Walk In Light, Always...

[*DocMartin]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Four Years Ago...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur looked up from his meal of bread and water as the Knight-Sergeant approached, suppressing the urge to grimace at his superior officer stalked towards him. "Bannerite, the Old Man wants to see you." Came his usual gruff tone, his hawk-like gaze scanning over Arthur with barely contained disdain.

The Old Man. If there was ever was a surer way to kill one's appetite, it was a summons from the Grandmaster of the Companions of the Noble Heart. It wasn't that The Old Man was a cruel or capricious man, but a summons from him typically meant serious disciplinary action or worse. Arthur quietly mused over his last few assignments, trying to figure out whether or not he had broken any one of his many vows or orders. Nothing came to mind, so he silently pushed his plate away, rising and saluting to the Knight-Sergeant before leaving the Mess Hall and beginning what felt like the longest walk he would ever take.

As he neared the Grandmaster's chambers, Arthur spied a man seemingly waiting outside. Although his back was to the Bannerite, the nigh-perfect posture, closely shaved head, and shear aura of confidence told him all he needed to know.

"Inquisitor Garik. What a pleasant surprise." Arthur greeted as he approached, waiting for the man to turn around before extending his hand.

"Arthur, good to see you." The Inquisitor replied with a smile, clasping the man's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. "Father is currently with someone at the moment. Very hush hush... Apparently important enough to keep his own son waiting." He added with a small chuckle.

Arthur nodded, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Any idea why he wanted to see me?" He asked quietly, all the while pondering how it came to be that the Old Man's youngest son came to be a Tempurian Inquisitor rather than a Companion like his father.

Alister Garik shrugged, folding his heavily muscled arms over his chest. "I couldn't tell you, unfortunately. You know my Father's always been fond of secrets."

The latch on the door gave an audible click before it was pulled open, a Squire poking his head out into the hallway and gesturing to Arthur. "The Grandmaster will see you now." He stated rather matter-of-factly for Arthur's liking, which caused Alister to scoff.

"You're joking. I have to wait even longer to see my own father?" He all but growled, turning to face the young lad. "I was here first, you know."

"I'm sorry." Replied the decidedly unapologetic squire. "The Grandmaster requested that Bannerite Prescott be admitted first."

Alister let out a disgusted sigh, folding his arms over his chest again and turning away from the squire. "Have fun in there." He muttered mirthlessly to Arthur.

Arthur nodded, his stomach twisting itself into a knot as he stepped past the squire and into the well appointed office.

What was most striking about "The Old Man" at first glance was that he didn't look old at all. Indeed, The hair atop his head pulled back into a tight braid was shockingly white, but his face had not suffered the ravages of advanced age. He looked not a day older than twenty-six, Arthur decided. Funnily enough, Alister looked older than his own father. "You wanted to see me, Grandmaster?" Arthur greeted, paying little attention to the woman seated opposite the Old Man. She was about his age, somewhat compelling in terms of physical attractiveness, but nothing to write home about. She wore the War-Armour of a Companion, her cloak identifying her as a Knight-Errant. As was usual, the Grandmaster's office reeked of stale tobacco smoke, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingertips.

"Yes of course, Arthur. Please have a seat." The Old Man replied in that dangerously soft voice of his. Indeed, in all his time as a Companion, Arthur had never once heard the man raise his voice, but it still commanded swift obedience from all who heard it. Arthur did as he was bidden, lowering himself into the chair next to the woman and sending a glance her way. She gave him a rather curt nod, remaining silent before turning her attention back to The Old Man.

"I am going to keep this brief." He continued, bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a drag. As he spoke again, smoke billowed out from between his lips, and Arthur had to resist the compulsion to wave it away. "Sister Jameson has just been transferred here from Suzail, and I have assigned her to be your new partner."

Arthur frowned at the statement, turning to look at the woman. She either did not notice or pretended not to, her gaze remaining on the Grandmaster. "With all due respect Grandmaster..." Arthur began, turning back to the Old Man. "I do not feel that I am up to the task of training an Errant in our ways. Perhaps a more senior membe-"

"Although I respect your feelings on the matter, Arthur-" The Old Man interrupted, finishing off the last of his cigarette and crushing it in the overflowing ashtray on the desk before immediately reaching for another. "I'm afraid that this particular assignment is not negotiable. Sister Jameson is a fine Companion, and I am sure there is a great deal you can learn from one another."

"But sir-" Arthur protested, before being silenced by a sharp wave of the Grandmaster's hand.

"That will be all, Arthur. You can start by showing Sister Jameson to her quarters, and then you will report to the Chapterhouse to turn in your report on the possible Necromantic activity you discovered in Arcata." He lit the cigarette with a lighter, taking another drag before waving them both off. "Dismissed."

Arthur rose from his chair, saluting the Old Man before turning to Jameson and gesturing for her to follow him. "You'll be in the officer's quarters above the bunkhou-....."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present Day...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur awoke with a start, his hand slapping to the shaft of his scythe as his eyes adjusted to the bleakness of the gray wastes. The unmistakable scratch of feet against the hard-packed dirt assaulted his senses in the dreary place, which had been devoid of all other sound. As silently as he was able, Arthur slipped into a crouched position, before letting out a small snort and then pretending to snore.

