To the Medeir clans, nothing matters more than being a warrior. The life of a warrior is the focal point of every aspect of our society. All the clans devote their lives to the way of the warrior. Those that prove themselves full of valor, nobility, honor, and respect are immortalized in song and legend. Those that die in battle, in service to the Great Ancestors are welcome in the Halls of Gumuria.

I spent most of my childhood hearing of the heroes of legend. My mother spent many nights by my bedside whispering such tales when my active mind kept me from sleep. I would fall asleep wondering if I would ever be like the men and women of such prowess as all Meideir children do. However, these tales only speak of what is romanticized. They do not speak of the horrors of war, the pain that the blade of a sword inflicts, they do not speak of the widows and orphans.

It is my culture, for I am Meideir. Meideir am I by birth, not my choice. Although I am lucky I wasn’t born to the more savage of the clans, I cannot help but spot the glaring flaws of my home upon reflection. Their obsession with honor and glory has consumed them, blocking out the ability to feel compassion or have compromising morals. There is no place for mercy for the foes of the Meideir. Those that oppose the Meideir are only seen as conquests to add to one’s legacy, all for the sake of the Great Spirit Ancestors.

The Great Spirits that guided the Meideir from the lands where they faced enslavement and genocide to the continent of Nashanna in an age long forgotten. In return they demand lifelong servitude from all Meideir, to even contemplate otherwise is treason. Devotion to the point of fanaticism is the way of life for a Meidier. For those that refuse to accept these terms a life of exile awaits the Medeir warrior.

I lived my life in the hopes of appeasing my Spirit Ancestor in the hopes of being welcomed into the Halls of Gumuria. However, that honor is only awarded to those who act with valor and honor and pay the ultimate price on the field of battle. I fear choices I have made in my life may prevent me from entry. Many know me as a warrior of great stature, a hero. But I am not, I am nothing but a mere rogue wearing laurels I am not fit for.

All I can do is pray my transgressions when the time comes for me to leave this world. Until the dreadful day, I meet by the end by the sword of my better, I must continue to atone for my misdeeds.

Reniko Swift-Blow Doraki