Innistrad is a plane modeled after the same Gothic Horror conventions as popular stories such as Dracula and Frankenstein. The humans that occupy small provincial towns or seaside laboratories or fortified cathedrals cower in fear from the growing threat of vampires, werewolves, zombies, and the disembodied souls of reckless dead. But deep in the bowels this haunted plane,
something more terrible is brewing. Something that
some of the plane's most esteemed scholars are trying desperately to find a way to defeat...
*****
Among the vampies of Innistrad, there has long been the belief that the urge to feed must be balanced by the pose of nobility. This belief started the trend in vampire society of the most powerful families building luxurious and ominous mansions throughout the Stensia territory, where the aristocrats could indulge in their decadent bloodlust behind closed doors. Most vampires of the Falkenrath family have relinquished all pretence at nobility, losing themselves completely in their all-consuming thirst. However this was not the case for Elga, youngest
heir of the Falkenrath estate. Elga was a slight creature, small for her age, who preferred to keep her jewelry polished, her hair properly done, and her silk looking as red as her eyes. But as she began to enter the years that vampires term as "adulthood" - usually around the turn of one's first century - Elga began to feel something else stirring inside her...
*****
"No, no, NO! Where've they gone!?" The deranged wizard Ricklar wheeled around in his frantic search, knocking over something expensive and delicate in his laboratory. He was so close to being able to test his experiment, but he was lacking a very important component. "They're not here either! Oh, what am I going to DO!?"
Just then, we see a
furtive Homunculus, a small humanoid creature with only one giant eye (not unlike a blue-tinted Minion). He darts up to his master's side and gets his attention by tugging on his lab coat. The wizard gives a shout of joy and grabs the precious bundle offered by his assistant.
"MY GLOVES!" He begins pulling on the oversized garments. "Oh, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Always have to think of safety first when you're messing with the very fragments of time and space itself!"
The homunculus just stares back with its giant unblinking eye, and nods slowly.
"You poor thing," the wizard consoles, pulling on his goggles. "You never understand anything but my simple instructions, do you?"
The homunculus blinks once and shakes its head.
"Well, if this experiment is a success, you won't have to worry about ever taking orders again!" The Wizard pulls a ridiculously oversized lever, causing a blue arc of electricity to blast into the mage's head.
"Eureka!" The Wizard shouts when the sparks subsided "I've got it! It's the spirits! The spirits are disturbed by the ghoulcallers and stitchers, in their disgusting attempts to raise zombies, and they become geists, driven by restless anger! We have to find a way to harness the... OOPS!? I'm sorry who are you?"
The wizard had turned face to face with his homunculus assistant, who had not moved from that spot since before the experiment, but the wizards had no recognition of his assistant. All memory of the homunculus's existence was wiped from his mind, a side effect of his reckless experiment.
*****
Elga walked on the small seldom-used cart path through the Stensia mountains known as the Needle's Eye. She liked coming up here in autumn to gaze at the blood red sunsets and muse on the vampires' dominion over the other races of Innistrad. But on this particular trip, she noticed something unexpected: a
kindly old woman wearing a light dress and tattered cloak, sitting on a stump, and holding a lantern.
"Good evening, madam" said Elga, with a curious smirk. "Not to intrude, but we very seldom see humans this far up in the mountains this close to nightfall. And even then, never alone and unarmed... and unafraid. Do you really think it's wise to journey into Falkenrath territory?"
"I'm not afraid out here, dearie, for I know that a higher power protects me." The old woman smiled and lifted her lantern as a strangely threatening gleam came into her eyes. "It looks like you could use some protection of your own."
"Are you threatening me?" Elga asked, keeping her distance. Although not subject to the mortal constraints of aging and death, vampires could still be slain in battle, and something about this old woman's demeanor made it seem that she could take Elga in a fight. But something else told Elga that it wouldn't come to that. "I am Elga, heir to the Falkenrath estate, and if anything should happen to me, a horde of vampires would descend upon you like hellfire. I demand to know who you are and what you are doing here."
The old woman maintained her smile. "I am Kitya, a stranger to these parts. And I have been summoned here... same as you."
"Summoned?!" Elga scoffed. "These mountains are my ancestral home! No one holds sway over us here!"
The old woman chuckled. "Oh, dearie, you don't understand, do you? I'm afraid we are caught up in something far beyond your understanding. Tell me, have you ever heard of planeswalkers?"
"Planes... what?" But Elga was interrupted by a noise high in the air. Kitya looked up into the sky and Elga followed her gaze, but before she saw anything she, noticed that the temperature became significantly colder, which is saying something for a vampire. High above the treetops, a
fearsome spirit appeared, holding two pale lanterns, glowing with an eerie light.
