prologue ♔ chances are more than expectations

[wynn]

WHO || Wynn and any characters newly joining the Knights
WHAT || Initial recruitment meetings with Wynn
WHERE || Knights Headquarters outside London, England
WHEN || Anytime before the 1st of each month
HOW || Prose OR Actionspam (I'll follow your lead!) Please make a new thread for your character's arrival below.

♬ [When you see this note in a post or NPC tag, click for musical accompaniment!]

The paths to the Knighthood are as unique as the individuals who comprise its widespread organization. But all of their tales have one aspect in common: their first trip to the castle that serves as the primary headquarters for their operations occurs blindfolded, generally with the member who had recommended them for service as their escort.

Only when the car had pulled up to the front steps of the opulent building are they unmasked and allowed to follow inside.



Within the wide front hall is what looks like a receptionist desk to the left, manned by any one of a number of usually young Knights, who make the newly arrived sign into an ancient looking tome with hundreds of yellowed pages, along with today's date, usually accompanied by a look of curiosity from whoever's working the desk. Either way, they ask no questions.

They are then directed down the main ground floor hallway, which seems to stretch on for a great distance, passing tapestries of a mostly medieval flavor, suits of armor and weaponry lining the walls, and archways that open into opulent ballrooms, extra wings with numerous doors, poshly decorated parlors and more.

It's in front of an incredibly large painting that they come to a stop, drawing some kind of keycard out of their wallet or pockets and using it to open a small glass case containing a fire extinguisher to the right of the artwork. They pull the extinguisher upwards like a lever, making it clear it's just for show, and a loud mechanism creaks behind the wall, as the entire mural swings aside slowly to unveil a torch lit hallway. Escorts leave their charges to go on from here alone, usually with a nod or word of encouragement.

There's something solemn about the long stone corridor, made only more so by the fact that almost every inch of the walls on either side is covered in paintings, tapestries, rugs, artifacts, carvings, etc. that depict various images from the Knights' history, of those in armor battling against all manner of twisted and dangerous creatures. There's another constantly reoccurring image as well - of a gigantic silver dragon battling against armies of dark elves, or just one dark elf in particular, who is often depicted with a certain circular symbol somewhere on his wicked looking armor.

More prominent than this collection of madly arranged images is the incredibly large lettering inscribed over the large doors at the end of the hallway.

Thou Shalt Defend the Knighthood.
Thou Shalt respect all Weaknesses, and Shalt constitute thyself the Defender of them.
Thou Shalt not recoil before thine Enemy.
Thou Shalt make War against Injustice, without Cessation and without Mercy.
Thou Shalt never lie, and shall remain Faithful to thy pledged Word.
Thou Shalt be Generous, and listen to and Respect All.
Thou Shalt be Everywhere and Always the Champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.

The room that stretches out beyond those doors, however, is enough to wrench the eyes off the inscription. It houses an incredibly large, thick, wooden table constructed in the round, surrounded by at least twenty five chairs. Rising from the center from the table is a massive statue that appears to be made of glass or crystal, depicting a dragon in flight. Suspended in the middle of the statue is a proud looking sword, that looks as if it's merely hovering there because of the statue's transparent nature. The statue rises up towards the vaulted ceilings as if it means to break free and soar out of the room, creating a very otherworldly aspect to the setting.

It may take a moment for those who enter to realize they are not fully alone, as Wynn waits on the exact opposite side of the table, facing a pair of incredibly tall sealed doors, that appear to be gilded in gold leaf. His hands are locked behind him, laced white cuffs falling over them, one ring visible on his left hand. His height is intimidating, at a full six foot seven, and his posture rigid and impeccable. He wears an old-fashioned tailored coat worked with silver and dark blues, over a silver and white doublet, framed with gleaming buttons that have tiny dragons worked onto them in brushed silver. He says nothing - doesn't even so much as turn, as if he doesn't even register that anyone has arrived.

Once inside, the doors fall shut with a ponderous thud, of what seems to be their own accord.

Comments

[wynn]

And what prevents the possibility of this vestige's sway becoming complete? I would think they would attempt to possess their host entirely, in hopes of avoiding a return to nothingness.

[thesleeper]

Well, I suppose that's technically a legitimate concern - but that's never happened. There are some inherent safeguards in place... at the basic level, the pact only lasts 24 hours, and with some practice it can be terminated at the binder's whim. Additionally, my vessel simply isn't strong enough to fully contain one of these spirits. They lend me but a fraction of their spirit, and it binds itself to my soul...

At any rate, there's no known incidents of anything of the sort ever happening. That would be a violation of their end of the pact.

I know that may seem odd... but it's a bit different than any other sort of binding or summoning. Take a demon, for instance - they will always try to wry out of their summoner's control, and win their freedom. A Vestige knows that they exist outside reality... The idea of them ever returning simply isn't possible. Sharing a bit of our experiences is the closest they can ever get - and they value it more than a king treasures his crown.

