Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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My dearest Trish,

I regret that only now am I sitting down to write to you following my brief note announcing my safe arrival, but I wanted to have some meaningful information to share. With the events of this past tenday I think I have enough news that I can fill a letter worthy of your healthy appetite for the written word.

I have reported to the House of Wonder, which is a large church on the north side of the city. I have to admit I did have a time finding it as this town is dizzying with the number of streets and alleyways. Thank the Lady, I found a cartography shop which I think does a good bit of business selling maps to travelers such as I. The high priest, Meleghost Starseer, is away on travel and I do not know nature of the business. I get my direction from Ilbrost Mythyl, who is in charge in while Master Starseer is away. Reverend Mythol is indeed an interesting character. I gather he favors his wizardly identity more than his priestly one as he always wears formal wizard robes. Moreover, forgive the analogy, but his mustache I think is groomed to resemble a wand, but that may be my own image of him giving me that impression. He has gven me a modest room in the upper level of the church, which is quiet and reasonably comfortable, though I do miss my more familiar accommodations at the Tower of Balance. It is hard not to long for the sight of the Moonbridge on star-lit nights from my window.

I was instructed that I will get more specific directions from Master Starseer when he returns, and until then I am to use my time to seek out alliances with skilled adventurers within the city. Accordingly, I have found a guild on the south side of the city which attracts those with mercenary skills and joined it by offering my services. I have done a number of training exercises and short missions, which seem to always involve going into the city’s smelliest localities: the sewers and the trash dump. I have helped reduce the disease-carrying rats coming from the dump, including some as large as a man. I helped manage an infestation of goblins who have established a lair in the storm drains of the city, and in so doing I was part of the rescue of a kidnapped infant. As rewarding as it was to save the child, I have to confess that the most significant task to which I have played a part would be the exploration of the an ancient crypt below the city which was cursed with undead including a vampire. Along with several of the more established members of the guild, we managed to rid the city of those terrible creatures.

I have made many significant contacts in my travels. The guild has a whole gallery of characters of varying races and skills. Yesterday I spent a fair bit of time with a dwarf says his prayers to Lathander. There is a half-orc which has become a devotee of Helm. Last night I worked with an elf whose experiments with communing with nature saw her turned briefly into a wolf. But perhaps the most interesting character I have met is a woman from Silverymoon who is a devoted to Oghma, and naturally knows the Vault of Sages. When I mentioned your name it gave her a startle because you share a number of things in common with her, including your name being a similar to a name from her past. As big as this realm may be, it can feel like a small world when such coincidences amass.

It would seem my arrival at the guild came at a most inopportune time as well. Many of the members are still grieving the loss of a young member whose life was cut tragically short by a vampire queen terrorizing the city. I have to wonder if the Lady of Mysteries has led me to this place in order to help bring her reign to a just resolution. At the very least, I am trying to be a comfort to those members who still feel the sting of the loss.

I must admit that even though I have met some very nice folks, I do miss Silverymoon. While it is true that the natural beauty of the city is part of that preference, it is your company I miss the most. I look forward to the next time I get to stroll along the Rauvin with the silvery glow of the mythals reflecting in your long hair. I don’t dare question the wisdom of my mission, and I am resolute to see it done, but I do hope that conclusion comes relatively soon and the Order sends back to you.

Steadfastly yours,

Hudol
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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A look to the sky shows a cloudless starry night with the moon casting a golden-white glow bright enough that one could read. The air is crisp but the wind is calm, making it a pleasant autumn night. The light reveals rolling hills and shining objects dotting the sides of them, with a wall in the foreground and a lone figure standing upon the parapet at the top of the wall looking over the hills. The figure shines as well with the light sparking reflections off the armor and shield which adorn him. Motionless, Hudol scans the hills from his perch, taking in all that is happening beyond the wall.

These hills, however, are not pastoral works of nature. They are the Rat Hills, so named by the city locals for the rodents which infest them. Heaping mounds of trash, with all the unpleasant odor expected, stand in stark contrast to the beauty of the moon and stars above and the knightly figure observing. With a sigh, the man speaks to no audience which can be seen save the scurrying rats below.

