deathsmajesty | Diverse Parts of Nephalia to Gavony, Innistrad

For the better part of a year, things had been quiet in Innistrad. Avacyn had returned, bringing with her the renewed faith of the populous and the wonder of the Cursemute, a miracle wherein she could fuse the two warring aspects of civilized human and savage wolf that dwelt within a lycanthrope, and allow them to dwell in the light of her blessing. Giselbrand was dead, most of his armies dispersed, and angels once more took to the skies singing praises in Avacyn's holy name. The citizens of Thraben banded together to repair the damage cause by the two lunatic necromancer twins that had led an army of undead to invade their city and all over the plane, life continued while seeds of hope grew and blossomed in Avacyn's light.

However, peace could not last. Not when there were people actively working against it. The winds of fortune were shifting and on their tidings, something wicked this way comes. A threat like Innistrad had never known. But there were other evils much closer to home to worry about. Smaller, pettier, and far more deranged evils.

Geralf Cecani	(Letter from Geralf, skaaberen of the moors and near-conqueror of Thraben; 34th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Ludevic of Ulm, I hope this letter reaches you safely-- skaabs make better bodyguards than couriers, after all. I believe the last time we saw each other was years ago at one of my parents' parties. I have so many boring memories of being forced to joylessly play the harpsichord for the adults while my awful sister sang to impress the guests. How many dinners did I spend wishing I were seated with the greatest mages of our time rather than atop a creaky child-size music bench! You always held such high renown in my mother's social circle, and your talents and notoriety made you the teacher I always craved as a child. That was many years ago, and I have grown into a well-admired and popular stitcher in the years since! I am now quite famous, and you have no doubt heard of my brave and mostly successful invasion of Thraben. I was able to evade capture thanks to my quick thinking and small stature, and have returned to my laboratory in what is left of Trostad. Upon my return, I have begun a new endeavor to expand my knowledge and skill. As a practitioner of the art of alchemy, I was hoping you would be able to provide some much-needed insight as I delve deeper into the art of necromantic fabrication than anyone has before. Would it trouble you to pass along any alchemical texts you believe would help further my studies? I am in need of a mentor, and I cannot think of anyone who would be better suited to assist me for the sake of invention and innovation. What is your preferred method of avoiding decay or further necrosis once a body has been revived? Would the addition of a second liver assist with toxin control in the metabolic system? What is your preferred method of animation via elemental transmutation? How familiar are you with Delia Davison's methods for brain extractions on living patients? I'm giddy with anticipation of your response! Sincerely, Geralf Cecani
Executive Officer Grete	(Letter from Grete, Executive Officer; 40th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Commander Odric, I write to you in great distress. The transport caravan departing Rider's Lock was attacked this morning by a wave of rogue skaabs. The guards under my command were transporting the prisoner Gisa Cecani to Thraben for punishment. The road between the prison and the city is usually well-trod and safe for passage, but as per your orders I tripled the guard that would travel along with the caravan. The weather was misty and gray—nothing out of the ordinary for this part of Gavony. As the light was beginning to come over the horizon, we were overcome by a sudden attack of ghastly, violent, misshapen skaabs. We defended the caravan valiantly, but the malice and will of these creatures was too great to overcome. One-quarter of the procession is dead despite our additional reinforcements, and the prisoner seems to have escaped in the chaos. These skaabs seemed different from ones I have seen in the past. Quick, many-limbed, as if their maker is testing a new formula for their sick development. My forces stood little chance. I write to you from a safe haven in Merwald Downs here in Nephalia. I received little injury in the attack, but I believe the prisoner may be heading toward the coast. She is a half-day's travel ahead of me, but I am in pursuit. I will write when I know more. —Executive Officer Grete
Gisa Cecani	(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of Cecani Manor; 40th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Geralf, GUESS WHO JUST BROKE OUT OF PRISON! Your ever-loving sister, Gisa
Geralf Cecani	(Letter from Geralf, skaaberen of the moors and near-conqueror of Thraben; 42nd of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Gisa, You don't just say "guess who" and then answer it in the signature, moron. Why are you writing me from the old family house? I thought it was destroyed—surely there isn't anything left after the accident. I had thought once free you would go back to your own territory. —Geralf
