Coldfire's Reign

The Mark of Faith

After winding through the tower and wading through a dozen undead, Cynric and his brothers-in-arms faced the evil mage. And how ugly it was. No wonder it hid down here.

Cynric smiled while the others in the party cowered at the mere sight of the pathetic weakling. How can anyone fear such a tiny, disgusting thing?

The party recovered and the Saxa next to Cynric stood strong and swung his blade with skill. Cynric knew he had finally found his place in battle this day. Peace had finally fallen over him.

And yet, his blows could find no purchase on this flimsy excuse for a human. The arcane energies stopped his blows. If only he could move faster and strike with more speed.

The mage reached out to touch Cynric and he was shocked to see this frail creature dare to get so close. Yet, as the foul creature made contact, Cynric felt a pain he had never known and this world ceased to exist…

~ ~ ~
The stars wheeled about and he knew he was on his way to Scaetha’s hall. But, this could not be; he had found a source of such unholy blasphemy that he must see it ended. This evil mage must be brought down, else all who had been defeated in battle would rise again and again. Victory would be a meaningless mockery of the glory of Tiw.

“Tiw, if it means my life later, let me bring him down NOW” Cynric whispered this in the dark amongst the spinning lights. And lo, his god answered!

“Your life later?” said a voice, low and rumbling as if scarred from a thousand thousand battle cries brayed across fields of war. “Your life is Tiw’s already. What more can you give?”

The swirling darkness coalesced into a hulking figure in armor so heavy with spikes and plates that it seemed unwearable by mortal men. A pile of corpses lay at his feet. A ring of skulls girded him.

“Though that is by your own will. There is yet more of your life to lay at Tiw’s feet. Only a few can walk this path of suffering. It is not trod lightly.”

He gestured with a gauntleted hand, indicating the dungeon, the walking dead, the brothers-in-arms, somehow still visible through the stygian haze of near death. “This. Here. This is a good death. A man can ask for no better. And any death is far sweeter than the trial to come. Are you certain?”

Cynric looked the hulking figure dead in the eye and spoke “If it is Tiw’s will, then I am certain.”

In a blinding motion, the hulking figure’s great sword was in his hands; a massive blade wielded with the precision of a knife point. The blade sliced into Cynric’s chest. “Then I leave Tiw’s mark upon you. By this mark, you live. At Tiw’s whim, you die. Follow his commands or, by this mark, you will be damned. Seek Father Blood in the village of Nevus.”

With that, the figure was gone.
~ ~ ~

Cynric opened his eyes. He was shocked from the awesome energies that had coursed through his body. He was barely able to keep track of the fight. Twice, the frightened one with the staff found the courage to cast arcane energies in the face of the evil mage. Meanwhile, the others swung blades, cast spells and shot arrows at it. And then, it happened. The frail and frightened whelp threw so much arcane energy at the evil mage that it’s body all but disintegrated before Cynric. Such awesome power…surely Tiw had his hand in this battle amongst us all.

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