Post by Maur on Jul 10, 2016 18:35:34 GMT
The Vigilantes of Dawn was their name, two figures, sneaking into outlaw camps and stalking trade routes, following those that were guilty, and plunging blades into their backs come the dawn. They were Alice of Silverpike, and Brandon of the Stonefoot villages.
Alice had always been a quiet girl, she was never an actual inhabitant of Silverpike, her parents were from Etirath, but had been killed in some sort of raid on their home by the CIty guard. Brandon grew up a slender boy in a society of broad-shouldered rough talking brutes. He did not mind so much however, his bullies could never catch him, and when they did, he planned it.
To those who had actually met them, the Vigilantes of Dawn were Alice the Knife, and Brandon the Trapper, the twenty-one year old boy would mark his traps with a sigil, a sigil the two of them saw as their own, one lateral line, with four horizontal marks through it. When these traps were laid, and they caught their intended target, Alice took over. They only killed those who they knew to be truly guilty, but she would give them one chance to confess their crimes, before her black knife met their throats.
The two had racked up quite the kill count, they traveled like ghosts through the country sides, no law could ever catch them, no cell could ever bind them, and no criminal could ever escape them. The pair once tracked a man for thirty miles, every time Brandon set a trap he avoided it easily. Finally the Vigilantes had enough, and Alice put her knife through the back of the murderer’s neck with an arced throw.
Time passed, and Brandon began to lose heart, something he would regret for the rest of his natural life, he had lost his passion for dispensing Justice, it seemed to him as if any good they did would merely be cut out and replaced by more vile acts of selfish impulse., these thoughts plagued him for months, he never talked to Alice about them, simply bottled them up inside until they turned to rot in his mind.
He hesitated one day, when they tried to infiltrate a camp of some poor excuses for bandits, he was supposed to kill the scout, but he did not want to, even as he crept toward the sleeping man in the early light he knew he would not do it.
The Trapper stepped on a stick, it snapped, the man awoke, and shouted for his comrades, Brandon was clubbed in the back of his head, he had given up caring at that point, Alice was hit with an arrow as she tried to put down the whole pack of them in revenge.
They both thought that was the end for them, but the Divine of Vengeance had other plans, she stole their souls from under Thanalia, and took their bodies from the earth. The Divine reformed them, pumping them with her righteous wrath and power. Before she set them back into the mortal plane, she gave the two another companion, and bestowed titles on all three, Alice became Aura, the Lady of Justice, Brandon became Bloodcrown, the Voice of Justice, and Daniel their new ally, was named Darkthorn, the Hammer of Justice. If it were not for Bloodcrown’s lapse of conviction on the field that day, he might have been given Leadership, but instead it was bequeathed to Aura, faithful until the end.
“Injustice has been pervading this land for far too long, we have come to ensure it does not remain in the realms of men.”
An armored figure spoke in the darkness, it was a female’s voice, but it was cold and hard, it had to be, the job before them demanded it, out from the shadow of a treeline stepped three figures, the central one was six feet tall. She wore armor that was sleek and black in design, shadows swirled about her visage and covered her entire face beneath a large leather hood, she wore a cloak and carried a sword she called Evil’s bane which was black as the dead night.
This was Aura, High champion of Idvesta and the Lady of Justice, and by her side were the Captains of the Black Sun.
Darkthorn was a warrior, eight feet tall and heavily armored with a sword the size of a man at his side. He was noble like his Lady and wielded lightning as a gift from Idvesta to cast down her foes. Darkthorn was a man once, a large man, but simply a man with a strong moral code, which is why Idvesta took him, and shaped him into Darkthorn, the Hammer of Justice, who wielded the purifying Darkfyre.
Bloodcrown was a persuader, he understood people while still sharing the code of his Lady, he was more capable in terms of empathy than the other two, and used that to his advantage, his duty at Aura’s side was to know when injustice occurred and who the perpetrators were, he rarely engaged himself in combat but when he did his skills were nothing to scoff at. Idvesta gave him powerful magic to enact her will, due to a severe lack of the physical prowess that his Lady and comrade possess. He commanded many powers of stasis and paralysis, as well as the ability to see guilt, he was the Voice of Justice.
The three looked out over the foothills of Etirath, tall blades of grass swayed in cool winds, they were practically an ocean, an ocean of pale green that danced with the breeze, except for where the feet of the Lady, the Hammer, and the Voice tread. They walked in silence, toward the village that lay ahead. It was small, probably no more than a small farming community. Even with the abysmal population of the village Bloodcrown could already see a crimson figure toiling in the darkness, the Voice considered his sight as a curse laid upon him, but he would use it to the best of his ability.
