The Accounts of the Paladin Brotherhood

Their history and origin.

There is little record from the Age of Violence (AV).  In the 3^rd century in the Age of Peace (AP), King Myyrdin, Son of Mellkin and Leader of the Patriam, had the Paladin Brotherhood search for the histories once lost.  They now fill the Caisleán library with access for all.  The histories date back to a few hundred years during the Age of Violence.  Many include the myths the elves have passed down through the generations, myths of the origins and lives of all ancestors.

 

The most common of these myths is of the moons.  Séaldimere has three moons, all with their own gift for the land.  The forgotten ancient Gods were said to gift the three moons to the tribes that had worshipped them long ago.  The first of the moons was gifted from the Goddess Suleviae.  She was tasked with giving the tribes light when there was none, so the moon Primoris was created to light the night sky.  Primoris is the largest moon, with a longer cycle; New moons and Full moons only happen every few years, often marking a celebratory occasion for the land.

 

The God Callalos then gifted Séaldimere with the moon Umbelicus.  Callalos was not a generous God, and had wanted destruction.  He sent the moon through the sky, with every intention of hurting those below, but the God Devetror froze the moon in place before it caused harm, then banishing Callalos to the outer edges of the universe.  Devetror left the moon where it had been, sharing the sky with the Sun of day, only slowly appearing at night every few hundred years.

 

The last moon was a gift from a special God.  Sucellis was a God of Love.  The moon Novasmis had no purpose but to bring beauty to the world.  Sucellis loved the people, and only wanted to show them his love, so this moon occupies the sky at all times as a reminder they are not alone.  It is often called the Silver Star for its luminous silver glow at night..

 

It was common conception that the moons positions in the sky and the light they delivered played part in the hardships of the people.  Full moons were believed to be a sign of good luck soon to happen whereas a new moon was seen as a destructive sign.  However those concepts have long been abandoned.

 

Through the ages it was learned the moons had more power than any source in Séaldimere.  Many witches had drawn from the power of the moons to make the creatures of the night.  Vampires and Werewolves were created in the first Era from the light of Umbellicus.  The Orcs were created in a similar manner, but with far more dangerous witchcraft, creating hideous creatures that often died before their time.  Trolls were rumored to be created from the moons as well, however the theory is still unsolved.  These creatures pillaged the land, killing and destroying everything in their path.  King Levien lead a war against the darkness only to lose so many more.  The land was lost to the violence.

 

Though many had practiced the lunar magic, none had successfully created a creature of light.  Many stopped believing in the power of the moons and the rituals had ceased as the violence continued..  Until the year 3018 AV none would try again.  It was the Gael, the mother of the six, who would change everything known of the moons power when she transformed her sons into the warriors that saved Séaldimere from its violence and bring upon them the Age of Peace.

 

 

Year 3018 AV

Gael woke up from the nightmare that haunted her these past nights.  The war had made its way to the Réimse, the far outlands of Séaldimere.  Her small home bordered the land, away from the crazed minds of the warriors near the Patriam.  Vasilis had been taken last winter and she prayed to the Gods that the evil forces that had been making their way closer to her and her sons, would venture no farther than the conquered city.

 

Her husband Urijah had been lost to the war years ago, murdered for protecting a king he had never known.  When the news of his passing had finally reached her, she moved from her real home in the Illian to the outskirts of the Réimse where no city dwelled.  She knew it was a matter of time before the kings forces would come knocking on her door to take away her sons as well.  Sirus had already begged her to leave for the war in his father’s stead, but she would have none of it. 

 

The nightmare occupying her dreams had been occurring for nearly a year.  The nostalgic visions of her son’s funerals pervaded her thoughts, and she felt helpless to fix them.  Her youngest son Natanil was upon his eighteenth name day in two days.  All her sons were grown and of age for battle, this burdened her with the fear of deaths similar to their fathers.  She knew her sons saw the distraught look occupying her eyes, though they continued on with their daily routines.  Though the more prominent her torment became, the more her sons worried for her health.  The nightmares became worse, and after nearly a year of her hysterical madness, she decided to do what she could to change the inevitable visions haunting her dreams.

 

Gael was not a strong woman, emotionally or physically.  She was dependent on Urijah, and when he was gone her sons cared for her as if she was ill.  Her weakness was compensated for however with the gift of magic in her blood.  She had been a powerful witch and it was known in the Illian. After her fourth son Eoin, she no longer practiced the dark magic that filled her spirit, ignoring the pulsing power coursing through her veins.  It was popular for warlocks and witches to take a place in war, their abilities were never used for good and she feared for herself after Urijah’s death.  She kept her power dormant to prevent any harm that she may do to her sons and to keep the war away.  Though now, she believed it was the only thing to save them.

