Most women never really learned how to cook meat in a creative way. Tessa McCullum was certainly not most women. The meal she had prepared for her family was amazing - the roast was juicy, perfect, and sauteed and grilled with so many flavors that it would be hard not to drool over it. Tonight was a special night for Joseph McCullum, though - Tessa and Graham's only son. The potatoes, the roast, the seafood bisque (oh God, that bisque), everything was a favorite of Joseph. The ten year old boy sat down at the dinner table, his father and mother already on either side of him. His plate had been prepared with a mother's love and nearly obsessive care. He reached for his fork, and then gulped, quickly setting it back down near his plate.

Tessa noticed, however, and give him a knowing smile. "What do we do before we eat, Jo? You know better!", she laughed and then motioned for Joseph to speak.

The family all bowed their heads, making the sign of the cross (the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost); and then Joseph began to pray with the innocense and faith that only a child could have.

"Dear Lord, bless us this evening and bless this wonderful meal. Thank you for all you have given me, and thank you for confirming me today as a member of your Church. Let me be a good boy, and let my Mommy's belly get real big, so I can have a little brother soon. Protect us from the Evil of the world, and keep us safe and happy. In the name of", Joseph then crossed himself in the tradition of the Catholic Church, "the Father, Son, and - grrkghhh..."

Joseph McCullum would never finish his prayer. Infact, he would never say another word again. Blood trickled from his throat, where a clean, precise dagger line had been drawn. From the shadows, a figure slowly stepped into the family's view.

He was wearing tight, black robes with the insignia of a red hexapus; the insignia of the Myr'Khul religion. His features were dark and elven, and necromantic tattoos covered his body. Tessa McCullum did not notice this, however, as she was too busy screaming in horror as she watched her only son gag on his own blood. A moment later he would be dead.

Vanion Knightwood raised a flintlock pistol, aiming it in a relaxed manner, and eased back the trigger. Fire and unforgiving steel shot forth, the sound drowning out Tessa's screams for a split-second. Graham McCullum's face was no longer there. Pieces of blood and bone melted away from what had once been attractive, kind features. Tessa, shot out of her chair, retreating from the horror of the two gruesome murders in her Dining Room.

"NO! Why are you DOING THIS?!?", the widow shrieked as the High Priest slowly approached her.

"Shhh, dear." The dark elf made a motion with his free hand, silencing her ability to make noise with his black magics. He moved gracefully to where she had backed herself into a corner, then spoke gently to her, "I understand that you are frightened. I know that you can no longer speak. I sympathize for the pain that is tearing at your heart, and threatening to shut down your weak mind. However. However, Tessa. I want you to find it within yourself to kneel here and pray to your Ghost. Pray to your Holy Ghost, Tessa. Let him come save you. If you pray without mistake, no doubt you shall be saved."

Vanion made no movement for several moments, and Tessa kneeled slowly, tears pouring from her eyes like they were running from an inevitable Hell. She was shaking, but she still found the strength to close her eyes and begin to speak to Christ in her mind, as she could no longer speak aloud.

"The Lord is my Shepherd. I - I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will - I will fear no Evil: For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they... they... for I will fear no Evil. Oh Christ, help! Help m-!"

Her plea to God was cut short, as Vanion tore into her jugular vein, his vampiric fangs feeding on her viciously. She had failed in her attempt to save herself in his mind; he was without mercy for the pathetic, passive 23rd Psalm which so many Catholics seemed to latch onto as some sort of ward against the real world. He drained her completely, her facial expression frozen forever in the horror of her last dying minutes.

As Vanion Knightwood slowly rose from the corpse of the family's mother, he raised his head to the heavens (well, the ceiling), his bloody arms spreading wide, in dramatic prayer.

"Ye shall know Avoozl cometh when the very sun itself doth fear to show its face, and the Shadows of Darkness covereth the earth!", Vanion cried out in reverence to Myr'Khul. Then, the dark elf moved to the front door of the now quiet home, and pushed the squeaking door open.

The High Priest of Myr'Khul moved out to the street of the house, smiling bloodily at the screams from other houses. In the streets, there was chaos - men and women fled from the butchering Knights of Myr'Khul as they continued to strike down the Catholic families in the Old Temple District.

The true storm had just begun.

{{Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder}}


The Templars primarily patrolled the Eastern half of the Old Temple District and Dockside... The Western half was to be patrolled by soldiers from the Temple of Divine Light. Thus, when the attacks began, it was quite some time before any Templars knew what was happening.

The first patrol to encounter trouble was a young group led by a hot-blooded lieutenant. Foot soldiers all, they were just passing The Loincloth Factory when one of them heard a scream.

Valor they had... and courage in abundance. But against the blackest of magicks and creatures of the night, it was not enough. One man survived long enough to sound his signal whistle... hoping a troop of Knights might be close enough to hear...

That bird showed its face quick enough as I took up the last of the tools I'd need for whatever waited ahead. I hoped to never need it again, but here I am with my Staff of Telekinesis resting lightly within the my grasp, a dull thrum of power danced around the item begging for use. I know for certain the thing would be granted its wish. Didn't mean I liked it any better.

"So the trouble is coming from Old Temple? That's Myr'kul and Karen's district. Should be interesting to say the least. Now to see if I can't save a few not involved in the blood shed. As if I really care, but a way of life is a way of life. No matter how old I get."

The sparrow chirped quickly to relay that the Temple's forces were killing all the families. Men, women, and children that worshed the Christian faith. That just wasn't good at all. So much death would throw off the balance that allowed the world to thrive and remain strong. For every life a death, every tree planted, one must be cut down. Something such as this would throw off that balance greatly. If I can slow it down just a touch all will finds its way to good in the end. With the things that call the Temple home, I knew going in wearing my mask would only draw attention. For this I would have to use my real face.

