Dubhaine Family/Cathal/Roleplays/2008/March

March 21st - Windaria

The pallid youth lay in deathly slumber beneath the cover of a mountain bramble, livid welts and lesions criss-crossing his chest and arms where the blades and cudgels of his enemies had sought to take his life. The day had been lost ere it even begun but Sir Cathal knew no fear, and where he passed his men were heartened and their hearts filled with a fierce valour, a burning vision of the life to come. None would turn from their faith, even as the enemy cavalry hurtled through the blistering storm and thunder, falling each beneath the blades and cudgels and horses' hooves. Even thus as Sir Cathal himself fell, sword notched and armour rent, skewered by lance and shriven by his deeds.

The miracle of that hour was not the one of battle, for battle is neither miraculous or holy, but of the grace which lay upon him when the battle was done. A pall of obscurity fell across his broken body and even as his companions were butchered and stripped so the enemy passed him by, and his healer Sophia came to the field as the storm reached its crescendo and with the aid of his trusted scouts bore him away. And Cathal knew not what transpired.

"Cathal..." the Thunder shook his body.

"Cathal Dubhaine..." the lightning smote his breastplate, scorching him with holy fire.

"Cathal Dubhaine awake!"

He stood before a throne, and on that throne sat a brilliant light. At the left hand stood a man and in his hand was a balance, careening wildly this way and that, and to the right stood a dark-haired maiden weeping tears of blood which stained her yellow gown.

"You have been called to judgement Cathal. Is your heart pure?"

"My heart is black with hatred for those who slew my companions" he fell to his face, consumed with shame.

"Approach and know your doom Cathal Dubhaine," and he felt his body moving of its own volition, dragging him towards that awful glory. "You will travel back to My Temple in Alowca and there you will dedicate yourself to My service. From thence you will spread My words of Love and Peace that all men may be saved from Undeath."

"But My Lord," he found himself speak in spite of himself, "How can Love and Peace prevail in the face of so much evil?"

"Have you forgotten the things which We revealed to you in your imprisonment? Evil shall be utterly overthrown by My Hand, not by the swords of man. This is your appointed task Cathal Dubhaine, to preach My Holy Word that all may choose freely which path they tread, and thus the wicked be winnowed from the righteous."

And Cathal returned to his slumber.

March 24th - Vir el Mari Heights

A thin mist clung to the hillside as Cathal and his three companions made their way along the northern bank of the river. Night was falling and his body shivered beneath his ruined garments, but his mind was too restless to be discomforted. The leagues passed in silence until the small band turned a bend in the river and the lights of Alebad twinkled in the distance.

"We will soon be back amongst civilised folks," Kerith the elder of Cathal's scouts looked visibly relieved.

"Pardon?" Cathal looked up from his reverie.

"We'll soon be home My Lord," Kerith smiled.

"Then we'll rest here for the night. Make camp in the lee of that ridge," Cathal gestured to a hill in the near distance, "and I'll join you in a while. I have much to consider before we return to Alowca."

The strange dreams which had plagued his sleep since arriving in the Colonies left him doubting his own sanity, and yet he had seen things which he knew in his heart to be true. Terrible things, beyond the power of man. The evil oppressing his adopted homeland would be utterly overthrown and the unrepentant driven to annihilation. But here amidst the bleak moraine, the memory of the ruin at Windaria still fresh in his mind, he found his heart pulling him in strange directions.

This latest dream had been clear: his sword alone was not enough to turn the tide, he must commit everything which he possessed - mind, body and soul - to the service of The Trinity and spreading the Truth. But how best to pursue this course?

Should he adopt the robes of Priesthood? The faith was sorely lacking in mendicant preachers, willing to carry the Word to the heathens. His life would doubtless be short and blessed with Martyrdom, but how could he square that with the voices which had laid doom upon him?

If he remained a warrior how could he dedicate his life to Love and Peace? His concerns would be the day-to-day happenings of his men, not the souls of the heathens who so desperately needed saving. And yet his inner vision could see the Final War in which the lies of Lukon would be overthrown and the tyrants of the west cast into the outer darkness, there to gnaw on their corrupted flesh for all eternity.

The stakes were much higher than a youth of eighteen should have to weigh.

And then the truth of the matter struck him. Many in Alowca had turned from the path of faith, settled in the bounty gifted them by The Trinity. That was why there were so few priests to carry the message abroad, and why righteous paladins such as his own commander the blessed Marshal Allyah were so often denied victory. The faith had withered on the vine.

The time had come for a reformation: for the emergence of The Faith Militant, a movement that would marry the good word of The Trinity with the Valour and Arms of Alowca's Knights. It mattered not whether he took the cowl for the words would come unbidden. The Faith Militant of The Church of The Trinity could not be denied!

He spread his arms, casting aside sword and shield, and raised his face to the heavens, "I have heard Your call and I shall not falter! I am set on the path of the Faith Militant until righteousness overturns the deceits of the enemy and lays bare the pits of suffering, or death carries me to your bosom!"