You’re walking in pitch darkness that even your elven eyes cannot disperse. It is slow, but you’re moving forward through the darkness. Suddenly and from nowhere a face is before you. You know that face; it is the face of one of the most senior Knights of the Rose in Dragonword Keep.

As he passes you by, you notice that the darkness has lifted a little. When you’re walking down the middle of the corridor you can see both walls now, though even the slightest move in either direction makes the other wall disappear in darkness. You still cannot see the floor or the ceiling.

Having walked some distance, your foot kicks something on the floor and it skitters away in the darkness. As you bend your knees and bow a little, the hewn stone floor is soon in view. You walk that way for a few yards before you find the box.

As you pick up the box you note that it clearly is of elven workmanship. You open it and note a mirror and a revolving elf, and at the same time it plays a tune that pierces your soul and embeds itself into your consciousness.

Bringing the music box with you, you now note that you can see even further. Both walls are clearly seen, no matter where in the corridor you are, and the floor is seen just as clearly.

After a little while you turn a corner and bump into a female Silvanesti elf. She coughs into her left hand, excuses herself, and passes you by. As you look back towards her, you note the white gossamer robes of a wizard of High Sorcery she's wearing and her silver white hair, a nimbus that tumbles down her bare ivory shoulders.

As you keep looking at her, you note that you can barely see the ceiling now. And you turn around and continue until you reach a door, that opens easily. You are outside on a hill illuminated only by the crimson light of Lunitari. Some distance before you, you see a temple. And you just know that this temple has been both abandoned and desecrated.

The bright white moon of Solinari begins to reveal itself and as you walk down the hill you run into a kender. He’s different than any other kender you’ve met and you conclude that he must be one of the afflicted kender that you’ve heard about. One affected by the machinations of the red dragon overlord Membakar.

As you part ways, Solinari is at its peak and you can see further than you have been able to lately. In the distance you can see a volcano. And having seen the volcano, the sun is in the skies. It is morning.

And you wake up.

You sit up in your bed, tangled in its sheets, and covered with sweat. It is the third night in a row you’ve had this dream.

Marcus rises from his bed with the swift sureness of movement of a warrior born. He quickly makes up the simple bed and dresses in the simple white tunic and trousers that are his usual clothing around the keep. He makes his way quickly to the shrine deep within the heart of the castle. He sinks to his knees and offers his prayers to Paladine, ignoring the other knights and priests doing the same. He opens his mind and feels the familiar warm connection to his god. A gentle rush of heat flows through his body, rejuvenating him more than his evenings sleep would have even without the dreams. He watched images of goodness pass through his mind, but for some reason they started to change. He started to see the images that he had witnessed in his dream. The volcano roared, the Silvanesti wizard passed before him. But more than anything the image of the abandoned temple burned itself into his mind. He felt an intense sadness at the sight, and he wondered briefly if the sorrow was his alone, or was being shared by Paladine himself. His brow furrowed at the thought, and he looked around to see if his Lord was present. Of course, he knew that he would not be. A knight as mighty as the High Clerist would not pray at the public shrine, he had his own place to pray in his quarters. Feeling his peace of mind shattering at the disturbing thoughts, he decided that he would speak to his Lord about it when he saw him later in the day. If anyone could interpret the dreams it would be Lord Eisen. Othe rthan his parent's of course. Bu this was not soemthing that he felt inclined to discuss with them, even if they were closer than their home in Palanthas. He rose and headed towards the mess hall to break his fast.

Marcus had lived in Dragonword Keep for five years now. And for the seven previous years, he had lived in a much smaller keep, much closer to his parents in Palanthus.

There he had had many arduous chores, that at times Marcus felt had come upon his plate because no one else wanted to do them and he was at the end of the line.

One of those things was eating. For while the lord and the lady, the warriors and the ladies in waiting, as well as sundry others, were eating, Marcus had to serve them. And he could eat later, when there was time. And if there wasn’t time, he just had to skip eating. It was a small keep and few pages to do what needed to be done.

