Caerdryn Blackstone the Priest of Baerinika

Role

Chapter 23

Caerdryn paused, looking up from his journal and reflecting
upon the past few months.

The Lady Baerinika had taken him back into her service as
her Priest... even accounting for his beliefs in redemption.
In his own way, he had never truly left her service. And, in
her own way, she had never truly left him. So, once more, he
called himself a Priest of Baerinika, though he still kept the
Maran spirit close to his heart.

But that was not all. He had reconciled again, a second time,
with Eachainn Ellysandr. It took quite a bit of urging and
pleading, but the elf finally came to meet with him... and
he had returned to the service of the Fortress. The Lady and
the Maran had been right all along - this was the right path
for him. It was not the necessary path, but it was the right
one.

He had also decided that beyond anything else, his duty was
not yet finished. There was breath in his lungs yet, and
strength in his arms... and he was not ready to let go of his
life. He said as much to the Spearmaiden, and she offered to
seek a list of ingredients to craft an elixir to restore some
of his health.

He wrote a bit more in his journal, biting his lip. The days
were long, and dark, but his heart and even his very soul were
finally, at long last, unburdened once more.

Role

Chapter 22

Just as he had made peace with the Lady, he tried to
make peace with Eachainn. And, he thought, he had
succeeded... but some time later, when he tried to
speak with Eachainn, he was rebuked still. Nothing
had changed, on Eachainn's end, between the two of
them. Perhaps nothing ever would. If there were
any final nail to drive into the coffin of Caerdryn's
decision not to rejoin the Fortress under Eachainn's
command, this was it.

He had seen the Maran again, recently, an event that
had lifted Caerdryn's spirits high. But, just as the
Maran had asked him, he was now once again asking
himself.

What now? He had done everything he could to repair
the rift between himself and the Lady and Eachainn,
apparently in vain on the Captain's end, and that had
been a driving force in his life for some time. Of
course there would always be villains to slay, but
what should his goal be? Where was the light at the
end of the tunnel?

The only light at the end of the tunnel he could see
was walking the Azure Fields with Thevara... and he
wasn't sure he was ready, yet, to let go of life.

Then again, he wasn't sure he wasn't, either.

Role

Chapter 21

His heart had led him somewhere he truly did not expect.

He wandered away from the misty ruin, thinking that he might
wake up at any moment. He had convened with the Spearmaiden
in her shrine and... made peace with her. The words had
just poured out of him, like water. At first he had not
even been sure why he had come, had been certain that she
would sneer or glare or cast him out. He had been wrong.

They spoke, settling their differences, even jesting with
one another - less so on her part, she was of a rather
serious demeanor, after all - and Caerdryn found that all
of his misgivings melted away. He forgave her, and asked
her forgiveness in return, and it was granted.

It had been a long while since he had felt as good as he did
that morning, leaving the ruins. A long while since he had
felt that... unburdened. He realized how much of a grudge
he had been bearing against Baerinika, deserved or not, and
how wrong it had been to bear it... and just as quickly as
it was realized, it was dissolved.

His heart had once again led him to the right path.

"I cannot change my heart," he told her. "But if you will
have it, the way it beats as it is, then it is yours."

She seemed rather stunned.

Role

Chapter 20

Eachainn refused him yet again.

This time, he had had enough. When the opportunity came,
he simply said what he had to say to Eachainn, to his face,
whether the stubborn elf wanted to hear it out loud or not.
He apologized, for calling the Captain's command into
question before the entire Fortress on that day so many
years ago. He knew that he had been right to refuse the
order to commit suicide, but that he had also been wrong to
refuse it publicly.

Eachainn, he feared, would never make it past the issue of
his pride. That was fine with Caerdryn, in the end. It
saddened and troubled him that Eachainn's pride would come
forever before their brotherhood in service to the Light
and, whether Eachainn wanted it or not, to the Fortress,
but Caerdryn was not responsible for Eachainn's failings,
only for his own... and he had done what he needed to to
clear his conscience of those, in this matter.

Let the Lady curse him as prideful if she wished, and
Eachainn as well. He knew who he was, and those close to
him knew it as well.

He was Maran, within and without.

