Preface to Gospel of Vicnius
By Apostle Vicnius
I am frequently forced to remind those among the faithful that idolize me, Apostle Vicnius, that I am just a man. I am no great magus or sorcerer, master of the arcane who predicted the Emperor of Peace's arrival. I am no great sage or astrologer, who studied prophecies or saw signs among the stars to pinpoint the day of the Gracious One’s first blessing. I am no great faithful, who sought out the Healing Warrior before his glory was revealed to me. I am just a man, graced with His blessing through no greatness of my own.

Chapter 1:

The sleepy village of Hallowsdown, S13°W05° if you wish to visit, was a self-sufficient place of grain and steel, farmers and miners. Our adventuresome sons would leave to explore the broad world, only to realize everywhere else one could travel to on a farmer’s son’s budget from Hallowsdown was just as boring. Then, one day, as the time of harvest and a chill northern wind crept closer, the town of Hallowsdown was attacked. A wandering tribe that roamed the mountainsides of the Izvor Ranges had fallen on hard times, their herds and the beasts they hunted afflicted with disease. Faced with starvation, they fell upon us. They were skilled hunters, and also mighty warriors, possessing a number of fierce champions who wore the skins of bears they had killed barehanded. Mere peasant folk such as us had no chance to withstand their fury, despite their few numbers.

I saw both my sons fall that day, torn apart by a massive claymore, their blood soaking into the bear skin of a keen eyed grizzled champion. With a cry of fury to avenge them, or perhaps of fear to join them, I charged the brute with naught but a sickle. Foolishness, I was cut down before him. As the battle raged onward towards our home, I was dragged by a few of our people to a camp where the wounded had been brought. No doctors in our village, the midwife and a few wives attempted to ease the pain of our final moments. Then I saw the Emperor for the first time. He was a glorious figure, towering tall above common men. A glorious halo of light, like the midday sun, graced his red hair and fair skin. Mighty armor, of white and gold, clad his body. This armor was not mere plating to protect, but the raiment of a Lord, it expanded his already deific figure. He raised his hand over me, and I became the First Blessed, the Apostle Vicnius. I rose, unharmed by the battle. He nodded to me, and I fell into rank behind him. As he passed the ranks of this hall of death, each man defied deaths grasp and rose up, ready to follow him to battle. He lead us back to the battlefield, armed not only with meager weapons, but with faith and His Grace. The Emperor of Peace spoke these words, as he leveled a magnificent sword of shining steel, nearly wider than my torso, though I am no man of wide shoulders.

[i]”Sons of the Mountain, return now to your home, and I shall tend to your flocks. Do not force my hand to protect my own.”[/i]

They did not listen, as do many who first hear the words of the Emperor of Peace, and they came for him. Raising his other hand, a strange weapon in hand, the Emperor of Peace regretfully let forth a torrent of thunder, smoke, and death. The weapon was some sort of divine gun, short like a pistol but much wider, though not in the barrel, that could fire nearly without end. Many fell before they could even reach our ranks, and when they did, The Emperor put his size, armor, and sword to use. He was a titan among men, and even their champions could not face him. Each of us that fell beside him rose up again to continue the battle. They broke and fled before the Emperor.

The Emperor gave an unworthy little village the grace to be the place of his landing among men. Broken and burned, we given this one chance to become the first to join the new order, to be the capitol of an empire of peace. How could we refuse? The Emperor of Peace had made his first conquest, the sleepy little town of Hallowsdown.

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[b]1st Minion:[/b] 0/3

[b]Location:[/b] The town of Hallowsdown 13S,5W
[b]Dungeon:[/b] A broken village, with a battlefield alter, and a recovering populace.
[b]Minions:[/b] A few hundred villagers, but most are busy trying to live and repair the village, only 25 serve as his loyal Followers.
[b]Resources:[/b] The village's harvest was undamaged and its reserves of steel have yet to be tapped, but the village needs wood to repair itself.

[b]Compendium:[/b] 

The Emperor's origins are not yet widely known, but he made his appearance, standing tall above mortal men, graced with a halo, clad in white and gold armor, armed with advanced weaponry and healing magic. Saving the people of Hallowsdown from certain destruction, he has inspired many to service in his march for peace for all Elysium. Whether Elysium wants it or not. Now, they join him in prayer around a humble alter just outside the field of battle.

[i]Follower[/i] - Imp Replacement. These Followers of the Emperor, many of whom have lost their families in battle, devote themselves solely to him. Prayers and labor, these humble servants grant him their service. Though they would gladly fight for him, they are not exactly trained combatants.
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