Andarin: The Mountains: Hope;

This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.:
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save Us!'...:

...and I'll look down, and whisper, 'No'"
Nicodemus had never asked for the things he had, nor did he deserve the good things. He had been a fiend at one point in his life, fighting in a war for an unstoppable and evil country. The time when Nicodemus was a foolish child Commander. He sighs, resenting all that was him in those days. But he knew that he wouldn’t be….him without those days. Nicodemus wouldn’t have truly been reborn, even if Andraste had found him then. All it had taken was a simple plea for him to see what a monster he had been. And look at him now, Nicodemus the knight. Nicodemus who had been taken in and taught the Old Code.

He had loved, hated, cried, and so many other things.

Others who held elements would relish in the thought of holding more than one. Others would not feel whole without the two that they had come across. But Nicodemus was nothing without his flames. He did not yearn for the sparks that now played carelessly about his hooves. You could see that in his being, his actions. They were purely fire and nothing more.

Before Neive, Nicodemus hadn’t been doing much of anything, his eyes half-closed as he lazily watched the sunrise. He was only half-awake, sensing that someone was near. It was Andraste who took note of her, the phoenix burning brightly before him. With her, he woke, eyes waking with him, the fires rekindling. And as she said, he just…was. Appearing before her, eyes burning brightly, a twist of electricity about his legs subtly now. The man is still in shadow for now, the spiraling flame from him directly from the forest. It had a special way about it, a fierceness and beauty that was not seen in common fires. If you looked past it you would note the man, though for now the fire that was drained from him and channeled before you made him something less than stunning. He was a shadow in himself, black save for the glowing amber eyes that were even more wonderful and terrifying than the flames that they were focused on. In them was all the intensity of the fires, and yet all the emotion and passion of the world. It was his eyes that told you that this man had seen the world rise and burn, much like the phoenix that hovered silently above the spiraling flame.

Now the flame began to return to him, slowly. And with it so did the beauty that was Nicodemus. The flames gave him color, life, brilliance. The blackness became reds, bright and shining like his own flames. His eyes shone now more than before. Other than the eyes, his face was set in stone, emotion void from anything other than his tell-tale eyes. Beauty was often terrible all at the same time.

He listens quietly. At her words, however, he is taken aback. This was the first time he had ever been so highly exalted. Others misunderstood him, took him for no more than a cynical jerk. He doesn’t know whether to thank her or laugh at her in all honesty.

“I…” He pauses, trying to find the right words. “It means a lot to me, thank you Nieve.” He smiles, stepping forwards. “Know that when you are with me, no harm will come. You have my word, and my word is my bond.”

KNIGHT
**NICODEMUS**

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

FIRE III LIGHTNING III

Emissary of Andarin, Phoenixsong, Iriase, and Kaikua'ana

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