It is morning on the 15th of Arodus, the day before Armasse . . .
Excitement is palpable in the small city of Kenabres. The residents, normally marred by worry and loss due to the proximity of The Worldwound, are looking forward to the city-wide celebration of Armasse. Traditionally a holy day, Armasse has grown into an event encompassing jousting competitions, mock duels, and battle reenactments. The grounds around Clydwell Plaza are bustling with activity in preparations for the event. At noon tomorrow, the festivities begin.
Today is far less hot and humid than it has been. Storms rolled in last night, giving the walled city a good soaking. Thunder and lighting pounded and danced across the West Sellen River, typical activity for the demon-haunted grounds known as The Worldwound. Today, the east welcomes a waking sun. The purple horizon, changing to oranges and reds, promises a beautiful day. Hopefully the weather holds for tomorrow’s celebrations.
Greta barely rises in time for breakfast. The thunder, and the half-orc’s drumming, had been the perfect accompaniment for her dancing last night and she’d made enough tips to afford her own room for the night. It was a welcome luxury after a few lean days, but by the time she turned in she didn’t have as long to enjoy it as she would have liked.
I bet the crusaders never have to dance for silver to pay for a room... I need to find an order that will take me soon or I’m going to have to think about looking into the city watch or something...
After cleaning her chainshirt and slipping into it, she cleans her massive hammer and quietly prays, ”Ragathiel, give me the power to live honorably, and to deliver vengeance upon any fiends that may cross my path.” Heading down to the common room, she orders a big mug of hot tea and as much sausage and eggs as the rest of her coins will get her.
there’s games at the festival tomorrow, I think... maybe if I prove myself in some of those someone will notice...
The faint beginnings of warmth touches his clean shaven face. Bright blue eyes burn with excitement as his gaze reaches the site of Kenabres. The whispering sounds of raucous voices float out from behind the walls.
A handsome youth pauses on the side of the road to the city. His posture posed as one confident and confirmed in his course. He plainly is of coin. Clothing clean and costly, longsword of cold-iron, the symbol of Iomedae pined to his chest, and the fact that he sits astride a horse grants claim that someone of some importance has come to Kenabres. Only time shall tell...
Benedic had risen with the dawn and put on his red and gold acolyte robes, and was now kneeling before the altar to ask Iomedae for her blessings. O Holy Iomedae, he prayed silently, strengthen Thee this hand that it may smite those who oppose Thee and Thine, and do glorious works in Thy Name! Shine Thy light of truth on hidden evils and twisted tangles! Grant me Thy favor, that I may punish the deceitful and wicked, and root out Thy enemies wheresoever they lie! So be it done.
Standing, he nodded at the sun in satisfaction and returned to his room above the refectory. He had decided that he should wear his armor again today, and so he looked around for the young initiate who had been assigned to help him as he walked down the main corridor and up the wide stairs, but she was nowhere to be found. By his rights she should sleep outside his door, and so it seemed he would need to explain her duties to her again, or speak to the prefect, which would get her in more trouble. He scratched his chin.
Today, people would be arriving in the city for Armasse. It would fall to Iomedae's faithful to ensure that evil did not infiltrate the city's defenses. I must be vigilant, he thought with pride. I must demonstrate my effectiveness and zeal to Prelate Hulrun. Questions must be asked, to be sure. And suspicious activities must be watched carefully. The intelligence I gather today will be invaluable tomorrow. What a time to be alive! Today is going to be a good day!
His minor grievances lost in these thoughts, he bathed and shaved, and dressed in plain shirt and leggings and his best soft boots, for he would be on his feet all day. He hefted the pile of steel rings (the mail had at least been cleaned and polished) and fitted it over his head and shoulders. Then he buckled his sword to his belt and hung his shield beneath his cloak, and pulled his holy symbol to hang over his breast. Then he examined himself in the looking-glass. Iomedae's chosen, he thought, nodding to himself.
He left the temple complex through the postern gate, saluting the porter as he passed, and he took an anxious breath as he walked into the city. The day's adventures awaited him!
Selann wakes slightly before dawn out of habit. He goes about his business quietly, studying his spells. He knows that he isn't likely to need them, but the masters that had trained him had drilled the routine into him until it was almost a habit. A good habit, but....
Once he had cleared and ordered his mind he glances outside. It looked to be a beautiful day, too nice to be looking for a job. He still had some coin and the managers at the student quarters didn't seem to mind his presence. Perhaps it was his size? He was smaller than most of the youngest students, but none of them had furry feet. He grinned at the memories of teasing that he'd taken. It was all, well mostly good natured. There were a few students that felt the need to feel superior, even if the only way they could was to point out that they could look down on him while they were seated.
Taking a deep breath of the clean air he steps off toward the government offices. Maybe he could find a job scribing or translating for the guard? He had taken the time and effort to learn abyssal, just in case they found anything in writing from the enemy.... The thought slows his step and he glances toward the Worldwound. He slows to a stop before the building, pausing to think. 'Maybe'.... But there would be time after Armasse, and he could use some celebration.
Rather than work, he decides to just stroll around the city, smiling and waving at anyone that he knows, or recognizes.
Caliban rises with the dawn, mentally checking his spells against his spellbook and loosening his shoulders for another day. Donning his armor he thinks to himself,
C'est le jour saint d'Armasse, les croisés seront pleins d'eux-mêmes aujourd'hui et des festivités. Peut-être que je sortirai de la ville toute la journée et leur laisserai leurs meilleurs moments ensemble avant mon retour?
With that thought he dons his pack and heads down the front stairs of the inn. Seeing a smaller human woman with a massive hammer next to her, Caliban grabs a plate of food, and makes his way over to her, Good morn, may I sit and join you?
