Caenarfon's final moral dilemma

Ice in the North

The stillness of the evening made any sound echo down the snowy valley. Caenarfon Corwen raised his head when he heard the creak of trees and watched the wind blow the loose snow into the drift at his frozen feet. He drew his while cloak about himself, grimacing at the shapeless white which blanketed everything.

He withdrew into the ice cave where he had spent the night, and poked at the fire, smoky from the frozen damp wood which poured from the mouth of the cave. The fire gave little warmth, but it was protected from the chill wind.

The still was interrupted by a falling chunk of ice from the roof of the cave which shattered on the cold stone floor. It made a sound like children laughing after the crash.

A gust of wind ripped into the cave, sending flames blasting sideways.

A familiar voice whispered on the wind.

“Follow me.”

The ruined temple

Caenarfon followed the sound of the recognisable voice of Lezra Lazul, until the voice ceased at the edge of a ruined temple. Caenarfon edged his battle steed forward and four iron-shod hooves echoing on the cracked flagstones.

Looking around the temple, the roof and some of the walls had collapsed. Vines, shrubs and even small trees were growing between the flagstones as he approached the altar and dismounted. A felled statue of Nadrik lay smashed on the floor of the inner sanctum, and the once holy place held a feeling of evil and dread.

Nevertheless, Caenarfon closed his eyes and began to pray.

“It is time for your sacred quest Caenarfon.” said Lezra.

Caenarfon opened his eyes, but Lezra was not present as he always was when he appeared. Caenarfon frowned, but listened to the words of the Avatar.

“I have found a way to the Black Moon. Nothing divine can enter without being detected by the Gods of Evil. But a mortal armed only with his faith, may find the courage to go forth to that evil place and free the Lord from His bondage.” drifted Lezra’s words across the icy temple.

“Return to Gareth, and I shall seek you out when the time is ripe, when the guard of evil is down.”

The voice spoke no more.

The Bishop returns

Caenarfon returned to Gareth Keep and was pleased with what he saw. Bold, grim and moral knights who were the paragons of virtue in this dark and shattered land. A candle in the darkness. Paladins of charisma who had ever-led the forces of Good into battle against the Evil and immoral, the unethical and those who knew no virtue. He met also with good priests within and without the Order of Gareth, and shared what he had experienced. He described it thusly.

“If there is a chance that I am to come to the succour of my Lord, then I must do it no matter what the risk. Our Lord has taught us that honour comes before all else. He has taught us that our honour is the strength of purpose to do what you believe to be right.”

All agreed that they would do the same if the same plight had befallen their lord. This heartened Caenarfon that there remained to Algoron heroes who were willing to stand up to that which was right and good, and who were willing to take any risk to see the right action done.

The voice returns

Caenarfon took all his belongings for safe keeping. He spent his time praying in the Temple of Nadrik and spent some time with the priests of Good, which brought much fortitude to his faith.

Riding through Haon Dor in the twilight, the voice returned.

“Follow the red wisp.”

A red glow appeared in the distance, and flew across the forest floor. Caenarfon dug in his spurs and pursued. He rode through the forest until he came to the west gates of Althainia. The guards frowned and parted, and Caenarfon charged into the market square. The wisp vanished into the city dump. Caenarfon dismounted and slid down the chute. He thought he heard children laughing. He got up, and wiped the muck from his robes as best he could.

He pursued the wisp deep below the sewers, to a sunken ancient tower, a relic left crumbling to a bygone age – the Tower Of Ashan'Juri.

The wisp darted through the dark and crumbling structure, and Caenarfon struggled to keep up in his wet and slime-covered robes. Gasping for air, he pursued the wisp. He came to an octagonal temple, once a place of good, but now twisted to evil. He ran up the final stairs, and tripped on his filthy robes and fell to the floor in the Chamber of Summoning.

As he looked up, the wisp vanished and in the centre of the room a glowing red portal opened.

Caenarfon’s final moral dilemma

“It is time. Quickly.” urged the voice.

Caenarfon drew himself up, and looked upon the portal grimly. He reached for the simple wooden symbol of Nadrik which he kept on a flax cord around his neck. He thought about his companions past and present – all bold knights and true. Brothers in arms.

“For Nadrik.” intoned Lezra’s voice.

Armed with only his faith, he stepped into the portal.

Lezra’s voice became twisted and harsh and cackled with glee.

“Nothing is as certain, as the predictability of honourable action. I have brought you to the Black Moon as promised. Here you will see your Lord . Then you will die. ”

A blinding light shone in the darkness, which was surrounded by many evil and fell beings. Caenarfon looked to the light and saw the glory and majesty of the Lord, though bound and in torment was he.

Darkness came, followed by the sound of maniacal laughter, and Caenarfon knew no more.