Deiramor the Champion of the Virtues, Marshall of the Fortress

Role

Chapter 8

It was a great day. Tiamat had fallen. After centuries, Deiramor had
completed the greatest quest of his life and fulfilled his promise to
himself and his Lord. The dragon quest was complete, and what a quest it
had been.

It was a great day... and it was not to last.

Putting into words the sensation of impending danger was hard. Already on
high alert from battling the Scion, Deiramor reacted with explosive speed
when his senses thrummed in warning. His staff parried aside an axe, struck
five times in the blink of an eye...

And the ivory and gold clad form of the peacekeeper that had lunged for him
dropped lifelessly to the ground. In a cruel twist of irony, the
lightforging crumbled into dust scant moments later, leaving Deiramor's
hands empty as he stared in shock upon the corpse.

Deiramor stood there for hours, staring in horror at the body. What had
happened. He was no criminal? Had not raised hand against any that the
peacekeeper was charged to guard? What had he done to offend the poor man
so that he would think to lash out at him without word or warning?

In a daze Deiramor took the body to the Peacekeeper Commander, with a
promise to return for a proper burial and to speak with the family as soon
as the Commander could find time.

His discussions with Lord Korsgaard and Laurandt did not bring relief from
the tighteness in his chest or dull the memory of that single moment of
horror. They did however bring him clarity, and purpose.

First, he had to learn from what happened, not only for his own sake and
the sake of the innocents that would be harmed, but for his fellow Maran
and Acolytes. It was a hard lesson. A terrible lesson, and Deiramor thought
it might be the one lesson he had ever learned that he would rather have
remained ignorant of.

Second, he needed to do what he could do for the man's family. They would
hate him, and he could not blame them. If Deiramor could not forgive
himself for the act, how could he expect them to? But he must still do what
he could for them, for he had wronged them terribly.

Role

Chapter 7

I say with no great indulgence that has grown rare for me to fail when I
put my mind to something of late. Between my faith and my allies, most
physical barriers can always be overcome. Moral issues are a far greater
challenge, though between my training, the Acolytes, and my Lord, these too
can often be navigated.

So it is a bitter thing to taste defeat from the jaws of victory. My quest
was almost done. The Mother of dragons was almost bested. I was sure that
this path at least would soon be walked to its conclusion.

Yet in those final most critical of moments Tiamat proved why she is so
feared. The best I could do was draw her away from my battered allies
before she struck me the deathblow. Yet one of my brothers still fell
beside me.

A painful lesson, but as my Lord always tells me, it is how we learn from
our missteps which forges us. So I will learn; and give twofold oath:

I shall never underestimate my enemies again.

And Tiamat will fall next we meet.

Role

Chapter 6

It is rare that the burden weighs so heavily as this day.

In the depths of that terrible place we faced the wicked magicians. One
dead, one escaped. A good day by most reckonings.

But the monstrocity that had been a boy...

At first I prayed that it could be saved. When the battleragers unsheathed
their blades and tried to cut down the Outlanders, we protected the Light.
I am so proud of the Brigade, for the easy path was not taken.

Then the revelations. Cities devoured. Who knows how many souls consigned
to be devoured.

The burden weighs heavily.

But we knew that when we took it up.

(The page is blotted with ink, as if the hand that penned it had trembled
at points.)

Role

Chapter 5

Page 1: Conflict.

The conflict between my code and the Maran creed is always something I have
known the truth of. Yet it is all the more difficult with my new position.
When the majestrate asked me if I had seen the young Squire strike one of
our enemies in Voralian city, my code compells me to speak truely; yet to
do so would cost my friend his life. Such was taken out of my hands before
I could pick, but this will happen again. I must think on what to do when
it does.

Then on the other hand I must respect the laws, for that is also part of
the code I live by. I have done so and always strive to. But can I expect
my fellow Maran to do so? No. The measure of their deeds must be judged by
our creed. I cannot place the restrictions I have sworn to on them as well,
for they have made no such pledges other than those made to the Brigade.

This is a difficult balancing act, but I must succeed.

