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10-The Betrayed
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 23:38:47 +0000 UTCArthur Decious- Church of Rembrand Initiates Prayer Room
Arthur knelt beside the holy altar of the bowing man, his hand clasped in supplication chest touching the cool marble floor just as the effigy beside him did. His mind was awash with conflicting emotions: excitement, pride, and most of all, fear, fear that he might fail. The archbishop, in all of his righteous wrath, had just announced another great crusade of the forsaken lands to purge the evil that lurked within and protect the innumerable villages skirting its borders. Arthur stretched his hands upward and summoned the new powers that Rembrandt had honored him with, the nearby candles flickering inward towards his will and the darkness nearby being banished from his sight.
He had just finished his ascension ritual marking the end of his holy tutelage under the church’s paladin order. The time had come, and he had kneeled before the great altar in the capitol, blinded by the merest fragment of his god’s will that was held there. He had expected, like every other man who knelt before him, to be offered [Warrior Of Rembrand](Uncommon) or if he had done enough, prayed hard enough to be graced with [Initiate paladin of Order](Rare). Either of those would have secured his future, either placing him within the army of the church or, if he was so lucky, under the direct tutelage of a paladin to follow in his footsteps. He hadn’t been offered either.
Instead, Rembrandt had blessed him with something nigh unheard of. A new path, a new destiny to be forged in his name. [Seeker Of light](unique) Arthur still didn’t understand why him, but he would do everything in his power to understand. This shocking upset sent waves through the church. The archbishop himself came to talk to Arthur. But Arthur left that conversation with more questions than answers. He was to be assigned to a paladin for the duration of the crusade. If he survived, he would be handed to an inquisitor for training.
Arthur shuddered at the thought of the inquisitor's figures that seemed more myth than man. They held utter sway, only questionable by the archbishops or the church’s head himself. There were only three of them in the church. Archons of Rembrand’s will. They had been chosen by two well-known criteria. Unwavering morals, unable to be bribed or swayed by coin or power, beholden only to their own morals. The second criterion was unquestionable, overwhelming power that could be challenged by only a few individuals on the planet.
Vraxious- The Forsaken Lands
Vrax danced across a smattering of stones in the brook ahead of him, alighting on the soft, moist grass of the opposite bank silently. He pulled his wet face covering off with a relieved sigh. He was finally out of the ashen stands. Thankfully the rest of his trip through the fire and smoke had been relatively uneventful. He had skirted a few more low-level ashbound creatures and managed to gather another patch of [Ember balm]. But the Voruk marauding through the trees had been enough to keep everything with a survival instinct shivering in a burrow. It was probably still back there tearing Ashbound apart by the dozen. Voruks weren’t the worst thing you would find in the forsaken lands, not by a far margin. But they were common and wide-roaming enough that that merchant party should have known stealth wasn’t optional if they weren’t equipped to deal with it. Most likely they vastly underestimated how dangerous one was in real life.
He shook himself from his musings; the sun was starting to cast long shadows over the forest, and the ruins of an ancient town were highlighted by the setting sun ahead. Vrax paused for a moment and then took a deliberate step forward. This brook was officially the farthest he had delved, so from here on it was all uncharted territory for him. A brisk jog up the sweeping, grass-covered hill nearby gave him a dramatic view of the ruins in the golden light of the setting sun.
They stretched across the horizon like the long-promised myths of old, mysterious and offering untold power, or more likely death. Stone buildings ranging from quaint cottages of cold stone to half-rotted manors presiding over their neighbors. It was all overgrown; climbing vines and sprouting flowers stretched from roof to roof, cascading down to the empty streets below. Innumerable creatures skulked across the vegetation on the roofs, using the long-forgotten homes of old as their new hunting grounds . A massive circular coliseum-like structure rose above it all in the distance. Framed from this angle by two blackened stone towers that seemed to scrape the clouds themselves.
Vrax was overcome for a moment by the sheer scale of it all. This was just a town on the edges of the old Elysium empire. What must their true capital be like, a city that was said to still be unmatched a thousand years later in scale and skill? Vrax wasn’t going into the ruins today, though. He was already pushing his luck far beyond what was wise by being here. He scanned for the mill that Feldwin had told him would make a decent bolthole for the night.
It was easy to find a set slightly outside of the town on this side of the river that ran between the town and Vrax. It stood on a stone foundation rising directly over the side of the river in all its dilapidated glory. All but one windmill prop had completely given in to the wear of time and rot. A tower jutted from the squat building holding the remaining windmill prop. The whole building sagged at a slight incline, the foundation having sunk a few feet into the loam of the riverbank. A long untended orchard sat overgrown, stretching out from the awning of the mill’s crooked door. Vraxious smiled when he saw why Feldwin had recommended this spot.
That sarcastic asshole. This is a decent enough spot. I can sleep in the tower, mostly clear ground around and separated from the ruins by the river. Vrax looked at the dozens of Devourers bopping happily along the orchard rows, their circular eyes trained on him already curiously. Vrax smiled and uncorked one of the foul-smelling concoctions that would prevent them from becoming hostile in his presence. And it has included guard dogs; this spot will do nicely for the night.
