Through the Ages, We Serve and Protect

[Subtleknifewielder]

Roland Green observed the ongoing meeting with a decidedly...bored expression. Well, that wasn't strictly accurate. They had already had the meeting, he already had his assignment. Why couldn't they just hurry up and finish this? The closing ceremonies, being droned out in Latin, seemed to go on forever.

Finally, though, it ended, with the ceremonial blessing and anointing of him, the chosen champion of this quest. The youngest member of the Knights Templar schooled his features into something at least approximating solemnity as he knelt for that last portion of the rites. it wasn't, after all, as if he actually disrespected any of his elders on the council. They had spent years, devoted decades of their lives to ascetic service in protection of mankind against the forces of the Evil One, against that Great Deceiver and his abominable minions that sold their souls for power.

None of these men and women on the council today had had what anyone would call a 'normal' life, not even in childhood. Even then, they themselves, and what friends and family they had, were training for the kind of service he was being sent out to do..speaking of which, Nicodemus, the eldest of them all, removed his hand from Roland's head, and spoke in English. "Go now, my child, and rid this world of another evil. A taint that threatens all the Creator's children."

With that ritual blessing, Roland thanked Father Nicodemus, took up his sword, and departed the chamber. He had a witch to find and kill.

[Kevin Kingswell]

In the deserts of Afghanistan the shell of a woman that once called herself Echearia gripped the hilt of her blade loosely before spinning out into a series of slashes, lunges and blocks the edge of her blade whistling through the air around her. Going from a high angle slash she switched to a low crouch bringing the blade in close to her side before turning and thrusting out to narrowly block the oncoming wooden staff aimed at her back. Facing her was the weathered and leathery face of the crone that held control over her unlife and she twisted her own features into an angry scowl as she pulled back her weapon and stepped back. Cackling the crone turned and walked across to a nearby stone rock which she had fashioned into a makeshift altar.

Upon the surface of this altar was the chained form of a local youth who even now struggled against the chain bindings that held him in place and as the old crone approached he doubled his effort to get free though they were for naught. Stepping up to the young man the crone looked past him to where a selection of knives rested and she carefully took her time before selecting a nasty barbed edge knife bringing it up so that the man could see it. She then raised the blade prepared to plunge it down into his naked chest only to feel a gauntlet clasp around her hands and she twisted her head around to face Echearia with a look of pure venom.

"You dare interrupt me child of darkness" snarled the old witch gathering her power about her, the sands kicking up around the pair as she did so. "There is no need to kill this man, he is but a boy" replied Echearia concern in her voice. "Be silent!!" roared the crone unleashing her power upon the armored woman quickly forcing her to release her grip and making the woman fall to her knees in agony. Smirking the crone turned back to the captive man and ripped his chest open with the knife, as the man screamed in pain she cut around his heart and removed the still beating organ before hungrily bringing it to her mouth and biting into it allowing the blood and gore to dribble down her chin.

Before the dying man's gaze the old witch's body transformed into that of a much younger woman and as he slipped away into the embrace of death his last sight was of her continuing to eat away at the remains of his heart. After he had died and the crone had devoured the heart she turned to the shade who was still on her knees the agony of the witch's power holding her in place. "Foolish child remember I control you and you serve me now do not forget lest I be forced to remind you of your place. Again. Now be ready I fear that my life will soon be put in danger and you must protect me" spoke the witch ending her attack on Echearia with a wave of her hand before turning and walking away to the cave entrance where they made their home.

"By your command. My master" responded the shade of Echearia climbing to her feet and retrieving her sword and following in the footsteps of her master into the cave.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Afghanistan. An ancient land, filled with secrets, alternately hidden and revealed by the shifting sands of the treacherous deserts. A place where conquerors came to lose their empires. And where one lone man was to traverse the wastes.

Roland, wrapped in the traditional garb of the locals to protect himself from the all too frequent storms, tirelessly trudged up the side of one dune, and down another, again and again, up, down, across the valley between them, and up to the top again, where he paused, looking out across the vast, lifeless expanse. Though, was it really so lifeless? Even in the midst of such desolation, life always found a way. Oases, small villages clustering around places that could provide shelter in the lee of the violence the wind and sand offered.

