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The Sunhold Sanctum is located along the southwestern perimeter of the Wormwood Swamplands. Proudly perched atop the nation's highest coastal cliffs due East of Whitewater Village, it can be clearly seen for miles upon miles across both sea and swamp as a bastion of light amongst darkness. From a distance, The Sanctum appears to be a colossal beacon radiating bright warm golden light during both the day and night, making it difficult to discern the actual size and shape of the fortress. A dozen gleaming white towers encircle the Sanctum itself, connected by a grand and immaculate wall of tall white stone that encloses the entire fortress. It's only upon traveling up the coastal ascent to the cliffs that the size and breadth of The Sunhold Sanctum can be appreciated.

Up close, the design and size of the Sunhold Sanctum is jaw dropping. While The Sanctum and its defenses appear to still be under construction -scaffolding still coiled around the fortresses' outer walls and spireless towers- that does not prevent them from serving their full purpose. The walls are 60 feet tall, and each tower 100. The only pedestrian entrance and exit into The Sanctum is from the Outer Gatehouse, which is the first of three gated checkpoints that much be passed through in order to access the Sanctum's Courtyards. Each of these checkpoints are patrolled day and night, with Knights at each checkpoints' floor and archers perched along their tops.

Within the Sanctum's Courtyards there are beautiful gardens, well lit and tended to by a number of men and women in monk's habits. There are number other buildings within the courtyards including half a dozen barracks, a smithy, mage's quarters, stables and several storehouses. The presence of these structures is quickly forgotten when entering the Courtyards, as it is the Sunhold Sanctum itself that is the grandest and most prevalent of them all.

The Sunhold Sanctum is at the fortress' very center, at the end of a wide and marble paved road lined with statues of The Creators and depictions of their labors. The Sanctum itself looks nothing like a castle or fort, but a colossal pyramid of enchanted marble and gold that physically radiates sunlight. This mystical effect illuminates the whole of the compound from within and creating the glow that makes Sunhold Sanctum visible for miles around during both the day and night. The Sanctum's sides are unblemished, smooth and devoid of most features beyond carved depictions of Tyral, interrupted by an occasional black slot into the stone that must serve as a window or murder hole. There is only one major landmark that rises from the Sanctum's base.

Sprouting out of the coastal side of the Sanctum's pyramid is a vast marble landing that extends out over the fortress's cliff side walls. This is called Dawn's Pier, despite the ocean's waters being hundreds of feet beneath it, and it was designed to look across the ocean directly towards the rising sun. No staircase connects Dawn's Pier to the Sanctum's exterior, and it must be accessed through the inside of the Sanctum Proper or else scaled from the Courtyards. Attempting to climb to Dawn's Pier takes two posts without flight, and will draw the aggressive attention of all knights in the area.

Rising from each of The Sanctum's sides are four tall white minarets adorned with windows and arcading stairways that look out over the Courtyards. The spires of each of these minarets bridge together at the pyramid's zenith, merging into a tower considerably larger than those along the Sanctum's outer wall. Piercing the clouds 300 feet above the cliffs, this part of the Sanctum is known as Tyral's Tower. It overlooks not only the Sanctum but the sea, the Swamps, and even The Citadel and The Islands of Mau across the ocean's way. At the very top of Tyral's Tower is a vast series of intricately terraced balconies that wrap around the tower in a full circle. The bottom of these platforms are gilded in gold, and embossed into the shape of the sun. These balconies are support by two large sculpted hands of marble, rising out of the sides of the tower as though they were a part of its structure. Seen from below, they clasp the image of the sun in their tree length fingers and hold it aloft in the sky. It is a testament to the might and power of Tyral above all else, and there can be no doubt that this place is home to some of the most devout and religious mortals Rykros has ever known.

Dawn was approaching, and just below the glass of the still ocean warmth began to peak into the night sky. As they entered the Sanctum, wizards and architects and engineers alike were buzzing about the compound. Large tablets of stone and ribs of metal were being maneuvered into the place with only magic. The villagers themselves had no time to gawk at their means of construction or the fine details of the Sanctum. The caravan progressed straight through the first gate, the second; the third. As the final portcullis rose, their view of the Sanctum interior would be both awesome and chilling.

