Book Three of Strife

[Random_White_Guy]

"To walk the path of the Warrior is to walk alone. Uncared for, shunned from the doorsteps of the great and powerful. Our vicatries are not heralded by any court, nor proclaimed in the records. Only in the Book of Strife are our deeds recorded."

Cytessa the Agasian

A third book... hopefully this one has some longevity. Else I may need to speak with the Stonefolk of some stone tablets.

One thousand orcs have been felled by my hands in 28 days. It feels a lifetime ago my first raid with nothing but spear and loinclothe but the thrill is never gone.

The beast that others spoke of, it is called a... Rhinoceros. A massive horn it had, nearly goring me while the Warlord upon its back barked orders to his Legates and Warlock and Troops.

His Warlock set me on fire, which burned the second book of strife, but while the flames licked over me my axe slew his beast, and I impaled him upon his own mount's horn. Felt suiting. Felt right.

Part of me cannot believe I survived. Part of me though expected no less. Each day since the Pit has felt sublime, but this one? This one different. My promise to Agaslakku kept, my reputation and renown growing. The beasts horn coated in the Warlord's blood I have ground up and snorted. A power there.

Tomorrow though the Dwarves speak on Khulkhan. They do not offer charity, but I do not seek it.

And this night I have... done as I was advised. I have turned one of Ephia into a spy.

This new battlefield feels foriegn to me. This game of knives, played by the Duke's men, played by the Ashfolk, played by Casella.

But I am Agasian. I fight on every battlefield.

While my fight rages beyond the walls, The Heron will be swayed.

If not by my Embassy and Ambassador?

With a Spymaster and unexpected Headquarters.

Preparations are underway for a third and fourth encampment, as my Warchest and more grows.