Life is a battle. Oh, I'm not saying it's not a glorious battle.

I love being the one left standing.

I love fire and frenzy. I love being on the verge of coming in really great, sweaty, frantic sex. I love argument, although I hate losing. I love that moment in an argument when you see the weakness in the logic of the other side and you ram through, a word as a sword, an analogy as a dagger.

I love to dance until my knees shake, feeling the breath in my lungs, feeling the music run down my thighs. I love good wine, flowing into me and filling my veins with warmth. I love good food, filling my stomach and feeding my muscles.

I love finding the moment when you can extend a hand to someone weak and help them out of the way. I love training people in the rules and practices so that they can engage with the world around them with something under them. I love to extend my hand to an enemy and find a friend.

I believe in the law. I believe in the truth. I believe that these may combine for justice. I believe at times they are to be tempered with mercy.

I believe actions speak louder than words.

I do not believe in peace. There are always enemies. There are the dark, evil enemies - those truly out to kill you. There are the stupid enemies, those who have been taken in by the quick and easy path of least resistance. There are mistaken enemies that you strike down in the heat of battle.

But there is no peace. People have tried to kill me. They have held me down against the ground and raped me. They have used my faults and weaknesses against me, turned my friends against me, used my honour to wound me, and destroyed that which I have built and then spit on the ashes.