-
Death. An eternal circle, that we experience as a joke on us all by Nerull.
For before they spoke we were young and new, we had never experienced anything.
There was just existence, no life or death as we know it. But that changed.
A God came down and spoke to us,
He told of the wonders in the world,
Of the trickery and fun
Taught us of the cycle.
While we played he grew bored, we grew dull.
"Come children, come and listen to my wisdom."
He sent his winged and horned servants to bring all together
And began to speak.
He showed us the seasons
The warmth of the sun, the cold of the frost
The cycle of nature. Birth and rebirth,
Trickery is his nature, and so he spoke
"All things whither and die, Children.
"All things come to an end. Even you.
"Do not forget the cycle of nature."
Some of us he pulled aside.
"Trusted ones, know the truth;
Death is a joke. Be my eyes and ears."
He gave his few a sliver of his power.
The power to continue his prank.
Undeath grew from this as lazy Nerull
Ceased to monitor his joke.
"Horned ones, winged ones.
"Send back the fools for me.
"Keep them in line."
And so his servants set out
They collected the wandering dead
Returned them to their place
And let the joke play out.
-
There are a lot of misconceptions about the Gundarakite God of old, Nerull. The Barovians confuse him with some old Tergish god Erlin, while otherwise, people seem to mistake him for the outlander god of the same name.
This is interesting because they seem to have many gods that share the same name. Their nerull is a purely evil god. He hates- no loathes, all forms of life and believe that undeath is supreme. His priests are tasked with killing as many as possible. They see being made undead as a blessing?
The Nerull of Gundarak is quite different. He is a lazy trickster who delegates his duties as a god to fiends, and made death a joke on mortals to amuse himself. Now that being said he is a fearsome being as he is Death.
Death is all around. It comes in many forms and many things die. From the leaves and trees, insects, undead, us. The seasons show us death. Nerull is much more than what common people know. Yes death is important, as it is his domain, so His priests remain secretive, for death is mysterious. Chaos, trickery, death. He is pestilence, he is the fall and winter, he is what all beings must eventually bow to.
We are all equal in death. There exists a secret that few know, and that is how to achieve true death. Not this farce of death we frequently face. No, this is the death of eternal rest. The death that frees us from the suffering and trickery. Where we break free from his massive joke, understand it and join him, forever free of suffering. Allowed to embrace bliss.
-High Priestess General
-
There is a flip side to this though, one I've recently uncovered.
What is Death without life?
Where do we come from?
We are born of the void and return there.
Out of the Darkness we are born.
The Night Mother, the keeper of life, and Nerulls consort is the one to birth us.
What exists before the light of life? Darkness.
What is death but unknown darkness?
Why do we fear things in the dark?
It is because we do not understand.
She has been overshadowed by Death
Forgotten by us, but responsible for all
She remains silent; ever there for us.
She is the light at the end of the tunnel.
Perhaps someday we will learn how to return to her
We have become trapped in Nerulls game
Forgotten it all, and blind to the truth.
The Night Mother and Nerull
They Rule Together.
-High Priestess General
-
As if proof of the very notion she believed, she stirred to watch it all begin again.
-
After months of solitude, she returned once more. It was time to meet with "Little Laszlo" and the other rebels, the army. The world was being shaken by disasters and portents of the end of times. Her dreams were filled with passion once more and wild with desire. She would teach, she would share, and she would protect. While the end may be near, she knew not to fear. It would be only a trick of the Old God, or a proper end to suffering for all. Darkness would rise and the light would fall, and from it all a new Gundarak could rise up once and for all.
Emanuel had called her General, this army may yet need her tactics to guide them to victory. She would answer the call at long last and give it her all. Risk everything, what little she had left. She would submerse herself in the coming war and be prepared to give it all for she knew she would either repeat this suffering or be freed from it eternally. Nerull, the Trickster, would determine that. She could hear the divine calling, begging her to take action, to dive into the deep.
It was time for a new Erzsebet Varga.
-
An Auntie and one of His chosen. Her new life was beginning and she was gaining her power back. Her courage. She had found her people.
These women had suffered the same as she, and she as them. If the army would not take them they would make their own. They could fight like her, they could understand her, they could learn from her. For the first time in years Erzsebet was alive and excited. Thrilled for the things coming ahead of her. This time was different, she could feel it, and while she may not take a leading role in this Black Army, she would certainly take part and make a final name for herself.
The women ventured from the foot of the Counts Castle west to Berez in hopes of finding them. It was a long slow journey and they spoke much during the walk. Erzsebet had not been in Berez in a few years, but she hoped that the Burgomaster was the same whose wife and children she had helped save. Even at the cost of Kin who did not listen to her warnings. Outlanders had done most of the damage, but she was the one who unlocked their cage and smuggled them up and out. That night, in her room, she fondled her medal, letting the memories of those earlier times wash over her. She cried for the losses she suffered at the hands of both Outlander and Barovian alike. She grieved and raged over the betrayal of her Kin. At the loss all Gundarakites suffered, and felt something new stirring in her.
Protection. She wanted to protect them all. To safe guard them, to ensure they never suffered again. That very moment, Erzsebet realized that, while she may not give birth to a child, all Gundarakites would be her children. She would view them as a mother would. Guard them like a mother wolf. She would fight for them, and give into the wild, burning passion and desire that welled up in her. A maternal instinct that she could not fight. The heart of ice she often wore seemed to do little to chill the fire that was now burning in her soul.
This time she was not fighting for herself. This time she was at war for all of the Gundarakites who were harmed at the hands of the oppressors. She had survived, and learned from the failures of the others around her, she could do things better this time. And so, repeating a ritual of years ago, she pierced her hand, stabbing into the floor beneath it. 'Nerull, God of Death, Ruler of All, Trickster and Manipulator, I summon and call upon thee in my time of need. Let me hear your voice again and give me guidance. I will succeed where others have fallen.' As she pulled the knife up from her hand, she smeared the blood into a chasm like design. 'Hated Mother, Night Mother, Mother of All, Darkness that Birthed the Light, show me your will so that I may lead and follow it.'
A sense of calm washed over her as her prayer finished. When was the last time she had felt this sense of calm? She could not recall, and for the first time in years, she slept a peaceful sleep, devoid of dreams, just a blissful blackness.
-
The Tenets of The Old God
1. Do not take the life of a child, or mother. Every taken life must matter.
2. Respect Death, for it is everywhere, and always watching.
3. Secrecy is key.
4. Those who betray shall fine no reprieve or safety from harm.
5. The Hunt is Sacred.
6. Revere the Night, for She is Mother to all.
7.Trickery, lies and deceit shall be our tools.
8. It is our job to hasten his joke. Spread disease, chaos, and death in meaningful ways.
Are these right? Or are there more? I will figure that out in time...
-
It is right there, the flip side that is oft ignored.
The symbol. The oldest symbol is the sickle and butchers knife crossed over an orb of beautiful starry night sky.
The weapons are Nerull, while the orb of night sky is the Hated Mother, the Night Mother.
The source of all, the void from which we come, and some day, return to.
Yet the years have been unkind to Her.
It has seen the balance lost, and all that remains now,
Is the skull and scythe which can be found in the outlanders version too.
The mists have existed longer than we have,
They have taken people since then, and seen things become corrupted,
Changed and twisted to suit the ill advised whims of fools.
We must not allow ourselves to fall victim to them any longer.
-High Priestess General
-
The Old God is one of trickery and deception, and so it stands to reason that each variant of his worship, each interpretation could be all valid. Perhaps like the seasons, all these aspects are merely different parts of himself accentuated. One aspect is much like winter, harsh, a danger to all life and living things. The one I have come to learn and understand is perhaps more akin to fall. All things die, all things are equal in death. We scramble to prepare for the harsh winter.
If death is a deception, then maybe the two versions are just another deception as to who the Old God really is. Or perhaps due to the mists, the passage of time, the corruptive nature of man, outlanders, and the desire to use religion for power have twisted it far beyond the truth. Would it then be up to his followers to figure that out?
The Barovians have mistaken Nerull for some tergish god Erlin (I still can't find out anything on that diety), the outlanders have their hater of life version... I admit to know very little about what Duke Gundar believed beyond the stories of sanctified slaughter, which, I suppose would be his will in the means of spreading chaos and particularly fear. I have come to believe that Nharov Gundar succumbed to the twisting and perversion of the Old God.
I have met outlander priests and priestesses of Nerull, and they are cruel. Life is an affront, an abomination that should be rendered dead as soon as possible. They long for the gift of undeath, seeing it as the supreme gift of their god. They are happy to kill people for very little reason beyond the fact that they are alive. They hate it, they hate life so much that the things I have read from the inner sanctum of the church, I will keep secret until I die for it was terrible beyond words and no one should know those wicked, Evil deeds.
Emanuel Maryszkas begged the Old God for help when he was being chased by barovian militia (I know the horrors they comitted personally), and by miracle his prayer was answered. Fear washed over the militiamen, allowing him to find safety. Fear, not death swept over them. Fear is an aspect of chaos. I prayed to the old god as I was being beaten to death in that cell, begging for a miracle. I got that, I was brought to this stone temple like place, and made to make a vow and I was returned to life, outside of the citadel, far away from Vallaki with my weapons, gold, items and everything. There we have an act of trickery, I was there and I was gone. Leaving nothing but the evidence of their crimes. There is also an aspect of death to that, I lost a child in there and that life was never returned.
I feel like the lacking piece remains with whatever Erlin was.
-High Priestess General
-
True Death.
Isn't that what we all long for? Freedom from suffering, from pain, from everything.
When we take a life we must remember that we are cursing that individual from here on in to never ever be found by Him.
We choose the fools to trick into believing that we are granting them salvation in death,
But that is not what we really do.
I have said before that deception is His way, so then, it must be ours.
Death is a deception, so then what is true death?
True Death is being freed from his trickery and deception,
Maybe, just maybe, if we have earned it, we may gain a seat by his side.
-High Priestess General
-
Death does not care who you are. What your status. How much your wealth. Your beauty, power, money, all of it. None of it matters in the eyes of Death.
That is a fact, from the rich to the poor we are all equal in death. All stuck in this loop of deception and trickery, a giant joke, until we figure out what exactly that deception is. Which I am sure will be revealed to us in time. Or perhaps not and it is something we will only learn after we have figured it out.
The Night, the Hated Mother, the Night Mother. Mother of all, and the void to which we can only hope to return. She lays dormant, suppressed by a Barovian cult that has mislead many of our kin. I've heard some outlanders refer to the Morning Lord as Lathander, but I admit I lack the insight into their cult and belief system. I do know that for some reason they have a relic that would free our Mother.
I remember meeting Her and her companion. I walked across her inky blackness suspended on nothing but faith. I was told of a set of gloves, gloves of the dawn or something. I can't recall the exact name anymore, but these gloves they keep secreted away to keep our Mother at bay. They fear the darkness, thinking that only the light can bring salvation. Yet, we all come from darkness. We exist in darkness before we enter this world, and when we die, it is darkness again. The light is a fleeting thing like a flower in bloom. Even it will fall to the mighty Father and Mother of all.
-High Priestess General
-
I am curious as to why it was the deciever we called upon. Out of all of His servants, why that one? Was it a test to see who was paying lip service and who was faithful? There were some of us who gave our oath to the Old God, while some gave their oath to the fiend. While this fiend may be one of his servants, it is still a fiend, and should be trusted as much as an outlander. It is my understanding that when dealing with fiends one should pay very close attention to the words being spoken. Hm, I guess outlanders can prove to be useful in some ways, I learned that from them.
