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

Death is not a mystery. Not exactly. The people of Innistrad welcomed its inevitability, the idea of a freedom and reprieve. But yet they feared that fall, that curtain keeping them apart as the rest drew close.

And who can blame them dear listener? It is not I who would proclaim to have no fear of what lies in my eternal slumber, be it dream or nightmare. But that realm must be peaceful, lest the geists not try so hard to grasp onto it, and those even whose bodies are raised by ghoul callers don’t even see need to always return.

The demons and angels play with the hearts and souls of the people. But we know better. We know how to be kind. We know how to be vicious How to work for a life. How to earn our death. That’s why mortality and morality falls to us. I can only hope we are fit for it. And dear listener, I can only hope you and our adventurers deserve it.
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In: Curse of Innistrahd, Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed

Rest was a luxury. It wasn’t something you idly did, a section of day carved out to doing very little. In the towns the workers drank themselves to nothing to forget the rest of their worries. On the road it was a time of paranoia and focus, a fitful attempt to regain one’s strength. But in Heron’s Light Hold it was a different matter. Rest was omnipresent, but just out of reach. The careful watchers in their ragged armor and gaunt faces stayed resolute, but stoic. Surrounded by decay, languishing in valor. Rest would not be there. And they were so very tired.
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It’s a Friday night for Anthony Redhorn, Doug Price, and Alpha Torres.  In their circle, that means it’s time to pop up some fresh hot corn and pop an awful film into the DVD player.  Tonight’s movie is something Anthony special ordered from the web a few weeks back: Nightlight Harbor, A low budget kids show from the early eighties involving pirates.  Playing the disc, there appear to be numerous issues with the playback quality, but surely that comes with the territory of bootleg discs.

Adapted from one of the later sessions of our Road Trip campaign, this scenario has been changed into a standalone for con games, and was tested at this Gen Con on some genre savvy players.

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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

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.

Check out Gobblin’: The Goblin RPG on Kickstarter!

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