The Glass Ninja
The High Tower's Guard
@Cashdash25 @Clairvoyance @admiral9 @Klimino Zepehphor @Beowulf @Leusis @Whisker
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Third Ward: City of the Gods
They huddled together beneath the pounding of the rain, their eyes dark and vacant. The spires rose around them as the gentle scent of blood was dampened by the falling water. The leader shuffled forward, its hands dripping red as he made his way through the city streets – the gaggle of cloaked figures behind it shuffling to keep up as they approached the heavy iron gate of the Third Ward guardhouse. A cry went up from the parapet that crowned the top of the slate grey building, and a flurry of arrows landed amongst them. The sun had begun to set, its red glint leaving the world as it sunk beneath first the outer wall, and then the horizon.
The leaders grin turned into a mass of teeth as it stared into the dark windows of the guardhouse, the masked guards drawing back their longbows to rain down death on the followers. Almost like some fleshly flower, the joints of the leader clicked and cracked as it spread out its arms wide to the guardhouse. Black claws burst from its fingers – the long snout its jaw had become mimicking that of its flock.
The captain of the guard let his eyes go wide, staring down on the force of monsters before his guardhouse. With a yell of fear he turned, fingers white knuckled around the hilt of his sword. Men rushed past him to the window, half clad in plate – many of them had been resting. His breath rushing from his helmet in a throaty growl as he charged up the inner stairs to the roof of the guardhouse. “Ring the bell! Ring the bell!” His fingers shaking, he grabbed a rushing archer by the shoulders. “Andalar, light the beacon, the Order must be warned!”
As the younger man ran off, fear in his eyes, the captain walked to the parapet. The street below was a mass of roiling black and gleaming silver eyes. A sudden hush stole over the street, almost the entire ward – the only sound the hammering of rain on armour and the hiss of arrows into the ranks below. As one the beasts raised their snouted heads to stare into the captain’s soul. He felt it shrivel up inside of him as they rushed forward.
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The Next Morning; the gates of Pellan:
The sodden ground squelched beneath the feet of the squires as they marched towards the mighty gates. A hundred feet high, still marred with the massive hammer blows and magical flame of the War of the City a thousand years before, they could see the fine craftsmanship of their original maker Pellan. The entire gate showed a figure of Lord Valen, standing with his arms wide above – the Star-Crown perched upon his brow. Beneath his long arms, the symbols of all the other gods stamped into the metal. Long gouges marked where the traitor gods had been stricken from the gate, by Pellan himself after the war was done.
At the foot of the gate, a long cloak of white upon his shoulders and contrasting starkly with the black of his plate armour, stood a knight of the mourners. His face mask was that of a weeping Brogaz, though he was very clearly human or Alindin. The warrior sketched a short bow to the squires, then spoke, his voice metallic through the filter of the mask. “Dear squires, it is my pleasure to welcome you to this, your final test. Soon you shall be dead” He paused, almost as if to smile “Or, you shall become knights of the Holy Orders.” There was a deep sadness to it, as almost all the knights of Valen did. With a twist on his heel, he beckoned them along with him. “Now, now, hurry. Through this gate here. Come along.”
The postern was far less impressive than the main gate, but it couldn’t be expected of the knights to open the great edifice for every group or visitor. The squires were led quickly through a long corridor, and into a hall. Long wooden benches sat by tables laden with food and drink, a fire roaring at the far end of the room. They were the only ones there, along with the mourner. “Now, why don’t you all settle yourselves in? After such a long journey to get here, a short break is in order. I shall find your guide” And with that, the strange warrior left them all to their own devices, and the company of people they had never met before.
(Feel free for your characters to speak amongst themselves. This is also a short opportunity for those who have yet to submit character sheets to get them in and join the party a little later – accompanied by a Mourner Knight of ill temper. This MUST be done before the party leave the starting hall and enter the city proper)
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[media]
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Third Ward: City of the Gods
They huddled together beneath the pounding of the rain, their eyes dark and vacant. The spires rose around them as the gentle scent of blood was dampened by the falling water. The leader shuffled forward, its hands dripping red as he made his way through the city streets – the gaggle of cloaked figures behind it shuffling to keep up as they approached the heavy iron gate of the Third Ward guardhouse. A cry went up from the parapet that crowned the top of the slate grey building, and a flurry of arrows landed amongst them. The sun had begun to set, its red glint leaving the world as it sunk beneath first the outer wall, and then the horizon.
The leaders grin turned into a mass of teeth as it stared into the dark windows of the guardhouse, the masked guards drawing back their longbows to rain down death on the followers. Almost like some fleshly flower, the joints of the leader clicked and cracked as it spread out its arms wide to the guardhouse. Black claws burst from its fingers – the long snout its jaw had become mimicking that of its flock.
The captain of the guard let his eyes go wide, staring down on the force of monsters before his guardhouse. With a yell of fear he turned, fingers white knuckled around the hilt of his sword. Men rushed past him to the window, half clad in plate – many of them had been resting. His breath rushing from his helmet in a throaty growl as he charged up the inner stairs to the roof of the guardhouse. “Ring the bell! Ring the bell!” His fingers shaking, he grabbed a rushing archer by the shoulders. “Andalar, light the beacon, the Order must be warned!”
As the younger man ran off, fear in his eyes, the captain walked to the parapet. The street below was a mass of roiling black and gleaming silver eyes. A sudden hush stole over the street, almost the entire ward – the only sound the hammering of rain on armour and the hiss of arrows into the ranks below. As one the beasts raised their snouted heads to stare into the captain’s soul. He felt it shrivel up inside of him as they rushed forward.
______________________________________________________________________
The Next Morning; the gates of Pellan:
The sodden ground squelched beneath the feet of the squires as they marched towards the mighty gates. A hundred feet high, still marred with the massive hammer blows and magical flame of the War of the City a thousand years before, they could see the fine craftsmanship of their original maker Pellan. The entire gate showed a figure of Lord Valen, standing with his arms wide above – the Star-Crown perched upon his brow. Beneath his long arms, the symbols of all the other gods stamped into the metal. Long gouges marked where the traitor gods had been stricken from the gate, by Pellan himself after the war was done.
At the foot of the gate, a long cloak of white upon his shoulders and contrasting starkly with the black of his plate armour, stood a knight of the mourners. His face mask was that of a weeping Brogaz, though he was very clearly human or Alindin. The warrior sketched a short bow to the squires, then spoke, his voice metallic through the filter of the mask. “Dear squires, it is my pleasure to welcome you to this, your final test. Soon you shall be dead” He paused, almost as if to smile “Or, you shall become knights of the Holy Orders.” There was a deep sadness to it, as almost all the knights of Valen did. With a twist on his heel, he beckoned them along with him. “Now, now, hurry. Through this gate here. Come along.”
The postern was far less impressive than the main gate, but it couldn’t be expected of the knights to open the great edifice for every group or visitor. The squires were led quickly through a long corridor, and into a hall. Long wooden benches sat by tables laden with food and drink, a fire roaring at the far end of the room. They were the only ones there, along with the mourner. “Now, why don’t you all settle yourselves in? After such a long journey to get here, a short break is in order. I shall find your guide” And with that, the strange warrior left them all to their own devices, and the company of people they had never met before.
(Feel free for your characters to speak amongst themselves. This is also a short opportunity for those who have yet to submit character sheets to get them in and join the party a little later – accompanied by a Mourner Knight of ill temper. This MUST be done before the party leave the starting hall and enter the city proper)