Ch. 19: New Arrivals

Requiem quickly got back on its feet. ShadowStorm did not, and was quickly disbanded after Lizargeco convinced most of the remaining members to join his clan. Many fresh, excited young people joined up shortly after the war with ShadowStorm. The number of clans still in action was quickly dwindling, due partly to the dangerous business of running a clan and partly to the dangerous nature of the world itself. As Requiem was one of the few clans out there that was actually still accepting members, and by far one of the largest, it attracted a variety of members.



Blizzard sat in a large arm chair the Clan gathering room with two new recruits. Across from him, huddled by the fire and warming himself after a strenuous training mission, was Marcus. Mark was a young warrior from a noble family in the northern parts of Lore, where his father was a lord who ruled his land from a golden hall in the mountains. Blizzard had found Mark wandering through Swordhaven one day, looking lost, and invited him into the clan. Mark eagerly accepted, and joined soon after. Blizzard quickly found him to be a strong, if inexperienced, warrior. His golden broadsword and gilded roundshield, both heirlooms of his noble family, proved to be a formidable combination, as Mark quickly learned how to effectively block attacks, counter-attack, and drive swarms of opponents back by using his shield as a weapon. In addition to his gear, Mark also knew rudimentary healing and defensive magic. Blizzard found himself repelled more than once by the force of Mark’s magical shields, rendering him temporarily invulnerable to attack.



On the other side of the room, leaning on a huge, black scythe, reading a book, was Tradewind Creed. Creed was a man with a mysterious history. He just suddenly appeared at the door to the Requiem base one day, the black wings on his back waving in the breeze. His black scythe glinted with the last rays of sunlight. His sudden appearance was enough to make Jacob scream, while his white eyes and white hair did little to alleviate his appearance as a ghost or an angel of death. Creed quickly gained the nickname of ‘little angel’ because of his wings, but his incredible speed and brute force in combat dispelled the name just as quickly as it had come.



Now, both men were silent under the sound of the crackling fire. Creed turned a page. Mark got closer to the fire, shivering. He had fallen into the waterfall at the end of the training session, had to be dragged out by Creed. Creed looked up from his book, saw Mark struggling to dry himself, pointed in Mark’s direction with two fingers, sending a warm, gentle breeze meandering in his general direction, then went back to reading. A knock at the door.



Blizzard got up, walked over, touched the stone base entrance. The door became transparent, revealing a figure cloaked in white and blue outside. Even in the gathering gloom of dusk, Blizzard could see two electric blue eyes staring back at him impatiently through long, red bangs. Fire. Blizzard pushed the door open, welcoming in the clan leader of the Order. As soon as he was in, Fire shut the door.



Mark half-rose to his feet, while Creed looked over, one hand on his scythe while the other hand closed his book. Dye came dashing into the room, yelled, “Blizzard I have something to tell yo…” Saw Fire. “It can wait.” Blizzard offered Fire a chair by the hearth.



“Thank you,” Fire muttered, accepting the chair and settling in slowly. “I would like to propose a clan merge between Requiem, led by Priestoflight12, and the Order, led by yours truly. This request is born from the fact that while I may be a good diplomat, I am not a very good organizer. Long story short, I feel that I lack certain qualities as a leader.” Blizzard raised an eyebrow. The two new recruits both opened their mouths to express their confusion. Dye silenced them with a stare, motioned Fire to continue. “I’ve been seeing it coming for some time now. Ever since G.R.A.S.P. disbanded, our clan’s been slowly falling apart. I’m asking to merge my clan into yours before it’s too late.”



Blizzard nodded. “It’s done. We’ll accept you and any members you’d like to bring with you.”



“Wait, it can’t be that simple, can it?” Fire stood up.



“Why not? It worked fine with Saint and the Executioners of Torment.”



“You mean no contract or anything?”



“Well, if you want a contract, it will have to be on our terms, seeing as how you’re merging into us and all.” This came from Saint, who came striding casually through the doorway, followed closely by Seth. Saint had recently been promoted to a Captain for his deep knowledge of tactical warfare. To fill in the gap, Seth had been promoted to a Lieutenant for his swift development of leadership skills. Both had access to private clan meetings.



Fire looked up at the newcomers. He could see that he wasn’t the first clan to merge into Requiem, and he probably wouldn’t be the last. “Fine, I shall accept your terms then.” Blizzard quickly drew up a short contract, making Fire a lieutenant and leaving all of his clan members under his control as part of a squad. Then he presented a pen for Fire to sign. Just as Fire was about to touch the paper, The clan entrance opened. A small messenger entered, garbed in white, with the emblem of the Order emblazoned on his chest. Dye gave Blizzard a look for leaving the door unlocked. The messenger handed Fire a short notice, then spun on his feet and walked straight out of the base in a huff.



Fire glanced down at the message. “Well, I’m afraid that I can no longer merge into your clan. It seems the council of Order has drawn up other plans, and will be going underground. I, however, will do no such thing. Am I still allowed to join Requiem?”



“Of course,” Blizzard answered. “Unfortunately, you will no longer retain Lieutenant status in our clan, without the rest of the Order to follow you.”



“Sounds good to me.”



“Welcome to Requiem, Fire.”