Age of Ruin| In Character

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Dooley

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We sit upon the precipice of greatness. Such was my thought when I received word the King agreed to the Archbishop's proposition. Never had the order been given such an opportunity to present itself to the world. A solemn chance to exhibit the merits and degrees to which it excelled above all else. The Inquisition was my great hope. It was not until the first burning in Caelrida that I realized my folly. Behind our faith, our oaths, our discipline, we were still men. And in war men do terrible things. The Inquisition revealed the darker side of my order. It shown light and that which I wished was hidden still. If I had known truly what would come to pass perhaps I would have argued this course. Far too late now to turn back to such things however. We must see our mission done for the honor of the Ring, and glory of the Pale Lord.
-Exert from the writings of Grandmaster Gerrad Bullen​

Introduction
In the late summer months of 1236 SE, Nothlodar commenced the second full-scale invasion of Caeldeth to the north. A series of long and bloody engagements followed. With superior forces Nothlodar maintained a steady push into Caeldeth. As the war progress fatigue for both kingdoms mounted yet neither wavered. The sacking of Caelrida, Caeldeth's capital, appeared the push Nothlodar needed. By winter's peak the war had ended, and occupation had began.

The early months showed little in the way of discord, yet as time passed fear gave way to resentment. Natives of Caeldeth began to speak out against their overlords. Protests gave way to riots. Not six months after Nothlodar's occupation had began open revolt had set in. Putting it down was no great task but a distinct problem had arisen. Too many men had been lost in the fighting. If proper garrisons and patrols were to be maintained more would have to be brought in. With it's own forces dismal and still recovering, Nothlodar made request to the Church. It called on the forces of the Pale Ring.

The Church of the Pale Lord had been the dominant faith in Nothlodar for centuries. It held sway in court, ruled it's own lands, and most importantly; commanded it's own forces. The Pale Ring is compromised of knights in service to the Church. Though their number does not count near the number of Nothlodar's forces, it is significant. A few had fought in the war but the majority remained in Nothlodar. The hope was for them now to march north and help maintain peace in Nothlodar's newest territory. Yet the King was no fool. He knew the Archbishop would not so readily squander the Church's resources. So a decree was made by the High Council. The Church of the Pale Lord would have full authority in the apprehension and conversion of heretics in the lands of Caeldeth.

Now the forces of Nothlodar await the arrival of the Pale Ring, the Archbishop having dispatched the bulk of the Church's military north in a Grand Inquisition. A war of a different sort is soon to begin in Caeldeth.

The Story So Far
The Grand Inquisition is progressing smoothly. With it's forces bolstered by the presence of the Church, Nothlodar has been able to successfully lock down potential problem areas in Caeldeth's larger cities. The city of Tybalt was one such place, however; unlike many of it's king it presented little resistance to the invading forces. Instead, it's lord Duke Ulliam tentatively embraced his new overlords. Due to this Tybalt was reinforced with a hefty number of Nothlodar regulars of the forces of the Pale Ring. Quickly becoming the headquarters of the occupation for southern Caeldeth. Now a new governor has arrived from Nothlodar to oversee the new territory, and the forces of the Church continue their hunt for any remaining that refuse to convert.
 
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Chapter I: Oppressed or Oppressor
Episode I: Rigid Adjustment
People lined the thoroughfare as dozens of carts made their way through town. A gathering of this size would only coincide with celebration and festivity in the past, now only coming to be for more sordid dolor. All in the city knew what this wagon train delivered unto them. Two things, equally horrible in it's denizens eyes. The first of which was another contingent of Nothlodar Regulars. More soldiers to fill their home, to watch their movements, to lord over them. The other however, was far far worse. Eveline Ruth Kalgar, the Governor-General, the new ruler of their city. Duke Ulliam had retained a tidbit of control after Tybalt's peaceful surrender. He had managed to smooth to transition to some degree and protect his people. Now many feared that was over. Governor-General Kalgar would take the reigns wholly, and Tybalt would know the same sort of occupation the rest of Caeldeth has suffered.

Governor-General Kalgar
"This place isn't quite as bad as I'd heard. Reminds me of Forset on the southern border." A young woman sat staring out of the window of her carriage. "I was lead to believe most of them were hut-dwellers and the like. Is that not correct?"

Across from her a resided a strikingly large man. "It varies my Lady. The further north you head the less settled the land becomes." He sits with his eyes firmly shut, arms folded across his chest. "There are a few other cities similar to this, such as Caelrida, but even among them Tybalt is something of an outlier."

A beam of sunshine passes through the parting curtains catching the side of the woman's face. The red of her hair blazing as the light danced upon it. "Oh? How do you mean?"

"Exposure my Lady." The large man stirred in his seat a bit as the carriage struck a bump in the road. "The former leadership encouraged trade with outsiders and the people here have become more worldly for it. In fact..." The man cracks one eye and casts a glance towards the curtained windows. "I do suspect we will be dealing with a fair number of foreigners in our time here."

A near wicked grin curled unto the woman's lips as she turned her sight upon the large man, the amber hue of her eyes reflecting the darkness of the carriage interior. "Nothing is ever simple is it Harrod?"

Closing his eye once more the man simple nods. "No Lady Eveline, it is not."

The wagon train continued through the streets of Tybalt. Slowly winding it's way past crowds and worried onlookers to the fort in the city's heart. A significant number of Nothlodar Regulars and Tybalt Militia had been expecting this arrival. The officers-in-charge had arranged for a bulk of the garrisoned forces to meet the Governor-General at the fort in a show of force and adoration, while also broadcasting how well they had taken hold of the city. While on paper this had seemed a sound idea, in reality it had created several patrol shortages. Shortages that The Pale Ring had been expected to fill.

