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<blockquote data-quote="Chasmodai" data-source="post: 1034699" data-attributes="member: 12445"><p>I figured that Ingram would be dead for about half a minute before the spell that held me ran out. If I had been the type to care, I would have been quite distraught. As things were, I wasn't the type.</p><p></p><p>But of course, Paladins are direct agents of their respective Gods and no matter how much you think that there are too many of them around out there, their God isn't going to waste one of them. I think it's a matter of divine pride, sort of like comparing the number of children you have, or the length of your... unmentionables.</p><p></p><p>Barely six seconds after the fiend had teleported away, had a man dressed in simple white robes appeared, walking down the street as if he didn't have a care in the world. He frowned when he caught side of my frozen figure and Ingram's bleeding one. He rushed to Ingram, shook his hand free of his voluminous sleeve and if I had been able to, I would have gasped - or done something along those lines.</p><p></p><p>The man's right hand was completely made out of ruby, but ruby that was alive and organic. It moved, it flexed, it pulsed. As I scrutinized his appearance as best I could without being able to move, I also noticed that both his eyes were pupil-less rubies. </p><p></p><p>The man held the ruby hand on Ingram's wounded side and closed his eyes, his lips moving quickly as he muttered an incantation. At about that time, the spell loosed its hold on me and I stumbled forward, dropping the Paladin's sword from suddenly nerveless fingers. There was a glow of red light, and for the barest of instants, a crimson red dragon superimposed itself across my vision. </p><p></p><p>Ingram stopped bleeding and his eyes flickered open, surprisingly clear. The man kneeling by his side continued his prayers, and Ingram's numerous others wounds began to close and heal as well. </p><p></p><p>A cleric, I deduced, though for the life of me, I couldn't figure out of whom.</p><p></p><p>Or what.</p><p>++++++</p><p></p><p>"Hello. My name is Alkain. What happened here?" the man with the ruby eyes asked, pushing himself to his feet and smiling genially at the both of us. His voice was cordial and friendly, the type of voice that was used to speaking often, in calm, gentle tones. His eyes darted back and forth, the type of eyes that bespoke of a man with a razor-sharp mind and a glimmer of excitement lay behind those eyes. </p><p></p><p>"We were attacked," Ingram replied. "Are you okay, Zander?"</p><p></p><p>I nodded distractedly, brushing his hand away from my shoulder. As I collected my belongings from the charred body of my mount, I noticed Xaod's lifeless form laid out on the floor, crumpled as though he was no more than a suit of empty armor. Behind me, Ingram explained the events of the past minute - it had happened that fast - to Alkain the mysterious cleric.</p><p></p><p>As my eyes roamed the bloodstained road, I noticed a glint of gold on the ground, half-buried in dust. I knelt to pick it up and saw that it was a locket that looked extremely familiar. Opening it up, a projected image of my mother, Ingram and the rest of the Morius family posing for a family portrait appeared out of thin air. I realized then that it was the same locket that my mother had, and through simple deduction, I figured that the locket belonged to 'Ingram'. But surprisingly, the paladin lifted an identical one from beneath his breastplate, meaning that someone other than him had dropped the magicked locket. Only members of the Morius family owned such a locket; all but two were dead. And I did find the locket quite close to where the fiend had made its hasty exit...</p><p></p><p>The day sped itself up, as if it, too, was pumped on adrenaline. The cleric and Ingram held some last rites for Xaod, and we had some sort of a funeral of him and the fallen villagers. I declined to give a eulogy. </p><p></p><p>We headed on, Alkain finally finding enough time to explain himself: "I was traveling the countryside, you know, seeing the sights, when I happened to stumble upon the two of you,"</p><p></p><p>I kept my tongue from lashing out and instead asked, "Are you a cleric? I don?t see any signs of your faith about you,"</p><p></p><p>Alkain smiled a smile that invited you to be his friend. "I am a cleric of the great Sardior,"</p><p></p><p>My mind raced, quickly flipping through the mental tomes I kept in my head. I did not know much about religion or the arcane arts, but Sardior I had heard of before: a dragon deity, one of the three children of Alamut, along with Tiamat and Bahamut. Where Tiamat represented the good of the metallic dragons and Bahamut the evil prismatic, Sardior was worshipped by the neutral and much-elusive gem dragons - as well as strange people like Alkain, it seemed.