Post by VemuKhaham on Mar 19, 2007 13:26:07 GMT -5
Witherwood Square:
Imagine this: You walk through one of the many alleys of the neighborhood called Witherwood Square and suddenly you are grabbed from behind, held tight and the following threatening words are whispered in your ear from up close: “Don’t make a noise; don’t even think about looking back!” You feel the cold touch of metal pressed against your throat, while meanwhile someone else is searching your pockets, nearly ripping the clothes from your body. It is all done in a matter of seconds, before the two thugs push you into the gutter and make a mad dash for their hide-out, along with your most precious belongings.
It is but an example of one of the daily crimes committed in Witherwood Square, possibly one of the most crime-haunted neighborhoods of Phoenix Homage. Built around a large square located on the edge of a broad, polluted, river and that once served as a fish market, but now serves mainly as the only safe haven for the few merchants that dare set up shop in the area, the neighborhood resembles an intricate spider’s web in its street lay-out. Most streets, if as such they may be called, are dirt roads no more than ten feet broad, often narrowed even further by piles of rubble, broken furniture, human remains and other waste being dumped there by the inhabitants of the wooden three-story houses, which rise high on both sides of the roads, blocking out the sun most of the day. Scavenger dogs, rats and pigs feast on the waste piles and function as the neighborhoods main cleaning system, aside from the many beggars and homeless that search for the few edible pieces of junk they can find and build small shelters from the remains of broken furniture. When it rains, the streets and houses quickly flood, lacking a decent drainage system, but often inhabitants mock that at least it drives of the rats and homeless for a while. All things considered, Witherwood Square is not a pleasant place to live, and as such the rich and prosperous avoid it like the plague (often literally).
Yet Witherwood Square is also located near an important crossing point over the above-mentioned river. Indeed a major stone bridge crosses that river, which is known by the local inhabitants as Greenwallow Flow, after its coloration and stench coming from it due to the pollution. On the north side it leads directly into the central square of Witherwood Square and on the south side it enters into the Second Wall district, quite possibly the second most criminal and polluted area of Phoenix Homage. Both the Second Wall district and Witherwood Square have their own gangs, which are more often at odds with each other than not, so the bridge over Greenwallow Flow is more like a battlefield than a crossing point. Indeed, no nobleman would ever dare cross that bridge, unless he had the Royal Army on his side to escort him, and even then it would be a bold undertaking.
Well, Sir Donovan Estor of Swanson Castle did not have support of the Royal Army but regardless he was stiff necked enough to attempt a crossing at Witherwood Square and not make a detour to the next crossing which would take a day or two extra, like all his personal guards and advisors had warned him in vain to do. The two gangs already awaited the Lord’s arrival at the bridge and were quarreling over their rights to levy the prestigious Greenwallow Flow toll. His chariot, along with the four terrified mounted guards that escorted him, never made it across, as many had predicted. The four guards were terribly treated and the Lord was stripped of his possessions and later ransomed for a ridiculous price. It would have probably ended then and there, as the law was, not surprisingly, hardly represented in these areas, if not for the companion of Sir Donovan that was traveling with him that day: it was Brother Hubert Burk, a venerable priest of the Temple of the Silver Saints, who was dragged out of the chariot during the assault after claiming that a priest was not to be stopped by anyone in crossing a bridge. At this remark he was, out of sheer malice, disrespect and ridicule, bound to the rear of the chariot and driven countless times madly across the bridge, while the thugs cheered on: “Across our bridge Hubert did go, before he dived in Greenwallow Flow!” Indeed, after a dozen rides over the bridge totally humiliating and torturing the old priest, the thugs blocked a rear wheel of the chariot which then got thrown on its side and toppled into the polluted river, quickly sinking to the bottom, dragging along with it or crushing underneath it both Hubert and the horses. Neither survived.
The gangs had their fun that day, but some say they should have known better than to humiliate and kill a priest of the Silver Saints, especially one that had loyally served the temple for many decades already. The Temple of the Silver Saints is a religious organization that has a firm grasp on the neighborhoods bordering the north side of Witherwood Square. It is not an exaggeration to state that they had been responsible for the fact that crime had still been quarantined in said regions and not spread out to the north. So far, they had been largely content with this status quo, but when Brother Hubert Burk was killed, the matter went as far as to draw the attention of the Supreme Council of the Temple, located many, many miles away from our area. They conferred on the matter and, being promised financial support by the family of Lord Donovan Estor and some other rich elites and merchants who had an interest in a safe passage over the bridge at Witherwood Square, decided to pronounce that both Witherwood Square and the Second Wall district, and in particular the bridge between the two, were henceforth ‘Crusading Targets’. Quoting the Iron Saint himself, the highest mortal authority of the entire Temple, the following words were spoken:
“We have long neglected or ignored the issues of both Witherwood Square and Second Wall district, which once were places of respect to both the Saints and the law but have now fallen into heathen ways and petty crime. Unless we take a more active and yes, oppressive policy in these regions, matters are bound to become only worse, thieves promoting thievery and heathens promoting heathen ways. Therefore, the Temple of the Silver Saints, by my decree, Iron Saint Jeremy IV, and that of my Councilors, declares that these two regions in Phoenix Homage be put under the strict but honorable jurisdiction of the Templar Knights as though these regions were Crusading Targets.
