Mirago: 20 minutes after the end of the last 3rd Group session session [[September 25, 680 PD]].

Greynor picked up his shield. Something wasn't quite right about it. The shine wasn't there, and he had just repainted it after the battle he had been through. He took his left unarmored hand and rubbed it across the panel to the upper left. The normally hard shellac came off, revealing the holy symbol of Cerdiwah that was etched there.

"Soot?"

A quick check revealed that it was not the only quarter to be revealed. All of them had been, including his familial coat of arms. The wyvern clucthing a sword was easily seen, as were the colors of Comrir(1) and the emblazoned moon dog(2) .

Greynor had an idea of what had happened. He left his sparse room in the cathedral, and went to see the one man he could trust, the Archbishop of Mirago. It was late, but Greynor knew that the Archbishop would be in indulging in the only un-priestly habit he had: the midnight snack of milk and cookies. Greynor raised his right hand and thought better of it; raising his left, unarmored, hand, he let loose a fury of knocks that would wake the dead.

The Archbishop opened the door, wiping the milk mustache from his face.

"Greynor, how many times have I told you not to disturb me during my late night...sacraments?"

"Many, Your Grace. I have come on a rather personal matter."

"It couldn't wait until morning?"

"Nay."

"Very well, come in."

Greynor stepped inside the private chambers of the archbishop.

"Now what is this all about?"

"I believe that Caelie, the priestess of Teirtu(3) ..."

"Fine woman. Though, I will say that for you to think about doing with her would require some monumental lifestyle changes. Consider your vows! To marry outside your faith..."

Greynor's jaw dropped in amazement. The Archbishop knew what his heart had not yet let him realize. Though it put thoughts of fancy in his head, he snapped back quickily.

"What? This isn't what this is about!"

The Archbishop was taken aback. Normally he was so right about this sort of thing. Then again, he had married Greynor's parents himself, and look how that turned out.

"Then what IS it about?"

"She KNOWS."

"Well, then perhaps it is time to tell your compatriots the full version of the truth. Cerdiwah doesn't generally approve of hiding things from those who are close to you."

"I cannot risk it. I am a wanted man."

"Not by the Church, nor the state."

"Only because of you. Should the everyman find out who I was, I would not last out a week. I believe even some of those here at the Temple would take an affront to my background."

The Archbishop sighed, knowing that Greynor spoke the truth, unerringly so, just as he had many times before.

"What do you intend to do about it then, my son? Cerdiwah may look the other way when you leave out some of the details, especially in a case such as yours, but to bold-face lie to them is another matter altogether."

"I am going to gather my things. I leave for elsewhere soon."

"That is your decision, and I will honor it, but I consul you that it is the wrong one. Only the truth can set you free."

"You're wrong about that, Your Grace. The truth can only get me burned at the stake."

The Archbishop gasped at the arrogance of Greynor's words. A young paladin barely old enough to hold the title telling him, an Archbishop, that he was wrong, was unheard of.

"Greynor, I will do you a favor and forget that you said that. I can see by your very words that you are under a good deal of stress from this. You go get some sleep and we will discuss this in the morning. Now, please, let an old man get his rest."

"Perhaps you speak truly. I spoke out of turn."

"We will discuss that as well in the morning."

Greynor turns and walks out of the room. The Archbishop returns to his milk and cookies, only to find the cookies cold, and the milk warm. The wise old mentor gives up on his snack and turns into bed as Greynor walks to his room.

Relizing what he has done, and like so many times before, he metes out his own punishment. Exile.

He quickly writes a note to the archbishop, and scans the room for things he may have missed. Leaving only in the room what was there when he first came to Mirago, he stands at the door and closes it on this chapter of his life.

- - -

Greynor left the Cathedral with few people noticing him. They were all used to his odd comings and goings. The temple guards nodded at him as he left. They watched as the Paladin of the Night walked into his namesake, never to return to the familar halls and altars of the Cathedral.

The streeets of Mirago where empty by now, the bars closed, and even the more disruptable businesses closed for the night. It would be another six hours before anyone at the Cathedral realized he was missing, and that thought fueled his feet onward.

Kill her.

"Who said that?" Greynor yells as he pulls his sword and turns around.

She is the only one who knows, if she were dead, then no one need ever know.

"Show yourself!"

I am inside of you. I AM you! All those black angry thoughts you can't bear brought to light, Greynor.

"I have no dark thoughts! I am pure!"

No dark thoughts? Didn't just come out when you were speaking to the Archbishop?

"You are not me!"

If she were dead, then you could return to the Temple and your old comfortable life.

"Never!"

Is it because you love her? Don't fool yourself, Greynor. That isn't love, it's LUST pure and simple.

