Genesis

[Grand Unified Theory]

The last of the local Viridale gnolls fell before Gabriel's blade, leaving the encampment completely vanquished. Whether he could have accomplished such a task without the Red Wizard's aid he wasn't sure, but the talents of the mage were quickly fading regardless.

Gabriel looked down to his sword, drenched in the blood of the beasts of the forest. It no longer pulsated with magical flame, nor did his armor contain the strength of stone. He sighed.

"Lucky timing, I guess.."

Looking around the camp for anything useful, something sharply caught his eye. It was simultaneously beautiful and entirely out of place; a single, delicate-looking flower that stood in sharp contrast to its environment. Could this have been the species that the Elvish woman asked him to find?



Quickly sheathing his longsword and moving his shield onto his back, Gabriel made a very cautious attempt to harvest the reagent. Within a few swift movements, the flower was sliced and stored into a glass corked bottle to maintain its condition. Gabriel chuckled to himself over how easy the task seemed. His celebration was cut short at the sound of a twig snapping behind him.

"Who dares st-.." Gabriel began to turn around and draw his sword only to see several of the foul creatures with bows up in the trees, all trained on his position. With his shield still on his back and unable to defend from such weaponry, the situation quickly deteriorated.



The tree-dwelling goblins squealed at each other in excitement, signaling to begin their hail of arrows and seal the fate of the foreign intruder. The lack of defense and awareness on Gabriel's end surely promised the end of his life. He watched in horror as fleeting arcs zipped across the sky, all converging on his location. In pure reflexive response, he crouched close to the ground and brought his shield-arm above his head, expecting a swift departure from this world.

But the blackness never came. Only the infuriated squeals and snorts of the tree beasts, and.. something else.

Gabriel opened one of his eyes, afraid of seeing what was left of him. Amazingly, he had not a single injury, but a pulsing field only an arm's length away encasing him on all sides. With both eyes open, he could see the snapped arrows of his assailants strewn about him. But how could this be?

With no time to contemplate, he took his chance to pull out a small crossbow from his side and return the favor. As he took to a defensive position, the ward began to dissipate. Minutes dragged on as Gabriel eventually took the upper hand, bringing the cowardly monsters from the trees down to a level playing field. He felt invigorated, vengeful, determined.. approaching his crippled enemies with sword in hand like a man possessed.

Gabriel savored the moment, delivering retribution onto the heads of the disgusting critters. Swinging over, and over, and over, the corpses of the goblins soon became indistinguishable from bloodied pulp, similar to a leftover victim of the nearby gnoll's hunts.

And then, suddenly, the rage vanished. Gabriel instantly became winded, horrified at the sight of the destruction he had caused. He quickly collected his things and fled the scene, not wishing to push his luck on his life twice.



"All this for a damned flower.."

[Grand Unified Theory]

Weary from battle and mentally drained, Gabriel instantly shed his armor and weaponry
the moment his door clicked open at the Second Wind Inn. His head hit the pillow like a sack of bricks; he had never felt such fatigue before. Sleep instantly overcame him.

Even in his dreams, Gabriel could not escape the slaughter he had fled from. Images of himself butchering the defenseless goblins played over, and over, and over, each episode briefly interrupted by that familiar symbol..



.. but what could it mean? Involuntarily being subjected to each consecutive flashback, Gabriel quickly forced himself to focus on the symbol. The horror of witnessing the brutal act he had committed caused him to mentally recoil. A soft whisper vibrated through the dreamstate, echoing in the young man's mind. It sounded familiar..

"Go speak to the Marshall.."

It whispered again, and again.. more forcefully than the last, ending in a near shout. The barbaric scene Gabriel had been forced to witness stopped, going dark and bringing him back to a familiar hellish place.



Another experience of Gabriel's history began to play out before him. The past history of his mysterious waking up on the bridge before the ruins of the Dark Citadel and the accompanying fear and hopelessness seethed throughout his mind - despite it all being some sort of dream, the feeling of intense heartburn and the lump of terror in his throat were all too real.

