12AN (2/11/08): The setting is an original one, though it uses some core DnD bits (like the pantheon). Maps of Halcyon and the capitol city of Vandia are up on deviant art, a link to each can be found on my profile page. It's not much but I found it helped when I constructed the setting. A timeline of the history of Halcyon can also be found on my profile page.
The Kingdom of Halcyon is a (sort of) medieval kingdom and while the capital city of Vandia is a bustling metropolis, most of the population lives in more rural settlements. It is bordered on the east by the Eldanari Commonwealth, a predominantly elven nation, and on the west by territory occupied by the Bellicosians. Mountains lie to the south and an ocean to the north. Magic does exist, though it is not particularly common in Halcyon (it is much more common in the neighboring Commonwealth) for reasons that will become apparent later in the story.
Oh, and about The Major and his seriously out of whack moral compass, think of it like this: In Knights of the Old Republic, the average bystander does not differentiate between Jedi and Sith. To them, the two are just different names for the same thing, a crazy wizard who can move things with their mind and dice people up with a lightsaber. Likewise, the people of Halcyon don't differentiate between the stereotypical Paladin (referred to as the 'Paladin of Honor' in Unearthed Arcana) and people like The Major, despite differences in morality. Both can do things like smite people with divine power, discern lies, summon fancy mounts, etc.
Chapter One: The Dirty Dozen "Doesn't give me anything. But along with these results, it gives you just about the most twisted, anti-social bunch of psychopathic deformities I have ever run into!" – Captain Kinder "Well, I can't think of a better way to fight a war." – Major Reisman, in response to the above observation
Carlos Montoya scratched his chin. The iron manacles that bound his wrists together clanked and rattled as he did so, drawing glances from the three others who sat in the cells next to his. He hadn't had a chance to shave since the authorities had thrown him in the stockade and dark brown stubble already covered his chin, cheeks, and upper lip. The cell he sat in was little more than a simple iron cage with one side up against a stone wall. Each of the cells were lined up one after the next and only separated from each other by the bars, offering little in the way of privacy. In retrospect it could have been worse, he could have been rotting in a pillory out on the streets of Vandia, barraged constantly by rocks and rotting vegetables.
He scowled. Though that may have been true, it certainly didn't help ease the former farmer's mind. He leaned his head back and let out a despondent sigh. Things had been going so well, how did it come to this? He had finally found a job doing something other than growing crops that never sold well in the first place, and he had been good at it too.
Though he had never thought of himself as some brave warrior or noble paladin, he was strong, the result of years of toil on the family farm, and something of a natural with a blade. Carlos had figured that he might as well exploit that and for a while working as a sword for hire had gone more or less smoothly.
Then he had met her.
He looked through the bars of his cell at the inhabitant of the cage next to his. The woman in it had, at first, appeared to be a completely innocent, honest, and likable person. Carlos realized now, however, that he had been mistaken to trust her. The farmer turned fighter silently cursed himself for being so naive. Then again, what could he have done? When a sweet brunette asks for your help and offers to pay you handsomely for it, you accept right? Turns out "help" meant working as muscle to protect a shipment that he discovered had contained powerful, and highly illegal, narcotics only after he had been beaten to a pulp and arrested. It also turned out that the "sweet brunette" had been an up and coming wizard named Sarah Griffon, the alchemist who had brewed the stuff up in the first place, and was perhaps the single most disagreeable person he had ever met even including the scores of thieves, thugs, and mercenaries – all of whom had been out to kill him – he had faced off against over the years.
Carlos glanced in her direction. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." He nearly spat the words at her.
She glared back at him defiantly, her eyes attempting to bore a hole in his head. "Oh shut up. It's not my fault we're sitting in a glorified petting zoo."
"You could have at least told me what I was guarding."
The woman threw her hands up into the air. "Yes, yes, I should have run around blabbing to complete strangers that I had a caravan of the most powerful opiates in all of Halcyon that I need moved." The sarcasm in her voice was about as subtle as a club to the face. "You're right, of course. How silly of me."
One of the guards that stood outside of the cells banged his mailed fist against the bars and the sudden clang brought the argument to an abrupt halt. "Quiet. Both of you."
In the silence that followed Carlos noticed the sound of music had begun drifting through the stale air. He turned around, searching for the source, and saw it in one of the other cells. A wiry, middle-aged man with short, jet-black hair, two cells down in the opposite direction from Sarah, lay on his cot and was whistling a surprisingly upbeat tune for a prisoner. He looked to see if the guard had noticed this as well and found that while he had, he didn't seem to care.
Between the cell with the whistling man and Carlos' was another inmate, a woman, who sat on the far side of her cell with her legs drawn up close to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The sparkling in the corner of her sky blue eyes hinted that she was on the verge of tears.