"Lust is NEVER pure!"

Have your way with her and destroy her. Then you can be releaved of me. Assuage me and I will go away.

"You sicken me."

You mean you sicken yourself? I am all that is dark that was in you, and in your father. I am even inside of your uncle, and you lovely sister.

"I cannot accept this!"

You MUST accept this. It is your fate, it is part of who you are, mbrace me, and I will give you all that you ever wanted. The girl will be yours, and you can go back to the comfort of familiarity.

"That is not my fate!" Greynor finds himself standing in front of the inn where Caelie and the others are staying.

If I am not part of you, Greynor, why are we here? While we're at it, why don't we take care of that murderous, annoying little gnome?

"I can no more harm Gylph(4) than I could myself! I call him friend!"

What kind of friend is it that you threaten to beat with a stick? That doesn't sound like a friend. It sounds like someone scared to cross you.

"Gylph...is...my...friend." says Greynor as his sword makes quick work of the door of the inn.

You take out your frustrations on this door, but wouldn't they be better placed hacking to bits that blue clad piece of ass?

"Caelie is NOT a piece of ass! She is a woman!"

So you say.

"I will not do this!" Greynor forces himself to stop. His legs twitch trying to move up the stairs.

Why because you know you want to? You've denied yourself for so long! You deserve to do something that YOU want to for once!

"I DON'T want this!" Greynor takes one step back down the stairs.

Yes you do, have your way with her, then eliminate her, like a rat.

"She is anything BUT a rat!" says Greynor, now standing outside of the inn. His body is still struggling to go inside.

You don't want this. you want to be safe. With her out of the way, you will be safe.

"I'll never be safe!"

Kill Her. What is she to you?

"The woman I love!" Startled by his own admission, Greynor stops completely.

Is that the way it is? I see. Then I must destroy you.

"Have at thee!" A mist pores out of Greynor, taking his magical sword away from him. The mist swirls and pools around the sword, taking the form of a bull headed beast. An ekimmu(5) .



The mist formed into a solid body. Clutched in its hands was the magical longsword bearing the runes of both hope and despair(6) .

Greynor stepped back. He drew the only weapon he had remaining, a warhammer. He had faced ekimmu before; he and his companions had faced the Lord of the Wandering Souls(7) before. Now he was face to face with one who was cursed to walk forever, without the benefit of either friends or magical weaponry.

"For defying my master, you shall die, Paladin."

"Not in this lifetime." The ekimmu flew forward with unnatural speed, and Greynor barely had time to raise his warhammer in defense against what would have been a lethal blow.

"You don't have your friends now, Paladin. And 'this lifetime' has just gotten much shorter."

"Stop the banter and get on with it!"

The enchanted blade sang through the air, onlu to be caught in Greynor's armored right hand. The ekimmu gestured at the warhammer and it flew down into an alley. Greynor tightens his grip on the sword.

"Without your friends, you are no more than a mere mortal. And like all good mortals, YOU WILL DIE!"

"I don't NEED my friends to combat the likes of you. I have trained my entire life to combat the evil that you are!"

Greynor pulls on the blade, cutting through his gauntlet. The blade becomes slick with blood, and he loses his grip. The ekimmu raises the sword above its horned head.

"I will welcome another to the master's lot."

The blade comes down, and is caught on the shield that started this whole mess. The new shellac comes off as sparks fly from the impact. The ekimmu waves its left hand at the shield, and it goes flying from the left hand of the paladin. Greynor rolls out of the way of a second attack, and runs toward where the shield flew. Ducking into the alley, he retrieves his shield. He runs toward the end of the alley and climbs a small wall that is there. Hoping to buy some time, he runs down another alley.

"They say descretion is the better part of valor, but there IS no better part, Paladin!"

Quickly saying a prayer to heal his wounds, often called the laying on of hands(7) , Greynor tries to get some feeling back in his hand.

But the healing does not come.

"Has your 'goddess' forsaken you, paladin? I'm not surprised."

Turning toward the sound, another blow is neatly deflected off of the shield that was carried in the Black War. Without his Goddess, or his friends, or anything he has relied upon in the times past, Greynor looks into the face of his death. A bull-headed face.

"MY faith has not faltered, nor my love, nor my loyalty. Why have I been forsaken?"

"You are unworthy, paladin. You hold dark thoughts in your heart. Your 'goddess' knows that, probably better than I do!"

"Curse you! Damn you for all eternity!"

"A little late for that, paladin."

Greynor drops to his knees and exposes his neck, prepared for the killing blow.

"A wise decision, paladin. Sleep well, for tommorrow you will be one of us."

