Ulric lowered his head his eyes closing slowly, his voice echoing in the newly renovated space “ My Lord, Honorbound and true, darkness encroaches on this place, on this city, send me your hound, so I may know may know your will and…Which heretics need put to your blade…”
There was a silence in the hall before a deep, and hoarse voice broke it, “ The Lord deems them all heretical good knight, let the blade drink from their actions, as they are the ones who have let such come to pass…”
Ulric let his eyes peak open, he could see the Hound, a mass of black and shadow like fur, its eyes a brillant blue that locked with him the moment he looked upon it, “ Consortium and this…New Cabal?..All of them?”
With a wolf-like snarl that sent a jolt down the old warrior's spine “YES!”
Ulric’s head snapped back, his eyes wide open, glancing around the empty cathedral hall, he pushed himself up, and began the climb of the old church making way for its peak, he let his hands rest on a large tangled hempen rope for but a moment.
His nerves calmed, the Hound always made his blood rush, then Ulric pulled down on the rope, his mind travelling to images of what the Cult of Azamel had done to his family, Ulric pulled on the rope again, this time with a more resolved look upon his face.
The bells of the old cathedral that overlooks Tilverton ring out, shattering any cult's dream of slinking into the shadows of this place.
*Notices are left among many of the social spaces of Tilverton, and posted to Mercadian job boards with one being sent to Elves as well they read as follows:*
No Heretic, Consortium or otherwise will take hold of Tilveron, not while the Aerie of the Honored Blade stands firm and resolute.
My name is Ulric Wolfheart and I am opposed to any cult or would be Cabal that lay claim to Tilverton and its people, anyone who would feel the same, to give civilized land to these slinks of shadow and necromancy may pick up arms with me.