Nathan of Arc
Wanderer
Holy Knights of Templar
The bar was noisy, drunks yelling and women hollering. It was nothing new to this bar, this was the happening place in this area. The hour was late when the door opened and the dark figure walked in. His muddy boots, and tatered cloak suggested a long ride. His head was covered by a deep hood, but a look at his face would have revealed his fatigue. The bar actually silenced as he entered the room, maybe the air about him was stale as death, or the fact that he was different. No matter be cause as soon as he seated himself the bar raged again. He sat at the end of the bar next to a particularly drunk dwarf. The bartender asked him his drink and he said wine. The quietness in his voice suggested he wished no to attract attention. The dwarf next to him, being the strapping youngin that he was smacked the cloaked stranger on the back and blurted out
Dwarf - You know wine is an elfs drink, not a real mans! You might try a wee bit o dwarven ale!
At the exact second that the dwarfs hairy arm touched the back of the claoked stranger the man wrapped his left arm around the dwarf's, pushing up on his elbow. This locked the dwarf in a very painful position, while the right arm brought a dagger close to his throat. A hush gathered around the bar as the scene unfolded, no one dared to breathe.
Dwarf - I twas funned ye, I ment no arm! Swears it!
The cloaked stranger stared at him a moment then looked around him as if coming back to reality. He released the dwarf and re sheathed the dagger.
Stranger - Forgive me the road has been long and treacherous, I am not use to such kindness.
Dwarf - Its ok stranger these land are harsh, Faren Heavyhammer is me name, and you?
Stranger - My name is, er was Sir Nathaniel of Arcadia, now I am nameless.
Faren - You look like one with a good tale to tell, lets me ear it!
Nathaniel - What tale could I tell you except the one that brings me nightmares.
Faren - Hmm well lets ear it. Sometimes the best tonic for what ales ye, is to talk to one who'd listen.
Nathaniel - Very well Dwarf, I shall tell you;
I come from a continent 1200 leagues east of your shores of Britannia. The Continent of Absalon. I lived in the Kingdom of Arcadia. We were a holy people bent on our service to the most high, and our pride for being the most powerful of all the 12 kingdoms of Absalon. I was a commander of the 3rd Regiment of The Pheonix Order of Holy Knights of Templar. I commanded 300 men, some of the bravest that had ever served the Knights of Templar. Many battles did I fight besides my comrades, many. Some of the bloodest the Templars had ever seen. It was our duty to protect the innoccent and cleanse the land of evil.
My unit was the best. Of all the Templar we were the pride and joy, sometimes refered to as God' Angelic warriors. We had never been beaten. Outnumbered and outflanked many a time did we pull ourselfs from the clutches of defeat to the climax of triumph. I became proud too proud maybe, and that lead to my downfall. It was 15 years into my commission that I was given the order to lead my men into a raid on a Dark stronghold. The stronghold of Rakmashi, was controlled by a great Lich. Torkisis, Lord of Malice ruled an army of undead and orcs that rivaled that of the Templar. We were to go in undetected through a cavern built by a local brigade of Dwarven warriors. The secret tunnel lead right into the Ceremonial alter of the Great Lich. There he posessed a great artifact. The Orb of Dazneborium, Elvish made but now used and corrupted by Torkisis. This artifact had to be torn from the clutches of that vile demon, or Arcadia could be overwelmed. I lead my soldiers in in hopes that we would be in and then out before the Lich and his minions were the wiser. However in my Pride I erred. One of my closest captains and friends betrayed me and my 300. He told the the Lich about our plan, and was rewarded with a gift no man should ask for. Hezium became an abomination like no other. And when my 300, plus the 50 dwarven warriors came into the Ceremonial room we were met by hundreds of screaming orcs. However, we stood at a stand still, for a few seconds until a path cleared in the midst of the Orcs, and a tall ghastly figure emerged. Torkisis had never been seen by anyone human, and lived normally again. And yet there he was before me. He drew the orb and showed us its terrible power. What happened next I havent the heart to tell anyone. But the screams echo in my head still, and I witnessed a horror beyond my reconing. Battle hardedened Paladines where torn to pieces, and far worse. I alone survived. I alone sealed the gate between his hell, and my home. Only by the power of the most high, and circumstances I still cannot fathom I emerged from the cavern a broken man. I swore then and there to my fallen comrades that I would never rest, I would never, stop, I would never lay down my blade until I avenged Hezium's betrayal. So I vowed to become a wanderer. Never finding solace until my vow was honored. I took stewardship of a old friend, he and others have traveled many leagues hunting this man. My travels have brought me to Britannia, where I hope to honor my covenant with my fallen comrades.
By the time Nathaniel had finished speaking all the surrounding people had gathered. The hung on to his every word as he uttered his painful story. When he finished the poeple sat wide eyed for a moment then slowly went back to where they were. Then as Nathaniel settled the door burst open again and now a seconf person stepped in. He looked much as Nathaniel did, and when he surveyed the room it went silent. Two strangers from the east. Nathaniel placed a gold coin on the counter and patted the now awed dwarf on the shoulder, and he moved towards the entrance. Nathaniel mounted his horse and with a few others rode off into the night. Several heads watched him from the door of the tavern until his form and that of his compaions could no longer be seen. One young man said aloud what echoed in his mind, "who was that man?"