</p><p></p><p>That was about all I knew; no clue of his doctrine or the general purpose of his followers. Alkain seemed to be decent, and gem dragons are generally known to be nonviolent, so I was inclined to let him be. Furthermore, with 'Ingram' around (I was still unconvinced) I would find the chances of doing something untoward rather slim.</p><p></p><p>We talked as we sat by a river and cooked our dinner. Ingram spoke, in a rather convincing manner, about his disorientation of having woken up twenty years behind time and his fear (the first time I had heard a Paladin talk of being afraid) of being unable to cope with the changes and all the other consequences of being asleep for two decades.</p><p></p><p>I put in my two cents worth, which was little more than a crock of meaningless bullsh*t. Alkain gave several nuggets of wisdom, much of which seemed like an over-complicated version of "It takes time."</p><p></p><p>After discussing some theology and philosophy, I decided to turn in, leaving the two of them to continue their conversation. As my eyes closed, I found myself wishing I was in bed with Zara.</p><p></p><p>++++++</p><p></p><p>The next day, we walked to a small village that lay on the outskirts of Devarnish, maybe two days from the castle. There, we rested, bought horses and Ingram acted like only a paladin or cleric could by blessing the stable from which we bought our horses.</p><p></p><p>We headed down to the castle with little delay, Alkain all the while chattering in the background about life and nature. Ingram listened intently, as if it bore some meaning to his life. As skeptical as I was, I noticed that Ingram found the advice somewhat comforting and I shrugged it off. Everyone has their drug.</p><p></p><p>As we neared the castle, the guards upon the battlements called down to the gate and it swung open as our party neared. The four gate guards saluted smartly, and I returned the salute, trotting my horse in relishing the prospect of sleeping in a proper bed tonight. But as I cleared the way for Ingram and Alkain to enter, I heard the audible gasp from the gate guards. </p><p></p><p>At first, I thought it was because of Alkain's ruby eyes, but I then recalled that he had magicked them to appear as if normal. Turning around, I realized that they had seen Ingram and recognized him from the portraits. </p><p></p><p>The guard captain marched out to greet me, but upon seeing my so-called uncle, he froze. The captain had been in the same war so many of the family's men had lost their lives to, and he obviously recognized Ingram's features. The paladin smiled graciously and the captain sketched a shaky salute. Ingram saluted back.</p><p></p><p>We had similar responses inside the castle. Servants who saw Ingram's portrait everyday now saw the man himself walk through the halls. Ingram gaped at the portraits of himself and his brothers on the walls, in commemoration of their valor. We went to the dining hall, where I found my eldest brother Roland playing the piano. In there, the portraits were bigger, grander and more detailed, causing Ingram to nearly stumble. But he regained his dignity and his eyes scanned the room, before noticing the empty scabbard that lay on the wall underneath the portrait of Sir Alexander Morius. </p><p></p><p>With Roland playing the piano in the background, Ingram drew his sword and walked purposefully towards the scabbard, pausing before his father's visage for a moment. Though I stood about fifteen feet away, I imagined I could see tears in his eyes. Reverently, the last remaining member of the noble Morius family placed the family sword back in its sheathe and stepped back, fist clasped over his heart, head bowed in deference to the memory of his father.</p><p></p><p>I had to admit that even I was touched. Roland was still oblivious to our presence, concentrating on his playing. I unhooked my lute from my back and gave the strings a testing strum, before strolling over to Roland and joining in the performance mid-chorus. He glanced up at me, and grinned, his fingers dancing across the ivory keys without missing a single beat.</p><p></p><p>I smiled back and played the lute, letting myself loose for once. My life was, at times, so complicated and fraught with danger, that the chance to partake in a simple concerted effort of music seemed like the greatest of luxuries. After the song was over, the gloves were put on and the mask tied firmly in place.