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The Rising Tide
Posted: 18 Jan 2005 03:48 PM |
It was cold that morning.
The kind of cold that hurts the lungs if breathed for too long. The kind of cold that, in a heartbeat, numbs feet and turns faces red. Being out in such cold for any length of time would mean death for the even the most prepared, yet Brother Riley waited without complaint.
Frost clung to the bare tree branches, a sharp reminder of the bitter freeze the night before. Smoke billowed from the small keep, a sign of activity that caused the nearby farmers to wonder who had taken residency. The keep had been abandoned for centuries until a year ago, and the farmers had feared some lord had arrived that would soon attempt to lay claim over the surrounding lands. But they had never been contacted, and soon the lack of demands from the keep had lessened their fears.
Brother Riley stood in the keep’s entrance arch. He wore several layers of clothing to keep the chill at bay, but his face and head were exposed, and he could feel his ears and cheeks already becoming numb. I hope he arrives soon. I do not…. His thought was interrupted by the sound of an approaching carriage. It is him! His mind raced through the checklist automatically. The living quarters were spotless. The kitchen was immaculate. The trainings were top-notch….yes, everything was in place.
The carriage stopped quickly, and a man in a voluminous, blood-red robe emerged. A copious hood obscured his face, but Riley had seen this figure before. He knew that this was the Preceptor.
The Preceptor spoke with a evenly, “Is everything prepared?” His voice carried equal parts command and menace, causing Riley to pause.
“The trainees are ready for your inspections, Preceptor.” The Preceptor walked past Riley and into the courtyard.
Hundreds of men and woman dressed in blood-red robes identical to the Preceptor's, minus the odd symbol on the Preceptor’s chest, moved to attention. Their ranks moved as one, causing an echo off the courtyard walls. The Preceptor kept walking, with Riley at his side.
“How many?” asked the Preceptor coldly.
“Five hundred, my lord, with this class. But we have already trained a thousand. They are all in advanced training, or...”
The Preceptor raised a hand, cutting off Riley. “I know where my pupils are, Brother Riley.” His voice sent a chill down Riley’s spine despite the already frigid air. “You promised more than this by now.” The gathered ranks crossed their arms in front of their chests as the Preceptor passed. Their arms returned to their sides after he had passed.
Brother Riley walked quickly to keep up with the Preceptor, “Training takes time, my Lord. To indoctrinate them, to teach them... we need more time.”
The Preceptor paused and turned to Riley. “Time is an luxury you no longer have, Brother Riley. I have come to personally oversee the final training.
“But, my Lord, what about your other obligations?” Riley’s mind raced. He is displeased with my service. What will happen?
Acid tipped the Preceptor’s words. “I will worry about my obligations, Brother Riley. You are not needed for that.” Riley nodded imperceptibly, fear growing in his stomach. The Preceptor began walking again.
They were nearing the entrance to the Keep itself when the Preceptor spoke again. “Double their training sessions. They must be strong, Brother Riley, if we are to move against our enemies.”
Riley nodded, “Yes, Preceptor. It shall be done as you say.” Is there to be no punishment for my failure then? The thought escaped before he could stop it.
The Preceptor seemed to hear the thought. “No, Brother Riley, you will not be punished. Yet. But this is your final chance. Fail me again, and you will be put to the Flame.”
“Yes, Preceptor,” Riley said quickly. Sensing he was excused, Riley departed quickly.
Double their training sessions? The trainees were already pushed to the brink! How could he do this? Riley ran through the daily training schedule in his mind, and was surprised to note already several areas where the training could be improved.
I will not fail the Preceptor, he thought desperately. We will be ready to move. We will restore justice. We will save our people.
He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind.
His word, Our Law.
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Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Rising Tide
Posted: 18 Jan 2005 03:48 PM |
| ((BUMP to main board)) |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Rising Tide - Call of the Righteous
Posted: 25 Jan 2005 12:46 PM |
His word is Our Law
The hum of the mantra was almost over powering. Over five hundred students were gathered for the evening devotions, their red robes drank in the rich hues of the sunset.
His word is Our Law
The Preceptor stood before the assembled host. He had stopped chanting a full five minutes earlier, choosing instead to stand back and witness the faith of his students. They were fast becoming a force, a true army he could use towards his purposes.
His word is Our Law
Soon, he knew, the red of the faithful will run like blood from a mortal wound. It will spill forth onto the face of Vives and be drawn into the land itself. Blood would be spilled before victory could be realized. In such things, blood always needed to be spilled.
His word is Our Law
The crowd’s fervor grew, and the chanting became louder. The Preceptor savored the intensity before raising his arm
HIS WORD IS OUR LAW!!
One final shout, and the crowd fell silent. The Preceptor spoke,
“My dear student, your time is near. You are the flooding river that rages unabated to the sea. You are the driving rain that washes the filth from the streets. You, my children, are the rising tide that cannot be stopped!"
