Nagol walks through the desolate terrain of the orcish territories walking towards the nation of the Kud. As he walks he looks around him seeing different bustling towns, some having art of himself hung around others holding a statue of him within the town. Days later he no longer sees the art and statues in their pristine condition. Some art lies burned, some violated by language and symbols of the divine. Eventually he reaches a small lake filled with safe water. An oasis in the desolate desert of the orc nations. He grabs some of the naturally growing fruits from bushes and off trees. "Not what I've gotten used to but it is what I must eat to survive," as he eats he cups some of the water from the lake in his hands drinking it. "Why was I blinded by the thought of being the savior and the thought of being special," memories fill his head. Some from when he started giving speeches and showing what he can do with his discoveries and giving it to the strong enhancing them.
As he sits defeated, someone walks up behind him the thick bushes of berries doing little to hide their approach. It rushes at Nagol with vengeance and anger in its eyes. Nagol doesn't turn around, instead staying seated waiting for death to come. As he hears the sound of feathers his will simply breaks more as he looks up at the sky taking in the open blue of the above before closing his eyes.
"Tell me sir! Why is it that you seem to accept death?" the slight sound of a scream accompanied by a stab is heard before a younger orc woman looks down at Nagol as he opens his eyes. "Pah I care not. Stand and face me!" the woman demands Nagol leaving a threatening aura as she speaks. "Do not tell me why to accept death. Instead tell me why you think that is the way to repent for what you may have done."
Nagol slowly stands looking the woman in the eyes. "Why should one who hurt knowing it was bad live?"
"Pah such a simple and laughable question. Tell me. If one kills knowing it is bad, should that person die or live knowing that they made the greatest mistake. Should that person be allowed to repent for what they have done?"
"If they are able to show that they regret that choice and set their life on a better path they," as Nagol finishes speaking the woman grabs him, easily picking him up.
"So tell me. Why are you the exception? Even if you did far worse." the woman begins to walk, dragging him with.
"I took advantage of the youth, that is the most unforgivable action," Nagol doesn't struggle.
"Who said the one who kills searches forgiveness? Why try to get forgiveness, if the actions are unforgivable? Do not force what can not be, do not grovel in despair. Simply try not to earn forgiveness and instead choose to use what you did to help instead of hurt. Live knowing you did bad and use that to fix yourself. While you may never be forgiven for your actions and some may forever push you away due to your past, that does not mean one must simply die for their actions. Repent and fix what you've done and forgiveness may come, but do not seek it for it will never be found when forced."
With that the woman drops Nagol in a random spot in the desert, his surroundings all looking the same. There is no town in sight. He grabs a vial from his pocket. "Perhaps I can put this to the use I hoped others would," he begins to walk in a random direct hoping to find anything.
Hours turn into days as Nagol lives off whatever he can find as he aimlessly wanders. Eventually he stumbles upon a small abandoned hut, next to a small patch of trees. A well is built to the side of the building. As Nagol enters the building he sees a skeleton with the words must repent chalked into the wall he lies on. Nagol leaves the skeleton there as he walks around the building. The walls have deteriorated leaving some holes around. He sets the vial down on a table in the once bedroom. Some tools are left on the floor: a simple shovel axe and sword. Nagol grabs the axe and walks outside to the trees. He looks back at the house that has been damaged and broken by time and then at the tree. After a few seconds he nods and begins to chop at the tree.
Hours pass before the tree falls down landing away from the house. He cuts the wood off into pieces that he cuts in half creating fire wood. As he fills the remains of a fire pit outside the house with wood he grabs whatever small rocks he can use along with some sticks. After a few more hours the fire pit is surrounded by the few decently sized rocks he finds as he attempts to create a spark with the smaller rocks. After a while finally a small spark leads to wood being lit on fire. Just in time for the cold desert night. He lies down on the desert ground looking at the sky. Working overnight he creates a makeshift bed from leftover wood around the house using whatever he can find. The bed is one of the most uncomfortable things he has ever had the displeasure of laying on, but anything is better than the desert sand.