Fantasy The Knightly Orders of Byarla

[The Glass Ninja]

@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.


______________________________________________________________________


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)

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar Vedric stood a few steps away from the others, an outsider in more ways than one, he had stayed quiet since encountering his companions, saying nothing and keeping his distance. He could feel them even now, taking sidelong glances at him when they thought no one was looking, looking at his tattoos and brandings, "They know," He thought to himself, "They all know what I am, what I've done." Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind he moved away from the group, quietly taking a seat at a table on the far side of the room, placing his hands on the table before him and waiting.

 

[admiral9]

Taenaran was meekly following along as the group entered the great hall, he was rather new to this stuff and all the armored and sword wielding people rather scared him. The man that stood out though was the baldy, he had a great variety of tattoos on his skin in addition to his large repertoire of scars, Taenaran's interest was peaked but regrettably enough the man separated from the group as they were left to their own devices, hoping to make a friend or two in the process of becoming a knight he decided he should start a conversation.


Making his way to where the baldy was sitting he started out with an introduction. "Greetings, I am Taenaran Westris, a squire of the protectors of the garden, how do you do?" Taking it slow he needed to figure to what kinda person he was talking, the question could not be appreciated for all he knew the man was a felon. Now this would most likely not be the case if he was a squire but one should always take the uncertain into account.

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar was quite taken aback at the forwardness of the extravagantly dressed man, no one ever approached him so directly, it took him a moment to compose a response. "I, am well." He said after a moment, his voice neutral, lacking emotion. "Yourself Squire Westris?"

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

Maed stood tall above most of his companions, a fact he hoped wouldn't be to inconvenient given his role when it came to combat, but one he would simply learn to work around.


as everyone entered the room, he quite casually went over to the table and with a loud "whack!" put down his Scorpion onto the Table, before sitting down before it and taking out his tools, as he started looking it over and making adjustments here and there.


"so me fellow lads-and one not so lad like- whos ready ta join the dead gods upon the plains of death come this time next week? no burial, no one to mourn you." he looked up at the crowd around him, a extremely serious expression on his face-


before he suddenly let his face contort into a wide grin and started a hearty but short laugh.


"oh but dont look so glum like that, you wouldn't be here if you wanted to live after all!"

 

[Soviet Panda]

Buras had his iron tome firmly tucked under one arm, and determined to keep it with him. These people were not Invokers, they did not deserve the power that his and his own could summon. In theory, anyone could say what was in his grimoire and successfully perform the spells that it contained. Fools spouting spells was not a ideal for the world. So, that is why he kept his close to him when he went out traveling. That, and you never knew when you'd need it. And since they'd be heading out soon, him and his companions, he was fully geared up in his plate male, warhammer at his side. He didn't have a helmet on, however. A simple leather head band signifying that he was a squire of the Invokers took it's place. Plus, the limited view that the helmet would give made it hard to read.

 

[admiral9]

"Well I'm doing quite great of course, I serve the great goddess of the garden, no greater pleasure." He took a breath and with a friendly smile continued talking. "And what is your name then, if I may ask." Taenaran was rather confused as to why the bald man had gone around the most basic rules of etiquette meaning he would now have to inquire to the most base part of acquaintance, the name.

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar hesitated a moment, still taken aback by the man's curiosity. "Vedric," He said at last, "I am Squire Vedric." He subconsciously reached to cover the brand on his right hand, before realizing what he was doing and removing his hand. "No." He thought, "I will not hide what I am, I must bear the shame of my past." "Do you require something of me Squire Westris?" He asked, seeking to distract himself from his own thoughts.

 

[admiral9]

"Ah vedric it is then!" Taenaran happily exclaimed as he was now finally put into a situation where he could move on to more meaningful conversation, and his question could finally be answered.


"Well you see, my interest has been peaked by your large assortment of tattoos, I've never seen such a large arrangement and they do make me wonder if there is any deeper meaning to them, they do look rather striking after all, in a good way of course." He inquired, the man seemed to look rather troubled and it made him wonder if maybe this wasn't the right time to talk, hopefully the man didn't take it the wrong way, he did seem rather inexperienced in conversing.