And of course, one individual that he had come to hunt. She was close...his faith told him she must be, for this was where it had guided him. Yes...even now he could see a set of cliffs as his gaze turned forward once more. And behind them, another storm coming. Resuming his trek, he picked up the pace as much as he dared, even so risking tumbling to the bottom of the dune in a shower of fine sand. But he made it down without incident, and stubbornly forced himself forward, racing against the storm to make it to the cliff before the sand swallowed him up.

[Kevin Kingswell]

Inside the cave the old crone howled in both anger and annoyance as she cast a number of small animal bones before her her gaze flicking over each one hoping, almost praying for the outcome to be different all to no avail. Striding over to her came Echearia drawn to her master by the old witch's cries. "Master what trouble's you?" she asked concern in her voice though in truth it was for her own safety not the witch's and the Shade almost stepped back as the crone turned her hateful gaze upon her. Lifting one hand she pointed a sharp finger at her chest as she spoke "You. You will defend me or I will strip your flesh from your bones. Go outside and face him and do not return without his heart or you will die by my hands!!" roared the witch. Echearia went to respond only to have her master start screeching and threatening her with worse and worse punishments.

Cursing the crone aloud Echearia turned and stormed out towards the cave entrance stopping to retrieve her sword and helm which she placed on her back and shoulders respectively before proceeding on wards out into the open air. She noticed the approaching storm straight away and for once she was glad that in her undead state that she would feel no discomfort if forced to walk through it. Then she noticed the figure that seemed to be rushing its way towards the cliffs they resided in and remembering the words that her master had just flung at her she reached up and removed her blade from its sheath as she felt sure that this was the man that her master wanted dead.

Spreading her feet apart she held the blade's hilt in two hands before her body ready to attack the figure if it was indeed a man. The thought that he might be a poor innocent crossed her mind but as long as her master held her leash she could do nothing but slay the poor person and pray that his soul forgave her from her crime.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Roland heard the winds long minutes before they reached him. Howling almost like a rabid predator, or demons straight out of the darkest depths of hell, they sent shivers down his spine, raising his hackles in a way even his current mission could not do. As the storm neared, the outriders of the front stirred his wrappings, as if his clothing was somehow fitfully nervous as well.

And well it might be, if it were alive. The armored figure before him brought him up short, and his steady cerulean gaze studied her from behind the cloth that concealed the rest of his face.

For a time, Echearia might even consider that he was truly a harmless fool, capable of being frightened off with a threatening stance. Until he began speaking in Pashtun (one of the most common languages of this region), assuming that she would likely understand--she was likely a local like he appeared to be. "You are not the witch. Who are you?" Practitioners of magic generally did not rely on armor to protect them, so for all he knew, she was just someone in charge of guarding something important nearby.

Edited July 21, 2012 by Subtleknifewielder

[Kevin Kingswell]

"I do not know why you have come for the witch that haunts this land mortal man but I am afraid that it is the last journey you have made. Let it be known that I will take no pleasure in ending your life but I have little in the way of choices and I must do her bidding. I ask for your forgiveness" replied the Shade of Echearia as she brought the tip of the blade up to rest in line with her shoulder and ran at the man intending to end the fight before it had even started with a quick simple thrust to his heart thus sparing him any pain and agony and the witch be damned if she found the heart she desired to be broken.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Eyes widened for a moment beneath the wrapping, but that didn't stop reflexes honed from a near fully two decades of training to prepare Roland for times like this. Any hope Echearia might have of ending this encounter quickly was no doubt immediately snuffed out as his own sword slid with ease out of the sheath hidden beneath the robes, robes which he cast aside to allow freedom of movement. In the instant before their swords clashed together, it was revealed that beneath those robes was a set of very light armor, mostly a breastplate and guards for wrists, thighs, and ankles.