 

Years ago her mother, being a witch as well, told her of stories about witches and faeries molding creatures of the dark.  These were the origins of many of Séaldimere’s races, including Trolls, Orcs, Vampires and Gnomes.  She was unsure if they were true, but seeing the often maleficent and vile nature of the creatures in the war, she began to believe her mother’s tales.  The idea of creating a new creature intrigued her however and she believed she could do better.  It was said that these creatures were created from the land and sky, only using the elements of nature and their surroundings to bring together atrocious humanoids. 

 

She studied for long hours, practicing her magic with her son Artan, the only one of her six sons who inherited her powers, for warlock blood is not a dominant trait, leaving very few throughout the land. It had been nine weeks since Natanil’s eighteenth name day when she originally had the idea of experimenting with creation.  After birthing over a few dozen helpless monstrosities, she felt there was nothing she could make that would overcome the forces in the war.  Her despairing thoughts returned and she felt more ill and weak of them than before. 

 

It was not until nearly four months had passed and summer had finally found the Réimse.  While her sons worked headily on the small farm they lived, her depression consumed her, keeping her from much work that needed to be done.  She lost track of the days as they all blurred together.  Each of her sons cared for her and she felt twinges of guilt each time one of them would walk into the room to tend to her with looks of empathy and pity scarring their faces.  It was Sirus who finally pulled her from her depressing stupor. 

 

He entered the room closing the door behind him.  The room filled with a scent of the earth, with his skin stained with dirt from tending to their fields.  She lay on her side, her back turned to him.  He made his way to her side of the bed, and sat next to her on the beige quilt her mother made for her on her wedding day.  She felt a large, but warm hand on her shoulder and she turned to see him.  He remained silent with his hand on her shoulder for a moment.  Before he spoke, she already knew what was on his mind.

 

“When our father died, I tried exceptionally hard to make sure you did not feel alone.” He paused and turned his head to stare at her.  She did not want to meet his gaze, knowing she may fall apart if she did.  “I feel as if I failed.  You lay in her all day, you barely eat.  This has gone on far too long mother.  Your sons need you.”  A tear broke free from her eye and slid down her cheek to leave a small damp spot on the pillow beneath her.

 

“There is nothing I can do now my dear.  The nightmares…they will happen.  I will lose all of you, and…”

 

“You have not lost us yet.  We are still here, alive and well.  Be with us while you can if you say your dreams are true.”

 

“It only saddens me more to see your happy faces in front of me, only to see them tormented in my thoughts.  I cannot look at Natanil with a sense of composure, not seeing what I have seen.  I see my youngest child die every night, and you want me to look upon him in the day as if I saw nothing.”

 

“You act as if we are already dead.  They are only dreams mother, nothing more.”

 

“If only you knew my child.” She stroked his cheek with her soft palm, only to turn back to the pillow again.  Sirus began feeling helpless.  Though today she would have to leave her bed, he would drag her away if he had to.

 

“It is father’s birthday today.”  She looked at him again with surprise.

 

“I’m sorry I had forgotten.” It had been a tradition for them to visit Urijah’s grave on his birthday.  They would walk up the small hill a few hundred meters away from their home to the acacia tree atop the hill where underneath lied a small smooth stone with Urijah’s name engraved in it.  Urijah’s body was not actually buried under the stone, lost to the war, though Gael felt it was sentimental to set a reminder of his presence. 

 

“Will you come with us to the hill?” Sirus had a sadly hopeful look upon his face and she felt more guilt flow into her heart.  She looked at him and nodded, knowing it would devastate them if she could not muster up the energy to go see the reminder of the life she once had before the war destroyed it all.

 

“Allow me to pull myself together and we shall all go to the hill to see him.”  She placed her hand on his cheek once again and he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead before exiting the room.

              

 

“There would not be a chance you have enough energy to fix a family dinner this year?” Natanil asked Gael as they all descended the hill after a painful visit to Urijah’s grave.  Gael did not cry, she had no more tears to cry for the husband she had lost so long ago.  She still loved him more than ever, if only he were there to see it.

 

“I believe I can cook something up my dear.” She replied to her youngest son with the most loving look in his eyes.  This was the first time she had left the house in weeks and she felt she owed her sons something for taking care of her. 

 

When the small dinner was prepared and everyone was present at the large table they had sitting outside their home, the brothers were still in a surprised silence as they watched their mother devour the food in front of her.  They did not know when she last ate, but they were all happy to see her finally eating again.  As if sensing her son’s stares, Gael raised her head in response.  She straightened herself realizing the mess she was making of herself; if it had been anyone other than her family in her company, she would have been mortified.