Faren answered, "twas a ghost from an age long gone."
The bar was noisy, drunks yelling and women hollering. It was nothing new to this bar, this was the happening place in this area. The hour was late when the door opened and the dark figure walked in. His muddy boots, and tatered cloak suggested a long ride. His head was covered by a deep hood, but a look at his face would have revealed his fatigue. The bar actually silenced as he entered the room, maybe the air about him was stale as death, or the fact that he was different. No matter be cause as soon as he seated himself the bar raged again. He sat at the end of the bar next to a particularly drunk dwarf. The bartender asked him his drink and he said wine. The quietness in his voice suggested he wished no to attract attention. The dwarf next to him, being the strapping youngin that he was smacked the cloaked stranger on the back and blurted out
Dwarf - You know wine is an elfs drink, not a real mans! You might try a wee bit o dwarven ale!
At the exact second that the dwarfs hairy arm touched the back of the claoked stranger the man wrapped his left arm around the dwarf's, pushing up on his elbow. This locked the dwarf in a very painful position, while the right arm brought a dagger close to his throat. A hush gathered around the bar as the scene unfolded, no one dared to breathe.
Dwarf - I twas funned ye, I ment no arm! Swears it!
The cloaked stranger stared at him a moment then looked around him as if coming back to reality. He released the dwarf and re sheathed the dagger.
Stranger - Forgive me the road has been long and treacherous, I am not use to such kindness.
Dwarf - Its ok stranger these land are harsh, Faren Heavyhammer is me name, and you?
Stranger - My name is, er was Sir Nathaniel of Arcadia, now I am nameless.
Faren - You look like one with a good tale to tell, lets me ear it!
Nathaniel - What tale could I tell you except the one that brings me nightmares.
Faren - Hmm well lets ear it. Sometimes the best tonic for what ales ye, is to talk to one who'd listen.
Nathaniel - Very well Dwarf, I shall tell you;
I come from a continent 1200 leagues east of your shores of Britannia. The Continent of Absalon. I lived in the Kingdom of Arcadia. We were a holy people bent on our service to the most high, and our pride for being the most powerful of all the 12 kingdoms of Absalon. I was a commander of the 3rd Regiment of The Pheonix Order of Holy Knights of Templar. I commanded 300 men, some of the bravest that had ever served the Knights of Templar. Many battles did I fight besides my comrades, many. Some of the bloodest the Templars had ever seen. It was our duty to protect the innoccent and cleanse the land of evil.
My unit was the best. Of all the Templar we were the pride and joy, sometimes refered to as God' Angelic warriors. We had never been beaten. Outnumbered and outflanked many a time did we pull ourselfs from the clutches of defeat to the climax of triumph. I became proud too proud maybe, and that lead to my downfall. It was 15 years into my commission that I was given the order to lead my men into a raid on a Dark stronghold. The stronghold of Rakmashi, was controlled by a great Lich. Torkisis, Lord of Malice ruled an army of undead and orcs that rivaled that of the Templar. We were to go in undetected through a cavern built by a local brigade of Dwarven warriors. The secret tunnel lead right into the Ceremonial alter of the Great Lich. There he posessed a great artifact. The Orb of Dazneborium, Elvish made but now used and corrupted by Torkisis. This artifact had to be torn from the clutches of that vile demon, or Arcadia could be overwelmed. I lead my soldiers in in hopes that we would be in and then out before the Lich and his minions were the wiser. However in my Pride I erred. One of my closest captains and friends betrayed me and my 300. He told the the Lich about our plan, and was rewarded with a gift no man should ask for. Hezium became an abomination like no other. And when my 300, plus the 50 dwarven warriors came into the Ceremonial room we were met by hundreds of screaming orcs. However, we stood at a stand still, for a few seconds until a path cleared in the midst of the Orcs, and a tall ghastly figure emerged. Torkisis had never been seen by anyone human, and lived normally again. And yet there he was before me. He drew the orb and showed us its terrible power. What happened next I havent the heart to tell anyone. But the screams echo in my head still, and I witnessed a horror beyond my reconing. Battle hardedened Paladines where torn to pieces, and far worse. I alone survived. I alone sealed the gate between his hell, and my home. Only by the power of the most high, and circumstances I still cannot fathom I emerged from the cavern a broken man. I swore then and there to my fallen comrades that I would never rest, I would never, stop, I would never lay down my blade until I avenged Hezium's betrayal. So I vowed to become a wanderer. Never finding solace until my vow was honored. I took stewardship of a old friend, he and others have traveled many leagues hunting this man. My travels have brought me to Britannia, where I hope to honor my covenant with my fallen comrades.
By the time Nathaniel had finished speaking all the surrounding people had gathered. The hung on to his every word as he uttered his painful story. When he finished the poeple sat wide eyed for a moment then slowly went back to where they were. Then as Nathaniel settled the door burst open again and now a seconf person stepped in. He looked much as Nathaniel did, and when he surveyed the room it went silent. Two strangers from the east. Nathaniel placed a gold coin on the counter and patted the now awed dwarf on the shoulder, and he moved towards the entrance. Nathaniel mounted his horse and with a few others rode off into the night. Several heads watched him from the door of the tavern until his form and that of his compaions could no longer be seen. One young man said aloud what echoed in his mind, "who was that man?"
Faren answered, "twas a ghost from an age long gone."
