I can see the torment within you. I can especially tell by the way you mangle the bodies of your enemies.
(Not as violent as the one before, but still. Tw violence)
If you asked the other Blood Knights for their opinions onZan Pyreanor, most would have nothing nice to say. Some thought he was an imbecileand questioned how he somehow got the rank of "Champion," whileothers had figured out there was more to him than he let on but still found hisincredibly relaxed attitude unbecoming and a bad influence to young Knights. Others,still, found him outright disgusting, uncultured swine for not conductinghimself as if he were a noble, and some saw him as weak for his following of LadyLiadrin, including his belief in the Light and abandonment of the old ways. However,not all that is of the Light is weak, and belief in the light does not exemptsomeone from acts of cruelty or brutality, so long as their conviction is true.
Zan Pyreanor, the freckled Sin'dorei paladin, stood overbroken bleeding bodies in a house, while his gauntlets hid them; his knuckleswere white at how tightly he gripped a giant spiked war hammer made of Light.The remains at his feet were pulverized to the point that, if they had afuneral it would have to be closed casket. Zan looked around the room, so muchpain here, so much misery, so much suffering. His ears fanned back and hepressed on into the next room where he found two unarmed men in uniform huddledunder a table.
Zan snarled and yanked one of the men from his hiding placewith a giant hand of light. The man screamed but Zan paid him no mind,squeezing him tighter and tighter with the light fist until he screamed nomore, then the body fell to the ground in a pile and Zan walked to the tableand crouched down at the one man that remained, huddled in the corner, in fear.
"Look at you, huddled there in the corner like ananimal. Are you afraid?" A smile crept across the ginger's lips, "Nowyou know the terror you held them in, except for them it didn't end with thesweet quick release of death. It went on and on, day after day, month aftermonth. Year after year, degraded and caged. Poked and prodded." The lightarced up Zan's arms and once again, a light hand formed and pulled the man fromhis hiding place. "I know what you're thinking, it's why me? Why are youattacking me? I haven't done anything to you." The ginger laughed andbegan to squeeze the man, "Because I can feel it. Every time I hold one ofyour victims in my arms and hug them, and they sob and their wings quiver, Ifeel it—all their pain, all their fear, in every fiber of my being—and it's myjob as their caretaker to avenge them."
The man, a young black haired elven man, trembled and hottears ran down his face as the ginger squeezed the life out of him with thegiant light fist. He managed to squeak out a quick comment, "Firstday."
The first stopped squeezing and Zan spoke, "What wasthat?"
The young man gasped, "It's my first day. I needed a job;they offered me one with good pay and benefits. Please don't kill me, I haven'thurt anyone. I'll quit and never come back, no job is worth this."
Empathy, Zan's senses lit up like a light, he could feel theman's fear and desperation, and the vibe of honesty. His expression softened,"Fine then. Don't let me see you in one of these places again." Hereleased the young man and the man went running out of the room, leaving thecrumpled older uniformed man on the floor.
Once again, Zan summoned the giant spiked Warhammer to hishands and walked with purpose toward the body, unsure if it's alive or dead,but hell bent on making sure it was dead.
