OOC : For the last few months several of us in the Order have been working on an RP storyline that will hopefully flesh out the Order a bit, and give a lot of RPers a big, long storyline to hop onto and push as they see fit. And a villain!

The following is a not-so-short story giving us the history and making of the villain of the piece. It wound up being quite lengthy, so I've split it into several episodes, to be posted at later dates. The following takes place upon the Great Embarkation, when the Order led a massive expedition away from the Barrens and their homeland, to come to Skytopia.

A stiff breeze whipped the banners on the gangplank leading up to the brown painted floating barge. A host of Order members, support staff, friends and family milled about excitedly, and went still when an aging goat held his hand up for silence. A lone hooded figure watched through a high window in the Order's enclave as the final preparations were made to cast off. The figure sneered involuntarily at the goat, too high up to hear anything that was said. He knew well enough, he though cynically. The old man was blathering on about new horizons, Magnus' path that would lead them to a new land, to bring the Word to a new culture, a new land to help and a whole host of potential convertees, all the usual tripe. The figure ground his teeth and supressed a bitter laugh. Sheep. All sheep, being led by yet another sheep. Idiots. Either way, they'd be in for a big suprise when and if they returned from this moronic quest, the figure though.

"Are you not joining the celebration, Caleb?", a voice asked.
His reverie suddenly broken, the hooded figure easily put on a warm smile. "No no, I'm not one for crowds. Plus, goodbyes make me rather melancholy", he shrugged a little sheepishly.
"Well, if you change your mind, I'm sure the rest of our Brothers and Sisters would love to see you down there." The rabbit returned the smile and patted Caleb on the shoulder before hurrying down the hall. Caleb turned back to the window, the warmth leaving his face almost immediately as he scanned the gangplank, noting the figures of the Reverend, Matriarch Clara and that oafish son of hers, now entrusted with the task of leading the Order members who elected to stay behind. Caleb felt like the Knight's teeth almost gleamed in the sunlight as he kissed his mother goodbye and raised a fist, grinning widely at the embarking members. This was the final straw, Caleb thought, feeling the sting of rejection again as if it had just happened. A slow, sinister smile crept across his face. He was undoubtedly sure about his plan, and about the consequences for all of the Order. They needed a real leader, someone with vision who wasn't afraid to put words into action. Like Magnus, he thought with not a small touch of pride. His mind wandered back to the beginning, to the moment that things finally became clear. It had been a hard road, surely, but no task of great worth wasn't without its sacrifices.

* * * * * * *

It had originally been another assignment, just like so many others. Caleb was a little younger then, much more naieve for sure, but still had been in the Order for a goodly amount of time. He was respected for his amiable nature, although talk behind closed doors often brought up his lack of real motivation. Still, he was an obedient servant of Magnus, and the Order braintrust thought his talents would be useful for this mission.
He was briefed on the flight by his partner in the mission, a hulking boar by the name of Niko, a Knight of Magnus. They were to land near an isolated village. The village had been repeatedly attacked by raiders, and the attacks had been escalating now to the point that a few villagers had been killed.
"So, with your silver tongue we should be able to talk sensibly to these raider folk. And if not....", Niko patted the curved sword hanging at his side.
Caleb cringed a bit, never having been one for violence. The slight coyote shifted his frame uncomfortably. "So, two against an entire band of raiders? Hardly seems like even odds."
Niko laughed and smacked Caleb on the shoulder, nearly knocking his out of his seat. "Not to worry, little friend. I trust that with your abilities it won't even come to that. Not to mention the village in question is rather small, and they did petition the Order for help. We're already spread thinly, what would you have us do?"
Caleb shrugged. "I'm glad you have so much faith in us."


