Trouble Kelp
Loyal Servant of Altera
Day 164 of Imprisonment
My hands burn. They have burned for so long, I remember little else. Not the mountains of my homelands, not my mother of father, not the great hunts I went on. Just the burning. And not in my hands alone. My back burns, scored from the whip of my masters. My eyes burn, dry from the heat of the fires. My spirit burns too, in the long absence of any hope. Yet among all this, one thing burns brighter. That is my hatred, stoked with the death of my comrades and years of labor. One day I will be free, and the rivers will flow with blood.
This is my vow, and I WILL see it lived out.
My hands burn. They have burned for so long, I remember little else. Not the mountains of my homelands, not my mother of father, not the great hunts I went on. Just the burning. And not in my hands alone. My back burns, scored from the whip of my masters. My eyes burn, dry from the heat of the fires. My spirit burns too, in the long absence of any hope. Yet among all this, one thing burns brighter. That is my hatred, stoked with the death of my comrades and years of labor. One day I will be free, and the rivers will flow with blood.
This is my vow, and I WILL see it lived out.