Crusade

The Temple stirs.

Mounted men ride hard from the east, changing horses driven to the brink of exhaustion and answering questions with stony silence. The marbled halls of the Sanctum echo with smith's hammers, shattering the stillness of cloisters and abbeys. The chants of monks have given way to the the sharp orders of men. In the sacred halls, the Templars now gird for war.

No refugees pour out from those western lands. The merchants that once harbored there no longer ply their galleys in southern ports. The few mad men who once called those northern shores home speak of black sails and giant men, and are run off with nervous laughter. The common folk are rife with anxious rumor though, and those who rule them sharpen their blades and polish the rust from their armor.

War is coming. The Temple is sounding the call for the Crusade.

(Author's Note: This is very much a work in progress. Apologies for any errors and the like that may be within. Everything is subject to change, and very rough. Thank you for your patience as I continue to struggle to find the time and health to keep working on this!)