</p><p></p><p>It would be nice to not have secrets sometimes.</p><p>++++++</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Chasmodai, post: 1034699, member: 12445"] I figured that Ingram would be dead for about half a minute before the spell that held me ran out. If I had been the type to care, I would have been quite distraught. As things were, I wasn't the type. But of course, Paladins are direct agents of their respective Gods and no matter how much you think that there are too many of them around out there, their God isn't going to waste one of them. I think it's a matter of divine pride, sort of like comparing the number of children you have, or the length of your... unmentionables. Barely six seconds after the fiend had teleported away, had a man dressed in simple white robes appeared, walking down the street as if he didn't have a care in the world. He frowned when he caught side of my frozen figure and Ingram's bleeding one. He rushed to Ingram, shook his hand free of his voluminous sleeve and if I had been able to, I would have gasped - or done something along those lines. The man's right hand was completely made out of ruby, but ruby that was alive and organic. It moved, it flexed, it pulsed. As I scrutinized his appearance as best I could without being able to move, I also noticed that both his eyes were pupil-less rubies. The man held the ruby hand on Ingram's wounded side and closed his eyes, his lips moving quickly as he muttered an incantation. At about that time, the spell loosed its hold on me and I stumbled forward, dropping the Paladin's sword from suddenly nerveless fingers. There was a glow of red light, and for the barest of instants, a crimson red dragon superimposed itself across my vision. Ingram stopped bleeding and his eyes flickered open, surprisingly clear. The man kneeling by his side continued his prayers, and Ingram's numerous others wounds began to close and heal as well. A cleric, I deduced, though for the life of me, I couldn't figure out of whom. Or what. ++++++ "Hello. My name is Alkain. What happened here?" the man with the ruby eyes asked, pushing himself to his feet and smiling genially at the both of us. His voice was cordial and friendly, the type of voice that was used to speaking often, in calm, gentle tones. His eyes darted back and forth, the type of eyes that bespoke of a man with a razor-sharp mind and a glimmer of excitement lay behind those eyes. "We were attacked," Ingram replied. "Are you okay, Zander?" I nodded distractedly, brushing his hand away from my shoulder. As I collected my belongings from the charred body of my mount, I noticed Xaod's lifeless form laid out on the floor, crumpled as though he was no more than a suit of empty armor. Behind me, Ingram explained the events of the past minute - it had happened that fast - to Alkain the mysterious cleric. As my eyes roamed the bloodstained road, I noticed a glint of gold on the ground, half-buried in dust. I knelt to pick it up and saw that it was a locket that looked extremely familiar. Opening it up, a projected image of my mother, Ingram and the rest of the Morius family posing for a family portrait appeared out of thin air. I realized then that it was the same locket that my mother had, and through simple deduction, I figured that the locket belonged to 'Ingram'. But surprisingly, the paladin lifted an identical one from beneath his breastplate, meaning that someone other than him had dropped the magicked locket. Only members of the Morius family owned such a locket; all but two were dead. And I did find the locket quite close to where the fiend had made its hasty exit... The day sped itself up, as if it, too, was pumped on adrenaline. The cleric and Ingram held some last rites for Xaod, and we had some sort of a funeral of him and the fallen villagers. I declined to give a eulogy. We headed on, Alkain finally finding enough time to explain himself: "I was traveling the countryside, you know, seeing the sights, when I happened to stumble upon the two of you," I kept my tongue from lashing out and instead asked, "Are you a cleric? I don?t see any signs of your faith about you," Alkain smiled a smile that invited you to be his friend. "I am a cleric of the great Sardior," My mind raced, quickly flipping through the mental tomes I kept in my head. I did not know much about religion or the arcane arts, but Sardior I had heard of before: a dragon deity, one of the three children of Alamut, along with