The scarred elf waits for her to acknowledge him before taking a seat with his food in hand. The smell of bacon and eggs rises from his plate, and he tries not to think about how much coin this extravagance will cost him in the long term.
Je devrais juste retourner dans les camps des croisés et retourner dans une tente.
When the small woman gives him permission to sit, he realizes that upon second glance, she is not human, but something close.
Angel avait peut-être du sang?
Good morn, and joyous Armasse to you. Thank you for sharing your table. My name is Caliban Tre'Athkar, may the Stars guide your path. Sipping at his tea and enjoying the warmth flooding into him, he continues, There is much excitement here in Kenabres this morning, are you here for the festivities? I myself was planning on hiking out to the crusader's camps this morning and seeing if there was work to be had with so many here in the city to enjoy the revels.
As the sun peaks its way through his open window Junior tosses his pillow in a useless attempt to convince the sun to go back to sleep. From the street he hears a loud ”Oy!” telling him all he did was annoy a passerby and lose his pillow. What happened last night? He stared at a gold coin laying on a dresser, still moist from ale. It was stamped on one side with a rearing horse and a striped pole behind it, on the other side he knew was a house sitting on a cliff. Still asleep.
Looking at himself in a mirror the half-ork rubs his hand over his bald head and gives himself a dashing smile. He flexes to make sure his muscles haven’t escaped his body, I still got it. I was drumming, that woman, what was her name? Gertie? No Greta, pretty good dancer.
Junior begins to gather his belongings. He pulls his usual outfit together, glossy black breeches, an ivory shirt, a purple vest with gold trim, and to top it off a wide brimmed fedora. He reluctantly puts on his scale mail and straps his weapons, peace bound, to his back. He wraps the coin in a handkerchief and says to it softly, ”No go back to sleep Fred. You prayed a little too hard to Cayden last night.”
When Junior heads down to the common room he spies Greta and that elf from last night! Here’s your chance, don’t screw it up. He sauntered over to both of them and winks to Greta, ”Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Not waiting for Grets he says, "I'm Junior. If you don’t mind my asking where did you get that scar? Always an interesting story behind one.” Junior’s eyes linger on Caliban for just a second too long to be comfortable.
Greta smiles at the elf and answers, "yeah, oh course, please, sit." She slides her right hand out of its jagged iron gauntlet while he gets situated. When he introduces himself, she offers her hand and answers, "I'm Greta. Greta Gyllenhår." Her handshake is surprisingly firm.
"It's nice to meet you," she continues, "but, uh... I think you have the date wrong... at least, I hope you do, if I slept a whole day..." A look of concern crawls across her face as she trails off, but a smile quickly returns. "No, I'd feel better rested... Armisse is tomorrow, whatever revels there are today are just preparation, but if you want to go out to camps I'll come with you. I want to join the fight against the demons but I haven't had much luck finding an order that wants me so far."
When the half-orc interrupts them she gives him a little wave and replies, "Junior, this is Caliban Trathkar. Caliban, this is Junior, the best drummer in all of... this part of the city." At Junior's question she turns her attention back to the elf, curious to hear his story.
Only mildly taken aback by Junior's immediate calling out of his disfigurement Caliban greets the half-orc and prepares to address the two of them, A drummer, excellent, we all have need to feel our spirits arise in song and melody in these dark days. Clearing his throat, the elf begins his tragic tale,
It was some months ago, there was a demon of some type, and it was conducting a ritual. I did not fully realize what it was doing, but as it prepared to sacrifice a young human child, I struck it... Something happened, something unexplainable from my research. The demon thing died, but there was a magical backlash, my spells combined with the ritual, and its energy left my face a ruin. The elf pauses a moment before continuing,
Pourquoi je leur dis ça? Cependant, je me sens presque libéré.
It serves me as a reminder of humility, a warning against hubris, that even given my years of study, there are things in this world I am not prepared for. Again, the elf pauses in his telling of the tale,
The children were saved, but something happened in that release of power, the might of the Abyss clashing with the training of my people, and I will bear its marks until I fade.
Caliban seems like there is more to add to the story, but simply concludes, There it is Junior, my own minor role in tragedy on this day of festival. Many of these crusaders carry similar experiences, and make no mistake, this war will change all of us before it is won.
|
A man opens his eyes just in time to see the colorful beauty of the sunrise. He thinks to himself "Iomedae is great, but this sunrise is surely the work of Shelyn". He has deep dark skin which contrasts strongly with his golden eyes which match the golden round piercings which hang from his ears. Massielo gets up and puts on the clothes he washed before the storm and were already dry. He takes a moment to breathe in the morning air and listen to the birds before stepping out and saying good morning to his parents. His mother was ready to leave and he put on his armor with his father's help. The armor was helpful for the people, to see a semblance of protection while living so close to a dreadful place such as the Worldwound.
Massielo goes on his rounds to visit their patients while his mother goes straight to Iomedae's temple. She is a cleric there and spends the whole day on various duties. Massielo, however, is not so closely related to the temple and gave himself the challenge of healing the people of Kenabres in their homes, regardless of religion. They sure need it.
Today Massielo needs to make sure they are all cared for, since tomorrow is Armisse and usually there are many more wounded in such occasions. Fights, accidents and crimes are common in such events and Massielo wants to make sure that all his regular patients won't require much of his aid for now. Despite that, the large man is looking forward to the festival. The people need a rest from their worries.
Junior plunks down, "I knew it was a good story! So dark, so brooding! Say what are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking about attending the festivities but I'd be nicer if I had company. I can even show you some of my scars later, if you like."
