Full transcript: 0:00 Chapter I - A Bitter Eve Indeed On a bleak and frosted yuletide eve, Minthara cleared her throat and spat the phlegm with scornful glee, as she snarled, and I quote: “This cursed season’s here again, I cannot seem to flee it. Nor you, with all your Yuletide cheer, who comes to me to plead at.” The goblin blinked away the spit, as he stammered out in fear, “But Commander, please, the boys need rest, it’s just once every year.” “Bah, brainslug!” Minthara did reply, her tone a deadly hiss, "You want a break? Then break yourself - you’ll get no more than this. “One night off? For season’s cheer? I’ll make sure you regret daring to ask for anything - this is as good as you will get." And with a loud and thunderous snap, his bones broke like a vow. No, no amount of Yuletide cheer would ever save him now. 1:14 Chapter II - Let the Spirits Come Minthara sat in icy dark, the chamber’s warmth long lost, the fire’s flame was nearly gone, consumed by winter’s frost. The shadows stirred, the room grew still, a chill crept through the air. Then from the dark, a figure formed - a face beyond repair. It was the ghost of Priestess Gut, who once had served her side, now bound in chains of spectral light, with hollow, sunken pride. “You’ve come to haunt me, have you, Gut?” Minthara scoffed with scorn. But Gut’s dead eyes stared back at her, no mercy to be sworn. Gut’s hollow voice did fill the room, her gaze alight with dread: "Three spirits come to show your fate, the path that lies ahead. These chains I bear are of my sins, the souls I once betrayed. Your chains will come, and heavier still, for debts you’ve yet to pay." Gut faded with a mournful wail: "You’ll see when they appear, The weight of all your wicked ways will soon become too clear." In the silence, shadows deepened; Minthara’s gaze was set. 'Let them come,' she whispered low, 'I’ve nothing to regret.' 3:00 Chapter III - Memories Served Cold Minthara lay in restless dark, her room now cold as stone. When from the shadows stepped a form - both lumbering and alone. With amber eyes, and long sharp claws, and a voice like the coo of a chicken; a spectral owlbear revealed itself, right in Minthara’s kitchen. “Fredrik, old friend!” Minthara bellowed out toward the ghost. “I lost you when those goblins plucked and spit you on the roast. I can’t commend their actions, but the meal was adventitious; and if you really want to know, your thighs were quite delicious.” The creature cooed and warbled in an inscrutable sort of way; that probably meant he’s sorry, not to worry, it’s okay. At least that’s what Minthara thought, before he gripped her by the hair, and pulled her up and back through time into memories laid bare. 4:10 Chapter IV - Bearer of a Solemn Warning They landed in a dim-lit hall, where a girl of ten stood standing; soaked in the blood of the assassin sent to kill her in the landing. A wicked smile crossed her face, twisted and serene, and in return, Minthara’s grin grew reflecting what she’d seen. “A fine death", purred Minthara at what her younger self had done; her eyes gleaming with memories of early battles she had won. And that one time that her mother tried to kill her in the dark. When she first felt something within her igniting like a spark. The owlbear’s grumble filled the air at an octave deemed concerning. As if to say, perhaps Minthara missed points in lessons she should be learning. “Look on this and change your ways,” Fredrik warbled, feathers ruffled. “Murder poisons all within, and soon your heart will buckle.” The ghost was sure his warning struck, conveyed in solemn swell, and her nodding smile assured him that she’d understood it well. Yet all she caught were frantic clucks, the words lost in a crack; for her potion of animal speaking lay stashed in her other slacks. 5:50 Chapter V - An Appeal to Her Present Nature Minthara found herself alone in bed in Northdark county; awoken by the laughter of one called Gale (nee Tim Downey). “That rhyming couplet was so forced, its writer should be banned from ever writing advent poems,” and then he took her hand. Gale led her to a Yuletide meal, a humble goblin spread, where scraps were shared and laughter dim, though cheer was not yet dead. Invisible, she lingered close, as voices murmured low, and talk soon turned to Minthara, to the harshness she would show. “She’s fierce, too fierce,” the goblins sighed, “a wall none dare to breach. To work for her’s to walk on glass, with orders none dare breach. She drives us hard, no mercy shown, her pride cuts deep and cold. Each task we bear without a break, each word a weight untold.” A sickly goblin, frail and sweet, with cane clasped in hand, spoke up with gentle warmth and care, though weak, his tone was grand: “It’s Yuletide now, a time to mend, to open hearts anew; and maybe even welcome her, as harsh as she may be, too.” Gale leaned in close and softly spoke: “Your strength, it has its place. But walls you build to guard yourself keep warmth from your embrace. Let others in; the fiercest bonds come not from pride alone, to lead, you must reveal your heart, not sit upon a throne.” Gale watched her face, his hope renewed, convinced his words had struck; that seeds of trust and softer ties might yet dislodge her stuck. But Minthara’s thoughts were elsewhere still, on power and control. Her mind untouched by softer words, no shifting in her soul. Gale gave a nod, then waved farewell, and vanished from her sight; leaving Minthara once again alone in winter's night. But soon a