Quest Old Stories, New Beginnings[Templar]

[Draedamyr]

"Well... That did it."

Draedamyr lowered the tip of his sword a few inches. It didn't put it entirely out of the way, but he hoped it looked less threatening. He didn't really know what looked threatening to a group of Templar ghosts.

"Maybe one of you should do the talking," he murmured to the Templars.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

All of the time that silence and emptiness filled the area, Skuld and Smithson waited nervously. Shambling corpses gave tell tale signs of a presence at least, and the eerie silence was suddenly filled with a gust of wind as forms appeared.

Templars of times before them, armor and weapons of varying groups. All of which was alarming. How long had these restless spirits been here? How long had they gone unnoticed or unheard of? Did they know they were spirits and that they lingered here?

"Commander, I don't know of any protocol regarding....well, addressing templar of their age. But it may be a good idea to let them know we are also templar?" The only bright idea Skuld could come up with at the moment as she examined all of the eyes that gazed upon them.

 

[Saul Talith]

Saul glanced quietly back at Skuld for a moment, if only because he himself was rather unsure about all of this.

He'd never heard of something like this before. Ghosts weren't exactly unheard of, but...well they were rare. Botchlings, Revenants, even Wraiths were something Templar all over Arehtil dealt with almost on a daily basis, but this? This felt sort of different didn't it?

The Commander frowned, nodded slowly and then stepped forward. Clearing his throat Saul began to speak. "I am Lord Commander Saul Talith."

For a moment nothing happened, then the massive horned Templar looked down at him.

His stare forced goosebumps down Saul's spine, and for a second he lost himself within the ghostly gaze.

"I-I am a Templar." He gestured. "We All are."

Not exactly true, but close enough. The ghost in front of him stared for a moment, and then as suddenly as they had appeared the ghostly battalion snapped from existence. Almost as soon as they did a loud screech rang through the empty hall, echoing loudly enough to force ears to bleed.

 

[Draedamyr]

He recoiled at the sound, half closing his eyes and turning away from the sound. It didn't help. Silence fell. An unnaturally cold wind whipped through the hall. Draedamyr turned towards a whisper of a sound, one he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears.

A constant rasp grew in volume. A shadow loomed. Tattered black cloth hung from broad shoulders. A helmet turned to regard each in turn. The form loosely held the hilt of a long, notched blade. The sound was the tip being dragged along the flagstones.

The apparition had no feet. The cloaks billowed over empty air.

Draedamyr brought his blade towards the target. His movements were so quick the blade would be little more than a glimmer to human eyes.

The revenant brought up its blade in a manner that made the elf look sluggish.

"That's not a Templar," Draedamyr said. They were a few feet from the spirit and he had no intention of closing that space alone.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

"They're all templar?" Skuld repeated as though testing the words. It made no sense to her, but then again. There was a lot in the world that didn't make sense at first.

The sound made her attempt to cover her ears, the task impossible thanks to shield and weapon in either hand. Forearms covered her ears and Smithson did much the same.

When the new form came into view, both looked to one another before looking to Saul. The notched blade made Skuld nervous, and more nervous for the young templar of her order. Both were ready to move away from the form and swing around it.

 

[Saul Talith]

The spirit...wraith, whatever the hell it was moved in an instant.

Saul's eyes flashed passed it, searching as the creature suddenly appeared in a ghostly wisp to their left. The sound of cutting air filled the room, then the crunch of metal and the groan of a man impaled upon the specters blade. A howl of pain erupted, and then the sound of clattering armor rang through the hall.

"Form a circle!" Saul called to the other.

An echo of blades leaving scabbards sounded out, and quickly the Templar inside of the hall formed into a large circle. The wraith disappeared, dragging with it an odd ghostly form from the corpse that it had thrown onto the ground.

Half a heartbeat later it appeared before the Templar once more, a chuckle ringing through the hall.

"More to die. More to bind."​

 

[Draedamyr]

He caught sight of the new apparition in the shadows. His eyes flicked back and forth to the corpse on the ground. The smell of flesh blood added to the detritus and plant life that now claimed this fort. The form was far away in the shadows, perhaps too faint for human eyes now. It struggled against something unseen. This thing was stealing souls.

The revenant stalked around the group. Draedamyr had lived a long life. He was at peace with the notion of returning to the earth. Less so with having his soul anchored to a malevolent spirit for all eternity.

