A Land Far Away

[held]

Breathe…breathe…

He grimaced at the Blacklar Gate guardsman who hurled friendly abuse at him as he ran passed.

Not surprising. He was running around Silverymoon, in a chain hauberk, and this was his third lap. Not the behaviour of a sane man perhaps, but Nathaniel expected that the Rheyster Matins on the hill the people of the Gem were used to Lathanderites doing such things.

He was starting to hurt though. His breathing beginning to get ragged.

He ran when he could, carried the heaviest of swords or halberds on duty and even volunteered his time carrying granite for bemused stonemasons constantly repairing the huge city wall. The joy of feeling strong and being able to embrace life was reward enough, but the edge it gave him in his training for the Knights was a bonus. But facing facts…he wasn't a dwarf able to hard march for a tenday without rest.

Yes….definitely starting to hurt. Legs wobbled, head beginning to lean forwards.

He rounded the wall out of their great shadow and Dawns rays struck his face.

My Lord……

The pain fell away, the air in his lungs became sweet and his legs felt strong once more.

He accelerated away from the gate….smiling.

"I am sorry. I know the two of you were friends of a sort."

Nathaniel knew of course. The loss of a person who took his mission to aid the Marches beyond the walls and into the wilds was not uncommon. But the failure of Brandt to return after so long, and the letter from the priestess of the Moonmaiden seeking news, confirmed within reason the fate of his sometime friend and room mate at Rhyster Matins. "Yes Sir. Brandt was a good man. We had...much in common both here and in our training for the Knights."

The Dawnspeaker looked at him closely, studying almost. "Indeed. There is something about the both of you..." he then waved it away. "Do not mourn Brandt, Nathaniel. Our Lord has embraced his soul. And From death...", he gestured Nathaniel, "..life. "

"I understand from Father Douglas that you still chafe to follow Brandts path to a more...active prosecution of the Morninglords will beyond Silverymoon.

"Yes Lord." he said simply. "I feel it is my path to do our Lords work, and my duty to Silverymoon and the Marches." The dawnspeaker frowned ever so slightly slightly at Nathaniels talk of duty, he always did. While the churches of Lathander and Torm were allies in Silverymoon, it did not mean the high priest wasn't above a little nervousness given the importance Nathaniel placed on duty. Inherited from his father no doubt.

"It speaks well of your devotion that you have resisted that urge and given yourself the time to revel in dawns glory and inspiration. I both feel and see your love of our Lord plainly writ on your soul now., the Dawnspeaker continued, "You are truly become his soldier"

"I've spoken to the Knights, Nathaniel, and we are agreed. You are capable in both arms and in soul to now aid this grand new endeavour of the Silver Marches best by looking beyond the church and training ground and into the dangers facing good folk beyond. We both feel that the excellent reports from allies across the Marches from the small band Brandt had taken up with warrants continued support and that perhaps you are the person to do so at this time. Of course as a Knightly aspirant you will need to discuss with your commander in the Knights in Silver how a wider role will fit with your continued training, but you may take my blessing to leave your studies here at Rhysters for this gallant purpose."

Nathaniel nodded but said little. So pleased to be able to now do what he had felt ready for for so long.

"Go now with the Dawns blessing, and speak with your Commander, and then find this lady of the moon and her companions and embrace this new beginning for your life. Last word, she was in the town of Rivermoot....." he handed Nathaniel the letter.

He was finally to go forth.

He pawed over the map.

"Don't paw over the map Nathaniel"

He looked up at the Master of the Maphouse who was on the other side of the room looking the other way (how had he seen him?) and snatched his hands back.

"Or at least wash your hands first"

Sitting next to him Bark, as the one-armed ranger called himself, chuckled. Almost as old as the Master of the house the two old men seems familiar with each others company and Nathaniel wondered of perhaps the detail of these maps of the frontier were in fact due to a partnership between the two old men. Certainly Barks knowledge was extraordinary.

Elise did not smile, but then she was engrossed in the map and in her element. Another recruit he was training alongside, asking this acolyte of the Red Knight to help him strategies about the goblin incursion was a little like asking a dragon if it liked gold.

"So what are you doing this for anyway again "recruit"" asked Bark "This be the work of your higher ups I'd have hazarded a guess."

Nathaniel opened his mouth to reply but Elise cut in...eyes never leaving the map.

