[center][h2][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5dTeRroCZI]Dante[/url][/h2][/center]

Like a marble statue that had come to life, Lucian Dante stepped solemnly through the hallowed chambers of Paladin order. Though the steadily burning braziers lit the soapstone walls with an orange glow, his body seemed to stand a void of all color. Ivory skin and snow-white hair, almost aglow like a full moon on a starless night. Two points of light, his ruby eyes, were cast downward at the polished floor. He had walked this path many hundreds of times before, and the floor had been just as clean and smooth each time. He wondered if just as his footsteps had not worn away at this path, if his many years and deeds had not lessened the evil in the world.

As ever, he was not alone. Monks, squires, and other clergy and retainers walked behind and alongside him. They carried candles and censers, murmuring prayers and other incantations. Dante reached the first waystone in the temple, and knelt upon it. As his bare knees pressed against the sacred symbol in the tile, a pair of monks showered his body with sweet-smelling ashes and sacred incense. This had always been his least-favorite past of the ceremony. Not merely because the perfumes itched his skin terribly, but because that itching was a reminder of his inhuman nature. The evil within his very flesh cried out against the purity of the symbolic anointment. But soon that would all change. It had to.

"In darkness, I shall be light." Dante spoke the first words of the Litany of Battle as white clouds of ash and herbs continued to rain onto him.

He then rose back onto his feet, and continued through the chambers. At the following waystone, his squires gathered around his kneeling form and draped him with his paladin's robes. A white tunic at the base, to symbolize purity of heart and purpose. A golden shawl, to symbolize the glory of the gods. A crimson sash, to symbolize the sacrifice of martyrs.

"In times of doubt, I shall keep faith." Dante spoke the next words, and continued on.

Before kneeling at this next waystone, Dante stopped to don himself with long, white stockings that reached up under his tunic. He then stepped into his sandals, and resumed his place kneeling. His squires assisted him then by pulling similar gloves that reached nearly to his elbows over his arms. Another humiliating necessity, usually disguised by his armor. However, if he was to attain redemption in the eyes of the gods, he would have to present himself to them as he was.

"In throes of rage, I shall hone my craft."

The following waystone had Dante adorned with the harness for his sword, the Glaive Encarmine. The leather straps were stained wine red and etched with golden filigree, to better match with Dante's ornate armor. Against his pure and simple robes, it stood out rather sorely. The straps were adjusted to accommodate Dante's girth outside of his armor, and he rose to continue on.

"In vengeance, I shall have no mercy."

The small party of monks and other clergy that had been following behind Dante now gathered around his kneeling form. With prayers for protection and some more casual well-wishes, they adorned him with amulets, trinkets, and even passages of scripture pinned to his robes. Friendly hands clasped his shoulders and patted his back, and an elderly monk placed a gentle kiss upon Dante's forehead. Dante kept his eyes to the floor, and merely continued the litany before carrying on.

"In the midst of battle, I shall have no fear."

At the final waystone, the master of Dante's order awaited him. Though Dante was of the highest possible rank in the Empire's military, in his paladin order, he was in fact a member of one of the lowest echelons. While he was of immense respect and renown, he could not abide by the doctrines that would allow him to advance further in the order. At higher echelons, paladins forsook the slaughter of their fellow man, turning their ire toward the unholy and unnatural. Without mentioning that Dante himself was unholy and unnatural, he could not survive without feeding on blood and taking the lives of his fellow men.

With sad but knowing eyes, the withered master of Dante's order handed to him the only weapon he would be granted for his trial: his personal sword, the Glaive Encarmine. Dante somberly accepted the blade with both hands, and sheathed it at his hip. Reaching back to a squire, the master then took a golden mask, and gently placed it over Dante's face. An expression of ultimate serenity and enlightenment, cast in gold. Though Dante had dedicated more years to the order than Saint Belarius, whose face he now wore, had spent alive, he still looked to the ancient martyr for guidance. Dante rose to his full, intimidating height, towering over the master, and donned his golden hood, leaving no part of his body uncovered.

"In the face of death, I shall have no remorse" Dante finished the litany, and stepped out of the chambers, following the strange man with the lantern to his trial across space and time.