Post by maglor on Oct 7, 2005 2:45:54 GMT -5
I have been told that I am an atypical paladin. I guess you could say that I am. I have been known to cavort with dark elves, iksar, ogres and trolls. And sometimes I have turned my back on high elves, wood elves, barbarians, even dwarves.
No, I am not evil. I am not like Seru or even Lucan D’Lere, both of whom abandoned goodness for evil. Instead, I have learned long ago to not trust appearances. What seems one way based on an appearance can often be otherwise. I have learned long ago that actions speak louder than words. I had learned that deeds are what matter, not belief and insinuation.
I know.
Not all the dwarves know. Many are those who whisper about me, even in my face. Some of my mates in the harsh training courses of Kaladim whisper about me. They cannot believe that I, a dwarven paladin of Brell Serilis, would willingly fight alongside those they would call evil. Yet I have, and for some would do it again. A few I would willingly call shield mate. And a knight like me rarely gives that honor to anyone.
The high command knows why. The paladin leadership of Kaladim knows the story. They should. I told them it. In shame I told them the story. They looked at me long and hard, then simply stood up and, to my surprise, embraced me into the ranks of the Paladins of Brell Serilis. I could not understand it. Even today, it is astonishing to me that I, who was so arrogant, proud and willful, would be accepted as a full fledged paladin.
Oh, I served my apprenticeship. I was a page in my youth, and later on, I was a squire. I learned all the fighting arts that our lord Brell has passed down to us. I was as capable as any of them.
At the end of our training, it is a tradition that a postulant knight be given a task, a kill, that needs to be done. The squire must go out, kill something – usually an undead skeleton or goblin near the city entrance, then he is given his spurs, armor is put on him, he swears the oath to the King of Kaladim, and is a Knight Paladin of our lord Brell Serilis. All my fellow squires got their tasks. They went out to do their tasks, to achieve what glory they could, as they prepared for their induction into the ranks of the knighthood.
But I was proud. I did not want to kill any simple thing. I wanted something harder. When I entered the room to be given my own task, I begged and pleaded to be given something hard, something truly worthy of a knight. I was convinced that I could do a great deed. Young though I was, I was absolutely convinced in my skill of arms and my ability to heal myself. Finally, Gunlok Jure gave me a task to kill a skeleton in the undead tower, some ways away from Kaladim.
I turned away, disappointed. a single skeleton. What a joke. Why, a knight could take on 3 - 5 skeletons in his sleep. I wanted something harder. Something that would be truly worthy. I resolved to leave Kaladim, do this personal task, then go kill the skeleton and claim my honor.
I heard that the Minotaurs were threatening the kingdom of Ak’Anon. Ak’Anon was the city of Gnomes, our distant cousins. Here was a task truly worthy of me. After all, if the minotaurs destroyed Ak’Anon, they could turn their attention to us sooner or later. I therefore resolved to travel to the Steamfont and find these minotaurs, slay one of them, then return.
So, I did go to the Steamfont. And I did find a minotaur. I can assure you, it was a fearsome beast. Tall, powerfully built, with two great horns out of its head, it was as dangerous a creature as I have ever seen. Here, I was convinced, was my true test, one worthy of me.
Yes, the minotaur noticed me. But no, he did not attack me. Instead, I had found him seated on the ground, whittling on long sticks into sharp pointed wooden spears. When he noticed me, I had drawn my sword, preparing for combat. But he just sat there, continuing his whittling. I stood there, sword drawn, but not aimed at the beast. Finally, after examining 2 spears for heft and workmanship, he looked up at me.
“Unlike so many who come to face a minotaur, I am certain that you know how to use that steel of yours.” I looked at him, surprised that he would speak to me. But he had made an observation, one that I was convinced in, so I nodded my head at him. The minotaur looked at me for a long minute. “Either sheath that sword or use it on me. But decide.”
