The Adventures of Larson and Garrett, Run or be Run Through

Chapter Two

It was around noon when the warrior, a tall man with short, dark hair, a bushy beard, and steely, blue eyes, marched between the opened doors to the temple. Pews were occupied by only a few others—all of them fighters of some kind. Johann, an old man in brown robes was speaking.

"It is no secret that the forces of destruction are rising anew," he began. By then, Larson took a seat, and the empty pew creaked under the weight of his stature and heavy armor. "That is why you have all felt a peculiar calling. Though it is the natural state of affairs that the world be at war, it is unnatural for destruction to flourish so.

"Followers of Thaud believe this a time to study those forces. Followers of Tarielle wish to unravel the magicks of those forces. Followers of Mael wish to quell those forces, yet there can be no valor without war, and so it falls to us to pick up blade or bow, and march to face those forces head on."

"But who are we fighting?" one warrior demanded.

"The White Wraiths," Larson replied.

The few warriors turned around in their seats to look upon him. Johann nodded.

"It is not only the White Wraiths," the old man said. Everyone returned their attention to the priest. The braziers burning on either side of the altar of war caused the marble statue to glisten, and above and behind it, the red and black tapestry displaying the image of the God fluttered a bit from gusts circulating through the temple. "There are others in league with the cult of destruction. There are nobles, laborers, wizards and warriors, all of whom seek to claim power of any kind. They wish to wield such power in order to accomplish selfish goals. Akalabash commands us to strike them all down."

Frowning, Larson thought about that proposition. Back in Stormguard, he and his compatriots had captured a few cultists, and it was revealed that many of them had no clue what they were doing; they were simply trying to change the social order. They were in fear for their lives, and killing those men and women was the same as killing innocents, innocents he had killed in Glennmoor because they had been controlled by Minister Parish. With Parish and Owens dead, those confused people were purged of their sins, and killing such people was not something Larson cared to do. He knew there were others, leaders, who had to be killed. He knew there were those who had stumbled upon the evil artifacts that had to be killed.

Sucking his tongue, he stood, and again the pew creaked, but no one noticed since Johann was still preaching a need to cut down anyone who stood in the path of Akalabash. Those generals and advisors in Stormguard need to be killed, but to draw out commanders of armies is no simple task. If what those cultists said was true, and I fear that it is, it is Largo I must confront; Lagos is most assuredly wielding him, and under his command, the generals are marching onto other countries...Truad, Faaltosk, and who knows where else?

By the end of Larson's thoughts, Johann bade them all take arms and find anyone sowing the seeds of destruction. That seemed the end of the short sermon; as the old priest had once claimed: Akalabash was a God of actions not words. All the warriors took turns walking up to the marble fist gripping a long sword. They knelt, mumbled some words, and stormed out of the temple. Larson and Johann met eyes.

"News of your deeds have spread," Johann said.

Larson strode to him. "I fought alongside our Lord to vanquish the followers of Lagos in Glennmoor."

"Some have said that Akalabash himself marched into battle that night." The priest looked the young man up and down. The warrior looked away. "There is no time for timidity, Larson; we must kill all those who worship the daemon lest he become destruction anew."