ugh… you again…
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With the Western Plaguelands behind them, the Order left the relative safety of the battleground they had spent just over a fortnight in to chase a sinister plot deeper into the old heartlands, deeper into the Eastern Plaguelands, deeper into a still beating heart of corruption, a cloying stench of death never leaving the once beautiful land.Uriel's heart wept, that shred of the good in himself crushing itself at seeing the eastern lands he was born in, the lands where he was once in true happiness. Long before he had bumped into the Order, a dessicated Uriel sought to pilgrimage to these same lands and to their city to simply die upon that rock, to at least find some peace in his death.Yet it was not to be, events unfolded differently and his oath of retribution cannot be denied, much less upon the cultist scum infesting the Plaguelands, it was home territory for him and he knew it all too well. Afterall, much of his career in the Crusade was in this very dirt, this very loam and mud he bled and fought in countless years. It felt like he almost never left, exterminating Cult of The Damned, culling the undead in righteous flames and of course confiscating unholy artifacts for study and disposal.It was this very same thing the Order was planning to do, their suspicions cementing after what they found at an old crypt off the road, more and more proof; Nerubians, a Crypt of filth, the Cult and undead in droves.Uriel spent the night studying a journal of maddened ramblings and a strange black box from a cart full to the brim of corpses ready for defilement, something his brothers were cautious enough to burn away, denying their enemies in the Scourge more fodder for their army. Not that they wouldn't have enough already.Setting up a modest shrine to the Light for the Order to pray at, Uriel painstakingly began to carve his ritual of protection around the dark box. In the process of cleansing it he bathed it entirely in holy fire to assure no lingering corruption remained, searing his usual septuple of runes and scripture around the black container to deposit upon it the recovered tablet, a strange mould that he spent a lot of his remaining night also cleaning it of the bloodied fingerprints staining it, he wanted it clean to pursue the investigation, depositing said tablet back into its perfect slot in the box as he stored the maddened journal in it and wrapped the box up with his cloak for safekeeping.He took to his prayers for the night, the journal transcribed and the items cleansed. At his side laid the ever quiet Lightkeeper, unresponsive to Uriel's experiments.Sometimes, he even spoke to it.
Woo! Another storyline begins for the guild (one I’m heavily biased for) and the first chain of it has begun already with an entire day of exposition on monday and getting our hands dirty today, can’t wait for the full resolution of it.
As mentioned above by Ortellus anyone interested in joining should take the chance now as we’re in reasonably accessible areas in the Plaguelands (for now), so if you have a crazed Scarlet Crusade legionnaire wanting to murder undead devoted and zealous holy character seeking a home, come on up!
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The Order has found itself camping within the burning ruins of the city of Stratholme, after a fierce fight with Calia Menethil loyalists. Big shout out to the Hand of Menethil for the enjoyable night of fighting!
There’s still room for one or two more Light loving men and women within our ranks, join up today!
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Had a few run ins with these guys lately and it’s always been a blast. Very easy to work with and a delight to go up against.
(Lordaeron is ours though)
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They set north into the Plaguelands with only one lead: that Enright and his men had headed west, towards the border of Tirisfal. One by one, they went to each farm, searching for clues as to Enright's whereabouts. It was revealed that he had stayed at one such farm with the eighty-two men of the 113rd Provincial Guard briefly, before travelling eastwards into the Eastern Plaguelands.
Thus began a trail of corpses: first near Andorhal, where a mass grave had become the sight of a massacre. Alliance soldiers lay among the dead and undead, belonging to Enright's entourage. Further east, near Darrowshire, they encountered yet another grisly scene.
Yet it was here that matters began to grow complicated, for though the bodies were dressed in Alliance colours, the ramblings in the journal that they discovered there were that of a Damned man. It spoke of something known as the 'Crypt of Arduran', which was widely coveted among the Cult, as had been revealed by Sir Uriel's investigations prior to the Order's return to duty.
Soliciting the knowledge of the Argent Crusaders at Crown Guard Tower, the Order was directed towards the Blackwood, at the center of the Eastern Plaguelands, and then onwards to a campsite pitched by the 113th near the border of the Plaguewood. At every turn, more of the same: Enright's men, some simply enthralled by the dreadlord within, and some owing allegiance to the dark master of the Cult of the Damned.
Raiding the 113th's encampment, however, proved fruitful. There, they found the tooth half of a hoary key, contained within a midnight-black box of metal, and an inkling that the remainder of the key might be found deep within the long-dead tunnels of Azjol-Vexis - that which the crusaders of the Order had ventured deep into prior to the Corruptor's awakening, and which had remained dark and deserted for all those many months...
