Continuum: Dawn (The Chantry)

[Valeric]

She felt a solid response from her sword, and a grunt of pain from Christian. Her left arm fell limply by her side and she staggered back, her smile finally faltering as the agonizing pain assaulted her senses. Christian still stood his ground, appearing to be quite healthy. She couldn't help but feel the strike wasn't worth its price. For letting a rush of blood to her head, it was ample punishment.

“Enough, your skill is unmatched with the blade High Cleric, I would not have us do undue injury in our desire for victory…” The way he leaned on his weapon suggested that Esfir had done more damage than she initially thought.

“Your bone is surely broken, and I believe I myself have sustained a significant injury. I will visit the healer now and can only suggest you do the same. It was an honour to spar with you High Cleric and I would be grateful to have you by side on the field of battle.”

"As am I." Her voice was weak and sentences interrupted by her labored breathing. The knowledge that there were other capable fighters in the order was a relief. "That was a great spar, Sir Christian."

She turned down the offers of assistance as she left the sparring area, even though she felt like keeling over. A little pain can't possibly kill me, she thought. Slapping her robe over one shoulder, she made her way out of the training hall while holding her broken arm. A slight glow radiated from the palm of her right hand, a by-product of her magic in the works. She was trying her best to contain the bleeding and held the bone in place, until she could reach the healer's quarters. It was best to leave it to the experts instead of her half-assed healing magic. Some high cleric she was.

Christian, who was heading towards the same destination, was just a few steps ahead of her. She caught up and greeted him with a "Hey."

[MelonHead]

Christian slowed his pace and turned towards her, the briefest of worried smiles flickering on his face. “High Cleric.” He acknowledged. After a brief moment, he said his piece.

“I’m glad you decided to see a healer… I apologise for striking you as I did. The damage was not intentional you understand, but I have fought for some time, it is not easy to turn off that brutal need to slay an opponent before they slay you.” He looked slightly ashamed, for it was considered disrespectful to strike a woman in any respects, although this was somewhat lessened by her more than ample skill.

His left hand still clutched protectively at his damaged ribs, although the discomfort was hardly enough to encumber the seasoned warrior and he bore himself with more resilience then most men when injured in such a way. After a brief moment of silence, he shook his head resolutely. Finally he regained his composure, for walking in guilty silence the entire journey to the healer was less than desirable.

“High Cleric, have you heard the news circulating among every hall of the Chantry? That the undead in this corrupt land have begun to wage war?””

[Valeric]

"Think nothing of it, there's nothing like a little pain to get yourself going."

Esfir didn't know it was her fault, but Christian said little for the next several moments. She didn't think she was someone who was difficult to talk to, and the silence was grating on her nerves. Before she could open her mouth, Christian brought up a topic that was the hottest news lately. That the undead had reared its ugly head.

"Ah yes, the undead. We'll have our hands full again, scrubbing the lands clean of their filth." Finally, a campaign against the undead horde was going underway. She was getting really tired of the Chantry and its boring peace. Their place was in the battlefield, purging those that do not belong in this world. In her home realm, all she could do was fight common thugs and robbers. Here, there were true manifestations of pure evil such as undead creatures animated by dark magic. It couldn't get any simpler.

"I can't wait," she said, a grin creeping back to her expression.

[MelonHead]

He looked at her sharply, although not totally in disagreement with her views of the peaceful life in the Chantry her words were bordering on crossing the creed. He knew her magic was powerful, and that she did not come from his background but was near unmatched in her devotion to god, but the legacy of the Templars was one of tragedy. It was too easy to lose oneself in the desire for battle, human weakness that as a race humanity could be incredibly cruel, could become accustomed to shedding blood.

It was not a path Christian wanted to walk; he fought for a cause that was right, not because war was right.

“I understand what you mean… but do not so easily dismiss these quiet moments. I fear that in the dark times to come we will long for this peace, before the undead are purged from this land many we know will perish.”

His hand strayed over his damaged side again, a warm heat filling the area as he carried on, they were relatively close to the infirmary with just a few more turns in the maze like Chantry to struggle down.

“But what of you High Cleric, I am lucky to have entered this world with some few of my brothers… are you alone?”

[Valeric]

Christian's words caused her thoughts to wander to the days when the world was sundered. She truly thought that the end of days had come, but her survival instinct made her protect her own life with all her strength. In the end, she found herself alone on Terra Nova, with no sign of her past world.

"I've met a few people who come from similar worlds as mine, but I still have yet to find my family or friends..." Her voice trailed off. This was her greatest regret after coming to this world. She had no idea whether her parents survived the chaos of the Disjunction. Even if she scoured the lands for traces of them, somewhere deep down Esfir didn't think she would ever see them again. If this was God's will, she would accept it.

Trying not to linger on the depressing subject, she diverted the topic of the conversation and lightened her tone. "It's very fortunate that the Order survived. I wouldn't know what the people would do without us, when evil lurks in every corner of this strange world."

[MelonHead]

“I see.”

Chris allowed the conversation to move past its natural low. When Esfir noted how fortunate it was that the order survived the transition Christian couldn’t help but agree.

“Truly we are blessed, I believe the almighty had their hand in our survival… they would not leave their flock unprotected, and as long as we have the power we will be their guardians.”

