Priest (Multi-Part Story - Opinions Welcomed)

Eirikir

"Peace of the Divines." spoke the priest to the woman who stepped past him, leaving the Cathedral. It was a cloudy day but the breeze was warm, and the people of Daggerfall. for once, all seemed at total ease. The woman looked on him and smiled as she left. Her questions to him about her husband's troubles had been answered to her satisfaction. She was at ease, and so was he. It was common in this turbulent world for people to seek comfort in the divine, and he was happy to give it where he could. He was a quiet man in a big city, his white robes and hood all any noticed when out of the temple, and not even that within. His life had meaning that it had lacked for so long. Closing the door behind he returned to his work, the temple having seen foot traffic that day, was surely in need of cleaning. He was glad he had been welcomed by the other clergy. None save the head priest knew his history, and he would have it stay that way. The others were kind to him, and he to they, but he kept his distance where he could. Roland Barthel, was a man of quiet and he liked it that way.


The evening came soon and the warm breeze gave way to the cold air riding over the bay. Roland sat quietly reading when the doors of the Cathedral slowly opened, the night air rushing in, bringing a cold wind. Up upon the higher levels Roland stood and glanced down to see a knight of the Lion Guard panting, is speed and urgency plain to see. "Hello! Brothers or Sisters! Is anyone here!?" called out the white armored knight. As his voice echoed through the silence Roland descended the steps to meet him, "How can I be of help to you sir?" The knight stood and his look of worry changed to relief, "Roland? Is that you Roland? By Stendarr it is you!" Roland smiled, recognizing his friend from what seemed a lifetime ago, "Oliver, it is good to see you friend. What brings you here in such distress?" Oliver's joy washes from his face and a pale death-look overcomes him, "I have a son Roland, a bright boy. His mother, you remember her don't you? When I was in the Order, when I left and why..... We married and I became a member of the Lion Guard and we had our boy, Turpin." Roland smiled and led him to a sitting area as he told his tale. Setting water to boil for tea he listened. "And well you did it seems." he said to the knight, who smiled through his sadness. "Aye and I would trade nothing for it all. Even in my selfishness, Stendarr's mercy and blessings have flown over us.... until now." Roland crushed the leaves as he listened. Oliver continued, "There was a vampire, not far from here, more then one really, a nest. The Guard had been informed, but a panicked commoner startled by snapping twigs in the woods, that is the attitude. Divines forgive me, it became my attitude too. I should know better." Roland's brow furrowed but he kept his disappointment to himself as he poured the tea. "Stendarr punished me Roland. My new status, my new life, I forgot my oath, the oath that never ends." Roland looked up, "What happened Oliver?" Oliver seemed to go dead for a moment, "They were in the forest looking for herbs. We could have sent retainers but she loved going out herself with our boy. Miria died with mercy, they fed on her in mass, drained her beyond the point of raising in seconds by the looks of things. But Turpin, they left him to die, then live again. He is only eight Roland, must I smite my own boy? I can't, so I hid him. He is now in my home, bound. I sent away all my servants, and barred the house. I hoped someone here would...... do what I cannot."


Roland leaned back and listened as he heard the story. Ten years past when they had been brothers in arms they had been taught what to do. To never suffer an abomination to live as Stendarr willed it. But they were in all senses priest and soldiers in the throws of war with evil. Oliver in his time since had become more the soldier, but Roland had become more the priest. To smite and go forward was all they knew, a simple solution, but not the only one. True he had maintained a fit form, but his mind had been doubly trained. Roland had learned much from the other priests in the Cathedral. To marry a couple in love from Mara's chosen, to study entranced from a Priest of Julianos, to assert his will from a Brother of Akatosh, and so on. In his years there he had learned much, in particular a method from the devout of Arkay of warding the dead from necromancy, and to cleansing certain abominations of their curses, assuming the conditions were right. He sought to comfort his friend, but would not make promises. "I may be able to help him, but I must look deeper into this. What of the nest?" Oliver looked up stunned, "Still there I think. The Guard was not told. I was afraid if I told them that they would take Turpin." Roland stood and beckoned Oliver to follow. In his chamber Roland drew a chest from the small crawlspace storage afforded him. Opening it, light seemed to flicker out. High quality armor, weapons, and carefully folded tunic of fine silk laid within. Roland smiled to Oliver, who genuinely smiled back. "Let's see if we can help your boy Oliver."

