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-~Guardians of Cadair Braeden~.


We are the defenders of Cadair Braeden and Pasithea, against the strange and elusive creatures that walk these lands. Our loyalty lies only with our superiors and those who command us or pay us to take up arms.


The Guardians are a mix of the paladin, hardened warriors who do not follow the Knightly Code of Chivalry and the seasoned mercenary. Whichever of these three paths you choose, the progress through the ranks follows almost the same course.

Story:


                                                 22:47, December 20, 2011 (UTC)


There is many a tale told of old, always full of heroes, demons and the damned. But rarely is the tale told of the innocent. Maidens fair who watch ships sail as their loves lift anchor for yet another bloody war; in love they would tend and quietly heal the wounded back to health, the hero's life in their hands.


Their tale is never told.


And so it was with Maggie.


16 years old, fearful of anything strange that walked the town of Old Braeden, dreamed only of dancing with a knight who would love her.


A seamstress by trade, she worked hard to learn to read, so that she could take up employment in the royal household of King Jem. An imagination brighter and more fruitful than the most pernicious of weeds, she became an avid storyteller, and was able to enchant child and the old with the words she spoke.


In the annals of the scribery, there is ne'er mention of her name, despite bringing joy to all.


But something happened, and Maggie no longer visited the town with her stories. It was believed she had taken up employment in the court of King Jem as she had hoped for, but like many an innocent, her short-lived touch upon people's lives became forgotten.


Maggie, in truth, danced the dance she dreamed of. Placing her hand in trust in her escort, she left the ball with a smile upon her face. It was never known what happened to her than night, but it twisted her soul and was to change the course of her life.


No longer did Maggie pick up her needle and thread. No longer did she ease the fears of children with her tales. No longer did she dream of the dance.


...........


It was the moon of the eve of the Great Destruction, the earth itself began to splinter. The hoards rushed for the boats and long ships, evacuating their homes, protecting their loved ones from the fury of the skies and rumbling of the earth around them.


One female, darkly clad, strode into the barren land of growing destruction. Her pale skin, in contrast, was lit by the moon and the fire of the earth. Her face glowed with the venom of her hatred. No longer valuing her own life, she lived it only by the sword. She had one quest before she was prepared to give herself up to the destruction around her. Her blades gleamed and reflected the flashes of lightening around her. The sound of metal upon metal grated as she drew them in readiness for her fight.


The clash of steel rung long into the night, and every Knight of Old Braeden who had hurt Maggie, lost their life. Of those of the Order left, still true to their chivalrous code, they pledged their allegiance to her. Lured by the dark intent of this frail looking, but unbeatable female, the Caemantarii of the dark lands of Old Anderith followed also.


And so it was, the Guardians of Cadair Braeden were born the day it was believed to have died.


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