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Hewligan's Rise of the Runelords: The Skinsaw Murders
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<blockquote data-quote="hewligan" data-source="post: 4986637" data-attributes="member: 19688"><p>One night, as Danth sat up awake in his simple little room, a mess of financial documents spread out before him, his eyes wandered from the drink in his right hand up, across the room, to settle upon his scimitar, resting incongruously above the fireplace.</p><p></p><p>He sat starting at it for a while. He was two people, the one people needed him to be, and the one he wanted to be. When his master had died, he had been forced to assume leadership of the church in Magnimar. It may not be a large church, and in truth it acted more as a charity and orphanage than a congregation, but he was a faithful servant of his Goddess, and it was vital that the church remain strong in Magnimar. He was needed here. Really needed. But what he yearned for was freedom. He was a young man. He had tasted adventure, and he had found that he was good at it.</p><p></p><p>Not so good at organising finances. Well, good, perhaps, but not so passionate.</p><p></p><p>He rubbed his weary eyes. It was late, he was tired, and the cold spirit in the glass was dulling his mind. It was time for sleep.</p><p></p><p>-----</p><p></p><p>Danth knew he was sleeping, but yet he was alert. The room had dropped to the most incredible chill. He tried to sit up in bed. Was he still sleeping? He couldn't move. He was fixed to the mattress, as if someone was sitting on his chest. He was sleeping. He must be sleeping.</p><p></p><p>But he could see the mist rising from his nose as he breathed. The air was chill, the chill of deep winter. He tried to turn his head, but it would not move. He turned his eyes instead, towards the fire, and saw the ice that had formed there, glinting from the half-burned logs that remained in the grate.</p><p></p><p>He felt scared for a moment. Really scared. And then he relaxed.</p><p></p><p>Something had changed. The chill was still there, still incredibly in the way it needled into his flesh, but he felt comforted now.</p><p></p><p>And then the hearth burst into fire, the flames tall and strong, and she was there.</p><p></p><p>Sarenrae.</p><p></p><p>She was hovering over him, resplendent, magnificent. She was starting at him, her body glowing, her white wings wrapped around herself.</p><p></p><p>She spoke.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>Danth Brinfield.</em></span></p><p></p><p>Her voice was like honey.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>You have always been faithful, strong, a bright beacon. You understand my teachings on temperance and patience in all things. Compassion and peace are perhaps our greatest virtues, and if enemies of the faith can be redeemed, they should be. To that end you have done well. Tomorrow you shall see. One who was forsaken to evil, who killed, and yet who you allowed to live, he will be redeemed into me. You will doubt him, but have no doubt, his heart is pure. He has seen the Dawnflower. He has seen your redemption. You have saved him, and in time, through him, you will save others.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>And yet there are those who have no interest in redemption, who glory in slaughter and death. From the remorseless evil of the undead and fiends to the cruelties born in the hearts of mortals. You have met many of these, and put them to your scimitar. This too is my way, and this too you have grasped.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>You are favoured, Danth Brinfield, but there is work to be done, and much danger in it, and your life may be lost in its pursuit.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>You must leave here soon. You will receive a call. Answer it. Know that this is your true calling. You may not return here for many years, but while your work here has been important, it pales against that which awaits you.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>A great evil awakes. These things you have seen, they are connected. The forsaken sense the awakening too, and they are working to blow the sands of sleep from its eyes.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>You will receive a call for aid. Answer it. You are essential in this.</em></span></p><p></p><p>And then she was gone, the chill was gone, the ice was gone, the great weight which had borne down upon Danth was gone, but the fire ... the fire still blazed.</p><p></p><p>-----</p><p></p><p>There was little sleep that night. The next morning, as the children were being fed, Danth received news of a visitor.</p><p></p><p>He walked the short distance from the dining hall to the front office, smiling at the children as he went, happy to see them develop so well, looking so strong and contented. They knew real happiness here. They belonged. He would be sad to leave them, but he had a path to follow.</p><p></p><p>When he arrived at the office he saw a blond haired youth. A man of perhaps 18, clean shaven, well dressed, finely scented, but his eyes were dark with lack of sleep, and had a haunted look about them. When he saw Danth he sobbed and fell to his knees, his hands reaching out to touch at Danth's robes.</p><p></p><p>"Father, forgive me. Forgive me. Please forgive me!"</p><p></p><p>His tears took a long time to stop.