Snippet #1368944

(( I apologies for the wall 'o' text, but trying to set up the character when most of you had already started was rather difficult. For those of you who aren't at all interested in what happened to Raelnor before it starts to effect other characters, skip to part 5. ))

The sun beat down from the clear skies above and the wind blew gently across the road as Raelnor sat atop his armored war-horse Victory. They had been riding for a good portion of the day and now the small town of Lothering was in sight. He glanced over to his companion, an older Templar named André, who was, for all intents and purposes, his superior. Raelnor didn’t particularly care for the man, as he seemed to lax and loose with the Chantry’s teachings and his duties as a Templar.

“We’re nearing our destination.”

André, who had removed his helmet of which Raelnor didn’t approve, ran gloved fingers through his graying hair and nodded. He took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled bright.

“Do try to sound a bit more excited about it, Brother!”

Raelnor grunted. They were here to perform the duty they had been assigned not enjoy the sights. The sooner they could retrieve the suspected mage-child, the better. André laughed and shook his head. Raelnor was starting to dislike this man.

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As the two Templar’s rode close to the town a guard came forth with a wave of greeting. The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties or so, and had a well trimmed beard hanging just below his Adam’s apple. The man stepped forth and addressed André directly.

“Greetings Ser Templar!”

André smiled back and nodded.

“Good day to you, fine Ser! This is the town of Lothering is it not?”

“Aye, ‘tis. What brings you to our humble town?”

Raelnor cut in abruptly with a stern tone.

“Chantry business.”

André sighed and looked at his helmeted companion with disapproval. He turn back to the guard and in a polite tone continued,

“We are here to investigate rumors of a gifted child living in the town. Do you know of such a youth?”

Raelnor tightened his jaw as André conversed with the Guard. Their business was private, and was supposed to remain so. André’s constant lack for procedure was beyond imagining. He seemed to deliberately disobey Templar regulations at every turn! Raelnor was amazed he hadn’t been executed or at the very least disbarred from the Templar order.

“No, don’t believe I ‘ave, Ser Templar. Might want to check in with the Chantry though, it’s just over the bridge through the center of town.”

The guard pointed to a stone bridge. André nodded his thanks and urged his steed forwards.

“You’ll get a lot farther in life if you’d be a little more… sociable, Raelnor.”

Raelnor snorted from behind his helmet.

“I do my duty, as it is requested of me, as should you.”

André looked back at the younger Templar.

“Sometimes doing our duty means going outside of certain rules. You’ll learn that with time.”

I highly doubt that. Thought Raelnor.

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The Chantry stood higher then any other building in Lothering, except for maybe the tavern. Andrés had made a joke about that, one that Raelnor had found very distasteful. The two Templar dismounted in front of the Chanter’s Bored and tied their. Raelnor gave Victory, his horse, a firm pat on the haunch to which the steed responded by shaking it’s head from side-to-side.

“I know it’s hot. I’ll get you some water after we talk to the Revered Mother.”

A Templar stood by the door and nodded greetings at the two as they entered the Chantry. Both were immediately greeted by the sound of preaching and the faithful. A man was knelt at an alter immediately to their right and Raelnor couldn’t help but overhear his call for help to the Maker. Raelnor scoffed. Everyone knows the Maker has abounded us, to pray for his intervention… A waste. The man would be better served doing the Maker’s will, not asking him for help.

It wasn’t long before the two men found the Revered Mother in her private quarters. She was sat in a chair next to an alter and when she saw the two knights proply rose in greeting.

“Greetings Holy servants of the Maker. I take it you are here for the child?”

André nodded.

“Yes, Revered Mother.”

“Good. This is a quiet town, and the last thing it needs is a mage. The child is named Elise Roth. She is the youngest daughter of Arthur Roth, a farmer who lives in town and owns the field just outside of town. You probably saw it as you rode in. More to the point, however, strange events started to occur about a week ago, things like frozen glasses of water and wagons suddenly catching on fire…”

“Revered Mother, we will judge the child to be a mage by ourselves, please instruct us on where to locate the girl.”

Andrés glared at Raelnor.

“I apologies for my companion. He takes his duties very seriously and isn’t one for social graces… Please continue.”

The Revered Mother, who had looked confused and a little offended by Raelnor’s interjection, continued.

“Well, anyway, strange things, yes. Then, two days ago, when Elise was playing with some of the other children, she fell down sprung her ankle. A few of the townsfolk went to help her, only to find all the ground around her scorched as though it had been caught ablaze. That’s when we contacted the Circle and requested Templar come acquisition the child.”

“Location…”

Raelnor muttered.

“Oh yes! Right! She lives in the small house across the bridge and directly to the left.”

“Then our duty is clear. Thank you, Revered Mother.”

With that Raelnor turned on his heels and headed towards the exit, saying a prayer to the Maker as he left. André stayed a few moments longer, presumably to apologies further for Raelnor’s actions. Fool.

-------------------

Inside the house both men now stood in the kitchen, looking at Elise Roth, while her father sat at the table along with her mother who they had learned was named Martha and who was also busy drying her eyes with a handkerchief. André leaned was on his knees at eye-height with the child and had been speaking to her for the past hour. Raelnor had stood in the doorway, unmoving and blatantly refusing André’s request to remove his helmet.

“What kind of strange things?”

The child looked down at her feet in what Raelnor thought was shame.

“Well… sometimes, I catch things on fire when I don’t have any fire on me. And sometimes I can make water turn hard and cold really fast.”

Well that’s a definitive answer. Thought Raelnor. Thankfully André appeared to agree with that and pushed himself up off his knees and looked back at Raelnor, giving a nod. Finally. André looked back at the little girl.

