Swords and A Squandering Snail: Dramatic Entrances

As related in Swords and Meetings, Cade of Galaras, a poet and dramatist opposed to the Church of Herotus, has joined three accomplices to oppose the Church of Herotus: Eam, a sorcerer and ex-mercenary; Drustan, a Half-Orc Barbarian; and Sabrine, an attractive and stealthy archer. The four now find themselves in the Temples district of Bowden, a relatively wretched hive of scum and possible villainy.

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One: Dramatic Entrances

Once again, we found ourselves in a tavern I could call acceptable only with extreme charity. I rested my back against cool stone. It was the only place I didn’t expect to sprout a blade. The few broken and bent people in that establishment had a nefarious look I knew only too well. Woe the individual with coin in purse—that person would likely lose coin, blood, or both.

Beside me sat Sabrine, my cousin. Beautiful, unforgiving and probably smarter than three of me with our heads together, she had wrapped herself in a dark cloak that obscured her shape. It protected her from prying eyes, meaning every male in the establishment who didn’t sit at our table.

A hood and heavy cloak hid Drustan’s features and thick body. Though the quarter called “the Temples” in Bowden had that egalitarian bent I had seen in other slums, we didn’t want to press the acceptance of the mob. He crouched over the table, his arms crossed before him, his face melting into the shadows of the hood.

Cade all but sprawled in his chair, apparently unconcerned with the intentions of those around us. He had his legs stretched out before him and his arm hung over the back of his chair. He had chosen this tavern as he had a connection with whom he wished to speak.

Only a sprinkling of denizens sat throughout the room. They shared the worn, hopeless look of the building itself. The tables, like the patrons, looked as though they had seen many hard years. I could barely swallow the ale and feared attempting any of the wine I had seen others drink.

“You should whip up a spell to remove the bite of this drink,” Sabrine said.

I laughed at that. “I can barely control the magic that touches me. I’d likely turn the ale to oil and leave you with a lantern for a drink.”

“And that’s why you dream of Highstone?” Cade asked. “You think you might find some answers to your magic there?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “I don’t know much about Highstone, save its reputation.”

“You say this friend of yours studied at Highstone?” Drustan spoke in his usual gravelly croak.

“Studied, though not as a wizard,” Cade said. “She supports herself as a minstrel but has an insatiable curiosity for the ancient and legendary. She sought out answers at Highstone, but really only found tantalizing clues. Those led her here.”

I looked about at the room in which we sat. It rose up some three stories, with stairs leading to a balcony on the second story but not to the one on the third. I wondered how one might reach that. The smoke of the few candles that provided dim illumination rose up to disappear in the darkness above us.

“What could she hope to find here?” I asked.

“Secrets,” Cade said. “Secrets that we can use against the Church.”

“Then it’s worth the risk,” Sabrine said. “But I don’t want to wait much longer. The word has likely spread of the four people lounging in this tavern who don’t look like they are starving and might have some money.”

Cade rose. “She said she worked in the gambling den, which should be somewhere nearby or attached.”

Drustan put his hand on Cade’s arm. “I doubt wandering about on your own would be wise.”

At that moment, a man stumbled through the door. He almost fell before catching a table and righting himself. He wore clothes that may once have been fine, given the embroidery still apparent, but hung like rags from his thin limbs. He had a gaunt face with bright, ice-blue eyes. He gasped as he held the table.

Behind him came seven armoured figures. I stiffened. The lead figure wore the armour of a Holy Knight while those who followed him I marked as Initiates. Could they have found us?

The man turned and began to back away. The Holy Knight pointed at him. “Your terror is at an end. Now you will tell us where you have hidden the staves.”

“Gentlemen, I believe you are mistaken,” the man said. “You do not serve the one true god, only a usurper of gentle gods.”

The Holy Knight surged forward, delivering a backhanded strike to the man’s face. The meaty sound of impact seemed to echo to the rafters. The man rolled with the blow, twisting away. He still faced the Holy Knight. He did not appear injured. His face had no mark on it.

The man smiled. “Ah, the gentle word of the supreme deity, yes?”

The Holy Knight spat in the man’s face. “Your words are as twisted as your masters.”

With that, the Holy Knight gestured toward the man. The Initiates approached, daggers drawn. Cade, still standing, turned to Sabrine. “We can’t leave this.”

“You heard his words,” Drustan said. “He too offers secrets against the Church, and they intend to silence him.”

The Initiates began to beat the man with the pommels of their daggers. He threw up his arms, perhaps hoping to protect himself from the blows, but he faced six men. He shouted, but did not call for help. What help would he expect in this rat’s den?

Without a thought, I stood. The Holy Knight turned and he seemed to notice us. He slid his greatsword out of the scabbard on his back. Like all the blades of those false knights, it had an engraved paean to the god Herotus and a prayer for potency in battle. The etching seemed to suck in the faint light of the room. He let the tip rest on the ground, as though standing guard against us.

“What crime has that man committed?” Cade asked.

“It is not your concern, citizen.” The Holy Knight’s helm muffled his voice, but it still had the force of command behind it.

“It’s our concern if you are beating an innocent man,” I said.

