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For those in the mighty fortress of Loklin, the sea was unusually calm. The Knights within were accustomed to the terrible storms battering the great rock that shared its name with the castle stood atop it. While the sea was calm, though, the skies were as grey as ever. It was the best you could hope for most of the time. Aldor was not a land known for its sunshine and vibrant colors. Still, many recruits from the other parts of the archipelago swore up and down that Loklin had the worst of it. The officers, as they always did, would tease them it was a way to get them excited for missions: So they could finally escape the terrible weather of the headquarters. For one Knight-Captain Nidesis Nikanuur, however, it was the closest thing a home he'd ever known, and hardly a place he wanted to escape from as if it were a prison. He was always excited for his missions, but it was never out of boredom, but out of passion for his work. Perhaps that is why the Headmaster of the Order decided to promote him to his position, to spread some sort of enthusiasm into the Officer corps. If the reception was any indication, however, it had clearly failed to work. He felt as though every one of his peers looked down at him as the "upstart", and his naivete bungling up a few mission he'd been on didn't help matters. Were his faith in the order not so strong, he might have wanted to stay a common soldier. It was then that he was most popular with his peers, being the best fighter and the brightest mind. Now that he was in the same league as men twice as aged and twice as experienced though, he couldn't help but feel as though his skill at fighting was irrelevant and his tactical experience lacking.
Just another reason for me to work as much as I can. I can't just wash out, not now. I just have to get experience, right?
The young Knight-Captain was brooding in his quarters, looking out at the sea as the ships went by. He was almost ready to fall asleep at his window sill when a knock came at the door.
Opening it up, he was informed that he'd been drawn up to head an expedition to the tower city of Rendalis, where a locally garrisoned group of Knights had gone missing. He was to speak to Steward Falian for further information after he'd gotten ready. A group of other Knights were to meet him there.
Without hesitation, Nidesis sprang into action. He went down to the mess to get some provisions, as well as some soup to get breakfast out of the way. After that, he made a brisk walk to the quartermaster, where he retrieved his gear.
He placed atop his tunic a padded jacket, then a coat of mail, leather gloves and hobnailed boots came after that. A ridge helmet and a thick fur cloak finished off his needs. At last he retrieved his weapons: A trusty spear, an ovular shield, and an arming sword he put in his belt. Giving the quartermaster his regards, he was finally able to attend to the Steward, making his way to the courtyard where he was expected to meet him and his new charges...

Mithon was tired of the rain. The dreary downpour and roaring waves never seemed to end. Rain was for the most part, terrible. The roads turned to mud, everything was wet and one could never seem to warm up, it made starting fires harder, and it reminded him of that village that hurricane had wiped out the day he had gotten there.

"Ah those times were something, right Yehomilk?" The horse whinnied in response.

It was not only the rain that concerned him though, the Order had its problems for a person such as himself. This was mostly an order of elves, not men. The elves turned their noses up at a lowly human, and his fellow men turned their noses at this strange man with his foreign accent that to some made every word incomprehensible. He would have received many a taunt about it had they not seen the work he had done in the infirmary when he had got there. A few of those in there owed him their lives now, foreign human or not. Speaking of which, it was time to return to there. Though no new men had come in, many still required tending to. The Order had given him a room right across from it despite it being of far greater accommodations then somebody of his rank in the order required, so overall not everything was terrible.

Despite being forced into the Order, it was actually an improvement in the end, no worries about angry mobs or any of the other disasters that seemed to follow him. He had good accommodations, food consistently in his stomach and a place for his brave horse that had taken this far. He could do the work of his god without interruption from local halfwits who knew nothing of the heal arts or false mystics who claimed divine power but in reality just put on a show. He didn't have to go out in this terrible rain.

He should have known it would all come to a crashing end. A knock on his door was nothing new at this point, another patient come in he thought. Instead he was given a summons, pack his horse and go to the courtyard, you're going on a mission, and we're taking your nice room too. A standard mission. Another test from Kal.

