Paladin
03-02-12, 12:47 PM
((Solo. Takes place after the events of Miracle (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24001-Miracle)))
It was rare to find even a semi educated man anywhere on Althanas who'd not heard of Saint Denebriel's Cathedral in Salvar's capital city, The Knife's Edge. Even now, in the aftermath of the civil war, in a time when many and swayed from The Path the famous Cathedral stood out as one of the wonders of the world to hear of pilgrimages from The Church's remaining followers in the far off lands was not uncommon.
Less well known was the labyrinth of tunnels and cells under the great Catherdal below ground that where enemies of the church were often kept. Many thought this labyrinth to be an urban legend and many more still thought it to be out of use following the war. Yet men like Sir Micheal Ludvig, a paladin or holy knight of The Church knew better.
The large Salvarian knight walked solemnly through the torch lit halls. His the sounds of his heavy steel echoed through the stone walls as he moved swiftly through the tunnels. The light from the torches seemed to make his white, regal armor glow in contrast to the dimness around him. Sir Ludvig made his way down the winding corridors, past the cells where the heathen prisoners of the church were kept until their day came for them to The Sway. The men that put them there often prayed that those prisoners would walk the right path when that day came.
Sir Ludvig stopped his trek as he came to a large pair of wooden doors. He curled his nose at the smell of blood, waste and other unpleasant odors that wafted strongly from the other side as he pushed open the doors. On the other side was a large chamber filled with a number of unpleasant tools and devices designed for the nefarious purpose of inflicting pain but not death. It was inside that chamber that The Church did its most unfortunate work, the brutal but often necessary torture and interrogation of the most dangerous heathens.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn't show.”
Sir Ludvig gave a polite nod as he turned to face the speaker. It was another Salvarian man wearing the mark of the church. However this one was different. His hair was not cut, his face not clean shaven and his armor neither heavy nor white. No this man was a witch hunter, his armor was simpler his weapons more varied and his features more gruff. Unlike Sir Ludvig this man was not a paladin but a witch hunter. His job did not entail any sense of nobility. If Paladins in their shiny armor were to be considered the heroes of The Church then the witch hunters would be the boogiemen.
“But of course William, I'd never miss an opportunity to see the results of your handy work. Did you get him to talk?” asked Sir Ludvig referring to the bloody, battered, naked and emancipated man chained by his wrists just to the side of William.
“I did,” said William “though not much. He may not look like much but the damn fool held his tongue admirably well.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me the heretics are in a small village in Berevar and not much else. I practically had to skin him to tell me any more than that.”
“But he did tell you more?” asked the Paladin noticing at that moment the lack of skin on a good portion of the prisoner's body.
“He did,” nodded William as he pulled a map of Salvar out from this coat pocket. “He didn't give me the the exact location be he confessed that most of them were hidin' out was somewhere in this region,” he continued, pointing to a circle he'd made in red ink on the map. Sir Ludvig scowled prompting William to ask “Something wrong?”
“That area is orc territory.”
“Ah...so it is. Well that makes things a bit more complicated I suppose.”
“It does,” nodded Sir Ludvig in agreement before adding “is the prisoner still alive?”
“Barely, son of bitch went into shock just a couple hours ago.”
“Did he have anything on him when he was captured?”
“Nothing unusual. A blade, a coin purse, the usual stuff though we did find some traces of gun powder.”
“Gun powder?”
“Aye. Like the kind those dark skinned elves make in Alerar.”
“How many have you told of this?”
“Just you Sir Ludvig.”
“I think it might be wise if we keep it that way for now.”
William nodded in agreement. “That would probably be for the best. At least until we have some information and, since he's not much use to us anymore, I think we should put this man out of his misery and start looking around that area I circled.”
This time it was Sir Ludvig that nodded. “How soon can you be ready to travel William?”
“I could travel now if I needed.”
“Good. I'll have the horses readied.”
And with those words Sir Ludvig exited the chamber as William the witch hunter plunged a dagger into the prisoner's heart. All the while muttering a phrase said to all those who were executed by the holy members of The Church.
