It's time for me to start some proper fiction, no longer based on any game universe. As I wrote the stories inspired by Dragon Age, I found myself writing more and more adventures that had little to do with the original besides the setting. I modified the characters beyond recognition, I gave them new lives, I twisted the original plot to my liking... And so I decided to move those stories into a world of their own.

This book is original fiction, apart from the fact that it is based on the Book of Ezekiel from the Hebrew Bible. So it is fan fiction after all... But no, I am not retelling Ezekiel's prophecies, and of course they do not pertain to any country in our world but rather are applied to the fantasy world that I created for this book.

I shall be introducing the world and its people as the story develops, so there will be no preface. I shall only say that you may find the names of some of the countries familiar or at least familiar sounding. The setting is roughly Europe and Middle East around the time of the fall of the Roman Empire, that is around the year 450 AD, a thousand years after the events in the Book of Ezekiel. But this isn't a historical account, this is fantasy inspired by that period and viewed through the prism of the prophecies shifted in time.

Now it came to pass in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, in the fifth day of the month, as I was among the captives by the river of Chebar, that the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God.

-- The Book of Ezekiel 1:1

Come in, Agent

Aprilis, Serpentis 30

"Come in, Agent." The Legate waved his hand at a youngish Legion officer who just opened the door to his room. "Dispense with formalities. Come and sit down."


The Agent entered and closed the door behind him, but still remained rather stiff - he wasn't used to dispensing with formalities in the presence of his superior officers, and it didn't get much more superior than the Legate behind a large desk of Imperial oak. The Legate noticed this and smirked, pointing at a chair on the other side of the desk.

"Sit down. I have a mission for you." He busied himself with some books and scrolls on his desk, taking his eyes off the Agent, trying to put him at ease.

When the Agent finally sat down, the Legate unrolled a scroll in front of him so that the Agent could see some of the writing.

"Agent Wolf Asgarsen of the Second Imperial Legion," the Legate fixed the Agent with his gaze and the Agent instantly straightened his back. "You have a good record, I have it right here," the Legate pointed at the scroll. "Diligent and dutiful, without reproach, skilled with your weapons and ruthless when need be - these are the qualities we are looking for. And there's more - you are a Nephilim. How did you find out?"

"We were trapped in a deep and narrow valley of Chebar when something set off an avalanche of snow, ice and rocks. It would have buried us alive for certain. As I watched it descend from the mountain side, I somehow opened a glowing portal and saved us all. We stepped through it and came out back at the camp."

The Agent spoke in a terse tone, unsure why his peculiar heritage was important. He was only able to do it once, he had no idea how he'd done it, it was not under his control. He never knew his father, and his mother refused to talk about him, refused even to say his name, although by the far away look on her face, Wolf could tell that those memories were precious to her. If his father was indeed a Heavenly Watchman, he would not have wanted it to be widely known to mortals... although Wolf himself rather thought that his father was just an ordinary man who ran off not wanting to be bogged down by a wife and a child.

"You only opened a portal once..." The Legate was watching the Agent, nodding to his thoughts. "But mere men cannot do it at all. You have the mark. That is why you have been chosen for this mission. What do you know of Eretz?"

It was an unexpected question, but the Agent did not hesitate.

"It is a kingdom in the archipelago of Tevel on the other side of the Great Ocean," he answered from memory. "They are often at war with their neighbours across the Tannin Sea - the kingdoms of Gallia, Merecia and Lusitania..."


"Yes, yes," the Legate nodded, interrupting. "That they are, but they keep it between themselves. What the Emperor worries about is the Surge."

"That it might spill over to the Empire?" The Agent's brow furrowed. "If I understand it correctly, it is a calamity when hordes of undead overrun the land, killing everything and everyone on it." He shuddered involuntarily.

"Quite." The Legate shuffled some scrolls out of the way, picking up an old book from under them. "This tome has some more details, but essentially you are correct." He handed the book to the Agent. "A true Surge is much more deadly than a mere uprising of undead because a Surge is an organised force, an army rather than a mindless mob, led by a powerful Deathlord Lich."

"Ah!"

"Indeed." The Legate sighed gravely. "We have reports of unusually heavy fighting in Eretz, fighting against the undead, not against the Gallian or Lusitanian neighbours for once... It looks like it may be the beginning of a real Surge. If so, the Emperor is naturally worried."

"I see."

"There is an order of battlemages there - they call themselves the Wardens of Ezekiel. They spend their lives fighting the undead, keeping them at bay. You are to join them."

"Understood."

"Hmm... I don't think you understand it yet, Agent." The Legate's glance darkened. "They are not mere battlemages. They bear the mark of the Surge which they gain in a joining ceremony. It infects them with the decay, making them into the very undead they are fighting... if they live long enough. It takes some fifty years to develop. If you are to join them, you too will receive such a mark."

The Agent straightened his already straight back and answered evenly.

"But we need information, do we not?" He looked straight at the Legate. "If there is a way to protect the Empire from the Surge, we need to know about it. I understand."

"We hope that you being a Nephilim, may fare better than an average person," the Legate continued in a softer tone. "For one, we are almost certain you will survive the joining ritual... oh yes, it is quite deadly. Only every third or every fourth recruit survives it..."

The Agent was listening without fear. Something told him that not only would he survive, but he would go far in that world as well, all the way to the Deathlord Lich.

"...all the way to Adonai," he said under his breath, then caught himself, realising that he said it aloud.

"You have been hearing his voice already," the Legate nodded. "You are not going mad. The Deathlord talks to all those who bear his mark... and that includes the undead, the Wardens of Ezekiel and the Nephilims, that is you - all beings able to transcend death." He paused contemplating the Agent before him. "And so it is a true Surge indeed."

