Nebbin looks confused, of course, at Aravashnial's words.
"What did you think I looked like?"
Once the man leaves, he looks around, at a loss for what to do next.
I wonder where the rest of the ... refugees? ... are. I guess I should go stay with them.
He tears up, thinking about what happened to the city and Terendelev and, of course, Saria, the pretty fruit vendor.
Lucius's first mission will be to find a tailor or clothing merchant. He'll buy fresh underclothes: shirt, trousers, and whatever the period-appropriate undergarment is. If said tailor has a stock of black cloth, he'll commission a new cassock to be made. It's always better to have a change of clothes.
Following that, Lucius will look for a place where he can take a bath. If that isn't possible (this is a military outpost packed with refugees, after all), he'll try to get a basin of hot water, nub of soap, and a rag. If he can find a barber, he will happily pay for a shave, before his goatee turns into a simple beard.
Feeling much refreshed, Lucius will put on his new clothes, with his battered cassock over them, and pursue a midday meal, then a place to have his old clothes laundered, or at least hung up to air out.
Saoirse finds a dwarf hammering away near a forge in a courtyard near the back of the building. The dwarf, not even looking up, says "What do you need, Crusader?"
Saoirse's face flushes from the heat of the forge as she keeps her distance from the ringing hammer and the sparks it sends flying. "I... I was hoping I could get my armor repaired and... if you could examine a sword for me. I've never seen one like it."
Saoirse looks around herself for a moment before she pulls the belt she hangs Radiance's sheath from off of her waist and unsheathes the sword for a moment to give the dwarf a look at the golden blade. Sheathing the sword again, not wanting it to be seen by passers-bye, Saoirse looks hopefully at the dwarf.
The dwarf grunts an affirmative and then grabs the sword. A second goes by as he realizes something is different about this sword and then he drops his hammer next to the forge. He stands and walks the blade over to a makeshift work table and starts to look it over intently.
A few minutes go by and he looks up at you. "Where did you find this? Do you know what this sword is? This is...Radiance. Yaniel's missing sword. This should be taken immediately up to Command..." At the mention of parting the sword from Saoirse an angry metal hissing emits from the blade and the golden hue burns brightly with righteous anger. The dwarf starts and drops the sword on the table. "Well then, perhaps you should hold onto it. You've got yourself a mighty demon slaying blade there lassy."
He looks her over for another moment, shrugs and holds his hand out. "Now get of your armor if you want me to fix it."
****
After lunch, and before dinner, Lucius will find some privacy to peruse the book of Abyssal lore that Nebbin helped him find. The privacy is because Lucius doesn't think the refugees would take well to someone wearing Asmodeus's pentagram reading a book about demons. Commoners are so easily confused.
Aero, used to living in poverty will scrounge up some food the best he can, while trying to find out what happened from other survivors. How bad is the city? How bad is Mendev? etc.
As Thom wanders the hall he hears the familiar sounds of training conducted by a sergeant. "Get those asses in gear and KILL THOSE DUMMIES!!"
He waits for a while until the ten soldiers are put into a standing formation. The sergeant's voice flits out to penetrate the dark corner Thom has found. "And what in the gray hell do you think you're doing just standing there?! Come over here NOW! What's your name?!"
Thom steps up in front of the sergeant and comes to attention, left gauntleted hand on the pommel of his longsword. He pulls his hood back away from his face reluctantly, black eyes falling to the floor in front of the man's feet.
”Initiate Thomas Thorne checking in, sir,” he says quietly in his deep rasp.
"What in the hells?! Son...I think I would remember an initiate as ugly as you. Thomas Thorne...I remember that name. Yes...I remember that fresh faced pile. You ain't him son and I don't take kindly to being lied to. You have exactly thirty seconds to explain what you're on about or you will be tasting my boot."
Thom can't help but scowl at the man. He'd tried to prepare himself for this reception, but it hit him like a giant's club, anyway. His repulsive, ravaged, and torn face doesn't help the scowl.
"It's true, sir! I'm Thomas Thorne, but I don't know how to explain all this." he gestures vaguely at his body. Then he begins his rehearsed recounting of all that he remembers, starting on the morning of the celebration. Who he reported to, who he ran errands with, what officers would have seen him and could corroborate his story. When he gets to his own death, he can't help but get a bit emotional. It was still too raw ... too surreal.