Sabrine frowned at me. I knew her unspoken comment was right. Why would we face seven Knights of the Holy Mount, even if six of them were Initiates? Engaging superior numbers is never a good strategy.

“Are you in league with this servant of evil that you would speak on his behalf?” the Holy Knight asked.

“Servant of evil?” Drustan rose.

I heard Sabrine groan as she reached beneath her cloak. We had come to know that tone in Drustan’s voice. He didn’t like seeing the weak attacked. He didn’t like the Church. He didn’t like sanctimonious, self-righteousness. He had all that within easy reach of that spear of his, and so that is exactly what he drew out from beneath the table.

Spear in hand, Drustan turned on the Holy Knight. “You are the servant of evil, you and your weak-livered cronies. I will bathe my blade in your blood and send you screaming to your god.”

“I know you, Drustan of Teyrs, the Half-Orc.” The Holy Knight went to guard with his greatsword. “You will surrender yourself and your compatriots to trial by the Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount in the name of myself, Brother-Sergeant Heston of the Mount. Divest yourselves of your weapons.”

In answer, Drustan drew a dirk, more sword than knife. While I revelled in calling forth the power I had found buried deep in my heart, I knew we had put our feet in something foul that would take a fair effort to scrape off. My magic wasn’t strong enough to tip the scales in this contest. Before Drustan could close with the Holy Knight calling himself Heston, I grabbed the crossbow from beside my chair. I knew the weak point in the armour of the Holy Knights.

The Holy Knight took a step back. “Iolan, Metres, to me.”

And I released. The bolt slammed into the Holy Knight’s breastplate, though not where I had intended. It did not pierce, but knocked him back a step. With a howl, Drustan stepped in, swinging his broad-bladed spear. Off balance, the Holy Knight failed to counter the attack. Drustan’s spear glanced off the armour, but again drove the Holy Knight back.

The Initiates had turned from the beating of the defenceless man and drew their swords.

“We’re in the thick of it now.” Cade had his sword in his hand.

“It would be a fine time for your friend to arrive.” Sabrine nocked an arrow to her bow. “Your friend and about ten others ready for a fight.”

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Swords and A Squandering Snail continues in “The Minstrel and the Prophet.”

Lorestaves: the Knights

The Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount
Concepts by Dean Martin and Fraser Ronald
Written by Fraser Ronald

The Knights of the Holy Mount, often simply called the Holy Knights, are no longer a religious order at all. They have become a military unit rather than a militant arm of the Church. While still considered a branch of the Church, the only member of the Church that has any influence on the Holy Knights is the Patriarch.

While all members of the Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount are commonly called Holy Knights, the Order only encompasses 100 Knights. The other members of the Order are Initiates. In order to join the Holy Knights as an Initiate, an individual must renounce all worldly wealth and connections. One must sever ties with one’s family and one’s friends. An Initiate of the Holy Knights has no personal wealth. Even the armour, weapons, and mount of the Initiates are the property of the Order.

The centre of the Holy Knights is their Grand Temple. The Grand Temple of the Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount is found, as one might imagine, at the Holy Mount in Bordeleaux, Eresbor. The Grand Temple is the home of the Abbot of the Order and his Monastic Council, made up of the three Brother-Generals of the Order. The Abbot is a life-long post, and when an abbot passes, the Brother-Captains hold a secret vote to choose a new Abbott from among the Brother-Generals. The Brother-Captains then elect a new Brother-General from amongst their numbers.

While there are only three Brother-Generals, there are numerous Brother-Captains. Many cities have chapterhouses, which are bases for the Holy Knights. Each chapterhouse is commanded by a Brother-Captain. Beneath each Brother-Captain is a Brother-Sergeant. Brother-Sergeant is the lowest rank held by a Holy Knight. While the Brother-Captain is responsible for all the business of the chapterhouse and acts as a representative of the Order, the Brother-Sergeant is charged only with leading the Initiates.

Initiates are divided into Initiate-Novice, Initiate, and Initiate-Brother. When an individual first joins the Holy Knights, he is an Initiate-Novice and acts as the personal servant of a Brother-Sergeant. After a year of service, he begins his military training as an Initiate. Most, but not all Initiates, have had martial experience or training, however some are simply peasants or serfs. Some Initiates never graduate their training. Those who do not perform to the expectations of the Brother-Sergeant have the choice of remaining with the Order as an Initiate-Novice, a servant to a Brother-Sergeant, or to leave the Order. When an Initiate graduates to Initiate-Brother, he receives his sword, armour and bracers.

The sword, armour and bracers are the mark of the Holy Knights. All martial members of the Order bear a greatsword in imitation of the twelve chosen knights of Herotus, whom they seek to emulate. Each greatsword remains the property of the Order, and they are fashioned in the armoury at the Holy Mount. The greatswords of Initiates are engraved with a paean to the god Herotus and a prayer for potency in battle. The armour of the Initiate is a suit of scale armour Initiate-Brothers all wear Bracers of the Initiates, fashioned of steel and bearing the mark of the Holy Knights.

When a there is an opening among the Knights, the Brother-Captains elect a new Brother-Sergeant from among the Initiate-Brothers. It is usually the case that only those Initiate-Brothers who have accomplished some deed of note are ever considered for admission into the Knights. Should there be no Initiate-Brother of note, it usually falls to political machinations and influence. It is in this manner that many Initiate-Brothers who have little martial ability are promoted into the Holy Knights.

