[u]The stranger reaches a hand out and takes his own cup. They bring the cup into the hood of their coat and tip it up, taking a deep drawl from the drink. They then turn their head upwards, as if contemplating something[/u] I do not remember much about my creator, nor their instructions left upon me along with their death. After years of wandering and fighting, I have seen many people pass, and many others fade away into the nothingness of the past, all but a single memory remaining. Everything seems blurry, and yet I can still remember the creators last words to me before their journey into the infinite void known as death. They told me to wander, with no purpose, to find a meaning for myself. I found that meaning years and years ago. I was meant to fight, and to fight those who are strong. But as of late, years of fighting without finding more to life has left me drained of a purpose that I wish to find for my utterly meaningless life of violence. I simply wish to find something worth fighting for instead of randomly striking out at those who challenge me. [u]The stranger returns their head to a normal position and drains the rest of the contents of the cup.[/u]