musk, both stale and dank, crept in from shadows deep. A figure cloaked in timeworn cloth with skin like dried, cracked peat. 8:44 Chapter VI - Minthara’s Yuletide Reckoning His face a skull beneath the folds, eyes hollow, dark, and cold- a whisper from the edge of death, with secrets ages old. Withers reached out his bony hand, and Minthara followed suit. They stepped into her future’s shade, a vision stark and brute. She saw herself, long cold and dead, her armour picked for gold, as looting goblins mocked her life, now safe from her stronghold. "She was a terror, harsh and fierce," they laughed and shook their heads; “she made no friends, no bonds in life, just fear and mounting dread.” To look upon her solemn face, one might well think her deeply stirred, A glimpse of doubt upon her brow, her heart perhaps deterred. It seemed her gaze grew softened now, as though she'd come to see, that strength alone, without a bond, might truly end in misery. With visions of her future clear, Minthara felt embolden; and so she turned, with lessons learned, her heart finally wide open. She called her goblins to the hall, a feast spread wide and grand - A Yuletide bounty, rich and full, set out by her command. There lay platters heaped with roasted game, with pies and cider poured. Huge hams glazed thick, and golden loaves, and meat pies richly stored. Jugs of wine and sugared fruits, a spread both fine and rare. Each dish a treat, each plate a prize, beyond what goblins dare. “Eat well!” she called, her tone sincere, her voice filled with merry cheer, “A happy Yuletide, one and all! Enjoy your feasting here!” The goblins cheered and tucked right in, grotesque and loud they ate; with gnashing teeth and slobbering lips, they gorged on every plate. But as they dined, their cheers grew faint, each goblin slowed and sighed. One by one they slumped and fell, as Minthara watched them die. For every dish was laced with death, each bite a poisoned curse - A Yuletide feast, to end their lives, and leave her halls dispersed. Minthara laughed, her goblins gone, her eyes as dead as bone, “This Yuletide feast has shown me well - I’m better off alone. To all who’d dare to scavenge mine, consider yourselves done; for strength is found in solitude - Gods curse you, every one!”
So happy youtube recommended the video. Your voice and intonation is incredible, but it's even better after having it as a guide while playing such a nice game, it feels like a friend with whom you had a great anecdote to strengthen your friendship.
Full transcript:
0:00 Chapter I - A Bitter Eve Indeed
On a bleak and frosted yuletide eve, Minthara cleared her throat and spat the phlegm with scornful glee, as she snarled, and I quote: “This cursed season’s here again, I cannot seem to flee it. Nor you, with all your Yuletide cheer, who comes to me to plead at.”
The goblin blinked away the spit, as he stammered out in fear, “But Commander, please, the boys need rest, it’s just once every year.” “Bah, brainslug!” Minthara did reply, her tone a deadly hiss, "You want a break? Then break yourself - you’ll get no more than this.
“One night off? For season’s cheer? I’ll make sure you regret daring to ask for anything - this is as good as you will get." And with a loud and thunderous snap, his bones broke like a vow. No, no amount of Yuletide cheer would ever save him now.
1:14 Chapter II - Let the Spirits Come
Minthara sat in icy dark, the chamber’s warmth long lost, the fire’s flame was nearly gone, consumed by winter’s frost. The shadows stirred, the room grew still, a chill crept through the air. Then from the dark, a figure formed - a face beyond repair.
It was the ghost of Priestess Gut, who once had served her side, now bound in chains of spectral light, with hollow, sunken pride. “You’ve come to haunt me, have you, Gut?” Minthara scoffed with scorn. But Gut’s dead eyes stared back at her, no mercy to be sworn.
Gut’s hollow voice did fill the room, her gaze alight with dread: "Three spirits come to show your fate, the path that lies ahead. These chains I bear are of my sins, the souls I once betrayed. Your chains will come, and heavier still, for debts you’ve yet to pay."
Gut faded with a mournful wail: "You’ll see when they appear, The weight of all your wicked ways will soon become too clear." In the silence, shadows deepened; Minthara’s gaze was set. 'Let them come,' she whispered low, 'I’ve nothing to regret.'
3:00 Chapter III - Memories Served Cold
Minthara lay in restless dark, her room now cold as stone. When from the shadows stepped a form - both lumbering and alone. With amber eyes, and long sharp claws, and a voice like the coo of a chicken; a spectral owlbear revealed itself, right in Minthara’s kitchen.
“Fredrik, old friend!” Minthara bellowed out toward the ghost. “I lost you when those goblins plucked and spit you on the roast. I can’t commend their actions, but the meal was adventitious; and if you really want to know, your thighs were quite delicious.”
The creature cooed and warbled in an inscrutable sort of way; that probably meant he’s sorry, not to worry, it’s okay. At least that’s what Minthara thought, before he gripped her by the hair, and pulled her up and back through time into memories laid bare.
4:10 Chapter IV - Bearer of a Solemn Warning
They landed in a dim-lit hall, where a girl of ten stood standing; soaked in the blood of the assassin sent to kill her in the landing. A wicked smile crossed her face, twisted and serene, and in return, Minthara’s grin grew reflecting what she’d seen.
