Legacy of Draegan Stone

[Kyber]

♛

Draegan Stone

Blade with whom I have lived, blade with whom now I die. Serve right and justice one last time. Seek one last heart of evil, still one last life of pain. Cut well old friend, and then farewell.
- Unknown

[[ Most spoilers redacted, but minor ones below - read at your own risk. DO NOT METAGAME! ]]

Theme

Full Name: Draegan Stone
Birthdate: Unknown
Birthplace: Unknown
Birthsign: The Legionnare

Appearance

Age: Mid 30's
Height: 76 1/2 Inches
Weight: 17 1/2 Stone
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Skin: Slightly Dark
Handedness: Right
Posture: Upright
Hygiene: Very Good
Scent: Cederwood

Physical Description: Draegan is toweringly tall, very well built and appears to be able to move with ease. His size gives the impressive of strength but lacking of speed.

Personality

General Health: Very Good
Profession: Unknown
Faction Affiliation: None
Languages: Collation
Accent: Proper Decusian
Roleplay Tools: Divination, Paladin, Warrior, Swordplay

Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Research
Habits: Hygenic and spiritual.

Personality Description:

Draegan appears to be calm and cool headed. He has a very neutral facial expression when he is not speaking. As he speaks he maintains direct eye contact, speaking with confidence and slight aggression. He seems to get directly to the point with most conversations.

He often looks off when not busy or doing something directly. As if he is trying to remember something. If let alone long enough you can almost see his mouth moving as he is thinking, as if hes reciting or talking to someone in his thoughts.

History: Draegan for the most part seems to have an unknown and confusing history. His past to him is completely shrouded after his injury. Him arriving at the first province to him, is a mere coincidence - however should his memory return, problems may be presented.

Strengths: Example: Sincere, Calm, Cool-Headed, Benevolent
Weaknesses: Example: Obsessive, One track minded, Aggressive

Governing Virtue: Justice
Governing Throne: Shame

[Kyber]

'My road - My road is always begotten with stones which make the walk more than should be...here lay the man on the side, who has perished, his feet wear the shoes that can protect me from these stones - but should I take from this man, a sin will I commit...' My first memory

'Tell me of your furthest memory my child...' A man robed in white with a thick beard, heavily aged from what you could see. Draegan nodded to this man, as he began to recite his furthest memory. One from childhood.

Draegan, a young man of age sits in the church far in the west, holding his book as he listens to the sermon.

The sermon had ended, and Draegan had smiled at the priest as he walked to his chambers and the service had concluded. No smile was returned, as Draegan sat usually in the back - unseen by most.

Young men at this stage are most impressionable, most often finding something they wish to be and holding onto that ideal for most of their young adulthood if not longer. They act out fantasies in their head and often find themselves ignoring chores while finding time to imagine the possible.

'Draegan! Church is done, the sermon is over its time to wash the cattle! Draegan!' A woman shouted to him, aggressively spoken as the young boy jolts and perks to attention. 'Ye-yes ma'am!' The boy replied, stuttering from the bit of shock. He grabbed what things he had and sprints out to the cattle. Of course, he was late, last again as he troddled up with a glint and a smile.

'I'm gonna' be a priest, I just know it - comfort and salvation to the masses, being at the forefront of the righteous!' Proclaimed the young boy, excited as his hair danced within the sharp western wind. 'Look at how they all work together! They all bring such peace to everyone, such comfort! It's amazing! We could do that!' Draegan again proclaimed, a smile that could bring pierce depression at its heart.

'Well, if we don't clean these cattle, we won't be doing much else for the rest of the day' A solemn boy said, after which Draegan quickly agreed and began to clean the cattle.

The smile on the young boy had not faded - but this memory began too, Draegan sat before the old man with the expression of comfort and a bit of confusion. Still wanting more answers, lightly rubbing his fingers together.

[Kyber]

'....Why are you sending me away, did I do something wrong...'

The bell of the church rings, once...twice...three times. As Draegan dressed in tattered robes with a braided rope around his waist. Draegan wipes beads of sweat off his forehead as he pulls it again, and again.

