User blog:Drix153/Misgivings of a Cleric

(Part 1!)  _____________________________________________________________________________________________ The sun was just beginning to crest the peaks of the Forinthry Cliffs when High Clerist Fykeric finally reached his destination: the Forinthry Ossuary. Calling for his mount to halt, he sat in silence and reflected for a moment on the last few days and their trials. It had been a long and tiring journey from the North, and it would’ve been longer still were it not for his Lord’s intervention. He gave thanks to the God of Chaos, and then regarded the temple with a dour expression on his face.

Situated against the base of a chain of steep cliffs in the Wilderness, the Forinthry Ossuary was more of an eyesore than a temple, or so Fykeric thought. The temple had been built long ago on the edge of the cliffs several hundred feet above but a rockslide had caused it all to come crashing down, burying it beneath tons of rubble. And it would’ve remained buried for centuries more, Fykeric told himself, if the Emissary hadn’t shown us the way.

The Emissary. Fykeric felt his skin crawl. More like a deceiver, he often caught himself thinking. Using my brothers and sisters as if they were mere tools at his disposal. He had appeared to them several months ago and introduced himself as Rekhyt, a Zamorak Emissary, then went on to say he was sent by Zamorak to guide them and bring about a new era of chaos. There were several monks that were incredulous at first, Fykeric one of them. A few of them asked for proof; those that did burst into flames. Needless to say, the Emissary became the de facto leader, while Fykeric was selected to be the next High Clerist due to the fact that their previous leader was now a pile of greasy ash.

A few days later, the Emissary did as he promised and guided them to the buried temple deep within the Wilderness. There, he relayed to them what lay beneath the earth and that it was vital to the design of Zamorak. They spent weeks unearthing the temple, while the Emissary, Fykeric noted, was either holed up in his own tent or gone entirely for days on end. When they finally cleared the rubble, the Emissary immediately went in and selected the least damaged chamber as his own, then once again relayed to them that Zamorak wanted the temple, or what was left of it, restored to its former glory. The monks didn’t want to displease their Lord and so set about their project. Fykeric, however, did not yield as easily. As busy as the Emissary was, it was only a matter of prioritizing that allowed Fykeric to begin his own investigation into the temple and, more importantly, the Emissary. What he eventually uncovered was…unsettling.

After researching for several weeks and reaffirming his suspicions, Fykeric stormed into the Emissary’s office and accused him of manipulating his people, blasphemy, and above all else, being a Mahjarrat. The Emissary looked furious and, for a second, Fykeric feared for his own safety. But the fury in his eyes suddenly vanished and was replaced by a sinister gleam. Then he spoke, confirming the accusations to be true and even commended Fykeric; unfortunately, that information could potentially ruin his plans, so he had to do away with the troublesome cleric. The last thing Fykeric remembered was praying to Zamorak for protection as the Emissary made a gesture, and then…nothing.

When he woke, Fykeric discovered, much to his amazement, that he was alive and was somewhere frigid. Suddenly, he heard the voice of the Emissary speak to him in his mind. The chilling voice said it was now Fykeric’s master; that, while his god had saved him from one fate, he would suffer another; and, should he want to live, he would have to do what it demanded of him: keep watch over the area he was in and inform him of anything noteworthy that occurred there. The voice then left him alone there. He later discovered it was the site of the ritual of the Mahjarrat.

After an unknown period of time, Fykeric, who had defied his master in more ways than one, namely by surviving and doing his task, met the Mahjarrat Kemses through a bizarre chain of events. They got off to a rocky start, though Fykeric knew of the relationship between his master and Kemses. He had hoped to learn why his master no longer responded to his messages – something his master never did. As it turned out, his master was missing, and had been for several days. Worried more about his people than his master, Fykeric decided to act against his orders and return to the Forinthry Ossuary.

Fykeric was roused from his deep thoughts by the impatient whinny of his horse. Chiding himself for wasting valuable time, he guided his horse toward the entrance to the temple where a small encampment of tents could be seen. He wasn’t sure what to expect once inside, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be good.