Justice and Good above all
Honor and Fealty to the Lord
Honor and Respect to Righteous Innocence
Honor and Duty to Bahamut the Justicemaker
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Honor and Correction to the Enemies of Justice and Good
Honor and Forbearance to myself
Golden scales flicker in the light of dawn, filtering through distant trees as the draconic warrior finishes his morning meditations before a shrine to Pelor. He is praying to Bahamut, not Pelor, but he knows Bahamut won’t mind. In fact, he knows the platinum dragon cares nothing for prayer at all, believing that rituals and ceremonies are useless in the face of simply doing good deeds. Still, a personal ritual to steel his mind and heart for the coming day can’t be wrong.
“Oooh, an early riser … I haven’t seen you around before,” a small voice leaks out into the cramped courtyard. Darfin looks up to see a gnome walk towards him.
No, maybe it’s a dwarf or a short human. Well, not that it matters—all of these lesser races look the same. Who thought it was a good idea to divide people into races based on how tall they are? It's ridiculous if you ask me.
“Pardon me, miss…”
“Dem Nackle, but everyone calls me Corkie.”
“Miss Corkie. I hope I was not disturbing you. I simply wished to meditate first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, no problem at all! I was just surprised to see someone here. Most of the farmer folk do fieldwork in the morning and come into town later to avoid the heat. Judging by your fancy armor, you’re not exactly a farmer, Mister uh… what was your name again?”
“Sorry, my name is Darfin Norixius, Oathbound of Bahamut.”
“Oooh, a Paladin!” The small creature looks excited momentarily, but her expression quickly droops, like a flower drained of moisture.
“Is something wrong, Miss Corkie?”
“No, nothing; well, nothing you did anyway.”
“If it’s not too private a concern, please tell me. Perhaps I can help,” Darfin offers, kneeling to be the same height as the diminutive woman and holding out his hand.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” she hesitates before continuing. “Another paladin came here recently. Sir Bradford. From Neverwinter. He was very kind, and strong, and brave, and he would pray to Pelor with me. He said he would teach me how to use a shortsword and that he would even lend me his if I could manage to fit my hands around it.”
Ah … I didn’t think it was this sort of problem. I’m not sure I should even be listening to something like this.
Darfin kept his expression even, trying not to do anything to upset the female biped of undetermined type.
“Well, before we could meet up behind the shed over there, which is apparently the perfect location for sparring with a partner, He ran off to kill a monster, and … HE NEVER CAME BACK, eoooowh,” she shouts before sobbing into Darfin’s armor-covered and not-very-comfortable shoulder.
This woman has no concept of what ‘too private a concern’ means. Well, that, or she is the densest person alive. She’s obviously just been dumped.
“There, there,” Darfin says, patting her shoulder gently and offering her a handkerchief, “I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.”
Corkie sniffles a bit before asking, “You think so?”
“I do. I tell you what - I’ll help you find him.”
And maybe give him a good talking-to while I’m at it.
Darfin continues, “Do you know where he went to fight this … monster?”
“Oh … he went to the citadel.”
Darfin was momentarily stunned. This had to be the scenario he expected the least. “The citadel … you mean the sunless citadel? The ancient castle built by the evil dragon cult of Ashardalon?”
“Uh … yeah? It’s just south of here. I think he took my friend Sharwyn with him.”
The people here are insane. What an overwhelmingly dangerous place for a tryst. I can no longer consider this a frivolous affair since lives are involved - and that … evil place.
“I am familiar with the location. It is even why I originally came here. Do you know where I can find Sharwyn’s family?”
“Ah, yes! See there? Just go straight and then take a left.”
“Corkie, all the buildings in town are arranged in a large circle. There is no road to take a left on.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Yes?”
Darfin stares incredulously for a moment before deciding to be diplomatic. “Sorry, I’m not good with directions. Just point at the building, please.”
“Oh, alright,” she walks forward a bit before pointing at the largest building in the town, a towering manor located almost directly across from the shrine, “It’s that giant manor right there, but actually not.”
“...But actually not?”
“Exactly. It’s actually the small wooden building in front of it.”
“Thank you, Corkie. I think I understand now. Don’t worry; I’ll find out what’s happened to Sir Bradford and Sharwyn,” Darfin says confidently before striding off as quickly as he thinks he can without seeming to be running away.
A few minutes later, Darfin approaches the wooden building, which appears to be a storefront connected to the manor behind it. This likely means that Sharwyn is a noble lady of some sort. After pulling open the door, he approaches the sales desk with an elderly man sitting behind it.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Yes, good morning. Are you here to purchase supplies?”
“Ah, no. My name is Darfin Norixious, a Paladin. I am here regarding the whereabouts of Sir Bradford and Lady Sharwyn. It is my understanding that they left for the sunless citadel some time ago and have not returned.”
