February 1, 2023 • 21 mins
Season 02 - Episode 07.
The Grand Inquisitor discovers a new foe hidden beneath the city.
Credits:
Alaric - George Ledoux
Ghoul - Matthew Curtis
Website: http://DeadhausSonata.com
Discord: https://discord.gg/XjUXa4v
Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/DeadhausGame
Created by Apocalypse Studios
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
(Music)
(00:12):
Sixth of Zephus is the
year 220 after Deadhaus.
This will be the last that is written in
the Chronicles of the Grand Inquisitor.
I am writing with all the strength that
remains to me, but
there is not much left.
Thacia has fallen.
(00:35):
The Emperor is dead, though he may at
least rest with the knowledge that he
knew what truly threatened us.
I have no such solace.
I spent my life fighting a
war against a lesser enemy.
If anyone should recover
these writings, know this.
(00:56):
Deadhaus was not the true foe.
The blow that struck us
down came from within.
It was the Crimson Sign.
It was The Awakened.
By the light of the Blood Moon, I wrote
of my nightmare.
(01:16):
Visions of gods and monsters.
Since that night, I have not dreamed. I
focused on my work, constructed more
wights in secret, until the day I led them
south and retook Fort Zaestra.
The dead there were no match for us.
Between the wights, my explosives and a
(01:37):
crossbow full of silver bolts, we carved
a path through them until the tread of
armored feet approached us.
It was the revenant that
took the fort so long ago.
The wights fell upon him with their
inhuman strength, but
his was greater still.
He tore them asunder, cleaving limbs and
(02:00):
crushing skulls with his warmaw. But I
had come prepared, sadly.
"Hold him still!" I shouted to the wights.
They obeyed as best they could, clinging
to his arms and legs.
I saw the violet fires rising in him, saw
him begin to break free of their grasp,
(02:21):
strengthened by the conflict.
The crucible hummed into high pitch and
released a torrent of
shrieking wraith fire.
Two of my wights and a portion of the
fortress wall were destroyed in the
blast, and all that remained of the
revenant was a pair of armored legs. The
(02:45):
crucible strum fell as it
closed. The fort was ours.
As I suspected, this act impressed the
Emperor to the extent that my crimes
against Thacia were pardoned. I was given
his full support in the construction of
more wights, as many resources as I
(03:07):
required, and a team of
alchemists at my command.
Full production began immediately.
We refined the process, no longer
constrained by having to work in secret.
We learned we could construct wights
beyond the constraints that nature had
intended as well. After all, the
(03:29):
anatomical proportions of human limbs
were suited to the needs of the living,
but the dead were
unfettered by such limitations.
We began to construct
wights for specific purposes.
Those intended for the front lines could
be grafted with heavy metal plating.
(03:49):
Those sent to the mines could wield
pickaxe and shovel apparatus instead of
arms. And when their tasks were complete,
they could be disassembled and
reconstructed to fit the
needs of their next assignment.
Soon, wights began to
appear on every battlefield.
(04:11):
Living troops were wary of them, of
course, having known the dead only as
enemies for so long, but
the results were undeniable.
Need to storm a gate and break it down
under arrow fire? Why risk human lives
when a wight could do so
without fear, without hesitation?
Heavy supplies need to be carried with
(04:32):
the troops? Why expand their energy when
wights possess far
greater strength and endurance?
Even when struck down in battle, a wight
could be repaired so long as its core
remained intact. So as much as they were
feared, hated even, still they were
called upon to serve, and serve they did,
(04:54):
for each of them was constructed with a
hollowed head full of chimes.
We began to push the dead back. Territory
by territory, province by province, we
reclaimed what was ours.
Every battle replenished the supply of
components. Arms, legs, torsals, heads,
(05:16):
ever more wights were constructed.
I was so hopeful then, joyous even, to
see my hated foe crushed and driven
before me. I could never have suspected
that the end was so near, that as my
wights marched farther south, they marched
away from the true foe.
(05:37):
The Awakened...
That is what they called themselves.
Madmen.
They worshipped one called Islirith.
The name means nothing to me, nor did the
Ashen Priests know of it. But I had so
little time to
investigate before they struck.
(05:57):
When the fighting broke out, I
was speaking to the Emperor.