Nodding at the half-orcs response to his tale, I would be amenable to attending the festivities. I think I can pass on examining the scars of others, I find those scars are less important than the ones that cannot be seen.
Considering his options Caliban confirms, It would be grand to attend the festivities with both of you, perhaps today we can see if Greta can find crusaders to take her on as one of their own?
Junior only momentarily frowns but soon smiles again, "Fantastic!"
|
|
As the day goes by, Massielo eventually passes by the inn to see the new people in town. He notices a small group of armored people talking. He decides to introduce himself. He wants to make sure they aren't looking for trouble.
"Hello! I'm Massielo, a town healer. Are you here for the festival or the crusade?", he asks smiling.
Not quite kawking at the festival decorations, the people practicing performances, or even, the already raucous behavior behind some half-crafted booths, Tristan de Lion steers his mount to the first set of town constables he views.
Pardon me, gentlemen. May Iomedae strengthen your swords. Would you direct me to the Inquisitors Offices.
The duo salute the obviously ranking official.
The offices are in Old Kenabres. You may call at the Temple of Iomedae. Nestrin Alodae is in charge. May the Inheritor bless your sword.
The youth nods in gratitude, guiding his horse to the district given.
Greta’s face lights up with an almost childish exuberance at the mention of helping her join some crusaders. ”Really?” she asks rather quickly, ”You’ll help me find someone to serve with? That would be so great, I can fight, and I want to, but nobody takes me seriously, and now I’m out of money, and I’m not doing any real good dancing in bars...” Her words spill out so rapidly that there’s no opportunity for a response before she looks at Junior and continues, ”not that there’s anything wrong with that, I mean, morale is important, and musicians and even dancers are important for keeping morale up and helping people find some peace is these troubled times, but that’s not my calling, I was born to fight, and I need to find a way to get out there and crush some of these demons. Could we go now? Do you know someone in particular we could talk to or should we just head...”
In her excitement, Greta grabs her hammer and stands before she finishes speaking, almost crashing into the dusky healer as he arrives. "Oh, sorry. Hi," she answers with a smile and an outstretched hand, "I'm Greta and this is Junior and Caliban. I'm here to crusade and they were about to take me to meet some crusaders and see if I can join any of them. Do you know any of them? If you're a healer you must meet all kinds of crusaders, do you want to come too and you can introduce us to people?"
|
|
Massielo sits at the table and with a smile answers the excited woman "Well, if you come to Iomedae's temple, they're always preparing for the next crusade. That's what I would recommend for you, not the militia. They... Anyway..."
Massielo tries to change the tone and says "It is good to want to join the fight, but let me warn you that crusaders return changed from the fight. The demons are always worse than what we expect. But don't get me wrong, the crusades are my calling, I have been blessed by Iomedae to... do something, I think. I'm not sure yet. I tell you these things because the most eager to fight have always been the first to succumb to madness."
Realizing he unwillingly set a dark tone for the conversation, the dark-skinned man says "Don't worry, though. I'll be right next to you to make sure nothing wrong happens to you. The people of this city live in constant fear and tomorrow is a day of happiness. Let us focus on that!"
After several unproductive hours spent snooping around the city looking for trouble, Benedic was disappointed and beginning to feel a bit irritated. If there were a coven of demon-summoning witches or abyssal infiltrators moving into the city to sabotage the festival, they were being very careful not to give away any clues to their whereabouts. The sun had risen to the center of the sky and burned off the remaining clouds, and he was beginning to feel hungry, which only increased his feelings of annoyance.
He briefly considered going back to the temple to eat with the other acolytes, but he felt like that would be admitting failure. What would he say if he should happen to see Commander Liotr, or even the Prelate himself? He did not think he could bear to see their pitying stares or bear their discomfort speaking with him about mundane topics to avoid drawing attention to his lack of useful activity. Let me be just like any other acolyte, he had said, but he could see it in their eyes. He could never be less than exceptional without being diminished.
Uncomfortable with these thoughts, he looked around and spotted a small public house that he remembered visiting once or twice before when he was in this part of the city, though he could not recall its name. Apparently the sign had been stolen, or removed-- perhaps to indicate there were no more rooms available for boarders. He could smell something cooking inside and his stomach rumbled. Yes, perhaps he could stop here for a little hour and regain his strength, he decided.
He ducked his head slightly as he stepped through the swinging doors and waited for his eyes to adjust. Sure enough, the place was nearly empty-- all of the tables seemed to be unoccupied, though there were people bustling about, presumably preparing for their guests' mass arrival that evening. He could see a pig and several chickens roasting on the fire, and a few pots bubbling beside them. Simple food, but at least it would settle him. He waited for the host to greet him, a little more impatiently as the minutes dragged.
There was something of a commotion on the far side of the room, as a knot of people spoke in slightly raised voices. Something about a spirited horse that had injured a groom trying to break free from the stables. Benedic tried to ignore it, but something about one of the voices nagged at his memory. Squinting over at them, he began to think that one of the servingfolk looked familiar. "Beatrics?" he called out in surprise, as he finally made the connection. The girl jumped, startled-- his voice had come out louder than he had intended. He walked closer to be sure, but there could be no doubt: it was the temple initiate who served as his, well, his page or perhaps his squire. "What are you doing here, and out of your vestments!" he said, a bit too forcefully.
The poor girl was stricken, but she rallied. "B-B-Brother Benedic," she cried. "I, I did not expect to see you today. Did something happen? Are you all right?" She stared at Benedic like he was an avenging angel, equal parts awe and fear. Unconsciously she wiped her dirty hands on her breeches and leaned back slightly.