I sheathed my sword. The minotaur bade me to sit by him. “I am interested in questions of honor.” he said as he whittled. So we sat there and talked. For two days we talked. As we talked, I learned things about these minotaurs. I learned that they were a very intelligent people who had great respect for my lord Brell Serilis, though they did not worship him. They gave their alliegence to the Lord of War, Rallos Zek. I guess that was understandable, even though this harsh god did not make the minotaur race. I learned that the minotaur race was one based on honor, though an honor of an evil nature. I learned that all minotaurs valued this honor above all else, and were willing to die for it.
As I said, for two days, we sat there and talked about honor. All the while, he continued to whittle at these sticks he kept finding. Often he would burn what he made. But all the time, he was making them. I was curious about these sticks and questioned him. But all he would say was that there was a time and a place for the revealing of everything, that if I stayed, all would be revealed to me. So I stayed.
On the third day, things changed. His head snapped up from our conversation and looked intently at a group of 6 minotaur, all armed with sword and shield, axe, finely crafted spears, and armor, approached us. I stood, prepared to fight and to die, for this was obviously a fight I could not win, when the minotaur I was with held my hand.
Very seriously, he looked me in the eyes. To this day, I remember what he said. “I have decided that a life without honor is not a life worth living. Do not interfere with what is about to occur. But I do ask that you witness what I am about to do. My honor, and the honor of my family, is at stake.” He refused to release me until I had sworn, on my honor, that I would stand as witness to what was about to occur.
Then the minotaur bent down and quickly selected two of the spears. The rest he kicked aside. Then he turned to the six minotaurs that had approached. The tallest, a fierce minotaur with a grey muzzle, looked at me, then at the minotaur who I had known. My friend, for friend I could honestly call him now, said only one thing. “He is my witness to my deeds that I will do here, as is required by our laws and customs.”
The tall one nodded, looked at me, and said “You have been selected to be witness to what is about to happen. Stand over there and do your duty. And do not interfere.”
I did as requested. Then the tall minotaur made a signal.
At his signal, he and his five companions stepped around the one minotaur. Swinging axe, sword and jabbing with spear, they tried to get inside the defenses of my friend who as armed only with two wooden spears he had made. My friend, however, was skilled at fighting. Nothing could get past his canny defenses. It was an impass, six against one.
Suddenly, my friend moved with lightning speed. One of the attackers went down, a broken spear in his belly. But now my friend had only one spear with which to defend himself. The remaining five pressed their advantage, and my friend started to be hurt.
My heart cried out to come to my friend’s aid. I longed to draw my sword and fight at his side. For he was fighting a fight he knew he could not win. But what stopped me at this time? It was not fear. I had learned long ago how to deal with my fear, how to use it to heighten my awareness and my senses, to make me stronger. No. It was a promise I had made, a promise to be witness only, to not interfere.
HONOR. This was honor. In my face, this was what honor was. To aid my friend, much as I wanted to, was the most dishonorable thing I could do. For not only would I be dishonoring my promise to him, I would be dishonoring his wishes and, obviously, his desires. He wanted to die. He had come here to die. And he had done it for the sake of honor. I could not do what I wanted to do, for that would be to violate his honor. And that, when I looked at it squarely in the face, I could not do, and would not do, to him.
Another surprising move, and another went down, this one with a spear broken in his arm. But now my friend had no weapons. Quickly the remaining 4 pressed their attack, cutting down my firend, who was forced to his knees, wounded, bleeding through many cuts. Three of them, including the tall one, backed away while an elderly minotaur, grey of fur, stood over my friend with a broad war axe. My friend looked at him, not with anger, but with resignation.
The end came swiftly. The axe came crashing down, cleaving the skull of my friend in two. It was over.
“WITNESS!”
I turned. It was the tall one. “You have witnessed this fight. As you are not one of our people, you cannot enter our city to do your duty as would normally be done. Therefore, our customs and laws allow us to relay your statement to our elders. This we will do, as we are honor bound to do. Tell us now. Did the condemned die with courage and honor?”
I looked at them. I looked over the field. I looked each of those left standing in the eye. I made my decision as to what I would say.