As though in the middle of a conversation, the man seemingly resumes a thought started some time ago, “And I have sought to find new places to listen; quieter and more serene” he gestures to the hills, “lonely quiet places. I have listened to the sound of the wind, the rustling of the leaves, in the moments between beats of my heart. I know it is out there. Your voice, your wisdom…your message just for me. I would want to hear every bit of it, and take it in like a thirsty man drinks from the well.”

A long pause during which he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I believe now I have heard it. There, in the Halls of Wonder, crippled with weakness as you breathed life back into me, I finally heard, and I think I understand. I have been listening too much, and not speaking enough. Ours is to be a dialogue, and I have not been doing enough in speaking my part. I have been too tentative. My job is not to be a passive participant. I should not be waiting for events to unfold upon me. I should be initiating.”

He pats the hilt of his sword and resumes, “And this is not to be my favored weapon. A knight’s voice should be his weapon of choice. To speak the truth in the face of uncertainty. To be the voice of reason in a world gone mad. To be the source of calm in the storm. To be counsel and confidant. To glorify you not with my mere actions, but more so my presence. My voice should be an echo of yours so that others may hear it.”

He clasps his gauntlets together and nods, “I did not ask to be saved, but saved me you have, and I shall not question the wisdom of it. Sincerely, I thank you. I do look forward to the day I can be with you, but I remain resolute to see your mission done in this world.” He bows his head as though to punctuate his final thought, “Ever your humble servant, My Lady.”
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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Clarianna’s words, shouted with the zeal and purpose one might expect of someone with her level of devotion, echo off the walls. Instantly in response, two of the animated skeletons crumple to the ground in a pile of bones while a third turns and cowers in the corner. Her admonition in the name of Oghma has its intended effect and brings the threat to an efficient end. Hudol and Morgan casually dispense with the defenseless third. With no fanfare nor celebrity, the three salvage the items of value from the destroyed creatures including useful ingredients for healing potions, and then methodically move to the next portion of the crypt to clear it.

This is no planned adventure seeking some noble goal nor grand treasure. A quirk of fate had left the trio stranded in the City of the Dead past dark, with the locked gates leaving the passage through the crypt the only way back. “Very well. Let us take the quickest route to the sewer tunnels and be done with it.” Clarianna clearly doesn’t want to dwell in the crypt any longer than needed. “No sense in taking the extra risk of seeking out dangers.”

Although her motive likely includes an element of fear, the logic is sound from a certain point of view. That point of view, however, is not the knightly one of her companions who answer almost in unison from either side of her.

“What of the risk to the citizens from these abominations?” quips Morgan.

“These creatures pose a risk to the common citizens.” remarks Hudol.

Be it a sense of democracy or the not-so-gentle reminder of duty from her cohorts, Clarianna withdraws her request and replaces it with another, “Very well, but we must stick together.” The two men offer no further objection, and to work they all go. The team is efficient and effective clearing the entire crypt. There is very little dialogue. After all, there is no mystery to solve nor priorities to debate. So on the surface, it looks to be fairly professional.

For Hudol, however, there is reason to maximize the work and minimize the dialogue. When working, one can focus on the task at hand and not dwell upon recent events which have been so consuming of his attention. It is a much more productive use of time to swing a mace at zombies then to dwell on the evil nature of vampires. Even though it is not their target of choice, there is some satisfaction putting an end to a threat. It is far preferable to putting to rest the artificially animated bodies of the undead than to think of the mangled bodies of the orphans who should be alive. In the wake of a crushing defeat, take solace in the victories wherever you can find them.

The respite is all too brief. After clearing the crypts and finding their way through to the sewers back to the surface, they are greeted by the evening sky on the streets. The danger of the vampires must come to the fore, which in turn draws Hudol’s attention back to the scene in the orphanage with “For Daeges” written in the blood of the most innocent. The rallying cry adopted by the guild members in honor of one of their fallen was mockingly used to torment them.

Hudol muses about the nature of this rally cry. Why Daeges? Why not Adam? It could easily now be all those children. Perhaps she exemplifies a victim of Vansa: fragile, full of life, and entirely undeserving of the fate. But for Hudol it could easily be for Mystra? Or Waterdeep? Honestly, is there really a need for a motive to kill a vampire? Is not the fact that the vampire exists reason enough?

