Bells ring out from The House Invinicble at dawn

[dergon darkhelm]

Single file the priests of Helm descended the marble stairs into the crypts below The House Invincible. The clergy, ranging in age from a new acolyte having seen not 20 years to the venerable Overblade Grikonor, frail with age, steadying his gate with a cane, passed through a gantlet of Watch Knights their mail poished to gleam in the torchlight of the basements.

The procession finally came upon a stone sarcohagus, lying near to cutout in the wall where the casket would be entombed. Awaiting them in his formal Vestements was Guardian Rathalan Whitsword. Though still fit, his advancing had begun to show ever more in the recent months. The lines about his eyes were deep, his hair now fully grayed. In his left hand he held a decorated large sword, in his right the Tome of Duty, Helm's sacred text.

Silence came to the crypt as the last of the priests entered the room. Whitsword lightly cleared his throat and began to speak.

WE are here today, my brothers in faith, before the highest authority of our land, to unite with the others of our worship in the memorial services of our late lamented and endeared Lemuel Ogdenstorm. The mysterious events of a wise Providence have taken from us a stalwart defender of these blessed Silver Marches, and a bereaved Confederation mourns. A cruel and ruthless hand has smitten him down, and bathed us all in tears. We have come to mingle our sorrows; to dwell upon his virtues, and to learn such lessons as his untimely death is calculated to teach.

Rarely, since time began, has the departure of one man filled so many hearts with sadness, and rarely have so many gathered in this House Invincible, on one occasion of mourning, as will be gathered this day. The cruel manner of our comrade's death; the loss of so much experience, talent, and honest purpose, and the sundering of so many cords of personal love, all conspire to make the event one of the most mournful interest. All the aligned goodly faiths of the realm tender us their sympathy, and unite with us in sorrowing over our sad bereavement.

Though at first unknown, hailing from the farm village of Daggerford afar, Lemuel Ogdenstorm's signal ability and devotion soon secured our confidence and respect. He had neither pomp nor aristocracy in his veins. He was born and always lived among the common people. All his associations were with that class who obtained a livelihood by honest toil, and who cherish the domestic virtues. Believing these virtues to be the underlying elements of all elevated humanity, whether in high life or in low, he took them to himself. He had no sympathy with that so-called high, chivalrous life, which ignores purity, affection and love. We saw his holy faith; his cheerful disposition; his persistency in the right; his reliance on divine support; his integrity, and his firmness, and our hearts went out toward him. In the realms which he protected men clustered around him as the magnetic gnomish sands around the needle, or as a family of children around a father, when a beast of prey howls around the dwelling. They felt a great security while he was guiding their destinies, and worked on in cheerfulness and in hope.

We should have been sad, indeed, had he fallen by disease. Yet, had Talona sent some messenger of sickness or accident to cut him off we should have had the grief, without the indignation; but when cruelty and atrocity are added, our cup is more than full. Our grief, our sense of justice, our holy and unholy cravings for revenge, are all aroused, and our collective righteous heart cries out for redress from the depths of her sorrow.

But Knightblade Lemuel Ogdenstorm and his cruel murderer are both gone to their reward, and we will not pause to scrutinize further this mysterious Providence. Justice has been defrauded of her dues. Millions of curses roll over those dark doers and corrupt and profane, the likes of which brough Lemuel low. The execrations of posterity will sink them deeper and deeper in infamy.

Lemuel Ogdenstorm’s name will stand upon the pages of history as a great martyr, and will be honored and admired to the end of time. Many men have lived for Faerun. Lemuel Ogdenstorm died for it; and so long as a monument of Silver Marches greatness and virtue shall stand, this tomb will be visited and revered.

So know this now, all you gathered here and proclaim it through the whole of these Blessed Silver Marches, the Knightblade Lemuel Ogdenstorm is a fallen hero of Helm. Let us think of his sacrifice as we go forth to do Duty in the name Everwatcher and Great Guardian.

Go now in Duty and Vigilance, faithful of Helm.

*the clergy all then leave the crypts, except for Rathalan Whitsword and a few acolytes who remain and place the sarcophagus into its final place. A sealing stone of marble, inscribed in silver is tapped into place with a large, soft mallet. The inscription reads simply:

Knightblade Lemuel Ogdenstorm
DR 1358-1376
Hero of Helm