Chapter 1 – Gathering Storm

The light fog that had gathered over the city of Prontera began to lift as the morning sun warmed the air. Almost as quickly, the streets filled with Merchants prepared to sell their wares and peasants armed with gold prepared to purchase them. Life was to go on, much as it had the day before, even amidst the turmoil that was gratefully kept outside of the city walls.

Certainly, the people of Prontera knew of the sudden resurgence of the demons. The King reminded them of it daily as he attempted to assuage their fears. As the murmur of talk spread noisily throughout the streets, Kieran could only assume that most of them were, in fact, at ease.

And yet, those that he walked with were quiet and somber. He led the procession down the eastern thoroughfare of the city, less crowded than the main concourse, his Bible clutched against his chest. Behind him, an honor guard of seven Crusaders bore the casket of one of their fallen comrades. Kieran had seen firsthand the ravages this war could bring, and knew he would see many more deaths before it ended. He would never be able to accept the empty words of royalty, claiming that all was well when so many were falling.

From the Church they came to the cemetery, now bathed in the light of morning. As the casket was laid to rest in the earth, Kieran opened his tome, and addressed the gathering.

“We shall all mourn the loss of Galen, of this I have no doubt. But even as we mourn, we must celebrate. Celebrate the life that Galen led. For so long as we remember him, in word and in deed, he shall never truly be gone from us.

“Galen knew well the risks of joining the ranks of the Crusaders. He accepted them joyfully; knowing that with his station came the power to make a difference. That, he certainly did. We will always remember his bravery in battle, and his unwavering faith in the human spirit to weather this storm. Let us not let him down.”

Murmurs of assent came from those gathered for the funeral as Kieran paused and looked out among them. He bowed his head as the tome in his hands fell shut.

“In nomine Patri, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation echoed.

At this, the honor guard raised their blades in one final salute to their fallen brother, and watched with heavy hearts as fresh earth was laid atop the grave of Galen Palanros.

* * *

By the time the sun had reached its peak in the noon sky, Kieran had excused himself from the proceedings of the funeral, thinking it best to allow the family some private time to grieve. He sighed heavily as he sank onto a bench in the center of Prontera, the fountain dedicated to Odin quietly splashing behind him. Closing his eyes, he began to massage the bridge of his nose, wondering if he would ever truly know peace again.

“That was a lovely thing you did for Galen, Kieran. Thank you.”

Kieran’s eyes shot open as he sat upright, seeing a figure he recognized immediately standing before him. It was difficult to forget Shai Arachne. Her skin was fair, and her angular face was set beautifully amidst her long, violet hair. For all the armor that the striking woman was wearing, he was amazed he hadn’t heard her approach. Even dressed for war, she was a vision of both beauty and grace.

“Shai,” he said, managing a smile. “You startled me.”

“I apologize,” the Crusader returned, as she gestured to the vacant space next to the Priest. “May I?”

“Yes, of course. By all means.” Kieran shifted slightly to the side as she sat down. “To what do I owe the honor of your fine company?”

“I saw you leave the funeral, and I thought you deserved to be thanked. Too many members of the Church are dealing with the conflicts to give the fallen a truly decent burial. We appreciated it.”

“You know I would never refuse anyone requesting the last rights. I only hope I will not need to perform them many more times before we can bring this fighting to an end.”

Shai nodded her silent agreement, but the determined look in her dark eyes said more. The battles would continue, and she would be there fighting them, or else be joining Galen. For a Crusader, those were the only options.

Sensing the uneasy silence, Kieran was about to attempt a change of topic when a sudden noise grabbed his attention. He and Shai both turned, momentarily forgetting the troubles outside of Prontera so as to concentrate on the problems taking place within its walls.

A nearby mage was pushing his way through the crowded streets, his sand-colored robes highlighted with scarlet dye. A Fire Mage, Kieran knew. He had spent a great deal of time with the Wizards of Geffen, the City of Magic. The order of Acolytes to which Kieran once belonged was second in magical power only to the Magi. But what he was so forcefully making his way toward, Kieran could not tell.

It was Shai that finally realized. Raising her gauntlet, she directed Kieran’s attention to a rather disturbed looking man leaning against a wall of the Prontera Weapons Shop. In one hand, he spun a staff of gnarled wood that grew around a glowing crystal orb; no doubt the reason a Mage was so interested in him. With the other hand, he held a dagger whose blade was currently employed in picking his teeth. The man’s wild red hair was spiky and disheveled, and a scar ran down the left side of his face. A pair of fur-trimmed pants, a skull belt, and an open vest made from what appeared to be a tiger’s skin completed the ensemble.

“My wand! He stole my wand!” the mage was shouting as he finally reached the Rogue.

“Now, now, now… what’s the little whelp gonna do about it, eh?”