I was reading from a scroll when his
blood spat upon it. I looked up to see a
dagger through his
neck, held by his own wife.
She just smiled at me. The blood vessels
had ruptured in her eyes, flooding them
(06:19):
with crimson. And she just smiled.
The Praetorians cried out. Several of
them knelt and threw their blades,
plunging them into their own hearts. In
the suicide their order demanded of them,
should they fail to protect
the one they were sworn to.
But others did not kneel. They turned to
(06:40):
face me with eyes full of blood.
I fled from the palace and into the city,
where madness prevailed.
The cultists were in every district.
They were our smiths and cobblers, our
farmers, our poets. Men and women, young
and old. They were our neighbors, our
(07:03):
sons and daughters, friends and wives.
They were among us all
along, lying in wait,
hiding just before us.
We were too blind to see.
The only commonality between them was
their eyes, primming over with blood. A
(07:24):
sea of crimson eyes and grinning faces.
They set upon those who were unlike them
with knives and clubs
and makeshift weaponry.
Chaos surged through the streets.
Buildings were set ablaze. By the time
the attack broke out, I suspect they were
(07:45):
at least half the population of Thacia.
How? How could this have happened?
There was word of a cult. Even two years
ago there was word of a cult of fanatics
with bloodied eyes. But they were said to
be no more than 20. I took no notice of
it then. 20 cultists next to Deadhouse.
(08:09):
How was I to know the
dead were less of a danger?
It is madness.
Utter madness that has claimed Thacia.
A mob of them pursued me down an alley.
With no way out, I reached into my
satchel, retrieved a flask and shook it.
(08:31):
It burst against my pursuers in a plume
of green fire and they fell to the
ground, shrieking in voices that were not
human. And as they writhed in the
alchemical fires, I
saw their bodies distort.
Bulbous pockets of flesh protruded like
fleshy dough set to bake and burst open
(08:54):
to reveal gaping holes
lined with gnashing teeth.
I did not hear my own scream over theirs.
I retreated to my estate. Twice more
requiring a flask to cut a
path through the throngs.
I thought I would be safe within my own
walls but they were
(09:15):
waiting for me there too.
The servants, their eyes
were filled with blood.
One of them moved briskly toward me as I
entered the room. I pulled my chimes and
struck but he just smiled.
The knife struck me beneath the sternum,
piercing the liver. I threw him off me
(09:35):
and fled to my laboratory, barring the
door behind me. They started striking it
soon after and I stumbled backward,
slumping over a table.
There were no wights in the capital. They
had all been sent to face Deadhaus
They could have turned the battle. We
still would have suffered terrible
(09:56):
casualties, got off guard as we were, but
the wight could have regained order.
Or maybe the cultists would not have
attacked if wights were present. They are
clever enough to hide after all.
The crucible, that would have been
useful. I could have brought the city
down with it, left nothing for the
(10:18):
cultists but ash and rubble. But I left
it... No, I shall not say.
It is beyond my reach now. It must remain
beyond the reach of all.
I regained my
footing, inspected my wound.
With medical attention, it might not be
(10:38):
fatal. An Ashen Priest could close it, no
doubt, but the temple district swarmed
with cultists just... just like all the rest.
Even if I could make my way
there, would anyone be left?
You are wondering if you will die.
You will.
(11:00):
The ghoul startled me from my thoughts.
How do you know this?
Death ripens in your mind.
We can smell its nectar dripping.
The city has fallen.
There was an enemy within, I said, not
(11:22):
knowing what else to say.
We know.
It turned its head to face the door,
where the blows on the other side began
to fall with greater force.
They will be with you soon.
Will silver harm them, I
said, retrieving my crossbow?
(11:46):
One or two, if you are quick
enough, but there are more.
How many?
In this house.
Fourteen.
You will not stop
them, Alaric von Beller.
(12:08):
Then I will die trying.
You think they will kill you? You will
pray for death. But death does not dream.
It will not find you.
(12:29):
I won't ask you what that means.
I won't understand if you try to explain.
I am...
I do not see clearly.
But now you see that you do not see, and
that is the path to seeing.
(12:51):
Then tell me. Tell me what I can do.
Open the cage.
So you can give me the
merciful death that they won't?
We cannot kill the Grand Inquisitor. No,
it is against the rules.