Fortunately for him, a part of him knew this wouldn't last, so he hadn't actually made much of an effort on the room. He quickly packed up his small collection of books and herbs, put on his priestly vestments, took his staff from where he left it leaning on the wall and went off to the stables to pack his horse with his provisions. Once he had done that, he did as he was told and went to the courtyard to await his commander and compatriots.

"Just another day in our lives Yehomilk, just another day." And the horse whinnied once again.

Mithon was tired of the rain. The dreary downpour and roaring waves never seemed to end. Rain was for the most part, terrible. The roads turned to mud, everything was wet and one could never seem to warm up, it made starting fires harder, and it reminded him of that village that hurricane had wiped out the day he had gotten there.

"Ah those times were something, right Yehomilk?" The horse whinnied in response.

It was not only the rain that concerned him though, the Order had its problems for a person such as himself. This was mostly an order of elves, not men. The elves turned their noses up at a lowly human, and his fellow men turned their noses at this strange man with his foreign accent that to some made every word incomprehensible. He would have received many a taunt about it had they not seen the work he had done in the infirmary when he had got there. A few of those in there owed him their lives now, foreign human or not. Speaking of which, it was time to return to there. Though no new men had come in, many still required tending to. The Order had given him a room right across from it despite it being of far greater accommodations then somebody of his rank in the order required, so overall not everything was terrible.

Despite being forced into the Order, it was actually an improvement in the end, no worries about angry mobs or any of the other disasters that seemed to follow him. He had good accommodations, food consistently in his stomach and a place for his brave horse that had taken this far. He could do the work of his god without interruption from local halfwits who knew nothing of the heal arts or false mystics who claimed divine power but in reality just put on a show. He didn't have to go out in this terrible rain.

He should have known it would all come to a crashing end. A knock on his door was nothing new at this point, another patient come in he thought. Instead he was given a summons, pack his horse and go to the courtyard, you're going on a mission, and we're taking your nice room too. A standard mission. Another test from Kal.

Fortunately for him, a part of him knew this wouldn't last, so he hadn't actually made much of an effort on the room. He quickly packed up his small collection of books and herbs, put on his priestly vestments, took his staff from where he left it leaning on the wall and went off to the stables to pack his horse with his provisions. Once he had done that, he did as he was told and went to the courtyard to await his commander and compatriots.

"Just another day in our lives Yehomilk, just another day." And the horse whinnied once again.

Mithon had arrived before his soon-to-be commanding officer, so the Steward stopped him.
"Hold on there, human. You are the medicus, yes? Your commander the Knight-Captain has yet to arrive. Were you informed where you are going before you were summoned? Those priestly robes won't be doing you much good when you're ankle deep in mud and freezing on the way to Rendalis."

Mithon was tired of the rain. The dreary downpour and roaring waves never seemed to end. Rain was for the most part, terrible. The roads turned to mud, everything was wet and one could never seem to warm up, it made starting fires harder, and it reminded him of that village that hurricane had wiped out the day he had gotten there.

"Ah those times were something, right Yehomilk?" The horse whinnied in response.

It was not only the rain that concerned him though, the Order had its problems for a person such as himself. This was mostly an order of elves, not men. The elves turned their noses up at a lowly human, and his fellow men turned their noses at this strange man with his foreign accent that to some made every word incomprehensible. He would have received many a taunt about it had they not seen the work he had done in the infirmary when he had got there. A few of those in there owed him their lives now, foreign human or not. Speaking of which, it was time to return to there. Though no new men had come in, many still required tending to. The Order had given him a room right across from it despite it being of far greater accommodations then somebody of his rank in the order required, so overall not everything was terrible.

Despite being forced into the Order, it was actually an improvement in the end, no worries about angry mobs or any of the other disasters that seemed to follow him. He had good accommodations, food consistently in his stomach and a place for his brave horse that had taken this far. He could do the work of his god without interruption from local halfwits who knew nothing of the heal arts or false mystics who claimed divine power but in reality just put on a show. He didn't have to go out in this terrible rain.