"What are my orders?" The Agent preferred a practical approach.

"Learn what you can, help them stop it, if that's in your power," the Legate sat back in his chair. "It is an open mission - use your judgement. Each Nephilim throughout history has had a reason for bearing that mark, and fighting this Surge with the Wardens of Ezekiel seems to be yours. Things are dire in Tevel just now, with local politics overshadowing the much greater danger of the rising Surge. You will swing the scales for the Wardens."

I think many of us began writing fiction chronicling or journaling our character’s adventures in a game. Some of us (like me) have gradually moved beyond simply retelling what happens in game with our own character’s spin, to using their game more as inspiration. I have intentionally held my fiction there as I don’t want to do world building; I want a readymade world in which to adventure. Others here have modded their gameworld resemble their own vision – even creating detailed quests to support their storytelling.

It seems like you are joining some of our other writers who have branched into worldbuilding. It certainly expands the possibilities.

Though I think I see some inspiration from Dragon Age here, it looks like you have some grand intentions for your protagonist and his world. We already have learned much of Wolf and his world. Your map is wonderful!

Thank you, Acadian! Yes, Wolf is largely the same man that he was in Dragon Age - he was my own character, so I felt there was no need to change him. He is of course now finding himself in a different world, although with a similar task as I reused the introduction. But instead of being Dragonborn, he is now a Nephilim - an offspring of a "son of God" and a "daughter of man", according to the Bible. I could never do much with his Dragonborn background in Dragon Age because, besides in the name, dragons only had a passive role in that universe. I feel I can do much more with a Nephilim.

The truth of the matter is that I've been changing the world of Dragon Age in my imagination so much that it became nearly unrecognisable, and so there was no longer any point to continue in it. Here comes the world of Tevel! Brand new and at the same time very old.

Eretz

Iunius, Serpentis 30

"Just how many varieties of undead do they have there?" Agent Wolf Asgarsen was studying the old tome that the Legate gave him in preparation for his mission in Tevel. The trip would take a month or two, and as long as the sea was not too rough, he could keep his mind off his stomach by focusing on the book. "They all seem to be some sort of zombies," he decided. "Rotting flesh, black blood... Ugh, you are ugly!"

The illustrations were graphic enough to make Wolf's stomach turn even on calm seas, yet he had to learn about these creatures. Not only did they come in different sizes, but they also possessed different skills and were organised in units with a commanding structure. At the very top stood a Deathlord who was a lich.

"Armed and armoured zombies that can also cast magic and possess superior constitution and strength." Wolf shut the book with a thump. "Lovely. With a Deathlord Lich to lead them, a lich that talks to me in my sleep! Why, I feel right at home already."

The Legate had instructed Wolf to make his way to Tirat Soharim, the citadel of the Order of Ezekiel in Eretz. It was quite close to the Valley of the Bones from whence the undead appeared to emerge, and it was thus best placed for a decisive assault.

"We shall dock in Ir-Hizhav," the captain bent over the map with Wolf. "The capital city of Eretz. From there you can make your way to Tirat Soharim, it's not too far inland, perhaps a day on foot, provided you don't run into anything," he tapped the map. "You might be better off getting a horse... A wilder place would be hard to find," he smirked. "It's not the undead you need to worry about there, it's the apostates, the werewolves, the elves and of course the Crows." The captain nodded to himself and got up to leave.

"Apostates, werewolves, elves and the Crows," Wolf repeated to himself, opening his tome again to look up all of that and to try to understand how the elves, a whole people, ended up in such company. And who were those Crows deserving of a special mention? He was sure it wasn't about the birds...

The matter of the elves was easily clarified: humans despised them, and the elves reciprocated, and yet many of them did not rebel, they somehow simply accepted their fate of being sold into slavery or made into servants if they were lucky. Just a few tribes lived in freedom, inhabiting the wilderness of Eretz, and they shot humans on sight.

The tome had a short paragraph on apostates, it appeared they were mages – any mages. The Temple mistrusted them but the complexities of Faith obscured the reason for it. Wolf made a mental note to learn more about the Faith, no matter how boring such reading might be.

As for the werewolves or the Crows, the tome had nothing to say on either matter, and Wolf figured that werewolves were probably the same everywhere, and the Crows... well, he would just have to see for himself about that. The captain lent him a few books of old tales and legends, and a few pamphlets for King and Country, and by the time the ship reached the shores of Eretz, Wolf felt that he'd learned everything he could learn from those books and was ready to step out into this new world and join the turmoil.

...

Ir-Hizhav was a bustling and rich city with domes and towers, many of which were clad in gold. It really lived up to its name – The Golden City in the local language. Wolf walked its streets and visited its markets, but his mastery of Ereit was insufficient for conversation, and he almost despaired to learn anything until he walked into an old book store and found shelves upon shelves lined with books in the language of the Empire.

"Good day to you," he greeted the shopkeeper in Latius. "I assume you speak the language?" He waved at the books. "I've been having a hard time finding anyone who speaks it here, and my mastery of Ereit is, alas, too poor to be useful."

"Ah, a traveller from a far away land! Welcome, welcome!" The shopkeeper beamed at him. "How may I be of service? If it is knowledge you're after, you've come to the right place! Just tell me what you want to know, and I'm certain I'll find a book about it..."

"Well..." Wolf glanced at the shelves. "I am, as you say, a traveller... I wish to learn about the customs of this land, your Faith, your traditions – that sort of thing," he replied with a smile.

"The Faith..?" The shopkeeper squinted. "You want to know about the Order of Ezekiel, or perhaps you are even here to join them... Yes, you would want to know about the Faith as well... Now, let me see..." He disappeared behind a barely visible door at the back of the room, then re-emerged with an old and dusty tome strangely resembling the one that Wolf had received from the Legate. "This is a rather old book," he looked at Wolf shrewdly. "The language in it is a bit difficult to read... see if you can make it out."

