Author: Taras Guarhoth

by Taras Guarhoth (montand@canonfire.com)
Used with Permission. Do not repost without obtaining prior permission from the author.

In the rugged outer peaks of the Glorioles are a number of monastaries, secluded in their lofty perches from the mundane world. Most of these monastaries are as mundane as the world they keep themselves locked away from, with monks going about their daily tasks, priests meditating in seclusion, and the occasional holy warrior seeking to regain his faith and piety. One of them, however, stands apart from the others.

Perched high above the village of Hielearch stands Hielearch Monastery, situated on a cliff several hundred feet above the town, with only a single steep, winding path leading to it. The town still stands below the monastary, and scratches out a meager existance despite the loss of the pilgrims which sparked it's founding, shunned by many for the events that happened hundreds of years ago.

Once, long ago, Hielearch Monastery was a place of learning, a place where scholars and theologians would pilgrimage to, in order to look upon and read from one of the oldiest copies of the Book of Arnd still in existance. Within the village below, the long abandoned shell of the inn which once catered to them can be seen, for no one travels to the ill-fated monastary now, and even the abbot who rules the village refuses to enter it. Madness descended upon that place many years ago.

One ill fated night, in CY 312, the peaceful evening was shattered in the village. Four monks threw themselves from the walls of the monastary, to fall to their deaths in the village below, rather than face what was in the monastary with them. From above, the screams of those still inside were heard, until they were abruptly cut off, one by one. None survived that fateful night.

Since that time, only a handful have attempted to enter the abandoned monastary. The first was a small group sent by the Orthodox Church of the South to investigate the matter. The head of the leader of that party was thrown from the cliff shortly after they arrived. Over the years, a few others have attempted to breach those walls and find out just what was unleased upon the monks or simply to loot the ruin. The lucky ones slipped and fell to their deaths before they finished the ascent. The rest never returned.

Every year, those left in the village bar their doors and windows, and stay inside for the entire night of the anniversery of that night (the 12th of Goodmonth) after having spent the day in desperate prayer in the forlorn and empty cathedrals within the village's confines, for it is said that the vengeful spirits of those who were slain by whatever was unleased upon the monastary walk the land, and seek revenge upon the villagers below for not saving them.

Others claim that it is not the spirits of the fallen monks that stalk the land that night, but instead the hateful beings that fed upon the marrow of the monastary's inhabitants. No one knows for sure, but at least once a generation, a body is found the morning of the 13th of Goodmonth, freshly killed, and when the head remains, a look of horror frozen upon it's face.