A shift in the air was all the warning he received as it darted towards him. Bringing up his sword, he placed his left palm against the flat of the blade to brace. That huge blade rang out as it struck. Reverie wouldn't break, but he would. Pain lanced through his wrists and shoulders as he was thrown from his feet. Two Templars moved to close the gap, driving it back.

The spirit had no feet, Draedamyr realised. Instead it floated, chains dangled from its robes and led back into the shadows. There was more to those than decoration. They were the bonds between the spirit and its captive souls. He was no mage, but he could sense the the power being drawn down those lines.

"It draws its strength from the souls," he called out. "It's still a form of magic."

 

[Skuld Zajac]

They formed a circle like the commander wanted, but the cry from the fallen man shook Smithson for a brief second. He hadn't expected anything more than maybe a wild animal or some less dangerous foe. Skuld however, while not expecting whatever this was, had more field experience than her compatriot.

The elf was pushed into the center of the templars and Skuld helped pull him back to his feet.

"Oh joy." Skuld hissed under her breath. She wasn't terribly keen on fighting this things for long, but the idea of slaying souls didn't really appeal to her either.

 

[Saul Talith]

The Revenant disappeared, then flickered back into being only a few feet in front of Saul.

His lips tightened, and the blessedblade in his hand flickered forward for one brief second. It sliced low, then high. On the second pass it met the Revenants own sword, bright blue sparks clashing outward over the room. His eyes closed for a brief second, and he felt the pressure of the sword pass.

Then suddenly a stabbing pain erupted in his side.

A howl escaped his lips, and something blue passed through the small guard of his helmet. The barest mist, his breath seeming to draw from not his lungs, but his very soul.

The Revenant screeched with delight, it's howl echoing and resounding within the room.

As it reveled another one of the Templar stepped forward, his blade thrusting forward into the ghostly form. The howling screech was cut short, replaced by one of quivering pain as the Revenant flashed and almost seemed to bound backward.

 

[Draedamyr]

The circle had closed tight around Draedamyr. A nod was all the thanks he offered towards Skuld for pulling him back to his feet. Not that it took much effort; he was light compared to the armoured templar.

Reverie hissed as he swiped it through the air. Rather than work his way back into the circle he stayed inside. The thing had been caught by a blade and had briefly retreated. It could be hurt.

As it came back towards them Draedamyr took careful steps to match its movements. This time when it came back towards the line the elf darted between templar. As it swung its great sword for someone in the line he countered by swinging for its open side.

The revenant was fast, faster than he was. But it clearly had limits. It howled again as his magically forged blade struck something solid inside those robes.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

The sounds from Saul was concerning, but the Revenant was quickly pushed back by another among them. Whatever moment of peace they had though was quickly broken by it's return. The thing was fast, and the two black roses tried there best to hold there shields at the ready to stop it's attacks.

The elf among them seemed more than capable of keeping up with it however as Smithson prepared to take the incoming swing, only for it to pause when a blade sank into the robes and made it howl.

"We've got to move and find a less open place." Skuld called to the commander. Her hopes of finding such a thing in this cavernous place seemed limited, but even grand constructions such as this likely had tight places where you only had to watch two fronts instead of all of them.

 

[Saul Talith]

"The Far side!" Saul called out as he pulled himself together, scooping up his sword from the floor and motioning towards the other side of the grand hall.

He had no idea where the path lead, but there'd been a corridor on the other side of the hall.

Those Templar around him shifted, one of them scooping up his torch and attempting to spark it upon the ground. A barest whisp of torch light illuminated the area around them, and then the group began to move in unison through the Hall.

The Revenant did not cease it's attack however, instead taking the opportunity to dash and pick at their sides.

It's ghostly blade slashed forward, appearing from nothing and cutting at what it could.

Another Templar fell, the clatter of armor sounding out as he tumbled to the ground and another soul was lost. The group ran faster, moved quicker until they finally reached a grand archway leading into a tight corridor.

 

[Draedamyr]

A whisper on the wind. Nothing more than the faintest disturbance of the hairs on the back of his hands. Draedamyr stopped suddenly and the ethereal blade chopped down onto the flagstones where he would have been.

Reverie sliced out, catching the faint glimmer of torchlight. Again he felt the slightest resistance before the revenant melted back into the shadows.

"Need to hold it in place," he grunted under his breath as the first templar entered the corridor. He turned and dropped into a defensive stance, waiting for it to come back at them.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Skuld and Smithson did not dawdle when the commander called out a direction. Even with a brother falling, the two stayed close to the group. Neither knew whether to bless the gods for the luck of not being targeted, or curse the gods for the poor luck of finding this revenant. They pushed the thought away as the elf struck out against it and seemed to make contact once more.