His blade, sturdy and double-edged, but long, thin, and light, barely diflected the force of her thrust so that her sword clanged off the side of his breastplate, while his was forced to twirl wildly, though he used this momentum to snap his wrist forward and attempt to hit her in the chin with the pommel, if nothing else trying to force her back just to give himself a little breathing room.

"Every individual has a choice. What choices led you here?" he asked, as calmly as one could in the midst of a duel that was likely to the death.

[Kevin Kingswell]

Echearia spat out a vicious curse as her attempt to end the duel quickly failed and as the two blades met and hers was turned to one side she was already thinking of ways to strike again. As her blade's edge scrapped across her foes breastplate she was already thinking of different angles to strike from and thus was easily able to see the man's pommel strike out at her aimed for her chin. All it took was a simple twist of her neck and his pommel struck the armour of her helm a glancing blow which did little to actually knock her off balance though she did take a quick one-two step back before bringing her weapon up and over her shoulder slicing downward for his extended arm.

"You know little of what you speak. I must fight you for I have little choice in the matter" the Shade managed in reply her attention on the fighting not on conversation.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Even if Roland had been the type, he would not have been inclined to curse. His features were calm, passive, even as his pommel clanged off her armor, and her sword descended toward his outstretched arm. He began withdrawing it just as quickly as he had lashed out, but he couldn't bring the sword back in time for defense even with his speed. Instead, Echearia's own weapon clanged against the wrist guard, knocking his sword arm down and nearly forcing his weapon to embed itself in the sand.

And now, his calm demeanor cracked, just a little, as he winced. That had [i]hurt[/i], even if it hadn't actually cut into him, and he quickly backstepped himself, putting each combatant out of striking range of the other, though he brought up his sword in a guarding position, again watching her calmly, though with a bit of wariness. She knew how to fight, and his faith was not meant to protect against worldly weapons. "Don't I? Every man, woman and child on God's green Earth is born with free will. Unless you claim to have never been human, you are no different."

[Kevin Kingswell]

Echearia sneered beneath her plated helm and in a moment of anger and madness reached up and tore it away from her shoulders and hurled it through the air where it sailed for some good few feet before landing in the sand burying itself half way deep. This in turn revealed the complete anger and fury restrained behind her eyes and she raised her sword arm to point it at the Knight Templar as she yelled back at him venom dripping in her voice. "You sprout the same religious nonsense expected of a fanatic, Knight and you show your ignorance by your words. I would have given you a quick and clean death but no more. Now you shall suffer!!" Lunging forward Echearia struck again and again with her sword not attempting to slide past Roland's guard but rather to force her way through with brute strength. "Die!!" she screamed as howls of vicious and dark laughter echoed from the cave entrance behind them.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Roland's stance had him prepared for just about anything. A feint, a slash from either direction, a cut for a weak point on his lower armor. Just about anything but what actually happened. He could hear the clashing of the repeated impacts of her weapon against his even over the rising howl of the wind. The reverberations up and down the blades began to sting and numb his hands, but stubbornly he held on. Over it all, even the wind itself as the storm finally hit, he heard the eerie cackle of the witch, and finally knew without a doubt he was in the right place.

The storm passed over them as they fought, the cliff they fought under sheltering them from the worst of its fury, and though the sand nearly blotted out the sun, it could not reach them to scour the flesh from their bones as it seemed intent upon. At least there was that one thing to be thankful for, as one of Echeria's blows finally drove the knight back and off-balance--he had to settle on one knee to keep from actually toppling over backward. But through it all, his piercing blue eyes never held a trace of doubt, except for the intitial surprise as she had flung aside her helm.

"Do I?" he asked between one blow and the next. "I didn't mean to," he said, almost apologetically, even as his free foot lashed out to try and hook her behind the ankle and pull in a desperate attempt to knock her off-balance, to hopefully give himself some time to gather himself again. "I still have no desire to kill anyone but the witch..." Left unspoken was the fact that he would do what he had to, to see that happen.

Edited July 25, 2012 by Subtleknifewielder