This is the sad story of how a poor Trill warrior became a poor Trill bard; how
he learned to hate himself, and how his dreams became haunted with horrors
unimaginable.

In the dark midst of 133 CE, Daevos, Regent of Magnagora, and his lieutenants
slaughtered the Supernals of Celestia. It was brutal, and fast, and New Celeste
mustered quickly. I was on the initial strike force. We flew in like falcons,
but we didn't stand a chance. We weren't well-coordinated, and we were too few.

It is hard to say that I have died before. But I have. I have died. And today I
live again. It's a curse, really. It comes from that damned Portal of Fate. The
Portal of Fate guarantees your hope and your destiny; if you die without
acheiving some grand destiny, then the Portal will sustain you. So passing
through the Portal of Fate can grant you immortality.

Today, I can neither praise nor lament this fact. When I have done something
glorious, then the Fates will say "This is where the line gets cut, for you
have fulfilled your fate." Until then, I wander on, unkillable. And hating
myself.

It is a beautiful thing and a miserable one. Once Daevos and his guards
slaughtered my company of mustered soldiers, I returned to the realm of the
living. And there I made my way to the Serenwilde and then to New Celeste. The
travel took me only maybe five minutes, for I am swift. When I returned to the
Pool of Stars, we had stood down and retreated. A friend of mine, Druid
Altheil, who had been on the strike force, beckoned me to him. We had stood
victorious together in Paavik, when it was swayed to the Seren alliance.

He had an idea: to raid Delport. Perhaps a risk of losing a city would distract
Daevos and his kin from Celestia. If Magnagora wasn't protecting them from
bandits, then why agree to the Magnagoran alliance?

Altheil said he got confirmation from other Guardsmen. So, we moved to the
oceans outside Delport.

We rushed in past a statue, off the pier. We got ready to fight. We were pumped
and ready. We would get the city revolting, and then Magnagora would have to
quell the revolt. Or they would have to stop us. In the meantime, Magnagora
would have to split its efforts, and the fighters of New Celeste could get back
Celestia. It seemed like the perfect plan.

Now, I have hunted for a long while. And when you kill a living animal, you
lose some humanity, some personality. But you get used to it. They're animals.
They don't think. They don't feel. It is merely hunting. You become deaf to
their squeals of pain. It is all just a game. You kill them, make libation to
the gods, and they bless you for that, and that is all.

So we stood in Delport. A child accosted us. We were grim and ready for war.
This child was the first to go. Altheil killed him before my eyes.

Today, his look of shock and horror and outrage and amazement haunts my dreams.
It disturbs my waking moments. But on that day, I was caught in the moment. I
was filled with poisoned words and an invective of glory, and I thought that
this was saving the Supernals, and I thought that this was for the glory of the
Serenwilde and New Celeste. It had not occurred to me that Altheil was leading
me in a contingent that was wholly independent of the Wildes where I live --
that he had deceived me in those regards. But that is my own stupidity --
common sense should have told me that this was wrong.

I was caught in the moment. I rushed northeast, and swung at a village man.
While he was tough, he was not tougher than me. He fell. Then a woman rushed
me. But I had blades. I remember her technique, which bought her valuable
minutes -- she tangled my scimitars with a cloak. But the cloak did not hold,
and after a strong pummeling, I got a sword free and sank it into her belly.
But by then, Daevos had gotten to the village, and he had slaughtered Altheil
and Olanis while they fought the village leaders.

I took to the air and circled the village. I was out of Daevos's range, and out
of his mind. I waited perhaps a half hour, thinking of the supernals and the
serenwilde, glory, and knowing I had played a role in the defeat. When I
figured Daevos was gone, I landed, and slaughtered more. But Daevos came again,
and this time he killed me.

Death gives you time to think about things, and a moment to reflect. It's a
bountiful moment of repose. I drifted. Lachesis peered out of eyes that had
seen a whole timeline. Those eyes narrowed, and scrutinized me. If I will
remember one thing, it is her words -- "Butchering civilians is not a destiny,
Carolan. It is merely banditry."