A barely noticeable nod between them was all the more they spoke as they flanked the elf, well on their toes and shields ready to fend off a strike as they let their fellows file through into the corridor.

Skuld had not expected her last journey with her templar brethren to be so exciting, or life threatening. The thing returned, the hair on both of their necks standing on edge as it's blade sang through the air. Metal rang as Smithson managed to catch it with his shield. The ring on his finger hummed a little, warmth trying to push out the fear and dread that had solidly placed itself on him like a yoke.

Skuld whipped around the elf, trying to pin the revenant between their two shields.

 

[Saul Talith]

A screech echoed through the hall, the Revanant screaming as Skuld and Smitghson pinned it in place.

"Hold it!" Saul called, motioning for the elf to move forward and attack.

Saul himself wheeled around, half turning at the entrance of the corridor as his fingers began to slowly flex. The sword in his off-hand shifted, half dropping as he began to concentrate.

The Templar were a fractured organization, broken. A thousand years ago they had endured their first schism, breaking apart and forming dozens of different chapters. Each chapter had it's own ways, it's own skills and abilities. Saul's own was anti-magic, the unique ability to turn mana upon itself.

He had no idea if it would work on the Revenant, but he'd still try. "Take it down!"

The Lord Captain screamed as he rushed forward and attempted to grab the Spirit.

 

[Draedamyr]

Draedamyr had never thought of himself as a coward. A hundred times he had walked into combat knowing that if his skill was not enough then his spirit would be leaving this world. It was half a century since he had shown the slightest hesitation. That was, until he had to strike down his own protégé.

Those tests had been against living beings, not monsters, not spirits. He very nearly paused as the cloaked, ethereal thing thrashed against the templars and screamed in a voice that seemed to cut right through to his soul.

It couldn't use its over-sized blade properly against the templars that close. It raked the air with skeletal claws and tried to break free. Dreadamry saw his chance and darted forwards. One swing with the flat of his blade pushed the revenant's weapon aside. The next thrust managed to skewer its entire arm. With both hands on the hilt of Reverie he drove on, the tip of the blade driving into its body.

Still it writhed with an impossible strength. He could feel the very ether of magic swirling around the apparition.

"It draws on the souls!" he called out again. Both hands on the hilt of the blade that drove through both its sword arm and body he pressed his shoulder into its chest and tried to ignore the foul stench of death that clung to its robes.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Neither Black Rose templar relented, Skuld being forced to duck behind her shield completely to avoid being caught by flailing hands as she and Smithson leaned into one another. While they had never held a creature in this manner, the idea that it might work was faring better than expected.

"Drain it then!" Skuld bellowed from her half crouch to whoever cared to follow through. They likely wouldn't be able to hold out against it too much longer if it decided to truly try and wrench itself free.

 

[Saul Talith]

Unfortunately for Saul, he did not know how to drain the magic away from the creature. His abilities were not that finely tuned. Ana probably could have done it, she had both the skill and the training.

Saul though? Saul was a brute. A warrior and soldier through and through.

He had none of the finesse required, he did not have the scalpel of a surgeon. He could only do what he knew how to do, and that was turn the Revenants power against itself. A scowl crossed his features, and then he grit his teeth.

A step forward, and his hand struck out.

The wraith screeched as a burning hand was thrown upon it. There was a pule, a strange surge of energy, and then a light forged form the Revenant itself.

A scream like none before echoed through the hall, cracks began to show within the ghostly form, and then suddenly a light consumed the inside of the corridor. A burning pulse exploded out from the wraith, powerful enough to throw away those surrounding it, a wave that sent Saul flying back into the wall behind him.

 

[Greldyrn Il Farrick]

The Traveling Banner was the name of his chapter – even if he was the only member left standing. It had been years since the final brave men and women who were his comrades fell to the pernicious evils that they swore to fight against. The men and women who Greldyrn drank with, shared stories with, and fought with, were dead. They were his siblings – not in blood, but in the solemn oaths they had made.

– And he had lost them.

If events hadn’t unfolded like they had, perhaps the dwarf would be a different man – one who still fought for the cause that so many had believed in. Peoples across vast stretches of land once recognized their banner – a group of traveling Templars, aiding those who were stricken with scourges of darkness. Now they were gone. The occasional rumor would pass by of the group’s untimely dissolution. Some spoke of their death at the hands of a group of vampires, while others spoke of their death at the hands of a lone werewolf. Regardless, the last of them were dead, and Greldyrn had retired soon after.