Tiamat and Bahamut. Where Tiamat represented the good of the metallic dragons and Bahamut the evil prismatic, Sardior was worshipped by the neutral and much-elusive gem dragons - as well as strange people like Alkain, it seemed. That was about all I knew; no clue of his doctrine or the general purpose of his followers. Alkain seemed to be decent, and gem dragons are generally known to be nonviolent, so I was inclined to let him be. Furthermore, with 'Ingram' around (I was still unconvinced) I would find the chances of doing something untoward rather slim. We talked as we sat by a river and cooked our dinner. Ingram spoke, in a rather convincing manner, about his disorientation of having woken up twenty years behind time and his fear (the first time I had heard a Paladin talk of being afraid) of being unable to cope with the changes and all the other consequences of being asleep for two decades. I put in my two cents worth, which was little more than a crock of meaningless bullsh*t. Alkain gave several nuggets of wisdom, much of which seemed like an over-complicated version of "It takes time." After discussing some theology and philosophy, I decided to turn in, leaving the two of them to continue their conversation. As my eyes closed, I found myself wishing I was in bed with Zara. ++++++ The next day, we walked to a small village that lay on the outskirts of Devarnish, maybe two days from the castle. There, we rested, bought horses and Ingram acted like only a paladin or cleric could by blessing the stable from which we bought our horses. We headed down to the castle with little delay, Alkain all the while chattering in the background about life and nature. Ingram listened intently, as if it bore some meaning to his life. As skeptical as I was, I noticed that Ingram found the advice somewhat comforting and I shrugged it off. Everyone has their drug. As we neared the castle, the guards upon the battlements called down to the gate and it swung open as our party neared. The four gate guards saluted smartly, and I returned the salute, trotting my horse in relishing the prospect of sleeping in a proper bed tonight. But as I cleared the way for Ingram and Alkain to enter, I heard the audible gasp from the gate guards. At first, I thought it was because of Alkain's ruby eyes, but I then recalled that he had magicked them to appear as if normal. Turning around, I realized that they had seen Ingram and recognized him from the portraits. The guard captain marched out to greet me, but upon seeing my so-called uncle, he froze. The captain had been in the same war so many of the family's men had lost their lives to, and he obviously recognized Ingram's features. The paladin smiled graciously and the captain sketched a shaky salute. Ingram saluted back. We had similar responses inside the castle. Servants who saw Ingram's portrait everyday now saw the man himself walk through the halls. Ingram gaped at the portraits of himself and his brothers on the walls, in commemoration of their valor. We went to the dining hall, where I found my eldest brother Roland playing the piano. In there, the portraits were bigger, grander and more detailed, causing Ingram to nearly stumble. But he regained his dignity and his eyes scanned the room, before noticing the empty scabbard that lay on the wall underneath the portrait of Sir Alexander Morius. With Roland playing the piano in the background, Ingram drew his sword and walked purposefully towards the scabbard, pausing before his father's visage for a moment. Though I stood about fifteen feet away, I imagined I could see tears in his eyes. Reverently, the last remaining member of the noble Morius family placed the family sword back in its sheathe and stepped back, fist clasped over his heart, head bowed in deference to the memory of his father. I had to admit that even I was touched. Roland was still oblivious to our presence, concentrating on his playing. I unhooked my lute from my back and gave the strings a testing strum, before strolling over to Roland and joining in the performance mid-chorus. He glanced up at me, and grinned, his fingers dancing across the ivory keys without missing a single beat. I smiled back and played the lute, letting myself loose for once. My life was, at times, so complicated and fraught with danger, that the chance to partake in a simple concerted effort of music seemed like the greatest of luxuries. After the song was over, the gloves were put on and the mask tied firmly in place. It would be nice to not have secrets sometimes. ++++++ [/QUOTE]
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