Percey, the path of a Paladin

Her words echoed in his head. They felt like a spirit trying to reach out to his heart, but his mind struggled to grasp it. Percey turned in his bed, but couldn't find the comfort he was looking for, nor in his heart. He sighed in defeat and crawled out of his bed, grabbing his clothes and a rusted blade.
At a safe distance from the snoring soldiers in the barracks at Tyr's Hand, he put on his clothes and walked towards the smithie. He rekindled its fading coals and lit a torch.

Percey checked the blade in his hands. It didn't look worth the effort of salvaging it. The leather straps on the handle turned dark green from rot. Rust covered the blade entirely, barring a few carvings. But he was her squire... this would be his duty whether he'd see the sense of it or not.

He let his mind go over scenarios to clean the blade. Burning off rust in the furnace would be easy but it could make the blade brittle. Reforging it entirely seemed a lot of work for the poor metal.
"Well paps, what would you do?", sighed. He imagined the reply of his father: "Well son, first you must feel the spirit of the metal you hold in your hand."
Percey replied by swinging the blade in the air a few times. It felt surprisingly good in his hand: well balanced and not too heavy but solid. Percey held the blade closer to the torchlight and examined it with new wonder. His heart told him there was a lesson to be learned from this, related to her teachings. But it still eluded him.

"I may not understand it... But I know what to do", he said.
Percey walked to the grindstone machine and poured some water over it from the cooling basin, then brought it to speed with the crank handle. When he pressed the blade against it, sparks flew out like fireflies glowing in the night. This blade would shine again.

- "Well, son.. speak to it."
Percey looked at his father while his boyish hands held the shiny, new made blade.
"Speak to the blade?"
- "Yes. Tell it how it came to be, or what purpose it shall serve. Teach it its meaning so it may give all its strength for that purpose."
"But paps.. Isn't this just metal?"
- "Are you not just flesh and bones? Yet you mean more to me and to yourself, son. Things are more than just their material in this world. One can only craft a blade from metal that wants to become one. What do you hope to become, son?"
"A strong paladin like those brave men and women we see in the army, paps."
- "Then so it shall be. Don't you feel resolve now that you have a purpose? It is not different with this blade. The metal must be given a purpose for its strength to show. Now speak to it."
"May it teach me to become a great paladin." Percey said.

**

The blacksmith shook Percey awake from his slumber. The six year old memory still lingered in his mind as he greeted the dwarf.
"Sorry for using your gear unasked. I couldn't sleep."
- "That's a'right laddie. Yer blade?"
The Dwarf picked up the blade and inspected the work, nodding approvingly.
- "Fine craft, laddie. There be heart in this."
"It was rusted. Lady Amaryl asked me to make it shine."
- "Good lad but et needs ae finish."
"Might I borrow a vile for some decorations, Sir?"
The Dwarf nodded and handed him the blade. A moment later he also handed over a thin vile from his workset.

Percey walked a few paces away and swung the blade in the air, letting it glimmer in the morning sun, muttering words he spoke to the blade.
"I do not know how you came to be. But I know why you came to me."
He gave it another swing and then held it up, letting his left hand slide over the smooth surface.
"By her command, by her voice.
What had rust, now shines bright.
By her words and by her choice.
An old sword reveals its might."
He sat down on the ground, still moist from the dew, and started adding ornated letters in the fuller of the blade.

Percey's newly polished blade swept through the air. Radiently, it shone in the sun and revealed its deadly purpose.

"By the Light!", he shouted and he jumped forward with a thrust.
"For the innocent!", he turned his wrist and added a weak swing to the blade.
He spun around his feet and let the blade seer through the air around him. The blade seemed to sing a deadly but glorious song.
"Another falls!", Percey charged forward and swung the blade downwards for a killing stroke.
'No time to savour victory', he thought. 'Too many challenges stand between me and a well deserved rest. Too many innocent people rely on me still!'
With renewed vigor he jumped to his side, holding the blade in a blocking position and followed with another swing to it. Suddenly he lifted the blade to block a high attack. He quickly retalliated with a low jab.
"A Paladin of the Light is like a shield!" he shouted.
Turning the sword above his head, he went for another killing stroke.