"His additional training includes working with irregulars who are fighting the goblins, just as mine is assisting the quartermasters mustering the army" said the enthusiastic Red Knighter, "Maybe they see him as a future Knight Errant. Either way it shows great wisdom to understand the terrain, carefully plan for eventualities, and tailor an adaptable tactic that will succeed against great odds, but also nest within the strategy as ordered by the Legion."

Bark rolled his eyes.

"Yes..well indeed", said Nathaniel, "Several raids have failed to drive them off and Forthpeak is a long way from the chain of command. If we do not have with us a ranger or knowledgeable scout we could fail to achieve anything without knowing where to target, and at worst...get lost!".

"Not just metal in yer head then." Bark creaked like old leather as he leaned forwards "Well lad we've talked for a good candles-time so you know what i can tell. As we said you can see on the map that these here here and here are the only passes in so they coming from one of those. So far as i know, there are caverns that run deep her, here and here...and an old dwarven ruin that in all my years i've not seen opened....*his finger dragged south* here.

Elise said pointing at the passes "It is unlikely that they come from the glacier as it's too cold as Bark explained. And obviously Rivermoot and Mithrall Hall. So I would suggest that the caverns should be your priority. Remember goblins will be able to see in the dark so magic or torches a plenty will be needed. It may be that noone knows how far those tunnels go so also remember to retreat and return rather then forge on unwisely"

"Well if Lathander wills it we shall find the source of the scourge. But it may be up to greater swords than mine to then end it" Looking over to the corner where the Maphouse master sat at a desk facing the other way Nathaniel asked "May I take this map?"

"No. There is paper and ink in the corner. You may copy it." Said the Maphouse master.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

"Now you will also leave a donation"

Bark chuckled.

((Good job))

"Morninglord witnes...woah!"

He trod on a skull and almost fell over. This was not like the training ground. Then the monster was upon them.

He took the front. This was his place. His lightly armoured companions arrayed behind him and flanking the beast, he needed to draw it to attack him to protect them.

He managed to duck the first axe and cut into the giant bugbears side, grinning behind his helm.

The world then turned over, things went quiet except for that high ringing sound, and red lights flew around his vision as he stared up at the ceiling......

It is amazing how the rocks form such needle points that hang from the ceiling of caves like a tourney lance. From this angle directly below the similarity was striking as he had indeed seen such a lance pointed at his head more than once. This looked a little sharper however and he hoped that it was made fast to the roof. How do you think they are made like that?

......the fog in his head lifted to a bellow of pain from the bugbear reeling back with slingshots hitting his face, but moreso the cool white balm flooding through him as Lili brought down the Moonmaidens blessing upon him.

Hauling himself up he charged in again as the creature turned on his diminutive friends who were doing their own good work on the creature. "HERE!!"

Axe. Catch on shield (gods that jarred...is it broken? no...but shift feet)
Club. Step back. (ohh, I didn't see that before..no doubt it will cost me a few silvers to have my helm beaten out)
Jab! (Yes!...damn, shallow only)
Club again..quickly (brace...thump..."Arggh!" below the shield...the legs gone..ignore the pain...fall to a knee, not to the ground "Lili!" need to finish this soon)
(look the beast is turning...stabbed from the side by Dhar and the others!)
Surge and swing! (Lathander strengthen my arm!...yes!!...into it's chest deep! it falls!!)
(I can fall now)

Again the cool healing as Lili crouched next to him holding his head and murmuring words of prayer. Strange...the healing evoked a feeling of the moon in his head, but it tweaked something unexpected deep inside...still, it worked and he was helped up bowing to the young Priestess (who was fast becoming a friend).

"Throwing yourself in like that. I'm impressed, you're starting to remind me of Brandt " said Dahrthmec

He could not help the smile. Pride is not always a sin.

The statue of Torm, flanked by fierce marble lions, towered above his bowed head .

It was his duty. Yes the townsfolk yearned for something glorious amongst the darkness of these days. Perhaps they did just want someone, someone like him he thought ruefully, full of Dawns grace and the confidence of heroes of olde to walk amongst them smiling, and lend a hand to their endevours great or small. To bring light to scared hearts. But he could not provide them succor.

He had barely had time to see to his own devotions...and to run and train. To run until his body burned, and the trueness of life at it's peak fired his soul. No..no running when time was spent trudging the muddy trails of the north seeking out the next denzion aside his trusted companions.

