Paladins of the Radiant Hall

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"Yes..." says the old man, getting up from the floor, "Many a valiant warrior pleged his honor within these walls...but does that honor stand the test of time? I think not. Long past is the Age of Vigilance, when true warriors were bound to their word, and they honored it in the face of adversity. Yes, long past is the age of Paladins. Where are the mighty defenders of this once-radiant hall? Ravaged by time, lost in the darkness. And what say you? Do you stand by as corruption and greed runs rampant? Or do you fight?...We shall see."

 

I stand here afore thee. I serve no order, no king and no lord save God and honour. I have many names but one faith and one word.

 

The Radiant Hall has fallen to Shadow. Muster what forces of riteousness as you may, for the path ahead is dark, darker than any you have walked before, and you cannot walk it alone.

 

I lay down my sword in service to the cause, if it be a dark one it matters not. My soul is already beyond salvation, i do what i must now to save the reputation of my family name.

 

I tip my rakishly angled hat with a peacock feather in it, and swing my greatsword around in an impressive manner.

"Awww yeah, yall, where do I sign up? Any hot chicks?"

 

The darkness shall be exiled with the smiting of thy Radiant Hall, as I lay my lif and honor on thy hands.

 

Good...Though you'll need more than rakish hats. No, there are no chicks, the war against the darkness is not a glamorous one. Prepare yourselves, we leave in one day's time for the Hall of Lungard, the last known active gate to the Radiant Hall, from which the Shadow has been pouring forth of late. Meet me here come next dawn, I shall explain more on the way.

 

"Alriiiight! Woo-Hoo!"

 

" The time of paladins has passed indeed, old man. " A voice says from behind the gathered champions. They turn to see a black-cloaked figure with a curved sword in each hand. The stranger's slanted eyes burn with a demonic radiance through the haphazard veil of white hair that hangs over his face.

" You!" The old man exclaimed in despair. The paladins exchange confused glances, for they do not recognize the swordsman in black.

" Yes." He replied. A twisted grin formed on his face. The swordsman walked forward slowly, his movements the deliberate, perfectly balanced steps of a warrior who has seen countless battles and who has survived them all. " Me."

" Defend yourselves, good sirs!" The old man cried. " Evil has come upon us!" The paladins, seasoned warriors all, drew their shining blades swiftly and readied their shields.

A paladin with a symbol of three towers upon his surcoat stepped forward, raising his blade so that it was levelled at the swordsman's throat.
" Identify yourself, trespasser and interloper!" He demanded. His strong, resonant voice swiftly became a squeak of surprise as he found the swordsman's shorter sword buried to its hilt in his gut. The swordsman twisted the weapon and tore it sideways, spilling his viscera upon the floor.

The rest of the paladins gave a startled shout at the sudden violence but they recovered swiftly and rushed the swordsman, yelling their respective battle-cries. The swordsman grinned and kicked the paladin of the three towers at the coming horde. His heavily armored corpse crashed into the ranks of the paladins, scattering them and the swordsman leapt into their midst, his blades a dazzling blur.

Limbs and heads flew into the air, the shining mail of the paladins no proof against the fell swords of the stranger. The swordsman laughed insanely as he killed.

" Pray for your gods now!" He cried as he split the skull of a paladin who had finally lost his nerve and kneeled before him, begging for mercy. " Pray!"

The last paladin perished with a torn throat, striking vainly at where the swordsman stood a split-second ago before his strength gave out and he crashed heavily to the floor. The old man fell to his knees, his hands raised as if in supplication.

" Why?" He asked. " In the name of all that is holy, why? Why did you have to kill them all?"
The swordsman smiled, an expression of sadistic delight made all the more fearsome by the gore he was drenched in.

" Because they lived."

**************************************************

The swordsman's dark form faded from the horizon as the sun set, leaving the old man's crucified corpse hanging above the mangled bodies of the paladins.

[ January 22, 2003, 13:40: Message edited by: Shura ]

 

A short time after the swordsman had left and old cleric hobbled down the stairs and saw the results of the massacre. "NO!" he cried and ran to his fallen comrades. The old cleric knelt beside one of the less damaged paladins and cast a raise dead spell.
The paladin known as Sir Dargon opened his eyes to the smell of spilt blood

 

The old man materialized beside the cleric, shaking his head and wearing a grim expression. Striding over to the crucified corpse, he tapped it with his staff, and it immediately seemed to deflate and dissolve in a cloud of black smoke.

"And so the Shadow is upon us. I had thought we had more time, but there is no rest for the wicked. I thank you for your quick action, borther, but we can waste no more time. Might you offer up prayers for these fallen knights? They died in service."

"I shall see what I can do, but their assailant was fully given over to the Darkness, it shall not be easy."

"I can give you one half and a day, no more. They must be well enough to travel. I must see that our friend does not get far. I must speak with friends. Farewell, take them to the temple of the watcher, the shadow cannot manifest itself in his vigilant audience, he shall not be able to pass the threshold."

The cleric hurried off, returning shortly after with some adepts in tow, and carried each of the Paladins to the temple, where he prayed through the night, returning the Paladins to life one by one.

