Escape From Gray Haven JP 1

((Gray Haven, Dalen Alps))

(OOC: A great thanks to Rosmary and Lasersexpanther for their help putting this together! Apologies for taking so long!)

Forward he trudged, purpose giving stamina as he neared that dark monastery that none in their right minds of today would approach of free will. The darkness of the empty portals along the walls of the keep added to the foreboding sound of the whistling wind, a moaning that would let the seeds of fear creep into a man’s heart and mind. Jeke paid no heed to that fear though. He himself had seen death far too many times, oftentimes at his hand, and had seen far too many things that a normal man should not. There came a time when one would feel the fear and fear itself could not hold sway. He had seen it many times in soldiers and commoners. Jeke knew he was the same.

Of course, the supernatural was completely different. As the Weapons Master continued, finally feeling the hardness of cut stone underboot, he heard the wretched moan that came from the keep. Here the main door had been forced open at the sallyport. Jeke may have known how to fight fear, but the unnaturalness of the darkness that permeated Grey Haven and seemed to almost seep out into day had the hairs of his neck erect. He felt the shiver cross his spine and felt keenly on edge. Barrel also must have sensed or heard something, for the steed neighed and would go no further.

“Hush, hush now,” Jeke soothed as he patted the horse’s neck. He brought Barrel’s sight to him as he stroked. “Stay,” he said firmly. Barrel flicked both his ears at Jeke and blinked. The Weapons Master smiled and patted the steed of his affectionately before turning his attention to Grey Haven. “Keep him safe, Barrel,” he added, striding forward as he thought of the stranger. He walked some distance, knowing full well that Barrel was safe. The horse almost seemed to be intelligent as men, which Jeke did look behind him to the horse. Many times he had wondered if he was that smart. Barrel looked up from some nuzzling in the snow towards him as he stopped and turned briefly, seemingly saying Well, get going…

Shaking off that feeling that Barrel could very well be that smart, he felt a gust of wind as he approached the sallyport. The iron banded wooden doors had been rented aside, debris scattered into the foyer. With a heavy sigh and unsheathing Helios, he walked into the darkness.

~~
Sunder moved stealthily toward the gated entrance of Gray Haven and spotted Barrel. He also saw Joseph's thrashing form strapped to the horse. Was the strange man having a seizure or trying to get away?

He cautiously made his approach, knowing some mounts were trained to defend themselves from horse thieves, and he didn't want the animal to mistake him for such. The horse, a rare Zatarese stallion, eyed him with suspicion but was more perturbed by Joseph, who appeared to be deep in the throes of a nightmare, audibly groaning and whining in anguish. Sunder reached over and gave the man a firm shake.

Joseph did not waken but instead started loudly mumbling cryptic words: “The Cycle of Man... it Ends Now! A New Age is arriving... the Old Age... is ending! From Shadows of Revenge, those suffering by the might of Man... shall return and… and put Man back in his place! The Age of Men... has Ended! Make it stop... make it stop... make it stop....”

Sunder stepped back and looked upon Joseph with pity. The man was obviously touched in the head, and there was little he could do about that.

~~

Several stories above, Orla crouched in the dusty corner of the room she had entered through the broken window, listening to the sounds of the fighting in the lower levels of the fortress that grew steadily closer until the crashing tumult had reached the corridor directly outside the room where she hid. Were the church knights battling the fortress's undead guardians or was the Black Witch facing off against them? What of the good cleric whose divine magic she had sensed being cast?

She closed her eyes, trying to see what was happening with her extrasensory perceptions, but it was no use. The dark magicks permeating Grey Haven's stone walls blocked her psionic powers completely. It was a foul, evil magic that made her skin crawl and her stomach turn. Only her desperate need to find help for Horo prevented her from following her every instinct to flee this horrible place.

Opening her eyes, Orla heard a disturbance behind her. A loud banging coming from a wardrobe nestled in the corner. She turned, and her heart leapt into her throat to see someone come tumbling out into the room following a rather violent slam like whatever it was had a running start. Standing up and closing the wardrobe door quickly, but cracking it an inch to look inside again before brushing himself off and adjusting his coat, was a tallish fellow wearing an anorak, his face obscured by the fur-trimmed hood.

“Sorry I'm late,” he spoke off-handedly. “The first house I found the lady thought I was her grandson and made me sit down for tea and cookies. Nice lady. We really should go visit her some time.”