Twenty minutes later, Thom found himself outside the training room, stunned as he leans against the wall. He still couldn’t tell if the man actually believed the story, but at least he’d agreed to look into it. He thinks on the sergeant’s final words.
That’s quite a tale, initiate. He’d looked so skeptical, but had listened still. A good man. Until I can find some way to verify this, why don’t you stay scarce. These initiates have enough to deal with lately without you around.
It wasn’t a refusal, and it gave Thom some time to process things … for what that was worth. At least he had given Thom free reign to requisition new clothes and gear.
Thom pushed away from the wall, feeling a tiny bit more confident having something useful to do. New clothes. New gear. A bath. That should be enough to keep his mind busy until the dinner. Thom pulled his cowl back over his ruined half-orc face. He’d need to find a more long-term way of dealing with that, too.
He had the afternoon to figure out a solution.
Saoirse nods and quickly starts pulling the straps on her chain shirt. Hauling the linked steel over her head. Looking down at the multiple puncture wounds and blood stains on her ill-sized linen shirt, Saoirse sighs and hands over the chain shirt along with her shield while picking up Radiance and tying the belt back around her waist.
"Thank you Master Smith."
After finding a new set of clothes, which fit her much better than before, Saoirse nearly stumbles into Nebbin when she rounds a corner. "Oh! Nebbin, I'm sorry. I was on my way to the mess hall for lunch. Would you like to join me?"
Nebbin blushes furiously at the unarmored Saoirse's question.
"Oh. You want to have lunch with me?" A sweet smile crosses his face.
"Sure, that would be nice."
I didn't think most crusaders liked hanging out with townfolk. She sure is nice. Though it's strange to see her without armor. I wonder what she did with it.
"Where's your armor?"
Saoirse nods towards the mess hall and starts walking that way, not needing to weave through the crowd as much thanks to Nebbin's large frame, "I left my armor with a smith, it was in need of repair."
After grapping a bowl of soup and sitting down with Nebbin at one of the communal benches, Saoirse takes a few quick spoonfuls before looking up at Nebbin, "I was wondering what you plan to do now? I know you used to work in the mines, but I think you could do good work here, among the crusaders. Your strength could keep many people alive."
"Oh, no, I didn't work in the mines. I worked in the quarry. They're totally different! See, usually in mines, you're underground and are just trying to move stone so you can get to the gems or metal or whatever is behind it," Nebbin explains earnestly and happily. "Quarrying is completely different. I'm actually trying to get the stone, so the crusaders can use it for the wall or the catapults or for new barracks. I usually stay above ground. I don't think I'd ever been below ground like that before."
He shudders for a moment as he thinks and then realizes the rest of what Saoirse said.
"I guess I was going to go back, but you really think I could help people. I've always been big, but I don't really like killing."
As you make your way to the room indicated earlier you keep hearing people talk about the approaching Mendevian army. Many sound hopeful, and in fact reassure each other that they only need defend this place until the army arrives.
Entering the doors, the smell of food, hot and delicious, enters your nostrils. You see Anevia and Irabeth standing and talking to another member of the survivng Crusaders. You hear Irabeth's gentle yet firm voice, "Let me know the moment there's more information." The other person, a man, salutes crisply and exits the other side of the room.
Irabeth turns around and smiles widely at you. Anevia walks to a chair beside Irabeth...without a limp. Irabeth gestures widely, "Don't stand on ceremony here. Sit. Eat. Let me thank you for bringing Anevia back to me. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, as Anevia's brought me up to speed on your journey. I have my own, but I will let you ask away first."
With that, she starts to sit and fill her plate.
Having patched his and Lucius's clothes together as best as possible with mending Aero arrives at the meal salavating at the thought of fresh fruit and hot soup.
"You're all better!" Nebbin says excitedly. "I think Aravashnial is too!"
As one crusader leaves the far end of the room, a strange sight enters the near door. A stocky, powerfully-built man in crisp, clean crusader’s robes takes a few steps in before pausing and looking around.
He’s wearing a mask. A shining, polished, silver hound’s face. Two black piercing eyes peer through the eye holes, with the hints of some kind of gauze underneath. While unarmored, the rest of the crusader’s body is likewise covered. Long sleeves cover his crossed arms, and dark brown gloves cover his hands. The sword, morningstar, and whip hanging from his waist are familiar, as is his build, posture, and reserved air.
It’s Thom.
He walks slowly, stiffly over towards the food, then stands for a few seconds looking down at it. ”Hmmm,” comes a now-familiar rasp, though muffled by the mask. ”Hadn’t considered that,” he mutters.