Role

Chapter 19

The world was taking its toll on him. Even through the support
of his good friends, the Marshall Vallinane and the Cardinal
Angynn, he felt his resolve to continue weakening once more.
The words of the paladin Garwern, whether they were true or not
bit him deeper than any axe or blade. He had started to defend
himself by mentioning the Maran, but felt that was a poor way
to use the great gifts the noble spirit had bestowed upon him.
Garwern's words only reminded him of the judgment of Baerinika,
that he was selfish and prideful, and though he knew neither of
those things were true, he was still wounded that forty-odd
years of life as a Paladin, fighting for life and for the
Light, could so easily be disregarded on the basis of opinion.

As he sat there in the forest, alone but for the pulse of power
within that told him the Maran was still with him, he thought
also of something the spirit had said to him - that he may be
the reason the spirit lingered in this world, and that they may
pass on to the Fields together. He swallowed a lump in his
throat, thinking of whether he wanted that moment to come
sooner rather than later. He knew he would join his love in
the Fields one way or the other. How could he be selfish if
he kept denying himself what he truly wanted, to be with the
lady Thevara? Or was he indeed just a fool for carrying on
where everyone else would just throw their arms up and give in?
He did not know the answers.

He contemplated his death, and the long life behind him. He
had never given in, even when all else had been lost. Even
when he, himself, had been lost. He did not truly know why he
was holding on beyond a feeling of duty. But duty, in the end,
was enough... as after many moments of staring at his blade, he
realized that he had moved it in front of him, and positioned
it against his throat. He jerked his head away and blinked
back the tears. Thevara would be ashamed, he thought.

One thing, he knew, was true about what Garwern had said. The
apology to Eachainn should be public. He had resolved a while
back to make it so, if only Eachainn would first meet with him,
to greet him and convene as brothers. But in the end, if
Eachainn refused him even that, he could not allow the elf's
pride to prevent him from doing what was right.

He picked himself up, the emotion gone, the resolve returned,
the steel once again surrounding his wounded and aged heart.

He hoped, with a sigh, that Eachainn would also do what was
right.

Role

Chapter 18

A great burden had been lifted off of his shoulders, once again
at the hands of the ghost of the long dead Maran. Caerdryn had
worried, in the back of his mind, that the rift between himself
and the Fortress would hurt his bond with the Maran, or worse,
would bring harm to the Maran himself. But when the familiar
ghostly figure rose up from the sea, he could tell by the look
in the Maran's eyes that no such thing had occurred.

They spoke for a long while, old friends who simply picked up
where they left off before, as though the years that had passed
since the spirit had manifested in front of Caerdryn had been
only days. The spirit had been with him throughout the ordeal
with the Captain and the Lady Baerinika, and still supported
Caerdryn, and his decision against committing suicide. He
advised Caerdryn, however, to seek counsel with Eachainn and to
try and rectify the situation, but also to continue to follow
his heart, as it had never led him astray.

Ozrek came, too, to see the Maran. Caerdryn learned that his
fellow servant of the Light had met the Maran spirit long ago
in his youth. It warmed him greatly to know that he was not
the only one to have heard the wisdom of the great Maran. It
had been the Maran's wisdom that opened Caerdryn's eyes, so
long ago, to the true way, the better way.

"I am not your king, nor your friendly wanderer, as I know a
better way," Caerdryn thought to himself as he and Ozrek spoke
with the Maran. The poem even now, so many years after he had
first read it, filled him with hope and understanding. He
would indeed seek to bridge the gap between himself and the
Captain, but it would not, he swore, come at the cost of his
integrity or his ideals.

'Till death part him from the land, and he be reunited with his
love in the Azure Fields.

Role

Chapter 17

He was an outcast again.

At least, he was an outcast in name. The Captain had cast him
from the Fortress for refusing to commit suicide. Looking
back at the scenario seemed so ridiculous to Caerdryn, no
matter how he tried to view it. Life was something to be
fought for, not fought against. Even his own. He had made
tactical mistakes in the past, but never deliberately thrown
his life away, and he wasn't going to start now.

