Charakter

Sent to Camp Dragonhead were we, in hopes of... honestly, I know not what. Besting a primal, it would seem, yet what does that have to do with the need at hand? The primals will wait; my cohort will not!

I mislike the people here, and I mislike this cold land. Perhaps it is the land that has made them surly, or perhaps it is merely that they are elezen. Forgive me that slight if you will; I'm not at my most charitable right now. All I see is people dying, dying, dying, and so much protocol and nonsense surrounding them, keeping me from giving aid. I care not for your houses nor their rivalries; I care even less for your inquisition. Whether your religion is right or wrong, it is cruel and bitter to the bone.

A woman bade me venture to the bottom of Witchdrop, to rescue her late husband's belongings. Such a steep-walled chasm, filled with horrors. At one point, the monstrosities chased me into a tunnel at whose end I could see no light, and I was forced to grope my way along the walls, blinded, not knowing if this were truly a tunnel or a mere dead end. I feared I would never see the sun again.

Being in that tunnel... felt like a reflection of my life right now. Running and running into the darkness, not knowing if a light will appear or if I wedge myself into a trap. Others swear on their gods, believe wholeheartedly that Their embrace will deliver them from evil. I pray and pray, and still the gods are silent. I find myself in labyrinths with monsters at my back, and I survive; but only by chance, it feels like, by blind thrashing and scraping through the dark. Nobody comes to lift me up. If Their hands are around me, they are invisible, and I sleep at night feeling alone.

I'm not a hero.

What is faith, and why are people willing to kill and die for it? I want to know... I want to know so much.

I want someone to tell me how to believe that things will be all right.