He carefully pulls the mask from his face, then carefully removes a layer of white gauze … revealing his scarred and torn face. He hooks the mask and gauze on his belt before picking up a plate, giving Aero and Nebbin a sheepish look before beginning to pile food onto the plate. ”Glad to see you two looking refreshed.”
He moves with the same slowness into an open seat, then takes a bite before looking over at Irabeth and Anevia. ”So there’s reinforcements coming? When?”
Lucius appears for dinner wearing his newly repaired cassock (which is much more pleasant to wear after a few hours airing out in front of a window.) "Thank you, Aero. Your magic did an excellent job. I can hardly see the joins."
Lucius eagerly fills a plate. Two solid meals today, not merely hard biscuit and jerky. One could almost forget they're in a war zone. If there is wine, he will take some of that as well.
He sits at the table, opposite Irabeth, if he can manage it. "Thank you for meeting with us. We have some important news, though I can only assume Anevia has filled you in on most of the particulars. I'm Lucius Erasmian, emissary of the Prince of Law and of Imperial Cheliax."
He reviews, in brief, the contact with the mongrelfolk, including the First Crusade-era morningstar Aero now carries. Then, he'll talk about Hosilla and the Baphomet false/fallen crusdaers they found in the catacombs. At this point he'll pass the note they found on Hosilla around the table to Irabeth. "We've recovered the artifact known as Yaniel's sword.", he explains, "Soairse bears it now. But the rest is still worrying. I dare not speculate what they plan on doing with the wardstone, or what it means that Kenabres may no longer be of use. I suspect some answers may be found in the safe houses, despite the witch's protests that we would find nothing. In fact, I'd like to assist with those investigations, if at all possible. I suspect my companions may feel the same."
He pauses a moment to eat a few bites of food. "I should add we've also encountered false crusaders on the surface: The Blackwing Library was held hostage by another man dressed as a crusader, accompanied by demonspawn. They did not live long enough to answer questions, but bore no holy symbols. He could have been a member of the same cult, or perhaps he went mad or merely 'saw which way the wind was blowing' after the fall of the city, as they say. It is thoroughly opaque to me, but it seems you should know."
"I also have some questions for you. What, exactly, is the status of the city? You said your forces now number about one hundred, including the wounded. And about that many again as refugees. Two hundred souls are not a city. Are there other outposts? Is relief coming, or are your soldiers merely being optimistic? Was this assault across Mendev, or just Kenabres?", that is, is the war already lost. "Can we get messages out? How long are you prepared to feed two hundred people?"
"If it is practical, I'd advise you to send an expedition to the Blackwing Library, either to retrieve the librarians and their tomes or to protect them in place. Similarly, we left one Hogus Gwerm at a large estate, stocked with supplies. I wouldn't suggest trying to seize his goods, for he could probably shelter behind his vault door until the world ended, but suffice it to say he has food that you may need."
"The mask looks ... nice?" Nebbin says, charitably, to Thom.
It's weird. But I guess it's better than his face. Oh, was that mean? I didn't mean it to be, but it's like it's falling off! Saoirse's much better looking.
He looks over at the paladin to see her reaction to the mask.
Thom pauses in listening to look over at Nebbin, a range of emotions playing across his ruined features as he touches the mask. "It's not perfect, but at least i get to choose this face."
His raspy voice drops as his eyes seem to seek elusive answers in the highly polished hound face. "Plus, something about it just feels ... "
As his voice trails off, he seems to get uncomfortable, looking around the room. "Anyway," he rasps, clearing his throat, "I have what may be a strange question. Anyone else having strange dreams? Or vivid waking visions?"
Aero nods to Thom "I have been having strange dreams as of late but Pulura frequently speaks to me that way, using her light to guide me through my dreams."
Irabeth nods at Lucius' assertions and findings in the lower regions. She whistles at the mention of Yaniel's sword, "May I see it?"
Saoirse begins to draw it forth but Irabeth holds her hand up. "Thank you, I only needed to see the pommel and where the blade meets the hilt. Yaniel's sword, Radiance, was one of a kind. I would prefer not to draw it fully here in case some powerful demon can sense it."
After reading the note she nods slowly. "I can give you a map of the city with these locations marked. I would appreciate it very much if you all would consider looking into these places...especially in light of some of the news I have for you."