Now I understand a little bit more why the cult in Berez had that weird multi eyed fiend there directing them. And really, what should I expect? Those things are who He sends to do His job. Why would he take time away from watching the deception play out to give his followers clarity? I wouldn't. When I spoke with Tobi, I think that was his name, an immortal being, he spoke about how life gets boring when you are around for centuries, so why would a God be any different? If our God is any proof, they aren't. Could this just be a deception of his?
I have spent hours down here in the temple, sitting and contemplating everything that happened. Out of the kin I brought with me, I saw at least two who were in shock and wanted to flee when the fiend came. To me this means they do not know our faith all that well at all. Devils and demons are his minions, his servants. We should show them respect, but not blindly follow their orders. Which is why I said my oath to Nerull, and not to the his servant like that fiend wanted. I will respect what was told, and bathe in the glory of streets running red with the blood of fools.
I was a little surprised to see some Barovians, but their use of Erlin only makes me believe that the truth of the Old God lies in a combination of the three variations: Nerull of the outlanders, Nerull the Old God, and Erlin the Tergish God. The outlander Nerull loathes all life and seeks death everywhere, the undead are exalted. Nerull the Old God, created death are a deception or joke to amuse himself, undead exist because he is too lazy to manage them and he uses fiends as servants. All I know about Erlin, or Irlek is that it was some sort of demonic god?
But it is time, things will be new and I must shed the distress and anguish of the past. We will not repeat the same mistakes. We will not fail as they have before. We will unite Gundarak and Barovia! Freed from all tyrants! Gloriously even under the worship of Death.
-High Priestess General
-
Finally. At last she had her chance to help her kin take back their homeland. It went smoothly, and almost as she predicted. When the smoke rose into the night sky, illuminated by the flames of the burning ships, the outlanders came. They brought their weapons, their desires and goals. Yet, this time, Erzsebet was pleasantly surprised. These outlanders did not come to stop them, no instead they came to help. They joined them to take Berez and reclaim their lost homeland, it was not expected. She was prepared to take them down, but yet, they became a useful ally that night and day.
Mists pooled around the front gate and croaking, hoarse voices began to utter one word: "Strahd". Images of the events of 772 suddenly flashed through her mind. The very same undead had attacked there before, but in many more swarms than this time. Erzsebet had tried to warn the army that they would likely encounter the undead minions of the Devil Strahd, they did not believe her or listen. She prepared potions and items that would help them fight against the undead. She had taken a few and shown them combat with the undead, but she did not feel like it was enough. Thankfully the outlanders that showed up were aware of how to fight the undead. The army had magic which was used to burn swarms of the shambling dead that attacked.
The siege was a success. However the nights success would be taken from them all by a letter sent by a traitor. Not a traitor to the army, but a traitor to the cult. A letter delivered that night to the Lieutenant detailed the events of that secretive night. It revealed the names of people who sought to keep hidden. Exposed those placed in other groups to spy. But that letter did not just destroy those secrets it destroyed the trust between the soldiers. And when one of the cultists spoke up and claimed all were complicit in a vile act, that same cultist shattered some of the faith in their leader. Claiming he was not able to do what must be done. Claiming him a coward and sealing the fate of the others.
Erzsebet was certain that she would need to take drastic action to save herself and the true faithful. Her mind raced through her tools and tricks, remembering two contracts that she had come to possess. It would work, and suffice if she could not talk her way out. An unfortunate pattern of being accused of being a cultist or rebel had given her the insight to word things carefully. She explained how going against the cult leader would be suicide, and that she was not aware of who the individual was that was at the center of the sacrifice. Her words painted a picture of regret, perhaps even remorse, of fear, and of not knowing better. Her words described her view of each person being responsible for their own actions instead of blaming it on all involved. She did truly believe what she said when said: "I believe Emanuel should be held accountable and responsible for his actions and his choices..." For they were his alone.
While her lips played service to those present her mind was frantically trying to decipher the true traitor to the cult, to her. She blamed herself, as she brought them in. She took them there, she was responsible for them and failed to properly vet them. The betrayal rekindled her lack of trust within her kin as it dawned on her that she had only ever seen betrayal by outlanders and other Gundarakites, a surprising fact that a Barovian that she trusted had yet to betray her. She was shaken back into reality hearing that she was on thin ice, but would not die. She followed the order barked at her by the lieutenant and ventured out into the night, listening to the conversations between outlanders and Gundarakites. She wandered through the streets, fearful that her possible last ally may be killed. She prayed for guidance, considering all her options, but it turned out, she did not need to worry. Her other ally walked out of house and into the night. Waves of relief washed over her as she went up to check in.
Another of the army approached the pair, who instantly assumed the worst. What a surprise it was when she had to explain why everyone was tense. The downfall of being a good soldier, if you obey orders exactly, sometimes you miss out on other key details. In this case, the letter. It was a confusing and conflicting evening, there was success and victory, but also betrayal of the highest caliber. Sometimes the upside of being a good soldier, as Erzsebet learned, was being able to focus on the event at hand, and that even was a victory.
-
Proper death is a reward. It frees us from the cycle and the agony and suffering that seems to be existance. Because Nerull, the Old God, is a trickster, we find two deaths: one true and one false. The false death is the one we see most often around here. It is the death we return from, the death that we are ressurected from. True death however, there is no returning from.
It breaks the cycle and possibly even frees us from the deception He created to amuse himself with. It is a true gift, for that sort of death is lasting, there is no returning to the angony and suffering. It frees us from it all and if we are lucky, reunites us with those we loved who have gained a true death. It is not something to fear or dread, but something to embrace, much like the false death that we experience often. The false death grants us a slight taste of what we may hope to one day achieve, it goes to show us the power of our Lord, and in a way, his kindness, for sometimes we are returned to continue His work.
The Old God is mysterious, chaotic and strange. As a being that has lived eternity over, we can not fully understand him, as that sort of existance outside of time is not for us to know. We are merely pawns in his grand design and we can only hope to serve Him well.
-High Priestess General
-
I have read the logs in the back of the church, I have told the leader of his failings by permitting outlanders to run the cult. He allowed them into the church and they corrupted it fully. They replaced our Old God with their Nerull. With their evil, vile, disgusting, murderous life hater. They changed it away from the truth and even farther than it already was thanks to Gundar. That man who I believe was misled, his faith corrupted by a need to control people out of fear. He, like those outlanders, has slaughtered wantonly in the name of Nerull. Ignoring the dogma, not trying to understand it, but simply using it as a tool to kill.
That sort of religion has no place in our newly formed former homeland. The Old God is not an entity that loathes all life, that sends his priests out to murder everyone and anyone. No, that is not our faith. That is not what the Old God desires. That is what the outlander nerull desires. For the outlanders god of the same name is evil, wicked and sinister. That god would slaughter all and his priests would long for undeath. All life disgusts that perverted diety. That is not the Old God. That is not the Nerull of Gundarak.
Our Nerull, the Old God, is a trickster. A lazy God who can't even be bothered to tend to his duties. He has mastered the art of deception and trickery, and created death as a grand joke on us for his amusement. That is the God of Gundarak. He is Death, and the cycle of nature. He is the great equalizer. The one that no matter our position in life, we all must face one day. Every single thing fades and dies. That is his power and his domain.
We are not to slaughter everyone for the sake of killing. We are not murderous outlanders. We are to help spread his joke, ensure it plays out. That means meaningful deaths, meaningful actions, not the ridiculous slaughter of all that many have grown to believe our faith is.
The Old God Nerull of Gundarak is the nerull of the outlanders.
When I was returned to life and saved from the Barovians, I met His avatar, and He made me vow never to kill a child or its mother. Every life we take must matter. We are not barbarians.
-High Priestess General
-
Faith or state.
Why should they be separated? Why not combine them, create a homeland that actually reflects our history, instead of mimicking that of Dementlieu. Many of us, at least in the Barovian annexed lands, follow the old god, and not the outlanders version. It brings me to rage when I hear of our kin claiming to follow the Old God when they are mislead and follow that of the outlanders. We are not them. We are Gundarakites.
As it stands now, we boarder on the verge of a war between faith and state. While I am happy to once more have a homeland, having them ban a faith of historical relevance in favour of a conveluted politcally inclined religion that can't even make up its own mind on which interpretation to follow infuriates me. It is like a slap in the face. 'Oh here is your homeland back again- but now you can't follow your god- but at least you can speak Luktar'. How is that any better than life under the devil?
I have yet to actually see any sign of this so called Lord Regeant. Were I leading an army or a country, I would make time to visit the troops on the front lines. Yet, more and more I am getting a feeling that the army is not going in the direction that we all desire. Will it be another tyrant masquerading around as something better? They are allowing outlanders now.
How can we call ourselves an army of Gundarakites if we are not that. If we begin to allow outlanders into the actual army... If they think I am power hungry, they are blind to the outlanders. How easy it would be for them to spy on us for the garda. How easy to infiltrate. How easy to relay information to the Devil on our numbers and our tactics.
Yes I am jaded. Yes I am paranoid. But I have survived where others have fallen. I have learned from their mistakes.
This state of war against the faithful, and Barovia will only result in one thing, and it is not success.
But we can still be successful. We can still have a homeland that is free. Where we can practice our faith without fear of punishment or exile. Where we can speak our language, and be treated fairly.
In the eyes of the Old God, we are all equal.
-High Priestess General
-
The night is the closest we can get to Her
For She slumbers eternally, forgotten to time,
Hidden by the ones who carry the light.
Our Hated Mother, She who birthed all.
From her inky void we come,
And to her inky void we shall return one day.
For she welcomes all her children,
Our Night Mother.
She is the darkness when we close our eyes,
She is the darkness when we dream,
She is the darkness in which we slumber peacefully.
She is the darkness that we fear,
She is the darkness that we long to embrace.
She who loves even Death,
She is mother to all.
-High Priestess General
-
(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/801613380901273611/803647789883326484/nerull_2.jpg)
The Gundarakite Symbol of Nerull
-
A proper battle. She had expected soldiers with their weapons and had even expected siege weapons. Cannons however, she had not expected that. Their fierce roar, a booming cascade each shot fired. The sound was like nothing she had heard, she felt it to her core. Like hell she would let these Barovians breaking their own counts laws succeed. No, she would prove her worth in this moment. Erzsebet was confident, she was enthralled by the chaos of a battlefield. She could smell blood, charred flesh and sulfur in the air. Its mix an intoxicating spell over her. Everything of her God was presented infront of her. Chaos, death, deception, trickery. She had surely done her Lord proud, and the regent too.
Upon their attempt to take the cannons, her Sargent fell to their foe. Although she was the same rank as her friend in arms, she took charge, risking her life to recover the corpse of the fallen. Under the burden of the weight she crept along in the woods, and shadows. She could the Barovians taunting and calling on her to show herself but she wouldn't. She knew better. Far too many times had she let her reaction take precedent over her wisdom. As she crossed through the gate of Berez she set down her Sargent and promptly demanded to know how to destroy the cannons. It was the first time she had ever seen them, and their power had shaken her deeply, although she'd hide that fact from all she could.
With a plan in mind, she set out to accomplish her squads goal. She laughed to herself quietly from the shadows as she watched the hellishly strong Wachter soldiers flee in terror as they had lost their cannons. They knew they stood no chance against the 5th. Their reputation was nothing more than the truth, and Erzsebet would ensure that continued. Even if it meant breaking orders to ensure they can face anything. This battle had exhausted her supplies. Almost every trinket she had stored for emergencies had seen their use that day. Either in defending her company as they moved heavy barrels and boxes, or ensuring that their mission was accomplished.