But that was what the Captain demanded of him, and the Lady
Baerinika as well, and he was selfish, and prideful, because
he would not give in. Or so they said. The Lady Baerinika
was very quick to tell him that he was blind to the other ways
to serve the Light while being even quicker to tell him that
he could not serve the Fortress, or her, unless he did it her
way. And her way, in this, demanded him to throw his life
away, to satisfy mortal law. His years of fighting for the
Light and for Life had molded his views on the sanctity of
mortal law as opposed to serving the greater good of the
Light.

The years had not been easy on Caerdryn, but he had always
kept going with a burning resolve. When he tried to view his
current situation objectively, he could see why his resolve
was weakening. But even that was not enough to turn his heart
against itself. No, he promised himself he would never go
against his heart, not for the Captain, nor for a Goddess.
He struggled mightily against the blatant hypocrisy of her
words, but knew that she felt she was serving the greater
good. In the end it did not matter.

He would continue to serve as he always had. His heart had
not changed. He had not come to the Fortress so many years
ago seeking reknown, nor had he continued his long years of
service out of pride or a desire for recognition. He served
only because he felt it was the right thing to do. And now,
cast out from the Fortress in name only, he was still guided
by the same compass as before, only without the title along
with it.

Let Eachainn govern the Fortress as he will, and let Baerinika
call him what she wished. He would carry on, as he always
had.

Role

Chapter 16

He had fallen.

He had failed to stand vigilant against an assassin, the mortal
Emperor, Sivyh Nakhtun. He had paid for his lack of vigilance
with his life. His mind, wracked with minor pains and still
recovering from a battle with one of the Beast's initiates,
did not even contemplate the danger and he walked right into
a trap, and a blade.

He sat within the Eastern Tower, where he had sat many times
before, listening to the sounds of the Fortress and watching
the walls as though he thought his old friend, the Maran, may
come out at any moment. He contemplated his next move. The
Light still had use for him, he was still here, and so he would
pick up his sword and carry on, as he always did.

All sound faded in the background, and in its place came a
feeling he had not felt in a long time, and the purr of a beast
he had not laid eyes on in many years. A jaguar's purr, with
the sound of an elf maiden, fell upon his ears, and was all he
heard.

"... Well done, Maran. A difficult death, but take heart."
He felt a new power flood into him like a storm rolling into
port off of the sea, like how he felt when the Maran spirit
would jump into him but somehow, different. His own, and not
another's.

"I expect you to refresh yourself on your new duties in the
Hall of Light." He very nearly felt the breath of the Jaguar
on the back of his neck. He would obey.

He had even more, now, in common with his spirit friend than he
did before. He gratefully bowed his head and whispered his
thanks for the trust the Light and his former Lady had placed
in him.

And now, back to his duty. Much had changed, but in many ways,
much would stay the same.

Role

Chapter 3

But freedom was not to be, as their conversation was not as
private as they had hoped. The hopeful, starry-eyed looks
of the townspeople turned to horror as a detachment of the
Imperials broke into the back room of the Inn, and the
paladin, the brave man who had risked his life to come to
prepare them for a better life, turned to face them with his
blade. But he grunted, and then fell over, an assassin's
dart in his neck. The Imperial assassin stepped out of the
shadows from the back of the Inn - he had been there the
entire time. The townspeople were rounded up. The Elders
were executed on the spot, some were jailed, and the rest
sent home with Centurions, to monitor them. Caerdryn and
his adoptive father were among those sent home.

For days he tried to convince his father of the truth of the
paladin's words, of how -right- it felt in Caerdryn's heart.
He was willing and ready to continue on, to form a plan of
his own and organize the town against the Centurions, but
his adoptive father wanted to hear none of it, had not even
believed in what the paladin had said. It was then that he
learned that it was his father who had betrayed the paladin
to the Imperials! Caerdryn was furious, so disgusted with
his father's refusal that one night he stole away into the
darkness, determined to seek the guild the paladin had come
from, to tell them of the man's demise and offer his own
life in their service, to replace the life lost in Balator.