Reyner Hallenall
A group of three knights stalked the backstreets of Tybalt. Normally this would not be a track they walked, but certain circumstances had demanded they do so. Two seemed fairly young judging from their speech and gait. A trained eye could easily spot the newness of their armor and the freshly minted Pale Ring sigil etched across the breastplate. The third, however, seemed a creature apart from those in tow. If not for the similar armor he wore one might've mistaken him for a prisoner being escorted or something of that ilk. Yet such was not the case, for Reyner was in fact in command of the two younger souls behind him.

"But sir...we have our duties. We should reall-" One of the younger knights seemed to argue in protest, but was shortly cut off.

Reyner had lifted a hand to silence the boy, the other going to his mouth to stifle a yawn. "These aren't our duties. Our brothers-in-arms in the regular forces want to impress their new boss and we got stuck with their work because of it." Reyner then let loose a sigh as he shook his head. "And we can't rightly refuse, less we allow heretics to gather and start a revolt."

The other young knight spoke up. "You think that could happen in just a day or two?"

"Without a doubt." As they reached a fork in the path Reyner stopped for a minute and turned towards his cohorts. "Their out there right now. Watching, waiting, for any chance they can sink their teeth into. We let our guards down and we'll have a war all our own to contend with."

The two younger knights said no more, simply nodding in agreement. Reyner continued down the path. The curving streets of the more elusive areas of the city seemingly flowing between buildings like a stream. For a good thirty minutes more the three of them walked, until some odd goings on halted their advance. The scene was nothing unfamiliar to any that had taken part in the occupation thus far. A man lay on the ground, his throat slit, blood pooling around him. Above the corpse a woman sobbed.

"What happened here?" Reyner laid a hand upon the woman's shoulder. As she turned fear grew in her eyes. Her first instinct might have been to flee or cry out, yet inside she was defeated. The death of a loved one snuffing out whatever fires might have remained within her.

"They killed him..." Her voice broke as tears ran down her face. "...they killed him for converting. They told us they would...they told us." Another bout of sobbing ensued. "Why didn't we listen...why didn't we."

Reyner turned from the scene. "Fucking heathens." He spat upon the ground.

Another religious murder on the day the Governor-General arrived did not bode well. The more radical zealots had taken to lynching their former neighbors should they willingly convert to The Church's teachings. The Pale Ring had continually rounded up and executed these harbingers of anarchy, but always there was more. Reyner had wondered how many would meet their end on the pyre before realizing how futile their actions were. Now, he was fairly certain some were incapable of learning.

One last time he cast his gaze upon the dead man and grieving widow before turning and trekking off. "Come on. We need to report this."
 
The first rays of the sun were just beginning to spill through the windows of the small bed chamber. The stoic figure knelt fervently in the center of the room in silent prayer. Before him lay a goblet of water, a small piece of bread and an elegant straight sword, whose gleaming blade reflected the brilliance of the newly dawned sunlight, making the weapon shimmer in radiance.

"In your name do I commit this dawn, My Lord." says Jericho as he opens his eyes and intakes a deep breath. He picks up the sword Ascendance, his most prized possession, and twirls it around in ceremonious gestures. He than stabs the blade into the floor, leaving it standing almost perfectly erect, it's hilt facing downwards. The young Knight than grabs the goblet and bread "For upon your calling do men find their true sustenance." Jericho than takes a sip of water and eats the small piece of bread. "For my church, for the ring and for my Lord."

Jericho rises as the the sunlight now washes over his sword in it's erect stance. He grins slightly as he gracefully unlodges his weapon from the floor boards and sheathes it in it's ornate scabbard. Suddenly a soft knock raps at his chamber door as another knight, a younger man named Stoven, peeks his head inside.

"For give the intrusion Sir Jericho, but the company has formed downstairs awaiting your orders. "

Jericho chuckles "Thank you Stoven, tell the men I'll be down in short order."

Stoven nods and hurries back down. Jericho finishes getting the rest of his gear ready and heads down to greet his garrison. Whilst back in Nothlodar, the Church's high council had assembled a number of noteworthy knights to be the various front men in various special conversion task forces. Jericho was one of the very first knights selected to lead his own garrison, a contingent of about ten or so Pale Ring Knights. This was an assignment he accepted with absolutely no hesitation, as anyone would be hard pressed to find another with such unwavering devotion to the Church as Jericho Kel'Darrian, he considered it his solemn duty to serve his Lord.

The contingent of other knights under Jericho's leadership, casually milled about outside the garrison lodgings, when the stoic hazel eyed knight exited the door "Alright form up knights!"

The other men quickly fell into line as Jericho mounted his horse "What is the first proverb in the Tome Of The Pale teachings?"

"In this we swear oath to the Pale Lord, to his commitment of balance and order. Our blades swear allegiance to His ways and neither darkness, nor chaos nor the fretting paths of men could ever detract us!" say the rest of the knights in unison.

"So be it! Mount up knights, there's a whole land of sacrilegious souls we've yet to reach!" the other knights hurriedly mount their steeds.

"Remember, as clear as this apocryphal mark that adorns my forehead, a reminder of how the Church saved the progeny of wicked sires, so have you in me! For the glory of the Pale Lord!" this is met with an enthusiastic raising of several weapons by the other knights.

"For The glory of the Pale Lord!!!" they shout.

Jericho rides off leading his other knights on horseback as they begin to make their way through the southern square of Tybalt.
 
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