“A fine death", purred Minthara at what her younger self had done; her eyes gleaming with memories of early battles she had won. And that one time that her mother tried to kill her in the dark. When she first felt something within her igniting like a spark.
The owlbear’s grumble filled the air at an octave deemed concerning. As if to say, perhaps Minthara missed points in lessons she should be learning. “Look on this and change your ways,” Fredrik warbled, feathers ruffled. “Murder poisons all within, and soon your heart will buckle.”
The ghost was sure his warning struck, conveyed in solemn swell, and her nodding smile assured him that she’d understood it well. Yet all she caught were frantic clucks, the words lost in a crack; for her potion of animal speaking lay stashed in her other slacks.
5:50 Chapter V - An Appeal to Her Present Nature
Minthara found herself alone in bed in Northdark county; awoken by the laughter of one called Gale (nee Tim Downey). “That rhyming couplet was so forced, its writer should be banned from ever writing advent poems,” and then he took her hand. Gale led her to a Yuletide meal, a humble goblin spread, where scraps were shared and laughter dim, though cheer was not yet dead. Invisible, she lingered close, as voices murmured low, and talk soon turned to Minthara, to the harshness she would show.
“She’s fierce, too fierce,” the goblins sighed, “a wall none dare to breach. To work for her’s to walk on glass, with orders none dare breach. She drives us hard, no mercy shown, her pride cuts deep and cold. Each task we bear without a break, each word a weight untold.”
A sickly goblin, frail and sweet, with cane clasped in hand, spoke up with gentle warmth and care, though weak, his tone was grand: “It’s Yuletide now, a time to mend, to open hearts anew; and maybe even welcome her, as harsh as she may be, too.”
Gale leaned in close and softly spoke: “Your strength, it has its place. But walls you build to guard yourself keep warmth from your embrace. Let others in; the fiercest bonds come not from pride alone, to lead, you must reveal your heart, not sit upon a throne.”
Gale watched her face, his hope renewed, convinced his words had struck; that seeds of trust and softer ties might yet dislodge her stuck. But Minthara’s thoughts were elsewhere still, on power and control. Her mind untouched by softer words, no shifting in her soul.
Gale gave a nod, then waved farewell, and vanished from her sight; leaving Minthara once again alone in winter's night. But soon a musk, both stale and dank, crept in from shadows deep. A figure cloaked in timeworn cloth with skin like dried, cracked peat.
8:44 Chapter VI - Minthara’s Yuletide Reckoning
His face a skull beneath the folds, eyes hollow, dark, and cold- a whisper from the edge of death, with secrets ages old. Withers reached out his bony hand, and Minthara followed suit. They stepped into her future’s shade, a vision stark and brute.
She saw herself, long cold and dead, her armour picked for gold, as looting goblins mocked her life, now safe from her stronghold. "She was a terror, harsh and fierce," they laughed and shook their heads; “she made no friends, no bonds in life, just fear and mounting dread.”
To look upon her solemn face, one might well think her deeply stirred, A glimpse of doubt upon her brow, her heart perhaps deterred. It seemed her gaze grew softened now, as though she'd come to see, that strength alone, without a bond, might truly end in misery.
With visions of her future clear, Minthara felt embolden; and so she turned, with lessons learned, her heart finally wide open. She called her goblins to the hall, a feast spread wide and grand - A Yuletide bounty, rich and full, set out by her command.
There lay platters heaped with roasted game, with pies and cider poured. Huge hams glazed thick, and golden loaves, and meat pies richly stored. Jugs of wine and sugared fruits, a spread both fine and rare. Each dish a treat, each plate a prize, beyond what goblins dare.
“Eat well!” she called, her tone sincere, her voice filled with merry cheer, “A happy Yuletide, one and all! Enjoy your feasting here!” The goblins cheered and tucked right in, grotesque and loud they ate; with gnashing teeth and slobbering lips, they gorged on every plate.
But as they dined, their cheers grew faint, each goblin slowed and sighed. One by one they slumped and fell, as Minthara watched them die. For every dish was laced with death, each bite a poisoned curse - A Yuletide feast, to end their lives, and leave her halls dispersed.
Minthara laughed, her goblins gone, her eyes as dead as bone, “This Yuletide feast has shown me well - I’m better off alone. To all who’d dare to scavenge mine, consider yourselves done; for strength is found in solitude - Gods curse you, every one!”
Even in the little ways Larian just keeps giving. Awesome.
Such a delightful read. Amelia nailed it, as usual. :)
Yes, listening to her is a joy.
huzzah! I got worried there for a moment, but I was wrong to doubt you, this indeed is how my beloved Minthy would
Flawless!
Well, I did not see that end coming😂
So happy youtube recommended the video.
Your voice and intonation is incredible, but it's even better after having it as a guide while playing such a nice game, it feels like a friend with whom you had a great anecdote to strengthen your friendship.
Minthara nooo!
Well... that's Minthy for you.