WarDragon's Way of the Wicked
A free man out to reform the Church of Mitra
Male tiefling samurai 7
She was young and beautiful. I was immediately in love.
I am not the most intelligent of men. I cannot compose poetry, nor forge gold bands. I do not trade goods, nor herd cattle. Nor am I a thief, taking that which others have toiled for. What I have is a pure heart. A true heart. When I seek to lay it before one who is worthy, there is no force in the world that can bend my loyalty away. She knows.
The circumstances of my birth were…unusual, to say the least. My parents did not recognize the marks of beauty upon my newborn flesh as such, holding to more puritanical views of that which is attractive. I forgive them for it, for they were products of their upbringing, just as we are all. There is divinity in forgiveness. For all of us.
I was very young when I realized I was going to be a paladin, a holy knight and avenger of wrongs. Within shining armor, my beautiful skin is seen as a badge of honor. No one questions the helmed hero about the mark across his eye, or neck, or down his back. My honor was unbreakable, even at that early age. My courage, unassailable. I caught her eye even then. Or perhaps we caught each others, for surely I was ensnared as any game in the forest.
I excelled in woodcraft, in riding, in all things a squire must be. I was first to volunteer and last to quit the training field. There were nervous mutters about my beauty, but base racism and prejudice finds poor soil in the heart of a paladin. I was given the chance to prove myself. To them, to holy Mitra and to all who would look upon me in disdain. To her.
She came to me on the night before my vows. It was not sacrilege, but consummation of those vows which brought us together, over and over again that night. We worshiped holy Mitra in each other beneath the full moon. She sought to become me, and I sought to become her. Our hearts were as one flesh, and when she left, chaste tears (for no matter what love we experience, she shall ever remain innocent and pure in my eyes, a blushing virgin each and every time) were my only remembrance of the occasion.
“I think of her always, even now.” The scarred youth smiles at you.
“Lucavi Delacroix still focuses on his combatives above other considerations such as knightly values. Though he demonstrates a cool head, he rarely expresses any emotion whatsoever. He has received several complaints about his unnerving of the other candidates. He does not put forth a proper effort in his religious training. He frequently appears to make up the answers when his knowledge is lacking, often concocting assertations bordering on heresy. As a candidate we recommend him for extensive retraining.” -Knight Captain Lars Gafgarion
“Alma Belleve was taken from her home by her neighbor Lucavi Delacroix on Fireday night. She was returned to her home the following morning. The victim cannot testify due to the removal of her tongue, nor identify the attacker due to the removal of her eyes, both of which appear to have been accomplished through the application of acid. The lacerations of her back and limbs are consistent with the defendant’s elongated and sharpened fingernails. She was branded on her left shoulder so severely that she has lost the use of her arm. Finally, her rib cage was opened up and the bone threaded through the flesh of her chest. We have been unable to heal most of the mutilations for fear of causing the young woman to be forever marred in this atrocious manner, and await direction from the Church before treating her further. We are charging the defendant with torture, attempted murder and kidnapping.” -Inquisitor Folmarv Tengille