“Six there were who came out to face him. Four only are standing right now. Two are down, and of those two, one will never move again. You came after him with swords, axes and spears, fully armed and armored. He had only two spears, wooden spears that he had made. Yet against hopeless odds, he fought well. If there had been two more like him, you would have lost. These acts testify to his courage. As for his honor....”
I paused, thinking. The four waited for me to finish.
“He did not flinch. He did not despair. He fought bravely and well, refusing to run or to give you his back. Even when it was over, he still did not turn away from what was coming to him.” I pointed at the grey haired minotaur.” He faced you, his executioner, without flinching. And he did this, not so much for himself, but for his family.” I paused a moment, then spoke with a low voice, “If that is not honor, than I know not what is.
The tall minotaur looked at me. Finally, he nodded. “You have spoken well. We will relay this statement to our elders.” He turned and went to pick up the injured minotaur. Then he straighted up and turned back to me. “This one,” he said, indicating the grey furred minotaur, “would have a request of to make of you.” I looked at the tall minotaur, the turned my attention to the grey furred one.
The grey furred one took me aside. Then he turned towards me. Tears were glistening in his eyes. “I would ask that you bury my son.” When he saw my astonishment, he explained.
“Among my people, when a fighter runs from or leaves a fight, there are several reasons as to why he did. The worst of these reasons is cowardice. And if he ran because he was a coward, it will reflect badly on the entire family. This is because cowardice must run in the family, so if we raised a coward, we would also be cowards. To save the family honor, the condemned has to fight against impossible odds. Unarmed, save with only what he can make out of wood, he must defend himself against six well armed executioners. If he can face this with courage and honor, then he would not be guilty of cowardice and the family can continue on, its honor retained.” The elderly minotaur looked at the corpse of his own son. “He died well. His courage and honor has restored our family honor.”
“Still, the condemned cannot be buried by us. Though he is not a coward, he still backed away from a fight. This cannot be condoned. Therefore, it is forbidden to us to bury him.” The minotaur looked at me for a minute, then continued on. “But you can.”
“Will you do this for me? Will you bury my son?”
What could I say? I nodded my agreement. The elderly one nodded at me, clearly relieved, then turned and walked to join the others. The tall one looked at me. “Though you are a foreigner and are normally not allowed here, you will be allowed safety in these our lands while you do as this elder requested. But after this is done, you must leave, for if we find you again, we will kill you.” I nodded my understanding and stood aside while the standing four took the corpse of their one minotaur and the injured one with them.
It took me 4 days to bury my friend, to say all the prayers to Brell Serilis, and to placeunder the rock that is his sacred underfoot the corpse of my friend. But I did, and then, I left.
I went to the tower, there I had my encounter with the undead. It was far worse than I had expected. How I was able to crawl to the guard post at the Crossroads I do not know. For I was more dead than alive. Not one, not two, but three of these undead had come out to face me. It was a fight I realized I could not win. Yet somehow, I did. A guard was dispatched by Bloodforge to investigate, and his report confirmed that three skeletons were defeated. I was carried home to Kaladim in a litter, in triumph.
In my home city, I was tended by some of the best of doctors. My health quickly came back to me. And as I recovered, I heard the other squires boast about their deeds near the relative safety of Kaladim. I could only look at them in wonder and dismay. They were boasting about – nothing. Their deeds were nothing. I had fought harder than they had, had faced death in the face, and was alive to tell about it. Compared to what I had done, they had done little.
Then, I paused. Compared to what that one minotaur had done, they had done absolutely nothing.
Well, I got my spurs. The armor was fitted onto me. I kneeled before our king, Kazon Stormhammer, and pledged my life to the service of Kaladim. I was a Knight Paladin.
I also told this tale to the leadership of the Knights Paladin. I expected to be kicked out when they learned how disobedient I had been. Each of the elders asked me very pointed questions. Finally, one of them stood up to me, and hugged me. Then he left. The others nodded and left. I was reprieved.
For what I did, I was given a great honor by king Kazon himself. But it means nothing to me. For somewhere out there in the Steamfont lays the body of a minotaur. A minotaur that gave his life not for his own honor but for the honor of his family. I had honor, but this minotaur was honor.