* * * * * * *

A cheer rose up from the launch as the Reverend finished his speech, bringing Caleb back to the present. "Turns out that faith was misplaced, Niko. So badly, badly misplaced", he said to himself as he watched hugs and handshakes being exchanged by the members of the crowd. Hooded Order members began shuffling up the gangplank and onto the floating barge as a host of planes buzzed overhead. "A mistake I will *not* make again", Caleb said, eyes glinting as he watched the hunched form of Standfast wandering onto the ship.

* * * * * * *

He was on his knees, blood streaming from a gash in his head caused by the butt end of a rifle. Niko was in worse shape, doubled over, hands tied behind his back and bullet wounds in his arms and legs bleeding freely. Niko spat into the sand and looked up around at their captors, then quickly exchanged a look with Caleb before his eyes finally rested on the leader. "You ruined my robe, you great mangy oaf.", Niko said with a nonchalance Caleb was sure was completely feigned. The leader, a grizzled porcupine, looked stonily at Niko before producing a knife from his belt. "This is just the beginning", he said quietly before grabbing Niko's hood and slicing it off aggresively. He blew his nose on it and threw it in Niko's face. The boar let out a massive roar and lunged for the leader, only to quickly be brought down by a kick aimed at a bullet wound in his leg. Niko collapsed onto the dusty ground emitting a loud yelp of pain. He lay panting as the leader casually crouched above him. "Passion. Anger." He nodded to himself as he stood up, turning his back on the boar's prone form before spinning around, pistol in his hand. "And utter stupidity." A shot rang out and Niko's body went limp. "No!", shrieked Caleb, nearly struggling to his feet before he noticed a few bandits levelling their guns at him. The boar grinned a twisted smile at Niko, and then at Caleb. "I trust you won't make such a dreadful mistake, hm? Get him up!", he motioned to several raiders. "Hood him, we have a long ride." The leader contemplated for a moment. "On second thought...", the porcupine spun the pistol around and brought it crashing down onto his temple, as Caleb's world went black.

Caleb fingered the scar on his temple idly at the remeberance. It wasn't the first 'gift' the nomads had given him, nor was it the most important. Down on the launch, the last stragglers were hurrying into the floating barge and the bay doors were closing slowly, the tugs circling into position above. The faint strains of music could be heard floating up on the wind from an assembled band near the gangplank, and Clara's muscle-headed son was making some asinine speech about something or other. He turned disgustedly from the scene and began walking down the hall, still lost in though.

*************

They'd taken him into a series of caverns in a rock cliff that began a day's ride from the village, the village elder had mentioned it when he and Niko had first arrived. By the time he awoke he was already lying in a cell. Time passed, it was at the very least a month, but it may have been three or four for all Caleb knew. Occasionally they would hood him and switch cells, sometimes into a roasting, humid cell where he gasped for breath, occassionally into a cell where he shivered so hard he thought his teeth would chip. Usually the cells were so dimly lit as to be almost pitch black, and his eyes strained for light. He was fed sparingly and watered just enough so he wouldn't die, and his strength deteriorated. He never saw his captors, other than the occasional scrap of food and cup of water that would be slid into the cell. He'd given up shouting and pounding at the door rather early on as his spirit was quickly diminished.
One day when he'd been trying to occupy his mind through rememberances of Magnus' teachings, he heard voices on the other side of his cell door. The sound of a bolt sliding to, and then a burst of unbearable sunlight. He covered his eyes and scurried backwards against a wall, shivering, trying to make out the faces of the figures who strode into the cell.
"So, my young friend, what to do with you....", a voice quietly said. He recognized it as the porcupine leader of the raiders, and his eyes slowly adjusted. The leader crouched down over him, Caleb still blinking away tears. "Do you have any idea why you're here?", he asked. Caleb readied to give a sharp reply before he noticed the knife and pistol hanging from his belt, and the vision of Niko lying in a pool of his own blood came flooding back. "N-no, I don't", he croaked. The leader motioned to one of the other figures and a cup filled with water was placed in Caleb's hands. He drank it down thirstily and placed the empty cup back down, eyeing the leader warily.
"I'll make this simple", said the porcupine. "You listen well, and you'll get more water. You try to be a hero like your tankish friend back there and the same thing will happen to you, hm?". Caleb nodded solemnly. The leader held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Right, what is your name?".
"Caleb Ansfield, sir." The procupine nodded again.
"You are a member of the Earthen Order of course, yes?". Caleb nodded in reply.
"You are here offering assistance to the interlopers?", asked the leader, a touch of venom in his voice. Caleb hesitated a moment. "The villa-....uh, yes. Yes, they asked for the Order's assistance." The leader eyed him uncomfortably for a long moment before standing up. He motioned subtly to another figure and another cup of water was placed in his hand. "Good. You keep being cooperative and you may even leave here alive." One of the figures snickered at this and the procession turned and left his cell, locking the door and leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

