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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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<blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 4007527" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>Chapter 7 – In Gerech We Trust</p><p></p><p>I started a low chant that Zmrat had taught me and opened my palm. A small, dim ball of light appeared in my hand. Slowly but surely the sphere grew in size and strength until it provided enough illumination for us to see where we stood.</p><p></p><p>It was a large chamber, we could barely make out the stone walls on either side of us and could see neither ceiling nor an end to the room.</p><p></p><p>We moved forward warily, our boots scuffing dust from the cobbled floor.</p><p></p><p>“Wait” whispered Strav, “I hear, singing”</p><p></p><p>I strained my ears but could not hear the voices that Strav’s keen elf ears had heard.</p><p></p><p>Once more we moved forward, this time even more slowly, listening for the song that Strav had heard.</p><p></p><p><em> “Persecute the pagans and bring us joy</em></p><p><em>Create a world we can all enjoy</em></p><p><em>Praise be to Gerech, Lord of Light, </em></p><p><em>Bringer of Law, and the just fight”</em></p><p></p><p>I sighed, Gerechians. Damn them all. Whilst I am the first to appreciate that we were in a temple of Gerech, one would have thought that the bloodied crosses on the door would have signified the end to any Gerechian presence here, but no. Instead, my poor ears were tortured with damnable Gerechian chanting.</p><p></p><p>At the end of the chamber we could now see six white robed figures facing another who had his back to us. These curious people began to sing yet another Gerechian hymn. </p><p></p><p>For my own sake I interrupted, “Hello my good man.” I felt it necessary to be polite so that we could get some assistance, although the last thing I wanted to do was be nice to a Gerechian.</p><p></p><p>The leader turned slowly, a frown crept across his very pale face. His skin was so white that it seemed he had not seen daylight in many years. “Shh.” He said putting his finger to his thin lips. “We are practicing our praise to the Lord.”</p><p></p><p>I hate these self righteous bastards! Trying to keep calm I persisted. “I am most sorry to disturb your beautiful songs, but we need sanctuary. You see we have just been forced upon your hospitality by a plague of rats.”</p><p></p><p>His frowned deepened. At least I was annoying him. I took some pleasure in that. “You must seek the temple,” he said gesturing to two doors on either wall. With that the choir leader turned and struck up another hymn. That was enough of a sign that it was time for me to exit.</p><p></p><p>“Well if you do not mind, can you please watch after my horse.” I concluded as I dropped the reins and headed to the wooden door on my left. </p><p></p><p>As I reached for the dull brass knob I heard a muffled gasp and an accompanying thud. My hand went to the hilt of Eldritch Light as I spun. A few feet away from me Morgan lay on the ground, hands clawing at his face whilst his body writhed on the cobbles.</p><p></p><p>The thing he was clawing at was a strange mask depicting a stern-faced man. It had been bought on a whim by Argonne at a market on Sorcerer’s Isle and the woodsman had gifted it to the warrior. </p><p></p><p>“Get it off!” Morgan whimpered in pain. He was tearing at it, trying to pry it loose but his efforts were in vane. The mask would not budge. The Fastendian warrior moaned in pain, “It hurts,” he sobbed. “Please get it off me.” His voice was muffled and sounded weary, as though he had undergone some massive struggle. </p><p></p><p>Argonne stooped over our fallen comrade and tried to pull the mask off, but he had no luck. The mask would not be shifted. Mortec closed his eyes in concentration and began to mumble an incantation of under his breath. The gnome slowly probed forward with his hands spread however as soon as he touched the mask he leapt back, crying “’Tis a foul artefact of Gerech that has imprisoned our friend!” </p><p></p><p>Morgan roughly pushed Mortec away as he struggled to his feet. He was staggered momentarily but then shook his head and steadied. “That’s better,” he said, his voice no longer muffled, but strangely deeper than the norm. “It doesn’t hurt any more.”</p><p></p><p>The mask itself appeared different. Its surface looked fluid, like water moving under a thin sheet of ice. It no longer had the same stern face upon it either. Rather it was now more of a hybrid of Morgan’s face and that of visage on the mask.</p><p></p><p>“It’s speaking to me!” rumbled Morgan in surprise. “Can you hear it?” </p><p></p><p>None of us had heard a word, other than his own.</p><p></p><p>First speaking dogs, now silent speaking masks, does everything possess the power of speech? I stared at the brass knob in front of me, waiting for it to say something. </p><p></p><p>“It claims it is Valintin’s mask and that this was once a mighty Gerechian Grand temple run by the head priest Constintine Seth.” He continued, the timbre of his voice was somewhat disconcerting.</p><p></p><p>Perhaps that is why Morgan had felt compelled to put it on, maybe the artefact had felt the presence of the temple</p><p></p><p>The word Seth was an Old Gerechian honorific meaning great father. It was a title given to the most significant and powerful priests of Gerech in times before the Connvocation were overthrown. Valintin, however, was not a name that I was familiar with. Whoever he had been he certainly had owned an interesting mask.