EVA - Enchanter. KNOWLEDGE OF ENEMY
Enchanter (3 of Stars)
"This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand your enemy. I see a kneeling woman—a rose of great beauty plucked too soon. The master of the marsh knows of whom I speak."Berez possibly. Master of the Marsh could be Baba Lasaga Casamir has said that in Berez there is a statue of a kneeling woman.
Book of Strahd.
Scratched into cover - "Not True"."I, Strahd, Lord of Barovia, well aware certain events of my reign have been desperately misunderstood by those who are better at garbling history than recording it, hereby set down an exact record of those events, that the truth may, at last, be known."Ichabod is taken back. ------
“I am the Ancient. I am the Land. My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past…”He sees a young boy on a staircase, neglected by his father, desperate for approval. To live up to his fathers achievements. . Sits outside a door with sound of drunken men. "I train so hard - it's never enough for him. He is a fearsome king and I hope I am like him when I grow up". Rahadin comes in. "Young master Strahd, time for your studies". "Yes Master Rahadin". ------
"...yet that past now is filled only with regret."The sounds of battle fill your ears, and the smell of woodsmoke surround you.
"I was the warrior, I was good and just. I thundered across the land like the wrath of a just god..."You are in a tent. The boy you saw is a young man now - tall and strong, standing over a map of Barovia. Generals discuss battle tactics. Rahadin, the same slim elf not aged a day, discusses the lands protector Argynvost: he describes his weakness: his charity, his love of the people. Rahadin turns to Ichabod - "Any Questions?" Why Barovia? "My lord intends and is due dominion over these lands. It is his want". The group march from the tent to the front lines, under the massive mount on wich Argynvostholt stands. At their back, a camp, ringing the Mansion - another army. The Silver Dragon against the Raven. Dusk Elves against men. -------- Strahd booms out, calling for Argynvost t meet him in Battle. He holds fifty men and women prisoner - tied to stakes, oil soaked wood mounted up into 10 great pires. His weakness. Commoners. An ear splitting roar fills the air - and the prisoners faces light with warmth and hope. ‘About time’ mutters Strahd. He signals for a hundred Ballistas to be uncovered. This was a trap. He lights the nearest fire and flames lick up around the villagers feet. ‘Fire!’ Fog rolls again. ------ Strahd sees the generals of the Silver Dragon in the heat of battle. Bloodstained, exhausted, defiant Vladimir Horngaard urges Strahd to fight him - that he may fulfil his sworn duty and avenge his Lord. Strahd mocks him, piteously. He makes to attack him but a knight gets in the way - Strahd dispatches him with lightning speed. Godfrey Gwilem, Vladimirs lover, lies dying on the ground. The courage fades from Vladimirs eyes. He is broken. Strahd orders him killed by his own troops, and turns to enter the fray. ------- Strahd surrounded. Spear peirces his side. Hisses in pain, almost falls from horse. Spear deep, right through. Comes around and kicks into horse and it charges through the men. -------- Ichabod and Vass watch as Strahd becomes isolated from his troops. The battle is all but won - how is this possible? Suddenly a spear pierces his side. A horrible wound. He flees the battlefield into a forest. The wound is deadly. Ichabod tries to poke his finger into the wound - but like a dream, the vision fights his interference. Strahd lies dying, when a Vistani couple find him. They take him onto their wagon, and begin to heal his wounds. ------- "I recovered from my injruies. I never forget how close I came" "My army settled in the valley - renamed for my father. We took this in the power of a god, with none of a gods weakness" -------
"I recovered from my injuries, and I never forgot how close i came that day to oblivion. But there was always more killing. ...and the years of war and death wore down my soul as the wind wears stone into sand."-------
"My army settled in the valley, renamed for my father as we took power over the people in the name of a just god, but with none of a god’s weakness."Strahd and his men march up a mountainside to a great set of gates, blocking the road. The gate is open. In front of it stand a crowd of fearful, but angry looking wizards standing their ground, blocking the progress of Strahd and his men. One Wizard steps forward. braver than the rest. His face has familiar ruddiness. Portly, moustached. Buster shouts ‘You do not know what you meddle with! Begone from this place! We forbid your entry!’ Strahd snarls. ‘You will deny me nothing’ Buster snaps back ‘Over my dead bo…’ Calmly, Strahd swings a crossbow up from his belt and fires a single bolt into his throat. Blood spews from the brave mans mouth. The gathered wizards cry and shout. Two old men break from the group and run to Buster. One holds his head, the other, older, more cautious, seems to hang back as he approaches. Strahd addresses the man holding Buster. 