Project 1

*Secrets of Blackmourne

Setting

Solely in Blackmourne Keep

         Year 1347 Esile

         Period prior to war, rumors are heard but no hard evidence

         War with who?

         Layout of keep?

Plot

         Ardis, a Paladin in training [DISCIPLE] (protagonist), discovers an old tome in the keep's library. The tome [CALLED?] is taken by Ardis and his mentor, Carric (protagonist 2) to the Keep's Wizard and Sage - Alesta. Her visiting colleague, Volumthar (partial protagonist/antagonist), recognizes the tome and offers to take it for study. The tome's prisoner [NAME?] possesses Volumthar and begins raising the dead from the catacombs beneath the keep. Ardis, Carric, Alesta and the Silver Light Order must delve into the keep's darkest depths to put an end to the undead threat, and perhaps discover something darker and more sinister than just a possessed necromancer...Secrets are secrets for a reason.

Characters (Persons of Note)

Disciple Ardis

         Knight-Marshall Carric

         Mistress Wizard Alesta

         Cedrik - Ranger of the Shining Hills

         Master Sage Volumthar

         Lord Cain Blackmourne

         Legionnaire Eric

         Disciple Aurora

         Student Garro

         Priest Gino

         Priestess Arri

         Marshall William

         High Priest Garai

         Grand-Marshall Orem

Factions/Groups

Disciples - Paladin trainees

         Students - Wizard/Mage/Sage trainees

         Devoted - Clerical/Priest

         Legionnaire - Personal guard to Lord Blackmourne

         Rangers - scouts, scavengers, live off land, cover          borders of Shining Hills

         Lost - Fallen Paladins

         Orders - Paladin/Clerical sects, different          religious/ethical/moral beliefs and tenants

         Keepers - Wardens/Jailers of the souls of the damned

Journal 1

A Peace Like No Other

         Alas, peace. I dreamt of the day when I could greet the morning sun without the weight of my scarred armor and the scent of battle hanging heavy in the surrounding air. For well over a century we have warred over the Shining Hills against barbarians, pirates, expanding nations, young and reckless kings, power-hungry emperors, even wizards hell-bent on "conquering" the known world and driving humanity to the brink of destruction with their rash actions and dangerous misuse of magic. I pray daily to Faros that he might bless the rest of my days without even a glimpse of a wizard. However, in a land ever-changing and ever-revolving around the use of magic and its relationship with the heavens I understand how foolhardy my prayer is.

         For over a year we have been at a lasting peace. There has been no rumor of war, no whispers on the wind, no emissaries delivering treaties, not even the Rangers have seen anything on our borders suggesting an act of war. From what they report, it's quite the same everywhere. The Order and I know why. Likely moreso than anyone else.

         Death.

         For this century of constant war, of constant battle, subterfuge, assassination, and siege the toll has been great for every nation.

         Too great.

         I recount the last time I looked upon a battlefield: The air was thick with hate, with anger, with the stench of death. I looked to the men on my left and right, Paladins all, and to the blood-stained weapons they held firmly in their grasp. I looked at their once shining silver armor now brown or bright red as mine was. Then I looked upon the body at my feet. The body of a boy. I knelt, cradled his head in my arms and brushed his hair aside. He couldn't have been older than sixteen. I felt the hands of my Paladins on me, comforting me, telling me the boy was in the heavens, was with his god. No boy should ever see battle, should ever see death in such a traumatic fashion. No child should ever experience the fading light in another's eyes as he drives his weapon into him, and certainly no child should ever feel the bite of the same. The boy, a barbarian child, was merely a pawn for an arch-wizard gone mad. At the climax of the battle, the arch-wizard lost control of his magic and summoned a weapon straight from the heavens. It thundered through the clouds like a great fireball and was as fast as lightning. I watched helpless as it crashed into the earth and brought with it destruction on a grander scale than historians could recount. It lifted the earth high into the air and immediately dropped it. My adversary and I lowered our weapons as we witnessed the cloud, as hot as the hells, rush out to greet our brothers-in-arms and leave nothing but ash in its wake.