He watched as the mysterious figure approached the past version of himself, echoing the words of the whispers in their conversation. Behind the two, emblazoned on the entrance of the ruins, stood that symbol again.. always that same symbol. He continued to watch as the two walked into the hellish landscape, attempting to clear a way to the Mossdale.

With the two out of sight, the dream began to fade to blackness, as though Gabriel were falling from some great height.. after an eternity of plunging through an impenetrable darkness, the bottom eventually came. The impact instantly jerked him into an awake state, gasping for breath for several moments.

He wasted not a single moment after catching his breath, reequipping himself despite the intense physical ache in his joints and dryness of mouth and instantly set a course for Sestra.

The symbol continued to ruminate in his mind throughout the entire walk there.

[Grand Unified Theory]

The two Banites slowly began making their way through an alternate entrance into Viridale, hoping to prevent any suspicion by the Exigo presence in their typical location. The shroud of night made the trip all the more covert, yet all the more dangerous. Thankfully, the nightmares of the forest were concerned elsewhere.

Operating as the designated meatshield, Gabriel kept his hand on the hilt of his sword at all times. His new weapon, given to him directly from the Exarch of Sestra himself, would be undoubtedly useful in the crucial moments to come. The blood of Bane's enemies would fully baptize the weapon, unlocking the sword's full potential. Only then would it carry a name.

The two continued ahead, trespassing into the territory of the Mossclaw. Very few of the monsters met their fate at the hands of the blackguards; most seemed suspiciously absent from their typical hunting grounds. Descending into orc territory, a large deviation from the previous pattern become quite apparent as they encountered a large patrol party in the region adjacent to the orcish stronghold.

"It appears we've arrived.. are you prepared?" Gabriel unsheathed his new blade, looking to Mathren.

"I am." A sadistic smile grew on Mathren's face, awaiting for Gabriel to begin the charge.



Within moments, what once was Mossclaw was now no more. Despite the effortless success, Gabriel stopped in his tracks before the slain group, asking Mathren to hold his position before continuing to the stronghold. The feeling of nausea and deja vu overwashed his senses.

"There's.. something different.." He attempted to speak the words as best he could without succumbing to the feeling and puking altogether.

"It feels like the dream from before.. I can't explain it.."

Gabriel sheathed his weapon, forcing himself to concentrate on a still target for a few moments hoping to kill the feeling in his gut. He focused his gaze on a slain orc, losing himself in thought for a few moments hoping for a distraction. Miraculously, without spell or any magical influence, the deceased shell of the orc upon which Gabriel focused his gaze began to dessicate and shrivel into an undead hulking monstrosity, picking up its weapon and looking back at him with a mindless gaze, awaiting orders.

".. it's happening again! What is this?!" Gabriel stepped back, completely surprised by the transpiring event.

"Ah, excellent. I believe we've been allotted assistance." Mathren responded, already familiarized by the use of necromantic magics and rising corpses.

Gabriel shook his head, sighing. He motioned for the dead thing to start heading towards the stronghold.

"I'll never understand these damned abilities.. let's just get moving. There's not much time."

The undead orc walked first into the entrance of the stronghold, followed by the two blackguards. Any advantage the group previously had was destroyed the moment the entrance guards alerted the entire stronghold, sending multiple waves of attack groups towards the intruders. They too, would fall.

"Take no prisoners, brother. Let's begin!" Gabriel commanded the undead orc to take point, absorbing the incoming missle attacks as the two took cover behind it, moving toward the entrance.



The two blackguards cleaved their way throughout the stronghold, ending the lives of dozens of orc warriors as the chieftain's hut came closer and closer. Dozens of death screams urged the chieftain from his hut, eager to fulfill its raging retribution for the clan.

"I'll make sure you suffer, cur." Gabriel tauntingly mocked the creature, luring it into combat. Mathren followed shortly behind, maneuvering behind the creature and sadistically laughing while plunging his sword into the chieftain's back over and over. The blood of the chieftain ran freely unto Gabriel's blade, thoroughly coating the steel in the familiar crimson ooze.

