The Black Templar

[TomFunks 756]

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Spoiler

OOC: This is a narrative post. However, whether you wish for your character to have heard of the massacre (though of course lacking specific details) is up to you.

 

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Terror lurched towards the hallowed grove of Illivira, the Knight of Stone heeding the call of the greater horrors which called upon his servitude. Yet he did not make pursuit of this for virtuous cause nor personal dogma; bereft of dreams, the Eidola had departed with sentiment when he was petrified a decade ago but now, too, felt the death of conviction. He was a remnant, not revenant.

 

Whilst the herd of demonium ascended to make ashes of the trees above, the Pale Knight settled at the lowest chamber. It would be his task to rend and stall those who would seek to halt them, beginning with two small-folk who had nestled into the brush. His maker stored their souls within his cradle, and his statuesque gaze watched as they were devoured thereafter.

 

 

Suddenly, the gates opened and another rushed within. Perhaps they had noticed the embers and smoke rising into the winds, but they had made the mistake of coming alone. The figure was agile, though misfortuned with hesitance. His cudgel cracked into their legs, then skull, and wrought a fragment of the Dragonfly’s vitality into its maw.

 

 

Another of Malin’s brood ventured an attempt to ascend, but was crushed under stone. It would prove a Sisyphean task to rescue the sanctuary which immolated overhead. Yet still, they endeavored with futile effort and were felled time after time against the oppressive force of the darkness.

 

Then, the bells rang and the gates rose. A small army charged their way into the grove to seek deliverance of their sacred woodlands. It was only the Knight of Stone and The Primarch, his brother ascended, who would stand to stall their effort. Their forces split, half seeking ascent whilst the rest sought to rupture an end of the Eidola.

 

 

With so many, a direct confrontation would prove a wasteful and unnecessary effort. The beings of stone slid into the nearby pond, deep enough to conceal their form as a miasma of black-fog expelled from them. And so did the ten or so warriors make a perimeter of it, watching and wasting the precious seconds that their blades could have afforded to those above. When it was opportune, the titans emerged and charged upon them with an unyielding onslaught. One had stood too closely to the edges of the darkness, only realizing they were being attacked once blood was spilling from their head.

 

 

Dread had been instilled into the warriors, many of them immediately making to flee expeditiously. Yet one remained, unwilling or unable to turn his back on his enemies. He stood rigid, a weapon enwreathed in flames of divinity, with a four-pointed star upon his armor. A shockwave of radiant fury was unleashed from him and unto the Eidola. Caught unaware, the Knight of Stone was impacted and sent off-kilter from the courageous surge. Even so, it did not grant him his triumph. Though he had mustered more strength than the rest, the troublesome Templar was felled thereafter.

 

 

“Was this the extent of courage?” pondered the Pale Knight. “Was this all their blessing could evoke?”
 

 

The tides would never shift in favor of these druids. Those who had come to defend Iryalen would be made to seek escape in panic, clutching the weapons that they had once held so fearlessly as a swarm of demons descended from the now-burnt grove to devour them. Two warriors donning illustrious armor and wielding weapons of impressive quality seemed the slowest, seemingly burdened by their relics. He was ordered then to bring them to slumber, and intended to do so. His quarrel was with one wielding a blade of golden gemsteel which scratched upon his stone exterior. The Templar knew he was to die and fought with a viciousness to extend his mere moments left. Radiant light engulfed his weapon, rebuffing a strike, yet he could muster only so long before exhaustion overtook him. The Knight of Stone pierced through his lethargy and crushed the steel of his helm inwards, a squelch resounding from the slain.

 

 

Perhaps it was the soul of the Templar that wished for a demon to clutch the artifact, yet the Eidola took it in his palm instead. Providence it was, that such an act would grant him the enlightenment and purpose he sought. In simply wielding this blade, the Eidola was met with a surge of emotions he had not felt even whence he was of mundane birth.

 

 

Courage. Unabashed, brazen, and zealous. It was this that was the Aengul of Courage’s gift. How had the recipients of his blessing shirked such beauty? They had made mockery of him by being craven, coated in the cowardice of their inability to stand tall against the darkness which encroached. The Templars did not deserve such a blade. It was granted deliverance through his hands of stone.

 

Purpose had been delivered to the Pale Knight. He was to ascend, as his brother had, and become the arbiter of courage. The mettle of Malchediael’s chosen shall be tested, the extent of their ability brought against a horrifying force. He had freed one relic of his new patron from the unworthy, and now sought to cull those who did not deserve his gifts. In his victory, justice shall be wrought.


 

And of the blade? His master found purpose in blessing it in the darkness. The steel had been tainted by inferior warriors, and was now surrendered into the demon’s mighty claw. No longer would courage be stained by those who could not stand brave in the face of their demise.

The Black Templar had risen with a new purpose.


 

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Spoiler

Fun CRP. Much love to my Pale Lord brother @VolcanicGoat and also to the organizers of our group @Lennyand @MysticalWeasel who led us to this interaction. +7 Souls (would've been an even 10 if Lenny didn't get killed). GGs to the druids/templars/etc. I would've written more but I'm writing this right before I have an event to run whoops lol. Yo dm me if you're a Templar that wants to fight maybe we can set something up once the Pale Lord CA gets accepted. I did not proof-read this ggs if I messed up you understand

 

[Cryptic 549]

Marching and ever-forwards, the Eidolan Samurai cleansed his blade after the long battle, now moving to the side of Azrul as he gave a bow. A sign of deep respect from where his former soul resided and a rare gesture from Shuten-doji