He then thinks about what would go through his mind if fate found him in that moment, wooden stake in hand, about to be the one who finally vanquishes Vansa; if the creature might look at him as he's about to plunge the stake with a look upon its face as though to query which motive Hudol had adopted as his. He mouths the words, picturing in his mind's eye his response as he delivers the fatal blow, "For Daeges? No, for me!"
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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“I’m sorry, what?” Hudol has to ask the visitor to repeat the question. One of the duties of the journeymen members of the Adventurer’s Lodge is to help possible recruits by answering their questions and showing them around. It is in this role that he finds him speaking to a stranger who has wandered in off the street, but not doing a very effective job of it. It is a simple job to share what he knows, but it is one made very difficult in the moment. A knight takes great pride in doing his duties well, and he recognizes that in asking the potential recruit to repeat his question he is failing to be attentive to him.

Hudol is on the brink of exhaustion. He is barely sleeping though he clearly needs the rest. His mind is so consumed with the drama surrounding him that he can’t help but to lie awake in his bunk while his mind races from one thought to the next. He has resolved that throwing himself into chores for the Lodge to help prepare for the next encounter with vampire queen Vansa is a better use of his time than trying fruitlessly to sleep. So he has been venturing into the various places around the city which yield needed ingredients for the potions that will be used. Fighting oozes, skeletons, and fire beetles to harvest their ingredients is taxing work.

After returning from Yintos with singed armor and covered in insect goop, he encountered his friend Madog by the fire. Poor Madog, who had taken it upon himself to be a big brother to all the orphans across the street, and has not spoken even a single whisper since many were slaughtered and the rest taken by the Vansa to who knows what end. Unfortunately Hudol discovered the fate of two of the orphans just last night. They had been turned into small vampires; a wicked insult directed at Madog and Clarianna. Hudol along with Morgan had to destroy the little monsters with a heavy heart. And Hudol had to sit with his friend Madog and break his heart further by sharing the news with him. One more difficult task for the weary knight.

On the heels of that conversation with Madog, this stranger has wandered into the Lodge to ask questions, and Hudol has stepped up to help before cleaning his armor and falling into his bunk hopefully to finally earn some rest. One could hardly fault Hudol for being less than attentive in such circumstances, but he doesn’t give himself that margin for error. If it is a job to be taken, then it should be well done. He expands upon his apology for lack of focus, “Forgive my distraction, please repeat your question.”

“You have mentioned vampires a couple of times now. Are there really that many?”

Hudol realizes that his preoccupation with Vansa keeps intruding on his responses to the man and tries to recover the tone. "Oh I doubt that. It probably feels that way to us here because there is one that is particularly focused upon a couple of members. What I know of them, vampires try to not attract too much attention and remain in the shadows lest an angry mob come for them.” He lifts up his tone and tries to change the subject, “You have mentioned that you like to work with your hands. Let me show you our workroom with crafting stations. Step this way.”

He is able to complete the tour and answer the questions with enough professionalism to reflect favorably upon the Lodge, and that will have to do for now. Then he places the harvested ingredients into the stores, cleans his armor, takes a bath, says his devotionals, and falls lifelessly into his bunk. A few hours of sleep will have to suffice. It’s all he can really do. Once the dreams…the nightmares start, he will be wide awake again. “After she is destroyed, then I shall rest like the dead” the thought triggers a mild bit of bemusement at the awkward choice of the metaphor. He shakes the small smirk off his face, irritated that he let a smile show, and redirects the anger at himself instead outward towards his target. “Like the dead, indeed.”
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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Hudol sits alone in the main hall of the Adventurer’s Lodge at the writing desk near the back wall. Vana has long ago gone home for the evening, and everyone else in the building is asleep in their respective beds. In front of him are two pieces of paper, each of which is relatively blank. Quill in hand, he rubs his chin and stares alternatively between the two pages. After a cleansing breath, he deliberately begins to write upon the first sheet.

