FIELD CHRONICLE - PURGING SHADOWS

[MadOne 3387]

 

 

Issued and proclaimed on this year of 1969 by the High Pontiff.

 

 

HIS HOLINESS CAIUS I, High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon, Archbishop of Visigia, Successor of the High Priesthood of the Church, Supreme Pontiff of the Church of True Faith, Keeper of the Canon, Missionary to Aeldin, High Servant to the Exalted's Testaments, Sovereign of the Apostolic City, Humble Servant of the Faithful and Vicar of GOD

 

 

In the name of the Lord God, the Sovereign of the Skies  and the Land, and in service to the noble cause of the Exalted’s Testaments, I do hereby unveil unto the faithful a report of the field, beseeching their attention and contemplation.

 

Behold, in the aftermath of the tumultuous conflict that rent the lands of humanity asunder, peace has descended upon our realm like the gentle dew of dawn, quelling the tempest of strife that once raged within the hearts of men. No longer do brethren raise arms against brethren in futile discord; the time has dawned to turn our gaze resolutely towards the eradication of the vile scourge that festers in the shadows.

 

Thus do I, in my humble capacity as the chosen emissary of the Lord, have embarked to confront the agents of darkness, the foul evildoer and his insidious progeny, whose malignant presence has threatened the Tapestry of Man for too long. I shall thus inform the faithful herein the endeavors undertaken by the Chair of Saint Daniel upon the field in strife against the encroaching shadows up to this point.

 

 

 

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That putrid ghoul! That wretch! Funnybone! I have slain this one many times, yet the thing keeps coming back! Following my Pontifical Coronation, I was called forth to ride alongside the noble knights of the Order of St. Jude, the venerable Frantzisko of Albarosa, and the esteemed Cardinal Villorik, accompanied by His Grace, Bishop Jean.

 

Our journey led us to the aid of the Kingdom of Aaun, besieged by this ghoul. Swift was the skirmish, and I swiftly delivered the jester's head to His Apostolic Majesty, John. Yet, upon the jester's person, we uncovered a cache of letters bearing the mark of the Necromancer Cult, divulging their dark intentions and hidden sanctuaries. Among these missives, one name stood out prominently - Vindacus, whose secret abode was plainly revealed in the correspondence. 

 

We ventured into the Shire in pursuit of the elusive Vindacus. Villorik chanced upon a curious tower, home to a benign wizard. We have investigated every nook and cranny of this tower, discovering it bore no relevance to our quest. Yet nearby, nestled among the burrows of the halflings, I stumbled upon a hidden cache, its contents revealing a sinister association – a jesters' mask alongside lockpicks and bolt cutters - the mask in similar nature to the one worn by Funnybone himself. 

 

The discovery incited the ire of the peculiar half-men, whose strange customs and petulant kvetching echoed in our ears. They have strange ways, and wail like children when they see Men. “Knox this! Knox that! you broke onto our burrow! you bigguns!”

 

Despite their initial resistance, mention of Vindacus softened their resolve, leading them to reveal the location of his lair – a stone tower with an underground hideout under the lock and key of Iron gate. Now, the locked door is an abomination to the ways of the Halfman. Thus, he swiftly bid us to sally and destroy the iniquity within. We have obliged, assisted by the industry of the Apostolic Majesty, surely wishing to repay our kindness that he has provided lockpicks onto us. After breaking in, we found a man in plate livery. He was a brute, silent and masked. Villorik's investigation into the necromancer has prior taught us this as a sign associated with a Ghoul-Guard. Necromancers tend to surround themselves with such men. I have learned that this man was called Handil later on, an Adunian.

 

This one was a crafty foe, utilizing traps and spears to thwart our advance. Though we were forced to retreat, we vowed to return with greater force.

