Tales from the Spine of the World

Mirabar

The throngs of citizens were gathered shoulder to shoulder, all eyes eagerly waiting the High Cleric’s next act in the name of the church for the benefit of the city. Elastul Raurym, former Marchion, was bound hands and feet; beaten to near death; and deeply colored with the hue of his own blood; he would soon reach the clearing at the end of the path, but not before the cleric made an example of his weakness- his treachery. The bowing and agreeing to the whims of Luskan and the Captains Confederation was about to come to a violent and brutal end. The cleric looked to Kitiara and Halvor his commanders in the Holy Church of Talos; they shared his determination.

The north ran deep in Kitiara for she possessed Uthgardt blood and as such was blessed with the long years of the northern barbarians. The fact that she was unrelenting and yielded no quarter to her enemies earned favoritism in the High Cleric’s eyes.

Halvor was royalty until the Arcane Brotherhood of the Hosttower usurped his domain; killed his line and cast him out. He is just Halvor now. No name, no family except for the church of Talos; because that’s what he was now, an instrument of destruction.

Balazar Agundar

The din of the crowed subsided; the only sound was the eternal winds winding through the vast Spine of the World. Balazar Agundar raised the rod of leadership of Mirbar and sacrificial curved dagger of Talos to the torrent boiling in the sky, hoping that his prayers would be answered this day.

“I claim Mirabar in the name of the church, may it rekindle the glory it once held before the oppression of the treacherous Luskan. May the aspect of Talos be blessed upon me! Storm Lord, guide my blade true!”

Lightining flashed thrice as Balazar cut deep into Raurym’s flesh, opening ugly wounds that spilled warm entrails. The sky opened; a storm began; but did not bestow High Cleric Balazar with his heart’s desire- instead the miracle was imparted to another…