Role

Chapter 1

Vartin was given up to the Balator orphanage, his parents victim to the
Imperial war engine - centurions, cut down on the road like so much chaff.
Since they were only Oaths and not true citizens, Vartin did not have the
fortune of being given to an Imperial officer's academy or adopted by a Sect,
and was cast aside. He grew up meek, humble, in that family of outcasts,
learning to treasure each and everything he managed to acquire - including his
group of friends. Unfortunately, a band of Imperial children - those more
fortunate - would regularly cross into Balator to mock and bully the poor for
what little they did have, and eventually, after one knocked his friend Javid
to the ground, Vartin snapped.

He couldn't take it anymore, and he stood in front of the leering human crowd,
and in the biggest voice he had, he told them to knock it off.

Instead he found himself on the floor next to Javid, but he got back up, blood
streaming from his nose and from a cut across his forehead, and began to
fight, blindly, yet with such unnatural skill that one would swear he could
see through the blood in his eyes.

As he fought towards the sound of laughter that quickly became the sounds of
fear, he didn't realise that he'd been touched by an Archon that had latched
onto this show of defence of the innocent until he stood, eyes glinting
silver, glowing, panting, in a bloodstained yard with all of the orphans
staring at him with a mixture of fear and awe.

He fled. He knew their parents would return and kidnap him, punish him, kill
him for daring to stand up to their injustices, for fighting for those who
couldn't protect themselves, and he enrolled in the guild of Paladins as an
azuretouched squire. Years later, now he is an adventurer in his own right. He
worships Azorinne, the Golden Host, due to his archon being predisposed to
seek Justice, and seeks to become an Acolyte of the Fortress to assist others
the way he wished he would have been helped as a child, to spread the beacon
of Light.