The bright mid-day sun, have you ever looked into it? Have you tried to make out the outline of the dancing ball before your sight failed? You might have as a child, putting your hands in front of your face, trying to shield your eyes from some of the light so you could focus a little longer. In the end it was always futile. The sun always won. You turned away, pain and disorientation welling up in your brain. But, at least the sun was in the sky. It was far away, it's light caressing and keeping your warm and lighting your way. It wasn't a hundred feet away, scorching the earth and snuffing out the screams of men that were now standing at it's core. It's rays now burned and singed everything the light touched. And when Chresh thought back to his childhood looking up at the sun, he never noticed the halfling Templar darting in and out of the ball of light, moving impossibly fast, as if possessed by the radiant energy around her. She danced like a flickering flame. He wasn't sure what was more awe inspiring or terrifying watchinghis mother unleash a power he never thought possible: The fact that spell could literally create a sun on earth, or the sight of his mother flitting in and out of vision, pausing for moments to bring down a studded glowing mace on blinded men. She made quick work, dispatching everyone around her. The spell weaving making her so fast, it was near impossible to track her movements. He didn't even know where the mace came from, glowing nearly as bright as the sun itself, yet not burning her hands. It was an instrument of a Templar, and it's master was calling it's power with a ferocity of a mother protecting her family. Gritted teeth and a calculated stare as she seemed to materialize in front of the scattering men around her. Her strikes were powerful, true and singular. No quarter was given. Judgement was passed before the spell was called, and she was the executioner. The rage and fearsome hand of the Conduit. Some of the would be captors, now hapless victims lay scattered about, as if a bomb went off, some still sizzling, some charred beyond recognition, and others crawling away, cauterized and amputated. Yet none truly escaped. They were the walking dead. One skittered around a corner, peeking out to see if he could find his missing arm strewn along the battlefield. He didn't even see her. The force of the mace caved in his face with such brutality that wood behind him splintered. And then she was gone. Back into the light, judgement coming for another doomed soul. Seconds ticked by like hours. Chresh sat dumbfounded as the woman he called mother dismantled the Empty Hand with the precision of a scalpel and the savagery of a great axe.
In an instant, the spell ended, and it was pitch black. His eyes stung as if the absence of light was somehow more painful. He felt along the ground frantically, till his hands reached his father and brother. The dim light of the Gate started to filter in again. His eyes adjusting to the faint light. He tried to look out into the makeshift battlefield that was his familiar hillside and all he saw was horror. He could see the outline of some of the men that were caught in the initial blast. The night sky giving enough light to see the trails of ash building, as the wind eroded the bodies. They were pillars of soot waiting for a strong enough gust to erase their previous forms. They were the lucky ones. Death came in an instant. Those near the blast weren't as fortunate. Some looked burned and charred, their injuries snuffing out their life, their last moments of agony etched forever on their faces. And then further out, the crushed victims, bludgeoned to death, judged by a Halfling Templar standing in the middle of the carnage. She methodically walked over to each, hands gesturing over the bodies as she inspected them all. Twice she swung the mace down to finish off a pair that hadn't succumbed to their injuries. Then the hand gesture again. A short prayer to hurry their trek to the afterlife...and final judgement.
Avana stood for a moment listening for anything. Satisfied, she turned toward Chresh and her family, the stern face faded. Dried blood cracked around the edges of her mouth as the familiar smile returned.
"Mommy is smiling, that's good, right?" "Bow asked while shaking off the last loops of rope around his legs.
Chresh nodded but was still unsure. Less than an hour ago, his mother was a kind soul. Sure, she was a Templar, but that was just a word. And then it wasn't.
She rushed over to them, quickly inspecting each of them, talking as she worked, "are any of you hurt?" She waited till each nodded their heads before she took a deep cleansing breath. At once her demeanor transformed into the wholesome halfling she was before. Her posture was relaxed again.
"What was that spell?"
"A spell called Dawn." She flopped onto the ground, seeing the worst had passed, "Templars are either Clerics or Paladins. Newer paladins always laughed about us. They always thought we just ran around wrapping bandages on boo boos till the first time they see that spell go off and they see us move, and the laughing always stopped." She looked up, "Honey, I told you, that was a worthwhile purchase for our anniversary."
Jiem laughed, "Hindsight, I should have bought you two of those."
