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He slowly walked up to the chamber doors. He was just finishing his tutelage under the elders of the Church, and his graduation was still a week or so away. Yet here he was being called to speak to the cleric who oversees the Imperceptors of the surrounding region. He had no doubts that many of the Imperceptors would be there as well, a meeting like this is rarely a good thing for fresh recruits such as him. However, failing to answer the call would be much, much worse. He steadied himself and adjusted his clerical robes before knocking on the chamber door with a sense of false confidence.
"Enter," came a call from inside. This was a voice he had never heard before but it sent a feeling of both awe and horror through his very being. He reached forward and turned the handle. It was a handle as black as burnt charcoal, and it was in the shape of a fist. Reaching forward his hand showed a light tan as he grasped and turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open. The human man stood of average height and size but attempted to look bigger as he mustered up his confidence and stepped inside. Within he found both the High Cleric as well as three of the local Imperceptors gathered around a desk pouring over an open folder filled with papers, no doubt filled with all the information that they had gathered on him. There was also a figure he did not expect to see, standing slightly behind and to the left of the group was his master. There was a look of both worry and pride set upon his face.
He found his spot in front of the desk and rendered the salute he had been taught since his first days in the church. "All hail Bane, The great Lord of Tyranny and rightful ruler of Faerun."
The group stopped looking through the files and looked up at him. There was a blank expression on all of their faces yet he found an odd mix of both terror and ease upon looking at them. The High Cleric spoke up, it was his voice he had heard before and the same feeling of horror and awe filled his body.
"Ahh... you must be the one I have come to see." He gave a smile that seemed both genuine and conniving, "I am here to give missions to the best students in all of the classes here. You, my dear boy, are currently the top of all the new clerics trained here at the keep."
A feeling of pride washed over him but he knew better than to let it show. Confidence is good - over-confidence is a quick route to your own demise. He gave a curt bow and uttered in a low voice, "Thank you, Sir. I hope not to dissapoint our Lord in the coming years spent serving his will."
"Yes I should hope not. You have a very important task set before you this day. Have you heard of a land known as the Sundered Valley?"
"I believe I have heard a story or two of it throughout my training within these walls."
"Good, good. You see we actually have quite a presence there. However, Many of the servants of the Black Hand, while still loyal worshippers of Bane, seem to have forgotten that it is our Dark Lord that they serve and not this Vampire who has claimed the seat of power in their local faction."
A feeling of terror swept through his tan skin and though his red hair was neatly tapered at the neck what little hairs were found there seemed to stand on edge. Westans voice almost cracked as he spoke, "So my job is to usurp this Vampire and retake the Black Hand in the name of a true servant of Bane?"
The whole of the group let out a deep bellowing laughter at this idea. This small statured cleric, who although top of his class, was barely able to best the local vermin, trying to best the great vampire.
The Imperceptor closest to the High Cleric, a short man wearing a sort of battle garb, spoke up first, "No you fool, we do not wish to send you to your death that soon."
The tallest Imperceptor on the far right side spoke calmly, all laughter gone from his voice. "You would not stand a chance against such a man, let alone all the followers who follow him with an almost blind loyalty."
The final Imperceptor spoke up with a deep voice that almost commanded respect and loyalty in its very tone, "Your job is simply to travel there and remind these people of the true power of Bane."
The High Cleric held up his hand and silenced the others. "You will travel to this valley, induce yourself into their folds as a member of the Black Hand, and start learning as much as you can about their local heirarchy. Then when the time is right you will seek out one of their local Dreadmasters and begin your new path to Bane's honor." He looked towards the only man who had not spoken, the clerics master, and finished his thoughts, "You say that if there is a student who will prove worthy of training towards Dreadmaster that this child is the one?"
The tall cleric, who Westan now noticed hadn't moved this whole time, finally spoke up. "Yes, Brother Valence is no doubt one of the most suited candidates I had seen in many years." with his part done the man went back to his stance and continued to observe the exchange.
The High Cleric smiled widely as he looked back to the average looking human. "Well, There you have it. This is your charge, and I am sure you know the cost of failure for this! You will report back to us periodically, incase of any changes to the plan. So make for your quarters and prepare for your journey. You will leave as soon as you have finished your courses here." After that the Man waved an old wrinkled hand as to shoo the boy away.
Westan turned on his heels and made for the door. He did not look back, and he did not make any noises. After closing the door he let himself down and found himself with an undulating smile. This was perfect! He would fulfill his charge and gain new powers doing so. Then when he had gained his power the cleric would gain his own followers, and then lead the charge against all of the Sundered Valley. He would win the Valley in the name of the great Bane. He made quick confident strides towards his quarters. While the leaders of the temple may cause a slight tremor in his spine the peasant militia of some lost country valley most certainly did not.