- "What did tae air ever do tae -ye-, laddie?" the blacksmith asked with his arms crossed, only a few steps behind Percey.
Percey turned around and sheated his sword, placing his fists in his hips in a triumphant pose over his fallen, imaginary foes.
"Lady Amaryl said she would give me sword practice. I best train to make a good impression."
The Dwarf nodded.
- "Ye do make -ae- impression..."

Like a disgruntled troll, huddled over with a bent back, Percey slumped down the hill. The shadows of Tyr's Hand Cathedral creeped like shadows of a bloody red land, lit up by the setting sun. He needed to lift his spirit and get rid of brooding thoughts.
"What is up with -her-.." he grumbled.

The Dwarven smith saw Percey's face, that predicted certain doom to anything in its path, head straight for his furnace.
- "Oi..." he sighed and he quickly started cleaning up some of tools, hiding them.
- "Ahh, laddie.. I just stowed all me tools." he exclaimed and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Percey's thoughts were too consumed by conflict to notice the fresh coals in the furnace and glowing metal bars beside it betray the Dwarf's lie.

"That's alright, Durgin." and Percey walked straight to the Dwarf's toolbox and started rumaging it in search for a hammer. The Dwarf quickly took position behind him, worried about his precious blacksmithing tools.
Percey grabbed a hammer and held it up, the Dwarf quickly took hold of it and yanked it out of his hand with a kind thank you.
Percey continued to rumage the box for another tool.
Out came the pincers: "thank ye, laddie. Needs oil tae avoid rust."
And the vile: "ahh, cleaning this."
A fine hammer: "Oi, did ae put this here?"

Percey grumbled at the near empty box and moved on to a bench. The Dwarf quickly put the gear back and stood before it, feet firmly planted in the ground, ready to defend the box with all his might. He shook his head in disappointment at Percey thinking "Oi.. Human diplomacy be far away in this one."

"I don't get it, Durgin. I don't get her at all."
- "Ahh, -she- again, laddie?"
"Well yeah! Who else!? Damnit. She hit me on the head." Percey removed his helm and rubbed the side of his head. Some blood had run through his hair and made a big mess of it.
"And then she slammed me on the ground. And you know what?! Then she says swinging my blade in the air is dangerous!"
The Dwarf sighed and shook his head. Percey mistakingly interpreted it as a sign of sympathy. - "What did ae do tae deserve this", the Dwarf thought.
"You know, sometimes I think you're the only one who makes sense around here. The only one who understands me." Percey continued.
- "Oi.. Why me?", the Dwarf thought as he stared at Percey with a pained look.
"First she messes with me.. slamming me in the ground and all. And then she says I did good?! In what? Falling!?" Percey kicked his boot in the dirt. And then he recounted how the training went, to an unfortunate amount of detail.
The Dwarf reluctantly endured the story, unwilling to part from the defensive stance over the toolbox.

At the end of his story Percey sighed deeply and released his sword belt, and looked closely at the scabbard.
"And worst of all.." his voice began to tremble,
"She didn't like the scabbard. It was in her honor.. And then she's angry that I made it so. She ain't a saint she says. I just.. wanted to be nice."
He looked at the letters in the setting sun:
"By Amaryl's will". He unsheathed the sword and completed the text with the inscription on the sword: "Radience revealed".
Angrily he sheathed the sword and threw it on the dirt ground. Even a blind man could have read the frustration and hurt emotions on his face.

The Dwarf looked down at his feet. This seemed like the right moment to risk something. "Laddie…", he moved to pick up the blade and held it out to Percey, "Tae lass didn't mean bad… Did ye ask to use her name?" Percey shook his head. "Ahh, ye should, laddie. Naew… I'm sure she'll want ye te train with tae blade. Better.. sleep.. be strong tomorrow. Eh?"
Percey nodded reluctantly and took the blade. Together they walked back to the barracks. Percey looked up at the first stars as they walked.
"Did I tell you, Durgin? I think she's quite pretty too."
The Dwarf slapped his forehead so hard that a few birds on a nearby tree screeched and fled in panic.
"Oi, laddie…"

Percey bumped with his helmet in the bird's nest. Yet again, the gryphon sitting on the nest croached at him in discontent. He grumbled and continued cleaning out the nest, in his working clothes and his helmet as ordered by Amaryl. "Some training", he muttered as he shoveled another pile of hay and bird droppings.