Wolf took the book from the shopkeeper and felt a slight tingling in his fingers. He opened the tome and was surprised at how crisp and fresh the pages looked, how sharp was the writing, how vivid the illustrations. He read a few sentences but didn't find the language in any way strange, in fact, the words seemed to flow into his mind without any effort on his part. He'd never seen a book that was as easy to read as that tome.

"I have no problems reading it," he looked up at the shopkeeper. "How much do you want for it? It seems to be what I need."

"This one is free, Nephilim," the shopkeeper smiled. "Mere mortals cannot read it. It will tell you everything you need to know."

"Thank you," Wolf took the book, carefully wrapping it in a cloth before tucking it into his belt. "But I wish to give you something. Do you happen to have a book of local folklore? Something about witches, werewolves or the Crows? I am interested in such tales."

"Oh yes, I can help you with that!" The shopkeeper was all smiles. "I have a whole section on the folklore of Eretz, dozens of books, weeks and weeks worth of entertainment! Here, let me show you some..."

Wolf could not carry dozens and dozens of books with him, he really only wanted to thank the shopkeeper with a purchase, so he chose an attractive and well illustrated tome about witches of the wilds that also mentioned "the Crows" – it appeared to be a name of a coven. He could not quite explain why he was interested in those witches, but somehow he felt they were more important than the werewolves. With his purchases made, he spent the night at the caravanserai and set off towards Tirat Soharim at dawn the following day.

...


The fortress of the Order or Ezekiel was indeed not too far from Ir-Hizhav. Wolf moved through the land watching for wild animals and avoiding every and all encounter – his goal was not to die on his first day in Eretz. He arrived without incident and went looking for Ari Ben-Ami – the man in charge of the Wardens of Ezekiel that was supposed to be expecting him.

"Welcome," Ari Ben-Ami did expect him. An Ereit warrior of approximately Wolf's age greeted him. An elaborate design of his armour indicated his rank, but he wore no regalia. "I received word that a worthy recruit from overseas would be joining us," he smiled. "That must be you. It is good to have a seasoned warrior join us for once, we often get beginners and have to train them up first. But there is no time now – this gathering of troops is here to fight a horde of undead... You are informed of that, I trust?" He squinted, and Wolf smiled.

"I am," he nodded. "I also know that it isn't just a horde. I've had word..."

"Ah!" Ari's face cleared. "Your Legate did mention that the recruit they were sending was no ordinary soldier. You have to tell me about this later, this is remarkable indeed! Normally only those that have gone through the Joining can hear the Deathlord... Well, well!"

As they walked around the fortress and Ari showed Wolf all the amenities, they met quite a few Wardens as well as fresh recruits who had not yet undergone the Joining. Wolf didn't even have to as who was who - the difference in stance was striking.

"The Joining is not a mere formality," Ari noticed Wolf's glances. "It does change a man. Many don't survive it... it's supposed to be a secret, but I think you already know it. We don't exactly advertise what it entails... for obvious reasons," he smiled with sadness. "We do need recruits, but if we start telling people that their chances of surviving the Joining lie around one in three or four... we won't be getting quite so many volunteers."

"Do you get a lot of volunteers as it is?" Wolf was watching the recruits, noting to himself that they appeared to have come from all walks of life.

"Yes, we are quite popular," Ari smiled. "The Order of Ezekiel does command respect. We've been here since time immemorial, and we've always been needed, even between the Surges. There are always undead around... some always rise from the Valley of Bones to the North East of here... someone always takes it upon himself to play the Maker!" Anger was playing on his face and Wolf reflected that Ari's name may not have been a coincidence - it stood for "lion, a son of my people".


"How many Surges have there been already?" Wolf felt that it was touching on the topic of the Faith, even though they hadn't said it directly.

"We don't know exactly," Ari sighed. "Papyrus is not eternal and libraries and archives do burn from time to time, even ours. We have records of seven Surges so far, with a few hundred years apart. They are so catastrophic that once a Surge is cleared, a new era typically begins. I believe your Empire has a similar tradition... although I doubt that the calendars will be the same."

"It is logical to start a new era after something like this," Wolf nodded. "In your calendar the current era is Serpentis - the Era of the Serpent, is it not? How is the name chosen?"

"Someone throws dice..." Ari laughed. "I have no idea. Some clerics pick a name, that is all. But admittedly, the events of each era do come to reflect the name... which is odd indeed..."

"And this era has only just started, this being year 30," Wolf observed. "I wonder what the Serpent is to bring us..."

"The previous era did not end with a Surge," Ari continued. "There has been no Surge for several hundred years, not just thirty. The previous era ended simply because it was getting too long, they declared the start of Serpentis when Mulus reached 400 years..."

"The Era of the Mule?" Wolf laughed. "Unsurprisingly, nothing of note happened during that time."

"What did I say? Someone just throws dice and picks a name..." Ari laughed too. "And yeah, there was nothing but boring hard work in that era."

"But now, Serpentis had barely started, and already the next Surge is gathering," Wolf frowned. "That doesn't bode well."

"It depends," Ari inclined his head. "It depends how quickly it is quashed. There have been Surges that barely even warranted the start of a new era..."

"What makes one Surge worse than another?" Wolf was trying to get his head around it all.

"The power of the Deathlord leading it, I suppose," Ari shrugged. "And the number of Deathlords... Oh yes, it isn't always just the one. Sometimes we'd defeat one, and the next one is rising immediately to replace him... It isn't a single crazed individual that we are up against, it is an organisation of crazed individuals..." he shook his head.