Powerfully built, glowing slightly as the magical aura emanated from his hand over his wounded side, it was fairly easy to agree with Christian when he suggested victory was more than within their grasp. The order would soon rise again, to bring the light of dawn.

They arrived at the healing chambers, and Christian gave Esfir a moment to say anything more before he headed off to find someone more experienced to deal with his wound. Once that was done, it was time to talk with the scouts who would be arriving within the hour, Christian was ready for action.

[Valeric]

"I'll look forward to the next time I catch you in the training hall, Sir Christian," she said with a wink before allowing the flustered healer to tend to her wounds. Training injuries tended to be more severe when healing was so convenient and efficient. Even so, it wasn't everyday that a high cleric walked into the infirmary with a broken arm. She sheepishly gave an excuse for her injury as she laid down on a bed. The wound didn't hurt too badly due to her own magic.

Christian Tyme. The Seneschal was more interesting than she had expected. Esfir always had the opinion that they were a bunch of middle-aged men with minds as old fashioned as the Chantry itself. Evidently that notion was wrong, she thought with a grin.

[MelonHead]

“I won’t go easy on you next time, High Seneschal.” He parted with a grin, finding the healer unoccupied and lying on the bed as the Cleric ran a healing hand over his wound. He was able to leave some time later, although the meditation had done him good and his ribs were now healed, he still felt the creeping boredom taking over his mind. Christian was a man of action, and it was time to find the scouts and learn what was abroad in the world.

He skirted the iron halls for a few minutes, before heading towards the dining hall for lunch, and for the conversation with the scouts he knew were arriving on this day. Although they would have reported to their knight captains before seeing to their stomachs, Chris preferred the information straight from the horse’s mouth, and certainly they were in no position to refuse a Seneschal. Even he had to admit rank had its uses beyond the call of valour and battle.

He entered the wide hall and scoured the assembled Templars with keen eyes, picking out the mob which had formed around a small party at the table. Like him they also sought information, unlike him they would receive none from the well-disciplined crusaders who fed themselves on bread and meat from the surrounding farms. The Seneschal took a moment to pick up some food for himself before clearing the mob and taking a seat next to a tall hulking man known as Rarkhas Tike, renowned for his orcish blood and incredible strength.

“Rarkhas.” Chris greeted him informally with a nod of his head as he tore into some bread.

“Seneschal Tyme.” He replied in a rough guttural accent. “You want to know what we found I guess?”

“Very astute.” Chris replied sarcastically. “Yes, I want to know if there’s anything abroad in this world which requires our attention. I have a deepening feeling that a dark force looms in the far north… and that it grows stronger as we remain idle.”

“That’s uncanny. We ran into a group of soldiers up north a few days past, they told us their fort was soon to be under siege by the undead. Apparently their forward outpost was all but destroyed… we returned today to muster a force and come to their aid.”

“Wise, in my opinion any enemy of the undead is our friend; although many may not see it that way blinded as they are by reckless devotion to our benevolent lord.” Christian chewed some food thoughtfully.

“How soon can your group get ready? I will lead a force to investigate the undead forces and if need be repel them from the citadel you surely speak of.”

The half human looked around at his men who waited eagerly for his response. With a barely discernible nod he returned his attention to Christian.

“Four hours.”

“Good, get suited up and meet me at the gates. Send someone to alert the other Seneschals and have four knight captains and their squads meet us outside.” He paused. “Also, ask a cleric to send word to the High Cleric, I think she would like to know of our campaign.”

"Yes sir."

Christian stood suddenly, his meal finished, and walked away. He had preparations to attend to before he could don his armour once more and ride into battle.

[Valeric]

Esfir was resting in her quarters when the messenger arrived. It had been several hours since her spar with the Seneschal, and her wounded arm had began to hurt again. She took it as a sign that she was being punished for her mistake, one that should never had happened. She perked up and tried to ignore the pain as she called the person to enter.

Brother Genesias opened the door, his aged face appearing as it swung open. Dougal Genesias was a cleric of Gladius Dei. Esfir heard that he was actually only in his mid-thirties, but the man looked no younger than fifty. She had to stifle a chuckle as the memory surfaced. He had his usual stern expression that he always wore.

"What is it, Brother Genesias?" she asked from her seat by the window. He wasn't the sort of person to pay social visits, so there had to be a reason the cleric was here.

"Lady Esfir, I was told to inform you of a pressing matter. Our scouts have detected a sizable force of undead in the north. It appears they are laying siege to a location known as the 'Adamant Citadel'. Seneschal Tyme is gathering a task force to stop the wretched creatures' plans, whatever they may be." It was Dougal's duty to pass the message, but he didn't like where this was going one bit. If his judgment of the high cleric was accurate-

"Hahah, oh my god! These evil monsters… it's our job to scrub them off the surface of the world. Brother Genesias, go get two more clerics. We're going to join them." Esfir said enthusiastically, her pain already forgotten. It had already been a couple of months since she last saw action on the field, and she had a sore itch for smashing undead skulls.

Dougal expelled a deep breath. "We?"

"Of course it's 'we', you silly. The crusaders will need our help. It takes more than swords and bullets to kill evil." She was already headed to her wardrobe. "We'll meet up at the gates in an hour. Tell Sir Christian not to leave without us."

She speaks as if we were going out for a sermon, Dougal thought. Of all the people, why was she made into a high cleric? With a larger scowl than he had entered the room with, Dougal left the room to carry out his orders.