The enchanted blade gets in position for the killing blow. The ekimmu pulls back and the sword flies.



There is blood everywhere. The ekimmu howls a primal victory cheer.

"You don't know who you're dealing with, do you?"

The ekimmu looked at the paladin in surprise. The blade was embedded deep into his left shoulder, possibly in the bone itself.

"How did you?..."

Greynor lifts his right hand and dislodges the enchanted sword. The blade, dark with his blood, is now pointed at the ekimmu.

"My father was to be executed in the Black War. This move is how he lived(9) . He drilled it into me for weeks at a time. What works against Markirians, apparently also works against the stupid dead."

He moves toward the ekimmu. Blood is still rushing out of his arm in a steady stream.

"Nothing deserves the unlife which you have. Prepare to have yours ended. In the name of Cerdiwah, prepare to rest."

He runs toward the ekimmu full tilt. It rears back and deals him a hardy blow to the chest knocking the wind out of him. He manages to bring his sword around and cuts into the wanderer's right arm. It screeches in pain.

"Now, we're on even terms."

The ekimmu rushes at him, bearing the claws of its left hand. Greynor sidesteps the blow with a practiced ease. The hilt of the longsword smashes into the ghost's head, knocking it to the ground. It quickily turns around. Greynor rushes it, and it rushes him.

The added length of the longsword strikes where its heart would be, far before it gets within distance to use its claws.

"I'll see you in Hell, paladin."

"Only if I'm there to kill the likes of you."



He twists his blade and the creature turns into mist, and the mist melts away as the first rays of light peek over the city of Mirago.

Dropping his sword, and praising Cerdiwah for seeing him through the battle, Greynor falls to the ground, fainting from blood loss.



The Paladin of the Night awakens surrounded in light. He is wearing a light tunic, much like the ones he wore to festivals after receiving his paladinhood. Looking around, he sees that he is in a garden.

"Elysium, the promised land(10). So this is it."

"No, Greynor. This is not the afterlife." says a voice from nowhere.

"Who goes there?"

"Just I," says a moondog, coming into existance right before his eyes.

"A moondog!"

"A human!"

Greynor looks the strange creature up and down, making sure that it was one of Cerdiwah's holy creatures.

"I am not a picture which to study, young Dragonbrande."

"Excuse me, I never expected to meet one of your kind."

"I didn't exactly plan on meeting you, either. You are lucky I was in the area."

"Where am I?"

"Mirago, still. But a part you have never seen, nor will you ever see again. It is the ideal Mirago, and this is the Mayoral garden of the Ideal Mirago."

"Ideal Mirago, I don't understand."

"There is the REAL Mirago, which is where you were, this is the perfect Mirago that all of its inhabitants dream of each night. I brought you here to heal you in the waters of the fountain."

"Then I am not dead!"

"No, but you are. I have removed you from the ordinary world, to lessen the healing time."

"I thank you, but why? I have disgraced Cerdiwah with my beliefs."

"I may be one of the Lady of Light's creatures, but I can act on my own, you have much more goodness than anyone ever gave you credit for. That is why I chose to save you."

"So Cerdiwah is still going to punish me for my lack of faith in her?"

The moondog sat back on its haunches and begins to laugh. Its laugh is a deep, resonanting sound.

"Lack of faith in her? Even in your darkest hours, you have more faith in her than many high clerics."

"Then why did I lose my given rights as a paladin? My heavy-handed ways?"

"No, but that probably didn't help much, young Dragonbrande."

"Then what was it, wise one?"

"The lack of faith you had in yourself! In all of my many, many years, I have never seen a paladin with such a lack of faith in himself. You doubt whether you are a good man, you deny your heart."

Greynor thinks again of Caelie and his heart flutters.

"How do I gain that faith in myself?"

"You already did. Without friends or your goddess you have defeated an enemy that would leave many more powerful people as just so much dust."

"So will I regain my paladinhood?"

"Not yet, but soon. First you must remain here for a few more hours and regain your health. Then you must go on a purifying quest."

"A quest?"

"Aye. Something that you must do alone, or it means nothing. Do something to prove your love."

"Of course. What should I find for Caelie?"

"Let her go. You have moved on, young Dragonbrande. You are no longer the same person. She would not see you in the same light."

"But she is my love!"

"So you think. You have more faith in her than yourself. That should also be part of your quest. Regain more faith in yourself. Before you can love another, you must accept who you are! She may love you, but she may not. There is only one sure thing, though. You cannot truly love another until you have come to grips with who you are! Dragonbrande, you are still trying to live in your fathers shadow! YOU ARE NOT YOUR FATHER! You are Greynor Telerc Dragonbrande, and you are your own person. What your father did should be of no concern to you."