(13:14):
Who? You said that before. In the sewers.
We have told you only truth. Always.
Why? Why can you not kill
me? Why must I open the cage?
The time for questions is past. The door
(13:35):
began to splinter inward.
Make your choice. But what choice was
there at that point? Grievelsly wounded
and cornered. Flasks were no longer an
option, and the crossbow could not deal
with fourteen assailants.
Chimes were ineffective. No
wights. No crucible. Nothing.
(13:59):
Only the ghoul and its cryptic words. I
unlatched the cage and stumbled towards a
small closet, pulling myself inside.
The door broke in soon after that, and
the lab was filled with cultists.
I watched them from my hiding space as
they overturned tables
(14:20):
and rifled through things.
They were looking for me. Just as my
father had so many years ago.
The ghoul's cage stood empty.
A flicker of movement then,
from above. A blur of ground.
It fell from the sea, punching its claws
(14:41):
through one of the cultists' heads as it
landed upon him. The others shouted,
whirling to face their new foe. But the
ghoul skittered backwards on all fours,
disappearing towards the sewers.
Doubt like an escape it cannot read!
One of the cultists shouted. They chased
it into the dark tunnels. I heard them
(15:03):
shouting to one another,
coordinating their hunt.
They had no idea what they had brought
upon themselves, but I did. For the first
time, I felt a sense of gratitude for how
clever that creature was.
One by one, their shouts fell silent as
they were snatched into the darkness.
(15:27):
Time for the tunnels were utterly silent.
I stayed in the cramped closet until I
saw the ghoul slinking back to the lab
from the sewers. Its gaping maw was caked
with blood and viscera.
I climbed down from the closet, slumping
(15:48):
back against it and sinking to the floor.
The ghoul sidled up and sat beside me.
Such a feast we've had.
Such a feast, yes.
They both stared ahead
(16:09):
into nothing for a time.
They're dead then? All of them?
Dreams do not die, but
they will trouble you no more.
What will you do?
The dreamers will take time to claim the
(16:31):
city. Enough time for some to go missing.
It clicked in anticipation.
And you're still hungry? Even after 14?
It did not answer me, but merely cocked
its head in my direction for
(16:52):
a moment. Then rose to leave.
I suppose you won in the end. Your captor
lies dying, Thacia undone.
Deadhouse was victorious.
It paused for a moment, then turned.
(17:15):
You were not the enemy, no.
Not the enemy? We've
been at war for 200 years.
You know not of our war.
It turned to leave once more. What does
(17:35):
that mean? Come back! Face me! I
struggled to rise, but the ghoul kept
crawling. I did not see it again.
And so now I sit here in
the ruins of my laboratory.
Blood seeping from my wound.
Strength fading.
(17:57):
I never understood most of what the ghoul
said to me. I realize now I never
understood so many things.
I tried. I studied. Never gave up.
Sacrificed. But it was all in vain.
I could not protect Thesia.
(18:20):
And now I die with it.
I take one last look at the work around
me. The tools. The materials. The blood.
The blood.
Vampiric blood.
I never wrote of it after the initial
(18:41):
experiments, but I continued to feed my
supply with the blood of livestock.
I wanted to test the upper limits of its
ability to reproduce, but I could never
find them. I ended up
with a vat of the stuff,
unsure of what to do with it. I stopped
(19:02):
growing it, feeding it only enough to
maintain its volume. But there were
always so many other tests and excursions
that required my attention. It simply
fell into the background of my
laboratory. Yet there
it is, ringed by salt,
(19:24):
leading.
If I were to let my own blood spill into
the vat, it would be
transmuted, no longer human.
But what if...
What if I were to carry out a transfusion
of this vampiric blood into my own body?
(19:45):
Would it kill me?
I'm dead already.
For one last experiment.
I have enough strength for that.
I will gather the materials.
The process is begun.
The needle is in my vein.
(20:06):
I can see the blood moving through the
tubes now. Part of me wants to tear the
needle free. There is still time.
Why am I doing this?
It's entering me now.
It burns!
The blood is room temperature. I can feel
(20:27):
that if I grab the tube.
But it's like fire when it hits my veins.
It's spreading,
gnawing up my arm, my shoulder,
my heart.