- "Mr..Glimmberblade? Percey Glimmerblade?", a man called.
"Yes, Sir." Percey veered up from his shoveling. "How may a fighter of the Light be of service to you, Sir?". He nearly added a bow but sticked to an overly curteous nod. The man raised an eyebrow.
- "Message." he replied and he held out a neatly sealed letter.

Percey dropped the shovel with a clang in a hurry. The gryphon croached and picked at his helmet but Percey didn't care. Readjusting his helmet with one hand, he eagerly accepted the letter with his other. The messenger left him in peace.

The seal looked expensive and classy, unlike anything he was used to. Carefully loosening the wax seal he read the letter muttering the keywords. "Lakeshire.. Move.. by horse... Room.. inn.. "
"Join Patrols for safety.." he snorted and continued, "inspect my training? Oh man! Finally. Time for some action."

Overjoyed he folded the letter and carefully tucked it in a pocket of his work tunic. He huddled over to the blacksmith to give him the good news.

--

Durgin sat on his chair, looking out of his smithie and enjoying a skin of sweet malt beer. It was a quiet day... or so he thought untill he saw Percey run towards him in his over energetic manner.
- "Oi."
He looked around his smothie and cursed his lazyness. He hadn't stowed away his gear from the morning's work. Measuring the distance Percey still had to cross he had to resolved to a different strategy. Quickly he splashed some of the beer over his arms and head. He jumped up and ran quickly out of his smithie, towards Percey.
- "No time.. Hard werk todey laddie. Sweatin' like a pig I tell ye laddie. Let me be, lad."
Percey didn't look swayed by the excuse.
"She wants me to move to Lakeshire!" Percey placed his fists in his hips and struck a proud pose.
The Dwarf instantly cleared up.
- "Ahh, laddie.. That be great news. Is ye horse redy? Is it fit? We wouldn't want ye be forced to come back ey?"
"Quite so, Durgin. Thanks."
- "Best not keep a woman waiting ey? Light's speed."
"Right... Oh right!" Percey woke up from his talkative mood and turned to face the barracks when he sniffed loudly.
"Does... something smell of ale here?"
- "Dwarven sweat boy. Ye drink thae much, e comes out when ye work 'ard, ey?"
"Dwarven men sweat smells like Ale?"
- "Aye and women smell o whiskey. Thae be why we love 'em so much. Off you go laddie."

Great.. It's going to be one of those nights. Percey grumbled in thoughts as he looked at Amaryl. Nothing seemed to please that woman. She didn't like the book he was reading. She even didn't seem happy when he proved enthusiastic to be taught about the Light, thinking he wasn't being genuine. She didn't seem happy with the answers he gave to her questions. She didn't seem happy with the conclusions he drew from her teachings. His answer that "Like Uther, Paladins used the Light to bash orc skulls" had downright upset her. Or was it the manner in which he had spoken?

He sighed in frustration.
"It's never simple, it seems" and quietly added "with you".
- "It's never simple." she replied annoyed.
Well gee.

They turned to face the water, as they sat by the dock of Lakeshire.
- "Can you swim?"
"Well yes... My father and I..". Percey pauzed for a brief moment and remember the good times with his father as they raced accross the rivers or lakes. He began talking about them, not paying attention to Amaryl getting up and taking position behind him.

Suddenly all support disappeared from under him. Despite a quick reflex to slam a hand on the dock, his gauntlet slided on the slippery surface and Percey plumetted in the water. His well crafted armor dragged him down to the bottom like lead. The shield on his back and sword on his belt seemed to turn against him as it hindred his every movement. The water was icy cold from the mountain ice melting water and it stabbed at his skin like sharp stiletto's. His lungs started burning, yearning for air. Desperately, he waved his leaden arms around for something to save him.

In panic he scrambled to higher ground. The plated boots sank deep in the mud at the bottom of the lake, hindring his progress. The surface reached his hair but the remaining inches looked immensely difficult to cross. His mind grew terribly afraid. All that he could think of was air. Pushing himself up again, he reached the surface for a desperate breath of air and managed another step closer to the riverbank.

Spluttering and coughing, he crawled out of the river, till he dropped on solid ground. All he could see was the green grass and the boots of Amaryl standing patiently before him. His lungs burned with the fresh air and he coughed again. What the fel is wrong with her!?. His weakness from the struggle suppressed his urge to shout at her.