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Been battling scarlets, spiders and undead trolls lately, the first being the worst out of the three!
The Holy Order of Lordain continues to be the best religious guild on Argent Dawn.
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Through the Last Gate
Back | NextFollows on from the Battle of Azjol-Vexis:
https://esarus.net/campaign-1/Two years ago, prior to the awakening of N'zoth and the return of the Black Empire, the Holy Order of Lordain was in a period of dormancy. The 4th War had ended in an armistice, and its crusaders, sworn to defend the lands of the Alliance, set forth to protect the borders as the uneasy peace took hold. It was in this time that their path led them to the undercity of Azjol-Vexis, the lightless domain of the Crypt King Xaxxis.
The Nerubian host within the subterranean kingdom, deep below the mountains of the Eastweald, had recently unleashed their latest creation into the wilds of Lordaeron: the Vexis, a breed of Nerubian with a toxin to rival the inner fire of a paladin, and which loyalist Forsaken apothecaries had taken a keen interest in. To put a stop to the Vexis, the crusaders of the Order and their allies delved into Azjol-Vexis, infiltrated the city and burned its hatcheries before making a hasty escape.
But even then, the Crypt King remained. They sought another way into the city, for the entrance was now believed to be heavily guarded, and through a long, winding tunnel network that breached the loam of the Blackwood they were able to find a quieter, mostly-forgotten entrance to the city. The gate, at first, was locked, but as they watched a shadowy, towering vizier came forth to silently unseal the gate, and disappeared into the bowels of the city as the invaders entered.
When they entered, they found a Nerubian city in the throes of a civil war. The Vexis and the Nerubis were in the midst of slaughtering one another - and themselves - as the human invaders raced to kill their Crypt King. In the dark, before a hexagonal doorway, they killed Xaxxis and plunged Azjol-Vexis into ruin... at a cost. One of their magi, Leuther, had collected the three Shrouded Stones - the sources of power which the Crypt King, the Hierophant and the Grand Vizier had once used to maintain the protective seal on the city, and in killing Xaxxis the ritual of binding had been undone.
That night, by chance, the Corruptor awakened. The moment of his awakening was a clarion call to the deep creatures of Azeroth, and beneath the city of Azjol-Vexis there was no exception. Its prison weakened by the capture of the Shrouded Stones, by the deaths of the Hierophant and the Crypt King, and by the traitorous actions of the Grand Vizier who had given the humans access to the city, the dark secret of Azjol-Vexis had been disturbed from its eternal slumber...
Many months later, the Order of Lordain followed Sir Ortellus down the very same route that he and Sir Nathanael had taken before. The cultists and mind-thralls of Calistan Enright had unearthed the entrance to the tunnel network in the Blackwood, and it was believed that the forlorn undercity was the location of the remainder of the Hoary Key to the Crypt of Arduran.
Tracing their steps back towards the deep city, the Order was forced to contend with Scarlet Crusaders - none other than the Order of the Blood of Martyrs, those who had conspired with Enright to have the Order's knights banished to Outland, unknowingly to be destroyed by the Hand of Kharduum. The attacks were repelled, and the Order travelled ever deeper, eventually reaching the chamber where the Crypt King had been slain and turned to ash.
There they discovered the bedrolls and belongings of Enright's men and cultists, and that they were only a day behind them now. The cultists had not returned to their camp, having dug around the sealed doorway that Xaxxis had died to protect, and having descended down the dark and foggy corridor into the unknown. Thus the Order gave chase...
Down, ever downwards.
The light of torches and lanterns reached out only a few feet ahead of them, illuminating the walls of the tunnel until they, too, disappeared, and after an unknown time the Order found themselves walking in complete darkness. Only the sound their footsteps, their breathing and their heartbeats could penetrate the eerie stillness of the fog-filled passageway, muffled by the dense, dark cloud.
When the corridor opened out into a large, dark cavern, they saw only the hexagonal gateway ahead of them. Vexis and Damned alike stood before it, attempting to seal the doorway, and despite their warnings they, too, were cut down.
Beyond, the tunnel sloped away into the black depths of the world once more, in deathly silence, until the walls took on an oily, iridescent sheen. The twisted at impossible curvatures, angles which should have led to perfect loops, carving a path through non-euclidean space in all-encompassing gloom, but after an indiscernible length of time they were approached. Not by the Damned, nor the Vexis, but by Nerubian of some unknown creed, who proclaimed that they meant the paladins no harm.