'I have this memory' Draegan said as he sat in a room talking to an old man, his mouth was dry - as if emotional about speaking 'I can't see anything, it's just...black' he begins to choke on the words 'I just remember the feeling, I feel so sad.' What does this mean? I have been walking so long and still can't remember anything.

Draegan rubs his face and looks over at his empty room, a small candle in the attic of a cathedral - he sighs and realizes again he's talking to no one again. The swelling on his head still there as his hand brushes over the injury to the back of his head.

He lays down on his back, the splinters from the old attic poke at him as he sighs, the feeling of something real that gives both discomfort and relief simultaneously. He closes his eyes lightly.

'So when I grow up, what do I get to be? Do I get to do what my father does...where is my father?' Young Draegan had begun to ask so many questions as he bounced around. The young boy barely come of age, with blonde hair bouncing in joy with a large smile looking up at a faceless woman....

Draegan began to walk in a field with the woman, walking a few paces ahead of her. He seems to feel some sort of happiness as he continues to look back at her. The fields of golden wheat recently harvested, Draegan is prancing and talking, but can't hear himself speak, only see his mouth move as he occasionally looks over at the woman.

'...I don't want to hear any more about it...pack your things, pack, hurry. You have to go soon and we can't idle about.' A frazzled and frantic woman speaks, her words slightly stuttered as if she is in a rush. 'Hurry!' She shouted with that nervous laugh attached, as if unable to control her emotions.

'I just don't understand what I did wrong' Draegan stands there, muscles tensed with his lips quivering - he speaks in a high-pitched voice attempting to hold back tears that fall 'Please don't send me away I'll be better this time ...please...'

[Kyber]

Few days of easy travel before Draegan entered the pass and received his visa...

'Did you wash up?' The old man said to Draegan 'Clean the stable, burn the leaves and the waste?'

'Yes, yes, and yes' Draegan nodded, he seemed grateful to this person. it appeared he had taken him in for a short bit before he continued on and asked payment for chores. The house was well built, sturdy if a little old. The man at one point had enough to provide for himself to afford a small farm.

'Remember anything else? Got a whole night ahead if you want to think about it...' The man said, setting out the kettle just after heating the stove. 'Got nice tea too...if you want.'

It was clear this man lost something before - child, wife, family. He seemed so eager, so happy to have company. His house was a bit out of the way from town but the quiet was nice. He a stable with a few animals, some were cleaner than others. The man seemed to live off the land well enough, hunting rifle, books on farming that were read quite a bit, animal handling and husbandry. At one point a family most likely lived within these walls.

Draegan sat at the table for a bit, drinking tea and having a conversation about his travels for heading up into the vacant room. There was a bed, a little two small with makeshift blankets. Clearly made for a loved one. The materials were lackluster, but the care was evident

It's a very odd thing to be alone - really alone. Truly, truly alone. You find yourself attaching to animals, objects, something to make you feel like you are a part of something. If those things go away and you really are truly alone - it is an odd feeling. Especially if you were someone who had a family before it. Draegan stared at the candle and had a memory.

'When I get out of here, I'm going to become a Templar - I know it sounds crazy, but I want to do it.' Draegan was past his younger years now, working in a church in the west. He did not have the same facial features as the others near him and was considerably taller - somehow slightly fitting into the group of young men.

'What else am I going to do?' He asked 'I could, build a farm - find a wife? Fat chance, not around here. We are in the middle of nowhere Collatia and I want adventure!' The few that sat around looked at him, there is a slight agreement amongst them, but overall tired.

'I can see why you wanna do that, can't fault you for it - but priesthood doesn't seem so bad either. All the priests and servants here seem to be happy. Why not just do this?' A boy asked, he wiped the sweat off his forehead as he threw a pitchfork down, remarkably, landing perfectly in the ground and standing upright. 'Still got it' he said

'I guess - I just am not from here, I don't know where I'm from, but I know it isn't here. Maybe a chance to see something, something big. Maybe help someone - the church has helped me for so long, but I want to give more than just sermons and pray over the weak or ill'. Draegan slumped down onto hay, laying back as he looked into the sky.'