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar's mouth hung open slightly as he processed this revelation, "He doesn't know? I never considered that to be a possibility." Realizing how he must look he closed his mouth and swallowed, looking down at his hands as he composed himself. It took him a few moments to prepare a response, not looking up from his branded hands as he spoke, "They, are a, a record, of my crimes." He began, breathing deeply, forcing himself to answer the question, "A record of sins I have committed, and sentences I have served. Etched, or burned, into my skin so that they can't be hidden." Images flashed through his mind, men he had killed, things he had stolen, prison guards, cell bars. He found himself tracing the M burned into the back of his right hand as he spoke. "They are proof of my shame, the burden I must bear, until death absolves me."

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

"bah!" Maed Chimed in suddenly, before giving another burst of laughter and turning to look at the once Prisoner.


"why should you feel bad about the crimes you have committed? we sit here ready to enter a graveyard of GODS, the very Pillars of Morality and Nature. they lay dead and soon shall we. there was never any chance at redemption because you have taken no life that wasn't already doomed to worthless death."


He kept his smile wide as he chuckled a little bit as he finished his little speech. "it always amuses me when people try and act like life means anything and that their sins hold any weight."

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar scowled at the Aedyr, anger and disgust playing across his face as he glares at the tall warrior, "You may believe that, but the God of the Damned still lives, his judgement awaits us all." He returned his gaze to his hands, "Some of us are not looking forward to the meeting."

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

Maed laughed.


laughed so hard he fell out of his chair. after properly righting himself upon it, he smiled at the Past Prisoner and shrugged.


"the God of Death lost his claim to me long ago. when i die there is less for me then whatever is left for others. no, for you see, i am already dead, my existence is a falsehood, and when i die it shall mean nothing, even compared to such a death as your own, hah!"

 

[admiral9]

Taenaran was once more surprised, aside from the socially inept Athalar, another truly base character had involved himself in the conversation, this time cutting into it without any proper introduction or manners, he was not sure in what world these people were raised in but it was not one where he ever wanted to be.


"Let us calm ourselves friends, what we all forget is the beauty in life, Athalar, you are atoning as you say are you not? That is a great thing, all crimes can be atoned for and even then can one experience the beauty of life through merely a different lens. I would not involve myself with the nonsense spewer, ignoring the greatest gift imaginable and calling himself dead, surely he is merely misguided." Taenaran did not like the thought of such heretical words corrupting normal men, even less so coming from a monster carrying around such a massive weapon.

 

[Klimino Zepehphor]

"misguided?" Mead pulled on his grayed, withered hair with a chuckle, and pointed to his eyes.


"i am but 19 my friend, despite what my looks would perceive. if you do not know who or how the Followers of Dathmirthil are created, then i will leave you to your deluded blissfulness. life is something we should strive to continue, aye, but to deny it is a weak, withering flame that only grows weaker as time continues is to deny the obvious. if it was so strong, then why do so many of those who granted it lay dead, why do the knights still need to exist, and fear the darkness, if not for how easily it could snuff out our little flame?"


he shrugged.


"i tend to not delude what little life i can say i hold with lies of beauty, id suggest you learn now to do the same, before reality does it for you."

 

[The Glass Ninja]

"No one knows what death brings, but old Hasten bled on that gate above us and I doubt very much that death may die." The mourner was back, the sad lilt of his voice seeming to fill the hall. The long cloak had been shed, and the mask replaced with a helmet with only two thin slits for his eyes. "I am Captain Grint, you know my order. All of you up and follow - this will be the beginning of the worst few weeks of your life."


He paused, glancing at Mead "Or...unlife, if you choose to look at it that way. Your kind are always strange." Without further ado, the knight had turned and marched away down the corridor from whence he came, obviously expecting them to follow. Some eagerly, some broodingly, and all with the dread of their training's eternal truth burning in their hearts; that darkness would face them here. They all went along. The grimy old corridor, its paved floor worn smooth by countless booted feet, eventually opened out into a long street running parallel to the great wall, a pair of mourners standing guard by the entrance dipping their halberds in salute as the squires passed. Grint led them quickly through the marble and gold of the buildings around them, each reaching fifty feet into the air or higher - the shortest of the cities buildings. "This is the tenth ward, your starting place. We mourners live here, each building for us - and our families. You will probably have to reach at least the fifth ward to find your objective..."


