II.Lore Ehmar's Contract
Your veins ignite. Your blood boils. Searing pain surges from the center of your chest, radiating outward until the flames engulf you entirely. Terror grips you as you imagine yourself reduced to ash, incinerated from the inside out.
Your head swims from the sudden jolt. Your eyes water, blurring your vision. The room spins. Your hearing deafens to everything except your own screams. Nothing exists except for the fire itself.
The fire itself and the darkness. That deep source of power awakens, the presence within you that covets destruction and ruination. The darkness clings to you, constricting like black iron chains wrapped around your rib cage, forcing the air from your lungs.
As the sun sets over the holy city of Elturel, a pair of warriors stand in the shadow of a stone keep. Captain Paskel, a broad-shouldered man of greying hair and a beard a few days past trimming wears a uniform of unpolished armor set with a red trim and a broad, squared off helmet. Ehmar wears no helmet, but is fitted in his usual dark leathers. His once short blonde hair and well kept beard have grown long and full, but not untidy, in recent years. The scars and burns across his otherwise handsome, noble visage belie the many long years of travel and dangers.
“This is far too generous a gift. I cannot in good conscious—”
Paskel scoffs.
“Set aside your pride, blood hunter. The Hellriders would not be standing had you not—”
“Brought a succubus and her legion of demonspawn hellbent on our destruction to your doorstep?”
“Fought by our side. You saved more lives than we lost. Mine included. Not to mention recovering the High Observer from being dragged into the Abyss.”
Ehmar shook his head, resting his hand on the pommel at his hip.
“Still solving a problem our mere presence created. You’re inviting an inevitable conflict with this gift. You said yourself the people would resent us. I don’t see how this changes things.”
The captain drew forth a scroll case, unfastened one end, and drew forth the paperwork. He unrolled it slowly as he spoke.
“Not everyone’s thrilled to have you, I won’t deny it. Doubt you’ll be receiving welcome baskets anytime soon, but it ain’t as bad as you imagine. Word’s spread of you and your hunter’s keeping the city safe, too. Hells, the High Observer used you as an example of Torm’s courage in his homily yesterday.”
“This mood will sour. Monsters are only welcome so long as they aren’t the worst of the lot. Eventually we will be, if we’re doing our job. This gift is—”
“If you must, let’s call it a contract. This incursion isn’t the only threat we’ve faced nor the last. From this keep, the Blood Hunters will join the Hellriders in protecting Elturel and the lands that fall under her watch. The people will see that. Eventually. Think you can stomach that, Ehmar?”
The blood hunter watched the passing crowd for a moment. A pair of older gentlemen carried an arm’s full of groceries, sharing weary smiles between them. A mother bounced a small child in one hand while tending to a window box of budding flowers with the other. A well dressed youth ran toward the market, coins clanging with each stride. None seemed to pay him any mind.
Surely that would change when they realized what their new neighbors really were? Ehmar wondered. But indifference was a warmer welcome than most.
“Aye. Thank you, Captain. It’s been… many years since we’ve had a roof over our head to call our own.”
“Well, the roof’ll need repairs, but it’s better than nothing. I can get you some buckets for the rain ‘til then. Now, sign here.”
Ehmar accepted the quill. He signed his name with a flourish, and despite his cynical inclinations, the blood hunter allowed his imagination to wander but for a moment.
As he gazed upon the modest keep, dilapidated though it may be, he envisioned a future he hadn’t dared consider in a century. As some embers of hope and dreams of home rekindled within him, Ehmar smiled.
Your head swims from the sudden jolt. Your eyes water, blurring your vision. The room spins. Your hearing deafens to everything except your own screams. Nothing exists except for the fire itself.
The fire itself and the darkness. That deep source of power awakens, the presence within you that covets destruction and ruination. The darkness clings to you, constricting like black iron chains wrapped around your rib cage, forcing the air from your lungs.
As the sun sets over the holy city of Elturel, a pair of warriors stand in the shadow of a stone keep. Captain Paskel, a broad-shouldered man of greying hair and a beard a few days past trimming wears a uniform of unpolished armor set with a red trim and a broad, squared off helmet. Ehmar wears no helmet, but is fitted in his usual dark leathers. His once short blonde hair and well kept beard have grown long and full, but not untidy, in recent years. The scars and burns across his otherwise handsome, noble visage belie the many long years of travel and dangers.
“This is far too generous a gift. I cannot in good conscious—”
Paskel scoffs.
“Set aside your pride, blood hunter. The Hellriders would not be standing had you not—”
“Brought a succubus and her legion of demonspawn hellbent on our destruction to your doorstep?”
“Fought by our side. You saved more lives than we lost. Mine included. Not to mention recovering the High Observer from being dragged into the Abyss.”
Ehmar shook his head, resting his hand on the pommel at his hip.
“Still solving a problem our mere presence created. You’re inviting an inevitable conflict with this gift. You said yourself the people would resent us. I don’t see how this changes things.”
The captain drew forth a scroll case, unfastened one end, and drew forth the paperwork. He unrolled it slowly as he spoke.
“Not everyone’s thrilled to have you, I won’t deny it. Doubt you’ll be receiving welcome baskets anytime soon, but it ain’t as bad as you imagine. Word’s spread of you and your hunter’s keeping the city safe, too. Hells, the High Observer used you as an example of Torm’s courage in his homily yesterday.”
“This mood will sour. Monsters are only welcome so long as they aren’t the worst of the lot. Eventually we will be, if we’re doing our job. This gift is—”
“If you must, let’s call it a contract. This incursion isn’t the only threat we’ve faced nor the last. From this keep, the Blood Hunters will join the Hellriders in protecting Elturel and the lands that fall under her watch. The people will see that. Eventually. Think you can stomach that, Ehmar?”
The blood hunter watched the passing crowd for a moment. A pair of older gentlemen carried an arm’s full of groceries, sharing weary smiles between them. A mother bounced a small child in one hand while tending to a window box of budding flowers with the other. A well dressed youth ran toward the market, coins clanging with each stride. None seemed to pay him any mind.
Surely that would change when they realized what their new neighbors really were? Ehmar wondered. But indifference was a warmer welcome than most.
“Aye. Thank you, Captain. It’s been… many years since we’ve had a roof over our head to call our own.”
“Well, the roof’ll need repairs, but it’s better than nothing. I can get you some buckets for the rain ‘til then. Now, sign here.”
Ehmar accepted the quill. He signed his name with a flourish, and despite his cynical inclinations, the blood hunter allowed his imagination to wander but for a moment.
As he gazed upon the modest keep, dilapidated though it may be, he envisioned a future he hadn’t dared consider in a century. As some embers of hope and dreams of home rekindled within him, Ehmar smiled.
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