He should have known it would all come to a crashing end. A knock on his door was nothing new at this point, another patient come in he thought. Instead he was given a summons, pack his horse and go to the courtyard, you're going on a mission, and we're taking your nice room too. A standard mission. Another test from Kal.

Fortunately for him, a part of him knew this wouldn't last, so he hadn't actually made much of an effort on the room. He quickly packed up his small collection of books and herbs, put on his priestly vestments, took his staff from where he left it leaning on the wall and went off to the stables to pack his horse with his provisions. Once he had done that, he did as he was told and went to the courtyard to await his commander and compatriots.

"Just another day in our lives Yehomilk, just another day." And the horse whinnied once again.

Mithon had arrived before his soon-to-be commanding officer, so the Steward stopped him.
"Hold on there, human. You are the medicus, yes? Your commander the Knight-Captain has yet to arrive. Were you informed where you are going before you were summoned? Those priestly robes won't be doing you much good when you're ankle deep in mud and freezing on the way to Rendalis."

"Indeed I am, and no I have no idea where I'm going, I was simply told to pack up and report here. My robes are better suited then you would think, they are blessed with magics that make them both warmer and help me in my art. And trust me, I have spent plenty of time ankle deep in mud, though I'm fortunate enough that the Order has kindly provided me with good boots for once in my life. I have no idea how I'm here before the captain, but perhaps my few possessions made my packing quicker then his."
Truth be told he had never been sure about the robes. The warmer part was true but he was never quite sure Melqart had ever gotten to the second part. Still, they for the most part made sure he was never freezing at least. Though he had spent plenty of time cold. And their sentimental value to him made him loath to ever abandon them, even if he was going to get into danger. Kal would protect him if nothing else.

OOC: I really need to look over these things better before I post them.

Mithon was tired of the rain. The dreary downpour and roaring waves never seemed to end. Rain was for the most part, terrible. The roads turned to mud, everything was wet and one could never seem to warm up, it made starting fires harder, and it reminded him of that village that hurricane had wiped out the day he had gotten there.

"Ah those times were something, right Yehomilk?" The horse whinnied in response.

It was not only the rain that concerned him though, the Order had its problems for a person such as himself. This was mostly an order of elves, not men. The elves turned their noses up at a lowly human, and his fellow men turned their noses at this strange man with his foreign accent that to some made every word incomprehensible. He would have received many a taunt about it had they not seen the work he had done in the infirmary when he had got there. A few of those in there owed him their lives now, foreign human or not. Speaking of which, it was time to return to there. Though no new men had come in, many still required tending to. The Order had given him a room right across from it despite it being of far greater accommodations then somebody of his rank in the order required, so overall not everything was terrible.

Despite being forced into the Order, it was actually an improvement in the end, no worries about angry mobs or any of the other disasters that seemed to follow him. He had good accommodations, food consistently in his stomach and a place for his brave horse that had taken this far. He could do the work of his god without interruption from local halfwits who knew nothing of the heal arts or false mystics who claimed divine power but in reality just put on a show. He didn't have to go out in this terrible rain.

He should have known it would all come to a crashing end. A knock on his door was nothing new at this point, another patient come in he thought. Instead he was given a summons, pack his horse and go to the courtyard, you're going on a mission, and we're taking your nice room too. A standard mission. Another test from Kal.

Fortunately for him, a part of him knew this wouldn't last, so he hadn't actually made much of an effort on the room. He quickly packed up his small collection of books and herbs, put on his priestly vestments, took his staff from where he left it leaning on the wall and went off to the stables to pack his horse with his provisions. Once he had done that, he did as he was told and went to the courtyard to await his commander and compatriots.

"Just another day in our lives Yehomilk, just another day." And the horse whinnied once again.

Mithon had arrived before his soon-to-be commanding officer, so the Steward stopped him.
"Hold on there, human. You are the medicus, yes? Your commander the Knight-Captain has yet to arrive. Were you informed where you are going before you were summoned? Those priestly robes won't be doing you much good when you're ankle deep in mud and freezing on the way to Rendalis."

