Open Chronicles Rising Evil

[Relan Shask]

The Templars.

It made the most sense. He had never met one, he had never even seen one. But he heard of them, of their (self) righteous plight against the undead, and all the unholy creatures of the land. Who else to hear firstly of what Relan had seen? He'd stolen a horse somewhere a few miles outside of the unholy congregation. He had nearly rode the horse to death when it finally bucked him off. He had been travelling, riding for nearly a day straight.

He was so close.

He knew the routes well, and the mapwork he had prepared for the area a while ago paid dividends. It was formally for a logging company, not wanting to poach on the Templar's lands, and to steer clear of the old fortress. He had stopped in a village, seeking the counsel of the village elders, he estimated about ten miles away from the Templar fortress. They advised him to go quietly and alone, or not at all. He dared not speak to them of what he knew.

Too much was at risk already.

He went over what he knew as he trekked up the path to the fortress. He hadn't had enough water, save for brief stops at streams along the way. He hadn't food to eat in even longer. He was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. He smelled horrible, sweat and the dirt and mud he had been using as camouflage caked into his skin. His eyes were bloodshot, bags heavy under them. He didn't make it quite to the fortress like he planned. His knees gave out, his body collapsing from exhaustion. He managed to cry out, making a noise no man should ever make, a pained cry for help. Like a wounded animal.

He was carrying a warning. A warning that threatened all of the people in the world.

The undead were congregating. Unholy creatures trying to establish a home.

Not exactly the neighbors anyone wanted.

Saul Talith

 

[Saul Talith]

Herath.

A thousand years ago it had been one of the greatest fortresses in all of Arethil. An unspeakable amount of Templar had made their home within the great citadel. A whole army that had fought against the tide of evil wherever it came from.

Then the schism had split them a hundred times over.

Herath had laid abandoned for centuries, completely empty until only just a short few months ago Saul Talith and those allied to him had began to reoccupy it's great walls. Even now dozens of scaffolds and rudimentary cranes decorated the massive stone facades of Herath, each piece of the fortress slowly being restored.

Relan would not have the energy to see all this, but it's reoccupation meant that a guard now stood along the fortress wall.

When the man approached and fell down upon the path, it was they who saw him, and thankfully pulled him up from the ground. A guard of twelve Templars, each dressed in heavy armor.

One gave him water, the others dragged him to his feet, guiding him to Herath itself.

 

[Relan Shask]

He awoke to the sound of armor moving, and the presence of water at his lips. He greedily drank it, unable to even speak. They were guiding him inside, flanking him. They did not seem to perceive him as a threat. Not that he could do entirely too much, given the fact that his best weapon was his best weapon at a distance, and a small Elven knife wasn't going to cut it against the men who looked like they bench-pressed tree trunks for fun.

He drank more of the water they gave him and spoke softly, his voice carrying the weight of his fear.

"I have seen great evil."

 

[Saul Talith]

The Templar supported almost all of the man's weight, the massive armor figured glancing down at the man as he spoke./

One of the other soldiers just ahead half turned.

She was smaller than the others, and wore no helmet. Still, the sword and shield slung across her back and the way she carried herself told of the fact that she was just as dangerous as the others. If not more so. Leane half turned back, frowning at Relan for a moment.

"So have we all."
​

The words were not dismissive, just a sign of the weight they all carried.

It was their duty after all, to fight evil where and when they could. Most of them had seen Liches, Demons, Wraiths and all sorts of unholy things in their time.

"We have a doctor here, we'll take you to him."​

 

[Relan Shask]

He was lead inside, to the doctor. The healer treated him for a little while, finding that Relan had no wounds or obvious ailments, just exhaustion. But Relan was insistent, fighting back his eyelids, heavy as stones, that he speak to the Templars. He frantically reached for his journal at his bedside.

One of the lesser Templars was sent for Saul Talith. A red-bearded man from the East, the only thing possibly harder than his gaze was the stone that built the fortress. He was however, respectful of his superior.

"Sir. The...man is awake. He insists that he speak with someone of importance." With a bit of dry humor, the man quipped. "And we figured that would be you."

Relan was sat up on the bed, knowing that he if laid down, he'd fall asleep. His journal and all the sketches he compiled- along with a map he had purchased some time ago, lay on the bed. He seemed more afraid than exhausted. Fear gave men wings.

 

[Saul Talith]

The Templar that were gathered here were not of a single Order, not really. A dozen Chapters from the Westlands, and two from the East, had come to Herath in support of the Alliance.