Events, until now, had not been ordinary - many questions were unanswered, and these Nerubian, Scourge beasts that they were, offered to answer at least some of them. Guiding them the rest of the way, the foul creatures brought the paladins to a cavern of immense proportions... and equally immense horror.
Illuminated by pearlescent starlight, the innards of an unholy creature stretched out ahead of them. The heartbeat that they had heard ringing in their ears, for the longest time believing it to be their own in the oppressive environs of the tunnels, was no other than the beast that they now stood inside; the putrid, deathly cold air in the cavern pulsed to the rhythm of its beating heart. Enormous, sinewy columns arched high overhead, and beneath them was an ossified ring that extended all the way around the cavity. Frozen within the calcified walkway, the paladins looked upon lidded eyes, fang-ridden mouths, the bulging expressions of tendrils.
Heralded only as 'the dreamer', the Nerubian told the paladins that this was the product of Grand Vizier Zek'thiz's ultimate betrayal of his Crypt King - the awakening of this creature being the very reason why the Order's crusaders had been allowed into the city so long ago. While it lay dormant and deathless now, it was promised that the dreamer, the master of the Vexis' forebears, would awaken once more, when the cycle revolved again.
But for now, the paladins could only retreat to the surface - they had neither the men nor the knowledge to vanquish a Forgotten One of this magnitude, and it had become apparent that the remainder of the Hoary Key was not here in the depths of Azjol-Vexis, nor in the fleshy prison of the dreamer.
Did the dreadlord within Enright know of this dark secret, too? And where was the remainder of the Hoary Key if not down here? Many questions remained unanswered. The hunt went on.
Many thanks to the Blood of Martyrs for their RPPVP in the underground tunnels earlier this week!
For those interested in joining the Order on it’s quest (and, really, we’re only just getting started here!), drop Ortellus or Nathanael a message at your earliest convenience. Send an in-game mail or reply to the thread here 
if you can’t manage to catch us!
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As the Order strides into our sixth year (!!!), you should check out this absolute masterpiece from Ortellus;
Still seeking out men and women to march into the holy war
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Upon returning to the surface, the Order resumed their search for Calistan Enright once more, still with only half of the Hoary Key that was said to unlock the Crypt of Arduran in distant Northrend. The purpose of the key and the whereabouts of its other half remained a mystery, one that the library of Tyr's Hand could shed very little light on, save for that the enchanted, calcite-like mineral was fashion to seal the tomb of a man named Arduran.
When they had raided the 113th Provincial Guard's encampment previously, they had confiscated a map of the Eastern Plaguelands that Enright's men and cultists had annotated with several locations. With the tunnels of Azjol-Vexis delved and a brief entry into Stratholme revealing only Forsaken supporters of Lady Menethil, the only location left to find was the evasive 'Tenebra Rock' - the location, according to a letter discovered alongside the map, where Calistan would await the acquisition of the key.
The Order arrived upon the cliffs of New Avalon, where, at a farmhouse on the fringe of the ruined town, a half-dozen of Enright's soldiers were stationed. While two were dispatched, it was soon revealed that the men knew nothing of Enright's demonic possession, nor of the Cult of the Damned that infested the 113th's ranks, and so the rest were spared. In return, they revealed that their Lieutenant had long since vanished into Tirisfal on a presumed-scouting mission from Enright himself, following the deaths of a group of soldiers near Darrowshire.
For a while, the Order considered travelling to Tirisfal in search of the Lieutenant, one of the last remaining links to Enright and perhaps one of the few remaining people that knew of the location of Tenebra Rock., but after some deliberation they concluded that the man was dead. The letter they had found in the Provincial Guard's camp said that his mission had failed, and if the Scarlets were at odds with Enright's thralls there'd like be very little left to find.
Instead they went to Northdale, where the Argents reported a band of Scarlets had made camp - no other than the Order of the Blood of Martyrs, too. A battle ensued, and though the Order was able to recapture the lost lightforged iron icon that had been stolen from their shrine in Andorhal some weeks earlier, there was no sign of the Hoary Key.
The Order of Lordain were not the only ones on the hunt for the key, though. The Order of the Blood of Martyrs coveted it, too, and a few days later the Order of Lordain's encampment was raided by the Scarlets, and the loop half of the Hoary Key fell into the hands of the red-clad zealots.
