Knights of Anathaeum The Carpenter's Axe

[The Everwatcher]

THE BLIGHT DRINKER.

A SWORD MADE TO CUT THE ROOTS OF GODS.

LONG HAVE YOU SUPPED ON THE CORRUPTION OF THIS LAND,

AND WAITED FOR ME.

Astenvale Monastery was quiet, the night air flat, Dusk knights making their rounds on patrol as the Dawn rested. Below the dewy earth, within the guarded vaults of the monastery, a cursed blade slept in a silver sheath. No magic chained it, for the sword itself drank all spells and enchantments, and could not be contained by them.

Over the sword stood an intangible figure, garments shimmering like the surface of a lake. Fingers wrapped around the Blight Drinker's hilt, white knuckles flexing as they became corporeal. My Sword, spoke the dream. Metal scratched against metal as the blade slide from its prison. It seemed to hover point up in the middle of the vault room, suspended by naught but shadow.

I should thank Anathaeum for finding it for me.

Far away, in the fields surrounding the monastery, the runic pillars of stone that dotted the landscape began to pulse with light. A bell chimed in the window of a knight. The runes upon the vault door flared in alarm, warning of an intruder.

Suddenly, the Blight Drinker clattered to the stone floor, glinting hungrily in the lochlight, its silver sheath cast aside next to it. For those who rushed to the vaults, no sign of the shadow remained, the Everwatcher's presence gone.

 

[Osuin]

Osuin had laid down to sleep, yet something seemed amiss. He could not pinpoint precisely what caused then sensation of disturbance when his day had gone and ended like any other. Yet, the notion that something was off remained unshakable as he lay awake in his bed. He recounted all the actions taken that day, and couldn't recount any he'd forgotten. His armour had been checked over, as had his sword. His day was complete and a restful night of sleep ought be his reward for it, yet such was not so and Osuin hadn't a clue why.

After a few further moments of fitful tossing and turning, the Knight Pursuant rose from his bed to sit upon the edge of it in disappointment. Perhaps a brief walk might do him good, he mused. It might tire him further for sleep, and provide some assurance that his fret was misplaced and that there was nothing worth worrying about. Quickly, Osuin slipped into his coat and boots, and in another moment he pushed past the front door of his quarters into the brisk nighttime air beyond.

All was quiet around him, and the bustling activity present during the day was now absent with the setting of the sun, lit only by the dim luminescence of Lessat peeking over the horizon. The pale emerald light over the landscape made for a serene scene before him, yet as Osuin tread further he hardly felt any more relaxed. He couldn't place why, though the walk did tire him somewhat. Perhaps that might be enough to help him into a restful slumber, and so Osuin continued.

After some more moments of aimless meandering, a sudden light in the distance caught his attention, and the ringing of a bell that followed was a signal to the alarm. Osuin made his way over immediately, despite his causal nighttime dress he still carried his sword with him – The knight would never be caught without his weapon, precisely for reasons such as this.

Osuin had to be there. It was where Blight Drinker was kept, and that something was amiss there was cause for grave concern. He knew well the dangers the weapon had brought them. He had fretted heavily over his decision to keep it. The artifact was his responsibility, and it was currently in peril.

With laboured breaths, Osuin made it towards the stone floor upon which the sword had clattered, free from the sheath that contained it. Yet there was no sign of an intruder, and no awareness of who or what had caused the disturbance.

Osuin looked back down at the blade, now filled with fear of the unknown circumstances that had brought it to fall upon the stone floor. Something was amiss, and he knew not what, only that it could not be ignored.

There could be no sleep until he could be confident that the sword was safe.

The Everwatcher

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

It had been a quiet night in the Monastery, like many Farren had patrolled before.

Her present form was made for the shadows. All soft black fur and feline grace, her sharp grey eyes attuned to the protective magic that was harbored in these stone walls. Old and mighty.

Places like this, where the currents of magic accumulated like sediment in a river's bend, seemed to transcend mere inanimate structures. She thought over time that they even achieved an unspoken sentience. It was as if the very stones breathed, their timeworn faces etched with the memories of rituals and incantations performed by members of the Order, compounded over years. But the Monastery bore a beating core of an ideal, an intent that it absorbed and reflected above all others. It was the same intent that pulsated through the heart of every magic performed by the Knights of the Order.

To protect.

Now, the Dusker wouldn't claim that the Monastery spoke to her in words per se, for it was a communion beyond speech. But if she closed her eyes and pressed her magical senses to the stones, she could feel the faint depths of the Monastery. Its consciousness wasn't one of sentences and phrases, but of a presence carried on the wind, a symphony of knowledge sung as echoes off the stones and the hushed rustling of parchment.

Lost in her thoughts, a sudden wash of cold premonition pierced through the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Eyes of quicksilver flared and her fur bristled, a primal instinct that something was horribly amiss. A foreboding shift in the air that tasted like corruption.