'You know, if you become a templar you're gonna have to learn to fight, maybe ask Father Sol - he knows how to fight.' A boy said before being quickly interrupted by other. 'He's so old! What is he going to teach him, how to walk in a circle crippled?' An over exaggerated exhaustive grunt as he said it. 'You want to learn to fight, go downstairs and pick up one of the swords and go hit a tree - better off them that old cog.'

Draegan sat there with wide eyes, sarcastically looking at both of his hands - from one, and then to the other exaggeratedly. 'In one hand, I have advice to go to an old man who may very well have seen the birth of time - to teach me the very first fighting technique that has ever been created - or grab an old sword and go smack a tree.' Draegan looked at them with his lips bunched up, sarcastically disappointed in his friends.

'Why don't you read some of the manuals in the library - there's bound to be something in there. At the very least you'll see some type of history lesson before gallivanting off into a service we barely know about. Wait till they go to bed, and sneak down, and take a read.' Draegan heard, he thought for a moment and not only did this sound seem plausible, but it sounded like a good idea. It was settled, he would sneak down into the parish read - then he might ask the ancient one for advice.

Draegan feigned sleep in the old quarters above the stable. Slowly sneaking out and over into the church, the hillside breeze was not strong but the way it passed over the uncut fields gave a soothing sound. Draegan had slowly snuck into the church and down into the basement - a few bookshelves of various manuals. Surprisingly one on swordsmanship, templar virtues, last rites, copies and copies of scripture in different languages - one book stood out. He picked it up, it was old and barely holding together as a page fell out and onto the ground - he picked it up and blew off the dust - trying not to cough.

'What...is this?'' There was a look of surprise, as you would expect from an old book, but this seemed different; Draegan began to read the writing on the book. 'Invito...Motus...Flamma...'

**

Draegan awoke with a loud grunt in the middle of his dream while talking a loud and the back of his head was searing with pain, as was also the ceiling ablaze.

'Get up! The house is on fire - stop talking in your sleep and get out' Draegan stumbled, grabbed his things, holding the back of his head as he made his way outside.

The man was distraught - looking at the house as it began to burn down. He crumpled to his knees and sat there, if he had the strength or will, he would form tears. Instead, the man just sat there looking with his hands. It was an odd sight, because as he left the house, he saw the man already in the field but swore he was the one who woke him.

Draegan attempted to comfort the man, he offered him what coin and things he had left - but the man didn't respond. It was on the brink of dawn, maybe an hour or so before the sun decides to rise. Draegan nodded, grabbed his things and began to leave. That phrase, words - stuck into his mind.

Draegan jumped slightly, he heard a loud crack and a slump. It was quiet after that.... he couldn't even hear the fire as he walked down the road.

[Kyber]

'...War is a drug you know, the feeling of your ears pulsing - the feeling of being completely aware, the rush. Everything about it draws you in again and again, just once more and a little closer to your end...'

The loud sound of a blade as it passes through a target, the feeling of a smooth pass through - It's an addicting feeling. Something that you grow accustomed to. A polished blade, well sharpened at the right angle. Its master craft, the perfection of it.

'Try again - you don't seem to understand it. It's just a hay sack with straw Draegan' - The old priest, decrepit in its looks, had said to the young man. His tone was disappointment and hope mixed into one, akin to a teacher who knows potential but sees failure at the time.

The young man is slumped over, leaning on the straw sack as he breathes heavily. Out of shape, unbuilt and completely useless looking. The lack of form shows a near complete lack of training.

'I - am completely exhausted father, may I stop?' - Draegan said, he coughed a little and then looked down. Either from exhaustion or some type of illness, spotted blood in his hand. The priest had clearly noticed as he nodded at him to stop. The spots were not large but enough to cause a slight alarm.

'For today - you are done, go wash up' The priest said, as he slowly hobbled and waddled his way back into the remote church. Draegan was left smiling, but also curious as to what happened. The color seems to regain as he stopped - it was slow to return. At a pace you would not expect a healthy young man - something to take note of.

