Will of the Master

[grim137]

((closed))

[Paladin]

Three days ago...

“I hate standing guard,” thought Valino Darashan III as he stood by the Northern Gate with sword and shield in hand, armor worn and restlessness sinking in.

The slightly makeshift fortress of Atell was named after one of the lesser known saints of The Church of Ethereal Sway, named Morgan Atell whom the scriptures said was the first paladin of the church. The name was a fitting one since Atell rested between the unexplored northern lands, where the church believed all sorts of natural and supernatural dangers resided and known forest areas which housed many settlements and smaller villages who worshiped the Ethereal Sway.

The place wasn't bad terrible as it supplied the bare essentials well enough. There was food that could keep you full, wooden beds, which were padded hay and covered with cotton blankets, were comfortable enough and over all conditions, while not ritzy by any standard, were sufficient. The scriptures commanded that the devout followers of the Sway not let themselves become spoiled by unnecessary luxuries less they grow weak and become reliant on magic.

Yet it wasn't the conditions that the young apprentice had been living in for the passed few weeks nor was it the slight drizzle of rain, rolling fog nor the chilly springtime, night time air. A paladin, even one in training, was supposed to be disciplined and thus not allowed to let such minor discomforts bother him and by Salvarian standards, the night was actually fairly warm and could've been much worse given how bad that year's winter had been. The kid simply hated standing guard simply because it was dull.

“And I thought this place would be exciting. There are supposed to be demons and monsters and stuff in the Northern Lands. So far the most dangerous thing I've seen is a large raccoon. Why couldn't Sergeant Sebushi and I be stationed closer to cities where there's actually a war going on. Then I could slaughter some heretics and...”

Valino was distracted from his moping by a bone chilling scream that came from the fog. The scream sounded human, but he wasn't sure. It sounded human and it certainly wasn't any animal that he'd ever heard. Perhaps The Sway had heard his wishes and decided to grant them and that scream was some vile monster emerging from the forest depths. The apprentice made a mental note to be careful what he wished for, The Sway were always listening to their followers and it was impossible to tell which wishes they'd decide to grant.

“S-Stop! Who goes there?!” he shouted into the fog as he tried to shake off the fear that was beginning to develop with in him and put on a mock show of courage.

“THE DARKNESS. I MUST WARN THE CHURCH OF THE DARKNESS!”

An old man, clad from head to toe in white robes marked with the symbol of the church emerged from the fog. His eyes were wild, and extremely dilated. His hair was a faded white and had fallen out in massive chunks. Many of his teeth had also fallen out and the few that were left looked rotten and were surrounded by cracked and bleeding gums and lips. His skin was grayish like like it to was also bleeding and covered in scars and scabs off all shapes and sizes. In one hand was a large staff that he was using to help him walk, his other hand was buried deep within his robes. Valino could tell by the designs on his robes that the decrepit looking old man was a priest. Now if only he could see what he was holding.

“State your name sir!” commanded the youth, just as he'd been taught. Something about the old man disturbed Valino, and it wasn't just the hellish way he looked or the disturbing words he continued to scream. The priest had a dark feeling about him, the likes of which the youth had never felt.

“MOVE! I MUST WARN THE CHURCH!”

As expected, Valino's words fell on deaf ears and the crazed continued to advance and as the distance between the two steadily closed that knee weakening, spine tingling, gut wrenching feeling that exuded from the old priest intensified. The terror stricken teenager raised his shield before pointing his sword at the old man and cocking it back.

“S-sir! This is a fortress under command of The Church of Ethereal Sway! Only those of standing with the church may enter! State your name and b-business!”

“THE DARKNESSS IS COMING!” he howled in response.

By now the old man was at the gate and in his madness became violent when Valino refused to moves despite his warnings of the darkness. The old man let out a howl one more time and struck at Valino with his staff. Now feeling slightly overwhelmed and quite scared of the incredible feeling of evil that was coming from with in the old coot, not to mention the way the crazed priest looked acted, the inexperienced paladin of the Sway acted on his training in a way that one might expect from a frightened animal. He quickly raised shield to block the blow and struck out with his sword stabbing the priest through the chest, puncturing his lungs and dooming him to a rather agonizing death.

The crazed man screamed the word “darkness” one last time as his eyes rolled back over his head and his throat filled with blood. Valino quickly with drew his blade and stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet in the process. The teenager watched, wide eyed and thoroughly freaked out, as the old man fell over, never letting go of whatever he was holding onto under his robes. He coughed, heaved and gargled, choking on the exceptionally putrid smelling blood that poured from his mouth and spurted from the wound in his chest. A few moments later he died.

