The Glen
Legend
The taproom when silent when the stranger entered. He was a holy warrior, of that there was no doubt. His plate armor still had the faded symbol of a patron of justice and protection painted on it, though it hadn't been touched up since its initial creation. The armor itself was patched up or hammered out in places where enemy blows had fallen. One of the pauldrons was badly pitted as if it had survived contact with a powerful acid. The shield on his back bore indentions that could only have been made by the teeth of a creature of enormous size. The man himself was scarred and grizzled, sporting several days growth and short hair that was prematurely grayed. His weapons were of high quality; the hilt of his sword was crafted from the finest alabaster and golden trim and practically hummed with power.
The paladin purposefully walked to the bar, the patrons moving out of his way with every step. The warrior was tired, but he was never one to let his tribulations slow him. He reached the bar and called the barkeep over with a gesture.
“Ale. Keep it coming.”
He placed several coins on the bar in payment, each one from various distant lands. The paladin drained half the mug in a single gulp, he was as thirsty as he was exhausted. He noticed a farmhand approach him nervously. The warrior tilted his head to let the local know his approach was detected but didn't otherwise acknowledge him.
“You're a paladin. We don't get many of your type around here. I don't remember the last time we saw one of you at all. The master doesn't tolerate your kind in his domain.”
“I know,” the man responded his voice a guttural rumble. “That's why I'm here.”
“What's your story?”
“I had always felt the calling of the higher powers. Too long the domains have been held in the grip of evil. When I finally grew tired of the constant monster attacks, the cries of childless mothers, and the unfettered atrocities by our so-called lords, I knew I had to act. I took up my sword, made my vows, and left to serve justice upon those needing it.”
“I can't imagine the horrors you've seen, how many monsters have you slain?”
“Too many. When I first started I was beset by legions of undead sent by the dark lords to extinguish my holy light. I've fought packs of lycanthropes, more cultists than I can count, and abominations that have no name. Since I became a paladin my life has been one constant battle. I learned to master the blade, hammer, and spear because you never know what horror awaits you around the next corner. To be a paladin in this cursed land is to live a life of constant war, knowing you will only live as long as you are deadlier than the evils that haunt you day and night.”
“You must be a man of great courage to put yourself at so much risk, knowing the dark lords hate you with all their being. If I might ask, how long ago did you take your vows on your holy path?”
“Thursday.”
The paladin purposefully walked to the bar, the patrons moving out of his way with every step. The warrior was tired, but he was never one to let his tribulations slow him. He reached the bar and called the barkeep over with a gesture.
“Ale. Keep it coming.”
He placed several coins on the bar in payment, each one from various distant lands. The paladin drained half the mug in a single gulp, he was as thirsty as he was exhausted. He noticed a farmhand approach him nervously. The warrior tilted his head to let the local know his approach was detected but didn't otherwise acknowledge him.
“You're a paladin. We don't get many of your type around here. I don't remember the last time we saw one of you at all. The master doesn't tolerate your kind in his domain.”
“I know,” the man responded his voice a guttural rumble. “That's why I'm here.”
“What's your story?”
“I had always felt the calling of the higher powers. Too long the domains have been held in the grip of evil. When I finally grew tired of the constant monster attacks, the cries of childless mothers, and the unfettered atrocities by our so-called lords, I knew I had to act. I took up my sword, made my vows, and left to serve justice upon those needing it.”
“I can't imagine the horrors you've seen, how many monsters have you slain?”
“Too many. When I first started I was beset by legions of undead sent by the dark lords to extinguish my holy light. I've fought packs of lycanthropes, more cultists than I can count, and abominations that have no name. Since I became a paladin my life has been one constant battle. I learned to master the blade, hammer, and spear because you never know what horror awaits you around the next corner. To be a paladin in this cursed land is to live a life of constant war, knowing you will only live as long as you are deadlier than the evils that haunt you day and night.”
“You must be a man of great courage to put yourself at so much risk, knowing the dark lords hate you with all their being. If I might ask, how long ago did you take your vows on your holy path?”
“Thursday.”