"Enter," came a call from inside. This was a voice he had never heard before but it sent a feeling of both awe and horror through his very being. He reached forward and turned the handle. It was a handle as black as burnt charcoal, and it was in the shape of a fist. Reaching forward his hand showed a light tan as he grasped and turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open. The human man stood of average height and size but attempted to look bigger as he mustered up his confidence and stepped inside. Within he found both the High Cleric as well as three of the local Imperceptors gathered around a desk pouring over an open folder filled with papers, no doubt filled with all the information that they had gathered on him. There was also a figure he did not expect to see, standing slightly behind and to the left of the group was his master. There was a look of both worry and pride set upon his face.
He found his spot in front of the desk and rendered the salute he had been taught since his first days in the church. "All hail Bane, The great Lord of Tyranny and rightful ruler of Faerun."
The group stopped looking through the files and looked up at him. There was a blank expression on all of their faces yet he found an odd mix of both terror and ease upon looking at them. The High Cleric spoke up, it was his voice he had heard before and the same feeling of horror and awe filled his body.
"Ahh... you must be the one I have come to see." He gave a smile that seemed both genuine and conniving, "I am here to give missions to the best students in all of the classes here. You, my dear boy, are currently the top of all the new clerics trained here at the keep."
A feeling of pride washed over him but he knew better than to let it show. Confidence is good - over-confidence is a quick route to your own demise. He gave a curt bow and uttered in a low voice, "Thank you, Sir. I hope not to dissapoint our Lord in the coming years spent serving his will."
"Yes I should hope not. You have a very important task set before you this day. Have you heard of a land known as the Sundered Valley?"
"I believe I have heard a story or two of it throughout my training within these walls."
"Good, good. You see we actually have quite a presence there. However, Many of the servants of the Black Hand, while still loyal worshippers of Bane, seem to have forgotten that it is our Dark Lord that they serve and not this Vampire who has claimed the seat of power in their local faction."
A feeling of terror swept through his tan skin and though his red hair was neatly tapered at the neck what little hairs were found there seemed to stand on edge. Westans voice almost cracked as he spoke, "So my job is to usurp this Vampire and retake the Black Hand in the name of a true servant of Bane?"
The whole of the group let out a deep bellowing laughter at this idea. This small statured cleric, who although top of his class, was barely able to best the local vermin, trying to best the great vampire.
The Imperceptor closest to the High Cleric, a short man wearing a sort of battle garb, spoke up first, "No you fool, we do not wish to send you to your death that soon."
The tallest Imperceptor on the far right side spoke calmly, all laughter gone from his voice. "You would not stand a chance against such a man, let alone all the followers who follow him with an almost blind loyalty."
The final Imperceptor spoke up with a deep voice that almost commanded respect and loyalty in its very tone, "Your job is simply to travel there and remind these people of the true power of Bane."
The High Cleric held up his hand and silenced the others. "You will travel to this valley, induce yourself into their folds as a member of the Black Hand, and start learning as much as you can about their local heirarchy. Then when the time is right you will seek out one of their local Dreadmasters and begin your new path to Bane's honor." He looked towards the only man who had not spoken, the clerics master, and finished his thoughts, "You say that if there is a student who will prove worthy of training towards Dreadmaster that this child is the one?"
The tall cleric, who Westan now noticed hadn't moved this whole time, finally spoke up. "Yes, Brother Valence is no doubt one of the most suited candidates I had seen in many years." with his part done the man went back to his stance and continued to observe the exchange.
The High Cleric smiled widely as he looked back to the average looking human. "Well, There you have it. This is your charge, and I am sure you know the cost of failure for this! You will report back to us periodically, incase of any changes to the plan. So make for your quarters and prepare for your journey. You will leave as soon as you have finished your courses here." After that the Man waved an old wrinkled hand as to shoo the boy away.
Westan turned on his heels and made for the door. He did not look back, and he did not make any noises. After closing the door he let himself down and found himself with an undulating smile. This was perfect! He would fulfill his charge and gain new powers doing so. Then when he had gained his power the cleric would gain his own followers, and then lead the charge against all of the Sundered Valley. He would win the Valley in the name of the great Bane. He made quick confident strides towards his quarters. While the leaders of the temple may cause a slight tremor in his spine the peasant militia of some lost country valley most certainly did not.