Prayer Journal: Entry 3 Divine Whining

I have failed you mistress, and I have no answer for my current predicament. Sir Wolfheart has withdrawn his offer of employment, as he fears how the other Lords will treat him. He has even hired an investigator to see if I am guilty of the crimes that I have been falsely accused of committing. Many of the Knights, whom I thought were virtuous, are truly more concerned with their own reputations, or that of their Lord. I will find no friends there. Half-orcs and human peasants have one thing in common. Our lives do not matter.

As I gaze into this pool of still water and see, as if for the first time, the reflection that I cast upon the eyes of everyone who see me, I am stunned. For the first time ever, I viewed myself as they must see me. I am not half man. I am simply an orc. I am hideous. Each feature, which is delicate and angular on these humans, and the other accepted races, is grotesquely enlarged and bloated upon my body. My hands are enormous, my feet are like boulders, my face large and grotesque, and my teeth like fangs. I am a monster. No matter what my heart wishes to tell me, I have no power to change it. Therefore, I must have a soul to match. Wickedness and misery by proxy, must fester in my heart.

I have discovered this lovely glen, just outside of Brost Village. It is teeming with deer, and this grove of trees that have grown into a perfect circle makes for a truly serene place to sit and gaze upon your moon and stars. Only a day ago, upon the discovery of this place, I would have sought your voice of comfort and compassion. I would have asked for yet another manifestation of your mercy upon me. I would have worshipped in earnest. Instead, I can only investigate this pool, marred by my reflection, in utter despair and horror. I truly am what they say I am. I am a monster. It is all I shall ever be.

These men only care about noble titles, knighthoods, and their own political advancements. The true people in this realm, commoners, peasants, and even artisans are simply resources to be used and discarded at will. I am shocked to discover this firsthand. My studies of the Queen of this land brought me to a completely different conclusion. She appeared to me to be one who promoted tolerance, yet she gives edicts of war against me for my appearance. She once traveled with one who was considered a monster, and I have discovered that he was martyred for the sake of the kingdom. Apparently, he is considered an anomaly…or perhaps it is because he was a paladin…a knight. Knights may do and say as they please, as long as one does not do so to a knight of a higher station. I am no knight, thus I have no place in this world.

I call an end to this experiment, my Mistress. I have come to my own end, and I do not have the will to continue. You have forbidden me to leave this place, and I have obeyed. You have sent, and I have arrived. I no longer believe that you are infallible, my mistress. You have made a mistake, and I am glaring at him in this pool with seething hatred. I refuse to disobey you by leaving, but I cannot go any further. I lack the will and the power.
Raise up for yourself some handsome and articulate human or elf to carry on from this point onward. Be certain he is a knight or a noble…better yet both. Reinstate one of the glorious knighthoods from the past. Recruit one of the Knights of the Blue Moon from Waterdeep. Easier still for you, have your Silverstar, the Sheriff, be your instrument. He has already deemed that I do not speak for you. Let him be the voice of tolerance and compassion from his lofty seat of power. As for me, I will lay here gazing into this pool. Gazing into the eyes in the reflection of it and watching the musings of my greatest enemy…me.

I am done. This is the end of my journey. I’ll rot in this grove. I am not willing to move on.

*After several hours of pouting and whining, Drakir is awakened by the screeching of an owl, and a huge glob of owl poop splattering in his eye. Woken in such a manner, he initially mutters and curses. Then he wipes the glob out of his face, and begins to chuckle*

Yes, my Mistress, I am finished pouting. I will continue my journey.

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