</p><p></p><p>Morgan continued to question the mask, but he relayed no further answers to us.</p><p></p><p>Glancing to my comrades, all shared similar expressions of doubt and wariness. My general curiosity was somewhat curbed by a sense of foreboding. One of our group was now directly in contact, or so it seemed, with ancient Gerchian power. I could not see how this was a good thing. At least this time I felt confident that I would not be alone in watching our friend.</p><p></p><p>Stranger still the choir of Gerchians had not dropped a single note and their hymns continued uninterrupted.</p><p></p><p>The left door opened into a long corridor lined with lit torches. My ball of light was no longer required, so I clenched my fist over it and watched it blink out with audible crackle. </p><p></p><p>The torch light revealed that we stood in the presence of six bejewelled stone statues. Each held an arrogant standing pose holding some object of significance. I brushed my gloved hand over the dust that had settled on a golden name plate, “Artyom Seth, Eight Lord of Light” it read. In his hand he carried an ornately carved sceptre. There was something unusual about the statue, his face was blank, impassive, unlike the statues on either side of him. They were looked pleased and satisfied with themselves. </p><p></p><p>The name sounded familiar when I mumbled it to myself. Then it struck me! Artyom was one of the Lords of Light that lead his legion from Godsheim to challenge the Dominion’s forces. They were wiped out, never to be seen again. </p><p></p><p>I voiced this knowledge to my companions hoping that it might spark their memories of the other Gerechian Lords, but to no avail. They knew nothing of them.</p><p></p><p>It was at this point that I noticed Argonne and Moxadder speaking softly between themselves. “How much do ya reckon they’re worth?” asked Argonne as he nodded to the jewels on the carved forms.</p><p></p><p>“It does not matter how much they are worth.” I interjected. “We are not taking them. We are not here to loot a temple that is still used! Even if it is a Gerechian one.” I added</p><p></p><p>“But,“ began Argonne.</p><p></p><p>“No. Let us move on.” I said.</p><p></p><p>They never cease to amaze me. Common thieves and plunderers they were, the pair of them. Now they wished to desecrate a holy site. There was no way I would allow it. It does not pay to upset the Gods. </p><p></p><p>We left the statues, intact, and found another door at the end of the passageway. This door led to another long corridor, however, this one was occupied. Several pallid, robed people stood some way away on either side of what looked like a pit. </p><p></p><p>“Hail good people.” I sang out, “We seek sanctuary. Can you help us?”</p><p></p><p>They turned to face us and slowly plodded along the cobbles towards us. The white circle of Gerech that each wore around their necks swayed in time with each step.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 4007527, member: 46615"] Chapter 7 – In Gerech We Trust I started a low chant that Zmrat had taught me and opened my palm. A small, dim ball of light appeared in my hand. Slowly but surely the sphere grew in size and strength until it provided enough illumination for us to see where we stood. It was a large chamber, we could barely make out the stone walls on either side of us and could see neither ceiling nor an end to the room. We moved forward warily, our boots scuffing dust from the cobbled floor. “Wait” whispered Strav, “I hear, singing” I strained my ears but could not hear the voices that Strav’s keen elf ears had heard. Once more we moved forward, this time even more slowly, listening for the song that Strav had heard. [I] “Persecute the pagans and bring us joy Create a world we can all enjoy Praise be to Gerech, Lord of Light, Bringer of Law, and the just fight”[/I] I sighed, Gerechians. Damn them all. Whilst I am the first to appreciate that we were in a temple of Gerech, one would have thought that the bloodied crosses on the door would have signified the end to any Gerechian presence here, but no. Instead, my poor ears were tortured with damnable Gerechian chanting. At the end of the chamber we could now see six white robed figures facing another who had his back to us. These curious people began to sing yet another Gerechian hymn. For my own sake I interrupted, “Hello my good man.” I felt it necessary to be polite so that we could get some assistance, although the last thing I wanted to do was be nice to a Gerechian. The leader turned slowly, a frown crept across his very pale face. His skin was so white that it seemed he had not seen daylight in many years. “Shh.” He said putting his finger to his thin lips. “We are practicing our praise to the Lord.” I hate these self righteous bastards! Trying to keep calm I persisted. “I am most sorry to disturb your beautiful songs, but we need sanctuary. You see we have just been forced upon your hospitality by a plague of rats.” His frowned deepened. At least I was annoying him. I took some pleasure in that. “You must seek the temple,” he said gesturing to two doors on either wall. With that the choir leader turned and struck up another hymn. That was enough of a sign that it was time for me to exit. “Well if you do not mind, can you please watch after my horse.” I concluded as I dropped the reins and