20/09/17
Brother Taran happily strolled along the dusty road, either side there were rich, green trees full of birdsong, he looked up and smiled at the glorious sunshine above and noticed a happy lack of any clouds; ‘By the Celestial ones, it was going to be a beautiful day!’
As he walked, he reminisced on his life. Born in Port Essa at the Far East fringe of Kernow, he and his family then moved to the south east outskirts of Cardinham forest, where his parents tireless volunteered their time and efforts to initiate a relationship with the Plantae that lived there, creating and overseeing one of the first treaties between Den and Plantae, the scroll itself is on display in the Crown City of Truro’s cathedral, Taran knew he shouldn’t show pride but he often remembered the scroll and secretly beamed within.
Before long, his thoughts drifted to him joining the monastery at Lanherne, just North of Tewynblustin, he chuckled to himself, remembering all of the times he visited the Piski town, especially during one of their numerous celebrations, many was the time that he had to be at the aid of an inebriated reveller whilst spreading the celestial word of the Holy Council.
Which brought him to today.
The road he travelled on was headed to that infamous town of Chaosgate, notorious haven of bloodshed, depravity and fear.
He first became aware of Chaosgate while visiting the ancient site of Hellsmouth three years ago, he was researching the history of the city that once stood there and the disaster that struck, when he observed a mass of Morvoren at the base of the cliff.
As he ventured closer, he saw they were dragging large slabs of masonry from the sea and onto the beach. The tired sea spawned greeted him upon arrival and as they recovered from their task, happily conversed with him about the apparent magic stones and their being moved to Chaosgate, this conversation was unfortunately cut short when a brash, aristocratic dressed man bearing horns appeared bellowing at him and demanding him to leave immediately. Brother Taran didn’t like the red fellow nor his attitude, he also caught a glimpse of the esoteric runes that appeared on the seaweed dotted rocks. The mere glance causing an unnatural cold shiver to run through his body.
But that time was but a distant memory, for since then the reputation of Chaosgate had rapidly perpetuated suffering and horror. From assassinations to warring borderlines, daemons, public depravity and butchery, he even heard tell of some of the locals worshipping gods from fairy tales ! That was the final straw, by the powers vested in him by the Lanhearne Monastery, also the Grace of the Celestial Council upon high, he would bring his beliefs and save the townsfolk with his holy scriptures, his blessed teaching and his eternal soul.
Brother Taran’s heart soared with purpose as he marched on, ahead he saw the gate guard still sobering up from last nights sins. Taran gripped his holy scroll, whispered a prayer under his breath, then approached…
