“The other soldiers treat me like an equal most of the time, at least. I’m a little sick of the glares I get from some of the Redguards, but the Bretons haven’t been bad so far. Well, except the ones in Stormhaven—Wayrest in particular. Guess they think they shouldn’t have to associate with ‘my kind.’ They’re going to have to get used to it, even with our less-than-friendly history. The Covenant is a done deal, the past is the past, and there isn’t any way they could fend off the Nords without us Orcs. They need our strength and our smiths, and if they want those, then they’re going to have to accept us and show some respect.”
On promotions: Only through proven bravery and loyalty shall any recruit rise through the ranks. Nobility, wealth, or charisma will not grant you prestige here, and no exceptions are made. Each recruit must demonstrate valor in battle, loyalty to High Rock, and courage and strength of character in the face of adversity. Opportunities to prove such are plenty, and the Lion Guard watches the members of every cohort with great interest.
Preserving our reputation as steadfast, trustworthy protectors of the highest martial skill is paramount. Any found in violation of our strict standards will be removed from the ranks without question. We will only accept those who best exemplify our values, and those who wish, above all, to serve their people without question or hesitation.
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Another nightmare. I was underwater, and something was coming for me, reaching out to pull me down. I couldn’t look back, but I knew it was there. In a flash, I was in the bottom of a deep, empty well. There was something at the top, grinning down at me. I could see its smile even against the sunlight; it was lowering something in the bucket and just staring at me, unblinking.
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was tied to some kind of altar, slick with blood. There were hooded figures chanting all around me, closing in, with hideous, deformed birds perched on their shoulders screeching my name. Darkness. Then the teeth. I don’t even want to write about them. It was pitch black and I couldn’t tell if I heard laughing or crying. I can’t remember it all. Worst of all, I woke up in the woods behind the house. How did I get that far without waking?
Ethien,
I had to borrow your shield. It was an emergency—the kind that makes you crazy enough to borrow your best friend’s (did I ever tell you that you really are my very best friend?) shield without asking. I’m sure you noticed the dent by now, and maybe the broken strap, but I’m good for the repairs.
Remember the girl at the flower stall? I figured out how to impress her! My buddy in the guard and I were going to stage a mugging on her. He’d hop out from the shadows as she headed home, and I’d be her knight in shining, um, shield, and come to the rescue!
We had it all planned out. I waited in the alley, but when the attack started, there were three of them—actual robbers! I fought bravely and knocked one out, then convinced the rest to just take my gold and leave us be. I think she was impressed! I’ll pay you back soon, promise.
Signed,
Valentyn
The captain gave me some harsh words for arriving late to Count Douare’s feast, but how’re you supposed to tell a High King that it’s time to move along when he’s busy engaging the Mages Guild Incunabulist on the finer points of the early history of Orsinium?
I tried to subtly give the hint that it was time to go, but he raised his eyebrow at me and just kept on. I know when I’ve overstepped, and I wasn’t about to try and tear him away from a historical chat. If he didn’t care about the feast, well, he’s the king and he can do whatever he wants, no matter how boring. The man sure loves his history.