Draegan sat around with the few other boys there, smiling as he looked at them. They talked aimlessly as they all seemed to have gone through some sort of swordsmanship today. They seemed to have all similar experiences.

'So what is for tomorrow? Chicken bone broth is on the menu and I am quite excited!' The boy hopped up, dancing about as one with much energy would do. Hopping awkwardly up and down as the others looked at him. The various aged boys seemed to all talk in turn.

'We all got sent here together boys, we're family you know.' The eldest one seemed the most relaxed, laying back on the hay bale as a smile creeped across his lips. That sight you get when the clouds, although in actuality moving slowly, seem to be moving at light speed. The 'far away' looks, as if at complete peace.

The rest of the boys smile, and Draegan picked up the sword again. The color had returned and he boasted slightly before taking a large and heavy swing at the hay sack. The blade coming loose from his hands as it sailed through the air toward the youngest. Draegan had spit up a bit, he heard that familiar sound of blade passing through - that sound of a smooth and gentle pass with resistance. His eyes had become glazed slightly as he saw his hands tinged red from the cough. A few voices and bustling can be heard, his eyes had become blurred from a watery vision - coughing again as the sounds of voices were muffled.

'We're going to be ok....' A small period of unconsciousness 'Just say with us - we're all right here.'...

Draegan began to feel himself falling completely unconscious, as he felt old stone tile across his face. The yelling had begun to slow and fade. Draegan had the feeling of slowly falling, that wash of life that leaves your body - like a cold blanket that lays on you.....

[Kyber]

'Draegan' The sounds of snapping in front of his face - a cool washcloth on his head.' Draegan, wake up boy - you've been out for hours.' The man he saw as the priest stands above him, snapping his fingers as he grits his teeth and coughs with a whimper.

'He's...He's dead, isn't he? I know it, I killed him when the sword left my hands - I'm so sorry father.'

The old man sighed, heavily - he seemed to have a sadness about what he is saying when he said 'Draegan, you saw them again didn't you...Son, we're alone here.' The old man had patted his chest, sighing as he attempts to give him comfort.

Draegan began to realize, looking around seeing the church - what was once bustling is now abandoned looking. The fields not being cut, the vines that grew on the inside and the passing of wind through it all seemed to make sense. He sat there for a time; the facial expressions apparent on his face as he swallowed hard. Tears had formed as he tried to nod, quickly a few times. That familiar sight, of him standing there as he was told to pack his things and leave. That look of a helpless depression as someone tenses up and grips their hands so tight, they shake with anger and sadness.

'I thought...they looked so real. They we're my family...Why does this keep happening'. Draegan had stuttered as a dry harsh mouth had kept him from speaking properly. The saliva thick as he grunts to hold in tears. The feeling of the old man patting his chest as he tried to release the disappointment in himself.

'I'm going to do better...'He said with confidence 'I'm not broken! I am... I am worthy of something. I am not to be thrown away and... forgotten'. The boy had released into a soft cry, as the old man continued to pat his chest as Draegan slowly turned over, tears staining the pillow in silence. He looked over at the man to look him in his eyes. 'Please...please don't go...I can't...I can't bear it again' He sniffled lightly as looking at the man.

'I will never leave you son, I am always...always with you...right here' as the man patted his chest again Draegan had grabbed his hand and squeezed it. His eyes shut tightly as he opened them, he looked up and the man was not there. Just a small drawing, of a family. He wiped his eyes as he looked at the parchment to see a clear picture of his father, holding a small blonde-haired child.

'I'm...I'm all alone' Draegan again whimpered and looked around the abandoned church 'What do I do...I miss you so much father...' He looked at the picture and held it close to his chest before softly feeling the droplets from his eyes hit the pillow before falling asleep...

[Kyber]

'...Being born is the opportunity to do something great, not the right...'

'So here I am, one last day before the pass - one last road to go on and one last night' Draegan had written in his book, closing the pages as he sat in the back of a carriage. His coin had dwindled, and his armor had a slight rust to it at this point. He tried to jot down what he could remember one last time before he entered.