- "Stand up!" she ordered.
She can't be serious.
- "Stand up! Attention!" she ordered again.
With trembling hands and knees, Percey got up. His entire body started shivering in the cold breeze. The metal of his armor turn into ice as the night breeze greeted it. His muscles started to cramp. He saluted, weakly.
- "Stay here."
He remained standing, feeling his strength dissappate in thin air with every passing second. He'd need a warm fire in the inn.

She returned... armed. "Defend!" she shouted and she assumed a battle position.
This.. can't.. be. But no thought seemed to stay Amaryl from this madness. Unsurely, Percey reached for his dripping shield and blade. She didn't give him time to climb higher up the bank and slammed him back into the water.

He fell, waving his gear in panic as the watery nightmare seemed to start over again. He managed to find new footing in the muddy bottom of the water but his legs cramped up. He could feel the icy cold creep up to his chest.
But his effort was in vain. Despite some weak attempts to deflect her attacks, she kept pushing him back in the river. Time and time again, his reactions grew slower. The water slowed both fall and recovery as the cold began to overtake him.
In another failed attempt to retalliate she slammed her pummel on his head. He wavered on his legs and blood flowed down over his face and right eye. His mind started to fade. A weak plead to stop only provoked another attacker. She wouldn't quit. He started to fear for his life. He tossed away his sword, hoping it would be clear. Amaryl made ready for another attack.

In desperation he resolved to anger. He tried to muster all he had left, all his frustration, his anger over her bullying, this unfairness. She slammed her shield against his. He hooked his free arm around her shield and tried to use all the strength he had left, all his anger and frustration in one pull against her balance. But as his muscles tensed in his desperate attempt, a glow of light emerged from her and with a clap in the air like a distant thunder he felt a shock run through his entire body.
Limp like a ragdoll, he was thrown back.

The water welcomed him with its menacing cold and darkness, cutting him from his air again. Lying on his back, he was pinned to the ground by the weight of his armor. The surface was only inches away but the strength to move had left him. All he could muster was a weak wave with his left arm.

Amaryl placed a foot on his chest, almost tenderly. The beating of his arm on her leg could barely be felt through the armor. Then the beating stopped.

The darkness started to clear up again, yet it remained night. Percey realized he was vomited the water from his lungs, lying on the ground. His mind remained in shock. His body felt distant. The night's cold air filled his lungs and pained him. He could feel his mind come back slowly but he stopped caring.
She tossed his blade before his nose. He could see the inscription gleam in the moonlight. His mind reminded him the words were 'Radience Revealed' but he ceased to care. There wasn't anything radient about this.

Then felt her warm breath flow by his ear. It almost felt like it would burn his skin. Instead, her words burned themselves in his mind.
- "This is not even a tenth of the agony you'll suffer when fighting orcs in battle."
She pauzed.
- "And clean your armor tomorrow."
She left him at the mercy of the cold night. When she was gone, a few villagers approached and heaved him inside one of their hovels.

(Wait...you're Percey?! Lovely story btw...my mind is blown though...)

Mandui wrote:(Wait...you're Percey?! Lovely story btw...my mind is blown though...)

Well yes... I hope I didn't... uh.. do something weird OOCly or something?

Percey was awoken from his dark slumber by a soft dripping on his head. Opening his eyes, he saw an elderly woman tend his brow with a moist cloth. Her eyes widened as she noticed he stirred.
- "Sir? Sir Knight? My Lord? Can you hear me?"
"I'm.. not a knight.. yet." he grunted. "Squire, Percey". She helped him raise his head.
- "Sorry Percey, Sir. You are safe. We are tending the burning of your head."
"Thank you, kind lady. Your tending is most kind. May the Light bless your house and family."
She bowed to him in gratitude and clenched her hands together, staring as if he were a prince. A younger girl took position at the lady's side and stared at him with wide eyes and a girly smile.
His fluent, gallant words had rolled over his tongue as fluent as ever. Percey sighed. His hair in a tail, the words, the gestures... They were all part of an image he tried to uphold of a future paladin. It had all lost its meaning.
"Did you.. find a blade? One that says 'Radience Revealed'?"
The woman fumbled the cloth in her hands.
- "I'm sorry kind Sir, we... can not read. A blade was beside you with some writings. Is that what is says? We have it here. Rust showed its first stains. Shall I ask one of the boys to clean it, Sir? We'd be honored."
"No.. Destroy the scabbard. Let the blade rust."
Percey turned and let the dark slumber engulf him again.

