"I am a paladin of Tyr. A follower of the light, of what is good and just. I serve my people and my church; The Hand of Tyr. My brothers and I have taken an ought to defend the poor and fight for what is good in this world. We fight to cleanse the lands from the un-living and preach to abolish all evil. This is what I, El' Duran, live for. By the glory of Tyr and the power that he bestowed upon my brothers, I shall help you in your quest. In their name I shall serve and lead you, so that we will walk in the light as the world around us crumbles into shadow and chaos."
By El' Duran - Letter of acceptance to his excellency Joaquim The Golden Hand of Tyr, for taking on the task of travelling the world with a group of mercenaries, in the aim of assessing the chaotic status of the world, while spreading the light upon blighted lands.
A Dream and a Memory
I saw her face. Silver gleaming eyes and a stern look. She placed one foot forward as her battered sword came crushing down on the inanimate bones that walked relentlessly towards her. I was there, behind her, my back supporting hers. The sullen look I had contrasted with the fierce stupor she held. Her sword swung forth again. With each blow dealt I could see her fade deeper into this hatred that now clearly surrounded her.
"Do not fear death El'Duran! Conquer it!", she yelled at me. I could see a blazing fortitude in her eyes that was now changing into rage and fury. Blood-soaked locks of hair that once glistened bronze in the light of the sun now lay on her shoulders as she turned to face another undead. They came by the hundred, bold and unforgiving. This seemed to be a tragic setting of which I could not recall the memory. Did this actually really happen?
"El'Duran, my beloved!", she warned, "Look out!". A claw slashed at my metal shoulder-guard, and slipped downwards with force. The monstrosity before me moved clumsily but with a force unreckoned. It fell to the ground as its heavy hand carried its own weight to the earth. Roscelyn span around my body and lay bare the rotten guts of this walking corpse with one blow of her trembling hand. She was getting tired, and so was I, and we both knew it.
"The Hand of Tyr has abandoned us El. They are cowards.", she said with resentment.
"Do not lose hope. We must fight for the good of this land. For our people!"
This was what I truly believed and held dear for these past years. This is what I was here for, to purge the not-living and I was doing so with the only person I really trusted. A person I loved.
And yet, my last efforts to instil hope in her proved futile.
"You are a fool El!", she cried in anger. Her swings never seized as she tried to make sense of all of this.
"We were sent here to die. They will never come. The Hand of Tyr has made us her sheep!"
I feared of what was to come, of what was to become of my beloved Roscelyn.
"Fight for good Ros!", I cried. A dozen other corpses swayed in the west, as they marched against the wind towards us.
"Fight for our lives, my beloved!", she replied.
A rotten hand came crushing sideways into my gut. The world turned black and I fell to the ground. Through the darkness I could hear the yells of rage and desperation as Roscelyn witnessed my fall and fought around me with renewed strength. However, I could also hear the footsteps of the dead. Alas, a creeping march, a dragging of feet and bone close by and far way, as far as I could sense. This was surely to be the end of us.
Then, some trickles of light managed to enter my eyes, and I looked to the horizon. Just then, as the undead took over Roscelyn and trampled her down, from between the rotten bones, I saw seven horsemen bathed in light, marching towards us.
This was it. The Hand of Tyr had finally come.
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