Standing at the gate to the holy house, an abandoned post long forgotten. For years he stood guard, not knowing if the god Mythos stayed there, or would even reward him for his work, he lingered.
Always returning to the same spot he moves quickly to make sure non of the evil spirits may enter, the ghouls and demons. Although the place is long abandoned by any human soul these fiends rush there every now and then.
But Guduah is strong, given his strength from Mythos to guard the holy house, and any rodents who comes suffers the blades of his mighty sharpened sword.
For years he fought off invaders, with no reinforcements, seemingly hopeless he pressed on alone, the mighty Grand Paladin. Sorteiva himself would command his strength and will, his justice and his Ideals and the way he kept them over the years.
The holy house has long been ruined and forgotten, no soul comes to prey any longer. But Guduah remembers the holy of this ground and the times when it was loud with laughter.
His holy blade, Nyaepreimi, is his only friend to keep him company and help him fight the hoards of God enemies. An heirloom handed to him by… The tree of the soil… Placed by Sortieva himself for him to find, as a trial.
Today is another day, an important day because he must once more defend the holy house. A bunch of foul evildoer fiends came to taint the holy place. Dark knights and acolytes, it is good that Guduah is here, for any other Paladin would fall beneth their blades.
Balls of fire swing through the air, carrying the essence if death. Guduah dodges with jumps, but they were mere distractions, the dark knight approaches Guduah ready to strike.
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Guduah runs forward and swings, Nyaepreimi directly- misses? No, that is not possible, another attack, and it misses again. The acolytes watch from afar silently. they mock me! They cheat! Another miss, and another. The priests don’t shoot at me they only watch as the knight dodges all of my attacks.
How?! Why would Grand Paladin Guduah miss? The shine in the knights armor must have blinded me, the pries-acolytes must use some trick. Another swing, but this time the sword drops from my hand. It was no tricks the one who cheated was Nyaepreimi!
Slice goes through the air, the knight attacks back. Only bearly do I evade back guarding my face. But the knight does not go for another strike. When I stop walking backwards I see my hand, a large cut on Guduah's arm, but no blood.
Why would there be no blood? The knight, I could not see the armor , the insignia of the front of the paladin order. The faces of the acolytes, their clothes are that of priests. The corpses around, the defeted demons, they were all once people. They tried to stop me.
Guduah could see in his eyes, my eyes, as if looking at a painting of a long gone memory, my home, my town. I had died, and what have I accomplished? When I was a kid I always wanted to be a paladin, I would play paladin every day. Please, make me a paladin! Please, help me be a famous knight who fights for all of humanity, like Sortieva. This stick is my sword and this ruined house is my legacy to keep.
But truely I have been doing injustice Ever since, I could not see untill now. Thank you, paladin, priests, for freeing me from the lies of my after death. Thank you, Nyaepreimi for pulling back before hurting my saviors, my heros.
“Thank you” I can hear in an old dusty voice, it came from me, my oldend dead body made a voice that sounds like words. If only just bearly. I hope that they understand. “Go, you are free.” I can hear, I can tell it came from the knight but I can no longer see, if I can only say one last thing, if I could only send one message I would give a souvenir. “Nyaepreimi is it’s name. Use it, it wants to be used for good.”