A Leap of Faith, a Home Restored
Nov 28, 2015 9:06:46 GMT
Post by abyss on Nov 28, 2015 9:06:46 GMT
Life. It could be difficult at times.
Friends. They could pass in and out of ones life.
Allies. They could be as fleeting as words on the wind.
Faith...Though it was hard, even painful to maintain at times it had been a place of solace for this knights soul.
Never wavering. Never broken. If anything the constant nightmare that was the undead blight on their world had only reaffirmed his beliefs. While others may have difficulty finding purpose and a new path to be walk when their lives were suddenly turned upside down and inside out it was the opposite for him. No....Barristan had trained for this his entire life, and never did he feel half as close to his god then when he cut down one of the endless shambling horde or offered to carry out the final request of those passing from this world into the next stage of their journey. The greatest of his order were known to the world as the Doomguides of Kelemvor, perhaps a poor name for those so dedicated to helping bring peace to those in their final days...
But no amount of faith could have prepared the knight for the long trek back to his home. Not the home that he had been born to but the one that he had come to identify himself with. Countless hours spent in countless drills with veterans when he was young and then fresh recruits when he had grown...But the first thing he remembered was seeing it. Their first test...The towering mountain that stood before them now.
Mount Faeloth...
When he was just a boy he had stared up at the slow, almost gentle, sloping trail that seemed to rise ever upwards. Stretching out towards the heavens in what appeared an endless trail. A long, brutal, bone chilling trek from the foot of snow coated monstrosity all the way to its summit....Or at least close enough that it made no matter. And all along that mountain there were small towers, bastions of the knights defense. A show of strength, and a reminder that its people were guarded by the full force of the Sirandian Knights.
And now they had to go back. To drive out a group of Banites that threatened to undo the lives of the few people that they had managed to bring together under a single roof.
So lost in his thoughts the struggling paladin of Kelemvor hardly noticed. Rising up out of the morning mists, constant snowfall and raging winds was his home...Or at least its twisted perverted remains. Its darkened walls covered in ill omens, twisted markings, dried blood and eerie glowing lights.
Fort Tilarm
Friends. They could pass in and out of ones life.
Allies. They could be as fleeting as words on the wind.
Faith...Though it was hard, even painful to maintain at times it had been a place of solace for this knights soul.
Never wavering. Never broken. If anything the constant nightmare that was the undead blight on their world had only reaffirmed his beliefs. While others may have difficulty finding purpose and a new path to be walk when their lives were suddenly turned upside down and inside out it was the opposite for him. No....Barristan had trained for this his entire life, and never did he feel half as close to his god then when he cut down one of the endless shambling horde or offered to carry out the final request of those passing from this world into the next stage of their journey. The greatest of his order were known to the world as the Doomguides of Kelemvor, perhaps a poor name for those so dedicated to helping bring peace to those in their final days...
But no amount of faith could have prepared the knight for the long trek back to his home. Not the home that he had been born to but the one that he had come to identify himself with. Countless hours spent in countless drills with veterans when he was young and then fresh recruits when he had grown...But the first thing he remembered was seeing it. Their first test...The towering mountain that stood before them now.
Mount Faeloth...
When he was just a boy he had stared up at the slow, almost gentle, sloping trail that seemed to rise ever upwards. Stretching out towards the heavens in what appeared an endless trail. A long, brutal, bone chilling trek from the foot of snow coated monstrosity all the way to its summit....Or at least close enough that it made no matter. And all along that mountain there were small towers, bastions of the knights defense. A show of strength, and a reminder that its people were guarded by the full force of the Sirandian Knights.
And now they had to go back. To drive out a group of Banites that threatened to undo the lives of the few people that they had managed to bring together under a single roof.
So lost in his thoughts the struggling paladin of Kelemvor hardly noticed. Rising up out of the morning mists, constant snowfall and raging winds was his home...Or at least its twisted perverted remains. Its darkened walls covered in ill omens, twisted markings, dried blood and eerie glowing lights.
Fort Tilarm
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Several hours later
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It had been chaos....
Swarms of undead had coated those hills. Ogres, giants, behemoths, doomguards....Perhaps even a few of the knights he had known in life. And even a few of the Zhentarim that had taken their home so long ago...But it was over now. The fort had been retaken, the ritual of corruption had been stopped, the bombardment of Kalaram had been undone. The poison tinted promises of the Zhents had been cast aside, their gates broken down, their commander destroyed. And more importantly....Barristan had felt the presence of his god still strong within the halls of their fallen brothers. Keeping their spirits at rest, keeping them from being pulled into the wars of the Banites.
But his home was still tainted by the shadow of its previous occupants...They had perverted the temple within the once revered strategic and(to some) devout outpost.
He had been told that it was cursed, destroyed, that it would being ruin and death to those that stayed within its halls. But he had still felt something...Within the meeting hall of the knights, the resting place of their fallen brothers, he had felt the presence of the divine. And that alone had been inspiring. And if it could restore hope to him, and even his commander, perhaps it could do the same for others. A beacon of hope for the war torn land, a place of refuge and safety...A true home....
And he would see it done.
The people of this land deserved a reminder of who they were and what they could be.
If they could survive five years of death and torment then surely the knights of siranda could recover from this.
And in the midst of all this darkness his faith remained....Unbent, unbowed, unbroken.
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((This is the first post. I had to cut it here as it was getting rather long...Will be making a post in the next couple days of trying to remove the taint from the place. I
Several hours later
----------------------------------------------------------
It had been chaos....
Swarms of undead had coated those hills. Ogres, giants, behemoths, doomguards....Perhaps even a few of the knights he had known in life. And even a few of the Zhentarim that had taken their home so long ago...But it was over now. The fort had been retaken, the ritual of corruption had been stopped, the bombardment of Kalaram had been undone. The poison tinted promises of the Zhents had been cast aside, their gates broken down, their commander destroyed. And more importantly....Barristan had felt the presence of his god still strong within the halls of their fallen brothers. Keeping their spirits at rest, keeping them from being pulled into the wars of the Banites.
But his home was still tainted by the shadow of its previous occupants...They had perverted the temple within the once revered strategic and(to some) devout outpost.
He had been told that it was cursed, destroyed, that it would being ruin and death to those that stayed within its halls. But he had still felt something...Within the meeting hall of the knights, the resting place of their fallen brothers, he had felt the presence of the divine. And that alone had been inspiring. And if it could restore hope to him, and even his commander, perhaps it could do the same for others. A beacon of hope for the war torn land, a place of refuge and safety...A true home....
And he would see it done.
The people of this land deserved a reminder of who they were and what they could be.
If they could survive five years of death and torment then surely the knights of siranda could recover from this.
And in the midst of all this darkness his faith remained....Unbent, unbowed, unbroken.
-----------------------------------------------
((This is the first post. I had to cut it here as it was getting rather long...Will be making a post in the next couple days of trying to remove the taint from the place. I
