Apostles of Doom

Heron nodded to the captain, who in turn, nodded to Stevensword. He kept his hand clear, ready to draw his short sword should this be a trick.

Stevensword climbed the ladder and began turning the wheel on the hatch to open it. “Step back for the hatch to open!” he called. There was some clanking as the person on the deck moved. Stevensword gave another turn of the wheel and then turned the handle. There was a slight hiss of air and the hatch sprang upward slightly, allowing the XO to rotate it open.

“Finally!” the voice complained. “Your efficiency is sadly lacking. I shall have to report you to the Keeper of Law!” Hot, dry air swept into the chamber, bringing everyone’s perspiration level to new records.

Stevensword jumped down off the ladder even as an ornately helmeted head peered down through the hatch into the boarding room. “Sir Samwell, First Knight of High Justice, Champion of the Keeper of Law, Ponchas the Third respectfully requests permission to come aboard, captain!” the knight shouted down the hatch.

Captain Cranshall glanced at Heron, who gave him a nod to continue. “Permission granted,” the captain responded.

The ornamented helmet nodded on the knight’s shoulders and disappeared. A moment later, a heavily and ornately armored foot came through the hatch, stepping tentatively on the top rung. “Hmm, this might be a bit tricky,” the knight said.

With some loud clanking noises and more than a little difficulty, the knight began lowering himself through the hatch. It was a difficult fit, Heron thought to himself. The hatch was not that large and the knight’s armor was quite bulky and fluted. It was a set of armor that Heron himself would never think to wear into battle, designed more for court than for combat.

Eventually the knight made it to the deck and turned to face them. He let out a loud sigh as he stepped away from the ladder so that XO Stevensword could ascend and close the hatch.

The knight reached up and twisted his helmet, removing it to reveal a very human-looking man in his mid-twenties with red hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. The knight grinned happily at them, seeming quite pleased to be there. “You gentlemen are a true sight for sore eyes!” The young man stuffed his helmet under one arm and began pulling his gauntlets off. “I had begun to give up hope of ever getting out of this accursed place!”

He hung his gauntlets on his belt. Both a sword and shield were slung across his back. He shook his head and breathed deeply of the rapidly cooling air. “Praise be to Drott Kmon!” the knight said, grinning upward and invoking the Narveson god of law and order and one of the patrons of Oorstemoth.

“Yes… about that, how long have you been here?” Heron asked sternly. He was not yet ready to be friends with this oddity. He noted that Halferth was mumbling various incantations and messing with several vials of liquid, clearly doing his job as chief sorcery officer.

The knight whistled, shaking his head. “An eternity, it seems. There is no day or night here and no need to sleep, so I literally have no idea. It feels like centuries!” He grinned at them again.

“About fourteen, I should imagine,” Sir Gaius said, drawing the knight’s attention. The Oorstemothian knight blinked at the sight of the three Knights Rampant.

“Knights of Tiernon?” Sir Samwell asked. He looked back to Wing Arms Master Heron and then to the captain. “That seems a bit odd. I trust that the proper paperwork has been completed and accounted for?”

“I told you he was Oorstemothian,” Heron overheard Sir Lady Serah whisper to Gaius. Heron suppressed a tight grin. He had been thinking the exact same thing. This being was clearly familiar with Oorstemoth and the law. “Indeed. It is an official alliance, approved by the Council of Justice for this mission,” he told the antique knight.

Sir Samwell nodded his head briefly in acceptance. “I shall trust your word on that, uhm, Lord Protectator… I am not at all familiar with your titles. I assume there has been some reorganization in the time I’ve been trapped here.”

“Considerable. As Sir Gaius points out, by Astlanian time you have been here over fourteen centuries,” Heron told the knight.

Sir Samwell blinked, clearly shocked. He grimaced. “You mean as in one thousand, four hundred years?”

“Today is Demoni 7^th, 1631 OOT,” Stevensword told the knight.

Sir Samwell seemed to stagger slightly. “Seriously? I pursued that accursed archdemon through the Gates of Hell on Nilis 12^th, 135! Nearly fifteen centuries ago!” There was a loud clanging noise as the knight fell against the bulkhead behind him, clearly taken aback by the time he had spent in the Abyss. There was an ear-wrenching sound of metal scraping on metal as the knight slowly slid down the bulkhead in shock.

“Yes,” Sir Gadius said, moving closer to the sitting knight, his sword ready. “You appear to be human; thus I fear I must enquire as to how you are still alive.” He phrased this more as an accusation than a question.