"At the very least the undead and other creatures would not bother with me, since I'll look like them for the most part; but I'm no fool to think any of them are stupid. Time is life, and life is losing as I stand here."

The portal leading to the Old Temple district opened before me as I noticed a tall black robed figure leaning against the heart of the fire place in my room. I knew this man immediatly. It was one of my Brothers.

"Hello Zerachiel." If this man was here, I knew others were paying attention to this bloodshed.

"Do you go to save life and destroy evil, or just to serve your own ends, Uriel?" Now it all made sense, he was here to see what I would do. And test me. How droll.

"Wait, that is not your name any longer is it? You're no longer Uriel, but this masked enigma known as Druid. You cast off the name given to you by Jahova when he cast you from your post gaurding Eden and the Gates of Damnation for your lack of love for humanity. A deficit you still have despite being given the gift of human emotions."

"So glad you're here to reminisce about old times, Zerachiel. But I don't see you, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Raquel, or Ramiel bothering to do anything. One of us must." I turned to regard the Archangel levelly with the gaze I had once been feared for, though now it would mean nothing.

"Interesting. You called us by our names from the Book of Enoch, and not the Christian, Islamic, or Jewdaic gnostics."

"Would you have prefered your names as noted in Gregory the Great, Testament of Soloman, Pseudo-Dyonisus, Geonic or Talismanic lore? Or maybe you'd prefer I went Persian on your ass? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"No need for all of that, though I prefer the name Azriel to Zerachiel. Easier on the tongue, don't you think?"

"Get to the point "Azriel". Time is waisting and the King's followers are dying by the truck load. Why are you here?"

"I'm here to find out what you intend to do. I mean, before falling from grace like Samail you were the most pitiless and fanatical of us all. Can't have you helping this dark faith now can we? And I speak for our other Brothers as well." There it was for all to see, he was here to stop me if it were necessary.

"I still don't like humanity or the emotions I have to endure as part of it in this form. But I'm in no position to take on all six of you. I'm nowhere near as strong as I once was. But to appease you nosey-bodies, I'm just going to see what all is happening, and if I'm feeling generous save some of the children. You happy?" My Brother didn't even respond. He just gave me a nod and vanished the same way he came in.

"And I hope you get stuck when you phase back into your realm. I'll love to hear about your body going to one realm and your ass being stuck in another."

Without time to waste I was through the portal heading for Old Temple.

Chaos greeted me as I came through the portal. Families trying to flee for safety and being run down by Myr'khulian hordes. Such violence only reinforced my idea that humanity is weak and easily destroyed without firm guidance. So many people cried out to God with their last breath, cried out of their Holy Spirit to save them.

"God helps those who help themselves, fools."

It was all I could really say watching one man have his throat ripped out in mid-verse. I know many of these humans being slain had done nothing to truly deserve the wrath and vengeance of the Myr'Khul. The reasons behind this bloodshed I knew had to be political in some way, politics with religious twist. Kill Catholics to show them the weakness of their faith. It was an old ploy, but works well enough. The only "X" factor in the ploy is what about the few whom this experience will strengthen their faith?

"Stop Druid. You're no longer of the faith, you have no business here. Just bear witness. Yes, bear witness to the pointless destruction brought on by religious zealots attacking each other."

A blood curdling scream resouded from a house to my left followed by the scream of children. I came expecting lots of bloodshed, dismemberment, and all of those traumatic things, but the sound of a child screaming in terror was a bit much even for someone such as I. I've not fallen that far, yet.

Shuffled steps carry me in my usual fashion to the remains of a kicked in door to find two children with fiery hair huddled together in a corner as a black robed figure fed on their mother, her arms clinging to her assailant weakly. A pile of blood and gore nearby was the only thing I could guess to be the father of the household.

"Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Lord:
'I will sing to the Lord, for he has
triumphed gloriously;
The Lord is my strength and my might,
And he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
my father's God, and I will exalt him.

The Lord is a warrior;
the Lord is his name.

"Pharaoh's chariots and his army he cast into the sea:
his picked officesr were sunk in the Sea of Reeds.
The floods covered them;
they went down into the depths like a stone.
Your right hand, O Lord, glorious in
power-
your right hand, O Lord, shattered the enemy."

Each verse that came from my lips brought a strange euphoria over me, as though I were in the Shining Halls again, but I know that time was long gone. I am human now and have been for many millenia since my fall. I am born, I live, and I die. Only to be born again. An endless cycle I loathe right to my very core.

"In the greatness of your majesty you
overthrew your adversaries;
you sent out your fury, it
consumed them like stubble.
At the blast from your nostrils
the waters piled up,
the floods stood up in a heap;
the deeps congealed in the heart of
the sea.
The enemy said, 'I will pursue, I will overtake,
I will divide the spoil,
my desire shall have its fill of them.
I will draw my sword, my hand
shall destroy them.
You blew with your wind, the sea covered them;
they sank like lead in the mighty waters."

The unholy creature screeched at my continued utterance of holy verse from the Lord's book and rose with menacing grace. Needless to say I was far from impressed by the show. Simply to mock the thing I kept speaking with open and true conviction the Song of Moses.

"Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods?
Who is like you, majestic in holiness,
awesome in splendor,
doing wonders?
You stretched our your right hand,
the earth swallowed them."

I can only guess that the creature had enough as it rushed at me in a black blur of movement. Some creatures are truly too stupid to be frightening. I cast my hand forward with the Staff of Telekinesis and caught the undead monstrocity in a web, immobilizing it. Still I kept speaking the verses.

"In your steadfast love you led the people
whom you redeemed;
you guided them by your strength
to your holy abode.
The peoples heard, they trembled;
pangs seized the imhabitants of Philistia.
Then the chiefs of Edom were dismayed;
trembling seized the leaders of Moab;
all the inhabitants of Canaan melted away."

In return the creature started to speak scriptures of its own faith, trying to disrupt my words to shake my faith. It truly though I was an ordinary human. Its own mistake. I bought the creature right to my burned face, staring into its eyes defiantly.

