Quest Old Stories, New Beginnings[Templar]

Organization specific roleplay for governments, guilds, adventure groups, or anything similar
"Here, I'll escort you," Valerie offered, giving a dismissive nod to Leane who step forward at least to help. The three had grown up together, along with Edwin, Berrek, Myrelle , Owin, Saul, and...

Well they didn't speak about him anymore.

Regardless, the remaining nine had formed a bond that ran deeper than even being Templar. It was a compulsion strong enough that Ana considered knocking the guards at the door unconscious just to get in. And it showed in the way Leane's keen gaze followed Valarie's movements away, constantly aware of the two's position around her.

While their status with Saul left their own men often treating their word's like Saul's own, it did nothing for Ana with the guards that guarded the door. They weren't Broken Sword. Her face meant nothing to them. An order was an order, there were civilians out here.

A frustrated scream pulled through her through her teeth. Leane moved to her side instead.



"It's a surprise to see you here," Valerie confessed as she walked Greldyrn towards the civilians, where camp was being struck up among them. "When I learned what had happened to your chapter, well..." She looked back, giving him a tight smile. Empathy it was, then.

"Maybe you can find something new here." Saul wasn't the only emphatic one of the chapter. Valerie genuinely believed they could build something good here. She led him to a wagon where the rations were being kept. She pointed out a fresh barrel of water for him to refill his flask off of, going into a bag to bring him dry strips of meat.
 
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Saul's head hurt.

His entire world was spinning. Pain rocketed up his arm, fingers feeling as though they had been mangled. He felt blood dripping down his palm, voices sounding in his ear. For a second he wasn't entirely sure if they were real or just playing upon his thoughts.

After a moment passed he realized it was Skuld. A frown touched his lips, and slowly his head shook from left to right. The metal of his helmet scraped against the stone floor. A breath filled his lungs, and slowly the Templar Captain righted himself upon the ground.

His sword had gone flying somewhere, his cloak was in tatters.

As he gathered himself Saul saw them, dozens upon dozens of Templar spirits standing all around them. Their armor was different than his own, but different from each other as well. He stared at them, and they stared back. A silence loomed within the air, and then one of them stepped forward.

The Captain tried to curl his fingers, tried to call upon anti-magic, but his mangled arm refused.

The Ghost still stepped forward, and then it extended an arm to him.
 
The joints in his fingers ached. Not just from how tightly he gripped the hilt of his sword. He must have scraped the back of his hand across the ageing flagstones. He wanted to go and lie down. He wanted to be away from otherworldly spirits. Draedamyr was out of his depth and in pain.

I truly hope that this dead human is grateful for being freed and not about to tear Talith's soul from his body.
 
Skuld had spoken, but realized she hadn't heard her own words. She blinked a few times, trying to make sense of things as she watched the wraiths. Her haste to get everyone standing had pushed her through the fuzzy feeling in her head, along with the muffled sounds around her. The shield had touched her face, but as she looked to Smithson, realized it may have been a tad harder than a touch.

The other black rose looked like he'd been through a few rounds of fighting outside the local tavern. One eye was beginning to swell from catching the edge of the shield and his ears rang. He looked to Skuld, a small dribble of blood on her forehead from a small gash.
 
Saul reached for the ghost's hand, if only out of instinct.

His fingers passed through the ghostly appendage, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw amusement in the eyes of the ghost behind the helmet. His hand passing through the ghost's seemed to be a trigger for something, the wraith suddenly losing it's form.

A massive cloud of ghostly smoke seemed to erupt, a soft wind pushing through the corridor and the great hall seeming to sweep away the army of specters. Within half a minute they were gone, only those Templar still among the living remaining within the great stone structure.

Saul slowly took a breath. "Someone want to help me up?"

He wasn't entirely sure he could stand on his own.
 
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"No, you look far too heavy," Draedamyr replied curtly. One of the other armoured men was already moving towards their commander. He might be losing payment for the comment but it had been truthful. Commander of an order in decline was a title that held little meaning for one who had seen over thirty generations of their kind come and pass.

He turned slowly, refusing to sheath his weapon. Whilst he could track the use of magic itself he wasn't sure he could even sense the presence of a spirit still tethered to this world. Logic told him they had been freed from the malevolent spirit, but logic wasn't holding out well for him today.
 
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Skuld watched in silence as Saul tried to grab the arm of the ghostly templar, only to pass through it before a gust filled the hall and took with it the remaining spirits. It seemed that the trouble of the revenant had passed for the the time being, given that it had bound these templar to it.