When an Initiate-Brother joins the ranks of the Holy Knights, he gains the blade, bracers and armour of the Holy Knight whom he replaces. The Bracers of the Holy Knights are similar to the Bracers of the Initiates, save that they are fashioned of silver. The armour of a Holy Knight is a breastplate and greaves.  When an Initiate-Brother becomes a Holy Knight, he travels to the Holy Mount, accompanied by the Brother-Sergeant who commands him. At the Holy Mount, the armour of the knight whom he replaces is fitted for him, and is then presented, along with the bracers and sword, by the Abbott in a grand ceremony. It is at this time, the Initiate-Brother learns many of the secrets of the Holy Knights, including the legend of the twelve greatswords which the Order seeks.

The marks of the Holy Knights, the sword, armour and bracers, are protected by the Order. If an Initiate or Knight falls, that individual’s armour, bracers and sword must be recovered. Should an individual outside the Order acquire any of these items, the Holy Knights will undertake a quest to retrieve them. As with most actions of the Order, the end justifies the means, so in pursuit of lost items, the Order will undertake any stratagem, regardless of morality. The death of the individual who has the item(s) is usually the result of such a quest.

Any member of the Order, Knight or Initiate, entering a city in which a chapterhouse operates, must register his presence immediately with that house. All chapterhouses are required to provide full hospitality to any travelling member of the Order. Laypersons are absolutely forbidden entrance to any chapterhouse, though visiting dignitaries have been housed in the Grand Temple. Holy Knights are prohibited personal wealth and are expected to hand over any excess funds beyond that needed for personal maintenance to the nearest chapterhouse or Church. Therefore, a member of the Order may have excessive money in his possession only if there is neither a chapterhouse nor church nearby. There has been a problem within the Church of defining what is excessive, and certain members of the Order have asserted that the maintenance of a castle, personal guard and entourage are “necessary” for the proper maintenance of duty.

The Order has taken great lengths to maintain the secret of its true purpose. The Abbott and the Brother-Generals are aware of the true nature of their search for the Lorestaves. They know that Herotus vanquished older powers whom the world calls demons, and that the Lorestaves will release those older powers into the world. The Abbott has sent the Holy Knights to seek out Incarnos and the Lorestaves. He wishes the Lorestaves returned to the Holy Mount, though what he will do with them what he has them in his power, he has not yet decided.

Swords and Meetings: the Bar

In “The Alley”, Cade of Galaras, a poet and dramatist opposed to the Church of Herotus, faced a group of Holy Knights. Three warriors came to his aid: Eam, a sorcerer and ex-mercenary; Drustan, a Half-Orc Barbarian; and Sabrine, an attractive and stealthy archer. The four escaped the Holy Knights, and we now rejoin them as they relax in the comforting environs of a tavern

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Two: The Bar

We sat in a small tavern, a place Drustan knew well. The owner owed him some debt, as so many did. Across from me, the man I had come to know as Galeris of the Valley and Casrid of the Feather held a cup of wine and watched me silently. Sabrine sat beside him, talking of some inconsequential event or another. She liked to prattle around pretty men.

I don’t know what I had expected of the writer of the broadsheets and tracts against the One True Church of Herotus, but the man in front of me did not meet any expectation. When I had heard that he might be in the city, we had sought him out. Sabrine had thought it a waste of time. Drustan didn’t make any comment. Both as I had expected.

There, in the theatre, after a presentation of the satire “the Priest of Wry,” the man calling himself Galeris of the Valley addressed the crowd. Most, like us, had grievances against the Church, so he had a receptive audience. Of middling height and small stature, ‘Galeris’ had the telltale ears and sharp features that marked him as not quite Human and not quite Elven. I hadn’t expected that. It didn’t change anything.

The arrival of Holy Knights interrupted the oration and precipitated a small riot. I applauded the citizens for that, if for nothing else. The problem was that we lost Galeris in the confusion. Luckily so had the Knights. No one, though, escaped Drustan for long. Even in the city, Drustan followed the trail until we found the man I then came to know as Cade of Galaras. He had some Initiates and a few Knights with him, but we had faced that difficulty before.

“So Eam said we needed to find you, see if you needed our help,” Sabrine said. “I guess you did.”

Cade’s eyes moved from me to Sabrine. “So I did, but I still don’t understand who you are.”

I frowned. “We’ve given you our names and our purpose. What more do you need?”

Sabrine waved away the question. “I think my cousin’s a little upset finding that you aren’t some wise old man who can show us the path to overthrowing the Church.”

Drustan chuckled beside me. I gave him an accusatory glance—some ally he. Truth was, Sabrine was right, Drustan knew it, and so I really shouldn’t have expected anything more. He only offered support when I was correct, so not too often.