"Terror and dread fell upon them;
by the might of your arm,
they became still as stone
until your people, O Lord, passed by,
until the people whom you acquired passed by.
You brought them in
and planted them on the mountain,
of your passion,
the place, O Lord, that you made your abode,
the santuary, O Lord, that
your hands have established."

On and on the being snapped its jaws and cursed my once God for being weak. If it only knew the truth. But alas it would never know. Stepping aside I cased the thing from the house through a yet unbroken window, letting it pass by a lit candle amid its flight to make it a flying ball of flame.

"The Lord will reign forever and ever."

A wry grin came to my face with the last of the verse as the mother crawled her way to me, some life still in her. Hands clutched at my robes as she wept her thanks and said she would forever be in my dead, thanking me profusely for saving her. But I took notice she did not mention her children.

"I did not come in here to save you, idiot. By failing to protect your children you forsook your right to be a mother, a provider for your family. Your lack of faith is evident in the fact of that creature having ever made it passed the threshold of this house. Forever will these walls be tainted with its presence."

Taking the woman up in another telekinetic web I spoke the next verse that followed the Song of Moses.

"Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron's sister,
took a tambourine in her hand;
and all the women went out after her with
tambourines and with dancing.
And Miriam sang to them:
"Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed
gloriously;
horse and rider he has thrown into the sea."

"Let me hear you sing woman. Let the Lord, your God hear you sing."

With grim resolve I cast the woman from the house out into the sea of bodies in the street. The last sound from the woman's lips I heard was a vain attempt to call out to Jahova. Then I turned my focus on the children huddled in the corner, faces turned away from the scene that had previously been playing out before them.

"If you will listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God, and
do what is right in his sight, and give heed to
his commandments and keep all his statutes,
I will not bring upon you any of the
diseases that I brought upon the Egyptians;
for I am the Lord who heals you."

The boy, who seemed the oldest of the two children, looked up as I stood before them and his piercing violet eyes gave me a moment of trepidition. He had my gaze. My eyes. That pitiless, unblinking, straight to the soul gaze I was once feared for by all things in hell. Before I would need to turn away from those eyes I extended my hand and cast a fog of sleep over both children. As their tiny frames slid silently to the floor I took both up in a third web of telekinetics and opened a door back to my mansion. Both would be safe there till this madness was over.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Brother Zed)


As the cries of death began, reports began to flow into the chambers of Brother Zed. He summoned Brother Osberic and reviewed the reports spread across his desk. When Osberic arrived he was ushered in immediately.

Zed began without preamble, "You've heard?"

"Yes. The reports have been coming in for a few minutes now. The patrols in the streets are reporting chaos."

Zed rose from his desk and moved across the chamber to a large picture window that had a view of the temple grounds. "Tell me. Do the reports say who or what is being attacked?"

Zed could see the brother in the reflection of the window. Osberic's posture was taut as a wire, he was ready for action. Zed remained passive and relaxed, hands clasped behind his back, his attention seemingly on the temple grounds.

The commandant of the guard answered, "It's unclear at this time. We don't know how many are being attacked, nor what size the attacking forces are. We've had reports of groups of armed men, or possibly vampires, breaking into homes..."

Zed interrupted him, "whose homes?"

Osberic thought for a moment, "We don't have enough information yet to assess that. The attacks do seem organized. There's a methodicalness to it that suggests planning."

"I see."

Osberic hesitated unsure whether to continue his report.

Zed allowed the silence to continue for a span of time, letting Osberic's tension increase. Finally, the priest inquired, "your assessment?"

The tension flowed out of Osberic with his words. "Until we know more we should fortify our positions. Recall the off-duty guardsmen. Ensure the safety of the temple and the high priestess."

The senior brother nodded his agreement. "The defenses of the temple itself are strong. Brother Vincent's efforts have helped ensure that." Zed turned from the window and looked at the soldier-turned-brother. "Split the guardsmen. Leave half here to fortify the temple's defenses. Send the rest to protect the orphanage. Until we know more about who's being attacked, why they are being attacked, and who the attacking forces are, the temple is best served by protecting the White Lady's own."

Brother Osberic nodded his assent, "as the White Lady wills."

Zed nodded his head in return, "as the White Lady wills." He gestured to his attendant. "Show Brother Osberic out. He has the guard to deploy. Continue to bring me reports as they arrive."

As Osberic hurried out to return to the Phoenix Guard barracks, Zed continued his directions to his attendant. "Send out word to the followers of the White Lady. The district is too large to protect them in their homes. Inform them that the temple's grounds are open and that all who seek safety and shelter should come here."

The Accepted wrote furiously and then looked up. "And the non-believers, Brother Zed?"

Zed pondered that for a long moment. Yes. Yes, that might serve the White Lady's wishes very well. "Send out the word. All those who seek refuge on this night of blood and chaos may find it at the temple. We will shield all those who seek the White Lady's protection."

The attendant scurried away to follow the brother's directives. Zed turned to look out the picture window again. The temple grounds were quiet and peaceful. Shielded behind the walls of the temple, the screams of the dying could not be heard.

Zed returned to his desk and thumbed an intercom button. Sister Naomi had been woken from her sleep and was at her desk. She answered the buzz. "Yes, Brother Zed, how may I serve?"

"Sister, we are soon to open our doors to those who seek refuge. However, it occurs to me that we should be cautious even in our generosity. Alert the guard at the door. The refugees are to be escorted into the Hall of Initiates, and should be asked to remain there...for their own safety. Instruct them that it would be unwise to wander the temple's grounds, as our defenses might misinterpret their presence. Also, ask that any who seek refuge with us to please surrender their weapons. It would be unfortunate if we inadvertantly allowed armed killers into the Hall of Initiates to continue their bloody night's work."