She listens to more of Lucius has to say, and shakes her head ruefully. "We've heard reports of Crusaders flinging their morality to the wind. While it pains me to lose any...his head belongs on a pike rather than his shoulders for what he has done. This should be an indication of the city's status...there is rampant chaos as of now. We are few here, but there are other outposts. I thought it foolish to concentrate too much of the remnants in one spot. From what I gather from these outposts, the city's population has been reduced to somewhere around one third of what it was before the attack. The Crusaders and the militia fared even worse. There are approximately a thousand in fighting condition and another two thousand who may or may not be in fighting condition ever again. I've not heard of any of the other border cities being defeated such as Kenabres. The destruction of the Wardstone at the Kite though, that has brought down the protection that they offered. I fear that soon all of Mendev will become the Worldwound."
She sighs, takes a drink from her cup and eats a few grapes. Anevia leans over and touches her shoulder. Irabeth rubs her temples and smiles at Anevia. "Fortunately, the Mendevian army is only a few days away. Unfortunately...Areelu Vorlesh. the mention of the Nahyndrian crystal is disturbing. I'm told this points to something larger, but I have another coming here this evening that can explain it better. Quednys Orlun...head librarian of Blackwing and an esteemed member of the Riftwardens."
A man walks in, aged and angular, with an eagle's talon tattoed on his left cheek. "I am grieved to hear about the destruction of the library I founded. But I thank you for saving what you did, I will personally see to it that those remaining are brought here." Irabeth says, "I will also see to it that Gwerm is contacted. I know him...or of him at least...and will show the utmost tact when approaching him. Hopefully he doesn't try to drain what gold the city would have left with whatever prices he would charge for food." Quednys sits down and reaches for cup. "As horrific as recent events have been, we’ve come to realize that they are, in fact, merely a prelude. The razing of the Kite, the destruction of our wardstone, Terendelev’s murder, and the assault on the city were nothing more than opening gambits. The Worldwound is on the march in a more concentrated assault than we’ve seen since the fall of Drezen. It’s fair to say the Lord of the Locust Host is finally making his move. The end of this hundred-year-war is upon us, and it falls to us to ensure victory."
Irabeth nods and interjects. "Thank you also for your confirmation of the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth. We've heard rumours...but nothing concrete. While the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth were scattered, those who serve the Lord of the Locust Host himself must remain concentrated in Old Kenabres. What we’ve heard from within the barricade they’ve erected is ominous. The cultists are waiting for something, and based on our own information and what you’ve managed to recover so far, it sounds like the vile witch Areelu Vorlesh will soon be coming to Kenabres. And it appears that we’ve determined what she intends to do."
Quednys, after eating a bit of meat and drinking deeply, says "When the wardstone was destroyed by the Storm King, it exploded and destroyed the Kite. The network along the border failed, but did not fade completely. I believe this is because a significant portion of our wardstone still exists, and that the cultists have taken it to the old garrison in Old Kenabres. From what we’ve learned, they’re hoping to engineer a way to somehow reverse the field generated by the wardstones—essentially, to use our own greatest defense as a devastating weapon."
Irabeth adds, "The attack on Kenabres had a predictable result: causing the crusade to gather at the border to defend it. Some wonder why the demons haven’t attacked in stronger numbers. I believe that Areelu was counting on us massing along the border, and that if she can corrupt the wardstone field, she can strike a devastating blow against us all. In effect, we’ve lined up for the slaughter."
Quednys nods in agreement. "Vorlesh is surely seeking some object of great Abyssal power, likely the Nahyndrian crystal mentioned in the missive you recovered, and with it she intends to turn the source of our hope into an unimaginable nightmare. We cannot hope to evacuate everyone from the border—I doubt they would give up the defensive line even if they knew what the enemy planned. But we can still stop this from happening—we just need to have someone infiltrate the Gray Garrison, locate the wardstone fragment, and destroy it."
Irabeth looks at the group and smiles, "There is good news though. You've brought us word of the descendants of the First Crusaders. We shall send an emissary to them immediately...to this...Neatholm. In other times we may have been less quick to respond...but they are of us and we will need them in the times to come."
"The Nahyndrian Crystal? Please, Elaborate."
He nods to Thom, to indicate that even his strange dreams have become stranger, but does not break off from his conversation with Irabeth and the Riftwarden.
Quednys answers, "Nahyndrian crystals are dark purple crystals that are supposedly formed from the spilled ichor of murdered demon lords. As you could imagine, they are likely immensely powerful. We do not know what use they would be...only that their existence is and their power has been noted."