“May you walk the blessed path.”
It was rare to find even a semi educated man anywhere on Althanas who'd not heard of Saint Denebriel's Cathedral in Salvar's capital city, The Knife's Edge. Even now, in the aftermath of the civil war, in a time when many and swayed from The Path the famous Cathedral stood out as one of the wonders of the world to hear of pilgrimages from The Church's remaining followers in the far off lands was not uncommon.
Less well known was the labyrinth of tunnels and cells under the great Catherdal below ground that where enemies of the church were often kept. Many thought this labyrinth to be an urban legend and many more still thought it to be out of use following the war. Yet men like Sir Micheal Ludvig, a paladin or holy knight of The Church knew better.
The large Salvarian knight walked solemnly through the torch lit halls. His the sounds of his heavy steel echoed through the stone walls as he moved swiftly through the tunnels. The light from the torches seemed to make his white, regal armor glow in contrast to the dimness around him. Sir Ludvig made his way down the winding corridors, past the cells where the heathen prisoners of the church were kept until their day came for them to The Sway. The men that put them there often prayed that those prisoners would walk the right path when that day came.
Sir Ludvig stopped his trek as he came to a large pair of wooden doors. He curled his nose at the smell of blood, waste and other unpleasant odors that wafted strongly from the other side as he pushed open the doors. On the other side was a large chamber filled with a number of unpleasant tools and devices designed for the nefarious purpose of inflicting pain but not death. It was inside that chamber that The Church did its most unfortunate work, the brutal but often necessary torture and interrogation of the most dangerous heathens.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn't show.”
Sir Ludvig gave a polite nod as he turned to face the speaker. It was another Salvarian man wearing the mark of the church. However this one was different. His hair was not cut, his face not clean shaven and his armor neither heavy nor white. No this man was a witch hunter, his armor was simpler his weapons more varied and his features more gruff. Unlike Sir Ludvig this man was not a paladin but a witch hunter. His job did not entail any sense of nobility. If Paladins in their shiny armor were to be considered the heroes of The Church then the witch hunters would be the boogiemen.
“But of course William, I'd never miss an opportunity to see the results of your handy work. Did you get him to talk?” asked Sir Ludvig referring to the bloody, battered, naked and emancipated man chained by his wrists just to the side of William.
“I did,” said William “though not much. He may not look like much but the damn fool held his tongue admirably well.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me the heretics are in a small village in Berevar and not much else. I practically had to skin him to tell me any more than that.”
“But he did tell you more?” asked the Paladin noticing at that moment the lack of skin on a good portion of the prisoner's body.
“He did,” nodded William as he pulled a map of Salvar out from this coat pocket. “He didn't give me the the exact location be he confessed that most of them were hidin' out was somewhere in this region,” he continued, pointing to a circle he'd made in red ink on the map. Sir Ludvig scowled prompting William to ask “Something wrong?”
“That area is orc territory.”
“Ah...so it is. Well that makes things a bit more complicated I suppose.”
“It does,” nodded Sir Ludvig in agreement before adding “is the prisoner still alive?”
“Barely, son of bitch went into shock just a couple hours ago.”
“Did he have anything on him when he was captured?”
“Nothing unusual. A blade, a coin purse, the usual stuff though we did find some traces of gun powder.”
“Gun powder?”
“Aye. Like the kind those dark skinned elves make in Alerar.”
“How many have you told of this?”
“Just you Sir Ludvig.”
“I think it might be wise if we keep it that way for now.”
William nodded in agreement. “That would probably be for the best. At least until we have some information and, since he's not much use to us anymore, I think we should put this man out of his misery and start looking around that area I circled.”
This time it was Sir Ludvig that nodded. “How soon can you be ready to travel William?”
“I could travel now if I needed.”
“Good. I'll have the horses readied.”
And with those words Sir Ludvig exited the chamber as William the witch hunter plunged a dagger into the prisoner's heart. All the while muttering a phrase said to all those who were executed by the holy members of The Church.
“May you walk the blessed path.”