Open A Syliran Nightmare.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Fall 62, 513 AV This time the Nitrozian’s dream was different. Before he had always been a servant of Rhysol, a Druvin or even the Voice, the lover of his god who possessed power beyond imagination, a dark being, but this time, this time he did not bear the mark of Rhysol nor was he in Ravok. This time he was in a place that he had only ever visited in his dreams, in his nightmares. He recognized the fortress immediately although he had never seen it with his own eyes. Since he had been a child he had been warned about it. He was in Syliras, the home of the enemy – and yet, and yet he was not in chains or being tortured. He blinked as he surveyed his surroundings. He was in the heart of Stormhold Castle, in a large courtyard. Behind him he could see a tree, a tree that seemed to be of great importance to the people of Syliras, and before him stood a dozen knights, dressed in shimmering armor, looking at him expectantly. What were they waiting for? What did they want from him? Why did they not draw their weapons to kill him, the follower of Rhysol? Why did they seem … almost friendly? He looked down at himself and noticed that he too was dressed in shimmering silver armor. A crimson cloak with his family crest was draped across his shoulders. On the right collar of his tunic was a pin with a tree. He too was apparently a knight, and judging by the way these knights treated him an important one. But how could that be? That wasn’t right! He was not good, and he was not just. He had eradicated any such feelings he might have possessed once. He lived for Rhysol and only for Rhysol and loved him with all his heart. And yet here he was, not as a prisoner, but as one of them. This wasn’t right! This couldn’t be real! He looked around, looked for help, for anybody that might be able to help him make sense of this … this insanity!

[Radiant]

It was morning in the Fortress guarded by the Order of Sylir's Knights. The armored champions of justice were getting ready for an important announcement by the Grandmaster that day. The benevolent and upright upholder of peace, truth, and virtue, Grandmaster Nitrozian. In this dream, The Nitrozian was one of the founding families that built the fortress upon the shore of Suvan hundreds of years ago after the Valterrian. The long line of grandmasters stayed strong throughout the years, surviving every obstacles and strife. Currently, under the leadership of Ser Valerius Nitrozian, the jewel of Sylira stood strong against all evil and chaos.

In the Windoak Courtyard, a company of knights were all paying attention to the grandmaster standing on the podium. However, the grandmaster seemed to be confused, like he was forgetting something important. A male knight by the name of Petri Alvikal, Lord Knight of The Order, calmly approached the grandmaster and bowed slightly. "Grandmaster Valerius, The knights are ready to hear your decision about the Rising Dawn in Ravok. Should we adhere to their request for aid?" The Lord Knight then took his position back among the knights, eager to hear what the Grandmaster had to say.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

As Valerius stood there, before the knights of Syliras, he slowly began to remember again, another life that seemed just as real. Had everything he believed in been an illusion then? He remembered a life in Ravok, under Rhysol’s watchful eyes, experiments on Kelvic and Humans alike. He remembered his aunt Amanda and his cousin Trevinus, both Chaon, his grandfather Sitanos, the head of his family. He remembered wanting nothing more than to be Rhysol’s, and he remembered being eternally conflicted. Once, years ago, there had been a softer, purer side to him before the mask had become reality. Was that life fake? Had all those things never really happened? Were those memories that slowly began to surface now his real ones? He rembered now that his family, the Nitrozians, had been one of the founding families of Syliras and fought against Rhysol’s chaos for generations. In this life he had never doubted that what he was doing was right. All he had ever wanted was to become a knight and follow in his family’s footsteps so that he could bring peace to Mizahar. He had known the men and women that now stood before him all his life. They were friends, his companions that he could rely on no matter what, that shared his goals, his ideals. He shook his head as if he were trying to make the confusion that had taken a hold of his mind go away. The sunlight that fell on his face, the ground beneath his feet, the fortress around him, the courtyard with the tree, everything felt real. What was wrong with him? Was he about to fall ill? Was this one of Rhysol’s evil ploys? Although Syliras was the home of the knights it was not entirely impossible for a follower of the God of Evil to slip past its defenses. He had to remain strong. He was the Grandmaster Knight. At only twenty-four he was the embodiment of virtue and justice. He inclined his head a fraction as another knight approached him. He had noticed that the man was concerned and wanted to tell him that he was feeling better now. He cleared his throat and began to speak, „Knights of Syliras. I have asked you to meet me here today to hear my decision regarding the Rising Dawn. After careful consideration I have decided that it is in our best interest to support them. We may have our differences, but in the end we have the same goal, to fight against Rhysol’s ever growing chaos.“ He gestured for Ser Petri Alvikal to step forward. As he was still not feeling completely well, he thought it best if the other knight helped him out, although he didn’t say it out loud. He did not want all of Syliras to suddenly start worrying about him. „Ser, would you like to tell us again what we know about the situation in Ravok and the Rising Dawn so far?“