She laughed at put her hand on his face, "you couldn't afford it at the time," she glanced at Chresh, "he was eating us out of house and home."
Chresh smiled, somewhat disarmed at how quickly it felt normal again. "I can buy her a new one in town tomorrow."
A sound so awful, you couldn't describe, or rather you didn't want to, reverberated through the air. It immediately turned his stomach. He only heard it when he missed his mark with his bow. Steel cleaving into bone. His head snapped up, seeing his mother's smile go slack. She slumped forward before trying to get up, but falling onto her side, a dagger embedded deep just below her shoulder blade.
"I don't think you're my lucky charm anymore." Doggo staggered from the shadow, "That's the fourth blade that's missed it's mark tonight." He cleared the building he was hiding behind, the entire left side of his body glistening in the moonlight, blood leaking through crisp breaks in his skin. He missed the blast, but still was too close to be unharmed. "I was aiming for the back of her neck." Jiem and Bow screamed rushed to Avana's side. Chresh stood there silent, teeth gritted in anger, his entire body trembling as Doggo approached. Some of the telltale swagger returned, still wincing as any part of his left side moved. "Now the last thing you're going to do before I slaughter you in front of the widower and the boy, is let me know where your stash is. It's going to take at least that to hire a new crew. If it's not enough, I'll be back to kill the boy too. Your dad can remarry and have another litter if he really wants to." He went down onto his good knee and pulled another dagger from his belt, sliding it under Chresh's neck, and using his wrist to nudge his chin up.
He could feel his blood boiling. His whole body was still shaking, threatening to vibrate out of his own shoes. His nails dug into his palms, breaking skin. The anger welled up. And all at once, the dam broke.
"I'm not going to ask you agai...." his voice trailed off. He looked into the Halfling's eyes and didn't recognize them. They were defiant, fiery and steeled. His eyes flickered with glints of silver. Fear. For the second time tonight he was afraid. He gritted his teeth and flicked his wrist across his throat. Sparks stung his eyes. Startled because he expected blood spurts. When his vision cleared he saw a glowing insignia with a gash where the dagger had dragged across. A shied spell. His eyes darted to the woman on the ground. She was hanging onto the last moments of life. She couldn't have cast it. The familiar warning bells signaled the danger. He could feel heat. His eyes leveled onto the halfling again, but he seemed different from the traveling companion he once had. The sparks in eyes were glowing.
It had been so long, yet the it felt familiar. The night that changed his life and the power. It was rushing through him, deeper and more powerful than he felt he could control. It threatened to consume him, as it surged through his veins, straining against his skin. "If you survive this night, know that you will always be an enemy of the Silver Flame." The voice seemed to come suddenly, the words, foreign. "A Templar has fallen, and that can not stand." Chresh could feel his mouth moving, yet the sounds weren't his own. The power now felt more measured, pulsating with each new heartbeat. He watched almost as a spectator as his body moved on it's own. His left hand grasping Doggo's hand holding the dagger. In one fluid motion he leaped up, perched perfectly balanced onto the Drow's knee. His free hand digging into the burned side of his face, breaking off flecks of crisped skin. "Judgement will not escape you, Drow." Suddenly both of Chresh's hands ignited. Fire blasted into the side of dark elf's face, and on his good hand. Flames bridged Chresh's hands, forming that same cone of destruction from that fated night. The concussive blast of the spell blew the drow a dozen feet back, slamming him into the same nearby shanty he used to escape most of the blast of the dawn spell. He slumped over, lifeless.
Chresh looked down at his hands, completely engulfed in silver flames, a power that seemed borrowed. He looked down at his mother, seeing the last few breaths beginning to leave her body. She smiled at the sight of the power. "That's my boy." And then her eyes closed, and her body went still.
The power within him seemed to shake free, and he fell back. As he did, the shape of the conduit formed in it's place. He scrambled back. She was just as he remembered her. She turned to the frightened halfling with a smile that reminded him of the way his mother smiled at him, "My wayward Templar returns."
He averted his eyes, immediately ashamed anew, "This is all my fault." His eyes stared through her ethereal form locked on his mother. "I got her killed."
The conduit almost seemed to smirk at the concept, "A torch has not yet passed, and a flame can only be extinguished if I will it." She walked with purpose toward his mother.