He was the only one left. He was the last member of The Traveling Banner.

Occasionally, he would visit the widow of the deceased leader of his chapter to pay his respects. His wife was a beautiful woman with a biting wit. She was great company and had a certain charm unending, but ever since her husband’s demise, she had lost that spark in her eyes. It made the old dwarf guilty at best. If she knew how her husband had died, then she wouldn’t have so graciously accepted Farrick into her manor.

She would have driven a dagger in his heart.

Oft she gave him letters addressed to her husband if it had a Templar’s seal on it, but while the dwarf took them, he never opened them. He simply took the weight of those papers of her hands. She had enough grief weighing her down these days, so he might as well take the burden. Best to forget him, if she could. She was too good a person to wilt away like an unwatered flower.

Perhaps it was out of guilt, or out of his last encounter in Elbion that made him open one of these letters – the most recent one at that. His encounter with the twin mercenaries had opened his eyes, leading him to the conclusion that running away wasn't the answer. Thus, he accepted the invitation in the stead of his leader.

– And thus, that is how Greldyrn found himself at end of the great stone bridge to Herath in the the Aberresai Savannah. Swathed in his old uniform of sky blue and white, he rode his mount with old banner held high – tattered and worn, but proud. It bore the symbol of The Templar on it. Simple, traditional, and true to its roots.

Showing the seal to the men at the entrance, the dwarf entered the main courtyard where many of the other chapters had gathered. At the sight of various groups representing their own factions, he felt out of place. Greldyrn would be the only one there representing his.

To be honest, he didn’t know why he came today. He had been avoiding The Templars like a plague until now. They would kill him without hesitation if they knew what he had become.

Perhaps it was the sense of responsibility passed down from his late leader to him, but as the last knight of his chapter, he had to attend. It was the least he could do.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana paced in the large, crumbling courtyard, her own arrival happening barely twenty minutes earlier. She was late. Late, late, late-- no more than late-- she was two months late.

It had been important to her that she make it back to Saul on time. But nothing had gone right and her three week excursion had turned to three months. At least she had been able to send him word. At least he knew they were not dead.

Leane knew better than to try and place a hand on Ana's shoulder. They had arrived to find Saul and a company had gone into the main hall to drive out any creatures that had taken up residence. The thick nature of the doors did nothing to stop the wraith's screeches from reaching them. Nor Saul's, when it had sounded.

The company of civilians stirred uncomfortably from where they were being guarded. Ana could hear some Templar move them even further from the doors. She suspected they were no longer in range of danger, though. The area had fallen quiet. Either everyone was dead, or they had taken the fight in deeper.

A sharp glare was passed to the men guarding the door.

Nothing in or out until I return.

She was going to kill Saul for that.

A murmur of voices and moment came from behind her. "A new arrival," Valarie told Leane besides her.

Ana turned to face the stranger, her usually soft features marred from stress. All three women wore the same heavy plates of armor, encrusted on the chest with a recognizable crest. They were members of the Broken Sword, and the part of the Templar faction whose seal was on the letter that had brought him here.

Valarie stepped forward, the diplomat of the group, and dipped her chin in a polite greeting. "Welcome, Templar." She scanned him for his crest, gaze inquisitive.

"Who do you represent?" Because clearly, he was here alone.

 

[Greldyrn Il Farrick]

Two screams resounded from further into the keep, leaving Greldyrn on guard. Were there monsters in Herath? At a summit? When there were civilians?

His attention was so focused on the sudden noise that he did not see the blonde knight approach. When she greeted him, he gave a curt nod, and glanced at her companions and their crest. Broken Sword, he thought immediately. The one’s who had sent the invitation.

The sky blue flag affixed his horse wavered in a slight breeze, revealing both sides of the threadbare cloth. One side to be stitched with crest of The Templar, and the other side was stitched with the image of three knight on horses. The first knight held a horn, the second held a staff, and the final held a lance upright. They were the three founders of his chapter, and were immortalized in its symbol.