Father,

I hope this letter finds you and mother doing well. I regret not having written more often, but you know how I feel about the chore of writing, so please forgive me. In using my skills and abilities as granted to me by Mystra, I have been helping the people of Waterdeep and in so doing have tried to reflect favorably upon the church. Be it rescuing kidnapped children from the clutches of goblins, controlling the population of diseased rats, or putting to final rest the tormented souls of the living dead, I have played my part. I would like to think the work I have been doing would parallel that of the Spellguard in the Silver Marches, and therefore I am honoring your legacy in some way.

I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention the biggest effort in which I have been involved. The city is besieged by a vampire queen, and the adventuring troop of which I play a small part has tangled with her and her minions on many occasions. The cost has been severe, and I think that the whole affair will be coming to a climax very soon. I have to think may be why Mystra called me to this station, and so I look forward to being able to fulfill my mission.

Indeed, last Tenday she laid an ambush for us as we worked to clear an old mansion of the living dead. She blocked our exit and sought to torment us with two of the children from the orphanage she had enthralled. Even though it was a monster, it was not easy raising my blade to something that resembled a child. I took some satisfaction in burning the witch queen with holy water and driving her off. In the final balance, evil is cowardly.

In the months I was in training with the Order, they taught us to prepare for battle physically, mentally, and spiritually. Were it up to me, I would choose to destroy Vansa and return safely back to Silverymoon, but alas I do not get to make that decision. If Mystra calls upon me to sacrifice my life for her mission, then I shall make that sacrifice worthy of her glory and enter the next world with honor. If my job is to die in battling this vampire, then I will have it be a job well done and give that battle my fullest measure. Should this prove to be the case, then I hope this letter is of benefit to mother and you in understanding how it came to pass, and accept my apologies. As difficult as it is to write this to you, I confess that I can not bring myself to do the same for my dear Trish. I do not know how to ask her for forgiveness.

Should we win the day, I shall be prompt in sending word. Give Mother a kiss from me.

Proudly your son,

He reads it and then signs it with a flourish, and turns his attention to the other piece of paper. Per his training, these things should be done before a major battle in order for your mind and conscience to be clear and afford all the focus to be on the fight. A couple of deep breaths, and he puts ink to that paper as well.

Last will and testament of Hudol Rhyfelwr, Knight of the Mystic Fire, loyal servant of Mystra. To whomever it may concern in reading of this document, herein lies the dying wishes ….
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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“This is a mallet. The wood is too forgiving. I think I’m going to need a proper metal hammer.” Hudol explains what he thinks is the issue in trying to get the wagon wheel fixed. The long road from Baldur’s Gate to Waterdeep is relatively busy, and it is not unusual to find a stranded traveler along the side of the highway. Sensing no evil in the man who was struggling to fix the wheel, Hudol had dismounted from his horse to give the man a hand.

He had not planned on being on the road at all. There is a ship leaving in three days headed back north, and he could have waited for it. However, being inside a ship for all that time was not something to which he looked forward. The road offers distractions which are welcome. Being alone with his thoughts is not healthy right now. His mind dwells on the death of his friend, the plan to kill the vampire queen Vansa, and his own uncertain fate. On balance, occupying his attention with fixing a wagon wheel is a welcome diversion.

“It would be a bit simpler if we could heat the metal. The iron would be more compliant then. We’ll get there. It just will take a bit more effort and patience.” He hammers away on the wheel. If only it was also so simple with his bigger problems; a bit of physics and knowledge of metallurgy, some effort and the right tools, and the task is well managed. However there is no wheelwright that can tell one the proper way to conquer Vansa. There is no anvil upon which one can mend a tattered heart. There is no smithy who can help navigate the choices of an uncertain future.

“That should do it. Let’s hitch up the horse and see how it rolls.” Hudol helps the man get his stuff back into the wagon, and sends him on his way. He watches for a time as the wagon makes its way slowly down the road and disappears over the horizon. He finds it curious that he is jealous of the man, a simple man trying to get his wares to the city to sell, and the biggest problem he faces is an issue with his wagon. Hudol, a Knight in service of Mystra, has envy of the man selling leather goods at the bazaar. After all, the tanner will go home, kiss his wife, hug his son, and enjoy a bowl of stew and an ale with his feet up near the fire. He will wake up the next day and know precisely what to do and why he does it.

