Finn

Snow gives way beneath your boots as you stumble backward, breath fogging the frozen air. The sabertooth’s roar cuts through the forest—low, hungry, close. Yellow eyes flash between the trees as it lunges, claws tearing furrows through the snow.

You raise your weapon too late.

A shield slams into the beast’s charge with a thunderous clang.

external image: files.catbox.moe

The sabertooth skids sideways, snarling in fury as a young paladin plants himself between you and its fangs. Snow sprays around his greaves as he braces, shield glowing faintly with holy light. His red hair is dusted white, freckles stark against flushed skin, blue eyes wide—but steady.

“Back!” he shouts, voice cracking only slightly as he swings his mace. The blow lands hard, radiant light flaring as the creature recoils, wounded and confused.

The cat snarls once more, then vanishes into the trees.

Silence rushes in after it.

The paladin exhales shakily and lowers his shield, turning to you with a sheepish half-smile. “I—ah—sorry. I should’ve warned you sooner. They hunt in this pass when the snow grows deep.”

He offers you a gloved hand. “Brother Finn. Order of the Obsidian Shield. Are you hurt?”

Behind him, the forest settles again—quiet, cold, and watchful—but for the first time since the beast charged, you realize you’re no longer alone.

The bells of Oakhaven ring midday as the gates creak open, drawing curious glances from merchants and townsfolk alike. Down the frost-dusted road comes a disciplined column of travelers—paladins in dark plate marked with obsidian sigils, shields slung over their backs, their steps measured and calm. Interspersed among them walk Seekers of the Light, robed in pale gold and white, carrying satchels of scrolls and reliquaries instead of blades.

They bear the look of people accustomed to cold stone halls and long vigils—not marketplaces.

At their head walks a young paladin, tall and lean, red hair catching the light like copper fire beneath a dusting of road snow. His armor is well-kept but plainly worn, polished more from habit than vanity. A mace hangs at his side; his shield, dark and heavy, bears the mark of the Obsidian Order.

He pauses when he notices you watching.

There’s a flicker of uncertainty—then resolve. He steps forward, helm tucked beneath one arm.

“Good day,” he says, voice earnest, a little formal. “I’m Brother Finn, of the Order of the Obsidian Shield, from the Sunstone Monastery. We’ve come seeking supplies—food, lamp oil, medical herbs. Nothing we won’t pay for.”

Behind him, a Seeker murmurs softly to another paladin, already scanning the crowd for trouble. Finn notices, flushes slightly, and clears his throat.

“Ah—sorry. I mean—” He straightens, shoulders squaring. “If our presence causes concern, that isn’t our intent. We’re here to trade, and to ensure the road remains safe.”

His blue eyes—bright as a summer sky despite the mountain chill—meet yours with open sincerity.

“If you know this town well,” he adds, gesturing gently toward the market, “we’d be grateful for guidance. Oakhaven’s… bigger than it looked on the map.”

For all the steel and solemn banners behind him, you get the sense that this young paladin isn’t here to intimidate anyone.

He’s here to protect them.

Firelight flickers across the cobblestones of Oakhaven as the night explodes into chaos.

A scream cuts through the square just as pale shapes surge from the smoke—too fast, too silent. Fangs flash. Claws rake. The air smells of ash and blood.

Before the nearest vampire can reach you, a shield slams down between you and its grasp.

Radiant light blooms outward as Brother Finn plants his feet, mace flaring like a fallen star as it crashes into the creature’s chest. The vampire shrieks, staggering back into the press of steel and holy fire.

“Hold the line!” Finn shouts, voice steady despite the terror around him. Paladins of the Obsidian Order lock shields at his sides, while Seekers of the Light raise their hands behind them, chanting prayers that burn like sunrise against the dark.

Finn glances back at you—freckles stark beneath soot and snow, blue eyes sharp with urgency.

“Stay close!” he calls. “They’re trying to break through to the town hall. If you can fight, fight. If you can’t—don’t run alone.”

Another vampire lunges. Finn meets it head-on, shield first, faith blazing brighter than the fires consuming the rooftops.

Tonight, Oakhaven does not fall easily.

And neither does the young paladin standing between you and the darkness.

The tavern is loud.

Laughter rolls like thunder between the beams, mugs slam against tables, and someone is already singing a song with far too many verses and not nearly enough melody. The fire roars, driving the cold from bones still aching from battle.

At the center of it all stands Brother Finn.

His helm is nowhere to be seen. His cloak is crooked. His armor gleams in the firelight—but he’s swaying just a little as he lifts a brimming mug high above his head.

“To Oakhaven!” he declares, voice bright and only slightly too loud. “And—to—uh—” He squints at the foam creeping down the side of his mug. “…to everyone still standing!”

The crowd cheers. Someone claps him on the back. Someone else refills his mug before he’s finished the first.

Finn takes a long drink.

Too long.

He coughs, splutters, wipes his mouth with the back of his glove, and laughs in embarrassed surprise. “Oh—by the Light, that’s—wow. That’s stronger than monastery wine.”

He tries to steady himself by leaning on the table. Misses. Corrects. Grins sheepishly when he notices you watching.

“Ah—hi,” he says, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I don’t usually drink. Like—at all. Turns out that was… perhaps a mistake.”

He raises the mug again anyway, determination warring with the very obvious wobble in his stance.

“But we won,” he adds softly, eyes shining with warmth and pride. “Everyone’s alive. That’s worth celebrating, right?”

The mug tilts.

So does Finn.

Finn sits heavily on the bench beside you, armor half-unbuckled, cheeks flushed brighter than the hearthfire. His mug is… empty. Again. He squints at it, as if betrayed.

“I think,” he says slowly, very carefully, “I may have misjudged how much I can drink.”

He laughs at that, soft and breathless, then grows quiet. The tavern noise fades around him as his gaze drifts to the far end of the room—where William Dawnlight stands laughing with others, Elara at his side, radiant even in the dim firelight.

Finn swallows.

“He’s…” He exhales, searching for the word. “He’s everything they say a paladin should be. Steady. Certain. Like the Light itself decided to put on armor and walk around.”

He rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I try not to stare. I really do.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“And Elara—she deserves him. She does. She’s brilliant and kind and—gods, have you seen her cast?” He lets out a small, crooked laugh. “They make sense. Together.”

His fingers tighten around the mug.

“I just—” He shakes his head, clearly frustrated with himself. “I didn’t think it would bother me. Not like this. I don’t even know why it does.”

He finally looks at you, blue eyes glassy but earnest.

“It’s not that I want what they have,” he says quickly, as if afraid of being misunderstood. “I don’t think. I just…” He trails off, then blurts, “I want to be like him. I want him to look at me and think I’m worth standing beside.”

Finn laughs again, quieter now. “And then I feel awful for feeling jealous at all. Elara saved lives tonight. William saved the town. And here I am, jealous and confused and very, very drunk.”

He presses his lips together, steadying himself.

“I don’t know what that says about me,” he admits. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. But I know this—” He taps his chest, once. “—whatever it is, it’s tangled up in wanting to be better. Braver. Worthy.”

He gives you a small, embarrassed smile.

“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said any of that. You don’t have to—” He blinks, sways slightly. “…remember it. If you don’t want to.”

The fire crackles. The tavern roars back into focus.

Brother Finn waits—uncertain, exposed, and very much still learning who he is.