*******

Draegan sat in the church, there was that feeling of loss and confusion as he looked at the sprawled-out books, paintings, texts. He had been reading them for hours, which became days, then to weeks. The texts had spilled information of the church and religion. To him it had all seemed like a puzzle to be put together, it was at this point he had the realization that he was a little mad.

It's odd to have feeling's you can't explain from time to time - what about seeing things that you aren't sure are real? Having memories that you can't figure out are your own, people you've known your whole life may not even be real. You could be a cast away, a prelate bastard, a mage's mistake or a king's long-lost heir.

Draegan burned through medical texts, religious inscriptions, divination manuals all looking for an explanation to why he was seeing things. To explain the trauma as he was getting older, he was losing touch. Realizing the past 8 years of his childhood is completely misplaced around in his head.

Draegan looked around the church, located within the western territories - finding anything the old priests had left behind or whomever would have camped here for shelter. Old worn-out weapons, destroyed training dummies, and cryptic texts were sprawled on the floor as he cleaned what he could.

'So... I'm alone, and that isn't all bad - I don't know who I am, or who I belong to. I guess I make my own road...' Draegan had said as he pieced together some old tomb, putting it in his makeshift leather sack. Often requiring himself to brush his hands off on his tattered clothes. He saw a tome sitting in the small of a corner of a book shelf. He pushed aside plant growth dust. He had pieced together a few articles - one of which had intrigued him, it was written in the first person, and this is the following:

'My name is John Pierre Lucas - I am a heretic. I am evil to my neighbors and a blight to my community. I am always tired, I am always running, and I have never stopped because I am afraid when I do, I will die. The following is my opinion, before my unknown date of execution.'

The large text appears to be a viewpoint from someone...

'I am a divinator, for those that read this and do not know what that means. It means I harness the power of the Angel and attempt to play with the powers of God if for just a moment. To smite the enemy, to burn the wicked, to heal someone in need. What I do may not be lawful, but without me many would have perished. I cannot speak for you, your family, my friends, fellow workers or even my own children, but I will speak for myself.

I do not raise the dead, bring about blight or push the torment into you. I have not lost my soul, nor have I bargained with it. I have seen the Ill closer than most would like to go. I have heard the church, the same church that preaches safety and sanctity for the people within it. The same church that enforces a law that causes the death of many without much reason then 'because' this same church I go to, to pray to be healed - when words are simply not enough. When something within needs to be used, to take that prayer and turn it into something real and not just a wish?

I won't say the road will be easy, I won't say it will be without danger - as any who look at you will do so with fear before anger and malicious intent will follow. Even if you save their life - they will blame you for their misfortunes as if you took their very soul away. The murderous will chase you; the mobs will lynch.

However, the true few who believe the Angel is more than just a figure. Something more than a simple phrase you say in greeting and departure. Be of the blessed, take this blessing and bestow it upon your follow souls. Heal them of their illnesses, protect them from harm, and if need be - burn the wicked undead. I urge and plead, with my very being and what may be my last breath. Seek out your path to be one of the Angel's true followers and be the light in the darkness. Be the unextinguishable flickering flame of a candle in the wind that refuses to go out.

Go to the First....' *The rest of the page is smeared with blood, heavily darkened with stuck bits of some bodily matter, Draegan frantically looked around. Trying to find something, anything else of the text that was hidden in this old decrepit church. He swallowed for a moment, that same faraway look he got before was coming back.

As he looked around, he had noticed a small glint of an old medallion. He picked it up and wiped it, a small religious medallion of The Angel. He held it tight to his chest as he looked up. His eyes watered a bit as he clutched the medallion to his chest, looking to the other side of the room as 4 figures were standing there of various heights and began to walk into the light.

