Rongalth Knightsbridge: Paladin of Mara – Ch. 1

• Posted by Jerry Borrero March 24, 2013 - 679 views

  Not for the first time, Rongalth wondered how he got himself into these situations.  The Orsimer Bandit Chief, 300 hulking pounds of mottled green muscle sheathed in Banded Iron, barreled toward him brandishing a steel battle-axe that looked to have seen quite regular use.  The weapon was meant to be wielded two-handed, but the powerful Orc swung it one armed as is it weighted no more than a broom handle.  Left to right in a flat arc, the axe swept toward him.  Rongalth side stepped in the direction of the swing, intercepting it with his shield outside of the most powerful portion of its arc.  Even so, he felt the collision shiver up his arm and into his spine and he realized the first strike he did not successfully block would be his last.

  Taking advantage of the momentary respite as the Orc sought to regain control of his heavy weapon, Rongalth changed levels, coming in low with his armored shoulder in an attempt to knock his towering foe to the ground where his size advantage would be nullified.  It was like running into a castle wall.  The Bandit Chief’s knee shot up, taking Rongalth in the chest and knocking him four full paces back and robbing him of his breath.  He hastily clambered to his feet and reset before his opponent and felt a rising panic as his nerves began to get the better of him.  The anxiety attack was nothing new to Rongalth, and even all of these years later he felt his mouth dry and absurdly, desired the bottle of ale that had served as his escape all those dark years.  But those days were behind him, the ale, the mead, the wine, even the Skooma, had been left behind in favor of his new-found solace.  He felt the arms of his Lady Mara wrap around him like the warmth of a summer day.  His anxiety She replaced with serenity, the fight-or-flight pounding in his veins with the steady drumbeat of Purpose.  He felt his wounds knit and his aches and pains fade as Her blessing suffused him. 

  Deep in the Battle Trance of an Apostle of Mara, he felt a strange detachment as the Orc closed on him and released a brutal two-handed overhead chop designed to cleave him in two.  It was as if someone else gracefully leaned a hair’s breadth to the right of the axe’s path.  Someone else executed a textbook lunge, sliding his Elven sword into the gaps where the Banded Iron breastplate’s straps tied together, sliding up and under to pierce the Bandit Chief’s heart, and then quickly back out again, quick as a lightning strike.  Rongalth cleared the blood from his blade with a sharp flick of his wrist, then reversed the motion, executing a stately salute to his fallen foe.  Whispering a prayer of thanks to his patron goddess, Rongalth sheathed his blade and began the grisly work of severing the Orc’s head from his shoulders with the heavy knife he kept for just that purpose.  While his motivation was to eliminate this threat to the good citizens of Whiterun Hold, Jarl Balgruuf’s steward would require proof before he would pay the bounty this Bandit Chief had earned.  After all, a Paladin had to eat.