[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200129/2b530ba2297eea5b234b6eed58e3d1df.png[/img][/center] Countless time passed on her knees against the cool stone of the temple floor, and it seemed the recollection of the [i]day that would never be forgotten[/i] continued to haunt her prayer and meditation efforts. Thoughts that inevitably continued to trace back to her encampment, the attack, and the brutal slaying of her family in one fell swoop by the Orc invaders. Each mental vision replayed the same scenarios as though it were a moving picture of sorts with no end. And the human boy, who Vah’lux so foolishly trusted enough that lead to her tribes destruction and captivity. Perhaps it hadn’t been the fault of the Orcs after all, but the Goliath herself, heeding the call of a moral obligation to assist the human in need. It was a heart to serve an outsider that became the worst sin of all in her eyes. “Kavaki forgive me...” It was all the woman could muster under her breath as held back tears streamed down darkened and scarred cheeks. It was a prayer that had been repeated time and time again, even as she sat behind the iron bars of her prison in Thraadum for many years; bloodied, beaten, ashamed, and lacking any real hope. But she never once forsook the deities of her people, those who have kept their promises to strengthen the Goliath, and to lift them up above the turmoil once again. However, such promises also took an immense amount of patience and faith, even in the face of adversity. Vah’lux allowed a deep breath to be released as she rose to her feet, opening her eyes once more to the interior of the temple, glancing at the others as they went about their time alone. The incense permeating throughout facilitated a calm atmosphere, striping away whatever anxieties may have erupted within the Goliath’s mind from the unknown. A smile did manage to form, however, as she noticed what remained of her gear and weapons was placed near the other side of the room, and propped against an adjacent wall due its sheer size, her glaive; it’s blade glistening in the ambient lighting. She promptly walked over to check and gather the three reinforced steel javelins which had been secured with cloth and rope, and a hand axe that she placed into a leather loop along her waist. Her large fingers curled around the glaive once more, and a wave of satisfaction washed over her knowing that this was the very weapon of an Orc who never deserved to live in the first place. “Thank you.” The towering woman nodded toward the young priest, holding a clenched fist against her chest as a gesture of respect and appreciation.