Despite her hopes that they would loose no-one, they lost two. Two fell in the battle, but she and another of the squad would take the corpses into enemy territory to see them ressurected and returned to life. Erzsebet knew that she could of done better, she should of taken the bomb that was offered, but this was a chance for her to learn, and learn she did. As time passed and people recovered from the battle she inquired how to best destroy a cannon. There were a few different answers given to her, yet she gathered the bulk into her theory that introducing an amount of dirt, or rocks into the cannon, or even something sticky could be effective. However to test that she would need to go to Dementlieu and hope someone was willing to let her destroy their cannon. She felt that would be unlikely to happen, and so she would have to wait.
The day of the battle she had been called a hero by her own people, and she felt a sense of pride that she had never expected to feel. A sense of belonging, a sense of family. Dysfunctional, messed up, and possibly corrupted, yet to her it remained in a sense a family. That was one thing she would not allow herself to fail in. Until she herself was carrying a child, she'd consider the 5th company her family and she would protect them with ferocity. She had already warned a wight to leave her kin alone, and any threat to her kin she would take the risk to sort it out.
Erzsebet knew that she was a horrible soldier. Orders and their ranking meant little more to her than the word of a friend, and every time she was faced with someone who infuriated her, she was forced to hold back, to refrain from making a remark she knew she would regret deeply. She would not even use their weapon of choice, or go near black powder. She trusted guns and their explosive powder as much as she could toss a fat Barovian. Despite all these failures, she was loyal, determined, and above all else... Erzsebet wanted to be able to raise a child in a country where they would not be threatened by tyranny, where Barovians and Gundarakites could exist in peace. A dream yes, but one she hoped was within reach.
-
Zeidenberg. She was shocked to see the vast number of buildings and people, to hear the sounds of a real city. It was overwhelming. Yet in a good way, the only good thing she would feel that day. They made it there safely, but things would quickly descend to chaos, deception and death.
They had a job to do, protect the Lord Regent during the officialization of the church of Ezra. She debated ignoring the note that was shoved in her bag, that invasion of her privacy did not sit well. Yet, inside she knew what would happen. She knew there would be a large attack. They had started a war with the church, a war that almost killed her. She was not prepared, nor was the army for dealing with devils and fiends, paired with cultist priests and warriors.
A opening ceremony for a church swiftly turned into a massacre. Erzsebet had tried, along with the rest of the company to defend and protect the regent, but everyone reaches a point where their self preservation takes hold. This was that moment for her. She stared around at all the corpses of Gundarakites, cultist and soldier alike. A moment of forced descision. She chose to live. It would haunt her.
Betrayal.
A sudden change of heart.
"I'm sorry." She said as she turned on her friends. As she turned on the army that had barely welcomed her. As she turned on the most likely chance of success they had had in ages. She fired bolt after bolt, taking down the fabeled fifth company with finess and guilt. This was not what she wanted. She had hoped that this would not happen. So she took a chance and turned to the Regent.
"Look at all the death you've caused by creating a war between church and state."
"Recind the order, label Emanuel an enemy not the entire faith."
"No."
"Fine, then I'll kill you too."
It wouldn't take many bolts at arms reach to take the man down. Even his healing magic would be useless against Erzsebets bolts. Her eyes darted around, making sure people stayed down. She really had not wanted this to end this way. With a heavy heart she apologised to the soldiers, to her friends, as she fired a single last bolt into their heads. She reached Zsofika, and for whatever reason, Erzsebet was not able to kill her. Instead she healed her.
"Come with me, I can take you somewhere safe."
"Somewhere... Safe?"
Her ear twitched as the sound of many feet drew closer. She strode over to the corpse of Demetrius Ajkler and cut his head off, putting it in a bag as if it were nothing.
"Erzse what have you done?"
"He insisted on keeping an entire faith banned instead of the one responsible. Come with me, please?"
She downed the last concealment potion she had and stepped into the shadow behind the pillar. "Tell them you were attacked, get them to go get help and we can flee together."
She whispered from behind her, standing there as she began to change into her stealth gear. "Don't do this." She warned.
Betrayal was a bitter tonic to drink of when Zsofika said they were betrayed. Shaking her head, Erzsebet walked away, creeping through the town with the head of their leader in a bag like a petty criminal. Her feet carried her forward across Barovia. She passed some garda on patrol, who remained oblivious to the woman carrying the head of their enemy. She passed the castle, a brief moment of questioning on whether she should try to see if the devil would hold up his end of a bounty.
"No. One sin is enough today." She told herself as her feet continued to carry her to the church where she would deliver the head.
As she snuck inside and climbed down the ladder, something hit her.
Down in the earthen basement, she felt herself sink. Darkness surrounded her, her breath picked up as she felt as though the walls would close in on her. As the darkness subsided, the feeling did not. Tears began to trickle down her face as she was bombarded with the lively movie replaying of her killing her friends in arms. Decapitating the man who was supposed to lead them. Her body began to shake as the most emotionally charged memories began to repeat in perfect clarity.
The dog eating her eye, her miscarriages, her time in the citadel, the violation she and her mother endured at the hands of Barovian soldiers. She remembered every action the Black Wolf of Teufeldorf took upon her, she remembered every disgusting detail of those memories. Her body shaking as her voice cried out for Emanuel. She was exhausted, her mind repeating the memories she wanted to forget. As they repeated, she became silent, sitting there, staring blankly ahead. Something was wrong, something was different.
-
[This is written in a very unsteady hand]
I can't believe I did that.
I can't believe I turned on them all.
-
I warned them several times that they could not stand up to the cult. I asked them to remove the ban on the cult. Just like every time before, they ignored me.
They ignored all of my warnings. Every last one.
They ignored my warning that they would deal with undead in Barovia.
They ignored all of my advice.
Treated me like the Barovians have, only allowing me weaponry and the right to speak Luktar.
They watched my every action, some wanted me dead.
These are not the actions of people who will see Gundarak free from Tyranny.
Perhaps free from the Devil Strahd, but not tyranny.
I will always fight for a truly free Gundarak. Equality, and freedom.
-High Priestess General
-
Two at most, but absolutely one.
I had hoped everyone would survive when the reinforcements came, but I guess the reaper saw to free them from the suffering.
Yes, keep telling yourself that.
Zalan and Lazlo, I am sorry.
May you find yourselves free and in the mothers embrace.
-Erzsebet
-
Deception and trickery are two of His most vital tools.
Tools that I will use to see Him rise and his faulty so called leader fall.
It is His voice that I hear and I can tell by his reaction that he has not heard His voice in a very long time.
If I can't convince him of the truth I will use the Gods deception to bring about the change that must happen.
I know now what my task is.
Spiritually, and physically. I will see my people free.
I will be His tool to bring about His ressurection.
For He is the great equalizer of all.
-High Priestess General
-
The war progresses and I will do everything I can.
I am not the same as I was before.
This is going to be different.
This time it wont fail.
-High Priestess General
-
To spread chaos is part of the faith.
So I shall happily do so.
The plan is unfolding beautifully so far,
I will continue to act in faith and trust.
I will sow chaos and deceit
For they are His divine tools.
-High Priestess General
-
Erzsebet sat in front of a small camp fire, a journal, ink and quill in front of her. She had no issue with denouncing Nerull publicly, she did not worship that iteration of that god anyway. She could probably get in and rescue the burgomaster and his wife and children, that was easy too in comparison with the final part of her punishment and tasks. With a frustrated growl she tore another page out of the journal, crumpled it up and tossed it in the fire. It was her sixth try to write an apology letter.
"I'm sorry that I killed the person close to you, but know they aren't suffering anymore."
The words burned away as the flames licked the paper. Erzsebet wished deeply that should could simply give the families something material, it would of been much easier. How could she find the words for the people to portray that she felt remorse for her actions when in truth, she felt none. How could she express regret for her actions when in her mind, they were just and right. Writing these five letters was proving to be a Sisyphean task for her. Words and people were never among her talents. She was never good at apologizing, in fact, her method of apologizing had until this point, been giving them something expensive or rare.
As if the task at hand wasn't enough, she was distracted. Why was this weird woman in white threatening to kill her? Who or what was a "rotfurt"? She claimed that she had hunted her and let her live, yet Erzsebet had no such memories, she did recall some confusion years ago with another woman named Erzsebet. Could this be lingering residue from that? This masked woman claimed to have hunted Nerullites before. While this was not a shock to her that she knew Emanuel, it was a shock that he had let her live. Erzsebet began to wonder just how far from the truth and how perverted by the outlanders had the so called cult leader become. She had been aware of his failings, but perhaps it was time that she found out about them in depth, study them and find out how far he'd fallen.
She would save her people. However, more and more she was seeing that the army would fall. She could give them another chance to listen to her, a chance to learn about their actual enemy. Possibly a way to win their war. Or perhaps she would remove herself from their futile attempts and focus on saving her people instead. She had to correct the mistaken view of the old god of Gundarak, reclaim their gods name. Make it known that what has existed for years has not been the true old god, but the outlander murder god Nerull. A vile entity, a perverse god who would allow his priests to murder the unborn. To murder babies. To kill for the sake of killing.
This was the perversion adapted by the old Duke, the perversion the cult had partially fallen victim to. This was the perversion that was spread across the lands. The disgusting view that her people worshipped a god that wanted undeath, a god that wanted all life gone. A god that ordered its followers to go around and kill everyone and everything for the sheer sake of killing. No, this was not what her people had worshipped. This was not what they would worship from here on.
Erzsebet Varga was going to repair the religion. She was going to make it known that there are two gods of the same name. The true Gundarakite Nerull, the Old God, was a lazy trickster. A God more interested in watching his grand deception of death play out. A lazy God who doesn't do his duties as a God of Death, and allows the souls to escape and return as the undead. A lazy God who puts his duties on a host of servants, whom he doesn't watch as closely as he should. A deity that is found in every aspect of life, from the dying days of fall and winter, to the animals we hunt to eat, to the very lives we take. A God in whose eyes all were equal.
Perhaps not an ideal god to worship, but one who should be revered none the less for he created what they called death. Vastly different from that people assumed they worshipped. The outlander god finds servants in the undead, as they are superior to the living. The Gundarakite god has servants who are demons, who may or may not act on their own accord and toy with mortals. She could write pages, perhaps even books on the subject, the words flowed to her with a natural ease, but to write an apology... She could not find the words, and it frustrated her.
-
Her nightmares had become more vivid, a voice trying to speak to her through a muffled haze of torture and torment. Her dreams repeating her sin, the one she could find no forgiveness from her victims. Since then she had tried to play both sides, but she could not get her way into the army like she had planned. She would take it as a sign. A sign that her path was straight ahead of her, if she would only look.
As she slept in the arms of her lover, she began whimper, and tremble. Her mind tormenting her with the ghastly memories of having the guard dog feast on her eye, the clang of the cell that she died in, the gut wrenching and heart breaking cry when Fane Albescu died, the betrayals in her past, the warnings of the old Emanuel Gaspar. He had told her that the rebels were fools, warned about what Gundarak was in the past.
The haze parted as Erzsebet stood before a bloodied sacrificial altar in the center of a town. Priests in dark cloth dragged screaming victims from their loved ones. Mothers begged to be taken instead of their child, only to end up joining their sobbing child. So young, so innocent, so much potential.
A scream echoed all around her as if it came from all corners. Blood washed over her feet as she stood before an army. Gabor, Zalan, Balthasar, Lazlo... She could see them there in the whispy shadows, judging her. A blink and all but one vanished. Everything vanished except for the judgmental, harsh glare of the man she had promised a fair fight to. The man who was not returned to life.
She tried to speak but had no voice. Silence was parted by that hazy muffled staticky voice.