"You're too late, she's already dead." He could barely form the words, as he choked on a steady stream of tears. Suddenly the words flashed in his mind and tumbled out of his mouth before he realized what was said, "take me instead."
A brighter smile appeared over the embodiment of Tira, "little Templar, you can not erase the darkness you've brought through this world overnight. While your heart is pure, your deeds have not been. You will have many years ahead to atone for them. You will be the fire that burns away the blight." She waved her hand through the trails of silver flames, collecting bits into clumps. She worked and smoothed the fire, the silver becoming solid. A shield emblazoned with The crest of the Silver flame took shape and solidified. It clanged as it fell to the ground. "But I will accept your sacrifice. I will take you. I will mold you into my instrument," Her hand drifted down, "but you will need a teacher, as I am always needed elsewhere." The silver flames shot out of her hands and enveloped Avana, lifting her body into the air. The dagger in her back glowed brightly and melted, pooling beneath her. The fire began to spill into her mouth, burning into her lungs. Avana loudly gasped, sucking in air again. Her eyes shot open, flared with power. Tira looked at Chresh, "remember this day, young Templar. As a servant of the Silver Flame, you may bend my ear from time to time. Do not abuse your gift, for I answer at my whim." She now looked at Avana who was now breathing, but also keeping her head lowered in reverence. "Despite an absence, you have served me well, Avana. You will teach your eldest in the ways of your path." All at once, the flames extinguished and Tira was gone. Chresh rushed to his mother's side and hugged her so hard she whimpered a bit.
"Did you get Tira to bring me back, just to strangle me?" He didn't listen to her. He witnessed a miracle and saw a path he could follow. He let go quickly and looked toward to shanty. Doggo was gone.
A green eyed halfling sat watching the line of traders and customers lined up along the Coast Way heading into the city. Chresh sat under a shade tree overlooking the hustle and bustle on the hillside next to his brother, "Bow, don't ever take this view for granted."
"They look like ants."
He chuckled, "yup, they might."
"If this tree means this much to you, I can go into town and find a shrinking scroll and you can just take it with you if you want." They both looked up to see their mother leading the pack mule toward them. Her steps were still a bit labored. It had been a few weeks, but she was mostly healed from the attack. "Are you sure we can't ask you to come with us?"
"It's not safe here, and I have a lot of things to do. I have a box within the Gate for correspondence. I'll make sure I come down here from time to time. As much as I want you to head far from here, I doubt you're going to listen. I'll visit as often as I can. There's a free company I'll be traveling with. We'll be near Water Deep most months, but I'll make sure I come down the Sword coast if I need some lessons from you." He hugged his mother and didn't want to let go but knew he knew his travels needed to take him through the familiar routes he'd taken. He had a lot to atone for, and he was out there, no doubt rebuilding the Empty Hand, and it wasn't safe to be near his family for too long. Doggo would eventually be a problem again and he needed to get stronger to handle that threat. "Listen to your mom. She'll light you on fire if you get out of line."
She slapped the back of Chresh's head, "That's not nice!"
"Ok fine, she'll only burn off your hair."
She hit him again, "Stop or I'll light you on fire."
"You can't without one of these." He pulled a satchel from his back pocket and handed it to her. She untied the strings and shook out a new starburst pendant. He looked down at Bow, "Now she can light you on fire." He laughed even as she hit him again. "I'll visit often, and when you're near the gate, check the box. I'll be leaving you some money from my travels."
"I don't like the idea of you being a mercenary."
"I'm not a murder hobo. I'll be doing good, and protecting the lands. I need to make sure areas around the Gate and the Sword Coast are strong enough to defend against the Hand if he shows up again.
"I left you plenty of food. If you need more, just follow your nose home."
She hugged her hard again, hugged his brother, and walked part way down the hill to hug his father who was coming up the hill with the second mule. They said their tearful goodbyes and he walked toward the gates to the city. He got his favorite spices and walked to the free company barracks and to his box to find a new assignment. He unfolded the paper and looked. A simple lost and found mission. Seems easy enough, and the pay wasn't bad either. He shouldered his new shield on his back, telling everyone he was a Cleric of the Silver Flame, something he was now proud of. The shield felt heavy with responsibility, but he knew it would get lighter soon enough. The next stop: Phandalin