I feel out of my element and over my head. I had to swing my father’s sword at someone the other day.
I understand that the work we’re doing is important, that Elsir Vale will be ravaged by the orcs if we let them raze Overlook. I know that my whole family– everyone I know– will be put in danger if that happens. And I know in my heart of hearts that our little band of misfits will be able to stop them, somehow. But I can’t imagine that it’s come to this. To us.
Elsir Vale is larger than me and these friends I’ve found. It’s larger than my quest to find my father, and certainly larger than those happy memories of my family around the fireplace. It should have the resources to match its size, and it shouldn’t have to rely on a tiny little Eladrin from the Witchwood to keep the monsters at bay.
Because maybe if it did the monsters would have been kept at bay. We didn’t manage it, and it’s tearing me up inside. I sat there in that Ale Room and listened as the army marched past. I heard the hours on end of armor clanking and leather creaking and boots thudding. I sat in that little room and watched as D’cafnaet’d stood a step away from his prepared hiding place, as the rest of them slept. I sat there and was powerless to stop this army from marching toward my home, toward my family, toward my fireplace. I sat there and failed.
Overlook is our last hope. The orcs are stopped here, unable to bring themselves to merely pass this city by and pillage the Vale’s unprotected interior. Here we shall make our stand, and here we shall break their will. This shall be their apex, and we shall help them crest and decline. This time we shall not fail.