~~~ The Golden Templar ~~~

By Maximus

A familiar face has returned to Treegum, albeit hidden behind his helm. It was only a matter of time that the good people of Treegum would start talking about this man and news of the mainland. Sailors have begun speaking of a small army of a hundred men encamped along the shores of the mainland next to a small village. This army carries banners of Ra'Ma and appears to be a part of a larger army.

After some time, news of an internal conflict among the church of Ra'Ma has reached the ears of Treegum's religious community. One man began to lead a crusade to cleanse the church and weed out those who are abusing thier powers within the church. The number of churches cleansed totals around fourty. It would seem this conflict will not end until one side wins.

~|~

Slowly, the people of Treegum begin to eye a man in golden armor. The golden sunbursts of Ra'Ma adorning the helm, cloak, chest, shins, and gauntlets. Rumor is begining to spread that this is the man who started the 'crusade'. The helm rarely leaves the man's head, but some have said that a half-drow wears the armor and could be doing so to mock Ra'Ma. Few know this half-drow and dispute that rumor.

~|~

After the rumors began, a letter was 'found'. Apparently, this letter was taken from the desk of the late Jack Lovedash. This letter will surely reach the eyes of those who are concerned with the news of the Ra'Ma conflict and what it may mean for Treegum's temple.

~|~

There is a small note that goes with the letter. It is unknown who wrote it. Perhaps Jack wrote it, or a someone else who keeps records.

"This letter comes after months of having no word from Private Zane and having found no trace of what had happened to him out on patrol. We had thought the worst. It's interesting to note that this letter is dated only a month after his last report. It would seem as though it took him a while to finish it."

~|~

*His handwriting, though elequant, displays some of the characteristics of drow lettering*

Dear Captain Jack Lovedash,

I'm sorry to have to tell you this through a letter and not in person, but it seems as though I have no other choice. My duties to Treegum and the Black Wolves must come to an end. It was not but a few days before I started to write this letter that I came upon an area of forest bathed in the brightest golden light. I hesitated, but then quickly gained my courage and walked into the light. I know not how many days passed exactly, but I know it had been a few as my tracks had all but faded.

I doubt you believe me, but I had met with my god, Ra'Ma that day. There is much turmoil amongst his temples and I am charged with showing them the light. It's funny you know... a half-drow showing someone, anyone the light, but since the day he showed me my drow side and gave me strength to defeat it, I have forever been in his debt.

Ra'Ma will guide me and I doubt I shall return. I will probably die on my mission, but if so, I know I will die doing what my god has instructed me too. Never have I been so zealous, but the sound of my god echoing through my mind has made me so. I hear his words, plain as day. I dare not say them here, for only those in the temple who do not truely submit to the teachings of my lord shall hear his words and feel my blade. The strength within me has grown conciderably since I have been on patrol alone...

*The handwriting changes for the rest of the letter. The hint of drow lettering vanishes completely and instead resembles near perfect human handwriting. Even with the change, his words still sound like Zane's.*

I was surprised to see how much the church has fallen. Many have come to my side to defend the true faith, but so many have cursed me and called me a blasphemous drow. I have tried to show them the light, but now thier souls stand before Ra'Ma to be judged. Everytime I take one of thier lives, I weep inside. May Ra'Ma keep my hands steady...

This conflict may or may not reach your ears in Treegum, but that matters not... I have cleansed a whole of 10 churches in these short months and a small army has arisen to aid me in my mission. Ra'Ma's light has made them blind to my half-blood and made thier hearts pure. The men have even given me a new title to go along with my new leadership role...

Sincerely,

Zane, The Golden Templar

~~~ The Flow ~~~

By KayLynn

The flow of life is like a river strong, constantly pushing forward until it dumps into the vastness of the great beyond. On the surface it moves straight, never stopping, and never altering course; an image of time itself.

Yet underneath this perfect flow, the current snags on the debris of the riverbed. Tumbling over broken trees and swirling around the many rocks, the flow is chaotic and unpredictable. Violently these forces push and pull on the waters, vying for control of the river whole that they might decide its direction and purpose. All the while, the surface presses on, oblivious and uncaring of the carnage and strife that rages beneath it.

~|~

Alone in a darkened tent, Sarah Kellei sat reading a letter. A dull golden glow was all that lit the bloodstained parchment she held, given off by two dazzling short swords set on the desk beside her. The sound of the harsh winds lashing at the darkness outside was like a symphony of crescendos and rests; A wicked, unceasing howl that cried as though it knew what had come to pass, or perhaps, what was yet to come.

M'lady Kellei,

I must ask that you forgive any informalities in this letter. I write to you with the utmost urgency for I fear I have not long left to live. I can hear the sounds of battle just outside the gates now and it will not be long until they find me in this hidden chamber.

There is a man in golden armor who comes for us. I had heard tales of him before. They say he is of drow blood and that he bears the markings of our Lord in a mockery of our service and belief. That he claims to be the savior of the Ra'Manites, cleansing the 'wicked' from His holy temples. At the time they were just that, tales, oh may Ra'Ma forgive my arrogance.

He has come here, now, to Ansell, to our Father's sanctuary and he seeks our blood. The rumors are true, M'lady, and I know we haven't the strength to stop him here. He has a sizeable force that follows him, blasphemers as he is. This man, nay, this drow does not cleanse, he murders our saints and priests. He spreads lies of our Father, claiming that this madness is Ra'Ma's will.

M'lady, my faith is strong in our Father, as it is in you. My journey ends here, but I pray that this letter reaches you. That you our Champion may rally the devout to drive this heretic imposter from Mel'heron forevermore, and save our Lord's faithfull from his murderous rampage.

May the Father's light shine on you always, my sister,

Father Abradacius Helen,

Glory Light Temple of Ansell

The currents beneath shifted, though she sat there motionless. The messenger had come at dusk, limping into the battle camp with a bolt in his leg and several light wounds staining his garments red. The priests immediately tended to him, but Sarah could tell that it was nothing short of a miracle that he had made it to her. Through blooded teeth and searing pain, he spoke of what he heard as he fled Ansell. This 'man in golden armor' was headed for Treegum... for A'nadra.

After his wounds were seen to, Sarah retreated to her tent where she remained to the dark hour. She recalled her recent visit to Saphage, though few had known about it. It was a strange visit as she spent time with the drow Daxen, and her mother-like friend Tananda. Relations with Daxen had been mended, while Tanda turned on her for having gained knowledge of Emmilia's death, and what parts Sarah had played in it.

She left the continent, then, with a heavy heart, resigning to never return; It seemed best for those she loved there. Now, however, this drow was threatening to destroy all she and A'nadra had built in Treegum, and threatening A'nadra herself. Fate it seemed, was not ready to allow her to let go of the past, nor to forgive previous transgressors. In making amends with Daxen, she had come to believe that it may just have been possible for a drow to escape their heritage. This news, however, immediately drew her back to what she knew was true.

The undercurrents ripped her heart to shreds beneath the surface waters that demanded she move forward. She hated strife and pain of the heart, but they insisted on remaining close friends. If the blasphemer was to sail to Treegum, then she would be there to meet him.

The flow demanded it.

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