Rune Midgard Anthology – An Acolyte’s Dream
In the previous issue, we see Tellerin making his way across the vast Morocc desert en route to the City of Morocc which was known throughout Rune Midgard as the hovel of thieves and law breakers who wish to be seen as little as possible. On board the caravans bound for the desert city, the passengers were attacked by a pack of Hodes, Morroc desert’s hidden terrors whose attack was thwarted by the sudden appearance of the mage who introduced himself as Elihu Majien.
A perceptive ecclesiast, a quirky mage…
The arid deserts of Morocc is aptly called the “unyielding sands” due to the fact that they are forever shifting and yielding not to the rigors of time. Dynasties may rise and cities may fall but the desert dunes stayed eternal. Eternity however, is a rough and abstract concept to Tellerin.
Church elders have long tried to expound on the intricacies on what makes eternity and that very often involves the nature of God and Tellerin will also very often switch his mind off. Until recently, in fact, just a couple of hours ago, Tellerin was very tempted to believe in the divinity of the Almighty when a junior Geffen magi appeared suddenly to save his life along with the entire carriage of travelers who were only too happy to accept him unto the caravans with no charge or questions – leaving the mage alone in his thoughts.
But not Tellerin, for the acolyte knew fully well that the appearance of a Geffen magi (no matter the rank) always signified something serious, serious enough to draw one out of his reclusive Order branches. Like the main church of Prontera, the Geffen Magiocratic Council has several branches of magic schools over the continent in search of new talents as well as assisting to keep the peace. Where the swords and might of the Pronteran army fails, the arcane knowledge of Geffen will step in; and Geffen is a very staunch ally of Prontera and her latest ruler, Tristan III.
“What made you leave the Council Academy from wherever you came? What gives?” asked the acolyte.
“For a man of the cloth, you sure are perceptive, by the way I hailed from the Pronteran satellite settlement of Izlude. I am from no Academy however, I belong to a group of mages called the Watchers from the Izlude outpost. My brethren and I are under the Geffen payroll though, which explains my wear. Stuffy this thing is, how can those old folks over in Geffen wear these things?” smiled Elihu in a disarmingly deprecating way.
Tellerin knew he found a friend. Disregard for authority always seems to find one another.
“I’m not exactly what others call ecclesiastical but I do know my facts, Geffen mages, Academy ones or no are not known for their travel lusts, moreover you are so far from home, what is it has happened?”
“We live in dark times my friend…say, have you heard of Ragnarok?” replied Elihu, his youthful face half shrouded by his mop of thick brown hair. The mage’s eyes however had the sort of aged feel to them; highly uncharacteristic of one so young.
“The evening of the Gods, the end of the world as we know it, it’s nothing more than a pagan myth, mage.” Tellerin shook his head, though he was not the brightest student in those theological classes, Tellerin knew at least a little to save his life.
“I believed in that too, Prontera’s religious reach can be far, but as much as the church seeks to disprove it, what I have seen in the past days has made me reevaluate my religious sensitivities. Believe me…”
“Tellerin’s my name.”
“…Tellerin, the end may well be nigh, and the combined efforts of both Geffen and Prontera may not be enough to prevail against it, nay, perhaps not even if Rune Midgard is to stand together, but it is my duty of my brethren and I to keep vigil over the looming threats beyond the seas and what we saw cannot be kept under wraps. Prontera most likely has been alerted and Geffen must know, hence I travel.”
Tellerin’s interest was piqued. The acolyte has always wondered about the subtle mumblings of the military wing about the threat of the seas and the ever present need to be vigilant. But those Crusader friends of us have never really told him more about the threat or even what it was. Even HoJin was reluctant to tell him anything at all. The Basilica’s library was the only logical route to take but the answers Tellerin found there, he didn’t want to believe. Surely he has been defeated, the dead cannot rise again. But yet, Elihu’s words seem darkly ominous.
“The infernal host is moving, Tellerin. You should be in one of the holy alcoves serving, what business have you in the inhospitable deserts?” asked Elihu while he threw another piece of pet food at his green scaled companion.
“It’s a long story, I am in search of the Monastery of the Warrior Monks but something of value was stolen from me and I must look for it in Morocc. The thief will be sorry she crossed my path.”
Having said that, Tellerin noticed something that he has never noticed on Elihu before. The mage was holding on to an oversized package which he carried on his back that is partially hidden in the voluminous cloaks of the Order. Perhaps it contained the answer; the confirmation of what Tellerin suspected.
“Elihu, what’s in the package? May I be afforded a glimpse?” The junior mage was surprised, “I don’t see why not. But you sure are able to see things you are not meant to see,” saying which Elihu undid the thongs on the duffel and revealed to Tellerin the contents. The acolyte was shocked beyond words; a sense of cold dread crept up his being – but yet with the dread comes certainty: War.
And War is coming to Rune Midgard.
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