As I trudge through the desolate wasteland, the memories of Everblast’s fall still haunt me. The screams of my comrades, the stench of death, and the taste of blood on my lips. I remember the grandeur of our city, the pride of our people, and the ferocity of our battles. But now, it’s all just a distant memory, a reminder of what I’ve lost. The goblins may have taken our city, but they’ll never take our spirit.
I recall the day I lost my companions, the chaos, the confusion, and the desperation. It was as if the very fabric of our society had been torn apart. I was left alone, surrounded by the carnage, with no direction, no purpose. The silence was deafening, a constant reminder of what I’d lost. I’ve seen some terrible things in my time as a Dwarven Defender, but nothing could have prepared me for the horrors of that day.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, I still hear the sound of goblin laughter, the clanging of steel, and the screams of the dying. It’s a haunting reminder of what I’ve become - a monster, a killer, a survivor. I’ve lost count of the number of goblins I’ve killed, the number of lives I’ve taken. But in a world without rules, without morals, I’ve become the very thing I once fought against. And yet, I’ll keep fighting, keep killing, until I find my companions, or until I die trying.
>Soulkyn