Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

The Templars were in good order, and working swiftly.

"Anyone here!? umm Commander Wilder!?"

A man leaned over the wall above the postern door and looked down at Dimitri. "The Commander is coming from the Baronial Manor at Seaside." he shouted down. "Seek you shelter here? Or some other assistance?"

Karen was indeed on her way at last... The entire garrison of the Seaside Baronial Manor at her back. They thundered through the Seaside Plaza and headed past the Marketplace Baronial Manor. 'Of all the nights to remain at the Manor... thought Karen, angrily. "Vanion must 'ave learned I were away." she growled.

"Baron Febdash returned yester-morn, Commander... and Division Commander Fredricks is there." said Dinah, over the pounding beat of the horses.

"Well, thet means they'll prolly move slowly... We need tae join up at th' Chapterhouse and then sweep th' bastards intae th' river." replied Karen, angrily.

"The Temple of Divine Light will need assistance from what ever is attacking these innocent people."

Dimitri looked into the sky suddenly a large red and green flare rises into the sky then falling the the ground only to be extingushed with a slight kick of dirt.

"How many men do you have here. How many can you spare?" Dimitri yelled back up at the man.

Dimitri spun around the two blades he had came out of the scabbard slicing a man down quickly. He looked back up at the man,

"what are you still doing here. Why arent you out there stopping these men!?"

"There are few enough of us here as it is... The First Division went to the South Gate, they'll spread out from there." replied the soldier on the wall. "Cavalry patrols are already out, looking to rescue those they can."

An archer appeared on the wall next to him, firing an arrow at a figure further away. "We're not all Warrior-Mages like you, stranger... There's no way we can fight those things one-on-one."

"Aye," added the first soldier. "Besides, our orders are to hold these grounds and bring in what refugees we can. At least until Commander Wilder arrives."

"Then send all that you can to the Temple I will hold this building!" Dimitri looked up at the guards. "As you go there bring any survivors to here I will protect them!"

Eerie eyes of faded champagne watched the movement in the darkness. The Old Market Baronial Mansion's lights were dimmed and the main gate closed and locked to keep the world out or to keep the Baroness in. There was a pang of guilt welling up in Anjolie's stomach as she watched Wilder's crusaders march to save the people.

The Overlord would not let his wife join in the defense even if she had voiced an interest. The news of the slaughter of Catholics caused a long-forgotten feeling to rise to the forefront of the Baroness's mind as she watched a brave woman lead an army to fight the good fight.

In the darkness... pale fingers wrapped around smooth black beads and a contralto voice full of sorrow and regret spoke softly in a chain of prayers for the dead and the dying.

Hail Mary full of grace... the Lord is with you...

Dimitri wrote:"Then send all that you can to the Temple I will hold this building!" Dimitri looked up at the guards. "As you go there bring any survivors to here I will protect them!"

A lone rider approached the postern gate at a gallop, shouting at the top of his lungs... "Trouble in the North! Trouble in the North!"

"What news?" yelled the soldier on the wall.

"The Hospitalatiers aren't coming out... and the Phoenix Guard are holing up in their Temple and Orphanage! There's only one squad of our men up there, and it's too much territory to cover!" replied the rider.

The archer on the wall swore angrily, then shouted down at Dimitri. "You heard the man... they need more help in the northern sections of the District. I'll inform the Cardinal." With that, the archer vanished from the wall to make his report.

"Guardian Morganwulf, take your unit east, sweep through to the wall on line, turn north and sweep back around on your own initiative taking targets of opportunity."

As the commands went out to the various unit leaders, Godric Morganwulf reviewed the district map on the table before them. He made note of the targets in his path eastward, and then worked out the path he planned to follow on the sweep back. Several targets looked attractive. Allowances would have to be made when resistance began showing up.

Morganwulf returned to his unit and made final preparations for zero hour. Time seemed to slow. It always did before a battle. He paced through his men, checking over weapons for the fifth and sixth time. The men, the living ones anyway, fidgeted and followed their own preparatory rituals. Some checked their weapons. Some bragged to their fellows about what deeds they would do once the purge began. The dead ones mostly just stood around awaiting the command to go. The vampires radiated excitement. This night had been a long time coming.

