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I was looking through my files and found some old lore that I had not reposted to the new forums. This is an excerpt from the Casadian historical record concerning the first Guardian of the Protectorate.
Dark were the days preceding the Summons. The empire stood at a crossroads; the dire omens of years past bearing the fruit of their foreknowledge. Chaos reigned, each lord casting an accusing eye on those around him. Brave men were falling to an unknown enemy, and the ties that had held together a great empire for generations seemed nearly unraveled. Action had to be taken. Though many years ago, I can still see clear as day Antheron take his strides through the portal, heeding the call of the Council. As one of his trusted captains, I had assumed I would accompany him on his trip to the Imperial Project. There was something in his eyes that day; though he tried to hide it, I saw a nervousness that chilled my bones. He told me little before his departure, trusting me with the defense of Casadia until his return. As I watched him disappear into the wispy veil of the portal, I feared that I would never see him again.
Many hours I spent that night pacing the walls of the Fire Keep, ever keeping an eye on the portal below. It was not until the waxing light of the sun that he returned. I hurried down from the walls, meeting him at the steps of the keep. The man I saw was not Antheron, though they shared a body. I looked into his eyes and saw none of the fire that once sat there, as if the very soul of the man had been sucked from them. He spoke no words, nor even heeded my presence. He made his way to the central tower of the keep and signaled the guards to let no one inside. It was only later through the tales of others that I learned what had happened. At the time, I feared that Antheron would never leave the tower.
Indeed he did not until the two messengers arrived. Never before had I seen their like, though the elders had told us enough tales of our past for me to recognize them as Casadians from beyond the frontier. They bore crimson armor trimmed in gold, their chestplates emblazoned with a rising phoenix. I went to the tower to attempt to retrieve Antheron, but it seems he already knew of their coming. Wordlessly, they proceeded into the tower, the tower guards once again blocking the entrance behind them.
Antheron emerged a few hours later, a stack of letters in his arms. He bade me to send out messengers to those to whom the letters were addressed. A quick survey of the names revealed that they were Slayers, each and every one. I tried to pry answers from Antheron, but he and the two messengers returned to the tower as quickly as they had left. Dutifully, I passed the letters on to our couriers.
And waited.
The first of the Slayers came within three days, but within a week nearly a hundred guildsmen had gathered in the city. They asked questions to which I had no answer; they sought council with Antheron, but were met with silence. It was on the tenth day that Antheron finally emerged from the tower, bedecked in armor and bearing the countenance of a man at war. I feared that I was witnessing the first step in the destruction of the empire. I had just begun to move towards Antheron to beg for answers when he cleared his throat and spoke.
His speech was short, though the exact words have since been lost to time. He spoke of a great evil encroaching upon our world. It had begun with the hordes, but it seemed that chaos itself was clawing at the minds of men within the empire. He told us that it was the duty of a brave few to battle against the disorder that would otherwise consume us. For years, he said, other Casadians and their compatriots had held the line against this great evil, but the will of these great warriors was fading. New blood was needed to keep chaos from absorbing what was left of civilization. Casadian legend spoke of a great host of monsters and demons that had risen from the ashes of civilizations after The Fall. The hordes of undead that plagued our lands were the vanguard of this great army. We could march to war, or we could watch our lands be consumed by chaos. This was the choice he gave us. Many men passed through the flames of The Maw that day.
When I finally spoke with Antheron, he told me that I would not be coming with him. He charged me with the defense of Casadia “until his return”. The way those words came off his tongue told me there would be no coming back. He handed me the badge of the Guardian of Casadia, and it was not long after that he departed at the head of a host of Casadians, old and new. As the army disappeared northward along the road, I shared uneasy glances with the garrison that had been left to me. To us, it seemed as if the lifeblood of Casad Vokh was leaving along the paved stones of the road. A few men saluted the brave souls that would never again see these lands.
What few men Antheron left at the Casadian outposts in the north told me that Antheron had gathered supplies for his army at the Vardum Sanctuary before departing west. They knew little of Antheron’s destination, so we were left to wonder. In the following years, Casadia contracted and grew quiet. My people tilled the land and fished the seas, but the great industry of the realm seemed lost. When I learned of the new colonies in distant lands, I sent a few traders to set up an outpost. Communication was infrequent, but that world was too far off to be of much concern to me. My place was in Casad Vokh, guarding a land that looked to have seen the last of its glory.
It was by unknown circumstances that the boy came to Casad Vokh. The sentries said that the boy was seen walking the streets, clutching a sword and scabbard. It was only once I saw the sword that I knew something was amiss. The hilt of the blade was unmistakable; this was Antheron’s blade. I questioned the boy regarding his possession of the blade, but he would not answer. I received the same treatment when I asked about his past. It was a few days later that I discovered the scrap of parchment hidden within the scabbard. It said but a few words:
Make him strong. Keep him safe. His is the Flame.
The last phrase was a mystery to me, but I did as the words commanded. I brought the boy up as a proper Casadian, and soon he was eager to fight the hordes beyond our walls. It was hard to keep the boy penned up, especially as his prowess with a blade became more and more evident. The time came when he was ready to fight, and I could not contain his spirit any longer. I let him go on patrols, but only under the watch of my most trusted men. I never forgot the words from the scabbard.
It was near ten years after his arrival that I had the vision. I saw him at the prow of a ship, land visible on the horizon. I saw him among the odd trees described to me by the traders in the distant land. I saw him break ground on the foundation of what would become a great city. When I was freed from the vision, it was clear what I had to do. The boy’s time in Casadia was over. I gathered a crew and set the boy, now a man, on a journey to this foreign world. He has greatness in him, enough to bring back the glory of Casadia in a new home.
I entrust rule over the new Casadian colony to this man, Vikhon. I trust that the council will treat him well as they have all Casadians. This new land holds much promise for us all.
-Thyrris
Guardian of Casadia
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Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History
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