Orla did not know what to make of his words. As the stranger stepped toward her and pushed back his hood, she saw he was a human of about twenty years with light blond hair and a pair of keen eyes that held a humorous twinkle. Peering up at him, she found herself momentarily taken aback. He was one of the handsomest, most attractive men she had seen in recent memory.

He gave her a quick, warm smile and then looked around the room as if taking it in for the first time. “I really can't say much for the maid service around here. The place is a dump. I'd complain to the manager if I thought it would do us any good, but the undead aren't so big on domestic matters, or coherent conversation either I find.” Then a seriousness entered his tone as he said to her, “Don't worry. I won't let any of them hurt you.”

“Who... who are you?” Orla asked, bewildered.

“Me? Well, my name translates to Reise Hund, in the local tongue. I’m a wayfarer, of no fixed abode.”

“Oh—you're not a cleric or priest then.”

“No, sorry. Why do you ask?”

She looked dejected. “I thought I would find one in this horrible place to help my friend, who has fallen gravely ill. But ‘twould seem I walked into some sort of melee.”

“I'm relieved you're alright. Violence and unrest is spreading throughout the land, but I hoped it would be different up here in the mountains. Do you know who any of them are? I usually like to know what I’m up against.” He spared a glance out the broken window but could see nothing through the blowing snow.

“From what I gather, Sarnian Witch Hunters are pursuing someone who sought refuge here. They started to interrogate me outside before I was able to get away from them. If you did not know, the fortress is called Gray Haven, which was once the abode of a powerful lich.”

“This is Gray Haven? No, I didn't know that.” A pained expression twisted his young face. “You were very brave to come here.”

“Being scared out of my wits is becoming an entirely too regular occurrence,” Orla said, flashing a fragile smile. “But I had to come, for Horo's sake. He's all I have in this world now; I couldn't bear to lose him.”

Reise started to say something, but both his and Orla’s eyes were suddenly drawn to an unexpected sight. A white-gold radiance was seeping in from beneath the oaken door from the hallway beyond. In moments it flared brighter, rapidly banishing the creeping shadows from the dim and mouldering bedroom. The light was soothing in its pristine effulgence in the same way as the wholesome sun, and Orla was amazed to realise that that was in fact what it was! Pure, unadulterated sunlight.

“What — how...?” she murmured in confusion, not knowing how this could be.

Reise simply cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly in puzzlement.

Heedless of the danger in her curiosity, Orla turned the knob and cracked the door open to see where it might be coming from. To her surprise she beheld a warrior wielding a sword brilliantly ablaze with the sun's heavenly rays. With the supreme skill of a weapons master, he swung and sliced at the undead creature that came lunging at him until the dry and withered form burst apart in ashen, smoking fragments. Instantly, he turned and cleaved in the same motion, splitting a skeleton that lumbered forward with a rotten oaken shield and a rusty sword, a brilliant flash of white-gold disintegrating bones and flinging the remnants to the door. Orla reflexively sprang back out of the way and began shutting the door again.

But not before the warrior caught sight of her.

The door was almost closed when at the last moment, a boot interposed itself between the frame and a strong hand forcefully pushed the door open. Orla let go and promptly backpedalled next to Reise, staring with astonished fear as the warrior entered the room, sheathing his sunblade with a quiet word. Her fear tapered off as her mind caught up to what her eyes and Faerie sight were seeing: a human warrior brandishing a good-aligned magical weapon whose own aura revealed him to be a person of honour and moral strength. She exhaled in relief and forced calm back into her shaking knees.

Reise put a comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled a bit mockingly at Jeke. “That's quite an entrance, hero man, but if you were trying to save the damsel, it looks like I beat you to her.”

Orla frowned at the gibe. Jeke looked at them and frowned slightly at the couple. It was certainly odd that there were people here, but the blonde hair of the diminutive lady was rather familiar. She gently brushed off the lad’s overly familiar hand and looked to Jeke. “I don't need saving any more, but there is someone else who does. Are you by chance, sir, the priest whose divine magic I sensed some moments ago?”

“No, miss, I'm no priest. I am a warrior, of some renown. My name is Jeke Kerron. Perhaps you've heard of me...?” he responded with a shake of his head and a gentle smile.

A smile softened the tension in Orla's face and she inclined her small head. “No, I have never heard your name before, but I do recognise your voice. You were the one who intervened outside on my behalf.”