Benedic frowned. "I did not find you when I looked for you this morning," he said, puzzled. "And now I come upon you here, in the Gate District, dressed like a tradesperson. Have you left the faith?" He rubbed his chin again.
Beatrics seemed to recognize that she was not in any physical danger and relaxed slightly. "I am so sorry my, ah, my brother," she nodded, bowing her head respectfully. "I applied to the prelate for three days' excuse from my duties to help my family. Did he not tell you? I had to leave late last night or I would have woken you." Swallowing hard, she motioned to the group standing beside her. "May I introduce my father, my mother, and my brothers? This is, ah, his, his, ah, this is the pri--"
"Just Benedic is fine. How do you do?" he acknowledged the family with a brief glance and a half-smile. "Well, I suppose we can discuss the details later, Beatrics. For now, I am extremely hungry, and I should like to sit comfortably with a meal and think for a little while. Would you help me remove my armor and ask the hosts to bring me something to eat and drink?" Without waiting for her response, he walked to one of the tables in the far corner and began to remove his gloves.
"A-as you wish, sir," Beatrics murmured in reply, and with a look of apology at her parents and siblings, she hastened to attend him. "I do apologize, sir. With the festival tomorrow, things are so busy here, and I know it is a great relief to mum and dad to have my help. And the prelate said someone else would look after you for the rest of the week. I hope you aren't disappointed with me."
Benedic waved off her explanation politely, and gratefully settled into the seat once free of his mail. "No, no, I understand. But truth be spoken, I am glad you are here." The girl beamed as if he had paid her a high compliment, but he was staring so intently at the table that he did not notice. "See to the food, and then you may return to your personal business, Beatrics. Thank you."
She curtsied charmingly. "As you wish," she said with a smile, and stepped away quickly. There were some whispers at the other end of the room, and Benedic became aware that other servants were peeking in from the kitchens and the door to the guestrooms, but he tried to ignore them and focused on looking like he was deep in thought, pondering important issues.
When the meal arrived it was only soup and fresh bread, but it smelled fine and by then Benedic felt hungry enough that he would have gnawed the stock-bones. Beatrics returned after a few minutes and offered to recite lines from The Acts as she and the other initiates often did at the temple during meals, but again he waved her off. This was a fortunate meeting, he thought, and quite a coincidence, to have stumbled upon her in a city the size of Kenabres. Perhaps the goddess has guided me here? But why?
He turned to watch Beatrics leave, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. She was shorter than he, with short brownish-red peasant hair and plain, round features. She was not stocky, but also not thin or especially lithe. She was still young, perhaps nineteen or twenty years, and healthy to be sure. But to be honest, there was very little remarkable about her, to his eyes. So why would the goddess draw him to her?
As if sensing his gaze, Beatrics turned again sharply to look at him, and Benedic quickly looked away-- but not before their eyes briefly met. Benedic shook his head and waved her away uncomfortably. He did not like her knowing that he had been examining her. Strange, he thought, but her eyes look like the eyes in Iomedae Ascending, the window in Nerosyan. I never noticed that before. What an odd thing! I haven't thought of that since... He broke off the thought, feeling guilty.
After he had finished his meal, he considered it again. He had been looking for suspicious activity in the city, something he could bring to the Prelate or the Commander to demonstrate his worth as an inquisitor. Could that be it? he thought suspiciously, looking over at the staff as they went about their business. Is there something happening here that the goddess wishes me to see? The girl had always been very attentive and never complained of her treatment, but perhaps that was because she did not want to draw his attention to things she would prefer to keep secret. He rubbed his chin.
When the host returned to collect the dishes, he told her to fetch Beatrics. "I must leave," he said curtly, watching the girl's reactions carefully, "for I have discovered something that cannot wait, and which I must bring directly to Prelate Hulrun." Beatrics nodded, her eyes still wide, but she betrayed no obvious signs of guilt, and she curtsied politely in acknowledgement. "I will need you to help me don my armor again before I go," he said, standing. She nodded again, and he thought he heard her whisper something to herself, though he did not catch it.
That is strange, he thought as he began to walk back to the temple. She did not ask what I had discovered. Like she already knew, or suspected! And what was that she murmured under her breath, some kind of incantation? He rubbed his chin again. Perhaps I am on the right track, he thought, though he did not feel like it. No matter, though, he had his course of action and it was time to proceed forward.
It was probably 'As you wish,' he realized suddenly. That's what she always says.
The late-morning sun is bright along the streets of Kenabres. There is a moment of tension as a great shadow engulfs the district. Cheers erupt immediately from all around, squashing the tension, as Terendelev the mighty Silver Dragon, and the city’s greatest defender, flies overhead.
Greta frowns as the tall healer sits. ”Wait, no, why are you sitting?” she protests. ”We’re leaving, that’s why I was standing up... We can’t see any temples or camps sitting at this table.”
She looks impatiently at Caliban and Junior, then back to Massielo. ”C’mon, we’ve all finished eating and we can talk while we walk. Lead on, healer, let’s see this temple. Maybe you can get someone there to take me seriously...”
Taking a cue from Greta's impatience, Caliban follows her to stand. Thank you Massielo, that is a lot closer than the crusader camps I was thinking of. Do you know a Sergeant Marist, I would describe him as an older human man, but he sometimes does not have sufficient guards to ensure that the caravans reach the quarry. Perhaps if the temple does not need help, then we can seek him out.
Seeing the powerful silver dragon fly overhead, Caliban stops and stares. That is quite the sight. I have never seen him in such glory , and only heard tell of his massive wingspan.
