I didn’t want to go back. I knew that old bastard was up to something; I mean, how couldn’t he have been? I should have stood up for my hunch; I had told Jerick that he might turn on us. That someone from the church most likely would get suspicious. But he said it was our only way and I wasn’t persistent enough. I let him talk me into going back to the Salty Dog. I wasn’t surprised at the captain’s decision to inform the church of our intentions and I wasn’t surprised that he allowed them to ambush us. What I was surprised at was that they not only knew who Jerick and Alawan were, but knew who I was as well. They knew my name, that I consider Dynestra Woods my home; they knew everything. I don’t know why they cared to learn these things, but even more, I don’t know how they could’ve been learned. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything of any notoriety. There are no stories of my exploits being sung by bards in taverns. I’ve thus far managed to stay low-key. Outside of a few rangers and the occasional barkeep or shop-keep, no one outside of the wise men from Verdain Keep and the resistance should know that I exist.
So far I’ve managed to keep my neck out of this war, aside from occasionally carrying a message or tracking someone, but those have been neither dangerous nor note-worthy by far. The biggest role I’ve played thus yet has been in escort Jerick and his crew through Selador, and right now, I’m not even sure what that role is. Could they have been tracking me because they knew my past? Did they know that I carry the Verdain Family name? I don’t know how they could have, I mean, I didn’t even know until a few days ago. I’m not sure anyone knew, except the wise men said I was given to a family, could they have known? And it’s not like I can ask them, cause I don’t even remember who they are or where I could find them.
Anyways, none of that matters right now, I have to focus on getting us out of Selador. After what we did to those clerics, I don’t think they’re gonna give us a warm reception next time we meet. The blood is almost all on my hands; I lost control. I’m calm now, but I was not so by far after the clerks used their magic on me, removing my will, removing my right to my on body. I don’t know if it was my anger toward them or if the magic wore off, but when I regained control again… well, needless to say, Jerick and Alawan fought, only attempting to subdue them, I wanted only their blood. With a flurry of blows and a few seconds of time, I provided their deathblows. Part of me believes I should feel remorseful, but I’m not. They deserved everything they got.
It was their fault. They trapped us. They asked us questions and refused our answers. Choosing instead to fail to look at any sort of logic, opting instead to being intolerant and distrustful bastards. For what reason? Because, long before meeting us they had decided the answers to their questions. Someone in that church decided that they were omniscient. That they, not the people, decide fate. That they, not Alawan, not Jerick, and not I, are telling the truth. It’s as if they believe that because they speak words or command an idea, that it is immediately inducted into that which we know as reality. Long story short, I’m pissed. And no matter what, no man, no elf, nothing decides my fate. My destiny is my own and never again will anyone or anything take that from me. |