 

Twilight peaked over the horizon and Gael had forgotten how long it had been since she had gazed at the skies Urijah had once showed her in detail.  Urijah, though being a farmer, was very enlightened on the skies of Séaldimere.  His stories of the stars and the moons had fascinated her beyond belief.  They would sit by the tree his grave now rested under and he would show her the sky as she had not seen it before.  Now its stars and colors reminded her of what once was but will never be again.

 

As if sensing her reverie, Natanil spoke to her just as Urijah had about the moons in the sky.

“In a few days all three moons will share the night sky.”  She smiled at him, though Natanil did not know his father well, they shared more than enough characteristics to remind her of him when Natanil spoke.  “They shall be full moons as well, a rare sight for those who will be lucky enough to see it.”  He reached across the table to grasp her hand and she looked at him with the ghost of a smile on her face.  “You should come with us past the hill into the fields.  We were all going to sleep outside that night.”

She grasped his hand with both of hers and smiled at him before she spoke.  “Did your father ever tell you the story of our three moons?” she asked him.  He nodded.

“He said that it is legend that the Gods put them there as gifts for the ancients.  The ancients prayed for years for the Gods to become enlightened.  They were angry when all they were given were Primoris and Umbilicus, they thought it was a joke and the Gods did not take their prayers seriously.”

“But then the God of Love, Sucellis, had given them Novasmis.  The Silver Moon was the most beautiful thing they had seen.  Its silver radiance pouring over the lands shedding new light on what they had once thought was dull and boring.  The ancients felt as if the power of the moon had given them the knowledge and enlightenment they searched for.”  As she spoke the words Urijah had once spoken to her, she felt as if the moon had suddenly given her the enlightenment she herself had been looking for.  She immediately stood from the table and marched into their home to retrieve her spell book.  She knew what she wanted would not be found within those pages, but what she did know was there was enough information on summoning the elements of nature to create what she had been yearning for these past days.

 

Not realizing her sons had followed her, she was startled when Artan had spoken to her.

 

“Mother, you worry us.  What has caused this sudden outburst and excitement?”  He asked her with a confused look he shared with the rest of his brothers.  She smiled her biggest smile at her sons before she spoke.

 

“I feel as I have been enlightened like the ancients before us.  These moons, the gifts from our Gods, will save us all.”

 

 

It was the night of the full moons and Gael had prepared herself for the past few days.  Tonight she could change everything but she had to do it right. She kept her plans from her sons, as sure as she was it would take every ounce of energy she had, it was the unsure answer of whether she could survive it that scared her.  She did not want her sons to know that she may be sacrificing herself for their safety.  Sirus would never go along with such an idea, and he would not let the others participate.  It was a necessary lie.

 

As they made their way towards the open fields past the hill, the sun was setting and moons were already in the sky.  Primoris just a dim glow while Novasmis shined its bright silver light with Umbellicus along next to it, all three at their fullest.  The boys set up a space to watch the moons ascent into the night sky.  It was becoming darker and darker but the moons were glowing spheres against the darkness.  It was beautiful and she wanted to take a few moments to soak in its beauty before she began her ritual. 

              

She began drawing symbols in the ground beneath her with a stick, hoping her sons would not realize what it was she was doing.  After she sprinkled the last of her needed elements through her symbols and when the three moons were at their highest point in the sky and hour or two later she spoke to her sons, hoping they would comply.

              

“We need to all join hands, enjoy this more as a family.”  Her sons turned forming a circle with Gael at the head, with Sirus to her left and Cyrpian at her right.  They all clasped hands and stared above them at the glowing bulbs in the sky.  Gael began to feel the power of the moons coursing through her veins as she began her chant, closing her eyes and turning her head up towards the sky.  She felt Sirus’s hand loosen but she held tight and did not open her eyes.  She continued and began to hear Sirus’s voice spiked with confusion.  She opened her eyes to him and he was startled by her white irises.  She still held tight to him and his brother.  She paused, now feeling the full power of the moons before passing it to her sons.

              

She looked to Sirus then to the rest of her sons one by one.  “I am going to save all of you tonight…”her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before continuing.  “I am truly sorry for how terrible of a mother I have been since your father left us.  But I will make it up to you.  You will live forever to protect these lands and do what the rest of us could not.”  Before Sirus could object she squeezed his hand tight and hushed him.  “Hold on tight my dears, and don’t let go.”  She closed her eyes and turned her head to the sky once again before shouting her chant.

