There is a weakness of all who try resisting the Raging One. They believe my death is their victory. They could not be more wrong. I enter battle knowing that no matter what the outcome my lord's will is done. The Raging One cares not for me more than a smith cares for a hammer.
I see this even among my allies. Shadow thinks his menacing will keep me in check. He does not understand what he is up against. If it comes to it I spit fire at him with my dying breath and fall in to the long dark of oblivion with a smile on my face. For now I continue to work metal and make fire for my machines.
The caravan stood no chance. There were a few guards and they were drunk. I watched as the group of bandits waylaid them, took their cargo and left them bound on the side of the road. They were still bound when the bandits left. They were still bound when I arrived. Time was short but I wished to ensure them a full oblivion. Mind, body and soul. I lay them out all in a row and searched their remaining belongings. Any trifles of their gods I profaned. Basely. I then set a fire at the feet of each of them. I offered them a quick death if they gave their soul to Pyrtechon. The first one that did was the last to die and he watched all of his comrades enjoy my skills. By the end he begged for death, and I obliged, piking him on the road. I made an emblem of Grand on the side of a wagon, and satisfied that only the Raging One knew my tribute to him, I set off in the direction the bandits left.
It was not difficult to find them, drunk as they were, comfortable as they felt. I took a fire of alchemy and set my blade alight and descended on them as a mighty storm. It took no more than ten blade strokes to silence their cries and I savored every light that went out in their eyes.
Every chance meeting becomes an opportunity.
I come to a town. I wish to see how much there is to release. Many come to look upon me. I change form, become a wanderer of strange habit. An elf boasts at me, so I say nothing. An man in armor rests near me, so I embrace him. A halfling buzzes, and I ignore. A sorcerer covets me so I engage. She thinks me a spice from strange lands. Something to be sampled. So I am a prized animal. I hint at more and she drinks. I draw her towards me. I promise to open my pages. She never will see what is beneath for there is nothing, only more covers, and more covers. But she draws her power from her blood. Her blood is there, it is real. It can release many. There are many to be released here.
Shining golden walls block my path. Wings of the Golden. So I must pull him out from this golden shield. The machine of my mind turns. The string I will pull is vanity. The trap I will set it family. Once that machine turns, then the boat will burn.