Spread the news, that all Knights loyal to the Silver Saints from all regions of Phoenix Homage are called upon to join this Crusade and the restoration of peace and faith in the regions concerned. If not for pious righteousness or for the glory of the Silver Saints, then let the call be heeded because all who serve their duty as volunteers shall be rewarded the honorable title of Templar Knight or Paladin and all the rights and privileges that this title entails. Their duty consists of traveling to the Crusading Targets, setting up a solid stronghold there, which ought to become a symbol from which emanates the respect for the Saints as well as for the law, and once established, to put down all disorder and to restore proper behavior to the inhabitants of Witherwood Square and Second Wall district. Special attention should be given to the establishing of peace in both the old Temple of the Silver Saints in Second Wall district as well as the bridge that grants passage between the two said districts.”
And so the news of this call spread quickly between all knights of Phoenix Homage, and many of them decided to answer it, seeking glory and justice. They came from many districts in organized groups, and then went together toward the target area as pointed out by Iron Saint Jeremy IV. It did not last long before the first bands of mounted cavaliers with golden standards and shining armor paraded into the dilapidated and filthy streets of Witherwood Square and Second Wall district.
Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja,
Temple of the Silver Saints Inquisitor
So that is where I enter into this little lesson of history. I am Sir Xavander of Zaraja, a true knight who forged his own fortune and did not inherit it from ancestors who ensured my nobility for me. In fact, my father and my mother were originally reasonably prosperous merchants from Witherwood Square, though they fled the area when their shop was plundered and they were threatened with death for the second time in a few years. I don’t remember the first robbery as I was only two, but I sure remember the second. I was six years old and helping my mother clean the shop, when two large bricks crashed through the windows and a small gang of street youths made their way inside, knifes drawn. My father was not at home, so of course we gave them all they wanted. I remember one of them giving me an especially scary grin as he waved his knife at us.
We left the neighborhood the next day and bought a small apartment on the second story of a big but boring building in the First Wall district to the north of Witherwood Square. It was a district renowned for its safety, thanks largely to the Temple of the Silver Saints. They not only made sure guards patrolled the streets, but they also provided medical care, a poor house, an orphanage, faith when people lost hope and, which was especially important for me, education and schooling.
My parents established a new shop, this time a clothier’s shop, and they were quickly successful. With their hard-earned savings, they sent me to school when I was eight. I learned to read and write and they taught me all about the Silver Saints and their many legends. Apparently, one becomes a Silver Saint after doing great deeds inspired by honor and righteousness. During the early days, the first Silver Saints were appointed by the local lords, but eventually there was one especially great lord among them, Cortan of Niaray, who established the Temple of the Silver Saints and added to Sainthood a truly divine connotation. He himself was the first Iron Saint, head of the Temple, but when he passed away he became a Silver Saint himself, like most Iron Saints after him. Now there are many Silver Saints, and every one of them is known because of great legends of true chivalry.
Inspired by these legends, I paid special attention during classes, and eventually my teacher, Ian Torke, took notice and brought me before the local head of the Temple, the High Priest Moragon. From then on, things went fast: I was only nine when my parents gave permission for me to be trained as a true man of faith. I received a more sophisticated education than my friends of the common school: history, advanced theology, geography, mathematics, astronomy, and so on. However, I slowly began to realize that all this knowledge would hardly ever make me a legend, like the stories of the Silver Saints. Therefore, at age thirteen, I told my tutor that I was more interested in learning to become a defender of the Temple and learn how to fight.
However, the Temple does not promote combat and offers no training in its arts. The guards it has are either volunteers of many kind, often noblemen and knights, or hired mercenaries. Therefore, my tutor introduced me to the knight Sir Odis Scorfane, an experienced warrior and a very righteous man. I was to become his esquire and learn from him all the things a true warrior was to know.
Sir Odis became my great inspiration. To me, he was a true Silver Saint, if I may say that out loud without speaking blasphemy. He taught me better than anyone could’ve, and at age eighteen, he said that he could train me no further. He said that I should now find a purpose in life, and that that was the last thing I needed before I would be a true knight.
A purpose did not drop out of the sky overnight. In fact, I had to wait twelve years before mine came. During that time, I served in many places, always trying to find that purpose. I was a member of the city guard, I served in the army, I even was a bodyguard once of a rich merchant. But always and everywhere I went, I also was a defender of the faith of the Silver Saints.