"Indeed I am, and no I have no idea where I'm going, I was simply told to pack up and report here. My robes are better suited then you would think, they are blessed with magics that make them both warmer and help me in my art. And trust me, I have spent plenty of time ankle deep in mud, though I'm fortunate enough that the Order has kindly provided me with good boots for once in my life. I have no idea how I'm here before the captain, but perhaps my few possessions made my packing quicker then his."
Truth be told he had never been sure about the robes. The warmer part was true but he was never quite sure Melqart had ever gotten to the second part. Still, they for the most part made sure he was never freezing at least. Though he had spent plenty of time cold. And their sentimental value to him made him loath to ever abandon them, even if he was going to get into danger. Kal would protect him if nothing else.

OOC: I really need to look over these things better before I post them.

"Ha! Yes, I'm sure your little 'pentarchs' will keep you warm. Anyway, it's probably best you wait here while the other arrive. Can't have you trying to preach to the senior officers."

Mithon was tired of the rain. The dreary downpour and roaring waves never seemed to end. Rain was for the most part, terrible. The roads turned to mud, everything was wet and one could never seem to warm up, it made starting fires harder, and it reminded him of that village that hurricane had wiped out the day he had gotten there.

"Ah those times were something, right Yehomilk?" The horse whinnied in response.

It was not only the rain that concerned him though, the Order had its problems for a person such as himself. This was mostly an order of elves, not men. The elves turned their noses up at a lowly human, and his fellow men turned their noses at this strange man with his foreign accent that to some made every word incomprehensible. He would have received many a taunt about it had they not seen the work he had done in the infirmary when he had got there. A few of those in there owed him their lives now, foreign human or not. Speaking of which, it was time to return to there. Though no new men had come in, many still required tending to. The Order had given him a room right across from it despite it being of far greater accommodations then somebody of his rank in the order required, so overall not everything was terrible.

Despite being forced into the Order, it was actually an improvement in the end, no worries about angry mobs or any of the other disasters that seemed to follow him. He had good accommodations, food consistently in his stomach and a place for his brave horse that had taken this far. He could do the work of his god without interruption from local halfwits who knew nothing of the heal arts or false mystics who claimed divine power but in reality just put on a show. He didn't have to go out in this terrible rain.

He should have known it would all come to a crashing end. A knock on his door was nothing new at this point, another patient come in he thought. Instead he was given a summons, pack his horse and go to the courtyard, you're going on a mission, and we're taking your nice room too. A standard mission. Another test from Kal.

Fortunately for him, a part of him knew this wouldn't last, so he hadn't actually made much of an effort on the room. He quickly packed up his small collection of books and herbs, put on his priestly vestments, took his staff from where he left it leaning on the wall and went off to the stables to pack his horse with his provisions. Once he had done that, he did as he was told and went to the courtyard to await his commander and compatriots.

"Just another day in our lives Yehomilk, just another day." And the horse whinnied once again.

Mithon had arrived before his soon-to-be commanding officer, so the Steward stopped him.
"Hold on there, human. You are the medicus, yes? Your commander the Knight-Captain has yet to arrive. Were you informed where you are going before you were summoned? Those priestly robes won't be doing you much good when you're ankle deep in mud and freezing on the way to Rendalis."

"Indeed I am, and no I have no idea where I'm going, I was simply told to pack up and report here. My robes are better suited then you would think, they are blessed with magics that make them both warmer and help me in my art. And trust me, I have spent plenty of time ankle deep in mud, though I'm fortunate enough that the Order has kindly provided me with good boots for once in my life. I have no idea how I'm here before the captain, but perhaps my few possessions made my packing quicker then his."
Truth be told he had never been sure about the robes. The warmer part was true but he was never quite sure Melqart had ever gotten to the second part. Still, they for the most part made sure he was never freezing at least. Though he had spent plenty of time cold. And their sentimental value to him made him loath to ever abandon them, even if he was going to get into danger. Kal would protect him if nothing else.

OOC: I really need to look over these things better before I post them.