This is what he did for them. They wanted a "hero" amongst them, but they needed a soldier beyond their sight.

It was his duty. Just as it was his fathers. He looked up into the chapel arch. Dear Torm, I hope he serves you now above. He would have wanted nothing more. And now I ask that you lend your gaze to your brother of the Morning and aid the tasks I do.

He stood, bowed of a hand covering his heart, then left the chapel. The Tormtar nodded to him as he passed the apse towards the door of the church, the priests several acolytes however stared questioningly at the trappings of Lathander adorning Nathaniels armour. Why was this man within the Chapel of the Lion? At the inner sanctum of Torms faithful?

He smiled. They didn't understand.

He frowned. Did he?

Yes. It was evening after all. Far from Dawn............it often was.

It was inevitable.

He had not been able to follow the "negotiation", for want of a better word. And honestly had blocked his ears to the whispered words of Dharthmec who was translating the tense discussion between Commander Ironbeard and the Lizard champion.

They had battled, no, slaughtered, maybe a century of lizardmen on their way to this dark, stench-filled cavern. Corpses strewn across the foothills draining blood into the rivulets that would soon join the great river.

He felt sick for it. He knew that he did the right thing for the folk of the vale who had fled from the lizards. But at a grander scale, was this really the creatures fault? No.

He felt sick for it. It had begun as an honorable fight, but as the Commander and sundry others had joined the fray the tables were so heavily in their favor that their most recent work bordered on execution rather than noble defense of the realm.

Now, when the leaders of the warband were found, towering above them all and threatening life and limb, the negotiation began. But no negotiation was going to wipe that slaughter from the minds of such primal creatures.

And to with roars the lizards charged the band of adventurers and soldiers.

After all, it was inevitable.

There was no fear. Not anymore. Lathander held it from him always. That at least was a start.

Chants reverberated through the air and magic seared past him as Arizma and lesser mages let fly a barrage of wizardry and the getteral chants of shamans fired rages in the lizards. The whistle of arrows and spears from both directions spoke of the enviable darksight of both elf and lizardman.

He allowed a short glance to the right. Commander Alyra and arrayed beside her others held the Cntre and right, the lode to the lizards wrath and their champions.

He stood the left. Alone? No the scuffle of light feet behind him spoke of Will or Dhar, no doubt daggers ready to gut and cut around him.

And then they were upon him. Two of the smaller and faster kind. They need to be dealt with quickly as the larger breed were son upon them.

He had their measure and they were dispatched with long sword, shield bash and the quick blades of a smaller shape to the back.

The berzerkers then joined him at pace. Behind a raised shield he braced for the first blow of a greenskinned creature who had launched into the air for an overhand blow from seemingly 30 yards away. Gods. It landed heavily...face first...with 2 arrows through it's neck.

It is the stolen moment of clarity in battle that guide a soldiers personal tactics. A frozen moment showed the exceptional arrows quality and the colorful fletching. Elven.

Time sped up once more. And he moved two steps to the left to make them come at an angle and open the lizards flank to the unknown archers fire.

Perhaps twenty moments of dueling with the next lizardman brave. It seemed like 20 minutes as it always did when fighting another one on one, the opposite to the seeming acceleration of time when you were outnumbered he mused to himself afterwards.

The shield was ripped from his arm painfully as the Lizards axe caught the inner edge. Thank god for hooks and not straps or his arm would be broken. The wild swing allowed a deep thrust from bent knees into the lizards belly bringing him almost face to face with the lizard. Sharp teeth snapped at him once, twice and then fastened onto his shoulder. Pain, pressure...but no cut...the chain held. The bite loosened and become flowing red as he twisted the blade inside the beast.

He headbutted the dying creature to get it off. He'd seen a burly fighter in Fourthpeak do as much and it was impressive. Sadly, he was not that fighter and perhaps lizardmen have harder heads than orcs. His head swam and he used his sword as a makeshift walking stick to stay upright while it cleared....

....only to be launched backwards into the wall by a blow of extraordinary strength that was fortunately poorly placed on an armor strong point and therefore didn't break anything. His longsword and shield gone he grabbed Duty's Bond, his fathers greatsword, which he had rested against the cave wall just in case. It was just in case time.

Heaving himself forward he looked at his new opponent. Looked up,. And up, and up.

