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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

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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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

Sitting in his decrepit shack, Bluto pondered his life’s direction. He plucked a silvery fish scale desiccated with time from his beard, staring at it as if it would lead him to an answer. It was little secret that over the last couple of years things had only gotten worse. The land didn’t have much kindness in it, but here it felt as if even the waters he had known since childhood were deciding to spite him. The other fishermen had given up, hunting or farming showing better results, and eventually the only results at all. The lake seemed so placid with it’s gray green surface.

But no matter how far his body or eyes traveled from it’s seemingly empty waters, he could feel his mind floating and still in the grasp of the lake. But perhaps it was time. Time to leave like the rest. He stood up from the rickety gray wood of his hovel, and went out to pull in the nets for the last time. It was this day he would find the gray surface of the water torn open, ripped to unveil a creature of a size he never could’ve imagined. And as the beast sunk beneath the still frothing wake, Bluto knew a chance was being offered. The waters had more to give to the loyal.

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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

No one knew where the howlpacks came from. The inquisition bristling with blades and silver say they understand this curse. But what is the good of a lie to sooth the masses when you’re living proof that their faith is misplaced. Maritte was angry. It was long past a fury that had a true direction. The scars on her arms had healed, but the scars on her mind had been there before they ever arrived. She spat, hot saliva impacting the ground next to the trail of blood, steaming lightly in the chilly Stensian morning. Force of will had gotten her this far, too much on her mind to stay in the wilds. But even though the full moon was waning, it’s call would bring her back again on baleful droning tolls like honey to her ears. Just like all those nights ago.

The church was confused. They knew the blessing of silver in form and spirit seared at the flesh of the wolf. But the moon in it’s austere brilliance pulled that savagery free, rending man and beast into a horror betwixt. Maritte didn’t see it as they did though. She pulled herself bodily over a branch, her torn and slack clothing catching on burrs and splinters as she approached the outskirts of Pallas.

She knew that it was silver that could destroy her. And that moon, in it’s own insidious way planned the same. She grit her teeth and stared at the wooden walls of the standing barricade. Hopefully they would be enough to protect the next one. She doubted it.

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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

She looked just like his dreams. Dark red hair, deep skin, a stance between confidant and cautious. She showed up all the time. Sometimes in dresses, sometimes in more practical noble wear. They were powerful, persuasive, and Izek knew it had to mean something. Even before seeing her it was a reflex, the shape of her face and vibrant colors in the darkness of his slumber. Eyes so sharp that he couldn’t shake them in his waking hours. For a few years now he had gotten that cowardly toy-maker to create for him, making sure he knew who was in charge. After the first bruises he started making them better. Correcting the face and the skin and the oh so piercing eyes.

But here she was. He tensed his arm, bristling red under a veneer of plate. A building away. For how long. How long had she been real outside the confines of his thoughts, how long had she been close enough that he could see her and know that he wasn’t simply mad. Well… Time was here that that could change. Time they would meet.
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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

Anathema. All of them. Their homes. Their villages. Their carts. Their wine. Brazen and foolhardy they drink to forget the untamed world around them. Plagued by the dark. But they forget where they are. Built on stone. People of untamed wood and broken bone. The sky tumbles, the trees rustle, and the mountain moans his sorrowful regret. And with eyes of thunder and the world at hand, those fearful walls would shake with conviction.

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