Fascinated by the powerful dragon, Caliban continues rambling some, It is amazing to think that even with such allies we, the crusade, continue and fall short again and again. Continuing to walk to the temple, Caliban looks around as if seeing Kenabres with new eyes, and a sadness seems to form across his brow.
As he was appreciating the houses in Old Kenabres, which provide a look back at architectural trends from centuries past; built of heavy stone and have angled, tiled roofs and arched windows, a shadow suddenly blocks the mid-morning Sun. The primed and proper picture of an Iomedaen priest stared up in awe, as the grand Silver dragon flew over the city!
Tristan de Lion whistles in appreciation!
Praise be to the Inheritor!
Shaking his head, smiling in spite of himself, the youth continues to the Temple with the assurance of resolve!
|
|
Massielo sighs as Greta gets up eagerly. He looks at the other two at the table and as they get up as well, he follows them outside in time to see the dragon Terendelev's flyby. The man can't help but smile at the beautiful sight. He sees the people cheer enthusiastically.
He hears Caliban's words and chooses not to reply to them and lets the wondering float in the air. He, then, shows their way to the Iomedaen temple.
Selann wanders, not really caring where he goes today. With the weather so nice it's almost easy to forget the dangers, so close to the city and threatening all of the world.
He had returned from his fateful 'excursion', with his life changed forever. His family was gone and he'd been struck down, and almost killed. Sadly it wasn't even one of the attacking creatures that had dropped him, but rather his own incompetence in riding a horse. He'd returned to the city, wanting to train hard to become helpful to another party like that.... He'd studied hard and mastered the arcane classes. He'd learned to speak abyssal and had studied a broad range of topics.... He still couldn't ride though. Even when they found a pony small enough for him, the memory.... No. The issue was just that it didn't seem right to him to ride another living creature. Maybe he could learn to create a mount from his magic!
He makes his way to the North gate, surprising himself when it comes in to view. He stops, realizing that his aimless wandering wouldn't include leaving the city he turns and starts back. Enough time had passed to work off his breakfast so maybe he should find and inn. There were plenty that would provide a decent meal and drink for a reasonable price. Unlike other war torn places, the prices here weren't crazy. Maybe that was an advantage of the Crusades and their leaders being in charge?
Selann hears the sounds of cheering from the crowds. Glancing around he notices that those cheering are looking up so he does the same. Unfortunately he had wandered into a small crowd, and everyone was taller than him.... Moving quickly to the edge he finally spies a flash of silver, then a wing!
He had never before seen the great dragon, but everyone in the city knew about Terendelev. Selann could only guess that she was here for the holiday! This would surely be an Armasse to remember! Forgetting his hunger, such as it was, he heads for the temple and the plaza. Maybe arriving early would allow him to find something he could climb up on so he could see better.....
It is amazing to think that even with such allies we, the crusade, continue and fall short again and again.
"The Wardstones protect the border. With such potent protections its easy to get complacent. There are still a lot of good people." He smiled at Greta while giving her a thumbs up, "I think the newest crusaders will be the best ones yet."
Junior tries to sell Greta's combat abilities to a prospective recruiter a grizzled old paladin named Wiktoria Elzbieta, "And let me tell you she's one of the best dance fighters I've seen in a long time. Put a decent drum beat behind her and you'll just marvel at how many dead demon and cultists you'll have."
Entering the Plaza; the youth's blue eyes shine as he scans all the impressive landmarks dedicated to Iomedae! Immediately upon entering, he passes a grand fountain of a Lioness, crutching a longsword in its mouth. Basking in the early afternoon Sun, the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell pulls his eyes with its architectural beauty: The cathedral (located in the center of the Old Kenabres district ) features a green copper steeple and stained-glass windows depicting various terrible demons being imprisoned.
Tearing his gaze away from the Cathedral, Tristan de Lion begins walking to the Temple Of Iomedae, which stands just a block away from the Cathedral. The young Inquisitor enters the white stone building; a purpose to his step.
Benedic returns to the temple and looks for the prelate, anxious to show off his investigative skills and dedication to the cause. He eventually finds Hulrun sitting in the courtyard, meeting with an unfamiliar young man wearing the uniform of an Iomedan acolyte. Other clerics stand about the edges, watching but giving them space to talk privately.
Benedic walks up to them boldly. Hulrun looks up, and says in his gruff voice, "Ah, Brother Benedic." He motions to him. "Come here, come here. This is Brother Tristan, who has come from Nerosyan to join our order. Tristan, this is Brother Benedic, who..." he trails off as if uncertain what to say about him.
Benedic nods slightly to the young man, politely acknowledging him. "Blessings be upon you, Brother. A pleasure, and welcome." He turns back to the prelate. "Your holiness, might I have a moment? I have something important to discuss with you. I believe I have found evidence--"
Hulrun stands, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Of course, of course, but it will have to wait as I have pressing matters to attend to. If the matter is urgent, pray upon it and act as you think best." He gives Tristan an almost regretful look and continues, "I must take my leave of you both. Benedic, perhaps you could show our new brother to the dormitory and help him get situated. Blessings upon you both, farewell!" With that, he bustles away. Several of the other clerics follow him quickly.
Benedic frowns, and turns to look at Tristan. What did our new brother say to him? he wonders. It must have been something significant, to rattle the old man so. He shakes his head and sighs. "I will be happy to show you through the temple, brother, but first I must send a message to the city watch. Earlier today I happened upon a public house and observed what I judged to be suspicious activity among the hosts. They must be questioned carefully, I think, and quickly in case their business impacts the festival. Would you accompany me to the constabulary? Afterward we can see to your things and discover where you are to be stationed."
