Roedran Malgraeve
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((see http://www.narfell.us/modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic&t=40222 for previous post, and http://www.narfell.us/modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic&t=40072 for background))
Over the course of the next few days Roedran had several conversations in which he spoke to others of this incident. The true issue at hand being that the form of law keeping has become a thing abused. It was late at night while he was staring into the fire in Jiyyd that the thought occurred to him, the body of law was akin to a fresh corpse animated, it appeared to be a normal person, whole and sound. Yet within decay and corruption, the only recourse to remove the corruption, no matter that it appears to be wholesome.
Moments later the second realization hit him, this is exactly what he faced with his loved ones turned into undead. True that their deaths should be mourned, but his actions were only proper, just more painful given the faces he had to see in the execution of his duty. With a gladder heart, and happier visage Roedran once more faced the world.
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Roedran was riding through the woods when a crossbow bolt took his horse in the side of the head, while simultaneously one took him in the side. As the horse fell, it pinned his left leg, Roedran could hear the bones crunch and grind. The only thing that saved his life was the fact that his crossbow remained in reach, and as a result he took the first bandit in the head as he came around one side of the fallen horse, the second bandit fell with a dagger in the throat. Around the other side of the horse came two more that Roedran was able to begin fighting off with his drawn sword. Roedran took another crossbow bolt as he tried to fight on his back, but after a few exchanges he landed a lethal blow and was able to turn his attention to the remaining bandit. This lone bandit finding himself alone facing this 'easy' mark chose instead to run, which only earned him a crossbow bolt in the back.
Grieving slightly for his fallen mount, Roedran worked for a few hours to get his leg freed from beneath it's corpse. Using his only healing remaining, Roedran closed the worst of his wounds, but was unable to fix his leg. Getting his position from the sun, he began to pull himself towards the Legion tower.
By the fourth hour of dragging himself not only were his arms burning from the effort, infection had begun to set in and the fever was beginning to effect his vision. So he started to chant the directions to the legion tower.
He couldn't tell how long it had been before the voices started: taunting, accusing, screaming in terror. Every voice was one he knew, someone he failed to save. The worst were the children, the atrocities he'd seen over the years were always heart-wrenching when committed against the little ones.
It was days (months, years?) later when Lanli appeared before him, her face was one he never thought he'd see this side of life. He was still telling her how much he missed her when Kasrana also appeared. the two women he ever loved, both dead are now fever dreams. As much as he tried to remind himself that it was only a dream, it was quickly becoming harder to remember they were not real like the wailing.
Roedran was still trying to apologize to the two loves of his life for not being able to save them when others appeared. These were people he didn't know had fallen, and his heart was wrenched even further, disaster had fallen to the ranks of the Legion. So many had died and he was unable to stop the bloodshed.
The rescue team couldn't understand most of what Roedran said, but they still took him back to the legion hall and sent a runner to inform the duty officer.
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Roedran was sitting behind a large field desk in his tent perusing reports when his second in command came in with a look of worry. "Sir, our scouts report a fire to the south."
Roedran immediately stood and gathered his armor "How did that Lich get his troops past us?" after a short pause a look of horror came upon his face "The village! they must have hit the village, get the men ready to ride."
With a quickly snapped salute Cabron turned and left "yes sir!"
By the time Roedran was in his armor the tent was being torn down and his men getting ready to ride. In four hours time they found themselves gazing on the remains of the village they had stayed in just a few nights before. "Cabron, take the men, search for survivors." While the search was in progress, Roedran thought of the few days they had camped here, and the woman he had allowed himself to come to love.
His reverie was interrupted by Cabron's approach, "Captain, there's no living soul here. But we found the Lich's trail, it looks like he marched his undead through the high passes and came down behind us, we were way out of position and got caught with our pants down. This damage was done last night, and he is headed straight for the flank of our main forces." After a short pause, "I don't think anyone made it out sir, remember her as you last saw her, no doubt her soul waits for yours"
Taking a moment to suppress the ache, "We ride Cabron, and pray to Lathander we can keep this tragedy from being repeated in Sildar."
Roedran was then woken from his dream of nearly 20 years ago by the watch messenger, "Private Malgraeve, 20 minutes to your watch as you asked." Nodding his understanding, Roedran quietly rose and dressed, his dream forgotten.
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Roedran woke in the hour before dawn, as was his usual habit. Slipping quietly from his cot in the Legion hall, he donned his armor and slipped out to the training grounds. With the rising of the sun, he began his training ritual.
Each motion intended to bring out strength, endurance, elasticity, and familiarity with the armor, shield, and sword he used. Each motion was also filled with his devotion to Lathander, a prayer to the Morninglord in the glory of his dawn. When he was done, the sun sat, whole, two full inches above the horizon, and then he began to run.
Wearing his armor and carrying his full kit, Roedran was pulling/pushing an extra 130 pounds. And yet he ran to his fullest, there was no knowing when he would need to be able to run full tilt while encumbered. Lives, as yet unmet, could be saved by this. With his two mile sprint done, Roedran jogged back to the Legion hall.
Later that day, after having made a patrol, Roedran returned. Stripped and washing afternoon light, he marveled at the grey he saw at his temples. No wonder those who once knew him, had no recognition. He had been gone more than ten years; and his next birthing day, which he then realized that he was the only living person who knew it, would have him reaching 37. His self-inspection took him to the rest of his body, he was covered in scars. That one from some giant lizard-thing, there a bandit's crossbow, this from a troll, the axe that nearly killed him, this a sword, a pike…..on and on it seemed.
Roedran was still introspective as he rolled into his cot, he had already said his goodbye and congratulations to Faerdic who was retiring to a small plot of land with his wife. Laying there listening to the last of the revelry, he took stock of his possessions. His home- the legion hall, his bed- a cot that belonged to whomever lay in it first, his armor- a gift, his sword- a gift, his shield- a gift. In fact the only thing he owned that was truly his was the pair of wedding rings he was going use twelve years ago. Looking at them, he was reminded of the dreams that they represented, dreams that he was coming to realize would never come true. Roedran knew that the only plot of land he would retire with would, if he was lucky, be six feet deep. No woman deserved the life he would give, nor would he be able to leave it without regret.
His decision made, Roedran took the rings on their leather thong and placed them in the Legion's common use locker. Cheap though they are, no one could mistake their intended purpose. The dream given away to those who might have a chance to live it, Roedran returned to his cot with a few tears running unknown down his face.
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It didnt take long for Roedran to fall in with members of the Troff Legion, he found himself spending most of his time with Benji, and was eventually invited to join their ranks as a recruit. It was an easy decision to make, after all the Legion did things he was already going to do on his own. So long as they understood his work as a Paladin of Lathander came first, it would work out fine. Within days he was wearing their colors of blue and black.