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They tried to be gods.
The cold metal of his sword's pommel was a reassuring pressure against his forehead, the long slender blade of his sword pressed down onto the flagstone floor of the Helmite temple.
No man should have that amount of power, not with freedom, not with impunity.
Mages, responsible for so much death and suffering, revelling in their precious power as they worked tirelessly to undermine the foundations of society.
It seemed almost every other one wanted to become a lich, or a vampire, or some other walking blasphemy. They abused reality without thought, without regret or conscience. They summoned hellish things merely to further their own needs, weakening the walls between planes just to satisfy themselves.
Even within this small country, how much suffering had been caused by Mages? How many lives shattered, undead raised and wars waged - all in the name of these wretched mages. Even the birth of the nation pivoted on an act of magic that had torn an aeons old mountain apart. Almost half the most wanted criminals in the land were corrupted by their dabbling with the weave.
He stood, bowing before the altar of Helm.
At least the servants of the divine were watched by their gods. They at least answered to greater powers; theirs was service and faith, not reckless self-service.
Everyone knew how dangerous the cursed-blood mages were, the sorcerers and warlocks of the world. Most knew how to deal with the half-souled plane-touched monsters of the world.
Mages were as bad as any tiefling, as unwanted as any sorcerer. With every ounce of his heart he knew this.
He would wait, and with Helm’s eyes he would watch, and any mage who stepped beyond the law would find themselves burned clean with holy fire.
The cold metal of his sword's pommel was a reassuring pressure against his forehead, the long slender blade of his sword pressed down onto the flagstone floor of the Helmite temple.
No man should have that amount of power, not with freedom, not with impunity.
Mages, responsible for so much death and suffering, revelling in their precious power as they worked tirelessly to undermine the foundations of society.
It seemed almost every other one wanted to become a lich, or a vampire, or some other walking blasphemy. They abused reality without thought, without regret or conscience. They summoned hellish things merely to further their own needs, weakening the walls between planes just to satisfy themselves.
Even within this small country, how much suffering had been caused by Mages? How many lives shattered, undead raised and wars waged - all in the name of these wretched mages. Even the birth of the nation pivoted on an act of magic that had torn an aeons old mountain apart. Almost half the most wanted criminals in the land were corrupted by their dabbling with the weave.
He stood, bowing before the altar of Helm.
At least the servants of the divine were watched by their gods. They at least answered to greater powers; theirs was service and faith, not reckless self-service.
Everyone knew how dangerous the cursed-blood mages were, the sorcerers and warlocks of the world. Most knew how to deal with the half-souled plane-touched monsters of the world.
Mages were as bad as any tiefling, as unwanted as any sorcerer. With every ounce of his heart he knew this.
He would wait, and with Helm’s eyes he would watch, and any mage who stepped beyond the law would find themselves burned clean with holy fire.