</p><p></p><p>From the second he had laid eyes upon him Danth had known it was one of the cultists he had let escape. One of the young men from the Sawmill. One of the murderers.</p><p></p><p>From that day he became a priest of Sarenrae and began his long journey towards true forgiveness in the eyes of the Goddess of compassion.</p><p></p><p>Danth welcomed him as a son.</p><p></p><p>And waited.</p><p></p><p>Waited for the call.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="hewligan, post: 4986637, member: 19688"] One night, as Danth sat up awake in his simple little room, a mess of financial documents spread out before him, his eyes wandered from the drink in his right hand up, across the room, to settle upon his scimitar, resting incongruously above the fireplace. He sat starting at it for a while. He was two people, the one people needed him to be, and the one he wanted to be. When his master had died, he had been forced to assume leadership of the church in Magnimar. It may not be a large church, and in truth it acted more as a charity and orphanage than a congregation, but he was a faithful servant of his Goddess, and it was vital that the church remain strong in Magnimar. He was needed here. Really needed. But what he yearned for was freedom. He was a young man. He had tasted adventure, and he had found that he was good at it. Not so good at organising finances. Well, good, perhaps, but not so passionate. He rubbed his weary eyes. It was late, he was tired, and the cold spirit in the glass was dulling his mind. It was time for sleep. ----- Danth knew he was sleeping, but yet he was alert. The room had dropped to the most incredible chill. He tried to sit up in bed. Was he still sleeping? He couldn't move. He was fixed to the mattress, as if someone was sitting on his chest. He was sleeping. He must be sleeping. But he could see the mist rising from his nose as he breathed. The air was chill, the chill of deep winter. He tried to turn his head, but it would not move. He turned his eyes instead, towards the fire, and saw the ice that had formed there, glinting from the half-burned logs that remained in the grate. He felt scared for a moment. Really scared. And then he relaxed. Something had changed. The chill was still there, still incredibly in the way it needled into his flesh, but he felt comforted now. And then the hearth burst into fire, the flames tall and strong, and she was there. Sarenrae. She was hovering over him, resplendent, magnificent. She was starting at him, her body glowing, her white wings wrapped around herself. She spoke. [COLOR="DarkOrange"][I]Danth Brinfield.[/I][/COLOR] Her voice was like honey. [COLOR="DarkOrange"][I]You have always been faithful, strong, a bright beacon. You understand my teachings on temperance and patience in all things. Compassion and peace are perhaps our greatest virtues, and if enemies of the faith can be redeemed, they should be. To that end you have done well. Tomorrow you shall see. One who was forsaken to evil, who killed, and yet who you allowed to live, he will be redeemed into me. You will doubt him, but have no doubt, his heart is pure. He has seen the Dawnflower. He has seen your redemption. You have saved him, and in time, through him, you will save others. And yet there are those who have no interest in redemption, who glory in slaughter and death. From the remorseless evil of the undead and fiends to the cruelties born in the hearts of mortals. You have met many of these, and put them to your scimitar. This too is my way, and this too you have grasped. You are favoured, Danth Brinfield, but there is work to be done, and much danger in it, and your life may be lost in its pursuit. You must leave here soon. You will receive a call. Answer it. Know that this is your true calling. You may not return here for many years, but while your work here has been important, it pales against that which awaits you. A great evil awakes. These things you have seen, they are connected. The forsaken sense the awakening too, and they are working to blow the sands of sleep from its eyes. You will receive a call for aid. Answer it. You are essential in this.[/I][/COLOR] And then she was gone, the chill was gone, the ice was gone, the great weight which had borne down upon Danth was gone, but the fire ... the fire still blazed. ----- There was little sleep that night. The next morning, as the children were being fed, Danth received news of a visitor. He walked the short distance from the dining hall to the front office, smiling at the children as he went, happy to see them develop so well, looking so strong and contented. They knew real happiness here. They belonged. He would be sad to leave them, but he had a path to follow. When he arrived at the office he saw a blond haired youth. A man of perhaps 18, clean shaven, well dressed, finely scented, but his eyes were dark with lack of sleep, and had a haunted look about them. When he saw Danth he sobbed and fell to his knees, his hands reaching out to touch at Danth's robes. "Father, forgive me. Forgive me. Please forgive me!" His tears took a long time to stop. From the second he had laid eyes upon him Danth had known it was one of the cultists he had let escape. One of the young men from the Sawmill. One of the murderers. From that day he became a priest of Sarenrae and began his long journey towards true forgiveness in the eyes of the Goddess of compassion. Danth welcomed him as a son. And waited. Waited for the call. [/QUOTE]
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