Therefore, when I was thirty years old, I found my vocation in the service of that faith. Grave news had come from Witherwood Square, where I had spent my earliest childhood. Crime had apparently only gotten worse and now the Iron Saint Jeremy IV himself had called for all defenders of the faith to join a crusade against the area. They promised the title of Paladin: it was one step closer to Sainthood. When considering the legends, many of the Silver Saints had forged them on just such great tasks, and I wished to follow in their footsteps.
And so I heeded the call. However, fully aware that the Temple had called for knights only, I still lacked the title to join the Crusade. It was then that I remembered Sir Odis’ promise: that I would be a knight as soon as I had found my purpose. I returned to him after twelve years and found an elderly man, grey but still proud and strong. He was glad to see me, and I explained my dilemma to him. He did not hesitate a moment: he drew his sword and knighted me that instant. I cannot begin to describe my joy that moment, especially when I heard him say that he would join the Crusade as well and lead a band of old and experienced knights and their young disciples, and that if I wished to he would be glad to have me follow him as his personal aid. Of course, I could not refuse.
Twenty bold men strong, we set out on our Crusade. We started at the Temple of the Silver Saints, where the priests gave us blessings and supplies. Even my old parents had come to wish me the best. On our proud horses and with our golden standards we rode for a day until we arrived in Witherwood Square. I immediately remembered why we had fled the place a long time ago, but my determination to make a change in that was all the stronger because of it. The gangs at first hid in the shadows, watching us as we went with spying eyes for sure and waiting for the right time to strike. Beggars and other poor and frightened people nearly pulled us of our horses as they tried to draw our attention. We marched straight for the bridge, where we wished to set up a fortified camp.
We met several other bands of knights of the Crusades already present in the area, but none had been so daring as to approach the bridge yet. Sir Odis gathered around his banner fifty knights and set out to conquer the bridge the next day. We had expected a hard fight that day to even set foot on the bridge, but were allowed a free march across. When we began setting up our encampment and barricades at both ends of the bridge, however, suddenly many arrows fell down upon us, fired from concealed windows. Gang members ambushed us, approaching from both sides of the bridge and even climbing up out of concealed boats in the river. Some arrows set fire to bales of hay on the bridge, frightening our horses. It also appeared that we were terribly outnumbered, but Sir Odis rallied the men and ordered them never to abandon the main target of the Crusade. As such, we were quickly surrounded, but fighting as one, we were able to repel any attacks of our enemy. Quickly, the poorly trained and equipped thugs lost heart, and against all odds, Sir Odis had won the Battle of Greenwallow Flow.
The battle was a terrible blow to organized crime in both neighborhoods, and without much further disorder we were allowed to organize ourselves in the region. Sir Odis ordered a veritable fortress to be built over the bridge, with gatehouses on both ends of it. We received much aid of grateful inhabitants of the area appreciating the peace we brought and the Temple continued to bring us supplies, and as a result after only three years Odis’ Keep, as it was justly called, was completed and a certain measure of order had returned to both Witherwood Square and Second Wall district. In short, we were successful.
Sir Odis Scorfane summoned me once to his private quarters, and when I entered the room I saw that a priest of the Silver Saints was with him. I asked why I had been called, and while the priest remained silent, Sir Odis informed me that, because of long loyal servitude and piety, I was finally to be awarded the title of Paladin of the Temple of the Silver Saints. The priesthood had already sanctioned the award that Sir Odis gave me and the ceremony was to be performed tomorrow. Even more so than when I was knighted, I was the happiest man alive.
The ceremony was the best day of my life. Along with seven other fortunate souls, I was called before the High Priest in the presence of all the people, who were of course eternally grateful for our services. Even though my mother had died, my father was present that day, an old grey man who had lost his ability to hear but was still terribly proud of my achievement: from a simple merchant son, I was now named Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja. The following Oath I swore:
I, Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja, swear upon my honor and all that is holy,
That I shall live according to the examples set out by the Silver Saints,
That I shall obey at all times the word of the Temple and my superiors,
That my sword shall be directed by my faith and my clear conscience only,
That I shall spread the faith by setting an example for others to follow,
Providing for them, by my own actions, a mirror of the great virtue of the Silver Saints.
My father now spends his last years at Odis’ Keep, while I continue to serve under Sir Odis and the Temple. Because of my keen senses for deceit, my inquisitive nature and my drive to establish justice, Sir Odis and the Temple have given me the special title and function of Temple of the Silver Saints Inquisitor, giving me the authority and certain specific privileges to investigate and root out unholy and criminal activities in Witherwood Square, Second Wall district and a more limited scope of rights in all areas where the Temple of the Silver Saints has a strong establishment.