Carlos felt a great swell of pity for the woman. She was short and slender, far to slight to be a normal human, and was obviously not used to this kind of situation. He craned his neck to get a better look at her and quickly confirmed his suspicions. She had long, elegant ears that swept back along with her dirty blonde hair. He felt for a moment that perhaps he should try to say something to comfort the elf, but a loud bang cut short both that line of thought and the whistling that pervaded the air.
The door to the cellblock had swung open and in stepped a large man, nearly six and a half feet tall, encased from the neck down in a suit of armor that he wore as if it was a second skin. He might have at one point in his life been quite handsome, though his face was now covered in a latticework of scars and his nose had obviously been broken a few too many times. The armor he wore bore emblazoned upon it a clenched black gauntlet set against a field of red, a mark that Carlos recognized as the insignia of the Royal Vandian Crusaders. He had to summon up quite a bit of willpower to resist the urge to mutter something to the affect of 'bah, paladins' under his breath.
The Crusader appeared unaware of the disdain leveled in his direction, or if he was he simply did not care, and turned sharply on his heel to face the prisoners, an impressive feat considering the sheer amount of armor he wore.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, though the palpable disdain in his voice told all those present that he said it more to mock them than anything else. "All of you have been convicted of crimes against the Kingdom of Halcyon and its citizens. You are here because by noon tomorrow you will all be swinging from the gallows." He calmly placed a gauntleted hand on his armored chest and smiled. "I am here to offer you a second chance. You each have skills that set you apart from the standard miscreant and the good King of Halcyon is in need of your services. To that end I have been authorized to offer you each a full pardon."
His smile broadened considerably when he noticed the four inmates perk up upon hearing this.
"There is just one catch," he went on. "For the next two years, you will serve Halcyon on the field of battle under my direct command. If you are still alive at the end, you will be free to go."
Sarah was the first of the shocked inmates to pipe up though when she did it was once again with a blatantly sarcastic taint in her voice. "So his majesty has finally decided to stop sleeping on his throne in Vandia and do something about the Bellicosians? Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, mockingly imitating the paladin's voice as best she could, "the Nine Hells have officially frozen over."
The armored man's smile turned back into the impassive expression he had worn when he entered, though otherwise he ignored the comment. "I will give you ten minutes to decide between the noose and redemption. Good day." He turned and strode from the cellblock, the door snapping shut behind him with a resounding bang.
The incessantly aggravating woman turned on her cot to face down the row of cells and glanced quizzically at each of their inhabitants before speaking. "Does anyone here actually need time to decide or are we all pretty sure that we want to go with Sir Holier-than-thou?"
Carlos paused a moment in thought. The choice was not a difficult one at first glance, he very much liked the prospect of remaining among the living longer than another twenty-four hours so the idea of agreeing to the paladin's offer was immediately appealing. Part of his mind, however, held the response back in his throat.
The paladin had said there was a catch, hadn't he? Fighting for the next two years could be problematic, the Kingdom of Halcyon probably had a line up of suicide mission after suicide mission in store for them and the entire affair could be long and drawn out, ultimately ending with an excruciatingly painful death for a King who didn't know or particularly care who he was. At least the noose would be quick and painless if it managed to break his neck.
After pondering the dilemma for a moment Carlos decided that, regardless of the situation, maybe dying later always trumped definitely dying now.
He nodded.
Two pairs of eyes, his and Sarah's, turned to look at the other inmates. The older man in the last cell down had returned to whistling the instant the door slammed shut. As if sensing their gaze, he turned on his cot and gave them both a curt nod. They turned to face the elven woman in the third cell, who still sat up against the bars that separated hers from the one that held the raven-haired man. Instead of answering she continued to gently rock back and forth, tears still threatening to roll down her cheeks.
"How did this happen?" The woman spoke in the quiet, choking way that people do when they weep. "Everything was going so well, how did it turn out like this?"
The pity that Carlos had felt for the elf returned in full force as she voiced his thoughts of only a few minutes ago. They were in the same boat, tossed into a deadly situation through no fault of their own. His mind returned to trying to think of something to say to comfort her, when he noticed the whistling peter off. The man in the last cell silently stood and walked over to the bars that separated his cell from the elf's. He knelt down next to her and reached through the bars, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The woman sat up, startled, and her head whirled around to face him.
The black-haired man smiled down at her and his hand gently gave her a reassuring shake. When he spoke he did so slowly, deliberately, and with a thick accent resulting in a strangely warm, almost fatherly, drawl. "Do not worry, child. Did you not hear? We have been given a chance to avoid all of this."
"How?" Desperation tainted her voice, causing the words to waver as she spoke them. "By running off and dying on some suicide mission?"
