NARUTHIRON

Some hear the drums of war, and feel their blood boil. Some hear the
same drums, and despair for the suffering they bring. Still others hear the
beating of the drums, and answer their call with a heavy, but steady, heart.
But no matter the cause, no matter the circumstance, there remains one
constant in the rhythmic beating of the heart of war: The innocence of the
people is stripped away and cast into the dirt. The cost of victory is loss
and suffering. Such is a realization few who fight at the forefront ever
live long enough to make. Naruthiron was one of those few. 
 
Since he was a boy, Naruthiron showed great promise as a skilled lancer.
His command over the horses he saddled had become something of a legend, and
some claim that with a simple touch, he could tame even the most wild of
stallions. On the day he came of age, he was given a place within the
Vanguard, where his skills were finally given the chance to shine. His
first battle came within months of his appointment, and saw him greatly
distinguished for his valor. Having single-handedly broke the ranks of the
invading demons, he proceeded to cut through scores of the monsters,
relieving his company in the process. As time passed, and the invasion
pressed on, Naruthiron continued this trend, until finally, on the streets
of his city, the demon advance was halted. As Naruthiron and the Vanguard
rested and mended their wounds, Naruthiron looked out across the city,
expecting to see the happy faces of his people, free from the encroaching
threat of the Demon Horde. Instead, he saw the broken, hopeless masses
huddled around demolished homes. Where he thought to see warm hearths and
fast smiles, he saw families sifting through note + rubble to find what
pieces of their lives still remained, and to give their loved ones proper
burials. 
 
Stricken by grief over the futility of war, Naruthiron resigned from his
post, leaving his city behind in search for answers. How could he justify
war, when the very people he sought to protect were its greatest victims,
even in victory? How many children must die, how many families must crumble
under the weight of conflict, before peace would come for all? Where once
he felt pride in his martial prowess, he now felt only lamentation for the
brutality that came with such power. Even the righteous and pure, he
realized, fell victim to a blindness. In believing that justice can be won
at the tip of a sword, they confused power for strength, victory for
salvation, and experience for wisdom. 
 
Naruthiron continued his journey of self-discovery for many years,
contemplating the truths of war and peace, of life and of justice. In time,
his pilgrimage led him to the note + Shrine of Compassion, and from within
his very soul a warmth began to flow over him. In note + that moment, it
had become clear to him where the path f be restored. Hope will shine again
in the hearts of all who see the light of life, and the world shall
rejoice." Almost as if in answer, the light of the sun struck the back wall
of the shrine, and Naruthiron could see it reflected from the corner of his
eye. When he investigated the phenomenon, he saw a set of armor which
glistened even in the dimmest of light. So brilliant it was that as
Naruthiron approached the intensifying light, he feared that he might be
blinded. But the light instead only grew softer as it grew brighter, and as
It shone, Naruthiron saw All.
 
Emerging from the shrine donned in the glimmering armor, Naruthiron
proclaimed silently that his pilgrimage had ended. His answer has been
found, and he now seeks to bring that truth to all of Aabahran. All those
that fear the darkness, do not tremble. All those that lament the dead, do
not despair. The Light of Hope shines brightly once more, and it will guide
you to the truth of all life.