Murderess

I killed him in cold blood...nay, hot blood, rather. It was in the heat of a rage that I drove Sarphir through his heart. 

And why I acted so, I know not. My hands still tremble at what I have become.

Oh I am no stranger to slaying an opponent. But that is the key, I have willingly slain those who sought to attack me, or others. I have slain some who would have slain me if they had the chance. I had recently participated in clearing certain ruins in Yondershire of brigands who preyed on travellers, and on the Halfings. But today was different.

I killed a man I suspected of no wrong doing, nor of being a threat.

Yes, there was a possibility the men had slain the elves, but as my mind cooled I knew it was most unlikely. Men did not easily overcome trained elven guards. Neither did the men bear wounds from elven weapons. They had not fought each other, rather all four had been pitted against a common enemy. The thought was in my mind, Estarfin and I had murdered those whom the two elves were trying to protect.

I felt sick to my stomach. 

I had briefly tried to pardon myself thinking I gave the man a swift death, rather than have Estarfin kick him and break his ribs. Always my aim was to kill swiftly and cleanly, if death were needed. I would not make a good interrogator. But I knew that was a feeble excuse.

Estarfin had not asked me to kill the man, I had slain him willingly, of my own accord. My fingers had itched to drive Sarphir through him. I had no excuse.

(Picture by Estarfin )