The mage seemed at a loss. He knew the Rogue could likely cut him down before he had a chance to throw enough spells at him. Much to his relief, two figures stepped out of the crowd. One, a swordsman, drew a rather impressive looking katana. The other, a female archer, already had her arrow bent.

“Hmm… three on one, then? Right. I give you each a free shot.”

Shai’s eyes met Kieran’s at that. Both of them knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“Well, hurry it up! I ain’t got all day,” the Rogue insisted.

“You want it,” the Mage growled, “Well here it is! FIRE BOLT !!”

A pillar of red light surrounded the Mage as a stream of flame fell from the sky, headed straight for the Rogue. He made no attempt to move, and the Fire Bolt hit home.

The look of sheer righteousness on the Mage’s face swiftly gave way to shock, however, as the Rogue simply breathed in deep, and grinned.

“Right then, you next, Swordy? Gimme ya best.”

The swordsman hefted his katana and charged, but the Rogue was too fast. A split second before the blade would have impaled him, he stepped deftly to the side, the katana reverberating off of the stone wall. Moving, however, seemed to cost the Rogue, as he discovered an arrow in his shoulder.

“Well now, the little missy seems to have been anxious for ‘er turn. And she’s a good shot, I’ll give ‘er that. But play time’s over, kiddies. Time for me to take you to school.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the Rogue was in motion, dagger flying. The swordsman gasped as he felt his Chain Mail fall from his chest, the Rogue’s quick disarmament proving too deft to counter. Spinning, the assailant lifted his dagger, and plunged it towards the back of the swordsman’s neck.

His hand, however, stopped short, the sound of steel on steel breaking the tense moment for the Swordsman, who collected his armor and retreated. Shai’s shield, Messenger of God, was the force responsible for saving his life as it hung there on her arm, her gaze piercing the Rogue’s own.

“’Ello love, ‘oo are you?”

“Shai Arachne. I’d say I was charmed, but I’d be lying.”

“Good enough. Enoch Camas ‘ere. Now that we’ve taken care of the formalities, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.”

“Oh, of course. I understand. Please, do try.”

“ENVENOM !!”

Enoch’s dagger was surrounded in a purple haze as he slashed at Shai, the deadly toxin seething from the blade. Shai was quick to counter, however, as she raised her shield to block, delivering two cross-shaped blows to the Rogue with her Avenger at the same time.

“HOLY CROSS !!’

Enoch hissed as the two blows forced him back, but he quickly recovered, spinning his Grimtooth dagger in his hand and beckoning for more.

“I actually think you’ve had quite enough,” Kieran interjected from behind Enoch. The Rogue spun, growling. He looked the newcomer over quickly. A black robe embroidered with red and gold around both cuffs and the chest, his skin bronzed as though he had spent a great deal of time in the Sograt Desert. His white hair, short and tousled, stood in stark contrast against his complexion, as did the ivory cross he wore around his neck.

“What’s it to you, Priest?” he spat, sparing a glance back at Shai.

“Nothing, really. It’s just that you’ll be going home now.”

“Oh, I will, will I? We’ll just see abou- ‘EY!”

Enoch’s commentary was cut short as a pillar of blue light consumed him, the Mage’s wand dropping from his hand. Kieran smiled as a grateful Mage came forward to collect his possession. The Warp Portal had gone undetected by the Rogue, too concerned with facing two fronts. Now he would find himself back in Morroc, the City of Thieves, where his kind were not only tolerated, but also expected.

Shai sheathed her Holy Avenger as Kieran approached her.

A satisfied grin made its way across Kieran’s face. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I think it’s a little more peaceful inside. Shall we?”

As Shai nodded, the two of them made their way from the cheering crowd, back towards the Church. Neither of them had any inclination to realize what kind of an enemy they had just made as they weaved through countless citizens on the busy streets. With Kieran pausing every so often to offer blessings to those in need, it seemed to take them an eternity to cross the remainder of the city. The Church Bells heralded their arrival as the great wooden doors of Prontera Parish swung open, admitting them into the hallowed halls. A soft melody met their ears, echoing forth from the organ deeper within the narthex as they stepped reverently through the corridor. On their right, they passed the East Wing, home to the Ordained Priests of the Church. To their left, the West Wing, where the Brotherhood of Monks resided. Shai left her sword and shield with one of the attendants, and Kieran greeted a number of passing Nuns, who seemed giddy over being noticed. Shai gave a smirk at this, the Priest merely shrugging his shoulders back as if to feign indifference. Both were about to join in the evening worship, when a voice called out to Kieran.

A man who appeared to be a few years Kieran’s elder was approaching them, clad in a pair of dark pants and a white, black and gold tunic that ran open down the center, revealing a most impressive build. His hair, short and silvered, framed his dark eyes beneath the hood of his tunic, and as he raised his hand in greeting, a golden rosary dangled from his wrist.