*************

Caleb wandered down the long corridor in the top floor of the Order's enclave in the Barrens, now wearing an odd smile as his mind touched back over his captivity. Strange how one hardship could become so pivotal in shaping one's destiny. Then again, maybe it wasn't, he thought. Magnus knew the creator works in mysterious ways, and he'd found of many of the Order's teachings to actually have a completely different interpretation based on your point of view. He strided down a wide staircase, nodding amiably at several junior acolytes as they hurried past him. Hopefully the Order's brainwashing hadn't polluted those young, fertile minds yet, he thought ruefully. Clarity, that was the true goal of enlightenment. Just as Tabin, the nomad's leader, had taught him.

*************

The visits continued, once a week, or so he supposed in his windowless cell. In between Caleb had little to do but plot his revenge on these heartless people who had taken him hostage and killed his compatriot as he suffered alone. The questions asked by Tabin were fairly general, occasionally pushing into territory involving the Order. In his weakened state he thought that Tabin listened even more intently to his answers to these questions, and he was always careful to be honest, but never volunteer more than he should. On one occasion, a particularly pointed question from Tabin forced him to carefully choose his words, like tiptoeing across a minefield. Tabin's jaw clenched for a moment, then he smiled and narrowed his eyes, nodding ever so slightly. The particular cup of water that followed that session was warm, and decidedly bitter and gritty. As thirsty as he was, he wouldn't let these bullies and barbarians force him to renounce his core beliefs. Or so he thought, until the next questioning session.

Tabin entered his cell alone, carrying a cup. He motioned for the guards to close the door behind him. Caleb looked questioningly at Tabin, then the door, eyebrows raised. Tabin allowed himself a soft, throaty chuckle. "Believe me, you'd be knocked down and tied before you even laid a finger on that door.", he said, tapping the knife at his belt. He sat comfortably on his haunches placing the cup beside him. "Now you listen, hm?". Caleb nodded, eyeing the glass, his mouth as dry as the desert.

"Know this above all else, Caleb Ansfield. Our people do not lie. We treasure honesty and truth above all else.This you must understand. If you do not, then we can go no further." Caleb looked at Tabin, the porcupine's eyes intense, and read the nomad leader's subtle signals. Caleb had noticed whether due to his lack of human contact or a trick of his own senses that he could read people. The subtle, almost innocuous signals they gave off, whether through inflection of voice, or a slight tilt of the head or posture. It was as if they had become open books. Tabin, however, was still rather difficult to read. At that moment all Caleb could parse from the porcupine was fierce pride, and a deep belief in what he was saying. Caleb finally shrugged and nodded, his thirst winning out.

