Erzsebet sat in front of a small camp fire, a journal, ink and quill in front of her. She had no issue with denouncing Nerull publicly, she did not worship that iteration of that god anyway. She could probably get in and rescue the burgomaster and his wife and children, that was easy too in comparison with the final part of her punishment and tasks. With a frustrated growl she tore another page out of the journal, crumpled it up and tossed it in the fire. It was her sixth try to write an apology letter.
"I'm sorry that I killed the person close to you, but know they aren't suffering anymore."
The words burned away as the flames licked the paper. Erzsebet wished deeply that should could simply give the families something material, it would of been much easier. How could she find the words for the people to portray that she felt remorse for her actions when in truth, she felt none. How could she express regret for her actions when in her mind, they were just and right. Writing these five letters was proving to be a Sisyphean task for her. Words and people were never among her talents. She was never good at apologizing, in fact, her method of apologizing had until this point, been giving them something expensive or rare.
As if the task at hand wasn't enough, she was distracted. Why was this weird woman in white threatening to kill her? Who or what was a "rotfurt"? She claimed that she had hunted her and let her live, yet Erzsebet had no such memories, she did recall some confusion years ago with another woman named Erzsebet. Could this be lingering residue from that? This masked woman claimed to have hunted Nerullites before. While this was not a shock to her that she knew Emanuel, it was a shock that he had let her live. Erzsebet began to wonder just how far from the truth and how perverted by the outlanders had the so called cult leader become. She had been aware of his failings, but perhaps it was time that she found out about them in depth, study them and find out how far he'd fallen.
She would save her people. However, more and more she was seeing that the army would fall. She could give them another chance to listen to her, a chance to learn about their actual enemy. Possibly a way to win their war. Or perhaps she would remove herself from their futile attempts and focus on saving her people instead. She had to correct the mistaken view of the old god of Gundarak, reclaim their gods name. Make it known that what has existed for years has not been the true old god, but the outlander murder god Nerull. A vile entity, a perverse god who would allow his priests to murder the unborn. To murder babies. To kill for the sake of killing.
This was the perversion adapted by the old Duke, the perversion the cult had partially fallen victim to. This was the perversion that was spread across the lands. The disgusting view that her people worshipped a god that wanted undeath, a god that wanted all life gone. A god that ordered its followers to go around and kill everyone and everything for the sheer sake of killing. No, this was not what her people had worshipped. This was not what they would worship from here on.
Erzsebet Varga was going to repair the religion. She was going to make it known that there are two gods of the same name. The true Gundarakite Nerull, the Old God, was a lazy trickster. A God more interested in watching his grand deception of death play out. A lazy God who doesn't do his duties as a God of Death, and allows the souls to escape and return as the undead. A lazy God who puts his duties on a host of servants, whom he doesn't watch as closely as he should. A deity that is found in every aspect of life, from the dying days of fall and winter, to the animals we hunt to eat, to the very lives we take. A God in whose eyes all were equal.
Perhaps not an ideal god to worship, but one who should be revered none the less for he created what they called death. Vastly different from that people assumed they worshipped. The outlander god finds servants in the undead, as they are superior to the living. The Gundarakite god has servants who are demons, who may or may not act on their own accord and toy with mortals. She could write pages, perhaps even books on the subject, the words flowed to her with a natural ease, but to write an apology... She could not find the words, and it frustrated her.
