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[!] An artists depiction of the landscape the travelers saw. Ralf Kanadia, and his long-time friend Henry Venlic II would find themselves exploring the continent of Aevos. The two, wishing to go visit the land of Kyo-Kuni found themselves a tad lost, watching as the landscape around them was one charred and corrupted. After much exploring of this strange terrain, the two travelers found themselves at a dark keep atop the ashy terrain. Thus, the two being the curious sort approached the keep, climbing up some scaffolding and started to cross the bridge towards the keep's entrance. The two would make it to the door, considering what their next move should be. While the two were thinking… Mori-Yu, a corrupted Hei-Zhu clambered down the walls of the wretched keep with a chilling agility. His glowing orange eyes glinted malevolently as he scrambled to stand upon the bridge, blocking the path of the two robed visitors who approached the keeps entrance. A twisted yellow grin spread across his grotesque face, revealing jagged teeth. “Unfamiliar…” The creature would utter towards the two. Henry Venlic, a seeker of knowledge and adventure greeted the towering monkey with a courteous nod. "Ah yes, unfamiliar to these parts, but you might have heard of me," He said. "I am Henry, proprietor of alchemical arts and knowledge, seeker of the arcane, and grand chef of sausage rolls." Ralf Kanadia, his companion, stood beside him, an elderly yet sturdy man with grey hair and a mustache. "We are but two travelers, seeking grandeur experiences." Ralf stated simply before introducing himself. "I am Ralf Kanadia, proprietor of Venlic's Retirement Home, seeker of power and knowledge, practitioner of the waltz, and assistant sausage roll maker.” From the shadows, Tezellion'uth's gravelly voice echoed, "Who in Ixiris' name are these creatures?" He would query, with the two adventurers re-introducing themselves in turn, with Ralf additionally explaining that the dark keep piqued their interest. "You are mistaken." Mori-Yu drawled in response. "You are not known to me." The hulking demonic ape rapped his knuckles against his chest. "I am Mori-Yu, Infernal Ape of Hexicanum, keeper of the moonlit flame, the last of the Chi Masters of The Poisoned Jungles." After some back and forth chatter, the monkey gave his club a few practice swings. "To enter, you must do combat." Tezellion'uth's eyes gleamed from under his hood demanding a fresh male corpse, his gaze affixed at the two travellers who dared tread upon the keeps grounds. It appeared that whether they wished to take the trial to enter or leave, fighting would be inevitable. Mori-Yu drew his shield out and gave his club another practice swing. "To enter, you must fight!" The demon boomed once more. Ralf, being shoved forward to fight the ape by Henry would draw his blade, challenging the monkey to his trial of combat. Mori-Yu huffed, growing impatient. Without waiting for a response, he launched himself forward, swinging his club in a wide arc. The blow sent Ralf flying against the wall, blood spurting from his mouth. Despite blocking the blow with his blade, the sheer veracity of the strike still rang true. The monkey would swing his club onto his shoulder, saving it for later, as he attempted to bring down his shield upon the elderly man’s head. "Now it's not nice to strike someone before they get their turn to fight back." Ralf murmured, coughing up more blood. "Now face my resolve." Summoning all his strength, he slashed at Mori-Yu's stomach, black ichor spurted from the wound, surprising the monkey. Despite the injury, the demonic monkey would succeed in making his mark, plunging his shield into the elderly man’s head. Enraged, Mori-Yu swung his kanabo down in an overhead arc, aiming to crush Ralf. Mori-Yu would find his swing unnecessary as the blow from the shield knocked Ralf unconscious, his corpse falling into the pit below, impaling the man on a spike. Mori-Yu, peered over the man to ensure Ralf wasn't up to any trickery. The old man's luck had run out, and with a final breath, Ralf's life would come to an end. Around the same time, Jasper the Jack lunged at Henry, wrapping his arms around him. Henry felt a searing pain, like hot needles beneath his skin, as his life was drained from him until all but a little bit was left. Henry would fall unconscious, and would be carried into the keep, swapping between the states of being consciousness and unconsciousness. During this time, The Venlic would see his dear friend and longtime companion dismembered and take a vow of revenge against them. Henry would later on be found by several dwarves in the Urguani Capital, unconscious. Rest In Peace, Ralf Kanadia [ 39 S.A. - 182 S.A. ]
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“I WILL OFFER YOU A CHOICE, KEEPER. AN ACCORD WHICH COULD BENEFIT YOU AND ME.” “May we speak plainly? There’s something I wish to tell you before I give my answer.” “SPEAK.” “I stood once to inherit a Kingdom ‘til the cruel hand of fate determined I would be exiled. As a young boy, I learned that the world in which we reside is a fickle place, one which we must make sense of. I endeavoured from that point on to cry out against fate. To find order in chaos. And I swore to do so whilst remaining true to myself.” “Perhaps My Lord thinks of me a disgrace. Captured by whelps, barely worth his time. But I don’t seek his approval, like a child clinging to his father’s tail…” “No, Azdromoth. I refuse.” And so the Archdrakaar came forth, bearing down upon Albéric - bound in chains, yet unbroken in resolve. Azdromoth would make an example of such defiance. “I WANT A WITNESS TO GREATNESS.” The Keeper’s sister, similarly bound and beaten, would bear witness. Time was no longer a luxury