With those words, I realized the depth of what I had done. The shame and the
outrage -- how could I do such an ignoble thing? I had drawn a comment from
someone who had seen an entire timeline, and she called me a bandit, and all
was done.

Life returned. With life comes the ability to feel despair. I felt despair
until I went numb, and now I am merely numb. But I lived again. And I returned
back to the forest. And I shivered through a winter, but the cold was not
snow-borne.

When I close my eyes, I see them again.

I see Altheil destroy the human child. I see my scimitars dig deep into a man's
ribcage. I see the women, wide-eyed and scared, as an Angel of Death comes at
them with the fire of righteousness in his eyes. I see my emotions, convinced
of righteousness.

Today I cannot believe what I have done, I cannot forgive it, I cannot forget
it. These were not weevils (a sort of large tree-eating insect). They were not
lizards. They were not the occasional cow or rockeater or moose. These were
people. Humans. Sure, people who had allied with Magnagora, but people
nonetheless. Even as a trill, I cannot deny them person-hood. We might be
different in many ways, but we are also very similar. Perhaps if they were
dracnari, the lizardlike significance would help me mentally shove them into
the "lizard" category, with the salamanders I hunted yesterday and the finks I
hunted long ago.

Nay, they were humans, they were people, and they were civilians, innocent, and
I was a murderer.

Altheil does not see eye-to-eye with me on this matter. He does not think they
are innocent. He is not sorry they died. He feels that this was for the good of
the future. He is sorry for only one thing -- he is sorry that he took me along.
He was amazed that I lacked the maturity to handle this sort of thing. I think
he can be a bit of a fanatic sometimes.

We had a long argument. It hit some finer points, and it hit some worse ones.
For example, I was forced to concede that I did not really fully understand the
Taint. Today, I still don't. I've read some simple scholarly papers suggesting
that Taint is a sort of simple symbiotic infection, possibly fungal. Altheil
argued something to the effect that it's a metaphysical result of the
historical struggles among our gods. An oracle of Lacostian indicated that it
is not evil in itself; that it is more like a tool, which can be turned against
balance but is not intrinsically so.

And Altheil was not happy when I called Daevos just. He does not believe that
any action of Daevos's can be just. But he was. That day, he fought me and
killed me for what I did to those poor innocent villagers. I slaughtered those
innocents, and I received a just punishment for it. Daevos was correct to
punish me for slaughtering civilians.

So here I am. My tears have flowed, and I have no more. Simply numbness, with
buried outrage and self-hate.

Fellow Guardsman Rekin has observed that, when we spar, I do not fight him with
a full heart. That is because I cannot bear to. I see him: he thinks; he hears;
he talks. He has emotions. Even if the magic of the sparring arena guarantees
that he will not die, when I swing at him, I am still swinging at that poor
woman. I am still watching Altheil slaughter a child. I am feeling the townsman
claw my skin, trying to avoid his coming death. And I cannot fight with a full
heart. I can merely swing my weapons at him and hope they cut him some.

Even if those souls were to forgive me, I could not forgive myself.

I have murdered the innocent.

And for no good reason! We did not sway the village. We did not get word from
Celest that our actions helped them break through in a wonderous diversion.
(They did break through eventually. It may or may not have had to do with our
efforts. I don't know.)

We did not slow the Taint. For whatever that's worth. And if Lacostian's oracle
was correct, then it isn't worth anything.

I can never forget my oath. When I became a guardsman, I swore "I will act with
a keen sense of deceny, honor and respect that will never shame me, my commune,
or my guild. My weapons will only ever find my enemies, and they shall always
be searching, and improving against those who may cause harm to that which I
have sworn to protect."

I acted indecently. I acted without honor. I shamed myself, though I acted on
my own. My weapons found civilians.

I have no love for Daevos. I do not wish to justify anything such an evil man
does. But he killed me that day, and that was just. I deserved to die for my
crimes that day. I, however, will come back. Those poor civilians will not.

Can I hunt people ever again? Only if they are truly my enemies, and even then,
I'm not sure I will ever be able to get my heart behind my swings.

That is the story of how I came to hate myself.