The man looked into her eyes and spoke in a calm, comforting voice, "You will get through this just fine. Everyone finds a way."
She raised her arms in protest. "But I'm not a warrior, I can't fight. I can't even keep my cat in line."
"Do not cut yourself short, child." He paused and tilted his head, as if examining her. "You are a druid, are you not?"
She paused for a moment and looked up at him quizzically. "Yes, how did you know?" Though the expression on her face may not have been a happy one, it was no longer the dejected one that she had worn moments ago.
His smile broadened. "We all have our talents, child. I can see the magical energy that flows through your veins and I made an educated guess."
The elf managed to weakly return his smile, though it was obviously a forced one. "Why do you call me 'child'? You know, I'm probably more than twice your age."
He shrugged. "In years, perhaps, but in experience I am older than you by far."
Carlos watched their conversation unfold with great interest. With the exception of Sarah, they all seemed to be surprisingly reasonable for convicts who had been sentenced to hang. He leaned forward on his cot to get a better look at the black-haired inmate. The man was significantly older than him, held himself very casually for someone in a prison cell, and upon closer inspection the former farmer noticed that he had steel gray eyes that made him seem grounded and stable, even in this life and death situation.
"You seem like a pretty nice guy." When Carlos spoke up he drew the attention of the other three prisoners. "How did you end up here?"
"Nice guy?"
The warrior turned to see his onetime employer staring back at him in shock.
"Nice guy?! Don't you know who he is?" She pointed at the man in the fourth cell. "That's Tobias Ladimor, the Mist Hunter of Vandia! He's a murderer with thirty-eight kills under his belt and probably just as many unconfirmed!"
Carlos' head whipped around and he glared at the accused man. "Is that true?"
The man merely shook his head, "No," but just when Carlos was about to relax slightly, he continued. "The 'just as many' is a bit of an exaggeration. There are probably only five or six that no one found out about." He nonchalantly shrugged again. "I honestly do not know, I never bothered to count."
The elf gazed up at him in abject terror. When his eyes swung back to look into hers, she frantically backed away from him until her back hit the bars that separated her cell from Carlos'. "Stay the Hells away from me!"
"What? I am not going to hurt you." The admitted serial killer placed a hand on his chest and looked honestly hurt. "I do not kill people on a whim. I may be a murderer but I have my morals."
Sarah's eyes narrowed and she spoke with deadly severity, not even bothering to hide the utter contempt in her voice. "You've killed women and children."
Tobias held up a solitary finger. "Child. Singular. And only a few women."
Carlos found the matter-of-fact tone he spoke with disturbing. It was as if the murderer actually thought the exact number of women and children he killed was an important distinction.
"The boy was not all that young either. He was certainly old enough to kill one of his own friends over a girl. If he had not been the firstborn of a noble he would have swung from the gallows the day they caught him and I would not have had to deal with it myself."
The warrior glared through the bars at him. "So you've appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner?"
The murderer solemnly bowed. "I must. Someone must for the sake of a brighter tomorrow."
Sarah snapped at him before Carlos could even open his mouth to respond. "You honestly think it's fine to just go out and kill people you don't like so that you can live in some perfect world?"
Tobias stared back at her for a moment with a startled expression on his face, as if surprised by the question. "Live there? My own death will be but another step on the road to that world." The surprise on his face melted into a look of quiet resignation. "I have done terrible things. I have killed dozens of men – husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers – all without pity, mercy, or shame. When I am finally killed the world will rejoice, and rightfully so. I am evil, but I am a necessary evil." His steely eyes narrowed as he glared back at her. "Can you say the same thing Sarah Griffon?"
One of her eyebrows rose at hearing her name. "You know me?"
"Yes. I was tracking you when you passed through Vandia last month. I had gotten wind of your little side business and had chosen you as my next target." His tone quickly became an accusing one. "Do you have any idea how many lives your concoctions have ruined? How many people your poisons have killed? Your crime puts mine to shame, and I would have killed you weeks ago if those damned Crusaders had not caught me first."
"My heart bleeds for you," the alchemist said with downright disgusting insincerity. "Really, it does."
A reassuring smile formed on his face. "It will soon enough, though not for me."
Silence descended on the cellblock. Tobias strode back to his cot, lay down on it, and returned to whistling, though this time the tune was a far more morbid, lamenting one.
The elf shakily sat and she now looked terrified in addition to depressed. The sympathy and concern that Carlos had felt for her compelled him to rise from his cot and cross over toward her. She recoiled slightly as he approached, though seemed too paralyzed by fear to do anything else.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He slowly sat down on the other side of the bars from her, but made no other moves and the elf gradually relaxed. "What's your name?"