"And you never know how many are lined up each time until you slay the last one and no further Deathlords rise to replace him," Wolf guessed.

"Quite." Ari led him out of the fortress. "Behind those mountains lies the Valley of Bones with Mount Harrat to the South. Deathlords like to use that mountain as their seat of power, but it is a volcano, and a rather unpredictable one at that. Some claim that Deathlords can control it, and indeed never before has it erupted during a Surge..."

"But you think it's just a coincidence," Wolf noticed Ari's scepticism.

"I don't think they can control forces of nature," he agreed. "It is an entirely different thing from what they are doing..." He paused, looking towards the mountains, and Wolf thought that a faint plume of smoke rose over Mount Harrat. "But you must be weary after your long journey," Ari turned to Wolf. "Take the rest of the day to look around, to get your bearings... Tomorrow you'll join a patrol and see for yourself what filth we are dealing with here."

Ezekiel is a wild one! Lots of strange visions to take inspiration from. This is interesting LW. I can definitely see the Dragon Age influence, but you’ve made it your own, unique story.


I’m currently doing what you are describing to write a backstory for a character created for a future D&D campaign. Using the events of our last campaign with this particular DM, I’m using his premade world to fully flesh out this new character, and I’ve had a blast putting it down in text.

Yes, eventually you get the urge to branch into your own material, away from the game, I can dig it. I personally am in "Phase 2" of Acadian's explanation. Not so much with additional worldbuilding but additional storytelling.

Agent Argesen is wearing some sturdy-looking armor, but open-toed boots!!!

Fighting undead in the kingdom of Eretz, uh oh. Yes because if you think about it, there are always more people dead than there are alive. It's just that the deceased are no longer with us. But what if they could be? That's what an undead uprising is. All these deceased overwhelm the living due to their much greater numbers.

Those who join have a definite time limit due to this definite infection??? Cripes.

Chapter 1, very dire. I'll check out Chapter 2 later.

Yes, the Dragon Age inspiration is quite clear in the beginning, but the story will veer away from it as it goes on, as I've done in my imagination. I was considering to replace the term "Warden" by something different, but then I changed my mind. It is the best word in English to use as a title, like in: "Thank you, Warden!". The other alternatives would be Sentinel, Guardian, Keeper (not quite right), Guard (ugh!), Custodian (a dusty clerk springs to mind), and so on. "Warden" is just the best of them, and it is also just a word, there are Wardens of all sorts all around us, not just in Dragon Age. And so here we have Wardens of Ezekiel, and of course they'll come across Watchers and Watchmen... but that's jumping ahead!

Ezekiel's valley of bones is just screaming to be re-enacted...


Such was Roman armour. They often wore sandals even with heavy armour. And since we're taking heavy inspiration from the Roman Empire, it fits. Also, this is what the AI thought he had to be wearing, and who am I to disagree... No, really, closed boots were not common in the Roman army, not even in the North. Here's what they wore in Britain (link) which was the most Northern Roman province.


Yes, that's quite grim. They'll talk more about it, I am trying not to overwhelm the reader with the world-building lore.

Mount Harrat

Iunius, Serpentis 30

The patrol that Wolf Asgarsen joined the following morning, rode North and East, towards Mount Harrat. They took a mountain trail and didn't meet anything untoward until they crossed the first chain of peaks and descended into the gorge below. It had been a bright morning just a few moments ago, but now the sky darkened and the air started filling with ash.

"The Harrat is spitting ash," one of the warriors shook his head and swore, pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth. "Ari was right - it is waking up!"

"That's not the only thing that's waking up!" Another warrior readied his sword. "Look! Trouble is coming!"

It was difficult to see through the ash, but Wolf soon realised that the earth was moving. The rocks... no, those were no rocks! The bones on the ground were gathering themselves into skeletons, and the skeletons were rising, unsteadily at first, then gathering purpose and momentum. Fires started erupting from the ground, making a bad situation worse.

"Is this the Valley of Bones?" Wolf asked one of his companions.

"This? No!" He laughed. "This is just a little gorge... Wait until you see the real thing!"

The skeletons were easy to put down, a mounted knight could take on several with a singe swing of his sword; the most difficult part seemed to be to keep the horses from bolting when a jet of flames shot up nearby.

"We won't be able to clear them - they keep coming!" Wolf exclaimed realising that every fallen skeleton had already risen again, sometimes several times over. "There's no end to this! What do we do?"

"We ride on," the patrol leader turned to him. "There's no end to them indeed, and wasting our time here is pointless. These are harmless, they won't leave the gorge. We should ride to the Harrat and check on the state of the volcano."

Wolf gladly agreed. The skeletons seemed to be an impressive nuisance rather than a real danger, at least not to them. The volcano, however, seemed to be waking up and spitting out more and more ash.

They rode through narrow gorges climbing towards the top of the mountain and the crater of the volcano hoping not to see any rising lava in it, but at the same preparing the path for their escape in case they did see lava rise. It was quite unnerving, what with the smoke, the ash and the skeletons all around.

"And the stench!" Wolf coughed. "How can there be so much stench? There is no rotting flesh that I can see!"

"You just don't see it yet," one of the warriors smirked. "You just wait..."

Suddenly there was a gust of wind, and Wolf shut his eyes to protect them from ash, but some ash must have gotten in anyway because he felt a sharp pain and saw words burning inside his retinas...

And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the North, a great cloud, and a fire unfolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the colour of amber, out of the midst of the fire...

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head - what was that? The words sounded in his mind as if someone was reading them from an old book, or else reciting them from memory. The language was old, yet somehow also very familiar, like a language that he might have heard as an infant but never as an adult. He must have looked confused because one of his companions brought his horse right up to Wolf's and touched his arm.

