True to the Faith

I find that so much has occurred in my short life that I must write the tale down, least it be forgotten. Thus I am inspired to write my story that I can remember names, places, and how I came to the decisions in my life that I have made.


My earliest recollections in my childhood are positive ones, of a loving family, a father who provided for his wife and child through farm and trade, and a mother who was kind and nurturing. My father would till the land and sell his crops at markets in coastal cities. During times of conflict, he would don his armor and march with the irregulars who stood up to defend their homes and livelihoods. A metal worker as well, he fashioned his own armor and sword he used. At age fourteen I was sent to the church to learn about Paladine, to improve my sword arm, and to become a “great man” as my father and mother said. The armor I wore through my time at the church was crafted at the hand of my father. At age sixteen, while still in my studies, my father and mother left on sea voyage to sell their goods, I have not had contact with them, nor has there been word of the ship and crew they were on. This hardship set me back greatly. I fled from my studies at the church; I was going to leave everything behind to search for them. My travels took me along the route they had mapped, though I did not go far, as the ship I took docked in Good Bay (One of the cities along their route), I was cornered by several men who wished to rob and murder me. Outnumbered and out matched, I was about to give in to death, when a man appeared, he shone brighter then the sun at noon day and wielded a sword like a champion of old. Many of the men were cut down and those left alive fled with haste. Near unconsciousness, I was taken to a glade nearby, where as I looked up at the man, his form turned into a great Silver Dragon. He told me many things, about my parents (and their untimely end), about my studies at the Church, and about a mission, a task, I was to perform later. He was very vague on this, but healed my injuries, and soon took flight.

My return to the Church was a difficult one. My instructors were upset with me over my disappearance, but soon forgave me and initiated me back into the fold. The next four years were spent in study. The knowledge of my parents deaths weighted heavily on me, though I strived to continue and to thrive. Today I am twenty. I have finished my studies and am to go out among the land and work for the betterment of the people and the church. In this, I have fully dedicated myself.

I find that writing in my journal has the power to ease my strain in these difficult times. The burdens of leadership fall on my shoulders, a hardship I am honored to be bestowed. I have been tasked with protecting and maintaining the lands of Portsmith south to Thelgaard, a sizeable amount of land, as well as a large portion of the standing army of Solamnia. As I sit in the study in the fort of Portsmith, I cannot help but reflect on my time within the Solamnic army and the Knighthood. It began with my venture to Thelgaard on a mission to protect the Prophecy of Hope. Upon completion of the first steps in the Prophecy, I was granted a position in the standing army of Thelgaard, though I was a bit taken aback by the promotion. I had only served the church prior, though the Knight Captain had noticed within me the ability to lead. He placed me as Captain of the guard, for which I was highly honored. As I have always been taught to do, I attempted to perform my duties to the best of my abilities, for which I can only give credit to the men and women I served with. The honor they showed me allowed me to perform my tasks, and without them I surly would have floundered. With the passing of the Knight Captain, may he always be honored, and the return of the Lady Anastasia, I was taken as Squire within the Order of the Crown, under the gracious Grandmaster. Along with the ascension to Knighthood, I was placed as the Knight Captain of Thelgaard for my performance within the role of Captain. For my performance as Knight Captain, as well as continued support in fulfilling the Prophecy of Hope, I was then promoted by the Lady Anastasia to Defender of the Crown. Most recently in the Knight Council, The Lady Anastasia and the High Clerist granted me the honor of Knighthood within the Order of the Sword, as well as granting me title of Knight Captain of Portsmith and Thelgaard. The task is great and the risks many, but the reward is beyond words. I will continue to perform, as I always have, to the best of my abilities.

