A Rude Awakening

[Khayman the Wanderer]

It took Khayman several minutes before entering the Cathedral. A pang of loss at the sight of the place froze him for little while. Though his worship of the Lord of Battles was unorthodox to say the least, having never had need of churchs or temples, he still felt his loss of connection to Marconis strongly. He'd always just spoke to the God of War, from as far back as he could remember, and only over the last ten years or so, that Marconis actually began speaking back to him. 

He was Khayman the Wanderer, The Two Sword Mercenary of the Fire and Ice Adventuring Company. The Chosen of the Lord of Battle, the husband of the High Priestess of the Stormbringer, the Field General of his Lord's Soldier on Faerun, and now, he was nothing more than a lowly rogue. 

As he stood out the cathedral battling with his demons, "He." finally came to realize something. "He." wasn't the Chosen of Marconis Stormbringer. Marconis held no sway in this world, was unheard of, as a deity or even a person. No, "He." was a clone of that Mercenary Warrior from another world. This Khayman was relatively young, for his skill and experience, and despite sharing the appearance of the other Wanderer, "He." was not that man. Nor were the clones of his friends and family roaming this new world. 

With that one realization, he shook off the melancholy for the moment, drew his coat gun from it's pocket and reloaded and returned it, adjusted his weapons belt, and strode to catch up to his companions.