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strictlystrigidaeBowen procured these individual journals for us all prior to our leaving Butcher Bay on our mission. To be honest, I did not believe I would find myself using it. It is not because I do not believe this journey memorable. Quite the opposite, actually. We have had more adventures in our short time together than I thought possible. No, I believe that the writings of a half-orc, no matter how profound, would ever garner much attention in the first place. My important thoughts, my feelings, my memories, those I keep to myself. I lock them away in my mind, in my heart, where they are better suited than being splayed across a page.
Today, however, was different. Is different. The day is not yet over, our objectives have not been met. We are merely resting, but I digress. Today, for the first time, I felt something akin to true fear. And it was not for my life that I experienced this trepidation.
I have always been most at home as part of a unit. I follow orders. I do my duty and I do it in a way that the other members of my unit are inclined to do as well. The Anvils have many talents, but in battle, we are one. We move as one. We act as one. And our individual skill sets are only made use of when told; when the battle necessitates. I suppose that is what baffles me about my current companions. Every one of us hail from different circumstances. Different stories started in different volumes spanning the world to come together in the most unlikely of anthologies. What we do cannot be considered acting as cohesive unit. We are an amorphous mass; we adapt and change. In the end, it is a trying experience for one of my background, but I cannot say I don't appreciate the challenge. The opportunity to grow and to adapt myself.
Today, I watched as three of my companions; Nin, Bowen, and Varis, were forcibly separated from the group by my own actions. I watched them vanish, to appear in another world entirely through a mirrored stone floor. In that chamber, two enormous crabs, two wolves, and a fierce storm elemental rose to challenge them. They were no longer among their friends. They were no longer within my reach, where I can shield them from blow upon blow with my frame. I could see them. I could watch them. But I could not help them. All because I acted too hastily. Because I bore the burden of leadership and attempted to solve a puzzle outside of my expertise, I nearly had three of my friends killed while I could do nothing but watch.
I have seen men die in battle. Some by my own hand. I have never feared death, nor embraced it. To me, death is simply an inevitability. A final challenge to surmount. Today I looked down upon death, wrought by my own actions, and I felt my heart shudder. I felt its icy grip on my spine, seizing my senses. I could not help my friends. I could not protect them. I could not even call out to them. I vacated the room and willingly reset the puzzle, making sure that I was cast into that mirror world after them. I fought fiercely. I fought with abandon. I fought with a tenacity that would draw a smile from Master Balan and perhaps a few disapproving shakes of Master Howkin's head. Tactics were not in my head this day. Just the need to save my comrades.
The storm elemental. It alone was the only creature to stand up to my fury. I was hurt. Moreso than I'd dare admit to the rest of the group. And in that moment I knew, deep in my heart where black blood churns with red, that I would not last another strike from this monster. But if I fell, so too would my friends. It would be the same as if I cut them down myself. My actions led to this and so I would take responsibility. I would rectify my mistake and make it so that, at least they would live to see our mission completed. I trust them implicitly. They are all much smarter than I. They have the ability to make it to the top of this tower, to survive and eventually foil Tetra. These were my thoughts as I raised my axes.
I have no god to pray to. I do not favor Gruumsh nor do I wish to be cast under his baleful eye. And most human deities do not seem applicable to me. All I have are my axes and my training. And so tempest met tempest; axes dyed in blood and viscera striking against bolts of lightning and surging winds as I vowed to see my mistake through to the end.
And so I did.
I won.
And I fell.
And perhaps there is some unseen god whose favor I have curried. Because I am here, writing, putting my thoughts and my fears down to parchment in the hopes that I can reflect. From this moment forward I will not waver in protecting my friends. Varis and Velo, Nin and Naeris, Bowen and Marse. My compatriots back in Butcher Bay; Steady, Ian, Carrie, Mercy, Desne and Waywright. I will not falter. And any creature, beast, god, or mortal that rises to do them harm will first have to contend with my axes.
I will become the stormwall that their tumultuous waves will break against.
Today, however, was different. Is different. The day is not yet over, our objectives have not been met. We are merely resting, but I digress. Today, for the first time, I felt something akin to true fear. And it was not for my life that I experienced this trepidation.
I have always been most at home as part of a unit. I follow orders. I do my duty and I do it in a way that the other members of my unit are inclined to do as well. The Anvils have many talents, but in battle, we are one. We move as one. We act as one. And our individual skill sets are only made use of when told; when the battle necessitates. I suppose that is what baffles me about my current companions. Every one of us hail from different circumstances. Different stories started in different volumes spanning the world to come together in the most unlikely of anthologies. What we do cannot be considered acting as cohesive unit. We are an amorphous mass; we adapt and change. In the end, it is a trying experience for one of my background, but I cannot say I don't appreciate the challenge. The opportunity to grow and to adapt myself.
Today, I watched as three of my companions; Nin, Bowen, and Varis, were forcibly separated from the group by my own actions. I watched them vanish, to appear in another world entirely through a mirrored stone floor. In that chamber, two enormous crabs, two wolves, and a fierce storm elemental rose to challenge them. They were no longer among their friends. They were no longer within my reach, where I can shield them from blow upon blow with my frame. I could see them. I could watch them. But I could not help them. All because I acted too hastily. Because I bore the burden of leadership and attempted to solve a puzzle outside of my expertise, I nearly had three of my friends killed while I could do nothing but watch.
I have seen men die in battle. Some by my own hand. I have never feared death, nor embraced it. To me, death is simply an inevitability. A final challenge to surmount. Today I looked down upon death, wrought by my own actions, and I felt my heart shudder. I felt its icy grip on my spine, seizing my senses. I could not help my friends. I could not protect them. I could not even call out to them. I vacated the room and willingly reset the puzzle, making sure that I was cast into that mirror world after them. I fought fiercely. I fought with abandon. I fought with a tenacity that would draw a smile from Master Balan and perhaps a few disapproving shakes of Master Howkin's head. Tactics were not in my head this day. Just the need to save my comrades.
The storm elemental. It alone was the only creature to stand up to my fury. I was hurt. Moreso than I'd dare admit to the rest of the group. And in that moment I knew, deep in my heart where black blood churns with red, that I would not last another strike from this monster. But if I fell, so too would my friends. It would be the same as if I cut them down myself. My actions led to this and so I would take responsibility. I would rectify my mistake and make it so that, at least they would live to see our mission completed. I trust them implicitly. They are all much smarter than I. They have the ability to make it to the top of this tower, to survive and eventually foil Tetra. These were my thoughts as I raised my axes.
I have no god to pray to. I do not favor Gruumsh nor do I wish to be cast under his baleful eye. And most human deities do not seem applicable to me. All I have are my axes and my training. And so tempest met tempest; axes dyed in blood and viscera striking against bolts of lightning and surging winds as I vowed to see my mistake through to the end.
And so I did.
I won.
And I fell.
And perhaps there is some unseen god whose favor I have curried. Because I am here, writing, putting my thoughts and my fears down to parchment in the hopes that I can reflect. From this moment forward I will not waver in protecting my friends. Varis and Velo, Nin and Naeris, Bowen and Marse. My compatriots back in Butcher Bay; Steady, Ian, Carrie, Mercy, Desne and Waywright. I will not falter. And any creature, beast, god, or mortal that rises to do them harm will first have to contend with my axes.
I will become the stormwall that their tumultuous waves will break against.
