Duty and Death


This too shall pass.

Orthael had seen more than enough of the Dead for one lifetime by the time he had left the paladins for the quiet contemplation of a vicarage. It had been a blessing and joy to focus his mind anew on the sacred duties of sermon and visitation.

For a moment, Orthael missed his comfortable chair by the window: the commentaries and note-taking seemed to belong to a different man entirely. Then he was back, for it did not do to question the will of the Flame. If it had been only martial skills that had been needed, there were plenty of others who could have been called.

Then, for a moment, he watched this strange and deadly young woman wield her weapon. She was certainly confident with it, taunting the Lesser creature into an overreaching attack before dancing aside and taking its arms in a vicious scything slash.

But her attack was so hair-raisingly risky, so far from the expected parry-riposte-counterattack doctrine that he very nearly summoned and released a spell to shield her.

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