The stench hit him before anything else, the unmistakable smell of rot and corruption. In the misty vales of the Grey Waste, he could hardly see his hand in front of his face, but he had been possessed of a second sight since he was a boy. Shutting his eyes tightly, Arthur cast his other senses aside, continuing his charade of snoring as he summoned up the blessed sight from deep within. Almost immediately, his "gaze" lit up with a blinding red radiance that quickly subsided and began drawing in on various points in his "vision." He silently counted the number of foci, concluding that no fewer than six creatures were bearing down upon him.

But none of them were the Lich he hunted. Arthur nearly swore under his breath, but minding his training, he quietly slipped forward, until the first of the creatures was almost upon him. Then, rising out of the mists, he swung his scythe upwards, catching the ghast unaware and cleanly slicing it in twain. Uttering a soft prayer of thanks to the Broken Lord for awakening him, he turned to face the rest of his opponents, their broken and hunched forms stumbling forth from the fog.

"And my Lord stood amongst His flock..." Arthur began, shrugging off the weight of his pack as the remaining ghasts and shambling dead began to circle him. "The suffering of his lost sheep a cacophony in his ears. A blade in his heart. 'My children!' he called out. 'Why do you cry out so?' "

The undead paused in their movement, as if entranced by the words of the Paladin. Undaunted, Arthur continued his litany. "'We cry out for the agonies levied upon us by the cruel, by the strong upon the weak!' They wailed in response. My Lord was moved to tears by the plight of his followers. For he understood that although he decreed that cruelty could be combated with mercy, there were many evils that must be met on the field. 'I have failed you, my children!' He shouted, gathering to him his lost sheep and letting them bask in his light. 'No longer! A shepherd must do more than simply tend to the ills of his flock. A Shepherd must also-'"

The circle of undead around him began to press inwards, but his visage remained expressionless as the creatures approached. " -'Fight off the wolves.... So look to me, my children. When you are hurt. When you suffer. When you stride into the night to face evil in their black lairs. Look to me, and weep no more.' "

[*DocMartin]

With each passing day, it becomes easier and easier to control the new boon that my lord has bestowed upon me. Although it is difficult to call upon my guardian at will, it has not abandoned me when I need it most. The archon whom has been assigned to watch over me has subsumed my shadow, replacing it entirely. It has taken some time to get used to seeing it every time I cross a brightly lit street, but at least I do not garner strange looks from other cagers. Apparently, I am far from the strangest thing these folk have seen.

Most disturbing (to me at least) is that when my guardian comes to my defense, it covers my entire body with a shadowy brilliance. I realize that makes little sense, but I have no other means of describing it.

My "cousin" has been very helpful in understanding my abilities, and has been kind enough to provide me with the equipment I require for my training at a discount. He has also agreed to ask his wife to train me in mastering my new talents. Although I am unsure as to how much she can teach me, as her abilities apparently stem from a different source, but any help would be welcome. Gods... I feel like a 5quire again, trying to learn how to properly channel my Lords will to smite.

[*DocMartin]

You... are... my... sunshine... My only sunshine...

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. There's nothing I can do for him.

My only sunshine....

"Don't you dare... Don't you say that! Bring him back! I SAID BRING HIM BACK!

You make me happy...

"You're going to be ok, Shiloh.... Just talk to me... Look at daddy.... Just talk to me, please...

When skies are grey...

"Arthur you have to let this go. It's killing you."

"I don't care. I'll kill her, I swear to every black god that I will see her burn. Get out of my way, Old Man."

You'll never know, dear....

"You can't save him if you rush in like a fool. She's ancient, powerful. She has both of their souls in her possession, and she'll use that fact to her advantage... Arthur? Arthur are you listening to me?"

How much I love you....

"You wanted this, didn't you? I broke my oath to Ilmater. I was hers and she was mine and we made something wonderful. You wanted them to die. You wanted to keep me faithful. A good little soldier."

"Arthur, you don't know what you're saying. And I'm sorry to do this, I am. Send in Ubart."

"No.... No you get away from me, you gods be damned mindfreak! Stay out of my head! Don't take him from me! DON'T TAKE HIM FROM ME!"

Please don't take...

"Hold him down! Take his damned scythe from him! Arthur listen to me! It's the only way for you to save them both. You need to forget. Arthur! YOU NEED TO FORG-"

My sunshine....

Arthur awoke with a start, quite nearly rolling out of his bed in his surprise. He had just had the most vivid dream.... It was... What... What was it? He furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to recall the dream that was rapidly spiraling away from him into the deepest recesses of his mind.

The Paladin frowned, rubbing his sleep filled eyes. Moisture. Tears... He drew his fingers away from his face, observing the teardrops glistening on his fingertips with a look of confusion. It was only then did he realize just how sick at heart he felt.... But why?

Away....