The stones shuddered at its presence and Farren launched herself down the hallway in answer even before the alarms and the chiming of the bell. The words of the Wyld chanting in her mind, as a soft silver light danced down her length from nose to tail. And emerging from that arcane energy was no longer a vigilant cat, but now a snarling black wolf. Her lithe muscles flowed beneath her raven-hued pelt, teeth gleaming in the torchlight while she sprinted down to the vaults, wrath close on her heels.

The Everwatcher Osuin

 

[Margot Triss]

Sleep did not find the Dawnling easily these days. Unrest, the Everwatcher pressing the Kights in every direction. He was trying to weaken them, bring them down on their knees. Did the small faction have enough to make it through? Margot shook her head and sighed softly. Maybe they would all survive this, in the end.

She had glanced out her window, the stars seemingly swallowed up by the void that was the night sky. Not even a twinkle was observed. With a frown, Margot dressed in soft blue breaches and cream colored tunic. She did not own many bed clothes, her sleeping habits her own.

Brisk night air licked at her cheeks as she stepped out into the quiet blackness. It felt like she was walking through ink, even the torches dim in her eyes. She flinched as an alarm resounded through the stone pathways, an alarm that meant only one thing.

Her steps slowed and then stopped, she didn't know why, but her sense of urgency was suddenly gone, yet the bell still rang the mournful tune. She groaned, forcing herself forward, barely reaching a sprint. She slid to a stop upon reaching the vault, already beaten by two others. She shivered as she looked at the blade that lay on the floor, she could feel it's intent from here. She could feel it in her bones, The Everwatcher had been here.

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Farren arrived with hackles raised, trepidation like a mess of gnarled roots in her stomach. Upon entering, she saw with some relief the presence of Osuin, a Knight Pursuant. Someone that made even she, a Knight Sworn, feel safe for his mere steadfast presence. And with the residual metallic tang of burnished night in the air, she now felt anything but safe.

Her quick scan showed the vault to be empty except the two of them, for now, at least if those alarms had anything to say about it. Taking a deep inhale, she let the magic of the Wyld slough from her form like a warm cloak. Silver light danced across her skin and four legs became two, the Dusker standing up and rolling her shoulders back, stretching her neck side to side from muscles spent too long supporting a strange skeleton.

Even her tongue felt heavy, unused to speaking outside of the daydreams that captured many of her waking hours. But she swallowed heavily, oblivious to the running steps that joined them. For she finally noticed the fabled sword, unsheathed, and upon the ground.

Her voice felt too loud in the echoing vault as she spoke in a somber tone, "Please tell me this was an accident."

Osuin The Everwatcher Margot Triss

 

[Osuin]

Osuin remained still with downward gaze, even as two unknown others approached behind him. He could tell there were two, though he could only immediately identify Farren when she spoke.

"Please tell me this was an accident." She uttered, and Osuin finally turned to meet both her and Margot who had arrived along side her. The Knight Pursuant wished he could tell her it was so, but this was no time for fabrication. It's possible that there might be another explanation for the disturbance before them, were it not for the fact that this was a highly protected relic secured in carefully designed to protect it. If this was an accident, the sight would be chilling for different reasons entirely.

“It couldn't be so.” Osuin admitted, the tone of fret clear in his voice. There was little sign of what had left Blight Drinker laying upon the floor, but the mere fact that it was so spoke to a potential unseen threat that might steal it, or worse.

“It shouldn't ever be disturbed. It exists here for protection. Clearly, we've failed to provide it.” He explained, disappointed at the situation. They'd done their best, which meant that meeting the goal of properly protecting the relic carried the additional hurdle of discovering how to do so.

And they'd best discover quick, lest they be too late.

The Everwatcher Margot Triss Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Margot Triss]

The blade remained upon the ground, all three of them staring at it with different emotions cascading throughout the room. It shouldn't have been possible, but it happened. Margot looked to Farren, her form shifting in front of the other two with an ease that could be envied. Osuin was understandably upset, they all should be. If he could get in here, he could get in anywhere.

Margot bent, staring at the blade with intensity, her hand reaching out as if to grab it. "It's not safe here, it's not safe to travel with, it's not safe anywhere." Her voice trembled slightly, there was real fear in the lack of safety she had felt in her home. Out in the world, she knew that bad things could happen, this was different. "What do we do? It can't stay here. How can we keep it safe?"

Osuin Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Farren furrowed her brow and crossed her arms in thought. There should have been some warning, the fail safes should have at least activated before the infiltration. And yet, the evidence of their failure was all around them, in the nefarious quiet that settled around their shoulders like a yoke. It felt like a violation. That something so perverse had slithered its way into the place they called home.

A disturbing thought occurred to the Dusker, "Should we check the other vaults? If they could reach one, why not all?"

Osuin Margot Triss The Everwatcher