Ahead of them, all along the marbled walk that rolled past so many statues of the Creators -all but Grix- were kneeling knights. Golden banners flew in the wind by the hundreds, from the walls, the towers, the gardens. Such a grand display of holy righteousness had not been seen in centuries, perhaps longer. At their head, the gates to the Sunhold Sanctum itself were beginning to open, and fanfare began to play. The knight that had spoken to Kora in Whitewater -at least it sounded like him- spoke again, "Take down your hood, priestess." The knight himself removed his helm, revealing a strong and youthful face; hazel eyes and dusty blond hair cut short as a proper knight does. As he did this, Kora would notice that the knights along the road were not doing the same. Only those who escorted the villagers were removing their helmets, and instructing the villagers all to remove hats of their own. They did so quickly, and clutched them tightly in their uncertain hands. "We greet the Morning Lord with our faces bare."

The knight's hazel eyes were kind, but held a hardness that never wavered. Even without his helm, the man was a true statue of his convictions. "We will find the faithful among us, and cut out the weeds." His chilling response was overshadowed by a shout from further ahead. A man on horseback, hair and full beard both peppered with a gray that highlighted his bright blue eyes, was calling over the villagers and the knights. The sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon, but already it was nearly daylight within the compound. The Sanctum began to glow with true brilliance, and its light grew brighter with every passing moments as it banished the shadows to the corners of the outer walls. "Blessed be Lord Tyral's Light!" "IT IS HIS SWORD, THE BANE OF NIGHT!" Came the thunderous response from the knights along the walk. The elder on horseback lowered his eyes to the crowd before him, and his mount moved off the path, opening the way into The Sanctum Proper. "His Radiance awaits thee at Dawn's Pier! Do not stray from the Knights that walk beside you. Mischief in these halls is sacrilege, and shall be punished with death!" There was a certain stillness among the villagers now; a certain fear that was not their before. Before, it had been fear of the unknown. Now, it was the fear of knowing that given a reason, blood would be readily shed. "MARCH AHEAD!" The Knights at the villagers' sides commanded as the wagons were gently unloaded of their infirm passengers. Those Knights who helped these individuals on the path did so with care, and their compassion was stark relief compared to the lingering omen of doom.

The hazel eyed Knight beside Kora looked to her, and gestured for her to follow him as he backtracked to one of the wagons. There, her elder host was found. He took her softly by the arm and looked back to Kora, indicating that she and her younger ward may stay beside him as he walked with the old woman. With enforced pace, the people of Whitewater Village were ushered into The Sanctum Proper, to Dawn's Pier.

((Technically this requires a post into and out of the Sanctum to reach Dawn's Pier, but we're going to forgo that to pick things up. This will be a twofer post))

They were marched swiftly into the Sanctum, and none strayed from their paths. Everything within the Sanctum was marble of purest white, laced in gold and topaz. Their eyes did not have time to take in their intricacies or what lay beyond its long corridors. As quickly as they were escorted into the Sanctum, they were turned and escorted back out to another place. To Dawn's Pier.

They were outdoor again, standing at the entrance to a vast marble landing extending out over the fortress's cliff side wall. Beyond the towers that could be seen rising beyond the Landing at the stronghold's perimeter, they would see only the ocean. The sun began to crest over the horizon now, its crown only just above the water. The sky was alight with the bursting resplendence of dawn, and all around the villagers they could feel warmth and see as though it was high noon. Above them, the hands of Tyral held aloft that massive burnished icon of the sun, and from it rained radiance that shimmered above them. From this landing, the islands of Mau could be seen as tiny teeth of green. The Citadel loomed as a gray mass further out to the east.

These were not the details the villagers would be focusing on. They would see the knights bowed to the ground on either side of them; that the water did not meet the pier as it's name implied.. but was far below them by hundreds of feet. That, and Dawn's Pier had no railing enclosing it. The landing was entirely open, and going close enough to its edge would show just how far of a drop it was...

