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A lone Hin sits in the rain warped in a cloak body wracked with sobs.
Earlier he made a decision, a decision he hated making, wishes he had not had to make. Deep down he knows it was the right thing to do, but it does nothing to ease the pain of loss.
Since picking up the mantel of Arvoreen, he has never felt a failure this deep. He has composed the body of a Hin servant of the cartel. One he could not convince to surrender, and thus forced to kill in self deference. He even gave the rites of passing as best he could.
He has seen Hin worshiping strange human deities before, not been able to sway them back to their own god so often he had given up. He has seen Hin cut down in battle, in accidents, and had lost family members to violence and not known such pain - such failure.
He knows that deep in the core of this one there is such pain, anger and hurt that he could never truly understand it; the cause as alien to him as the inner workings of a golem. He could only try and ease it, to listen to it, and try and offer comfort where none had ever been offered before. It was not something that he could pick up his axe and slay or protect her from by sacrificing himself.
Until the wanted posters appeared he felt, he, they, were making progress, despite her changing deities from one human one to another. Even knowing that most of the charges on the poster were fabrications. The fabrications of a rejected apprentice. An apprentice he would bring to justice himself one day. He knew he could not protect her from a whole country, from every adventurer, professional bounty hunter, and the pigs from the legion. Only her new church could shelter, protect her, and it was the one place he could never follow.
Hours pass and he has questioned every decision, every action and every feeling he has had since they met in the goblin hills. And though he finds things he sees as his own faults he lacks the even the desire to wish them changed. Even though his faith severely wavered, he would not trade the days between then an now for anything.
Gathering his things, he sets of into the Viridale, vowing that if the Keeper refused him a tiny portion of the protected areas, he would tame one of his own. It was in a forest that he was found and saved by Arvoreen so many years ago. It would be in a forest he would find new strength.
He would pray daily, until he could resume the duty he swore to. He would pray for Arvoreen to petition The Blessed One to correct the errors that had poisoned the heart of his love. He would pray, that she remember the better person he believed her capable of being.
He would pray for his lost love, for his Syne.
Earlier he made a decision, a decision he hated making, wishes he had not had to make. Deep down he knows it was the right thing to do, but it does nothing to ease the pain of loss.
Since picking up the mantel of Arvoreen, he has never felt a failure this deep. He has composed the body of a Hin servant of the cartel. One he could not convince to surrender, and thus forced to kill in self deference. He even gave the rites of passing as best he could.
He has seen Hin worshiping strange human deities before, not been able to sway them back to their own god so often he had given up. He has seen Hin cut down in battle, in accidents, and had lost family members to violence and not known such pain - such failure.
He knows that deep in the core of this one there is such pain, anger and hurt that he could never truly understand it; the cause as alien to him as the inner workings of a golem. He could only try and ease it, to listen to it, and try and offer comfort where none had ever been offered before. It was not something that he could pick up his axe and slay or protect her from by sacrificing himself.
Until the wanted posters appeared he felt, he, they, were making progress, despite her changing deities from one human one to another. Even knowing that most of the charges on the poster were fabrications. The fabrications of a rejected apprentice. An apprentice he would bring to justice himself one day. He knew he could not protect her from a whole country, from every adventurer, professional bounty hunter, and the pigs from the legion. Only her new church could shelter, protect her, and it was the one place he could never follow.
Hours pass and he has questioned every decision, every action and every feeling he has had since they met in the goblin hills. And though he finds things he sees as his own faults he lacks the even the desire to wish them changed. Even though his faith severely wavered, he would not trade the days between then an now for anything.
Gathering his things, he sets of into the Viridale, vowing that if the Keeper refused him a tiny portion of the protected areas, he would tame one of his own. It was in a forest that he was found and saved by Arvoreen so many years ago. It would be in a forest he would find new strength.
He would pray daily, until he could resume the duty he swore to. He would pray for Arvoreen to petition The Blessed One to correct the errors that had poisoned the heart of his love. He would pray, that she remember the better person he believed her capable of being.
He would pray for his lost love, for his Syne.
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