"Ahoy there!" cried a shrill voice. "Please bid welcome to my Niblis!" The voice belonged to Ricklar, the reckless wizard, who had scrambled up to the top of a nearby crag, dragging behind him a ridiculously oversized experimental contraption on wheels. "Attack, my pretty! Fly to victory!"
The niblis lurched forward, passing over the heads of the two observers, swinging its lanterns aggressively. Although she could not see the target of the spirit's attack, Elga felt herself weakened when it made contact.
"What is happening?" Elga cried. "Who is responsible for this attack?"
"That, dearie, would be our esteemed opponent," elucidated Kitya.
"Which opponent?" questioned Elga. "The Falkenrath family has many enemies in the vampire community: The Stromkirk? The Voldaren? Whoever it is will pay dearly!"
"I did not say 'enemy,' in the political sense, but 'opponent'" repeated Kitya, her smile giving way to a look of grim determination. "Another planeswalker, trying to challenge our authority. But don't worry: I have arranged for provisions in case of something like this."
Elga's ears picked up the sound of four, no eight, hoofbeats madly galloping down the path. The head of
a grizzled scout appeared over a rise in the path, followed by the head of his horse, then by another horse, led by the rider. As the rider let go of the bridle, Kitya leapt into the saddle with surprising dexterity. Grabbing a battle axe from the saddlebag, the old woman charged forward, past the wizard, and launched an attack against the opposing unseen force.
As her opponent reeled from the impact, Elga looked over to her new battlefield companion, his horse still sweating from its journey. "How did you know that my friend could use your help?"
The scout glanced at Elga, still breathing heavily. "How do I know where aid is needed?" he repeated. "Look around you."
*****
"No, no, no, this won't do at all!" Ricklar muttered under his breath, as the old woman leapt off her horse and scuttled back to her side. "What we need now is the untamed ferocity of the wolves of Innistrad... but with a twist!"
A savage howl split the air, but the creature that accompanied the sound only
vaguely resembled a wolf as we know it. Its body was covered more with rotting, corrupted flesh than with fur, its bright yellow eyes were accompanied by a second set of bright yellow eyes, and its bottom jaw was cloven in two, revealing a hideous gaping maw underneath. It was a truly horrifying sight, but it was met with only a delighted cackle from Ricklar, and another aerial attack from the spirit high above.
No sooner had the mage's laughter died down, then the newest member of his opponent's team spurred his horse and charged forward, ready to
confront the unknown, confident that his horse and his weapons could subdue the wolf horror. But the wizard had another trick up his sleeve.
"You think you can deal with my pet, eh?" Ricklar asked, mostly to himself. "Well, let me show you how he can feed on my delirium!"
Throwing the lever of his apparatus once again, Ricklar felt his mind enhanced by his magic, but at the same time, he calmly let the memory of his hometown slip away from him. As if fueled by the lost knowledge, the wolf seemed to grow in stature, lashing out with blinding speed at the attacking horseman. The wolf's first strike felled the horse, but the rider deftly jumped from the saddle, pulling a knife and sword from his belt. But even as the scout took one final swing at his unseen opponent's life force, all three of the wolf's jaws closed around his throat, and the two wrestled in a fight that proved fatal for them both.
*****
"NO!" Elga screamed, for the first time showing emotion at the fall of a human. "This is going terribly! We will surely be overwhelmed!"
"Don't worry, dearie," said Kitya calmly. "It's all part of the plan."
"What do you...?" but before Elga could finish, she heard a sound somewhere between the croaking of a giant toad and the anguished scream of a demon. The cry belonged to a
frog-shaped monster, easily twice the size of the provisioner's horse, emerged from the tree-studded swamp behind them. One look into the horrifying creature's dark, soulless eyes, and Elga finally realized what they were fighting for.
"All hail the Gitrog!" shouted Kitya, throwing her hands into the air in pure ecstasy and rushing forward to attack her unseen opponent.
"All hail the Gitrog!" echoed Elga, following Kitya onto the battlefield. But even as she joined in the assault, she felt the ground under her very feet tremble as it melted into a featureless heap of slag. But an anguished look over to Kitya revealed only more joyous laughter, as if this too were all part of the plan.
But then something happened that even the Gitrog did not intend. The ground beneath the monster's feet began to open up as though it were standing on a whirlpool, and with a confused croak, the legendary beast vanished, leaving behind a rock formation in the shape of a three-cornered hat.
"Oh, I'm sorry, has that chubby toad of yours
gone missing?!" mocked Ricklar from the safety of his perch. "I might be able to deduce what happened. You see, he left behind a clue. The answer is right here, in my vast library of knowledge!"
The rock burst asunder in a flash of mana, and its precious contents spilled out into the wizard's head. "I've been doing some research, you see," continued Ricklar, "and I've figured out how to use the power of my magic to unleash the
senseless rage of the undead. Observe!"
