Aug 12, 2020 12:27 pm
WITHIN the Black Forest are many castles and towers, but few have a reputation vile enough to rival that of Baron Von Staler’s home.
Squatting atop a granite rise, the castle is a cold, soulless structure, its imposing walls merging with its base to form a single edifice, as if the castle was grown by a malevolent force, rather than built stone by stone by masons.The castle was already old when Solomon Kane visited, for he noticed it had fallen into a state of near ruin, the courtyard was overgrown, and a pervasive smell of damp and decay assaulted the nostrils. What little light the few torches and fires gave out could not compete against the darkness, like the eyes of a man in his final moments of death. Though well appointed, even the furnishings are worn, moldy, and dust covered. It was a castle which gave the appearance of being abandoned, yet it was inhabited.
Von Staler, a powerful lord, was once also a noble soul, who cared little for a man’s religion, and offered sanctuary to all who asked. He was also an expert huntsman. However, during a hunt, he was thrown from his horse and suffered a head blow, which robbed him of his sight. Von Staler’s blindness affected not just his vision, but also his soul, which became as dark as his world. The lord slipped into cruelty. His poor horse, the cause of his affliction, was chained in such a way that it could not lie down, then viciously blinded. The skeletal remains of its rotted corpse stand in an iron gibbet to this day—silent sentinel watching over the approach to the castle gates.
Though Von Staler was robbed of sight, his hearing became acute, so much so that even raised voices pained his ears. His servants were dismissed for the inability to walk or speak quietly, Von Staler lived in his fortress with none but a few men-at-arms, each as stealthy as a hunting cat.
Making noise became a crime in Von Staler’s lands, and the noose awaited those who flouted the draconian laws. Even the wearing of shoes was forbidden within the castle proper.
Aside from his men-at-arms, Von Staler’s only companions were Kurt—the stalwart captain of the baron’s guard and Von Staler’s closest aide—and Kurt’s sister, known only as the Baroness.
The Baroness was a widow, brought to the castle to nurse Von Staler after his tragic accident. Unable to see his maid, Von Staler’s became obsessed with her tender voice and touch.
When Von Staler recovered, he insisted she stay, locking her in her chambers to ensure compliance. How many years she had lain chained to her bed were not revealed to Kane, but it must have been many, for her body became grotesquely corpulent and her mind, deprived of human companionship or stimulation, withered like a grape left in the sun.
Kane uncovered the Baroness’ plight, but in the fracas which followed, she was slain. Ironically, it is Von Staler, her captor, who is her executioner. A fall and subsequent blow to the head while fencing with Kane restores his sight. Rushing to protect his songbird, Von Staler sees what she has become and in a murderous fury stabs her through the heart. He then turns on Kurt, his loyal servant, accusing him of kidnapping the Baroness and substituting her for a shapeless, ugly thing. His sight restored, yet still blinded in his soul, Von Staler stabs Kurt a fatal blow, and the pair crash down the stairs, whereupon the lord’s spine breaks, ending his cruel reign.
Several years have passed since Kane’s visit, and still the locals refer to the castle as the Castle of the Devil. Though Von Staler is dead, something else now haunts the ruins. Greedy locals, on hearing of Von Staler’s death, sought to rob his riches, but those few who returned did so totally insane.
You hear the above story from a traveling merchant. He recounts the tale as you trade words about the road behind and ahead. On his way into central Germany, he is glad that you have seen little banditry.
"The castle is over there," he points, though you can't see it for the trees nearby. "A greater evil now lurks within the castle’s drab walls, an evil that robs men of their minds and stops their heart as easily as a sword point would. None go there any more, save the foolish. Best be avoided unless you risk the devil's own fate." He sits superstitiously. He can tell you nothing else about the castle or any goings on, having heard all of this third hand himself.
After you part ways with well wishing on both sides, you continue on, but later find the road that leads up a hill. You see the castle, described as per the merchants story. Squatting like a part of the granite rise itself, old, forbidding, menacing.