With the Hoary Key in the hands of the enemy, the Order of Lordain thus fought a battle on two fronts: one against the elusive dreadlord, and another against the Scarlet Brotherhood, both of which pursued the Crypt of Arduran for different reasons. The quest was far from over, and all eyes turned to the frozen wastes of the cold and unforgiving north...
The Order will be heading to Stormwind this Wednesday, in preparation for the start of our Northrend expedition on Monday. Catch us around the Cathedral if you’re interested in joining up with us! Flyers /notices can be found around the city already, directing those of holy and just intent to join the Order’s ranks: https://www.argentarchives.org/node/256436
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The Holy Order of Lordain have travelled south to restock and supply on much needed equipment for future crusades. Whilst they help the downtrodden and less fortunate of Stormwind, they’ll be keeping an eye out for new recruits - perfect time to get involved!
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Leaving Lordaeron behind, the Order marched through the north of the Eastern Kingdoms and through Khaz Modan, all the way to the dwarven capital itself before finally reaching Stormwind itself late at night, only hearing the low rumble of activity as they left the tram. Though the trip was peaceful, their stay up in the Plaguelands had been the least so. From Scourge to Scarlet Crusade, the Order had not found their enemies wanting in lack of dedication to bring them death.It was a clear cut decision to all, considering their hunt for the demon lord had born some fruit, it has also brought them no closer yet to the fiend himself for indeed, the guile of a dread lord was nothing to scoff at, something that Uriel knew all too well. Though their crimson foes were after the same end goal, the Paladin didn't feel as much animosity given his history, he fought them as he fights any other foe but, there is nothing there, a fight for survival if anything.Words don't tend to carve deep into Uriel's conscience but memories certainly do. By the courtesy of a Scarlet cleric, he was subjected to some of his most haunting memories, things long repressed, moments long forced to be forgotten, long lost nostalgia and a constant, dull feeling of them all. It was all a weakness, he thought to himself, just another point of attack for the enemy to exploit and truth be told when this event happened the second time, it did not last as long. But it still loomed, like a carrot and stick situation during his meditation and hours of prayer, the more he tried to get rid of some of these events or just push them back the harder it was to do so.So he did what he thought best; work. Volunteering at the Cathedral's kitchens and other less fortunate areas of Stormwind, Uriel spent the late evening and night as just another faceless clergyman around the quiet city passing small portions of meals to some of the less fortunate or maybe just delivering parcels here and there in his ragged robes, trying to drown out wailing in his mind.
Hot damn, back in Stormwind for a few days! Like Nathanael said, it’s an excellent chance to seek us out if you’ve been thinking about joining up with the guild! But we won’t be down here for too long, as our campaign will resume into its fullest very soon!
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The Order is making the final preparations for it’s trip to the frozen wastes of Northrend. There’s some space for a divine fellow or two in their quest to destroy a foe that’s long evaded their righteous fury, and here’s hoping he meets his end at the roof of the world!
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We’re on our way to Northrend! The Order has a few weeks of exploration, investigation and battle against the Scarlets, the Scourge and more up ahead of it. We’ll be arriving in Valgarde tomorrow, 28th September, so if you want to join in before we get started drop Nathanael or Ortellus a message and come find us there!
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The Order has arrived in the frozen wastes of Northrend, and finds itself knee deep in plots and cults already! Will the hunt for the elusive Enright end in another setback for the crusaders, or will the Light have it’s justice upon the demon in disguise?
Even though we’re northbound, the Order is still taking recruits! Contact Nathanael or Ortellus and we’ll be sure to figure something out.
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These guys are pretty great to rp with, I wish they’d get off my lawn though
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Nathanael sat by the warm fire in the Tuskarr barrow and opened the small journal he kept. Freshly bought from the markets in Stormwind before their departure for Northrend, it still retained the bookshop smell. He’d decided that he should start keeping a written record of some things, especially given how the war against both the Horde and the forces of darkness didn’t have an end in sight. Not a permanent end, at least.
“We arrived in Northrend on the Hailstorm, an icebreaker. The name is a bit over the top for the ship, really; basic in every way, but sturdy and in good enough condition to see us to these frozen wastes. I’ve been here once before, but never truly explored the continent. I’m eager to see what it has to offer and to see the end of this crusade against Enright and his forces. I don’t think I’ve packed enough socks, however. I’m hoping that a quartermaster at one of the Alliance camps can sell me some, or this trip could become problematic.
