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It has come to my attention that newcomers to Innistrad are unaware of our plane's culture, let alone its current state. I, Kresick Sorackle, Priest of the Elgaud Grounds, shall be making a series of posts rectifying this.

Today's topic shall be one of the most critical aspects of Innistradi culture, the Church.

Eight years ago, at the beginning of the Travails, the Church was in charge of everything, from defeating the creatures of the night, to education, to religious practices and most things in between. The death of Avacyn, Gisela, and Bruna, along with the corruption of the Lunarch Council have left the Church shattered and its beliefs scattered to the wind. Here are some groups, where they maintain power, and what they believe.

The Traditionalists

This name describes a trio of groups with sway over Gavony and parts of the other provinces. These sects tend to uphold the tenets of Avacyn with a strictness no longer common among the cloth. They tend to shun festivals like Harvesttide, and refuse to allow harmless inhuman folks to remain in their areas.

Heirs of Goldnight

They are centered in Wittal Parish with some activity in the Moorlands, and control the Bower Passage through the Ulvenwald.

Associating themselves with the Flight of Goldnight, the Archangel Gisela, and the Feast of Goldnight, they currently have the largest host of Cathars and archmages, although very few priests.

Their symbol is a red sun. A priest of this sect is unlikely to be dangerous to an outsider, but a cathar or mage will be.

The Long Watch

This group covers Effalen Parish, Videns Parish, and are active in the Moorlands. They watch all roads out of the ruined city of Thraben.

Their stated goal is to prevent any further of the corruption of the Travails from escaping the city, though some insist they are studying the remains of the corrupted bodies. Many question why they watch to begin with, as all signs of the corruption faded after a couple years.

Their symbol is a white eye. The current Bishop of Gavony belongs to this order.

The Fauchard

Based in Drunau, but have been found operating in many of the towns along the River Alrun, into Kessig and Gavony.

There is very little to know about them, except they are vampire hunters. They do not bother to represent themselves on what remains of the Lunarch Council. They do not wear symbols in public, and the signs to recognize one another are secret, however it is possible to contact them. I will not be revealing my methods here, as the Stromkirk's do wish to extinguish them.

Non-traditionalist

These orders are focused in provinces outside Gavony and have more lenient views of non-humans.

The Order of Saint Traft

Holds sway in Stensia and are establishing a presence in the Elgaud Grounds.

The Order is identified by Geist work, frequently allowing geists of former cathars to possess them in combat. They are regarded as heretical by some other sects, including the Traditionalists, for this Geist work.

There is no singular symbol for the Order, though common ones include a representation of "The Holy Digit of Saint Traft" which came to be a common symbol of Traft after his death, or the former seal of the Guardian of Thraben, the position the Order's founder Thalia once held, a representation of the Helvault against the moon.

Followers of Eberhart

Based in Selhoff and in control of the surrounding Morkrut, along with controlling the base of Ziel Path.

This group has most of the few remaining Cathars of the Gryffbond Order and have assembled into a decent naval force, though they have yet to attempt to challenge the Stromkirk supremacy over southern waters. Their access to the waves, however, means they also are the only ones with access to the wild Gryff nests along the cliffs of northern Nephalia.

Their symbol is a blue Gryff.

Nephalia's Bishop belongs to this order.

Gastaf's Warriors

The only sect on the other side of the Ulvenwald, based in Gastaf.

Gastaf Grotto being where Avacyn’s cursemute temporarily created the wolfir, there is, at this point, almost a decade of alliance between the humans of Gastaf, and the local werewolves. This sect, using what leverage the very few remaining wolfir have over their wilder cousins, allow werewolves to become members, so long as they do not harm humans during their transformations.

Their symbol is the Wolf of Kessig.

Kessig's Bishop belongs to this order.

The Lunarch Council

Having been relocated to the remote town of Ollenbock, the Lunarch Council consists of the bishops of each province, as well as a senior priest and cathar of each order that receives official Council recognition and cares to represent themselves, and the Lunarch Marshal, who only votes in the event of a tie.

Currently, the position of Bishop of Stensia is open. Every time a new Bishop is appointed, they die before reaching Ollenbock.

Other Definitions

Avacynians - A term that once described the Church as a whole, it has now come to describe only those who continue to worship Avacyn as the primary archangel.

Sigardians - Those who worship Sigarda as the primary archangel.

The Old Ways - Religious practices and rituals from before the time of Avacyn. Harvesttide is a festival that falls under this category, and many commoners now incorporate these rituals and practices into day to day life. Traditionalist orders find this inherently blasphemous.

