text: For some reason or another, my master has fallen. Not in battle, but out of favor. Perhaps he was presented with a dilemma in which what he decided what was right didn't align with his patron. Perhaps he lost faith after feeling that nothing he did was truly enough. Perhaps he wasn't all that faithful to begin with. I stood by him for a time. After all, he was my master and I looked up to him. But watching the light in him die out was heartbreaking. He stopped praying. The smell of liquor clung to his tunic. He rarely smiled. He rarely spoke. When he did, his words were harsh and bitter. The day he pawned his sword was the day I chose to leave. Using what little I had in my pouch, I bought his sword for myself and set off without a word. It pained me, but he was no longer the man I had once admired. As I worked to become a full-fledged paladin, my former master was never far from my thoughts. I prayed from him every day, and swore that I'd find him again and lead him toward redemption.