(Written by L'enfant Andrinor)
"Honor is something very personal. It is different for everyone. Tell me, Aisling, what is Honor to you?"
The young warrior, masked with a full suit of hy-brasyl and a crimson red cape that descended to his heels. His hair, charcoal of color fell down around him like a cloak of shadow. Light clung to it in breaths turning points silver with glitter then fading quickly only to return and sparkle again. His eyes, as if Sapphires, nearly glowed with excitement. A mighty Kindjal left a scar in the soil, its hilt before the Warriors chest.
"Honor is Respect. Without Respect, there is no honor."
The younger warrior glanced around him. Before him stood a Warrior even mightier than himself. Next to the greater warrior was his companion, a priestess. As he glanced further up, he could see only darkness. It was apparent where he stood. In the depths of the Pravat Caves itself.
The surrounding area was nearly consumed in black save a single, large torch that was thrust into an iron clasp on a nearby wall. It lit the warrior's sword arm, leaving his left side in shadows. On a further wall, a similar torch offered its light but at such a distance it hardly illuminated ought. With a squint, the majestic features of the warrior could be discerned and the noble beauty of the priestess beside him.
They too, could see the young Aisling.
"Honor is duty. Without duty, there is no honor."
The young one, softly smiling, continued.
"Honor is pride. Without pride, there is no honor."
"And finally," said the young one, with a toss of his hair and a devilish grin, "Honor is truth, for without truth one has nothing."
The priestesses' lips curled into a smile.
"Are ye loyal, son?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Loyal for what is my duty, I am." The young one now leaned against the hilt of his blade, which was buried in the soil.
The mighty Warrior, silent, but listening, stepped forward. "Is it not the light of Danaan that guides you?"
The young one chuckled, just for a moment, then he responded. "You know this. Danaan is the everything that guides me."
"And Chadul? The mighty Warrior snarled, but not with hostility to the young one.
"Chadul is merely a substance with no meaning. He can rot."
The warrior turned to the Priestess, and whispered something in her ear. "Lets say.. Lets pretend here. Your children are being attacked by kobolds, amd your home torn to bits. With all this, your honor is at risk. Which do you save? Your honor or your family?" The elder warrior asked.
The young one, his finger running over the blade of his Kindjal, replied firmly.
"Both."·
With what seemed his first smile in suns, the mighty Warrior grinned.
"Good answer, and Welcome, Aisling. Welcome to Magairle. Magairle Onoir."