"So ... do you have someone to go into the garrison?" Nebbin asks.
That person must be really brave.
Lucius nods. "I see. Crystallized demonic essence of the highest order."
He thinks a moment, fingers tracing the edges of his holy symbol. Two thirds of Kenabres slaughtered, much of the rest driven mad or in hiding. And possibly all that was merely bait in a trap. Tremendous numbers of crusaders, militia, and Mendevian garrison troops killed. Worse, a great many so physically or mentally broken as to be useless, not nearly enough powerful healing magic available to bring them back, and they still must be fed.
On the bright side, the Eagle Watch would seem to have excellent intelligence, probably wrung out of captured cultists. Unless the demons running the operation deliberately gave their underlings incorrect information. That would be their style.
His train of thought is interrupted by Nebbin asking about attacking the old garrison. "I'm not sure we're quite there yet, Nebbin. It sounds as if the most prudent course of action might be to hit the safe houses. If Asmodeus favors us, Hosilla and her minions were unable to clear them. Evidence there may give us a better idea what they are plotting, and tell us how long we have to gather forces to stop them, or alternatively to flee."
Nebbin looks confused.
"I know we're not there. We're here, safe in Defender's Heart."
For the first time he can remember since Waking Up, Thom laughs at the exchange between Nebbin and Lucius. It’s a rough sound, but genuine. He shakes his head before becoming self-conscious at his outburst. Just as quickly, the walls of reserve are firmly back in place as he takes another bite, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Lucius’s most recent words come to mind. ’Crystallized demonic essence of the highest order’. Thom gets consumed in that surreal thought. One in a string of surreal things over the last few days. His mind shies from that line of thinking … best to keep focused on the discussion at hand. Infiltrating the cultist hideouts for information sounded like a good plan.
Thom’s eyes reclaim their intensity as they swing over towards Captain Irabeth, and he speaks into the lull in the conversation, ”Nebbin’s question has merit, though, I think. Who do you plan to send to infiltrate the hideouts?”
Irabeth and Anevia both share a glance and a smile that threatens to overtake their features. Irabeth quickly drains her cup and fills it again before addressing Nebbin, "You are correct...here you are as safe as can be. But as for sending someone or someones to the garrison," she looks at Thom as well, " and infiltrating the hideouts...I was rather hoping you all would consider these tasks on behalf of Kenabres. What we have here is best suited for defending what survivors are left and to be ready to apprise the Mendevian army when it arrives."
She looks at all of you individually, then at Anevia somewhat worriedly. "Will you?"
Lucius smirks, just a little. That explains the special welcome and the fine food, when such things must be scarce. "Of course. Time is of the essence, of course, but it is already late. Would be best if we set out in the morning?"
"Don't you want crusaders to go, though? I'm just a quarryman."
Aero stares into space deep in thought as most of the conversation happens before looking at Nebbin.
"And I'm just an archaeologist, but my dreams of digging up old Sarkorian treasures and learning about the people that once lived here may have to be set aside for now. If nothing is done these demons may overwhelm all of Golarion, leaving no stone to quarry, nobody to quarry it for...
Aero pauses for a moment before continuing
"I know it's not our job, but in times of need even sickle and scythe can be used to defend one's home. I am emboldened by knowing the Heart still stands. Come, let us do our part."
Thom's eyebrows rise, or they would if he had any. Another surreal moment to add to the rest. On the other hand, this was yet another thing that somehow ... improbably ... felt right.
He pushes his food back, suddenly lacking an appetite. "Another night of rest would be welcome." His voice is resolute as he stands, "Plus, we'll want to plan and supply accordingly." He shrugs, his feet suddenly feeling restless, "Not exactly something I've done before."
Irabeth responds to Lucius, "Of course it can wait until the morning. You've had a rough time of late and we could all use some...rest." She winks at Anevia who blushes.
She stares at Nebbin for a moment then says, "Truly you are a beautiful man, Nebbin. Anevia's relayed to me your actions and I assure you, you are no simple quarryman. Had you petitioned to become a member of the Eagle's Watch in peaceful times, you would still be a champion."
She smiles a dastardly smile at Aero, "Oh good archaeologist Aero. There is another reason I'd like you to go. As you've seen already, the descendants of the First Crusaders were beneath our very feet and we did not know. I need someone to go along in case there are any more artifacts from legend like Radiance or something even more obscure."
