[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjY2LmZlZTMwMC5SWHBsYTJsbGJDQktiM0pwYjI0LjA/angel-bandit-demo.regular.webp[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/Cq67IYB.gif[/img][/center]
[color=FEE300]Race:[/color] Aasimar
[color=FEE300]Class:[/color] Paladin
[color=FEE300]Location:[/color] Stormrider; Cargo Hold
[color=FEE300]Interactions:[/color]Scratch & Val [@Apex Sunburn]
[color=FEE300]Equipment:[/color] His longsword; [url=https://i.imgur.com/0dnfaQH.jpeg]Retribution[/url] and a [url=https://i.imgur.com/TAGHTJ2.jpeg]healing amulet[/url]. A [url=https://i.imgur.com/92lzGaT.jpeg]backpack[/url] with supplies and his [url=https://i.imgur.com/pSHLAct.jpeg]lute[/url]. 
[color=FEE300]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/cVUVpsf.jpeg]Clothing[/url] and [url=https://i.imgur.com/pezKStD.jpeg]gloves[/url]
[color=FEE300]Gold Balance:[/color] 87
[color=FEE300]Injuries:[/color] New injuries; concussion, fractured ribs, giant splinter in his leg, injured shoulder, all bruised up. Old injuries include a missing eye, numerous iridescent scars, and a knee that aches when it rains.
[hr]

[color=silver]Ezekiel felt it, the strength of The Silver Flame working through him. Guiding his hand, strengthening his grip so that he did not falter in this moment. He could hear the crackle of holy fire in the sound of steel against steel, as the righteous light cleaved its way through wretched darkness. 

One hit. That was likely all he had in him right now.

And thank the gods it had been enough. 

This moment was more than just two warriors clashing over the fate of an airship. For Ezekiel the scythe wielder in black and red had stood as a representative of Karrnath and all their crimes. Brutal and cloaked in an aura of unfiltered evil that dissipated into the form of worms and serpents that slithered from the light as their avatar fell never to rise again. 

He stood for one lingering moment, clutching Retribution like a holy relic, with a deep sense of pride. It rose and burned. The smile that formed from a feeling of true accomplishment became a wince as that burn swelled. 

[color=FEE300][i]Heartburn.[/i][/color] A pressure that seized his heart and burned its way up into his throat. The sickening feeling of guilt deep in his gut followed it. He almost choked on the bitter taste of pride. 

Pride which comes before the fall. 

His Aasimar blood rejected the feeling, it turned his body against him even at the slightest inclination to stray from his path. To take pride in a kill, to relish in the spilling of blood, to linger in the violence – these were the first steps towards a path strayed into darkness. Ezekiel’s cheeks burned with the shame of his momentary stumble towards such a path. 

He stepped around the writhing mass of serpents and worms, he returned to following Scratch’s commands. He wiped the blood from his blade on his tattered sleeve and resheathed the sword. His shoulder burned. The world became an unfocused mess. His injured leg shook with the effort of every step. 

Without the promise of battle to sharpen his focus, everything else seized hold. His steps toward Val were slow and shaky, the light of his eye dimmed, and the sound of the turret rattled his bones. A musket shot rang out. 

He didn’t bother to check and see if Scratch had slain his mark. He was simply sure the dark elf had; everything that had taken place inside the cargo hold left the paladin without a trace of doubt in Scratch. He simply put one foot in front of the other until he made his way to Val and the door that stood between them and getting out of this mess. 

Ezekiel placed a hand on two of the levers and allowed none of the weakness in his body to show on his face as he gave Val a single nod. [color=FEE300]“At your command.”[/color] He spoke and stood ready to pull the levers and then push that door open with every bit of his body weight. The floor continued to rattle beneath their feet. [/color]