Role

Chapter 31

Several more passages spill out among the blood stained pages of a tattered war journal.

As was the pattern with the latter half of the scriptures the diction and
grammatical errors are becoming less obvious if at all apparent. The letters
are precise, even and symmetrical. Like any art, time and dedication has
increased the artisans skills in a way that shows growth in practice.


Puck'n Pitchers,
Puck's still on about his inn. It puts a smile on his face, and that's a rare
thing now days round here.
Not much to laugh about with the wars that teem on all sides of our village.
Maybe one day he will get to rest, I don't have the heart to tell him it will
likely be for good. If truth be told he knows it as well as I do, I won't
take it from him, even if it is only in jest. The end of this war, the
culmination of our efforts, as a village, is still not near at hand. I am
glad that he has risen to the call all the same, I couldn't ask for a harder
veteran to drill these sodding gits.


Crimson Tides,
Blood flows like rivers, our grounds are soaked with it, our kin are soaked
in it, down to our souls. Fate has put nothing but war before us, and so we
shall wade in head first and leave suffering in our wake. Some blame me, as
if their assertion matters, still many dont understand the way it is, the
way it must be. Warmonger, Barbaric Madman, Savage Murderer, the words mean
nothing to me. I see it in the newer youth, and smell it on those that have
seen my work. There is a cold lingering heavy and hard, an aura that seems to
give goose bumps to even my own kin as I pass by. Such is the path she set
before me, and so it is the path I continue down, knee deep in blood if I
must.