"Are you alright? It's quite a lot to take in on your very first patrol."

"I... yes, I am alright, I suppose," Wolf tentatively opened his eyes, trying not to get any more ash into them. "Is there magic in the air? I seemed to have had a vision..."

"What vision?" The leader of the patrol sounded worried.

"Words... about this wind coming from the North, and fire."

"Words? Hmm... I don't quite understand," the patrol leader squinted. "But it doesn't sound dangerous. Let's keep going, you should ask Ari about this when we are back at the citadel."

Wolf nodded. The last thing he wanted on his very first patrol is to look like a wimp, and it seemed to be exactly where this was going. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his face, now also covering the eyes, leaving just a narrow strip to see through.

They kept climbing. The wind was getting stronger, fires kept erupting under the hooves of their horses making them bolt, but at least the ground was no longer covered in bones, which meant there were no more skeletons standing in their way. Instead, the ground now looked black with cooled down lava from previous eruptions.

"We are near the top now," one of the warriors levelled with Wolf. "It is always a lot windier there, so cover your face and try not to look into the crater - you'll get a mouthful of ash if you do."

Wolf nodded, getting off his horse - from that point they continued on foot.

They picked their way between rocks and boulders; Wolf could not see where the path was leading, but it must have been to the crater because the wind was getting stronger with every step, and they were still climbing. Another turn, and suddenly they stood on a platform with the crater gaping before them. Wolf gasped - it was that unexpected.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" One of his companions said in his ear. The roar of the volcano below them made it impossible to hear anything else. "We always bring new recruits here, but they rarely get to see the Harrat waking up! You're in luck, Wolf! Look - the lave is rising!"

Wolf was going to object that he hardly considered it a stroke of luck to stand on the edge of a crater of an active volcano, when suddenly there was a fiery plume of lava right before his eyes and he felt momentarily blinded by its brightness and heat... and saw more words burn inside his retinas...

Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man. And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings.

"What?!" Wolf shook his head violently but the words did not disappear.

"The Harrat is talking to you, isn't it?" All three warriors were looking at Wolf with worry. "What are you seeing?"

"Words..." Wolf shrugged. "More words... about creatures with four wings and four faces... It must be the heat."

"Or may be..."

But Wolf didn't hear what his companion was saying. Instead, more words appeared in front of his eyes, even though he now held them open.

As for the likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle.

"Is this normal to have visions like this?" Wolf was getting annoyed, he could not see anything except for the words burning before his eyes. "What do I do to stop it?!" He was no longer worried about looking like a wimp, he just wanted it to stop. Surely, he wasn't the only one who could not take the heat of rising lava? Surely?!

"We should go, we've seen enough," the patrol leader said decisively. "Wolf needs to be led, he's been blinded... This should pass, eventually," he tried to sound reassuring but failed. "Let's go."

Wolf felt one of the warriors grip his upper arm to lead him away, he turned to follow but his legs felt heavy as lead, he could not walk, yet he did not fall... He opened his eyes and saw just what the words had foretold: a man with four wings and four faces was rising from the crater of the volcano, a plume of lava carrying him up.

Seek entry into the depths of this mountain, Nephilim. Walk through the flames and behold your quest. Death will not take you if you find those who will bring you back. Open your mind.

The winged man with four faces spoke with a multitude of voices, all at the same time, filling Wolf's ears with the words, each word burning into his mind. Walk through the flames... Find those who will bring you back... Open your mind... Open your mind... Open your...

"Wolf!" Wolf felt his companions gripping his arms. The vision vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, he looked around and saw himself standing at the very edge of the platform overhanging the crater with the lava slowly rising. He took a step back.

"I can see again,'' he smiled. "Thank you. I..."

"You were never in danger of falling, were you?" The patrol leader was watching him intently. "The Harrat would not have let you. You are a Nephilim."

"I never knew what it meant," Wolf shrugged apologetically. "Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to me in my whole life... almost nothing," he corrected himself, recalling the incident with opening a portal. "But ever since I got here, strange things keep happening... strange visions..." He shook his head, still confused.

"This is far more important than the rising lava," the patrol leader decided. "We got what we came for and then some," he smirked. "Let's go back, Ari will want to hear of this. I just hope he knows how to perform the Joining Ceremony on a Nephilim..."

...

And so you are a Nephilim," Ari took Wolf's retelling of the trip to the Harrat mountain very seriously. "But what kind? Do you know your father?" He paused, watching Wolf, not really expecting an answer. "I suppose we'll find out..." He mused. "This explains how you knew about the Surge, of course. I wonder... this rather makes the Joining superfluous since you can already..."

"I would prefer to go through the Joining like everyone else, please," Wolf interrupted. "Also... can we agree not to call me 'Nephilim'? I am Wolf. The other thing is... umm..."

"Disturbing?" Ari smiled. "I understand. It is what you are, not who you are. This will soon cease being the talk of the castle - everyone here has a secret of some sort, and as with all secrets, they are common knowledge, and so they don't get talked about. It will be the same with yours. Now, let us prepare for the Joining..."

...

The Joining was a solemn ceremony. When Wolf entered the Great Hall, he found two rows of Wardens of Ezekiel lining the walls, with their swords at the ready. In the centre there was a pedestal with a stone goblet on it set in bronze. The design had skulls and bones representing the undead that the Order of Ezekiel is sworn to combat. The mixture in the goblet was dark in colour and it was steaming slightly.