              

The brothers all turned to the sky with startled looks, unsure of what they should do.  Before they could decide a bright green light descended from the sky and flashed through every part of their mother’s body.  She still held tight to her sons hands and they all screamed before the light was passed through their bodies.  The green light emanating from the field was as bright as the moons in the sky.  As the amazing power ran through their bodies each brother felt something different.   Sirus knew he felt the change, the strength pulsing through his muscles, his senses sharpening, but there was something else.  He felt in tune with nature, as if all the life around him was part of him.  Artan felt the boiling blood in his veins, feeling the power of the moons as his mother did making him far more powerful than he had been before.  Niklaus saw visions, as if he was shown the world he had never seen.  Eoin thought he heard the thoughts of his brothers screaming in his head, while Cyrpian felt determination and confusion.  Though it was Natanil who had the strangest feeling of all, he felt like he knew his mother was about to die and as he tried to look upon her he knew it to be true.

              

None knew how long the ritual went on, how long they felt the power, but it was their mothers screams that brought them back to the fields.  When the light finally dimmed and they all realized what had happened, they looked to Gael, only to see her lying limp on the ground motionless.  Sirus quickly pulled her to him hoping to hear anything, feel anything.  But there was nothing.  Even with this new power coursing through him, he felt no connection when he held his mother’s body in his arms, nothing but the tears in his eyes.

              

The day after, the brothers had dug a spot next to their father’s grave, a place for their mother to rest.  They knew that was all they could do.  The silence in the days after hurt them all inside.  They continued the work on the farm with very little words exchanged.  They did not talk about what had happened, about how they felt, they just worked.  The following week was a different story….

 

 

It had been six days since their mothers passing.  Few words had been spoken, none of them sure if their mother’s death was in vain, but even with their silence, there was a change within them.  Each son aware of the overwhelming power scorching their veins, as if it were the light that had placed it there illuminating them from within.  Though they were filled with this power, none knew how to use it. 

              

Natanil believed it was giving him the nightmares he dreamed at night.  Visions of death and blood staining his hands red and guilt overwhelmed his thoughts.  Most nights he would wake the others, ranting about each vision as if it had happened already.  Sirus took on the responsibility of looking after him.  They had begun to believe their little brother was haunted by their mothers death.

              

It was that day everything changed.  The light their mother had brought upon them lit up half the land attracting the forces from Vasilis.  They had traveled the six days to find the brothers working in the fields.  They had believed it to be a perfect ambush opportunity, how much damage could six farm boys do against a throng of some of the best fighters in the land.

              

Natanil worked away from his brothers.  The concern he saw in their eyes made him feel outcast, as if they thought him insane.  He knew he was depriving them of their sleep at night, and he could not help but feel a pang of guilt.  It was just his visions had been as real as if he lived them.  He knew there was more to them.  Though he was deep in these thoughts, something within him made him stop to turn to see what was behind him, as if another sense told him he was not as alone as he thought he was.

              

His sense was right.  When he turned a large man, about the size of his brother Sirus, came lunging for him with a battle ax that was so black, he could barely see the detail of the engraving on the handle that held no crest but another language of sorts.  The man swung the weapon down towards him, but the same sense he felt before told him to move quickly before the ax came hurtling down, missing him digging straight into the ground. 

              

Still unsure of what just happened, Natanil looked towards his brothers, who were now walking towards him, their faces reflecting his own shocked emotions.  Then the sense was there again, he turned around as another man, smaller this time, came at him with a dagger.  He grabbed the man’s hand and snapped his wrist sideways, not even realizing what he was doing before he had done it.  He looked to the man again as he crumbled to his knees, while the man with the ax came back with another swing.  Natanil ducked just before the blade flew over his head.  The large man now frustrated lunged for him but before Natanil could think, he stopped the man with just a hit to his jaw.  The man fell unconscious to the ground.  Natanil surprised with himself looked away, only to see a much larger mass of warriors headed towards him and his brothers.

              

Sirus was at his side, speaking to him but he heard nothing.  The memories began to take hold and Natanil realized why those dreams were so real.  Remembering the black figures clashing with his brothers, each of them attacking with an aggression he had never witnessed.  Sirus began shaking him, trying to understand what was happening, but Natanil had to warn them of what was happening before they would be hurt, but his mouth would not move.  He was frozen, aware of what was to happen next.  He closed his eyes and the scene played over in his mind, the images glued to his eyelids.  When he finally opened them he saw the dream come to life.