The warrior paused, before stopping very suddenly and stepping close to the Aedyr Invoker - Buras. Even though he was only a human, and thus much shorter, the knight seemed to project a presence that dwarfed all of the party. "But if you go farther than the second ward, do not return. Kill yourselves, every one of you. Especially you" His armoured hand shot out to point towards Athalar "Your god once had the dark in his heart, and you will fall to the fell evils of that place. Even we mourners go there rarely." The sadness was gone, replaced by intensity bordering on rage. "As you go, our patrols and safe-havens will become less frequent. We only have two guard houses in the third ward, and one in the second. Enter no house marked with a black x across the door...and for the love of all that's holy don't touch anything that doesn't have the symbol of a pure god upon it."


His tirade done, he turned away again, almost as if indecisive. His steps hesitant at first, he started walking again, soon leading them to a long flight of steps. "Up there, is the great bridge. It leads directly to the eighth ward, but you can enter the ninth if you like; most artefacts have been scoured. Any questions before I leave you all to it?"

 

[Soviet Panda]

"Which way to the Inner Wards?" Buras asked, clutching his iron tome to his side. It was no use looking around in the outer wards, they had already been picked clean by everyone before them. And what was left would most likely be small and hold little if any power to it. It would be much easier if they didn't wander around and go straight for the inner wards. No doubt this task would be done much quicker if they chose this route. But then again, more dangerous things would be there. Ones that would take several simple incantations to kill. Going alone wouldn't be a good idea, but going with a group would only lengthen his stay here simply because they'd be looking for one for everyone in the group. It was a give and take thing, join a group to decrease the likelihood of being killed by a creature but stay longer. Or don't join a group and find an artifact faster but be at more of a risk of being killed by a monster. Decisions decisions.

 

[Cashdash25]

Athalar shook his head, having nothing to say he stepped to the side to wait for his companions.

 

[admiral9]

Taenaran absorbed this information but he wasn't sure what to decide using that information, he cared not where they started as long as everyone survived until the end, and maybe had some fun in the process too.


He decided that causing internal strife would currently hence not be handy and so he just positioned himself close to the human who spoke first, silently agreeing but not much more.

 

[The Glass Ninja]

"As I said, Invoker, across the bridge." The Mourner glanced up at the Aedyr, shaking his head. "You must remember that haste is not in your best interest. The mandatory two weeks inside the city was spawned from acolytes finding their blessings easily in the tenth and ninth wards - until they were stripped of artefacts for rituals outwith this cesspit of evil. Stand by your fellows, and good luck"


The captain left, leaving them to stare up the wide steps that led onto the long smooth paving of the bridge, stretching across the five miles of the 9th ward. Steps on either side, at regular intervals led down into the ninth, and a great arch stood as the entrance to the eighth circle of the city. They knew from limited maps they had been allowed to study that the city broke into a warren of streets in the eighth that they would have to navigate. They simply had to make the decision of precisely where to go.

 

[Cashdash25]

"Well then," Athalar said as the Mourner departed, "We have time to spare and I'm in no hurry to meet Yiggar, I vote for the Ninth." Better to start off slow he felt, work there way into the city with care. He shuffled under the gaze of his companions, uncomfortable with the attention he had attracted by speaking.

 

[Soviet Panda]

"Why not push further? Odds are that there will be little to no artifacts in the outer levels." Buras said as he stared out across the bridge. "The eighth ward would be just that little bit more dangerous, and with it a little bit more chance of finding artifacts of any worth. If you wish to start slow, then by all means dawdle about in the ninth ward. We can find the artifacts in the inner wards, then spend the rest of our time in the relative safety of the outer wards." And the narrow streets of the eighth ward could be used to his advantage. Whatever monster they would encounter would have little to no room to dodge a fireball thrown at it. And if they had time to set up traps, there would be no chance what so ever that the creature would be able to step around it.