A Weeping Paladin

     I ran the business. Not mine but his. But even then, I probably held most authority than he did. Not for lack of power or influence but mostly his lack of interest and desire. My master is a peculiar one, to say the least. I would say my lord, my boss, my king, my “raison d’être”. He is my beginning, my will to be, and, if he desires, my delightful end. My master is frustratingly unmoved by trivialities as to command me to lay my soul for him even knowing that all it would take is a flick of his wrist and I would gladly open the gates of hell and surrender my soul with utmost honor and loyalty for he is my creator and my “Phanes”.       I am a paladin. The only one to ever be bestowed that title and I thrive to exceed expectations. I am the warrior, the minister, and the right hand. I am the man that stands by my master’s right with the strength of a thousand gods, the wit of countless witches, and the knowledge of hundreds of men of thought. I stood the test of time and brought armies to ruin. I shook the earth and frighten the stars. I have no mercy and no madness. I am the word and sword. I am all that and then some. I am Nix The White Paladin.