Odric Lun'edune

Odric, cleric of Mystra, has fought her enemies and defended her principles for decades. Even after all that time and devotion he is losing his hold on his faith. Questioning his reasons for taking up his sword, The Luncrest it was called, that has been on his hip for most of his life. A family heirloom of service, the blade was forged by dwarves for the Lun'edune family and since then has carried with it the blood oath to serve the goodly gods. He didn't know how much longer he could continue to rise up for God's who carry little of the workings of mortals. There are only a chosen few whose words actually reach the ears of their deity. everything else is just drawing power from indiscriminate cosmic weave is it not? Odric found himself replaying that cynical question with increasing frequency as his months came and gone. The Luncrest was silently judging him, he felt and saw the glow of the fine sword flicker and dim. Dim and fragile would the blade become when not in the hands of a devote warrior...and it was indeed shining less brightly these days...