Why We Do This

Plot work, developing his character for later arcs

The group of warriors was held up at the gates again, a small legion of well-wishers, those asking for them to look for lost relatives, while others simply asking to keep an eye out for different things they couldn't carry with them before they reached the City of Mhuzchet. The Citadel was the only thing that the Spawn and Changed couldn't get anywhere near, the mighty defensive arrays in full effect keeping the Miasma away. Ryhs, on the fringes of the scouting brigade as usual, over heard an old man begging one of the other warriors to look for his daughter.
"Please, we were separated when that Shadow overtook our village, I don't even know if she's alive anymore. Please, look for her! She had a kind face, long golden hair she keeps in a braid down her back!" The warriors were always kind, the one he was clinging to smiled sadly at him. He didn't say anything, only nodded. But, that look in his eyes spoke louder than any words he could have said.
"She gone." Was the only thought Ryhs could think of. When the Shadows overtook an area, they changed everything. There was no coming back, there was saving them as it had been when The Quartet had fought with them. At least, until Illy came back from whatever she was doing. She could cure them, but, she was but one mortal soul. And one savior does salvation for all, not meet.
Still, he sympathized for the man, he would also keep an eye out for anything that might be his daughter. The Riders usually accompanied the scouting brigade, subduing and capturing as many they could to bring back to Illy. Still, there were few who they could capture without killing them soon afterward, struggled as they did against to enact the wrath instilled in them by their dark masters. "She wears a gold locket, small like a pocket watch around her neck. Please she would never throw that away, if you can't find her, please bring that back." He rambled on as the group got moving.
***
It went as well as expected. They ran into group after group of Changed, deformed mockeries of the mortals they had been, indescribable horrors. Living flesh turned living weapon at the whim of what their masters needed, viscous, lethal. The humanity extinguished from their eyes as they attacked on sight every single time. They had won the skirmishes with all of them, expanding their borders out deeper into the Northern Wastes, places safer for them to gain control against the Shadows and their mutating plague. Ryhs had knelt down to the Changed he had just killed, the smell of the village and it's rot covered... everything, stung his nose.
He could tell it had been a child, human at one point. It's face mostly unchanged, though the numerous eyes that lined the back of it's head, thankfully, stopped moving. It's hands had become what he could only have called blackened slime ending in sharp bone where it's fingertips still dripped with an acrid acid. The rest of the child was unrecognizable, deformed, half animal, half monstrosity, part human. Rhys took the time to close the human eyes, and offer an silent prayer to it, happy only to have ended its suffering.
The inscription on his war-sword was his rosary, the same prayer he offered to all whom he pitied met his blade. "I lament the loss of this life, for all I can offer now is that you find peace in our Ladies wings." Standing, he watched as the scouting brigade was headed back to the Citadel after having set up the wards in this sector. They would burn away any Changed that managed to escape them, as well as keep any from wandering in that were not in the presence of a Shadow. The only things powerful enough to breach those wards were the Shadows themselves, and now, only six of them were active enemies. Azu and Xelex having found favorable terms with Ilgor and the Elsewhere. Though, Rhys shuddered to think that those...things, were allied to them. He wondered what Illy was thinking about that, then again she was something else. Her and that Spirit of the Great Mother that followed her everywhere.
A building fell as its burning beams crumbled to charcoal in the flames he had set. They couldn't, he couldn't risk that disease spreading to the Citadel if they left the rot ridden structures standing. Something caught his attention though, something that didn't sound right. It wasn't the crackling of the fire, it wasn't the crash of another building as it fell. It was rhythmic, in lock step without faulter. He couldn't place it, not until he noticed it, as another of the Changed walked out from the carnage left behind. It's skin sloughing off, melted, charred, bone visible and blackening in the heat.
It was without thought, it starred him down with a rage in it's eyes that all the Shadow's minions held. Its hair mostly burned away, ash billowing out from it as the thermals of the building made its own wind. A once young woman, arms ending in sharp serrated bone with no hands to speak of. Its soft face split open to reveal a skull full of eyes and teeth as it screamed at the Paladin. Rhys wasn't scared of it, he had killed countless horrors now, immune to the psychological attacks the Shadows employed in the the Changed, it wasn't that this creature was in a dead sprint at him while on fire, it wasn't that he could hear its bones breaking from the damage the fire had caused it. No, it was gold watch that swung from its neck that pained him.
Deep breath, slowed his heart rate. Calm as he drew his war-sword from the earth and met the Changed with his blade.
***

Rise and shine by Thereasonwhy

The old man had fallen asleep at the gates waiting for the warriors to come back, startled awake as he felt someone put their hand on his shoulder. The old man had never spent much time thinking about the Mistwalkers, he was grateful for the strength of their Shrine Guard, he had heard legends of their abilities. Yet, he was still not ready to see this brute of a Faerie, pointed ears, his wings torn from what he had heard was an old injury. They called him a Paladin, with devotion to his Siblings and his Adoptive Mother was what gave him his strength. He felt something drop into his hands, a horrifyingly familiar weight.
The Paladin closed his eyes, saying nothing, only gripping his shoulder a little tighter. The gold locket had a braid of blonde hair looped around its chain. His voice shook, breaking near the end. "You have a heart of gold, don't let them take that from you. I cannot thank you for this." His eyes blurred as he wept, the Mistwalker still saying nothing. Nothing needed to be said, there was nothing to say, just a simple unspoken "I know."