              

Another large man was swinging his weapon at Niklaus.  Natanil tried to yell out, to warn his brother, but something happened before he could speak.  Niklaus counterattacked, breaking the mans neck before he was even half way through his swing.  More men followed, each attacking a brother who would fend them off in ways none of them even knew.  Natanil felt his new sense again as the horde of men flew at him.  The minute he had his enemy down another presented itself.  Still trying to concentrate on his brothers he searched desperately for them in the swarm of black leather, and metal weapons clashing around him.  As he punched down another enemy, he saw Artan who was not dealing one bit of physical damage.  That green flow from the other night was emanating from him as each enemy who went for him crumbled to the ground in pain.  Niklaus more physical he noticed, taking each opponent after the next with ease.    

Eoin was in the back unsure of what to do as another man made his way through the swarm.  Running towards him Eoin felt that surge come through, ready to fight until he heard the voice in his head This one looks too easy it was an aggressive voice filled with hate and cruelty.  Shocked as to where the voice came the man took him off guard and though Eoin was quick to the first block, a second blow came hard knocking him a coupe yards away from the man.  When he looked up the man was stalking him like the predator he thought himself to be.  The voice spoke again Heh, maybe a little too easy. He looked into the man’s eyes before he raised his weapon but before it was even over his head, his brother Cyrpian appeared between them.

 

“No Stop!” Cyrpian screamed glaring down the man about to kill his brother, holding his hand in front of him, waiting for the man to strike anyways.  To his surprise however the man drops his weapon and just stands there.  Confused Cyrpian turns towards his brother, looking for an answer, but all he is given is a confused look matching his own.  “Turn around and leave.” He said sternly to the man, who turned without question and walked away…through the swarm of men fighting and beyond.

 

Natanil warded off more and more warriors, the swarm of black thinning.  He looked and looked again but could not find Sirus.  Sirus had been standing near him only moments before and is now lost in the fight.  Natanil searched desperately, throwing any opponents to the side, but did not see him.  After the last of the warriors wisely decided to retreat all his brothers had found each other, except for Sirus.

 

He tried to recall from his dreams, where was his brother?  The others began to worry as well flipping over bodies to see if Sirus was one of them.  When a small groaning sound emerged from behind them, they all turned to see a naked Sirus standing hot and sweaty. 

 

“What happened brother and where are your clothes?” Niklaus asked.

 

“I-“, he started looking confused, “I am unsure, one moment I am speaking with Natanil when one of those soldiers attacked me and after that....”  They all stared at him waiting for an answer, “I do not know, I felt like an animal, more specifically a wolf.”   Natanil couldn’t help but think he was not the crazy one any longer until Artan spoke.

 

“I believe you.” They all turned to him, and he continued.  “Something happened to us, all of us.  I’ve been using my powers with mother for a long while now, but what I had just done.  Inflicting pain with the snap of my finger, that was not the power of just any warlock.”

 

“I felt it too.” Cyrpian spoke, stepping forward.  “Eoin saw it too, didn’t you?” He turned to him, looking for corroboration.  Eoin slowly nodded as he continued. “When that man went to kill him, I told him to stop and leave and he did, without even a second thought.”

 

“I think we all felt something, none of us could fight like that beforehand.  We should be dead.”

 

“But we are not.” Sirus spoke, “We should take this as a sign.”

 

“A sign for what?” Artan asked.

 

“I am not sure, but these new…abilities.  They must be a gift.”

 

“What if they are a curse?” Eoin blurts out and they all snap their heads towards him.  He shrinks into himself before continuing.  “I heard what that man was thinking….how is that a gift?”

 

“Because this was something our mother gave us.” Natanil spoke up, “She would not die just to leave us cursed.  I think I know what this all means.  These dreams I have had were of today.  The blood on our hands…we have never killed anything other than a pig for our dinner and today we slaughtered these men as if they were animals themselves.”

 

“Maybe they were animals.” Niklaus spoke.

“Even if that were so, it was so easy…to stop them.” He paused looking at his brothers with a sincerity he knew could only be his mother coming out in him.  “She did this for a reason, she sacrificed herself so we could live.  We are here, we are alive after the moons, after this.  There is a war raging past these lands, I have also seen it in my dreams.  If we took down a small brigade of these dark warriors, imagine what else we could do.”

 

“He is right, we all felt something, that sense that takes over.  The strength we now possess is more powerful than we know, and we need to learn to use it the right way.” Sirus spoke with wisdom.  “We can each help each other with these new talents, we will become stronger.  We must swear now that in honor of mother, we do not become overwhelmed with power.  She chose her own sons because she knows we are of good hearts and humility, so let us not forget what she truly died for.”