The rain was pouring hard today. The kind of rain that makes tough men weak. The kind of rain that makes you all reflective-like. The kind of rain that makes you start a war journal.
I sit here in the twilight of my dug-out earthen burrow. The only things that keep me company are the bugs that scurry along the roots of the walls. I'm isolated from the regulars. I have to be. I'm not normal. They flinch at the sight of me. Oh well. It doesn't matter. I'm here to do a job.
When Jeraziah first approached me about fighting for him and the Legion, I was dubious. I normally dont get involved in these kinds of things. I could care less about politics or current events. As long as people leave me alone to my business in the Northern Wastes.
The battlehorns call me. I must go. My exploits will be recorded when I get back. If I get back.