Heart rate is rising, hammering,
(20:48):
burning inside.
I must record as much
as I can. Pain... entire body.
If I rise... will... avenge,
(21:09):
My... heart...
visions...
visions... a woman.
(Music)
(00:12):
Sixth of Zephus is the
year 220 after Deadhaus.
This will be the last that is written in
the Chronicles of the Grand Inquisitor.
I am writing with all the strength that
remains to me, but
there is not much left.
Thacia has fallen.
(00:35):
The Emperor is dead, though he may at
least rest with the knowledge that he
knew what truly threatened us.
I have no such solace.
I spent my life fighting a
war against a lesser enemy.
If anyone should recover
these writings, know this.
(00:56):
Deadhaus was not the true foe.
The blow that struck us
down came from within.
It was the Crimson Sign.
It was The Awakened.
By the light of the Blood Moon, I wrote
of my nightmare.
(01:16):
Visions of gods and monsters.
Since that night, I have not dreamed. I
focused on my work, constructed more
wights in secret, until the day I led them
south and retook Fort Zaestra.
The dead there were no match for us.
Between the wights, my explosives and a
(01:37):
crossbow full of silver bolts, we carved
a path through them until the tread of
armored feet approached us.
It was the revenant that
took the fort so long ago.
The wights fell upon him with their
inhuman strength, but
his was greater still.
He tore them asunder, cleaving limbs and
(02:00):
crushing skulls with his warmaw. But I
had come prepared, sadly.
"Hold him still!" I shouted to the wights.
They obeyed as best they could, clinging
to his arms and legs.
I saw the violet fires rising in him, saw
him begin to break free of their grasp,
(02:21):
strengthened by the conflict.
The crucible hummed into high pitch and
released a torrent of
shrieking wraith fire.
Two of my wights and a portion of the
fortress wall were destroyed in the
blast, and all that remained of the
revenant was a pair of armored legs. The
(02:45):
crucible strum fell as it
closed. The fort was ours.
As I suspected, this act impressed the
Emperor to the extent that my crimes
against Thacia were pardoned. I was given
his full support in the construction of
more wights, as many resources as I
(03:07):
required, and a team of
alchemists at my command.
Full production began immediately.
We refined the process, no longer
constrained by having to work in secret.
We learned we could construct wights
beyond the constraints that nature had
intended as well. After all, the
(03:29):
anatomical proportions of human limbs
were suited to the needs of the living,
but the dead were
unfettered by such limitations.
We began to construct
wights for specific purposes.
Those intended for the front lines could
be grafted with heavy metal plating.
(03:49):
Those sent to the mines could wield
pickaxe and shovel apparatus instead of
arms. And when their tasks were complete,
they could be disassembled and
reconstructed to fit the
needs of their next assignment.
Soon, wights began to
appear on every battlefield.
(04:11):
Living troops were wary of them, of
course, having known the dead only as
enemies for so long, but
the results were undeniable.
Need to storm a gate and break it down
under arrow fire? Why risk human lives
when a wight could do so
without fear, without hesitation?
Heavy supplies need to be carried with
(04:32):
the troops? Why expand their energy when
wights possess far
greater strength and endurance?
Even when struck down in battle, a wight
could be repaired so long as its core
remained intact. So as much as they were
feared, hated even, still they were
called upon to serve, and serve they did,
(04:54):
for each of them was constructed with a
hollowed head full of chimes.
We began to push the dead back. Territory
by territory, province by province, we
reclaimed what was ours.
Every battle replenished the supply of
components. Arms, legs, torsals, heads,
(05:16):
ever more wights were constructed.
I was so hopeful then, joyous even, to
see my hated foe crushed and driven
before me. I could never have suspected
that the end was so near, that as my
wights marched farther south, they marched
away from the true foe.
(05:37):
The Awakened...
That is what they called themselves.
Madmen.
They worshipped one called Islirith.
The name means nothing to me, nor did the
Ashen Priests know of it. But I had so
little time to
investigate before they struck.
(05:57):
When the fighting broke out, I
was speaking to the Emperor.
I was reading from a scroll when his
blood spat upon it. I looked up to see a
dagger through his
neck, held by his own wife.
She just smiled at me. The blood vessels
had ruptured in her eyes, flooding them
(06:19):
with crimson. And she just smiled.
