Backstory: Salvation from the End
Ragnorak, as some of the island inhabitants, referred to the end times was at last upon us! The Royal Navy was a godsend to the citizens of Port Hope and the Knights of Nobility received much praise for their aid in these times of tribulations.
However, the noble fleet could not save everyone...There was no time to build more ships, and too many souls had answered the call to salvation...I would have to choose...
Not all who answered the call to salvation were pure of heart. Having fought and lived among the Feral Knights, men infested with bloodlust, and having trained in the holy septs of the Monks of the Crimson Owl, Sir Orlo could gauge a man's true essence simply with a glance. It radiated from his very core and leaked out into his stance, demeanor, and voice. This gift with which the gods had entrusted Sir Orlo, Lord Commander of the Knights of Nobility, would help him choose...Families with children first...husbands clutching their wives close, babes pressed closely between them. A single knight and initiate per ship should be enough to keep order...Proselyte Ven has volunteered to stay behind with the rest: the old, the sick, the weak, and countless fighting men and women to keep them safe..."Take them deep into the caves, Brother Ven...May Mulos protect you and yours and by Raea's grace may we meet again!"
Two hooded strangers, unknown to the inhabitants of Port Hope, had also answered the call to salvation...They pushed their way to the head of the docks, knocking back a small boy that was trying to get a better view of the noble fleet. The female looked down at the boy and kicked him aside disgust oozing down from her eyes...
"We pledge our swords and bodies to you, fellow knights!" exclaimed the female stranger.
"Is that so?" retorted Sir Dog, a slight smirk upon his lips as he buried his eyes in the dame's bosom.
Her male companion gave a grunt, glared at Sir Dog and unsheathed his sword slightly. Sir Dog averted his eyes from the dame and gave a nervous chuckle as he placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
The female stranger placed her hand upon the male's shoulder, his visage calming considerably, he relaxed his grip on his sword, the red glow of the sky reflecting off the slightly exposed blade.
"The Lord Commander is aboard Auqa's Gift," sputtered Sir Dog, "You may board and plead your case for salvation to him..." as he beckoned them towards the largest ship on the dock.
Deyanari has a silver tongue, Sir Orlo thought, as she explained her prowess with a blade and skill for tracking and hunting. The male, whom she called Dante, remained silent, his eyes like daggers as he studied the Lord Commander.
These were not good people...every word that came from the female's mouth felt like a hiss from a serpent...seductive, yet poisonous. The male didn't say a word, but Sir Orlo could sense the rage and fury that was surging behind those glaring eyes. Both their clothes were stained with dried blood, though it was easy to miss against the deep black folds of their cloaks. They would pose a risk, a deadly one, should he allow them on board. If there were more ships or more room, he might make an exception, but there wasn't...Deyanari and Dante...two more he would have to turn away...
We could prove ourselves valu- asserted Deyanari, licking her lips and inching ever closer to the Lord Commander.
"Enough!" Sir Orlo declared, cutting her advances short, "There just isn't enough room or time. Men and women of fighting age without children to care for must make their own way. Brother Ven believes the caves might offer some refuge..."
Both strangers' expressions darkened, Dante leaned forward, glowering at the Lord Commander as Deyanari gave a scowl.
"So be it!" whispered Deyanari, as she stormed off. Dante looked at the Lord Commander and pulled a small piece of parchment, dark plume from his cloak and a small red vial from around his neck. He wrote something on the parchment, placed it on the table beside him, and then turned and stormed off after Deyanari.
Sir Orlo looked down at the sun burnt parchment. He picked it up and scrawled in spindly red letters it read:
"You may yet live to regret your decision -Warmest regards, Dante"
Sir Orlo sighed, the weight of all the lives lost and soon to be lost weighing down upon his soul...