 

 

 

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Now, the agents of iniquity quarrel with each other, as we Men have been doing for the past decade, that they are wroth onto one another and bear enmity. As the Light quarrels onto itself, the flame seeking to usurp the land, so does the Shadow follow suit, and quarrel with the Dark. Recall, dear reader, the Demomancer fortress of Hallowcliffe, that den of iniquity wherein the cult once held sway; It is evident that the Demomancer Cult, once united in purpose, now splintered asunder, embroiled in some silly internecine strife. The fools fight among themselves. Verily this is why the fortress of Hallowcliffe came to be destroyed, uprooted in foundation.

 

Each faction lays claim to the power of their ilk, deeming themselves the rightful heirs of their dark sorcery, thus harboring deep-seated animosity toward their brethren, who beheld the same power. Thus, one faction of the Demomancers did seek parley with the Church, for although driven by fear of our righteous presence, they are consumed by hatred for their erstwhile comrades who comprise the opposing faction that they have offered without repayment the names and identities, their looks and dispositions of their foemen, who were also Demomancers.

 

Seizing this opportunity, I have met them on my own and have gathered information akin to the Lector ways of the old. They have given me such knowledge of their craft that I had otherwise been ignorant of. They told me of Grimoires, which power warlock spells. They told me of their capabilities in removing the wicked magic of the Warlock, and offered their service of accomplishing this, should I capture their foemen.

 

Yet, let it be known that no pact of fellowship or accord was struck with these loathsome creatures, for they are naught but treacherous serpents lurking in the shadows. I made clear unto them that my blade will not hesitate to find its mark upon their deceitful hearts, and that I shall uproot them from their holdfasts in the coming future. Prideful and consumed by their burning hatred, they acquiesced to my terms, thus unveiling unto me the woman known as Sarryn.

 

The White Cat! What a benign name for one that I see as a cockroach. In her missives, she claims wisdom, power and influence, some sort of a capability in uprooting both the ‘infested’ Mother Church, and her Demomancer foes alike. Her claims of power in her missives begets the question as to why she scuttles like a bug, fearing my presence and that of my ordermen, hiding in crevices and shadows, changing her visage and look through the Alchemic at the mere echo of my footstep! She will keep hiding within her anthill, but to no avail. I am coming for you.

 

Thus, into mine hands fell a dark tome, a black book bearing the identities and affiliations of Sarryn's accursed coven, a trove of knowledge ripe for the harvest of justice's scythe. The noose is tightening. And I hold it.

 

 

 

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Verily, even during my time as a Cardinal within the ranks of the priestly vocation was I thrust into strife with the scourge of the Demomancer and the Warlock, agents of darkness, as they threaten the land of Horen.

 

Through the devout priesthood under my charge and inquisiton, these agents of iniquity have now been driven forth from the blessed lands of humanity, forced to skulk in the shadows of Malin and the distant South, seeking refuge in the bustling metropolises such as Kaethul, yet when the news came of the demise of Queen Amaya the Martyr at the hands of the vile Demomancer Cult, had I been compelled to redouble my efforts in the righteous crusade against these fiends, as I have called in my first Bull.

 

In the wake of her matryrdom, the sons and daughters of Man have rallied to my banner, united in our resolve to confront the encroaching darkness. The perpetrators were apparent to all sons of Man - Sarryn, Sermi, betrayer of mercy, and Laelia, whose confession I didst wrest from her grasp, alongside the elusive Aaren.

 

My pursuit of justice received an unexpected boon through the intervention of the Orcish Rex, who sought to redeem Yera, the Overlord of the City of Kaethul, from the clutches of darkness. Through her, a historic Concord for Queen Amaya was forged, granting the Church authority to investigate within the burgh of Kaethul.

 

Thus, upon the humble tavern table in Reinmar where the ink of the Concord dried, my crusade against the Shadow began in earnest. I took up my blade.

 

 

 

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On the inaugural day of my investigation in Kaethul, verily did events transpired with great significance. Through the herald's proclamation, fellow clergy, including the esteemed Cardinal Villorik and valiant Father Rhys, joined our cause. Their aid proved invaluable as we delved into the city's depths, seeking the hidden evils lurking within. Foremost among them stood Grandmaster Gerard, whose keen insight and tireless efforts consistently have served me as the beacon that illuminated these putrid murky waters that we swam through, whether it be garnering information, or apprehending subjects, Gerard was always there for me. I judge the man to be a hero.