The Praetorians cried out. Several of
them knelt and threw their blades,
plunging them into their own hearts. In
the suicide their order demanded of them,
should they fail to protect
the one they were sworn to.
But others did not kneel. They turned to
(06:40):
face me with eyes full of blood.
I fled from the palace and into the city,
where madness prevailed.
The cultists were in every district.
They were our smiths and cobblers, our
farmers, our poets. Men and women, young
and old. They were our neighbors, our
(07:03):
sons and daughters, friends and wives.
They were among us all
along, lying in wait,
hiding just before us.
We were too blind to see.
The only commonality between them was
their eyes, primming over with blood. A
(07:24):
sea of crimson eyes and grinning faces.
They set upon those who were unlike them
with knives and clubs
and makeshift weaponry.
Chaos surged through the streets.
Buildings were set ablaze. By the time
the attack broke out, I suspect they were
(07:45):
at least half the population of Thacia.
How? How could this have happened?
There was word of a cult. Even two years
ago there was word of a cult of fanatics
with bloodied eyes. But they were said to
be no more than 20. I took no notice of
it then. 20 cultists next to Deadhouse.
(08:09):
How was I to know the
dead were less of a danger?
It is madness.
Utter madness that has claimed Thacia.
A mob of them pursued me down an alley.
With no way out, I reached into my
satchel, retrieved a flask and shook it.
(08:31):
It burst against my pursuers in a plume
of green fire and they fell to the
ground, shrieking in voices that were not
human. And as they writhed in the
alchemical fires, I
saw their bodies distort.
Bulbous pockets of flesh protruded like
fleshy dough set to bake and burst open
(08:54):
to reveal gaping holes
lined with gnashing teeth.
I did not hear my own scream over theirs.
I retreated to my estate. Twice more
requiring a flask to cut a
path through the throngs.
I thought I would be safe within my own
walls but they were
(09:15):
waiting for me there too.
The servants, their eyes
were filled with blood.
One of them moved briskly toward me as I
entered the room. I pulled my chimes and
struck but he just smiled.
The knife struck me beneath the sternum,
piercing the liver. I threw him off me
(09:35):
and fled to my laboratory, barring the
door behind me. They started striking it
soon after and I stumbled backward,
slumping over a table.
There were no wights in the capital. They
had all been sent to face Deadhaus
They could have turned the battle. We
still would have suffered terrible
(09:56):
casualties, got off guard as we were, but
the wight could have regained order.
Or maybe the cultists would not have
attacked if wights were present. They are
clever enough to hide after all.
The crucible, that would have been
useful. I could have brought the city
down with it, left nothing for the
(10:18):
cultists but ash and rubble. But I left
it... No, I shall not say.
It is beyond my reach now. It must remain
beyond the reach of all.
I regained my
footing, inspected my wound.
With medical attention, it might not be
(10:38):
fatal. An Ashen Priest could close it, no
doubt, but the temple district swarmed
with cultists just... just like all the rest.
Even if I could make my way
there, would anyone be left?
You are wondering if you will die.
You will.
(11:00):
The ghoul startled me from my thoughts.
How do you know this?
Death ripens in your mind.
We can smell its nectar dripping.
The city has fallen.
There was an enemy within, I said, not
(11:22):
knowing what else to say.
We know.
It turned its head to face the door,
where the blows on the other side began
to fall with greater force.
They will be with you soon.
Will silver harm them, I
said, retrieving my crossbow?
(11:46):
One or two, if you are quick
enough, but there are more.
How many?
In this house.
Fourteen.
You will not stop
them, Alaric von Beller.
(12:08):
Then I will die trying.
You think they will kill you? You will
pray for death. But death does not dream.
It will not find you.
(12:29):
I won't ask you what that means.
I won't understand if you try to explain.
I am...
I do not see clearly.
But now you see that you do not see, and
that is the path to seeing.
(12:51):
Then tell me. Tell me what I can do.
Open the cage.
So you can give me the
merciful death that they won't?
We cannot kill the Grand Inquisitor. No,
it is against the rules.
(13:14):
Who? You said that before. In the sewers.
We have told you only truth. Always.
Why? Why can you not kill
me? Why must I open the cage?
