The Paladin Resurrection

The teleportation back to the keep was instant, though it felt like years carrying Plakk's remains back to the good camp. Normak and Faelar were somber, with hearts broken, as they began to appear in the wizard's tower. Though the two knew Plakk for the shortest amount of time it the group, they still felt his deep presence gone. They have shared in the tales of the many battles fought. The stories of the red dragon, the group's encounter with the underworld creatures, and how they became honorary members of an orcan tribe in the Mountains of Hirshu. Those stories painted their lives. they heard tales of Plakk's rage during battle, and of his hesitations and good-hearted nature. They had grown quite fond of him during the short time that they were together.

As they materialized in the main room of the wizard's tower, they could see out the window, the people bustling below. It was just another day at the busy keep. Their presence startled noone, as the mage hands recognized the magic immediately and the guards were forewarned of their arrival so as not to fill the magic users like pincushions the moment that they became solid. What did startle eeryone on the floor was the condition that Plakk was in.

His full plate armor was completely crimson, down to his boots. Flesh squeezed through each juncture of his armor, and the two carriers kept his visor down either to maintain the paladin's dignity, or so that everyone could remember him for what he was. It was likely a bit of both.

The first to aid was Haephestus, the halfling mage who had spent many years with the dead half-orc paladin before him. It was as if Heph sensed that something dreadful had happened, and his little legs bound up the tower stairs the moment he saw the first glint of light coming from the great room in the wizard's tower. As he approached the room he shouted louder than a halfling should be able, "Cleric! Cleric! We need healing!"

As he approached the corpse, Faelar shook his head. Heph dropped to his knees and took in a great sob.

"Oh, friend..." his eyes welled as he spoke. "I should've went with you this time."
Faelar interrupted. "Heph, it happened so fast, there was nothing that you could've done," The sturdy bard said. "It was as if the earth rose up and crushed him. No magic would've been able to stop that."

"That is exactly how it was," Normak the sorcerer said. "We were tracing the Ebony Wizard through the swamps, and we were getting close, I could tell because the spells he cast were like nothing that I've seen before. The loose earth just came up and swallowed him..."

"Plakk, I saw you dying differently," Heph said to the corpse. "I saw you dying in a dragon's mouth with your axe splitting through its head." Heph lowered his face in his hands and let his emotions overtake him.

At that moment, the seneschal arrived in the room. He removed his headpiece and fell to his knees. "I have a call to every cleric in the keep...," he said, little more than a whisper. "We had a caravan arrive from the other side or Hartchester...there are clerics with them..."

"It's too late," Heph said. "He's gone."

"Then I shall do my best to pray him to his deity's side," the seneschal said, broken-heartedly.

"Let's get him into his temple," Faelar said. "We will let the clerics pray, and then we can start the memorial."

None said a word as all sorts of people volunteered to help bring Plakk to the temple that he constructed in his deity's name. The outside of the construct was modest; smooth stone walls with a heavy door which was always open. The only noticeable difference from the shops around him was the lack of vending carts in the entryway, and the golden gauntlet that greets you over the doorway as you enter the shrine. It was when you crossed that threshhold that you realized that this was no ordinary room.

Plakk spent most of his time here when he wasn't helping with the rise of the industrious new keep, and one could tell. A warm, peaceful feeling came over every creature that entered the room. The area was always sufficienty lit with magical torches and there was a single stone altar in the center against the back wall of the humbly decorated temple. The thing that is noticed right away, however, was the interior dimensions of the room were magically larger than the external size of the structure. It was said by visiting clerics that it represented the strength and passion of this creature and how he committed to his deity and cause.

The stained glass window above the altar was diamond-etched glass, in the shape of an extended gauntlet, and all of the jagged edges of glass routinely reflected the morning light throughout the temple in prismic radiance. This day was an exception.

The gloom that hovered over Plakk's death still overpowered the euphoric sensations in the room, as the dozen people gently laid the body of the great warrior on the altar.

Outside the temple, a path was cleared for the clerics to enter through the gathering of mourners. "Thaddian Hendel, Cleric of Lathanius," said the first. He was a powerful presence, for a medium framed human. His robe was pure silk, and you could tell by its appearance that it held some enchanted properties or masterwork design that would make it as strong as any armor.

He stared at Plakk for a moment. "This...this is him?" attempted Thaddian. It sounded strange coming from him; by the way that he carried himself, he didn't appear to fumble with words much. It was easy to distinguish Plakk, anyway, as it is not every day that one gets to see a half-orc paladin.