"Ha! Yes, I'm sure your little 'pentarchs' will keep you warm. Anyway, it's probably best you wait here while the other arrive. Can't have you trying to preach to the senior officers."

Mithon simply gave a glare and held his tongue. Plenty of people had always doubted the powers of the Pentarch's but they would realize in time the folly of their ways, or pay the price.

The echo of thunder across the grasslands and along the walls of Loklin signaled the arrival of the masked mage, Rhys Ilinan. The driving rain and the riling sea of the fortress never bothered the elf. In fact, he found the sound of rain hitting stone to be soothing, and appreciated the change in scenery that the passing storms provided. Inland, no matter what the wind did, the skies always seemed to be a uniform, dreary grey. No, it was the Spartan nature of the facility and if Crusader facilities in general that annoyed him. Petty comforts and amenities that would be in most towns and cities simply didn't exist out here on the ocean outposts. Rhys unfortunately fell to the typical Elven fault: a love of luxury. Luckily, Rhys was not a complainer and he knew himself well, and made an effort to be equipped at all times with his clean fur coat and with a skin of fine wine that he took great pains to recover. Today, he held a Bividia, a smooth aged red with hints of spice and berries. He had just been to the tavern in the nearest town, paying a sinful amount of coin to retrieve it when a messenger came and delivered his summons. Rhys made his way back to the fortress with haste, riding atop his white steed Milmaril. On his way, he practiced his lightning magic, to condition his horse to the unnerving sights and sounds of magic, and to hone his combative skills, frightening many a peasant with his wraith-like yet ultimately harmless activity. The sight and sound of horizontal lightning shooting across the horizon by his hand was too satisfying to stop, almost therapeutic, and he only ceased once the castle came into sight. No doubt he had aroused the suspicion of the drunken, tired guards with his noise. Oh well, such is life.

As he passed through the iron gate, he set his steely eyes on the two gathered before him.
The Steward, a faithful stalwart of the Crusaders, appeared as a statue. The man was implacable, Rhys noted, as for all the people and strange happenings that passed by him, he never seemed to change. Resiliency and consistency was a rare trait among men nowadays.
The human cleric Hannikal stood by, looking absolutely miserable in the rain. Poor bastard. Even if he did worship false gods, he didn't deserve this. Few could have imagined a more slapstick fate for the priest than to have him tossed over the walls of the fortress by an angry mob to be press-ganged into civilization's service. No matter. Hopefully his medical arts were up to snuff.

Rhys pulled his horse to the side and set her in the stables, leaving her a bag of oats and some water warmed with a small fire spell. He brushed her brown mane softly.
"Here you go, girl. You deserve it."
Once he was done taking care of his horse, he approached the two on foot.
"Hail, dear knights," he said, voice grinding on the air. "I take it there is a new mission I ought to prepare for?" His common sense and scrying stone already confirmed this, but martial pleasantries were among the few good things in this fortress that he sought to keep.

Mundzac was spending his time in one of his three favorite places, the stables tending to his horse. When he wasn't caring for his horse, he was in his tent asleep (or drinking), and when he wasn't asleep he was on watch with his horse. He preferred it that way, he had practically been born in the saddle and was probably the best horseman here, far better than any of those fancy dress elves or those goatmen nords. When he watched the elf walk his fancy dressed up mare into the stables (he had to admit respect in the care the knife-ear obviously showed to his mount), Mundzac realized he was late. Not feeling like walking over to the two and seeing one of them already mounted, he hoped upon his horse, Haddi, and rode over to them. He always wore the colors of the Griffin but never the armor, preferring speed and dexterity over the clanking armor that could hurt the horse with extended timing. On his saddle mounted everything he could need, his bow holster and arrows, several good sized fighting knives, and a freakishly brutish looking curved sword. As he trotted slowly over to the gentlemen gathered in the courtyard and said in stark contrast to the Elven manneristic man. "Mournin everybody, enjoying the great bloody fockin weather we're 'avin?" Mundzac wore a leather gambeson hiding his scalemaile shirt underneath. Baggy trousers and very sturdy boots graced his outward below the belt garments and a sheepskin coat kept the assembly nice and warm.