Fricking Prelate Hulrun Shappok!The leader of all inquisitors in Mendev, and the ruler of Kenabres!
The rising sounds of speech begin to penetrate his clouded mind, as the young Inquisitor attempts to refocus on the conversation at hand.
Benedic? I know you. We attended the Crucible Cathedral together. Well, at the same time anyway; that was 11 years ago, I think. Our parents worked together. I am Tristan de Lion.
He shakes the other inquisitor's hand.
I would be most grateful for the chance to observe your techniques. I could use the stretch. I stabled my horse here at the Temple anyway.
Benedic examines Tristan with a skeptical eye as he shakes his hand. Eleven years ago? he thinks. This-- young man-- he would have been, what, seven years old, perhaps nine at the most? He must think he is very important to remember me or my father.
Pursing his lips, he rubs his chin again. "I never knew my mother," he says carefully, "and I am afraid I do not remember you or your parents. What tedious business brings you to Kenabres, when you could have remained in our beautiful capital?"
As they converse, Benedic exits out of the temple gate and leads Tristan through the old city to one of the watch-houses near the wall. He quietly murmurs something to the constable on duty, who nods and disappears within for a few minutes before emerging with a sergeant who seems to know Benedic, a big man named Dasher with a bushy mustache that makes him look like a walrus. He listens to Benedic's charges, and warily looks from him to Tristan and back again. Hesitant, he asks how sure Benedic is that this involves a crime. Benedic responds that it is only a suspicion, but that he would not risk the safety of the city if there is any chance his instincts should prove correct. The sergeant nods, and promises to see to it. "You may leave this with us, my lord," he says crisply, bowing as he leaves.
Benedic turns to walk Tristan back to the temple, still obviously lost in thought. He seems oblivious to the wonders of Kenabres, as if he has seen them all before.
|
|
Massielo leads the three eager newcomers to the temple, walking in familiar grounds. He barely forgets to stop so the others can appreciate the view of the Old District and then of the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. He explains "The Grand Cathedral is so named in honor of a valiant champion of Iomedae who sacrificed himself to achieve great victory over a whole battalion of demons."
Inside, things were being prepared for the Armasse service, so most acolytes were busy. The large man led the group grabbed a young boy who carried bread, supposedly to the nursery, and asked "Where can I find the prelate, young Simeous?" The boy pointed towards the courtyard. Massielo and the others arrive there to see it empty. The continued looking for the man.
Temple of Iomedae
The young man nods his head solemnly.
Apologies, Benedic. I was unaware of your parents passing until recently. I am a bit younger, I suppose.
Tristan then smiles. He spreads his arms out wide to encompass their surroundings.
Why am I here? Well, a few reasons actually; although, priority dictates that Armasse and, my recent graduation take precedence!
Tristan turn to depart with Benedic; when, the youth heard a bass-filled shout of his name.
Benedic frowns darkly as Tristan again refers to his "parents" rather than his father, but he takes a deep breath and remains silent. When the young man mentions his graduation, Benedic waves his hand impatiently. "You were sent to Kenabres from the capital, correct? Why, if you were not trained here? Do you mean to join the witch hunters?" He turns his head to watch Tristan carefully as they walk.
Smiling still, the young Inquisitor wonders the District with Benedic. Tristan de Lion watches the palpable joy emanate from the various people busily bustling about the pre-festivity's activities. The young man can appreciate the people being a bit--loose--for the day, or two.
Keeping quiet, watchful, and--apparently--at ease during Benedic's investigation, Tristan plays the part of an assistant.
On their way back, Tristan remarks.
I was assigned here. I suppose you just needed new blood!
The youth grins.
Returning to the temple, Benedic says nothing else to Tristan, choosing to employ "strategic silence," as Commander Liotr teaches, to draw out questioned parties that are not forthcoming with information. He leads him across the courtyard and into the low chapel, looking for the sub-prior in charge of assigning new acolytes their cells.
Greta happily follows along behind Massielo. She holds her hammer upright like a standard so as to avoid whacking any other travelers with the shaft, and the sight of the large steel head bobbing along above the small woman attracts all kinds of attentiong- from large men laughing, to nervous mothers shepherding their children out of the area in which it could fall.
She grins broadly when Junior talks about the quality of future crusaders, but it fades to a weak smile when he praises her as a 'dance fighter.'
he means well... they all mean well... eventually they'll see I'm not just some dancing girl... just wait til I get my chance... I'm gonna crush some demons under my hammer and they'll know I'm a real warrior...
As they travel throughout the city and tour the temple, Greta remains chatty. Even when they struggle to find anyone to talk to about becoming a crusader she forces half a smile and offers, "well, I'm sure they're all busy getting ready for tomorrow. What are you guys all doing for the festivities? I want to play some games! Not because they're fun- I mean they are fun, some of them, but I want to play them because a lot of them secretly show off some combat skill, like your aim or strength. I think maybe if some of the crusaders see me play they might realize I have real potential, you know. I wonder if they'll have that hammer game, where you try to ring the bell, do you think they will? I bet I'd be really good at that game. Hey, do any of you want to go together tomorrow? We could meet up in the inn in the morning again like we did today? That way we'd all have each other to talk to while we walk around, plus sometimes there's pickpockets and troublemakers at things like this and we could watch each other's backs?"
Junior unwraps a gold coin from a handkerchief and holds it to his right ear he nods, "That sounds like a great idea! Maybe I'll be able to get close to the bell. I know just the beat for it. Do you think their will be any prize money involved? They might even have a tournament or two that you could enter. That would surely show off your stuff."