When zero hour arrived, his unit moved out quickly. It would be important to execute as much of the strike as possible during the hours of darkness, before dawn when the vampires would need to retreat. With that in mind, Morganwulf kept tight rein on his death knights, marching them east in timed precision. Strike, move, strike, move, strike, move. One house after another in orderly pattern. The vampires he allowed looser rein. Their more erratic strikes, interweaving with his march, would make it more difficult to discern his unit's movement. And nights of revelry like this were rare enough. Morganwulf wasn't certain he could have controlled their attacks anyway. Their hunger had been building for a long time.

Morganwulf didn't worry if a survivor or two escaped their march eastward. The important thing was to complete the initial sweep before dawn. Any survivors would only contribute to the panic and chaos. The fires would add to that as well, but Morganwulf was careful to string those out. An uncontrolled blaze would interfere with their movement. Instead, only select houses were set afire.

Even as he ran a pleading woman through with his black sword, the guardian's thoughts remained clinically detached. The woman was just a body. A corpse now. Morganwulf spared no thought for who she was, or whether she loved her god and was devout in her prayers, or whether she reared her children properly. She was merely an object in his path. An object to be dealt with in a cold dispassionate manner while he focused upon more tactical issues.

From the corner of his eye, Morganwulf spotted a figure trying to escape the shadows and flee. With a curt gesture he pointed the figure out to one of his men and a moment later the figure fell, a bolt protruding from the middle of his back. His interest lost, Morganwulf turned back to the east. "Move out. We're done here. Set this one ablaze."

Then, as an afterthought, Morganwulf turned back to the man that had tried to flee. "Cut off his hands and feet. Tear out his guts and hang him from a lightpost with them. If he's still living...so much the better."

The rest of the night passed in similar fashion. A swift thrust east, clearing any household known to hold followers of the Catholic church. Then, after achieving the east wall, a turn northward, to conduct a looser march veering left and right apparently at random, striking at will. They arrived at the river before dawn and ahead of schedule. "Alright, first squad, pattern nightshade. Second squad, pattern belladonna. Thirty minutes, then execute random strikes as you return to position one."

Morganwulf looked out over the river. He could see the Watch beginning to take up position on the bridge. Behind the faceplate of his helm he smiled briefly. So predictable.

Gesturing with his sword for emphasis, Morganwulf pointed at each of the squad leaders. "Remember, your orders are to strike hard but avoid organized resistance. If you are met with a larger force, retreat into the shadows, disperse, return to position one or the backup location. Your choice." He walked among their number, knowing the vampires would not retreat once frenzy had taken them, but their time was limited. Dawn was fast approaching and they would need to go to ground. Then the death knights would break apart, making it harder to counter their actions, as they made a wayward movement back to position one striking at designated targets of opportunity. "Strike and move. Strike and move. Delay too long in one spot and the Templars will find you. Delay too long and you may lure the Phoenix Guard out to respond. The Watch will be hesitant for hours to come, but given long enough even they may find you."

"Slake your thirst instead where they are weak. Strike their homes. Slay their women. Their children. Give them reason to know fear. Spare a few that will run, so that their forces will be tied up protecting them. Make sure to wound them, and kill any that might return to fight us. Make them remember this night in their nightmares! Make them quake at the name of Myr'Khul!"

With that, Morganwulf gave the command to go. First and second squads moved off quickly. Each following their own predetermined pattern. Morganwulf's own squad, including his best spellcaster, moved off at a slower pace, watching for targets of opportunity.

He slipped out of the shadows near the warehouse, making sure the two that were waiting for him saw that he was unarmed. "Evening gentlemen. I take it you're the two that have business with me. If you'd come inside, we can complete our transaction and you can be off to maim, kill, and terrorize to your hearts content."

Moving over to a nearby door, he opened it and went inside, leaving it open for the two to follow him in. He motioned to a large stack of crates sitting in the middle of the floor. "You can take them all, but there's just one catch. I'll need them back within a week for repairs. They're great stuff, but they wear out much faster than ordinary weapons due to some of the enchantments on them. The star that burns brightest burns fastest, as my mother used to say."

He turned to face them both, his face becomming more businesslike. "As for price, I bet that money matters little to you. Probably as little as it matters to me. So let's just say that you owe me a favor. What that favor will be, I don't know yet." His hand extended outward as a devilish grin came on his face. "So do we have a deal?"

