Tarnished Honor. . . As the sun rose over the battlefield and we all celebrated our victory, I was overcome with admiration for the Virtue of this city and its defenders. Before me stood warriors who had tirelessly stood their ground night after night in the face of the undead hordes. Some had spent days and even weeks away from loved ones and other very real responsibilities. Surely, one would think that they could leave this work to others! Surely they had other places where they could be. . . perhaps leading the simple life of a tradesman or merchant, away from the dangers and horrors of the battlefield. Yet, here they stand, bloodied and some staggering under heavy wounds. They fight here though there is little reward for doing so. For few warriors take the time--in the midst of the desperate battles--to partake of the loot left by our fallen enemies. While contemplating the sublime honor of the warriors and mages assembled before me, I engaged some in conversation. Some recognized me from battles passed, but many of the faces were strange to me as they had recently arrived from the countryside to take up arms in defense of the city. Finally, as weariness pressed upon me, I made ready to retire to the southern ramparts where I planned to sleep away the sunlit hours. Being as weary as I was, I decided to travel there by mystical means. As I uttered the words "Kal Ort Por" and felt the mystical ether take hold of my form, I simultaneously felt a tug on my scabbard. Turning, I saw--through the bluish haze of the spells increasing effect--the face of one I had taken to be a mage by the name of Roac. Appearing at the southern gate, I immediately noticed my precious silver katana of force was missing, an heirloom given to me by my father. Choking back tears of rage, I immediately re-cast my prior spell which deposited me near the front gate yet again. Riding at full gallop, enraged that someone would be so dastardly as to prey upon the very soldiers who fought so bravely for the city in its hour of need, I came to a halt at the gate to find the fiend gone. No one had seen him for some time and many consoled me for my loss, understanding what the loss of such a prized heirloom could mean. Especially when lost not in honorable combat with a dangerous foe, but to a common thief. As we conversed and talk turned back to the combat of the night passed, I noticed a form moving among the woods to the west. Sprinting forward upon my steed, I came to look once more upon the face of Roac. Obviously, he had been away stashing my sword and now came back to gloat and possibly arrange a ransom for its return. Enraged by the supreme arrogance and vice of such a man, I immediately summoned an energy bolt and sent it hurtling into his chest. . . Staggered by the blow, he looked at me, an arrogant sneer on his face. "You won't get your sword back this way." He said in the crude dialect thieves often use. At this, my rage boiled over and--may the Avatar forgive me--I loosed two more energy bolts upon him. The second--striking him squarely in the chest--felled him. "Nay," I said to his fallen form. "I shall not see my father's sword again. But I have had my revenge." With that, I turned from his body and rejoined my comrades at the wall. Gradually, the consuming anger left me. However, I fear I lost something more than my sword to that despicable thief. For, until that point, I had believed that the peril the city faced had united its citizens in Virtue. As I had witnessed warriors guarding the belongings of fallen comrades they knew not at all--refusing to plunder the slain as so many supposedly reputable soldiers do--it seemed to me that verily all the hearts in the city had turned to Virtue. In the week that I had now spent in this city, I had not seen one dishonest or nefarious act perpetrated upon a fellow citizen. Now, I had not only witnessed one, but the act had been perpetrated against me. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I made my way south to the ramparts, contemplating what had just happened. My father's sword was gone and I would never feel quite whole again without it. Yet, what bothered me more was that people like Roac existed. People actually existed whose soul purpose in life was to inflict suffering and hardship on others. Indeed, even upon those who essayed to protect them and this city! As I lay myself down to sleep the day away in preparation for the night of battle ahead, I could not relieve myself of one recurring thought. . . perhaps all within the city were not worthy of our protection. Yet, I would fight on for those of Virtue and Honor. As the Avatar would do. . .