Role

Chapter 12

The whirlwind of holy wrath that surrounded Amatrysti and Avalusci
had finally blown itself calm. The deeds of his dearest Maran brother
would echo in his spirit for centuries to come, he knew. The death
of Avalusci did not cause sadness. No, perhaps a a delicate touch
of the bittersweet, but not despair.

The fiery elven warrior died as he had lived, filled with Light and
offering himself as a true symbol of the Light for the world to see.
He had reminded Amatrysti of his friend and comrade who had
come to his mother's aid, so long ago. The one, who to this day,
lived a life of blistering headaches, memory loss and crazed
melancholy created by the blow of a dark knight's weapon.

While the Light did indeed swell from the sustained efforts of the
two kindred, Amatrysti realized that the war touched many folk
in ways he would rather not see. Those he cared about, even
some whom he had never met, did not see things, perhaps, the
way he did. A soul touched by the Light was not always a crusader.
He must bring himself to respect that, to mind stray words and actions.

A trail of blood, however well spilled, followed Amatrysti. He would
trudge forward without rest, no matter. Though his martial prowess
was at its highest, he knew he must continue to temper his approach
in combating the foes that could not be slain with a blade.

With each encounter, his distrust for those not of the Light continued to
grow. As he saw it, the taint whispered in the ears of many, red aura or
no. He realized that he must take measured steps when dealing with
each situation but should harm be intended to the Light, in any way,
that threat must be destroyed or cast aside utterly. His place was to
strengthen the Light and the most effective way to do that was to put
full focus on those already found within it.

To continually grasp at straws, he thought, was a way to forever keep
their pure cause on the defense. To make headway, constant forward
motion was required.