Much to the surprise of his fellow brothers and sisters, as well as the troop that was almost at the orphanage, Vincent was already there waiting for them, as he just appeared at the front gates. The troop had no way of knowing, but this occurance was happening in several places simultaniously throughout the district, including the main Temple. He gave the group a nod, welcoming their presence.

"Glad to see someone's finally come out here. I'm going to need you all take up devensive positions, and should things get difficult, you are to let me know immediately. As for the current moment, I think the orphanage is not the target. But that may change anytime. Madness tends to not be predictable."

He looked up in the sky, gazing off into space for a moment. To say he was distracted was an understatement. Juggling the sheer amount of sensory information flowing into him from so many places at once was not only threatening to overload him, it was giving him a bugger of a headache and the urge to consume large amounts of ice cream. He did manage to pull himself together long enough to give a few more orders though.

"For those of you who've never seen me do this before, I'm not only here, but at the temple and in several other places throughout the district. It is extremely important that I maintain concentration at all times, so keep the questions to a minimum and don't be surprised if I don't answer at all. If our troops need help, I may just disappear completely. Should this happen, I'll be back as soon as I can. Fear not, for the White Lady protects us all and as her Knight-Magus, I will ensure that nothing happens to us, no matter what the cost."

And then that far away look came back to his face as he watched everything unfold, seeing all and wondering just what was going to happen next.

((cross-posted in The Temple of Divine Light))

Dimitri smiled as he looked into the sky as 25 Wyverns flew over the city circling around then landing around the chapter house. Outside the city 300 elvish soldiers rode on horses at he city at an incredible speed. Dimitri looked at the wall of the chapter house then turned to a very tall elf who jumped off his wyvern and walked to Dimitri.

"Sir your reinforcements have arrived what are your orders." The elf kneeled.

Dimitri nodded and looked towards the north "Head to the northern part of the city signal the cavalry to meet us at the wall to then defend there. Elrohir stay here and wait for Commander Wilder tell her that the Azillian Knights have arrived to help fight...After you meet with her come and join us." Dimitri jumped onto Elrohir's Wyvern.

He pushed his fingers into the nerve points on the Wyverns neck "To the north Knights!" the Wyvern took off heading with the rest of the squadron to the north. After a few minutes of flying the wyverns declined stopping at the wall seeing the rest of his Elves Dimitri smiled "Follow us!" The wyvern squadron ran rather then fly to their destination. THe rest of the Cavalry following quickly behind.

Vanion Knightwood took longer than a split second to respond to Eddie Venom; he took perhaps two or three. The dark elf did not prefer to owe favors to others - however, it was always possible that he could just go back on his word, or kill the arms dealer should the favor ask too much.

"Yes. We will take the blades, and return them to you for repairs as requested.", the dark elf conceeded shortly. "Tybalt. Can I rely on you to get the more powerful blades to Guardian Morganwulf, Protector Slava, Protector Xanthippe, and Bishop Ignatius?"

The hot-blooded gunsmith responded softly, "Yes, Lord Drakhar. Where should I deliver the rest?"

"The Temple. Tomorrow, we will split from our Extermination Squad formations, and begin to prepare to counter the incoming armies. Listen to me quickly, Tybalt. I must disappear for several days. You will know that I have returned when the Prophecy shows itself. Inform the leaders of our forces that there will be a large number of cavalry entering the District. Use alleyways, rooftops, flintlocks, shadows - every advantage we have over mounted forces.", the High Priest kept his tones quiet enough for only Tybalt to hear, but articulate enough for him to understand clearly.

"Yes, Lord. Is it time then? Has freedom finally come?", the vampire gunsmith's eyes lit up at the mere mention of the Prophecy.

"Soon. First, though - there is a kitty whose toe I need to catch.", Vanion called out as he turned sharply. A moment later, the warehouse's shadows swallowed the dark elf, leaving Tybalt d'Tange to deliver the soul-stealing weapons into the hands of the Knights of Myr'Khul.

The Protector of Myr'Khul had been Catholic himself, once. In Russia, his family had stayed devoutly religious, despite Stalin's butchery - despite the Communist faction's war on Christianity. And yet, the Slava family - poor, but brave farmers - remained faithful to their beliefs in the Savior.