 

Father Rhys of Ruthern's revelation regarding the Alchemist's Guild - that the Demomancer used this Guild as a cistern to flee from the Law thus led us on a quest through labyrinthine tunnels. However, after much searching through the Alchemist’s Guild at the behest of its patron, a dark elf whom I have encountered in my investigation later on, I have judged the place to be benign, if an extravagantly efficient learning space for Natural Philosophy.

 

Over the exit of this Alchemists’ Guild, did fate deliver unto me a chance encounter with a she-devil, by the name of Miracalla, her visage adorned with horns and skin tinged with the infernal touch of the Malflame. A blank journal in her possession hinted at clandestine sorcery, which I have confiscated to investigate. It seems to me that this book is similar to a Grimoire - the spellbook of a Warlock, or it conceals some sort of a hidden message akin to that of lemon-juice on paper. Should there be any cipherists among the flock, who can gaze into hidden messages, I ask them to seek me out for this. These devils are always affiliated with the Demomancer.

 

It was then, a most curious thing unfolded before me, in the form of one bearing the telltale signs of the Demomancer Cult, her name I will not leave due to the seal that I have sworn. With courage tempered by contrition, this one prostrated before me, confessing allegiance to the dark forces that threatened our realm, bearing the signs of the Malflame and the Grimoire, and beseeching forgiveness in the name of Yera of Kaethul. 

 

 

 

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Upon the confession of the accursed one, marked by the stain of the Malflame and tethered to the dark power of the Grimoire, it became incumbent upon us to extend the hand of forgiveness and redemption, as decreed by the sacred tenets of our faith. Thus, after solemn discourse within the confines of Kaethul and the securing of the Grimoire for safekeeping, I resolved to journey forth to the Apostolic See, where my colleague, Cardinal Callahan, awaited.

 

Now, Callahan is a man esteemed in my eyes, for I believe him to be of unwavering devotion and fervent loyalty onto the Lord God. It was thus in his venerable presence, that I bid the cursed one to prostrate herself and confess to him in accordance with Virtue. Once her confession was heard, the task of purging the malevolent sorcery ensconced within her being lay before us.

 

I recalled that only the Dark Ones, who sought parley with us could remove this curse tethered onto the Cursed One’s spirit. The vile creatures whose abominable rituals defied all that we hold sacred. We once more had to endure their presence, for the greater good of this one’s salvation. I thus resolved to allow Cardinal Callahan to bear witness to the wretched spectacle. Together, with gritted teeth and hearts heavy with disdain, we endured the foul rite as the cursed one's spirit was cleansed. It was a sight most repugnant, these demons desecrating the purity of our land with their profane incantations, invoking the Malflame to rend the mark from the accursed one's flesh.

 

With Cardinal Callahan at my side, we lamented the necessity of such measures, knowing full well the taint that lingered upon our souls for having endured the presence of the infernal. Yet, in accordance with the dictates of the Law, we resolved to purify ourselves and the land in the cleansing flame of Owyn, seeking redemption for the stain incurred in our quest to save the wretched soul from the clutches of darkness.

 

 

 

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Now, these are the deeds we accomplished after the curing of the Cursed One, that she regained her stance in the beholdance of the Lord, the Great One; This one was bid to seek solace within the sanctity of a monastery, where for a span of two years, this one would undergo rigorous purification of both body and soul. Before her departure to return to the fold, this one unveiled unto us a revelation  – the current guise and whereabouts of Sarryn, along with the content of her schemes.

 

Curiously, the disguise described by the Cursed One was one that we had seen during the day where we were investigating the Alchemists’ Guild, clutching at the skirts of the Dark Elven patron of the Guild, scuttling and skittish. For one who claims great power and deeds through the way of ink upon paper, I have not seen such from this disguised Sarryn. I saw naught but a coward, trembling before but two sons of Men, evasive and fearful of our presence. Henceforth, I dub her not the White Cat, but The Cockroach, for her cowardly nature.