As a page, he also spent time with the lady of the house, to learn the things he was supposed to know and didn’t learn from doing his chores. Things like the ways of the upper class, how to behave, the characteristics of a knight, how to read, write, and count, as well as additional languages.

His parents also took the opportunity to teach him about the gods in great detail, opening up the path of service, in ways that few others could ever experience. But any battle training he got at this time, was more on his “spare” time when he played knight with some of the other kids.

But as Marcus’ interest for religion grew and as his interest to serve Paladine became more apparent, it was decided that he would become a squire to Eisen Dragonword and be transferred to the Dragonword Keep, on the shores of Thoradin Bay and north of Kalaman, to finish his preparation.

And then things changed.

For even though he technically still was a page and he still performed many different duties, he now ate with the others, leaving that service to the younger ones, and the maids.

Now Marcus was trained in how to fight on purpose, by those that already were knights. And as there were many squires to be at Dragonword Keep, they were trained together by various knights, depending on exactly what they were learning.

Marcus was the most fortunate of all of them. As most of the pages learned directly from the High Clerist only monthly if that often, Marcus had the privilege to spend about an hour a day with the King, something that had started as soon as it was clear that Marcus was to be a champion of Paladine. Sometimes it was very late at night; sometimes it was before the sun had graced the keep with its rays.

And though Marcus had his assigned seat at the low end of the table, showing that he had little importance in the keep, he could eat mostly when he wanted to and not have to wait on others. And that was what things had been for the past five years, though His Majesty had allowed Marcus to spend some time in Qualinost to learn the ways of his elven blood.

Most of his days were now spent in martial pursuits, but he also studied the ways of the gods. And performed his duties.

The mess was large as one of the largest armies of the Solamnic Knights were stationed there, as it was the eastern border and the forces of evil had come that way before. And as he was of noble blood, he could even eat in the main hall, where those of lesser blood could eat only if invited by the King.

As the High Clerist, the King had to spend much time in the High Clerist Tower, and he always brought some of his squires and squires to be with him when he went there.

Marcus had been with him there this time, but he and a few others had been sent home early and they had arrived about a week ago. The King was expected to arrive this evening.

Marcus took his customary seat at the far end of the table in the dining hall. He gestured for a page to bring food, which turned out to be a rich soup with freshly baked bread. The young page looked curiously at Marcus as he served him, though Marcus was so used to this that he barely noticed. Half-elves were very rare, and especially so among the Knighthood. For many of the young men serving in the hall, he would be the first and possibly only elf they ever saw. He took a bite of the bread, then watched carefully as the other pages made their way around the hall. One of the duties of a squire was to help supervise the younger pages, and he earned a reputation as a stern taskmaster, though one who acknowledged when the tasks were well carried out. Marcus turned his attention to his meal, and he quickly wolfed it down. It was far coarser than the food he had grown up with. Although he ate somewhat similar food that his father preferred, his mother always ate the delicacies favoured by the elves of Qualinesti. Still, he reflected briefly, the Knighthood had taught him that one could get by on anything even remotely edible if it meant that you would survive to complete your mission. The food here was simple but filling, and the warmth in his belly would keep him going through his arduous duties of the day. On top of his normal activities, elementary estate management and use of the lance were his main lessons, he also had to ensure that everything was prepared for the arrival of the High Clerist. He knew that most of the members of the Keep were doing much the same thing today, but he also knew that he drew the personal attention of the King, and that if anything were amiss then he would be dressed down for the lapse. He reviewed his first tasks, having been taught to concentrate on one task properly done at a time, instead of doing many tasks half-heartedly. First he would ensure that the King's chambers were in a fit state for his use, and then he would check that the stables were ready to receive the large number of horses that were part of the King's retinue. As he thought through his duties, he absentmindedly started to hum the tune he had heard in his dream coming from the music box.