Her vision went black, she could feel it all closing in, and when it was lifted she faced herself. Regal, fierce, terrifying, cold, predatorial, beastial. She stood there with confidence as she seemed to preach to a large crowd of adoring people. A crimson crown adorned her head.
One by one the people she cared about came to her, begging: "Free me High Priestess. Please, I don't want to suffer anymore." With a compassionate look, she would give them a cup to drink from.
The voice spoke again, and everything spun together in a whirl of colours until there was just darkness, and the robed woman clutching her bleeding face in the cold, snowy Barovian winter.
Soaked in sweat and panting, Erzsebet sat up and quietly snuck out to let the cool air wash over her sweat soaked body. When she returned to the bed, Serghei was sitting up watching her with a worried expression. She avoided his eyes and crawled next to him, resting her head on his chest as if his warmth and the beating of his heart bring her some form of comfort.
-
---------------
Cult of the Old God
---------------
Tenants:
1. Do not take the life of a child, or mother. Every taken life must matter.
2. Respect Death, for it is everywhere, and always watching.
3. Secrecy is key.
4. Those who betray shall fine no reprieve or safety from harm.
5. The Hunt is Sacred.
6. Revere the Night, for She is Mother to all.
7. Trickery, lies and deceit shall be our tools.
8. It is our job to hasten his deception. Spread disease, chaos, and death in meaningful ways.
Symbol:
A butchers knife and sickle crossed over an orb of starry night sky
Further Information:
Particular view on death being divided into two different types. The first being the common or false death that people get resurrected from. The second being a true death, where the soul does not return to the body and is thus free of suffering and the deception created by the Old God. This is seen as a continuation of the deception by allowing people to be brought back from death or breaking free of it by not returning to the body. If the soul does not return then there should be celebration for they have deciphered the Old Gods grand deception and found their way home to the Night Mother, the only other way to achieve true death is by willingly sacrificing yourself during rituals which should be held every few months or when there are matters that need extra guidance.
It is not a betrayal to the Old God to be baptised into another faith, as that allows for secrecy to continue and for the mask we present to the public to be strengthened until we are free from persecution and hostility. Betrayal to the Old God is ousting the members, explaining to a untrusted individual the truth of the faith, showing those not of faith the church, and breaking any of the 8 tenants. Death is to be treated with absolute respect, and never viewed as something trivial or as something that can be escaped. When taking a life it should be done in a way that honours the hunt. It should only be done for religious ceremony, communion, or to spread his deception. It should be noted that any death should matter, it should not be a stupid worthless death, it should be important, someone respected or who is willing to end their suffering, or someone who has a bounty on them.
We do not kill for the sake of killing. We are not followers of Nerull, although the Old God may share his name, they are not the same.
The Old God is the seasons, the frost of the fall that kills the crops, the heat of summer the burns and dehydrates, the cold of the winter that freezes the land, and the wet of the spring that causes floods and landslides. The Old God is the harvest, pulling the nourishment from the darkness that it grows in, stopping that progression. The Old God is equality, for everything dies not matter their status in life. The Old God is disease, sickness and plague that spreads. The Old God is chaos, and war that destroys and ends. The Old God is Death yes, but not only murder. He is lazy, a being outside of existence, bored with everything and seeking some form of amusement. He watches us while the souls escape, and his servants go about their own way. We can only hope to join him and watch the rest of it play out.
On the Night Mother:
She is darkness. She is the source of all. It is from her darkness that things take form, that we were born. It is from her darkness that infants grow, and food as well. When we sleep, the darkness of the Night Mother embraces us in love and protection. She is life to the Old God who is Death. We all come from this darkness before we experience what we call existence. She slumbers while the Old God watches. There is not much known about her at this time as even her true name has been erased by those who would make the dark our foe when really it is our mother of all. There is no light without the darkness.
-
Seeking Stoian, Erzsebet had ventured into Port A Lucine, and had found more than she had expected. Zalan, Matyas, Balthasar, Zsofika, Kalypszo... Everyone was there. From the privates to the Captain. An intense rage began to simmer and boil within her. 'How dare they!? How dare they flee the country they tried to create. How dare they leave the Gundarakites to suffer. How dare they.' It was starting to make sense to her why her messages probably never reached their destination. She tried to reach out to him, but was interrupted by the army storming into the streets of the slums. It would have to wait for another day, but their transgression, was something else.
To her, they had created a hell where Gundarakites were forced to live under the consequences of the armies actions. The army had the resources and people available to smuggle out Gundarakites from Vallaki, Krezk, Krofburg and Barovia. They could of, but instead, they up and fled. They did not even try to stay behind in Barovia. They fled to Dementlieu while her kin starved and suffered for their actions. That rage began to settle from a boil back to a simmer, and slowly down to a seething disappointment.
She had returned from Dementlieu, content to leave the army to their demise, except she could not. There were people in that group that she truly cared about. Milan, Zalan, Zsofika and Matyas, they were people she felt a desire to protect and keep safe. She told her friend just that. How she loved her like a sibling or daughter, how she wanted to protect her and to keep her safe and alive. She pleaded and begged for her to make the right choice, but she could not be swayed. There was one clear message that came from their meeting: "Stay away from the army." Erzsebet agreed that she would, once she had spoken to those who mattered to her, to the one left on the list.
Erzsebet was granted a clarity that let her see the downfall of the army, and even as she tried to warn them, time and time again she was ignored. How could they fight for Gundarakites when they were living comfortably in wealth in Dementlieu? How could they fight for a freedom that they don't truly understand? Enough was enough. She would wash her hands of their affairs, and forge forward with her own ideals.
A new Gundarakite to follow. A new path forward that was not full of needless death. A new Barovia, where her kin were treated the same as Barovians. A Barovia that could boast equality. And it would all begin in Vallaki.
-
Utter cowards. Fleeing the place they tried to take and leaving the rest of the Gundarakite population to suffer. Just as they did with the regents sons death. Blame all of us who aren't from Invidia, who follow the Old God. Leave the sick, poor, disabled and elderly to deal with the consequences of the army trying to reclaim Gundarakite lands. That is not what I fought for, that is not what I signed up for, and that is not what I will see for my kin.
I will forge a new path into this mess, one that brings my kin back to the true values of our old faith. One that shows that while Gundarak may be no more, we can still have what we want here in Barovia. We can have our rights, our freedoms and our language back. I'm going to prove it and make it happen. When I publicly denounce both the outlander Nerull and the wretched army, I'm aiming to do it in both languages.
I will get my weapon permit back, I will prove to my people that there is another way forward that does not dwell on the senseless slaughter of soldiers and innocents. A way forward that will allow our people to own land again, to speak Luktar freely and to defend ourselves with weapons of our choice. Vallaki will be the birth place of a new Barovia, and I will be its Mother.
-High Priestess General
-
So the faithful may be wavering in faith.
I had not expected it from this one, but they have lacked the knowledge and teachings that I can provide.
Perhaps I should see about gathering up the faithful and those curious of the historical faith of my kin and enlighten them.
Deception is the key here, and I will wield it accordingly to bring freedom, liberty, and equality to my kin, and even to Barovians.
-High Priestess General
-
So he finally came for them. Zsofika, Matyas... I am sorry I could not protect you.
The likelihood of survivors is almost non-existent, so I have to accept what has happened.
Exactly what I warned them would happen. The Devil came and they stood no chance.
It is only in returning to the equality of the Old God that we may ever find anything better.
As Death comes and takes us all,
I pray that He frees you from this torment.
I pray that you may watch over us.
I pray that you are by His side, in the Mothers dark embrace.
I pray that you have found your place.
And I pray that you are truly free.
-
Her mind tortured her during the night. Forcing her to relive her horrid choice, and all her losses. Her failures, and the failures of those before her. Every choice wrongly made, every naïve decision. It repeated them as if to tell her not to repeat it. . .
Colours swirled around her in a vivid display before they settled down to the dull greyness of a city. There were cheers and people swarming the streets. Streets that were awash with blood. She turned around to see their faces. The friends and kin she had betrayed and turned on. They were hung upside down, suspended by their ankle as blood pooled down and flowed through the streets. She turned back to the adoring faces of her kin, who called out to their High Priestess. She parted her lips to tell them there would be no communion or sacrifice today, they would instead build an altar worthy of Him.
There was a silence that fell over the crowd of people. Whispers started in the back, and ushered words of confusion, then pride, and adoration; they would get to build the altar together! It truly was equality. Erzsebet, clad in red and purple, watched and smiled before taking her people to the center of the town. Every time she turned around, they were there. Judging her for her sins. Sometimes they would drift among the people and whisper truths and lies about how they should disobey her. Not listen to her. How she was a kin slayer, despite her vowing not to be one.
Darkness began to creep in from all sides, pressing ever tighter in on her, blinding her from the colourful vision of a future she would fight for. She was left behind, abandoned in the fog and snows of winter. Searing pain throbbing in her face, her stomach, her lower abdomen. Faces flashed before her: Emanuel Gaspar, the doctor who she wished to see again. Fane Albescu, the man whose violent attitude and harshness towards her turned to the love of a lifetime, breaking her heart when she was not there to protect him. Szabina, her mother, who in her last visit told her goodbye and not to try to save her from the outlanders. Anica, the woman who stole a mist confused lover from her. Yordan, the man who lied and deceived her and who killed her and her child. Faces of Barovian soldiers flashed in front of her as she was dropped back to her youth. The Black Wolf of Teufeldorf stared down at her with malicious intent, before taking away her dignity and innocence.
As she turned and looked around, her body able to move again, she was face to face with the growling Doberman that lunged at her face, ripping out her eye.
A scream erupted from her as she sat upright and looked around the small room with wild, terrified eyes. The candle had burned down to a few inches on the desk, coating the wood beneath it in wax drippings. The mirror reflected back the candle and her terrified face. She relaxed and took a few breaths to try to calm herself, repeating 'It was just a dream'. For the next hour she lay there in the sweat soaked bed and clothes, shivering jumping at each noise. When she could no longer stand it, Erzsebet rose from the bed and changed her clothes. Calm enough now, she muttered a quiet prayer before setting out and sneaking off into the woods to hunt.
-
There are survivors in Port.
Ulkrado huh? I guess if I want to thrive here, I must either abandon or destroy the past.
But there are survivors. It's a relief
-
I could of attended their memorial. I dreamed about doing it.
I dreamt about them again. I am growing to loathe those dreams of that day. Reliving that choice and seeing their faces haunts me. Yet I know that what I did had to be done. It was a divinely given task.
But still, being mortal, I hate it. I hate what I had to do. I miss them all dearly. I wish they had listened and not resulted in the slaughter of kin in Zeidenberg... These are things that have happened and can not be changed. We have to accept what we have all done in the name of wanted freedom.
I know that I must act and gather my kin together and guide them to a better future.
May I follow your divine work Old God. And may your words soon become clear to me.
-
I watched the army begin as something full of hope and possibilities, but I watched it fall to something akin to fools seeking power. It was as if they were brainwashed. As if the superiors were indeed brain washed, controlled by someone else. They stopped caring about the average Gundarakite. They only cared about their own army members. Their own families. They forgot about the rest of us. They forgot and left us behind. When they fled they took no one with them.
The army went from being a cause of hope and potentially freedom, to the direct cause of the masacre of innocent Gundarakites. Repeating the actions of the old duke; mothers, children and fathers were torn from their homes and killed. The army themselves allowed the worship of the vile Nerull, an outlander god of death who sees undeath as the ultimate way of being. A god who orders his priests to kill for the sake of killing as all life, especially the most innocent life of a child, is an afront to this god. They allowed that filth into their ranks while outlawing the true Gundarakite faith. Their actions brought about a repetition of the old Duke Gundar.