[Radiant]

The Grandmaster's odd behavior caused some knights to be worried about his health. He was the leader of all Knights, only second to Sylir himself. There could be vile beings targeting his mind even as he stood, most likely foul servants of Rhysol. Ser Petri approached the Grandmaster back when he requested him. He was worried as well, but as the Lord Knight, he was Valerius' second-in-command and had to keep a strong face which didn't come hard to him.

"Very well, Grandmaster." The Lord Knight spoke in a serious no-nonsense tone, he took a tick to recall all the necessary information. "Madame Siriana, leader of the Rising Dawn is planning to conduct an operation that will strike a heavy blow to the evil of Ravok." He nodded then took out a scroll, it was the map of Ravok. "A messenger of hers managed to slip past the city and sent us this." The scroll had various arrows and notes on it, marking vital locations thought to be connected to the Ebonstryfe and Black Sun.

"She wishes to end the vile experiments going on in the so called 'Kelvic Research Institute', free the kelvics, cause disruption, and if possible, capture the mad researcher of the place, Amanda..." The Lord Knight hesitated for a second as if something was blocking him for speaking the last name, but he continued. "...Nitrozian, Grandmaster." In the dream, Amanda was a member of the Nitrozian family who defected from Syliras and became a Chaon of Rhysol. Ser Petri leaned in closer and whispered to Valerius "I know it's hard, Grandmaster, but she is beyond our help. She is one of Rhysol's minion now, only a blade of Sylir can save her." Ser Petri then gave the scroll to Valerius and returned to his position.

The various knights gave a salute to Valerius after he announced about accepting the Rising Dawn's request. "All of us are ready to be chosen as an agent in aiding our allies, Grandmaster." The Lord Knight announced. Each and every single of these knights were willing to die in service of Sylir.

[Wrenmae]

It was a hot day in Syliras, but in the courtyard of the Windoak they all enjoyed a gentle shade from their arboreal protector. Standing at the side of pulpit, Egyptus waited patiently while Grandmaster Valerius explained his plans to aid the Rising Dawn in Ravok. At the word of the city, a cold shiver pulsed along the knight's spine. As a child he'd been raised to regard the city with hatred and pity, the very bastion where Rhysol sat...where the dark god imposed his cruelty on all who did not bow their head in obedience.

But try as he might, hatred simply wasn't a part of the man...not anymore.

If there was a momentary flash of confusion, it only settled in because he couldn't decide whether he should race to Grandmaster's side or not. The haggard fellow looked tired, even confused...but given his lady Ra'Keli's favor, he'd be feeling himself again before the operation even commenced.

For a moment it occurred to Egyptus that he might have been someone else, once, a strange feeling of displacement as if he didn't quite understand why he was here. As the most well renowned Healer of Syliras, a weakness of self was not something he ordinarily had to deal with. Usually his goddess would comfort him when his heart wavered...and certainly he'd seen this city through the worst of plagues and battles before.

Looking out at the Knights, he wondered which of them would lose their lives...who would be stricken down by Rhysol.

And in that moment, he knew his path.

