Utterly Mad

ONE - Hoc Voluerunt

Spoiler (hover to show)

(Translated from Latin)

The flames of hellfire have scarred me.

Physically and, unfortunately, mentally.

We fought an uphill battle valiantly. But all except me perished.

Johannes- I tried convincing him to desert. Now I have buried his corpse and claimed his duo .45s-

I tried convincing myself it is but of materialistic value, but I could not bring myself to leave them.

I will miss you in ways that mere words cannot grasp the true value of, brother dearest.

We were outnumbered. I claimed the lives of 19 men on that day-

But I still recognised the smell-

The sulfur infiltrating one's lungs and eyes.

The air's ever growing thickness, as if to indicate the imminent loss of battle.

The grey tone set on for those that have let their lives to rest.

I'm a traitor to my comrades and to myself.

And, I've received my punishment.

I can still feel the blistering agony I felt when that God's Army heathen pushed hot oil down the window of our own Fort.

My aim was true despite the anguish. His eye was pierced by one of my tainted arrows.

His death was long and painful. Corrosive acid entering the brain mustn't be a pleasant sensation.

Eye for an eye.

I have six bullet wounds which I've attempted tending to as best as is possible for me.

I am of complete certainty that the lasting gunfire has attracted others.

Forests do tend to give away one's position.

Retreated from battle one moon-turn ago.

I fear, I have died thousands of times- but this is will be my worst death yet.

Via trita, via tuta.

THREE - De certaminibus et vindictae

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(Translated from Latin)

I have encountered a stranger.

Augmented- but I can recognise his pain.

These are no augmentations he bears- they are reminders of what could have been,
if only he had not been where he was.

From what little conversation we had, I could deduce the strong scent of alcoholism.

His slurred movements, his un-sure speech. This is a man with no set will to wake up every day-fall.

I did not want to inquire, for I know the unpleasantry of explaining tragedy.

The stranger- "Ralph", urged me to follow with his comrades.

Nell and Alberto.

I was surprised at their contrast.

Nell, understanding- for a woman.

However I fear I might have understood Alberto's ignorance for disrespect.

Having agreed to move with them toward their camps, in hopes of finding civilisation- I have accepted their inquiry to introduce myself to a woman named Leila.

Unsure if she is related to "War of the Stars", however;

I de-masked myself, and though the bandages cover much of my face, I fear they have recognised the markings of failure.

From here out, I will move towards what they call the "Walkerville"- a settlement from my understanding.

Hopefully, the men and women of this may trade for medicinal supplies, mostly to numb the agony I am in.

Once my recovery has been successful, my path will guide me north-bound in hopes of rescuing my friends from God's Army's grasp.

Though 'The Hall of Odin' has intrigued me. The Norse are a brave people- warriors fighting to the death, where they will awaken in Valhalla, for mead and fight.

Skilled and fearless.

Exactly like my brothers in arms.

Ad honorem.