Tweet
Grag sat alone in the wood this night. It was cold and he made no fire, deliberately as instinct told him it could be seen by enemies. He was not a bright man, so to speak but he managed to ply the trade of fighting better than most could. Tonight was different though, the fight was not one he knew.
He twisted the little ring on his finger, staring at it in the pitch black dark that the eyes of his orcish forbear's allowed him to penetrate. Such a simple thing when he bought it, just a silver ring with designs on it he favoured. When the merchant saw him eyeing it the sales spiel bought him into it immediately. Magic he said, magic that would make Grag stronger of mind and more able to fight against the magic of others. That was how he worded it to the half orc warrior who'd come in from raiding some manner of savage humanoid tribals alongside whatever few brothers in arms he might have in such endeavours.
He was not prepared. The ring of clear thought made his head pound at first but it quickly subsided and left a strange open sense of clarity. Memories, blurry half remembered and full of holes, began to surface with more clarity than he'd ever experienced. Bits and pieces of information swirling inconsistently around in his head leaving him to pick up the pieces and make sense of it all. He remembered rules about speaking in common he'd never been able to remember before, sentence structure, pronouns, though he didn't know these specific terms for them - he still had no idea how to explain much of what had come to light, knowing only that it did.
Some of this was good news, some of it was bad. Where once the largely ignorant half-orc might have ploughed through life oblivious to much around him, he found himself aware now, of things. He felt himself for the first time, genuinely not merely unwelcome in some places, but having personal disgust for those places in turn. Bigotry, though he did not know the word but had come to recognize the concept, bothered him a great deal as he realized how much of it he faced in the past. His mind churned over half present and frayed memories of the experiences. He found himself damning his mind for not seeing it before, it was so simple a concept, how had it eluded him for so long?
So came the conflict though. With this new awareness lingering ever on in his mind, one he found himself unable to ignore, he was surrounded by newer concerns. He felt... Very different was the only way he could think to describe it. Did he want this for himself? What if the ring might fall from his possession? What would happen if he took it off? Would these new memories, these new thoughts fade away with it? The prospect, he found, was genuinely frightening to him. He'd never felt fear like that before: Was it a cowering do nothing and suffer inaction fear that the gods of war would frown upon? Or would it be a driving fear that made him push forward on to greater and better conflicts? He didn't know, he didn't know and for the first time not knowing something genuinely bothered him.
He cursed at himself quietly in the dark. Angered by the uncertainty of it all.
He twisted the little ring on his finger, staring at it in the pitch black dark that the eyes of his orcish forbear's allowed him to penetrate. Such a simple thing when he bought it, just a silver ring with designs on it he favoured. When the merchant saw him eyeing it the sales spiel bought him into it immediately. Magic he said, magic that would make Grag stronger of mind and more able to fight against the magic of others. That was how he worded it to the half orc warrior who'd come in from raiding some manner of savage humanoid tribals alongside whatever few brothers in arms he might have in such endeavours.
He was not prepared. The ring of clear thought made his head pound at first but it quickly subsided and left a strange open sense of clarity. Memories, blurry half remembered and full of holes, began to surface with more clarity than he'd ever experienced. Bits and pieces of information swirling inconsistently around in his head leaving him to pick up the pieces and make sense of it all. He remembered rules about speaking in common he'd never been able to remember before, sentence structure, pronouns, though he didn't know these specific terms for them - he still had no idea how to explain much of what had come to light, knowing only that it did.
Some of this was good news, some of it was bad. Where once the largely ignorant half-orc might have ploughed through life oblivious to much around him, he found himself aware now, of things. He felt himself for the first time, genuinely not merely unwelcome in some places, but having personal disgust for those places in turn. Bigotry, though he did not know the word but had come to recognize the concept, bothered him a great deal as he realized how much of it he faced in the past. His mind churned over half present and frayed memories of the experiences. He found himself damning his mind for not seeing it before, it was so simple a concept, how had it eluded him for so long?
So came the conflict though. With this new awareness lingering ever on in his mind, one he found himself unable to ignore, he was surrounded by newer concerns. He felt... Very different was the only way he could think to describe it. Did he want this for himself? What if the ring might fall from his possession? What would happen if he took it off? Would these new memories, these new thoughts fade away with it? The prospect, he found, was genuinely frightening to him. He'd never felt fear like that before: Was it a cowering do nothing and suffer inaction fear that the gods of war would frown upon? Or would it be a driving fear that made him push forward on to greater and better conflicts? He didn't know, he didn't know and for the first time not knowing something genuinely bothered him.
He cursed at himself quietly in the dark. Angered by the uncertainty of it all.