It was an image that Greldyrn doubted anyone would remember given the group’s sudden disappearance two decades prior. Had it not been for the widow’s proclivity to not answer her late husband’s correspondence, the Traveling Banner would not have been invited. The death of the captain was never verified, leaving those who knew the man doubting of his demise. Still, it was a surprise that they sent the invitation. Twenty years was shockingly enough time for their name to fade from the minds of the common people. Sure, those within the fold of knights would have known of the group's name, but the people outside seldom remember. They had more pressing concerns on their mind like hunger, protection, and other, mundane things. As long as there were other Templars fighting off the supernatural threats, they were fine. No need to remember the names of those who saved them nor the chapter who aided. They were The Templar. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I am Greldyrn Il Farrick, of The Traveling Banner,” he replied holding the sealed latter up, signet ring out so that she would see his crest. “I am here on behalf of the late Jeremiah Conrich III, and the rest of my chapter.”

“What is going on the other side of that door? I was under the assumption that the keep had already been cleared out given that there were civilians here. Is everything alright?”

 

[Anastasia]

'Ah', Valarie's expression seemed to say. The dark-haired Templar kept her recognition to herself. It had been her that had drafted his message and requested his aid. Saul had many tasks to complete and people to worry over. As one of his right-hand men, it had been Valarie who had researched his faction and figured it worth an attempt to send out word.

She turned backwards, glancing at the two blondes behind her, then onto the door itself.

"The civilians traveled up here with us," Valarie reported.

"It is being cleared out now, all is fine." Leane added, casting Ana a glance as she said so.

Ana pressed her lips together and walked briskly away from them both, a hand on her pommel as she moved to argue with the men at the door again. It was quiet, surely that meant they could let her slip inside with men and help.

Valarie turned back to Greldyrn, giving him an apologetic look. "Would you like to place your belongings down? Break for some food, or perhaps a drink? We're settling in now, but when our Lord Commander returns, I'm sure he'll want to speak with you." The tone was heavy with implication.

Or perhaps that was just empathy.

 

[Greldyrn Il Farrick]

Eyes briefly followed Ana as she left for the door. The stride of her walk, the hurried nature of her flight, the hand on her pommel – it was all posturing that suggested uncertainty. Things are not fine, he thought to himself, making a mental note. A city-fortress like this may take days to completely clear out, if not a couple months. Monsters could hide in any crack, any crevice. They could quite literally be hiding in a small shadow on the wall. It would be slow progress reclaiming Herath. That is what his gut told him at least.

Turning back, the dwarf got off his horse and grabbed the pack beast by the reigns.

“Ah – yes, a place to settle down would be nice,” he replied, half-distracted and half-preocupied with his own thoughts. Their journey from Elbion to Herath had been taxing on both him and the horse. A place to set up his tent or organize his thoughts would be plenty appreciated.

In the back of his mind, he tensed up at the utterance of that last sentence.

‘I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you.’

He had heard rumors of the Lord Commanders and their Lord Captain. Some said that they were brave and noble, while others said that they fringed on the edge of fanaticism. Their were rumors that they could pick out inhumans from a crowd with ease – that their sense for hunting monsters were unparalleled.

If Greldyrn had to sit at a table with them… well, he hoped that some other fool was attending as well. Best they be slain first to give time for the dwarf to run. More so, he hoped that the rumor was false. He needed time to think of what he was going to say should the question arise: How did The Traveling Banner fall?

“Where, by chance, would I be able to restock on my rations? 'Formally ran out a few days ago, and I've been eating scraps since then.”

 

[Draedamyr]

There was a quiet screech. It took Draedamyr a few seconds to realise it was the sound of his blade dragging across the stones. On his side on the ground, reflexes still had him reaching for the sword and pulling it closer.

He couldn't see the revenant, but he couldn't see much at all. With the hilt of his blade next to his chest he rolled onto his front and pushed himself up from the ground.

Out of the shadows emerged more shapes. Despite every joint protesting he brought his blade up. Keen eyes traced the outlines and reformed the shapes in his mind.

"The templar souls are back," he hissed.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

The force pushed back both Black Roses, Skuld the first to recover as she scanned for the wraith, moving to pull up any templars that she could. Her whole body tensed at the sight of the templar wraiths, and her shield was quickly in front of her.

"Think they're angry? Or relieved?" Skuld asked the elf, continuing to pull up fallen templar whilst her shield was in front of her. She used it like a lever, the point holding in the stone as she hauled men upright.

---

A handful of the Black Rose templar stood outside the gate, drawn by the sounds and worry about their own leader. The order from Commander Saul kept them from entering, and they all looked to Ana when she approached and waited. If they let her in, a handful of them would join her. All of them were in full gear with weapons and shields ready. The charred rose emblem adorning shield and breastplates on all of them as they watched her through closed visors.