A Paladin's Journal

The dark of the basement loomed heavy over everything. A thick sorrowful blanket that made it hard to breath. Unlike most of my companions, I could not see through the darkness, but I could still feel and hear. I could feel the evil and the malice of this place; this unholy house which was bathed in horror that confused and frightened me, and I could hear the shouts and cries of pain from my friends. Yes… they were my friends. For although we did not know each other long, we had still been through so much together that a bond was growing, and I had to find a way to help them.

I listened intently with shield raised and lashed out when I was sure the evil was before me however, more often than not, my strike made no purchase. And then I felt the sting of claws and metal as I was struck from unseen enemies. Again and again, I swung hardly making contact and again and again I took punishment. I thought of running and may have if I knew the way out or if my heart would let me abandon my friends to their doom, but neither were possible. Just when it seemed that the only option left was to die alongside them, I found the pillar.

The dark monolith slab stood before me as it pulsed with its own energy and life and curiously with a voice, faint but there. I reached out and placed a hand on the rough, stone surface and then I was gone. Or rather the basement was gone. The house was gone. The damnable mist and surrounding world were gone and I stood in a silence that echoed in all directions.

The voice spoke, strong now yet sweet like a drip of honey. “You have strength but not enough to overcome what resides within this house. Your friends will die here, as will you. But it does not have to be this way. I could offer you the power to save them. A dark gift that I willingly bestow upon you, my hero.”

“What would you ask of me for such an offering?”

“Only your service. You will carry me from this place and we will be together forever-more.” I hesitated, truly scared of what this could mean. “I can read your heart and I can feel that you are a good man. I can aid you in your desire to relieve the suffering of the innocent. Do not tarry for long. Your friends struggle and suffer against the evil beyond.”

Closing my eyes I said a silent prayer to The Dawnfather and whether by mistake or on purpose, I still do not know, whispered, “I accept.”

Instantly I was back in the basement, the smell and damp invading my senses along with the sounds of the battle taking place. And I knew what had to be done. I swung my blade into the monolith, cutting deeper into stone than should have been possible. As the pillar shattered and crumbled, I felt a new energy being born within. A sense of vigor, strength, and new purpose. My sword burst into flames of black and purple and my armor took a dark sheen. The darkness receded to the edges of the room and for the first time, I truly saw the horrors before me.

As I strode forward into the battle and brought the dark flame sword to bear, I heard the honey dipped voice again, now with an edge of hardness, from inside, “Now, my dark savior, do what must be done.”

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            Time passed as I got to know the sweet yet steeled voice of Naomi. My armor, now dark blue and black in the sun, bears the sigil of the Blue Flame of Vengeance. My shield, once plain wood with iron bands shows the symbol of the Knights of the Shield. Worse of all, my holy pendant of Pelor seems to bear a corrupted back side with an etching that I have come to learn is Gargauth, a devil from the hells. This I keep tucked always within my tunic. I did not have a good explanation when my friends questioned the armor change and I would not know what to say if they saw the pendant. As promised, gifts were provided along with the changes I have felt and seen. I feel stronger and more capable. I have discovered that I not only understand but can speak the Devil’s language, something that I have been able to use to connect with Raven, who is the only person that I have confided this information too.

            However, even with the gifts, shame weighs heavy on my soul, if I still have one. Surely there was another way to survive that place. I should have trusted in Pelor. The Dawnfather would have seen me through or I might have perished in that place… with my honor.

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            I did not realize the shame could be worse but it was a lesson quickly learned as my friends stared at me in disbelief as I stripped the old king’s corpse of its plate armor. They do not understand that I need it. It will help me to be stronger and better and I will be able to protect them and everyone with it. And yet… my heart has never felt as heavy as it does now. As I put the armor on, I feel its weight dragging on me, even as I can sense Naomi smiling with approval.

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            My heart utterly breaks as I steal from my friend, something I never thought I was capable of. How low does the pit of shame delve? I do not understand why I am reaching into his bag or even what I am searching for, only that the item needs to be sacrificed, as is Naomi’s will and I feel helpless to resist.

And I fulfill that desire in an act that horrifies me as much as it intrigues as I can feel Naomi guiding my hands on the Circlet of the Sun. The light golden hue that typically emits when I provide a healing touch emanates now as blackened, as if encased in shadow and I can feel energy pulling from the item as it feeds into myself and Naomi, but I cannot stop. Do I even want to stop it? When complete the Circlet of the Sun is no more than a pile of ash and as I feel a pleased and satisfied Naomi recede into the background, I cannot help but lament what I have become.

I stare at my hands remembering when the healing magic first sprang to life. They were the instruments of my greatest pride. The day I became more than just a ward to Sir Arthur and the way I could finally help.

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            The visions may be the worse part. Are they real or part of my imagination brought forth by my own shame and dishonor? Visions of the Hells and the tortures within. I have spoken with Raven about these visions and I can sense that they worry him, which cannot be a good sign, and I dare not recount the visions in detail or risk losing what is left of my sanity.

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            Hildy provides the first sense of worth I have felt in a very long time, although it came from a situation I would never wish upon her. Her affliction with a demon is most troubling and although Naomi screams within my mind to destroy her, I have managed to fight back. I know that taking that step would lead to an abyss that I would never emerge from and there must be a way to help this child that does not involve her death. Naomi cannot be allowed to take this part of me for I fear it is all I have left.

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            Waking up within a new body should have been jarring and I can see how it has affected my friend’s causing confusion and a feeling of displacement however; all I can focus on is the silence within. The feeling of solitude and the fact that I cannot hear or feel Naomi presence. It is a sensation as puzzling as it is glorious.

It was the moment when Dr. Mordenheim offered to reunite me with Naomi I realized that The Dawnfather had not abandoned me, as I feared. Although I had made a terrible decision I was not damned from walking in his light. The feeling of belonging only to myself again… I had forgotten what it was to be free. Truly free. I nearly succumbed to the power she provided and the despair that followed, nearly believed that I needed and deserved both. But The Dawnfather has seen fit to give me another chance.

I have lost her gifts but did I ever truly need them? I will continue this journey, not as a dark warrior but in the brilliant light of the dawn and I will make amends for the wrong I have committed.