Day 47 of Deidara, Freeman’s Year 609
The caprices of the Gods are beyond the ken of Dwarf or man or elf. I find myself in a dank Orcish cave surrounded by my fellow Faterinos as well as Gidiusand his men. The stink of foul orc corpses has yet to leave this place, and I doubt the lingering impact of their evil deeds ever will. Still, NabaYo Kinderhookian, Donaldino Yorge, and the guileful Scratch remain in decent spirits as we have yet to meet our match in battle. We have taken on a new Faterino, the decent, reckless Woodbine Grimsleep, a man who had dedicated his life to vengeance. With his vengeance sated, and the life of his enemy slipped away, so too did Woodbine’s purpose in this world. I know the feeling.
Vengeance becomes a pursuit that perpetuates for its own sake long after the flares of rage have burned to embers then to nothing but the barest flicker of an abiding anger that shall never diminish, shall never dissipate even after the guilty are punished and the wrongs have been set right. Perhaps wrongs can never be set right, but we spend whatever time the Gods have allotted us doing our best to balance the scale in favor of justice, of righteousness. I know that my actions are hasty. I know that I am too quick to draw my axe, and worse, to swing it; however, I believe that when I go before Moradin for judgement, he will find me not wanting in bravery, nor in stoutness of heart. He will ask me why I took the course I did, imperfect as it may have been, and I will reply that I did my best. That will be enough. At least, that is my hope.
The facts are simple. Gidius lies gravely wounded in the cave. I know not which God he believes in,