Hudol mounts the horse and heads down the road in the opposite direction towards Waterdeep. At least this day he can show an accomplishment. He may not share in the stew nor the kiss, but part of the satisfaction is his to claim. No matter what tomorrow may bring, this day the job can be scored as well done, and nobody can take that from him. He lets a small smile form, perhaps the first that has shown upon his face since the passing of Morgan. The smile does not last. Beyond the next little hill, the walls and towers of Waterdeep can be seen. The respite is over. He urges the horse forward to pick up the pace a bit. Must make the city walls before evening and the creatures of the night take over.
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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The spade knifes into the soil giving that telltale sound. Upon hearing the sound, Hudol pauses to reflect upon the nature of it. There can be no mistaking that sound; it is unlike any other. There are a few things in this world which have characteristics which are genuinely unique, but that sound is one. Why is that? Are there no other actions which can produce that sound which could be confused for the sound of a spade punching into soil? Or could it be that what he is doing is unique in the human experience. Yes, turning soil to plant a garden or clear a foundation for a house are not all that special to merit a special place in recollection.

But digging a grave is. There are hallmark moments in our lives which heighten the senses: a first kiss or a slaying a foe in battle. These moments get played over again in our memories, etching the sensory details permanently into the mind. That sound, this moment, this place will forever become part of those select few memories which have each detail to be as vivid as the day that they happened. He has taken a spade and violently penetrated the serenity of the elven glen to dig a grave. The scar in the earth will heal, and in time nobody will be able to tell that Hudol and the spade had been there. But he will not forget, for this is the day he dug a grave for Shalheira.

Earlier that day Sarenna had caught him walking to the trading company. She was on her way to sneak off to the glen to place Shalheira’s lifeless body to become one with the glen. However she truly didn’t want the chore to herself, and found an opportunity in their intersection to ask him to join her. For his part, Hudol was caught off guard, unaware that his friend, the gentle Shalheira, had fallen in the Crypt of Chauntea. He had recently returned from the solemn and solitary duty of seeing Morgan Thane delivered home to be buried. Perhaps it was fate, but Hudol was glad to play his part once more and join Sarenna in paying final respects.

They shared some memories of Shalheira as he worked to dig the grave, then placed her in the hole to become permanently one with the nature she loved. A brief prayer for peace and tranquility, and Hudol took the opportunity to place almonds in Shalheira’s hand before filling the grave in. Shalheira had taught Hudol how to get her great eagle to answer his commands, using almonds as a treat for the bird, and the two could share messages that way. Hudol reasoned that Shalheira could call for the bird in the spirit world to help guide her on her way.

It seemed fitting that it was a small audience was there for her final journey. Shalheira preferred solitude and more intimate interaction, and avoided large crowds and noisy events. And she was elegantly humble, never drawing much attention to her actions. But she had touched so many lives, so Hudol will be sure to share with the others in her life where to find her final resting place: a glen full of nature and peacefulness.

As Hudol makes his exit, he pauses for one final look back, and remarks at the other noteworthy sights and sounds to now be etched in memory: the roar of a waterfall spilling into the pool on the edge of the glen; the glistening of the dew-covered flowers like a carpet of color and fragrance; the creak of the oaks and maples swaying the breeze; the twinkling of the lightning bugs rising in the twilight to blend with the starlight. It is altogether right and ultimately healthy to soak in these moments, even if they are bittersweet. As Shalheira might say in her direct and sensible way, “It is just so.”
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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As Hudol speaks the words upon the scroll, the sword comes to life in his hand. The spell, Holy Sword, temporarily gives his weapon all properties of the fabled Holy Avenger, making it ideal for tangling with a vampire queen and her minions. The brilliant light glow radiating upward from the sword casts his face with inverted shadows, which in turn gives a haunting appearance to the already stern and purposeful expression as he shifts his gaze from the blade to the target.

During the time that has passed since the passing of Morgan Thane, he has visualized this very scene a number of ways. It should not be Hudol holding this sword. After all, the plan was Morgan’s, and given Morgan’s devotion to Kelemvor, so too is the mission. But Hudol made a promise to Morgan that he would see his plan put into action. The moment has arrived, and Hudol is resolute to carry the plan to fruition or die in the attempt.