[OOC: There are more “manly” things for Marcus to do than prepare the King’s bedchambers, such as the King’s horse.]

Though watching over the pages actually wasn’t one of Marcus’s duties, no one had ever reprimanded him for doing so. The pages themselves recognized that he had more authority than they had, and though he was stern he was fair and complimenting when compliments were due, not that their real taskmasters always agreed with his compliments.

And why those who had authority over the pages hadn’t approached him about his extracurricular activities, they had never told him.

In the stable, where the horses needed to be taken cared of early every morning, there were pages and stable hands doing most of the work. But as a squire needs to be able to take care of his master’s needs in the field, he must be able to take care of his master’s horse. And many believed that Marcus would join the retinue of the King’s main squires who took care of all of his needs, while the other squires more closely served the other knights living in the Keep.

But where most boys spent three years in preparation of becoming a squire, Marcus had already spent five. And though he knew it was because he as a half elf matured slower, he also knew that most humans his age in the Order had already become knights.

As Marcus went about his duties in the stable, he noted the Knight of the Rose that had been in his dream, he was inspecting the horses, something Marcus had never seen him do before. And next to him was the supervisor of the stables, his King’s man through and through.

“I assume everything is in order,” the knight asked.

“Of course my lord,” the supervisor said. “We run a tight ship here and the pages do their jobs.”

“I have just received word that the His Majesty expects me to bring the horses from Khur in Lord Mathar’s stead. I’m sure he had made plans on who to bring, but I’d like to pick them myself. Will you talk to them?”

“I will speak to the squires,” the supervisor said. “Have you considered who you will take with you?”

“Some of them yes, but not all of them.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:08, Tue 26 June 2007.

Marcus found that the pages and servants had taken care of matters satisfactorily, and he headed for the stables in ordoer to ensure that the King's own horses were being properly cared for. He found them to be well, and so he pulled down one of the King's saddles. He took a rag and some oil from a table and sat down on a hay bale. He started to oil the leather to keep it supple. He knew that the King preferred this saddle for hunting, so he always took special care with it, along with his war saddle. It was while oiling the saddle that he heard the Knight he had dreamed about speaking with the Master of the Horse. He tried not to eavesdrop, but the twomen made no secret of their discussion. Marcus's ears pricked up at the news. Perhaps he would be selected to escort the horses. He had visited Khur only once, and considered it a generally lackluster town. But it would make a definite change of pace from the sedate and ordered life in the Keep. Marcus looked down at the saddle in his hands. The light shone back at him from the brown leather, though he noticed that he had spilled a little on a buckle. He used a corner of the rag to clean the buckle off. The King was the sort of man who would notice such tiny details, and had many subtle ways of expressing his displeasure at such poor work.

Marcus sighed and put the saddle back, then tossed the rag back onto the table. He walked outside and looked up at the sky. He was about due for sword drill. He ran back to his room and buckled on his sword, then ran back down again to see Sir Veldan in the courtyard. He arrived, panting from the exertion of running up and down all the stairs, just as the older knight arrived. He opened the gate for the older man to enter the fighting yard before him, then closed it after he also entered. The older knight looked at Marcus with a fathomless gaze as he stroked his moustaches, then fluidly drew his sword and barked, "On guard!" Marcus fumbled for his blade, drawing it as quickly as possible and parrying a thrust made at his head. Veldan was a capable warrior, but he had a reputation as a merciless teacher. Marcus knew that he would have to fight to the maximum of his ability to satisfy his instructor. "A knight must always be ready to fight, no matter how tired he is, and no matter how peaceful the gathering," the knight lectured. "When a knight fights, he always fights to the death. Defeat is never acceptable. Surrender is unthinkable." Marcus knew that this would be a brutal session, as Veldan seemed intent on forcing him to his very limits to ensure that Marcus would not break under pressure. With a sudden lunge both men closed and swords rang out around the courtyard. The training began in earnest.

