Prose Nerathi

Prose Nerathi

Chapter 1: The Order

Some things are meant to remain secret to protect the world from those who would do it harm. I am Olin, the last of a secret order meant to keep things not meant for man safe. My Order has kept these secrets for over 800 years. My family has been there since its beginning and it will end with me. I must find the heroes of prophecy and bestow my knowledge unto them if I am to save this world.
In days past, before my order was created, the last of the Nerathi kings ruled the Nentir Vale. We were a peaceful and happy land with vast green fields and loyal subjects of every people, be it man, dwarf, elf, or other countless races. The Iron Circle bordered our lands to the south, and for that reason I am sure they invaded us in an attempt to partake in our prosperity. The war raged on for years, and good did not triumph this day. The Iron Circle overthrew and executed King Rath, hanging his corpse over the wall of his own castle for all Nerathi to see.
There was still hope for the kingdom, for Prince Dorion and his personal guards escaped the castle before the armies of the Iron Circle could breach its walls. It was not long before The Prince and his guards were apprehended, but luckily they were able to conceal the prince’ identity while they were imprisoned. Time went on and all looked grim, until somehow, after 20 years of being imprisoned in Iron Hold Keep in the Dawnforge Mountains, his personal guards somehow escaped with the prince and rode the river down to Harkenwold.
The city was tightly controlled by the Iron Circle upon their arrival, so they had to move secretly and swiftly in order to evade any unwanted attention. Constant patrols went throughout the city and checkpoints every few miles on all of the roads within the Iron Circles territory. It was impossible to leave the city without consent from the head of the guard. It took them many years to leave Harkenwold just to reach Fallcrest. When they reached Fallcrest they were delighted to find it was only loosely controlled by the Iron Circle.
Prince Dorion had not been himself since their stay in Harkenwold. Seeing his subjects under such tyranny made him feel so powerless he lost the will to regain the thrown. His guards found no signs of a rebellion group in the town, and the Prince lost all hope. To hide his everlasting shame he went to Gardmore Abbey and joined the priesthood of Bahamut to live out the rest of his days. His guards, sworn by an oath to protect the Prince under any and all circumstances, accompanied him. The Prince stayed at the abbey intending to live out the rest of his days, but the fates saw otherwise.

Chapter 2: The Guardians Fall

Fifty-five years after Prince Dorion’s arrival at the abbey, strange occurrences began. Local villagers were telling tales of devils running wild and monsters destroying their houses and livestock. The Prince’s personal guards begged him to take up his father’s mantle as king of the Nerathi, but he refused still and turned a cold shoulder to present day happenings. Unfortunately for the Prince, the local happenings came to him. The devils attacked Gardmore Abbey and slaughtered any and all they found. The Prince saw no reason to put up a fight and was resolved to sit in the sanctuary at the altar of Bahamut and accept his fate along with its grizzly demise. His guards, fighting with the intent that this was their last stand and would not be taken lightly, prepared for the onslaught that was to enter soon through the cathedral doors they had barred shut in a last ditch effort to keep the fiends out. As they burst through the doors the guards raised their weapons and let out a tremendous battle cry and charged. as the devils were about to be upon them, a loud crash and a blinding light threw them all back and left them in a daze.

Chapter 3: The Higher Order

When they regained composure they looked up and saw what appeared to be some kind of angel, and it spoke to The Prince:

“Greetings, I am Boirhend, an archangel of Bahamut, and you are King Rath, last of the Nerathi kings.”

The Prince, who up until this point had been sitting in awe of the spectral being hovering in front of him, rose to his feet and brushed himself off before turning around and kneeling in front of the alter as he was before.

“I am merely a priest of Gardmore Abbey, nothing more, nothing less. “

This seemed to anger Boirhend, as he sent a shockwave through the room knocking all of those who had clamored to their feet back whence they came.

“You ARE King Rath and you WILL heed my words! I come on behalf of Bahamut to tell you it is time to reclaim your thrown and save your people. They need you, for injustice is ruling your lands and the Iron Circle are performing ghastly and horrid things among your subject. They are searching, but even the great Bahamut knows not for what. He has charged me with helping you reclaim these lands and finding out what it is they seek. I will imbue you with some of my power, King, and you are to become a Paladin to the great Bahamut. You have already sworn your oath of a life of servitude to him, think of this as an…extension of it.”

Suddenly Boirhend shot a beam of white light at Prince Dorion and engulfed him in white light. With a bright flash he had went from mere monks robes to holy armor with the symbol of Bahamut displayed across his chest.

“The last piece of the armor is the Great Sword of Bahamut, a mythical weapon hidden from the masses and forgotten by the ages at the Ruins of Fastormel. Once wielded by kings of old who also wore that armor. If it is restored and wielded by the person wearing that armor with a pure heart you will gain power you cannot even fathom. Wear that armor with pride, King, for I shall be donned around your neck to ensure you do not stray from your path.”

With that the Archangel turned into a pure beam of light and shot towards Prince Dorion, becoming a silver amulet around his neck. Regardless of whether the Prince had no desire to reclaim his kingdom he knew only a fool would refuse a request from a god. He embarked on the long trek with his loyal body guards to the Ruins of Fastormel to find the Great Sword Boirhend spoke of.

Prose Nerathi

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