Most of the seventy inhabitants of Crobhold were asleep, but Jacob Farow was wide awake, he had just killed his wife, most would find rest hard to find after such a thing. Jacob had always been a vile man with a horrendous temper, and that night they were shouting, screaming at each other, the neighbors had learned to sleep through the cacophony so no one was alert to enough to recognize the bloodcurdling scream just before the shouting stopped.
Bloodcrown could see Jacob as the Captain walked with his Lady, half a mile away from the ghastly scene, the Voice watched as Jacob frantically buried his shovel into the cold earth, then drew it out with a pile of soil that he stacked next to the would be grave. He was on the edge of town with a body lying next to him.
Without a glance from Aura Bloodcrown faded into the tall grass, he knelt as he went making quick progress, stepping over a snake he neared the edge of the field staying just out of the torchlight, after a second, he stood and approached.
It took a moment for Jacob to see him, the man was panting and sweating even in the oddly frigid night, Bloodcrown had to chuckle at human frailty, he was the closest of the three to being that weak, but he was above the man and he knew it.
"Murderer,” The Voice said, watching Jacob’s head spring up in surprise, Farow gripped his shovel tightly, he was prepared to kill this intruder, but he stood in what he probably thought was an innocent stance, giving himself away however, by gripping the handle of his spade with white knuckles.
“Don’t attempt to deny it, I can see the stain of murder in you, and I hereby declare you guilty, in the name of Aura, the Lady of Justice, and Idvesta, the Divine of Vengeance, I sentence you to death.”
Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but before he could searing pain coursed through him, the Voice had held him fast and paralyzed him with pain. His flesh then caught flame, it was a black searing flame capable of burning through most anything with it’s purifying nature, this was the Darkfyre, and only the innocent could escape its fury. It was evident that Jacob was not innocent, the man screamed as his flesh was blackened, and the Voice of Justice watched calmly until the killer was ash.
“The first of many Darkthorn.” The maroon robed Bloodcrown said to his flame wielding friend as the warrior approached from behind, the Voice began walking, with Darkthorn behind him ready to apply Aura’s Justice to those the Voice accuses.
They went through the entire town and found five others, Corbhold was the first to suffer Justice's wrath, but there would be many more.
Alice had always been a quiet girl, she was never an actual inhabitant of Silverpike, her parents were from Etirath, but had been killed in some sort of raid on their home by the CIty guard. Brandon grew up a slender boy in a society of broad-shouldered rough talking brutes. He did not mind so much however, his bullies could never catch him, and when they did, he planned it.
To those who had actually met them, the Vigilantes of Dawn were Alice the Knife, and Brandon the Trapper, the twenty-one year old boy would mark his traps with a sigil, a sigil the two of them saw as their own, one lateral line, with four horizontal marks through it. When these traps were laid, and they caught their intended target, Alice took over. They only killed those who they knew to be truly guilty, but she would give them one chance to confess their crimes, before her black knife met their throats.
The two had racked up quite the kill count, they traveled like ghosts through the country sides, no law could ever catch them, no cell could ever bind them, and no criminal could ever escape them. The pair once tracked a man for thirty miles, every time Brandon set a trap he avoided it easily. Finally the Vigilantes had enough, and Alice put her knife through the back of the murderer’s neck with an arced throw.
Time passed, and Brandon began to lose heart, something he would regret for the rest of his natural life, he had lost his passion for dispensing Justice, it seemed to him as if any good they did would merely be cut out and replaced by more vile acts of selfish impulse., these thoughts plagued him for months, he never talked to Alice about them, simply bottled them up inside until they turned to rot in his mind.
He hesitated one day, when they tried to infiltrate a camp of some poor excuses for bandits, he was supposed to kill the scout, but he did not want to, even as he crept toward the sleeping man in the early light he knew he would not do it.
The Trapper stepped on a stick, it snapped, the man awoke, and shouted for his comrades, Brandon was clubbed in the back of his head, he had given up caring at that point, Alice was hit with an arrow as she tried to put down the whole pack of them in revenge.
