Olyvar's Dangerous Path - Baths of Betrayal - Pt 1

[mindwanders]

In the heart of the Empire and the birthplace of The Way, the Virtues are in conflict. Pride in the traditions of the past are confronted by those that say those traditions demean their fellows. This night, a bitter wind swept through the cobbled streets of the Crown Quey. The moon's pale light struggled to pierce the thick canopy of clouds, casting an ominous shadow over the bustling port.

Amidst the dimly lit alleys, a small group of Lineaged huddled together, their features twisted by the taint that ran through their veins. They were outcasts, shunned by the highborn, and forced to live as second-class citizens within the walls of a city that despised their existence.

One of the Lineaged, a woman with piercing blue eyes and long daggerlike ears, growled with frustration. "We cannot live like this forever," she spat, her voice laced with bitterness and sorrow. "The highborn think us evil, cursed by the very magic that courses through our beings. We must show them that we are not to be feared!"

Her words resonated with the others, igniting a spark of defiance in their hearts. They had endured humiliation and torment for too long, and the hunger for acceptance burned within them like a roaring inferno.

As the Lineaged huddled, plotting their desperate bid for equality, a sudden commotion erupted from the end of the alley. The heavy clank of armoured boots echoed off the stone walls, and torchlight danced erratically in the darkness. It was the city guards, sent on yet another raid to hunt down the despised taint-bearers.

"Pah! They come for us again!" a man with long goat like horns jutting from his forehead sneered, his lips curling into a snarl. "I'm tired of running and hiding like some wretched rat!"

"We should stand and fight!" another Lineaged cried, his bark covered fist making the noise of wood on wood as he punched a nearby crate in anger.

As the tension mounted and the guards closed in, the desperate rebels prepared to make their last stand. But just as the clash of metal and magic seemed inevitable, a voice like thunder split the air, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"Enough! Put down your weapons!" commanded Inquisitor Olyvar, his presence striking like a bolt of lightning. The wind caught his glorious dark mane, parting it just enough to give a glance of the small antlers on his head.

The guards hesitated, uncertain of whether to obey the renowned Inquisitor or press forward with their mission to round up the Lineaged. Olyvar's reputation as a virtuous priest and a champion of fairness preceded him, but the fear of the tainted ones ran deep in the port city’s veins.

"I said, put down your weapons!" Olyvar's voice thundered once more, his eyes ablaze with determination.

The guards, compelled by the Inquisitor's unwavering authority, finally lowered their weapons. The Lineaged watched in awe as Olyvar strode forward, his black and gold armour gleaming even in the darkness.

"Prejudice blinds you, and fear weakens you," Olyvar declared, his voice resonating with power and conviction. "The magic within them, does not make them evil. Virtue is not defined by blood but by deeds. I have travelled these lands and witnessed both the noblest and the cruellest hearts beat within humans and Lineaged alike."

The Lineaged glanced at one another, hope glimmering in their eyes as they listened to the Inquisitor's words. For the first time in their lives, they felt seen and acknowledged, not as twisted pariahs but as individuals capable of goodness.

Olyvar raised his hand, sprinkled liao across the alleyway chanting words of consecration as an aura settled upon the narrow street. "I urge you all to reconsider your judgment," he declared, his voice ringing like a clarion call. "Let us rise above the past and embrace the potential for unity and understanding. Only then can we build a Highguard where all may live without fear."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, torn between their ingrained prejudices and the words of the revered Inquisitor. Slowly, reluctantly, they lowered their weapons and withdrew, leaving the Lineaged to stand in awe of the man who had just interrupted their plight so dramatically.