There had been arguments of course, fighting and even a few small scuffles, but nothing they hadn't been able to talk out. Eventually the Captains that had been sent here elected him as their leader, knowing that a strong executive would at least allow them to sort things out faster.

Since then events had gone relatively smoothly, and the Chapters were working together rather smoothly.

Something he was glad for.

When the message came about the man that had arrived the previous day a frown touched Saul's face, but he simply nodded and followed the other Templar into the makeshift medical room of the Keep. As he stepped through the door is armor clanked slightly, hand resting on the pommel of the sword.

"I am Lord Captain Saul Talith." He began formally. "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

Relan Shask

 

[Relan Shask]

His thoughts, coherent once, were marred by exhaustion.

He tried to stay standing, but a human body could only withstand so much. He wrestled with himself, running a hand through his hair. Truth be told, Relan was better off telling the Templars everything when he was rested. He shakily gave the Templar his notebook, full of the sketches he took of the Eternum meeting. The Vampires, the beasts, the undead creatures- the man in the cloth and who spilled sand.

But Relan could manage a few words before he sat back on the bed, unable to stand.

"They're coming, sir. They're coming and we need to stop them- they're coming." His eyes grew heavy, like great weights had been placed on them. Dehydrated, starving- and exhausted. His notes were half-decipherable, but the sketches, intricate in detail- were terrifying of the meeting of the undead that Relan had encountered.

Relan fell back over, rambling incoherently, passing out.

 

[Saul Talith]

Saul only looked down at the unconscious man, his lips thinning and his eyes tightening. "Do we know where he's from?"

The question was posed to one of the two Templar's standing near the doorway. Both of them shrugged and then shook their heads, though the third; Leane, spoke quietly.

"His clothes would make me guess from somewhere up north. Though...he does seem a tad delusional."
​

Saul mused for a quiet few seconds. The man did speak as one fit for the asylum...but that didn't mean he couldn't take it seriously. There was a rising tide of darkness within this world, a bleakness that was slowly spreading. He could feel it in his core, and every time he used anti-magic it only seemed to grow worse.

That pit of despair.

The Lord Captain thinned his lips, then turned to Leane.

"Watch him." He ordered. "When he wakes again bring him to my quarters. Carry him if you have to."

 

[Relan Shask]

He awoke sometime later.

He felt...safe.

More than he did a while ago.

He rolled out of bed, planting his feet to the floor. He'd been washed and cleaned. He would thank them for that, later. He felt more at ease, but still, restless. He put his boots on, using the clothes they laid neatly by his bedside to make himself modest. He opened the door, to find a passing Templar.

He looked surprise to see the scout awake so soon. He immediately took him to the quarters of the Master, Saul Talith. The Templar said nothing, leading him inside to what he assumed was some importance of a Templar.

He faced the man, stone faced.

"Did you read any of it? Did you see what I wrote?"

Pleading eyes begged for him to be taken seriously.

 

[Saul Talith]

Saul sat behind a small desk.

It was not an ornate thing, something found within the depths of this castle and brought to him so that he actually had something to write on. Suited him just fine though. "I did."

There was no small amount of concern in his voice.

"However." He began quietly. "I'd like to hear it in your own words."

His fingers wrapped on the desk. "For clarity."

To make sure he was not a mad man.

 

[Relan Shask]

"They gathered. They gathered in where I was hunting. The light brought me, this great light that produced such a sound-" He made a motion with his hands. It was an explosion, something that Relan had never heard in his life. "That I needed to investigate. So I crawled a great distance on my belly, to remain hidden. As I got closer- I could tell that the tracks that I was following were not human, or at least, were not human anymore."

He rubbed his hands together as he sat opposite him of the desk.

"They were skeletal beings, sir, you see. The undead." He paused for a moment. "I had only heard of them in my youth, in the stories. But there was a...man in cloth. A few other creatures, one without eyes, and from what I could tell- humans risen from the dead." Or, worse.

He leaned forward.

"They were speaking of....land. It was difficult to hear, but- I was close enough to hear them speak of land, and acquiring it. Far in the North."

 

[Saul Talith]

He frowned for a moment. "Where in the north?"

The story was not a completely unbelievable one. Saul knew that the darkness was rising, that there was a tide slowly falling upon the world. He had seen it within the west, he had seen it within the eyes of the Lich he'd killed with the Rangers. Something was happening in the world.

This man spoke of an undead an army.

Was he right? Or was he simply mad? A frown touched the Captain's lips, his fingers tightening into a fist for just a brief second as he took a breath.

"How many were there?" He continued to question. "What do they want with the north?"