The time for questions is past. The door
(13:35):
began to splinter inward.
Make your choice. But what choice was
there at that point? Grievelsly wounded
and cornered. Flasks were no longer an
option, and the crossbow could not deal
with fourteen assailants.
Chimes were ineffective. No
wights. No crucible. Nothing.
(13:59):
Only the ghoul and its cryptic words. I
unlatched the cage and stumbled towards a
small closet, pulling myself inside.
The door broke in soon after that, and
the lab was filled with cultists.
I watched them from my hiding space as
they overturned tables
(14:20):
and rifled through things.
They were looking for me. Just as my
father had so many years ago.
The ghoul's cage stood empty.
A flicker of movement then,
from above. A blur of ground.
It fell from the sea, punching its claws
(14:41):
through one of the cultists' heads as it
landed upon him. The others shouted,
whirling to face their new foe. But the
ghoul skittered backwards on all fours,
disappearing towards the sewers.
Doubt like an escape it cannot read!
One of the cultists shouted. They chased
it into the dark tunnels. I heard them
(15:03):
shouting to one another,
coordinating their hunt.
They had no idea what they had brought
upon themselves, but I did. For the first
time, I felt a sense of gratitude for how
clever that creature was.
One by one, their shouts fell silent as
they were snatched into the darkness.
(15:27):
Time for the tunnels were utterly silent.
I stayed in the cramped closet until I
saw the ghoul slinking back to the lab
from the sewers. Its gaping maw was caked
with blood and viscera.
I climbed down from the closet, slumping
(15:48):
back against it and sinking to the floor.
The ghoul sidled up and sat beside me.
Such a feast we've had.
Such a feast, yes.
They both stared ahead
(16:09):
into nothing for a time.
They're dead then? All of them?
Dreams do not die, but
they will trouble you no more.
What will you do?
The dreamers will take time to claim the
(16:31):
city. Enough time for some to go missing.
It clicked in anticipation.
And you're still hungry? Even after 14?
It did not answer me, but merely cocked
its head in my direction for
(16:52):
a moment. Then rose to leave.
I suppose you won in the end. Your captor
lies dying, Thacia undone.
Deadhouse was victorious.
It paused for a moment, then turned.
(17:15):
You were not the enemy, no.
Not the enemy? We've
been at war for 200 years.
You know not of our war.
It turned to leave once more. What does
(17:35):
that mean? Come back! Face me! I
struggled to rise, but the ghoul kept
crawling. I did not see it again.
And so now I sit here in
the ruins of my laboratory.
Blood seeping from my wound.
Strength fading.
(17:57):
I never understood most of what the ghoul
said to me. I realize now I never
understood so many things.
I tried. I studied. Never gave up.
Sacrificed. But it was all in vain.
I could not protect Thesia.
(18:20):
And now I die with it.
I take one last look at the work around
me. The tools. The materials. The blood.
The blood.
Vampiric blood.
I never wrote of it after the initial
(18:41):
experiments, but I continued to feed my
supply with the blood of livestock.
I wanted to test the upper limits of its
ability to reproduce, but I could never
find them. I ended up
with a vat of the stuff,
unsure of what to do with it. I stopped
(19:02):
growing it, feeding it only enough to
maintain its volume. But there were
always so many other tests and excursions
that required my attention. It simply
fell into the background of my
laboratory. Yet there
it is, ringed by salt,
(19:24):
leading.
If I were to let my own blood spill into
the vat, it would be
transmuted, no longer human.
But what if...
What if I were to carry out a transfusion
of this vampiric blood into my own body?
(19:45):
Would it kill me?
I'm dead already.
For one last experiment.
I have enough strength for that.
I will gather the materials.
The process is begun.
The needle is in my vein.
(20:06):
I can see the blood moving through the
tubes now. Part of me wants to tear the
needle free. There is still time.
Why am I doing this?
It's entering me now.
It burns!
The blood is room temperature. I can feel
(20:27):
that if I grab the tube.
But it's like fire when it hits my veins.
It's spreading,
gnawing up my arm, my shoulder,
my heart.
Heart rate is rising, hammering,
(20:48):
burning inside.
I must record as much
as I can. Pain... entire body.
If I rise... will... avenge,
(21:09):
My... heart...
visions...
visions... a woman.
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