The Collapse

Chapter 30: The Templars

Realizing his imminent death had passed, Alder turned to his saviors. One stood before him, and was watching Alder curiously, as a child would observe an insect. With a start, he realized his rescuers stood easily half a foot above him, and all were clad in black power armor, their helms reminiscent of elder knights.

Almost every one of the blackened warlords held a melee weapon of some sort -- whether it be a sword, hammer, or axe -- and most were armed with a slung, archaic-pattern ECR. Behind them sat a mighty gunship, one that was similar in make to an Albatross but made the latter seem like a child's plaything. "By the Gods. . ." Alder breathed in reverence, though he knew not which Gods he swore to.

After regaining his senses and remembering the titan before him, Alder began to study the super-man in turn. His large head was shaved to a crew cut, and a tattoo of a black Iron Cross was inscribed on the left side of his vast head. The man's eyes were a flinty grey, cold and calculating -- the mark of either a ruthless killer or an apex predator, or perhaps both.

The behemoth spoke then, a sound akin to boulders being ground upon themselves. "Any deities you may worship have nothing to do with this meeting. I am Battle-Captain Helbrecht, an Enigma newbreed of the Templars Assault Legion. You will be under my command from now on." Helbrecht glanced at his comrades, then returned his stony gaze to Alder. "Any questions, Alder Ward?"

The smaller warrior started, then shook his head in the negative. Helbrecht nodded once, then gestured with his head to the gunship. "Let's go. We have a long ride," he rumbled, already turned and loping back to the vessel.

Alder had to lengthen and quicken his stride to keep up with Helbrecht, like a child trying to stay with an elder. Once aboard, Alder was seated between two black suits of armor, their occupants flashing glances down at him, before returning to their stoic statue-like state. During the long and uncomfortable ride, Alder took the time to study these 'Templars'.

The warriors numbered five in total -- six with Alder, who wasn't sure whether he was counted or not. Still, Alder was sure that these five men were enough to bring down a small army. The weapons carried were equally formidable, each as tall as a normal man. Helbrecht manned a blade, while the unknown men on the left and right of Alder carried an axe and hammer, respectfully. The warrior on Helbrecht's right wielded another exaggerated sword, but the final warrior on the left was unarmed, except for a brutal-looking, wrist-mounted apparatus that resembled a miniature chainsword atop an exaggerated hypodermic needle.

Helbrecht must have caught Alder ogling the device, as he began speaking, "That's Medical-Sergeant Sergius, our apothecary. The monstrosity on his wrist is a Medical Implant-Injector, made to give an extra shot of adrenaline or a cocktail of chemicals, but it'll crush your skull just as easily." He gestured with his head to the fighter on his right. "This is Tactical-Brother Marius. Over there," -- another head nod, to the hammer-equipped soldier by Alder -- "is Sentinel-Brother Orator. And last but not least, our resident axe-wielding maniac, Deimos-Brother Andre."

Closing his eyes, Alder nodded as their names and faces burned themselves into his mind's archives.

"'e ain't much o' a talker, is 'e, Cap?" A voice to Alder's right -- Andre -- asked, not impolitely, just inquisitively.

"He doesn't need to be talkative, Deimos. As long as he does his duty and brings honor to himself and us, he'll be fine."

"Aye, Captain."

Silence fell over the cabin once again, and Alder found himself nodding off to sleep. Allowing the void to envelop him, Alder tumbled through darkness, haunted by the faces of those he couldn't save.