Saul's words sounded distant at first, then the elf spoke and seemed closer as she stared at both of them in turn. Adrenaline was wearing off finally, and everything on the woman began to ache and burn. Her forehead felt hot, her ears rang, and arms felt like noodles.

Even sparring with her order had never left her this drained. Smithson approached her slowly, a hand waving in front of her face as he spoke.

"Can you stand?" He spoke quietly. Her free arm extended, and the man wrapped it over his shoulder while she still held her shield up. Blinking, she took stock of the situation before looking to Saul.

"Return-" She huffed. "And re-arm?" She knew she wouldn't be much further help if they trudged on, not that Saul looked any better.
 
Saul was pulled to his feet, the Elf being correct.

With his own weight added to the armor it nearly took a second Templar to get him to his feet. A frown touched his lips as he managed to stand, the Lord Captain struggling not to fall over as he regained his balance. A breath filled him, his head shaking in answer to Skuld. "Rest."

More than half of Herath still remained unexplored, but whatever curse had sat within the hallowed halls felt as though it had been lifted.

That of course didn't mean there was nothing else here to find...but for now at least they would return to the first part of the Fortress and leave the rest be. At least until they had more men to explore.

"We'll head back the way we came." No need to take chances.
 
He stood tall only because he didn't want to slump in front of the human mage hunters. It wasn't even just physical exhaustion and bruising. Draedamyr was sensitive to the magical energies that flowed through the world. That creature had made this a place of darkness and its passing had left a void. It tugged at his mind, made it difficult to focus.

The elf put one foot in front of the other and made for the stairs. The bodies of the fallen, splayed out across the flagstones were all too real. It had claimed several of the party before being vanquished. At least he assumed it was gone. He had read tales of such things that were anchored to a place in the world and were never truly gone. There had been places near his home city where they would return every few centuries to lay a spirit to rest. Now he imagined those danger had been left to grow and spread.

He sheathed his sword as he started down the stairs. If only because he didn't want them to see him drop it.
 
Skuld gave the commander a nod, the pair moving behind the elf as he lead the way back. She was glad they didn't have to move forward just yet. It was an unsure thing to have the spirit so quickly removed, and it remained to be seen if that things presence had kept anything else out. Or if it had simply kept other creatures to their own place in the fortress.

Smithson seemed better on his feet, a few times having to drag Skuld along as her head spun. The shield had hit her hard and she was now struggling to remain awake. A few words to her assistant were terse and almost biting, trying to pull herself from his grasp once and nearly bringing them both down.

Blinking, she relented and continued to be carried.
 
Frowning, Saul pulled himself together enough to actually make his way behind the others.

Some of the Templar remained in position to the rear of course, watching the corners and insuring that no other Revenants were about to pop out.

Eventually the group managed to return to the second gate, the massive doors still remaining sealed just as Saul had ordered. His frown twitched for a moment as he glanced back into the halls, his eyes searching for any remaining signs of the ghosts that had once surrounded them.

When he found none the Lord Captain turned back, motioning for the others to move out of his way.

As the Templar parted before him Saul made his way towards the door. He grimaced slightly as he shifted his arm, knocking on the heavy steel doors in an odd sort of rhythm before taking a step back.

A minute passed, and then the grating sound of metal on metal began to echo as the doors to the first part of Herath began to fold open before him.
 
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The stale air of the ruins washed over Ana as the doors were peeled open. The thick tension that had built up outside the doors dissipated in an instant at the sight of the returned Templars. Ana felt murmurs flicker out behind her, spreading rapidly out-- there was nothing to fear. The men had returned!

Everything must be fine.

But being as close to the door as Ana was, she could see that there was nothing fine about the men that had come back out.

"...Saul?" she uttered, her voice tight with stress. She yanked off the helmet she had dawned while waiting and rushed to him. Others seemed to grasp the situation in time with her. She felt them move with her-- the well-seasoned warriors helping their comrades through the doors.

"What happened?" Ana asked quickly, heedless of the heavy Broken Sword armor she wore. She reached for his head, fingers skimming his temples. Antimagic pulsed through her fingertips at the touch.
 
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There was a barrel not far beyond the door. He didn't know what was in it, why it was there, or if it needed to be moved. He didn't care. Draedamyr sat heavily on it and slumped forward onto his knees. A braid of wheat blonde hair fell forwards across his face.

It didn't feel as if anything had broken. Most of his skin was going to be quite colourful by the next morning. The creature hadn't managed to sink a hook into his soul. Perhaps it had only been able to do that upon death.

