So… I tried to kill myself. Nothing new except I didn’t realize what I had done until after the hammer dropped and that Agatha girl looked at me like I just kicked her dog. She wasn’t lying. The ammunition had gone bad. After the battle at Renchurch, we parted ways on… well okay terms? Pretty sure they all think I’m crazy. I might be. Being as old as dirt is taking its tole. Hairs gone silver, cigarettes don’t taste right, my hand shakes when I try to shoot Thunder, and worst of it all, people come to ME for words of wisdom.
I’m no sage. I’ve lived a very stupid life. I’ve died twice already, and I can feel the weight of that dragging me down. My gifted magic from the goddess is nearly gone. Some days I can snap my fingers and manage to light a smoke, but casting a spell nearly makes me black out. I haven’t tried to channel energy in over a century. Doubt I can at this point. At least my bow skills are still sharp. Though that’s probably an elf thing. I can still land a shot better than most of these kids they call Elite Guard in Kyonin. The “wife” says I shouldn’t talk down to them like I do, but… oh who am I kidding, half these guys won’t ever see a real fight.
On that subject, another “Highborne” tried to use words at me again. I can spot a liar from a mile away. Subtly calling me Forlorn is one thing. First of, I’m not. I was born in a village of elves and lived there until I was 95. Second, I’ve been an adventurer longer than most elves have lived, so this game of words and egos does not appeal to me in the slightest. But more importantly, when he decided to elude to me being the pawn of the “empire”, well that’s when fists started flying. Sure, the marriage to the queen was not for love, it wasn’t even for my personal gain. But it was definitely not so that someone could use me. My role is pretty simple, go out, talk to some communities of elves that aren’t living in the old ways, and see if they want to come back. No bullshit, just simple diplomacy. Sometimes I got to clear out some bandits, or whatever nasties live in the dark, but really… its fulfilling. Some come back with open arms. Most are cautious though. But if you are wondering, after I hit him, he “accepted” my challenge to a duel. He chose swords for the weapon, and I chose the arena. The open floor of the courtroom. Pulled some strings and had everyone who could show up witness.
The fight was a little on the tricky side. I haven’t kept my swordplay as sharp as my shooting. He got a good hit on my hand, but I got him down and broke his rapier. When I started to walk away, he came at me with a knife. My reflexes kicked in and I drew Thunder reflexively. The barrel was against his throat and the room was so quiet, that when I pulled the trigger, you could hear the click echo. I forgot to take out the bad round from the chamber. Used some quick bluffing to convince everyone that I wasn’t about to execute someone in one of the kingdoms most sacred spaces. But damn… I’m glad I forgot to move that round out of my gun.
I checked the date on the bullet. Its so old that it doesn’t even use the same calendar. Took it apart and the powder was basically coal dust. How fucking old am I?! I know I was blessed with a long life and some… extended youth, but that’s ridiculous. While I was checking out some of my old scars, I looked where that vampire impaled me on that cursed sword. I can remember the blade, but not his face. I know what arena I was in, but I don’t remember its name. It was where me and the guys killed that giant T-rex.
…
That was the first time a crowd cheered my name. I miss that. Well… I guess that me and the cheering have something in common.
We both will fade away eventually.
The Final Journal Entry of Austirian (Aust) Silent Thunder
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