I'm not sure I trust the White Mantle. It is nothing in their actions, but the way they spew their hatred around about the Shining Blade, a band of rebels i'm told, reminds me muchly of the way King Adelbern spewed his hatred of the Krytans. I help them though, more, but I will remain on guard and make my own decisions. This has helped us all greatly on our perilous journey. Emotions lead to rash decision, which may lead to death.
I meet my co-ordinator, Mantle Knight Karriya, and he tells me that they have found the sceptor of Orr. My eyes nearly pop out of my head in surprise. This sceptor is the sign of the Flameseeker stories, the fabled weapon of the mercilous Lich. Many men died retrieving this scepter overnight aswell, overtaken by the undead. My mission is simple. Cleanse Hakewood of all the undead scum, find Confessor Dorian, and retrieve the sceptor of Orr. Time to go.
We being our run to the Temple of Intolerance. The Ghouls nip at our heels slowing us down temporarily, yet effectively. Justiciar Isaiah leads us to the bridge, but soon find himself overrun and retreats. Skeleton wizards send miniature earthquakes to our feet that knock us on our rears. Hakewood is not far from where Isaiah abandoned us, and it is indeed infested with these undead monstrosities. The villagers have risen up and are battling to the death against their foes, but it is to the death and they are no match. We manage to save one, a very thankful gentleman named Benji Makala. He is badly injured so we lead him to the Shrine of Mending at the center of the villa. The ward has powerful healing and he tells me they are all devout to the God Melandru. The White Mantle do not understand their ways, he says, and they have an offering for their great Melandru that must be put on the altar or vengeance will be paid to their town in kind. His brother is the gate guard to the offering, and having saved Benji, we are promised passage through to retrieve it.
We dip through the marsh, the waters poisoned by the rotting corpses that run unchecked through, until we are finally out and at the offering table. I take the large urn in to my hands careful not to spill its contents and we exit through a gate and find ourselves a stones throw from the Temple. Confessor Dorian stands within the ward of another Melandru shrine, fighting off skeletons. We have arrived just in time.
Attacked by wave after wave of enemies I clutch the oversized urn as tight as I can. We keep them at bay, all time basking in the glorious healing of the God Melandru. It is our only advantage, my own fighting skills impeded by this urn. We stand back to back, a circle of protection. After what seems like hours they stop coming. When we ask him of the undead, he yells at us. When we ask of the shrine of Melandru, he yells at us again. Dinas, he atleast tells us, Dinas has the scepter. But why the leaders of the mantle have sent unaffiliated help seems beyond him. To see this scepter... I need to see this scepter. The flameseeker prophecies cannot be real.
Completely unaware of the location of the Melandru shrine, I follow my instincts. We follow the trolls and the angered tree spirits, we pass beautiful waterfalls the likes of which I would sit at for hours at a time just watching. And we find the shrine. I quickly place the offering and say a little prayer, it is time to find Dinas.
We run towards the beach an find him cowering in fear, clutching the scepter for dear life. We explain to him that it is time to take the scepter back to the Confessor, he is too scared to go. We tell him the undead have been cleared and the Temple of the Tolerable has been restored, and reluctantly he follows us. That evening, Confessor Dorian holds a great ceremony for our triumphs. He gives me a honorary title, I am now a member of the White Mantle. I am not sure I want to be. I will stay Ascalonian in my mind, but I cannot deny him now.
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