Eirikir

Two armored men approached Oliver's home. One dressed in the armor of a Lion Guard, the other in a lost armor from a lost Order, The Templar Knights of the Order of Stendarr's Chalice, or simply the Order of the Chalice had at one time been a moderately sized secret order of monastic knights, sworn to the teachings of the God of Mercy and keeper of a holy relic, the Chalice of Mercy. With deadric and internal treachery the Order fell and bit of light and the relic itself was lost to the world. It had been ten years since he had donned the armor, and it felt far to familiar still.


Inside the house they went, a foul air hitting them as they entered. The door barred, Oliver lead Roland to his son's room. The room may have at one point been fine, but no more. A dead servant laid on the floor near the boy who growled and pulled at his chains as they entered. Oliver gasped at his savage son and the woman's body, drained of life. "She.... she must have come back for something and found him.... Mercy for him killed her.... he killed her..." Roland placed an arm on his friend's shoulder and calmed his ramblings. "Oliver.... keep your head." he said softly as he approached the body. Turpin began to go wild on his chains, struggling to reach Roland. The priest looked up and began to speak, "Stendarr, God of Mercy, grant me your light that I may do your will, and grant succor to this woman in peril." As he spoke light began to emit from his body. Turpin shrieked as he backed away from the divine light as much as he could. Roland rolled and took the dead woman in his arms, cradling her as he traced the sign of Arkay on her forehead and continued to pray as the light grew and began to etch into the floor around them, forming a rune under them. "Arkay, God of the Cycle of Life, Son of the Dragon....." As he prayed the dead woman suddenly opened her eyes. Beautiful blue eyes, filled with confusion and terror. She looked up at him and he locked his eyes with her's and ran his free hand through her hair to comfort her. She could not move, she could not speak, for she was dead and the light held her, "Shush child, you have already died, I cannot save you, but through your mercy you saved yourself. Fear not, I come to give you peace, now rest." She relaxed and closed her eyes, red tears running from them as he continued, "... Grant this woman peace of the Grave! Consecrate her in her tomb so that she may know rest! Ward all power profane from her and grant her Peace!" As he finished the rune grew blinding, then dissipated.


She laid dead still, but the wounds the boy had given her had vanished, a look of serenity rested on her face, replacing the look of terror that had been frozen on her before. Roland stood and nodded to her, "When we finish we will need to see she is laid to rest correctly." Dumbfounded Oliver nodded and then grew frightened as he looked at his son who cowered in a ball in the corner, burns on some of his flesh from the light that had filled the room. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, it was a mistake to bring Roland he thought as the priest turned to him fully, his hand on his own mace, "Oliver.... did Turpin die?" Oliver gripped his sword tighter now, "No.... he was sick then became this. He did not die." Roland looked back at the boy then to his friend, "Do not draw against me Oliver. There is no need to yet. Have faith in Stendarr's Mercy." Oliver lowered his hand and slumped ashamed of himself. Roland placed his hand on Oliver's shoulder again, "We must next deal with the coven Oliver. Keep your senses as best you can."


Leaving the house Roland turned and warded the building, assuring the boy would not escape. Then mounted as in olden days they rode off together brothers in arms again. For miles they road until finally reaching a small abandoned Imperial fort. Part had been built into the mountain face, most likely to take advantage of natural caves for storage and covert movements. A hill this size offered a large network of caves and natural tunnels that stretched out for miles in the forest. Perfect for such abominations as those who loth the sun. The one sentry watching the main gate must have not known what he was looking at, or more correctly what he averted his eyes from. A light filled the forest, approaching with great speed and blocking all else. He did not see the white charger come full speed into him, the Light of Stendarr pouring from the Priest's mace as it struck the Vampire's face, sending him into the wall and converting him to ash. Dismounting the two knights entered the fort.