For nearly two years have I been performing this important task, and already I have seen things hardly imaginable for the common people. I once fought a necromancer with skeleton minions, for example. However, my function also requires me to remain secretive about such matters, with the reasoning that public notice of such matters might arouse panic and chaos.
Yesterday, I found the most peculiar postcard tucked into the folds of my cloak. “Investigators Wanted”, it read. Apparently, someone needed help and knew my function, but I was by no means a private investigator. Regardless, I went to take a look. It can’t hurt to look, now can it?
Added by Sans:
Appearance:[/u]
By his looks, it is clear that Sir Xavander is of southern blood, his dark black hair and dark tan revealing that he has seen much sun. His clear blue eyes stand in stark contrast with this. He has a beard and moustache like is the fashion in his home region. Sir Xavander is neither tall nor short, skinny nor fat: for a man his age, he has normal proportions.
As a knight and paladin, Sir Xavander goes dressed in uniform: the Temple of the Silver Saints gives its defenders uniforms so that they are recognized on the streets on their patrols. Sir Xavander wears a paladin’s uniform: over his heavy armor (specially constructed to fit his size and to allow uniform clothing over it) he wears a very pale yellow-white tunic with golden colored sleeves and collar. On it are pinned vertically three gold stars, identifying his rank as Inquisitor of the Temple. A leather brown belt fastens his brown scabbard with an inlaid pattern of golden curving lines decorating it, as well as his crossbow, small but lethal flail, dagger and several pouches. Beneath this, he wears white trousers with a thin gold line running down its length on both sides. His military boots, running up to his knees, are of light brown leather, obviously reinforced with protective metal. When not fighting, he wears his shield on his back, showing a silvery-white eight-pointed star on a dark golden background (the Temple’s symbol). The shield’s shape is straight on the top, but running to form a point on the bottom. His locked gauntlets he only wears when knowingly entering a dangerous area. His helmet is quite ornate, with wide cheek protectors and a yellow plume on top, running like loose manes down the back of his helmet. However, he seldom wears it: he uses it more often to terrify his opponent when charging on horseback than when in a normal fight.
His horse Girano, which is very dear to him because it was given by his parents with their few savings when he was knighted, is a light brown stallion geared with a studded leather barding and a military saddle. Along the mounts sides falls an ornate cloth, displaying once again the Temple’s silver-star-on-gold-symbol. When Sir Xavander rides, he commonly wears a dark golden silk cloak.
Personality:[/u]
Sir Xavander is, considering common opinion, a pleasant person. He knows his way around the courts, but he is not haughty or arrogant like most of the courtiers. He respects authority, rank and class, but he does not therefore disrespect lower classes or ranks. This was one of his main traits for which he was ranked Inquisitor: he can associate with the lower classes equally easy as with the upper ones, allowing him to investigate freely.
Another trait important for his duty would be that he is a disciplined, pious and strict man. There is no question in the man’s mind whether the Temple or his own ambition takes precedence: his loyalty is beyond question. He is well-educated and therefore knows the rules of faith and the codes of chivalry well: better than most, most likely. As such, he has been known to lord his own principles over others, a trait most likely derived from his duty as Inquisitor. He is however patient and tries to remain calm when faced with ignorance. He never ceases to explain and teach the virtues. However, when matters become intolerable, Sir Xavander hardly ever relaxes laws and is not hesitant to enforce them.
Sir Xavander is inquisitive and smart. He likes many types of conversation, from elite intellectual discussions to cheerful small-talk with a beer or wine. He has appreciation for humor but also for polite and courtly manners. Sir Xavander therefore quickly makes friends, but he also has a keen sense of judgment.
Last but certainly not least, Xavander is a man full of ambition. His inspiration to live up to high standards set by sainted legends, his constant drive to do his duty as well as possible, make him both a perfectionist and a romanticist. Deep within, his main drive is to achieve the ultimate ideal: to become a Silver Saint himself. This has gotten him far, from a merchant son to knighthood, to the title of paladin and finally the rank of inquisitor, but if he will ever make it that far, remains very unlikely.
Imagine this: You walk through one of the many alleys of the neighborhood called Witherwood Square and suddenly you are grabbed from behind, held tight and the following threatening words are whispered in your ear from up close: “Don’t make a noise; don’t even think about looking back!” You feel the cold touch of metal pressed against your throat, while meanwhile someone else is searching your pockets, nearly ripping the clothes from your body. It is all done in a matter of seconds, before the two thugs push you into the gutter and make a mad dash for their hide-out, along with your most precious belongings.