he could afford to waste. Death had finally caught up to him, determined to snuff yet another light that had once burned so bright. So he decided, then and there, that he would make this final moment count. The Keeper would claim a victory in the wake of his defeat. “Lord of Sunlight - Patron of Order…” “I beseech thee. Grace me with your light and bring us victory in this fight.” “Save Her.” His final wish in life, for an intervention, was granted. Order descended, denying Ruin his satisfaction. Even with the Keeper’s demise, the Archdrakaar stood mocked, wounded by the vessel’s hand and robbed of his witness, who drifted to safety. Even as his accursed blade struck Albéric’s head from his shoulders, the pair of them would ensure she lived. Death. Another path on the road we all must take. We fear it because we fear the unknown - the suspense of what will happen next. It was no different for Albéric, adrift in currents beyond the mortal plane. He was lost but not alone, for the fallen knight felt a presence nearby, one he had grown all too familiar with in his years of service. He had only one question: “What now?” Knee-deep in still waters, through which countless souls had passed before, he waited for an answer. His cold hands brushed across delicate reeds, the lake surface shimmering with the faintest glint of sapphire. Gone were the scorched dunes he had once trekked in his mind, punishing and relentless. This place was comforting and familiar - it felt like home. "You will serve, as you have done for those interminable years." It was a callous voice from an indurate, bloodless lord; a bairn clutching at their prized toy, and to Order, Albéric was a chattel - an eternal soldier forced to fight a cruel war in the heavens. “Spoken like a true autocrat.” He raised his voice, not in defiance, but in acknowledgment of his Patron’s nature. “For the longest time, I feared your scrutinising gaze and desire for retribution. But, as the years wore on, I also found myself inspired by your tenacity. Though wrathful, you still cared enough to act, even for those who might seem like insects. For all your cruelty, there’s still a spark of compassion.” “I simply hope you have foreseen what cruelty begets, My Lord.” At the end of the waters, there was a vertiginous drop of light that palpitated into an empty pit; a hang-over of wailing souls trepid in damnation. It was a cross-road, an easy route to prepare for servitude in the Immaculate Palace, whereas the other winding path led only to eternal solitude in darkness. "This blether of words should be focused on somebody who will foster your kindness. To me, these appellations are of no worth." "Enter the light." Albéric’s gaze lingered upon the cross-road ahead. The light offered not the fulfilment he desired but an eternity of ruthless servitude. In the darkness - solitude, but also freedom. Freedom from cruelty and freedom from responsibility. “Responsibility…” The word clung to his consciousness. He could run and save himself from eternal torment, rejecting his fate as yet another cruel arbiter of Order. Yet, what kind of salvation would cowardice entail? The hand of Ruin still gripped the world; there was far more at stake than merely his freedom. “I still have a responsibility to see this through.” Through the waters, Albéric strode towards the light, towards a damnable existence. A necessary existence. He reached forth, fingers stretched as though grasping a sword. His fate was at long last sealed. Yet, the flame of kindness still burned within his soul. “But I also made a promise. I won’t lose sight of myself, for I am a knight of the realm.” A hum resonated from where the light shone, embracing the paladin-keeper in its full breadth and warmth. The Sunlit Lord remained silent in his reprisal, and looked to only embrace a new centurion into his retinue. In the sky, the sun would shine brighter ever so slightly. Art by BasilTheBunny ~~~ Albert Salvian Knight of the Lake 1899 - 1975
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The Last Stand of Sir Arthur ‘the Lionhearted’, Knight Paramount of the Commonwealth. The first Knightly Council began with the reciting of a prayer by the church’s own, the knights and dames of the Petrine Laurel gathered as one to uphold the codes to which they swore their lives. To judge a woman who they believed unworthy of their service and anathema to all that is righteous. These men and women were led by Sir Arthur ‘the Lionhearted’, Knight Paramount of the realm and sworn sword to Archduke Constanz. But instead of an audience with the woman they called to trial, the knights of Petra were beset by raiders and creatures of nefarious origins. “Defend the assembly!” Sir Arthur ordered, his men scattering to guard the pockets of Petrans who stood fearful and unable to defend themselves. The Knight Paramount found himself cornered within a sub-surface corridor, subject to the battering of countless foes and burns of relentless dragonkin. Yet, though his armour was rent and his body torn to shreds, still he stood valiantly in the defence of those who flocked behind him for protection. Eventually, the assault proved too much for one man to handle, and so the Knight collapsed in a crash of steel plates. Terribly burnt and losing blood, his last moments were witnessed by Cardinal Viktor and his retinue, who desperately worked to save the man from his injuries. But to no avail… There, in the halls of Castle Moere, where he first took his oath in defence of the Commonwealth, the Knight Paramount died in service of his people. Yet, before his ultimate demise, he would utter but one final word of sorrow and love. “Juliana…” And then, he was gone. Sir Arthur ‘the Lionhearted’ de Lyons 1878 - 1909 Knight Paramount of the Sovereign Order of the Petrine Laurel.