[Private to GM: Sorry about the misunderstanding. I didn't mean that Marcus cleaned the king's bedroom, I meant that he checked to ensure thast it had been cleaned properly by the servants and pages. I am trying to remember all of the duties that a squire might have to perform.]

[Private to Marcus Valarian: Misunderstandings happen and as long as people come to an understanding in the end and there are no hurt feelings, than that is great too in my book. I think you're doing great, and about remembering what a squire does, that sounds like you've been a squire a long long time ago, or something. As we go through this introduction, I'll correct you from time to time, to bring things in line with my vision of things, and I hope you're okay with that. And hopefully we can get any further misunderstandings resolved too.]

[OOC: Khur is a nation and it's located on the other side of Ansalon, almost as far away from Solamnia as you can come.]

Running back to his room, Marcus picked up his training sword, that had the same size, weight, and handling capabilities as a real sword, but these were used in practice to keep the pages and squires safe.

On the way to the training grounds, he saw one of the King's granddaughters walking down the hall with one of her handmaidens.

"I heard that Lord Mathar wasn't making the trip to Khur," Gina told her handmaiden. "And I was able to make sure I will be on that trip too. As soon as word gets out he will be swamped by requests to join the expedition.

The handmaiden giggled, but you couldn't hear any further reply as they turned a corner and were gone.

Gina was very beautiful, and she knew it. And coupled with her name, it was expected that every bachelor of sufficient high standing had asked, or would ask, for her hand in marriage. So far this 19 year old girl hadn't paid any of her suitors that great interest. Two generations ago, Gina's maternal grandmother was the most beautiful woman in Solamnia. Many, if not all, agreed that Gina filled her late grandmother’s shoes in this regard.

But rumors had it that she, like rumors had said about her mother, was being trained in the unarmed arts in a small monastery further north. And that she was more than willing to use her talents to best others, though Marcus had never seen anything. In particular the rumors spoke of the fact that she liked arm wrestling and that she'd never lost.

Marcus came to the sword training area at about the same time as Sir Veldan and opened the door for him. All the other squires and pages were already there.

"On guard," Sir Veldan barked at Marcus and the others while slashing at his head. Fortunately Valarian was able to parry the attack. It was going to be one of those days. But with Sir Veldan, who was the King's man through and through, most days were that kind of day.

On Sir Veldan's order, they all gathered in a circle and placed their swords on the ground, with the points inward, to begin their warm up. Fingers. Hands. Forearms. Arms. Toes. Feet. Legs. Body. Neck. Stamina. All to get the body going and make sure that the knights-to-be were in the best shape they possibly could be.

And they practiced. How to stand. How to move. How to strike and strike well. They even got to practice those attacks on each other, rotating after a given number of strikes, so that they could face all of the others and make sure that various height and length of arm was something they would expect in time of war and that they would be ready for it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:29, Thu 21 June 2007.

Marcus went through the motions with more interest than even he normally did. Although dedicated at all times, the thought that squires were being selected for escort duty had him working harder than normal to gain the favourable eye of the older knights. He fought with speed as much as strength, a lesson learned from the elves, and one that often gave him the advantage against his physically stronger peers. He had much of the slender build of his mother's people, and knew that he could never match the Solamnic humans for brute strength. But he had seen the elven partisans fight, and they were lethal in battle. Their speed and precision made it difficult for an enemy to make contact, and their lumbering movements made it simple for the elves to land a killing strike. Marcus had learned some of the elven fighting techniques, though it was only now, as his fighting skills and wisdom were blossoming, that he understood some of the things he had been taught in the forests of Qualinesti. His movements were more fluid and unpredictable than the more rigid human squires used, which had allowed him to rise to become one of the finest swordsmen among the squires. He knew that he still could expect a long squirehood before being knighted, and it took all of his elven patience to stifle a surge of frustration. These boys around him were years his junior. Those he had started training with were all now either knights, or had fallen in battle. Marcus had never been permitted to take part in a real battle, excepting minor skirmishes on patrol. He knew that he lacked some of the maturity that his human peers possessed, as elves retain their childhood for far more years than humans. And he also knew that his holy studies were holding him back a little, taking precious hours each day away from time that could be spent practising more martial pursuits.

