I was a scoundrel in my former life. A drow in search of fortune, no matter how he got them. The object of his desire obtained any which way he had them. The easier the better. Until he found himself in Irestone broken and bleeding left to die on the hot sand as the rest of the company ran.
Then it spoke to him. ‘Stand’ it said. Channeling light through him, envigoring every limb, forcing him to rise. ‘Leave this place and come back anew’.
I am that man now. Changed in every aspect, cleansed in faith. My soul burn at the touch of the divinity that saved me. That gave me the steelbath of faith and strength and the ability to focus its wratch on those who seek to destroy innocense.
But I will not spare you because you beg. I will not hesitate to strike you down no matter your regrets, because I am not a tool of forgiveness of transgression you might think you can fool others into overlooking.
You have but once chance with me. The one path you never took. All other roads end up in death.