Benedic had arrived early for the festival opening ceremonies, proud to be representing Iomedae's faithful in Kenabres and having heard that Prelate Hulrun would be giving a speech. He was a bit disappointed that the new acolyte Brother Tristan was also in attendance, him and a group of friends he had inexplicably made after arriving in the city. He could see them there now, sitting in a clump. What was that healer named? It did not matter. He saw the man look over at him and he turned away quickly. He hoped the event would begin soon.
His thoughts drifted back to the previous night's activities. When he had finally finished showing the new brother to his new home and tracked down the sub-prior to discharge himself of the responsibility of looking after him, Benedic had returned to the watch house for a status report on the matter he had brought to Sergeant Dasher. It took some time to track the man down, a couple of hours at least, but Benedic was gratified to learn that the watch had arrested the couple who ran the house of the missing sign, and were holding them for questioning until after the festival was underway. So far, he said, the pair had refused to say anything, which the constables agreed was suspicious.
What about the girl? Benedic had asked. They did not know who he meant, which annoyed him. After some discussion he learned that Beatrics had been left behind with her brothers to ensure the inn kept running smoothly in her parents' absence. Perhaps that was just as well, he thought. Of course no harm would come to any of them, but the suggestion that their imprisonment might be prolonged could make her more forthcoming with their secrets. The goddess knows something, she has led me to them... There was a sign!
He remembered how elated he had felt when he saw Terendelev fly overhead, silver scales glinting in the daylight and making the dragon appear to be swimming in an ocean of blue radiance. Benedic had known he was on the right track then, and he had continued his way to the temple with an excited spring in his step. A sign, certainly, he thought, banishing the doubts that had nagged at him all night. Yes, a sign, she knows something.
After the ceremony, Benedic would go back to the inn and offer to help Beatrics free her parents. All she had to do was come with him to the constabulary and tell them everything. It would be all right, he was certain there wouldn't be any consequences. If there was a fine, he would see that it was waived. Prison time would be limited to time served. They did not need to punish anyone, only ensure that Kenabres was kept safe.
He blinked as his mind was drawn back to Armasse. He could see more people arriving, gathering and filling in the square around them, and several of the honored guests and speakers had begun to take their places on the stage. He clapped his knee politely in support and gave a broad smile as the crowd started to cheer, and then settled down and waited for the speeches. He was looking forward to the speeches.
Tristan offers his hand to Benedic. As they depart ways, the Inquisitor says,
It was really informative being your shadow today. Perhaps, I may be assigned to your section. Happy Armasse. May Iomedae's light shine on your sword.
Tristan then spends the remainder of the evening at the Temple, getting settled in.
Tomorrow should be interesting!
Greta cringes slightly at the mention of the tournaments. "Isn't that play fighting?" she asks earnestly. "I don't know if I could do that... I mean, I'm sure it is a good way to show off but..."
my father and brothers were killed by a demon when I was little and I never had anyone to play-fight with, I was trained to kill because that's the only way to fight demons...
"...well, I was never trained to fight that way. I wouldn't want to hurt a good soldier on accident."
The aspiring crusader is back to her chatty self in no time and enjoys the rest of the time spent wondering the city with her new acquaintances. As dinner time draws near, she looks up at the sun with a little bit of a frown. "I better head back to the inn. I need to start dancing soon if I'm going to make enough for a room and breakfast. Junior, are you playing tonight? It goes so much better with a good musician."
When they get back to the inn she smiles warmly at the tall healer and says, "it was nice to meet you, Massielo, thanks for showing us the temple. See you tomorrow!"
Insider the inn, she stows her cloak and hammer behind the bar and, with Junior's accompaniment, begins dancing for her dinner.
The inn is crowded with people arriving for the festival and the jovial crowd tips well. By the end of the night the relieved aasimar has enough silver in hand for a modest room and another breakfast. Gathering her stuff, she waves goodnight to the half-orc and mouths 'thank you' before heading to bed.
In the morning, Greta rises and goes through her morning routine of cleaning her gear and offering up a prayer to Ragathiel before bounding down to the common room. She eats a whole loaf of bread with blackberry jam while she drinks her tea and waits for her traveling companions. It is with great enthusiasm that she sets out with them to enjoy the celebrations and see how many games they can get in before the noontime speech Massielo had told them about.
|
|
Massielo realizes no one of matter has time for them at that moment. He continues introducing people hoping to pass time, but eventually he says "Well, I'm sorry, I don't mean to waste your time. We should probably try again after the festivities."
As Greta voices her eagerness to prove herself, Massielo says "I believe in you. I surely don't want to be on that end of your hammer. I believe you will be welcome addition to a crusade, if one starts."
Massielo gets up early and eager. He can barely eat, with the butterflies in his stomach. He double checks madam Turian, the baker who has a fever, but was getting better. Afterwards he tends to Yurianger, a five years old boy who Massielo thinks his father is abusing him. However, without being able to prove it, Massielo only tends to the child. The care mostly consists of some games, playing with magical lights and practicing magic with a self filling water bowl. Little Yuri knows Massielo uses his mystical powers to refill the bowl, but he plays the naive part anyway.
As the time for the speech was coming, Massielo has an early lunch, as he's sure the time after the speech will be busy.
From a perch on top of a crate Selann is able to watch the people milling around the temple and the plaza. There is a clean smell in the air that can actually be enjoyed, unlike out on the trail. He hardly notices time passing until his belly growls over the missed lunch, and he realizes that it is close to dinner time.
He hops down and briskly walks back to the mage school. Maybe he should give notice to the instructors and his few friends here that it is time for him to move on? His room is more of a closet than a bedroom, modest as his means have been they might get another apprentice from a small race that could use it. Or they could clear his pallet and use it for storing brooms again! He gets a quick, but substantial meal, then turns in for the night.