He gazed over the silent crowed, “Be confident in your righteousness, and remember the truth you have learned here. For it is our holy duty to spread that truth to those who have lost their way. And by our actions, we shall wipe away the inequity of Man! We shall restore the pride of our people, and instill in them a sense of righteousness that has not been seen since ancient times!”
His voice dropped to a dangerous timbre, “To those that oppose us, we shall bring swift death. No mercy will be given; no quarter shown. The Sword of Righteousness is edged with gentleness and pain, with hardness and mercy. It is gilded in unyielding resolve created in the forge of this very keep. You shall be the crucible upon which all Men will be tested!
“Prepare yourself, my children. The time grows near. And soon, all shall know of your might.” The crowd did not cheer, but the Preceptor could sense their excitement. They are almost ready he thought as he walked away. Soon, the Truth shall be made plain. Soon, all that has stood before me will be wiped away.
He smiled, and gave thanks to the One that guided him. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Rising Tide - Called to Account
Posted: 28 Jan 2005 03:19 PM |
The only thing faster then a rumor is a rumor of a rumor.
-From the writings of Marcus Aristi (banned)
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*a discussion overheard on the streets of Midor, the White City*
“I heard there have been whisperings in the Law Courts recently.’
“So what? There is always whispering there.”
“No, no…this is serious. I heard it involves someone high ranking.”
“High ranking, you say? How high?”
“Almost to the top! I hear that a charge of heresy will be made.”
“Heresy? Near the top? Are you daft?”
“Just telling you what I heard……*whispers* Who do you think it could be?”
*whispers* “Only one person that high up deserves a good boot.”
“You don’t mean…”
“I do, and I’ll say it again. He has been nothing but trouble from the moment he stepped into office.”
“They love him, though…his ideas…
“His ideas are bunk! He thinks he is higher then he truly is.”
“Shh!!! You will be heard.”
“I am of the faithful. I have nothing to hide…..do you?”
“Of course not. But you speak of him as if…he is an enemy.”
“He is an enemy, to all that Midor stands for. If this is true, then it is about bloody time.”
___________
Be wary, child, for rumors are the vessel of heresy
-The Book of Midoran, 35:2 |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Rising Tide - Called to Account
Posted: 29 Jan 2005 12:22 AM |
The old knight stood on the other side of the market stall listening. A small smile spread across his wrinkled face as the conversation went on. After a while he put down the sword he was pretending to look at and nodded to the vender.
"Indeed", he whispered to himself as he walked slowly away,"it will soon be time to act." |
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Re: The Rising Tide - Called to Account
Posted: 29 Jan 2005 12:11 PM |
*Quin glides in amongst the crowd oblivious to people around him, just as they are oblivious to his veiled body, the conversation peaking his interest*
"People really should not gossip it is like a venomous contagion that builds like an uncontrollable storm. Soon it will be that the bishop is corrupt." |
Never argue with an idiot.
They drag you down to their level
and then beat you with experience.
Akril
Quinellieth. 20th Circle of the Order of the Ring |
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Re: The Rising Tide - News Flash
Posted: 29 Jan 2005 02:37 PM |
*The following has been published by The Midoran Post, a new newspaper published in Midor*
Conflicting reports have been filtering in from the Isle of Midoran. While the details are unclear, one fact is ever present. High Paladin Rayinor Liam seems to have fallen ill. Healers of the highest quality Midor has to offer have been unable to cure the High Paladin.
Perriand Goodmen, Chancellor of Paladins at the Academy of Midoran, offered very few comments. "The High Paladin is ill, yes. He is being treated by healers at this time," he said when asked about the High Paladin's condition. No further comment was offered by the Order of Midoran or the most holy Church.
Unconfirmed reports of said the High Paladin has already died. This the Order of Midoran and the Church deny vehemently.
If the High Paladin dies, it would be the second major loss for the Midoran government in the last year. Almost one year ago, Lord-Bishop Elwayn Baranams died. Her replacement, Lord-Bishop Vidus Khain, has been a dominant force in the reform of several policies within the Midor government, including security, foreign relations, and the expansion of the Clergy's power within the government. Some controversial actions by Lord-Bishop Khain have involved the suspension of the Conclave, the legislative body of Midor. To date, the Conclave still remains suspended until the the Church deems the current crisis, which started with the downfall of the White Bishop Merrick Fetter, has abated.
High Paladin Rayinor Liam is seventy years old. He has been High Paladin for over thirty years. He has served with distinction in the Kobold uprisings and the Goblin Incursions. He is one of the very few paladins that wield a holy avenger, a gift said to be from Midoran Himself to honor the piety and service of the High Paladin. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Re: The Rising Tide - News Flash
Posted: 03 Feb 2005 11:44 AM |
*The following is an excerpt from The Midoran Post*
Lord-Bishop Vidus Khain has ordered the almost half of the remains now resting in the Midoran Temple Masuoleum to be removed, citing his findings that the departed in question "...do not meet the minimum standard required for such an august internment."
