Prologue; The Good Knave's Coming

[Swgrclan 2682]

 

18th of the First Seed, 1500.

The midday sun shined it's smile upon Petrus as the city's streets bustled with the teeming presence of it's many peoples. The gates lay open; guarded by few, allowing many to exit and enter the sprawling stonescape as they so pleased. But no one else came but one clad in crimson -- one whose visage was lost long ago to time, whose mask hid his features, but kept true as his only face to know. Before Petrus he stood, and to the kingsmen he spoke his sole reason of presence:

"I come for the king, for I bear a message," He stated.



Others gathered around the masked man of red; their inqueries broad, but his answers broader and vague. When asked for a name, only "The Knave of Graves" was given; a name lost to time, but a shadow of what the Knave was without the identity that the mask gave him. When the king Olivier de Savoie came, it was then that, finally, the shadow of the Knave was led to the keep- there, where others would follow their steps in desire to hear the Knave's good message.

The court's words bounded off the walls of the inner-keep as the king and the Knave spoke; words of odysseys, words of quests, and words of reward. But not of any common reward; nothing to sate the greedy man's desires. To the good monarch de Savoie, the shadow of the Knave offered the chance to break the shackles of the Fallen One -- to cast away the curse of Horen if but only to journey to Embermoor and seek out it's darkest depths to reach the Door of Omens, wherein the Knave's grand liege, nameless and imprisoned, would be met. Skepticism was firm within the king, only until the Knave's keepsake was offered to exemplify his truth: a fragment of the door's key.



Within the king's heart did a soothing flame spark, indeed - the warmth of the obsidian-hue stone ushered a peace to Olivier that brought a smile most uncharacteristic to his noble, bitter features. By the undying warmth of this key's fragment, the Knave claimed his words to be of truth; and with this claim came agreement. With the agreement to go on the Knave's quest, the red-cloaked figure assigned the King Olivier to gather a fellowship of his greatest knights - virtuous men who could combat the darkness that would linger the fray they would step in, for their odyssy would start far beyond the borders of Oren; tucked within the depths of Embermoor, where the unholy was bred and unleashed unto the mortal world if not burned by the sun's incandescent rays.

With the meeting's end, the Knave declared that Andrik Vydra's age had concluded - and with this quest, the age of Olivier was to come. With key fragment in hand, the Knave marched from the keep and left the king behind to plan with his subjects; ferverous chants booming from the red man's hood as he took exit from the city:

"Ave Ashford,

Ave Ashford,

Ave Olivier, true monarch of Men!"

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

((It's too cool to reply to. I'm afraid I might ruin it.))

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.