Squatting atop a granite rise, the castle is a cold, soulless structure, its imposing walls merging with its base to form a single edifice, as if the castle was grown by a malevolent force, rather than built stone by stone by masons.The castle was already old when Solomon Kane visited, for he noticed it had fallen into a state of near ruin, the courtyard was overgrown, and a pervasive smell of damp and decay assaulted the nostrils. What little light the few torches and fires gave out could not compete against the darkness, like the eyes of a man in his final moments of death. Though well appointed, even the furnishings are worn, moldy, and dust covered. It was a castle which gave the appearance of being abandoned, yet it was inhabited.
Von Staler, a powerful lord, was once also a noble soul, who cared little for a man’s religion, and offered sanctuary to all who asked. He was also an expert huntsman. However, during a hunt, he was thrown from his horse and suffered a head blow, which robbed him of his sight. Von Staler’s blindness affected not just his vision, but also his soul, which became as dark as his world. The lord slipped into cruelty. His poor horse, the cause of his affliction, was chained in such a way that it could not lie down, then viciously blinded. The skeletal remains of its rotted corpse stand in an iron gibbet to this day—silent sentinel watching over the approach to the castle gates.
Though Von Staler was robbed of sight, his hearing became acute, so much so that even raised voices pained his ears. His servants were dismissed for the inability to walk or speak quietly, Von Staler lived in his fortress with none but a few men-at-arms, each as stealthy as a hunting cat.
Making noise became a crime in Von Staler’s lands, and the noose awaited those who flouted the draconian laws. Even the wearing of shoes was forbidden within the castle proper.
Aside from his men-at-arms, Von Staler’s only companions were Kurt—the stalwart captain of the baron’s guard and Von Staler’s closest aide—and Kurt’s sister, known only as the Baroness.
The Baroness was a widow, brought to the castle to nurse Von Staler after his tragic accident. Unable to see his maid, Von Staler’s became obsessed with her tender voice and touch.
When Von Staler recovered, he insisted she stay, locking her in her chambers to ensure compliance. How many years she had lain chained to her bed were not revealed to Kane, but it must have been many, for her body became grotesquely corpulent and her mind, deprived of human companionship or stimulation, withered like a grape left in the sun.
Kane uncovered the Baroness’ plight, but in the fracas which followed, she was slain. Ironically, it is Von Staler, her captor, who is her executioner. A fall and subsequent blow to the head while fencing with Kane restores his sight. Rushing to protect his songbird, Von Staler sees what she has become and in a murderous fury stabs her through the heart. He then turns on Kurt, his loyal servant, accusing him of kidnapping the Baroness and substituting her for a shapeless, ugly thing. His sight restored, yet still blinded in his soul, Von Staler stabs Kurt a fatal blow, and the pair crash down the stairs, whereupon the lord’s spine breaks, ending his cruel reign.
Several years have passed since Kane’s visit, and still the locals refer to the castle as the Castle of the Devil. Though Von Staler is dead, something else now haunts the ruins. Greedy locals, on hearing of Von Staler’s death, sought to rob his riches, but those few who returned did so totally insane.
You hear the above story from a traveling merchant. He recounts the tale as you trade words about the road behind and ahead. On his way into central Germany, he is glad that you have seen little banditry.
"The castle is over there," he points, though you can't see it for the trees nearby. "A greater evil now lurks within the castle’s drab walls, an evil that robs men of their minds and stops their heart as easily as a sword point would. None go there any more, save the foolish. Best be avoided unless you risk the devil's own fate." He sits superstitiously. He can tell you nothing else about the castle or any goings on, having heard all of this third hand himself.
After you part ways with well wishing on both sides, you continue on, but later find the road that leads up a hill. You see the castle, described as per the merchants story. Squatting like a part of the granite rise itself, old, forbidding, menacing.
