"Now that I have finally been made an officer, I fully anticipated that I would join them. I envisioned taking my place in a glorious struggle that would right wrongs and protect the weak. I pictured banners flying and sun glinting off armor and battle cries echoing from stony ramparts. Instead, I have been given Nelville. As a young officer, albeit a promising one, I understand I have no say in the matter. So this tiny mountain outpost will become my home for as long as His Majesty requests it. I will accept command of the city guard, and dutifully protect the inhabitants from whatever evil lurks in the dark forests just outside the city walls. After all, even small towns must have maidens in peril, mustn't they?"

Taken from excerpts of Deployment Records,
Academie del Aria, Chaynnel
858 A.S.

The only son of a wealthy family, Jerome was the heir apparent to his father's shipping empire. Business was everything in the de la Croix household, and Jerome's father- while a good and decent man- spent most of his days trading abroad. His mother long dead from birthing him, Jerome's upbringing was overseen by a governess. This young girl became Jerome's only parent and his first love.

She read him stories, until he was old enough to read them himself. Together they would pore over books from his father's library, and learn of old legends and forgotten wars. More importantly, she taught him about life and faith and honour- things he'd thought to learn from his father. She wept when one day Jerome's father decreed that he be sent to military academy to complete his formal training. Jerome comforted her, promising that his would be a life of valour and adventure, like the stories and legends they read. So he traded his privileged station for a prestigious academy education and a military commission in a town on the edge of nowhere.

It was on this day that his life truly began.

All the training, lessons, and scholarship could never prepare him for the hard-fought existence of an outpost town in the foothills of great, dark mountains on the other side of the known world. The conscripted men he would command as the hamlet's city guard lacked training and discipline. The only presence of law was an aging Templar who had been there long before the walls of the city. So when a delegation of the Lord Inquisitor rode into town to root out an unnamed evil, it was a seismic disruption to the town's sleepy inhabitants- especially when that evil turned out to be one of their own.

Many of the farmer's fellow citizens argued his case, and even some of the guardsmen protested; all knew that the only punishment for the heresy of which the farmer was accused was a fiery and violent death. Trained to follow orders and never question them, Jerome could only stand aghast as his prisoner's life hung in the balance. His shock was even deeper when the Inquisitor's men finally set alight the pyre, defying the crowd's cries for mercy. As the farmer's screams began to fill the air, the light of virtue finally dawned on Jerome's heavy heart. He saw that mercy was his to give, that justice could still prevail over judgment. Drawing his sword and rushing toward the flames, Jerome pierced the man's heart and ended his life- and his suffering. It was the first time that Jerome de la Croix had ever taken a life.

From that day forward, that first glimmer of virtue began to grow within the young man. He was entrusted with the church's sacred armaments by the town's Templar. He became a protector of his neighbors and his men. He became a champion for justice and order. And when fate demanded it, he became a leader of fellow heroes- a band of young men like himself who swore themselves to protecting their town, a crown, and each other from the evil that seemed to surround their village.

So it was that Jerome de la Croix, now a true Templar in righteous service to his people and his faith, found himself and his comrades face to face with all manner of wretched creatures that would torment the righteous: goblin hordes, an undead fiend called a "vampire", a monstrous shape-changing wolf-man, filthy beastmen that despoiled whatever they touched. On a crisp autumn day- the one that would be his last- near a sparkling pool amidst the fiery leaves of changing trees, Jerome made his final stand.

A dark and fetid cavern housed an ogre mage and his gnarled hag crone, both beings who delighted in defiling and blaspheming all that Jerome held dear. That light of virtue, the one that had sparked first in his heart that day at the pyre, was now a roaring blaze of righteous zeal. Gripping tight his blessed greatsword, the young Templar led the charge against these beasts- to protect his adopted home and end the beasts' spiritual suffering. His comrades followed close behind him, emboldened by the promise of their collective strength. But the ogre's falchion, gleaming and whistling through the dank and stagnant air, found it's mark all too quickly- and Jerome's light was snuffed out forever.

The brightest flame burns quickest, the bards are heard to say. It may be said of Captain Jerome de la Croix that the fire in his soul burned clean and bright, a bane to the unjust and a beacon to those he loved. Many mourned the fall of Jerome, and his dear friends who fell along with him. Yet for every mourner who would say that his light was extinguished far too soon, there are those who carry his torch still. There are those who bring light to the soul's dark corners, and justice and order to the chaos of an uncertain world. In that light his soul continues to shine.

May the Lady grant him peace and rest in return for his faithful service.

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