He, like them, allowed the same god, and just like him, they were behind the slaughter in Zeidenberg. Now they linger in Invidia and Dementlieu. Basking in the idiots who think they did wonderful things.
I warned the army about the count. I warned them about the genocide that was being spoken of. I begged them to listen to me. I tried warning them over and over and over, and never once was I listened to. I regret bringing people into that army of hellions. I failed my people by allowing this to happen. Violence will not bring us the freedoms we want. Invidian Gundarakites don't know true oppression anyway.
I believe that if we can comply to their laws, and show that we are not a threat, we can gain at the very least the rights of the outlanders. We pay taxes to the count too, and are squashed beneath his boot.
I have seen the truth of our faith, learned what it was before the outlanders corrupted it with their perverse version of our god. Our God was once a god who saw all on the same level. No matter their position or power in life. We are all the same in the eyes of the Reaper, in the eyes of Death. So why should we live any other way?
We deserve to live in a land where we are equal, free from oppression, where we all matter. And so help my God, I will not stop until I can make that happen. I will lie, cheat, manipulate and sacrifice who so ever I need to to get this freedom we deserve. I have learned that this world acts as a prison, with entities that act as wardens. If I have to become a prisoner so be it. I will do anything and everything I must to bring to my kin that freedom they deserve.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess of The Old God Nerull
-
And so she came back to Barovia.
She DARED come back.
Ulkrado we will have words.
You will either learn or never return.
All are equal in His Eyes.
Even you for all your sins are no better than I.
But you dared to come back here...
To the place your actions led to a genocide of innocent children and mothers.
Those are two sins that my faith will not forgive.
Those are two sins I will not commit.
Did you come to apologize for your deeds?
For ignoring me?
Maybe I will find peace in dealing with you,
Maybe the old God wants me to enlighten you.
I am His chosen one, but I could use the Hierophants guidance in this matter, for His voice is still not clear.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess of The Old God Nerull
By the standards of faith that I have put forth, her sins are obvious and grievous. Being responsible for the death of children and mothers, betrayal, and abandoning kin. She fled to a country elsewhere avoiding the consequences of her choices in Barovia with the grieving Gundarakies who lost family for the army's actions. She also refuses to understand and learn the truth about the God I follow. The God that our people followed before the days of the Old Duke. Before the corruption of outlanders. I do not wish her dead, despite everything I consider Dzenifer a friend, we fought together. I fondly remember the days of getting her scrolls. Despite how she always treated me like an outcast and never trusted me, I still cared. I still do. I care for all my kin, even the ones who hate me.
How can I harm another friend? Must I? She is the only one of us who wants death as an outcome. She would love me dead and gone, but not I her. Yet, it would seem that I will have little choice in the matter. She is the one who will be making the choices. I will give her the chance to learn and grow, or to stop seeking to kill me and lift the bounty and I will leave her alone. Yet faith still dictates differently. Betrayers shall have no reprieve from harm. In her eyes I am the betrayer, and I am, and I pay for it but I did not betray my faith. In my eyes she is a sinner, for her actions resulted in the slaughter of children and mothers, she is a betrayer for seeking to kill me. For ousting my belief, albeit incorrectly, but still she did publicly announce that.
Perhaps I was always destined to be a kin killer. Perhaps that is the only way forward, to kill those who oppose me and my goals. I already understand that sacrifices must be made in order for me to succeed at bringing back the faith of my people and ultimately freeing us from oppression and harsh rule. I just never expected those sacrifices to be so personal and weigh so heavily on my soul. Can I commit another atrocity in order to see my people rise at last? I ... Dread what I may have to do, because it is not what I want. I want peace and freedom and equality, but how much am I willing to give to achieve it? How far will I fall?
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess of the Old God Nerull
-
Well it seem that she will not back down. I have been told of two fliers. Dzenifer seems hell bent, and I can't blame her. I did murder the lord regent, but only after I tried to stop the war between kin, and only after I begged him to change his verdict. I know she will kill me, and if I give her too much time, she may join forces with outlanders, like the army did before.
Kin Killer. Is that what I will have to become to repair the damage done? Will I have to bear the death of more of my kin to see my dream come true? Is that why I can not hear the Old God? I fear and hesitate about taking the life of another Gundarakite...
Why?
Why do I fear freeing them?
Is it that I don't fully believe?
How can I lead if I don't fully believe?
I know what I must do, but... Can I?
Dzenifer you became more than just kin to me. You became family. If I have to though, I will make sure that you do not suffer. I have to. I can not tolerate any form of dissent or personal attacks anymore. I . I hope I can do this. I... I don't even know what I'll do after. The pain in the fear of murdering someone like family... Again?
Erzsebet Varga
-
I had a dream last night, I witnessed myself again dressed in red, a crown of thorns or spikes? Adorned my head and behind me I could see their faces again. A new one had joined, although it remained blurry. I argued with those in charge of things, they would not listen to me. History repeating itself. The people listened to me though, but it would seem that those who mattered did not. I could hear a voice calling to me as the dream shifted to a glorious temple surrounding a plain altar.
The altar was decorated with skulls of animals and humans, preserved hearts, bottled mold, diseased plants, gloom flowers, and a space for a fresh offering, stained red with the blood of previous offerings. The items were odd and did not seem to follow any pattern, but as wrong as they felt they also felt right. I removed my glove and placed my hand on the altars offering place and, as many times before, I stabbed it with my blade, the blood flowing from the wound into a small indent meant for collection.
I kneeled in front of the now complete altar and prayed for guidance, listening for His voice. And as sure as we all die, it came. That wordless voice that seemed to somehow speak to me. I could not decipher the words, yet it seemed the version of myself in this dream could. I watched myself rise, and walk out, yet I remained in the room with the altar, alone. The voice echoing in the chamber as those wordless words repeated in my ears.
These dreams scare me.
-
The Two Prophets
Emanuel Maryszkas, the first prophet, the Heirophant:
The Barovian militia had attacked an uprising slaughtering many and the few who were not killed ran. He fled from the Barovian militia and prayed for aid. Unholy fear washed over his pursuers as Nerull responded to his prayer giving his newly chosen time to escacpe. He gained power from the Old God, allowing him to lead the new church, as the first with divine power in ages. His divine power caused many to fear him for none of the faith had recieved blessing until Him. He fiercely led the cult against Barovians and the Count. He was aided by outlanders who followed their perverted form of Nerull the church gained notoriety. The Count held enough fear of them to ban the faith and execute the faithful, but Emanuel showed again and again the power of a chosen one of Nerull as he built a magnificent church fitting the Old God of death.
Erzsebet Varga, the second prophet, the High Priestess:
Her story begins without faith, following a Barovian who wanted to worship the old god in attempt to gain blackmail material. A sacrifice was made and He spoke to them. This was the start. Years later she was lured to the citadel and beaten to death while carrying a child, in her final breath she prayed for help. An avatar visited her in death and a deal was struck for her to return to life. No child would die nor mother of a child, but her true calling came after the Black Army. For Emanuel had sacrificed the empty shell of the tortured and left to die son of the regent Ajkler. Ajkler then held all who followed Emanuel responsible, and despite her pleading and warning the army they would not stand against the church, they ignored her and created a war between kin. She recieved an order to kill the regent, as the cult would attack the army for culling the faithful. Erzsebet did not want more death between kin, but when it came down to it. She slaughtered them. She gave the regent chance to change his mind, and when he would not, she killed him and ended the war between kin. She began to hear His voice speaking to her from beyond a cosmic fog. The voice of the Old God Nerull and she was given vision and divine edict to correct the mess the outlanders did and bring true glory to the Old God and true freedom to her people.
-
All may be equal in death.
That part is especially true for outlanders and those who do not follow.
They are equal because they can die just the same as you.
But it is only through faith that all may be equal in life.
I lack the charisma needed to draw people in.
I am His chosen one, the one whom He speaks to,
But hearing the voice of a god changes you.
I have never been good with people, but now it seems that is even more so.
I will find the right one to help me.
The one to be the mask to hide to truth behind.
The one who understands and will learn with me.
Who will help me rediscover the true faith of our people and save us all.
-Erzsebet Varga
-
She could not sleep. Each time she tried to rest, she woke up after watching Liliana fall upon her own sword. She had seen death, seen people blown apart, seen the brutality of war, but this was something that would haunt her. For though she tried the pain was just too much. She could only remember the horrifying sight of the blade piercing the back of her body, the blood that pooled and the cold heavy feeling of Lilianas body. She could smell the scent of death, and sobbed deeply. So deep that no sound came from her gaping mouth. She cradled the dead woman in her lap inside the church, afraid to leave her. Yet knowing all too well that the woman she had come to see as a sister was gone for ever.
The faith of the old god did not touch on those who give up. It spoke of willing sacrifice, of punishment, and of taking a life, but not about taking your own. She was unable to turn to her faith for solace in her would be sisters death. It was another Barovian whom she cared about who died. It was such a common occurrence in her life now that while she mourned, she could not help but laugh at the cold fact of it all. It was always Barovians. She would care and open up to them, and every time they would be ripped away from her. The pain like having her own heart strings plucked out. It left her feeling hollow. It felt like a cruel joke being played upon her, perhaps by the Old Trickster himself. What a more fitting way to taunt someone when you are death than to bring that death upon loved ones.
Perhaps this was His way of telling her not to distract herself with the foolishness of caring for those who had oppressed her. Yet the pain and lack of guidance left poor Erzsebet feeling heartbroken, alone and sad. While she wanted to believe that that action would free Liliana from suffering, deep down she knew the truth. There is no return from it not because of any good reason, no, but because the action was a defiance against the gods. Against the powers that be. Perhaps Liliana would be snuffed away like a candle flame, smoke dissapearing into the air. Or perhaps she would suffer the final moments leading up to her choice over and over again as punishment. But at no way, would she ever be free from suffering.
"Varga. Shed no more tears for the coward." Zaya had told her that night in the Drowned Rat. She had told Erzsebet that she deserved the pain, but not the others that Lilianas actions had hurt. It was true, Erzsebet deserved to suffer for the vile atrocity she had done. For turning on her friends and allies and killing the regent. She agreed to that. It was true after all, and now she was certain that Liliana would join the cast of ghosts that would haunt her dreams and future days to come.
-
I have met two, one who showed no interest in the faith and one who showed ample. She has a source who wishes me no ill will, which I find interesting and suspicious. Yet, I have a duty to spread the word of the Old God, and she shows interest. Perhaps she will be the one to be the face while I lead. God knows I am not suitable for being a selling point to the faith, I have the social skills of a dead rodent. I see potential in both.
The first I see much of myself in, while the second reflects my religious zest to learn. I am not ignoring the possibility of the woman setting a trap, in all truth I suspect that is exactly what she is doing. A spy for the army or garda, or perhaps she is who she says. Which is what I hope for. She has a physical charm and is sociable too. I have never been opposed to allowing Barovians into the faith, only outlanders for they seem to ruin all they touch when it comes to my kin. If a Barovian wishes to join and understand I will allow it. For Barovians too are stomped upon by the Devils boot.
I am seeing survivors from Zeidenberg, and I am relieved. However, surely they know what I did. It was not secretive like I had wanted, no it was public. Those that I have met seem to share my disdain for the Black Army fleeing Barovia and leaving them behind. Failing to spirit all Gundarakites away from Zeidenberg, to a promised land of safety and freedom. The army still feels like their actions were the best, but I would gladly invite them to return and confront the people who survived the counts slaughter. Of course I am always vocal about my warning them. There was no need for that genocide, that massacre to happen when all they had to do was listen.
-
Prayer for the dead:
As Death comes and takes us all,
I pray that He frees you from this torment.