Role

Chapter 4

Eventually he came to the Voralian Templar's guildhall,
where the paladin had hailed from. He humbly offered his
life to their service, and was dismayed when they refused
to induct him into the Templars. As he turned to leave,
however, they informed him that they would not turn him
away - he would be welcomed to train under their Order, but
he would not be forced to become a member of the Voralian
Templars. When the time came, it would be his choice, they
said. He gratefully accepted their offer.

After his initiation, a head of the Order came to him and
offered him the tunic that had been worn by the paladin,
whose name was Tarn Blackstone, when he had been a squire.
He had risked his life to leave Balator, and come all this
way to honor the life of Tarn, the Commander told him, and
therefore he would do just that - by deed as well as by
bearing. Caerdryn took the tunic, and has not gone a day
without it since.

Role

Chapter 5

The life of the paladin was a hard one for Caerdryn, but it was one
that he adapted to over time. He traveled as a squire for years,
learning the Code and taking messages back and forth, occasionally
going on an adventure of his own. As he grew within the guild, it
became time for him to dedicate his path of training to a specific
art.

Caerdryn remembered the greatsword strapped to the back of Tarn
Blackstone. In truth, he remembered every little detail about the
man, as though the events that happened years ago had happened only
the day before. Tarn had not carried a shield, or any other weapon
but that single, mighty blade. Caerdryn wished that he had been
able to see him use it. It was confirmed, when he asked, that Tarn
had been an Avenger, and in seeing that his life was dedicated to
honoring Tarn Blackstone, Caerdryn took up the same path.

The decision whether or not to serve the Voralian Templars came upon
him later on, as he became, finally, a true paladin, after years of
service. He had found a matron, had given his faith to the Lady
Baerinika, in whose strength and wisdom he trusted fully, but now it
was time for him to either part ways with the Templars or to join
them fully. After speaking with the Marshall of the Fortress,
Caerdryn decided to pledge his blade to their service, and leave the
Voralian Templars.

Unexpectedly, the Templar Order bestowed upon him the surname of
Blackstone. He had done honor, under their tutelage, to Tarn's name,
and therefore if he wished it he was welcome to keep the tabard and
bear Tarn's namesake with him as he ventured out from the Order's
doorstep. He solemnly accepted the name, and the charge that came
with it, and soon after marched out of Voralian City to the gates of
the Fortress.

"The Light keep you, Paladin. What business have you at our gates,"
boomed the commanding ethereal voice of the Maran Tara'bal.

"I am Caerdryn Blackstone, of Baerinika the Pure. I pledge my life
to these halls."

Thus began his service to the Fortress.

Role

Chapter 6

The years rolled onward after Caerdryn was inducted into the
Fortress. He spread the word of Baerinika and performed his
duties to the best of his ability, seeking out and routing
evil wherever he could find it. In the beginning he had even
offered some of his enemies amnesty if they would turn from
their evil ways, but time after time he was refused, and he
began to stop trying to turn them as often, and eventually
quit altogether. By then he offered them nothing but his
sword. The more dishonorable of his foes would gather against
him in numbers or with great advantage that he couldn't hope
to match, but still he pressed on and fought them anyway.
There was no end to them.

He happened to be sitting in the Eastern Tower of the Fortress
one afternoon, contemplating the years that had passed by and
thinking on how his foes chose to do battle with him, when his
thoughts were interrupted by the sense of the very air around
him growing warmer. He looked up for the source and found it,
melting away from the very wall of the tower. A spirit floated
before him, bathed in a radiant aura. Its features were a swirl
of misty golden fog, and he could not tell if it was human or
elf, but he knew its benevolence the moment he saw it.

"Who are you," he asked the spirit, without fear in his heart.
The spirit told him it had been one of the Maran, and roamed the
Fortress now seeking to impart wisdom on those who took up the
blade. It asked him a question, one that sank into Caerdryn's
heart deeper than any blade had ever cut him.

"A question for you: What is the greatest thing you can do for
your foes?"

Even before the question had finished, Caerdryn knew why it had
been asked. The greatest thing, he answered, was redemption.
Caerdryn had nearly given up after all the years of battle in
redeeming his enemies, seeing them only as villains to be slain
and not souls to be rescued. The question then and there, being
forced to address the truth of his loss of hope, turned him away
from his dark thoughts.

