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 The Warrior and The Arcanist

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Lathiria
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Posts : 598
Join date : 2012-07-07
Age : 32

PostSubject: The Warrior and The Arcanist   Thu Jul 12, 2012 4:59 am

The Warrior and The Arcanist

In the blood warm gloom, amid the shrouding, clouding thickness of the air, the heart beat on…

A clock, ticking towards death, a rhythm echoing through his body, a cadence that inched him - pulse by throbbing pulse – towards the raging madness of the thirst. Clouds of ruby and darkness billowed about him, surrounded him, dragged him, roaring, into the void, damned and destined to surrender to it.

These were the enemies he and his kindred could never defeat, the unavoidable fel thirst and its terrible twin, raging madness of the dark craving.


Woven, like threads of poison through the tapestry of his body, the bane gift he had carried through his life. A gift that had not yet consumed him only thanks to his Lord and Master, many years dead. Anethion. The power of the true prophet’s angelic splendor and matchless faith filled him. And yet, the other face of that golden coin was dark, dark as rage, dark as fury, darker than any hell spawned curse upon creation, the malevolent beast inside every brother of the Thaumaturges.

Brother Dimithrios knelt upon the chapel’s dull colored flagstones, hunched forward in prayer his fragile frame was alone before the simple iron alter. One light cast by candles threw hollow color over his face. The glow caught the deep, dark colors of his robes and the sigil of his order, a simple truesilver cross, it glittered upon the matrix of fine crystal upon bowed head.

His eyes were closed. But his senses were open, his hands tightened into fists. The ominous echo of the dream still clung to him, defeating his every attempt to banish them.

He released a sigh. Visions were no stranger to him. They were as much a tool to him as the crystals on his robes or the dark knowledge that adorned his mind.

Dimithrios had the Sight. The twisted blessing of arcane power and with it he fought alongside his brothers in the Chapter of Holy Anethion. To bolster them upon the field of conflict against those who employed the very same evil against them. In his time he had seen… Many things. Twisted horrors spilling into the world from the mad realm of the Nether– forms that pulled at reason with their sheer monstrosity, darkness and hate.

And once in a while: A glimpse of something. A possibility. A future. It had saved his life against Exium. But this was different. Just a dream. Over and over. He could not help but wonder: Was it also a warning?

If the spirit of Anethion were to beckon him towards a death, then he prayed it would be a noble sacrifice. And ending, not in the madness of the Dark Craving, but one forged in Honor. A death worthy of his Faith, worthy of one who had died illuminating mankin and setting them upon a righteous path.

”Dimithrios”

He sensed the new presence in the Chapel. The edges of a hard, disciplined psyche, a thing forged like sword blade steel, the thaumaturge opened his eyes and looked up upon the open scripture behind the alter – it offered only mute council. But that was just, and right.

For now, whatever troubled the thaumaturge was his burden to carry.

Dimithrios rose to find Brother-Shadowbreaker Gregoir approaching, his boots snapping against the stone floor. He sketched a salute and Gregoir nodded in return.

”Sir, forgive me. I hoped to take a moment of reflection before we embarked upon the mission proper.”

Gregoir waved away his explanation.

”Your tone suggests you did not find it, Dimithrios”

Dimithrios gave his brother a humorless smile

”some days peace are more difficult to find than others”

”I know exactly what you mean, I doubt I have had a moment’s quiet since agreed upon this mission”


He gestured towards the Chapel doors and Dimithrios walked with him. The thaumaturge studied the other man.

They were contrasts in color and shade. The warrior and the arcanist.

Shadowbreaker Greagoir’s robe was black and white dressed with honor chains of black steel and gold detailing, and engravings that listed his combat record, the plated armor beneath clearly audiable. Under one arm he carried his helmet, polished white and capable of hiding his face in combat and alike to all other Shadowbreakers, making him a faceless defender of mankin. He wore finely crafted sword a scabard in his belt and a spiked shield upon his back. His face was pale and scarred, the mark of demon fire, and yet there was a strength and nobility that time and war had not yet diminished.

Dimithrios wore robes of dull colours with symbols woven into the cloth, bright crystals sewn into the robes, emitting a slight glow whenever he drew upon his arcane potential. This robe set him apart. Showed him for what he was beneath the cloth and the hood.

Witch kin. Nether-touched. A man without peace.

Dimithrios left the sanctum behind and so, he hoped, his misgivings. Walking in easy steps with his brother. Young canons and servants scattered out of their way clearing a path for brothers.

”We are leaving in only a few moments”

offered Greagoir

”your brothers prepare for deployment”

”I’ll join them”


Dimithrios began, but Greagoir shook his head.

”I want you with me, I have been summoned to the Library”

Sourness entered the veteran’s tone

”the SI7 agent wishes to address me personally before we proceed”

Dimithrios was silent for a moment

”I may not be the best choice to accompany you. I believe our honored colleague from the SI7 finds my presence… discomforting”

Greagoir’s lip curled

”that is one reason I want you there, keep man off balance”

”and the other?”


”In case I feel the need to kill him”

Dimithrios allowed himself a smirk.

”If you expect me to dissuade you, brother Shadowbreaker, you have picked the wrong man”

”Dissuade me? I expect you to assist”
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Lathiria
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Posts : 598
Join date : 2012-07-07
Age : 32

PostSubject: Re: The Warrior and The Arcanist   Thu Aug 16, 2012 2:16 am

In GHI Razz
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