"Managed to choose a haunted castle for your new home," he muttered, finally lifting his head.
 
The Black Roses were around Smithson and Skuld once clear of the gate, separating them and carrying each separately. Skuld attempted to shrug the help once more, finding her feet better this time as she huffed angrily at her comrades.

"I am fine. Just...worse for wear. Now let me breath." She looked to Ana, then Saul. The commander could report their findings but she had to laugh a little when the elf spoke.

"Big empty place, good view of the area and defensible. Surprised we were not greeted by anything here in the courtyard." Skuld offered, leaning against the kite shield with both hands.
 
"Revenant." Saul answered, flinching slightly at even the bare touch of his wounds.

Most of the damage was actually his own fault.

Anti-magic required a soft, almost surgical touch when dealing with things like wraiths. Someone well versed in the techniques could pick apart a Revenant at the seems, quite literally reduce it to little more than a forest wisp, but Saul wasn't good enough for that sort of thing.

He'd turned the wraiths energies against itself, quite literally turning it into a bomb. It had not been smart, and in truth he'd endangered every Templar that had gone with him.

Something he'd have to make up for later.

"We're alright." He said quietly. "Lost some, but at least the second Keep should be safe now."

Saul doubted the Revenant left anything else alive to be a threat.

A moment passed, and in a much more quiet voice Saul added; "It's good to see you."
 
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The pieces of the puzzle fell together for Ana in an instant. A Revenant, the state of his arm-- the fact they came out largely whole. Her insides twinged at the concept of how forced that bout of antimagic must have been. How much it must have hurt. All thoughts on chastising him melted away, replaced by guilt. If she had been on time, he wouldn't have had to do it.

The softer nature of his next words pulled her from her swirling concern.

"I'm sorry it took so long." He was given a small smile, her fingers catching a curl at his temple and pushing it back into the visor before she withdrew.


She grew conscious of the people around them then, a moment taken to survey each stranger in turn. "If there's any ill affects of its magic on you, please come to me," she told them in greeting.

She quietly double took and gave Saul a flickering glance of panic, realizing she didn't know if any of them were from a faction that despised magic and if she had just stepped on toes.

Aaaaaah.
 
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Did its magic still affect him? Draedamyr gave it some more thought. He was beyond joining in any further conversation now. It was likely he would stay on his barrel for a few minutes and then find the strength to stand. Only so that he could walk somewhere to drop his armour and weapons and lie down to rest. It was a long time since he had been a young elf and every decade it took a little longer for his body to heal.

He could not sense any ill effects. Even if he could have done there was a question as to whether he would ask for a human to try and counter act them. They lived fleeting lives which had an impact on how they used magic. They were reckless with it. Learning fast by putting themselves in harms way just so that they could advance their knowledge within such a short lifespan.

Few elves lived as long as he did; Arethil held enough dangers that most elves didn't make five centuries when old age started to set in.

No, he hadn't lived this long by letting humans use magic - or even antimagic - on him.
 
Skuld and Smithson both looked to each other, a brief hesitation in their heart before they nodded to each other. It was one thing for them to ask a mage for help, but a fellow templar wasn't such a terrible thing. They also didn't want that thing to have any hooks left in them in case it had managed to do so.

"We'll take the offer, don't want to wake up mad and floating." Skuld informed the woman with a bit of joking thrown in. The Black Roses around them struggled with the acceptance for a moment, a few adjusting shields and the others weapons. The rest tensed, and they waited but did nothing more. This was their commander, and she was paving the way still for cooperation. Magic was still something they were coming to accept.
 
Saul nodded slowly to Ana response.

The issue would come up eventually, and it was better for the subject to be broached now when it was not only theoretical. At least it would spread the word that magic did help.

He was thankful there were others among the ranks who were either used to it, or had mages among their own rank. It made the transition easier, at least for some. There would always be those who either couldn't stomach it, or would oppose it until their last breath.

Luckily few had deigned to gather here. "Let's see if we can't get the injured treated."

They had a few doctors thankfully.

"There will be rooms for everyone, and we'll get an infirmary for those who can't wa-" His voice was suddenly interrupted by the long droning war horn.

It seemed to echo and ring, screaming into the air and reverberating within the walls of Herath. Saul's head snapped towards it's call, his eyes locking on the west as he cocked his head.

"SOMEONE GET UP THERE AND TELL ME WHERE THAT CAME FROM!" His voice boomed, loud enough for those already in the towers to hear.
 
"Shiiiit," Ana cursed, understanding it's meaning in an instant. Sounds like that only ever meant one thing in their field. No one ever blew a war horn just to say hello.