OOC: This character is literally the personality of Bronn with a fighting style of the Dothraki from Game of Thrones I have decided

Mundzac was spending his time in one of his three favorite places, the stables tending to his horse. When he wasn't caring for his horse, he was in his tent asleep (or drinking), and when he wasn't asleep he was on watch with his horse. He preferred it that way, he had practically been born in the saddle and was probably the best horseman here, far better than any of those fancy dress elves or those goatmen nords. When he watched the elf walk his fancy dressed up mare into the stables (he had to admit respect in the care the knife-ear obviously showed to his mount), Mundzac realized he was late. Not feeling like walking over to the two and seeing one of them already mounted, he hoped upon his horse, Haddi, and rode over to them. He always wore the colors of the Griffin but never the armor, preferring speed and dexterity over the clanking armor that could hurt the horse with extended timing. On his saddle mounted everything he could need, his bow holster and arrows, several good sized fighting knives, and a freakishly brutish looking curved sword. As he trotted slowly over to the gentlemen gathered in the courtyard and said in stark contrast to the Elven manneristic man. "Mournin everybody, enjoying the great bloody fockin weather we're 'avin?" Mundzac wore a leather gambeson hiding his scalemaile shirt underneath. Baggy trousers and very sturdy boots graced his outward below the belt garments and a sheepskin coat kept the assembly nice and warm.

OOC: This character is literally the personality of Bronn with a fighting style of the Dothraki from Game of Thrones I have decided

The befuddled old Steward looked at the rogue with obvious distaste. His first comment, however, was rather businesslike,
"Mundzac, I take it? I do hope you realize your subarmalis goes under the mail for a reason. If you want your chest chafed by metal scales, however, it's all up to you. Though I highly doubt the Knight-Captain will be too enthused about it."
It was just then that Nidesis strutted into the scene with his youthful swagger, singing a song in his mind and ready to begin his adventure regardless of the protests of the growling old men the castle housed.
"Steward, if it hadn't crossed your mind our Caelian friend is not the most orthodox man to begin with. Aside, it is my job, not yours to instruct my men on how to equip themselves."
 "Nevertheless" the exasperated Steward began, "I must ensure that this expedition is not sent out in an ill state. Your charges here are clearly not understanding of the image that our order projects! Why, we cannot have this-"
"I will be the judge of their fitness for duty, not you" the Knight-Captain barked, "Our glory days were made by fighters, not stewards."
Falion was quite furious at that comment, ready to rant about this boy's presumptions, but Nidesis cut him off,
"Go ahead, then, tell the KNIGHT-CAPTAIN he cannot command you, old man."
Flashing rank was a quick way to shut someone up, as Nidesis had found, at least when said person wasn't a fellow commander armed to the teeth, so for the bumbling Steward it worked.
Gritting his teeth, Falion struggled to spew out the mission briefing in his most diplomatic tone,
"Very well, Knight-Captain. Discipline these men as you wish. I presume you want to know more about your mission? Well, as you know Rendalis is missing a few Knights. Some time last week, when the garrison's regular report was due, it did not come. We sent couriers to the city, but none ever came back. You are to investigate what happened to the city and its garrison of Knights, do you understand? The Headmaster of the Order has left it up to you whether you want to simply report back or solve the problem on your own."
Rendalis was a city a day or so's ride away from Loklin, after you reached the main Island by ferry or the overcrowded Fortress bridge, of course. It was strange that no information had come back, and it could be for any number of reasons. It might be an extremely dangerous mission, but considering it came from the Headmaster himself, it was unlikely to be an attempt at getting rid of Nidesis' antics once and for all.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said a gruff voice coming from behind the group.

Halvor walked up with his bow and arrows slung over one shoulder and a hatchet at his hip. He pulled back the hood on his overcoat and looked around at the the others.

What a random bunch.