This is why I am the way I am. I hope this tale helps you to understand me a little bit.
Maglor Maelagon
Paladin of Brell Serilis
No, I am not evil. I am not like Seru or even Lucan D’Lere, both of whom abandoned goodness for evil. Instead, I have learned long ago to not trust appearances. What seems one way based on an appearance can often be otherwise. I have learned long ago that actions speak louder than words. I had learned that deeds are what matter, not belief and insinuation.
I know.
Not all the dwarves know. Many are those who whisper about me, even in my face. Some of my mates in the harsh training courses of Kaladim whisper about me. They cannot believe that I, a dwarven paladin of Brell Serilis, would willingly fight alongside those they would call evil. Yet I have, and for some would do it again. A few I would willingly call shield mate. And a knight like me rarely gives that honor to anyone.
The high command knows why. The paladin leadership of Kaladim knows the story. They should. I told them it. In shame I told them the story. They looked at me long and hard, then simply stood up and, to my surprise, embraced me into the ranks of the Paladins of Brell Serilis. I could not understand it. Even today, it is astonishing to me that I, who was so arrogant, proud and willful, would be accepted as a full fledged paladin.
Oh, I served my apprenticeship. I was a page in my youth, and later on, I was a squire. I learned all the fighting arts that our lord Brell has passed down to us. I was as capable as any of them.
At the end of our training, it is a tradition that a postulant knight be given a task, a kill, that needs to be done. The squire must go out, kill something – usually an undead skeleton or goblin near the city entrance, then he is given his spurs, armor is put on him, he swears the oath to the King of Kaladim, and is a Knight Paladin of our lord Brell Serilis. All my fellow squires got their tasks. They went out to do their tasks, to achieve what glory they could, as they prepared for their induction into the ranks of the knighthood.
But I was proud. I did not want to kill any simple thing. I wanted something harder. When I entered the room to be given my own task, I begged and pleaded to be given something hard, something truly worthy of a knight. I was convinced that I could do a great deed. Young though I was, I was absolutely convinced in my skill of arms and my ability to heal myself. Finally, Gunlok Jure gave me a task to kill a skeleton in the undead tower, some ways away from Kaladim.
I turned away, disappointed. a single skeleton. What a joke. Why, a knight could take on 3 - 5 skeletons in his sleep. I wanted something harder. Something that would be truly worthy. I resolved to leave Kaladim, do this personal task, then go kill the skeleton and claim my honor.
I heard that the Minotaurs were threatening the kingdom of Ak’Anon. Ak’Anon was the city of Gnomes, our distant cousins. Here was a task truly worthy of me. After all, if the minotaurs destroyed Ak’Anon, they could turn their attention to us sooner or later. I therefore resolved to travel to the Steamfont and find these minotaurs, slay one of them, then return.
So, I did go to the Steamfont. And I did find a minotaur. I can assure you, it was a fearsome beast. Tall, powerfully built, with two great horns out of its head, it was as dangerous a creature as I have ever seen. Here, I was convinced, was my true test, one worthy of me.
Yes, the minotaur noticed me. But no, he did not attack me. Instead, I had found him seated on the ground, whittling on long sticks into sharp pointed wooden spears. When he noticed me, I had drawn my sword, preparing for combat. But he just sat there, continuing his whittling. I stood there, sword drawn, but not aimed at the beast. Finally, after examining 2 spears for heft and workmanship, he looked up at me.
“Unlike so many who come to face a minotaur, I am certain that you know how to use that steel of yours.” I looked at him, surprised that he would speak to me. But he had made an observation, one that I was convinced in, so I nodded my head at him. The minotaur looked at me for a long minute. “Either sheath that sword or use it on me. But decide.”
I sheathed my sword. The minotaur bade me to sit by him. “I am interested in questions of honor.” he said as he whittled. So we sat there and talked. For two days we talked. As we talked, I learned things about these minotaurs. I learned that they were a very intelligent people who had great respect for my lord Brell Serilis, though they did not worship him. They gave their alliegence to the Lord of War, Rallos Zek. I guess that was understandable, even though this harsh god did not make the minotaur race. I learned that the minotaur race was one based on honor, though an honor of an evil nature. I learned that all minotaurs valued this honor above all else, and were willing to die for it.