Lizard or dragon with a humanoid body?

Irrelevant. This was his flank to guard. He would not bend, even if it meant breaking.

"Lathander witness!!" and he charged forwards bringing the long blade in a sweeping arc that 'thocked' into the armored side of the giant creature and brought forth a gurgling roar of pain and anger. Pain, pressure...but no cut...bu the lizards thick thick chain held. Typical.

He stepped back and brought the blade up to parry the greataxe as it swung down. And he did...ending up on his knees and looking at the moon crescent blade inches from his face...he slid the axe to the right then stepped in and jabbed the greatsword into it's leg holding the blade halfway down in his chain gloved shield-hand. Blood at last!! the creature howled and easily kicked him back three paces struggling to breath around no doubt cracked ribs.

Then arrows pierced the monster as a figure with blonde hair and a sword moving in fast deadly movements cur into it. Alyra. It seems Nates flank was the last to be pacified.

The giant fell backwards streaming trails of blood.

It was done.

Gods he hurt......

He watched her with a gentle smile on his lips.

Of course Lili was great fun, attractive, and had saved his life more than once. But he smiled this eve at the sight of her with the villagers she had seemingly adopted as her own.

The children adored her that was clear. For months now she had played with them, counseled the in their fear, brought small things and countless other small things to lighten their small hearts in a dangerous land. It was also no surprise to see a few of their mothers also smile and laugh with Lili after the time she had spent with them all this season past as a friend, adviser, comfortor. Not least protector.

It was similarly no surprise there were few men in the small throng around her (through they also smiled as they watched their children and wives with her as they themselves held her in no small esteem. The Moonmaiden is a mysterious goddess and close to women in even more mysterious ways afterall.

Noting a few fire-lit faces peering at him he smiled to the slightly older lads, and lasses, who looked at him with aspirations in their wide eyes. Some shyly looked away, one girl smiled bravely if not defiantly back making him chuckle. He knew it was the reflected glory of his Lord Lathander at which they gawked, a gods soldier is afterall not a common sight in such hamlets. But perhaps some prideful part of him thought the hours of training and care of his person had just the tiniest part to play.

Watching Lili made him muse on the sometimes blurry line between priest and "paladin" as some are wont to call those like him who chose to be the sword for their gods. Theologists in any church would give you their correct (but always differing slightly from the next) explanation. But here played out it was perhaps clearer. These goodfolk may respect, admire, follow and even adore him and those like him. But he remained outside. Lili....Lili was one of them.

His smile broadened as he saw the old Priest of Tyr frown hard at the scene before stomping back into his temple. Did he see two people who fought regularly for his people? or two competitors for hisflock? One day, one of The Maimed would realize justice need not require such unending severity and send forth a jovial Cleric of Tyr. He chuckled. Perhaps on the day his Lord would not stride into the sky on the east!

A horn sounded from the north and he stood quickly, looking to the hills and absently resting a hand on the pommel of this sword. A quick glance showed Lili reassuring a frightened girl as the villagers cleared the town square, but throwing a worried glance his way. A moment later the door to the tavern opened and out came a dwarf, gnome, halfling blinking in the bonfire light.

A second horn blast. Lathander....hurry your race to the sky, my Lord it seems we will not rest this night. Torm...watch those who do their duty. Selune...your daughter walks with us this night, watch her and be proud.

A wolfs howl. His heart sank.

The mud-splattered knight-aspirant lept off the horse and left it to the handlers as he strode into the Knights Fortress and to Sgt Shatterstave.

"Sergeant!" Nathaniel Ward saluted.

*a rueful sigh* "You don't salute a Sergeant Ward. Now we are you treading mud through my hall. Did we not complete our training on 'cleanliness'?"

*a chuckle from the Knights lounging nearby*

"Yes Sergeant", he wavered slightly from tiredness", It's just that I rode hard from Quavarr with first hand reports of a Banite priest subverting the common folk and thought........"

The Sergeant had held up a hand for silence. The chuckling around the room had stopped abruptly and Nathaniel saw a number of hard glances exchanged.

"You'd better come and de-brief the Lord-Commander." The Sergeant led him through to the Grand-Commanders office. The great Knight, awesomely impressive even out of his armor, looked up from the desk.

((if she was there- Commander Ironbeard sat across the desk and also turned in suprise))

"Yes?" The Sergeant stepped back and indicated Nathaniel to speak.