"My Lord Grandmaster," Egyptus spoke, bowing respectfully toward Valerius, "Allow me leave to accompany the Knights to Ravok. There will most certainly be blood and ours will not have an easy time against such evil. I know that I have been blessed by my goddess for a reason, and I feel it is to be here during this most pivotal quest against evil. Give me leave to accompany them, Ser. Please."

[Valerius Nitrozian]

The Grandmaster noticed that some of his knights were still worried about him. That was not good. He couldn’t show any sign of weakness, not now when they were about to conduct such an important mission. He needed to get these strange ideas out of his head! He was not a Ravokian, he had never prayed to that despicable god called Rhysol, he had never murdered Kelvic, never considered experimenting on humans! Who would ever do such evil things? Since he had been a little boy he had only ever wanted to be good. This was his life! If he tried not to think about those fake memories anymore, would they just go away? He stood completely straight and tried to appear calm and composed as he turned to his second in command and looked at the scroll he had. „That scroll will be more than useful“, he remarked as he noticed that many of the locations that were connected to Rhysol’s evil were marked on it. In another life he might have become one of the mad researchers that experimented on Kelvic as if they were just animals, as if they had no rights, but now his gaze darkened as the Lord Knight spoke of it. This was not acceptable! „I am aware, Ser“, he whispered to Ser Petri. „It’s such a pity. She has such a brilliant mind, but you are right, she is beyond salvation now.“ His aunt was one of the most intelligent women he had ever met. She could have become a knight, like him. Her research could have helped countless people, if she had focused on the right things. He could not grasp why she had joined the enemy instead of supporting Syliras and all that was good and just, but it didn’t matter anyway. She had been marked by Rhysol. He owned her body and her soul now. That could not be undone. He turned away from Ser Petri, raised his voice and spoke to all the knights, „Those experiments must be ended! Rest assured that I will not let my personal connections to that woman cloud my judgement. She is evil and has to be stopped!“ He was just about to pick one or more of the knights that stood before him as an agent as the healer stepped forward. Why had his aunt given her soul to Rhysol when she could have become like Egyptus, the most well renowned healer in all of Syliras? No, he had decided not to think about that anymore. It was too late for her. Maybe it had been too late for her all along. Maybe she had already been born with the seed of evil inside of her. „Ser“, he spoke, and his voice was strong and firm once more. He had made his decision. Amanda Nitrozian was not part of his family anymore. „I appreciate your offer. You have my permission to accompagny my knights of Ravok and help them in any way you can.“ With that he turned to appoint the agents for this most important of missions.

[Radiant]

Some knights looked at the Rak'keli priest with a questioning look. The Windoak Courtyard was supposed to be a sacred location accessible only by Knights of Sylir, what was a disciple of Rak'keli doing here? The goddess of healing was very accepted in Syliras, but that didn't mean one of her children could stroll in here. However, it seemed he had been given a very special permission for the healer volunteered to undertake the perilous task of vanquishing the bastion of evil, Ravok.

The Lord Knight nodded at the Grandmaster, it was clear Valerius was an unshakable bastion of justice. He would smite all evil, even if one of those evils had family connection with him. "I understand, Grandmaster." At Valerius' statement, all of the knights made a salute, ready to be chosen.

However, even as the Knights planned, evil didn't stay put for The Black Sun itself had sent one of Rhysol's children, a Druvin, to infiltrate the fortress and assassinate the Grandmaster. This was a very important mission as the Grandmaster's death would struck a heavy blow to the deluded knights of 'justice'. Somewhere in the Fortress, in the hidden streets and secluded apartments... a Druvin lurked, ready to strike. The particular Druvin had been given a glyphed scroll containing the power of Illusionism, allowing the Druvin to take on the appearance of a non-descript knight.

[Fallon]

Illusions, perhaps for once they had proved their usefulness. The ‘knight’ gave a quick roll of the shoulders, her eyes peering on to the scene. Armour, although it appeared solid was in fact quite the opposite, the illusive green eyes designed to cover over the white. The reality of it all was the worker of Rhysol’s will, the dark clad and ivory skin existing behind the illusion’s veil.