We landed at Valgarde, a basic fort at the foot of giant cliffs and tucked into a cozy bay. There’s less snow than I expected, especially with winter nearing. The garrison here has seen better days, full of greying men and officers with spotty records, doomed to spend their days watching a land that hopefully never sees war again. The vrykul hold was something to behold, though. Towering spires of rock and metal, greater than any fortress in the Kingdoms – perhaps only rivaled by the mountain of Ironforge. They say a great battle took place during the war against the Lich King there, but I’d never heard of it, just a little bit before my time in war, really. The land hosts different wildlife, all of which seems to hold some similarities to beasts back home. Just with a different feature or twist added.
Westguard Keep seemed to fair better than Valgarde. The garrison seems of a better stock here, and possibly more supplied. Trouble is, they have cultists in their ranks, men who’ve already tried to work against us and set us back in Northrend. Time will tell what to make of this, but I pray we’re given the chance to send them all to the Light’s roaring purgatory.”
Nathanael paused, looking around his surroundings. The hour grew close to midnight, and only a few of the Tuskarr remained awake but those who were maintained high spirits. It seemed to be such a simple way of life, living by the ocean, fishing between the various ice sheets in the bay and riding large sea turtles around. The air was thick from the roaring fire and the herbs used in their form of what he could only assume was shamanism.
“The natives are not what I expected. I’m torn on what I should make of their magic; it cannot be born of the Light, but it doesn’t seem like something a heretic would practice. It grants them no unholy strength, no damning wisdom to wreak havoc on innocents. They simply… survive.
I didn’t think this place would be as torn and conflicted as the shattered face of Outland, with hellfire spewing from every crack, but there is so little conflict here. Perhaps that will change further into the continent, when we reach the dread forts of the Scourge.
The elder of the village requested our aid in dealing with a local threat. Something blocking his magic, the ancestral farsight of his people. A giant of a man, made of seaweed and mist, conducted a ritual in the centre of the island. Our first taste at the evils that really haunt the shores, not too dissimilar from the naga that plague the sea.”
Nathanael placed the journal on the bench he sat on, leaving the ink to dry. His eyes grew weary, and his mind was in no place to contemplate the workings of this strange magic of the Tuskarr.
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The Order's arrival to Northrend was an orderly one. Their brief stay in the city of Stormwind had been fruitful, not least in that it had brought two faithful individuals to their doorstep, and one of them was well-connected. So well-connected, in fact, that they were able to hire an icebreaker from their clerical stipend; the Hailstorm was an old, decommissioned warship, but it was sturdy despite its scars.
The coal-fired engine of the icebreaker carried them across the waves to Daggercap Bay, pausing only to carve a path through the thin autumnal sea ice that was beginning to gather. Once they had arrived in Valgarde, they made the short journey to Westguard Keep, where they intended to make their base of operations for the first leg of their quest to find the Crypt of Arduran.
Although they intended to make haste and to visit the Tuskarr on the shore nearby, to beseech them for their ancestral wisdom and for any clues as to the crypt's whereabouts, they were almost immediately waylaid by the Cult of the Damned, from within the sparsely-garrisoned keep itself. Though two of the cutlists were revealed and disposed of, the calamity had attracted the attention of their vile allies, and the next morning they faced an assault upon the eastern side of the fort.
While the attack was easily repelled, the gun emplacements outside the fort providing deadly firepower, it wasn't without its revelations. The ghouls and cultists that swarmed the emplacements were a mere distraction, intending only to bog down the attending cannoneers, while their soul-forged construct marched towards the walls of the keep. A giant of ghastly metal, dark smoke and ghostly flames, it came down beneath twin blasts from one of the keep's cannons.
For the Order, it was the first indication of what the Cult of the Damned had been up to in the frozen north - the terrific new powers that they had sold their souls for. When did the Cult obtain such constructs? More importantly, how, and where from? These were questions to be answered later, and they were sure those questions would be answered the further north they travelled...
The Order is in Westguard Keep currently, but will soon be moving towards The Best Zone In The Game 
(also known as Grizzly Hills). We’ve just finished some relatively wholesome and adventurous roleplay around Kamagua too - stay tuned for the next story update!
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They call Nathanael the spear fishing king in the Tuskarr villages of Northrend. Somewhat of a local legend.
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So damn keyed
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After a long ride on the road between Westguard Keep and Amberpine Lodge. Which included a nice scenic ride and a rather rough ambush, the Order found themselves finally in Grizzly Hills, under the tall pines and cool breeze.
However, they were still far from the end of the journey, with more dangers and obstacles in their way.
Only half way there and still going strong with more events to come!
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