'I have no interest in your Arcane nonsense. You did not intervene when I destroyed the valleys protector - Lord Argynvost. This tells me you are weak, and it tells me you have a grain of sense. I am content to leave you be.’ He smiles. 'On one condition…build me a home. A home worthy to bear the name of my Mother, Queen Ravenovia' The old man pays him little heed, tears rolling down his cheeks. 'My boy....what have you done?' 'What I will do to each one of you in turn unless you do as instructed.' The wizard looks up, defiant. ‘No…’ Strahd Raises a cross bow and fires a bolt into the another young wizard, who drops to the ground dead.. The defiance in the old man’s eyes vanishes. 'Yes....my lord' Fog fills Ichabod and Vass’s vision once again. As it begins to clear - they see themselves in an immaculate castle courtyard. ------- Ichabod and Vass stand just beyond the front gates of a curtain wall, so colossal that the largest of giantkind could pass through with ease. The wall is nearly fifty feet in height, interrupted by squared-off turrets that rise even higher. The wall is further dwarfed by the rounded towers of the keep overhead, the tallest of which soars three times the height of the gates. Weighted hooves clop across the wood of a bridge behind them. A crowd is forming - ushered into shape by castle guards. Rahadin inspects the front row - nobles, dignataries, guests of note. A young elf, a serious man of middle years, wearing armour but notably - no sword, a cleric, gowns emblazoned with the 7 tined sun of the morning lord. Rahadin approaches the knight as the nise of the horse approaches, and whispers in his ear. Ichabod gets close. ‘I thought you should perhaps read this, to your new Lord’ He says with a smile, before stepping back into line. He passes the man a note. Icahbod reads the first lines. Strahd von Zarovich walks his horse into the courtyard, and the crowd bursts into forced applause. Rahadin introduces Gabriel Andrel, priest of a church in Vallaki. ‘The people have need of their gods. You may wish to use my own chapel some time, priest’. Gabriel smiles, politely - Vass notes that the smile is stiff. A pause, slightly too long, before it extends to his eyes. This, my lord, is Leo Disilnya. He held a position of some authority - genereal of the Delmorean armies. Rahadin smiles. ‘Leo…?’ The man steps forward, reluctantly. His face is blank. A man who knows how to control his emotions. "My Lord Strahd… allow me to extend my sincerest felicitations upon the realization of your dominion over Barovia and the impeccable construction of Castle Ravenloft. Your unwavering determination and impeccable taste have sculpted a realm of unparalleled elegance and authority. May your reign be marked by an everlasting legacy, casting shadows upon all who dare challenge your sovereignty." He kneels. Bowing his head. Strahd pauses, and then smiles broadly - the first time you’ve seen this. 'Rise. Know that I do not wish to see the Delmorean line wiped out entirley. I only iwsh that its ancestors know. Their. Place.' Finally, Rahadin introduces his neice, Patrina. She seems excited to meet Strahd, though she is clearly not yet 20. ‘You will make a fine warrior one day’ Strahd says. To the crowd, then ‘Come - we feast. The castle will be complete within the year, let us toast my new halls’ The crowd dissipates. As the mist encroashes around them again, Andral and Leo make their way inside - Andral placing a hand on Leos arm, out of sight. ------- Servants and sycophants crowd them. Time has passed, they are deeper in the castle than they should be, the crowd is nervous, whispering, huddled around the door to Strahds study. Inside he sits at a desk, his back to a great fireplace, empty, the poker in its stand shining brightly. A man enters, carrying a letter, and golden box, on a cushion. Strahd takes the latter and reads:
Your Highness, It is with greatest sorrow that I share the most grievous news of the passing of our dearest mother Queen Ravenovia, beloved ruler, wife of our grand and late father, King Barov von Zarovich. An illness overcame her on the road from your ancestral homeland, and our healers were unable to prevent its spread. She wished dearly to see the lands that you had claimed in the name of your father, King Barov, and the castle your have built in her own. I have sent this missive ahead with our fastest horse. It pains me to say this: the queens sickness took her body at unnatural speed - and we judged it best to perform the rights and cremnate her remains on the road. Her mortal remains are now in this reliquary, and will remain with you forever. The remainder of our caravan will arrive in the Barovian hills in a few days - save for the Queen’s infant son, your Brother, who took ill at the breast and has returned for his safety until he is old enough to travel. Truly, I wish I did not have such dread news. In sorrow, your devoted servant, Friar HaraldHis face turns dark. He reaches for the box ‘This is…’ The man nods. ‘Get out. All of you. OUT!’ The crowds scatter and the group are pushed from the room. Barnard opens the door again, finding the room empty, no sign of Strahd or his delivery. Ichabod pushes the fire poker - and the back of the fireplace slides away, revealing Strahd, striding away into corners unknown, taking with him the remains of the one woman he has every truly loved. -------- Back in the book, the mists swirl, and suddenly the castle is not newly built. There is a smell of mould and neglect. The courtiers and bright colours have vanished. Decades have passed and the glory and grandeur that adorned Strahds early years have faded. He sits, greay hair now abundant at his temples and widows peak, fine lines crossing his face. He is alone in his banquet hall. There is a knock at the main door. He does not move. This is servants work. But it has been days since he has seen any. They are afraid of him. A knock again, louder. He rises. Angry. This is beneath him. Who DARES disturb him. He flings open the door, prepared to cut down the insolent swine… In the rain stands…a peasant girl. A young woman. Red headed. Beautiful. She is not Ireena and yet the similarities are undeniable. This is Tatyana. She is trying to sell him bread. He stands frozen, as though he has never spoken to one of the people before. She smiles, nervous - noone comes to the castle. She must be desperate to have risked this. He notices her poor clothes, sodden, shivering. Awkwardly, he invites her inside. He has his servants feed her. Bathe her. He gives her new clothes. She brings warmth to this cold place. Time passes. She is still here. He doesn't want her to go - she must build her strength, he says. She doesn't argue. He watches her, speaks with her, they eat together, he can barely look her in the eyes. She is so radiant. So happy. But the time comes for her to go and …stumbling over his words, he invites her to stay. She interprets his invitation as one to work in the castle. Before he can correct her…express himself…she flings her arms around his shoulders. He is shocked. He is never shocked. His face does something it has not done in decades. He smiles. More time passes…he watches her playing a piano he had brought here for his mother, they speak of gardening, of her past, of his own. His days grow brighter. The castle is not so gloomy anymore - she lights up his life. And she is thawing his heart. -------- Strahd sits in his throne room, the castle light again, clean, flags waving at windows. Life has been restored to the castle. His eyes alight on Ireena in the crowd of people thronging the throne room - she smiles up at him warmly. He winces back, awkwardly. The murmurs of the hall are quieted by the groan of heavy wooden doors parting. A procession of marching footsteps and the fanfare of trumpets precede a beautiful man with wavy black hair, kind eyes, and a warming smile strutting into the chamber. He approaches boldly, draped in the familiar robes of the Morninglord. A gilded, radiant sword rests at his hip. The hilt of the weapon is so finely crafted that you would not be faulted for believing it was made of pure light. He drops to a knee before the throne. Rahadin announces him. ‘Welcome Sergei von Zarovich, second son of King Barov and Queen Ravenovia, Awakened son of the Morninglord, to our Castle Ravenloft. The keep’s splendors and comforts are yours.’ Sergei rises to his feet. Strahd rises in turn and steps down the marble stairs, standing half a foot taller than his younger brother. He reaches to shake his guest’s hand, but as their forearms meet, Sergei pulls his brother in for a hug. Strahd steps back and pronounces, loud enough for the room to hear: ‘It is good to have you, brother. Come, let us celebrate.’ -------- The mists swirls and suddenly Ichabod feels a gentle breeze brush on his cheek. The earthy smell of fresh grass brings spring and summer warmth. The sun embraces you, but the serenity is broken by raucous cheering. Three sets of tiered benches have been constructed around a ring of dirt, and two knights are cheered by the crowd after their bout at its center. Forty feet ahead of you are two wrought iron gates that lead to an overlook. Even from this distance, you can see the snowcaps of far off mountain ranges to the east. The crowd turns to Sergehi, still wearing his shining breastplate. He beams at them - tosses flowers. The crowd roars for him. They want a fight. Sergei looks to Strahd and offers a blunted sword. Strahd looks for Ireena, she is looking at Serghi. He cannot refuse. In the arena, they engage in a fierce battle. Strahd, 20 years Sergehis senior, is sweating within a minute. He has got so old - and this youth, is he really out fighting this fearsome warrior. Has it been so long? Sergehi smiles, laughs as he parries and feints, applauding Strahd's efforts. Strahd tries to trip him, to take him by surprise and whirl his blade around to deliver the killing blow - as he does so, he sees his brother's sword hand held aloft beneath the folds of his cloak. He was lured into the attack - Sergehi could have killed him - if they were really fighting. Yet here he is, accepting defeat - holding up Strahd's hand and declaring him the victor. ‘You fight wonderfully Brother - the noble Victor!’ Strahd is red in the face, dripping wet beneath his armour. He looks for Ireena. There is a blush in her cheeks. Her eyes are fixed on Sergei. Anger and pain consume you, and the mists swirl again.
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