Commander Braghaman Larethian

Dinner Time

(Originally Posted: Apr 11, 2008)

Braghaman sat quietly in the living room of his home. His mace sat on the floor, next to his chair, as he relaxed in simple clothes. His armor sat, cleaned and repaired, in the side of the room, but Bragh had no thought of wearing it this evening. 

Sitting next to the window, the afternoon light shining in to brighten the room, Bragh leaned back with his eyes closed. In the kitchen, he could hear his wife preparing all sorts of new concoctions. Pans banged, utensils clinked together as she tried new things for him to taste. A smile creeped across his face as he listened to Ana explaining the recipe to her minions. He could imagine them wearing aprons at her insistence while they all cooked. There was a slight pang of sadness that tried to grab hold of his heart, but he shut it off. He was content for the moment and didn't want to have the moment wasted with ill thoughts. 

Opening his eyes, he returned his attention to the stack of papers in his lap. Most were every day communications with the Watchers in Duskwood. There was one that got his attention; apparently Banagan had a scuffle with the trainers in the Slaughtered Lamb. One of them was looking to press charges on Banny for the assault and the damage. Bragh sighed, wondering how he would smooth this incidence over. 

Breaking through his thoughts, a knock came from the front door. Looking at the portal, he had almost convinced himself that he'd imagined the knock when it came a second time. Sighing, the paladin stood up, putting the papers on the arm of his chair. 

Rubbing at a twinge in his neck, Bragh crossed the room to the door. Opening it as a third knock came, he was vaguely surprised to see a man dressed in bright, plate armor and bearing a tabard of Stormwind. 

"Brother Larethian?" the man asked. 

"I am Braghaman Larethian," he responded. "No one calls me brother these days." He knew this a lie, several Shrouds call him brother. But this man was no Shroud. 

"Aren't you Brother Larethian? Of Northshire Abbey and the Cathedral of Stormwind?" 

"I am not," Bragh said plainly. "You must be looking for someone else." 

The man frowned, obviously not expecting this reception. "I was told that Braghaman Larethian, paladin of the Light, lived here." 

"And Braghaman Larethian does live here. The rest is mistaken," Bragh added, turning and walking back to his seat. Bragh did not close the door on the man, knowing that such rudeness would not make the paladin at his door leave. Seeing the door open, the man followed Bragh in and watching him sit down with a disapproving frown. 

"I am Brother Faris," the explained. "Paladin of the Cathedral." 

"A pleasure to meet you," Bragh said plainly, with no sign of emotion. The Brother Faris frowned again at the interuption. 

"I was sent here to retrieve you," Faris said. 

"I was unaware that I was lost," Bragh interrupted, which did not improve his visitor's mood. 

"I was sent here because you are needed." 

"For what?" Bragh asked, though he really didn't think he'd want to know the answer. 

"The Church requires you. You are needed for a mission by the Church." 

"I am not available," Bragh said plainly, picking up his papers as if the discussion was over. 

"Not available?" Faris asked incredulously. Bragh simply nodded and began reading again. "You don't have a choice, Brother Larethian. You have a responsibility to the Church." 

"How do you figure?" Bragh asked, placing his papers to the side. 

"How?" Faris sputtered. "The church took you in! It trained you and taught you all you know!" 

"It did take me in," Bragh conceded. "And it did teach me a great deal. But it hardly taught me everything I know. And luckily I've managed to forget much of what they tried to teach me." 

"What of you responsibilities?" Faris argued. 

"My responsibilities are with my family here," Bragh said quietly. 

"The warlock?" Faris said, almost derisively. "Why you married her is beyond me, but your dalliances with her do not supersede your duties to the Church!" 

"You had best watch your tongue," Bragh said darkly, leaning forward in his seat. "Lest you lose it when I take my hammer there and break your jaw. You will not speak of my wife in such disrespectful tones. You will leave now, I think," he added. 

"I'm not leaving here without you!" Faris said defiantly. 

"Oh really?" Bragh responded with a dark grin. "You think that I'm going with you that easily?" 

"I do," Faris said flatly, he hand coming to rest on the pommel of his sword. "You wouldn't dare attack a representative of the Church. You'd never receive training again." 

"Maybe I've learned enough from them," Bragh answered, making himself comfortable in the chair. 

”Regardless, you're coming with me." 

"Think so, eh?" Bragh said, a chuckle coming from his chest. "Tell you what. You go in there," he motioned to the kitchen, "and tell her you're taking me back to Stormwind." 

Faris frowned darkly and then turned to the kitchen. He strode into the kitchen, and Bragh could hear him telling Anaja that he was taking Bragh back to Stormwind. There was a moment of silence, silence so deep that time almost seemed to have stopped. Then, there came a deafening clang ringing throughout the house. Bragh found out later that it was from the frying pan connecting with Faris' helm (he had to replace the pan for the large dent in the center). 

Suddenly, Faris came flying out of the kitchen, running for the door. Close behind him was a void walker and felguard, chasing the paladin with close swipes. Right behind them, wearing an apron that read "Kiss the cook, I'll corrupt you if you don't!", Ana came running out waving a dented frying pan in one hand and a wand in the other. 

"You no have hubbie! Hubbie's mine!" she shouted as her battle cry, chasing after the paladin. Skipping behind her, cackling maniacally while casting fireballs was a devilish imp. Bragh sat back in his chair and laughed at the sight. Later, he learned from the neighbors that the paladin had barely made it to the flight master and flew off as Ana and her gang nearly caught up. He had no doubt that this would lead to future problems with the cathedral, but he didn't care. All he thought of at that moment was his beautiful wife wielding her frying pan as deadly as any weapon and how he was going to have to get to the vendors to buy her a new one once she was done with that poor, deluded man.