"Aleera." Her voice was soft at first, though as she spoke she managed to summon what little confidence she had. "Aleera Saj'theron."
"How did a druid of the Commonwealth get here?" The drug runner's voice was not as compassionate as Carlos', and he was worried that the already frightened elf would be further intimidated by it.
Aleera managed to answer, though her voice was shaky at best. "I was sent here as part of a diplomatic envoy, as an aid to the Third Speaker. We were supposed to negotiate a new trade agreement with Halcyon after the war started." She rubbed her temples with her slender fingers. "It all seems so long ago now." Her apprehensive expression turned to one of desperation. "They think I murdered the paladin in charge of our bodyguard detail, but I didn't!"
Sarah's eyes rolled and she chuckled mockingly. "Everyone says they didn't do it."
Carlos glanced back and shot a menacing glare at his former employer.
"But I really didn't do it!" the elf exclaimed again.
The whistling stopped and Tobias spoke up in his relaxed, lazy drawl. "I know you did not, child."
She turned to face him, startled and the tiniest bit hopeful. "You do?"
"Yes," he said as he sat up and looked her in the eyes. "I killed him."
"What?!" The elf's voice contained equal amounts of surprise and horror. Though Carlos could not see Aleera's face, he could imagine the look of shock that must have flashed across it.
The impenitent murderer continued in a frighteningly offhand tone. "Roland Bly, the head of security for the Commonwealth embassy in Vandia. I killed him, he was the last one before my arrest." He lay back down on his cot and smiled, as if savoring the memory. "An arrogant lout, even by Crusader standards."
Aleera quickly turned away from Tobias and drew her legs back up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them again. The fearful look had returned and Carlos could see her trembling slightly.
"Don't worry about him. I-" He paused and glanced back at Sarah before continuing. "We won't let him hurt you."
The drug runner raised an eyebrow at the comment, but she remained mercifully silent.
The elf slowly relaxed again. She nodded unsteadily. "Thank you." Her quivering voice trailed off and she looked down, slightly embarrassed. "I don't even know your name."
The edges of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly. "Carlos."
She nodded again, though this time it was with much more confidence. "Thank you Carlos." Aleera smiled back up at him. It was the first time he had seen her truly smile, and it was warm and infectious. He could fell his own smile involuntarily broaden and had the creeping suspicion that his former employer was rolling her eyes in disdain.
The moment was coldly shattered by the banging the heavy wooden door to the cellblock made as it opened and through it strode the armored man from earlier. "Time's up. What say you?"
As before, Sarah was the first to speak up. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say we're in."
"Excellent." He set down a large, mahogany case on a nearby table and opened it, plucking from within it four, mat gray strands of what appeared to be liquid metal. "Approach the bars and hold out one of your wrists."
Each of the inmates hesitantly did so. The paladin handed the strands of metal to one of the guards. The guard walked down the line of cells, wrapping one of the strands around each of the out stretched wrists just below their manacles. The bands did not burn, nor did they feel cold. Instead, they each exactly matched the temperature of the arm it was attached to and slowly the metal seemed to sink into the flesh until it was flush with each of the skin, though they remained clearly visible.
"These bands have a number of quite interesting functions."
The drug runner flashed a smug smile. "Other than looking butt ugly?" The grin on her face suddenly vanished and she doubled over, clutching her head and screaming in pain.
Carlos and Aleera stared in shock as she collapsed, and then each glanced down at their own bands in wide-eyed terror.
The paladin smirked as Sarah writhed on the cell floor in agony and looked as if he was taking a great deal of pleasure in seeing her brought low. "They allow me to inflict an immense amount of pain on each of you and, if I so choose, kill any of you at will. If you stray more than a mile from me your bodies will be wracked with pain until you return to within that distance. Also, if I should die, you will all have the honor of dying along with me."
Sarah stopped screaming as the waves of pain abated and began to tremble. She slowly drew her legs up to her chest and curled into a tiny ball, all signs of the confident and smart-mouthed woman erased by the mind numbing pain.
"In the field I will not hesitate to use these should you endanger the mission in anyway." He walked over to the bars of Sarah's cell and looked down at the cowering alchemist with unconcealed and unmitigated contempt. "There is no chance of escape, so you had best get such foolish notions out of your heads now. Consider this fair warning, I will not be so merciful in the future."
Tobias eyed his metal band with a decidedly unconcerned expression, then turned his steel gaze to the paladin. "And who, if a may be so bold, are you exactly?"
The armored man glared daggers back at the serial killer. "My name is of no concern to scum like you. For now, I am simply The Major." He motioned to the guards, who opened the cell doors and tossed a pack into the middle of each cell. "Get geared up, we move out in half an hour."