Adrian's Journal: Remembering Ronin

***A tale from the past, from Faerun:***I remembered today the first time we met Ronin. Sometimes it’s easy to think just of yourself.
The trip to Krezk would be treacherous so I recalled why I’m doing this. Well… this is how I met Ronin.

Sigmund and I were fresh recruits in the Order of the Gauntlet.
Just a few months ago, Father Gabriel  initiated us in the great hall of stone. He told us to be ready, that Faith is the strongest weapon against evil. That punishing an evil act is just, but punishing an evil is not. As a Paladin, he had a sense for that. He taught me that things aren’t as simple as labeling someone as good or evil. One should only judge an action, not a person.

Faith in one’s god, one’s *friends* and one’s self.

I don’t know if I have true faith in a god or myself, but I do have faith in my friends.

Sigmund was unhappy as usual in initiation, Father Gabriel wanted to test us in combat on our very first day. We were used to studying scripture in a cloister, what did combat have to do with being holy and good? He told him to stand, looked at his frame and gave him a mace. Sigmund never looked back after that, even breaking Dickard’s arm in a spar as the frail boy held a shield against Siggy’s mace blows.

By that time we were both trying to learn simple clerical spells

.
I memorized all the lines, I could write them back to back in Celestial and Infernal.

But there was nothing. Sigmund was lazy and barely could remember them but… he was casting spells before long.

I was jealous.

Father Gabriel told me there are many ways to serve, and gave me a rapier. He taught me fencing practiced by his noble peers. I’m a wharf rat from Waterdeep but he said a dagger isn’t a man’s weapon and that my build suited the rapier. However, while fencing he withdrew his own dagger and held it to my neck, then said to use any advantage you can against evil.
That as long as you had a will to fight you should, in any way you can.

Father Gabriel wasn’t your usual Paladin. Apparently, using a dagger with a rapier is a classical fencing style. He said every skill must be used in the fight against evil, for they evil will do the same.The man could fight in six different martial styles, said things to your face and assigned us to jobs we were way too unready for. One of them was going after rumors of Necromancy. Us! Lanky and Lumpy, we knew nothing but we were told to consult with one Ronin.

He was an elf, lived out in the gash. Rumors said smoke and the smell of burning chemicals came from his little house in the gash. A wizard of sorts without any ties to the magical guilds in Neverwinter. An expert in undead, odd creatures and mysteries.He had dealings with The Order before and could help us track whatever skeleton or zombie was hidden away by the necromancer. The guards found rotting corpses, half a zombie and magical paraphernalia in an abandoned house in the same area that Ronin was staying in so maybe he knew something too. If such a man would leave his house and mingle with the people anyways.

I sent Sigmund to get us rations but as usual he forgot something. He just came back with five pounds of bread and two gallons of water. Damn him, I need protein. We found an old lady, the elderly usually know their way around and she pointed us to Ronin’s house. As we approached we heard him through the thin wooden door. Sigmund rudely just opened the door and there he was. He looked so very young with beautiful blonde hair.

This was the wise eccentric consultant? Looking like a high tier fashion model from Madame Jessuad’s sitting cross legged in an armchair as books were thrown around him in the floor. His house didn’t match his own grace, everything was in disarray with books and notes. Maybe with their own organization to him but to an outsider it looked like the mess inside a man’s mind. Everything was like a wizard’s scholarly mess except for a corner that was devoid of furniture. A small shrine, a sword hung on the wall. Beautiful Elven tapestry with elegant writing was by the sword that was magnificently polished. Simply looking up Ronin said in a calm rather deep voice ‘Can I help you?’

We explained that we needed his help and he listened intently. Taking notes and demanding no consultant fee even though we were ready to pay. He was more interested in the mystery of it, where the evidence of Necromancy was found and what magical items and their descriptions. Sigmund couldn’t answer so Ronin and I compared notes. Something we would do many times in the future. We went to the house and he closed his eyes detecting remnants of magic in the weave. He said that the corpses for necromancy needed a wet dark place like a basement. Not many houses in the gash had basements after the destruction there. By going through house plans and talking to the locals we narrowed down the possible houses and checked them one by one. Just as we were about to give up we found the house in question.

Sure, at that time we could fight somewhat. But we were not ready.
As we descended the rotten wooden stairs I lit a torch on the wall and then the stench hit me.
In the basement five zombies were shackled to the wall, large glass containers held bile and floating organs. The wall had scribbles and diagrams in blood. A man's corpse in tattered laid in a heap on the floor. The necromancer fell prey to the creatures he was meddling with. The sight shocked me and then I tripped down the stairs. The basement was cramped and the creatures looked up. Smelling dinner as the corpse of the necromancer was no more but bones and cloth. They foamed at the mouth and clawed at me. I could see their faces a few inches from mine, the smell of rot and decay...

Ronin hesitated, it was the first time I saw him afraid as he descended the stairs.
Sigmund foolishly and bravely picked me up and rushed into them with mace high.
They pulled against their restraints and then I pulled Sigmund back after one bit his forearm.
I tried to cast a simple healing spell but as usual failed. I'm never going to become a cleric.

‘Just stay back and hit them from afar.’ I said as I calmly aimed my dagger and threw it but it did nothing.

A zombie pulling against the chains with a dagger in its shoulder.

Ronin opened his book and tried to cast something.
Then… they pulled and pulled.

The creatures screamed, something unearthly. It sounded like Common though.
'Feed..Kill Me...So Hungry..'

I almost saw sadness in their eyes.
Then, the restraints that were holding them broke free, my heart sunk.

The chains were attached to the rotting wooden wall and with a loud crack the wood splintered.

They rushed forwards. I said my prayers.

I tried to fence the zombies and Sigmund kept forgetting his spells.

Just as we lost hope we heard Ronin humming.

He twisted into the crowd of zombies alone. We stood back.

Somersaulting and twisting in the cramped space, leaping on top of them... as his sword cut into them.

After he stopped humming he recoiled in fear, going upstairs to vomit. It was a sight to behold.

After that day the three of us would meet up occasionally.
He clarified to us the difference between a ghast and a ghoul, Elven history and magical architecture.
Sigmund mostly was focused on trying to convert him and the pastries. Ronin had... has a fondness for tea shops.

He was a mentor of sorts, we were young and foolish at the time. Maybe still are.
He kept calm and brave when things got bad, even though he was cowardly at times but when it mattered he was fearless and graceful.

So, we won’t give up on you Ronin. You still have much to teach us, you’re not dying yet.

Faith in your god, in yourself, and in your *friends*.