Vrax dodged under a rapidly spinning ball of fur as it tried to nuzzle against him again. He had settled into the top of the dilapidated tower and quickly found himself crowded. The curious Puffballs in the orchard had wandered up after him, and now he couldn’t even get a fire going without one of the little menaces running into him until he paid attention to it. There were probably ten of the damn things stuffed into the tiny tower loft with him right now. It was making getting settled in for the night awfully difficult. He gave up on making a small fire and sat on the edge of the balcony that faced downriver. Legs dangling loosely over the edge, he chewed on some of Martha’s bread and topped it with some of the enchanted cheese he had splurged on. Vrax could feel the day’s exertions washing away from his body as the rejuvenating effects of his meal swept through him in slightly warm waves.
He leaned back against one of the murderous puffballs that had seemingly fallen asleep floating right against his back, letting out a contented sigh as the last of the day's light faded and the colors of the night began to take shape. The darkness gave way slowly to dots of light throughout the forest. Luminous moss dotting trees in an eerie purple glow. Predatory plants winked rainbow hues, lures calling insects to their doom. Occasionally an entire swath of the forest would take on a rose-colored hue as a swarm of fireflies swept through on their nightly hunt.
Not that far into the distance, Vrax could clearly see the area Feldwin had mentioned as his destination. He had been hoping it would be easier to spot at night but didn’t dare hope it would be this startlingly clear. The occasional dots of light gave way just a few leagues from the tower downriver. The trees traded dappled greens and browns. For verdant blue and white, some kind of magical willows that almost beckoned him welcomingly with their ethereal glow. Jutting above the willows was the occasional towering mushroom, the haze from its spores creating a startling fog-like effect amidst the glow of the trees.
Absolutely stunning and probably filled with things that would rather eat me than say hello. That spore fog is concerning; there are an awful lot of horror stories from the deeper expeditions involving mysterious fogs and what hides inside. It could also just be poisonous as hell.
Vrax pulled out a few antitoxins just in case, letting his mask soak into one of the more wide-reaching ones he had brought. He made sure his health potions and jars of smelter moss were within easy reach along with his weapon. As ready as he could be for the morning, Vrax shuffled into the tower and leaned against a small, snuffling pile of Devourers, letting sleep take him.
Vrax followed the river right up to where the pines gave way to the overpoweringly magical foliage. A nearly crystalline butterfly the size of a melon gently alighted next to a sparrow in a nearby tree. Vrax glanced up in time to see half the sparrow drop from the tree, perfectly bisected. The butterfly was contentedly holding the sparrow's top half by the head, feasting. Vrax frowned but pushed into the willows ahead, parting a curtain of the glowing foliage with a gentle sweep of his hand. An almost electric tingle ran along his skin where he touched the tree. He cautiously passed through the light of a few more willows, coming to a stop with a small gasp.
Ahead lay a small ruin; he could see crystalline vines writhing up the sides of a house that looked like it was grown rather than built. Out of place among the glowing whites and blues of nearby trees and shrubs, this ancient building looked like a stout oak had been molded into the rough shape of a two-story manor. A flowing porch and balcony made of bent branches, the roof itself, the leaves of the oak, but layered unnaturally densely. The entire structure was covered in gashes and half-healed over burn scars. Vrax noticed several nearby trees looked to have been torn down years ago. The very ground here was churned as if collateral damage from an ages-past battle had shattered it. Everywhere he looked around this home were more signs of battle scars.
Vrax frowned, looking at a nearby tree that appeared to have been not cut down but broken in half. That didn’t look like it had happened ages ago. He cautiously approached the tree, still keeping his distance from the fantastical home. Crouching low, he inspected the tree; it had barely even started to rot. He couldn’t be sure if that was just some magical fuckery of the Forsaken Lands or not, but it looked like this had happened recently. Whatever was capable of this kind of devastation was probably still in the area. The house had a long, worn-down stone courtyard that a white stone path snaked away from, winding out of sight in the foliage. He would inspect the house later; for now, he still needed to complete this quest.
Vrax followed the trail. All along it, there were more signs of battle: uprooted trees and sections of the ground that had been heated so hot they bubbled and turned to glass. Every few hundred strides along the path was another home that had been grown in all different shapes and sizes. Most of them had suffered far greater devastation than the first he had discovered. Charred and torn apart as if someone had targeted them with fire and steel.
The hairs on Vrax's neck rose with every step he took. Goosebumps rose on his arms; everything about this place screamed danger to him. Finally, the trail led to another circular courtyard with a half dozen trails branching from it. A tree that once must have been majestic sat charred and blackened, reaching out as if for help in the center. An oppressive sense of sorrow lay across this place. Vrax froze as he heard the slightest whisper on the wind of something passing through the foliage ahead. He quickly glanced around, choosing the largest trail to the right; he practically fled down it until he found a large stone to take cover behind. He peered over the stone as something humanoid practically apparated into the center of the clearing; it was barely visible through the tapestry of leaves and stems ahead. Vrax silently used [identify] [Betrayed Spriggan Tier-3] (lvl28)
Vrax didn’t dare even breathe as he began crawling as fast and as quietly as he could at an angle off from the trail.