“To help your understanding, I will introduce myself to you.” Drustan spoke from under his hood. In public places, he always disappeared beneath stooped posture, huge cloaks and hoods. He had reason to fear anyone seeing his face. “As you know, my name is Drustan of Teyrs. I was a scion of a noble branch of an illustrious tribe until the Holy Knights came. My people do not accept your Church.” He paused, then touched his palm to his forehead, his gesture for apology. “I mean the Church of Herotus. Some king or other coveted the caravan routes through the mountains which my tribe controlled. I cannot tell stories, but I will say the war was long. Then the Holy Knights came. They killed warriors, elders and waifs. They burned the sick in their hostels and those who offered to kiss the feet of the Knights’ god received the quick death of the sword rather than the pain of the flame.”

“But you survived,” Cade said. “If you faced all the Church, how did you survive?”

“I learnt that war is not glory, war is will.” Drustan placed both hands on his chest. He spoke truth. “My people fight for glory. We mark ourselves with our totems and our victories. The Knights only fight to win. They do not care for glory and they do not care for honour, they love only their god and blood. I learnt to defeat them, I must live. I can kill one or I can kill twenty, but in the end they triumph if I die. So I left my land and my tribe.”

“Drustan and I met years ago.” I tried to keep my voice even. I think I failed. “When I was younger, I marched with Alder’s Free Blades.” Cade didn’t ask about Sherasvale, as most everyone did. Maybe he didn’t know about it. Whatever the reason, I appreciated not relating once again the story of losing everyone for whom I had cared. “When I left VeBrance, I needed someone who knew these lands, so I sought out Drustan.”

“Fate led him to me.” Drustan tapped my shoulder with his fist, as he always did when marking our sworn kinship. “And I led him to his cousin.”

Cade glanced over at Sabrine, and I could see the interest in his eyes. My cousin was a young woman who had the strength of a soldier but the appearance of a princess. Men tended to abase themselves to her. I was man enough to see her beauty and cousin enough to bemoan it. Still, she always seemed to understand the situation better than I, so I never intervened. I waited for the day when she came to me crying and I would need to spill the blood of the man who had robbed her of her virtue.

That or she would get married and have eighteen children. With Sabrine, one never knew.

“My family came from VeBrance just after my birth,” Sabrine said. “I knew I had family there, but I had never sought them out. Then Eam came and found me.”

“Found her marching with Tersit’s Legion.” Eam held Sabrine’s eyes as they shared the memory. “A scout and spy that Captain Tersit figured was his best asset. She only had to say a word and Drustan and I had a commission.”

“Well, Drustan had a commission as soon as Tersit saw him,” Sabrine said. “I don’t think there’s a captain alive who wouldn’t want Drustan in his company. Now Eam, well that took some pleading.”

“That is all very interesting, but it really doesn’t explain anything,” Cade said. “What are you doing here? And why are you seeking me?”

Eam pointed to his own chest. “The man who sold out Alder’s Free Blades was a prelate of the Church.” Eam touched Drustan’s arm. “The men who killed Drustan’s tribe were of the Church.” Eam waved to Sabrine, his hand loose. “And Sabrine just wanted to do something different.” Eam leaned over the table. “I am sentenced to burn because I’m a heretic. Drustan is sentenced to burn because he’s apparently a demon. If Sabrine gets caught with us, she can expect pretty much the same. Do you see what we have in common?”

Cade still played with his cup of wine, though he hadn’t drank from it. “So we’re all against the Church. You seem all capable with physically confronting the Church, but that is not what I do.”

“You have skill with your blade,” Drustan said. “I could teach you to be better.”

“That’s just it, I don’t want to be better with my blade.” Cade tapped his head. “I want to be better with my head. I want to write something that will make people see what has happened, what is happening all around them. If the people don’t turn against the Church, it’ll never fall. You can’t kill the Church.”

“That’s why we’ve come for you,” Sabrine said. “Like Eam said, I’m in this because he is. Family is important to me. But I can see what the Church has done. I can see what it’s doing. Eam says you’re the man who can make people see the truth. The truth I see is that you’ll be dead long before that happens.”

“The Holy Knights almost had you today,” Drustan said. “Next time may be the day your fate meets you.”

Cade shook his head. “So you’re going to be my bodyguards?”

Sabrine guffawed, as loud and deep as any soldier. “Is that what you need? No, we’re offering you a place with us. We know people, probably different than the people you know. We figure getting the pen and sword together would be a good idea. At some point, people like you will need people like us.”

“So I continue doing what I’m doing?” Cade asked.

“And we continue what we are doing.” Sabrine said. “We just have one more horse, and hopefully one more rider.”

“How can I trust you?” Cade asked.

Eam leaned forward. “Look into my eyes, listen to me when I tell you that I live to see this Church fall. I honestly think your words can help topple the Church, so I want to keep you alive. Sabine and Drustan have deferred to me on this. That’s pretty rare, so consider that a good omen. We move a lot and we travel light, but there are people we know who can take your letters or whatever you have and deliver them where they need to go.”

For the first time, Cade smiled. He leaned back and raised his cup. “If I am to die, I will die in this company. I salute you, my new company. Not actors, not playwrights, not orators or minstrels, still a good company with hope and vision. Let us prosper.”

We all took up our cups and joined the salute. I drank deep, emptying my cup. Sabrine, Drustan and I slammed our empty cups down onto the table, as was our custom. It seemed to startle Cade.

