Zargathric,
The Fourth Age.
The withered, brass bell of the Gordine Chapel rung throughout the old town. A flock of malnourished, raggedy crows scattered across the grey brown skies, cawing with hoarse, shrill sounds. A modest, nameless town. One of many, across the ruined land of Zargathric, under the protection of the Church of the Holy Sword, whose banner, consisting of a silver sword on a dark, moon blue cloth hung on the aged walls.
The smell of ash could be picked up for miles. Smoke rose from the desolate towns and obliterated cities in the distance, everything torn asunder by fire. Dragonfire, hellfire. The tall, silent watchers of the church, in their white cloaks, wide-brimmed hats, and silver masks stood guard by the walls, hands gripping tight on the pommel of their sheathed longswords.
By the steps of the old chapel's east entrance, sitting on the yellowed stones, is the Old Knight Volt. Hunched forward, tattered cloak over tarnished black iron, he stared at the ground through the visor of his cracked helmet.
Seems like those minister fools finally made up their mind, the Old Knight thought. Once, In their naivety, the Church thought that their strength and faith would be enough to repel the Black Dragon and his legion of fiends. Volt scoffed at the thought. Nothing, no man, woman, or weapon could ever slay a dragon. None.
A great rumbling noise emanated from the north entrance, which Volt turned his attention towards. Two church watchers stepped out, their steps in synchrony, their black gloved hands holding the scabbard of their longswords, their movements so monotonous, so soulless. And behind them, Volt sees her.
Or rather, "Them".
Two girls, both in the white garb of church-sanctioned sacrificial maidens. Simple, but new and clean, a luxury afforded to few in this ruined world. The last remnant of dignity provided before they become the plaything of the Black Dragon, Volt supposes. one holding onto the other for support. One short and meek, the other tall and firm. One pale as a snow, with a modest amount of messy white hair tied up on a short ponytail, the other darker of skin with long, ebon hair partially hidden by a hood.
Two maidens? In one team?" Volt couldn't believe his eyes. But as he observed the pale girl being escorted out, he quickly took notice. Her feet were bare, and every step she took was careful. Yet she walked with no limp, just plenty of hesitation. And those foggy eyes of hers.....
Perfect. They assigned me to the broken ones.
Emma leaned on to Janelle, her head down, her fingers firm. She could feel her heart beating in sync with her every step. The warm, damp soil under her feet.... The ash and soot from miles and miles away.....
The boots of the watchers ahead clacked and clattered with an oppressive rhythm. A myriad unpleasant questions filled the young maiden's head.
What will the Dragon do with us? Why me? What if we die before we reach our destination? She found herself trembling as more and more of the questions, each less pleasant than the last, crept up her mind.
Glancing to Janelle's general direction, Emma hesitated for a bit. But out of a desire for levity or distraction, she whispered, with her soft, bell-like voice,
"A-at least they didn't send us on a rainy day...," a sad, distant smile gracing her lips.
"It would ruin these new clothes....," she continued, quieter than before.
Oh God, I hope that was not too inappropriate...The watchers soon escorted the two maidens towards the center of the town, in front of a collapsed structure of wooden spikes and crumbling stone, once the house of a rich merchant. Gathering around them are the dour-faced townsfolk, looking as withered and tired as the town itself, several church deacons holding dimly-lit candlesticks, and the watchers guarding them. Thoug most significantl, to the two maidens are several unique and colorful faces who had been recruited - willingly or not - to accompany them on their journey.
The church deacons, in their white and blue robes, began the ceremony of departure.
"A-hem. God has blessed us today, with not one, but TWO brave women, who have been chosen to undertake this arduous journey...."
The portly archdeacon's slurred, nasally voice droned on and on. Emma barely listened to him, her mind wandering off to the thought of death, fire, and death by fire. Dragonfire. They say it is not a pleasant way to go. The charred and warped corpses the Black Dragon left behind in his rampage had expressions of true agony carved into their mutilated, blackened faces. At least that's what the stories say.
"....For the good of Zargathric, its people, and its future. We pray for you."
"Vereor Draco," the Archdeacons, and some of the townsfolk, muttered.
A long silence. A hollow breeze passed by them.
The archdeacon's assistant, a skinnier and taller fellow, stepped up next to him, and pulled up a scroll from which he read out loud,
"Accompanying the maidens of this town on their journey are five virtuous souls! Chosen from the best and brightest, by the hands of the Church!"
A high pitched, bombastic voice, the voice of a man trying...no, pleading, to convince the people of the town. An advertisement, a persuasion.
Expecting those he call to step out, the Archdeacon's assistant cleared his throat, then continued,
"Sir Gibbon Blackwater!"
"Leth Kazloun, of Nouhik!"
"Juno Argent, of the Northern Libraries!"
"Avalon the Van-...er, Ahem! Avalon!"
"and Sir Volt, of the Ivory Valley!"
Emma anxiously waited. She wished she could see the faces of the gallant souls who would accompany them. Each of their names sounded so exotic! The maiden put up a polite smile as she waited for their approach.
Volt walked forward when his name was called, each step heavy, accompanied by the rustling of his tattered cloak and the clinking of his tarnished iron. He looked silently, between the two maidens, growing less and less unsure of their survival by the second. Two maidens. One maiden is a big enough risk, a target for lecherous bandits, insane cultists, vile demons.....but two? Two is suicide. Two is hopeless. They will be dead before they even leave the forest.
"So. Looks like we'll be working together," Volt's gravelly, deep voice greeted them, his gaze wandering to the rest of the team.