A Shield

 "David, tomorrow at.. at your daddy's funeral.. there's going to be a man there with some friends. They'll have armor and look like Knights...."

The sky was clear, sunny, another beautiful day in America. A finch was perched on a branch on the under branches of a cherry tree. The grass was lush green, and full of lunch prospective insects. A steady breeze ran across, enough to illicit talk between trees, but not enough to show it.

"This part is important David" she said while buttoning his jacket, "he'll offer himself and everything else possible to you." David looked at his mother, "Is he a stranger?" (bad person), "No.. no no no hunny, there aren't many people like him out there in the world. Their job is to make sure everyone is safe."
  She had cringed in her mind when the words, "make sure everyone is safe." came out. The letter had came earlier that week from the government, the first sentence crushed Mrs.Donalson. "It is with out greatest regret and sadness to inform you that David Donalson was critically wounded in Afghanistan while serving his country..."

 She continued on after righting herself, "It's very important that when he makes his offer to you, that you put your hand on his shoulder and.." David looked confused, "Momma.. if he's a big man, how am I going to reach?" A smile grin appeared despite the best efforts of her sadness. "He'll be kneeling." "WHOA" "HEY HEY HEY, David pay attention baby." "MOM!" She smiled much better this time, despite the magnitude of recent events, when a 10 year old child is standing in front of you and gets after you for calling them any name that hints at them being a "kid" it's hard not to smile and snap to. A kid who only around 4 years ago was in Kindergarten having snack time.
 "Hey, look at me. When he makes his offer to you, put your hand on his shoulder and thank him. After that you need to also tell him 'that you see him.' it's very important."
 "What does it mean?" "Hmm think of it as telling him that he's done a good job."
David back then had never grasped at the weight of the whole ceremony. Just a different person as any child would assume. Once he had become a teenager and began to understand what was going on around him, that changed.
 He had stood there for what had seemed forever. He wasn't allowed to wander off, to stop and talk to other kids. And his dad in that coffin shrouded by the flag. He couldn't stop thinking the whole thing was stupid. Some wild mix of emotions and thoughts that only the child of a fallen veteran would feel. His shoes had already become uncomfortable a "million hours ago" and the ground was soggy from the morning dew.
 The soldiers detailed for the burial snapped to attention and went through perfect motion, setting to their day's duty. As they moved into place a man walked out around from behind two priests who were presiding over the ceremony. His strides looked like they carried great weight. He moved very surely with a smart pace. Palms placed together in prayer the priests returned the gesture. He turned on his heel clockwise. Left hand gird with shield, any notion of childhood grandeur stopped there. The shield was dented and showed many slices and scratches. The enamel had long faded or had been scratched off by deflecting blows. Gray steel and enameled Canadian Maple. His hand was held firm against a large bound book, which attached to a long steel chain. It was carried like a messenger bag.
 He held it against him as if it were his heart. As he spun around the large headed mace came into view. Corners chipped off, with plenty of scars. The pommel looked well englished from inmeasurable hours of use. His armor was a pale white almost a gray now with age. Arms clad in thick plates over a padded underlayer.
  Ribbons swung around after him in a sweeping flourish like a horses mane. Various colors with various stripes, various names on them. All embroidered and clasped on the back of the shoulders by one end. There were 25 in total, all a record of service.
He strode towards the soldiers and stopped behind them as they did. They about faced and saluted. The man slid his right foot forward along the grass, just high enough to move without tearing up the ground and in a measured manner and slid it back just as carefully. Finishing with his right fist to heart, left hand cradling the large book.
 "A blessing of kings be upon you brothers." "And to you as well father", replied the Lieutenant. Both sides ended their formal salutations there. The man turned on heel again, clockwise as he assumed a defensive position in front of them. Part of the ceremony involves this moment where the Paladin stands at the forefront with the task of preventing any interference whatsoever. The casket was moved into position and military ceremony continued. The man patrolled around the soldiers and casket eyes alert. Once in place the soldiers stopped, turned and stood ready.
 After the casket was lowered and ceremony had finished. The man approached David and his mother, priests in tow. He stopped 10 paces from him, and upon kneeling he placed his mace on the ground, hammer end down. Over this he placed his shield as to lean onto the mace shaft. He stood, took one side step to the right and knelt again, this time right fist to heart, and again left hand cradling the large book.
 "My son your father fought well and with all honor. For his sacrifice I ask that you take my arms and shield, that I may serve you in payment of your loss."
 David's mother choked up, David's mind swam, "awhm uhm, um.. I uh, thank you." He then remembered to put his hand on his shoulder.
 The metal was warm, not hot or cold. "I see you?" He could hear crying, and he realized the man's shoulders were bobbing. "What did I do something wrong I don't.." One of the priests had made his way over and put his hand on David's shoulder, "No, you did really well. It's okay, he's alright. You've done him a great honor and he's very grateful for it. A Paladin will never betray you my son, you'll always be given truth from them."
 David would end up learning later that what really happened is that the man was ready to give his own life itself to them. He would give up his charge in order to atone for what the Paladin felt he had himself failed to do. Protect his father.

Northwatch Abbey is about as simple as it gets. The oath to live a life of poverty is taken to heart.

 All manner of people come here, all seem to have simple reasons for being there, but none of it is as simple as it looks at this modest Abbey.

Prayers every morning are ritualistic, and most importantly, filled with purpose. Every morning a prayer to the Light in promise to serve, every evening a prayer to the Light for those who have passed.

When everything vile in this world crept in, it wasn't the magi, the witches, or druids who could best deal with them. It was the priests, those who served the Light had a distinct advantage, only those who had felt the Light could withstand the despair, the terror, the corruption, and do so entirely, even if it meant their end.

For them there was no fear of death if they had lived as a worthy servant of humanity. A Paladin will call upon themselves as a weapon of the light, empowering themselves and their arms to one last service, that they would be a castle to shelter the weak, to give rest to the fangs of the wicked one last time, one may live for the price of their own, to call forth the hammer of judgement to wicked..one last time. This is perhaps the greatest gift bestowed upon them, to become a star among the heavens, they offer their greatest moment of love as payment for the safety of humanity.

A Holy minded Paladin's gift then is to give their life essence up as payment to save another's life. Often times during this prayer the paladin ends up falling forward and landing hands first, they literally lay on their hands.

The Retributor's payment gives them the opportunity to live as a flash of lightning. To strike quickly as a bolt of energy as terrible as a strike from the heavens. A manifest of their zeal.

The Protector's last prayer is to offer themselves up as a shield. The epitome of defense, the castle. They are able to negate any number of persons from any form of damage for a certain period of time.

Of these three there is a unified matter. The greater the Fervor, the Faith, the greater the effect was.

But there is no mistake, no matter the deed, all are sainted. For them there is no greater display of service than to give up your entire being, and thus they revere those who do with very proper respect.

Because of this goal they tend to work well with a wide array of people. They will enjoy the company of a mage or druid alike. If the cause is good, that is all they feel on that matter.

The Fires of Emotion

         Deep fury burned in her, wounds and burned hair were no concern. For those who have much in the way of patience, have even darker depths of anger. In this case, reason was burned from thought, the three sacred flames had bellowed from inside her, and she sent it outward, like a charge shot from a cannon. It was not an answer or reply to a threat, it was destruction. The inferno had struck the pain and it's origins out of existence. She had watched them burn all the way down to nothingness. Tears dropped from wide open eyes, thought gone from mind. White noise all consuming.