Chapter I - A forsaken Chapel
The night was closing in with the last vestiges of light fading as the sun dropped to it's knees to the might of the shadows and the wall of the clouds. My name is Michael and I am just a lowly scribe, sent to the frontlines of our king's army to document and report the frontline status. Together with the captain of the militia, a priest and a mercenary we set out through the dense and traitorous woods of Gwenyin the kingdom of Sharpad to reach the battleground at the eastern border.
The winding path got mixed with mud and lichen, covering the track and making it hard to discern wheteher we still were on track or not. Our group's morale is put into question as each drop of rain strikes like a needle to an increasingly tired psyche. The captain scouts ahead, torch in hand, sword in other, always on guard, always prepared for any ambush.
Bandits use this treacherous weather as the perfect makeshift illusion. The evening so far had spared us of any confrontation, but the raindrops keep testing resolve and grit. * Captain! I shout to the captain who is currently still checking every corener of his eye for any movement. *Captain I think there should be a church nearby. The captain turns ever-so slightly to look me in the eye. * If we find it, we may be forced to shelter ourselves for the night.
He turns back and continues walking and probing the foliage on the side with his sword while the mercenary does the same on the other side. As the shadow finally won it's war against the day, we are suddenly consumed by the darkness and stillness of the night. The captain's torch is the only thing protecting us from the blindness of the forest. As we ascend to the edge of the forest, our group notice an abandoned church. The exterior was of old cobbled stone hanging together more by blind faith and stubbornness than any real cementing.
The dampened and rotten door barely relents to our push but ultimately yields and allows us to enter. * Captain, the priest tries to grab his attention as he begins to break some of the wooden benches in hopes of starting a small campfire. *Gods damn it alll... they're all sogged up! The captain kept probing every wooden stake but to no avail. There wasn't even a single dry toothpick in all that chapel. We begin to settle in, however, the chapel itself, feels like it has its own plans with our group.
The chapel felt ominous... a ghostly fume traveling through the main hall like a miasmic specter with the sole purpose of stealing your breath with each heartbeat. The light was shy to show itself through the small holes and creeks that the ages have carved into the wooden ceiling. Each step echoed throughout the whole chapel as a constant reminder of how deafening the silence will be once we halt. I can't help but wonder, what sort of chapel is this? How can a place of worship be left in such a state of decay.
The outside thunder and heavy rain are a signal that our night shall be spent hurdling around each other hoping for the darkness to show us the mercy of stillness. Little did I know, we will receive exactly what I just wished for.
*What's the matter kid? Don't tell me you are about to piss yourself? The mercenary spit his words to me with his grotesque and brutish attitude. I can feel my heart burning with resentment at the sight of a warrior loyal only to bag full of two faced Devils. But I must surrender personal beliefs and subject myself to his abusive slander as he is our guide.
* No Lloyd! I... I am fine...But I wasn't, I couldn't shake this feeling that something was about to happen. My nerves were tight, ready to springload into action and dart right out of this place. come dawn. Or maybe fortune favors the cowardly, as Father Daniels returns back from the altar, after lighting some candles his entire demeanor had shifted from a state of Demure into one of pure dread
*Gentlemen, I am afraid we need to leave this place immediately. His face turned pale as he was holding a piece of parchment written in an unknown language.
*What's up with you priest? Don't tell me pipsqueak here startled you...It will be fine, You got me here. The pompous bastard was hitting his chestplate,trying to seem larger than life, but the priest was too scared of the impending doom to listen to any meathead bravado. * You do not understand, we have got to get out of here immediately! Captain! Please open the door. The priest begs the captain to pry open the chapel's entrance. The captain tries with all his might, but to no avail, the once rotten and soggy wood felt like solid concrete. We all joined the captain to however we were all unsuccessful, all the while the atmosphere had started to shift from eerie, to deadly
The once ghostly mist started turn into a deep smog black, like the maw of an all encompassing beast, it devoured the entire landscape, claiming all our surroundings save for one single piece of decor. The altar itself with it's candles were the only defiant entities of the entire chapel, holding the darkness at bay. It did not seem however to offer any succur, but rather an invitation to the unthinkable.
