I’m not much of a religious woman—at least not in the manner that most would assume. I take no pride in vain, and thus frivolous, practices. I see no purpose, and have found only worldly pleasures in beliefs lacking of knowledge or any concern for the same. No, I care not for the wars of false idols—invisible or stone, or books and scriptures filled with stories of our foremothers and fathers who’s successions have yet to end—because I have seen men pray their entire lives away to their respective Gods. I have then seen those same men lose what they mistook for faith when tribulation strikes their hands. I have witnessed them slaughter their own Gods, and throw aside their holy-seekings for the insignificant sake of self preservation and fear of being judged by the likes of mankind.