As a young boy I traveled with my father and mother, both clerics of Sarenrae, bringing her light to those that didn’t have it. This quest took them to far off lands. Mother and I never got to travel on the final legs of these travels. We would set up in the local village or town and Father would strap on his armor and go off to saving lives and converting non-believers. I remember thinking he was invincible. I wanted to be so much like him…
Then the time came, he left with a few local hunters to see about some evil creature that had been scaring the locals. It was the worst night of my life when he rode back into town wounded and bleeding, with a look I had never seen in his eyes. I remember the chaos that followed. Father tried to get what local, capable men he could into some kind of formation, while mother organized the evacuation of the women and children. It was too late. Monsters came out of the dark and the killing began; no one was spared. Mother managed to get us out on horseback; I remember fleeing into the night thinking I would never see my father again.
It was a night of terror, and we fled. With the light of the morning came hope and the view of a missionary temple. I thought maybe we would be ok. It was the hope of an ignorant little boy. The demon caught us before we made it. I remember thinking it had stepped out of nothingness; its first attack killed the exhausted, terrified mount that had carried us through the night. I remember mother telling me in a strong voice to run to the monastery as she turned, raising her holy symbol, to face the demon. To my everlasting shame I fled. Fear powered my legs, and I ran. I remember hearing the demon scream in pain and feeling some hope, but mother was no match. She had bought me enough time to get close enough to the monastery that the clergy coming out would reach me long before the demon could.
I was taken in by the church of Sarenrae to continue my education, but all I felt was rage. The teachings held nothing for me anymore. Temperance, patience, compassion and peace tasted like ash, they did not keep away the nightmares. I would wake up screaming and I hated it. I wanted to lash out. I wanted revenge against the evil that took my family. I hated every day, I felt something pinned up in side that I couldn’t get out. It crushed my morale.
It wasn’t long until my uncle showed up. He strolled up, put his hand on my chin tilted, my eyes up to his, and locked gazes with me for a few minutes and said, "Is this what you want? Do you want to continue your father's work?"
"No, I want revenge."
"Revenge won’t bring back your father, but I can show you how to use this," he said as he tapped the hilt of his great sword, "to use that anger to ensure this doesn’t happen to others. I think you will like the teachings of Ragathiel"
I nodded my head and he went forward to talk to the priestess of Sanrerae. I remember them arguing with him. That he needed love and understanding to get passed the rage in his heart. Uncle responded "The boy will never be of a heart to follow Sanrerae; his path lies with me. He is my blood, and he will be leaving in the morning with me. That is final."
We left the next morning and headed north. Uncle Alexander started my training as we traveled. Teachings of Ragathiel, the worldwound, and of Demons by day. Combat training and tactics by night. It was just what I needed. Exhausted sleep met me every night when my head hit my bedroll. I learned to channel my aggression. I also learned the ways of Ragathiel. Creatures of darkness needed to be put down before they cause pain and suffering. Warriors of Ragathiel stood between humanity and the darkness, with sword in hand. Defenders of the Light, Slayers of Darkness. These teachings of Ragathiel sang in my soul.
After making it to Mendev and joining my uncle's command, I started the struggle against the world wound. I thrived in this environment. I was in combat at 14 and by 16 I had my own command. It was a role I was born for. I inspired loyalty and courage in my men. I led raids and ran rescue missions. I have looked into the eyes of grateful women and children and seen hope.
Then one day Uncle called me to his encampment. I was excite, hoping for a mission or some new war plan for pushing back the demons’ assault. But that’s not what his plans for me were.
I’m sending you south to join the pathfinders. I need you to rally men to our cause and bring help for the war vs the worldwound. We need friends and supplies to continue our campaign," Uncle Alex said with that tone that left little hope of changing his mind.
"But Sir, this is my place. I have shown you what I am capable of, I have earned my place here. I’m a warrior, I stand between the darkness and the light. I’m not a politician."
"You have a way with the men and an air about you. You have other talents besides your sword and that’s what I need right now. You rally people to you naturally, and can turn enemies to allies. I need those talents right now to secure our relationship with the pathfinders as well as the supplies and support they could. You will head to Absalom and start strengthening ties with the Silver Crusade. You will take your orders from them for now. Until you are called back here, you will serve in this way." He looked at me with those eyes of resolve and with his voice of command.
"You’re going, you leave first thing in the morning."