"Very good.". Tabin sighed heavily, shifting his feet a bit before he began. "Our people have been wandering in these lands for as long as our spoken history can recollect. We were a wandering, nomadic people, living off of the bounty of the desert." Caleb allowed himself a small smirk at this. "Ah, yes", said Tabin, noting the coyote's smile. "Bounty." He jabbed a finger at Caleb. "It truly was a bounty for generations and generations. One must only know how, and when to look for the answers, and all that is good shall come to those who respect their part of the earth. We, and many other nomadic bands, would wander far and wide across the desert, moving from oasis to oasis, gathering the few hardy plants, roots, and animals that are this land's gifts to us its children." He gestured broadly with his weathered hands. "It was a fine balance, occasionally small disputes would erupt between clans but we all respected one another, and one another's way of life. More importantly, we respected this land that gave to us the things we needed in order to survive." Here Tabin paused and looked down at his feet, his features intense. "A few generations ago, small settlements, not unlike the one we took you from, began appearing at the edge of our domain. At first we gave it no thought, thinking the desert limitless and its gifts inexhaustible." He raised his gaze and held Caleb's, his eyes intense. "We were foolish, didn't recognize what was happening until it was too late. Water", he gestured at the cup, "is life out here. The oases we ferried between were our lifeblood. First the villages claimed the water. When a few of our kind strode into town to take water, they were chased off like dogs. This..." Tabin jabbed a finger at Caleb's torn, soiled mess of a robe. "Order of yours was assisting in the settlement. The villagers told us that they 'owned' the land, that the well was 'theirs'".

He shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "The gift of the land, for all its children, belonged to these arrogant interlopers. Ridiculous." His voice was slowly rising, his body tensing as he spoke. "Some of us tried again, this time more forcefully. They were killed, the rest driven deeper into the desert. For two generations we've been pushed and pushed to the limits of this place, beyond these cliffs is an endless wasteland of death. Some of our other bands have tried to take things by force, always they have been driven back." He paused again, his body tensing as his eyes once again took in Caleb's tattered, soiled robe. "And always these villagers are receiving help from your precious Order." At this last word he sneered harshly.
Caleb almost spoke then, defending the Order as a force for good and a willing helper to all who asked for assistance, but sensed it would be wiser not to respond, and held his tongue.

Tabin smiled grimly, as if he knew what Caleb was thinking. "The Order has never taken up arms against us, but by supporting and promoting these...invaders, blood is on their hands as well. They may not have held the weapons that did the killing, but they are complicit in taking sides, and in destroying our way of life. You all preach of your high minded ideals, of your goodness. But the truth evades you, and you lift up false gods. This...Magnus was but a MAN! He may have done great things, but he is no God." he said, punctuating the last with an extended finger. Tabin relaxed a little as he looked intently into Caleb's eyes. "I can see that you do not believe. Or are willing to make excuses. We are one of the last bands left. The animals have been driven away, the plants and roots have ceased to grow and most importantly, the water has all been *taken* from us. I had no choice but to fight for the lives of my people. I was pushed to do what I must, and while I do not relish killing, the same does not seem to be evident for the other side." He pushed himself to his feet and sighed heavily. Grabbing the cup, he continued. "I can see you do not believe. It is no matter what you believe what the truth to be, but what the truth actually is. Clarity, this is both the mystery and the gift of the desert." He paused a moment, gazing down at Caleb with an oddly detached expression. He held the cup out for Caleb, still holding his gaze. "One must just be humble enough to allow the message to be heard."

Caleb took the cup, puzzled by Tabin's demeanour, and nodded to the porcupine. He gulped down the water and wiped his mouth with his hand. Tabin watched intently as he finished, a wide, almost feral grin spreading across his face as he took back the cup. "Welcome to the desert, Caleb Ansfield. May your truth be revealed.”

A sweat quickly broke out on Caleb's entire body, his breath coming in pants. He tried to raise a finger and say something to Tabin, but his muscles rebelled, slackening and causing him to slump onto the floor. He thought he saw the cell door open and four nomads step into the cell, each grabbing a limb as he began to involuntarily jerk and spasm violently before he began to feel pulled out of his body. A spinning wind enclosed him, a vortex that closed around him and held him within itself.
He had a vision, was whisked across the desert, he sensed even through time. He saw the nomads generations ago, wandering the desert freely, living off its land. Oases springing up in the scrub ridden sands full of life, fruit trees and swaths of desert lilies, their small, hardy white blooms dotting the borders like a thousand tiny white stars. He saw the villagers claiming these oases, the conflicts between the two peoples growing more violent, finally escalating to bloodshed. He saw the rise of the villages, the Order's hooded acolytes bringing their words and, more importantly, their supplies and support to the villages. He was shown the nomads being driven back, the land and it's flora and fauna dying even as it supported more people. He saw the last, lonely desert lilly tramped down as sandaled feet walked across it obliviously.

