Penance; Fighting an Uphill Battle (open RP)

Standing at attention to greet a man, whom quite frankly he had thought that the man forgot about him, Arlen gives a faint smile of relief. Adris was always the kind of honest and hardworking type, and it was most certainly an unexpected occurrence, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Dawnfeather appears wary of the boisterous newcomer, but relaxes back into her napping posture when she notices Arlen's expressions.

"Greetings, Mr. Burche... Truly I had not expected to see you. Well... I guess you could call it hiding. Welcome anyway, how are you?"

Arlen nods in understanding; it was good that he fulfilled a dream of his and he was happy for him, and joining an organization such as the Empyreal Guardians did seem like an enticing notion indeed. It's indeed an arduous task to find an adventuring one can accept... Half of the people Arlen worked with, if not more, have displayed questionable morals indeed. Many who would just take on a job and slink away into the shadows when things go wrong, leaving those left behind to take the brunt. Of course, Arlen wouldn't have it any other way in the sense that he would own up to his mistakes.

"I wouldn't be eager to talk ill of others... But I feel the same way as you do. I'm finding less and less friends or allies the more I went out working. My list of friends that I have left? I can count on half my hand..."

Adris' prodding was getting closer and closer to the heart of the matter; the entire lot of reasons why he secluded himself away in the temple, the crushing guilt that weighed upon him and the torment his inner demons relished in. He sighed, breaking eye contact and looking back once more at the lit candles, flaring up in the dozens... The one he noticed with his name on had long since gone out.

"Mr. Burche... Adris... I'm here in penance, trying to seek forgiveness because innocent people have died from a result of my stupid and reckless actions... Poor, innocent men, women and children... It's a surprise that the mobs haven't come to lynch me yet."

The young man understood Adris' close affiliation with the law, and if such a confession warranted his arrest then Arlen would comply without a complaint. Not even worried about an arrest, he was more concerned about the potential look of disgust that could pervade his friend's expression. Turning back to look Adris in the eye, he awaited the lash.

Arlen sighs, relenting. It was a relief to hear from Adris again, to say the least.

"I suppose there will be a day when I take up my sword again, to keep fighting the good fight. Thank you for coming to visit, Sir. Hopefully the crowd doesn't get me before I have the chance to make up for my mistakes."

Now these past 2 days have gotten even more curious, now that another familiar face greeted him. At the very least he was being visited by people that were non-hostile towards him; his guilt shunning him from the majority of social interaction. He pats Adris on the shoulder with stern, but genuine care and goes to greet Crunch; meeting the man's hand with an armor-clad grip of his own, a mutual respect to say the least. The noise of the busy streets beyond the temple courtyard did little to comfort Arlen at this point, despite the warming atmosphere in the hall. Dawnfeather was now soundly asleep, curled up close to the large fire at the opposite end of the hall. Nobody seemed to mind the large, yet beautiful creature and they would often leave scraps of food or look after her, to which the griffin was content. Released his hand from Crunch's grip, Arlen clutched his holy symbol and bowed humbly before the 4-armed man.

"Greetings, Sir... Crunch. Welcome to Lyphion's Temple. How I am is nothing a fabled adventurer like yourself should concern themselves with, but I am keeping myself together. I have been spending most of my time here... In penance."

It seemed that none were to disturb them; the other temple-goers wrapped up in their own prayers, and other visitors shuffling to-and-fro between other rooms for business, or to get advice and healing. For the most part, the temple had been proven to be useful for the citizens of Rook, open and accessible as it is. Arlen had done little to keep himself properly looked after, except for his companion and the various other visitors and staff... Fortunately for him, they were caring enough to help him when he needed, if only for a short while. His red hair had grown considerably longer in recent months, his armor seemed polished and well-maintained. It did little to hide the effects of time and tragedy, as his face and disposition showed a few more years of aging.

"But is there anything I can help you with?"

Visibly stunned by Crunch's words of advice and encouragement, Arlen could do little but listen to the man and not so much as even letting a gasp escape his breath. The paladin began to question himself; why the people he thought would not care have decided to reach out to him; why he wasn't willing to let go of his guilt; what sort of game had he found himself caught up in? Most important of all, why would anyone put faith in him? A lot of what the warrior said to Arlen rang true.

~ If you can't fix the problem, there's no point in feeling guilty. It will otherwise consume you, as it did me several years ago. ~

~ It will otherwise consume you, as it did me several years ago. ~

~ It will otherwise consume you. ~

Arlen's mistake, was to let his anger and his grief get a grip of him, drive him forward in this chase against Kallis'terralia Vor'Ghul. Would things have changed if he felt otherwise? Deep down, his innermost self told him "yes." Even after killing her in whatever fashion befitted her crimes... Would it even bring closure? Solace? Redemption? Satisfaction? None of those things, nothing. This is not the way that things were meant to be, but he faltered on his path, and now those innocent souls will plague his waking hours. He could imagine the last wisps of air escape their breath before they died, and this thought alone made him shudder. He looked towards Crunch, who was determined to lock a gaze with him.