"Sir. I have just now returned from Quavarr following the fleeing Lizardfolk that headed north. In the town I met with a John Walker of whom I'm sure your reports have included. We overheard the commoners arguing about a 'Sir Stool', an openly Banite priest."

A fraction of a frown. "Go on. In detail, aspirant."


"It seems this foul servant of the Tyrant is both eloquent and useful. He has a large part of the township, and surrounds as more come to listen, agreeing that the Legion is unable to protect them any longer. He has armed the common folk inciting them to take to their own defence. He provides training to them. And speaks sweet words of self reliance and safety from strength by taking his aid. He also, however, preaches more subtly the supremacy of man and the subjugation of other races. This does mean that some of the non-humans there are fearful. Some, but not all. Many are scared and his vision is succour to them. I spoke to these commoners without armor or my allegiance showing and I believe they were honest"

The frown deepens. "He is alone?"

"No Sir. John, with a lady Vila and her bodyguard Gerald went to here one of his sermons. Inside they found the priest accompanied by at least ten guards and a lady in robes, possibly a mage. From Johns description there were over 30 common folk clearly in his thrall as well. And rising apparently. Here is a scetch of the house he uses in QUarvarr drawn on Johns description. I trust the half-orcs word in this My Lord"

"You did not go yourself?"

"No Sir. The Dawnspeaker of my church is able to sense a black heart. I have felt recently a stronger...commune...with my Lord Lathander of late. As such I felt it wise to remain distant in case the reverse was true and this Sir Stool reacted poorly to the potential threat I could have posed...meagre as it is."

The slightest nod of approval.

"You did well to report this post haste aspirant. And i have noted this John Walkers aid. The...he..seems to be involved in much at this time. Fortunately it seems on our side."

A pause. "It seems you have shown some small wisdom in this already Ward. So what would YOU suggest."

A surprise. Wait....do not get ahead of yourself Nate! He's asking for your thoughts not handing over command!!!

"Sir a three pronged strategy.

First, he must be removed from Quarvarr before his influence becomes embedded. But perhaps first scouts or ideally an allied Ranger of the north could attempt to discover any supply routes. To trace his support lines back to their home which must be our next focus.

Second, the Lizards must be dealt with to reduce the immediate stress on the townsfolk. By diplomatic retreat if we can prevent poisoning of their water in the Moors. We could take a leap of faith to think that the migration north was orchestrated by this cleric to create the threatening atmosphere he needed. If diplomatic means to not work, then we may needs go in with mercenaries if legion soldiers are not available. But clearly funded by the legion to restore some faith.

Thirdly, good faith must be re-established with the townfolk or there will just be another Sir Stool at another time. Negatively, it could be pointed out to them the fact that the dwarves to the east at Feldbarr, elves to the west in the Moonwood and Legion to the south prevent many threats reaching them they don't even know about. This protection would be lost in a Tyrant led human-ocracy endangering them. In fact cruelty to the local dwarves and elves as espoused by this cleric, could, in fact lead to reprisals. Positively, I could entreaty my lord Dawnspeaker to provide a cleric to guide the flock in Quarvarr. This town is a new venture of man in a dangerous place and as such is worthy of the lights of Lathanders guidance, if Rhyster Matins can spare such at this time. Alongside some additional training of the common folk by the Legion posted there these steps may make them more resilience to unwelcome influence in the future.


A long pause and perhaps a slightly amused turn of the lip. "A logical approach, I see you had time to think on the matter on your ride. Very well. Be on your way then. Rest this eve then return to Quarvarr. Watch, and be ready for any orders.", turning to Sgt Shatterstave. " If you would fetch Commander Heywood for me please. Post haste."

Nathaniel left the room and caught the smell of cooking from the mess. About to go there he looked down at himself and remembered the Sergeants words. "Cleanliness becomes a knight, you are not aspiring to be just another soldier." He sighed and turned on his heal to find his kid and the wash rooms...stomach growling.

He stepped off the riverboat in bright sunlight and bowed his head in prayer to the Morning Lord and Torm. Almost two years since he was last here, and almost four moons since leaving Tantras for...home. Yes, home.

But he had listened to the sailors talk. Undead above Rivermoot? A terrible tune played once again.

He would see Kadalion later. Now duty bade Nathaniel to the hills once more.