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder)


The Templars were quick to organize, once word finally reached the Chapterhouse. Though they were primarily calvary, many seasons of patrolling Rhy'Din had made them more flexible in their operations.

Baron Febdash was dividing up the best riders into teams and sending them out... Three Knights, one Magi and two archers per team. Each team also took three extra horses, to provide mounts for any rescued civilians so they could get to safety quickly. There were only a dozen Magi skilled enough to trust going out on such missions though, and Baron Febdash could only hope that they would be enough. "Avoid prolonged battles... your job is to rescue those you can. Others will deal with the attackers."

Division Commander Fredricks took the entire 1st Division of footsoldiers and headed for the East Gate. Keeping the gate open for refugees and preventing any of the attackers from pursuing was a huge priority. Any foes they met on the way would be swarmed and destroyed without mercy. "With luck, we'll join forces with soldiers from the Temple of Divine Light who will likely be defending the Orphanage."

Cardinal Shoc himself took charge of the defenses of the Templar Compound. "As soon as Commander Wilder arrives, we move in force. Until then, we hold the Chapterhouse and bring in anyone nearby."

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o from: Lothar Blacklance)


"What is going on here? What is happening?"

Lothar heard the inquiry yelled by Dimitri as his troop was departing the barracks and heading past the temple on their way to the orphanage. With little time to spare, Lothar paused and called back. "Osberic's called out the guard. Grab your gear! Report to the temple or join us at orphanage!"

With no more time to spend on explanation, Lothar dashed to catch up with the rest of the guard.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o from: Karen Wilder)


At the First Catholic Church, the great walls were lined with barely visible soldiers... but those inside seemed in no hurry to come out. The Great Doors remained closed, and despite the occassional desparate banging upon it, the postern gate remained shut fast as well. A small crowd of assorted people huddled against The Great Doors in fear... and only the body of a Myr'Khul soldier, riddled with arrows, gave any indication that there might be any safety to be had here at all.

Along the western edge of the District, near the river, a lone man walked the streets. He wore armour of bright silver and his helm bore no facemask, nor even apparent eyeslits. A vermillion cloak, now ragged and torn from battle, hung from his shoulders. His armour and the ebony blade in his hand were splattered with blood and gore... some of it clearly his own... yet his stride showed no sign of weakness. A swath of destruction marked his path, but he had only traveled a short distance. For though Andre could be slowed, he could not be stopped... and any who preyed upon the weak would fall to his sword.

A few blocks south from there, a terrible roar cut through the night... and the wise fled from that sound.

Meanwhile, The Watch continued to hold the three bridges... hoping to contain the violence to a single district.

From the Templar Chapterhouse a division of soldiers, nearly two hundred-fifty men, set forth for the South Gate. As they passed the Dojo Darelir, a shout was raised to see if anyone within would respond...

Smoke and flickering firelight still danced on the sky-line of the Badside slums, reminding the pair of dark-robed soldiers of their doings in the Old Temple District.

Tybalt d'Tange, Rank Guardian in the Myr'Khul Army.

Vanion Knightwood-Shadowcast, Rank Chosen of the Myr'Khul Religion.

They had received an anonymous message from an arms dealer, depicting specifics of an arms deal to re-arm the Myr'Khul forces with fiercesome weapons. It had been sent to the Temple of Myr'Khul itself, so there could be no mistake about the black deal, despite the source.

"Here we are. Where is this mysterious man that we are supposed to meet?", whispered Tybalt. The gunsmith had an itchy trigger finger, and had never been very good at waiting.

"Patience. This move of theirs was both very unforeseen, and very fortunate for us. We will wait until morning for these blades, if we must.", Vanion said quietly, as he leaned back against one of the warehouse's outside walls, taking a hard pull from the crimson liquid within his flask. Tybalt must have resigned to waiting also, because he kneeled down and began to carve away at a block of wood pulled from his pocket.

Vanion Knightwood delved into the meaning of this trade. Why now? Why had the blades been hidden and stored away for so long? He pondered the consequences of this deal, but could find no immediate harm done to Myr'Khul by it.

"Hey, Drakhar?", Tybalt lifted his head and inquired to Vanion in the name that he bore to most Myr'Khulians - his true first name. "What exactly are these weapons? I still do not get it."

Vanion snapped out of his careful re-assessing of his plans and answered simply, "From my understanding, Tybalt, these are 'Wraith-Blades'. Within each tempered blade is at least one wraith summoned to this realm by the Cat Demoness, Shakira... before her death. I am fairly sure that they are designed to steal the souls of those they slay, and provide power to their wielders."

"Oh. Yes, we would want those, wouldn't we?", Tybalt almost laughed as the words escaped his lips.

Vanion's eyes narrowed skeptically. He did not entirely like this, but could not pass up the opportunity, simultaneously. "Yes. We do want the blades.", the dark elf whispered his answer back to the gunsmith. And then, they waited silently in the shadows of Badside for their contact to make himself known.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o color from: Karen Wilder
http://www.ringsofhonor.org/forums/viewtopic.php?p=120645#120645)


Karen was indeed on her way at last... The entire garrison of the Seaside Baronial Manor at her back. They thundered through the Seaside Plaza and headed past the Marketplace Baronial Manor. 'Of all the nights to remain at the Manor... thought Karen, angrily. "Vanion must 'ave learned I were away." she growled.

"Baron Febdash returned yester-morn, Commander... and Division Commander Fredricks is there." said Dinah, over the pounding beat of the horses.

"Well, thet means they'll prolly move slowly... We need tae join up at th' Chapterhouse and then sweep th' bastards intae th' river." replied Karen, angrily.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Godric Morganwulf)


"Guardian Morganwulf, take your unit east, sweep through to the wall on line, turn north and sweep back around on your own initiative taking targets of opportunity."

