I was afraid once. It would be a great shame for a slayer to say this but, I was afraid of dying.
When I first took the oat and took my az-draugi it felt uncomfortable in my hands. I knew I
was no warrior. I would die before even finding a troll. But there was something deep within
me. As if my ancestors were telling me to strike a hundred grudges. My blood was boiling to
swing that axe as a warrior I have never been before. I dared not face my death so early and
fulfill my oath. My shame was not just my own, but my clan's. If I died without facing the
greatest enemies of our kind, it would not be enough to end my shame. So I took my time to
get familiar with my axe. Then I did it, I struck the grudge of my clan from Dammaz Kron.
Now I carry no shame with me. I fight not to die gloriously, but to kill our enemies and bring
glory to all dwarfs. Now I see the true meaning of the oath. It is not to find a fitting end to our suffering. It is to become the ultimate warrior, worthy of carrying Grimnir's blessings. It is our duty to bring suffering to those who have wronged our people. If we have to give up our past lives, if a slayer is the only thing we can be, is it not our duty as dwarfs to be the best warrior we can be? So, don't you dare die here in the hands of some filthy greenskins. I will pluck one string of your beards for every wazzok you left alive. Now go slay at least ten urks each or you will sleep sober tonight.