“That was me,” Jeke said. He now knew for certain. But he was not sure if the boy next to her was a denizen of Grey Haven or was some poor fool also trapped. That thought process was brought to a halt as the sound of undead slammed against the aged door. “Unfortunately, that is also me,” he said, redrawing Helios. “Stay behind me. Helios.”

The sunsword once more glowed with the brilliance of its namesake.

~~

Jeke led the way out of the fortress, his magical weapon both lighting and clearing their path. Orla and Reise were right behind him. They hustled down the winding stone staircase to the first floor where Jeke engaged another skeleton warrior, quickly reducing it to scorched and bony bits. On the floor lay the remains of several church knights who had been overcome by the keep's undead guardians. Glancing at the armoured corpses, Jeke waved the pair to follow him through the dusty main hall.

Orla's tried to keep up with the two men, her shorter legs making it difficult for her to match their swift pace. The rooms and halls looked familiar and her mind kept flashing with images from her time with Ursa. She had vainly hoped to find Ursa here alive and well in the actual Gray Haven, but she realised that had been just silly wishful thinking. Ursa was long dead now of course, and Horo had in all likelihood passed away since she left him that morning due to his deteriorating condition, if not the cold of the storm that had swept over the area; and yet she did not want to believe that this was so.

When the three burst outside through the destroyed double doors that were hanging off their hinges, Reise looked around, pulling his hood against the falling snow. “It's really coming down out here. So much for an early spring.”

Jeke sheathed his sword and turned to them. “Freak snow storms are normal in these mountains, but it should soon pass. In the future, you should be more careful where you take shelter.”

“I don't know what we would've done without you,” Reise said, quickly grabbing and shaking Jeke’s hand in a very rapid and stiff manner. “You're a one-man army.”

Orla looked up at the fortress. “You have my gratitude, Mister Kerron, but I came here not seeking shelter, but a healer for my friend.”

“Then you came all this way for nothing,” Jeke said. “I didn't see anybody else inside there.” He paused for a moment. “But then again, there might be someone there still. This black witch that the knights were speaking of might actually be here--”

Next to Sunder, Barrel gave a noise loud enough to be heard over the wind. Jeke whipped around towards the horse. At that, the horse gave a cry and bolted forward; it looped towards Jeke before suddenly veering away from Grey Haven and the unnaturalness of its shadow, snorting and crossing in front of them to their left as Jeke peered into the swirl of snow where Barrel had been. He strained to see in the dull white-grey of cloud and snow whipping across the mountain. What was it that had startled Barrel?

Jeke jumped a bit in surprise as he just barely perceived the grey, dented, and dull armor of the man crouching; still he was barely distinguished from the snow and storm around them. Jeke redirected his sword to the man’s direction. Helios still glowed as if midsummer noon, to which the Weapons Master redirected his attention. “Solis Maximus,” he said, flashing the light to the fullest. He snapped the tip up and brought more light to the area. Snow suddenly surrounded by the warm rays flashed to steam and melted the rest. A ball of sun energy hung now above them not fifteen feet above them and Jeke brought the blade back to the warrior exposed.

He stopped, his next move to prepare for any attack halted in suspension of disbelief as to who was before him. Many a time he heard stories whispered among many men and women of martial companionship. Many a time yet he heard rumors and talkings of himself at times in both good and dark, others all draped in suspicion, mystic, and near godly might. Yet, few times in many did he hear the deeds of this particular man, with a plague of mystery and certainty of death against his blade steeped in tales of accomplishments.

“Kerron,” was the one word spoken.

Jeke kept his blade neutral in pose, wind tugging his cowl down as melted slush pelted the four of them gathered.

“If you don’t sheath your blade I’ll consider it a threat,” he added, placing his hand on the newly acquired Church Knights sword, ready in case he had to fight.

Orla stared at the newcomer, and enacted her Faerie sight. The warrior's aura was enormously powerful, pouring out of the slits of his helmet like thick smoke. She tried to comprehend what she was seeing but she had seen nothing like him. If she had to guess she thought he might be... an Aasimar?

Reise grabbed her hand. "Come on, now's our chance to get away as those two fight it out..."

Orla turned and gave him a look as if he were mad. Then she saw it. Or didn't see it.

All living, breathing things had an aura surrounding them, a constantly vibrating unseen energy field. And before her, even as Jeke lowered his sword slowly in curious hesitance, she saw it, for she was the only one looking...

Reise did not have one.