Palladium

Excerpt
'' “Seek to understand, not only the world around you but the deeper meaning of yourself,” the aged man stood upon the pulpit of the small chapel speaking in a deep, steady voice that belied his extensive years. In the pews sat a small congregation, mostly consisting of heavily armored men of which many could barely be called so as they watched through youthful eyes. A man in his mid-twenties sat amongst several older soldiers accompanied by three others his age, listening in reverence.

“In that understanding you will find the ties that bind you to the universe, do not shirk your emotions soldiers for those very feelings will serve only to strengthen your bonds. You must strive to bring Good both to yourself and those around you, Good works through you will influence the world and inspire a new era of the Light. Through the Light we will vanquish the evil that treads on our soil, we will rise up and show it that we have no fear for the Good in us all will prevail.”

The older man smiled to the crowd as a father might smile to his children, a satisfied nod followed by a motioning to an armored man perhaps in his late thirties. The man stood, he held a captivating aura that most in the pews seemed to give more reverence to than the teachings they were just being given, eyes fell upon him as he spoke, “Thank you Archbishop.”

The man stood beside the pulpit, looking over each of them in turn with a pleased nod, “You have met the expectations set for you within the field, and for that you will be rewarded. But,” he leaned heavily against the railing that separated the dais from the congregation, “in this reward comes great trials and even greater expectations. You will leave this place as Knights of the Silver Hand, it is our sworn duty to protect our people and you will be expected to do so with fervor. You will come to understand the Three Virtues that Archbishop Faol was speaking of:

Respect, both for your comrades and for your enemies. It is a fool who does not adequately respect his foe, for in this respect comes understanding and in that understanding lies victory. We are the sword and the shield of our people, to respect their freedom we must vanquish those who would take it away.

Tenacity, a lifetime of servitude to the Light and your people. Some of you are no stranger to this, even greater though are your number who are fresh-faced and eager to rise to the challenge. Until we rejoin our ancestors it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves, in this mission there are not holidays, when you take on this mantle it becomes you and you become it.

Compassion, in all that you do. Friend and Foe alike, you will be required to live this virtue to its full definition.” The man stopped and regarded them all for a moment before nodding, on this motion the first row of people stood in a raucous harmony of shifting steel, “We will begin now.”

Hours later, a young Vardann stood upon the cobbled pathway leaning against the railings that overlooked the port, he idly traced his fingers over the filigree of the new tabard while watching the ships set sail. Sometimes, dreams can become reality.

But so can nightmares.''

Preface
“A Leader must know compassion, both for her allies and her enemies,” Vardann spoke in reminiscence as he gazed from the parapets to the swarm of Scourge assaulting the Keep. He watched, with another, as new soldiers and adventurers alike amassed on the beach to toss nets at the flying vermin, bringing them down to the ground where they could be more adequately dealt with. Idly he scratched his cheek just beneath the eye patch, a motion that had become more subconscious than anything of late.

“Compassion,” she breathed.

“Compassion,” he nodded.

“Kagg ogar ruk’grom uruk tar!” Vardann was taken off his feet by the charging Orc, his blade coming free of its sheath just in time to deflect the upward crescent of the massive axe from decapitating him, instead causing the blade slice shallowly over the right side of his face across his eye. He yelped in anger as he rolled to his feet, his blood spilling generously on the putrid soil of the Plaguelands. He’d expected scourge and had been searching for the necropolis when the Orc had gotten the ambush on him.

Tightening his grip around his blade, he bared his teeth in indignation and annoyance, focusing his good eye on his foe. He was prepared for the next attack when it came, the axe coming in low from the side allowing him to twist his blade catching it just beneath its arc pushing his weight into the haft to throw the Orc off balance. His attack pulled the orc closer to him, unsteadily, allowing him to place his knee forcefully into his opponent’s side sending him reeling to the ground with a guttural roar. Though large, the Orc was surprisingly nimble and had recovered to his feet quickly.

Circling each other for a moment their attacks continued anew, each feverishly launching blow after blow in attempt to best the other. Vardann brought his blade up to stop the downward arc of the axe, a motion that sent stinging vibrations up his arm into his shoulder for the sheer strength behind the blow, a growl escaped him as he kicked the Orc in the mid-section, putting some distance between the two. Once more the Orc charged and this time Vardann pivoted his body to the left, bringing the flat of his blade down forcefully onto the back of the passing Orc’s skull sending it sprawling to the ground in front of him. He stood over the disoriented Orc for a moment, his blade hefted as if to deal the final blow before he lowered his blade, shaking his head.

Neither had time to ponder the gesture, however, before a mass of Scourged fiends poured into the site of their brief melee. Quickly Vardann pulled the Orc to his feet, both standing back to back as the scourge numbers around them began to grow. The Orc grunted as if in distaste, speaking in broken common, “Warrior. Honor. We fight. Together.” Vardann looked over his shoulder at his much taller foe-turned-companion and let a half smile break his stony features, “Lok’tar Ogar.” They shared a grin before leaping into the oncoming mass.

“Don’t be so suspicious Vardann,” Setis said in a bemused fashion as she walked past Vardann who had quietly been standing by as she met with a new, term used loosely, ally. Vardann chuckled as he moved to follow her, “Suspicious? I make no efforts to conceal my presence, I have agents to do that for me.”

“Indeed,” she laughed.

They walked along the pathways away from the docks toward the Cathedral, “Allied with those eh?” Vardann said with a touch of disgust to his voice, very uncharacteristic of him as of late. “It is mutually beneficial and you -will- afford them an ounce of respect,” she replied tersely. He chuckled a bit, humorlessly, “How about I simply don’t kill them?” As they crested the steps into the cathedral she spoke in a tone best described as a verbal eye roll, “Better that you simply don’t talk to them.”

“Aye, I think I can manage that.”

“Evil! Scourged!”

The shouts of the crimson-clad men and women echoed high above the sounds of clashing steel, louder still came the sounds of their cries cut-short with a sickening gurgle. Vardann tore through the massing soldiers with reckless abandon, his eyes filled with blind rage as he fought Scourge and Human alike whilst his city burned around him. His blade sunk home between the steel-linked armor plating of zealous woman who had charged him, a liquid-suction sound filling the air as his blade came free and her limp body clattered onto the cobbles.

The flames kissed his skin but he did not feel their warmth, he made no recognition of the fear in the eyes of those who fell under his blade nor the ravenous growls of the undead that bit at his heals.

It did not matter, they were dead, and this was his world now.