As the commands went out to the various unit leaders, Godric Morganwulf reviewed the district map on the table before them. He made note of the targets in his path eastward, and then worked out the path he planned to follow on the sweep back. Several targets looked attractive. Allowances would have to be made when resistance began showing up.

Morganwulf returned to his unit and made final preparations for zero hour. Time seemed to slow. It always did before a battle. He paced through his men, checking over weapons for the fifth and sixth time. The men, the living ones anyway, fidgeted and followed their own preparatory rituals. Some checked their weapons. Some bragged to their fellows about what deeds they would do once the purge began. The dead ones mostly just stood around awaiting the command to go. The vampires radiated excitement. This night had been a long time coming.

When zero hour arrived, his unit moved out quickly. It would be important to execute as much of the strike as possible during the hours of darkness, before dawn when the vampires would need to retreat. With that in mind, Morganwulf kept tight rein on his death knights, marching them east in timed precision. Strike, move, strike, move, strike, move. One house after another in orderly pattern. The vampires he allowed looser rein. Their more erratic strikes, interweaving with his march, would make it more difficult to discern his unit's movement. And nights of revelry like this were rare enough. Morganwulf wasn't certain he could have controlled their attacks anyway. Their hunger had been building for a long time.

Morganwulf didn't worry if a survivor or two escaped their march eastward. The important thing was to complete the initial sweep before dawn. Any survivors would only contribute to the panic and chaos. The fires would add to that as well, but Morganwulf was careful to string those out. An uncontrolled blaze would interfere with their movement. Instead, only select houses were set afire.

Even as he ran a pleading woman through with his black sword, the guardian's thoughts remained clinically detached. The woman was just a body. A corpse now. Morganwulf spared no thought for who she was, or whether she loved her god and was devout in her prayers, or whether she reared her children properly. She was merely an object in his path. An object to be dealt with in a cold dispassionate manner while he focused upon more tactical issues.

From the corner of his eye, Morganwulf spotted a figure trying to escape the shadows and flee. With a curt gesture he pointed the figure out to one of his men and a moment later the figure fell, a bolt protruding from the middle of his back. His interest lost, Morganwulf turned back to the east. "Move out. We're done here. Set this one ablaze."

Then, as an afterthought, Morganwulf turned back to the man that had tried to flee. "Cut off his hands and feet. Tear out his guts and hang him from a lightpost with them. If he's still living...so much the better."

The rest of the night passed in similar fashion. A swift thrust east, clearing any household known to hold followers of the Catholic church. Then, after achieving the east wall, a turn northward, to conduct a looser march veering left and right apparently at random, striking at will. They arrived at the river before dawn and ahead of schedule. "Alright, first squad, pattern nightshade. Second squad, pattern belladonna. Thirty minutes, then execute random strikes as you return to position one."

Morganwulf looked out over the river. He could see the Watch beginning to take up position on the bridge. Behind the faceplate of his helm he smiled briefly. So predictable.

Gesturing with his sword for emphasis, Morganwulf pointed at each of the squad leaders. "Remember, your orders are to strike hard but avoid organized resistance. If you are met with a larger force, retreat into the shadows, disperse, return to position one or the backup location. Your choice." He walked among their number, knowing the vampires would not retreat once frenzy had taken them, but their time was limited. Dawn was fast approaching and they would need to go to ground. Then the death knights would break apart, making it harder to counter their actions, as they made a wayward movement back to position one striking at designated targets of opportunity. "Strike and move. Strike and move. Delay too long in one spot and the Templars will find you. Delay too long and you may lure the Phoenix Guard out to respond. The Watch will be hesitant for hours to come, but given long enough even they may find you."

"Slake your thirst instead where they are weak. Strike their homes. Slay their women. Their children. Give them reason to know fear. Spare a few that will run, so that their forces will be tied up protecting them. Make sure to wound them, and kill any that might return to fight us. Make them remember this night in their nightmares! Make them quake at the name of Myr'Khul!"

With that, Morganwulf gave the command to go. First and second squads moved off quickly. Each following their own predetermined pattern. Morganwulf's own squad, including his best spellcaster, moved off at a slower pace, watching for targets of opportunity.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Eddie Venom)


He slipped out of the shadows near the warehouse, making sure the two that were waiting for him saw that he was unarmed. "Evening gentlemen. I take it you're the two that have business with me. If you'd come inside, we can complete our transaction and you can be off to maim, kill, and terrorize to your hearts content."

Moving over to a nearby door, he opened it and went inside, leaving it open for the two to follow him in. He motioned to a large stack of crates sitting in the middle of the floor. "You can take them all, but there's just one catch. I'll need them back within a week for repairs. They're great stuff, but they wear out much faster than ordinary weapons due to some of the enchantments on them. The star that burns brightest burns fastest, as my mother used to say."

He turned to face them both, his face becomming more businesslike. "As for price, I bet that money matters little to you. Probably as little as it matters to me. So let's just say that you owe me a favor. What that favor will be, I don't know yet." His hand extended outward as a devilish grin came on his face. "So do we have a deal?"

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Dimitri)


Dimitri smiled as he looked into the sky, as 25 Wyverns flew over the city circling around then landing around the chapter house. Outside the city 300 elvish soldiers rode on horses at he city at an incredible speed. Dimitri looked at the wall of the chapter house, and then turned to a very tall elf who jumped off his wyvern and walked towards Dimitri.

"Sir, your reinforcements have arrived what are your orders." The elf kneeled.

Dimitri nodded and looked northwards. "Head to the northern part of the District. Signal the calvary to meet us at the wall to defend it. Elrohir. Stay here and wait for Commander Wilder. Tell her that the Azillian Knights have arrived to help fight... After you meet with her come and join us."

Dimitri jumped up onto Elrohir's Wyvern. He pushed his fingers into the nerve points on the Wyverns neck "To the north, Knights!" The Wyvern took off, heading with the rest of the squadron to the north. After a few minutes of flying the wyverns declined stopping at the wall as they saw the rest of the elvish calvary. Dimitri smiled again.

