This is one of many tales of a paladin named "Sir Gabriel of Cadenbury" who began as an Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (1st Edition) character of mine and ended up being the subject of several short stories written by me. I devised a fictitious monotheistic church called "The Hand of God" for him to crusade under is his travels. Any character sheets, older stories written while I was still in high school and much of Sir Gabriel's history are long gone, but his legacy remains. This one was written in February of 2001 and will now be the opening chapter of his rebirth. Enter Sir Gabriel and vanquish the darkness that cloaks our world.
A Tale of Sir Gabriel
Darkness envelopes the realm and a chill is in the air. Night has taken its hold and smothered the day in a starry, purple shroud. A word is uttered by one of perverse intent and the malefactor rises from the depths of the nine. The gates of hell have opened for a time and the dark one grins a foul and choking smirk and a putrid thought passes stinking through its diseased mind. Its head rolls back in a laughter that grates against the soul like a whisper from the angel of death and eldritch flame of green and black climb higher into the night sky as rites old and sinister are invoked on this, a frigid mid-winter's eve. There is no order to quell this chaos and the balance sways to an awkward stance. There is but one unfortunate soul to rise and fall for righteousness. A sacrifice shall be made and the one above all must toil and suffer that the Earth may may once again rest at mid-point. A jagged finger prods a black-toothed smile and evil rubs its craven hands together in waiting of a fresh soul for the trapping. For the one, the talons of despair lay in wait, but the champion knows no fear, only discomfort. Virtue is the steed and the tramp of justice is echoed with every footfall. As the hero rides into the arms of fate, a strange and unknown peace is about as a ray of hope sends streaking forth a calming cool to take into the hellfire. Brimstone belches outward and the vision of the hero fades to black. The stench of impurity wanes and a lone figure emerges victorious, bringing with a shining banner of silver and gold that is the beauty of tomorrow and all of eternity. Weary is the soul but strong is the heart of the paladin. The banner unfurled, the hand of God now outstretched, the world is bleak no more this day.

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