As I said, for two days, we sat there and talked about honor. All the while, he continued to whittle at these sticks he kept finding. Often he would burn what he made. But all the time, he was making them. I was curious about these sticks and questioned him. But all he would say was that there was a time and a place for the revealing of everything, that if I stayed, all would be revealed to me. So I stayed.
On the third day, things changed. His head snapped up from our conversation and looked intently at a group of 6 minotaur, all armed with sword and shield, axe, finely crafted spears, and armor, approached us. I stood, prepared to fight and to die, for this was obviously a fight I could not win, when the minotaur I was with held my hand.
Very seriously, he looked me in the eyes. To this day, I remember what he said. “I have decided that a life without honor is not a life worth living. Do not interfere with what is about to occur. But I do ask that you witness what I am about to do. My honor, and the honor of my family, is at stake.” He refused to release me until I had sworn, on my honor, that I would stand as witness to what was about to occur.
Then the minotaur bent down and quickly selected two of the spears. The rest he kicked aside. Then he turned to the six minotaurs that had approached. The tallest, a fierce minotaur with a grey muzzle, looked at me, then at the minotaur who I had known. My friend, for friend I could honestly call him now, said only one thing. “He is my witness to my deeds that I will do here, as is required by our laws and customs.”
The tall one nodded, looked at me, and said “You have been selected to be witness to what is about to happen. Stand over there and do your duty. And do not interfere.”
I did as requested. Then the tall minotaur made a signal.
At his signal, he and his five companions stepped around the one minotaur. Swinging axe, sword and jabbing with spear, they tried to get inside the defenses of my friend who as armed only with two wooden spears he had made. My friend, however, was skilled at fighting. Nothing could get past his canny defenses. It was an impass, six against one.
Suddenly, my friend moved with lightning speed. One of the attackers went down, a broken spear in his belly. But now my friend had only one spear with which to defend himself. The remaining five pressed their advantage, and my friend started to be hurt.
My heart cried out to come to my friend’s aid. I longed to draw my sword and fight at his side. For he was fighting a fight he knew he could not win. But what stopped me at this time? It was not fear. I had learned long ago how to deal with my fear, how to use it to heighten my awareness and my senses, to make me stronger. No. It was a promise I had made, a promise to be witness only, to not interfere.
HONOR. This was honor. In my face, this was what honor was. To aid my friend, much as I wanted to, was the most dishonorable thing I could do. For not only would I be dishonoring my promise to him, I would be dishonoring his wishes and, obviously, his desires. He wanted to die. He had come here to die. And he had done it for the sake of honor. I could not do what I wanted to do, for that would be to violate his honor. And that, when I looked at it squarely in the face, I could not do, and would not do, to him.
Another surprising move, and another went down, this one with a spear broken in his arm. But now my friend had no weapons. Quickly the remaining 4 pressed their attack, cutting down my firend, who was forced to his knees, wounded, bleeding through many cuts. Three of them, including the tall one, backed away while an elderly minotaur, grey of fur, stood over my friend with a broad war axe. My friend looked at him, not with anger, but with resignation.
The end came swiftly. The axe came crashing down, cleaving the skull of my friend in two. It was over.
“WITNESS!”
I turned. It was the tall one. “You have witnessed this fight. As you are not one of our people, you cannot enter our city to do your duty as would normally be done. Therefore, our customs and laws allow us to relay your statement to our elders. This we will do, as we are honor bound to do. Tell us now. Did the condemned die with courage and honor?”
I looked at them. I looked over the field. I looked each of those left standing in the eye. I made my decision as to what I would say.
“Six there were who came out to face him. Four only are standing right now. Two are down, and of those two, one will never move again. You came after him with swords, axes and spears, fully armed and armored. He had only two spears, wooden spears that he had made. Yet against hopeless odds, he fought well. If there had been two more like him, you would have lost. These acts testify to his courage. As for his honor....”
