Date: 370

Grange exceeded the expectations of Len, Renold and Gwen, as he qualified to honored with the title of priest by the High Priestess of Guiharia. I felt very proud to see the old man succeed at something that did not involve a laboratory or countless hours of research and reading. His combat prowess increased as well, as he began to best me in a majority of our duels.

My progress with Goen was going well. I practiced with Goen daily, honing my combat skills with a staff and dagger, which I felt to be an interesting choice of weaponry. “Weapons are an extension of one’s body, and not tools for destruction,” Goen preached.

To him, the staff represented my balanced sense of justice and duty, while the dagger represented my willingness to act swiftly. It was an interesting philosophy, but I agreed with Goen and trained as hard as I could. I still yearned to meet one of the Brethren and learn the secret arts of the ranger…

The coronation was held outside of the silver tower. Many young apprentices lined up to receive the honor, Grange being the oldest of the graduating class.

Before the event could start, black portals ripped across the sky, releasing the smell of brimstone and charred flesh. Two dozen demons came through the portal, surrounding the audience of the ceremony.

The demons were clad in sleek, plated armor. They were unarmed, but needed to weaponry considering the size of their deadly-looking claws. They snarled at the women and children, condensing the crowd into a contained mob.

One demon, dressed ironically in a jade set of armor walked toward the High Priestess and her guards.

“I am Balik, emissary of the Abyssal Lord, Prince Grazz’zt.”

“I am familiar with your master. What do you want from us, Balik?” responded the High Priestess.

“Within your company are two people who do not belong in this realm. The Abyssal Lord finds their occupancy with the Order of Guiharia to be dangerous and threatening to our own interests with Calidan.”

“They have not offended anyone under Graz’zt’s employment.”

“Oh, but they will. So says the red prophet.”

A red prophet… I thought to myself.

“I will not waste my time with such rubbish. With all the magic of Zhel, can you really believe that believing in prophecies is worth the time of Grazz’zt?”

“I cannot question my master’s will. You will hand over the travelers.”

“You are on hallowed ground, Balik. I refuse to hand over my honored guests to you. Please return to your plane.”

Balik shot a glance towards Grange and I as his minions began to snarl at the audience. He stepped back and shrugged.

“Very well,” said Balik. “We take our leave then.”

Balik raised his hand and gestured as a large portal appeared a few meters away from his minions. Like lemmings commanded by a simple destiny, they followed one another toward their abyssal fate.

“You know the Abyssal Lord will not take this to heart, your highness.” Balik bowed, then turned around to enter the portal.

A loud cracking sound followed the closing of the portal. A commotion began among the audience as clerics began escorting them back to Modrian.

“How exciting, Tred,” said Grange. “Looks like we’ll have to be on the run again.”

And we finally found a place to call home… I thought.

If our presence meant the endangerment of the High Priestess and the people of Modrian, perhaps we shouldn’t be calling Modrian our home. The following days, Grange and I discussed how to find a way back home.