A pariah be a way close yet ambigous,as my existence,to define the entity that me thinks I exist as,
Mixed my culture and blood perhaps are,but not enough to be a mongrel,and yet incapable of a heritage pure and true to claim
Cursed by the current mark of Kain,raised in the land of my progenitor,double tongued my thrice shattered consciences are,and yet,the proverbial if not legendary lack of logic and granite cast but by flame bound thought patterns of my forefathers I carry
One I am not,nor the other,neither the middle...
But for your question to answer with ,sadly to me, not a question I carry the stream of my thoughts in the language of the castle men, the conquered and twice bound tongue of Albion,and to a lesser extent the speech of the four sides coat of arms by the purple traders of the sea,the rooster headed warriors,the children of mars and the hornless north men composed.
To learn the language of the fruit scribes I seek,and the cynical elders of our romantic tongue symbols and sounds of words to learn and understand I desire...