#planar posting #innistrad posting

One year. That was, more or less, how long it had been since the infamous Assault on Braras Stromkirk's Manor, orchestrated by half the multiverse it seemed. The moons had come and gone a little faster this year, some had felt, but no matter, no matter. The winds were soon to turn cold once more with Harvest and Hunt alike. Kresick Sorackle sighed and examined the ledgers presented by Cathars Amelia and Laurence.

Amelia's spoke of a downward spiral. The initial funds for restoration of the grounds, helpfully negotiated for by Gouvle from the Traftian Monastery in Stensia, plus what sovereigns had been left behind from the evacuation post-Travails, had all run dry, but it was more a dam being erected up river than a strong drought. Laurence's spoke of a purposeful strangling. The Stromkirks did not need to call beasts from the deep or employ skaabren to assault their walls when a simple destruction of supply wagons and trade would do.

The enemy was craftier than in days long past that Kresick remembered so well. He sighed. Something must be done. The closest towns to the grounds, nameless hamlets for the most part, gladly embraced a Cathar presence in the places they once called home. In the days before the Travails. The bigger towns further away, however, were less willing to accept a Cathar presence. Whether that was their own ideas or pressure from the Stromkirks, he did not know.

A map! Kresick rolled out a handdrawn map. Others had offered surveyors to Innistrad after the omenpaths opened, he remembered. But what was left of the Church certainly couldn't pay, and there was no point anyway. These maps served just well for their current purposes. The closest large town would always be the city of Havengul. Ludevic was there, and Jeleva as well. Intel from the city implied Jeleva had quite a bit of control, although no love for her Stromkirk relatives. She had clashed with Runo more than once. However she still did not take kindly to cathar operations, and Ludevic even less so. South would be Drunau, and the Stromkirk's seat of power. Kresick knew of the Fauchard there, vampire hunters, but business with them would be too dangerous. North was two options, Selhoff, surrounded by the Morkrut swamps and thick, geistful mists so too difficult to get a wagon to, and Bonn, admittedly a small town, but currently under the protection of a different group of vampire hunters known as the Twilight Watch, and positioned near enough to Gavony that trade came through there. Bonn was quite a ways north, unfortunately. The roads were too long and wagons too easily harmed. West to Ulm perhaps? Another small town but positioned near Gavony and Kessig both. Unfortunately risky. Isolated and had gone for too long without a guiding presence.

It would have to be Havengul.

The map was put away, and notes on Havengul were put in its place. The mayor... Herzag had been declared missing, presumed dead post-Travails like so many others, and three separate following mayors ended up dead for various reasons including being too corrupt, not corrupt enough, and being generally offputting. Ah here, the current mayor was a bearded gentleman by the name of Hans. Kresick blinked. Just Hans? He could point to ten different men on the Elgaud Grounds alone named Hans, and nine of them were bearded.

He rubbed his temples. Further notes claimed there had been very little interest in anything they could sell, except nails and tools, and not much being sold either outside of the rawest of materials.

Kresick cast it aside and stood. The sun was getting low and streaming through the windows of the little office space. Perhaps there was little to worry about right now and supplies were in order for another moon at least. The last check having implied otherwise notwithstanding.

He left the office, carefully locking it behind him with a large key. He leaned on a cane. The muscles in his leg had never really rejoined the same way they had before that bastard skaabren had tried, and nearly succeeded in making a filet out of it in his escape. Adayn...

Nevermind that. An old mind wandering was never a good sign. He strode down the small hallway of priestly quarters and into the main chapel. The Book of Avacyn, hard won from the spawn of Ishkanah, shone in the evening light, and a Traftian priest was lighting candles in preparation for the nightly sermon. The normality of the scene struck Kresick for a moment. The priest, a woman no older than 45, turned to the older monk. "Yes, Kresick?"

"It's nothing, Ella. I must do my duties and see to our supplies."

Ella's face darkened. She finished the final candle and turned to face him fully.

"I meant to talk with you about that."

He gestured for her to speak.

"Food is not an issue yet, while we can still purchase it from the hamlets. But the men tire of fish, and our coffers are soon to drain. Mutterings have come about of the failure of this venture."

"Thank you Ella. I will keep that in mind." He turned to leave.

"Kresick."

He turned back.

"We need something drastic, I fear."

"'Fear is what separates the survivors from the victims,'" Kresick started.

"'But take care your fear feeds bravery instead of letting it rot.' Yes, I know the scripture," She huffed.

"Good. But if drastic is what is needed, drastic is how we will survive."

The streets of Havengul widened and narrowed randomly. Steep rooves for the heavy rain, many towers and steeples, and the leaning of buildings over the road gave one an impression of immense underground claustrophobia even on roads where two carriages could ride alongside without ever touching, and still leave room for the rabble.

