I am a Knight of Order. A servant of Innos, sworn to guard the Light where darkness festers. Some call me fanatical in these times, others a fool… but I know who I am: a virtuous knight, with duty and loyalty flowing in my veins. Bound by oath to uphold the law and protect the weak.
That is why I sit here, hidden between the rigid roots of an ancient tree, only a few hundred paces below Gotha Fortress—my home, the seat of our brotherhood. Once a bastion of paladins, a haven of strength and faith. Now it is defiled… occupied by orcs… desecrated by sinister powers.
The night is clear, the moon hangs like a pale sentinel in the sky. No sound breaks the stillness except the occasional howl of the wind sweeping across the abandoned valley—like a warning voice.
Then I notice movement at the forest’s edge.
A dozen warriors emerge from the shadows, torches in hand. My hand moves instinctively to my sword’s hilt—but I remain motionless. They must not see me.
At their center strides a giant, carrying a massive axe over his shoulder. Their torches go out one after another—not by the wind, but by intention, the closer they get to the fortress. In the moon’s wan glow I make out a blood-red banner. Upon it the symbol of the Shadow Walker.
Silently they pass me by, up the slope, straight toward the fortress. The orcs at the outpost guarding the entrance stare stupidly into the darkness as always—utterly blind to what is happening right before their eyes.
My heart beats faster. Allies. Kindred spirits. A spark of hope flares in my chest.
I take a step forward, ready to leave my hiding place and follow them…
Then it happens.
A sound fills the night. Not of this world.
It is no battle cry. No command. It is… a grinding. Metal on stone. Like an iron grate dragged across the ground by inhuman strength. A sound that freezes the blood in my veins.
A scream echoes. No human throat made it.
Laughter follows—demonic, cruel, ancient.
The orcs jolt upright, fumble for torches and peer up the rocky slope. But they do not leave their post.
My legs go rigid.
Suddenly light erupts behind the fortress walls. The crash of steel on steel booms through the valley. Men shout—but soon the shouting turns to screams. Terrible, desperate screams.
And then— a heavy thud. I know instantly what it is. The fortress gate—fallen. Sealed.
The orcs at the outpost rush forward, relight their torches, peer upward… yet remain rooted to the ground. None dares approach the fortress.
Moments later the giant warrior hurtles down the slope. Not as a victor—but as prey. Panic twists his features. He runs as though death itself is at his heels.
The orcs are waiting. They strike him down, bind him in chains and drag him away.
Of his men: no trace. No cries. No fighting. Only silence.
Too much silence.
I force myself to breathe—only for my blood to freeze once more.
Something moves at the fortress ascent.
Figures emerge.
Human… yet no longer human.
They walk slowly, stiffly, as if guided by invisible strings. Their faces are pale, their eyes empty. The undead. Risen by dark magic. Servants of Beliar. The orcs seem not to notice them at all.
And before them—by Innos, it cannot be—I recognize one of them.
Campell.
My mentor. My teacher. The noblest and bravest paladin I have ever known. He was like a father to me. Now he walks… as a creature of darkness.
Had I foreseen this fate, I would never have sailed aboard the Esmeralda. I would have stood by my brothers at home. But Innos must have chosen another path for me.
The undead do not turn toward the valley as if to flee—no.
They march.
They follow an unseen command.
And I have a terrible suspicion where it leads.
For Gotha Fortress does not stand here by chance. Deep beneath it lies a secret… an ancient path that should never again be trodden.
Something has returned.
Something that must never have returned.
Cold grips my soul—yet a spark ignites within. It is no coincidence that I am here tonight. It is the will of Innos.
And so I rise from my hiding place.
I am a knight. I am the guardian of light and life.
And I swear:
I will hunt them.
These wandering shadows, my lost brothers.
I will reclaim what we once protected, as true as my name is Girion, Knight of the Paladin Order.
Here in my refuge I will wait until the right moment reveals itself, for I cannot face Master Campell alone.
May Innos be my witness.
Author: DrGothic