Role

Chapter 10

"I don't find what you do funny, at all." says Kharten, the power magi
of the Chasm, right after he was slain through trickery, forgetfulness,
and neurological poisons and traps. This statement seems to sum up
how everyone views Flaaayin these days. Venom piled with venom, with
a bucket of venom on top of it. Deception, trickery, and jestering
is seen not as a way to fight, but a way of cowards, yet I have been
extremely effective in my ability to kill our enemies, and disrupt
their hope. Of all things, I can keep a much greater force from
attempting to raid the village, only by my presence and my infamous
reputation. I manipulate and control without lifting a feather, such
is how I am thought of.

And what comes from the ability to control, deceive, and make ineffective?
Hate, lots of hate. Anyone I speak to who is not a villager I find myself
faced with this hate. It is veiled or seething and expressed. It causes
them to act chaotic in fashion and I exploit such. Even those I have not
ever faced in person hate me. I do believe I see a reoccuring theme.
But this will not change who I am, nor what I do, or how I do it. There
may be a way out of this hatred, but I don't see it. And I will continue
to bathe in it and wash my feathers within it. It is strangely warm
and enjoyable to be seen as this. And such I continue my path.

But on to aging. My wings are tattered, my colors muted by time
but I have gained wisdom in exchange. It has made me a more dasterly
bird and for that, I thank Time. I continue in my old age to find
this infamous and talked about Imp. Balta speaks of him and of
conversations that have been hade about me, but nothing as of yet.
I believe my actions and the wake I leave behind me of dumbfounded faces
and furious souls is proof of my abilities, but it is perhaps just about
the hatred. Perhaps that has become too common and expected, so I will
endeavor to find a soft place in my heart (a fake one of course) to
endear myself, before twisting the knife.

Perhaps this is the last part of the Wisdom I seek. But do know, I
will never give up my "Magic" nor punishing those who use the Magic.
My own hatred runs deep, like a vein of gold at the center of the
mountain. The only way to get it out is to destroy the whole mountain
and everything around it. Something I do not think anyone would wish to
do, because when that would happen, I would bring everything with me.

Hell be wary of when I come.