A human of 37 years, he had the build of a warrior over a cleric. He tall by human standards, and judging by his thick frame, he'd have no problem wielding a great axe or other such heavy weapon if it was ever needed. Any adventuring party would definitely be safe and healthy with a healer like Thaddian among them. His voice boomed when he spoke, and signs of gray hair were just beginning to show in front of his ears.

"This is Plakk," Heph said.

"Plakk the Restorer..." Thaddian proclaimed, as he dropped to his knees. "A true hero..."

The surrounding people in the keep had no idea what Thaddian meant, and chatter began among them. All kinds of tales had been told over Dwarven Ale, but this proclamation was lost on even the closest of Plakk's companions.

Thaddian began to explain the story of the valiant warrior to the onlookers. "There is no way to truly express the good that he has done in mere words...," he began, "but I can give you an idea of how important a role Plakk has played in our religion. You see, for years artifacts, Lathanius' sword and His Great Book of Prophecies, had been encased in a deep cavern protected by magic. In one of his journeys, Plakk came upon this cavern, defeated the magic wards, retrieved these items and gave them back to our temple. He didn't realize at the time, but his adventure took him to the largest Church of Lathanius in all of Rheold! Which means..."

Thaddian put his hand over his mouth. Fear was visible in his eyes, and the intimidation looked to be almost too much for him. He quickly regained his composure.

He cleared his throat. "He should have some coins," he said. "He refused to take the lavish gifts that the priests offered him, but he accepted the coins as a token of our appreciation."

Heph nodded. "He keeps them on him, though he has never told me that story before. Modesty was always his way."

"I need them," Thaddian stated flatly, as he began patting down the bloody armor; every pouch, every nook. He found them in the clasp of a gauntlet rune hanging around the paladin's neck, the thumb holding the coins firmly in place. He turned to the crowd and made his announcement. "I do not have the experience with resurrecting, and there is no cleric within three days from here that is. You have my word that I will dedicate every waking moment to prayer. This is the first time that I attempt this, so stay true and don't follow any false hopes. With Lathanius' grace, at least, he will be seated next to his great warrior god forever. I now need to begin. All must go but the clerics who assist me."

The anticipation built. By simply using the word 'resurrect', the conversation pitch in the keep rose. The guards began to break up the crowd and assured them that they would make a public announcement if there was any new information.

When all was quiet, the meditation began. Thaddian placed the five coins in Plakk's right hand. He could not get the bracers off due to the swelling of his arms, so he wedged them into Plakk's stiff fist, through the strength of Plakk's last rage.

The temple clerics worked diligently; the higher clerics praying with Thaddian while the less experienced healers cleansed the armor and exposed skin of the great paladin with salves and holy water. Thaddian never left the altar, all hours of the day and night.

Outside the temple, Plakk's death clearly affected the gods, as well. The dark gloom hung in the air like trying to breathe through a wet blanket. It matched the heavy feeling in everyone's hearts.

Hours turned into days, and the rumors in the keep began to spread with regard to the success of the clerics. Everyone seemed to know some cleric that would have succeeded, or how the lack of Thaddian's experience would ultimately be the end for Plakk. Exactly what Thaddian had asked for not to happen, false hopes were everywhere. Some just wanted to put Plakk to rest.

It was hardly enough, but Thaddian ate only bread forced to him and flasks of water enhanced with potions of vitality to stay alive.

Hephaestus called a meeting with the leaders and decision makers of the keep, including two other explorers who arrived back a short time ago from the swamp, Ian and Tyrus Fein.

"I want to know their progress," Tyrus said, taking it very hard that he could not see his friend.

"We cannot interrupt, I'm sorry," Heph said. "I saw the look in the cleric's eyes. I gave him my word."

The conversation soon switched to beginning the process of building closure. How to inform the keep, and the processes around such a task. The thin strand of hope was starting to slip away.

They decided at nightfall, this sixth day of meditation, that the leaders of the keep would go to the temple when the supporting clerics are changing, and ask for an update. Then, regardless of what they tell them, they will hold a great bonfire to celebrate Plakk's life, to allow people to share stories and experiences, and to laugh again. It would be a feast that Plakk would want.

They predicted that the inquiry to the clerics would prove quite difficult. No cleric likely would have the strength to acknowledge them, being drained with exhaustion from the endless hours of meditation. Dialogue would inevitably be impossible. They simply felt that they must do something.

As the preparations were being made for the party, people of the keep were beginning to talk again. Smiles were shared, as people were deciding which story they would share on the platform.

