Post by Idrian on Oct 20, 2009 12:55:08 GMT -5
You were there my friend. Through it all. You have seen my life, every second of every year. Every moment of the hour. You've a better memory of my life than I of my own. You are faithful and everlasting, enduring and always willing to listen. You are my friend, and I tell you this in confidence, trust that you will keep my words secret until the day I die and you move on. For such, I thank you and encourage you to keep up your task, and endure forevermore on my behalf.
This day, I shall relate to you a brief testimony from my background, my early days in training for the Military. My friend, you shall hear of my weaker days, when I was just a pup, a coward of the blade and thought the adrenaline surging through my gut in the heat of battle was fear. Let us sit, and listen well to this story, so that you may share it with another in hopes of bettering them.
During my first week of combat training, we were given weapons which our superiors thought would suit your body the best. I was handed twin daggers. I was shocked, to think an aspiring huntress was given pesky pokers to stab into the backs of my foes. To this day, I wonder if it would have been different if I waited longer before enlisting. At the time, the humans and dwarves didn't have a trust for my kind, they called me a 'long ears' and from what I understand, gave me those weapons to kill me off in the heat of battle.
After the initial shock, each weapon group was divided and sent to an instructor. At this point, each member of the class was given a number, I was 76. My teacher was named R.
Many months went by in training, I slowly grew accustomed to my weapons, rising to the top 94th percentile in my class. I was from there sent out into the field with a group of humans and dwarves. None of my kind were there.
We were sent to Alterac, talk of a tribe of orcs was there, we were there to investigate. And that we did, we investigated the snow and found no signs of orcs. I sometimes wonder when I was in the valley during combat if it were not for my terrible tracking skills that we did not find the orcs building up a fortress? Regardless. I was slowly accepted into the troupe of men, near the end of the journey, they considered to stop calling me 76, but asked my name. When I gave it, they were baffled at the length. Finally they shortened it to Idrian.
Many more months passed, more and more of my kind joined the Military, the Alliance. During their training periods, I instructed the dagger class. In armed combat and the acts of deception. I took upon the name of Master Assassin with pride.
Eventually, I was promoted to Master Sergeant of the Alliance. I was given a squad to command, the Shadow Trackers is what they called us. Most of our work involved killing some high interest targets of the Alliance. We did our work, and we did it well. That was, until one day.
For some reason, my commanding officer called me to his office one morning, he gave me an honorable discharge. He stood and saluted, gave me some of the highest compliments for my service. But in the end, he refused to tell me why I was being released.
I can make speculations, my friend. I can assume they are fearful of my safety, I can assume they were running short on their gold to keep my squad around. I can assume someone outside the Military wants me enough to buy me from them. But if that is the case, then why have I not been contacted? All I can say, is at this present writing, my friend, is that I've had to kill to live. I've had to do what I know best to earn an income. And it wears on me. I cannot keep these things on my sleeve forever.
I pray, my friend, that I find help, comfort, meaning, once again in my life. At least in the Military I was told what to do. Now I have to find a reason to do what I should to survive. And that now is profit.
This day, I shall relate to you a brief testimony from my background, my early days in training for the Military. My friend, you shall hear of my weaker days, when I was just a pup, a coward of the blade and thought the adrenaline surging through my gut in the heat of battle was fear. Let us sit, and listen well to this story, so that you may share it with another in hopes of bettering them.
During my first week of combat training, we were given weapons which our superiors thought would suit your body the best. I was handed twin daggers. I was shocked, to think an aspiring huntress was given pesky pokers to stab into the backs of my foes. To this day, I wonder if it would have been different if I waited longer before enlisting. At the time, the humans and dwarves didn't have a trust for my kind, they called me a 'long ears' and from what I understand, gave me those weapons to kill me off in the heat of battle.
After the initial shock, each weapon group was divided and sent to an instructor. At this point, each member of the class was given a number, I was 76. My teacher was named R.
Many months went by in training, I slowly grew accustomed to my weapons, rising to the top 94th percentile in my class. I was from there sent out into the field with a group of humans and dwarves. None of my kind were there.
We were sent to Alterac, talk of a tribe of orcs was there, we were there to investigate. And that we did, we investigated the snow and found no signs of orcs. I sometimes wonder when I was in the valley during combat if it were not for my terrible tracking skills that we did not find the orcs building up a fortress? Regardless. I was slowly accepted into the troupe of men, near the end of the journey, they considered to stop calling me 76, but asked my name. When I gave it, they were baffled at the length. Finally they shortened it to Idrian.
Many more months passed, more and more of my kind joined the Military, the Alliance. During their training periods, I instructed the dagger class. In armed combat and the acts of deception. I took upon the name of Master Assassin with pride.
Eventually, I was promoted to Master Sergeant of the Alliance. I was given a squad to command, the Shadow Trackers is what they called us. Most of our work involved killing some high interest targets of the Alliance. We did our work, and we did it well. That was, until one day.
For some reason, my commanding officer called me to his office one morning, he gave me an honorable discharge. He stood and saluted, gave me some of the highest compliments for my service. But in the end, he refused to tell me why I was being released.
I can make speculations, my friend. I can assume they are fearful of my safety, I can assume they were running short on their gold to keep my squad around. I can assume someone outside the Military wants me enough to buy me from them. But if that is the case, then why have I not been contacted? All I can say, is at this present writing, my friend, is that I've had to kill to live. I've had to do what I know best to earn an income. And it wears on me. I cannot keep these things on my sleeve forever.
I pray, my friend, that I find help, comfort, meaning, once again in my life. At least in the Military I was told what to do. Now I have to find a reason to do what I should to survive. And that now is profit.
Founded April 26, 2005