( you make Amy look like a meanie xD, I like the story so far )

((Because she is a meanie!! ))

Mandui wrote:(Wait...you're Percey?! Lovely story btw...my mind is blown though...)

((I was surprised to, lovely read non-the-less)

Percey woke up with a massive headache. He felt the bruise on his head with a moan. Two days later, the bruise still painfully thumped his skull.
Good morning he sighed. In thoughts he thanked Amaryl for the lovely headache. Taking a deep breath, he could feel his lungs flare up and force him to cough. In thoughts, he thanked Amaryl for blessing his lungs. Clearly he was becoming a strong Paladin now, he added.
In fact, he thought, Thank you for blessing me with your foot on my chest. I just happened to be under water at the time. But there is no doubt about it. It was most kind. I just took it the wrong way... like.. I drowned. What a poor way of me to show my gratitude.
He smirked at his sarcastic thoughts and then sighed. No jokes filled the void he was feeling in his chest and he longed to figure out what was bothering him so much about this situation.
Other than the fact she nearly killed me...

Percey braved the common room of the house in his regular clothes. The mother of the family greeted him kindly and with a bow. He returned the favor.
"I never thanked you for bringing my regular clothing and gear here, my lady. Thank you. It was most considerate and thoughtfull of you."
The lady turned a little red from embarassment. Percey looked stupefied at her reaction.
- "Oh my.. my lord. Someone .. else.. brought it. But thank you. I shall pass the kind thanks."
He nodded curtly in thanks. Someone else? Not.. -her-.. I hope.. He wasn't too happy with his suspect.
"Thank you for the care and meals. I shall repay you for your kindness.."
- "That.. too has.. been taken care off, my Lord."
Bah! Now -she- will deny me this as well?
The woman stared at him with an appologetic smile that made clear she wasn't going to reveal who, but he guessed it. He resolved to another matter.
"I'm not a Lord, my lady. I'm a blacksmith's son, hoping to become a Paladin some day."

And then there was an uncomfortable silence. The woman solved it by offering him breakfast. Her son was the first to enter the room and he ran straight to Percey, almost jumping on him. Percey heaved him on his lap.
- "Will you train me to handle swords today good Sir? Will you? Please? Pretty please? I'll be nice! I'll work hard to become a great Paladin, just like you Sir. I will. I'll be the best you have ever seen."
Percey looked pained at the boy and could feel that spot in his chest gnaw at him.
"How old are you, young man?".

The boy looked at his fingers and held them all up. Percey raised an eyebrow and gave him a sceptical look. Reluctantly the boy folded his right thumb. Percey shook his head. Finally the boy resolved to to seven fingers.
- "Will you teach me to defend this town and kill the Orcs, Sir?"
Percey felt that pain in his chest hinder his breathing.
"How about we make wooden swords and I'll show you a few moves?" The boy cheered loudly and settled for sitting on Percey's left leg, unasked. Percey glanced hesitantly at the mother. Her worries were more apparent than the forced smile in gratitude.
"But..", Percey added, "only if you promise you'll never fight Orcs untill you have at least twice that age... and you'll do your daily chores first."
- "Promised" said the boy and shrugged, not heeding the words any further.
Percey grabbed the table with his right hand. The void in his chest was beginning to creep over his heart.

The daughtered entered the room and turned scarlet red in her face as she noticed Percey. Franctically she adjusted her hair and clothes. Then she took a seat so far away from Percey she hadn't much but a small corner of the table to herself. She ignored him completely: she obviously followed his every move.

Percey ate his breakfast in silence. When the kids were sent away to their chores he turned to the mother.
"Pardon my lady, but .. what happened to their father? Is he out on travel? Selling the harvest?"
- "Seamus died." She pauzed, pained. "He was foolishly defending the porch of this very house against those filthy orcs" she said. She lifted her chin bravely, contradicting her watery eyes and started cleaning the table.
Percey breathed out an appology and a thanks for the breakfast. He left the house, in a hurry.