As dusk arrived, the leaders made their way to the temple. People carried lumber, pigs and barrels of ale, and the energy was beginning to return. The fog, however, was a clear indicator to the adventurers as to what they would come upon. As they sat around the entrance of the temple, Ian asked each exhausted cleric for the status, and none did little more than shake their head.

About an hour of silence went by. They could see the tower of lumber rising over the houses in the keep's center, that which is to be symbolically set ablaze. They heard some shuffling within the temple. Something knocked over, and before anyone could get up, Thaddian fell out of the doorway, his legs not with him yet. Signs of defeat were all over was visibly thinner, fasting through the meditation. He was pale and trembling, and his face was red from crying. He couldn't even speak. Tyrus carried him to a nearby comfortable room, and he slept.

Outside, the party started solemn, with the occasional laugh as stories were shared. Some of the clerics came, also, and shared the spectacular story of Plakk's returning of the artifacts, which was clearly the highlight of the night. Some cried, some raised their mugs, but they were all moving forward. It truly was a fitting tribute, worthy of such a great friend.

Thaddian slept through the entire night.

When he finally awoke, it was just before dusk. He had no idea how long he had slept...a day? two?...but at least he had regained a good amount of energy.

Once he realized where he was in the keep, he made his way to the temple. He thought the whole way there how it may be fitting to seal the temple and build a new one, as he could think of no greater tribute to a fallen hero than to enshrine him in his own tomb. When he entered the temple, instead of going to the altar, he opted for a bench to the side. Bowing his head, he acknowledged his failure, and prayed his apologies. He sat, and clerics came in at all hours of the night, uncertain as to what they should do, and ultimately decided to leave Thaddian to himself.

As the prismic sun finally broke through the haze and rose into view, the temple lit up in numerous colors, beams of light glaring across the surfaces of the shrine. the gauntlet-shaped window, with all of its magnificent etched glass, welcomed the light to the altar, almost refreshing after a week of darkness.

"Well, this is it..." Thaddian thought. He reflected on his efforts, wondering what he may have done differently. Did he follow all of the prayer sequences? The spells in order? He paused, noticing the bulging flesh through the cracks in the armor had visibly gone down. He instantly felt hot...TOO hot...inside that temple. He thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him; that seven days of darkness with a single burst of sunlight will do plenty of crazy things to one's eyes. As he leaned in to get a closer look, his affirmations were correct. There was quite a bit of swelling gone down...he jumped at the blast of the guard horns.

In the ash of the bonfire in the center of the keep, rising with the residual smoke of the embers was a fine mist, a amgical mist, with a shape beginning to solidify itself. A tremendous horse, no, a paladin's warhorse, raised it's head as the first round of arrows unloaded on the unannounced visitor. The arrows bounced harmlessly off of the warhorse's natural armor, and the beast bowed its head to acknowledge their surprise.

"Cease fire!" came from four different directions instantly. Fury, the warhorse, had been recognized. Everyone stopped to acknowledge its beauty.

All of the leaders, in the split second it took them to recognize the horse, ran instead toward the temple.

In the doorway stood Thaddian, tears streaming down his face, his expression full of elation. Clerics were stripping the armor from Plakk and treating newly exposed wounds.

"He lives!" boomed Thaddian, "Father of the Rising Sun has answered us..."

He motioned for the men to come to Plakk's side, holding up Plakk's hand.

"There were FIVE coins in Plakk's hand, but the mighty Lathanius has repaid his gratitude to Plakk...here, let me show you..."

Thaddian held out four coins and in his other hand he held Plakk's exposed arm, hand open. The shape of the fifth coin etched into his palm, leaving the permanent seal of Lathanius, scarred and emblazened into Plakk's fist forever.

Screams were heard throughout the keep as the news made its way. Most knew, for Plakk's magical familiar companion from another plane was standing in the center of town.

"You shall be a legacy, my good friend," Heph said, clasping Thaddian's one hand with his halfling two. "I will tell everyone with whom I shall encounter, as long as I live, of the story of Thaddian Hendel."

"I am sure that Plakk will someday want to show his gratitude.."Tyrus began.

"Because of Plakk," Thaddian interrupted, smiling, "faith has been restored ten-fold to my churches. Plakk has done more for me and my following than I can ever repay him."

And with that, he silently thanked Lathanius. "This experience has given me much to sermon, as well."

"Now," Thaddian said, "much to eat around here, I hope?"

With that, a thunderous boom of laughter came from the inside of the temple, and refreshed a villiage that had lay asleep for too long.

Fury made his way toward the temple to be with his soul mate. the one who, even unconscious, can summon telepathically signs of life.