He had not asked to be pulled to Rhy'Din by an ancient familial curse. He had not asked to be homeless - forced to panhandle on the streets of the Old Temple District. And after the Knights Templar had taken him in and trained him as a Guard - given Jonothan Slava a purpose - he had not asked for Dimitri Locherin to murder his older brother in cold blood (the only other of the Slava family to be brought to Rhy'Din).

The last thing that Jonothan Slava ever asked for was Justice for his brother's murder. In the battle of his short life, the Templar Guard accosted Dimitri Locherin and Vanion Knightwood-Shadowcast in the Red Dragon Inn. He gladly gave his life in an attempt to strike down the murderer who had taken his only friend from him. However, Jonothan's story did not end there.

Vanion Knightwood's experiments on Jonothan's corpse raised the swordsman from the grave. Where his shield arm once had been, the High Priest of Myr'Khul had grafted the tentacle of a vampiric-flayer. Where a once pious, Catholic heart had once been, Vanion had opened his soul to be possessed by dozens of murdered spirits.

Jonothan Slava, though, did not curse his fate. Whatever part of his mind was still his own was not even sane enough to realize what an abomination he had become.

You see, some men are born without a chance for anything but tragedy and heartbreak. Jonothan Slava never had a chance.

Protector Jonothan Slava was known amongst his Knights as one who cried often. However, Jono's crying fits were not like most - his were terrible to behold. Being possessed by dozens of insane spirits tended to make Jonothan difficult to be around, even for the black-hearted Knights of Myr'Khul. If it weren't for Vanion's direct control over Jono's actions, he would have been dangerously uncontrollable.

Then, as his oozing, dark green tentacle strangled a dismounted Templar Knight, Jono was crying. Screams and whispers of secret betrayals pierced the air near the Orphanage, and surely any refugees inside it would not have believed such a horrible sound could have been caused by just one man.

A few moments passed, and the continued pressure on the Templar's neck proved too much. The Catholic Knight's eyeballs exploded in their sockets, and his dying scream blended in with Jonothan Slava's own. At the last moment, the Protector of Myr'Khul brought down his new blade, burying it deep into the Catholic's chest. A sickening slurping sound ensued, and the large broadsword began to glow in white light as it summoned the slain Catholic's soul into the blade itself. Once the deed was done, Jonothan turned to his fellow Knights - many of their blades also glowing in response to their hunger being staved off by the souls of the fallen.

"Stop here." Jonothan's voice was suddenly powerful and commanding - he was no longer crying. Several of the Knights of Myr'Khul had already lit torches and were preparing to set the Temple of Divine Light's Orphanage ablaze. They stopped dead in their tracks, fear from the Voice of Vanion Knightwood demanding immediate obedience.

"This orphanage, and those who follow the White Lady are not to be touched. If you break our agreement with them just to sate bloodlust, I assure you that you will regret it for more years than you could ever hope to comprehend."

There were only slight mutterings from the Knights at Jonothan's order. The High Priest did not always make sense to his Knights, but they did know that his decisions were to be trusted.

Jonothan looked up into the air, seeing a troop of Wyvern Riders, including Dimitri Locherin himself, flying towards the District's northern battlefield.

"Knights! We move north. Prepare your magicks and your gunpowder. Drink every victim dry of their souls. The Wraith-Blades will grant you power over the Catholics and this new, Elven Army. Cut down our foes, blast them out of the skies, and paint the streets with Catholic and half-breed blood!"

And then, Protector Slava's legion of Death Knights turned from the Orphanage for Wayward Souls, and disappeared into the shadows as they moved northward.

The tattooed wizard and the silver-masked swordsman faded from sight for a brief respite. In their place roamed a small pack of elven shrews the size of large dogs that dove into the packs of dark knights with wild abandon, biting and clawing at their flesh. Whenever a shrew fell to their blades, it disappeared in a cloud of mist, only to seemingly reform seconds later.

((Note: the common shrew is one of the most aggressive animals known to man, needing to eat almost constantly to maintain its elevated state of rage, plus it is one of the few poisonous mammals with a neurotoxin for immobilizing its prey. The common shrew weighs about 21g. The elven bred war-shrew can weigh up to 50 kilos.))