Percey felt words and thoughts beat in his chest till it choked his heart. His thoughts... her words... The words from last night. He had fired many accusations and bad words at her. She fired back words as if he had to be grateful for what she did. He didn't like that one bit. Still they echoed in his head:
- "You're no good to anyone dead, Percey."
- "You need to realize there is nothing great about battle and death."
- "You need to experience what it's like to be left without chance and still confront a ruthless enemy that won't stop."
- "You and your ego. This is not about pride and glory. There is nothing glorious about death."
But it wasn't my damn ego! he protested in thought. I felt... betrayed..
He sighed deeply. It didn't comfort him.

In defeat he offered his service to the stablemaster. Perhaps the hospitable family would think different of him when they saw him shovel manure. But that wasn't the only reason he picked cleaning stables as work. He sighed in frustration against the image of Amaryl that was stuck in his mind.

The manual labour, as always, helped him gather his thoughts. He could feel his body slowly come back to live as his muscles warmed up and his skin started to sweat. But in his heart and chest, the battle continued. Over and over he replayed the arguments, sometimes correcting his own words in the conversation over what he really wanted to say or how he really felt. Word by word, he reached a point where couldn't tell the difference anymore between his own words and hers... He could only tell the difference between his actions of the past and what both his heart and her words were telling him. Dusk was beginning to set in.

Percey felt his muscles acke and protest against the lack of energy. He had laboured without a word, without a complaint, without a second rest and without a meal all day. In defeat he reached the working tools back to an impressed stablemaster.
Thank you, Amaryl he thought and grunted angrily at himself for the lack of sarcasm.

Percey opened in his window and stretched his arms in the first rays of sunlight. After a deep breath, he swung his legs over the bed and thought back to some words of Amaryl. Lady Amaryl, Percey corrected in his mind, still struggling to accept the refound respect for his teacher. He still struggled to accept she nearly drowned him.

But she had also offered to have his father brought to Lakeshire. Percey weighed the choice again and couldn't help remembering the words of his father as they parted.

----

Two strong hands, acking from overusing the smith's hammer, shook Percey's hand.
- "Good luck son. Come see me when you have found what you seek, so I may take pleasure in your progression and share your joy. Now remember, if you wish to become a Paladin, you must also learn to behave like one. I have taught you all I know to be a man of honor. But remember to act and speak as one. And stand brave, no matter what odds present themselves, but be clever and do not foolishly sacrifice yourself. "
He let go of Percey's hands and squeezed his shoulder instead. Tears began to well in his eyes.
- "Never let yourself be tempted to stray from the path. Not by convenience, not by your enemy.. and least of all by yourself. And then you shall become the great man I have always seen in you, son. I'm proud and overjoyed at the man you are today and prospect of the man you will become."
Percey struggled to keep his voice under control, under such a rare display of emotions from his father.
"But.. Paps.. Father.. if you are so .. glad for me, why do you cry?"
- "Because above all, you are still my son. Now go."
Percey lifted his bag over his shoulder and mounted his horse. He stared at his father. In this moment of his long awaited parting, he had trouble detaching himself from the man who had walked by his side and guided him with the same patience he hammered his metal bars in the smithie.

Percey's father noticed the hesitation and spoke one last time.
"Remember. Always trace your steps back to your origins. There is great wisdom and spirit in what you have learned in the smithies. Use what I have taught you. Use what you have learned. Now be gone and cease your hesitation before your forge runs cold."

Percey simply nodded, at a loss for words and spurred his horse. His journey to the city of Stormwind had begun.

----

Sitting over the edge of his bed, Percey felt his spirit drain rapidly. He hadn't followed his father's words very well apparently. He stumbled over his first obstacle, himself, and had blamed the messenger, lady Amaryl. His thoughts darkened. If she would give up on him, his efforts and dream would be lost.

Feeling the fear of failure slowly creep into his heart he fought back with another thought. Trace back to your origins. He began to see himself like an iron bar, destined to be a great sword but in its eagerness had hardened too quickly and cracked under the pressure of the smith's hammer. He sighed deeply. Such bars would often be tossed away and never be salvaged...
Unless.. It is heated again, and slowly forged anew.

Percey walked to the breakfast table of the family he stayed with, deep in thought. So quiet was he that the daughter of the family risked staring at him openly, and her kid brother sat on his own chair. After breakfast, he walked to the edge of the farm where a large tree and a training dummy stood.