“Your going to come with us, Elise. We’re going to go visit a great big tower so you can get help with these strange things.”

Martha, Elise’s mother, could not contain herself any longer and burst into tears, quickly excusing herself from the room. Elise’s father simply sat, covering his face with the palms of his hands.

“Say goodbye to you mother and father, little girl. You won’t see them again for a long time.”

A long time? More like never. Another hour past as André discussed things with both parents and convinced them to let their daughter go. Not that they had much choice, since if they didn’t agree both Templar would simply take the child anyway. Elise was distraught but after being comforted by her mother and father, agreed to leave with the two men.

-------------------

They had spent a long time indoors and now the sky had darkened and rain came forth in torrents. The men had only just got onto the highway after leaving town when it started and André pulled back on the reins of his horse.

“Why are we stopping?”

Raelnor asked impatiently.

“What? It’s raining, or can’t you see that from inside your helmet?”

He glared from in-between the dark slits of that very same helmet.

“I can see it. But it’s just rain!”

“Elise might catch a cold!”

Raelnor was stunned and thoroughly irritated.

“What do I care if the mage catches ill!? Let her use a spell to keep warm!”

“You know it doesn’t work like that, Raelnor!”

“BAH! You're sypathies for this pathetical excuse for life is beyond me! It's a mage, André, a mage!”

Elise was riding on André’s horse and sat in front of him, bundled up in a heavy cloak and held securely by the elder Templar. Both the men were so busy arguing with each other that neither of them noticed the bandits approaching from behind until it was too late. Raelnor caught the sight of them just as one drew back on a longbow aimed for André.

“André, move!”

He cried in warning, reaching for his sword while trying to trun his steed around for a charge, but it was too late. André only had time to turn his head before the bandit released the arrow, which impacted in the Templar, punching through the thinner armor of his lower back. André’s didn’t scream, but simply toppled from his horse like a rag doll, bringing Elise down with him.

Raelnor was about to roar in defiance when one of the bandits jumped up and yanked him off Victory before he could draw his sword. He hit the stone ground with a crunch and felt the wind pushed out of his lungs with the impact. The bandit wasted no time and jumped onto of the fallen knight, jabbing at him with a dagger, trying to find exposed flesh. Raelnor didn’t have time to recover from the fall and thrashed out with fists. He caught the man’s hand, the one with the dagger, and pulled it aside, smashing his other first into the bandit’s jaw. He felt it snap under the impact and the man flopped off of him, dropping his dagger and rolling on the ground in pain. Raelnor rolled over onto his stomach and started to crawled away, trying to catch his breath so that he could enter the fight in earnest.

Another of the bandits, presumably the leader, shouted over the storm.

“Leave him! We’ve got the girl! Lets get out of here!”

With that the bandits dashed off, Elise under the arm of the bandit leader. Raelnor pushed himself up and drew his sword, only in time to note that the group was headed into the Wilds. The man with the broken jaw still struggled on the ground, abandoned by his comrades. Raelnor walked over to the man and kicked him onto his back so that he could see the man’s face. He didn’t remember seeing the man before, but he wasn’t very good with faces anyway.

“P-Please! Don’t kill me!”

“Maker have mercy on you.”

Raelnor sunk his Templar blade deep into the man’s throat, immediately silencing any protests or pleas for mercy as the bandit struggled to breath, coughing up blood that washed down his face with the rain. He died slowly, and in what Raelnor hoped was great pain.

André! He dashed over to his fallen brother and pulled the arrow out of his back before turning him over to see if the man still yet lived. Raelnor wasn’t shocked to find him dead and guessed that the arrow had severed his spine, which was why he made no cry of pain when he fell from the horse. He had disliked the man passionately even in the short time they had been together, but Raelnor would never wish death on one of his Templar brothers.

But he still had a duty to perform. He had to get the child named Elise back from the bandits, and if he got lucky he could kill her captures while he did so. Raelnor pushed himself up, rain still pattering on his helmet and running down his armor, and whistled sharply for his steed, who had apparently fled after it’s rider had been dismounted.

Victory soon trotted up, the Clydesdale’s heavy hooves clopping loudly on the wet stone. Raelnor sheathed his sword and jumped up onto the armored war steed and slammed his heels into it’s haunches.

“YAH!”

He bellowed, and Victory galloped off in pursuit of the bandits.

-------------------

A few hours had passed since then. Raelnor was no tracker and had lost the bandits trail some time ago. He doubted they would have stayed on the road, but now regretted leaving it as he rode at walking pace through the dark and eerie wilds. The rain had not let up, and he desperately needed to find shelter.

As the thought for shelter entered his mind, Raelnor spied a cave through an aggregate of trees. He quickly turned Victory in that direction and rode closer.

Soon, though, he noticed a dim flickering light emitting from somewhere inside the cave, most likely from a fire. Could it be the bandits? It must be. Thought Raelnor. He said a prayer to the Maker for his good fortunes and dismounted Victory.

He marched forwards through the trees, not noticing the man perched up in one of them covered with a heavy cloak, and drew both his sword and shield in the same smooth motion. Raelnor thought about announcing himself first, about demanding that any and all occupants of the cave come out immediately and face him, but he didn’t know how many bandits there might be and was hesitant to give up the element of surprise. Surly they wouldn’t be expecting a Templar to simply charge in, sword drawn? He could probably kill at least three before any of the others could get to their arms. Letting out a cry of fury, Raelnor rushed forwards into the cave, shield and sword raised at the ready! Little did he know this was not the nest of any bandits, but of something potentially far more deadly.