"Follow us!" The wyvern squadron ran rather then fly to their destination. The rest of the Calvary followed quickly behind.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Jono Slava)


Protector Jonothan Slava was known amongst his Knights as one who cried often. However, Jono's crying fits were not like most - his were terrible to behold. Being possessed by dozens of insane spirits tended to make Jonothan difficult to be around, even for the black-hearted Knights of Myr'Khul. If it weren't for Vanion's direct control over Jono's actions, he would have been dangerously uncontrollable.

Then, as his oozing, dark green tentacle strangled a dismounted Templar Knight, Jono was crying. Screams and whispers of secret betrayals pierced the air near the Orphanage, and surely any refugees inside it would not have believed such a horrible sound could have been caused by just one man.

A few moments passed, and the continued pressure on the Templar's neck proved too much. The Catholic Knight's eyeballs exploded in their sockets, and his dying scream blended in with Jonothan Slava's own. At the last moment, the Protector of Myr'Khul brought down his new blade, burying it deep into the Catholic's chest. A sickening slurping sound ensued, and the large broadsword began to glow in white light as it summoned the slain Catholic's soul into the blade itself. Once the deed was done, Jonothan turned to his fellow Knights - many of their blades also glowing in response to their hunger being staved off by the souls of the fallen.

"Stop here." Jonothan's voice was suddenly powerful and commanding - he was no longer crying. Several of the Knights of Myr'Khul had already lit torches and were preparing to set the Temple of Divine Light's Orphanage ablaze. They stopped dead in their tracks, fear from the Voice of Vanion Knightwood demanding immediate obedience.

"This orphanage, and those who follow the White Lady are not to be touched. If you break our agreement with them just to sate bloodlust, I assure you that you will regret it for more years than you could ever hope to comprehend."

There were only slight mutterings from the Knights at Jonothan's order. The High Priest did not always make sense to his Knights, but they did know that his decisions were to be trusted.

Jonothan looked up into the air, seeing a troop of Wyvern Riders, including Dimitri Locherin himself, flying towards the District's northern battlefield.

"Knights! We move north. Prepare your magicks and your gunpowder. Drink every victim dry of their souls. The Wraith-Blades will grant you power over the Catholics and this new, Elven Army. Cut down our foes, blast them out of the skies, and paint the streets with Catholic and half-breed blood!"

And then, Protector Slava's legion of Death Knights turned from the Orphanage for Wayward Souls, and disappeared into the shadows as they moved northward.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Wulfson)


The tattooed wizard and the silver-masked swordsman faded from sight for a brief respite. In their place roamed a small pack of elven shrews the size of large dogs that dove into the packs of dark knights with wild abandon, biting and clawing at their flesh. Whenever a shrew fell to their blades, it disappeared in a cloud of mist, only to seemingly reform seconds later.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder)


Karen's troop arrived at the First Bridge and were halted by the Watch personell there. "State your name and purpose here!" said the liutenant in charge.

"In God's Name, stand aside!" Shouted Karen. "I be Commander Karen Wilder, Baroness o' Seaside an' Field Commander o' th' Knights Templar!" Wheeling her horse around, she moved closer to the young Watch officer. "Our people are dyin' in there, and ye do nothing!"

The young liutenant scowled and started to speak, but Karen cut him off with a shout of her own. "Ye men there... We go tae save th' people o' this city! Ride wit' us, 'er stand aside!"

Karen then wheeled her horse around again, pushing the young liutenant out of her way. "At a gallop.... forward!" Her arm came down and the troop began charging across the bridge. Most of men of the Watch moved aside, but some few joined up alongside the footsoldiers who jogged along behind.

"Look there!" cried Dinah, pointing to the sky ahead.

The sight of the leathery-winged beasts flying over the city brought hope to no one in that troop... save for one. And even her hope was tempered by experiences to the contrary.

"Wit' any luck, thet's Tass an' some o' his Dragon-kin." Karen grumbled. "But we cain't count on luck taenight..."

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Godric Morganwulf)


As the battle continued, Morganwulf was able to follow the progress of the other forces of Myr'Khul with the holographic scrying capabilities of his helm.

The giant shrews were an amusing surprise, but once the initial shock wore off they proved a relatively minor nuisance. Their neuro-toxin was useless against the undead. Once their primary threat was neutralized, the shrews were easily dealt with.

The wyverns were a more pressing concern. Those that arrived before dawn were out-matched by the vampires. Lacking the fire-breathing of their cousin dragons, the wyverns had little offensive threat against vampires that could fly and turn to mist. Several wyverns were torn apart by the vampires before the sun rose and forced them to retreat.

Minus the vampires, dealing with the wyverns was more difficult. Fortunately, because of their size, wings, and lack of four legs, they had difficulty moving freely on the ground, especially in narrow alleys and inside buildings. Forces attacked by the wyverns quickly retreated into close confines where their could chop the wyverns apart.

The vermillion-cloaked warrior had proved a nasty obstacle for those units in the western part of the district. Morganwulf passed some suggestions to his fellow commander through a spell his sorcerer called the "Whispers of Myr'Khul". A variant on another spell, one that allowed messages to be passed on the wind, this one encrypted the message in the language of Myr'Khul, which made the message understandable only by those who followed the way of Myr'Khul. Any eavesdroppers who somehow managed to intercept the message would gain nothing more than an intense headache.

While the vermillion-cloaked warrior might be strong, he was just one. And in order to be effective, he had to have opponents to attack. No opponents, no damage. Instead of facing him head on, the forces of Myr'Khul dispersed. One or two might die, but the rest of the unit would simply retreat, attacking elsewhere. And when the vermillion-cloaked warrior moved to their new location, the forces of Myr'Khul could flow back into the previous space. Much like water is undeterred by the stone. It simply flows around it. When the stone is moved, the water reclaims the space once taken by it.