They both thought that was the end for them, but the Divine of Vengeance had other plans, she stole their souls from under Thanalia, and took their bodies from the earth. The Divine reformed them, pumping them with her righteous wrath and power. Before she set them back into the mortal plane, she gave the two another companion, and bestowed titles on all three, Alice became Aura, the Lady of Justice, Brandon became Bloodcrown, the Voice of Justice, and Daniel their new ally, was named Darkthorn, the Hammer of Justice. If it were not for Bloodcrown’s lapse of conviction on the field that day, he might have been given Leadership, but instead it was bequeathed to Aura, faithful until the end.
“Injustice has been pervading this land for far too long, we have come to ensure it does not remain in the realms of men.”
An armored figure spoke in the darkness, it was a female’s voice, but it was cold and hard, it had to be, the job before them demanded it, out from the shadow of a treeline stepped three figures, the central one was six feet tall. She wore armor that was sleek and black in design, shadows swirled about her visage and covered her entire face beneath a large leather hood, she wore a cloak and carried a sword she called Evil’s bane which was black as the dead night.
This was Aura, High champion of Idvesta and the Lady of Justice, and by her side were the Captains of the Black Sun.
Darkthorn was a warrior, eight feet tall and heavily armored with a sword the size of a man at his side. He was noble like his Lady and wielded lightning as a gift from Idvesta to cast down her foes. Darkthorn was a man once, a large man, but simply a man with a strong moral code, which is why Idvesta took him, and shaped him into Darkthorn, the Hammer of Justice, who wielded the purifying Darkfyre.
Bloodcrown was a persuader, he understood people while still sharing the code of his Lady, he was more capable in terms of empathy than the other two, and used that to his advantage, his duty at Aura’s side was to know when injustice occurred and who the perpetrators were, he rarely engaged himself in combat but when he did his skills were nothing to scoff at. Idvesta gave him powerful magic to enact her will, due to a severe lack of the physical prowess that his Lady and comrade possess. He commanded many powers of stasis and paralysis, as well as the ability to see guilt, he was the Voice of Justice.
The three looked out over the foothills of Etirath, tall blades of grass swayed in cool winds, they were practically an ocean, an ocean of pale green that danced with the breeze, except for where the feet of the Lady, the Hammer, and the Voice tread. They walked in silence, toward the village that lay ahead. It was small, probably no more than a small farming community. Even with the abysmal population of the village Bloodcrown could already see a crimson figure toiling in the darkness, the Voice considered his sight as a curse laid upon him, but he would use it to the best of his ability.
Most of the seventy inhabitants of Crobhold were asleep, but Jacob Farow was wide awake, he had just killed his wife, most would find rest hard to find after such a thing. Jacob had always been a vile man with a horrendous temper, and that night they were shouting, screaming at each other, the neighbors had learned to sleep through the cacophony so no one was alert to enough to recognize the bloodcurdling scream just before the shouting stopped.
Bloodcrown could see Jacob as the Captain walked with his Lady, half a mile away from the ghastly scene, the Voice watched as Jacob frantically buried his shovel into the cold earth, then drew it out with a pile of soil that he stacked next to the would be grave. He was on the edge of town with a body lying next to him.
Without a glance from Aura Bloodcrown faded into the tall grass, he knelt as he went making quick progress, stepping over a snake he neared the edge of the field staying just out of the torchlight, after a second, he stood and approached.
It took a moment for Jacob to see him, the man was panting and sweating even in the oddly frigid night, Bloodcrown had to chuckle at human frailty, he was the closest of the three to being that weak, but he was above the man and he knew it.
"Murderer,” The Voice said, watching Jacob’s head spring up in surprise, Farow gripped his shovel tightly, he was prepared to kill this intruder, but he stood in what he probably thought was an innocent stance, giving himself away however, by gripping the handle of his spade with white knuckles.
“Don’t attempt to deny it, I can see the stain of murder in you, and I hereby declare you guilty, in the name of Aura, the Lady of Justice, and Idvesta, the Divine of Vengeance, I sentence you to death.”
Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but before he could searing pain coursed through him, the Voice had held him fast and paralyzed him with pain. His flesh then caught flame, it was a black searing flame capable of burning through most anything with it’s purifying nature, this was the Darkfyre, and only the innocent could escape its fury. It was evident that Jacob was not innocent, the man screamed as his flesh was blackened, and the Voice of Justice watched calmly until the killer was ash.
“The first of many Darkthorn.” The maroon robed Bloodcrown said to his flame wielding friend as the warrior approached from behind, the Voice began walking, with Darkthorn behind him ready to apply Aura’s Justice to those the Voice accuses.
They went through the entire town and found five others, Corbhold was the first to suffer Justice's wrath, but there would be many more.