I paused, thinking. The four waited for me to finish.
“He did not flinch. He did not despair. He fought bravely and well, refusing to run or to give you his back. Even when it was over, he still did not turn away from what was coming to him.” I pointed at the grey haired minotaur.” He faced you, his executioner, without flinching. And he did this, not so much for himself, but for his family.” I paused a moment, then spoke with a low voice, “If that is not honor, than I know not what is.
The tall minotaur looked at me. Finally, he nodded. “You have spoken well. We will relay this statement to our elders.” He turned and went to pick up the injured minotaur. Then he straighted up and turned back to me. “This one,” he said, indicating the grey furred minotaur, “would have a request of to make of you.” I looked at the tall minotaur, the turned my attention to the grey furred one.
The grey furred one took me aside. Then he turned towards me. Tears were glistening in his eyes. “I would ask that you bury my son.” When he saw my astonishment, he explained.
“Among my people, when a fighter runs from or leaves a fight, there are several reasons as to why he did. The worst of these reasons is cowardice. And if he ran because he was a coward, it will reflect badly on the entire family. This is because cowardice must run in the family, so if we raised a coward, we would also be cowards. To save the family honor, the condemned has to fight against impossible odds. Unarmed, save with only what he can make out of wood, he must defend himself against six well armed executioners. If he can face this with courage and honor, then he would not be guilty of cowardice and the family can continue on, its honor retained.” The elderly minotaur looked at the corpse of his own son. “He died well. His courage and honor has restored our family honor.”
“Still, the condemned cannot be buried by us. Though he is not a coward, he still backed away from a fight. This cannot be condoned. Therefore, it is forbidden to us to bury him.” The minotaur looked at me for a minute, then continued on. “But you can.”
“Will you do this for me? Will you bury my son?”
What could I say? I nodded my agreement. The elderly one nodded at me, clearly relieved, then turned and walked to join the others. The tall one looked at me. “Though you are a foreigner and are normally not allowed here, you will be allowed safety in these our lands while you do as this elder requested. But after this is done, you must leave, for if we find you again, we will kill you.” I nodded my understanding and stood aside while the standing four took the corpse of their one minotaur and the injured one with them.
It took me 4 days to bury my friend, to say all the prayers to Brell Serilis, and to placeunder the rock that is his sacred underfoot the corpse of my friend. But I did, and then, I left.
I went to the tower, there I had my encounter with the undead. It was far worse than I had expected. How I was able to crawl to the guard post at the Crossroads I do not know. For I was more dead than alive. Not one, not two, but three of these undead had come out to face me. It was a fight I realized I could not win. Yet somehow, I did. A guard was dispatched by Bloodforge to investigate, and his report confirmed that three skeletons were defeated. I was carried home to Kaladim in a litter, in triumph.
In my home city, I was tended by some of the best of doctors. My health quickly came back to me. And as I recovered, I heard the other squires boast about their deeds near the relative safety of Kaladim. I could only look at them in wonder and dismay. They were boasting about – nothing. Their deeds were nothing. I had fought harder than they had, had faced death in the face, and was alive to tell about it. Compared to what I had done, they had done little.
Then, I paused. Compared to what that one minotaur had done, they had done absolutely nothing.
Well, I got my spurs. The armor was fitted onto me. I kneeled before our king, Kazon Stormhammer, and pledged my life to the service of Kaladim. I was a Knight Paladin.
I also told this tale to the leadership of the Knights Paladin. I expected to be kicked out when they learned how disobedient I had been. Each of the elders asked me very pointed questions. Finally, one of them stood up to me, and hugged me. Then he left. The others nodded and left. I was reprieved.
For what I did, I was given a great honor by king Kazon himself. But it means nothing to me. For somewhere out there in the Steamfont lays the body of a minotaur. A minotaur that gave his life not for his own honor but for the honor of his family. I had honor, but this minotaur was honor.
This is why I am the way I am. I hope this tale helps you to understand me a little bit.
Maglor Maelagon
Paladin of Brell Serilis