Numbers mattered. As the sun rose, and the vampires went to ground, the forces opposing them continued to mount. The wyverns, the elven cavalry, the Templars, the other agents operating within the city to oppose them, were beginning to slow their advance. At least the Phoenix Guard had not moved yet. Fortunately much of their night's work was already accomplished, but momentum was being lost. The tide might even turn against them.

Even as Morganwulf could see other units struggling against harder and harder odds, his own men were facing more challenging opponents. First squad was busy working to lure a wyvern into the confines of a ruined storefront. Second squad was engaged with a unit of armed men of similar strength and size. Morganwulf debated which squad needed his assistance more immediately.

A courier arrived then with a bundle of weapons. "Swords, Guardian Morganwulf, to arm your men with."

Morganwulf was not impressed. "We've been sent replacement swords?" He was preparing a more scathing response, but his sorcerer interjected.

"I sense these are special weapons, Guardian Morganwulf." The black-robed figure stepped forward and uncovered one of the bundles and moved a hand over the blades, but stopped short of touching. "Oh yes. I think these will meet with your satisfaction, Guardian."

The sorcerer hovered over the bundle and then carefully pulled one of the blades free by its hilt. This one glowed with an unholy light that was far stronger than its fellows. He handed it to Morganwulf. "Feel its hunger."

Morganwulf sheathed his own blade and took up the new one. Even as his fingers closed about the hilt he could feel it. The hunger of the sword was powerful, even through the gauntlet he wore.

Morganwulf smiled. This changes things. This changes things indeed.

"Have the swords distributed among the men. Quickly. Let's see how these weapons like the taste of wyvern."

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Lothar Blacklance)


The presence of Brother Vincent at the orphanage was a surprise, but not one that had changed Lothar's directions to the men. Spread out to cover the entrances, the Phoenix Guard stayed at the ready, waiting for whatever trouble might come their way.

When trouble did come, it was in the form of a mass of heavily armed death knights wearing the markings of Myr'Khul. Lothar tightened his grip upon his blade and made ready for battle. He signaled his men to prepare for action. Many of the death knights held torches and appeared ready to assault the orphanage.

Among them Lothar spotted a figure that might be their captain. Those that were near him appeared to defer to him, or perhaps even avoid him. From the distance Lothar could tell something was wrong with his arm. It appeared to move in a boneless manner.

Jago, still standing nearby, spoke quietly, "what are they waiting for?"

"I don't know. The one there," and Lothar gestured with his sword, "appears to be saying something to them."

A wave of something--disappointment?--seemed to sweep though the death knights. "Stand ready!" Lothar hissed to his men.

And then, much to Lothar's amazement, the death knights turned northward and moved away, disappearing into the shadows.

"What happened?" The surprise in Jago's voice was mirrored in Lothar.

What did happen? Why did they turn away? Was it a trick?

It seemed unlikely they had turned back just because they saw the Phoenix Guard. The death knights had outnumbered them based on Lothar's quick assessment.

"Spread the word. The enemy turned away, but the men are to stay at their posts. We don't know why they left, and we don't know if they will return. Our mission stays the same." Lothar looked back at Jago. "Find the runner. Send him..." Lothar paused. He was about to send the runner to the temple to report what had happened to Osberic. Lothar had another idea instead. "Send him to find Brother Vincent. Let him know what happened if he didn't see. If he really is in multiple places as he said, then he can spread the word more quickly than we could."

"Should we go after them?" One of the men inquired. The hesitance in his voice was obvious.

"No. We were given our orders. Until we get orders otherwise, our mission continues to be protecting the orphanage."

Not all of the men were content with that answer, and grumbled. Lothar could empathize with them. Standing guard while chaos erupted within the city around them felt...wrong. A need for action was within them.

Lothar assured his men that their chance would come, then tightened his grip on his sword and peered out into the troubled district and wondered if what he said was true.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder)


As Karen's troops left the bridge behind, a black cat lept from a building and landed in Dinah's lap. Before the young squire could react, it transformed into a black-leather clad woman. "I have news for you, Commander." she yelled over to Karen.

"Lianna... what news?" replied Karen.

"The Red Man is to West, but the enemy has learned to give him a wide berth. The Defender was with him, but I've lost track of her. There's signs she's moving past the Momus Athenaeum."

"What of Lucien, and of the Templars?" asked Karen urgently.

"Many soldiers of your Order have just reached the Orphanage. I don't know what their plan is. Some patrols are moving about, rescuing those they can and taking them back to your Chapterhouse. The Spymaster and the Boy are working on some plan to get the Pheonix Guard and the Hospitalatiers more involved."

"You mean the Hospitalatiers haven't come out?!?" cried Karen, outraged.

Before Lianna could reply, Dinah pointed forward and up again. "Incoming!"

Lianna looked up and then smiled. "It's alright, they're allies!" she yelled, hoping to keep the Templars from firing arrows at the Wyvern.

Karen drew the Shining Sword of Saint Micheal and held it aloft, then pointed it towards the corner of the open park surrounding the Rhy'Din Museum they were rapidly approaching.

When they were close enough, Karen called out to the Wyvern's rider. "Who dae ye represent, an' what news have ye?" she asked, the sword still in her hand glowing dimly from the sheer number of undead it could sense in the area.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Dimitri)


Elrohir landed in the park and lept off the Wyvern and walked toward Karen Wilder.

"My name is Elrohir of the Azillian Knights. Dimitri Locherin has brought 300 elvish cavalry and 25 Wyverns...he has also moved that force to the north because of a message that said they needed help. He has also sent a messenger back to Azilla to have more soldiers to come to your aid. We are at your command Commander." The elf bowed and looked at her waiting for new orders.