“Your cups are loud, but mine is quiet.” Cade put his cup to his ear, as though listening to it. “I hear it whisper of a butcher in Terrisdale who runs a common house we might like to visit. His brother is a priest of the Church and passes on such interesting rumors.”

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Eam, Cade, Drustan and Sabrine return in “Dramatic Entrances,” a part of  Swords and A Squandering Snail.

Lorestaves: the Church

The One True Church of Herotus
Concepts by Dean Martin and Fraser Ronald
Written by Fraser Ronald

The Church—as it is usually called—is based in Bordeleaux, Eresbor. Led by the Patriarch, the Church has a strictly hierarchical structure. Around the Patriarch are the Ecclesiarchs, often called the Princes of the Church. These Ecclesiarchs act as the Patriarch’s representatives to the world as well as working as the Patriarch’s council in Bordeleaux.

The Metropolitans are beneath the Ecclesiarchs. A Metropolitan acts as a leader within a specific geographical region known as a Metropole. Within a Metropole, the Metropolitan is the supreme religious authority. He has the power to act in the name of the Patriarch and is the final arbiter of the religious courts. He is also expected to advise the local secular leaders on matters religious, and to protect the interests of the Church.

Working as the representatives of the Metropolitans in large areas, like cities or a province within a Metropole are the Bishops. These are powerful men within the Church as it is rare that a Metropolitan will leave his palace-sanctuary to venture out into the provinces. As such, the Bishops can act with almost complete independence in the Metropolitan’s name.

The work of the Church is carried out by its Priests. These are men dedicated to the Church who lead congregations, some as large as a massive cathedral, some as small as a village temple. Each Metropole is broken down into geographic districts. The leading Priest of a district is a Deacon.

The beliefs of the Church revolve around Herotus as the creator and final judge of all life. The philosophies of the Church include an emphasis on unquestioning obedience, the use of force in protection of the Church, and the supremacy of the Church to any secular authority. The Holy Knights embody these tenets.

Swords and Meetings: The Alley

This is the first in a selection of fiction that had been written for the Lorestaves project. The episodes encompass an introduction and what was to be the first module in the series. Each module would then have its own short story to accompany it. The stories could be combined into a longer work, much as the modules could be combined into a full campaign.

The introduction and first short story were completed, but the project was then cancelled and nothing more was written. If there is enough interest, I might consider re-visiting the story. The good thing is that even if the story is not re-visited, what exists does tell a complete story, so readers will not be left hanging.

Without further ado, here is the first episode of Lorestaves fiction.

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One: The Alley

Cade stood in the alley, looking out at the flowing river of humanity and into the setting sun. He knew someone in that mob of revellers, hawkers, pimps and marks hunted him. Likely more than one. He had his blade with him, and he expected to use it. He didn’t want to. He had never wanted that. He knew they would force him to it, given the chance.

Not completely a man of peace, Cade had learnt how to defend himself. He had learnt how to kill—he had killed—but he had never learnt how to enjoy killing. If they found him, he would need to kill again or they would silence him. He wasn’t willing to trade his silence for their lives.

They had taken good men and silenced them. It would not happen to him.

In the crowd, he saw them. Holy Knights. He scoffed—they were less holy than he, and Cade had never made any pretencions to morality. They wore breastplates and mail. Full helms covered their heads, hiding their faces. The greatswords on their backs and the bracers with the arms of the Holy Knights on their wrists marked them. Hatred boiled up in Cade. They had taken the man who had taught him music, had taught him poetry. They had taken Galrid of Hehrville, and Cade could never forgive them.

“Hello, heretic.” The voice was behind him.

Cade spun, his sword in hand. He faced four Holy Knights. He sized up his foes and a slight sense of relief touched him. The bracers of the men he faced marked them as Initiates rather than full Knights.

“Four of you against a simple poet, is it?” Cade tapped his palm with the flat of his sword. “Which is dying first? Did they tell you who you face?” Pure bravado, but he hoped to put them off balance.

A scornful chortle echoed through the lead Initiate’s helm. “Some proud heretic with a farmer’s blade in his hand.” The Initiate drew his greatsword. “I wonder how you will fare against the sword of a knight.”

“Knight?” Cade offered a smirk. “Now which of us is proud? You are an Initiate. Perhaps you hope to be a Knight. I, on the other hand, am a man without hope. Do you know what happens to a man without hope?” The Initiates did not advance, so Cade did. “He becomes a man without fear. He is a man with nothing to lose. There is nothing you can take from me that you have not already.”

The lead Initiate went to guard, but did not attack. “Except your life.”

Cade took another step. He put his sword to guard, almost touching the blade of the lead Initiate. “You’ll trade many of yours for that.”

Behind the Initiates, a blossom of fire illuminated the alley. From the fire came a voice.

“I would just as soon you didn’t.”

Cade heard a roar, much as he imagined a lion would sound. The Initiates parted, flattening themselves against the walls of the buildings bordering the alley. Cade saw two figures at the other end. Flames enwreathed one, but did not burn him. Not a tall man, he held out his arms, fire dancing between them. His eyes burned red, and his dark hair kindled. A voluminous red and black cloak hid his body.

