Emmerick Nyx

Human Anti-Paladin/4

Character Sheet

Emmerick's background before arriving at Branderscar Prison:

Footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door pacing back and forth.  The room was empty save for the two men dressed in nearly identical plate mail separated by a large circular ivory table.  Mirror images of each other, though one significantly younger… and in chains.  Both men had been in this room countless times before under much different circumstances.  The old knight’s whiskers twitched as he sat in silence waiting for his answer.

I always liked this table.  Emmerick stared blankly at the massive slab in front of him.  Very clean.  Solid.  It doesn’t belong in this temple of lies. He couldn’t recall how long he had been sitting here, but it felt like an eternity.   It could have all been mine.  It could still be mine.  He raised his shackled hands and placed his palms on the cool stone of the table.  Good, clean table.  Another minute passed before he finally glanced up at his captor.

“Could you repeat the question?”

A loud boom echoed as the old man slammed his fists down.  He was visibly shaking with anger.  “Damnit, Emmerick!  I’m trying to help you here.”  Their eyes locked and silence filled the room again.  Finally, the aged paladin let out an exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  I’ll ask you again.  Where did you get the tome?  Who gave it to you?”

‘…once wielding power over all creation, his faith envisions an hour when all the multiverse shall come under his dominion again.  The Kingdom shall be his.  Hail Asmodeus!’   A chill ran down Emmerick’s spine as he recited the words in his head.  “Does it really matter?  The book didn’t compel me to assassinate the pretender.  Neither did those who gave it to me.”    He leaned forward with his eyes still fixated on the other man.  “Do you think this can last?  One way or another, hell will come.  I could have returned Talignarde to its former glory, but now it will burn.” 

Sir Balin of Kerfeld shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.  “Emmerick… I… what has happened to you, my son.”  His advanced age showed now more than ever.  His features wrinkled.  “If you give me something to work with, we could maybe make a plea for a quick death, or perhaps even the salt mines if we’re lucky.”  He twirled his greying beard, a nervous habit he had always had.  “Just give me the names of the men who gave that wretched text and we’ll gain some leniency.  We’ll say you were enchanted or possessed by the book itself.  I know this isn’t you.”

“But it is, Sir Balin.  We both know I was not bewitched by a person or book.  I stand behind my actions and require no mercy from you.”  The old man should have given up and died years ago.  But he was like a father to me.  He taught me everything.  He taught you nothing, Nyx.  You’re strength comes from you and your true father, not a doddering old fool.  Emmerick brushed the hair out of his eyes and went back to staring at the table.  Clean, white stone.  He had spent years interrogating, and sometimes torturing, enemies of Mitra at this very table. 

“Don’t call me that, Emmerick.  You know I’m more than just another knight to you.” 

Emmerick couldn’t help but notice of how tired the old man looked.  Clearly, he must have not gotten any sleep since the arrest.  The old man continued to talk, though Emmerick could not quite focus on what was being said.

“…found you.  I brought you here.  Dammit, I practically raised you myself.  You could have been the greatest knight…

I was the greatest knight.  I still am.  Nothing can change that.  I will always be remembered.  You talk as though you’re already dead.  They’ll all be dead soon.  See to it.  Burn them all.

“…should have come to me first.  The Asmodean Monograph is not something to take lightly.  Why in the seven hells would you…”

Emmerick’s eyes darted back and forth as he listened to the conversation in his head.  There is still a chance this could all be mine.  I’m not dead yet.  Could have fooled me.  Word will get out of my attempt on the king’s… pretender’s life and those loyal to the Lord will rise up to free me.  Fucking idiot.  No one will help you.  If you want out, you need to do it yourself.  Cut out the bastard’s tongue and eat it.  Anything to shut him up.

“…even listening to anything I’m saying?”  Sir Balin stopped, clearly concerned.  “I just can’t do this anymore.  I’ve been on your side since the beginning of this whole mess, my son, but you’re too far gone.  I can’t.”  He stood up shaking his head.

“Wait.”  Emmerick turned to Balin as he made his way to the large oak door.  “Do you really want to know why?”  Without waiting for a response, the disgraced knight continued.  “I’ve lived in this temple as long as I can remember.  I’ve followed the teachings of your god and became the greatest protector, this realm has ever seen.  I gave your order everything I had, but you lied to me.” 

“What are you—“

“Shut up!  This is my time to speak.”  He cleared his throat and continued.  “You never told me where I came from because you were scared.  You knew who I was when you found me.”  Well spoken.  Look at him.  He knows and fears what you’ve discovered. 

Balin furrowed his brow, clearly confused.  “I didn’t want you to be chasing ghosts during your training.  When you were found, you became a child a Mitra, and any connection to the outside would corrupt…”  Balin trailed off, taking in the irony in his words. 

Emmerick’s and his voice turned shrill.  “Liar!  You hid the truth from me because I am the true heir to the throne.”  He held out his wrists.  “Royal blood flows in these views.”  Not just royal.  Divine.  “I am the long lost heir of King Jaraad of House Baraca.”

“Mitra be good, you’ve gone insane!”  Balin turned pale.  “ I found you in the burning house of the milliner and his wife.  You’re an orphan, Emmerick, not an heir!  Where did you get this idea?  Who has been poisoning your mind?”

Ooh, he’s on to us.  Quick, pull out his lungs and dance on them.  What is he saying?  Could I have been mistaken?  You know what you are, and nothing can change that.  You’ve read the texts and you know it to be true.  You are the rightful king. “I am the rightful king!”  Emmerick rose from his chair and stumbled his way closer to Balin, his chains dragging along the floor.  “I have risen from fire to take back Talingarde.  You will all perish.” 

The last thing Emmerick remembered was the hilt of Sir Balin’s sword on the back of his skull.  A dull pain and a warm trickle of blood on his neck.  All hail Asmodeus, the creator!