"My reckless actions always seem to endanger those around me, and unfortunately because of what I feel is my fault... Innocent people died. My aggression, my anger... It welled up... And all I had left after the anger disappeared... Was shame. Nothing but self-inflicted guilt and shame. Tell me, Sir. Why do you have such faith in me to be a good man?"

The young paladin questioned himself constantly and always sought forgiveness from those he hurt the most. Marken and Llale were two that sprung to mind, especially with Llale's look of disgust on her face; seeing Arlen for scum that he was. What could you do to right the wrongs of causing a mother the loss of her child? This particular grief hurt him most, for he too had lost a dearly beloved and with no possible chance to change the outcome. All it would take for the man to break, would be for his mother's spirit to reject him. Somewhere, she was watching... Arlen could only hope she doesn't hate him for what he's done. A tear fell down from his cheek. There were so many things, thoughts, omens, aspects of his own consciousness, his inner demons, a lot of things... All of them telling him to give up... And he really wanted to listen to them, but he couldn't... He can't give up. His own fighting spirit, his divine spark and his will to bear the burden had been keeping him going. And now, it seems that others like Adris and Crunch were not ready to let Arlen slip and fall. He catches himself and places a hand on Crunch's shoulder.

"Just who I am... Alright, I trust you."

Just who he is... Perhaps the Warder is right once again. Arlen doubted he could just turn a new, darker leaf and change himself completely... The more he thought about it, the more it sounded ridiculous to him. Concerned that Crunch  might be overexerting himself, Arlen's expression changes to one of worry and concern. Gripping on the man's shoulder, he asks:

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Arlen nods, appreciating Crunch's every word; understanding that other people go through stress and trauma just like him. It's just as hard for men and woman all around the world and the young paladin couldn't put his own troubles as priority over another. He turns back to Dawnfeather, who is comfortably napping and smiles. No other friend has been as loyal as her and from the bottom of his heart, Arlen is thankful for that.

"I wouldn't trade her for anything else... She's is a wonderful companion, and my best friend. You're right Sir, I should keep her close."

Turning back to face Crunch, who seemed in a stupor over his roses; roses of an eerie black, curious and perplexed at the same time.

"So where did those grow? Who is the lucky woman?"

Adris listens intently to the exchange and nods in approval. "You're a wise man, Mr. Crunch. Our friend would do well to heed your words. Shame about your garden; I read in the paper about what happened. I'm not a lawman anymore, and I'm no great fan of the Black Thorn Knights, but I can't abide such affronts to decency. I'd be glad to offer what assistance I can."

He turns to Arlen and extends his hand. "Well, I must be going. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Arlen, although I wish the circumstances were better." He hands Arlen a flyer with an advertisement for his shop. "Feel free to drop by anytime if you want to chat. My door is always open to my friends."

(Some time after Crunch and Adris have left)

Turlaghs Breakdown part 2

Its getting later into the evening when a familiar young, red-headed boy comes into the church. When he approaches, you can certainly tell that he is a little bit drunk. He greets you. "Hello Arlen! Been quite some time then, innit? 'Eard you were up to all sorts of the adventurin high life as of late. Been working hard I see, this place is reaaaaaall nice..." He pauses as he looks around the church.

"Listen I hope I'm not bothering you or anythin am I??? It's just....with this life you don't get to make too many trustworthy friends, and even though we haven't spoken in awhile, you're one of the few people I've met in Rook that I feel like I can trust at all, especially with...something like this"

He begins to shake visibly, clearly holding himself back from breaking down. Looking closely, you can see that his cheeks are stained with tears and his eyes are bloodshot.

He continues shakily before you have a chance to respond "I know this is stupid, and I'm so sorry to be botherin you like this. But I've got to get some stuff off my chest." He takes a long breath before continuing. "You have to understand, Arlen, I ain't like you. I'm not....special. Not like these others I've been fighting alongside. I'm not chosen by no god or goddess, I'm don't come from no noble family, I can't kill a man with some fancy words or bring back the dead with a wave of me hand. I can't move shit by thinkin about it, I can't summon no monsters, and I can't change the fuckin weather.

I thought adventuring was about helping people. I thought moving here would let me live out the tales, maybe earn a knighthood, court a princess, slay a dragon. But every. dam. mission. its always something complicated. There's always some psychopath along who enjoys the work a little too much. And there's so much killing. We kill these 'monsters' left and right, because its what we get paid to do, never once questioning whether or not they really deserve their judgement.