Kresick was looking for something. Information. Thump, thump went his walking stick. The great shipyards of Havengul lay somewhere outside the maze of roads, but this city, had never been designed to allow one to see far. A heavy cloak disguised the priestly robes. A man of the cloth was not safe here. Twists and turns were mentally charted. Confusion and disorientation was where the Innistradi thrived, though, and soon he had acquired all the information he needed from a few well placed questions and quite a lot of simple observation. Now to get to the nearest gate.

He picked a direction and started going. The thump, thump, thump of the stick becoming more rapid. The streets hampered his progress in the direction he needed, and the dark shadows, even in the brighest noon sun, were excelling in making him feel paranoid and lost.

So when a man, dressed in finery blocked the old monk's path, he was already prepared. However it would be rude not to discover what was wanted of him.

As the man snapped his fingers and the other pedestrians near fled the scene in terror, Kresick appraised him. Lanky and tall, like many of the Stromkirk lineage, however his clothes were a deep black at all points instead of accented with reds or blues as was the Stromkirk's wont. The man appeared unarmed. Kresick judged him all the more dangerous for it.

"Well, little man. Jeleva has taken note of your... little inquiries." His voice was soft, yet dangerous, like a bed hiding a dropped sewing needle. "A mind like yours would make an excellent addition to her collection," the vampire continued.

"What if I refuse to have my mind taken and my body fed upon?" Kresick challenged.

"Well! He has fight in him yet. A poor human like you, aged and slow. Disgusting."

There was a glint in his eye. The vampire lunged hungrily forward, arms extending, teeth bared to show long, sturdy fangs. The walking stick came up to meet his approaching face, changing the angle of descent directly to the cobblestones.

The vampire snarled and tried to ascend for another attack, only to come face to face with a blade of brightest moonsilver. Sunlight did not gleam off it how moonlight did, but the cleansing, holy power was palpable still. The vampire hissed and shrunk away. The monk spoke in a terrible, though calm voice, measured in every syllable.

"Jeleva shall know this. I do not intend to be her enemy. Gone are the days when Cathars and the Church backed by them wished to scrub all manner of nightly creatures from this world. But a threat to us or those we care for, shall be met with force." Kresick stepped carefully around the vampire, the moonsilver constantly between the two, just in case there were any ideas.

"What did you find?" Cathar Amelia sat across from the desk to Kresick, holding an apple of a vague bruise purple color. She took a bite, revealing fresh, white interior.

"Havengul has a severe lack of blacksmiths. No blacksmiths, no nails. No nails, no wooden buildings, no boats, nothing."

"What happened?"

"Ludevic, most likely. I wouldn't put it past the man to murder the strongest folk possible for making skaab. But that is not the point."

"What is?"

"We have several blacksmiths from out in Stensia, and there are plenty of places in the city to procure smeltable iron. We are going to supply the nails and the horseshoes and every iron piece we can make for this city. And with that we can finally restore these grounds and purchase better food than a single apple tree and fishing villages can provide."

The cathar smiled.

"When do we start?"

#planar posting #innistrad posting

Strange happenings.... Many of my monks have been receiving curious reports, of people, always seemingly one at a time, ordering a large amount of raw materials.

Wood, tools, raw metal ready for smithing usually.

I would assume there is some grand scheme but, comparing, the same person never shows up twice. Nevertheless, I'll have my cathars and priests keep a sharp eye for more of these orders.

Unfortunately we're very busy with more pressing concerns. Stromkirks for example. Just felt the need to inform the Innistradi of the network and ascertain if this seems connected to anything currently going awry.

#innistrad posting #planar posting #innistrad #mtg #magic the gathering

A Father's Grief

Kresick sat in quiet contemplation in front of the altar. The Book of Avacyn sat there, closed, but already having the relevant passages marked. Now all that was left to do was wait for Valentina and... Adayn to arrive back on Innistrad.

And grieve.

Grieve for the child he had barely known but loved with all his old heart.

There was a knock at the door to the chapel. "Enter!" He said, his voice coming out strangled through the knot in his throat. One of the priests came in.

"A package arrived for you from Gavony, Kresick." The priest placed in from of him a heavy, medium sized wooden chest.

"Thank you. Dismissed."

The priest nodded and left. Kresick waited until the door had shut to examine the chest's contents. Inside was a set of animal bones, wrapped in cloth, for divining the future, several slim tomes penned by other witches, a journal, several jars of dried herbs, and a large brick, a souvenir of Ravnica's rubblebelt.

Kresick snapped the chest shut and sobbed into his hands, overcome with grief.