catilyn

Ten days had come and gone as Newell found him standing in the same spot as he had a week and a half before. Little suggested that something had changed, yet things had changed considerably since then. Men and women had been swayed, and he now knew the faces of most of the people who came into the Dawnhall to prepare for the vote. Newell looked across the room to find Taala sat talking to Basaran, and a small smirk crept across his face. The lieutenant was a well-liked man in the Dawn and an important figure at that.

Bandits – The Rescue.

Just up the slope, the bandits' encampment could just about be made out through the gap in the trees.  Firelight reflected off the higher ruins and the occasional muffled laugh or curse could be heard.  The night was still otherwise, save for the lapping of water and the occasional hoot of an owl heard overhead on silent wings.

The Plan.

Some days ago I came in Ered Luin to find the Grey Warden, Andelin found a letter in his house, I still don't know why he was there, where the Warden said that he left Bree, in search of rest. He resides in Falathlorn now, I won't mention where exactly for various reasons. I also found out that Caithrin, the girl who was attacked and we were hired to protect, went there to find him after Andelin's advice, to train. That decision was wise, her friend was trying to control her and poor Caithrin needs to toughen up.

“Has forgiveness happened to you?”

Stop, I don’t--I don’t understand the question, I don’t--

“Jus’ die, yerself.”

Zurich cannot write nor speak elegantly enough to capture her thoughts, though she spends much of her time reflecting; over what some may find stressful to recall, Zurich finds comfort in remembering any joyful times with those she may have once claimed to love.

Everyone speaks to me saying that they wish I was how I used to be; those who don't develop a brand idea that they can fix me by breaking me to a point of fighting back. The only two who's support has worked, I personally feel, is my mentor Blince and my mate Bouddycca.

So much has happened. The weeks that I have spent in this strange, rustic land of mixed cultures have been colored by a pallet of emotions that I can hardly express on parchment. I have felt so much in the short time that I have been here that I barely seem to be able to recognize who I am anymore. Who am I, truly? A tactless young man who thirsts so dearly for glory and adventure? Or am I something more?

Once, a man asked me if I used my weapons for hunting or for another purpose. I told him that they were for hunting, bounties and animals alike. At the time, it was a lie. At the time, I was nothing more than a woman standing alone and unemployed in a tavern. I told him what I did—I lied—because I know that men only respect people with one thing: strength. And I was afraid. Not of him.