Rendalis was a city familiar to Rhys. He has spent a moon there, performing a certain bit of magical research that he couldn't elsewhere. And yet this mission did not sit well with him. His scrying stone had been silent. Rhys spoke from behind his mask.
"No word at all from the city? This reeks of rogue magic. We ought to be speedy, yet careful. I second my Nordic colleague's motion to get on the road, posthaste. The sooner, the better."

"The faster I am back under a roof, the better. Damn this never ending rain..."
Mithon mood had only soured waiting for his compatriots with this idiotic steward. It gave him great joy to see his commander put him in his place, he already liked the elf. The man in the mask seemed... polite enough, he was sure he would get to know him in time. The other two looked like they could hold themselves in a fight. He wasn't complaining, his strategy had always been to flee, not to fight! He was baffled they were even sending him on this mission in the first place. He'd never been to Rendalis, but no time like the present to find out he guessed.

"Well then, if there are no further wardrobe adjustments to be made, we should be off. Have your weapons ready, we don't know what's going to be waiting for us when we get there..."
With that, Nidesis saddled his horse and rode out the gate and onto the bridge. It was an old stone tower bridge, though its defenses had long been overtaken by a seemingly parasitic infection of houses. They hung over the pathway, creating the illusion of a dark alleyway. Were they not armed to the teeth, it might have been a little unsettling. After that they arrived at the other side and onto the central island in the chain. Farms sprawled out for miles from the great fortress. The superstitious farmers went as far as they could, until Loklin couldn't be seen any longer from the distance. It was then, and only then that the agriculture abruptly stopped. Replacing the market towns, tiny hamlets, and isolated farmsteads were long expanses of treeless plain. The grass was no less grey than the sky, and was only interrupted by the occasional rock or ruin. After about a day of riding through the expanse, a great monolith came into the site, the ruins of an old tower city. Lethandros, if Nidesis remembered correctly. It was one of the first cities to fall, in the days of Magitek and the slaying of the Old Gods. The Nords had sent a great expedition like in the war of old, trying to scourge down the western coast all the way to Loklin. They were stopped at Lethandros, but the city was destroyed. Now all that remained was a blackened corpse overtaken by the grass and the occasional gnarled tree. Most of its inhabitants went to Loklin, and were the ones who built their houses on the bridge. They forgot their old home, and made no attempt to revive it. They camped in the ruins, as the rain had returned after its initial respite. Then it was back onto the road, and after a long, unpleasant ride they made it to their destination: Rendalis, the City of Lanterns.


The once beautiful cultural capital of the Aldoric midlands was as still as the grave. The last time Nidesis had been was when he was a child, but he still remembered the bustle and business to it. There was no bustle here, however. The whole place was dead. The farms were full of rotting crops, stinking corpses littered just about everywhere, and of the houses that might have contained living people not a single one opened their doors to them. The front gate was closed shut, but there were no guards atop the battlements to explain why. Not about to let a locked door interfere with his Order's mission, Nidesis simply gave it a good kick and the wood gave way. It was barely secured, giving the indication someone was in a hurry. The second door of the gatehouse wasn't secured at all. As they road in past the outer wall the smell became unbearable. Bodies were crammed in alleyways and there had been attempts to burn them from the looks of it. There didn't seem to be a single living soul in the city that wasn't on the verge of death. That was, at least, until they finally made it to the inner wall gatehouse, when a guard stopped them.
"Halt, who goes there?! The outer city is under quarantine! You cannot pass!"
Nidesis was baffled, did this man not know who they were?
"I am Knight-Captain Nidesis Nikanuur of Loklin, we were sent to investigate what has happened to the local garrison and the city."
The guard's eyes widened, and he looked as if he was going to cry.
"You mean...you're not from here? You haven't died? You ain't sick? Thank the twins! We've been stuck here for days! Ever since the plague struck, and your brothers went off into the sewers, we ain't had nobody to help us. Everybody that went through the outer city caught it and died. I'll go get the Arch-Mage, he'll be relieved to know you've made it."
As the guard waddled off to his superior, Nidesis felt nothing short of relief to know that this was seemingly a plague and not an evil curse. Whether it was a magical plague, however, remained to be seen...