*All for one or one for all? A mysterious voice echoed throughout the air, as mine and each of my group's lungs started feeling as if they were clogged with tar, spewing, caughing and gasping for air but to no use. AIr had become a luxury and the voice seemed to know what it's price was.
*What the blazes is happening here priest? the mercenary shouted towards the now motionless priest, his eyes were blank, devoid of the light of hope his station requires of him.*We...we are doomed. He finally allowed himself to speak, only to be a herald of our end. The captain however more alerted than ever, his sword drawn trying to strike at the darkness, is trying to maintain a sense of cohesion. *Everyone, stay close to me! Padre! Cough... cough! What is going on here? Are we attacked by demons? Is this some sort of possessed chapel?
The captain begins to ask the priest as he frantically tries to swath at the dark. *We are standing in the chapel of an old Deity, Amal-Sharpad! the captain looks to him with his eyes widened.*Sharpad!? As in the territory of Sharpad? the priest looks back with a tear dropping from his eyes* Y...yes... Amal-Sharpad is said to have been the patron deity of this territory before worship of him had been dismantled by the forces of Strumgard. After the war, Sharpad was forced to dismantle all practice as it was viewed as barbaric.*Can you skip the history lesson priest, and tell us how to get out of here. The mercenary points his sword towards the priest but the captain has the merc's throat. *If you dare threaten a servant of our Lady Sidra, I will make sure you won't get to regret it.
He turns back to the priest, who is visibly shaken by the display of aggression. His face started sweating from every pore and his face can only be described as a tapestry of dread and desperation.*All for one or one for all? The voice echoed once again! Louder, more impatient and with it the air was harder and harder to withstand. *PADRE! The captain begins slapping the priest back to his senses gripping his frail shoulders and trying to shake him out of his descent into madness. *Pull yourself together padre we need you to get out of here! The captain's words finally reach the priest's troubled mind and his voice is slowly starting to regain composure! *This God was renowned for demanding blood sacrifice. I
f we want to get out, we need to make him an offering. His words struck like a bludgeon, all of us gasping from the newfound knowledge far more than the smog could've ever done. *All for one or one for all? The voice felt almost authoritarian, it's patience seemed to dim and so did the air. Our throats were caught in an invisible vicegrip. And with each harrowing echo of the voice, our will to live seemed to lose it's own patience as well...
Soon after the news, the three argued on who should be the one to make the blood offering. Every single one justifying their own reason to live. All except me...
*We clearly don't need the pipsqueak! What can he do that none of us can? Dip a quill in paper? I say we use him! The mercenary finally broke the argument and used me as the scapegoat. *We cannot just kill a person like that, Lloyd. Let's...let's draw straws. The priest replied,trying sheepishly to defend me,but to no use, Lloyd grabs me by the arm and tries to drag me to the altar. *The priest is right Lloyd, we will draw straws, unless you want me to gut you like a swine right here and right now! The captain drew his sword in a swift motion stopping only inches from the mercenary's neck. He took a few moments, perhaps studying if he had any odds at turning the situation in his favor.
He soon relents and let's go of my arm.*Don't have to be all salty there cap'n, I was just messing with him. Look! He looks like she's about to shit himself. He pats me hard on the back to the point I start coughing. After a few minutes, the captain returned back with four straws asking each of us to pick one. I drew first, the merc second and the priest was last.
The captain ended up having the second longest, and me the third with the priest having drawn the longest straw. Under any under circumstance I would've taken a breath of relief, however my intuition was telling me to be constantly at the ready. With that the priest and the mercenary advanced forward, the priest joining in order to explain to the merc what he needs to do in order to complete the ritual. All the while the darkness engulfed their silhouettes like a void through which no light can pierce, sending one of the men to their final resting place...question is though, which one!
