Reflections of a Tormite

[omnilicious]

((OOC - No one knows any of this that I haven't physically written it out to IG.))
((Writing in a format that most closely corresponds to Borbag's thought processes. Might get confusing to read/follow at times because tenses will probably change with each new thought.))

sir Borbag Zirkus, Paladin of Torm, Knight in the Order of the Radiant Heart.

Many titles for a half-breed born from violence, hatred, lust and greed. I can hardly believe it myself, living it. Mother would be proud I think.

It's been almost two full years now.

Time to reflect?

I received a sword recently. A druidess named Athanatiel questioned me for some time and decided I was worthy. Worthy because I was like the Tormite that died weilding it. It was odd. She did not seem to shy away from heritage.

Seventeen years now since mother and me were ... rescued ... from the tribes. Until then, I barely knew what was happening, but I understood that the orcs were savages. At least I thought they were. Theirs paled in comparison to the 'Heroes'.



I never did fit in did I?



Good.



Termalaine was a good place. In the end. They did not like me at first. Though, the beatings were less severe than at the hands of the orcs. I miss growing up there.

A half-orc in the ten towns, six years after the last large scale orc raids. I'm Lucky that mother was a priestess. She mended me when she was able. Never could go back to running the temple. She'd been through worse than me.


It must have been three years. Maybe four? My childhood is still a bit fuzzy. People started to like having me around. I was big and friendly. Most of my neighbors thought probably still think I'm no smarter than any orc, so they took pity on me with food. I didn't mind.


I miss my friends. They used to hate me, for what I am. Then they liked me, for who I became. It's difficult to put into words what happened over those years. But it was a transformation for the better. For everyone. Eventually I joined the militia. I was young, not even an adult, but they took me in. I was bigger than half the men training me and proved myself worthy of the honor.


The temples. Spent a lot of time in them. I liked the discipline of the Helmites. The fury of the Tempus clergy. It was with Tyr that I learned of Torm. I think I always honored Torm. I kept my promises, I did my job and helped where I could. But there wasn't much about him in the Ten Towns. Not much I could do about it. Mother would have preferred I learned about Tempus. But she knew it wasn't in my nature to be as confrontational as he would like. I think she liked that.

She always did love me didn't she? Even when she had every reason to hate me. To hate what I must have been a constant reminder of. I was fortunate. Truly blessed.


I'm not used to writing without clear purpose or agenda. I wonder if I will ever read my own writing again. I should focus.


I know what drew me to Torm. I know why I began my martial training. I was sixteen when mother passed. It was a sad day, but I couldn't shed a tear. I tried, but it was too cold.

I knew I couldn't stay. I was beginning to outgrow the town. The mayor saw it too. He didn't mind me asking to leave. I went in search of a temple of Torm. I'd learned about paladins in passing and I felt the urge to seek out more information. They were in stories and books, but always like fairy tale heroes. I wanted to seek out the truth. I had to know.

So south I went. I remember the journey. It was just like the first time I saw sunlight. It was blinding and painful, but I'd never seen a world of color. Icewind Dale is a dull colorless place for visitors, but for me, it was more than I'd ever seen before. Heading south everything grew more and more vibrant.

Travelling alone was a bad idea. I was attacked by bears and caravan guards alike. At least the bears left me alone after I backed away.

Neverwinter is where I found my mentor Michael. This is what I should be focused on. My training.



....



((End of first excerpt))

[omnilicious]

*Sitting back on the ground against the wall of the armory with quill and parchment in hand, Borbag looks at his armor sitting on the rack. He focuses on the various emblems and engravings - The Radiant Heart on the chest and Pauldrons;



The Hand of Torm on his Cloak, leg-guards and fists;


*


My armor was different back then. I was wearing a chain shirt the mayor let me keep. I was an unimpressive specimen in Neverwinter. The Tyrran temple included Torm within it, but still no priests and their clergy treated me well, but did not want to answer my incessant questions. I had many, I always do. One question always leads to a few more.

It was a month before I was finally given a tome on the history of Torm. My persistence was worthwhile.

The book was a bit confusing. More metaphor than fact, but...

"Salvation may be found through service. Every failure of duty diminishes Torm and every success adds to his luster. Strive to maintain law and order. Obey your masters with alert judgment and anticipation. Stand ever alert against corruption. Strike quickly and forcefully against rot in the hearts of mortals. Bring painful, quick death to traitors. Question unjust laws by suggesting improvement or alternatives, not additional laws. Your fourfold duties are to faith, family, masters, and all good beings of Faerûn."

His Dogma was appealing. I think the priests I'd asked for so long tried to shy me away from Torm, by only giving me the parts most don't enjoy. Service. Duty. Subservience. They appealed to me thinking I was like any other half-orc. So then there is no question. I was always drawn to Torm. Those must have been my first tests.

The next followed when I began seeking the training and information I wanted. There were no paladins of Torm in the city. There were a few of Tyr, some famous ones even, but it would be another few months before I met sir Michael. He always hated being called sir.

Looking back, he must have influenced me too.

The priests were against it. My training as a paladin that is. Tainted blood, I would be at risk of succumbing to my 'nature'. Michael didn't listen to them.


It wasn't long before we headed out. Michael had me go through a few trials, I think to be certain that I wouldn't be a liability on the road.


The training was fairly typical, I think. It was the conversations that had greater impact. Trials and questions. Quizzes and discussions. In the end he told me it was easy to train me. My 'nature' was akin to one of those part-celestials, even if my body was not.

Though, maybe not the easiest to train. I always had difficulty with Torm's grace. I never could summon the basic blessings until late in my training. Michael said it was fine, I'm starting to get the hang of it now at least.


I miss travelling. Tethyr was interesting, Athkatla was bustling. Waterdeep I did not enjoy. Too much secrecy.

The Anauroch. I could not believe the vastness of it. A wasteland like the north I came from, only hot.

I was not too happy to return later, but duty demanded it.

Did those mages really touch the weave?

Many more places we traveled to, but Baldur's Gate is where Michael chose to end my tutoring. I was 'fit honor Torm'.


It was the right place at the right time. I immediately found myself confronting murders and great evils. I haven't had time to think much about my past.


I think I have honored Torm greatly.




*Borbag stands back up, crumpling the parchment and throwing it into a barrel. He dons his armor and heads to the Fields of the Dead for his daily patrol.*

"Time to keep another promise." *Said with a smile*