Ricklar threw the lever on his contraption, causing another bolt of blue electricity to shoot out towards the mage. But just as his eyes rolled back into his head and it looked like his mind would be overwhelmed again, a look of pure madness came into his eyes, and he cast an unorthodox spell.
The niblis above him became suddenly enhanced by the magic and flew ahead with redoubled strength. The impact was catastrophic and Elga could feel the life energy from her patron being sapped.
"What are we going to do!?" wailed the vampire. "We won't be able to withstand another of those strikes!"
"Just continue attacking, dearie" encouraged Kitya through gritted teeth. "When the time is right, you'll know what to do."
*****
But a manic burst of laughter from Ricklar signaled that the tides were about to turn. "I've got it!" the mage screamed. "I've finally figured it out! It's not the wolves, nor the spirits, nor the zombies that will save us, but the Angels! People call them mad, but no, it's not madness - it's a revelation!"
With uncanny strength, Ricklar grasped hold of the lever of his scientific contraption and bent it into the corrupt symbol of Avacyn and clasped his hands in prayer. "Archangel Avacyn, descend upon us with your
purifying judgment and rid your plane of these nonbelievers!"
A bolt of lightning pierced the sky and Ricklar immediately felt the comforting presence of madness around him. The archangel herself would not join the battle directly - she had other matters far too pressing to attend to - but the wizard could feel her pronouncing her judgment. Ricklar was deemed worthy, but his enemies... not so lucky.
Elga looked up at the blood red wings high up in the heavens, and she would have admired their shade if they did not spell certain doom for her and her companions. Instead she was filled with despair and all hope left her.
"Kitya, we're doomed," the vampire wailed. "The angel's rage will cut us down and the spirit will destroy us utterly."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," replied Kitya. "But I need your help, and I need you to act fast. You must let go of your mind."
"What!?" Elga asked incredulously.
"Listen to me!" shouted Kitya franticly as the Angel's fire streamed towards them. "Abandon the trappings of the Falkenrath inheritance and become
heir to the night! Embrace your urge to feed and I'll take care of the rest!"
Elga concentrated. She thought of her ancestral manor, her satin bedsheets, her crystal goblets, her fine lace. She held the images in her mind... and then she let them all go. And as she did so, Elga began to change. Her eyes became wild and started to bleed, her fangs extended until they pierced her lips and she could taste her own sweet blood... and she began to raise up off the ground in flight.
At the same moment, she heard Kitya's cackling laugh grow louder and lower, lower and more sonorous, as though it came not from the kindly old woman, but from a ravenous demon! And then Elga saw it: what she had abandoned to spur her own transformation had fueled the delirium that allowed Kitya to show her true form: that of a
demon-possessed witch.
Kitya's fingernails became gruesome claws, her tongue became long and forked, and horns sprouted from her wrinkled forehead. And just as the angel's fire was about to descend upon her, she lashed out with all her hatred and strength, sending a blast of dark energy directly at the raging niblis high in the air, which was now on Elga's level, destroying the spirit on contact.
Kitya's low, resonant, demonic laugh echoed through the battlefield even as the witch's frail body was consumed by fire. Elga felt the fire flow through her as well and was about to embrace the end of her life... but then she started to change again. She felt a tingling in her left hand and tore off her kid gloves. In her previous life, Elga would have been terrified at the
grotesque mutation she saw, but now she could only feel the power that was just barely keeping her alive. Where once was the milky-white palm of her hand, there now opened up a gaping maw lined with teeth. Her fingers lengthened into coiling tendrils that hungered to consume life energy. The angel's fire passed, Elga was still alive, and she knew what she had to do.
Using her new found power of flight, Elga soared above the wizard down below, who was shaking his fist at the vampire in futile rage. From her vantage point above the battlefield, she could see now plainly for the first time the planeswalker who was pulling the invisible strings controlling her enemies. With her last bit of energy, Elga reached out with her mutated hand and drained her opponent's life into that of her own patron planeswalker.
*****
Ricklar's world was in shambles. His wolf was gone, his spirit was destroyed, even Avacyn's power had failed him in his mission. He had killed the witch, but the vampire, who just moments ago had looked like a dainty ingenue, was now wheeling above his head, crazed with an insatiable blood lust. All that was left was his apparatus and the minuscule tattered threads of his sanity. And that last bit was about to take its leave when Ricklar saw what happened next.
The waters of a nearby bog rippled as once again the Gitrog Monster rose to the surface. Its webbed feet thundered on the ground as it made its way towards his side of the battlefield, the empty black pools of its eyes looming ever larger. Ricklar screamed, only this time it was not the thrill of madness overtaking his mind, but pure abject terror. The last thing the wizard saw was a gigantic tongue flitting out of the frog's mouth to devour him.