I pray that you may watch over us.
I pray that you are by His side, in the Mothers dark embrace.
I pray that you have found your place.
And I pray that you are truly free.
--
Prayer for sacrifice:
With this life I recognize your worth
With this knife I make you equal
With this sacrifice I seek to hear your voice
Old God Nerull, accept this gift and be appeased
Show us your might and power, and share with us your decrees!
--
Generic prayer:
I wear the mask and keep it hidden,
I sow the seeds of deception,
I bring about equality through death,
I work and serve the Great Old God Nerull
Not for his praise, but to avoid his gaze.
To him I bow, forever equal.
--
Prayer for blessings:
Old God Nerull you hear my prayer and know it true
I seek no boon from you beyond the blessings of the day
When light and life meet their end your fun shall then begin
Grant me what's needed to fufill your desire.
To you I bow forever equal
-
Ever since Liliana took her life I have been left to question what happens to those who take their own life. Cutting off their part in the deception without proper reason beyond a cowardly approach to dealing with the suffering of life. Ever since that moment I have seen her repeating that death a thousand times over in my dreams. It is added to the death murder of Lazlo. I watched her actions, and I knew she was going to end her life there, I had tried to delay it, to convince her... I should of offered her a way to still find peace.
There is no home waiting those who take their lives, there is nothing but a repeition of their demise as a static impression on this world. Nothing to return to, no gods embrace to welcome them, not even the negligent view of Death himself will ever look upon their soul. This is true even with Nerull. However, she could of served a higher purpose that morning. Sacrifice. Willing sacrifice to the Old God. In the view of others it is murder and being murdered seems to reserve your place within the afterlife for whatever reason. Her soul could of served a higher purpose and I'm certain then it would be granted equality and be permitted to rest from this ever repeating suffering. However, by choosing to defy the gods and deciding that she can be the reaper, that insult to the Old God will see her soul slowly become nothing more than static. A cold chill in the air, or the unsettling feeling in a room.
For those who commit this sin there is no prayer that can save them, no burial rights. No miracle. All we can do is burn their remains and scatter their ashes. And lament the loss, but do not dwell, for they have sinned against Death itself.
-High Priestess General
-
So I have told Zaya everything. From what I learned from the red wizard lich who has his own domain, to my own theories combined. Whatever the powers are that apparently jail people, be it deeds of horror or deeds of grandeur or determination or terrible things, if they can help me get a land for my kin then I wont refuse them, no matter the cost. Even if the potential cost terrifies me. I am going to make my move soon, my order came in and I'm prepared for it. This is what I must do to ensure the future of my people, to make their lives easier not harder.
The Old God chose me for a reason. I had best do right by Him, the last person he showed power to has failed him many a time. I will set light to the old fires of my ancestors, hold sermons so people can learn. The Old God may be a god of death, disease and deception, but He is not a god of murder. At least not here. I have still yet to find information on the Tergish diety 'Erlin' that is claimed to be the same or at least associated. I already understand the outlander Nerull is the unnatural aspect of murder and death, the side that revels in pointless slaughter, that sees undeath as the supreme way of being. This side of Nerull focuses on wonton slaughter, on killing as many as possible to appease him and perhaps gain some type of undeath yourself. This aspect of Nerull is what people assume when they hear of a god of death. Death to all living things as they are an afront to this reaper.
The Gundarakite Nerull is Death. The end of seasons, the frigid winter that takes lives, the harvest, disease, the rotting of bodies to give way to better soil. The Old God does not hate murder because that is a part of death. What he does not condone is senseless murder, each life taken must matter. He may be deceptive as what we know as death is a game of deciet He plays with all, which is all the more reason to celebrate those who escape it. Undeath is not the supreme way of being here, that would be breaking free of the cycle of deciet He has created. Undead exist because He is more focused on watching it all unfold than paying attention to the souls who have been freed. Some slip out for revenge, some for power, others simply to spread disease, destruction and death, eventually they are returned to His side though. They serve a purpose after all.
-
The Hunt is sacred. The hunt is the act of finding your prey, your sacrifice, your target. The acts that one takes to track and find them are sacred, as is the death that ensues. In this sacred death that person can find redemption. I could of offered Liliana a chance to redeem herself and save her soul instead of killing herself. Suicide is an act that traps you in a never ending repetition of your last minutes. Over and over and over will the one who took their life be forced to witness their final sin.
I am taking time and thinking about the best way to make the lives of kin better and I am realizing that to be a leader means I will be forced to make choices I wouldn't wish upon anyone. There will be cases where people see me as unfair, where I will have to make harsh calls. I can no longer delay, while my laziness has at least let me confirm some things... It is time that I do the very thing I have been dreading doing. I will miss her, but allowing all those innocent people and children to die when it could of been prevented is something that can never be forgiven. As a general - hell as an officer, she has power, she could of made things different, yet she allowed it to happen, they all did. I am sick of people trying to change things in Barovia when they know nothing of what it is like here.
As for Vasillica... I have been watching daily for a summons or a bounty and yet I see nothing. I do believe I called her bluff. I was surprised she didn't try to find me after I fled into the copse of trees to hide. I wonder how long I can remain hidden around Vallaki...
I found a giant statue of what looks like some demonic entity in the Retezat forest and I think it will be the perfect place for an altar. It could also be a statue of some conqueror or other god, but the location feels right. I suspect that there will be people who try to attack when I hold my sermons. I will be needing to have things set in place to ensure the safety of all who attend, and that means enough potions for all. I wont take stupid risks. I will also fashion masks for everyone and robes. I may as well put my tailoring skills to use. I will get Miuo to show me how to set up an altar, she has more experience with worship than me.
-
Guilt by association I guess. But, I suppose I was right to hold the thought of Zaya betraying me in the back of my mind. Turns out that was quite true. Now I hve to deal with it.
More importantly: Will I finally walk the path laid before me?
The path I have tried to avoid. I suppose I will just see if I can fix it this time or if it will be the last.
-
Immune to poison. Makes me want to work things out to both our benefits even more.
But I fear that may not be the case.
I have a path I must walk and like Calixte, I need to walk it and let it take me where it will.
Even if I am afraid.
-
Ghastria is a rather dull place. I suppose I could look around for things to hunt, but I don't want to miss Zaya.
I want to come to a bargain, a deal, an accord between us, but it was as if I spoke to a wall. She will not budge.
Surely the best outcome is one where we both live and gain something. I will see what she can offer me, other than waiting.
-
At last.
I have found the right person.
Now we can truly begin.
-
The Third Prophet
Undead have such desire to live that even when death comes they still desire that existance and so He breathed new life into the old and ancient history of the tergs. He found their priest, and took that long dead arm and brought new life into it. Death is not worshipped, it is not desired, it is life that they worshipped and valued. Slaughtering to prolong their life and offor up sacrifice so they can live on. A hungry diety that craved blood and life force? A people who loved life very much, and who feared death seeking to sway it away unto others. He was the Prophet of Erlin, the third aspect of the old god. The one who sheppards the dead to their rightful place and who the ancient Tergs followed.
This third Prophet completes the triad of Nerull, The Old God, and Erlin. A mysterious aspect that I have long sought to learn about. With these three aspects understood the truth will finally be known. I believe that each serves as a fraction of Death as a whole. We have the dark murderous aspect, the aspect of nature, and finally the last aspect, whom I will learn more from the Third Prophet. I believe this is the aspect that may provoke less fear than the others. For nature itself is brutal and harsh, murder is sinister and evil, but this one I have need to learn much more.
-
One wants me to become the monster.
To walk the path others have laid out infront of me. This one is right, I can not go back. My name is tarnished, but perhaps I should take that tarnished new title and shine it up. I am a coward. The Old God chose me and I am sitting around watching from the darkness. Trying to clear up my name. pathetic. you are pathetic.
I am terrified for what I may become and what will happen when I walk that path. I used to be powerful, fierce. That lingers, the fear people have, that uncomfortableness that makes them repelled by me. That remains and burns strong. I have to take a stand. I used to be so much more, I must regain that.
I have lost many and there is still things I could loose. Still things that could go wrong. I have so much knowledge, and wisdom. I admit that I can not do this alone. Perhaps I will ask my kin what will satisfy their hatred, placate it enough to work together for the common people and the shared future.
Or perhaps I will take a stand as his chosen one, embrace it fully and remind every single being that walks these misty lands that they all must submit to death. Must all show the Reaper the respect that is deserved. While I despise the outlanders perhaps I should invite them in. Welcome as they are going to face death some day too. We are all, even outlanders (as much as I hate them), equal in the eyes of the Old God, the Reaper, Death.
I am Erzsebet Varga. Chosen of The Old God. Prophetess of Nerull. Daughter of the Reaper. I will bring equality to my people one way or another. I need someone to push me along, to hold my hand while I walk this terrifying path.
To them this is not terrifying, but they don't know the things that I have learned. The jailers, the powers that hold domionion here... Is it punishment or reward that they give? Are they entities that have some form of existance? If they are not, then they are beyond death. Perhaps they are The Old God.
I both dread and long to hear His voice clearly. God help me.
-
I thought that would be my end. I was expecting to die. I did not expect to be forced into a group of twists and outlanders. However, here I am. A woman suddenly working for a vampire. I had chances to go, but... I don't like being touched and I still react. I had thought he didn't see me, but it seems like eventually he did. More so this Blausteiner can hear me. I went from having such prowess to this.
Such a disgrace, but I did not bleed out like I thought I would. I was not killed like I expected. Another instance of the Old God Nerull deeming that I still have things to do. More so, he's not a normal vampire. I think the jailors have found him and blesssed him. Have I been going about this the wrong way?
I had wanted to believe that it was the good intent that caught their attention. I was wrong. Does he know about them? If so, what does he know?
I guess for now I will work with these freaks and expect them to kill me. Perhaps in time that view will change, perhaps they will earn the priviledge of seeing a softer side of me. For now it's the hostility and suspicion they will get.
I need to know what the hell I've just been dumped into. I'm not going to make the same mistake with Sirus as I did all those years ago. I am going to learn everything.
On another note, it seems that perhaps the rumours that circulate about me should be embraced. Maybe I will become the cold hearted killer they believe me to be. Maybe I will leave a trail of corpses of those who get in my way or slight me.
I need to find Miuo, I need the guidance of the cards. I also need to get back in practice.
Ever since I killed Ajkler I've been afraid of becomming a monster. Now I'm forced to work with those who have the physique of what most consider monsters. I tossed a coin to follow them or not. It landed on the side I picked to go with them.
Perhaps I should of been more careful with what I prayed for. I did after all pray that Death would spare me for another year. Pray to the trickster and you wont get what you asked for exactly. But you very well may get it, just in a way that gives Him entertainment. I suppose if I were Death itself, bored with everything, I'd probably enjoy watching someone be forced into the thing they dread and try to avoid.
Well you just watch me Nerull. Old God you trickster, I'll achieve that which you set out for me to do. I am your chosen one. I am your servant, and I will make you proud. Just watch me.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess of the Old God, Chosen of Nerull.
-
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Miuo and Erzsebet had shared many experiences over the years. Drawn together by fate or maybe even destiny. The pair were much akin to opposites, yet perfectly balanced. They had been there for each other consistantly never judging or blaming the other. Tonight was no different. They had both shared the hardships of true love lost, of deaths, and betrayals and more, tonight they would add one more thing to that list. Something they would do together that would hopefully change everything for the better.