Her gaze went to Saul and his arm for a flickering moment. "Saul, get that slung up," she ordered, moving past him and rushing straight to the recovering ... whoever this was.

Ana moved with intention, taking off Skuld's helmet and shoving it straight into the woman's arms. Ana recognized her then. The woman had been a silent figure in the first gathering all those months ago. Ana nodded in acknowledgement, her gaze reassuring yet commanding as she tried to keep the Templar's attention in a moment otherwise filled with chaos.

"All I'm doing is negating what's on you," she informed quickly, aware that the Templar must be feeling backed into a corner right now.

With that same haste, Ana's finger's reached to brush over Skuld's temples.

If contact was permitted, a gentle pulse would flicker over Skuld's skin. The exploded dark magic that had clung to Skuld would dissipate off her body, leaving her skin tingling dully. A sense of clarity would be regained, like a spark of hope igniting back in her chest.
 
Draedamyr winced. Humans had such bad hearing and their commander was a very loud man. He had just unwrapped a small parcel that had been tucked into a compartment on his belt.

Rather than abandon the sweet pastry, he carried it with him as he pushed himself back to his feet and walked for the stairs. Another time and he might have lightly skipped up them two at a time. Now he walked awkwardly, biting into his snack as he went.

"There's a force to the west!" came a shout before the elf was even half way to the ramparts. He emerged from the spiral stairs a few moments later. There was a clear gap in the wall where one slip could send a man plunging to his death. Draedamyr picked a different spot to scan from.

It was a haphazard shape moving across the savanna towards them. A dark form against the pale grasses. It wasn't an organised block of columns.

"Orcs?" he muttered to himself.

"Could be," a templar at the walls answered.

"The orcs of the savanna don't normally come together in such numbers. We haven't been here long."
 
She heard the horn, and before she could move Ana was upon her. The helmet was removed and recognition appeared. Skuld gave a succint nod to the other woman as she waited and listened. Her attention was drawn back to the act as the fingers on her temple brought a sharp wince from her. She endured and was thankful when the dark energy was purged.

It was one thing for a mage to touch someone with the promise of help, another for another templar who actually had shown skill with their magic. Smithson presented himself next, removing his helm and waiting after the simple procedure.

The others around them relaxed in one sense and broke rank to head for the wall.

"Thank you." Skuld told the woman before heading to her camp to get the rest of her gear on. She hadn't been fully prepared for the revenant, but she would be damned ready for whatever was coming next. Another of her order cut away from the group and followed their commander, knowing what she was going after and offering assistance.

Once Smithson was cleansed, he too went for the wall.
 
"Not orcs." Saul said as reached the top of the battlements, a neophyte of one of the allied Chapters following him while attempting to get a sling around his arm.

She was not very successful.

The Lord Captain was no fool, and before reoccupying Herath he had sent out dozens of scouts to ensure that no one had tried to make their home there. Everyone had delivered their reports, and he'd read every single one. Orcs were common enough in small bands, but there was only one group who would band together in any large number.

"Marauders." He frowned, gently pushing the neophyte away and adjusting his armor. "Nisae."

The name of a tribal people who made their life in the Savannah. They were raiders primarily, a tribe of warriors who took what they wanted from even their kin.

No doubt they were displeased by someone occupying a fortress near their territory.
 
Ana nodded at the last Broken Rose Templar as they left for their tasks. Her fingers tingled dully. She pressed her hand to the thick metal plate over her stomach, a small look of unwitnessed concern pulling at her brows.

She turned in the emptied spot by the door way, making eye contact with Leane. A wordless plea for help shone in her eyes. Leane shook her head, not possessing an answer. Ana swallowed hard, walking away to assist with the civilians. The entryway to the hall would be the best case scenario for them. It was cleared, at least enough for this moment, and it removed them from temptation to the Marauders. Well, that was unless the Templar lost.
 
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It was a very long time since he had been caught in a siege. Not that there was going to be much of one. Looking around he could see that there weren't enough templar here to man all the walls.

The marauders had not likely brought ladders and siege equipment either. There wasn't really a need for it with the state of some of the walls. If the marauders decided they wanted to remove the templar from the fortress they would funnel through the damaged section of the walls that could be climbed. Despite their numbers that would be a difficult climb.

The worst thing the templar could do against the greater numbers would be to leave the fortress and charge the enemy. No one would be that stupid.

"I'm going to fetch my crossbow. Did you by any chance bring a ballista or five?" Draedamyr asked. He had always wanted to see one of the human siege weapons assembled up close.