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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mark_Theurer" data-source="post: 4334852" data-attributes="member: 28150">Vagrach Vivex - Dragonborn PaladinThe opulent cart creaked its way along the forested mountain path. The opulence more a testament to the awe for what it carried, than the cargo's worldly value. In contrast, its honor guard was a bedraggled crew. The lucky ones with bound wounds, others with open wounds bleeding as they plodded forward, some barely able to stand; all arrayed in armor, formerly gleaming, now battered and soiled. Oh, we had been such a proud lot! Four short days before, the shine from our armor would have dazzled an angel; the elaborate banners would have drawn envious looks from a master herald. Each paladin, with scales rubbed with oil to make the color blaze forth, added to the beauty and sense of power. The pride of clan Vivex! Two hundred strong! For a thousand years, since the fall of the great Dragonborn empire, generations of clan Vivex had guarded Bahamut's Artifact It was to be such a simple task, escort our charge to a new, more secure, fastness in the mountains. If its fortress reliquary had been impregnable before, the Artifact's new one would shatter army upon army of demons, should they try its walls. Who would know our task, and should they, who would challenge two hundred paladins? But some force did know, for on the second day of our journey, they struck. Four short days later, but fifty of us remained. Day and night, but oh, mostly at night, they came: Undead! At first we laughed; undead against paladins? If they had the ability to think, anyone would have thought them mad to try it. A swath was cut by our breath at each of their attacks: fire, acid, lighting, and searing cold leapt forth from our ranks and scores of them fell. Then, the blue-white radiant might of our blows was delivered and many more were felled. Some of us fell too, but far fewer than our foe. We could not recover our comrade's bodies, for the mass of our unclean enemies was almost overwhelming, but we withdrew in good order; the cart's precious cargo protected; secure in the thought that we were making progress to our goal and the hope we would soon win free. But it was all in vain! For each battle won, we soon found that another was before us; that night, the next day, and on and on. And there was an added disheartening horror! Our fallen comrades, whose bodies we had been forced to abandon, in each subsequent battle, they were in the ranks of our foe! Raised by some foul ritual to make a mockery of their life's oath to protect the Artifact! Then our strength began to fail; given no rest, the powers granted by Bahamut that permitted us to heal one another, could not be renewed. We began to fall with more frequency, each loss a gain to the ranks of our foe. Thus, we came to trudge along that forest track, driven by desperation to march for a mountain pass between the peaks ahead and to put our foes behind us. It was not to be, for suddenly ahead, they appeared, and we had thought them behind us. Standing amidst their ranks was a man in purple and black robes, with a look of dark power about him. He waved his staff and the undead horde shambled forward. Our Grand Marshal called, the trumpets sounded, and we formed three sides of a square around the cart. The fourth was a steep slope and we were thankful to be safe from that direction. But we knew three sides would be too many for us and enough for our foe. We fought and I destroyed many before the mace blow struck my head, sending me tumbling down the slope, where sense and vision fled me. Hours later, I awoke. I had fallen off a short cliff and was hidden from the track above. Not moving, I listened and heard nothing. Using my mundane and divine powers, I was able to restore my body, and took my first hesitant look at the track above. Nothing was there! With difficulty, I climbed back up and searched...nothing but body parts and stone stained with blood. No full bodies, no fallen comrades...no cart! Days later, I made my way to the new fortress reliquary to bear the news...and the shame. No others from the Artifact's guard was ever seen again. That was five years ago. I now strive, working sometimes with what remains of the clan, to search the world for clues, always seeking the Artifact. The Artifact is so intertwined with clan Vivex, after a thousand years of proximity, that each of us can feel its presence when we come close enough.I, Vargach Vivex, Paladin of Bahamut, swear to recover my clan's honor along with the Artifact or to die trying!Duty demands it!Pride demands it!Honor demands it!Bahamut demands it!But above all, Revenge demands it!The shame must be erased, the Artifact must be reclaimed!Today, I find myself in a tavern in the town of Fallcrest, in the company of a group that have asked my aid and offered pay They were hired to recover a stolen cargo, but have not told me what it is. I sense something wrong, but not evil, in this deceit. I also have a sense that some future benefit will come from this association.</blockquote>

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