With the decision made, Miuo set out the preparations for the ritual. Five skulls formed a circle, their eyes staring out into the darkness of the room, the candles held within them lit. Beside each skeletal candle was placed a coldstone to abosrb the heat and to further add to the ritual. Inscence placed in the middle of the coldstones completed the circle. Miuo beckoned Erzsebet in, and she stepped in to the circle. "You must do exactly as I do." the tiny halfling said as she took out a severed fiends hand and a heart of the entombed taken from a mummy at the top of the mountain. She placed the leathery, frozen heart in the palm of the fiend and withdrew a dagger from her box of ritual items. As they both kneeled within that circle, the ritual began.
Miuo sliced her right palm with the ritual blade, squeezing her fist as she made a circle around the hand held heart and passed the knife to Erzsebet. She took it and cut her left palm, cutting into the scar tissue of many blood sacrifices. As her blood flowed she repeated the action of encircling the objects and speaking the first of the rituals words.
"Blood of my heart, protection is thine"
With the knife back in her hand, Miuo cut into the frozen mummified heart and inserted the green armour gem into the organ. The knife was handed back to Erzsebet who repeated the steps.
"Stone of the earth, guard my heart with your strength"
The iron spike was next. It was stabbed deep into the heart, piercing the hand beneath to hold them together as one. Miuo and Erzsebet took a turn using the daggers hilt to hammer that spike deep into their shared dark object.
"Protect it from evil and those who would do it harm, That no danger may pass, no threat draw near"
Their words were spoken with intent, purpose and a deep desire to no longer be led astray by others, harmed by their expectations, rumours or love. As Miuo wrapped twine six times around the object forcing the fingers closed around the heart of the entombed, handing it over to Erzsebet to repeat the action.
"No danger may pass, nor threat draw near"
The pair held up the bound heart in hand between them using their unmarred hands and spoke.
"Body of my body, marrow and mind. Soul of my soul to our spirits bind."
Above the hand which grasped the heart the pair clasped their still bleeding hands together and let their mixed blood coat it entirely in their blood.
"Blood of my blood, my tides, my moon. Blood of my heart, my doom."
With those ominous words uttered their hands parted and the object was set back down between them. Once more Miuo took the athame and cut the twine that held the hand closed around the heart. Forcing the fiendish hand back open, one finger at a time, the heart of the entombed was exposed once more, and the two retrieved their armour gems from it.
"It is done." Miuo said as she pried open the mouth of her skull choker and forced the gem into it. "Wear it at all times against your skin." She instructed her friend to do and began to clean up the ritual. Blood staining the floor where they had performed the ritual they hoped would free them of that which led them astray. Love, pain, and emotions which got in the way of their desires.
-
Perhaps the ritual resulted in me only thinking this, or more likely the cards have seen the loyalty that I have to their user and have decided that the price we paid was enough for what we want. Paired with the heart of ice necklace I already wear I will be cold, and able to do whatever I must do without fretting or feeling or caring.
I'll do their test. I'll talk to him again and just get it done with. Thuggery is a distasteful thing to me. I wont sell drugs, I'd just use them on myself. Which I doubt would count. So, I'll do what I have to do. Maybe I could find some belonging in this crew. I have focused so long on fear, but now I'll let that fear go and dive head first into this chaos.
What is it that I have feared? Others? Myself? Death? Failure? I can't place it, but I am done with it.
I am the Prophetess of the Old God, Chosen of Nerull, High Priestess to the revival of the old ways.
Time to embrace all that being a servant of Nerull means:
I will build upon the basis of the past. Of the priests who would wander around and offer their services and prayer against Death and its minions. I will gather followers. I will pick out the worthy ones to teach the truth. I wont make another mistake like I did with Annaka.
Those I feel are worthy I will give them a test. Perhaps the one from my dreams. Allow them to believe that they will consume poison, when in fact, it will be benign. Those who are willing to face Death are willing to know the truth.
And that truth is that Death reigns supreme. He commands hoards of devils and demons, and is the source of sickness, disease, rot, decay and chaos. On the surface he is a trickster and a harvest god. In truth He is every aspect of Death. From the harvesting of crops, the hunting of animals, to murder and sickness. These are all his domains and all his doings.
I will pick and choose those who deserve the truth. For now, I'll accept that I prayed for Death to pass me over for another year and God granted that. I have time to do what He wants, and hopefully I will be able to hear him clearly one day.
Even if I must sully my hands and self by doing something distasteful. As long as I do not kill a mother or her child.
-
She sat upon the altar in the center of the town, the spectors of those she killed standing behind her, judgeging her every action, word and choice. The winter chilled the town to the very core, frost clung to the lamp posts and decorated windows in spectacular patterns. The wind howled and carried with it the cold snow that littered the ground. The citizens gathered around her, building a bonfire to ward off the bitter cold. Winter had barely begun and it was already so harsh. It would only get worse and people were afraid of freezing.
Erzsebet shivered as the wind billowed the snow around her. "We will get through this. We have to appease Him, for someone has upset Him and brought His wrath upon us all."
A wave of hushed murmurs reverberated through the crowd as people looked judgegingly at one another. Each pair of eyes looking for the traitor among them. The High Priestess raised her hand to silence the crowd.
"He has spoken."
Silence took over the town, only the wind making any real noise. That silence was shattered by cries of who, and demands the person step forward. Yet no one did, who would want to face the wrath of the High Priestess, the Dread Priestess of Death herself.
She removed a glove from one hand, the vines and flowers that adorned her flesh stood out in the light of the warm fire that now burned. The hand reached out, the vines emerging from her carvings and slithered through the crowd. Weaving and snaking through the citizens the vines soon found their target. A woman clutching her child held an image of utter terror on her face as the vines wrapped tightly around her ankles.
Erzsebet frowned and shook her head. "Grizelda, you have born a daughter yet you would neglect her. You would kill her in favour of her twin brother. The Old God has deemed your sin worthy of true death." She paused and opened her eyes staring at Grizeldas. "But not for you."
A sickly cry came from behind the woman as a small infant crawled towards its mother. Grizelda remained held in place by the vines as her husband snatched their son from her arms. The colour drained from her face as the infant reached her and tugged on the hem of the dress, crying out in an unnatural way.
Erzsebet strode through the crowd, people parting for her to reach the monstrous scene unfolding before them. She bent down and scooped up the wailing baby and began to hum a lullaby as she walked back to the altar. A flick of her wrist and the vines retracted, Grizelda dropping to her knees in disbelief.
"You killed your daughter. But the Old God is not without mercy, unlike me. You will have until your son reaches the age of twelve to atone and pray that He sees fit to grant you atonement. Less you end up in the land without sun. As for your daughter..." She set the babe on the altar.
"Old God. Nerull. She stole from you what she was gifted. To you this babe is returned to grow at your side and pass judgement upon her mother." She kneeled infront of the altar and kissed the demonized baby upon its forehead as she and the crowd uttered a final prayer.
The final act was done, and the once more lifeless body returned to its previous state, human once more. Peace took hold of the tiny form before it turned to ashes, blown away by the cold winter wind. Lost in the snow it carried with it.
Her haunting crew scowled at her with disgust and hatred. A deeper burning agony of pain welled up inside her for the loss of the child and the choice of the old god to let that woman live. In silence she walked past her eternal judges, leaving the altar behind her as snow filled in her foot prints. She would not sleep tonight, they would be too loud in their judgements of her actions and so she picked up the pipe again. Opium induced sleep, or death would be what would await her.
The smoke curled around the room until her vision faded, only to come back to the vision of the inn room she had rented. She sighed and sat up in the cot. "Another of those dreams again..."
-
This time I will set the rules. I will enforce them and I will not tolerate betrayal. Which means I will give Zaya one last chance. In which she can renounce the black company and join me in this new cell, or she can meet the fiend she sold her soul to. I will not give her the name of our gods servant until I know she wont betray.
This ice demon is one of the servants of the first incarnation, the first face of Nerull, the Old God. His face of slaughter. Anger and hatred fueled storm that will rage on the worlds now as it was supposed to eons ago. The third prophet, the Sheppard, wants to allow this to happen, and has shared the name with which to invoke safety from the coming storm with me.
He has agreed that only those of faith shall receive the name to speak. I will not allow the those who will not respect Death to utter or write that name. This fiend is ancient and there remains one sword to subdue it and trap it again or even kill it. This winter that will come, it pairs with my own dreams of Gundarakites building a city together. It was a group who were all faithful in their reverance and respect of the Old God. We even built a triple faced statue and other churches were there too. I have no problem with people worshipping Ezra or the Morning Lord as long as they understand that these 'gods' will always face Death, and as such Death is supreme. Everyone must pay their due respects to the reaper in order for Him to pass us over.
Whatever happened in the past, the people must of angered the Old God so much so that He sent one of his horsemen, the chosen ones who bring destruction, pestilance and more. In this case he sent the destroyer, the one that brings about a frozen winterland and wipes out all life. So that the cycle can be reset and begin again. In the past, the people managed to seal the fiend away and stop the Old Gods plan. But we are now in a different time and a different face of the Old God. While He remains Death his form now is trickery and deceit and disease and sickness. Not slaughter or senseless murder. A trickster is smart, devious and likes to play, in order to do so his toys must be alive so they can repeat the cycle over and over. His rage has cooled down to an icy wrath that would see us extend the suffering, offering true Death as a release only to those who have earned it. Be that by self sacrifice or devout servitude. Those will see you at His side, showing respect and reverance will guarantee that you will be free of the cycle in due time. After all death comes to us all. He is the great equalizer.
There has been a deal made to exclude some land from the fiends touch of ice, however they have neglected the land taken by Barovians. I am sick of Invidians thinking only their side matters that they have the right way forward. Ardonk, the Black Army, all of them, they all stem from Invidia. A place where we can use weapons, and speak Luktar. Two very things that we can not do here. They did not even want to believe the truth that Barovia was a land full of undead. We are all the same people, however, the lands that we live in are vastly different. Which means our needs differ too. An Invidian based rebellion can never stand a chance in Barovia, as it is a different place here. Just the same as a rebellion based in Barovia can never stand a chance in Invidia. Divided we will always fail, and that is what they want. They want us divided. They want us to hate each other because when we hate each other we fight each other and that makes it easier for them to control us.
If we stand together, regardless of our difference, then we can accomplish everything we want and more. At least Tivadar understands that we may need to make a new home all together. A new city. That dream and knowing that there are people who share it and support it truly makes me smile.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophet of the Old God
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I have spoken his name: INAJIRA.
Maybe he will be of use with my plans, or maybe not.
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I have met another one chosen by another god. I must admit that it is a relief to be able to have someone to speak to who can relate to what I am going through. Maybe this ritual will allow this chosen one to hear their god too.
I have no issue with people worshipping other gods as long as they pay their due to the Old God, Death, Nerull. Beyond that they are free to worship whoever they please. Outlanders however, they amuse me. I've spoken to many who report a sudden severance of their former godly connection. I wonder why they cling to their god when they can tell they have no real power here? I also wonder why few seem to convert to a religion or belief that has an actually powerful god.
The silly Ezrite to believe that there are no gods here. I suppose what he truly meant was that there were no truly benevolent and altruistic gods?
I do hope the others participating will be ready and understand what they are going to be doing and risking. To try to commune with the gods is to risk their ire. To risk their ire is to risk their wrath. I do not want a repeat of the ritual with the members of the black army. Foolish people who claimed to be faithful but did not know to speak the Lords name, not the fiends. You -never- devote yourself to a fiend as foolishly as they did.
I wont have any repeats. We will take every single percaution to ensure that we are not spied upon, attacked, betrayed or fail.
I know that I have hard choices to make coming up, and I loathe the idea of having to become a kin slayer, however, for things to progress, I must act as the Reaper would. I am His chosen one. I am his herald and I have neglected my duties. At least this time I have someone else I can speak to about my worries.