         I will never forget that day, not in the centuries to come, not in my dreams, nor in my heart. My body may be at peace, my country, my Order, but my mind...my mind will forever be scarred. My mind will never find peace. I pray to Faros that he deliver me.

Knight-Marshall Carric

CHAPTER ONE

Late Again

         [Rays of sunlight beamed onto the high towers of Blackmourne Keep as the sun rose from its slumber and peeked over the Eastern Mountains. There are few grander sites than standing upon the mountainside and viewing Blackmourne Keep at sunrise. The high towers, circular wall, and every building inside are made from an extremely rare stone which shines bright when sunlight touches upon it. The countryside in which the keep resides was named the Shining Hills for this. In the northern section of the keep lies Blackmourne Hold, where Lord Cain Blackmourne and his family reside and the battle-hardened Legionnaires are posted night and day. The Legionnaire training grounds are attached to the hold via a raised stone corridor supported by heavily detailed pillars. Each pillar is sculpted to represent a famous Legionnaire, and each sculpture is of the Legionnaire holding the corridor up in a different fashion.] NEEDS MORE. Crashing through the tavern door Ardis was in full sprint to the temple. Too many thoughts flew through his mind as he buttoned his jerkin and tightened his boots mid-stride, 'late again' and 'Knight-Marshall is going to kill me!' being the more popular. He sped around a corner, snatched an apple from a nearby fruit stand as he went, and opened his stride. This would be the fourth morning in a row he was late, but it wasn't his fault after all. 'What tavern would stay open so late?' he often thought, mostly for justification. He unconsciously ran his thumb over his forefinger, feeling along the not so neat scar left from his last training session. Knight-Marshall Carric wasn't very understanding.

         Ardis slowed as he approached the temple, wanting to not make a scene as he entered. His soft brown boots barely made a sound as he made his way up the temple stair. He took great pains to turn his head aside and hide his face when a Paladin or any of his fellow Disciples would pass by. Luck was certainly not with him though, especially since he was the only boy who had streaks of silver in his black hair. It marked him. "Disciple Ardis!" He looked up directly into the blue eyes of a large, broad-shouldered Paladin with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, then immediately to the rank insignia on his cloak clasp: A sword pointing down with one set of wings emerging from the blade and two halos over the hilt.

         "Good morning Knight-Master Darius," he greeted and tapped his chest twice with his fist symbolizing the proper greeting.

         "Late again, boy?" Ardis stammered for an excuse but Knight-Master Darius cut him off. "You should know by now Knight-Marshall Carric has no patience for those unwilling to learn and discipline themselves. How many times is this now? Too many."

         Ardis lowered his gaze and silently berated himself for such a selfish act. Knight-Marshall had warned him the dangers of selfishness and how powerful a hold personal desire could take of the heart, and how dangerous it could be for those around him if the desire was too strong.

         Knight-Master Darius smiled, recognizing the look in Ardis' eyes, "Come boy, let's see the Knight-Marshall. Perhaps he is feeling a bit more lenient today, and with a word from me about your self-reflection, perhaps a bit more forgiving?" He looked at Ardis' hand as he spoke and smiled even wider before placing a hand on his shoulder. "I promise you, each Paladin who trained under Knight-Marshall has felt that particular sting!" Ardis smiled back despite himself. How foolish he had been he thought as they made their way through the heavy, ornate and carefully detailed doors into the temple proper.

