The hasty stroke goes oft astray.

- Aragorn



11. Smite Makes Right

The young paladin marched south along the great road.

Never betray your trust.

These were dangerous days, he knew. Evil might be anywhere, with any guise.

Be vigilant. Stand, wait, and watch carefully.

He had to be ready, he knew. Not to hesitate, not to be tempted by a false face.

Be fair and diligent in the conduct of your orders.

Master Firecam had stressed both zeal and temperence. Surely vigilance would reveal propler path between.

Protect the weak, poor, injured, and young, and do not sacrifice them for others or yourself.

Who appeared the villain, might be the victim.

Anticipate attacks and be ready. Know your foes.

Who appeared the victim, might be the villain.

Care for your weapons so they may perform their duties when called upon.

Armor polish was about more than vanity. It was an excellent rustproofer.

Careful planning always defeats rushed actions in the end.

Fortune favors the bold. Look before you leap. He who hesitates is lost. The hasty stroke goes oft astray.

Always obey orders, providing those orders follow the dictates of Helm.

Who would be so presumptuous as to take the law or their dictates into their own hands, to place their own judgments above that of so many colleagues, or the Watcher himself?

Demonstrate excellence and purity of loyalty in your role as a guardian and protector.

Yes, the innocent had to be protected from evil, wherever it might lurk.



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"G-guys?" Khalid asked his companions. "I think we've gone far enough from the Arm. I mean, we're in ankheg c-country now!" He looked pointedly at the husk of the ankheg they had just killed as Onyx dumped it in his backpack and strapped it on again, taking a few effortless hops and smiling while Imoen giggled and Jaheira sighed at the showoffish display.

Though with Onyx and Imoen still pondering their strange dreams, and Khalid and Jaheira savoring the last moments of perhaps their most comfortable lodgings for awhile to come, they had risen bright and early, and set off from the Friendly Arm. This had proved bad news for a gang of hobgoblin bandits who had chosen to tarry outside its walls, for the party's morning activites had been motivated by the request of the Arm's proprieter, Bentley (hobgoblins apparently are bad for business), its groundskeeper, Joia (from whom they had somehow managed to steal a ring of flamedance stone), and the gangs' bodies still tarried outside the walls, but their little hobgoblin souls had now departed.

And just now they'd even come across an ankheg! The day was bright and warm, and Onyx was happy, for he was starting to feel more like an adventurer. Shrugging off the nightmares, he thought forward, to the wide world, which now stretched out before him.

When he sent his arrows or longsword through, these hobgoblin bandits, or the man-eating anhkeg, he tried to think about the other innocent people he was averting the deaths or robberies of. Because one thing that years of practice on dummies and targets hadn't taught him - but two summers of kobold-hunting had - was he didn't really like the killing, his intended profession though it was. Except for that one moment, right when he made that killing shot or blow, and the blood filled his nostrils. It gave him a rush. The energy helped him finish off his foe, but at a higher, more human level, after he calmed down again, it disturbed him. But with each kill, he thought upon it less and less. And that fact, if he had realized it, would have disturbed him most of all.

"Right you are," Onyx nodded to Khalid, "Let's get headed back to the Friendly..."

"Halt, be you friend or foe!" a loud, crisp voice interrupted him. They spun around. Onyx, Imoen, Jaheira, and Khalid could all clearly see the man. He was dressed head to toe in armor, and his breastplate proudly bore the unmistakable gauntlet emblem of the god Helm. His helm fully revealed his face, which was that of a a young man with puffy, almost baby-fattish cheeks, smooth but for a few battle or acne scars, and he looked about the same age as Onyx or Imoen, who wrinkled her nose.

"When was the last time someone answered foe, tin-head?" Jaheira griped as the man clanked forward. "Why don't you tell us who the hell you are?"

"I have not come across such rude travelers in a long time; off with you!" the man gasped indignantly, a youth's voice, almost cracking.

"Sorry we upset you Mr. Garbage Can," Jaheira faux-apoligized, the sarcasm so dripping it should have required a bib. "We just want to ask you, is that your natural stench we smell, or did you make a mess in your armor because our weapons scared you?"

"I will not take these insults to my honor, draw steel!" the armored man cried and reached for his sword.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Onyx stepped in between his party and the man, holding up gauntleted but empty hands towards him and Jaheira. He gave the druid a scowl, then stared down the man and politely said, "I thought great knights only attacked evil, not weary travelers such as us." His open right palm then lowered and twisted, but faced the man still, for a handshake.

The knight stammered and mumbled, his fattish cheeks growing red. He looked at the ground and sighed. "You...are correct. I apologize for my misbehavior. Goodbye and good riddance."

"Actually," Onyx almost chuckled. "We still don't know who you are!"

The man turned again, and looked quite eager at the prospect of introducing himself. He noticed Onyx's right hand, and extended his own, and shook it heartily. "I am Ajantis, squire paladin to Lord Helm. I have come down from the city of Waterdeep to fight against the brigands that make these roads unsafe to travel. What of you?"

Onyx nodded. "Well met. We too want to put an end to the bandit raids. I too, actually, am a paladin."

He expected this Ajantis fellow to light up at this news, but instead the Helmite gasped, "But...where is your tabard? Why do you hide your faith? 'Tis not knightly!"

Onyx sighed. "There's a bounty on my head. I've already been attacked twice, and I must assume these assassins know my profession, for they know much else. While I'm hardly the only paladin in these parts, there are far fewer of us than ordinary swordsmen, particularly Lathanderian paladins, and I'm not about to narrow their search. I might as well wear a 'Kick Me' sign."