I tell you what, I haven't slept well once since I got here. I keep having terrors, episodes where I think back to facing down one of the many horrors I've seen. I start yelling out sometimes. The drink helps, but it doesn't make it go away. I can still see their grinning faces haunt me when I close my eyes. I'm a farm boy, Arlen and I always will be. But then I ....I .....two nights ago.........I better just show ya."

Turlagh steps back, head lowered. In an instant, he changes. Blue fire seems to engulf him, although no heat comes off of him. Instead, you feel pure psychic energy coming off of him in waves. As he looks up at you, you see his eyes replaced by orbs of the same blue flame, and a shimmering, fiery halo of identical color manifests itself over his head. He looks at you for only a few moments before collapsing.

He begins sobbing, not standing up. You hear him speaking aloud, quietly but distinctly "I'm not special. I'm not a hero. I'm just a farmboy. I'm not a fucking knight. I'm scared, Arlen. I'm so fucking scared, and I don't know what's happening or what to do."

Arlen's mood had been lifted in recent days, what with adventures that happened in recent weeks; including an impressive display in the coliseum and the rescue of the Duke's daughter. The temple had been providing quite the contribution to the city of Rook and it seemed that moods within the streets was improving, albeit slightly. Still, Arlen could smile for the first time in a long while; the homeless were being fed and sheltered, the sick were being healed and the lost were able to find their way... Now... It was about time that the young man found his own way. There was definitely a pull or some sort of calling which was guiding Arlen's steps to a goal that, for lack of any better words, was just not within sight at this moment. He looked up towards the blazing fire at the far end of the hall with a look of awe. In the fires, he could reminisce and see the face of his beloved mother and those who wished him well. The flames were warm and inviting, and set the atmosphere of a comforting place of solace as well as worship.

His fond recollections were broken and he was snapped back to reality when a familiar pint-sized human stumbled into his temple. A smirk escaped his lips as Turlagh made his presence known, unimpeded by his inebriation. His smirk turned to a smile when he sensed no hostility and Turlagh continued to ramble on in amazement at the work Arlen put into this place. Nodding in appreciation, he stands and watches as the young man surveys the room, then once he's done walks up to him, offering a handshake. He was about to say something after Turlagh's greeting, but he continued some more, albeit on shaky words and with a confidence that seemed to be as shaken as his fidgety knees. His entire monologue is a whole mix of depression and melancholy, and it's quite clear to Arlen that Turlagh has been experiencing similar bouts of trauma and helplessness. Therefore he can definitely relate to his turmoil... So rather than trying to cut him off, he thinks it best that Sweeney gets everything off of his chest; literally and metaphorically. For many months Arlen has been questioning if he was a monster himself, but he gave a slight shake of his head with this thought.

He saw a fire in the young man's eyes that he had never seen before. The flames engulfed him and this farmboy began to show his true nature; a fire of passion and determination that has manifested in his time of need... He simply needed to be shown. Arlen was not going to waste any time with small talk, or pleasant introductions, for it was simply not the time n'or was there a need. He gets down on one knee in front of Turlagh, his long red cloak draping across the floor and he rests a hand on the man's shoulder. Arlen doesn't put on any unnecessary weight and his grip is soft and considerate. An intense glare meets his, but is coupled with a faint smile of reassurance; that aid and help is not so far away as the farmboy might think.

"All of this work that you see around you, has come into fruition because of the dreams of a young and reckless little boy who worked as a smith's apprentice. He was so small and insignificant to the world; a little speck, barely a grain of dust. But despite being so small, he had big dreams."

His spare hand gestures all around him, to the warmth of the fire, to the bustle of the visitors and those in quiet prayer.

"Please don't be afraid, Turlagh Sweeney. You have been gifted with your strength, not just in body, but in raw emotion. It's your compassion for your fellow person that makes you ask yourself these questions, much like I have asked myself the same questions... For months... And months. Turlagh, my friend, help is never far away and you can always rely on me to give you any assistance as well as any guidance that I can. Let me tell you a few things..."

Arlen takes a seat on the stone floor of this large hall besides Turlagh. With a long, deep sigh, he continues; intent on helping by imparting some of his experience and knowledge unto him. The demons never seem to let go of those that they can't simply destroy by fire, claw, maw or curse. Turlagh had his own strength that would help see him through his troubles.

"It's much harder for a good person to do good, than a bad person to do bad. People like us are hindered by our moral code and the way we treat our fellow people... But in that same regard, we are blessed with this moral code; for it gives us the motivation and strength to carry on fighting. Their safety and joy, preserving it with a protect-and-serve attitude, brings us joy and comfort in return. Regrettably, none of us are perfect; mistakes are made and more often than not, innocent people get hurt. But Turlagh... You are here because you feel guilty, lost, upset, bewildered because you believe that everything is out of your control... And no matter what decision or action you try to commit to, there always seems to be something... A demon, a wicked grin in the darkness, laughing at you and torturing you for every failure. DO NOT be affected by this, because you are a special person; an ordinary man who has become extraordinary. Even with your growth, you still show compassion and you seek forgiveness, never putting yourself on a higher pedestal than even a pauper or beggar. If you are truly mournful, then that is more than most can do. Remember the past and let it be motivation for you, so you aim to do greater good than before... But do not let it consume you like a disease; for the people that will need you in the future need you at your best. I do not forget the faces of all the innocent people that have died because of mistakes I've made... In fact, now I allow them to live through me; I remember them, I remember their faces and I remember the silent prayers I make to each of them; asking for forgiveness and the strength to bear my burdens."

