[Alanada] Page eleven.
My bones ache.
Every muscle, tendon, scrap of cartilage--they burn and shiver. I know why, of course, and the solution is simple enough, but I have my orders. I will not desert the camp in search of prey.
Damn that orc.
There are seven of us here: two living and five not, excluding the commander who also lives. The priest is living also, and I have grown used to the pain that accompanies her spells. Repair is necessary; it is not required to be pleasant. I wonder, though, at how similar it feels to this sensation.
The Light, the priests and humans say, fills every living creature seeking to do good, and those incapable of that distinction. Lacking a soul, I am unlikely to fit into either category properly. Yet, if I refrain from evil--
It makes me question this hunger, this gnawing pain. If the hunger and the Light are one and the same, then the act of feeding drives both away. A sign of wickedness? Perhaps.
Perhaps the Light cannot be kept from stones, trees, animals. The dead.
I pray to it, then, that we shall soon find a new enemy to fill my need. For all its supposed goodness, I cannot bear its presence any longer.
Every muscle, tendon, scrap of cartilage--they burn and shiver. I know why, of course, and the solution is simple enough, but I have my orders. I will not desert the camp in search of prey.
Damn that orc.
There are seven of us here: two living and five not, excluding the commander who also lives. The priest is living also, and I have grown used to the pain that accompanies her spells. Repair is necessary; it is not required to be pleasant. I wonder, though, at how similar it feels to this sensation.
The Light, the priests and humans say, fills every living creature seeking to do good, and those incapable of that distinction. Lacking a soul, I am unlikely to fit into either category properly. Yet, if I refrain from evil--
It makes me question this hunger, this gnawing pain. If the hunger and the Light are one and the same, then the act of feeding drives both away. A sign of wickedness? Perhaps.
Perhaps the Light cannot be kept from stones, trees, animals. The dead.
I pray to it, then, that we shall soon find a new enemy to fill my need. For all its supposed goodness, I cannot bear its presence any longer.