Commander Braghaman Larethian

First Opportunity At Training

Braghaman walked through the center of Darkshire, his war hammer resting on his shoulder and occasionally scraping against the edge of his breastplate. Beside him, Marachius kept pace while his long sword, slung across his back, lightly tapped against his own armor.

“May I ask a question, commander?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you live here?”

“What do you mean?” Braghaman asked in response, glancing at the younger man.

“Well, you could live in Stormwind. Near the Cathedral. Why did you choose to live here?”

“These citizens need help as much as anyone else,” Braghaman answered with a shrug.

Marachius looked at the older paladin for a moment, and then nodded in understanding. Drawing in another breath, he was just about to say something else when they heard a scream coming from the northern side of the town.

“Follow me,” Braghaman said, tapping Marachius on the shoulder with the back of his hand before shifting his hammer off his shoulder and running up the road past the tavern. Marachius immediately took off after Bragh, his right hand reaching up to steady the sword on his back.

Passing the short wall that marked the edge of the town, the two paladins followed two members of the Nightwatch down the road a short distance. Running towards them was a young woman carrying a small lamb and behind her were a half dozen skeletons ambling after her. The members of the militia and the paladins readied their weapons and took up positions on the road, letting the woman pass between them before closing ranks to hold off the undead.

The undead moved on the soldiers, their skeletal claws reaching out to grasp at the living wall before them. The militiamen and the paladins met the skeletons with weapons raised. The battle was short-lived as the skeletons were smashed apart by their living opponents.

Marachius stepped back, lowering his sword tip to the ground, and looked at the remains of broken bones on the ground. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to consider the brief fight he’d been a part of. Then he looked at Braghaman.

“Commander. You’re injured.”

Braghaman turned and saw Marachius pointing to his arm. Looking down, he saw that his sleeve had been torn open and there was a long gash along his upper arm.

“Well,” the older paladin said with a slight shrug. Setting his war hammer on the ground, he reached over and pulled the hole in his sleeve open to get a better look at the wound. “Guess one of them got a lucky shot in.” Braghaman then looked back to Marachius. “You’re training as a healer, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Marachius answered slowly. 

“Good. Here’s a chance to practice.”

“Don’t you want to take care of it yourself?”

“I can if I need to. But this would be a good chance for you to practice in the field.”

“What if more skeletons come out,” Marachius asked, looking around and noticing that the two militiamen were watching the discussion.

“Even better. Practice under adverse conditions. Most of the time, you won’t be working in a temple.”

“Are you sure?”

“Take care of it, paladin,” Braghaman answered calmly, holding his arm out.

Marachius stared for a moment before slinging his sword over his back and stepping next to Braghaman. Gently, he took the paladins arm in his hands and looked over the wound. Marc took a deep breath as he cautiously placed his right hand over the wound and closed his eyes.  Letting the breath out slowly, he began to concentrate. After a few moments, he heard Braghaman let out a grunt.

“Slow it down, Ainsley. You’re forcing it. Don’t think like you’re attacking my arm. Picture the Light attacking the wound. Use the Light against the damage.”

Marachius took another deep breath and again let it out slowly as he tried to focus again. After a few moments, the paladin hesitantly opened his eyes. Pulling his hand back, he could see that the wound had closed. There was some slight bruising, and he was sure there’d be a scar, but the cut had closed and was no longer bleeding.

“Not bad,” Braghaman said, pulling his arm back and poking around through the tear in his shirt. “Might make a half-way decent medic out of you yet. How about you? They get you?”

“Little bruised, but I don’t think they got me too badly.”

“Guess we need to get you some better armor. Something a little more sturdy.”

“This isn’t that bad,” Marachius said with a frown, taking a step back.

“No, its okay,” Braghaman agreed. “But if we’re going to visit with the nasty things that live in the forest, we both should be as well armored as we can be.”