Regaining Oneself

[Dragor]

The spear point smashed into Dante's armor so hard that it shattered, the armor dented inwards, knocking the wind out of him as he raised his sword through the failed parry.

"No time to think about aches and pains old man" He thought to himself even as he severed the orc's head on the backstroke.

He hurriedly parried the axe of the second orc one handed as he reached for a healing potion, he felt another blow glance off his armor as he drank it in a hurried gulp.

"I didn't used to need those things..."

His health boosted he faced the remaining orc with renewed focus, he tightened his hands on the grip of his sword and took a step toward his foe. He let the wieght of the sword, swung from a high guard, build momentum as it impacted with the orc's head.

"..better than last time"

He let the sword point drop till it grazed the ground, quickly lifting the now heavy weight so it did not dull it further.

"Careless, old man.."

The enchantments strengthening his arm and body faded and he seemed to slouch as he made his way out of the hold. The years pressing back down tempering this small moment of glory with harsh reality.

"I should have stuck to gardening.." He mutters back in his camp

He removes and polishes his armor and slowly succumbs to his exhaustion as he sharpens his sword, falling asleep with blade and stone in hand, dreaming of the youth he once had, and the things he must yet do.

[Dragor]

Finding Oneself

Dante sits in his camp beneath the old dead oak tree smiling to himself while munching on a ration. He flexes his free hand after tossing a few stray sticks into the fire.

"It has returned." He thinks to himself

He no longer feels the old man, sent into retirement by the church in favor of someone younger. He feels the way he felt of old, the way he felt on crusade. He feels alive.

Lurking in the back of his mind he feels the spark of the arcane, a gift from the Goddess that none of the Holy Magai can duplicate. Although the spark has not grown for some time it seems more energetic with his change of self perception.

A sign, he took, as him being in the right.

He finishes the ration and takes up his sword slinging it, scabbard and all, to its place on his back. Covering it with his cloak in a flourish he takes a step down his newfound path.

"It is time I introduce myself." He thinks aloud.

[Dragor]

Improving Oneself

Dante glares through the darkness peering at the gravestones, watching and waiting for the occupants to rise up.

He feels rejuvinated from his time spent alone in the forest. His skill at arms had returned and most of his abilities as a Paladin are as keen as they were in his youth.

And the magic...

He can feel the magic swirling within him again...building up.

The graveyard remains at peace strangely enough so Dante returns to his camp. He pulls out an old Runic covered Tome and leans toward his fire to read.

He remembers a few of the wizards who melded the arcane art into skill at arms...perhaps he could as well.