         Two curved stairways sat in the center of the large domed room, both leading to the second story. Directly ahead, and in between the stairways, was a large oaken door decorated with various engravings of famous battles, the oldest battles at the bottom and the more recent further up. This was the Library of the Order of Silver Light. It housed every book written by a Paladin of the Order, every battle or war the Order was a part of in extreme detail, and it kept full historic records of the Order from the moment it was founded to the last grand feast held. Darius and Ardis took the stairway up and went directly to the right down a long corridor. Each door they passed was similarly engraved like the Library's except for the door at the end. Only four doors in the whole temple were unique. Each of the four were engraved to show the history of the respective Paladin or Priest within. Knight-Master Darius, Knight-Marshall Carric, Grand-Marshall Orem, and High Priestess Garai each had their own door, and while High Priestess Garai was the head of the Order, Knight-Marshall Carric and Grand-Marshall Orem had the most ornate and intricately detailed doors. Both being just over three centuries of age, and only now showing strands of grey in their dark hair, they had seen much in their time. Much strife, much war, and little peace.

         Knight-Master Darius held his hand out to Ardis to signal him to wait. He knocked three times before just turning the handle and walking in, closing it softly behind him. Ardis stood, patiently waiting for many moments and using this time to study the door. He was always fascinated by the remarkable craftsmanship of the portal, and was even more fascinated by his mentor's history. He looked over the door thoroughly every time there was an opportunity. He hated missing details about his mentor. Knight-Marshall Caric was a role model for all people, not only Paladins and Disciples, but the Priesthood and even many of the wizards who inhabited the Shining Hills. To many being his mentee was more than just an honor, it was a blessing from Faros himself.

         As Ardis studied the door he noticed something that he must have overlooked before. It seemed strange to him, since he had studied the door daily since his childhood, that he had missed such an obvious detail. It was an engraving of his mentor holding a child, maybe a boy? He wasn't sure and moved closer to the door to get a better look. It was indeed a boy, a boy with dark hair...and silver streaks. Ardis furrowed his brow in confusion and immediately returned to his stoic expression as the door opened suddenly and Knight-Master Darius emerged grinning from ear to ear.

         "Knight-Marshall Carric will see you now, Disciple," he said as he stepped out of the doorway. He leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Try not to seem too surprised." Ardis gave Knight-Master Darius a confused look, but Knight-Master Darius gave him a rough pat on the back, which pushed him into the room, and closed the door. Ardis looked directly ahead as he regained a little of his composure and locked eyes with Knight-Marshall Carric.

         "Late again."

         "Yes, Knight-Marshall."

         "Perhaps you could tell me why?" Knight-Marshall Carric rose from his seat behind his oak desk and paced the length of it, hands behind his back. His heavy steps sounded like a hammer slamming on Ardis' mind. He studied the Knight-Marshall for a quick moment, noticing he was in his fine green, silkweb tunic and his newly polished knee-high, black boots. It seemed so strange not to see the Knight-Marshall in his shining armor, but his weapon, as always, was belted around his waist and hung within easy reach on his hip. The Knight-Marshall's dark brown hair was also slicked back, giving him more of a proper gentlemen's appearance than a rugged Paladin's. His face was also clean shaven, not even the sun's glare could point out a hair.

         "Knight-Marshall, I can explain."

         "Well, that is what I just asked you to do." Carric stopped pacing and faced Ardis directly, hands still behind his back.

         "Sir, I stayed late at the tavern again and overslept." Ardis said, clenching his jaw with each syllable. How foolish he felt, ashamed even, to be explaining to his mentor the same reason for his tardiness for the fourth time.

         "Is that all you wish to tell me?" Knight-Marshall Carric's stoic and discipline features betrayed nothing as he fiddled with the object behind his back. Ardis stammered for a reply, he couldn't think of anything else he had done!

         "That is all, Knight-Marshall." He finally said after a long pause. The Knight-Marshall smirked for a moment, then tossed a red, circular object to Ardis. He caught and took a quick glance at the object: an apple. An apple with two fair sized chunks missing.

         "If all you need to complete your morning routines is an apple, then I overestimated your need for energy!" He laughed as he stepped down from the raised platform and onto the training floor.