What's deserved always gets served

[Pommel]

One morning, a dark armoured figure with a billowing cloak and a curved sabre is seen in the poorer areas of the Docks district. Some might know him as Talas, a member of the Darius Holding Company as well as an oathsworn of the Doombringer who had sought to do justice for the victims of a corrupt merchant last year.

The paladin carries with him food, courtesy of the Halls of Inner Light, and distributes it to the needy. With a stern, reproachful glance towards any of the less needy who try their luck.

Shadowing not far behind would be a woman clad in dark leathers of high quality. She carried a basket, heavily laden with what Talas could not carry himself. The hood of her cloak would be thrown back, despite the rain, to reveal instantly recognizable silver hair and half-elven features. She'd meet what stares were offered her- whether they be born of confusion, distrust, or even hostility.

The paladin would speak freely of his purpose within the docks, and she'd leave all conversation to him.

"The name's Talas, for those who don't know me. I've been away, and I'll be away again soon. Don't you worry, I'm coming back though, and I'll be making sure that anyone, high and low, can find justice."

The swordsman would explain why he was giving out food.

"I'm giving this food out because I lost someone I cared about recently, the paladin Adelaide van der Saer. She was a good woman, and touched many people's lives, did a lot of good. So when she sacrificed herself to end an evil, I took it hard. Smashed up a gazebo over at the Halls of Inner Light."

A stern look would be in the paladin's eye. "That was wrong. No one's above mistakes, or making amends. So this is me making amends to the Halls."

After rounds were made, she's shoot the Paladin a sidelong glance, and offer a half-hearted smirk.

"Satisfied, then? At least no one threw rocks at me, though I daresay some of them might now think you're one of them." She gave a slow shake of her head. "Tell me... Why this? I don't understand this method of "atonement." You're a Hoarite- either rebuild the Gazebo, or since you're such a lumberjack, go chop wood for the kitchen fires until your arms fall off. But no, instead, you're delivering more food to the needy, and you choose to take with you... the poisoner."

She chuckled then, sat the basket down for a brief respite, and stretched out her arms. She then gestured out with a wave of her hand. "Does it truly solve anything, Talas? Constantly giving away food? Or do we just perpetuated the problem by encouraging dependency?" She'd dip her head down to look at the tips of her boots. "I realize that sounds like Darkhold, and Harkonis talking. But...I still see the truth in it. Maybe you can prove me wrong."

Talas stops in his tracks to listen to Wren, a gloved hand wresting on the pommel of the blade at his side after he sets down his much denuded baskets of food. "Aye, well. I can't say I'd have chosen this atonement. Can't say your wrong, either, in worrying that it wont help people stand on their own two feet. Still, a helping hand here or there lends a bit of hope to give people the strength to do that. Thats what I'm supposed to be doing, if I understand what Adelaide was trying to teach me right. Still not sure I do."

The memory of the Suneite paladin brings a sad smile to Talas' features. He continues. "It was Aidan that chose this way of atoning for me. I offered to fix what I did, but he said he's as good a carpenter as any. So he set me this."

Talas' lips pull into a bemused smirk as Wren speaks. "Figured I'd put a marker down for those about as to where I stand, and where you do. You might be a poisoner, Wren, but you're a hell of a lot more."

"Poisoner..." Eyes still fixed themselves on her boots, and she absently scuffed at the accumulated dirt on the cobblestones, drawing out a random design. "Anything can be a poison, Talas, with the right dosage, and the wrong intent. Even water... words... charity." She drew a deep breath, and looked up to the man. "I did not regret my part in the treaty, you know. The Dukes and Duchess had an ugly reality to face, and any decision they made would be awful. They have a responsibility to these people after all, and all the charity in the world was not going to solve it." Eyes flitted upward, then down the alley and out across the harbor. "Nobless oblige, it's called. They are as bound to serve their people as their people are bound to serve them. Sometimes decisions have to be made that aren't pretty. I knew it wouldn't be. I'm still not convinced it was wrong, though it eats at me with gnawing teeth." A deep breath was drawn, held, then let out slow. "Destin told me, when I spoke of the necessity of the thing, that... well, he said "one does not feed a starving man food laced with poison, and call it a kindness." And I convinced myself that even the deadliest toxin can become a medicine, when treated with knowledge, and careful diligence. But I guess it doesn't change the fact I poured poison all the same, does it?"

The paladin listens as the self-named Poisoner speaks, the smirk departing as he sets himself to truly think about her words. When she is done, Talas shakes his head. "Can't say its bad to hear you thinking about it, Wren. Can't say there's anything easy about what happened." He frowns, brows heavy. "I keep saying I don't do politics, I do people. Didn't seem a big deal to me, Zhentarim trade caravans. Still doesn't, if thats all they do, if thats all it is. I grew up on the Moonsea and a bastard's money is still money. Anyway, I don't have to buy from them."

A gloved thumb moves on the pommel of his blade. "I deal in people, aye. Used to figure that just meant finding them who've harmed others, and paying them back. And that's a big part of it. Thats the enemy, criminals walking about like they can't be touched. So find the crimes and punish them, and let merchants worry about trade and that. Thats how I saw all this."

Then, the paladin shakes his head. "Reckon its not that easy though, is it? Reckon the poison Destin's talking about is what comes with all of it, all the compromises that'll let monsters tell people being a monster ain't that bad. Eventually people will come to think thats all there is. They'll then act like it themselves."

Its a deep frown Talas wears now. "That's just how it is on the Moonsea."

He falls silent. He's clearly about to say something else, but is taking time to formulate it. So Wren has a chance to interrupt, or let him say it.

Features crease into a frown as she listens to his words. Whatever sigil her toe was drawing in the grime on the street grew in complexity, and when words finally came, they emerged slow, and couched in considerable thought. "That's the trap, Talas... A little at a time, one tiny step down that's no so far from the last one you took, until suddenly you look around and realize how far you've gone, and you can't understand how you let it get so damn dark." She then turned eyes up to find his, and fix them. "Say it, Talas. Whatever it is. There's nothing but honesty between us."

"Thinkin' of what to say. You know I'm a simple mind." Says Talas, a smirk.

The Hoarite warrior continues more seriously. "Adelaide said something to me in that letter she wrote. Be the change you want to see in the world. Its making me think. Its not just about me killing bad guys, these oaths I've got. Its about people knowing I'm here, ready to stand up for them, and there's more in the world than the kind of life people get on the Moonsea."

He nods then, firmly, as if he's deciding something. "The treaty's not poison, but it can bring poison with it. Like when a wound gets infected. We gotta fight the idea that what people do doesn't matter. We gotta show everyone, high and low, that people get what they deserve. If they do good, they get good. if they're bastards, well, they best be looking over their shoulders. Thats not just a message of death, Wren, its a message of hope, even if we've gotta be damn grim to deliver it at times. You and me, and them who think like us."