The spinning winds carried him back now, to his own life. He watched as a young coyote heard the call, and enrolled in the university. He saw the teaching, the interpretation of the words done for him, given to him to repeat as rote without really searching for the true meaning within. He watched himself working as a brother of the Order, seeing not through his own eyes but the eyes of others as well. He heard the dismissal in the voices of his superiors, watched as again and again whatever small suggestions he made were regarded as a child's artwork, then tossed aside when he left. He saw Reverend Standfast treating him with a kind of indulgent respect, realizing that he had worth but not really believing his value was as high as some others. He watched as a small group of Knights and elders made all of the decisions for themselves and their own, with little regard for those who chose not to believe. He finally watched as he was given this assignment, the Prelate sending him even shaking his head in consternation at the fact that only two of them would be going. He saw Niko being shot again, the life leaving his eyes as Caleb watched helplessly. An anger began to build in Caleb. It was the Order's fault. It was all the doing of a few old spiders spinning their webs, tossing aside the true meaning of Magnus' teachings. The fruit looked so inviting on the outside, but inside the core was a rotting, festering waste. The fury in him grew, blood singing in his ears as Tabin's words came back to him, echoing. “Magnus was but a MAN.”

The layers of his life, of his self, were peeled away. The roar of the wind intensified, the truth seemed to be at the center. His truth.

The Order had lost its way.

It needed a man to lead, a man of action capable of great things to save not just itself, but the entire land it had swore to protect. There was still time, and in that moment he realized he had to fight to save not just these people, nor just his Brothers and Sisters, but all of the Barrens. They were the stewards of the land and of all of the people Magnus gave them, and they had failed in their task. If people can't see reason for the greater good through peaceful means, then it was up to someone to use whatever means were best for the greater good.

That someone is me, he thought, the clarity of the statement ringing true in his core.

The winds swirled even faster, closing in on him. He felt sucked down, down and then was back into his body, limbs tense, with four nomads pinning each down. He drew in a ragged breath and whispered, “Magnus....was... but...a...man...”, before going limp and passing out.

Even now, as he strode along the stone corridor towards his chambers he could touch the vision, seeing everything as if it was fresh in his mind. Clarity indeed, Caleb thought with a chuckle. The problem he'd learned soon enough after he'd returned to the Enclave wasn't clarity, but obstacles that prevented one from doing what was needed. The truth was easy, bringing about the ends were another thing entirely. No matter, obstacles were made to be overcome. Greatness didn't happen through chance and luck, Magnus knew. The measure of a man was his fortitude, what he was willing to endure to accomplish what needed to be done.

* * * * * * * * *

Caleb awoke several days later from his vision a changed man. He kept his own council, but Tabin was apparently satisfied that Caleb no longer posed a threat. Indeed, it seemed that Tabin believed he was now an ally, and gave him free reign of the caverns. “You can try to run if you like, but you would die of thirst and exposure before you came within a hundred miles of another person.”, Tabin said with a chuckle as they walked towards the eating area.

It was no matter to Caleb. He still bore his grudge towards the leader and bided his time, but he now knew his purpose and felt liberated in the knowledge. The next several months he devoted to befriending the nomads and earning their trust, learning all that he could of their secrets, eventually learning what was in the potion that they gave him. The nomads truly knew the land unlike any other, and had shown him a particular scorpion that lived in tiny almost unspottable burrows in sand dunes, and he learned how to distill the venom either to cause visions, paralysis or even death.

