Open Chronicles Here Comes Peter Bloody Tail, Hopping Down the Murder Trail

[Keldorn]

The Day of Ascension, Northern Vale.

To many it was just a normal day, one of many. To the denizens of the Vale, it was more than that. As stories passes down for generations have been told, hundreds of years ago, a menace had come to the Vale.

"It targeted the children, purest of soul and most gentle of heart. It struck from the shadows with claws designed to rip the souls of the mortals free from their earthly cusps.

It would be an attack that would stunt the growth of the region for generations. For ten days, the mortals of the Vale fought and died this strange beast and for ten days they would be massacred and their bones picked clean.

That is, until the Redeemer arrived. A hero clad in blood red armor would stand between the living and the soulless, and for two days they would fight and tear the other limb from limb.

The fighting was fierce and by the end of the second day, the Redeemer would smite his foe and banish them back to the Abyss. But even victory would come at a price.. and this particular cost would be the life of the Redeemer.

Collapsing to his knees, he would look heavenward, thanking the gods for their strength before dying. He was mourned for two days and on the third, the denizens of the Vale would celebrate his victory and the preservation of their lives.

Those who believe the gods to be fickle know not what they speak. For on that third day, the Eldyr tree would shine, and the Redeemer would step through. The gods and the Tree were praised and this very day hundreds of years ago would be named, the Day of Ascension. This.. is why we celebrate."

"Is that true, Pa?" Celidorn asked his father as he looked up in awe. "Is the Redeemer real?"

"Yes, my boy.. at least we would have to judge the story our forefathers passed down." Celidorn seemed to be at peace as he grabbed ahold of the red painted, wood carved toy of the Redeemer. "Now you get washed up and help your ma get ready for the festival." His father would tussle his sons hair before exiting his room and descending down the steps. "Mara, dear, I'm heading out. See ya at the festival."

She didn't respond, but he was sure she was just busy. He would whistle a merry tune as the town started to come alive. He heard a faint hum in accordance to his whistle and a faint shake of bushes. A piercing scream would escape his lips as a form leapt from the underbrush, but it would be equally quick before it was silenced.

Then the screams would begin to erupt across the village.

_______________________________________________

Keldorn and his small band would come to a stop just outside the village. This had been the third one attacked in just as many days. He felt the heat of his medallion and he let out a steady breath. "Fan out.. search for survivors." He knew there would be none, but it was worth the effort nonetheless.

Swinging down from his saddle, he would grimace at the sight. An elven village turned to ruin. He then began to proceed into the village proper, pausing as he stepped on something. Looking down, he would notice the top half of a wood carved figure sticking out from beneath his booth. A children's toy, yet so far, no bodies.

By the Sacred Flame, he hoped the Redeemer would show.. they would probably need him.

 

[Methuselah]

There were things that he didn't want to remember. It was a long time ago, now. Its hard to feel positive about a world that thrust him into a life without family, or friends, or anyone to care about his well being, but in the end the Knights had been there for him, from the very beginning. He'd been raised by them, he had friends within their ranks, and he'd grown to be a functioning member of their group. He'd excelled with his tasks and grown as a Necromancer, under their care.

He remembered his first indication that he had aptitude within such arts, though. It had been a small town, and they had arrived too late. He never met his mother, but he found a woman and he when he thought about his mother, he thought of her face. She looked kind, and she looked like she had tried to protect her son. He wanted to believe that the reason he'd survived was because they'd tried to protect him. That there was some kind of quid pro quo.

There was a power in him; one that he had to control delicately. There was a part of him that wanted to believe that he could bring the people he reanimated back to life. In that town, he'd brought that woman back to life. There was a second life for anyone that he lost. Breath in and out. Heartbeat goes thump, thump, thump.

It was always their eyes. A distant look, as if they couldn't discern reality from where they stood. There was a separation from their perception of reality and what was really happening. He had tried so hard to bring that woman back to life, but in the end it was a hollow imitation of what they'd once know. Tied to his commands, and the mission that he'd been brought to achieve. They were shells of their former lives.

No amount of magic could bring back the dead. Not in truth. He might have been given a raw deal, but he'd always be an orphan. The people that had been meant to raise him gave their lives, and the Knights had found him. That was the only reality that he'd ever be able to embrace, and he had to make the most of it.

As he made his way towards the village, he couldn't help but think of that woman he'd tried to bring back. Somewhere, deep inside of himself, he wanted to be able to bring these people back. Had he been there when it happened, he was sure that he could've saved these people. Why shouldn't he be able to undo the damage that had been done before the Order had been notified? He was the Knight of the Void, and his abilities as a Necromancer came with a great price. There would be no redemption for these people. No second chance for them to live their lives.

There would only be vengeance. That would have to be enough.

"Fan out, search for survivors," He heard in the distance as he approached.

Methuselah spotted the man that had given the order and clicked his horse to approach. As he drew near he announced, "I am Syr Methuselah. The Order sent me to investigate this disturbance, and I'd be very interested in any information that you might have on the situation."