
Originally Posted by
Sibold
More'n thirty summers've passed since I carried the standard of the Darklight Raiders into Cutter's Cry, but not a day goes by that I don't see the faces of the friends I lost that fateful day─Gerbald the Red and his loyal second, Aubriest Stillwater. Their personalities were that of night and day, but most believe that is what made the two inseparable. Symon the Sweet, always armed with a jab and jest; our ever ireful mage Chiran Zabran, as quick to cast as he was to temper; Thormoen Thousandgil, never has there lived a man with a tighter grip, be it on his sword or his coin; and let us not forget One-ilm Alesone......though I'm not sure she would have me telling you where she got that name. Gah hah hah! Though it's hard to fathom now, what with all the adventurers scamperin' about like rabbits in the spring, but there was once a time when bands of mercenaries were who the city-states turned to when in need of a blade─the Darklight Raiders being the biggest and best of them bands. Ishgardian-funded forays into hellish pits like the Aurum Vale would earn us a king's ransom in a matter of days, though it would only take a night of devil's play at the Mirage to see it gone from our purses. But so was the life of a Raider. That is, until we took that job at Cutter's Cry. My brothers and I had stood against herds of giant buffalos on O'Ghomoro, snurble infestations on the Pearl, legions of cold-blooded Sahagin from the abyssal depths of the Indigo Deep, but none of that prepared us for the horrors we would face in Bluefog (Now Hellsbrood Holes). None of it prepared us for the chimera. The bards still sing of the day seven of the realm's finest warriors set off into the bowels of that forsaken place...but only saw one return─Sibold the Stoic, spared by the beast so that he may warn all others who would be foolish enough to attempt to despoil the chimera's lair... Ah, my apologies. You did not come to hear the guilt-ridden ramblings of an old man...but, if you have a moment, I was wondering if I could ask of you a favor. The final wish of an ailing soul seeking peace with his past before departing on his journey through the Seven Gates. In each of the thirty summers since escaping from the maws of that terrible beast, I have returned to its lair to pay the proper respects to my fallen compatriots. However, the years have finally caught up with old Sibold, and try as I might, no longer can these bones make the trek alone. If it is not too much to ask, would you travel to Cutter's Cry in my stead, and place this bouquet of flowers upon the resting place of the Darklight Raiders?
You have done a noble thing today by helping to keep alive the memory of my fallen brethren...but in truth, it should have been I who placed flowers upon their tomb. It was I who helplessly watched as my companions were torn apart, one by one, by the razor-sharp claws of the three-headed monstrosity. I, who hid beneath the mangled body of my leader...my friend...until the beast was sated and had crawled back into the darkness of its lair. I should have fallen there with the other Darklight Raiders, my axe in my hand and my brothers at my back, but fear took hold of me─whispered into my ear that if I did not hide, I would never see my wife and unborn child again. And so, rather than face the fate spun for me by Nymeia, I heeded the voice...and ever since have I been haunted by that decision. Would that I had died a hero than lived a coward... Yes, I was there to witness the birth of my son... but he has grown knowing only that his father was a craven... a disgrace to his friends and his family. Though, I suppose this a fitting punishment for a man who betrayed his fate... Should you ever find yourself faced with a similar decision, may you have the courage to walk the righteous path.