Editing Maruk (section)

== History ==
He was sixteen when he went to war, driven by visions of glory and heroism. He was eighteen when he saw a man he's come to think of as a brother fall, head nearly severed from his body, and brought him back from the brink of death with no more than a touch.

Maruk had never asked for the Healer's gift. Never wanted it. He liked hitting things, hurting people who deserved it. But it was never the same after he watched Aril's wound knit together beneath his fingers.

When the gods call, what man can deny them? He made his talents known, threw himself into training, learned how to spit in the Reaper's eye. It made him angry, and more than a little bitter, to discover how little it all left, how few he could actually manage to save.

But he marched, and he served, and he did his duty. He learned a little bit of contempt for the weak; it was easier than mourning them. Maruk got older, and greyer, and almost infinitely bitter. They were all so stupid, so fragile! What was the point of saving them on the battlefield, when they'd get themselves gutted in a bar-room brawl the very next night?

Technically, he's AWOL now. He thinks of it as his retirement, though. Dragon-hunting is a lot more sane than war, and involves a lot less tedium. He's kept busy, keeping these jackasses breathing, but he's had little chance to become bored.

But gods above! How they whine!