Gisa Cecani	(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of Cecani Manor; 45th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Geralf, I may have my freedom now, but there are no words to express the embarrassment and anger I felt when I was first captured, brother. I was foolish to try and go along with your dumb plan, and I was a failure for getting caught by the guard. It seems fate itself had a hand in my release and I escaped my transport caravan while en route to Thraben from Rider's Lock. I was shackled up in the back of a covered carriage (with a muzzle and everything) and heard a dreadful commotion outside. Never one to ignore an opportunity, I swept my feet over my chains and rammed the door, escaping into the fog with the little dignity I had left in the midst of the attack. What do you think of that? I escaped all on my own! My joy was brief, and the malaise I feel now has overtaken the thrill of escape. I abandoned my old territory before our pathetic attempt to raze Thraben and knew there would be nothing left for me there. After I got the muzzle and chains off, I thought it might be best if I returned to the old family home in Nephalia. The rubble is all falling apart now, and it all still smells vaguely of smoke, dust, and preserving fluids. Some rooms are still habitable, but I couldn't stand to go into Father's study. The evidence of our parents' last scuffle still lines the walls. The weight of guilt hangs on me still after all this time. In an attempt to purge this feeling from myself, I raised Mummy and Father to apologize for what we did to the house. I felt such relief to tell them how sorry I was for the fire, and how neither you nor I intended to inherit our parents' loathing of each other. I spoke of my failure in Thraben, of how distant you and I have grown over the years, my humiliation at being chained and muzzled while you gleefully escaped. Of course they couldn't respond, but the experience was quite therapeutic for me. Given these recent happenings, I wish to add an addendum to the laws of necromantic warfare to exclude use of relations or family pets in battle (I know you still have what is left of Spot). Respond with your desired time and location of our next duel. Your loving sister, Gisa
Geralf Cecani	(Letter from Geralf, skaaberen of the moors and near-conqueror of Thraben; 49th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Gisa, You are being incredibly irresponsible. Put Mummy and Father back in the ground where they belong. I am doing things far more important than necrowarfare now. I am pleased you are out of prison, but clearly you are too stupid to recognize my help when I give it to you. Please do not contact me again. —Geralf
Ludevic of Ulm	(Letter from Ludevic, necro-alchemist of Havengul; 52nd of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Geralf, I've returned your skaab along with a number of alchemic texts. I believe you should find the answers you are looking for within. If you are amenable, I am more than happy to take you under my proverbial wing. Your mother was a talented necromancer, and she clearly raised a brilliant heir. Please do not hesitate to contact me in the future. Any son of Gretchen Cecani is a son of mine. Your family has always been so playful in their love of the dark arts. Let us enjoy our brilliance and embark on the greatest game of all! —Ludevic
Geralf Cecani	(Letter from Geralf, skaaberen of the moors and near-conqueror of Thraben; 55th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Ludevic, Thank you for your response, I look forward to poring through the annotated text you sent over. But please, let us not be flippant when talking about our craft. I am absolutely sick of games. —Geralf
Gisa Cecani	(Letter from Gisa, ghoulcaller of Cecani Manor; 56th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Dear Cable Knit Jerky, Irresponsible?! Don't you bark at me like a child! I am one of the most talented ghoulcallers of our time-- I am capable of feats you only dream you could do. (I've heard you try to whistle - it's pathetic!) You may think you're too good for necrowarfare, but I know it's really because you don't think I can function without having to rely on you. —Gisa P.S. I am going to do my best to remember all my favorite nicknames for you. We are Officially Fighting.
Executive Officer Grete	(Letter from Grete, Executive Officer; 58th of Harvest Moon, Ava. 717) Commander Odric, After some time in pursuit, I have caught up with Gisa in Nephalia. She is currently residing in the remains of an old manor. I am watching from afar and awaiting backup to make the capture. I grow ever more uneasy with regard to my current position. My compass has suddenly begun to act oddly: the needle will spin on its own, regularly jolting and stopping in a direction completely opposite to where it had been moments before. The air feels charged as if a thunderstorm were near, but the skies betray no signs of activity. I do not know why these oddities have been increasing, but it is unlike anything I have encountered before. Something far more dangerous dominates my attention. I believe Gisa is calling again. Ghoul activity is very high, and I've nearly tripped into many empty graves as I travel near the coast of Nephalia. I have never personally seen a necromancer at work, but I can now say with certainty I have heard one. Unearthly whistles fill the fog of the night, light trills that send my stomach to my knees and raise the hair on my neck. She creates no lights nor flashes; instead her magic is a manic song that weaves with the sound of the coastal waves, penetrating the cold sand and lifting the dead from sleep. I understand now why you requested we muzzle her for captivity. What is most unsettling is the calm of the ghouls themselves. Those undead who hear this song do not fight, shamble, or violently lash out. They simply walk toward their conductor. She seems purposeful in her calling, as if these monsters were tools for a task unknown to me. The situation grows more unsteady as each night passes. I will await further instruction before pursuing the ghoulcaller. —Executive Officer Grete