Regarding this INAJIRA dog demon, well. I have a plan, maybe two. Perhaps even three, but the latter two are still in the midst of planning. We will not make mistakes. For a change, I am being listened to.
What was it that was said? "Not all kin are kindred"? "Not all kin are trustworthy"? Something to that essence.
While I dream of a place where I do not have to kill those I call kin, it is true. I loathe that I have to learn this fact, but at least for now...
When I have achieved what the Old God has sent me out to do, unite our people as a whole and either retake our land or make something new, there will not be such issues. I know it is naive to believe that one day no kin will target another, I can still dream, and if I am in charge, ruling, I will have to make hard choices regarding such things. I wonder if I am capable of that?
Perhaps this new family I am starting to become part of will be able to stand by me and help me, and in turn I will help them. Even if it means helping some outlanders. As distasteful as I find them, they are still equal in the eyes of the Old God. All are.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophet of the Old God Nerull
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I shall see what comes of this. The mask seems to be holding well and gathering information. New allies have formed and information flows. I will meet with kin and find those followers who were not slaughtered by the army. The ones who managed to hide, and bring them together and form a new family. A following who will follow me through it all. Maybe the idea of uniting all Gundarakites under the equality of the Old God, is a bit foolish. I see now that people have a mind made up, and I can see where I must begin.
What the hell does the Old God want of me? Whispers in a vague voice, as if from behind veils of velvet. I need clarity. I need to know why he picked me when it seems like I may end up being a villain to our people. Will I truly have to cut down the ones who stand before me like the rumours claim?
I will do what I must to serve the Old God. And if I must spread his word through the elimination of those who would repeat the aristocratic mistakes of the past and slander me, than so be it. Words are easier to do than actions. Which is why I have such respect and judge people based on actions. I have spent years fighting against this growing darkness, this growing lust for blood. I shove it down, try not to embrace it, but it is as much me as my skin.
I wont make anyone else bear the burden of taking a life, unless they want to. Oh how I wish the army would listen to words. How I wish I could speak with my old comrades, but they wont hear me. Their minds have been set since the start. At least now I know who is active and who I must watch for.
Yet, still, I long for the ability to try to resolve this matter with words. But months and months of trying to track them down to speak has been useless. Are they afraid of me perhaps? Cowering from the truth that I speak?
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophetess of the Old God Nerull
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[The writing in this entry seems different than the rest]
WHAT THE EVER LOVING HELLSPAWN IS THIS DUCAL COURT OF GUNDARAK?!
HOW DARE THEY CLAIM TO SPEAK FOR THE OLD GOD WHEN I AM HIS CHOSEN PROPHETESS.
WHO OR WHAT ARE THESE PREPOSTEROUS LIARS THAT WOULD DARE CLAIM RIGHT TO SPEAK ON BEHALF OF NERULL?
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I have been able to find terribly little on this alledged Ducal court. I have, however, secured location for a ritual. I have also come to accept that I have duties to fufill that includes bringing death to those who would prevent the Old God from freeing our people.
I do not like it, I do not like that I will have to take the lives of kin, but they have given me no choice. I understand the choices the Duke made in the past. I don't agree with them at all, but I understand. He made the wrong ones in an attempt to keep our kin peaceful and together, but his trials are not mine. I am not facing invaders, or uprisings. I am facing distrust, lack of connection and divisiveness. I have to unite my kin under the divine guidance of Nerull, our Old God and if I must do so by bringing death to those who threaten my Gods vision, I will.
Just because I must do something does not mean I have to like it. This Aryssa Creed lady, winged twist, an officer of the black army, once dead is now back. How far they have fallen to allow such creatures to command Gundarakites. Maybe I shall spread the truth around areas of Barovia Explain the members of the army, the outlanders, the twist, the lady lover, the child killers, the grain thiefs and the ones who starved and killed Gundarakites. I only took two lives. They took many.
They killed Gundarakites that followed the old ways, they killed Gundarakites they suspected followed the old ways, they killed Gundarakites that stood against them. And they call me the enemy of our people. All I have ever wanted for my kin has been for them to be treated equally, to be free, to have our rights back and for us not to be persecuted. I have killed fewer kin than they have, but I guess they fail to see what they have done. I see my mistakes, my sins, and I acknowledge them. I am owning them.
I have blamed myself for the children who died in Zeidenberg, but I see now that I am not to blame. Yes I could of done more, but at the time I, like many other Gundarakites, believed that they cared about the everyday Gundarakite. I told them, warned them, but they are the ones who hold responsibility. They fled these lands, while I remained. They fled the aftermath, I witnessed it. They fled the sorrow, grief and anger. I bore it.
I will no longer allow them to destroy me.
I am Deaths chosen one. I am Nerulls chosen one. I am the Old Gods chosen one.
I will become Death.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophetess of the old god Nerull
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They will no doubt come for me. They always do, even if it is a crime I am not guilty of. They assume I killed Annaka and kidnapped her body. At the time when she was killed I was setting up a shop in the drain. Selling potions to some people who were on a "pub crawl". Truth does not matter to these people, these would be heroes. They sow deception where ever they tred. Speaking in lies and claiming truths out of falsehoods. They only believe the truth they chose to, not the truth that is real.
I will walk this path, and I will walk it proudly. I am bringing true the vision of Nerull. My people will be whole under His guidance. I must admit that being a leader is not as easy as I had dreamed. Many awful choices await, and I must make sacrifices, such as was done yesterday. They will continue to slander my name, but I am serving Death.
His words are no clearer than before. It is possible that this was not enough for Him. Perhaps merely a taste, while I wait for the right time to take out the rest of those who would stand in His way.
That poor girl didn't have to suffer like she chose. She should of prayed and accepted the fact that Death is supreme. Nerull will open the door to what is next, and when He opens that door for me, I hope that it will lead to a seat at his side. Where I can be free from this suffering and eternal deception that we are trapped in.
The darkness does not cause pain. The sun does. It burns crops and flesh, it boils water to nothing. It is harsh, brutal and uncaring. Light is not the loving thing they assume it is. No, that is darkness. The comforting thing that we all come from and will one day all return to. Darkness does not harm people, it does not destroy or burn things. It just is.
Death comes for all things, and it is what will allow those who worship a false god the chance to someday see their god. If they do not die, they will never meet their diety. Nerull reigns over all. When a god looses their followers, they are visited by Death and they fall just the same as any mortal.
Death is the great equalizer and it brings us all to the same level. It is a shame that the girl chose to suffer so much, I really do hate seeing kin suffering. But seeing the life leave her eyes, knowing that she was visiting Death, Nerull himself, was beautiful.
I forgot the thrill that killing sends through my body. The desire to taste her blood, her life force, to bath in the warmth that bubbled forth from her neck... Had I a lover, the time we could of had. The thrill of a successful hunt is more powerful than any aphrodisiac. I admit I've never worked with another religious person before, but watching them perform their ritual... Such beauty I hope to see more of.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophetess of Nerull, the Old God.
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Loyalty is a trait that I value immensely. It is something that has been rare for me to find. Yet now I have tested it and it has been proven worthy.
I have many things to do, but to begin it, I must hunt down the prey which thinks itself hunter. I have made errors and those errors have taught me things.
He returned at last. It's wonderful to see him again. It will be glorious these days ahead. My partner requires their heart, but it is their souls that satisfy Nerull.
I feel the desire burning inside me, the desire I have suppressed for so long. I long to see their life leaving their eyes. To witness that final moment when their soul is in the grasp of Nerull. He has called home the traitors against me, His chosen disciple. I am to bring death to them and remind all that it is only under the watchful eyes of Death, Nerull, the Old God, that we can ever have our dreams acheived.
They will submit or fall.
-Erzsebet Varga, High Priestess and Prophet of Nerull
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What I would give to be void of emotion. To have nothing holding me back. Miuos rituals helped some, as does the heart of ice I own. But it is not enough. Oh how I envy him. I envy that cold calmness. I envy that emptiness, that hollowness, that thing he lacks. I want it. I want to feel nothing. I want to be as cold as death. I want to be indescriminate. Yet I am not. I am not him.
Oh Varga, you have much still to learn, but for now... I have to learn to direct these emotions into the rage that I am familiar with using. The pain of betrayal, the pain of knowing, the pain of living. I need to use that the same as I have harnessed rage. If I harness the emotions that hold me back then I can become unstoppable. I just need to use them the same as anger. I have survived so much. I will survive this.
No. I will overcome this. I will stand atop of this mountain before me and stare down at the pathetic fools who think me wrong for climbing it. I shall laugh at them as my voice echoes like the thunder atop the Balinok or Ghakis. What is the worst that can happen to me?
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If they think me a fool, they will find out that I am not.
Information flows and suddenly a desire to meet.
A poster callilng for the death of traitors, and that gets followed by a letter.
It is hard to deny the connections.
The best lies are the ones mixed in with truths.
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I am relieved that was not a trap.
Also relieved that I had planned as if it were.
Secrets are known now, and a new plan must begin now.
I don't break my word.
-Erzsebet Varga
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Her final words: "What's your problem?!" As the blade struck her down. She'd only met this woman once before and this sudden attack confused her. She floated in a darkness before everything turned grey and misty. She wandered around aimlessly until she spotted a tower of light in the distance. She walked into it and everything shifted. Darkness, the sound of scurrying rodents and running water. Her incorporeal form repeated its final moments for any to witness.
She ran as if chased from the entrance to the drain and down the corridor leading out. She had wanted to flee, not understanding why this woman was so insistant on killing her. Why didn't she just go back into the drain? Why did she flee down further into the emptiness of the sewer? Her feet moved without her consent, fleeing down to the center of the hall before succumbing to the womans sword. "What's your problem?!"
A flash of darkness, brief as a blink and she was back outside the door to the drain. "What do you want?"
A blade was drawn, and Erzsebet stepped back. "You aren't running." the blade was brought down at Erzsebet. "I don't want to fight you." She stepped back, another strike coming down. She fled, her feet tracing the cobblestone of the sewer as the woman persued her. Another gash, and another. Blood welled up on her brown robe as she fell. "What's your problem?" the blood pooled in the murky water as she felt the cold blade pierce her one last time. Darkness.
And she was back in that grey misty place. Dead. She was dead.
Erzsebets soul was stuck in repetition of her final moments. Cursed to repeat them until her soul dissolved into nothingness, or her soul returned to its body. Her fate was no longer her own. It was in the hands of the trickster Nerull whom she worshipped. Perhaps he would free his servant from the hell of repeating those confusing final moments. Perhaps Erzsebet would finally be granted a true death. Only time would tell. And tell it would.
Time continued to pass while her spirit repeated its final moments. Why did this happen? She was usually so good at hiding in the shadows, a good reminder of the fact that she was mortal seemed to be what this would be. This was not the first time she was here, in this purgatory or hell. She would feel each cut, each slash, feel the cold water turning warm from her blood. Feel the vibrations of the wererats swarming towards the smell of a fresh kill.
Despite her form repeating those deadly final steps she found herself thinking and hating what she did. Hating all of her choices that had led her to the death while her lover Serghei had remained in the drain safely behind that closed door. It had been quite a while since she had found herself repeating her death, and she wanted it to end.
Within a blink the scene would reset and her feet would retrace her steps. Her body would exhibit the final attack upon her. Gashes and stab wounds forming in her ghostly body, one blade swing at a time.
This unsettling scene would play out over and over and over in the hall leading to the drain beneath Vallaki. A hell of its own kind seeming to never stop repeating.
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OOC: For anyone waiting for Erzsebets return, consider her on a indefinite Hiatus as attempts and plans have been revoked and turned down.