The warmth of the spirit enveloped him, and he told the long-
dead Maran of how he had fought over the years, and how his foes
dishonored both him and themselves. Nothing could change what
was past, but he knew that he could not continue the way he had
been any longer. It was time again to offer his foes more than
just a sword.

He and the Maran spoke for several hours in the Eastern Tower,
each passing moment giving Caerdryn more faith in his newfound
conviction. He would not stop fighting, but fighting was not
all that needed to be done. The Maran, after a time, gave him
his blessing and faded into the walls of the Fortress, leaving
Caerdryn wondering, for just a moment, if it had all been just
a dream...

No. He knew the truth. And he would live that truth, and live
up to the name of Blackstone.

Role

Chapter 7

The words of the Maran's spirit echoed in his mind as he'd spoke
with Diij. "What is the greatest thing we can offer our enemies?"
Redemption. There it was, the spirit's ideals in the flesh, in
the form of the Arial Imperial. His faith in the Maran's words
had been rewarded; he and Thevara had helped the Arial begin
his path towards redemption. Caerdryn smiled to himself when the
Imperial - no, the former Imperial, he heard the call of
Anathema ring out through the land - left the tower. Diij would
walk a long and hard road to get where he seemed, truly, to want
to go. He had already made a considerable stride just risking
his life talking to them, to throw himself to the wolves of the
Empire was the last thing someone of less truthful motives would
have done. Caerdryn had faith that Diij would see it through.

He had not come this far alone. Thevara, the beautiful monk who
had taken up the robe of the Scribe in the Fortress, had been
with him often the past few years. Together they had faced the
Imperials. Together they had defended the Fortress gates.
Together they had convinced Diij he could not continue down his
dark path. In those times he had truly not felt alone.

The others of the Fortress were his friends, yes, but none of them
really made an effort to get to know Caerdryn, beyond Irusan, and
Caerdryn was convinced that on some level Irusan was a little
crazy. Caerdryn trusted and respected Irusan, but the elf would
whisper sweet nothings into the hilts of his weapons, as though
they listened. Thevara was different... she was there, always
offering a kind word and a helping hand if it was wanted. She did
not balk at him for refusing to take her with him when he went out
to hunt the evil ones, like some of the others did. She seemed to
understand, and more, to respect his decision, not in the way a
mentor would but in the way a true friend would.

These thoughts and more ran through Caerdryn's mind as he sheathed
his blade. He and Thevara had just dueled in the Arena. She had
soundly beaten him three times in a row, showing off her newly-
learned skills of the monks. He wondered who would be protecting
who when next they went to battle against the Imperials. He'd
smiled as he congratulated her on her victory, realizing that it
didn't matter. The two of them would watch over each other.

He felt more, though. He knew he had grown to love her, yet he
had never said it to her once. She was his companion in the Light
and in battle, and he had his duty and his blade. Many men sought
her hand - he had even struck down one of them in the Arena who
got a little too possessive - and he never wanted to interfere
with her happiness.

That day in the Arena, though, he felt the heat of his passion for
her like never before. Both during the battle, and after. They
had spoken briefly of love, as he prepared to go rest.

Role

Chapter 8

"A long an arduous fight should be accompanied with happiness and
love. You deserve such in your life, just as much as evil should
be smited," she said to him.

"I fear my only love will be my sword, my friend," and he looked
down at his blade, wondering absently if Irusan had truly fallen
in love with his weapons after fighting for so long. "She's a
good sword."

"It is a strong sword, cold, hard, crusted with blood," she nodded
at him before continuing. "I am warm, soft, able to talk to you,
aid you, be there for you. We have a grand difference."

She stared at him for a moment, misreading the shock on his face.
"I've said too much. Farewell," she said, and then she was gone.

It took him a few minutes to remember to breathe again. Even longer
to realize his heart was racing faster now than it ever had before.

Role

Chapter 9

A devastating feeling of loss overwhelmed him. Somehow it
seemed like it should not hurt him so much, if this were the
as simple as his Lady - or rather, his former Lady - had made it
out to be; that he believed in something she didn't, and so he
could not follow her. But serving the Spearmaiden was all he
had known, and it was like losing his father. He recalled the
distant memories of his adoptive father, remembering that they,
too, had gone on different paths due to different beliefs. A
bit more wide of a gap in that case, but nonetheless, it was
a different path.