It is but an example of one of the daily crimes committed in Witherwood Square, possibly one of the most crime-haunted neighborhoods of Phoenix Homage. Built around a large square located on the edge of a broad, polluted, river and that once served as a fish market, but now serves mainly as the only safe haven for the few merchants that dare set up shop in the area, the neighborhood resembles an intricate spider’s web in its street lay-out. Most streets, if as such they may be called, are dirt roads no more than ten feet broad, often narrowed even further by piles of rubble, broken furniture, human remains and other waste being dumped there by the inhabitants of the wooden three-story houses, which rise high on both sides of the roads, blocking out the sun most of the day. Scavenger dogs, rats and pigs feast on the waste piles and function as the neighborhoods main cleaning system, aside from the many beggars and homeless that search for the few edible pieces of junk they can find and build small shelters from the remains of broken furniture. When it rains, the streets and houses quickly flood, lacking a decent drainage system, but often inhabitants mock that at least it drives of the rats and homeless for a while. All things considered, Witherwood Square is not a pleasant place to live, and as such the rich and prosperous avoid it like the plague (often literally).
Yet Witherwood Square is also located near an important crossing point over the above-mentioned river. Indeed a major stone bridge crosses that river, which is known by the local inhabitants as Greenwallow Flow, after its coloration and stench coming from it due to the pollution. On the north side it leads directly into the central square of Witherwood Square and on the south side it enters into the Second Wall district, quite possibly the second most criminal and polluted area of Phoenix Homage. Both the Second Wall district and Witherwood Square have their own gangs, which are more often at odds with each other than not, so the bridge over Greenwallow Flow is more like a battlefield than a crossing point. Indeed, no nobleman would ever dare cross that bridge, unless he had the Royal Army on his side to escort him, and even then it would be a bold undertaking.
Well, Sir Donovan Estor of Swanson Castle did not have support of the Royal Army but regardless he was stiff necked enough to attempt a crossing at Witherwood Square and not make a detour to the next crossing which would take a day or two extra, like all his personal guards and advisors had warned him in vain to do. The two gangs already awaited the Lord’s arrival at the bridge and were quarreling over their rights to levy the prestigious Greenwallow Flow toll. His chariot, along with the four terrified mounted guards that escorted him, never made it across, as many had predicted. The four guards were terribly treated and the Lord was stripped of his possessions and later ransomed for a ridiculous price. It would have probably ended then and there, as the law was, not surprisingly, hardly represented in these areas, if not for the companion of Sir Donovan that was traveling with him that day: it was Brother Hubert Burk, a venerable priest of the Temple of the Silver Saints, who was dragged out of the chariot during the assault after claiming that a priest was not to be stopped by anyone in crossing a bridge. At this remark he was, out of sheer malice, disrespect and ridicule, bound to the rear of the chariot and driven countless times madly across the bridge, while the thugs cheered on: “Across our bridge Hubert did go, before he dived in Greenwallow Flow!” Indeed, after a dozen rides over the bridge totally humiliating and torturing the old priest, the thugs blocked a rear wheel of the chariot which then got thrown on its side and toppled into the polluted river, quickly sinking to the bottom, dragging along with it or crushing underneath it both Hubert and the horses. Neither survived.
The gangs had their fun that day, but some say they should have known better than to humiliate and kill a priest of the Silver Saints, especially one that had loyally served the temple for many decades already. The Temple of the Silver Saints is a religious organization that has a firm grasp on the neighborhoods bordering the north side of Witherwood Square. It is not an exaggeration to state that they had been responsible for the fact that crime had still been quarantined in said regions and not spread out to the north. So far, they had been largely content with this status quo, but when Brother Hubert Burk was killed, the matter went as far as to draw the attention of the Supreme Council of the Temple, located many, many miles away from our area. They conferred on the matter and, being promised financial support by the family of Lord Donovan Estor and some other rich elites and merchants who had an interest in a safe passage over the bridge at Witherwood Square, decided to pronounce that both Witherwood Square and the Second Wall district, and in particular the bridge between the two, were henceforth ‘Crusading Targets’. Quoting the Iron Saint himself, the highest mortal authority of the entire Temple, the following words were spoken:
“We have long neglected or ignored the issues of both Witherwood Square and Second Wall district, which once were places of respect to both the Saints and the law but have now fallen into heathen ways and petty crime. Unless we take a more active and yes, oppressive policy in these regions, matters are bound to become only worse, thieves promoting thievery and heathens promoting heathen ways. Therefore, the Temple of the Silver Saints, by my decree, Iron Saint Jeremy IV, and that of my Councilors, declares that these two regions in Phoenix Homage be put under the strict but honorable jurisdiction of the Templar Knights as though these regions were Crusading Targets.