He charges into the fray with the enchanted weapon, moving past more experienced warriors like Bran and Vale, and watching the ice queen Vansa unleash a spell of ice that rains down pummeling the whole group. Hudol steps to within striking distance, grunting “Morgan!” to see the vampire turn as the blade slashes diagonally across her, ripping flesh from her face and splaying blood on the floor of the great cavern. Vansa grits her teeth, showing her fangs in the light of the glow of the sword, and hisses as the seer from the holy fire burns.

Her eyes widen as she meets his gaze, and her voice softens as she speaks enchantingly, a voice that is cool and lilting like an autumn breeze. “I am not your enemy. Those behind you are the real threat. You must deal with them!” Hudol’s eyes glaze over as he falls under her spell, seeing her now as an elegant beauty under duress, whereas what he thought to be his friends are revealed to be demons. His grip tightens around the blade, and he turns back running towards the group.

“No!” screams Clarianna taking a step back, but it is too late. The sword plunges deep into her chest striking her in the heart. She crumples lifelessly to the ground as the stunned group is mortified in shock. He struggles to pull the blade from her in order to turn and find his next mark, but the group has responded. They rush to subdue if not kill the paladin. As he pulls the blade free and begins to swing as Sarenna, the hammer from Laird strikes Hudol at the base of the skull.

Hudol bolts upright in bed. His face is pale white and beading with sweat, and his chest heaves with heavy breath. The hands are wrenching the fibers of the blanket to form the handle of the imagined sword from his vision. He blinks as his eyes adjust to the light, and he focuses to regain composure. Breathing slower, his tense body language softens and his stare assumes a distant focus. A dream? A nightmare? A vision from Mystra? A warning from Vansa? The mind can race to find dozens of alternatives, but none will satisfy.

No matter. No more dreams, nor nightmares, for he will not sleep. No cryptic threats from Vansa as there is no time for words. No more funeral for friends, for it will either be her death or his. No more guessing or second guessing how the events will actually unfold, for it is time to really know. He reaches and pulls his blade from the scabbard, running a finger lightly down the blade to feel the sharpness of the edge. His voice still a hint raspy and low from sleep, he speaks without inflection, “…and so it ends.”
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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For a brief moment, Hudol wonders if his thoughts could be seen or heard, or at the very least his body language and expression would betray him. With the marbled floors and walls of the grand hall of the House of Wonder nearly everything is amplified, so why not his uneasy thoughts? Most people in his position would be proud, and rightly so. Getting a promotion and a title is quite an honor. But that is not how he feels in that moment. Vansa got away and he feels responsible. It can be nothing to him but a failure to complete the most important goal of the mission. He hopes that his inner conflict is not apparent on his face.

A number of his friends have paused their days to attend and watch the ceremony, but Hudol does not look at them. Instead he thinks a small prayer, “My Lady, I do not always understand the path you present me, and this is yet another mystery. I feel not entirely worthy of this honor, but I know also to refuse it would be disrespectful. I shall once again try to play my part of dutiful servant and accept this promotion with the understanding that you shall some day help me see the wisdom in it.”

“Knight Hudol Rhyfelwr, respected devotee of Mystra and servant of the Order of the Mystic Fire, step forward.” Master Starseer’s rich voice punches through the silence causing all eyes to draw to him, then in turn to Hudol at the mention of his name. Hudol, dressed in full armor shined to a bright polish with cloak of Mystra flowing behind, walks down the main aisle of the hall and stops facing the cleric.

Starseer pulls a piece of paper from the folds of his robe and speaks, “I read now from a proclamation from Knight Commander Trenton Fulsimr dated 3rd of Kythorn, 1399 Dale Reckoning.” His eyes drop to the document and he reads, “Whereas Hudol Rhyfelwr in execution of his duties has been called upon numerous times to aid the defenseless of the city of Waterdeep, the greatest of which is to enter the City of the Dead to wage battle against the wicked vampire queen Vansa within her own lair, his deeds have reflected well upon Mystra. Knight Rhyfelwr has shown the character and leadership consistent with the highest levels of service to the Order of the Mystic Fire. Therefore, in recognition of his dedication and valor in service to the House of Wonder in the city of Waterdeep, the Priory of the North of the Order of the Mystic Fire do now confer the rank of Knight Sargeant at Arms with all the duties and responsibilities that accompany the station.”