The Lady Anastasia and the Council of Knights have bestowed upon me a great honor, a place among the Knights of the Sword. Along with this I have been tasked with the protection of the land from Thelgaard to Portsmith. Warnings of conflict in these parts of the nation have come to me from the Lady Hawkwinter as well as Lady Anastasia. The Chosen of the Gods, Lady Isabella, who resides within the Temple of Mishakal outside of Portsmith, has informed me that the Disks of Mishakal are stored within the Temple. These sacred and valuable relics must be protected at all costs, least the enemy gains an advantage over our nation and strikes a blow to the faith the people have in the Knighthood, something the enemy has been keen on for some time. I fear the disks are already at risk…



Days earlier…


Light from the west flooded the Temple of Mishakal through windows stained with depictions of the goddess of healing. The Temple walls were lined with windows to allow natural light to enter despite the time of day. The mid afternoon light engulfed Damien, reflecting off his raven black hair, as he sat in the pews of the chapel, enjoying the beauty of the Temple. The priestess’ whispered their salutations to each other, conversing over tenets of the faith, some discussing news that pilgrims brought as they visited the holy site. The atmosphere was ideal for contemplation, and Damien had much to consider with the additional responsibilities and his recent knighting into the Order of the Sword. He smiled at a priestess that passed him, offering to accommodate the Knight Captain of any needs he may have. Though, his smile quickly faded as he jumped to his feet in alarm. All within the chapel, both priestess’ and worshipers turned, as the faint sound of shouting mingled with metal striking metal was heard in the distance, barely audible above the sound of prayers. Not wishing to cause excessive alarm before he knew the situation, Damien quickly excused himself, with a bow, and exited the temple. Outside the sound of men screaming in pain and death, sword striking sword and shield, and magic could be heard as a symphony of battle was raging just outside the wooded area that hide the Temple grounds. The forest he stood in seemed at peace, as though nothing from the outside world had or could disrupt it, aside from the music of battle outside of the shady reach of the trees. The Knight Captain returned his helmet to his head, strapping it on as he hurried along the path to Portsmith.

Stepping outside the serenity of the woods, Damien was met with a fierce struggle. A moment, one that seemed like an eternity, passed as he took in his surroundings. Dozens upon dozens of men, dressed in the attire of the Black Talons, battled with blade and magic against a half dozen Knights from the Portsmith Keep. The Black Talon magi covered the ground as a great lake of fire, with dozens of bodies of Black Talons littering the landscape, while a half dozen Knights lay dead, giving their lives in defense of the Keep. His hand reached for his scabbard withdrawing the sword given to him by the Gods while in the cave in Nightlund, the holy glow gleamed and flickered with the presence of such great evil so near. Shouting his salute to his enemies, the Knight Captain charged into the fray, trying desperately to slay the attackers that pinned the remaining Knights that fought back to back. Dozens of the assailants fell, only to have dozens more rush from the woods to join in the attack. The Knights were sorely outnumbered, with reinforcements charging from the woods in numbers uncountable. Blade, spear, axe, and magic flashed as the battle waged on, the Knight Captain doing all in his power to keep the enemy hemmed off from the both the town of Portsmith and the Temple, as well as save the lives of the Knights that fought valiantly. To his great dismay, the Knights, one by one, began to fall to their wounds, until the Knight Captain alone stood to face the enemy. The enemy continued to press the attack, despite the great loss of life, attempting to move beyond Damien and into the woods. Above the hum of battle, a call was heard from one of the magi that lead the assault. The Magi stated that too many had been lost, and ordered that the remainder would split; some remained to occupy the Knight Captain, while the rest would make for the temple. Weary from the struggle, though with adrenaline pumping, Damien slew the last of his attackers and made his way towards the woods that lead to the Temple in pursuit of those that broke off. Muscles weakened and at the point of exhaustion, Damien sucked in a deep breath, touched the amulet bearing the symbol of the Platinum Dragon that hung from his neck, and refocused himself, a softness coming over him as he whispered for strength, his fatigue leaving him strength replacing it. The Knight Captain charged into the tree line, where he met a Silver battling a party of Black Talons that had split from the group. The assailants were dealt with in short order between the Silver and the Knight Captain, and Damien quickly asked that the Silver remain to defend the entrance as he made his way to the Temple of Mishakal to check on its status. His heat pounded and sweat poured from his forehead and he raced towards the Temple to warn the Priestess’ there. The two Gold Dragons Glitter and Glammer were standing guard, no signs of struggle present. He entered the Temple and quickly informed the clergy of what had transpired, warning them to remain vigilant, and quickly left to return to the front lines. A breath of relief escaped his lips as he approached the Silver again. The Black Talons had lost too many men and had called off the attack, going no further then the entrance to the forest. The Knight Captain graciously thanked the Silver for its service and returned to the site of the main battle. The dead lay so numerous that there was little way to distinguish the bodies apart. The grass still burned in some areas, and the smell of burnt flesh stung his nostrils, as Damien pushed the bodies of Black Talon assassins aside to uncover the fallen Knights. The Knights would be honored for their services and sacrifice this day, Damien would see to that.