[wynn]

I can appreciate the distinction. [ He leads him past a number of bedrooms to an area where one wall is rounded, four doors branching off from it. A statue of a man in wizard robes stands in the center, and Wynn brushes past it, taking the door to the left into another small hallway. ] These vestiges... how many of them would you claim were innately evil when they lived?

[thesleeper]

Of those I contract with currently, none. Dahlver-nar was mad, but he was actually once a binder, before being tortured and killed by the Seropaens... Perhaps Malphas the turnfeather? Though he was just a traitor, not evil necessarily.

That's not to say some aren't evil, for example Chupoclops is one I've read of only in legend. I haven't yet fully transcribed his ritual, but his lore indicates he was some titan of some sort... Purportedly, the gods couldn't kill it, but mortals managed to. It was supposed to be an indestructible harbinger of end times, so the universe itself was confounded that mortals managed to destroy it, thus it became a vestige.

[wynn]

And if you should transcribe his lore, would you attempt to bind him as well?

[thesleeper]

[He looks a bit caught off guard, like the concept of not summoning a vestige has never occurred to him]
Well... I can't think of any compelling reason not to. He was quite a common choice during the time of Syfal, a binder heyday of sorts, but my family's archive didn't include much about his ritual. It would be... Potentially decades of research just to compete his seal, assuming some information of it exists here...

But there's really no cause for alarm, one of the reasons binders abandoned Chupoclops after a while was also well-recorded as a precaution to others; he's just so horribly depressing. His influence makes you terribly pessimistic, and just horribly gloomy all the time... He was supposedly useful for escaping witch hunts and the like.

But, like I said, it is aware that it's time has passed. It's no more evil as a vestige than... say... Iron? It simply exists. Some use it constructively for the good of all, some use it to kill. Vestiges are much the same. Even this eater of worlds is said to have been used to do some good, it depends on the user.

At any rate, I'd have to try, so i could document it. My research will be critical for the future generations. [He says, tapping his journal]

[wynn]

[ wynn pulls open a door into a small side room where a small round table sits, along with various wooden shelves lined with potions ] Will this do?

[thesleeper]

Ah... [He stops, as he takes in the smell of alchemical reagents] Yes. Yes, this will do quite nicely.

Well then, have you decided which member of my little entourage you would like to meet?[He says, half-sarcastically] I'm sure once you've seen it in action, you'll be less... concerned about it.

[wynn]

Consider it curiosity, more than concern.

[ he moves to station himself at the far side of the table, clasping his hands behind himself ] I'd like you to summon Savnok. [ of course you would, wynn ]

[thesleeper]

Ah, now curiosity is the proper reaction. Curiosity is the mother of knowledge, but concern... I've found concern to be too limiting. But that's about enough philosophy.

[He stops, biting his lip. Hesitating a moment, he continues, with a bit of difficulty]

Now Savnok... He's a right depressing soul. [He returns to his usual cadence, losing himself in the vestige's lore] A servant to twin demigods; one would grow to be a just and lawful god, the other an evil tyrant, but in their youth they were comrades. They forged a pact whereby Savnok would steal them some equipment from their mother's armory, in such a way that would be agreeable with the lawful mindset of the first brother. Savnok did so, but the artifacts overcame him, made him drunk with power, and the brothers were forced to kill him. To cover for themselves, they laid all blame and evidence on Savnok, then hid him somewhere no gods would ever find him - and this the Vestige was born.

[He leans over the table, recalling what summoning Savnok means to him, personally. He sighs deeply]

I... That is, Savnok, he has some... additional requirements for his ritual. Something must be stolen, preferably from a parent or authority figure - as per his own tale. Apologies and reparations cannot be made. [He suddenly seems very tired, old even. He lazily flips to the back of his book, and twists open a hidden relief compartment, clawing out a strange looking... holy symbol? He stares at it for a moment with a mixture of terror and sadness, before dropping it hard to the wooden table]

Well... then. [Half-hearedly feigning a smile] Let us proceed, with all conditions met.

[He sets about drawing Savnok's seal, incredibly focused for the next minute as he draws the complex lines and shapes, in just the right positions. He then proceeds, in a deep booming voice]

Rise now, Savnok the Instigator. Felled by the hands of those you served, following orders delivered by the same. Betrayer, and betrayed. Come to me from out of nothing, to do my bidding. I offer you evidence of my trust in you [A look of disgust crosses his face, as he slides the item into the center of the circle] My father's stolen Seropaen Symbol. [GASP!] Come forth!