He glanced at the remnants of a wooden sword he'd busted to pulp on the dummy yesterday. Slowly memories and words of his father began to replay in his mind.

"The day starts with checking the tools, son. A blacksmith can not work without them. Check if they are fit. Check if they can do what you require of them."
Percey made himself a few bags filled with leaves and sand. From the smith he recieved an iron rod. After a bit of working, he had bound a handle around it. It wasn't well balanced, but it would serve as unsharp replacement for a sword. The bags of sand and leaves he hung on the tree in a row of four.

"Then heat the furnace and prepare yourself for a long day work, son. For once the metal had turned red, you must beat it. Picture the shape in your mind. Feel it with your heart. Ask your arms to endure. Ask your hammer to be strong. Ask your anvil to bear the beating."
Percey sat down by the tree and closed his eyes. He replayed in his mind the stances, attacks and moves Amaryl showed him. He laid the bar, his improvised training sword, in his lap and asked it to be faithfull like a sword. He got up and let a hand pass over the bags, asking them to be strong and not tear so he could achieve his goal.

"And when all is ready and prepared... Let the metal heat and the hammer begin."
Percey grabbed his shield and training sword, and bent all his thoughts and emotions to his passion for the path he wanted to follow. When he felt his heart burn with the desire to begin, he gave the bags a last scrutinizing look. A bag could be pushed away only by a good stab. If it swung back, it would count as an attack he had to deflect. The bags emited a soft glow in the morning sun. Even the dark iron rod in his hands seemed to vibrate with energy in the light.

And then the hammering began.

Horse! A horse! Search the kingdom for a horse.

With a few strong strides, Percey marched to the stables of Eastvale. Now he was supposed to find a missing horse. He didn't get it.. He didn't get any of it.. And -her- least of all.

He replayed the conversation in his head. He appologized for his behavior.. As difficult at is was, he thought he did a fairly good job. It costed her even more effort to admitt she 'might' have taken it a step too far. But a sorry? No!
She would slay an orc trying to drown an innocent man, but she seemed pretty content with herself for nearly drowning him!

And then.. On top of it all.. She wanted him to find a missing horse. He rolled his eyes as he heard her 'request' replayed in his mind.
- "Pay extra care to every detail, Percey", he mimicked her request.
- "It's important you find this horse, Percey."
- "Be meticulous in your work, Percey."
When the whole village was plagued and dying from this disease, he was to find a missing horse? It could cost him less effort to earn a new horse with some handywork as blacksmith than trying to find a horsethief. It probably was some villager who panicked.. Or the stablemaster's mistake.
He grumbled and walked on, a deep frown on his brow and pouting lips revealing his childish anger.

A few villagers, the very few that were still about, made way for him. He looked up in surprise and realized the combination of his sword and an angry look might have caused the opposite reaction he usually gets when he parades around in his shiny armor. He lifted a hand and sent a most gracious appology and half a bow to everyone around him, but the villagers had long fled the scene.

He grumbled and walked on. He couldn't blame them. Haunted by a plague they couldn't see until it was too late... Held captive in their own village... They too could sense the stress and pressure on the people that came to help them. But in silence he did correct himself for his poor attitude. He forced himself in an more straight up stance and summoned a less troubled look on his face.

At the stables he whistled and patted the first horse that came to see him, waiting patiently for the stablekeeper to come around. The Horse sniffed his face and deemed him worthy of company and pushed its mouth in his mail and leather covered hands.
the horsekeeper came running to him. She wasn't bad looking for a local girl he thought. He corrected himself in silence again and condoned his own thoughts.

Percey's horse stumbled to a stop before Amaryl. He saluted. She greeted. A brief silence followed. The cold breeze whistling through the visor of Percey's helm emphasized the almost cold greet. It almost cramped his heart as if it lacked air to breathe. The plague in Elwynn had costed the life of some friends. Was it them that she mourned? She barely ever mentioned them.

Despite her distant tone and the hint of heartaches traceable in her eyes, her voice had softened a tad towards Percey. Did his endless labour finally award him some respect or was she just getting used to having him around? Percey couldn't tell. He guessed the latter.

- "Are you ready Percey?"
"Yes, my Lady."
- "Good. It will be long ride."
"Yes, my Lady."
- "We'll move to the Blasted Lands. Ever been there?"
"Yes, my Lady. When I was but a small child. My father worked there as a smith for a few knights briefly."

