he thought he wouldn’t make it through another day, he was wrong.

And in being wrong, he was strong. He was Krezk
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 17

Excerpt from the Writings of Cathar Dragomir:

“This is it. This is the end.

Death was… Welcome. It felt wrong to view it as so. But that sleep we are promised, a peace unknown to the living was never so beloved until I had it. And now… The Hold is in ruins. The people gone or fallen. My glorious angel, slain sometime in my negligent rest. No life could I sacrifice to right the wrongs that have happened.
So I shall give it my death.

The Lord was the first of us. Furious. A rancor unlike that I had ever seen. Seething in silence, a menace that I could not put to words. When I woke with a start I knew where I must go, clawing and scrabbling from my dirt and wooden bed. It was undignified. We were undignified. But we were here. My brothers, ready to serve again. We were filled with that anger, brought back by loyalty and love. But loathe am I to say it, I am not certain that this anger is righteous.
It seems fighting back the war of time is almost as hard as the vampire. We lose more every day. And I too feel my memories and hopes fade, and my weariness emerge. That anger has become something else. Seeping, sinister. I have faith in my lord. I hope he can end the madness of that Fiend Maurer. But selfishly I hope it is soon.

For I am so very tired.

And as it stands, this stalemate… This is the end of hope.”
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Dungeons and Dragons – Curse of Innistrahd Episode 15

It was tiring waiting that long. Strephan Maurer ponderously set his chin in his hands on another tired day. Progress was stilted. The land remained clutched in his elegant grasp, the fools in the towns wary but feeling their trivial safety. A hiss of dismissal poured from his pursed lips. And yet they stood in his way. His fingers tapped against his pale skin, feeling the beat through his jaw and gleaming teeth. Tatyana was still there. And there was no easy way to collect her with elegance. The town needed to remain, shepherds need their sheep. And that crazed Inquisitor wouldn’t simply relinquish the town. And even more still were that would be group of hunters, stomping through the forest like a frightened boar. Their lack of subtlety was adorable, but could prove troublesome. So perhaps… Yes.

Standing to his full height, he held out a hand as parchment and quill traveled loyally to his grip caught in invisible eddies. Across the room Rahadin, clad in black fur with his deep skin eyed his lord carefully, but didn’t speak. The rapid scratching of the feather on paper wasn’t something he’d disturb. Minutes later as the flurry of strokes ended and the wax seal was set to envelope, he finally felt the space to clear his throat subtly from the edge of the candlelit room. Maurer held the envelope out, looking his loyal servant in the eye. “Deliver this to Inghild.” he said in meticulous deep words. His face was placid for but a moment more, his mouth splitting into a sharp humorless grin. “It’s time we followed through on our plans.”

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