Caerdryn's heart would not turn against itself, would not re-
construct around Baerinika's belief that the mortals who walked
the dark path could not be redeemed, even more that those who
fought them could not truly fight if they believed in such.
How could -that- be, if Caerdryn had been fighting all this time
and had believed, all along - albeit more strongly since the
coming of the Maran spirit - that they could? Caerdryn had done
exactly as Baerinika had said could not be done. He couldn't
get his thoughts to clear enough to focus.

He wandered among the Fortress, staring at the walls. He did
not expect the Maran's spirit to come to him. At the moment he
only felt lost, out of grace. Regardless of how kindly his Lady
had released him of his bond, he still felt the separation as
keenly as he would a butcher knife. Deeper still than that,
however, he knew that his heart was in the right place. He did
not agree that he could not serve the Spearmaiden believing as
he did, but he knew that she believed it and that was all that
mattered. She had set him free to serve the Light as his heart
dictated, and for that he was both grieved and grateful.

He called upon the prayer of Haven to find that he no longer
felt Baerinika's touch. The light that enveloped him was warm,
but it was not hers. It somehow seemed more... forgiving. He
thought it appropriate, but it didn't comfort him in his grief.

He had professed his feelings for Thevara, gained love and lost
his way all in under a month's time. A mortal had given herself
to him and a Goddess had left him in almost the same breath, it
seemed. He closed his eyes as he lay down in the corner of the
Hall of Fire, and let sleep take him away to dreams of the road
he had traveled, and dreams of the ghost of the Maran.

Role

Chapter 10

He reached out and clapped a hand against the stone wall of the Eastern
tower. Blood splattered all around from the motion, and he collapsed from
the effort of standing. He was bleeding everywhere, but right now he did
not care, he only wanted to rest. He prayed for the mending of his wounds
until they stopped bleeding but still did not have the energy to stand.
His recent fight against the Imperials had wounded him sorely.

As he watched his blood, mixed with the Imperials' blood, drip down the
wall he had leaned against, he wondered if he would ever see the Maran
spirit again. For almost a year now he had wandered, lost and without the
grace of his Lady, and had been seeking solace in the Light and the wisdom
of the spirit the entire time. He was tired. Tired of praying and having
no answer, tired of calling out only to hear nothing but the echo. He did
not know how he could continue on like this, he only knew that he had to
keep going. Reason and exhaustion would give way to the passion and hope
within his soul... he just needed a moment to breathe, first.

And so he slept, covered in his own blood and the blood of his enemies.
He dreamed of the sword that he kept at his side, speaking to him and
telling him that he must continue to wield it, that the fight was not over
and his part in it was far from done. He smiled and nodded in the dream,
as though it were perfectly natural to converse with a blade. Then his
dream shifted, and he dreamed of Thevara at his side, storming the gates
of the Imperial Palace. He smiled to her through the blood that covered
them both, and rushed forward into the Palace, where a brilliant light
overcame him...

Caerdryn woke with a start, and for the rest of the day would wonder if
this was how Irusan began to lose his mind, talking to his weapons. He
remembered the message from his dreams, that the fight must continue, and
so too must he.

Role

Chapter 11

His enemy fell before him, and blood sprayed across his face.
The Imperial's arm flew into the air as he cleaved it from her
body, and landed on the ground a few feet away in the middle of
some swirling mist. The mist coalesced into the figure of the
Maran spirit that Caerdryn had seen so many long years ago. The
rush of battle, the adrenaline of victory, even the thoughts of
his own safety were swept away as a rush of emotion overcame
him when he laid eyes once again, for the first time in so many
years, on the Maran spirit.


"Your prayers have not gone unheard, Caerdryn," the spirit said.
"That was impressive." It seemed to measure him, to take in his
emotion and bearing. Caerdryn was overcome, and knelt right in
the middle of the road before the spirit, his words spilling
right out of him like the tears of joy at the presence that he
had for so long sought.