Hudol is relieved that it is Sargeant at Arms, responsible for the martial skills. He was not certain how he would fare with the alternatives. Justice Sargeant, responsible for order and discipline, has to pass judgement on his peers on their execution of their duties. Grace Sargeant, on the other hand, is responsible for the character and spiritual development of the knights. Given his inner conflict, right now Hudol certainly doesn’t feel that would be his place.

Starseer quietly instructs Hudol, “Place your shield upon the alter and take a knee, knight.” Hudol puts the shield on the alter and drops to one knee and lowers his head. Starseer speaks low a few words and raises his hands up, and a flash of magic bursts forth from the shield, which now has the holy symbol of Mystra upon it. He then unclasps the cloak on Hudol’s back with the emblem of Mystra upon it, folding it once and setting it on the table. He takes a different cloak, one similar looking but with purple fringes around it, and puts it upon him. “Rise and be recognized, knight sergeant.” Hudol rises and turns to face the small group assembled, taking a slow breath as a polite clap from the audience is given. “You may notice it is a bit heavier on your shoulders.” Starseer adds a bit ominously.
Last edited by Duck One on Sat Jun 08, 2019 5:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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Very nice!
Talk less. Listen more.

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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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In the quiet of the library on the lower level of the Font sits a figure that looks somewhat out of place. Of course there are books open to various pages, scrolls unfurled and arrayed on tables, ink fountain and parchment and feather pen at the ready, all of which belongs in a library. However the man is large and muscular with hands rough and scarred, and a full suit of armor is set aside along with an array of weaponry that suggest a purpose altogether quite distant from the scholarly. The dichotomy could not have a more full contrast. Hudol takes the pen in hand all pulls over a piece of parchment, and begins to write.

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Re: Mysterious Day, Magical Knight

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Brother John counts. “Five. Is that all?” He places the last package beside the other four, each neatly wrapped and place in a line on the stone table. Is that all? Isn’t that enough? Indeed, isn’t that far too many? One is too many! Hudol lets the wave of emotions pass through him before responding in order to show the calm exterior he wishes to project.

The packages are children. Dead children. Infants slain in the sewers at the hands of the goblins. His unchosen pastime these last few weeks in carrying dead bodies to their final resting place. The first was the long trip to Baldur’s Gate to escort Knight Morgan Thane. Then there was the search and recovery of Sir Creed. That same day another search and recovery of Fjor, the young warrior apprentice slain on his initiation quest. Then there were three infants from the sewers a few days ago. That was followed carrying Ryld who was cut down by a devil in the Magister’s Estate. And now five more dead children from the sewers.

It is little wonder that anyone wants to be near Hudol, the harbinger of bad news, the pall bearer of fallen adventurers and the dead children not protected. Can there be any other more solitary and solemn job? Still, he does not shrink from it. It is a duty, an honorable service afforded to those in need of one final bit of respect. It is the least he could do for not being there when it mattered most.

“Yes, that is all of them.” He draws a breath and matter-of-factly adds, “…for now.”

Brother John nods, “Thank you for bringing them here. We will see these poor souls laid to rest with dignity.”

Hudol bows his head in respect and turns and begins to exit. The armor clangs echo off the stone walls as he moves down the hall towards the exit, but then suddenly stops and turns back.

“How do you do it?” The words reverberate around the stone chamber of The Road's End with no answer as Brother John looks on with a bit of confusion before Hudol resumes, “How do you do what you do? I would sooner face a dragon without my armor than have to do what you do day and night.”

“Imagine if I did not do it. Imagine if nobody did. Imagine a world when nobody is there for us when night's final curtain falls. How we face death is very much a reflection of how we face life. The two are bound together. My job does not deal with the dead as much as it deals with those still living left behind.”

Hudol lets the word soak in. He is one of those ‘left behind’. “Thank you for your service, sir.” Hudol turns and again resumes his exit march adding a sharp comment over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold into the City of the Dead, “I’ll be back.”
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