Apostles of Doom

“Battle Priestess Karis Crooked Stick reporting,” Karis informed the two.

“Agh, my ugliest trainee!” Grob roared.

Since Karis was at attention, she refrained from making an obscene gesture at her superior — said gesture being her normal response to his ribbing. Full-blooded orcs often found her to be rather homely, like all half-bloods; however, numerous men, both human and orc, found her attractive, so her old instructor’s ribbing was simply an orc social grace, to which a rude gesture would be appropriate.

“Vicar General, Diocate.” Karis nodded.

“What news have you?” Aeris asked, getting straight to the point.

“Earlier reports are correct. The ring settlements are starting to receive refugees from the border farms. The Storm Lords appear to be advancing. We spotted a vampire squadron and came across a cadaver trail.” This was the beaten path left by a zombie horde, littered with various bits of flesh that had fallen off the zombies as they moved.

“Where?” Grob looked at his maps with a piece of charcoal.

Karis placed her rolled-up written report on the stack of reports on his desk. “The trail was a league east of Dob’s Den,” she replied. “The vampire squad had raided March’s End three nights ago, and we trailed them to a temporary nest about two leagues southeast of March’s End.”

“Did you engage?” Diocate Aeris asked.

“Negative. Our orders were to observe and report only,” Karis replied.

Grob nodded. “We need information at this point; reports from genpop are starting to come in rapidly, so we need our trained recon teams to move fast and gather as much intel was they can and get it back to us ASAP.”

Aeris nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Glad you approve,” Grob snarked. The alfar ignored him, gesturing for Karis to sit to continue their debriefing.

Citadel of Light: Mid Sixth Period

Karis had finished her dinner and made her way down to the small chapel deep in the bowels of the citadel, which she and her squad used for their worship services. It was a very old and rather small chapel, rarely used in recent decades; she had discovered it years ago as a young girl and fallen in love with the ancient baroque stone carvings. The chapel’s main room was about thirteen by twenty feet, with the altar at the far end. The side walls were lined with small alcoves, each about five feet deep with ornately carved curved archways.

The local radiance of her Heavenly Handfire cast deep shadows into the archways, creating a mood of deep, peaceful calm. Tonight she worshipped alone; her squad was tired and in need of some drink after their mission. She would give thanks to Tiernon for their safety on their behalf. She was sure the saints would be fine with that. At least, they had never complained.

Karis chuckled at that. Legends held that the saints used to go into battle against the darkness alongside the men and women of the Citadel; however, it had been nearly a thousand years since the last recorded divine visitation. Many of the soldiers morosely joked that the saints had forgotten them.

She lit the candles around the altar and doused her ball of Heavenly Handfire, allowing only the natural light of candles to illuminate the room. She genuflected, making the sign of Tiernon in the traditional beginning to the majority of worship rituals. Tonight, as always upon returning from a mission, she would perform Saint Caftar’s Ritual of Thanks and Blessing.

She rose from her genuflection and inhaled to begin the Incantation of Thanks when out of the corner of her eye she noticed flashing light from behind and to her right. There should be no light behind her. She turned to see who had entered.

No one had entered, the light was emanating from the ornate edging on the archway of the middle alcove. What had not been completely obvious before, due to the worn nature of the carvings, was that the carvings were runes. Runes in High Script, the sacred writings of the Five Siblings, appeared now that they were lit. They were flashing in various sequences: one rune would light, go dark and then another would light. At different points, different runes glowed different colors.

Karis drew her formal sword; she had left her full battle gear in her small bedroom. She only had the ceremonial blade used in worship services. Fortunately, while technically ceremonial, it was, nonetheless, quite sharp. She moved into position facing the archway, trying to discern what exactly was going on.

She blinked rapidly as the room was suddenly lit by what appeared to be mid- or late-afternoon atunshine. That was impossible — Atun had been setting even as her squad had entered the Citadel several hours ago. Karis raised her left hand to shield her eyes as they adjusted.