On his backswings, Gabriel noticed something different about the weapon he wielded. The familiar cold steel of the sword had begun to glow a vivid orange, searing the flesh wounds of the orc chieftain like cold steak on a blistering hot griddle surface. Equal parts enchanted and bewildered, he removed the weapon from the creature's flesh and examined it closely, leaving the death of the chieftain for Mathren alone.

Any blood that remained on the sword's surface quickly boiled off as the weapon continued to increase in temperature, although mysteriously without harming Gabriel's hand while grasping it. Without warning, the weapon burst into flames, apparently unable to be smothered or extinguished unless withdrawn into a scabbard.

Gabriel held his weapon out, preoccupied with the notion of Bane's satisfaction to even notice that Mathren had already killed the chieftain.

".. Crissaegrim." He whispered, giving the weapon its name.

Following the destruction of the orcish clan, the blackguards paused before the chieftain's hut, decorated with the banner and insignia of the tribe.

"This is their symbol? Their righteous claim to rule?" Gabriel plucked the banner from its holding apparatus and brought it over to the roaring bonfire in front of the ex-chieftain's tent, tossing it in. "Let it burn with the rest of them."

Gabriel and Mathren scoured the stronghold to the best of their abilities for flammable materials; spare firewood, furs, pelts, even some of the makeshift tents themselves would serve as fuel for the roaring inferno. Nothing would be left. With the stronghold in immolating tatters, the Banites dispersed into the forest.

[Grand Unified Theory]

Bleeding profusely from the side of his torso and intensely dehydrated following the demonic ambush at Argyle, Gabriel grasped onto consciousness as he retreated to the defensive walls of Sestra.

The long walk would be grueling, he knew this.. but it was certain death to face the adventurers with such a wound. The hot noon sun only contributed to Gabriel's discomfort as the sunshine barreled down directly onto the young man's armor, heating the metal for a period of over six hours like a personal, body-sized dutch oven.

Comfort only came at the end of the trip, wherein a small thunderstorm began brewing along the southern coast of the Valley. Gabriel arrived within Sestran borders as the midnight hour struck, holding his side in excruciating pain. Almost guaranteed to have suffered complete organ failure of one of his kidneys and bordering on heat exhaustion, he continued to keep limping further into the city, fueled by rage and hatred.



Gabriel slowly shuffled to the Sestran church, currently experiencing a large influx of priests and their ilk to pray for the next day's spells, along with the Black Hand's coming conquest. He ignored any attention on behalf of the clergy and found a seat located far from any social interaction, closing his eyes and merely listening to the sounds of the call to prayer for Bane, along with the smells, chants, and other miscellaneous ambiance that ensued.

Within the proceedings, one particular chorus stood out in Gabriel's mind. A hymn, stolen in melody from the Triad and bastardized to glorify the name of the Lord of Tyranny, reverberated within the walls of Sestra's divine heart. As Gabriel cleared out all thoughts but the chant from his mind, the pain of his horrible puncture wound slowly began to convalesce. Occasional sounds of rolling thunder from outside matched the amplitude of the dark clergy, inserting itself into Gabriel's meditations.

The dream process began to play all over again in his mind, bringing himself back to a different location than usual. The area was familiar; it bore vague similarity to the road leading to Sestra, but it looked nothing as though Gabriel was used to in his waking moments. A heavy thunderstorm raged above, meanwhile large regiments of troops, living and undead, gathered under the banner of Bane. Strike teams of Bane's finest appeared decorated with something else as well, a rather disgusting-looking putrid monstrosity, completely bloated with some foul microbial putrefaction. Across the opposite horizon, large groups under the banner of the Legion began to rally. Was this the past? Or the future?

The dream continued to play out, displaying Gabriel as a high-ranking Banite officer leading the charge in the very thick of it all, adorned in magical green and black plate armor stamped with Bane's crest. Banite forces clashed with Legion, soaking the ground in blood and corpses everywhere.



A final clash of lightning and thunder flooded the dreamstate, waking Gabriel from his distractions. He brought his right hand to the previous puncture wound to find nothing but bare flesh, only slightly crusted over like a scab.

Newly invigorated and motivated by his dream, Gabriel stood from his seat in the church and left into the cold rain.

[End chapter 1]