At the Pier's end with his back turned was none other than the man they had heard called Morning Lord. Valarous Sunshield, Harbinger of Tyral... except that he was no man. The Fallen was taller than tall, a ten foot tower of gold and crystal armor that shone with the brilliance of the coming dawn. At his back were not two wings, but six. Each of them was gilded in gold; their feathers sheathed in golden leaflets and glittering gems. When the villagers had been brought to a stop on the landing, the metal doors behind them swung shut with a frightfully ominous clang. Their escorts took a knee, their weapons held over their heads and banners aloft as they called in unison. "Blessed Morning Lord, we bring the people of Whitewater Village to greet the dawn."

The Morning Lord responded, and in his voice was no comforting warmth. It was fire at its hottest, white and burning through the air. "Welcome, Whitewater Village. Welcome. I rejoice in the presence of each of you, for it marks the beginning of a new age. Wormwood's Reckoning begins today."

As the Fallen turned to face the villagers, the face that looked at them was the picture of perfection. Scarless, ageless, beautiful and statuesque... but it his eyes would instill in them the fear of judgement. Those scintillating orbs were immolated in the fire of the sun, yet their light was dark and without warmth. The coldness in them afflicted many of the villagers with goose flesh. Some of the elders lost their breath, and clutched their trembling hands together.

In the back of the group of villagers, one man cursed and pushed against the knights that barred his exit. "******** all of you! Begone from my way, I'll not stay here! Take me to my home!"

(( No post style yet! Working on it :3 here's a picture of Alexander for your current reference ))


"Tyral bless you, Father." "Peace be with you, Father." "Bathe in the light of Tyral, Father" These were the sentiments given towards Alexander along with bows from the armed Swords of Salvation as he exited a torture chamber of the inner sanctum and began to head down the hall towards the exit, his intentions made clear in his quickened pace to join the fun going down at Dawn's Pier. Lifting his right hand palm up and looking down at it once or twice, the Insignis inspected the thin white glove with the sunfire of Tyral and the inscription "Only the impure burn in righteous fury" on the opposite side of the palm before taking two fingers from the left glove and pulling it up slightly. Once this process was complete, likewise was done with the left glove, save the inscription upon the flawless cloth was "Swords of Salvation, always faithful, always bright".

A thin smile crept over the Cleric's face, countless benevolent words from the other Swords of Salvation lost upon his ears as the Insignis chuckled to himself mentally that if this was to be the impure's first...and last...impression of Father Alexander, he would ensure that it was a damn good one and one to be etched into their minds as they fell to their glorious deaths and bathed in their own blood. His eyes were forced to adjust to the brilliant light as he stalked out of the inner sanctum and neared the pier.

Naturally, two guards fell in line to his right and left, a small nod, a somewhat fake smile, and a casual blessing bestowed upon them by Father Alexander to acknowledge their continued service to Tyral and to the Cleric himself. It was not their looks of satisfaction that spread on the insignificant human's faces that got the Father truly smiling ear to ear, but the sight of a man struggling against a few other Swords that made Alexander's eyes narrow and his pace quicken in anticipation. He hadn't even made it to the pier yet...and already there was some fun to be had, the Cleric sneered to himself.

To his utmost joy, the fact that he could see that the struggling man was not one of his own race or faithful to Tyral only made the Cleric's blood pump harder and faster in pleasure at the thought of the old, battleworn morningstar mace at his side covered in the blood of an unfaithful's face. This was the kind of opportunity that he could not miss...and his smile quickly faded to that of an unpleased, yet still sadistic grin as he reached the pair of knights and the man who seemed to recover from his fear of the faithful...all too quickly. The Swords of Salvation holding back the man would only hear two words, dripping with a falsified helpfulness and laced inwardly with intended harm.

"Make way."

As the Swords of Salvation parted, the man seemed to stand still and just gawk at the cleric in front of him...as any mere human should for that matter. Standing tall over the man, Father Alexander's blue eyes spoke not of kindness, nor redemption, but of a veteran hardassness that the Cleric's very aura seemed to leak out as white gloved fingers tapped the morningstar mace's hilt meticulously at his side. He seemed to be soaking in the presence of the crowd, all of their reactions...but there was always an ulterior motive to everything that Alexander did and seemed simple, including the Father's gazing as each person of the crowd seemed to turn to stone under his gaze. There had to be a Cleric among them somewhere...she was nearby, she had to be, and that's all that the Knight's mind could focus on as he scanned all of them slowly... twice, thrice, four times over...