The other figure had arms the size of Cade’s legs. He thrust out his jaw and Cade thought he heard a growl. Though like a man, tusks protruded from the other figure’s lower jaw. Hair sprouted on his face, as it would on an ape or a leopard. He had dark eyes, almost black. A long blade topped the short spear in his hand, like a sword on a pole. The shield on his other arm had a blade on its crown and the mark of a black crow. He had the same mark as a tattoo on his forehead. Flanking that crow tattoo on his face were one black wolf and one white wolf.

The lead Initiate, who had threatened Cade, held up a shaky hand. “Stand back, citizens. We are performing our lawful duty of arresting a heretic.”

“You can walk away from here, or you can die,” the burning man said. “I would rather you walk away, but Drustan here has a score to settle.”

Another of the Initiates pointed at the bestial man. “You are Drustan the Half-Orc.”

When Drustan spoke, it came like gravel underfoot, rough and coarse. “I am Drustan of Teyrs, last of my clan. Your kind killed my mother, my father and all my brothers. You’ll fall to me and scream at the feet of your god.”

“Get ready,” said a woman’s voice at Cade’s ear.

Startled, he turned. She stood just beside him. He could not see her well, save for her face. She seemed to disappear into the growing darkness. All he saw was a bright smile and two jade, green eyes that flashed like jewels. She winked, and it was then Cade noticed she had a bow in hand.

“When Eam gets going, it’s best to stand back,” she said.

“Who are you?” Cade asked.

She quietly laughed—a cool, clear spring falling on pebbles. “We’re friends, mister poet.” She put arrow to string and aimed. “Which one should die first?”

“None of them,” Cade said.

She glanced at him, the tip of the arrow dropping. “You’re serious?”

Cade looked down the alley. The man named Eam and the one named Drustan still spoke with the Initiates. “If they will leave, let them.”

“You’re a better person than I,” the woman said. She lowered her bow. With her arm extended in front of her, her palm facing the ground, she slashed the air before her.

Eam nodded. “Sheath your blades and leave. The poet is ours. Walk away.”

Drustan looked back to Eam. Cade realized Drustan had crouched. He rose and stood over eighteen hands. Eam cast a glance at Drustan then return his focus to the Initiates To Cade’s surprise, Drustan lowered his spear, placing the tip on the ground.

“Walk away and you will live,” Drustan said. “Offer me a reason, and I’ll send you all to your god.”

Something suddenly occurred to Cade. “They’re behind us as well.”

The woman beside him furrowed her brows. “Who?”

Cade spun, sword ready. “The Holy Knights.”

The flames in the alley cast spare light out on to the street. So early in the evening, few noticed it. Some had, and they wore armour and carried greatswords. These Holy Knights approached the alleyway, drawing their blades.

The woman put arrow to bow and spun. Before Cade could speak, that arrow flew, catching one of the knights in the shoulder, where mail met plate. Cade looked back at the alley. Drustan had stepped forward. Eam pointed to the nearest Initiate.

“Make your peace,” Eam said.

A bolt of red light sped from his hand to the nearest Initiate, flashing when they struck. That man screamed as he fell back, his armour charred. Drustan leaped forward, slashing with his long-bladed spear. He caught one Initiate beneath the helm, sending forth a plume of red. The Initiate dropped to the ground, his blood spilling forth into a growing, dark pool.

The lead Initiate turned to Cade. “You die.”

He lunged. Cade caught the greatsword on his own blade. His sword almost wrenched from his hand. Cade stepped to the side, sliding his blade away from the greatsword then driving it into the Initiate’s hip, below the breastplate. The sword caught mail, but found an opening. The Initiate fell to one knee.

The woman’s voice came as a shout, almost a scream. “Eam, I need help.”

Eam drew out a sword. Cade saw his lips move but was too far to hear the sound. The sword’s blade turned ice-white. Drustan stood in the alley, trading blows with the Initiates Eam now joined him. Where his sword struck, ice formed. The Initiates gave way, but that left Cade and the woman trapped between retreating Initiates and advancing Knights.

“I hope your blade is as sharp as your tongue,” the woman said. She slid her bow onto her back and drew a thin-bladed sword with an intricate hilt like a cage protecting her hand.

Cade felt heat then a cool breeze at his back. He turned. The three Initiates that remained had lowered their swords and had dropped to hands and knees. Drustan stood with his long-bladed spear poised over them. Fire danced around Eam.

“Sabrine, let’s go.” Eam held out his hand.

The woman named Sabrine laughed as she saluted the advancing Knights. “The turtle won’t win this race.” She tapped Cade’s arm with the flat of her blade. “Ready to go?”

Cade followed them as they ran. Eam’s fire disappeared and the coming night’s gloom soon enveloped them in the maze of alleys.

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Swords and Meetings continues with “the Bar.”

The Lorestaves: Background

The Lorestaves
Morvia the concept of Dean Martin
Lorestaves Adventures concept by Dean Martin and Fraser Ronald
Written by Fraser Ronald

The Lorestaves was to takes place in Morvia, the default setting for Sword’s Edge Publishing’s Arcane Kingdoms line. In the Lorestaves adventures, the player characters find ancient staves, items forgotten even in legend. These staves have the power to release ancient gods imprisoned by the one god now worshipped, Herotus. The adventures will occur throughout the Divided Duchies.