headed to the wooden door on my left. As I reached for the dull brass knob I heard a muffled gasp and an accompanying thud. My hand went to the hilt of Eldritch Light as I spun. A few feet away from me Morgan lay on the ground, hands clawing at his face whilst his body writhed on the cobbles. The thing he was clawing at was a strange mask depicting a stern-faced man. It had been bought on a whim by Argonne at a market on Sorcerer’s Isle and the woodsman had gifted it to the warrior. “Get it off!” Morgan whimpered in pain. He was tearing at it, trying to pry it loose but his efforts were in vane. The mask would not budge. The Fastendian warrior moaned in pain, “It hurts,” he sobbed. “Please get it off me.” His voice was muffled and sounded weary, as though he had undergone some massive struggle. Argonne stooped over our fallen comrade and tried to pull the mask off, but he had no luck. The mask would not be shifted. Mortec closed his eyes in concentration and began to mumble an incantation of under his breath. The gnome slowly probed forward with his hands spread however as soon as he touched the mask he leapt back, crying “’Tis a foul artefact of Gerech that has imprisoned our friend!” Morgan roughly pushed Mortec away as he struggled to his feet. He was staggered momentarily but then shook his head and steadied. “That’s better,” he said, his voice no longer muffled, but strangely deeper than the norm. “It doesn’t hurt any more.” The mask itself appeared different. Its surface looked fluid, like water moving under a thin sheet of ice. It no longer had the same stern face upon it either. Rather it was now more of a hybrid of Morgan’s face and that of visage on the mask. “It’s speaking to me!” rumbled Morgan in surprise. “Can you hear it?” None of us had heard a word, other than his own. First speaking dogs, now silent speaking masks, does everything possess the power of speech? I stared at the brass knob in front of me, waiting for it to say something. “It claims it is Valintin’s mask and that this was once a mighty Gerechian Grand temple run by the head priest Constintine Seth.” He continued, the timbre of his voice was somewhat disconcerting. Perhaps that is why Morgan had felt compelled to put it on, maybe the artefact had felt the presence of the temple The word Seth was an Old Gerechian honorific meaning great father. It was a title given to the most significant and powerful priests of Gerech in times before the Connvocation were overthrown. Valintin, however, was not a name that I was familiar with. Whoever he had been he certainly had owned an interesting mask. Morgan continued to question the mask, but he relayed no further answers to us. Glancing to my comrades, all shared similar expressions of doubt and wariness. My general curiosity was somewhat curbed by a sense of foreboding. One of our group was now directly in contact, or so it seemed, with ancient Gerchian power. I could not see how this was a good thing. At least this time I felt confident that I would not be alone in watching our friend. Stranger still the choir of Gerchians had not dropped a single note and their hymns continued uninterrupted. The left door opened into a long corridor lined with lit torches. My ball of light was no longer required, so I clenched my fist over it and watched it blink out with audible crackle. The torch light revealed that we stood in the presence of six bejewelled stone statues. Each held an arrogant standing pose holding some object of significance. I brushed my gloved hand over the dust that had settled on a golden name plate, “Artyom Seth, Eight Lord of Light” it read. In his hand he carried an ornately carved sceptre. There was something unusual about the statue, his face was blank, impassive, unlike the statues on either side of him. They were looked pleased and satisfied with themselves. The name sounded familiar when I mumbled it to myself. Then it struck me! Artyom was one of the Lords of Light that lead his legion from Godsheim to challenge the Dominion’s forces. They were wiped out, never to be seen again. I voiced this knowledge to my companions hoping that it might spark their memories of the other Gerechian Lords, but to no avail. They knew nothing of them. It was at this point that I noticed Argonne and Moxadder speaking softly between themselves. “How much do ya reckon they’re worth?” asked Argonne as he nodded to the jewels on the carved forms. “It does not matter how much they are worth.” I interjected. “We are not taking them. We are not here to loot a temple that is still used! Even if it is a Gerechian one.” I added “But,“ began Argonne. “No. Let us move on.” I said. They never cease to amaze me. Common thieves and plunderers they were, the pair of them. Now they wished to desecrate a holy site. There was no way I would allow it. It does not pay to upset the Gods. We left the statues, intact, and found another door at the end of the passageway. This door led to another long corridor, however, this one was occupied. Several pallid, robed people stood some way away on either side of what looked like a pit. “Hail good people.” I sang out, “We seek sanctuary. Can you help us?” They turned to face us and slowly plodded along the cobbles towards us. The white circle of Gerech that each wore around their necks swayed in time with each step. [/QUOTE]
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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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