At last, a sadistic grin spread over his face as his mind reached a decision that would be oh so fun as he walked towards the man, placing a hand on his shoulder with the palm slightly out and pointed right above the unfaithful's heart. With that same arrogant, sarcasticly helpful voice, Father Alexander bestowed a "blessing" upon this coward cretin as small particles of blue began to gather in his hand...

(1/5)"You looked...troubled... for a second there, my son. I know how hard it must be for you, to see your entire village brought out here to this sacred dock to ensure their faith and overall good. But I promise, it will all soon be over for you..."

(2/5) The Cleric's tone usually only frightened the people, but this worthless hunk of meat seemed calm as could be. Most likely from that damn spell that I too know all too well of, the Father sneered to himself. A small blue glow began to be visible to the Swords of Salvation behind him as the power grew. Again, the Father spoke towards the man,

(3/5) "You know, there are only two kinds of people who feels fear when they are tossed into the purifying flames. There are the unholy, the Dark beings that I can see right through to their very essence. And then there are the unfaithful, those who cower at the thought of being purified by a Cleric like myself..."

(4/4) By now, a small glimmer of the blue magic was visible to Kora and the others as it barely illuminated his robes. The fingers of the Insignis Cleric tightened a little on the man's shoulders as the Father smiled wickedly. It was but a matter of time now....

(5/5) A bolt of energy formed and shot into the human point blank, a cry of pain and that fear finally returning to the man. A look of faked fear and sarcastic concern for the man etched itself on Alexander's face as he smeared the blood from his glove onto the man's shoulder before releasing his grip. The man having fallen to the ground, Father Alexander called out to the crowd in front of him but not loud enough to disturb the Morning Lord's speech yet loud enough to reach Kora who was near the back,

"People of Wormwood! One of your fellow towns people have been wounded! Is there no faithful Cleric or healer among you that can come forth, put her or his hands on this man, and heal his injuries???"

Skills used and Learned: Bolt of Magic at a Rank C lvl
Remaining Energy: 1560

The Morning Lord remained where he was, and neither wing nor limb nor mouth moved throughout the entirety of the event. His eyes were hooked upon the frame of the fearful man; one who fell to silence. Why, the Fallen knew... but it was not his prerogative. It was the man -the pederast whose muscles relaxed in the wake of such soothing power. He would have ordered his Swords to bring the man to him, but it appeared his fate was secure. Alexander Hemsworth had arrived.

The Morning Lord knew him well. He knew his arrogance and his sadism like the the feathers of his wings... but it was his faith that he knew far greater. A faith that was true; one that could never falter, and would never fail. A man more dedicated to his Creator than to his life... and that was what bound them. That, and Caspar's Folly....

Valarous paid little attention to Alexander's methods. He knew them well. Only his eyes moved, and they fell upon each villager as they went. One by one, their breath caught in their lungs and they felt their heart skip a beat. Some were not strong enough to remain standing beneath his gaze, and they slowly slid to their knees. There was judgement in his eyes, wrathful and frightening. Each saw their lives unfold like books before them. Each felt the black pages ripped from their spine... and felt that the Fallen had read them, word for word. There was whimpering amongst a few; fervent prayers among many others. Their desperation became a canticle of agony as they could only wonder at their fates... and if they too, would share in this man's misery.

Then one broke from their ranks. The one he had felt before, in black with hair of gold. Once again, she extended her hand of aid to the man. Once again, she slighted her faith through ignorance... As he watched the priestess lift him into her arms, he raised his right hand. Every Sword on Dawn's Pier rose immediately, standing at attention. His glittering armored fingers, pinky and ring, curled in towards the palm of his hand while his index and middle remained poised towards the sky. Every Sword present lowered their weapons, each angled around the mass of villagers. Collective gasps and moans of fear issued throughout the flock. When the Fallen spoke, his words were the harbingers of execution.

"Bring them both to me, Brother... Her light shows his shadow is longer. Make peace with the Creators, cretin."

As the rest of the village clung together in growing terror, The Morning Lord extended his left palm, palm up to the sky and out towards Kora. There was no love in his eyes. There was wrath. The Swords remained at the ready, weapons lowered, positioned to run the whole of Whitewater through if it was commanded. The lives of many now rested on two...