(Before their descent into the darkness of the vast cavern, Rogan stops for just a moment, bows his head and prays in silence.)
My Lord. God of warriors. Noble teacher and giver of strength…hear me. I have walked too close to the fire and I have felt the burning to my bones. The foulest of creatures has tasted my blood from the Otherwyrld and the threat is so….real…that I can not think of anything else. I have changed the way The Wyrld shall see Rogan the Migdin man from Amendar. I have reshaped my outside in the hopes that my insides will be steeled by the visage. I wear armor and a helm. I carry a sword in the manner of your holy warriors, because my God…I shall be one of that number. I guess what I am saying is…I may seem the buffoon in the way that I ramble though prayers when others play witness. But Lord. Though my words are childlike my spirit is that of a champion. So today my companions and I walk – literally – into the mouth of your damnable brother. But I swear to be, in all things, your champion. I want to be a better son for my mother. I want to be a better strategist for my companions that risk their lives by trusting me. I want to be a better man for you, Father Aethelgrim. Because in that goal lies a champion. I will be that champion or die a death of honor on the battlefield.
In all things, Seva Koresad, Aethelgrim Sthah.