FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It wasn't easy for a Templar of Emir to do their job when all they heard was the constant back and forth bickering of two of their charges. Young mages, both sixteen and both allowed to step outside the Arcane College before their time, since usually mages weren't allowed outside the College walls before eighteen. A safety regulation that has served the people of Griss for some time now; so the young Templar couldn't understand why the Order and the High Magi both agreed to let these young mages step out before their time. But it wasn't his place to question: no, it was his place to serve and serve he did.

It was glorified babysitting, but at least it was an easy assignment for the bored Templar. Just ensure the two mages behaved and completed the task set before them, and make sure to keep their magic in check. For that is what Templars did: they were a unique branch of the Priesthood of Emir, granted a form of magic themselves. They were spell breakers; highly resistant to magic and able to break most in-progress casts. The Grandmaster of the Order was rumored to be completely immune to magic, but such a thing was most likely just a myth - no person was immune to magic. Were they?

The Templar shook his head and followed the two through the first tier of the city, still within the shadow of the Wall. The great defensive barrier that had stood for as long as the Templar could remember; if it wasn't for the calling of Emir he might be serving upon it himself. He had only respect for the men and women who gave their lives defending their fair city, but the Templar couldn't stomach the idea of fighting the Undying and their 'Blood Render' Overlords.

Blood Render... who came up with those kind of names? The Templar snorted, which caused the young feline mage in front of him to glare over his shoulder and flick his tail in irritation before entering an abandoned tavern on the far end of the tier. It gave the Templar the spooks, but he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps the lack of customers in the middle of the day, or the lack of any noises coming from within, as if someone had sucked away all the sound? Regardless, he refused to allow himself to be scared before these two young mages, and he followed them inside.

The inside of the tavern was no better, with a single candle lit on a table, with the table occupied by two hooded beings. The Templar was canine and should have picked up their scents, but he couldn't - along with sound, it seemed like smell had been sucked away. He couldn't smell yesterday's vomit, or stale beer, or even the scent of the two beings in front of him. It felt like magic, but his training wasn't alerted to it. Usually there was a weird sensation on his skin, like a tingling running under his fur. But nothing, as if everything had been removed from this spot, almost as if he was suddenly in Corvos' void.

"Good, you came. We were worried our contact would back out," Contact? The Templar didn't like the sound of that, not at all. Wasn't this approved by the head Magi? "Do you have the scroll?"

The youngest of the mages pulled out a scroll, and suddenly a surge of magic made the Templar's fur stand on end. Such a scroll could only have come from the restricted section of the Arcane College's library, where scrolls and ancient texts that are locked away for a reason.

"Where did you get that?" The Templar demanded, drawing the sword at his hip. But midway to drawing it from its sheathe, one of the two things at the table waved a scaled, taloned hand and the Templar couldn't move. His training should have let him shatter such a spell, but he found everything frozen. He could hear and see everything, but nothing else. He didn't even feel himself breathing, but he felt the warm breath rushing from his nose.

He watched, frozen as he was, as the youngest mage approached the hooded figure and set the scroll on the table. "We kept our end of the deal, so will you help us? We are tired of these Templars. We wish for our freedom." The feline mage's voice was practically a purr, the greed echoing in both his voice and his eyes.

While the Templar couldn't see the creature's face, he sensed a smirk on his lips beneath the black hood. It was only when looking over him that the Templar saw the blood-red seal atop the hood, a marking of Ritum, the Sundered God. The only ones that wore his mark were bandits and the Blood Renders, and most bandits weren't mages. The Templar knew, then, that the hooded figures were Blood Renders. He gulped, feeling his own blood run cold.

"Freedom? Yes, yes - we'll give you your freedom, little Magi," the voice hissed, deep and masculine, the figure standing. He was taller than the Templar expected, at least seven feet or so. The robe pulled back from the creature's arm, showing off a gray, scaled arm - almost like alligator skin. It was dry, but with their lives out in the Wastes around Griss, the Templar couldn't have expected any different. That taloned hand came to rest on the feline's cheek, "Freedom from your College... freedom from your will," the feline didn't have time to utter a single word before the creature's hand glowed red.

The feline's body spasmed and, after a moment, crumpled to the floor. His eyes were still open, but there was nothing there. His companion, the other Magi, pulled a dagger from within his robes, but the other Blood Render stood. He moved faster than the Templar's eye could keep up with, ending up behind the other mage and snapping his neck clean. He fell dead, slumping to the ground. The Templar couldn't look away or even scream as the original creature stepped up to him and placed his taloned hand on the Templar's cheek. The thing smiled, the Templar knew, even if he couldn't see his face.

"A child of Emir, are you? Well now - we welcome all Pantheons within our armies. But for now, it's time to sleep... so close your eyes, Templar, and dream," the creature's hand glowed red, and the Templar could only watch as he lost all thought and memory. They say life flashes before your eyes before you die, but the Templar didn't see his life. It could be, then again, that he didn't truly die. They say the Undying; the mindless servants of the Blood Renders were still alive and aware. But the Templar didn't know anything anymore, except for his Master's orders.