"This is the Joining Cup of the Order of Ezekiel," Ari came forward, talking quietly but clearly. "It represents what we stand for, it depicts what we are up against. You've had a glimpse of it already, and more is yet to come. It is our duty to protect the people of this world from this great evil." He paused, looking at the knights along the walls, then continued. "The mixture in this goblet is designed to aid us in our duty; it allows us to sense the rising undead and to know where to strike. Some say it brings us closer to the Maker, and they are free to believe so. It taints our blood with the decay of the undead, with the mark of the Surge. It is this which makes mortals into walking corpses, it is this which also creates liches. Each and every one of us will become undead in time... provided we live long enough. It is a principle of our Order not to allow it to happen. When the decay becomes so far advanced that the person is getting lost in it, the Warden must end his life, and most choose to end it in battle. This Cup, therefore, is death. Drink from it and join our vigil so that others may live without fear."

Ari stopped talking, watching Wolf who took the goblet from the pedestal and held it in his hand, turning it slightly. He thought he could see a pattern on the surface.

"Ah, the mixture is talking to you already," Ari nodded. "You see something there, don't you? Some do, some don't, and it never made any difference for the outcome. You have one in four chance to survive. The decay may kill you or make you undead outright, and we shall have to slay you. This is why we are here, with our swords drawn. Now, drink, for to refuse it is not an option."

"I was never going to refuse it," Wolf smiled and drank from the cup.

The bitter mixture clouded his mind, he felt dizzy and sick, the light dimmed and the sounds slurred, and he collapsed onto the ground like so many recruits before him. He had no visions this time, but instead a multitude of voices spoke to him all at once, and yet he could discern the meaning of the words despite all the cacophony.

And I will do in thee that which I have not done, and whereunto I will not do any more the like, because of all thine abominations. Therefore the fathers shall eat the sons in the midst of thee, and the sons shall eat their fathers; and I will execute judgments in thee, and the whole remnant of thee will I scatter into all the winds. Thus shall mine anger be accomplished, and I will cause my fury to rest upon them, and I will be comforted: and they shall know that I the Lord have spoken it in my zeal, when I have accomplished my fury in them.

The voices kept repeating the words, sometimes turning the sentences around, sometimes saying them back to front, but it still did not change the meaning which was burned into Wolf's mind the same way as the words from the vision on Mount Harrat were burned into his mind. This here was his mission, his purpose in this world. He was to exact judgement, it appeared. But judgement upon whom? That still remained obscure. "Who is to be punished, then?" He asked in his mind. He did not really expect an answer, but to his surprise the voices responded.

This is Adonai: I have set it in the midst of the nations and countries that are round about her. And she hath changed my judgments into wickedness more than the nations, and my statutes more than the countries that are round about her: for they have refused my judgments and my statutes, they have not walked in them. Behold, I, even I, am against thee, and will execute judgments in the midst of thee in the sight of the nations.

Adonai? That was not a place in Tevel, as far as Wolf was aware. He wanted to ask about that, but the vision ended, the voices went away, and he felt stone floor of the Great Hall, saw the sun rays coming through high windows and heard the faint sounds of steel from the armour of the knights along the walls. The trial was over.

"He lives!" Ari bent over Wolf, helping him up. "Welcome, Warden Wolf Asgarsen!"

The knights sheathed their swords and removed their helmets and everyone cheered, but Wolf had more questions than answers weighing upon his heart.

"I had a vision," he said to Ari. "Orders, directions... Is that normal?"

"It is, but it depends who was talking to you," Ari nodded and lowered his voice. "Best not discuss it here and now. You survived - that's what counts today. Every Warden must stand his own personal trial, and it is never easy. Come - today we celebrate; everything else can wait until tomorrow."

Welcome, Brother!

Iunius, Serpentis 30

Welcome, Brother!" The Wardens greeted and congratulated Wolf when he got up from the floor, having drunk from the Joining Cup and not died or turned undead. "Welcome! All hail Warden Wolf!" Mead and wine was passed around, and servants hurried to bring out food and drink for the celebrations. Everyone wanted to greet Wolf personally, and he was glad to shake hands with so many, and even tried to remember their names, but soon gave up on that - there were too many.



"Don't go thinking that all Wardens are Brothers," he heard a disdainful voice from across the hall. "Some are Sisters. This is not your Imperial Mainland, Legionnaire."

"We have women in the Legion..." Wolf lied. "Err... no, you're right, we don't... I wish we did, though..."

"How very eloquent," the Sister smirked. "Or are you going to tell me that Latius is not your native tongue and you had to learn it just like everyone else?"

"It isn't, actually..." Wolf laughed. "You really don't like the Empire, do you, Sister?"

"I have my reasons," she frowned. "But it is of no importance, you are a Warden of Ezekiel now, your Legionnaire's past is forgiven. I am Estella."

"Forgiven, eh?" Wolf started enjoying the conversation. "Well, thank you, Warden Estella. I do hope to get to know you well enough to prove that there is nothing to forgive... Oh, and I suppose you know my name already."

"I was one of the knights at the Joining, so yes, I heard Ari say it," she nodded. "Let us hope you live up to it, Wolf."

"No pressure then."

"Why are you here?" Estella faced him. "I've heard you've been sent here on purpose. What is it?"

"The Emperor is worried about the Surge," Wolf met her gaze. "Worried that it might spill over to the Mainland. I am here to learn everything I can about it, and to stand up to it as one of the Wardens of Ezekiel."

"And to spy on us," Estella squinted, her voice disdainful again.

"I am an Agent, yes," Wolf did not flinch. "But I am not here to spy, unless you consider watching the Surge spying. I am not concerned with local politics, that's someone else's job."

"Your Legion loves its ranks and titles, doesn't it?" Estella was openly looking him up and down. "An Agent. That's not as low as I had expected... given your age... That had to be earned..."

"You don't just hate us, you also know us," Wolf smiled.

"I don't hate you... not all of you... not as such..." Estella seemed undecided how much to say. "I just... have a prejudice, that is all," she smiled.