[After an unsettling and too-long pause, there is the distinct sound of an arrow striking a metal. Blood gouts from where the arrow is invisibly buried in... something. It runs down what appears to be the shape of a boot, before pooling on the table. Then come dozens more, slowly at first but gaining rate. Before long there stands a monstrously-proportioned humanoid figure, clad in what appears to be full-plate - but the manifestation itself is invisible, it's shape apparent only due to the numerous arrow hafts sticking out, and the outlining rivulets of blood that are running down it's form. Phineas sighs.]

Greetings again, Savnok. I have need of your services, this day.

[wynn]

[ wynn stares on in fascination of the process though he evinces no evident fear of the manifestation before them.

savnok speaks, his deep voice reverberating against the walls of the small chamber, each word spat bitterly. ] For what purpose would you don my power, Binder?

[thesleeper]

[Damnit. He knew Savnok would be a poor choice. Binding check of 13 (Fails the target DC of 20 by quite a bit...) This will be an interesting day]

Savnok. That you presume to ask my intent shows me you have at least learned to question those who would command you. It only took you an age or two to get there. [He says with a smirk, hoping that some humiliation will help him gain some form of upper-hand]
I would use your armor. Seeing as it's never belonged to you in any case, I imagine you won't mind parting with it for a day?

In exchange, I bid you join me. What say you, spirit. Have we an accord?

[He swallows hard, preparing for a day filled with an irritating arrow protruding from him]

[wynn]

[ savnok unleashes a guttural sound of annoyance at phineas' jibes. he's not very happy with you, dude, so yep. arrow time. ] You will carry my mark, Binder, for your insolence. [ but its clear he's not about to say no, either. ] But an accord is struck.

[thesleeper]

[An arrow haft appears jutting from Phineas' head]

Son of a bugbear! [He curses loudly. He grabs the arrow, and pulls it out with some effort - it leaves no wound, but a similar one then appears jutting from his left arm]

At least that's a bit more manageable. [Suddenly his attitude sours noticeably] I'm sure this will go totally unnoticed, and no one will find it odd or amusing that I've a damned arrow sticking out of me. Damned fool for calling Savnok, anyway - knew this would happen. Always happens. damn damn damn damn DAMN IT ALL TO THE NINE HELLS!

[wynn]

[ wynn watches the vestige vanish and then regards phineas and his outburst curiously ] There's no way to remove the arrow then? That's what he meant by his 'mark'?

[thesleeper]

[Phineas stops to collect himself]The arrow, and his lovely attitude... I knew this whole knight thing was a bad idea. Now someone will see this, and start asking questions, then boom! A crusader's burning me at a post.

[Suddenly, an idea occurs]

Savnok! Armor me. Obscure this ridiculous arrow with some plate.

[Instantly he is wearing a perfectly fitted and quite shiny suit of heavy full platemail]

That ought to do quite nicely.

[wynn]

[ the dragonblooded man walks in a slow, measured circle around phineas to examine the armor ] Impressive. Imbued with magical qualities as well, I imagine?

[thesleeper]

Yes, it is expertly crafted, and though I've not had a day of armor training in my life, I move in it better than most knights do... Though, the fact that it's perfectly fitted helps.

It's great, unless your enemy has arrows, or something similar. All of it's protections are useless against those types of weapons. Wait, let me guess - this is the part where you tell me that is the primary sort of weapon you lot use in this world? That'd be just my luck, wouldn't it?

[Thinking for a moment]
At least I can also do this...
[He stares at Wynn, and issues a command word Thirku Ressan! (Move Ally, in draconic) causing the two to instantly exchange locations.]
Though, not very often, and not much longer distance than that. A bit lackluster, really.

[wynn]

I can imagine the tactical advantage it might provide, in the appropriate situation. The strength of any power lies in its usage, after all.

[ he steps closer to phineas, looking over the armor ] You'll find the weapons we face to be quite varied, actually. A result of the integration of various cultures into this world's society, which relies heavily on technology.

[thesleeper]

Grand. I cannot wait to wade into combat against a cadre of foes wielding weapons I've never seen before.

How many Faerunians manage to last more than a few missions here? This world of yours seems mighty inhospitable. And [He pauses and shakes his head dejectedly] DAMN IT to Gehenna, sir I am sorry. It's just... Savnok despoils my spirits quite spectacularly.

I'm typically not so down... Have we anything more to attend to today, or is there some place I may retire to for the time being?

[wynn]

You're to be fitted for your armor today before you depart, for use in your ceremony.

[thesleeper]

Can't I just wear this? It fits, and all. [He bangs on his chest-plate]

[wynn]

[ he shakes his head ] It's something of a uniform.

[thesleeper]

I... I can't take it off.

[He confesses, clearly unhappy]

Savnok requires me to stay as armored as possible...

[He sighs dejectedly]

I've got to sleep in this now... Ugh.
Can't the fitting wait until tomorrow, sir?

[wynn]

[ don't... laugh... ] Tomorrow, then. That won't be a problem.