Valino Darashan III had just killed his first man and it was nothing like what he'd been taught in school.

At that moment he was just happy that the commotion had attracted a couple of far more experienced, higher ranking Paladin's who would deal with the dead priest. Unfortunately Valino's shift as watchman still wasn't over and despite an overwhelming desire to go back to his bed in the barracks and try and shake off the events that had just transpired he was still forced by duty to his masters to stand guard for a few more hours, even if it was on shaky legs. He just prayed to The Sway that the rest of the night was as dull and uneventful as they usually were.

[grim137]

Present day...

In Xanbata's multiple life times he'd done a great many things. He'd bested everything from cruel demons to valiant heroes. To some he'd been a savior, to others a sadistic and violent monster. He'd saved villages and incited massacres. He'd evolved, and developed his skills and powers to levels to levels he'd never have imagined would even be possible many years ago and he'd over come levels of pain and insanity that would break weaker men. Hell he'd even manage to cheat death itself, and yet despite all these great accomplishments there was one force in the universe deadly creature could not over come.

Boredom.

That was one thing you never heard about in stories of immortals yet when one truly was immortal and therefore time was an infinite resource boredom became more dangerous than any sword or spell. Most such creatures simply became patient, and found a hobby, creatures such as Xanbata's dark master Do'negh who was now secluded in some dark corner of the world researching some deep dark secret or another. And while Do'negh may have mastered the art of keeping himself busy in the face of eternity, his general, Xanbata Grim, had not.

“Where the hell is he?” he growled under his breath.

With no word from his master Xanbata had gone back to his old ways of adventuring to kill some time. Assassinations, bounty hunts, body guard missions and wild goose chase after wild goose chase to find some ancient and valuable artifact that supposedly existed in some supposedly dangerous remote location or another. The vampire didn't care about the moral implications of any of these adventures nor who they served or harmed as long as he remained entertained.

It was this constant desire to have something to do that led to Xanbata's current interest in region of Salvar. Like many places on the planet lately the place was at war. Here in the lands of ice and snow the age snow the classic battle between man and god being waged in the form of a civil war between The Church of Ethereal Sway and The Monarchy. Both had begun hiring mercenaries to boost their forces their forces a bit, especially The Monarchy as it is far less picky about who dies in its service and to those with enough smarts and the proper skill sets, the King's service could be a very lucrative one.

That was what brought Xanbata Grim to a private VIP room in a gentleman's club called The Sinner's Paradise, located in the knife's edge. Over the past few months he'd become one of those aforementioned mercenaries and by now he'd begun to earn a reputation among the king's forces as somebody who could get a job done just as long as they weren't too picky as to how it got done. Of course that was why most of the jobs Grim was assigned to were generally on the hush hush, that way any negative effects to image of the Monarchy caused by the vampire's sadistic, brutal and down right barbaric methods could be easily fixed by putting the proper spin on the story or by simply dismissing them as rumors or evil Ethereal Sway propaganda.

“Seriously, what the fuck is taking him so damn long?” he growled to the empty room again.

Xanbata found this attitude towards him to be both a wonderful perk at times and a major annoyance at others. On one hand he was given minimal instruction on how to do his job. Usually he was told where to go and who or what his target was as well as what he was supposed to do to that target, the details were left up to him. The soldiers he was put in charge of were usually ruffians and slightly rehabilitated criminals. Guys who served because their only other option was the executioner's ax. They were generally undisciplined but they were also blunt and remorseless in their behaviors, something the cold hearted blood sucker admired. Besides the King considered such men to be a bit more expendable then your regular soldiers which meant that if Xanbata felt a few men needed to be sacrificed to accomplish his goal, then so be it.

The down side was that Xanbata was only considered slightly above those criminals. Sure he was a battle hardened veteran who was notoriously difficult to kill, which led to Xanbata being placed on most of the missions that the King and his advisers considered to be borderline suicide. It also meant that most official members of royal army didn't respect him, especially not off the battle field. This lead to many days like today where he sat alone and in street clothes (so as not to draw attention) in the early hours of the morning, before even the sun was awake, in an empty room of a mostly empty gentleman's club, drinking some bitter tasting, dark brown water that was supposed to pass for coffee as he waited for one of the king's contacts to meet him about his next mission.

He took another sip of the tin cup in his hand, draining it of the “coffee” before half slamming it down on to the wooden table and leaning back in the padded chair. His patients were rapidly thinning and the impatient immortal was growing increasingly agitated.

“Whatever this mission is it better be good,” he growled once more to himself.