“That is correct, sir. The Lady Hucrele has posted a reward of 200 gold coins for any person or party able to retrieve them or their remains,” The clerk says while gesturing to a poster on the inside of the door, which lists not two but four names of missing persons:
Sir Talgen Hucrele
Lady Sharwyn Hucrele
Sir Bradford of Pelor
Mister Karakas of Oakhurst
“I see. I wasn’t aware there were actually four missing persons. What can you tell me about their relationship?”
“Well, Sir Talgen and Lady Sharwyn are brother and sister, children of Lady Kerowyn Hucrele, who is the one offering the 200 coin reward. Sir Bradford only entered the town a day or two before heading off to the citadel. Apparently, his order suspects something foul has taken root within it. As for Mister Karakas, he is a local hunter of some skill who Sir Bradford hired as a scout.”
“I see,” Darfin pondered, “I understand why Sir Bradford went to the citadel since it was his duty to do so, but why did the Hucrele siblings accompany him?”
The old man sighs and shakes his head, “A folly of youth. They sought excitement and felt invulnerable, as protected as they were. Lady Kerowyn is not taking it well - she feels it is her fault that the children ran away to go on the ill-advised adventure.”
“I … see. In any case, the order of Bahamut has also found traces of ill-omen leading to the citadel. If a rescue party is entering the citadel, then I shall take part.”
“Wonderful. I am glad that an esteemed knight such as yourself will be along, although you are also the first to apply. Please check back tomorrow morning to see if any additional party members are joining you.”
“I understand. I will return tomorrow.”
Darfin offers the gentleman an accepted handshake before striding out the door and back into the dusty town.
Well, now I think the diminutive woman was just terrible at communicating. In any case, I will look for some good deeds to do today.
He slowly walks around the town, greeting people and offering help. Eventually, he reaches the outskirts of town around lunchtime. He has now rescued two cats, carried three heavy items for elderly individuals, and helped a child complete her survivalism homework. It is time for a well-deserved break after completing good deeds.
As he removes his pack and starts unwrapping some rations, he notices a man walking towards town. Something about him seems … off, although he can’t quite place it. He feels he must at least inquire as to this man’s purpose.
“Excuse me, sir,” Darfin calls out. The man looks over at Darfin.
“Yes?”
“My name is Darfin. Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Yes, I am new here. No, we haven’t met.” The man starts walking again, but Darfin steps in his path.
“Can I ask about your purpose in town?”
“Yes.”
Darfin waits a moment, sighs, then asks, “What is your purpose in town?”
“I am going to the sunless citadel to remove an abomination,” he says as if discussing the weather.
“Oh. Me too.”
I was wrong about him. If he’s here for the same reason I am, he must be a decent sort.
“Why don’t we go together? I am meeting up with a group of mercenaries tomorrow, who will travel into the sunless citadel together. I am sure we can purge the place more easily in an organized group.”
The man rubs his green chin for a few moments before responding, “Very well, that does sound like a good idea. Perhaps you can blind the monster with your shiny armor while I kill it.”
“Great,” Darfin starts to say something else but stops and asks, “Wait a minute, did you just-”
“Man, I’m starving. Would you like to join me for lunch?” the man interrupts. “By the way, I’m Ardy-nos.”
Why do I feel like everyone is trying to make a fool of me today?
“Alright, my pack is just over here. Do you have rations, or shall I share mine?”
“I have my own pack and rations. Let’s sit here and discuss our plans for the citadel as we eat.”
After finishing their meal, Darfin and Ardy-nos make their way back towards town. Darfin stops frequently to help any passerby who seems to require assistance. Darfin often thinks he hears Ardy snicker at him, but whenever he looks up, Ardy is doing something else. Shortly after entering the town proper, at least five different children ask for piggyback rides, which he happily provides since children should be looked after and protected.
As it becomes evening and the sun sets, they approach the Inn and enter together, sitting next to each other at the bar. They each ask the barkeeper for a bowl of stew when another short woman suddenly bursts into the hall and challenges Ardy to a drinking contest, wagering a piggyback ride against part of an ale barrel. What is it with piggyback rides today?
The night continues, the Inn becomes quite rowdy, and Ardy, having lost the drinking contest, seems to remain barely conscious while tapping out some unearthly chant using a mug and a spoon. Meanwhile, the short female, whom Ardy referred to as a ‘Pipsqueak,’ whatever that is, is balanced atop his shoulders, still guzzling ale directly from a barrel. Tiny drops of ale intermittently fall onto his head and armor as he chants to himself.
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Honor and Protection to the Lesser Races
Sometimes, keeping true to my oaths takes a lot of work.
Bahamut, help me.