To the north the elvish army was dug in well but was getting restless from the random attacks on the line. Dimitri was sending out patrols of four. On average 3 of the 4 would come back. Wyvern riders were not returning from flights. Dimitri needed to move this army from defense to offense. Dimitri knew something was wrong a dark presence was heading his way.

The ground beneath Dimitri rose into the air and Dimitri saw the figure. Jono, Dimitri smiled.

"Come and get me Jono!"

The ground then sunk back down "Prepare for battle! elves!"

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder)


"We are at your command Commander." The elf bowed and looked at her waiting for new orders.

Karen considered this news... Cavalry and Wyverns. 'Not exactly the best troops for urban combat, but better than nothing,' she thought. "A'right, th' North's a good spot tae start. 'ave Dimitri head his people South 'long th' Wall in three waves." She gestured ahead along the road her troops awaited. "When yer reinforcements arrive, their tae take o'er holdin' th' South Gate. She then pointed at his Wyvern. "Keep yer beasties in th' air... snatch an' drop targets o' opportunity. They're tae big tae do much more'n thet in th' city."

Karen started back towards her troop. "We're headed fer th' Templar Compound, then tae sweep this road 'ere. I'll 'ave more fer ye later. Watch fer me signal..." she added a grin. "Ye'll know it when ye see it."

Then Karen raised her hand. "Forward!" snapping her arm down, she lead her troops down the road towards the east.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Dimitri)

Elrohir nodded and lept onto the back of the wyvern and took off to the north with the orders. After only a few seconds he landed and told the orders to Dimitri.

Dimitri grinned. "Wyverns! In the air, now! Scoop and drop mission till I tell you to stop!"

A few elves jumped up and the remaining wyverns took to the skies. Every few seconds, they would dive and arc back up.

Dimitri turned and shouted, "Alright. Cavalry mount up - we are heading south along this wall here. Kill all enemies you see. First wave on me. Second wave with Elrohir. Third wave will come when we need. Lets move , first wave!"

Dimitri and his wave started to head south, his ears twitched as he hard the earth along the other side of the wall moving. "Elvish reinforcements less then an hour away. Earth marching!"

On the other side of the wall the ground wide enough to move three Divisions of infantry was moving as if it was a conveyor belt.

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Godric Morganwulf)

Morganwulf grew wroth when he saw a small force of soldiers give chase to a pair of figures. What were they thinking departing from their assigned mission? Had one of Morganwulf's units broken away like that, he would have immediately inflicted a Word of Pain upon them. Instead, he watched as the force was led away. Morganwulf guessed there were spells involved. As the chase continued, the still-living among them grew confused and appeared to lose sight of their target. The living soldiers mostly began to fall away, while the undead among them continued to give chase.

Using the scrying capabilities of his helm to chart their course, Morganwulf saw the Temple of Divine Light intersect with their path. Curious. Was that their objective? To lure the forces of Myr'Khul near to the temple? What game did they play? Hidden forces were in motion. A gambit was being put forward.

There was a flash of fire near the entrance of the temple and the two figures disappeared. It was not clear what had transpired. Morganwulf slowed as he watched the scene play out. His fingers drummed along the hilt of his new sword. He could feel its hunger even sheathed as it was at the moment.

The unit of Myr'Khul soldiers came into view, and just as they did Morganwulf could see their commander taking action. The black enameled armor that protected them was engulfed in dark energy. The soldiers writhed in pain and agony, their run brought to an abrupt halt. Then they fell dead, still several yards from the steps of the Temple of Divine Light.

An interesting gambit. Played by whose hand, he wondered? More importantly, why? Was it a ploy to trick the temple into action? To give them an excuse to join the conflict?

Morganwulf slowed his horse, a massive and powerful beast of midnight coloration and angry eyes. He pulled it with stern control into a turn and spoke to his second. "Remind the men that the compact is not to be broken. Any man who dares to strike at the Temple of Divine Light, or those under its protection, will suffer the tender mercies of Myr'Khul."

(Rings of Honor Cross-Post w/o Color from: Karen Wilder)

Karen's forces arrived at the Chapterhouse with little incident... forces of the Myr'Khul melted away, rather than confronting them.

"Good to see you, Commander." said the Baron Febdash, stepping up to steady Karen's horse. "You've come late to the party, it seems."

"Nae doubt Vanion planned it thet way." Karen replied. "What news?"

"We've lost a few men, but we've brought in a number of refugees." he replied, stepping around to help her down. "It seems like the only victims have been Catholics and the like. The Temple of Divine Light is taking in refugees, but that's as far as I've dared let our men range."

Lianna lept down from Dinah's horse, walking over to join the conversation. "Your men have reached the South Gate, you'll want to send someone to inform them of the elvish reinforcements."

"And you are...?" asked Baron Febdash.

"She's one o' me specialists... th' Cardinal approves." said Karen, forstalling any explinations that might put Lianna in danger.

"Very good, I'll send a squad to Division-Commander Fredricks. I suspect he'll be glad to know he'll be able to go on the attack soon." said Febdash with a nod.

"I suspect you are right, my son." came an unexpected voice. The three turned to see Cardinal Shoc, dressed in the same ornate plate armour he'd worn during the seige of Constantinople. Karen and Febdash quickly dropped to one knee, each kissing the Cardinal's ring in turn.

"Rise, my children." he said, giving each a gentle benediction.

"Yer Grace, what are yer orders?" asked Karen as Baron Febdash helped her rise.

"You were there with Us at Constantinople, and it was your work that delivered Us from that siege." the Cardinal replied. "The Baron will command the defences here, and Commander Fredericks will continue to command the soldiers with him." He stepped forward and put his hand upon Karen's shoulder. "To you, We give overall command of Our forces for the duration of this siege."

"I am honored, yer Grace." replied Karen, bowing her head.

"Thou art Our Strong Left Arm, Lady Karen." the Cardinal said. "We hath seen The Lord walks with thee, and His Love will guide us all from this Darkness. Amen"

"Amen."

"Amen."