At the crack of dawn the next day he finds himself too energized to sleep anymore. Maybe if he hurries he can return to the pile of crates from yesterday? He gathers all of his things, noting how little the bundle really is, and eats a breakfast that he barely notices. He leaves the building at a trot heading for Clydwell Plaza and "his place" on the elevated crates!
DARKNESS . . .
Your head throbs and your ears ring. You spat out rocks and dust, attempting to breathe in fresh air. Your senses reorient and you can hear rocks clattering, people coughing, and moans of pain. You feel and smell burnt dust particles floating in the air, and you can tell that you are covered in dirt and filth.
As your headache clears and you adjust to your surroundings, your last memories unfold . . .
Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged Inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s façade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor.
To the west, the fortress known as the Kite – the location of Kenabres’s Wardstone -- had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted from the heavens.
A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd, Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev who flew overhead yesterday and until that moment had been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human, took to the sky. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd.
The sight of the dragon smashing into the façade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza angling away into the darkness.
Benedic, Massielo, and Tristan moved to react, but felt a body plow into them, knocking them backward. Following this, they heard a loud crash and felt the grounds shake. A ten-foot statue of Iomedae that stood in the Plaza for decades, a sculpture Benedic admired most days, toppled to the ground right where they were standing. Under the statue was the crushed form of an Acolyte Benedic had been training. His name was Sampson, and he showed promise and true devotion to The Lady of Valor.
The ground then opened up as a gaping whole filled the plaza. Junior and Caliban were at its center and began to fall, but Greta quickly extended the handle of her giant hammer for Junior to clasp onto while a Halfling perched on crates, seemingly acted before the hole opened up as if he foresaw the event, ran over to catch Caliban. For a moment, everyone seemed rescued. Then the whole plaza collapsed.
Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness, as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.
DARKNESS . . .
|
|
Like the others, Massielo was caught by surprise. He barely remembered to breathe, but was otherwise powerless to act in the face of the fall of the silver dragon Terendelev. Even as he gently fell, he closed his eyes in pain and sorrow. He thought of all the souls that the dragon could not save, who would suffer in the hands of the impending invasion. He thought of his parents and whether they would be safe.
He didn't utter a sound until the point where he realized he was breathing and unharmed. Only then he uttered an ancient word of light and touched his armor, which started to glow like a torch illuminating the surroundings.
Junior groans as he stands up and looks around him and above. No light so I can't go up. Then seeing the people around him he asks with an edge of concern in his voice, "Is anyone hurt?" Then light springs into existence from Massielo's armor and he complements the oracle, "Good thinking, did the world just fall out from underneath us?"
Benedic coughs, pushing a piece of rubble off of him and rolling to his feet. "Sampson! Sampson?" he tries to shout, but despite having tumbled through the air it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He clears his throat noisily, and waves away the dust and soot. As his vision returns he stares up at the enormous wall of debris and shakes his head, stepping back from it into the cavern.
"Fear not," he says to the shapes of the other humanoids he recognizes are here with him. "We will soon find another route back to the surface. Sampson, is that you? Can you hear me?" He blinks away the dazzling light that appears and raises his shield. "Who is that? Speak!" he cries, his voice clear and commanding.
Initially, the slight tremors from the explosion barely registered through the alarmingly frightening spectacle high above them! Tristan de Lion watched in horrid fascination as the demon lord and silver dragon collided! Then he felt the ground erupt underneath them! Sliding down into what could only be the Abyss itself, the young Inquisitor could only think of what will not be. Suddenly, he began to slowly drift lightly down into the blackness; his plummet arrested.
Regaining his wits and his feet, the Inquisitor equips his shield, waving his hand across the Iomedaen emblem, saying a quick prayer.
Selann panics.... It is noon and shouldn't be dark. Without thought his mouth forms words and points, imagining a torch floating in front of his head, about 2 feet above so it didn't blind him....
His mind swirls with the images, the terrible shape of the demon, and Terendelev with a hideous wound from the..... balor! The flames, and the people, hurt or dying! Then falling. Falling, so far down into.... but not death. How?
Once there is light Selann stretches carefully, assessing himself for injuries and listening for others. If he had fallen, others must have as well. Were there any demons here? Maybe he should hide!?!
Looking around. Seeing other lights... "So I'm not the only one here that can't see in the darkness? Watch for enemy though. That big one was a demon. If they somehow broke the ward stone.... There could be others here with us."
"I'm Selann Juris, wizard. I'd ask if anyone was hurt but I couldn't do anything to help. I seem to be OK for the moment. Who else is here?"
Seeing the big man raise his shield against the other light Selann send his up. Slowly at first, then as high as he can send it without losing it.
Benedic also casts a spell in the gloom, speaking strange syllables and gesturing with his free hand. He squints into the darkness, vigilant and suspicious.
"Blessings, Selann," he says politely, moving his shield to the side to better make eye contact with the halfling. "I am called Benedic, a follower of Iomedae and acolyte of Her holy temple. Do not worry; if there are any fiendish beings hiding here, I will soon root them out."
With all the light suddenly winking into existence Junior shields his eyes. "Aah! I think we won the battle against the darkness." Junior turns to face Benedic, "Who's Sampson?" He looks around for an exceptionally strong guy, "Nope, don't see any Sampsons." He pauses perhaps realizing the implications of this, "Sorry..."
Junior quickly changes subject and introduces himself and those that he knows, "Call me Junior, this small bag of punch is Greta, and the handsome elf there is Caliban."