Spread the news, that all Knights loyal to the Silver Saints from all regions of Phoenix Homage are called upon to join this Crusade and the restoration of peace and faith in the regions concerned. If not for pious righteousness or for the glory of the Silver Saints, then let the call be heeded because all who serve their duty as volunteers shall be rewarded the honorable title of Templar Knight or Paladin and all the rights and privileges that this title entails. Their duty consists of traveling to the Crusading Targets, setting up a solid stronghold there, which ought to become a symbol from which emanates the respect for the Saints as well as for the law, and once established, to put down all disorder and to restore proper behavior to the inhabitants of Witherwood Square and Second Wall district. Special attention should be given to the establishing of peace in both the old Temple of the Silver Saints in Second Wall district as well as the bridge that grants passage between the two said districts.”
And so the news of this call spread quickly between all knights of Phoenix Homage, and many of them decided to answer it, seeking glory and justice. They came from many districts in organized groups, and then went together toward the target area as pointed out by Iron Saint Jeremy IV. It did not last long before the first bands of mounted cavaliers with golden standards and shining armor paraded into the dilapidated and filthy streets of Witherwood Square and Second Wall district.
Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja,
Temple of the Silver Saints Inquisitor
So that is where I enter into this little lesson of history. I am Sir Xavander of Zaraja, a true knight who forged his own fortune and did not inherit it from ancestors who ensured my nobility for me. In fact, my father and my mother were originally reasonably prosperous merchants from Witherwood Square, though they fled the area when their shop was plundered and they were threatened with death for the second time in a few years. I don’t remember the first robbery as I was only two, but I sure remember the second. I was six years old and helping my mother clean the shop, when two large bricks crashed through the windows and a small gang of street youths made their way inside, knifes drawn. My father was not at home, so of course we gave them all they wanted. I remember one of them giving me an especially scary grin as he waved his knife at us.
We left the neighborhood the next day and bought a small apartment on the second story of a big but boring building in the First Wall district to the north of Witherwood Square. It was a district renowned for its safety, thanks largely to the Temple of the Silver Saints. They not only made sure guards patrolled the streets, but they also provided medical care, a poor house, an orphanage, faith when people lost hope and, which was especially important for me, education and schooling.
My parents established a new shop, this time a clothier’s shop, and they were quickly successful. With their hard-earned savings, they sent me to school when I was eight. I learned to read and write and they taught me all about the Silver Saints and their many legends. Apparently, one becomes a Silver Saint after doing great deeds inspired by honor and righteousness. During the early days, the first Silver Saints were appointed by the local lords, but eventually there was one especially great lord among them, Cortan of Niaray, who established the Temple of the Silver Saints and added to Sainthood a truly divine connotation. He himself was the first Iron Saint, head of the Temple, but when he passed away he became a Silver Saint himself, like most Iron Saints after him. Now there are many Silver Saints, and every one of them is known because of great legends of true chivalry.
Inspired by these legends, I paid special attention during classes, and eventually my teacher, Ian Torke, took notice and brought me before the local head of the Temple, the High Priest Moragon. From then on, things went fast: I was only nine when my parents gave permission for me to be trained as a true man of faith. I received a more sophisticated education than my friends of the common school: history, advanced theology, geography, mathematics, astronomy, and so on. However, I slowly began to realize that all this knowledge would hardly ever make me a legend, like the stories of the Silver Saints. Therefore, at age thirteen, I told my tutor that I was more interested in learning to become a defender of the Temple and learn how to fight.
However, the Temple does not promote combat and offers no training in its arts. The guards it has are either volunteers of many kind, often noblemen and knights, or hired mercenaries. Therefore, my tutor introduced me to the knight Sir Odis Scorfane, an experienced warrior and a very righteous man. I was to become his esquire and learn from him all the things a true warrior was to know.
Sir Odis became my great inspiration. To me, he was a true Silver Saint, if I may say that out loud without speaking blasphemy. He taught me better than anyone could’ve, and at age eighteen, he said that he could train me no further. He said that I should now find a purpose in life, and that that was the last thing I needed before I would be a true knight.
A purpose did not drop out of the sky overnight. In fact, I had to wait twelve years before mine came. During that time, I served in many places, always trying to find that purpose. I was a member of the city guard, I served in the army, I even was a bodyguard once of a rich merchant. But always and everywhere I went, I also was a defender of the faith of the Silver Saints.
Therefore, when I was thirty years old, I found my vocation in the service of that faith. Grave news had come from Witherwood Square, where I had spent my earliest childhood. Crime had apparently only gotten worse and now the Iron Saint Jeremy IV himself had called for all defenders of the faith to join a crusade against the area. They promised the title of Paladin: it was one step closer to Sainthood. When considering the legends, many of the Silver Saints had forged them on just such great tasks, and I wished to follow in their footsteps.
