Reflections of the self

The city of Vulder's Gate looked just as Beranhond had left it. The square was mostly empty now - just a few stragglers moving about. It seems that his healing miracle had done the job and fewer people were looking for healing from the Priests of Luthadel.
"At least they no one has messed with the graves." Beranhond thought appraising the fresh earth of the graves. The shovel he had used to bury the priests was sitting right where he left it. Beranhond was not sure what to do now. Further, he was still confused from Narath's visit to the tunnel.
"Tigris, do you remember when I first told you about Narath?" Beranhond said, taking a seat on a rock and taking out one of the offerings that he had found that morning. Tigrisclawu jumped up to the rock and looked expectantly at Beranhond.
"Of course I do." He said before Beranhond set a piece of meat down and he begun biting into the flesh. Beranhond, smiling contenly, and taking a bite himself drifted off into the memories of his past.

The room is small, barely six feet by eight feet, a small window looks out into a spacious courtyard and a huge phallic tower. The only furnishings are a small nightstand, a narrow bed, and a trunk. On the bed a younger cleanshaven, Beranhond sits with a book in his hand. He wears a tunic emblazoned with a silver hand and on the sleeves are the brown stripes of a novice. Makings sure that the door was shut and no one was around he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've made it!" At this early age he had already picked up the habit of talking to himself.
"Mother and Father would be so proud." They never though highly of Tormish as a God, but they thought very highly of the Paladins.
"Yes, you have..." The voice resounded in his head.
What was that? But, the voice had gone.

"The first time you met her was a pretty lame story Beranhond. The next time you meet her was much more interesting." Tigrisclawu had finished his breakfast and was now licking himself. He was a very fastidious cat.
"You are right." Taking a bite of bread he lays back and looks into the sky and drifted back into his mind. It was the day that I had failed the test of faith.


Beranhond had aged many years now. But he was still in the same cell. Though, having passed all of the examinations and the tests he wore the green stripes of a Paladin in waiting. The jovial, exuberant youth had largely disappeared and his eyes wore a tired expression much beyond his years. His cheeks were stained with the juice of the Muckab Mushroom, a hallucinogenic mushroom used by the Paladin for the test of faith. The testers had the waiter eat the mushroom and tell them what they saw. Most saw a vision of Torm, in his righteousness, spreading law, order, and Torm's civilized values. After regaling the testers with this vision they would be drooped with a golden tunic and led out to the springs of Torm where they would be dunked and reborn as full Paladins. However, Beranhond did not see Torm and he failed the final step on the path of a Paladin. After eating the Muckab a woman appeared, beautiful, powerful, and bearing an oddly playfull expression. In her hands she held a cat and across her back she carried a shield.
"Ethelred Beranhond, you are a seeker another path, go to the spring tonight after the evening bell strikes seven." She winked at him and Beranhond knew fear for the first time in his life.
When the vision ended he told the testers about the woman, though something inside of him told him not to tell them about her message. They told him that perhaps he needed to cleanse himself of doubts and cleanse himself of... mischief. They would let him retest in another month.

Now, however, Beranhond was in his cell full of doubt and disbelief. The failure was not unexpected, he had long had doubts about Torm's call, but to fail the final step was the worst of all. In his mind, the woman never left, her playfull beautiful face haunted him. Yet, when he thought back on the face he received a calm that Torm's message of civilized conquering never provided.
"Who was she?" He asked himself. "What does she want with me?"
Outside the bell of the Greater Cathedral of the Greater God Torm sounded out, the ringing echoing throughout the land obnoxiously.
The second bell struck. Yet Beranhond did not move.
The third bell struck. Beranhond looked out, trying to find some resolve.
Finally, on the fourth bell Beranhond stood and collected his meager belongings, his father's sword, his backpack and a few other odds and ends.
The sixth bell struck
Beranhond looked through the window at his home of ten years, the unfriendly pretentious towers and the marble caked in sweat.
The seventh bell struck and Beranhond left the room.

It was not hard to make it to the spring. On tonight all the Paladin's were celebrating the convocation of the new members of the order. The spring of Torm was his alone. As he approached it and set on its ledge it seemed no different than any other night. He sighed, thinking that perhaps this was all just a fantasy of his own making. Suddenly, a light of blue gushed up from the water, boiling it over. He covered his eyes from the light for a moment before daring to peek.
"Do not fear me Ethelred Beranhond." She said, touching his arms and putting them down. Her face was that which had haunted him since the morning. "I am not conjurer of the night, or dark wizard seeking to send you down a wrong path."
"Than who are you?" He asked, in awe, his heart pumping faster and faster.
"I am your future." She said, taking his hand and looking into his eyes. He had the urge to look away, as he realized that she was able to penetrate into every memory and though he had.
"You are beautiful." He gushed without thinking.
"Thank you." She said while laughing in what everyone else would call a giggle, but for which no God would claim. She then pulled on his arm towards the water. He followed without any hesitation, wanting to know more about this beautiful woman. As he stepped onto the water he flew upwards into the heavens until all the Earth was a painted map. He stared at amazement, still holding her hand.
"This world is sick Eth, you have known this for a long time and now the time has come for you to help to fix it."
"Who are you?"
"I am your Goddess, and you are my first prophet. I came into being a millenia ago, but I was silent and asleep until your doubt about Torm, and this world, brought me to consciousness. Now, the two of us will try to set things right as we can. I know this may seem sudden, but neither of us have much time. I will explain more later as you travel, and believe me, we have a lot of time together. Take this book." She pushes a small black notebook into his hands. "It includes some information you will need and is the beginning of the message we will send out to the world. It isn't much, but you will add to it."
"Me?"
"Oh yes, most God's piggyback off the words of their prophet. Fortunately, I have a very talented one." It would always amaze Beranhond later that he managed to blush, suspended on a cloud over the world, and in front of a beautiful Goddess who told him that he was her prophet.
"I.. uh.. don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything right now, Beranhond, you have known me for years, so don't make this some awkward first date."
"Right..."
"Now go!" She leaned forward and kissed his head, letting go of his hand, and he tumbled back to Earth falling down the funnel of light and falling onto the grass of the spring.

When he came to moments later his tunic no longer had the hand of Torm, and his left arm now had a shield on it.
"What the..." He said aloud. He sat down on the grass and opened the book. The first page simply read:
Eth my beloved Prophet. Go quickly - the spring won't work anymore and they might blame you if they find you here. Make your way to something... Gate, I can't remember the name right. It is on the sword coast. I will be with you along the way and we shall chat soon.

At the bottom of the page, in elegant handwriting was the name that changed his life:
Narath

He then rose up, knowing what the Paladin's of Torm would do, and dashed out of the gates of the Citadel and onto the first boat he could find towards Vulder's Gate.

"Ah, that was an interesting time indeed. At least I found you on that ship."
"You mean I found you. As I recall you were a warm body in a bunk."
"Shush... great prophets are aware at all times." He said petting the cat.
"Right..." Tigrisclawu didn't sound convinced, but purred in a satisfied sort of way.
After a moment he asked. "So, what are we going to do today?"
"I have a feeling that we are supposed to remain here and something, or someone, is going to find us. That miracle yesterday probably attracted people's attention and I am sure someone is looking for a healer."
"So, right here?"
"Yes. Right here." At that Beranhond finished off his breakfast, had some water, and then begin taking notes in his journal and working on his healing.