Thorne, Daughter of the Church [NPC]

[The Old Wolf]

[Theme]

Samantha "Sam" Thorne, Blacklands

Background

Samantha "Sam" Thorne, Prelate of the 109th Templar and Arbiter of the First Province was born several decades ago, in a small town just beyond the Rustwood. She was raised alongside her two brothers, Andrew and Nathan, in the shadow of the Holy Decusian Church, and more specifically, the Venerated Apothecary Corp, where her father had been employed as a surgeon. While highly educated, the war effort to stabilize the Midlands had been costly, and her brothers were eventually conscripted into military service. Nathan, the eldest, perished to a wasting sickness in the arid wastelands of the Prodaen barrens; and Andrew found his end during a raid on a rogue apothecary's laboratory.

From an early age, Samantha was entrenched in the world of medicine and science. Yet, despite everything her father could do to keep his only daughter from the front, Samantha showed a natural affinity for leadership. Within a few months of Andrew's death, she would find her way into the heart of Redholme, and through the academy which would mold a little girl with a heart of fire into a soldier of faith with a passion bordering zealaotry. So stark was the transformation that Doctor Alexander Thorne thought he had lost the last of his children to the Holy Decusian Church. Rending a wound which has never fully healed, but which did little to halt Samantha’s meteoric rise within the ranks of the Templar. In the short order of two years, the aspiring postulant would earn her own command, and lead the 109th into the heart of the First Province, constructing field hospitals where no apothecaries dared travel.

Description

Standing at an impressive height of six-foot-one, Samantha has never been mistaken for frail or meek. She was built for war, with a muscular form that reminded one more of a machine of war then it did a woman. She carries the brand of the Templar on her left wrist, and her dark, scarred and rigid form is toughened by countless hours of conditioning. Her hands are deeply calloused, and her gaze is piercing. Yet, she moves with a sense of purpose, always considering her moves carefully. Long, red-tinged hair that might have almost been gold once, frames a plain, if not unpleasant face. She does not have the traditional beauty of women from the East, nor the exotic appeal of those from the West, but there is something alluring about the woman's strength.

Recent History

Established a number of field hospitals within the First Province to help contain the spreading of a strange plague. Soon thereafter was recalled to Redholme, along with the bulk of her Chapter.

[The Old Wolf]

The Reclamation

"In the beginning, there was only darkness…"

There, in a loosely gathered circle, a somber congregation stood facing a hastily built platform of lumber and kindling. A man, dressed in dark robes, sobbed quietly as the service for his fallen brother began. It was a small affair, solemn and dignified. Still, a few of the faces displayed the indisputable strain of emotion.

"Yet, within this dark abyss, a light was born. At first it was nothing but a spark, tiny and insignificant, but still did it agitate the darkness. In time, that light would advance further into the darkness, an eternal flame from which the hearts of Man would be forged."

Thorne stood perfectly still, vibrant blue eyes steadily focused upon the funeral pyre. The robed figure, whomever he was, had been instructed to take the torch and light the pyre, passing the flame to the next person, and so on. Now, as the flames reached skyward, and the flesh of the fallen was slowly reclaimed, her voice did rise.

"So it is in this dark hour, that we must lend to one another. It is not in avarice, nor in malice, and it cannot be drawn from the depths of pride. No, instead, we must look deeper. There are those who speak of the One True God, and of fanatical tradition, but their words are empty. They would sow distrust, drawing their fellow man into the darkness so that they may instead worship at the Thrones. Yield not unto these fallen souls, by whatever name they may wield, they are assuredly false prophets, sworn enemies of the Light."


A gentle breeze swept through the field, stirring the Commandant's black vestments. Her chin now lifting to direct Thorne's attention toward the sky. The sun was slowly rising, and the vigil was nearly complete. No, she had not known the man they named, nor the sins he may have committed, but that was meaningless now. Flesh and blood, an earthly vessel, would be redeemed in the light of the Eternal Flame. Or so it was taught. In truth, did any man know what was beyond? Unlikely. There existed no tome, no sacred transcript, no ancient temple that could impart that sort of knowledge. And those who claimed otherwise were false, victims of their own ego and vanity. Did it stand to question? Yes, most certainly, a man who does not question is but a fool. Yet, he who claims complete knowledge from beginning to end, with no spiritual training, bound only in temporal knowledge? No, she could not allow such arrogance to take root without challenge.

May The Flame Rise Again...


Turning, she drew the sword free from the mound of earth and restored it to the sheathe. No longer could she stand apart from the community, in silent vigil. It was clear that men like this, who perished at the hands of the wicked, and those whose hands had passed the judgement were both guilty of grievous sin; and sin must be stripped from the flesh by the hand of the Righteous.


“So it is, that we speak firstly to those who despise their own will and lend toward devotion with a pure heart to serve the Republic and with studious care desire to wear, and wear permanently, obedience to the pillars of virtue. And therefore we admonish you, you who until now have worshiped false prophets, in which the Eternal Flame was not the cause, but which you embraced for ease and sinful desire. Follow now those whom The Light has chosen from the mass of perdition and whom the Sacred Faith has ordered through gracious mercy to defend the Republic for all time.”


The words fell softly from the Templar's lips, carrying easily through the dark vale. If any lingered, they were beyond her sight, but it would not matter. It was not within her to draw back her tone, nor her meaning in the face of adversity. Nor, in this place, could she find cause to do so. Certainly, there would be those who did not care for such words, uncomfortable as they were, but never had the Commandant been known to hesitate for the sake of a man's ego. Often, conviction was mistaken for zealotry, and strength for cruelty. But, this was no fairy-tale Kingdom, no haven from the reality of the world. No, hard truths were needed now more than ever.


"Rise now, whosoever would be a warrior of the One True God, taking holy vows. Unite in obedience and determination, for you shall deserve to keep company with the martyrs who gave their souls for this Republic. In this faithful service, the Sacred Eight will burn within the hearts of Man, and the Kingdom will be made whole again.

So.. say.. we.. all.."

As the last embers of the funeral pyre were purged from the earth, so too did the Templar's presence vanish into the mists of the coming dawn.