shadows… red… eyes…”
That said, the man cut off, his eyes rolled back in his head, and his constitution gave way as he sank into unconsciousness.
Vlishgnath stood in the study of High Priest Vogoth, who was seated at his desk with a small assortment of high-ranking clergy gathered within as well. Amongst those gathered were Cleric Heros, who was already giving his first-hand account, Sir Grisbane, the Herald of Justice, Arch Cleric Angelis, Arch Cleric Rasthmus, Arch Cleric Brogam, and a young acolyte who had yet to receive his clerical robes. Brogam had appointed the young recruit to fill him in on the proceedings from time to time, as the elderly arch cleric was prone to dozing off sporadically.
As Heros finished up recounting what had transpired, Vogoth nodded solemnly, pausing for several moments to reflect before addressing the assembled clergymen. He had a soft, ponderous voice spoken with the deliberation of the inconceivably wise.
“Where is the man now?”
It was Angelis who answered, a very young man with feathered blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and a soft unimposing voice. “He is in the infirmary wing.”
“What is his condition?”
“He’s been fed and is presently trying to sleep. Nightmares are causing him to awaken frequently, sometimes screaming and thrashing so badly he has to be restrained.”
“How is his mentality?”
“His mind may very well be destroyed, your holiness. We’ve yet to get any pertinent information out of him other than he hails from Drenton.”
Grisbane cleared his throat and then spoke. His was the voice of a gnarled veteran combatant, having seen much and no longer easily impressed. “Is Drenton even on any of our maps? I’ve never heard of it that I can recall.”
Vlishgnath, his gaze never moving from the floor, responded. “It’s a small farming town about a day’s ride from Ascention. In his condition it likely took him five or six to walk here. So whatever is plaguing Drenton, it will have had at least a week that we know of to grow in strength and influence.”
Just as he finished speaking, the novice hurriedly whispered the recent proceedings into Brogam’s ear, the aged arch cleric yawning and rubbing his eyes before speaking in the bleary voice of one just waking up.
“It seems to me that this would fall under the jurisdiction of the church. Our recently erected chapel there has been met with a paltry following at best. Assistance from the church would help them along the path to the true faith, as charity often does.”
“We do not offer assistance based on the number of converts we can draw in, Brogam,” Angelis rebuked. “We do it because it is the right thing to do. Because we must.”
Brogam continued after pausing to yawn once more. “Of course, Angelis. However, surely you cannot deny the people of Drenton will be more receptive to our sermons if they see us leading by example?”
Angelis nodded his consent.
“I think we can all agree,” said Vogoth, “that at the very least a unit should be dispatched to Drenton at first light to investigate this plague our new guest has mentioned.”
Grisbane nodded firmly. “I’ll take three of my best men and ride for Drenton at dawn.”
“Then it is decided. You there, boy…awaken Arch Cleric Brogam and inform him of what has been decided so that he may retire from my study. I grow weary of his snoring.”
The report came five days later, during which the stranger from Drenton remained bedridden and increasingly showed signs of having gone quite insane, yielding no other useful information. The report was delivered by one of Grisbane’s chosen men, Sir Thunderclese, the Divine Might of Mithos. A broad-shouldered, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed paladin, Thunderclese possessed the rugged sort of handsomeness that allowed him to be very flexible with the church’s laws of celibacy. Yet still, one could neither deny his devotion nor his service record, so his indiscretions were usually overlooked.
Vlishgnath received his summons to the high priest’s study, arriving to find Thunderclese already standing at attention before Vogoth’s desk. With military formality, Thunderclese remained facing Vogoth when the door opened and closed, Vlishgnath falling in line next to him. For Vlishgnath, the act was out of respect rather than duty; as the divine emissary, he answered to no one but Mithos himself.
“Yes, your holiness?”
Vogoth looked up from the parchment laid before him, his expression grave, and spoke in a troubled tone. “I’ve just received the report from the unit sent to Drenton. Things are more serious than we thought.”
He handed the report to Vlishgnath, who laid his helmet down on Vogoth’s desk to take it in both hands. The report was penned in Grisbane’s handwriting and looked as if it had been written in a hurry.
--Field report as testified by Sir Grisbane, the Herald of Justice--
Unit arrived in the village of Drenton to find severe famine and drought. Approximately one-third of the town’s population has succumbed to starvation. Cause of devastation appears to be paranormal. Requesting following reinforcements:
Relief aid for remaining survivors
One (1) specialized division cleric (specified below)
>Interplanar hostility suppression unit
Due to the nature of the situation, immediate deployment will be necessary.
Scrawled at the bottom was Grisbane’s formal signature along with a makeshift seal made with his signet ring.
Vlishgnath read the report over then addressed Thunderclese. “What makes Grisbane so certain that there is paranormal activity occurring in Drenton?”
Vogoth nodded to Thunderclese, indicating his consent for Thunderclese to turn away from him.
Thunderclese nodded in response, turning to address Vlishgnath. “Once our unit arrived in Drenton, the severity of the situation was immediately made quite clear. According to one of the villagers who still had the presence of mind to answer our questions, famine and drought beset the town roughly two weeks after the majority of the population began having the same recurring nightmare: a glowing pair of eyes calling to them from the shadows, beckoning them into the darkness. I myself have witnessed firsthand that something appears to be moving from shadow to shadow, waiting until it knows it is in the corner of your vision where it cannot be seen.”
Vlishgnath took a deep breath, turning and meeting Vogoth’s gaze.
After a moment’s silence, Vogoth sighed, and then spoke. “The church requests that Mithos’ chosen champion escort the reinforcements to Drenton and offer assistance if necessary. Will you answer the church’s call?”
Vlishgnath grinned at Vogoth’s patronizing use of the church’s call for aid, to which Vogoth replied with a tired smile of his own.
“Indeed I shall,” said Vlishgnath. “But I’m taking Sir Maximus with me.”
Episode 2
“I can understand why the church has requested your aid, Sir Vlishgnath, but why do you insist on bringing Sir Maximus along? To be quite honest, he’s rather intimidating…”
Vlishgnath and Thunderclese strode down the hall, each with their helmets tucked under their left arms. Vlishgnath laughed mirthfully then responded in an amused tone, “Maximus is an invaluable asset to the church. Despite what is said behind his back, I give you my personal assurance that his mandated time spent in meditation has not only done wonders in tempering