Hardoleth

Home is supposed to be where you lay your head. Where at the end of the day you go, Where you feel comfortable. Surrounded by loved ones, friends, brothers. A man defends his home. But what happens when a man has no home? When he is cut adrift on the whispering wind. No roots anywhere. I cannot connect. The Mark holds no appeal to me anymore. I yearn never again to linger on those grassy plains longer than neccessary. Almost as much as I wish to leave and never again think of the afflictions I have suffered in the Bree-lands. I'm a wanderer, I always have been.

I decided to tell the Captain's daughter everything. I do not know why.

Perhaps I thought it would wash away my sins. I cannot bury these lies within my heart much longer.

Having to remember each lie. Which lie you told which person. Which truth you did and did not speak. It is a truly exhausting thing. It wears down on you year after year until you know longer even know yourself.

Poor reader. You who have persevered thus far. Why do I talk to you? I was right in saying Delinor has a stronger heart than I. I tire of the webs of deception and the masks. Albeit for different reasons. But what should she do to me if she learnt that I had cut off Theroneth's head? He was in my employ for a goodly long while. That I hunted her old associates. That I killed the man in cold blood for naught but the crime of playing an influence in the degeneration of my father's path. Being one of the primary instigators I believe. Wouldn't it have happened anyway?

Today has been a strange one. I woke up this morning to Cirywen sleeping soundly in my den of sin on the bear rug she has so chosen to name 'Mister Bear.' Now hold that thought.

Basaran the enigmatic Captain of her late fathers mercenary company The Bloody Dawn.

Blince stood overlooking Branston, the child he was guardian over. The boy, with a wide grin on his face and wooden sword tiredly placed over his lap looked back at him. Panting, and fairly quiet, Blince turned and walked off to grab the bucket of water and rags to help cool the boy off.

Hardoleth

Hardoleth.Captain of The Bloody Dawn. A man with no scruples and a reputation of being a ladies man.I do not think I lie, when I say that he had probably bedded all of the women in the company.Of course, I was not surprised to hear this since the women of the company was made up of wenches that had no further aspiration in life than of that to be wed to any of the men of importance within.As you can tell, I was not impressed by any of them.

Taala sat upon her bed thumbing through the pages of Hardoleth’s journal.  She had read her father’s journal many times over, feeling blessed to have it, for it had taught her so much about the man.  He had written his innermost thoughts there; surely the truth would have been recorded in those pages?