 

I have summoned the armsmen of Reinmar in a bid to apprehend the cockroach within the boundaries of Kaethul, yet we were thwarted by the devil's tricks, as Sarryn vanished into the ether, undoubtedly forewarned by her infernal allies. Undeterred, I turned my attention to the dark elven woman who led the Alchemists' Guild, a figure known to stand alongside the disguised creature during our initial search. Swift was her capture. Thorough search of her person ensued, in spiritual and material both. I had her transported to the Apostolic See for investigation alongside Cardinal Callahan on account of my suspicion. We were guided to a Sacred Grotto wherein the truth lay veiled beneath the shimmering waters.

 

Under scrutiny that took no less than five Saints’ hours, the dark elven woman's revelations flowed forth, her rebuke of Sarryn tinged with sincerity, albeit tainted by a bid to preserve her own life. Judging her worthy of mercy, we granted her reprieve, her redemption deemed partial yet promising. Nevertheless, I vow to sever her head should her association with Sarryn be laid bare in the days to come.

 

 

 

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Now these are the revelations laid before me during my time spent in Kaethul, testing and scrutinising the local populace for association with the Shadow; I judge the Malinite of Kaethul to be of similar substance to the bustling multiculturalist and individualist polises that came before it, such as the Malinite of the Sutican, the Malinite of Lurin and all other Kingdoms extant such as that of Vikela that preach multiplicity, turning themselves into hives wherein the Shadow dwells, that they embrace with open arms the Magii, who in turn bids the government to embrace far worse, that we have seen creatures of horned and clawed disposition, red and infernal of skin, casting their foul magicks openly.

 

Every nook and cranny that I have investigated in Kaethul was rife with the touch of the Shadow, for it bid the Malinite to slay, and bid the other to be slain. That which I have observed, is that the Malinite cares not that his fellow is touched by the Shadow, nor that those ones slay and use the blood of Man to conjure up infernal sorcery, but that His enmity onto the Shadow is transactional, in that the agent of the Dark must offend Him so, for the Malinite to betray the dark, that he does not betray the evil ones for that they are evil, but that they have offended him and created enmity. Thus, everywhere in Kaethul I have seen these ones hide their friends, whom are evil, while giving up their foes of the same substance, that the Church was reduced to a bludgeon for the Malinite to strike down the undesirables of the Elven society, while those of the Dark that were in good standing remained within the shadows, sheltered by the Malinite.

 

The Kaethulite did not understand the tenets nor the ways of our religion, but resolved still to act the scholar in wanton criticism, using strawmen analogies to decipher thousands of years of Church Doctrine, as if the Fathers of the Tradition did not wrestle and elucidate those answers through our traditions long before the palace in Johannesburg was torn asunder by the frost of Thanhium. Every action was met with scrutiny, even if the one before them confessed to Evil incarnate, suspicions were drawn. However, there were righteous among them, or perhaps ones that feared an upcoming crusade, that I was able to create rapport with their leaders in my good intent, that our exploits went smoothly.

 

 

 

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It was through this enmity that the kin of Malin fostered onto each other, was I bid by an anonymous Malinite from Kaethul to ride forth and capture a vampyric creature of the Malinite kind, whom I had learned had made his home previously with one Juniper Rose, an elven scion of magic and a voidstalker. No doubt, this Juniper bore some enmity onto the Elven Vampyre on account of their accursed union - as any union not ordained by the Lord tends to become - that she relished in this one’s capture. I have told onto him that he must surrender himself for the Church, to be tested and thus cured. This Malinite drew his weapon unto me. 

 

Now, hearken, dear reader, for I am no meek priest in a simple cassock, for before taking up this vocation, I had been a leader among men, a knight of the four orders that I am educated in the ways of martial prowess. My mace descended swiftly onto this man’s skull, inflicting a fatal wound that the Malinite suffered irreparable rebuke from my blade-arm. However, seeking to exonerate this one, I have poured salt upon his wounds, and his vampyric affiliation had been laid bare before all men of Kaethul, that he was dying and did not deserve a funeral. His end was met by my dirk. 