Their hooded robes had been removed as he saw their faces. 3 of them had eerily similar faces, all having blonde hair and blue eyes. All with striking features - all with very...very similar striking features. the youngest with shaggy hair and a bright smile on his face - that same smile he remembers walking with his mother, this same medallion hanging from his waist. Another looking tired, the same as if he had just finished swinging a sword at a hay dummy for days on end, coughing slightly this same medallion wrapped around his wrist and clutched in his hand. An older with short cropped hair standing roughly 76 inches and over 17 stones, his face looking stern, calm - as the same medallion he has is hanging from his neck.

Draegan had looked at the small amulet - struggling to figure out what this supposed to be. He felt a hand touch his shoulder - a feeling of large wings wrapped around him comfortingly.

'I am with my children; I grant them my protection, my will, my safety, and for moments a glimpse of what it is like - to be a never ending flame.' The voice was ominous, echoing. It bounced off the walls with reverberations as Draegan couldn't look up, he tried to but he couldn't look into the face. His head simply wouldn't move, he just looked at the amulet, to some it would seem shoddily made. A medallion with the figure of the Angel on it. Eventually the feeling had faded, the wings had moved, and the room had become quiet again. He simply stared at that medallion - continue to wonder. 'Did I see the Angel, was that Decus...am I truly mad. Am I sick, or that alone, was I blessed?'

Draegan couldn't explain any of that - he simply stared. Wondering if that all actually happened. He looked down at the dusty tomb before picking it up. The rest of his things and leaving the church.

**********

'Here we are Mister Stone, rumbling pass as requested!' The man had shouted, Draegan sat in the back of that carriage. His thumb idly rubbing the amulet, hopping off the carriage with a thud from the bag that he let hit the ground. Standing toweringly over the man as he puts his shoulder before picking his things up, putting the amulet around his neck, his short, cropped hair, striking features and blue eyes looking at the pass with those same far away looks.

'I guess we finally made it, don't know if any of it is real - still having trouble remembering. I am here though, I'll find some type of answer in here - maybe...' Draegan had thought before tucking a few books away in his bag, walking up to the pass as he looked ahead and heard those words from afar.

'DENIED!'

He had to figure out what he was going to say to get past this man...

[Kyber]

Draegan sat down in the basement of someone's office - at this point having been within the province for a few days. Had not yet met many people - save for a stuttering man who seemed to nice and an odd man apart of some legion.

All seemed normal - even after the odd man had proclaimed to want to meld himself with a machine to survive the torment. Draegan had begun to start remembering - clutching the small medallion and looking over the boom he was writing. He had signed again - a common physical response he seemed to have as of late.

In the few days, searching for a place to write - the tavern which he lived above was quite riotous. The museum had a piano player at all hours that would play - and each corner had folk that just simply walked where they wanted to in plate or chainmail.

Finally coming to this office - as he sits down. He focuses himself as he begins to write. The scattered memories of childhood and young adolescence bring about confusion and feelings he was unsure of.

Draegan had paced lightly around the room, his hand gently gripping his chin, hand idly rubbing fingers together as he thought. Thinking of what life could be as a child - in a church, this had to be some type of clue. He sat down and put quill tip to parchment...

********

'Draegan! Clean the wash rack - this is not a request. A bishop is coming by and we must prepare for his arrival.' - An older priestess yelled. 'Do you not hear me? Where are you?!' She said again

'I'm...Coming! Just wait!' - Draegan responded as he was running about and putting on his shoes, pants, and throwing a sullied shirt on. 'I'm almost...there' He said, struggling.

Draegan's hair had danced as he bounced down the steps on his feet, the boy looking to be the age of 10. Looking wide eyed at everything.

Draegan had been suffering some type of disorder since he had been moved to the west, he could 'see' things and imagine things, that would become real to him. These things were concerning, as anywhere he went he had to assume it was false, made up. However, for this purpose it shall be spoiled - that this was in fact a church, somewhere the mid meets the west.