He also honed his newly discovered skill of reading people. He had always had a bit of a silver tongue but had used it only to befriend people and get in their good graces, not being much for power and believing himself to be just another acolyte to be used as Magnus saw fit. Now that he could directly see all of the subtle ways that his words affected others, he began to practise. He would manipulate one tribesmember and watch the outcome, toy with another just to see how far one could be pushed. It became ridiculously easy. At one point he even pitted two somewhat slow witted best friends against one another, the pair baffled afterwards as to how they almost came to blows and him never being suspected for even a moment. The one person he didn't touch with his little games was Tabin. He had bigger plans for the leader, and had a wrong to balance. Tabin had made choices and had chosen to fight, which was his right. He could have chosen to ask for help, but instead he did what he did to Caleb with malicious intent, or so Caleb thought. There were consequences for every action, but the time would come for the ledger sheet to be evened.

Outwardly, he was amiable, inquisitive and helpful, seemingly a willing ally. Inwardly he truly did want to save the nomads and their way of life, but as the future leader of the Order he had to weigh all of the people who would eventually be his charges, including the villagers and the rest of the Order members who were but sheep following a corrupt shepherd. Or in this case, a council of corrupt shepherds. The Barrens were crying out, and all who lived in them needed the Order's full attention. Attention he had pledged fully in his mind to give at whatever cost.

A few more months passed as Caleb played his games, learned what he could and slowly gained Tabin's full trust, eventually pledging to return to the Order and do what he needed to do to help the nomads. He had acquired enough of the scorpion venom for his own uses in the meantime and had stashed it beneath his tattered robe as a small procession walked him to the edges of the nomad's boundaries, handing him the reins of a laden donkey to allow him to return to the remnants of the village and safety. He and Tabin continued on alone for a small while, the pair making casual conversation as they left the rest of the nomads behind.

“The village is gone now, but your plane should still be where it was. We have no need for such craft, or technology.”, said Tabin as he looked at Caleb intently. “You know the truth of the desert now, you will do what you must to save us.” He handed Caleb a scrap of paper. “Our oral history has been passed down for untold generations. There are a few repeated pieces of lore that we believe to be prophecy. This Magnus of yours is in one. I thought it would be appropriate for you, to help you remember your purpose.”

Caleb took the paper with a nod and pocketed it. “I thank you, Tabin. You and your people have indeed brought me clarity.” He extended his hand to Tabin with an odd smile on his face. Tabin took it in a shake, a sharp pain piercing the nomad leader's hand. He yelped and tried to pull away, but Caleb gripped his hand with surprising strength. Caleb brought his face in close to the porcupine. “ Know this, Tabin. I will do what I must to save this land, but it is not only you and your people that need saving. We all make choices, you chose to take me against my will and kill my compatriot in cold blood. Magnus was indeed but a man, as am I. I am capable of great things, but one thing I have learned is that there are consequences to every action.” Tabin began to sway on his feet, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. Caleb finally released Tabin's hand and the porcupine collapsed on the desert floor in a puff of dust. Caleb leaned in, a feral grin on his face. “You have given me many gifts, but you have also taken much from me. Your people are safe in my hands. It is my turn now to be the teacher. For every action, there is a consequence. It's a concept that seems to have been lost in this land. I plan on bringing it back.”. Tabin's eyes were white with terror, but the rest of his body was rag doll limp. Caleb chuckled unsettlingly. “The poison will not kill you. It will leave you weak for a very long time.” His grin grew wider. “A very long time. I choose to exercise mercy, something you didn't see fit to do with Niko.” Caleb straightened himself and flashed his hand at Tabin, a single thorn nestled in his palm point outward. “Perhaps it is time to pass the leadership of your people to one who can not just nurse grudges, but be prepared to embrace the future.” He gazed into Tabin's eyes one last time before turning and leading the donkey into the desert, towards his plane.