I tried to step up and run towards the front of the altar. No way I could let padre and that madman alone. No.. maybe it should've been me. Maybe I can reach in time before poor padre loses his life to that maniac. As I try to stand the voice echoed again in the halls *All for one or one for all! This time my heart felt like it sank to the bottom of the deepest pit known to man. I fell to my knees and tried to beg the voice. *Take me! ONE FOR ALL! ONE FOR AAAAL! In my mind I was screaming but It felt as if no sound was escaping my throat. * Sorry Kid! This isn't how this works! Just sit back, stay alive and uhm... enjoy the show! A mischievous voice started to echo in the confines of my mind, rhythmically almost as if she was dancing in my thoughts like a jester in court. *Please whoever you are let me be the sacrifice! I am just a lowly scribe, the priest can also write down the war report! I am worthless in the long run. I kept screaming back at the voice, but no response. My mind was still and silent as the grave.
Just a few moments after I could hear the agonizing screetch of the priest. The scream was deafened by the sickening sound of gurgling on ones own blood. *Captain! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN PICK UP THE SWORD! HE KILLED PADRE! CAPTAAAIN! It was no use, I did not understand why, but the captain was ignoring me completely probing the door hoping that the ritual was over, when I hear the voice again in my mind.*You know... If I were you, I would be wondering, how CAN I talk when my lungs are full of an unbreathable smoke? The playful voice was taunting me, yet it did make a valid point. How were any of us able to speak when we were barely able to breathe...and why is it that I hadn't coughed at all after so much time...No...The realization hit me with the force of a cannon ball...We had never used our mouths to talk...we were allowed to think that, so we could decide on the riddle! My eyes widened as the silhouette coming out of the shadow took the form of the mercenary, eyes reddened with the pleasure of a predator as he walks past me, trying to get to the Captain and catch him by surprise.
I tried to muster all my might to crawl and pick up one of the sticks used earlier for the fire and threw it in the direction of the captain. The noise was enough to make the alert warrior respond and see the mercenary with a ceremonial dagger ready to strike. The merc is no slouch either, showing his money's worth as he managed to stab the captain in the shoulder before being punched back. * I will be enjoying this pup! You have been a thorn in my side for a long time! They engage into a fist fight and while the merc has the advantage of strength, the captain is much faster and more disciplined. The merc's strikes miss the captain's face, however the captain focuses on the mercs organs, constantly trying to hit the liver or spleen.
The display was bloody, as the dagger started to affect the captain's concentration he began to suffer his own share of punches. Finally, the merc manages to pull the dagger out of the shoulder and stab the captain in the chest forcing him on his knees motionless. I tried to stand, I tried to run, but the black smoke finally allowed me to see the truth. We were all on the ground. The chapel returned to it's original state and all four of us were actually on the ground for the whole time. There was no walking to the front altar as I see now the bloodied corpse of the priest standing right besides the merc as he was slowly inching towards me while dragging the captain's sword. *SURPRISE! Your bodies never actually moved! What you were seeing were the souls! The voice returned back with her same nonchalant attitude to the entire ordeal. I tried to push with my legs backward as hard as I could but to no avail. The merc managed to grab my leg and pulled me to him. *Ooh this is not looking good for you buddy, welp was nice knowing you! She giggled pleased at the scene unfolding. A tired, beaten and hungry predator against a scrawny defenseless rabbit...
I try and squirm, desperately moving my arms flailing, praying the reaper would be at least amused enough to let me entertain it for a little longer before claiming me. It was no use, the shadow of death was hanging above me and it's eyes were that of the brute we trusted to escort us in the woods. As he puts the sword to my throat all I can do is close my eyes and hope the light of Lady Sidra will grant me her mercy and allow my soul to join her children in the heavens.*Oh no no no stud! She ain't claiming you! I saw you first! The next moment i feel drops of blood falling on my cheeks, forcing me to open my eyes.
It above me lay a pair of lifeless eyes, and right above a chainmail gauntlet holding the mercs sword...It was the captain! His face looked sickly and pale appearing more ghost than human, he removed the sword from the mercenary's chest and fell down on his back. He looked at me with a mix of relief and the sadness of a man who had lost his honor. *Michael...Please...Look in my backpack and retrieve the letter to the general. He must be informed that reinforcements will not arrive. He coughs blood and grips my scribe's robe. *Please lad! If...if you won't deliver it the whole battlefield will turn into a massacre. Warn..with his last cough his eyes roll back and the voice of the chapel rings the finale of the ritual with a pleased and deep tone. *All for one!