 

I had learnt from Juniper later on that not only was this one a vampyre, but also that he was one of Sarryn’s Coven. I have yet to see the Cockroach slay but one of my men, yet I myself deliver blow after blow onto her Coven. A curious outcome for one acclaiming such power to undo my work!

 

 

 

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It was then, that the putrid wretches that are in conflict against the coven of the Cockroach, those in kindred power to her kind, did seek one more parley with the Mother Church. With Cardinal Villorik at my side, we ventured forth towards the site of the meeting in the mountainous Frankland, anticipating revelations that would unravel the web of deceit spun by both factions.

 

As we beheld the leprous visages of these accursed beings, both Villorik and I recoiled in revulsion, for they were but blighted souls upon the tapestry of humanity. I made clear unto them that they were no allies of mine, mere pawns to be wielded in the struggle against the Cockroach, and that my blade would soon find its mark onto them.

 

Yet, steeped in their pride and hubris, they scoffed at the notion of their own demise, their hatred for the Cockroach burning brighter than the fear of my righteous retribution. Thus emboldened, they divulged unto us further information regarding Sarryn and her allies, as well as the devilry they practiced. Despite departing from the meeting with grumbles of discontent, both Villorik and I found ourselves enlightened by the knowledge gleaned from our encounter with these loathsome adversaries.

 

 

 

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It was after this meeting, the crevice wherein the Cockroach sulked was revealed onto us to be a homestead in Amathine. Enlisting the wise leader of Sakuragakure, the Shugo Kato Oijin, who is a longtime friend of mine since childhood and his men, alongside Father Gregor of my kin, we have invaded Sarryn’s homestead within Amathine, ransacking and otherwise destroying the whole place to our heart’s contentment. How curious, that the cockroach scuttled once more in fear of my rebuke. 

 

Her scuttling laid the foundation for good deeds, for we have discovered her hideout wherein she performed her putrid and degenerate sacrifices, wherein she prayed for Iblees and the Void, and otherwise channeled her wicked rituals. Oijin and Gregor raised their blades, channeling the radiant light of Archangel Michael, that the ritual site was desecrated, as they oft endeavor to desecrate our Holy Places.

 

[BuilderBagel 825]

As Leon Barclay, Prince in Reinmar, read the missive, his lips curled into a smile. "Haha! Finally, a Pontiff willing to stand against the agents of the deceiver. Praise GOD!" He exclaimed in jubilation before folding up the parchment, ready to keep it around for showcasing. 

[Toffee 1108]

The Princess Adalfriede had witnessed the trial and burning of a demon with the sense that its death was only the beginning. Her dark eyes skated over words of the Pontiff's doings and she knew that there was much more to be done before the realm was purged of such disease.

[DancingZebra267 397]

"Brothers and sisters," Gerard's voice thundered, echoing through the halls of the keep, "the time has come to confront the darkness that has long shrouded our lands." He lifted his sword high, its blade gleaming in the flickering torchlight. "Let us join His Holiness in this righteous battle, for the glory de GOD! Deus Magnus!

[cadazio 332]

 

Frantzisko of Albarosa's hands were clasped in prayer, kneeling before the altar, his gaze fixed upwards to the Lorraine hanging from the ceiling. He'd seen the necromancers, the ghouls, the liches and their hosts. He'd lived horrified at their acts, had mourned their crimes, and pleaded the Heavenly Host for a sliver of hope. And in the dark of the night, CAIUS PRIMUS came holding the lantern of lanterns, a sun most bright, and in its incandescence, the Merkatar was no longer afraid.

[Norgeth 1113]

"Dewos Vare-wedn Noibio Caius I" Spoke Mogurix in Frankish after reading the document, nodding "May God guide His Holiness to purge the profane and horrid . . ." said the converted tribal.