"Everyone here has a secret, Ari told me," Wolf shrugged. "I won't pry."

"We leave our past behind when we go through the Joining," Estella inclined her head. "Not literally, of course, for memories never leave you. But it no longer matters... or no longer matters quite as much. What vision did you have when you drank from the Cup?"

"I heard a voice that gave me instructions... directions... outlined my mission here, and it wasn't my Legate talking," Wolf replied. "I didn't actually see anything..."

"You saw something on Mount Harrat, however," Estella continued questioning him. "I can imagine who it was."

"You can?" Wolf was surprised.

"You are a Nephilim, so yes, I know whom you saw - it was a cherub," Estella nodded.

"Oh, that. It had to come up, naturally," Wolf wrinkled his nose.

"You don't want to face it... you think it erases your sense of self... You probably don't know your father... and yet here you are, being defined by him." Estella was watching Wolf intently. "But your mother loved him, or else you would not be here. Give her the benefit of a doubt."

"You seem to know a great deal on the subject..."

"I know some things, yes," Estella smiled, taking the haughtiness and the disdain out of her tone. "I hear you got the book..." She smiled at Wolf's incredulous glance. "From the old bookshop in Ir-Hizhav. Father told me... the shopkeeper," she added. "That book will tell you what you need to know - literally. Don't forget to read it."

She smiled again and walked away and Wolf rejoined the other Wardens at the dining table - he'd had enough talk and prophecies for one day.


...


"Legionnaire! Wake up, Legionnaire!" An urgent voice broke his sleep - someone was shaking his shoulder. "Wake up! We need your help!! The village is overrun!" The voice turned to scream and Wolf woke up with a start. He was on the Mainland, he made camp near a small village in the middle of the woods, and now it seemed it got overrun by some calamity or other...

"Bandits or wolves or both," Wolf thought, scrambling to his feet. The Empire was still standing, the Empire still stood for law and order as did the Legion, and people still called on Legionnaires for help. The Empire was not going anywhere, even if some claimed that its very foundations were eroding beneath it. No, the Empire still had laws, principles, values. Every freeborn citizen could count on its support and protection. The Empire still stood strong.

Wolf ran to the village, his sword at the ready - what was it this time? People were running in every direction, it was remarkable how much chaos one little village could produce... Bandits. Just a handful of them, but they must have attacked from an ambush to gain an upper hand that quickly. Wolf spotted a few dead bodies on the ground, they looked like villagers. It was a bad business indeed, but his duty was to uphold the law, and the law had condemned such bandits to death, which he, Wolf, was going to swiftly administer. "No, I am not going to arrest them so that I could hang them later," he shook his head at the standard directive. "Even if I get a telling off again. That's too much bother."

It didn't take long and the villagers were busying themselves mounting the bandits' heads on spikes by the well in the village square. The Empire prevailed once again.

"This is for you, Legionnaire," the village Elder handed Wolf a sizeable sack. "Provisions, cloth... I hope this is enough."

"It is, and thank you," Wolf gratefully accepted the sack. "It is my duty..."

"Yes, but not all Legionnaires remember that," the Elder smiled. "If you don't mind my asking... you look familiar. Have you been here before, per chance?"

"I have... years ago," Wolf nodded and blushed for some reason. "I was... err... well... I was still but a lad and did something stupid... and someone had to rescue me..."

"Another Legionnaire, yes..." The Elder's face cleared. "And if I remember rightly, you ran off while he slept... we never knew why, you were too young to be conscripted, what were you afraid of?"

"I see you remember..." Wolf smirked. "No point denying it then. I could not stand the shame. I came here to steal... I did steal... bread, wine... I broke into the barn with the view to clear out your vault... Oh yes, I knew you had one, in the shaft of a disused well," he rubbed his forehead, feeling the shame of it once again.

"But you did not know what lay on the bottom of that well," the Elder nodded.

"A werewolf!" Wolf looked up. "How was it that it never attacked the village? I never had a chance to ask..."

"Why would it, he was one of us... one of our men... he'd hide in the well when he turned, then he'd come out when it was over. You got unlucky since it was a night of the full moon..."

"My screams must have woken up the entire village," Wolf blushed again.

"They woke up the Legionnaire, that was enough," the Elder smiled. "Chance brought him here, he was camping for the night, just like you today..."

"Chance didn't bring him here, I did," Wolf was blushing deeper and deeper. "This is rather hard to say... this wasn't the first time I did something stupid."

"He was watching over you, I see," the Elder inclined his head. "You knew it but still ran off..."

"That's exactly why I ran off," Wolf nodded.

"Well, let us not disturb the past any further," the Elder drew a line under that story. "You joined the Legion when you were old enough, and all those mistakes of your youth are no longer of any importance. You saved us today."

"Was that Legionnaire your father?" A small boy asked from the crowd.

"He was not, no," Wolf shook his head.

"Then why..?" The boy wanted to ask but his mother interrupted him.

"Now, that's quite enough, it is rude to ask such personal questions," she put her finger across his lips. "Forgive him, Legionnaire, he is but a child."

"I never knew my father," Wolf looked at the boy. "My mother raised me on her own. She did everything to ensure I was freeborn... I do not know why that Legionnaire was watching over me, but without him I would have been sold into slavery for sure, freeborn or not, for all my transgressions... my mother died when I was still young, not young enough to be adopted, yet not old enough to think for myself..." He shook his head, remembering his youth of an orphaned teenager not old enough to know what to do with his life. "Then the Legion took me in..." He smiled. "And life gained purpose and structure. A young man needs such things to keep his head clear and his honour intact."

...


"Wolf! Wake up!" Someone was shaking Wolf's shoulder. "Wake up, it's just a nightmare! Common enough after drinking from the Joining Cup!" Wolf opened his eyes, he was no longer standing in the village square somewhere on the Mainland of the Great Empire, he was at Tirat Soharim and someone was trying to wake him up.

