Kilbarrian on involuntary adventures

A Catharsis

I'm out of Patience, I'm out of Time and I'm out of Hope.
 
My civilian life in Liscannor seems but a far dream to me now. I can barely recall my fathers stories, my mothers corrections or my little brothers stench. I only remember the cold, the fear, and the violence. The Occupiers weekly visits, ripping my bedsheets and beating my father. I remember the last time I saw my father, heading out one evening to "convene with the laddies". The Occupiers raided the local Gunport compound that night. My fathers head hung by the city gate for weeks. I was 7 years old.
 
That me and my mates would create the next chapter of Gunports in Liscannor was not really a surprise. At first we did only small things, such as burning down the local Unifier barracks, but with time we grew, both in size and confidence. I remember the day that we eradicated the so called "fleet" of the Osnarians in one night. The flames were the most beautiful thing I'd seen, giving hope of freedom. The lash only hit us harder, of course.
 
A couple of years ago, the Central Cell quieted down. It was not the first time, and we continued on with smaller local operations. Probably just laying low due to our numbers, we believed. When they came back, the operations were bolder, the risks higher and the promised results immense. We followed the guidance, and pulled off some good actions. So good in fact, that the Osnary shits woke up and promptly almost wiped us out. Luckily for us, we are roaches. The rumor started spreading in civilian society that we were compromised and doomed. While it led to reduced recruitment, I took the claim with calmness, certain that could not be the fact. Stupid.
 
If my civil life and childhood is a blur, I remember what happened 2 months ago very clearly. The day of the act I was working as usual, fitting new horseshoes to the mare intended for sale at the market the coming day. When the work was done, I ate my soup, kissed my wife and my wee boy goodbye and left for the hideout under Niall's bar. We were barely halfway through the planning for the bombing of the Unifier compound, when the Central Cell contacted us and ordered us to strike immediately. We should have understood that something was wrong, but blind trust had won us many successes before, so we headed out with our bomber in tow. The ambush was sudden, and from nowhere we were surrounded by what must have been all the Unifiers in Liscannor and probably some from Inishmoor as well. We fought bravely, my men blowing at least twelve unifiers to another plane of existence and me hewing down a healthy number, but there were more coming. We dispersed, everyone hiding in their planned hiding spot. Mine was in the old stable outside my grandfathers old woodshop. The contingency plan was to exfiltrate to the Yelanids, to regroup and recover and return when the Unifiers had cooled down a bit.
 
Seeing as we are a rather loosely connected group, every person was to exfiltrate by their own, and we would only see each other well at the location. I left on a trading ship, having made friends with the captain a few months back. I never said farewell to Eoin or Keira, but Keira is familiar with the risks of my beliefs and is well aquainted with the risks. I will be back in her arms, no matter the costs, or the time needed. And I will not let Eoin grow up with a father dead to the occupiers, or for that matter even knowing what an occupier is.
 
The ambush happened 2 months ago. I arrived here 1 month ago. No-one else is here. No one in this land has heard of anyone else arriving, and the worry is starting to set in. It is never good to stay too long in one place, and my accent has already made an impact. I saw the first Osnary shit two days ago. Luckily, I do not believe that they know my face, but they will know my accent. My sword and armor is safely stowed in my room, but I can not stay here much longer. I might have to tag along with another ship, making a round before returning here and hopefully finding my companions here at last, or I will have to start from scratch again, creating a cell based upon foreign nationals with no sense of how it is to live under an oppressor.
 
What could go wrong?
 
Signed,
 
Conn Dhuine

Gender

Male

Eyes

Green

Hair

Red

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale

Height

5'10''

Weight

175 lbs