[Zonty 457]

Marooned in place afar and deep, where lamps of fairy light tinged walls alight, a shadow stirred. Immaculate. 

And stranded in the light-borne shackles, it swirled along the floor and spanned; from formless undulates a form was born, a countenance with lineaments unknown.

A youthful tone wore captive's voice. a childish whisper trickling thence unto stones;

 

"O'deary-deary me!" - "O'why can't I be there with them?" - "O'why can't I forsake this place?" - "O'why can't I crusade the foulest ilk?"

 

Its frown was doomed; a smile bloomed; and frivolous became its tune-

A cackle rang. A clang of chains. A rattle of the binds! 

Like snow beneath the hefty feet, the fetters crunched in rupture.

 

The light was banished. The twilight won, and someone sought to find the pope!

[Weebmaster36 248]

Eve sat in her home, now having returned to Reinmar after a journey of silence, “I can only hope and pray that Handil’s name gets cleared. As for Vindacus… I can only pray that the light finds him.” 
 

The lights of the candles slowly burned out as she read the rest of the missive. 

[TimberBuff 2105]

"What fun!" Came the cry of some Cockroach, as she read the missive.

 

"You find your home being raided fun?" Cried her shadow, four eyes peering.

"Oh, dear me." A tut.

 

"It is always fun."

[Itz_Cookie 1735]

"FUU-UU-UUCK"

 

Sounded from a very displeased Arch-Prince...

 

One whose title likely spawned from the hells...

 

 

Spoiler

 

[sapphic_spidy 155]

The "anonymous malin" who did nothing more than skim the missive chuckles.

"Malin. Not quite, m'friend. Not quite." 

 

Sydney is suddenly VERY glad he didn't sign with his full name. Juniper knows his contribution, and that's all that matters. 

[Witchring 359]

Cordelia cackled loudly and uncontrollably, poring over the word 'Cockroach'. She grabbed anyone close enough by their arms and forced them to read that title, every time it appeared. 

[Karina 412]

Sermi sat at one of her many homes, a glass of red wine swirled in the stemware. Eyes scanned over missives, passed through many hands to reach her. She couldn't help but grin. Murmuring to herself, "Good hunting, old friend. Betrayer of Mercy? I'm rather fond of that." Fingers tapped, as she continued to read.

Something caught her eye. A few things, even she was unaware of. Any sort of entertainment was wiped off her countenance, as something bitter settled there instead. The Devils eyebrow twitched. That was certainly not what she had expected. Hatred, though not at her pursuers. Not at Villorik, not at Callahan, nor Caius. They all had their part to play. There was no light, without darkness. She had long sought to be the whetstone for their blade, and now - she was.

But this?

Her lips contorted into something calloused, and cold. The thinnest possible curl of a frown. All her birds would certainly tire far before the evening sun, as quill would soon take to ink. All signed with that well-practiced signature. 

[Trey 226]

[Fleeperpriest 261]

Callahan peered upwards, saw a sheep, and again looked down to his desk-- but made a double take and cringed in so terrible a grimace as to nearly propel him backwards onto the floor. He permitted his eyes to break from that and thought to the success he and his brother had met in the Grotto of Truth. For his illness, for his spiritual illness, he ground his teeth. He was not nearly as inspired now as he was on that day. But to see such evils stoked in him a potent flame, which put to Man bid drive him onwards towards retribution.

 

Retribution against this creature, he could not afford. But against Evil at large, he could. If but he was not so blighted by what they had witnessed in the hillside. What they had permitted into their midst. It imparted unto him a leprosy which did not cease to spread, and he could feel it, though it was duller now than it was then. Perhaps he had, for a short time, lost the preternatural senses required for properly detecting such things, which were to the eye, for the most part, invisible. 

 

Wrath. Fury! "I'd sooner dance into Sheol than permit the likes of this to get the better of us." 

 

 Urged forth by a power afforded him by virtue of righteous anger, then, he set out for the countryside of Minitz, to restore what had been rendered so terribly unclean.