And so I heeded the call. However, fully aware that the Temple had called for knights only, I still lacked the title to join the Crusade. It was then that I remembered Sir Odis’ promise: that I would be a knight as soon as I had found my purpose. I returned to him after twelve years and found an elderly man, grey but still proud and strong. He was glad to see me, and I explained my dilemma to him. He did not hesitate a moment: he drew his sword and knighted me that instant. I cannot begin to describe my joy that moment, especially when I heard him say that he would join the Crusade as well and lead a band of old and experienced knights and their young disciples, and that if I wished to he would be glad to have me follow him as his personal aid. Of course, I could not refuse.
Twenty bold men strong, we set out on our Crusade. We started at the Temple of the Silver Saints, where the priests gave us blessings and supplies. Even my old parents had come to wish me the best. On our proud horses and with our golden standards we rode for a day until we arrived in Witherwood Square. I immediately remembered why we had fled the place a long time ago, but my determination to make a change in that was all the stronger because of it. The gangs at first hid in the shadows, watching us as we went with spying eyes for sure and waiting for the right time to strike. Beggars and other poor and frightened people nearly pulled us of our horses as they tried to draw our attention. We marched straight for the bridge, where we wished to set up a fortified camp.
We met several other bands of knights of the Crusades already present in the area, but none had been so daring as to approach the bridge yet. Sir Odis gathered around his banner fifty knights and set out to conquer the bridge the next day. We had expected a hard fight that day to even set foot on the bridge, but were allowed a free march across. When we began setting up our encampment and barricades at both ends of the bridge, however, suddenly many arrows fell down upon us, fired from concealed windows. Gang members ambushed us, approaching from both sides of the bridge and even climbing up out of concealed boats in the river. Some arrows set fire to bales of hay on the bridge, frightening our horses. It also appeared that we were terribly outnumbered, but Sir Odis rallied the men and ordered them never to abandon the main target of the Crusade. As such, we were quickly surrounded, but fighting as one, we were able to repel any attacks of our enemy. Quickly, the poorly trained and equipped thugs lost heart, and against all odds, Sir Odis had won the Battle of Greenwallow Flow.
The battle was a terrible blow to organized crime in both neighborhoods, and without much further disorder we were allowed to organize ourselves in the region. Sir Odis ordered a veritable fortress to be built over the bridge, with gatehouses on both ends of it. We received much aid of grateful inhabitants of the area appreciating the peace we brought and the Temple continued to bring us supplies, and as a result after only three years Odis’ Keep, as it was justly called, was completed and a certain measure of order had returned to both Witherwood Square and Second Wall district. In short, we were successful.
Sir Odis Scorfane summoned me once to his private quarters, and when I entered the room I saw that a priest of the Silver Saints was with him. I asked why I had been called, and while the priest remained silent, Sir Odis informed me that, because of long loyal servitude and piety, I was finally to be awarded the title of Paladin of the Temple of the Silver Saints. The priesthood had already sanctioned the award that Sir Odis gave me and the ceremony was to be performed tomorrow. Even more so than when I was knighted, I was the happiest man alive.
The ceremony was the best day of my life. Along with seven other fortunate souls, I was called before the High Priest in the presence of all the people, who were of course eternally grateful for our services. Even though my mother had died, my father was present that day, an old grey man who had lost his ability to hear but was still terribly proud of my achievement: from a simple merchant son, I was now named Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja. The following Oath I swore:
I, Sir Paladin Xavander of Zaraja, swear upon my honor and all that is holy,
That I shall live according to the examples set out by the Silver Saints,
That I shall obey at all times the word of the Temple and my superiors,
That my sword shall be directed by my faith and my clear conscience only,
That I shall spread the faith by setting an example for others to follow,
Providing for them, by my own actions, a mirror of the great virtue of the Silver Saints.
My father now spends his last years at Odis’ Keep, while I continue to serve under Sir Odis and the Temple. Because of my keen senses for deceit, my inquisitive nature and my drive to establish justice, Sir Odis and the Temple have given me the special title and function of Temple of the Silver Saints Inquisitor, giving me the authority and certain specific privileges to investigate and root out unholy and criminal activities in Witherwood Square, Second Wall district and a more limited scope of rights in all areas where the Temple of the Silver Saints has a strong establishment.
For nearly two years have I been performing this important task, and already I have seen things hardly imaginable for the common people. I once fought a necromancer with skeleton minions, for example. However, my function also requires me to remain secretive about such matters, with the reasoning that public notice of such matters might arouse panic and chaos.
Yesterday, I found the most peculiar postcard tucked into the folds of my cloak. “Investigators Wanted”, it read. Apparently, someone needed help and knew my function, but I was by no means a private investigator. Regardless, I went to take a look. It can’t hurt to look, now can it?
Added by Sans:
On your way out of the temple, Sir Odis casually greets you, "Ah, Sir Xavander, there you are. Last evening, a messenger left this envelop for you. Your immediate whereabouts were unknown so I took possession of the message."
