Yikoti Del'umsha the Champion of the Virtues

Role

Chapter 9

It's hard out there for a Half Elf. Oh, right, mind the spelling. I'm not
one of those poor half-humans, doomed to clod around like drunken dwarves and die
just when their life is getting started. Thank the light and save their souls...
I was born of a fair flower of Darsylon nobility and a thuggish (his word) wood-elf
father. I bet it was an interesting tale how those two met...Anyway my mother was a nice
lady who died too soon. I guess I got my good looks from her, and the importance
of devotion...

My father...oh my, where to begin. He was a bandit in another life, but only when
he got REAL drunk would he talk about it, then only to say "Don't do it." When he
straightened out he went to work for the king as a minister without portfolio.
Between the things he found in his first, er, career, and what routinely
came though the city he became an expert on rare artifacts. I guess that was
the one thing that made him happy. He would spend hours pouring over scraps
of metal, dusty bits of parchment, whatever he could get his hands on. That
was his devotion...and between the strange hours and barrels of wine it wound up
killing him. I tell everyone it was a broken heart. I don't think it's a lie...
the poor guy never looked at another woman after Mother.

That's my history. Good looks, strange tales about expensive junk, and devotion.
Oh, right. Devotion. Mother and Father both told me over and over and over how
important it was to find something in my life bigger than myself, a great
work, a cause that started long before me and would go on after me. I
really took that to heart.

Continued...

Role

Chapter 8

I found the Tired War. That's what my second father called it. Good
versus Evil for the throne of the world. Second father? Oh, he wasn't a
relation. Actually he was another drunk, but this one was a dwarf, about
as old as dwarves get. In my unfocused youth I spent a lot of time in
the taverns of the Hollow, not drinking but listening to the stories,
dancing to the bards, chasing the women. Devotion to what? In the back
of my mind I was always looking for something, but mostly I was just having
fun. Then I met old Ironfoot.

He was a priest, what most people call a shaman. Old Ironfoot wore a
tattoo, carried a holy blade, and passed out at least once by noon most
days. He said he was tired of fighting the Tired War but after the
first few times we talked I knew it was something else. He needed
somebody to carry on after he died. The war would never end, he would
tell me. It's important to keep fighting, even if the very idea of victory
was crazier than...an obscene concept my guildmaster made me promise to
never repeat again. Anyway I understood perfectly. He was talking about
devotion.

The War we fight, he told me the last time I saw him (he went home to
die), is about making ourselves Good. It is about forging souls in conflict
so we don't need to think about protecting the weak. We've been the weak. We
never have to philosophize about the meaning of integrity, we've seen it in
our comrades. We don't have to listen to sermons about courage and eternal
honor to get ready for battle. Because we are the battle. When we get tired and
when we die the life we lived was our victory. You can see why I called him
father. I learned a lot.

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 7

I should be quivering with excitement and joy...
Lady Iunna gave me her holy blessings; I'm a real priest now, just like old
Ironfoot. I have brought yet more honor to my guild, and to the house of
Del'umsha (oh my, Father must be laughing and crying at his son in the afterlife.)
In the spirit of gift giving I am teaching myself the art of poetry. The
guildmasters stress the importance of gratitude for the gifts we receive from above...
If Lady Iunna thinks I'm worth of divine energy to fight the War, well, I'll
give her my creative energy as thanks. It will be my prayer...my devotion to Her.

So...some excitement I suppose...but I can't say I'm happy about it. I've read
stories, heard the tales of heroes of the lands, even dreamt of my own path to righteous
slaughter of the wicked...
Well, despite my poetical training I can't think of a better way to put this. I
am scared. Ironfoot never said this would be easy, but I didn't expect it would be
nearly impossible. Every foe I face seems to be faster, stronger and smarter than me.
A wiser man would find strength in his friends, or his faith. I think I just
need to harden the hell up. I must find some way to make this fear work for me...

Role

Chapter 6

Some of my brothers and sisters enjoy chanting it, like a song without melody...
or harmony for that matter. When I think about it that sound often comes back to me,
that and a certain sense of duty, purpose, adventure even..."I am a Paladin..."
"I am a holy warrior! How can I help?" "I am a paragon of vitrue, prepare to
burn, darkling."

But several years into a life lived by the Code and a strange thing happens.
That soft, steady chant becomes cacophony. The words lose all meaning. The
foundation of your life turns into smoke, and floats away. This is the first
true test of being a Paladin.
Continued...

Role

Chapter 5

This is one of the few times when the simple, easy answer is also the
correct answer. Consult your faith, your experience, your heart, Yiko.
Hmm, respect...respect...fight...lead...courage...respect. The lesson is
respect. Good. Respect for myself and for others. But, eleven isn't
very ambiguous about certain "people," fiends, monsters that deserve no
respect. No...but wait. Do not associate with the TAINT OF EVIL (underlined
and circled) Is anyone condemned to the taint of evil? Forever? The tales of
the poor cursed drow, even a duergar...eh maybe not. But it is true
the burden of sin and wickedness is never permanent...what well-meaning and
naive people call my holyness is not mine to own. Hells no. It's a struggle, a
constant war to decide what is right and then do it...I stand next to evil. Huh.