He takes out his holy symbol and clutches it tightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"If we promise to those who have fallen, that we will strive to be better and live more good lives in their stead, then we are honoring them. The gift isn't necessarily the new powers you have obtained, it might be something as simple as a second chance; to reconsider how you have been living your life and how you can change it. We cannot let our inner monsters win the fight and consume us, or we will lose sight of ourselves and who we are truly meant to be; instead impeded and twisted out of shape by our guilt, regret and the mockery for our failures. Turlagh Sweeney, you are a man that has the strength and the chance to bear your burdens with a new purpose... As a changed man from this point on, should you choose to make the change."


Arlen draws his sword from the sheath and with a few mutterings and chanting of prayer, the sword lights up with flame; a silvery-gray flame that is comforting to the touch and sheds a beautiful light in the hall. He looks at his blade with fondness and grazes the flat of the blade with his hand, and the flames do not burn his skin.

"I have come to accept and bear the burden of my guilt, my shame and my helplessness... For all of those that have died, even those who have murdered and sinned... Perhaps they will one day, in a life or another, see the light and make the change. I fight monsters, undead, demons, devils and any incarnation of evil or a threat to the good and innocent people of our world... And I do this to see the sanctity of their joy preserved. I donate my gold and time to buildings such as this, so I can give to those without the need of drawing my sword in conflict. The great Lady In Red, Lyphion... She came to me when I was at lowest; when I was deep in despair over the passing of those I truly loved, whom I felt that I had disappointed. She gave me comfort, she gave me power and most importantly of all, she gave me the choice... MY choice... The same choice that i'm helping YOU see that YOU have."

He turns to Turlagh and hands him the sword, for him to get a feel of it and to see that the flames do not burn his skin. He smiles and rests a hand on his shoulder. For a man of Arlen's age, he has certainly grown in maturity and that smile of his reflects the years of pain and torture he has endured and carried with him all this time.

"When all the odds are stacked against us and the demons laugh in our face, the only things left is our strength, courage... And Hope."

Arlen sits there with Turlagh for as long as he needs.

"I believe Lyphion has much that she can teach you..."

With that, his gaze lifts upwards as he spots yet another familiar face in the doorway of his temple. Recognizing Zakryk, he offers a friendly wave and smile; now seeing that his darker days are behind him, finding new motivation to carry on and perform good will.

Zakryk looks to Turlagh. "A little better than I was, as of late. I had my first mission in a while, and it went better than I expected."
He then turns to Arlen. "I heard what you said to him, and I likely needed to hear it as well.  Also, sorry for not keeping in touch...I just came to see how you you were doing."

"Aye, that'd be perfect. Really I can't thank ya enough Arlen. And one o these days you'll have ta let me take ya out to the practice yards fer some sparring." Turlagh responds with a twinkle in his eye.

"You've been far too kind ta me Arlen. And one o these days you'll have ta tell me how ya landed a beast-friend like thaa"

He motions to Dawnfeather, and then pauses for a moment.

"Ya know....I will say. Those so called heroes o Rook. They've got power a'plenty. Saw 'em for the first time me'self on that day those riots nearly put all us adventurers out o bidness. That Rainen fellow especially. Summoned some sort'a angel, locked some of us in some sort of unbreakable invisible cage, and then changed the weather while hardly liftin a finger. I know they're popular with the cityfolk round'ere, but they seem a little too...I dunno. Too emotionless I guess. Like if they thought it twas worth it they'd wipe out a whole city without really battin an eye. Now maybe I need ta get off me high horse but that sort a power, without havin anyone ta answer to. It's real unsettlin, ya know? But I like tha idea of a few adventurers banding together. I know there's a few 'organizations' of all sort but I aint talking about that."

He pauses again, staring intently off into nothingness.

"I'm talking about a roundtable. Or a knight brotherhood. Like the tales. None of those psycho-types. Just a few men and women trying to do the good thats hard ta do, not trying to get wealthy or powerful, but using their gifts ta help everyone from the beggar-folk to the nobleborns. "

He stops and shakes his head.

"AAyee, now I know the drinks gotten ta me. But who knows, eh? Maybe someday."

He chuckles to himself quietly . "Ser Turlagh....ha"