The Church of Herotus is the accepted religion of the Divided Duchies and most of Morvia. Though the Church accepts magic as its divine right, it categorizes any magic used outside the Church as evil. While many adherents to the Church accept this as fact, folk tradition remains strong in the countryside. Many a village still harbours a hedge wizard, a midwife or a seer. Still, even with this connection to supernatural folk traditions, the common people view magic with unease. While a witch might supply a potion that saves a sick child, that same witch might curse one’s cattle for some imagined slight. Villages might harbour a warlock and request aid of him in times of trouble, but they do not love him or his craft.

The nobility and rulers are no different. Magic is powerful, and if one can harness such power to one’s own ends, so much the better. But like the common people, the nobility retain a reactionary fear of magic. While the sorcerer is a potent weapon, he can turn on one. Some might believe the Church’s doctrine that all magic outside the confines of the Church is linked to evil. Some might not care.

Though practitioners of magic may find themselves the target of abuse or perhaps even violence, there are powers in the world that protect and nurture users of magic. The greatest of these holds the title of the Magus. There is only one Magus, one master wizard, and that individual resides in the massive fortress of Highstone. When the Church gained prominence, it launched a crusade that crashed against the walls of Highstone. The Magus stood forth and laid waste the land for leagues. Armies died. Never again was Highstone assailed. Usually a Magus will choose a successor, a powerful wizard of strong character and deep loyalty, who will take up the title when the master passes. Should a Magus pass without an heir, there is no mechanism to choose or elect a new master. Such times are dangerous. At this time, Nicodemus Magus rules in Highstone, sheltering and teaching users of magic.

Background
The legends say that in ages past, nine great demon lords threatened to plunge all the world into darkness. Herotus entered Morvia to save this world and its people from the terror of the demons. Twelve great kings of men, the mightiest warriors alive, swore themselves to Herotus. As a symbol of their bond, they carried greatswords, forged in the heavens and each etched with the name of a demon lord. These virtuous knights led the armies of righteousness against the evil hordes amassed by the demon lords. Their holiness made these knights invincible.

At last, these knights, sworn to Herotus, faced the nine demon lords of the outer void in a great battle lasting 108 days. By the grace of Herotus, his knights triumphed, slaying the corporeal forms of the demon lords. Herotus gave his champions long lives, but all men pass. Almost a century after their great victory, Herotus’ knights died, all on the same day, a day without sun.

On the night of their deaths, the priests of Herotus took the swords of the knights. These holy blades were placed in the temple of the Holy Mount, where legend insisted Herotus handed down the blades to his chosen knights. The bodies of the knights were likewise interred on the hallowed ground of the Holy Mount. Due to its reputation as both the resting place of the knights and their storied swords, the temple grew in size, wealth and importance.

Soldiers, commoners and knights came from all over the world to live at or near the temple, to protect the relics of the chosen knights of Herotus. These guards formed the Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount, now known in the Divided Duchies as the Knights of the Holy Mount, or the Holy Knights. Only 100 knights are accepted into the order, and one may only advance to become a knight on the death of knight. One may become an Initiate of the Order, but not a knight.

While legends insist that the bodies of the holy knights and their swords remain in the Temple of the Holy Mount, there are no tombs and no swords. There have not been in living memory. The One True Church of Herotus tells of a prophecy that without the swords in the hands of the Church, the demon lords will return and destroy all the world. The Knights of the Holy Mount believe evil minions of the demon lords stole the swords more than a century ago, intending to pave the way for the return of their masters. Scholars believe they have unlocked some of the secrets of the swords’ whereabouts in the writings of the 23rd Abbot of the Blessed Order. He wrote that the minions of the demon lords could not destroy the swords, but hid them, disguising them as simple staves.

For almost fifty years, the Knights of the Holy Mount have searched for these staves, hoping to return them to the temple, where they will once again be revealed as the weapons forged in the heavens, weapons to protect Morvia from the ravages of the demon lords.

This is what the Church of Herotus claims. This is not, however, the truth. Many in the Church, including the Abbot of the Blessed and Loyal Military Order of the Holy Mount, know this story is false. They know the truth about the staves and about the ancient gods, but through faith, belief or self-interest, they have hidden the truth from the world at large.

The truth is that Herotus was once a lesser power. He seduced other lesser immortals, minor deities and demigods, to aid him in overthrowing the ruling pantheon. They schemed and lurked and undid what good the gods offered those beings in their care. Finally, the key to vanquishing the Old Gods was offered to Herotus.

Take the gods’ worshippers, and you take the gods’ power.

Into the world came the one called the Wanderer, the Divine Voice and the Shining Prophet. The Wanderer brought word of the One True God—Herotus. Herotus would protect the world from the evils of those demons who masqueraded as the divine. The priests and adherents of the Old Gods disputed the Wanderer, some even fought him, but the Wanderer could not be dissuaded, could not be harmed, and his magic always proved more powerful. The world turned from the Old Gods and soon Herotus became the One True God.

Herotus is a jealous and paranoid god. Soon after he defeated the Old Gods, he destroyed those deities who supported him and were powerful enough to threaten him. The others, he bound to him, using magics that could easily destroy worlds. He feared the return of the Old Gods. He did not know if he had succeeded in destroying them or if he had merely weakened them. Should those Old Gods return, Herotus did not believe he could conquer them again. He strove to ensure they would never return.

