"I know I shouldn't feel disheartened, but..." Damian sighs, letting the sentence tapper off into nothingness, and shakes his head slowly and mulls the best words over in his head. As he thinks, he listens to the sounds of the ocean waves lapping against the side of the boat as it moved towards the mainland, the wind moving across the deck and the gulls calling to each other in the sky. [i]How do I explain everything I've been doing in the last eight years on the road and looking for a guild? How do I explain how powerless I felt once the necromancer had really decided to play ball?[/i] The sounds of the ocean helped to keep him calm and focused, but it didn't help him solve his dilemma.

After a few more minutes of trying to figure out what to say, he gives up. "I spent eight years working to get stronger and memorize how all of my spells and abilities work, keeping my martial prowess at top shape so that even if I ran out of magic power, I could keep fighting, keep being able to help others. Then we run into that necromancer, and it feels like that eight years was for naught."