She had to force down the wicked grin, the turning over of a chaotic mind as she made her steady approach. None had gotten this close before, none had managed to wheedle in so close and undetected before, and now here she was the strings of pure chaos right within her grasp. Keeping herself to attention she pressed both of her hands behind her and let the fingers gently tap against the dagger. Soon, soon the opportunity would come. Chaos would rule, and Rhysol – her beloved god – would be one step closer.

And it felt brilliant.

Fallon. Or was it Fallon? She was not quite sure at present, her mind was set between accepting this as the reality despite the nagging feeling that was rooted so deep within. Was this correct? Was this right? She discarded the whim. The Druvin struggled to keep a straight face, the rising pleasure, no; honour to be given such a task was beyond her very dreams. To serve was what she wished, to strike down the order in its very core. Her lips were wetted, her eyes turning to the bumbling words of the healer and the Grandmaster. Their plans were caught in her ears, the worrying tone of the healer and the want to support the knights in their feeble cause. How pathetic to try and bring the fight to her city, when the battle between them was already so close to being over. She could taste the lust to simply leap out and plunge the blade into him.

But that would be reckless. And foolish. It would achieve nothing to leap out blindly and let a chaotic rage and passion control her. Her eyes gave a turn to the company of knights, and then back to the Grandmaster. No, she needed to lie in wait, and when the opportunity to strike came she would use it. Her fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger, her nostrils flaring as she made the same salute as the rest of the company. Too easy. It was all too easy.

[Roderick]

For a time the Grandmaster seemed somewhat put off, if not down right confused about why exactly he was standing there. Only a few chimes before he had been talking strongly to them, eyes set resolutely on them all as he gathered them together in preparation for the important news he held for them. Now, though, there was a strange, misty film over his eyes, as he seemed to become lost in his thoughts. Perhaps he was simply worrying over how their plans would develop - the Grandmaster cared deeply for his men, something no one could fault him for. All the same Roderick knew that the life of every knight that would be spent in their campaign would not be spent in vain. A small, niggling sensation clung to the young knight for a time - a strange sense of this being less than true. Yet he knew that all the men and women around him were entirely real, and that the armour and cloak he had donned that morning was the mark of a knight; he could remember the ceremony vividly, despite his misgivings, which soon vanished as he listened intently to his commander. Ser Petri stepped forwards and offered some support to his superior, any confusion he might have had over the Grandmaster's odd behaviour well hidden as he addressed the gathered Knights. After he had said all he had to, the Lord Knight withdrew to the side, at which time Vitrozian stepped forwards to speak, his authority and strength returning just as swiftly as it had dissipated. Knowing that his superior was alright banished any doubts Roderick might have had, and he felt a small fire building inside at the Grandmaster's words. The question of who would join him in his task set all those gathered there deep into thought; each was a well-trained fighter and leader, capable of the mission given to them. Yet vanquishing evil in its home was a task that was a deal more dangerous than any of them had faced. Feeling the wavering thrum of his heart the Zeltivan did not let it show on his face; instead he joined the others in looking over in surprise at the healer of Rak'keli who called out to Vitrozian, offering his aid in the fight. Accepting the offer, the commander turned his gaze back to his followers, who as one saluted him and awaited his judgement. Whoever he chose would be walking into a lion's den of murders and liars, but in doing so they could be safe in the knowledge that they were ridding the world of Rysol's evil presence and influence. Inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose, Roderick calmed himself internally as he joined his companions in saluting his lord, and then quietly awaited the words that would decide whether or not he would be joining the others in marching against Rhysol. A small part of him withered somewhat beneath the commander's gaze, hoping that he might be allowed to remain behind; he recognized it as the voice of fear. Quelling it forcefully he steeled himself. He would not celebrate if he was chosen, but he would not cower before his duty either.