"B-but..." Ajantis stammered. "That's...isn't there a rule?"

"Yeah," Onyx chuckled. "Don't die."

"'Tis better to die in honor than live in shame," Ajantis recited.

"It's not shame," Onyx shrugged, "Just seems like common sense. Besides, my god is honored by life, not death."

Ajantis bit his lip and stuck up his nose. "Well, I can't say I appro-"

"By Silvanous, you ignoramus!" Jaheira shouted and threw up her hands with maternal exhaustion. It was bad enough she had a months-out-of-his-teens paladin to look after. Here was another even more naive, and less aware of it! "Are you completely devoid of manners and sense!?"

"Jaheira, please," Onyx's eyes were friendly upon her, and his voice neither pleading nor commanding.

Ajantis sighed, and his nose jerked from the sky to the ground. "M'lady, I must apologize again. You're right. Master Firecam would not approve, I'm sure."

The druid folded her arms over her leathered chest and shook her head, looking at Onyx and Ajantis and Imoen. She merely exhaled forecully and groaned.

"Tell me," Onyx smiled, and Ajantis smiled back as to a schoolmate, "Of you and this Firecam? I am from Candlekeep, and know too little of the knightly organizations of the region."

"Ah," Ajantis inhaled eagerly, straightened his posture, and lifted his nose, "I am of the noble Ilvastarr family of Waterdeep. My father has seemed content to pass off his holdings to my elder brother, but has patronized my knighthood; and saw to it I was schooled in swordplay under the best, such as Myrmith Splendon - " Onyx shrugged and Ajantis continued, "Earning the notice of Sir Keldorn Firecam of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, under whom I now squire. I have come to the beplagued Sword Coast seeking to curtail this illicit activity - or at least play some part, I mean - and prove myself worthy of full knighthood. And what of you? For whom did or do you squire?"

Onyx shrugged, "No one really. I was...divinely ordained sorta by accident," Imoen shuddered and rubbed her temple, "and I learned fencing and archery from Jondalar - nah, you wouldn't know him - at the Keep. Immy here did too. We're headed south, to investigate the myhsterious plague of the Nashkel mines."

Ajantis lit up like a schoolboy, "In that case, why do we not join forces against whatever contemptible law-breakers must be behind it!"

Onyx sighed. Is this what all my colleagues are going to be like? He politely answered, "Sounds good to us, we're always on the lookout for another sword arm. I am Onyx, this is Imoen," he put an arm around his friend, "And they are Jaheira and Khalid." Khalid wave-nodded happily and Jaheira gave a disdainful but thinly polite nod.

"Together we shall smite the evildoers and outlaws that plague this land!" Ajantis waved a mailed finger in the air.

"Better add monsters to that list, Sir Ajantis, and fast," Onyx whipped an arrow out of his quiver and pointed it strung to a mound of moving dirt, "Ankheg on your six!"

Onyx took a level-torso sidestep to get in a shot, and flanking him, Khalid and Imoen drew their bows. Jaheira twirled her sling, and the four got off shots around Ajantis as the knight turned to find the enormous green-shelled anthropod chomping its pincers with a desire to pierce the artificial exoskeleton of its intended meal. The mammal drew its metal mandible and attacked back, standing oh so close.

"Back up," Onyx hollered as he strung a second arrow, "You're endangered, and blocking our shots!"

"For Helm!" Ajantis called in a high tenor and stabbed at the beast's eye. It reeled back, more segments popping from the ground, and the knight's thrust fell short. The ankheg spread its mandibles and spat a green glob of steaming acid into the round face of Ajantis, and the paladin reeled back, screaming, dropping his sword and clutching his face.

Ironically, this proved the beast's undoing, for Khalid and Onyx now had clear shots, and sent two arrows into the yellowish flesh within its mouth. The force behind Onyx's composite bow sent the tip of his arrow portruding through the back of the creature's head, and the five above-ground segments of the beast slumped onto the churned dirt.

Jaheira rushed to Ajantis's side with her hands opened to heal, but the squire removed his own to show an undamaged face. "The providence of Helm," he smiled weakly.

Jaheira snarled, but backed up and said nothing. "Glad you're fine," Onyx clapped Ajantis on his shoulder-plate, "But stick to your bow next time."

"It's much safer than having to get c-c-close," Khalid nodded with raised eyebrows.

"I use no bow !" Ajantis protested.

"What?" Onyx's jaw hung open.

"I am classically trained in honorable combat! Splendon Classical! Aren't you?"

"What?" Onyx's jaw hung open. "No, I learned Galvaron Tactical. Engage in melee only when an opponent's ranged superiority outweights your own to a sufficient degree to warrant the lost time spent advancing! Let the other godsdamn fool advance while you shoot!"

Ajantis shuffled on his feet. "Well, dueling is the highest form of combat."

"I like archery!" Imoen offered brightly. "Magic is really cool too, like I saw this one spell where..." she quickly trailed off under Jaheira's scowl.

Onyx looked down at his fingers, and curled and uncurled them several times, then wiggled them. "No bow? I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't shoot."

"Enough," Jaheira sighed, "Let us not stand around! We are quite far enough from the Arm, as my husband noticed long enough ago now!"

Onyx nodded, and he and Khalid set about husking the fresh ankheg carcass. Ajantis took the husk upon his back, and the five headed on.