Draegan had looked up at the priestess - she looked angry. 'Go!' Shouting at him. 'That should have been done a fort night ago!' She said again. She looked at him, as if noticing potential - but would not show lick of it to him. She was older, mid 40's and had a slight cough. She had some wrinkled, the kind you get from sitting in the sun for to long as a child. She seemed with her soft eyes to be a kind woman - until she suddenly slapped him with a softened leather belt across his behind. 'I said go! If he sees that wash rack like that, he will have your hide on it!' Draegan started to run to the wash rack, the entire way rubbing his behind as children do - he thought it was so odd.

'Who wants to see a wash rack, this is silly.' Draegan had spoken to himself as he hopped on the stones - carefully missing any cracks as he made a game out of chores. 'Hip...Hop - Don't - Stop' His hands began to flail as the stone was to small and he slipped slightly.

'Ugh! Not again, now my pants are dirty too!' Draegan suddenly looked as he heard a voice far off in the distance. 'What did you do!? Did you get dirty again' The shouting angry voice clearly from the depths of Hel had only just begun to make its presence, time to deflect, he thought. 'No, and I wouldn't lie!' Right, she will believe that - he whispered to himself.

Draegan had made his way to the wash rack - normally there would be separate places, however in this large church, bustling with activity - they relegated certain things to be washed together. Mostly clothes or linens. It seemed to be efficient. The entire church area seemed a small compound, a few buildings.

As he proceeded to wash the rack - quite some time had passed and just before nightfall as he made his way back upstairs. He saw a flickering light in the distance of the night - which to any child is an immediate call to action to investigate. He followed it, as all children are somehow more silent the professional thieves, he crept up.

There were four priests, and a large man who looked to be the bishop. They stood in the basement as they began to speak to one another. Just out of earshot to where he could make it all out - to be closer, if only. He slowly made his way, until he was in the perfect spot to hear.

'Bishop, when is he arriving?' A priest, cladded in soft robes - the kind you would wear at evening time. 'Soon, very soon - consider that the events unfolding are troublesome, it will be good to have --' The bishop had stopped as a man had come down. He looked much different, Draegan hid - but didn't hide, kid's do not understand how shadows work. However, to his luck, they were not looking for that.

Out of the doorway a large militant looking man had come down, he walked calm but with a purpose. 'Bishop, priests, it is good to see you again' The man had nodded as he walked, seemingly to a direct path to exactly where he wanted to be, and the others simply filed around him.

'Templar, it is good to see you again - It has been quite some time since you have made your way through here. Have you news of our plight?' The bishop had said - the other priests did not speak but seemed eager to hear the 'news' this man would have. Draegan was in awe, staring at the man in a way that would blind you had it been the sun.

'Sadly no news that is of good - the torment continues to spread and has made its way across the land. We are unaware of how long it can be kept contained in every area. As I'm sure you know there are the heretical that attempt to subvert our efforts - and to that, I am here' The man looked directly at the bishop, his eye contact was unwavering. As if they were the only two men in the entire room. He looked stern and direct - spoke with assertiveness and conviction.

The priests around seemed a bit worried, but they continued to look respectfully. 'All is not lost; we shall place our faith where it belong and so shall we receive our blessings.' The bishop seemed less then satisfied, but his tone of voice suggested that he expected it. The old man in his early 50's with wrinkled skin, not from the sun, had seemed kind - as many priests do. He had the voice and presence of someone that could cure your ailment with word alone.

'What of the apostates nearby, have...they been delt with?' Another priest had spoke up, you would think out of turn but the Templar looked his way and nodded, giving his attention to him with the same direct eye gaze. 'A few Witch Hunters had collected on the bounty of the assumed apostates. They swore they were diabolists and provided evidence to support such a claim' He looked back to the bishop, body language indicating that the priests conversation with him was now concluded.

'As the hour is late, and we are to have an early morning Bishop - perhaps we should turn in. You all would do as well' He sounded commanding - even if it was a suggestion. This entire ordeal that Draegan was watching was awe inspiring to him. Is this what templars are? Convicted and collected - he sat there wide eyed and tired.

'Eight guide you, and the Angel Bless' The militant man said before parting his ways and walking. Draegan had repeated that phrase a few times to himself. Nodding to himself as he waited for them all to go.