Caleb sat down on the chair at his desk in his quarters and opened a drawer, fishing out the weathered piece of paper and reading it aloud for the umpteenth time. “In the third age after the unknown enemy has been unmasked, the Heir of Magnus shall reveal itself and reunite the fragments of a shattered land.” He'd already figured out the unknown enemy was the Hidden Fleet, and they had just begun to make their presence known. Initially he'd thought he may have been the Heir, especially after his vision, but a little more digging with the few remaining family members that he had had quashed that idea thoroughly. He'd had no doubt, however, that the fragmented land was the Barrens, that much was clear. Who and where this Heir was, that was the true mystery.

* * * * * * * *

When he'd finally returned to the Enclave after the nomads freed him, he was surprised to see the Enclave a hive of activity. Planes were everywhere, many being retrofitted for mid air refuelling, and several large cargo ships were being stripped down and rebuilt as flying fuel platforms. Puzzled, he'd made his way towards the Reverend's office, several Order members greeting him warmly. He'd exchanged a few quick pleasantries but had a sinking feeling about the mayhem taking place, and had excused himself several times to hurry on to Standfast's office. Pausing outside, he overheard the voices of Clara, Standfast and Clara's adopted 'son' Sheldon, a highly placed Knight.

“Everything is progressing well, reverend”, said Sheldon. “We expect to be ready for departure in approximately three months.”
“Excellent, Sheldon. We'll still need to finalize the roster of Order members who will be accompanying us, of course, but I doubt that we'll want for lack of volunteers. A whole new world, new peoples and cultures, all waiting to hear the great words and teachings of Magnus. This will truly be the Order's finest hour.”
Clara's softer voice piped up. “As well, my son, the Reverend and I have been discussing the situation here, and what to do with those who remain in the barrens.”
“And?”, asked Sheldon.
“It has been decided.”, said the Reverend. “You will be the guiding force for those left behind. You are respected, capable and your judgement is excellent.”
Behind the door, Caleb burned. That idiot? Another sheep leading sheep? And a muscle-brained one at that. He took that opportunity to knock on the door.
“Come”, said Standfast. Caleb pushed open the door and stepped inside just as he remembered to not betray his emotions on his face. He pasted on his usual amiable smile.
“Caleb? Is that you?”, Clara asked, closing the distance and embracing him. Caleb went rigid momentarily, but quickly relaxed.
“Uh, yes, it is indeed. Back from the dead, as it were.” He fixed Sheldon with an oddly intense look for a moment, before smiling at the Reverend. “May I have a word in private, sir?”
“Of course, of course!”, said Standfast, smiling himself. “Heavens to Magnus, man, we all thought you were dead!” He motioned Caleb to a chair and shooed Clara and Sheldon out. “We'll resume this later”, he said before they left and closed the door behind them.

The meeting started off well enough, and the initial shock of the overheard conversation wore off. Caleb donned his mask of the simple, malleable acolyte easily. He told the Reverend of his incarceration, of Niko's death and of the plight of the nomads, omitting many details that he though wiser kept to himself. Standfast expressed remorse at the dwindling of the nomad's numbers and Caleb's rough treatment at their hands, but Caleb could tell this new mission took precedence in the old goat's mind. He let the Reverend speak, telling him of a distant group of floating islands where they had not heard the Voice of Magnus, and all haste was being made to mount a massive expedition to bring the word to the peoples. Inwardly, Caleb raged at this, his suspicions of a corrupt, self serving council at the top of the Order now completely confirmed.

He entreated Standfast to reconsider, pleading for the Order to turn their attention to healing the Barrens before setting off on such a self indulgent path. The goat refused, Caleb saw him becoming even more stubbornly entrenched. As a last resort, Caleb withdrew the small scrap of paper, telling Standfast of the nomad's prophecies, of how the Barrens were a fractured, fragmented land desperate for healing and it was their obligation to heal the Barrens with every tool at their disposal. This gave the Reverend pause as he considered the words, copying them into a leatherbound book on his desk. Yet it was no use, the Reverend thanked him for his service, commending him (like a dog who has pleased his master, Caleb though) and ending their audience brusquely. Caleb smiled and nodded, seemingly content, and shut the door. As he strode down the hall his blood bolied and his ears rang, it was more clear than ever how completely the Order had lost his way.

