Also Sprach Bodush

Bodush paused for a second, lowering himself down on the ground near the smoldering remains of the bonfire. All around him were the charred remains of the orcish warriors, women and children he had killed by his treachery. He felt slightly less satisfied with himself than he thought he would. After all, the massacre had been wonderfully, planned, prepared and executed. Apart from the contractual issues related to the Flesh Golem and Grimes(which had to be enforced due to the influence of the St. Cuthbertian contingent of the party), the camp had offered no real resistance.

Still, did the orcs deserve this fate? In time, these children would have grown up to be orc raiders and mercenaries and cause countless tragedies amongst humans and elves, slaughter entire towns and enslave the survivors, but the small orcish faces staring up at the lights he had conjured with such wonder, had not yet committed any crime. What right did Bodush have to be their judge, jury and executioner?

Bodush shrugged and looked over at the pile of flesh which were all that remained of the golem. He remembered the horrors of the of the derro chambers. He remembered the agony that the derro caused to fulfill Grimes' perverse lusts. He also remembered the crucified elves. Shenshen would never be the same again. Like Bodush, both body and mind would forever be scarred by her tormentors.

Bodush looked at the dead and dying, all thoughts of guilt wiped from his mind, realising that the only thing he felt at the sight was a slight sense of disgust, as if he was watching a rotting animal carcass being picket at by carrion birds.

Guilt was meaningless. Every second of his time in orc captivity, Bodush had survived by telling himself we was destined for greater things, destined for the power to destroy those who tormented him without having to give it a second thought. Somewhere deep inside him was a force of unimagined intensity. He was closer to his goals than he had ever been.

Bodush watched a dying female orc as puss drooled out of her mouth, her tough orcish lungs burnt beyond their capacity to sustain her. He had been injured too, had he not? For all his thoughts about power and destiny, he was still undeniably just a mere human.

Bodush knelt down beside the orc and gently wiped the bloody puss from her face. He whispered the Grummshian litany of the Warrior's passage in her ear as he pulled out his dagger and pressed its hilt against her throat, crushing her windpipe, giving her the mercy of a quick death.

Strangely comforted, Bodush stood up and joined his companions. There would be more time to consider his destiny later.