The moment his eyes met my own, I could sense a shiver run it's course through his small body. The thought of knocking my arrow into my bow did not register in my mind. No, his demise would be something more than his fallen compatriots; something much slower and much, much more painful. As my mind churned with promising possibilities, this grotesque little man dared to open his mouth and speak my name.
"Daesalliss" he would mutter between breaths fettered by blood and bile, which was flowing quite willingly through his lips. He even had the nerve to clutch my pant leg.
"I do not believe the would to be fatal." He said to me.
But I knew of one that could be. I reached within my tunic for my dagger, which quickly made its way across his neck. I stood and watched with a smile as he writhed and contorted his body as if it would make the wound go away. I watched him fight his own body for his life, and I felt that I had found my place in life. No other time had I felt so righteous in what I had done than at that moment, so fulfilled and renewed with purpose. This lust for human lives bred itself finely within my blood, in its avarice always demanding more akin to a sacrifice. As the life faded from this warrior’s eyes, I couldn't help but mutter something to myself under my breath, something that would surely prove to be my undoing.
"Finally," I said, "I have found my path to salvation."


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