The world changed. The Church hunted down those who used magic and burned them as heretics. Only those within the Church could perform magic without fear of reprisal. Rather than offering magic to its adherents, the Church jealously guarded it, sometimes offering it for the use of powerful nobles or kings. The people still turned to their village witches, but those witches had to tread softly. If word reached the ears of a priest or loyal adherent of the Church, that witch would likely find herself at the stake. She could expect no trial and she could expect no mercy.

What no one knew then was that the Wanderer was Incarnos, a Deva—a guardian spirit of the Old Gods. He had seen the suffering of age and disease and wished to save the world from such pain. He had believed this was a curse of the Old Gods. For centuries he studied the Planes of Reality, seeking an answer to his dilemma. Herotus found him, promising to release Morvia from the bondage of the Old Gods. Incarnos believed him, and helped him turn the world against the Old Gods.

He quickly learnt Herotus had lied to him.

Trapped in an immortal body, devoid of his powers, Incarnos walked the world. With the same diligence with which he had planned the downfall of the Old Gods, he sought some way to contact them, perhaps release them. Why had they not stood against Herotus? Why had they proved so weak?

Finally, Incarnos has learnt the truth, but Herotus—and the Church sworn to him—does not wish this knowledge to survive. The Church has sent its hounds to find Incarnos and kill the unkillable. Incarnos, though, cannot release the Old Gods. Only mortals may. The secrets are trapped in enscorceled staves created at the dawn of time—the Lorestaves. The Knights of the Holy Mount, sent out to find Incarnos and the staves, believe he is an evil minion of demon lords and that the staves hold the key to finding the lost weapons of the holy knights.

The Lorestaves: An Introduction

ArcaneKingdomsLogo

The Lorestaves – Prelude

by Fraser Ronald and Dean Martin

Almost a thousand years ago, Humankind had found civilization. City-states had risen to offer protection to the people. Philosophers and poets began to formulate logic and art. In this, the Old Gods had a hand. Led by the Al-Pater and Danu, the Encompassing Mother, the Old Gods walked the lands, involved in Humanity, in the achievements of man.

Then came the one called the Wanderer, the Divine Voice and the Shining Prophet.

The Wanderer brought word of the New God. The world turned from the Old Gods and soon the New God became the True God. The world changed. Magic, once a realm of science and philosophy, became a cauldron of superstition. The priests of the True God lacked the spells of healing and life that had nurtured fragile Humanity for so many centuries. As magic was denied them, the religious powers denied it. Kings and princes followed the dictates of the religious masters. Wizards and sorcerers became bogeymen and scapegoats. Those who had aided the sick and wounded, who had protected the seeds of the farmer, who had dispensed justice and shielded the weak were turned from their homes. Some burned, some hid, many died.

Only in one place did the old learning survive. In Highstone, the Magus survived. The master of the arcane arts created a sanctuary for those magic touched and a college for those who wished to learn the lost sciences. Soon after the coming of the True God, a crusade crashed against the walls of Highstone. The Magus laid waste the land for fathoms. Armies died. Never again was Highstone assailed.

Slowly, even in Highstone, knowledge of the Old Gods disappeared, hidden in dusty scrolls and ancient legends.

What none knew was that the Wanderer was Incarnos, a deva—a guardian spirit of the Old Gods. He had seen the suffering of age and disease and wished to save Humanity from this. He had believed this was a curse of the Old Gods. For centuries he studied the Planes of Reality, seeking an answer to his dilemma. The New God found him, promising to release Humanity from the bondage of the Old Gods. Incarnos believed him, and helped him access the world. He quickly learnt this New God had lied to him.

Trapped in an immortal body, devoid of his powers, Incarnos walked the world. With the same diligence with which he had planned the downfall of the Old Gods, he sought some way to contact them, perhaps release them. Why had they not stood against the New God? Why had they proved so weak?

Finally, Incarnos has learned the truth, but the New God—the True God—does not wish for any knowledge of the Old Gods to survive, even in the mind of one. His hounds seek to find Incarnos and kill the unkillable. Incarnos, though, cannot release the Old Gods. Only mortals may. The secrets are trapped in 10 staves created at the dawn of time—the Lorestaves.

Above was to be the introduction to a series of modules based around the concept of finding the Lorestaves and releasing the Old Gods. This entire cycle of adventures would have in turn been an introduction to the Divided Kingdoms, a campaign setting by Dean Martin.

Those who have followed Sword’s Edge Publishing from its founding in 2004 will recognize Dean Martin as one of the company founders. He has since moved on to pursue a career in law enforcement, and the development of the Lorestaves and the Divided Kingdoms screeched to a halt. Not even the first module was completed.

However, rather than let the work done during development go to waste, Sword’s Edge Publishing will host it as part of our now barren Arcane Kingdoms line. The introductory materials, the module and the rough maps will all be hosted here, as will fiction that was originally written to support the release of the modules. Only the first chapter was ever completed, and this will be broken into bite-sized chunks and posted here.

I hope that you enjoy this little peek at what could have been, and I hope that there is something useful in all this for your own campaigns.