* * * * * * * * * *

There was a soft knock on his chamber door and a ram's head peeked around it as it opened.
“They're finally gone.”, said the ram, his face breaking into a huge grin.
“They are indeed”, said Caleb, smiling back. The ram was one of Caleb's first recruits, and staunchly loyal. After the meeting with the Reverend, Caleb began recruiting in earnest. He used his skills to poke and prod Order members, finding which ones were loyal to Standfast – far too many, he'd discovered, and it wouldn't do to raise any alarms – but there were many like himself that either felt adrift, or lost, or neglected. He'd amassed a platoon of followers, all utterly loyal to him and his cause. It was amazing how easy it was to prey upon people's insecurities and their fears, or in some cases simply to reveal the truth as it was. A full on revolt wasn't possible, his numbers were too small, not to mention all but a small handful of the Knights were complete in their devotion to the Reverend and that idiot Sheldon. No matter, there were many ways to achieve his goals, and this leaving to Skytopia played perfectly into his hands. With the most senior of the Elder's council of this branch of the Order going to Skytopia along with a sizeable portion of the Enclave population and the majority of the Knights, things would be much easier for him here.

“No word on the heir yet, I take it?”, asked Caleb.
The ram shook his head. “None. No one has heard of the prophecy, or if they had they're staying awfully tight lipped about it.” He eyed the paper in Caleb's hand. “You're sure that it's legit?”
Caleb laughed. “There's no way to be sure, but this is definitely an old piece of lore, and the puzzle pieces fit nicely, Randall.” He folded the paper and tucked it back into the desk drawer, standing as he did. “No matter, the Heir will be revealed when the time is right. We'll just be prepared ourselves. It would be a huge boost to our cause.”
Randall nodded. “That it would. Oh, also, these arrived yesterday.” He pulled a small cloth bag from beneath his robes and handed it to Caleb, the bag's contents jingling softly. Caleb's eyes lit up as he took the bag and opened it. Reaching in, he fished out a tiny white-silver pin and rested it in his palm. A perfect replica of a tiny desert lily lay there, and Caleb smiled. He pinned it on his robes and took a few more lily pins from the bag, squirreling them away in the desk before handing the bag to Randall.
“Make sure all of our membership get one of these. It will be easy for us to spot one another that way. Instruct everyone that if any questions are raised, a peddler came through not too long ago selling these in exchange for food and supplies.”
Randall nodded again. “Of course. Is that everything?”
“For now, thank you Randall.” The ram nodded and left, shutting the door. And so it begins, Caleb thought as he fingered the metallic petals of the lily pin. There was much work still to be done, but all great deeds needed a beginning. The barrens would get better, the Order would be healed and the heir would be found.

((it just keeps getting better))

Next segment up!

Yikes! Can't be good for his state of mind, that.

Part 3 added!

Now I wonder what the Skytopian branch of the Earthen Order will think of the way the Barrens Earthen Order does things? Our order has chosen to aid those in need most often; what will we do if we hear about nomads attacking desert towns? Assume that they're the aggressors, and act to defend them, or try to mediate a peace of some kind?

Food for thought! Obviously we're just hearing the nomad side of the story. For all we know, there could have been some historical misunderstanding that kicked all this into high gear.

Second last chapter up! Hopefully some readers have been enjoying the ride.

Scary! Nice work so far. It will be interesting when we run into this guy in the Barrens. We don't officially know any of this, of course.

Last segment up!

Keep an eye out for Caleb appearing in an RP tab near you soon!

Great work, Sloth! ^_^