As I walk through the desolate wasteland, my mind is consumed by the memories of the battles I’ve fought and the carnage I’ve unleashed. I’m a Dwarven Defender, a warrior, a killer. I’ve seen the worst of humanity, or in my case, the worst of goblin-kind. I’ve fought in battles where the stench of death was so thick you could taste it, where the screams of the dying still echo in my mind. And yet, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, for I am Darla the Bold, and this is my reality.
People often ask me, ‘Darla, how can you do it? How can you kill so many, so callously?’ And I tell them, it’s simple: war is a dirty business, and I’m the one who gets her hands dirty. I’ve seen the worst of humanity, and I’ve come to realize that we’re all just a bunch of savage beasts, fighting for scraps in a world that’s devoid of empathy. And if that makes me a monster, then so be it. I’d rather be a monster than a coward, any day.
I remember the last time I saw Grand Duke Harloff, my leader, my friend. We were fighting off a horde of goblins, and I was busy hacking my way through them, my battle-axe slicing through their bodies like a hot knife through butter. I saw him fall, saw the look of shock on his face as he realized he was going to die. And I was too far away to save him. It’s a memory that haunts me to this day, a reminder of what I’ve lost, of what I’ve done. But it’s also a reminder of what I’m fighting for: the survival of my people, the revenge against those who have wronged us.
>Soulkyn