This action violates at least one edict by the High Paladin, who is the Lord-Bishop's superior in the Midoran hierarchy. Some have charged Lord-Bishop Khain with taking advantage of the High Paladin's illness to promote his personal political agenda. The Lord-Bishop denys this, and states in a written leter that, "...the Truth of Midoran has never been clearer. The just and faithful see the rightness of my actions. To those that do not: I urge you to reexamine your faith. In times such as these, doubt is a luxary Midor cannot afford."
The remains will be interned in a small tomb outside of Midor until places at the Midor Crypts are prepared. Many within the Order of Midoran, including some paladins, have openly voiced distain at this action. "He is moving our brothers," says one paladin, who asked agreed to speak on the condition of annoymity. "Just look, and you will see that most those being moved are paladins that feel in the service of Midor. He is trying to erase the memory of our honored deadl."
Still others within the Church support the Lord-Bishop's actions. "He is a holy man," said one priestess of Midoran. "If he says they do not deserve to be there, who am I to argue? I trust that the Lord Bishop will guide it in wisdom and temperace, as he has always done."
-Maynard Callahan reporting.
((Please note the two seperate links above)) |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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The Rising Tide - To Live by the Sword
Posted: 08 Feb 2005 04:18 PM |
Riley could smell nothing as he bowed low before his master. This was nothing new, as his sense of smell had vanished when he was still a youth. Still, he reasoned, having no smell can be useful in some situations, like when I am bowing close to an unwashed floor Riley’s thoughts were not malicious, far from it, he loved his master as with a zeal equaled by few. His adoration for the Preceptor was matched only by his dedication to the cause that brought them together.
“Rise,” said the Preceptor slowly. Riley lifted his head and was rewarded by the sight of his master, now sitting in a large throne-like chair. The Preceptor wore a robe of simple yet elegant cut. It was red, like the others in the Keep, but trimmed in silver. “What news do you bring, Brother Riley?”
“The training is complete, Preceptor,” Brother Riley spoke with pride, even though he knew the Preceptor would berate him. ‘Pride,’ the Preceptor would say, ‘is nothing more then an invitation to failure.’ This time, surprisingly, the Preceptor said nothing. Rather, he smiled and motioned for Riley to continue. “We have three classes fully trained and another just beginning. They have met your requirements, Preceptor, and await your command.”
The Preceptor allowed himself a smile. “They are equipped, then?”
Riley looked confused. Of course they are equipped he thought. “They have sword and shield where necessary, Preceptor.”
“But are they equipped to become the new face of righteousness, Brother Riley? Are they prepared for the responsibility they are about to undertake?”
“They await only your blessing,” responded Riley. That was the key, of course. The Preceptor had to bless the warriors. Without that, the red clad warriors now awaiting the Preceptor’s blessing would be no better then common mercenaries. With the blessing of the Preceptor, however, came righteousness and justification, two vital components for the road ahead.
“Of course,” said the Preceptor. Riley turned to leave, but the Preceptor spoke once more. “And what of your previous responsibilities, Brother Riley? What of the boy?” The Preceptor’s voice had a dangerous edge. “The one that wears the armor.”
Riley flinched. He had heard of the boy, but he did not think much of it. Precious few knew the significance of that gold and black armor. “He is just a boy,” started Riley, sweat beading on his forehead.
“He already knows enough,” spat the Preceptor. “You will find him and bring him to me.” The Preceptor stood. “Use as many men as you can spare. The boy is not a threat yet, but he may become one.”
“Yes, Preceptor, it will be done as you command.” Riley bowed as he backed out of the chamber. Once outside, away from the weight of the Preceptor’s gaze, he slumped. The boy…where will I find the boy? He called out to two passing people. Both were decked out in the typical red robes of the recently trained class. They responded quickly to his call. “Report to your commander,” instructed Riley, “and tell him you shall be reporting directly to me now.” The two looked at each other, confused, but unwilling to question Riley’s orders. ”Find three others you trust. I have a special mission for you.”
The two men rushed off, and Riley walked away, lost in thought. He is just a boy anyway. The color of his armor…it could be a coincidence. But why would the Preceptor be so concerned? Riley entered his room still pondering his new task. He lit the lamp on his study and sat, his arms steepled in front of him. The armor... gold and black, both ancient and meaningful, he could not get it out of his mind. He had seen that armor once before, but he had not known the significance then. He had seen it in the manor of Jochim Lorian. Riley had set put the Lorians’ manor to the torch, removing the last of his line. He had seen the armor displayed, but thought nothing of it. It was only later, when the Preceptor told him what the armor truly was, that Riley realized his mistake. Still, Jochim Lorian was dead, and his manor burned. The Preceptor believed another survived, but Riley had not been able to find him.
The boy wearing the armor must have found it in the remains of the manor, Riley reasoned. He could not be an heir of Lorian.... Satisfied with his logic, Riley took a fresh piece of paper and began writing the instructions to the men who would be seeking the boy. Part of him felt sorry for the boy; after all, if he truly did find the armor by chance, he would have no idea who hunted him. And the boy truly was related to the elder Lorian, well…Riley was not known for showing mercy towards the enemies of the Preceptor.
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Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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