"But what of the people? They would see me killed!"

"Then go where the name Dragonbrande is just another name. Go to where your father didn't. His sins are not yours."

"Mealdrans 14:13(11) : Do not blame the son for the sins of the father, for the father made his own follies, and the son should learn from them, not repeat them."

"You know your holy scriptures. Keep that passage in you mind. I am about to leave; this is not my place. When you are healed, you will return to Mirago proper."

"I thank you, but what is your name?"

"It matters not. I leave you to your thoughts, young Dragonbrande."



The dust on the trail was rising high. It had not rained in several days, and the normally well-packed road was clinging to the noses of the paladin and his horse. The old mare could barely see, and her rider, the grandson of her bonded master(12) , steered her as best he could. Her master had come for her at dawn four days before to leave Mirago. Barely resting or eating, Buttercup's master was bent on getting to Highmoon before winter set in. Buttercup didn't ask him why, mainly because she could not speak to him as she had his grandfather. So far it was an uneventful trip and Buttercup could deal with the pace set by her master, Greynor Telerc Dragonbrande.

To follow Greynor's chronicle, go to the next story in the series, "The Stranger".


Footnotes:
Editing and Footnotes by Adam Davis.

  1. Comrir was the original name of the nation now known as Gregora, changed in June 687 by King Tylor to honor the fallen dynasty of Good King Azaron Gregor.
  2. A silver-coated hound with glowing white eyes and human hands instead of front paws. Moon dogs are highly magical creatures from the Upper Planes which possess many powerful healing and protective abilities. They are servitors of the healing goddess Ceridwah, and often work secretly to protect her mortal agents and followers.
  3. Teirtu is the chaotic-good demigoddess of music, art, and light. Her clergy is noted for their lack of dogma and freewheeling, artistic nature. Caelie was a young cleric of Teirtu who accompanied Greynor and his companions ( 3rd Group ) on their adventures, hoping to convert them. It was Caelie who scraped away the shellac on Greynor's shield, revealing his hidden coat of arms.
  4. A tinker gnome illusionist/thief who was another member of Greynor's adventuring band.
  5. A ghostlike variety of undead which takes the form of a vaporous man with the head of a bull and no legs. Ekimmu are the lost souls of those who died far from home without proper burial rites and are driven to madness and evil by their anger and unhallowed burial. Ekimmu have the power to possess mortals, gaining control of them by feeding their dark emotions. They are insubstantial and can only be harmed by magical or silver weapons or holy relics. Burying their remains properly lays them to rest.
  6. Greynor's magical sword was found on the Moors of Endymion. He was led to the blade by the infamous Man of Mists, Kelidno. The blade is inscribed with runes of hope on one side and despair on the other. Its true powers remain unknown, although circumstances seem to indicate that Kelidno revealed the sword to Greynor as a temptation.
  7. A powerful, evil immortal with dominion over all lost souls, including ghosts, ekimmu, and other noncorporeal spirits denied eternal rest. The Lord has no given name, as he is a lost soul himself. 3rd Group ran afoul of him at a circle of standing stones in Mealdra (the Cunnott Peninsula), where they foiled a plan by the Lord to gain entrance to reality by a blood sacrifice. Their companion Dr. Renee Aberjonis was killed in the process when the Lord temporarily gained control of Gylph and the disembodied cleric Thorton Krane, using them as instruments of murder.
  8. One of the granted powers of most paladins, conferred by their deity, is the ability to cure wounds and diseases by the laying on of hands , also sometimes called the king's touch , although this term is more properly applied to a ruler granted healing powers by divine right.
  9. In case you missed it, Greynore simply shifted himself at the last minute so the killing blow struck his shoulder rather than his neck. It's not as easy as it sounds.
  10. Elysium is one of the Upper Planes, technically the plane of neutral good. It is Ceridwah's realm, and the heaven of her religion.
  11. A book from the Mortal Scripts , the holy text of the Ceriwan religions. Mealdrans was supposedly written by the early Ceridwan cleric Malen Terafel, who was the first Archbishop of Mirago, and deals primarily with the stories of those who adopted the ways of the goddess in place of the deities they had worshipped previously after witnessing her miracles during the Days of Earthly Walking. The listed passage is from the story of a family who was shunned in their home town when the husband became a Ceridwan paladin.
  12. When a paladin reaches 5th level, he receives a bonded mount , a magical steed which is more intelligent than a normal animal and often has magical powers. The mount has a special spiritual link with its master and remains with him until one or the other is killed as long as he remains true to his faith. Buttercup was the bonded mount of Greynor's grandfather, also a Ceridwan paladin, and has remained with the Dragonbrande family long after his death.