Ivran Chronicler looks out the window of his carriage. The city of Lastwall has finally come into view. The ride was peaceful but frightfully dull. All he could do was review his notes and check his old scars. The last time he did a psychometric reading, he was maimed and burned by the memories of a long forgotten knight named Leon. Being summoned to Lastwall by the Watcher Lord himself was considered to be an honor, but dread lingered in his emotions. What horrors and ordeals did Leon suffer after the swords memories ended? How can I hope to endure more of his suffering? Absentmindedly, Ivran touched the scar on his lip. “Leon…” he muttered. “What will your price for knowledge be this time?”

A short time later, the carriage pulled up to the base of Castle Overwatch. Standing there in a hero’s welcome were several knights and the two most powerful people in all the country. On the left was Watcher Lord Ullthun II. A man known not for his combat prowess but his character and faith in all that is good. To the right was a woman of dark complexion. Her black hair reaching down just below her ribs and her stare was like spears. She showed no signs of malice, but her demeanor was that she was willing to fight at a moments notice. Her name is Hyperion. Using his cane to get out of the carriage, Ivran looked at the two with a kind but tired smile. “Greetings.”

The Watcher Lord moved past the knights and approached Ivran with kindness and respect. With an outstretched hand, the men shook hands. Ulthun smiled and released his firm but friendly grip. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Chronicler. Your previous encounters with these relics has made you the only person we can trust.” Ivran’s smile faded slightly. “So it is true. You found another one?” Ulthun realized the severity of his words and the implications to Ivran’s health. “Yes… but this time we will take every precaution. The Pathfinder Society may not have compensated you for your injuries, but we will have a complete team of doctors, healers, and clergy on standby for your exclusive use.” Upon hearing these words, Ivran felt a tremendous weight off his shoulders.

Inside the castle, the trio walked down to the secure sectors. A series of heavily fortified rooms meant to shelter the people of Lastwall in the face of invasion. This room however was modified. In here were several relics and artifacts of unknown origin. Sitting on the table was a shield. A simple thing of a blue background and a simple golden dragon motif with filigree flanking it. Ivran felt his hands ache just looking at it. “This is going to be very dangerous for me. The broadsword nearly killed me from the impressions I read from it, but… a shield is going to brutalize me. It is an object intended to receive and withstand fatal blows.”

Hyperion stepped forward and placed her hand firmly on Ivran’s shoulder. “Sir, I understand your concern. I want you to know that when I am not seeing to this task personally, the staff I have chosen for you is the greatest group of healers and doctors in the country. If you can endure this trial, we may finally know the truth behind Vona and its connection to Golarion. I swear on my name that you will leave this city in better condition than when you left.” Ivran felt her words in his spirit. Despite knowing her for only a moment, Ivran knew she was no liar. Sitting down at the table, the Psychometrist cleared his mind and removed his elven robe. His undershirt was tightly fit but had no sleeves. Elven chanting filled the room and gently, Ivran touched the shield. He then whispered as he stared into the dragon on the shields eye. “Show me his fate.”

The Nameless Knight forced himself back to his feet. His journey was nearly done. Just beyond the horde of abominations was the lair of Mortivox. At his back, King Rohan IV, held the line. The king and his honor guard were fighting valiantly. No man gave ground while he still drew breath.

In that moment, the king shouted something to the knight. His words were lost in the clash of steel and the breaking of bones, but his message was clear. “Go.” With a final nod, the Nameless Knight picked up his shield and charged for the entrance. Attacking only when necessary, the knight made his way through the melee. Unspeakable horrors tried to slow his progress, but his blade cut through flesh and bone alike with ease. With a final vertical slash, he slid through the gate. And with a flick of the wrist, his blade cut the ropes holding the portcullis.

Looking over the monsters, the knight examined the field. The melee was too chaotic to see through, but he knew that the King would live. No man or beast had ever bested him in combat. Hurrying inside, the Nameless Knight stopped suddenly at the castle entrance. Echoing off the stone walls he heard the laughter. For the first time, he heard it with his ears, not in his mind. Looking up, he saw a silhouette of a person looking through a window. Gripping the hilt of his sword, the knight furiously charged into the castle. The inside was a maze of bizarre contraptions and dead creatures, all displayed like a doctors anatomy study. Reaching what would have been the courtyard,it had been retrofitted to be some kind of laboratory. The knight slowly entered with his shield raised.

“Welcome! I have been expecting you…” the voice, it was unusually dark and intelligent. Coming from down a spiral stair, an elf with a bony figure and vicious reptilian eyes watched him carefully. “I do hope you came to surrender yourself. I am very eager to study you.”

Had it not been for the knights face concealing helmet, the woman would had seen the knight lose his vigilance for the few moments she spoke. “Oh come on now… You attacked my lair, knowing full well who was here, and you came armed with only a bit of steel? You are unique, but clearly you aren’t very bright.” Slowly lowering his blade and shield, the knight mustered the courage to speak. “Are… you the one called Mortivox?”

The woman’s ears perked up as the knight spoke. “Why yes, I am! How could you not have known?! I left sign and wards for miles!” Mortivox moved around the lab, placing beakers and lighting candles with an eerie grace. Her gleeful expression was contrasted by the clear vicious intent in her eyes.

The Nameless Knight stood by and studied her as she worked. “But that’s impossible…”

“You are not the woman in the visions…”

Author Vendon
Game: Pathfinder
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