If it is only my actions and intent that keeps my soul pure, the reverse
must be true. The Taint Of Evil is not the essence of a person's spirit, it
is actions, wicked scheming...a life lived badly. If I was a Herald, well it does not
mean I associate with the Taint. Instead, I can try to associate with the other
part...the blank slate...the lifeforce.

Or I can absorb firewater fumes for a hundred years and someday forget
that one bright spring morning I wrote a lie in my journal, and believed it.

I can find my fine line in there...I can. Need to fight and clear my mind. Think
about my audition...

Role

Chapter 4

Just tossed an orc out of the Bar. A big lightheaded but it's a clean feeling. Olin
seemed displeased, but I had a tiny revelation as I waved the residual swamp odors
away. I've assumed a great responsibility, not greater or lesser, but in every way equal
to my devotion to the Order. They compliment each other, like tea and honey, like a sword
and a shield...Oh before I forget, the revelation...I can relate to this bloody aura'd
bastards on a level that does honor to the Inn and honor to the Code....

...Learn my enemies, question, research. Understand them as well as possible. If
I'm to be submerged in the taint on a daily basis, I should learn how to swim...some
interesting stories to be told as well. I'm looking forward to matching wits with
that orc again (ha)

Verbal warfare aside, I must continue real and bloody confrontation in the world.
If I'm going to be a "face" of the guild, I need to be respected or feared...and
be careful not to bring the War to the Inn's door.

It is a narrow path, balancing act, on and on and on...but the reasons this
will be difficult seem to change every month. This is War. Iunna take me when
I fall...

Role

Chapter 3

I'm lucky. Far more than I'll ever admit to anyone...even a Champion needs his
secrets. Little over 200 years on this bloody path...marching in the Tired War, and
I still have my spirit. Still have my heart, too. I think Ironfoot would be a little
disappointed...he wanted a follower, someone to step into those ridiculous iron-shod
boots and kick some evil heads in. Sorry, old dwarf. You were right, but I found
a different way.

No peace for those piggies. I'd need to see one on his knees, in white robes, begging
for forgiveness in the middle of the Galadon market before I'd even think about
sparing his life. Don't just owe it to myself, or the Order, I owe it to my ancestors,
and the generations yet to be born. Anti-paladins. Feh. The cursed undead I must
destroy without malice....the rest? Well...

Well I've had an epiphany. I can defend myself, defend the Inn, defend the Code
without leaving corpses (mine and theirs) all over Thera...it's righteous work but I
don't like where it would end. Another victim of the Tired War, heartless, cold...
No. I have other talents to give to the cause...

Lucky. I walked thhough the flames and didn't get burnt. Thanks Mother and Father.
Thanks Ironfoot. Thank you, Lady Iunna.

Role

Chapter 2

I thought I'd lost this old journal...never really appriciated how much
a warrior can lose on the road from life to death. Learned almost all the intricacies
and fine details of loss. Down that path, about half way, I found the root of
despair...and went right by it, hardly a backward glance.



I recently put to rest the spirit of a fallen comrade, the Cardinal who lent
me a kind word at one of my darkest hours. More loss and more lessons. Hard to expect
another miracle...after all I have achieved, all I've been given it would
be stupid to expect anything. But I did find this journal, didn't I?

Role

Chapter 1

Another day, another battered and bloody corpse. For a priest I'm not
much of a philosopher, but I'd have to be a brain-damaged piggy not to
wonder why I'm constantly returned from the Eternal Flames, placed back
in my old, worn shell. Naked but for the Spiral, warming me gently...

Everything I've been taught, from youth to today, has had some theme of
perseverance. So I persevere. Unlike most, however, I've been _richly_ rewarded
for doing what I must. Powers to rival the greatest wizards, a family, friends, the
trust of my goddess. But as I sit here, remembering the sight of my lifeless body,
I can't help but think...dammit. Why do I keep doing this to myself. I AM blessed,
it isn't pride to say it. To continually doubt myself, doubt my path in life is
a terrible dishonor to those who've helped me. Answered my prayers. Given me comfort.

Maybe it's a mortal failing, maybe it's just me. I can never be satisfied with
a good thing. These warring forces in my heart, driving me forward and chastising
me backward...

I met a wise and powerful Lord of the heavens. Apparently a brother paladin
in his mortal life. He said it as plainly as possible: the only failure is giving up.
So I'll persevere. And try to be a bit more grateful. No, a bit more forgiving.
The Eternal Flames will always be there...

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