Burnt, bruised, and still bleeding, Damien’s hand tensed up after writing all the reports that were necessary, with runners being summoned to carry the missives off. Some would go to the families of the fallen to inform them of the loss, some to Thelgaard to place them on high alert in case of attacks there, a message sent to the High Clerist tower, and one to the Lady Anastasia. As he sat in his office on the second floor of the Portsmith Fort, Damien’s eye was caught by a glimmer on the handle of his blade. Slightly startled after the events of the day, he drew the blade from its scabbard, light catching the metal in the candle light, casting a shimmer across the room. As he examined the blade, the glimmer waned and soon disappeared. The sword felt slightly different, perhaps more balanced then previous, but it was the edge of the blade that caught his attention then. For the blade was somehow even sharper then it had been, even sharper then the finest Solamnic smith could instill on a Knight’s sword. Warmth filled his tired body, and Damien knew that the Gods had given him a boon for his services this day.

An assault was launched against the fortress at Portsmith in an attempt to distract the knighthood from their main target, the temple of Mishakal. The attack came as a surprise, as a result of our error in being unprepared; a dozen good knights lost their lives. For this, I can only blame myself. I am their brother in the Measure, their Captain, and their leader. The blame is on my shoulders, a mistake that I will tirelessly work to eliminate from occurring again. With a body of knights, I walked the roads and trails surrounding the hallowed grounds of the temple and have made an effort to identify locations where the enemy could attack unaware. These areas are to be cleared of goblinoids and bandits, and then closely monitored to ensure the paths and cavern systems are not used by those who wish us harm. I will also call on master ‘Avel, who has recently accepted a position as a magic councilor for the knighthood, and request his assistance in securing the area. Perhaps early warnings can be established to alert the knighthood, should an attack occur. With the multiple attacks that have been launched on Portsmith in the recent past, and the importance the area holds, I will be searching for a field commander for the army. With the task of overseeing both Thelgaard and Portsmith, along with the lands between, a reliable field commander is of great importance in delegating tasks. I will continue my search for someone to groom for the position that holds the leadership qualities needed. The morning wanes on so I will cease my writing, as I must return to the roads to continue my work in securing it.

The power that emanated from it was undeniable. The workmanship was superb; its creator’s care was evident in its detail. The hardened wood that made the shaft was immaculate, as if the tree that was harvested had been grown specifically for this purpose. The midday sun that shone through the windows of Damien’s office shone off the dragonmetal that made up the tip and barbs along the haft, reflecting light around the room. The Dragonlance had remained in the specially made mount undisturbed since its discovery some weeks ago. The discovery had come after the Knight Captain and several companions had descended into the depths of Xak Tsaroth. Paladine had truly blessed him with such a gift, a boon Damien would continue with all his effort to be worthy of. His whole life had been spent in training with the sword; the lance was slightly unwieldy for him. Determined, Damien would continue to practice and perfect his skill to master its use, this lance may someday prove to be a turning point in the war against the Dark Queen and her forces.