The Price of Peace - Varis & Avalan (Narrative Writeup)

The sun is hanging low over Daring, a warm and pleasant day coming to an end. Peace and quiet has returned to the city, following the hardship, worry, fear and loss of the brief infernal invasion that plagued the neighboring nation of K’ul Goran. Not everyone returned though - war demands sacrifice, and none sacrificed more than the Order of the Crimson Fist.

The compound stands quiet; gone is the usual sound of drills, of steel scraping on steel in the practice square. To the man approaching, it is a familiar sound - or rather, a familiar silence. The huge warrior with his narrow, triangular eyes, is greeted first with scepticism by the Tabaxi sentry, but eventually let into the compound and told to wait for the commander. He casts about the square, his mind conjuring racks of blunt training weapons, battered dummies awaiting another beating, soldiers sweating in the afternoon heat. Instead there is only the hard packed earth of the yard, and, to the warrior, silvered greatsword slung over his back, the ghosts of dead soldiers, haunting the red stone walls.

“Well met, stranger.”

Avalan turns to see a sandy-haired young man in a crisp black uniform crossing the yard. He has none of the intimidating bulk of the demon hunter himself, but even ignoring their surroundings, his lean muscle and efficiency of movement are evidence enough of a life of military rigour. The soldier stops a sword length and a half away from Avalan.

“My name is Varis Nailo, Grandmaster of the Order of the Crimson Fist. To whom do I speak?”

Avalan crosses his arms over his chest and bows, palms open to demonstrate the absence of weapons and his peaceful intentions.

“Well met, Grandmaster. I am Avalan of Narfell, demon hunter by trade, and I have come to offer you my respect and pay homage to your fallen battle-brothers. I fought the infernal scum in Avernus, and their sacrifice bought our forces the time to retreat, much as that pains me. Your men fought well. In my experience, they could not have done better. Their sacrifice will be remembered, and honored when the Long War is won.”

His voice is deep and sonorous, yet the words sound rough, the language practised but still being grappled with. Varis is silent for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as he appraises the stranger, then he gives a brisk nod.

“I thank you for your words, warrior, and for your service. It was a steep price we paid, but we did so gladly. Are you new to Daring? I do not recognise you.”


Avalan nods. “I arrived shortly before the infernal portal opened, having heard of increased sightings of fiends of all kinds. This land… it is rife with portals; corruption; inroads for enemies from beyond the Material Plane. I am sworn to hunt down and destroy all invaders, and this land seems to exert a particular draw on the foul outsiders that would seek to conquer and destroy us. It seems that I arrived just in time. But my work is far from done.”

“Indeed.”

Varis’ gaze is wary, yet he seems to recognise something in the newcomer, a darkness and a determination that is at once alarming and familiar. Avalan holds the eye contact - and recognizes a man of deep faith and conviction, who has grappled with the horror of the Nine Hells like few have that live to tell the tale.

“Well, you are welcome here. We are not now that strength that held the breach, yet for those of righteous mind there will always be food, shelter, and the company of the just.”

Avalan bows his head in thanks.

“You honor me with your offer, Grandmaster Varis. I see that we have much in common - men who truly venerate the solemn cause of justice and righteousness are few and far in between. And I owe you a debt of gratitude for the bravery of your battle-brothers. You may call on my blade while I am in Kantas, and the men of Narfell are not averse to getting their hands dirty - any task you’d have me do, I will do gladly, no matter how meagre.”

Varis nods, looking around the almost deserted compound.

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