The devastation was horrific to behold, though the stench of death had not disgusted him a long while. This, plague, this monstrosity, was far beyond anything he had ever witnessed before. The entire outer city, dead? He had seen neighborhoods struck down by some of the worst plagues in the land certainly, this however, went far beyond anything he'd seen. The few living here were far beyond helping. It pained him to know that there was nothing he could do for the poor souls.
"This... this is unnatural. There is no disease known to any that could cause such devastation. At least, none that I know of, and I've spent much of my time learning about the most horrific of plagues to strike lands. This is not one of them. This, is something far beyond it."

The devastation was horrific to behold, though the stench of death had not disgusted him a long while. This, plague, this monstrosity, was far beyond anything he had ever witnessed before. The entire outer city, dead? He had seen neighborhoods struck down by some of the worst plagues in the land certainly, this however, went far beyond anything he'd seen. The few living here were far beyond helping. It pained him to know that there was nothing he could do for the poor souls.
"This... this is unnatural. There is no disease known to any that could cause such devastation. At least, none that I know of, and I've spent much of my time learning about the most horrific of plagues to strike lands. This is not one of them. This, is something far beyond it."

Nidesis didn't feel like guessing at the cause was necessary, he knew that the Arch-Mage probably already had his suspicions, though another thought was creeping into his head. The Arch-Mage was probably holed up in his tower like cowardly nobles always are, what would he know? He decided to wait until they'd gotten inside to reach a conclusion.
"I believe the people who've had to isolate themselves within the inner wall would know more, yes? Speaking of which..."
The Arch-Mage arrived and signaled the guards to raise the gates for them. When they made it inside, he spoke to the group in the impatient tone of a man whose salvation was dangled right in front of him, just out of reach.
"You are the Griffin Knights, yes? I am Zalbar, acting Arch-Mage upon the death of my predecessor Orkil until the election of a new one. I assume you have many questions about what's happened here, and what happened to your comrades. Unfortunately I don't have much of an answer for you. The plague struck suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere. One day all was well, the next people are defecating themselves to death. The scholars of the tower tell me it is merely an aggressive form of dysentery, which is able to commune through the refuse of the dead as well as the water. Your Knights, however, disagreed. They insisted it came from the poison of a monster, which manifested into a blight. Either way, the problem lies within our cisterns. So Orkil sent them down to investigate, along with a company of scholars. They never came back, and Orkil died not long after that. Couriers were sent outward and inward, but none of them survived a fortnight in the Outer City. Since you have come through, however, I believe the plague has run its course, and has simply burned through its supply of victims. It would be prudent to simply abandon it now that we can leave. I thank you for proving the safety of the outside, Knights, and I assure you will be handsomely rewarded when we return to Loklin."
Nidesis was utterly aghast. They wanted to abandon the city? The city that had withstood countless plagues, wars, and catastrophes? Which had stood a thousand years? No, he would not let another Elven city fall to ruin.
"Where was it you said these Knights went?"
"Into the sewers, headed toward the eastern cistern" the Archmage responded, "It was where they believe the plague originated. Whether a monster made its home there or a crack formed that leaked into our groundwater supply, it was the one thing the scholars and the knights agreed on. Why do you ask? Do you need to retrieve the bodies?"
"No, you fool! We're going to save your city for you!" the young Knight-Captain snapped.
"You can't be serious!" Zalbar pleaded, "It's utter madness! That whole team of Knights plus the scholars went and never returned! What could you possibly do?"
"Kill whatever beast lives down there or find whatever leaky hole you people let your sewage seep through!"
"Fine, if you want to go and get yourselves killed be my guest, but you won't find me here if you come back."
Telling the guards to lead them to the cistern and handing over the sewer key, the Arch-Mage went off to the stables to ride out of his crumbling fiefdom.
"Is it true, milord? Are you gonna save Rendalis?" the portly guard asked,
"I'm not going to run away from a little pisswater" Nidesis replied.
The Knight-Captain then began to follow the guards who were to lead them to the sewer entrance which lead to the cistern, expecting his charges to be close behind.