The envelop is light gray and the red wax seal lacks a marking of any kind. As you reach out and take the envelop. You notice a gleam in Sir Odis' eye and a proud smile form on his lips. He quickly catches himself and the gleam and smile disappear. "Good day, Sir Xavander. Good day."
As you walk out onto the well kept streets of First Wall, you open the envelop. From Sir Odis' odd behavior, you half expect it to contain a surprise commendation of some kind but instead you find a rather strange postcard.
In clean crisp ink, the front of the card reads, "Investigators Wanted". On the back of the card is a lopsided circle colored in a reddish purple. Strangely enough, the picture reminds you of a plum... etc...
The envelop is light gray and the red wax seal lacks a marking of any kind. As you reach out and take the envelop. You notice a gleam in Sir Odis' eye and a proud smile form on his lips. He quickly catches himself and the gleam and smile disappear. "Good day, Sir Xavander. Good day."
As you walk out onto the well kept streets of First Wall, you open the envelop. From Sir Odis' odd behavior, you half expect it to contain a surprise commendation of some kind but instead you find a rather strange postcard.
In clean crisp ink, the front of the card reads, "Investigators Wanted". On the back of the card is a lopsided circle colored in a reddish purple. Strangely enough, the picture reminds you of a plum... etc...
Appearance:[/u]
By his looks, it is clear that Sir Xavander is of southern blood, his dark black hair and dark tan revealing that he has seen much sun. His clear blue eyes stand in stark contrast with this. He has a beard and moustache like is the fashion in his home region. Sir Xavander is neither tall nor short, skinny nor fat: for a man his age, he has normal proportions.
As a knight and paladin, Sir Xavander goes dressed in uniform: the Temple of the Silver Saints gives its defenders uniforms so that they are recognized on the streets on their patrols. Sir Xavander wears a paladin’s uniform: over his heavy armor (specially constructed to fit his size and to allow uniform clothing over it) he wears a very pale yellow-white tunic with golden colored sleeves and collar. On it are pinned vertically three gold stars, identifying his rank as Inquisitor of the Temple. A leather brown belt fastens his brown scabbard with an inlaid pattern of golden curving lines decorating it, as well as his crossbow, small but lethal flail, dagger and several pouches. Beneath this, he wears white trousers with a thin gold line running down its length on both sides. His military boots, running up to his knees, are of light brown leather, obviously reinforced with protective metal. When not fighting, he wears his shield on his back, showing a silvery-white eight-pointed star on a dark golden background (the Temple’s symbol). The shield’s shape is straight on the top, but running to form a point on the bottom. His locked gauntlets he only wears when knowingly entering a dangerous area. His helmet is quite ornate, with wide cheek protectors and a yellow plume on top, running like loose manes down the back of his helmet. However, he seldom wears it: he uses it more often to terrify his opponent when charging on horseback than when in a normal fight.
His horse Girano, which is very dear to him because it was given by his parents with their few savings when he was knighted, is a light brown stallion geared with a studded leather barding and a military saddle. Along the mounts sides falls an ornate cloth, displaying once again the Temple’s silver-star-on-gold-symbol. When Sir Xavander rides, he commonly wears a dark golden silk cloak.
Personality:[/u]
Sir Xavander is, considering common opinion, a pleasant person. He knows his way around the courts, but he is not haughty or arrogant like most of the courtiers. He respects authority, rank and class, but he does not therefore disrespect lower classes or ranks. This was one of his main traits for which he was ranked Inquisitor: he can associate with the lower classes equally easy as with the upper ones, allowing him to investigate freely.
Another trait important for his duty would be that he is a disciplined, pious and strict man. There is no question in the man’s mind whether the Temple or his own ambition takes precedence: his loyalty is beyond question. He is well-educated and therefore knows the rules of faith and the codes of chivalry well: better than most, most likely. As such, he has been known to lord his own principles over others, a trait most likely derived from his duty as Inquisitor. He is however patient and tries to remain calm when faced with ignorance. He never ceases to explain and teach the virtues. However, when matters become intolerable, Sir Xavander hardly ever relaxes laws and is not hesitant to enforce them.
Sir Xavander is inquisitive and smart. He likes many types of conversation, from elite intellectual discussions to cheerful small-talk with a beer or wine. He has appreciation for humor but also for polite and courtly manners. Sir Xavander therefore quickly makes friends, but he also has a keen sense of judgment.
Last but certainly not least, Xavander is a man full of ambition. His inspiration to live up to high standards set by sainted legends, his constant drive to do his duty as well as possible, make him both a perfectionist and a romanticist. Deep within, his main drive is to achieve the ultimate ideal: to become a Silver Saint himself. This has gotten him far, from a merchant son to knighthood, to the title of paladin and finally the rank of inquisitor, but if he will ever make it that far, remains very unlikely.
