[h3]Roderick[/h3]
[hr]

"Hello?" Rodericks voice seemed very small and was quickly lost among pillars as it echoed throughout the gold domed chamber. 

"Yes? Hello?" An eager voice replied. "Coming!" A moment later, in a flurry of brown robes, a young Friar appeared from behind a column with a broom clasped in his hands. He immediately reminded Roderick of himself, not more than a year ago, in Lorch. The face looked very young and the shaved head had been newly done so that it reflected the light from the high windows. 

"Good morning, Brother." Roderick said with a nod and a grin. The other man halted almost at once, nearly tripping on the hem on his long robe. 

"Good morning, Brother." A pair of brown eyes looked Roderick over from beneath bushy black eyebrows. "You have come a long way?"

"Aye, from Lorch. My companion and I have joined forces with some others to try and discover the source of your missing folk."

"Oh, you're that Roderick!" The smile was back and the man, no boy, hurried forward and pumped Rodericks hand enthusiastically. "It's an honour to meet you! I am Brother Fredrick!"

"Er.. yes... You too..." Roderick had to rescue his hand from the others grip even as he muttered the words. He knew that a few poets and bards had picked up their actions in small out of the way towns but he never thought it would get much past the ale soaked dirt floors of this backwater settlements.

"Forgive Brother Fredrick," A new voice interrupted and an older man, his head bald by virtue of age rather than choice, and criss-crossed by a dozen impressive scars, appeared. "He listens to one to many tales among the shop keepers. Back to your work, Fredrick. The pews have yet to be done."

The older man waited until his charge had slunk away before turning to eye Roderick. This time it was less a look of youthful excitement and more of one predator weighing another. After a moments pause he held out his hand and Roderick took it, the tough callouses on the others hand very similar to his own.

"Father Gustav. I am the Prior of this Chapel. I have two other novices in training here with me." He released Rodericks hand and cast a shrewd eye over the Book of Sigmar and hammer that hung from broad shoulders. "I would hazard a guess that you have cut your teeth as a warrior by now."

Roderick nodded, though he was strangely self conscious. Not to long ago it had been him wielding the broom when fighting brothers came to visit. It was a strange feeling to be on the other end of that now. "I have, Father. I have spent the last year with a friend, Brandt of Lorch, doing what we can to make this land a better place."

"Yes, I have heard. Such is the state of our Empire that even young men like yourself can gain some notoriety." Father Gustav managed to sound disapproving and Roderick felt his heart drop. This was something he had always feared. For the past year he and Brandt had really only encountered small village priests, men who would never carry a weapon into battle. But now, in this Temple built to honour Sigmar, he had found a true Priest of Sigmar.

The bag of coins was heavy in Rodericks hand. He had counted out one hundred coin, half of what he earned always went to the Church, and he now held it out to the older priest who took it, weighing it carefully in his hands. For a moment he looked thoughtful and then turned and began to walk toward the altar. "Come with me.

The two men strode up the aisle and even here, in this building of stone and glass, Roderick could feel the power of Sigmar. The gold was placed on an altar made of white stone and covered with a blood red cloth; Gustav stepped back and turned to his guest. 

"I have also heard of your generosity to Sigmar and I believe that if this part is true, so too are those of your noble quests in the name of Sigmar."

Something akin to relief flooded through Roderick and he failed to keep a small grin from his face. Gustavs lip twisted slightly into what might have been a smile before he crossed his hands in front of him and stared hard at the younger man.

"Brother Roderick. There are many ways to serve Sigmar. Some of us tend to the sick, some offer guidance to noble lords, other like Brother Fredrick become keepers of lore. Others still take their vocation on the field of battle. These are the men who become legends and whose names are whispered by even the Lords of Chaos." He tipped his chin upward and Roderick followed his gaze to the great cloth tapestries that hung from the walls showing Warrior Priests vanquishing numerous foes.

"But all of them served Sigmar, fulfilling for him quests and duties as directed by the Church of Sigmar. Have you undertaken such a quest yet?"

"No, Father, I have not." Roderick felt a tingling sensation in his spine and a cooling chill swept through his chest and shoulders. 

"Then I, Father Gustav, Warrior Priest of Sigmar, will charge you with a most sacred task in the name of Sigmar and the Empire. Kneel."

Roderick dropped to both knees, the head of his hammer hitting the floor with a resonating "crack" that both men ignored. Gustav held out his hands and Roderick clasped his hands, placing them between the other mans. Gustav began to speak and as he did so the hammers about their necks began to glow softly, a muted gold that shone even through the heavy cloth they wore.

"Brother Roderick, I, Father Gustav, charge you to guard with your very life the person of Marguerite Von Vissenbach, Sister of Shyalla, until the beasts that plague this town have been vanquished." The hammers grew even brighter and Roderick suddenly had the feeling of being watched, not by any earthly eyes, but by something far more powerful. "Do you so swear?"

"I do." Roderick replied, his voice little more than a whisper as he felt Gustavs' will beating against his own.

"Tell me your oath!" Gustavs' voice sounded tremendously loud in the chamber and it seemed to echo everywhere at once. 

"I swear to protect the person of Marguerite Von Vissenbach, Sister of Shyalla, and to give my life in her defence!" Rodericks own voice gained in strength and he felt a surge of power like nothing he had ever experienced before course though him. 

"For Sigmar!" The two said the words in unison. The light faded at once and the two were left, Roderick still kneeling on the stone, in the open space. The feeling of a new strength remained however and Roderick slowly climbed to his feet. He felt bigger, taller, stronger. Gustav smiled openly this time.

"The power of Sigmar. I remember the first time I truly experienced it. Wear it well, Brother of Sigmar."
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"Thanks!" Roderick took the proffered wolf hide and popped it into his mouth, chewing it around with the bread that he was currently devouring. He was walking, Maria at his side, a short way behind the cart. He had never learned to ride a horse and he wasn't likely to start now. Besides, horseback was no place for a man with a two handed hammer. 

A small donkey was tethered to the cart, its packs barely needed to carry the few worldly possessions he and Brandt had accumulated over the past year. His hammer and the Book of Sigmar were always on his person, leaving some new clothes, his heavy breastplate and greaves, and some other personal items, to be carried by the stoic little creature.

He watched the Halfling make his way through the group, doling out his tasty treat. It was nice to have one of the little folk around; they were usually good natured and a pleasure to talk to. It seemed that this one would be no different. The Bretonnians', well, he'd never so much as seen one before this particular pair and so far they were as arrogant as their reputation suggested they would be.

The Dwarf was more or less what he had anticipated as well, and Roderick had noted with silent amusement how excited Brandt was by the bearded warrior. He rather suspected that his friend should have been born a Dwarf but he would never dare make such a suggestion out loud.

That left Sister Marguerite, surrounded by her healing items. He had decided not to say anything to her about the oath quite yet. The truth was simple; the Sisters tended to be unarmoured and made easy targets for melee fighters who could get close enough. His own healing skills were nothing when compared to hers, leaving him to wield his hammer with freedom. It was not uncommon for Priests to be charged with protecting a Priestess, especially on battlefields where the quality of local militia was suspect.

They had a fair walk ahead and with the Bertonnian leading the way, and acting as bait, Roderick decided he could do worse than supporting the Halfling in his efforts to try and find where the lad had come from. In truth, and he was more certain of it than many things, he knew that whatever was out there was likely to find them long before they found it.