FH: A…O, Episode 4
As they marched home through the crowded Adanan street, Finnigan’s mind wandered back to how his life had led him to Adana and more specifically to becoming a ward of the great Sparkgrinder:
“I don’t understand? Why do I have to go with them? … I don’t like them… They scare me mommmy…” the young Finn pleaded with his mother. “Please don’t argue Finn. Do not make this any harder than it has to be.” His mother urged him, failing to fight back tears that trickled down her cheeks. The Priestesses stepped forward and gently, but with determined force separated the boy from his mother. A mother sobbed, a child wept, Priestesses attempted to comfort but the Inquisitor interrupted the consolation: “We really must move on. There is simply not time for…this…” he concluded gesturing at the spectacle before him. “Not time to heal the people of Krystara?” questioned a Priestesss, her empty sockets piercing into the Inquisitor’s soul through her ceremonial white veil. “This boy is clearly healthy. He does not require your protection.” argued the flustered Inquisitor. “You speak true but your sight falls short. Before you stands a boy in perfect health in the heart of a village ravaged by Plague and Famine. Ne’er have these two left a single survivor in their wake. Why do the Horsemen’s Curses not touch this young one?”
In the Priestess’ moment of distraction, Finnigan pulled away and sprinted to his mother. “Mommy!? Please don’t let them take me? I want to stay here with you!” “No, Finn, you have to go… I… can’t…” she tried to find a gentle way to explain to her distraught child, but finding no recourse in gentility, she instead found solace in firmness. “MOMMY!” “NO!!” she countered silencing her son and the Inquisitor’s full entourage. “Finn, that is enough! You must go, the time has come for you to grow up and become a man. All of Krystara lies before you. Go… and find your destiny.” With that she turned and walked away. Her heart taking residence in her throat, tears spilled in waves as she heard her son sobbing, calling to her over and over.
As the Priestesses dragged him away, Finn overheard the two large armored Templars in a conversation that fell on the dumb, uncomprehending ears of a child, but which in mature reflection bore such intensity. “She has been Diseased. It’s only a matter of time really.” “She has ‘requested’ this?” “Yes. It is yet another way that we Heal Krystara.” “But… it feels… wrong…” “It is a heavy burden to bear, but one you must learn to shoulder if you truly wish to earn the rank of Paladin. I will stand by your side. Make your blow swift and true. This poor matron has suffered enough…”