She chuckles at Thom. "I've heard from one of the sergeants that you were a recruit? It is not the first I've heard of one's form being altered."
She smiles knowingly.
Thom pauses, watching the two women, but shakes his head. "I don't know," he mutters as he paces, "I don't think ... " he trails off, then looks around, giving the ground at his feet a hard look. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Whatever was done to me, it was done after I was killed. Hitting the hideouts is a first good step to getting a bit of ... justice."
He stops near Nebbin, putting a gloved hand on the big man's shoulder, "Crusader or mason, I'd feel better if you and that hammer were with us." He gives Aero a look, making it plain the sentiment goes for him as well.
"Well, I guess if you think I can be a help. Maybe I should get the smiths to look at my hammer, though, to see if they can make sure it's good enough to hit people with instead of rocks?"
"Good idea Nebbin, we should all make sure we're as best equipped as possible, you never know when the smallest thing will make a difference."
"And what of you, lady Saoirse? You've been just as quiet as Anevia here has told me."
Saoirse looks up from her own dinner plate, which sits half-eaten, her eyes blinking a few times as she pulls herself out of her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I've been... preoccupied. The last few days weigh heavy on me. I came to Kenabres in search of a man... but it doesn't matter now. I believe Lucius has the right of it, we should weaken our enemy before striking them directly. I will do all I can to help retake this city."
Pausing for a moment, Saoirse catches her breath before saying "If you don't mind Captain Irabeth, I'd like to discuss something with you after dinner."
Thom pauses in slowly tracing the contours of his new mask with a thick finger to look up at the crusaders. "You mentioned an Areelu Vorlesh. That she's likely behind the efforts of the cultists we're about to go after. I don't really know anything about her. Is there someone here at the Heart who might know more?"
"I've heard of her, hasn't everybody?. She's as the Architect of the Worldwound and one of Deskari's greatest minion, and a former human... now half-succubus."
Thom stops tracing to look over at Aero, then slips the gauze and mask back on. He leans back and folds his thick arms, ready to begin the preparations in ernest.
"Aero has the right of it." She nods to Saoirse, "Of course. I'm almost finished here, do you mind if Anevia is with us?"
Saoirse waits until the rest have left the room before moving over to Irabeth and Anevia. Saoirse looks troubled as she tilts her head upwards at the taller half-orc. "Thank you for speaking with me, I didn't want to bring this up among the others," taking a deep breath, "I was hoping you could help me with two problems. I came here up to the Worldwound searching for an evil man, called Lomar. Have you perhaps heard of such a man? Also... I hope you can explain something to me. I haven't been dedicated for long, and my Captain said things would change for me the longer I walked the path but this... I wasn't expecting. This morning I woke up and well, I wasn't afraid, at all. Even in the middle of combat, I didn't feel anything, right now I don't feel anything. Why? Whats changed?"
Saoirse settles down her deluge of words to give Irabeth a chance to speak.
Irabeth nods at Saoirse. "Lomar...Lomar. That name does sound familiar. Anevia, do you recognize it?"
Anevia thinks for a moment. "I remember you talking about a young man one night. Someone stirring up some trouble. Painting graffiti of the symbol of Baphomet or Deskari I think. I didn't really think much of it because..."
Irabeth exclaims at this point, "That's right, my love! He didn't seem important. It's not the first troublemaker who's done such a thing and he didn't seem to be well connected. But in light of these events...I think I'll have to tell our scouts to keep an eye out. Do you have a description of him?" Irabeth asks Saoirse.
She sighs deeply as Saoirse unleashes her stream of worry. "Sister, the path to righteousness is fraught with danger, not only external. What's happening to you is common enough. Many deal with pain and death by not feeling. A paladin can still be with that mindset, but one who is truly righteous feels every death. Iomedae will forgive her servants. It is important for you to remember, you cannot lose your inner self to what you are on the battlefield. It is one of our unspoken duties, to mourn for those on whom our judgement has fallen...and on those whom our training could not save." Irabeth bows her head and looks at Anevia for a moment. Anevia puts her arm around the half-orc and smiles wistfully. Irabeth continues on, "It sounds like your Captain was wise. You have been changing and will continue to change until the day you are called to Iomedae. But don't let your fear of feeling fear cause you not to feel at all."
She laughs for a moment. "Then again, my poor philosophizing aside, Radiance could have something to do with it. Or maybe Iomedae herself is touching your destiny. The Grey Lady would not be pleased with that I'm sure!"