"Ugh... thanks," he shook his head. "Common enough, eh? Does it happen often?"

"Sometimes," the Warden that woke him up, nodded. "You'll get used to it. It's flashbacks, normally... although I don't know what you'd get, seeing that you are a..."

"Flashbacks," Wolf interrupted him darkly and the Warden did not continue.

It was time to get down to business. All those prophecies that he'd received in the past day or two, they had to mean something. They were vague as all prophecies, but they also contained clues that could be enacted. The question was whether he should do that or whether he should brush them aside and focus on his duty as a Warden of Ezekiel. It was time to talk to Ari.

Ari Ben-Ami was the head of the Eretz chapter of the Order of Ezekiel. Some said he was even the head of the entire Order, but no one knew for sure. The Order was not a secretive organisation, yet it kept its structure flat and regional. Most kingdoms in Tevel had a chapter of the Order, but there was no central head quarters, no councils, no discernable hierarchy and no First Warden, or whatever the title of the most important Warden might be. And yet, somehow, the Order always knew where to strike and did so with an exceptional degree of organisation and discipline. It was a paradox that Wolf was still to comprehend.

"You've had more visions than most," Ari summarised after Wolf recounted his visions to him, both on Mount Harrat and during the Joining. "But then again, this is not surprising given that you are a..." he paused, recalling that Wolf didn't want to be named Nephilim. "Forgive me, but this is important. You clearly have a connection to the Surge that goes beyond that of an average Warden. Perhaps it is even a connection to the Maker Himself - we won't know for sure unless we know the name of your father. Your father the Watcher, yes... no avoiding it, I'm afraid. But we do not need to know it, your nature will become evident from your actions... It is your choice whether or not to pursue the quest for the name of your father."

They were sitting in a quiet corner of the citadel, away from everyone else, and Wolf was glad of it because he was getting decidedly tense, and he'd rather not let anyone see his difficulties maintaining control.


"Is it even possible to discover his name?" Wolf ventured a question. "I mean, how would I even go about it?"

"The answer lies in The Golden City - yes, I mean Ir-Hizhav," Ari smiled. "You've found the bookshop already, I understand... Akim, the shopkeeper, can help you. Start with your book..."

"I suppose I should not be surprised that you know of it," Wolf smirked. "I met Estella yesterday."

"Ah, yes, it is a small world, but Estella is not a spy... quite on the contrary, in fact..." Ari paused. "No, but there isn't much that is happening in Eretz that we do not know about," he smiled. "Now, regarding the prophecies... instructions, directions... whatever you want to call them... The ones you got from the cherub, can be trusted. Cherubs are known agents of the Maker. If the cherub said that the solution to your quest lies in the depths of the Harrat, then that's where you'll have to go... after you find those people who can bring you back in case you die..."

"That sounds rather impossible," Wolf shook his head.

"Well, no... considering that you are dead already," Ari said cautiously. "I mean the Cup. I did say it was death, and it is. You are infected with decay, it will eat away at your flesh, at your soul and at your vitality, and in the end you will either become a mindless undead or one that retains his mind - a lich. Which is why you will have to die before that happens."

"But I have fifty years, do I not?" Wolf smiled.

"Yes, it is a slow process, but even at an early stage such as now, it can help you transcend death... that, and you being a Nephilim... There is no avoiding it, Wolf," Ari added apologetically. "It's got to be said."

"I understand, it is important," Wolf sighed. "So... any hints where I can find those people that would bring me back from the dead?"

"Only you will know that," Ari smiled. "You will be meeting people on your travels, and I would venture a guess that some of them will be more important to you than others..."

"Do you have orders for me?" Wolf asked with a hope in his voice, he rather disliked woolly prophecies and preferred a concrete course of action.

"There are always tasks that need doing, yes," Ari sounded reassuring. "Just remember to look around you and not just focus on the matter at hand."

"Very well," Wolf nodded. "But what about those instructions that I heard during the Joining? You said it depended on who they came from?"

"Yes, they referred to Adonai, did they not? That is not any place on this plane of existence," Ari gave Wolf a long look. "Have you heard that name before?"

"I have... in my head," Wolf said uneasily.

"Yes, well, that place is the seat of the Maker," Ari explained. "Or rather, it is believed to be the seat of the Maker, we only have some ancient scrolls and a few books referring to it. It is therefore completely unclear how to get there... And besides that, if you are to exact judgement on the inhabitants of the city that is the seat of the Maker, you have to be very sure you are acting on the Maker's orders and not on someone else's..."

"Such as those of a Deathlord Lich," Wolf laughed. "Oh yes, I can see it now..."

"Exactly," Ari smiled, looking relieved. "So we'll start small - tasks, like I said. You will also need to learn a lot more about Tevel, about Eretz, about our customs and traditions, about the Faith, above all... which is for some reason different to what you have on the Mainland."

"We worship a multitude of gods, not a single Maker," Wolf nodded. "But one does not preclude the other. Who is to say that those gods of ours were not created by the Maker as well?"

"You are getting the hang of it already, I see!" Ari laughed. "Indeed, who is to say. And so you will need to get acquainted with The Temple. We have a Warden among us who used to be a templar - one of the Knights of the Temple, as they are called. He can get you started. He is with a patrol scouting the Valley of Bones at the moment, but they've been gone for too long and I am worried. I'm sending another patrol after them, and you are to join them. There will be a lot more skeletons there than what you saw in the gorge by Mount Harrat... but as with everything, you'll get used to it."

"I doubt I shall ever get used to the stench," Wolf shook his head. "But it will be good to finally get down to business."