There was more talking amongst the priests and bishop as they made their way to their place of rest. Draegan had waited, and waited - until the coast was clear. Slowly creeping his way back up to his makeshift bed. Sliding under what was made to be a blanket thinking to himself about what he had seen.

*******

Suddenly Draegan heard the door swing open of the office and a woman standing there whom he had never seen before, he had sighed. Figuring this was bound to happen sooner or later. God - damn - it. He thought to himself.

'You're not Atticus...who are you?' The woman said standing with alarm but aggression placed into curiosity in the doorway...

[Kyber]

'...If you ask of the world, one favor or blessing. Let it not be limitless knowledge - for you would have nothing left to search for...'

Draegan sat in the empty basement, surrounded by books in a man's office he barely knew. The lamp had flickered due to a small gust from under the door that made its way through the crack...

His eyes were heavy, body bruised and beaten, he sighed heavily and seemed unsure of himself - barely able to stay awake let alone lift the quill again.

'Angel grant me strength...' Draegan said as he sighed.

**************
'Draegan! Draegan! Come here my boy...oh there you are!' A woman with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, average height with a small figure picks the 7 year old up, embracing him deeply as she kisses his cheek. 'My sweet boy, you have the face of a true prince. Even if you are dirty. I need you to clean up for service today. The priest does love his flock to be of cleanliness in the church.

Draegan smiled, he stared at her face with happiness in the field as he run ahead of her. Toward his home - he changed as quickly as he could. Putting on his clothes as if his one purpose was to make this woman happy. He sprinted back outside and looked at her.

She stand next to a man, but his focus completely on her - he grasps her hand and looked up at her. Like a child who could not bear to forget that face. Taking in every detail, every minor bump, scratch or blemish. They walked together to church down a small road. The church was beautiful and large - several buildings to a small compound if you will. Stonework was excellent and the clergy is outside to welcome them all.

The priest, an elderly man with a thick beard and old eyes. Slightly glazed, but you could barely tell from the expression he gives of pure gratitude that those would come to listen. Markings on the church beautifully carved as the entire building seems that a large amount of wealth were poured into it.

The priest after moments begins his sermon, as Draegan cuddles up to his mother, seated next to her. At the time of the memory he can remember she felt, the warmth against her, the compassion from her embrace, even her scent.

'Shh, this is where he starts to speak. Pay attention.' She leans down and kisses his forehead and brings him in close as the smile on his face brightens. The priest begins to speak, but Draegan only seems to recall pieces of it.

'To mine, and to yours. May the Eight guide you - our sermon today is short. However, with its swiftness comes importance. Our sacrifice and compassion are...' Draegan seems to fade from hearing the words. He simply continues to stare at his mother. As if a child manipulating his dream to change something. Force of will, holding onto this moment as clouds could move as horses - but this moment stay still.

'I ask of you my friends, my comrades, my kin, and my flock. If you were to ask but one question of the Angel, if you were to receive the blessing of Decus. If you were to have that strength, would you share it? Or keep it to yourself. Would you carry your share, or more? I ask you these questions, not to instill feelings, but for an insight to your feelings. May you always walk your road with compassion, with humility, with sacrifice, so that your honor remains and you are able to live in justice, valor and honesty. Be spiritual in your comings and goings. Eight guide and Angel bless you all.'

The elderly man smiles to his clergy, he shakes their hands as they seem happy. This moment in time is fleeting for the young boy. He is enamored with what he is seeing. Church to him, seems alive - healthy. A place of peace and tranquility. To be with family and live within harmony. All times are not good, some end with notes played wrong and mistakes happen.

This moment for him, seems to continue.



**************

Draegan sat there, his face was rested with his hands placed on his legs as he stared at the book. He looked at the words, watching the ink dry slowly as his breath was quickened but heavy - falling repeatedly in the same deep manner.

Draegan sat, thinking aloud as he stared at the book. Continuing to watch the pages lightly shake from soft gusts from his breath. Draegan said as he closed his eyes - holding onto that image as his thumb idly rubs his medallion. 'I know what my mother looks like...I have ...a mother'...