"You have returned to me," he felt the words rush out of him.
The spirit told him that he had never left, that it knew of his
trials and the hard road he had undergone. Caerdryn had not
felt these feelings since the last time the Lady had looked upon
him favorably. It had been so long, but he had endured, and his
faith had not left him. He talked with the spirit for many days
and nights, telling of his adventures and his victories.

When the spirit asked him what his greatest victory might be,
Caerdryn told him the tale of Diij, the Imperial who had left
the Empire for the path of righteousness. The spirit agreed
that this was his greatest victory, and Caerdryn's spirits were
lifted even further.

When it happened, Caerdryn did not know, for a moment, what had
happened. The world around him suddenly lost its color, but
everything seemed somehow more detailed, and instead of the
myriad rainbow of colors that normally filled it there was only
hues of gray, gold, and red. The spirit then merged with him
fully, and Caerdryn took in a great amount of both air, and
understanding. He felt the Light, in him and around him, and
felt the Darkness everywhere, but he was not afraid.

It was several minutes before he realized the spirit had formed
outside of him once again, seemingly weakened. Caerdryn felt
strange, a feeling he had not felt in a long while... the spirit
confirmed his thoughts. His strength had returned. The spirit
had given him some of its strength so that he could call upon
the Light's power. Caerdryn was overcome with gratitude, and
as the spirit faded, he could only whisper his thanks.

"Walk with hope, and be a weapon at the same time," the spirit's
words echoed in his mind. He would remember.

Role

Chapter 12

He wiped his tears away with the edge of his tunic and gripped
the hilt of his sword tighter than he had ever held in battle,
steeling his heart against the pain of learning that his love,
Thevara, had fallen and passed on. His mind's eye raced away
through all of the memories of their time together, capturing
and preserving each individual precious moment as he knew, in
heart and mind, that he would never make new ones with her
again.

He grit his teeth and slammed his gauntleted fist into the
archway. Nothing would ever be the same again, but he knew
that he had to carry on. To honor her and continue with life
as she would have wanted him to. He knew that he had to do
this... he just did not know how to. His heart would never
beat faster at the look in her eyes again. His hands would
never caress her hair again. His eyes would see her only when
he closed them.

There was nothing for his broken heart to do but keep beating.
There was nothing for his worn hands to do but grip his sword.
There was nothing for his eyes to do, but close themselves and
dream of the last time he had held her.

But somehow, he would carry on.

He prayed that when his time was done, he would see her again.

Role

Chapter 13

He opened his arms to the vast sea before him, as though to
present it to all around. He had brought the Maran's ghost
here, to the place where he spent so much time as a child, a
cliff overlooking the Dragon Sea. This place meant much to
him, and he wished, often, that he had had the time to bring
Thevara here.

His thoughts drifted. The spirit had come to him during his
grief, to comfort him and reassure him that Thevara was in the
Azure Fields, and that she was waiting for him. That he, for
all his sacrifice, had earned his place at her side in the
Fields. His tears, then, became a mixture of sorrow and joy,
and his heart had beat a bit stronger since.

He looked up, his gaze casting out over the great ocean, as he
and the spirit at his side watched the ships sail by. The
Maran was pleased with this place, it seemed to resonate with
him as it did with Caerdryn.

"This place brings something back to me," he said, "Something
from my mortal life. I..." the spirit seemed to concentrate,
but after a moment, shook his ghostly head. "... it seems I
cannot remember. Perhaps it will come with time," the spirit
nodded at him, seemingly pleased. Caerdryn only offered a
smile. He watched the ships sail by as he and the Maran
conversed for hours.

His finest friend in all the land was a dead one.

Role

Chapter 14

Time rolled on for Caerdryn, and it was a while before he even
realized anything was wrong. More wrong, of course, than the
ever-present stillness in his heart that told him, nay, it
reminded him, that he was without his love - though, in a way,
she was still with him, in his heart and mind. He carried her
with him always, just as he did the noble spirit of the Maran.

However, this wrongness that he now felt was not realized
by revelation, but by the words of his spirit friend. He
stood with the spirit, as he often did, looking out over the
great sea before them as he contemplated the ghost's words.