She nodded and took off with Percey riding by her side.

They traveled by day and slept under a blanket, by the fire in the cold nights. Whenever they had a break or slowed their pace, they talked. Much to Percey's surprise, she'd let him talk as well. He got a chance to tell her about his father, how his father approached his blacksmithing religiously and crafted tools of war in the name of the Light. He told her how his father taught Percey the Virtues and that they are to be followed even when handling iron or a blacksmith hammer. How he had learned to retrace his steps through blacksmithing when he felt lost.

Throughout their discussions she taught him the Virtues. By the time they had reached Deathwind Pass, she had explained Respect.
- "Respect isn't a collection of formalities on how to greet a nobleman. It isn't a list of politeness rules."
Percey thanked his helm for concealing his smirk. She certainly wouldn't master Respect if it was about formalities and politeness.
- " It stands to respect life... all forms of life. Even Orcs."
Percey frowned.
"But .. Why them?"
- "Respect life itself Percey. That includes Orcs."
"Yes, my Lady."

So the journey continued. The road seemed to follow the pace of her teachings, forcing them to slow whenever she needed to explain him something in more detail. Sitting up straight in her saddle, staring sharply at the land while explaining her teachings, she seemed have an air about her. It reminded Percey of the Paladins he admired as a child. The Swamp of Sorrows proved the teaching grounds for Tenacity. Percey wasn't sure it was a coincidence as he absorbed her words while the swamp seemed to absorb him. Gritting his teeth and fighting his way through the swamps, he felt her words of Tenacity echo in his mind, even when she stopped talking.

When they had finally reached the Blasted Lands, she spoke of Compassion. Percey wasn't sure she'd explain this one in great detail...
- "Compassion isn't just about being nice."
You sure showed that, he thought.
- "It's about helping other people grow. Helping them isn't enough. You have to make sure they increase their potential. Give a man a fish and he'll be fed for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll be fed for the rest of his life."
Was I taught how to drown and be cold for the rest of my life?. He shook his head and corrected himself for his rebellious thoughts. He struggled to forgive her for this "lesson" that had nearly costed him his life. But he was forced to acknowledge, only to himself of course, that so far the lesson had proven true when they were fighting in Elwynn against a remorseless enemy.

Their Horses turned around a large boulder, cradled in one of the land's many red mountains. Out of nowhere a Troll loomed up. The surprise seemed mutual. The Troll instantly dropped on his knees at the sight of two heavily armored Knights and mumbling something incomprehensible. Percey didn't heed it and jumped down his horse, the sword readily unsheathed in his right hand.
- "Stay your blade Percey!"
"But my Lady.."
- "Respect, Percey! Respect!"
"But my Lady... How about Respect for all the Paladins who fought and lost their lives on these very grounds defending our homelands from this scum!"
- "Stay your blade.. and follow me."
The Troll peered at Amaryl. Her tone and the effect on Percey hadn't escaped it. Its eyes glinted briefly, but his body humbly stayed in a kneeling position. Grudgingly, Percey sheathed his blade and mounted his horse.

- "Respect is never about vengeance.."
Oi, here we go again. Like an old shoe that still fits, she had fallen back on her habit of endless remarks and corrections on his behavior.

WHAT THE ... you're Percey! Broken sword Percey .. OMGOMGOMGOMG *bounces and flails around*

Nilda Meyrick wrote:WHAT THE ... you're Percey! Broken sword Percey .. OMGOMGOMGOMG *bounces and flails around*

Oh oh. What did I do know?

Oogling my wife, for one! *raegfase* Nah, we ruv you.

the lil' paladin that watched Nilda spar at the start when we formed the order and was ... all judgemental about worgen? :p

*snickers*

hehehe! yeah. Percey was quite taken by Nilda. Then one day she turned into a wolf and was engaged to some other bloke. Poor chap

Percey the boyish ladies man...

Yeah.. Some character flaws... were supposed to be knocked out of him. Except... nobody did. People just acted shocked.

Jeanpierre wrote:hehehe! yeah. Percey was quite taken by Nilda. Then one day she turned into a wolf and was engaged to some other bloke. Poor chap

I do miss those times, very fun char to play she is when she's sparring and training... SOON again .. SOON when the kids are born \o/

You mean pups?

And yeah. She was a fun character to see in action.