Sir Thaden Liegh is a 37 year old Zealot of the White. Despite years of devote servitude, prayer, and tithe Thaden was never called on by Sabriel and tends to hold a grudge against those who were. Despite this Thaden has been a member of the Ivory Hand since the age of 10 and has seen all its incarnations. From the charitable organization that was more of a church group then a collection of knights, to its days as the Shadow government of Mino-Cross, to its current Wrathful crusade Sir Thaden has been there.
Sir Thaden was given his knighthood for his couragous actions during the battle of Floresdale. When the Devil’s Council showed up to kill those fleeing, he was one of the only fighters to inflict real damage on both Bok and his Vroks.
These days Sir Thaden is secound in command for the Ivory Hand and holds down the main base while the rest of the organization completes the crusade.
Thaden is a tall large man often dressed in full platemail that has been designed to look heavenly. He is often mistaken as a Highhiller though both of his parents were imperials. Thaden is always clean shaven and well kept and has a certian military presence about him.
He stands 6’5 with Ice blue eyes and has short alburn colored hair.
Night of the Dawn
Sir Thanden drank deeply from his dark ale as he pondered the Ivory Hands next move. The ale was thick, warm and strong, but nothing like the dwarven brew from ages past. It had been over twenty years since he’d tasted that kind of perfection. He knew he’d never have a drink with the dwarves again.
Sir Thaden first his drink and stood for the wooden barstool. He was a tall man, standing almost 6’5. Throughout his younger years he’d often been mistaken for the Clans man of the north, the highhillers. While his rust colored hair, broad shoulder, and strong jawline gave a strong impression of his roots, his eyes were an icy blue, white almost, not green like that of the pigmen. At his side Sir Thaden carried a powerful claymore with an Ivory white blade that gleemed with holy fire when drawn. Its pummel was that of a lion’s head, carved from dragon tooth. Sabriel’s Arm he called it in honor of the goddess of Justice and Wrath.
Sir Thaden walked out the back door of the hall and took a moment to breath. Over the last few month’s his order, the Ivory Hand, had been nearly torn to ribbons by rival group of knights, The order of the Dawn. They’d come to steal the treasure of the Ivory Hand, artifacts of the gods, and kill all witnesses. During the battle many of his friends had perished and worse the sacred artifacts had been stolen or destroyed. Unfortunately He’d been away at the time, crusading to take back the homeland and free the blessed Sabriel. The goddess had been tricked and imprisoned through wicked sorcessory, leaving behind only a few champions.
The knight paced around the remains of what was once a vibrant aristicatic vaction spot for the devote. It now lay in ruin burned to the ground by The Dawn. From it’s ashes however a new Ivory Hand has arrisen, an Ivory Hand more devote to the Angel’s teachings. A proactive organization of those wishing to cast out the hethens and wretches that caused her imprisonment.
Thaden continued moving through the ruins with his thoughts of vengance before coming back to the front of the new hall. Out front the few remain mages left alive from the last onslaught were hard at work.
“Is the redirect done?” Sir Thadan called out in a booming voice toward an apprentice working hard.
“Not yet Sir, we’re almost half way there!” the caster replied trembling.
“Half way is not good enough! We need this done today. The Dawn will be here soon and we need this to work!”
Sir Thaden felt like striking the young boy. He could comprehend the servity of what was about to happen. A cloud destruction and was going to rain down upon them, wrecked with Dragon’s lightning, Holy fire, and a false prophet leading the charge. Most if not all of them will be dead by night’s fall.
The knight saw the horror’s in the eyes of those around him with his command. Fear was good, a strong motivator, terror however, Terror was something entirely different. Sir Thaden left the mages to thier work and returned to retire to his chamber. It was going to be a long night of preping and praying to the Angel.