The spirit had spoken to him of his bonds with his fellows in
the Fortress, how many true friends he had in the land, and
had asked him to give consideration to that thought. He was
doing so, and it had struck him deeply, and deeper still with
each passing moment.

He was afraid, afraid to get close to his companions, and this
fear stemmed both from the loss of Thevara, and from, in part,
the loss of his Lady Baerinika. Even that, to this day, still
hurt him, though he had yet to regret being released from her
service. He silently thanked the Maran for showing him his
own faults without judgement, always with that serene, knowing
stare.

It would take some time, but from that day forward he resolved
to address his fear of companionship. His heart would always
belong to Thevara, but he would try, now, not to push out the
love and companionship of his brothers and sisters in the war.

War had a way, he thought, of making you realize what truly
mattered.

Role

Chapter 15

The Maran came to him again, now that he had become a Champion
of the Virtues, and Caerdryn smiled, preparing to tell the
noble spirit of his journey. But something was different,
this time. Something was not right about the way the spirit
showed itself, its shoulders sagging as though its ethereal
form bore the weight of a mountain upon it, form flickering as
though its ties to the world were weakened.

Caerdryn was alarmed, he had never seen the spirit in such a
weakened state. The ghost told him that much evil walked the
land, and that it drained him for the Light to be so overrun.
The spirit seemed to draw in upon himself, then glowed with
renewed strength and plunged itself into Caerdryn.

The world lost its color, again, and this time as well, some
of its detail. He was lost in a realm of moving shades of
gray, with close and distant hues of red and gold, thousands
of them in the swirls of mist that lined the edges of his
vision. After several moments everything shifted back to
normal and he realized the spirit, even more weakened than
before, was floating before him again.

He felt as though there was more than one person inside him.
More than ever before he was acutely aware of the presence of
the spirit, and when he spoke, he surprised himself, though it
did not show on his face, a sandbox of expression that he now
realized he shared.

"May the Light guide me, noble friend. I will do everything
I can..." it sounded as though his voice were reverberating,
echoing as though he were in a long hallway. There were two
voices coming out of his mouth. When he spoke again, the
second voice was gone.

The Maran tasked him with striking the heart of the darkness
that walked the land. Caerdryn could think of no more fitting
task. He felt the newfound power within, and knew that he
would soon learn to use it in the ever-pressing war against
evil.

His truest friend dissipated and blew away like leaves in the
wind.

The whisper came into his mind.

"I am always with you..."

Role

Chapter 2

A wind-whipped and storm-filled day had fallen on Balator,
the days Caerdryn had come to appreciate for virtue of going
to the sea to watch it roil and crash about. This day,
however, had been marked by the coming of a paladin to the
farmland of Balator. He had come in disguise, knowing the
persecution that would await him had he announced himself,
but within the company of the farmfolk he let slip his thick
hood to speak to them privately. Caerdryn, having just come
of age, had been allowed to attend the meeting.

The paladin spoke of revolution, of fighting back against
the Imperial overlords to the North. It was true that the
Centurions had been present far more in recent years, but
Caerdryn had never cared before. When the paladin spoke,
though, it was like the shadows had been thrown back from
Caerdryn's eyes, and he realized all of the tyranny he had
overlooked in the past. Hearing of justice and equality in
other lands, where men were not beaten simply for not having
enough money to pay a toll - where there were no tolls! -
inspired him. He embraced the paladin's ideals, and before
the heroic man had even finished speaking, Caerdryn was
ready to follow him to the ends of the earth.

Role

Chapter 1

The sea had always fascinated him. Not for love of sailing,
but simply for the promise of something hidden beyond the
horizon, farther than he had ever been before, or ever would
go... or so he thought, when he was growing up. Caerdryn
was raised by a man who never claimed to be his father, but
treated him like a son, upon the farmland of Balator, near
the ocean. When he was not helping on the farm or playing
with his friends, he would go to the ocean, to sit and watch
the tide come and go.

Later on in life he would tell of his beginnings by campfire
not in reference to his early days of play and farmwork, or
even of his adoptive father. He would tell the story of the
day he left Balator, the day that became the reason why he
considered right then to be his true beginning.

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