 

Excerpt from [Frater Dormitius 'De vita nobilissimi viris de tribus turribus apellati alto de genere domini boni iustique defensoris']

An angel did from Heaven descend and unto the evil minion such he spoke words lowering the holy arm in which he held the Chalice:

'Thou shalt perish, servant of evil and thy sombre heart be delivered unto fiery blaze of puryfying flame'

This said the angel extended the holy arm in which he held the Chalice and gave the dying lord Lucas to drink.

'Arise, treacherously stabbed knight and deliver justice unto him who betrayed thee.'

This said the angel raised the holy arm in which he held the chalice and blessed the noble lord Lucas.

'Confess thy guilts and ask forgiveness!' intoned the noble lord Lucas as he proceded towards the blasphemer, who did not utter a word and struck the noble lord Lucas with his unholy blade.

'Thou hast chosen and shalt suffer what cometh of thy choosing. In the name of Good and Right hereby do I condemn thee to death to which thou shalt be committed.' proclaimed the noble lord Lucas and in one blow beheaded the servant of evil.

 

It had begun to rain in the night, and as the dawn came on, the sky remained dark with black clouds. The cleric had collapsed in exhaustion after returning the men to life, and the Paladins had placed him in his quarters. Eating a hasty breakfast, they anticipate the old man's return.

Outside, the sound of horses braying can be heard, and a sharp rapping comes upon the heavy wooden door.

 

As the old man opens the door a figure fills the threshold. The tall, broad shouldered man paused for a moment as he looked into the room. Taking in the bloodstained floor and the hollow eyes of the gathered warriors he nodded to himself and walked into the light.

The warrior wore battered mail and had the worn hilt of a greatsword thrusting over his left shoulder. His dark blue eyes were surrounded by the lines of years of sleepless nights and care. His stride was slow, as if each step brought pain to an old scar, but despite his speed he moved as one who would not stop even if the gates of Hell barred his way.

He paused in the light and met each warrior in the eye for a moment, appraising them, nodding in greeting to a few old comrads like Sir Dargon. Finally he turned to his host, bowed, and finally broke his silence. "I recognize the taint of evil over this noble Hall. This enemy has plauged me for most of my life, and I add my sword to your cause."

In a flash the greatsword was point down in the ground at the feet of the old man. "We will eliminate this plauge!"

 

"Your sword is welcome, though I had not anticipated your coming. I shall have to get you a horse...no matter. I see you are all healthy. Has the cleric retired? Good, good. If you are ready, I have already saddled the horses."

 

Mathetais' weary face relaxed into a smile, and he responded, "A steed will not be necessary friend." Walking back outside he gave a low whistle and a powerful warhorse galloped into view. Jumping into the saddle and sliding his sword into a saddle sheath, he said, "Come now friends, let us depart!"

 

"Truly a magnificent beast," says the old man, hopping up into his saddle with surprising agility for his years. "Come, we ride south for a tenday, and there is much to tell you. Let me begin with the origins of the Radiant Hall. Created by the Glorious Watcher, The Lion, The Vigilant One, call him what you will, to unite the forces of riteousness against the Shadow during the Age of Vigilance. The Hall itself exists in extraplanar space, accessed by special gates designed to keep out creatures of shadow. Paladinhoods committed to the cause could access the Radiant Hall through their Halls via the gates. Once in the Radiant Hall, they could train, worship, rest seek medical aid, and quickly respond to incursions by the Shadow virtually anywhere because of the widespread support of the Vigilant One and his cause. Sadly, the end of the Age of Vigilance, with the beginning of the Age of False Gods, marked the end of the Radiant Hall. Dissent and conflict between gods destroyed the unity of the cause, greatly reducing the effectiveness of the Radiant Hall. For protection, many of the gates were closed, though access was still granted to the Vigilants, servants of the Vigilant One, and to the Lungard, servants of Lunai, who committed herself to defending against the Shadow through the night. It was in a Hall of the Lungard that the Shadow overwhelmed the warriors and overtook the hall. In its day, the Radiant Hall could have repelled any strike by the Shadow, but in the time before it was taken, the Hall had lessened in its glory. Once it had established itself in the Hall, this Shadow must have began reactivating the gates from within the Hall to send out raiding parties. While attacking the Host Shadow will be a daunting task, take heart that this Host is isolated from the Void, so its resources will be limited. We have our work cut out for us."

 

As the group rode on through the rain, they passed through a cluster of shabby homes that was almost organized enough to be called a village. A tired-looking woman and a gangly youth were standing before one of the houses.

"Please, good sirs! Would one of you take my nephew here, Geoffrey, as your squire?"

 

"I cannot ask you to endanger the life of your nephew. This quest is no place for a squire. Await our return, Geoffrey, that you might be inducted into the Radiant Hall once its glory has been restored."

[ January 27, 2003, 18:39: Message edited by: Muumli ]

 

As the column moved down the dusty road, Mathetais adjusted his sword, keeping it free from hinderance in case trouble should rear his head. Occasionally he would close his eyes in meditation, extending his senses to see if evil lurked and lifting up prayers for wisdom and protection.