Role

Chapter 4

Deiramor had always known what they fought was wrong. His time among the
brigade had only strengthened his conviction, and he remembered well his
Lord's council that he would be forged by his choices. But there were two
formative moments since his talk with Lord Korsgaard that had truely made
that understanding crystalise.

The first was when he had fought the Emperor. Strong, oh so strong in body,
but he remembered well the words of wisdom from those years ago. There are
two parts to strength: strength and body and strength of mind. The
Emperor's body was strong, there was no doubt. The horrors the once man had
put it through had seen to that. Yet the willingness to do those things to
one's self; to corrupt the very essence of what makes a person a person
displayed a weakness and sickness of the mind Deiramor truely did not
appreciate until then. So it was that he believed he finally understood the
essence of that lesson.

The second was when Maran Theorendus had declared his wish to visit the
Shadow Plane, to learn more of his people. Deiramor did not believe his
friend would find anything to raise his spirits, but the centaur was
resolute. So Deiramor went with him, for what Pathfinder would abandon a
friend to face danger alone?

The lesson he learned there was stark, and all the more foreboding for its
simplicity.

If the Light failed, this could be what Thera became.

So it was that they returned from the Shadow plane. Perhaps not with the
information in totality that Theorendus had been seeking, but with perhaps
something more valuable.

Resolve.

Role

Chapter 3

It was a cold autumn day when Deiramor departed Darsylon for the first time,
armed with a pack of provisions and a simple walking staff. In the years
since his orphaning he had thought long and hard upon what he would do once
considered old enough to join a guild. He had remained lonely, though well
cared for.

He had always been enthralled by the skill of the warriors when he was
allowed to watch them train. In fact, he'd always been quite sure he'd join
them when he grew up.

But it had not been physical prowess that had allowed his mother to take up
her staff and return to her chosen task so soon after trageddy. That was a
moral fortitude and invisible strength of conviction that Deiramor did not
think could be found within the teachings of the warrior guild.

So he learned of the paladin code, and learned of adversity and what it
meant to overcome challenges while staying true to one's beliefs.

Staying within Darsylon to learn would've been the easy decision. Perhaps
even the sensible one, given the dangers of the world outside. He could not
remain, though. He would always be the poor orphan in the eyes of his
teachers, he feared. He needed to start a new, and one day he would return
to his first home and protect them from all that would do them harm.

Role

Chapter 2

It was always at the height of summer that his parents both returned.
Deiramor was not sure why, but it had become a tradition. So it was with
great anticipation that he awaited by the valley entrance to Darsylon.

But only his mother returned; and when she drew him into an embrace and
whispered that his father had fought bravely but had breathed his last,
Deiramor knew nothing would be the same.

A shadow had fallen over Deiramor's life. He had known what his parents
fought was dangerous, but a part of him had never understood it on anything
other than an abstract level. Now it was all too real. It was no longer a
fun passtime to imagine the evils that his brave family were vanquishing,
but it was only the first blow.
For two weeks later, as had happened many times before, his mother told
Deiramor that soon she returned to the battle.

"Why? Why must you go? Haven't you done enough?"

Her gentle rebuke came swiftly.

"Because we endure, Deiramor. We endure because we must."

She did not return, but her final wisdom would stay with him forever.

Role

Chapter 1

Being the son of great warriors was not all it was cracked up to be.


Growing up in Darsylon, Deiramor had a good life. He never went hungry, was
clothed and sheltered, and surrounded by generally kind and altruistic
people. The only thing missing was that so precious commodity: family.

Both of Deiramor's parents were soldiers of no mean ability (his father a
warrior, his mother a paladin), and it was a once a year affair for
Deiramor to spend time with them both at the same time. Often both were
away for months at a time, and when one returned it was almost always alone
while the other remained.

Deiramor did not know what they fought. Noone would tell him when he asked,
stating he was too young for such things; but when they thought he could
not hear, there was one word which came up without fail.

Maethian.

Yet he treasured all the times he could spend with his mother and father.
He didn't mind that they seemed somehow wearier each time they would return
to the city in the trees, or that often they would be unable to play with
him while they recovered from injuries. He would sit and listen as they
would tell him of what it meant to be a protector of people.

So Deiramor lived a happy if lonely life, and treasured the moments as they
came.

But it was not to last.

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