“Kozyn,” Kieran said pleasantly, reaching out and embracing the man’s arm.

“I am glad that you are not harmed,” the Monk replied. Kieran looked puzzled for a moment and Kozyn, realizing, clarified. “Some of the worshippers mentioned that they had seen you involved with a scuffle in Prontera Square.”

“Ah, yes, that. A Rogue was creating a disturbance. We… intervened.”

“A Rogue, you say?” Kozyn asked. “It seems not even the little peace we have within these walls will satisfy such ruffians. I suppose it would be best to give the City Guard a description.”

“I plan to provide the authorities with his name,” Shai interjected. “I am certain that they will be able to recognize Enoch easily enough.”

Kozyn turned to Shai in slight surprise, but quickly recovered his composure. “Enoch…” he whispered.

Kieran, catching the surprise, turned quizzically to Kozyn. “Do you know him?”

The Monk looked up a moment later, and simply shook his head. “No. No, I think not. It’s just… just a very strange name, is all.” Changing the subject, he smiled and turned to Shai. “And I am afraid that I do not know this fine lady either.”

Suddenly flustered, Kieran attempted to correct his terrible manners. “Oh, of course! Kozyn, meet Shai Arachne. Shai, Kozyn was my mentor when I was still training as an Acolyte. We chose different paths within the Church, but I still come to him for advice on many things.”

“Charmed,” Kozyn said, inclining his head.

“A pleasure,” Shai returned.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have a group of new Acolytes to attend to. I am glad to see you are well,” Kozyn said to Kieran once more as they locked arms again, “ and I have enjoyed meeting you, Shai.”

With that, the Monk set off as Kieran and Shai joined the mass proceedings. Kozyn walked steadily down the corridor until he found a passing Acolyte, clearly just in the beginning stages of her training.

“My dear, have you yet been trained in the ways of the Warp Portal?” he asked her.

The Acolyte, startled at being addressed by the Monk, stammered for a moment, but still managed to answer the question. “Y- Yes, Brother Kozyn. Father Kieran instructed us in it last evening.”

“Wonderful. I need to see someone in Geffen. Would you be so kind?”

“Oh, of course, Brother Kozyn.” The Acolyte produced a shining blue gemstone from a pouch at her side and, channeling her magic through it, created a portal directly beneath Kozyn. As the gem dissolved, its focusing power for the spell spent, a pillar of blue light consumed the Monk, and he was gone.

* * *

The fields around Geffen, the City of Magic, are filled with many dangers. To the east lies the domain of the Kobolds, a bipedal canine race that has adopted the use of a wide variety of human weapons, dropped by those unfortunate enough to fall to these monsters. To the north, the plain of dragons poses a constant threat. But for those souls brave enough to risk the journey, there exists an ancient castle, known only in legend as Glast Heim. This once magnificent city, populated by unsavory creatures of almost every sort, living and dead, is now largely in ruin. Deep within the castle, shrouded in darkness, a figure glides deftly around the onslaught of two of these creatures. One, a Zombie Prisoner, slashes wildly at him, but the ball and chain attached to his leg makes him far too slow. Slipping around behind and brandishing a dagger, the figure quickly dispatches the undead monstrosity.

“BACK STAB !!”

As the Zombie fell, its comrade struck. The Khalitzburg, a massive spectral skeleton, wielded it’s rapier with deadly accuracy, and drew blood from the figure, who retreated back, readying himself for another swift and fatal strike. He never had the chance, however, as a Kaiser Knuckle glinted in the darkness, and another figure emerged, pummeling the Khalitzburg with the raw fury of his fists and brass knuckles.

“CHAIN COMBO !!” he called as his flurry of punches erupted into a blur of speed, striking each of the vital points on the skeletal frame of the abomination’s body. With a horrible wail, the phantasm passed into nothingness, and the first figure put away his dagger.

“‘Bout time you got ‘ere.”

“I was delayed. I wouldn’t even have had to come if you hadn’t been so careless.”

“Now, it was only a bit o’ fun. No one got ‘urt.”

“Yes, but only because of outside intervention. If they had discovered wh-”

“Look, do they know anythin’, or not?

“Thankfully, no. They suspect nothing.”

“Good. You jus’ make sure it stays ‘at way. I’m close to finding wha’ we need.”

“Well, just be careful about how you try to get into Prontera. The Crusader will have alerted the authorities. Why you gave them your name, I’ll never understand.”

“Can’t be rude to the lady, ye know tha’. Anyway, I ‘ave my ways.”

“Fine,” the second figure said as he turned in the darkness, and began to walk away. “Just try not to cause anything else I have to clean up.”

The first figure simply waited in silence until his associate was gone. Chuckling slightly, he too vanished into the shadows of Glast Heim Castle.

“So it has begun.”