Marcus started thinking about the escort mission, which led him to concentrate on the voice that he had last heard speaking of it. Gina was the talk of the squire's groups. Every young nobleman in the castle, and not a small number of the older ones, had made a fool of himself while trying to draw her attention. Marcus himself had started to look at her differently than he had not so long ago. The girl had blossomed into a flower sofine and delicate that even the half-elven youth could not fail to notice. He had not tried to push his suit, as had so many of the more brash boys. But it also meant that he had not been rejected, as had each of them. But he took the opportunity to exchange pleasantries more frequently, and even to pause for conversation. He was not sure if it was his imagination, but she did appear to be marginally more friendly to him than the curt fashion she dealt with many others. Perhaps it was the fact that she too was related to a Godsbringer. They were a celebrated group, and even their relatives were held to be somewhat different to others, though to nowhere near so great a degree as the Godsbringers themselves.

Marcus's eyes tore back into focus as a burning sting crossed his chest. He almost dropped to the ground, struggling for breath. His inattention had allowed his opponent, Jarrad, to land a solid blow into his body. He remembered that he had handily beaten Jarrad only the previous week, and obviously the other squire had taken the opportunity to repay him. Marcus forced himself back upright and stood silently as he waited for the stinging rebuke from the instructor, who could not have failed to notice his inattention and the consequences.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:05, Thu 21 June 2007.

[OOC: You are more than welcome to post in the main thread too, we can run this one in parallel if you like. The main thread is the most important one though.]

The scolding Marcus expected, did not fail to materialize. Words of focus and honor and responsibility and death were used to drive home his point.

And then they rotated and the practice continued.

As they were coming to the close of their time, Sir Veldan gathered them in a circle again. And starting with him, each of them counted from one to ten, all of them saying the word ten together and on each number they did a certain strike. And each time the circle completed, Sir Veldan told them the strike they were going to do in the next round of the circle. This day they did four rounds and they were 11 people in the circle.

As the fourth, and last, revolution of the circle came to an end, they all counted from one to ten together, continuing in making their strikes.

As they ended, Marcus noted that the largest citizen of Dragonword Keep was watching them. He was close to 8 feet tall and weighed nearly 500 lbs. He was the minotaur Galdar, who in many human lands wouldn't have been given the time of day. But things were different here.

There was a shrine of Kiri-Jolith on the grounds and Galdar was the ranking cleric of that shrine. And though the concept of honor was just as important to the minotaurs as it was to the Solamnic Knights. And despite the revision of the Measure Gunthar and Ehre had worked on, there was still prejudice among the knights and Galdar was just as unwelcomed there as he would have been if he returned to the islands.

But things were different in Dragonword Keep, the King had his ideas that kept him on the edge of propriety, and was one of the reasons for the schism between him and his younger brother, the Grand Master and Godsbringer.

Some expected, and had expected for some time now, that Eisen Dragonword, like his father, would go too far when his wife no longer was around to ground him in tradition. Just as it had with the father.

Galdar stood there, greeted all of them by name as they passed him. Smiling as Marcus came closer. The shrine to Kiri-Jolith was the closest to Marcus’ quarters and the second largest in the Keep, only surpassed by the magnificent shrine to Paladine. It was an important role Galdar had been given and though many of the young men had given word to more or less plausible scenarios and reasons for why he was here, some even judging him before the years at Dragonword Keep kicked such notions out of them.

But Marcus had never been one of them [I hope you don't mind me saying so] and Galdar appreciated that. In the same way he appreciated those that chose to serve their god much closer than the average man.