《Lament of The Demiurge》 Prologue Before we begin, let''s go over a little background on your past. You were born in the small human kingdom of Logras on the island of Albeun to a pair of somewhat well-off peasant parents. You had one older brother who died when you were too young to remember and a sister who''s over twelve years older than you and was married off to someone else when you were six, so you never saw much of her in your childhood either. You were a secluded child who didn''t enjoy going out very often, so you spent most of your childhood indoors with your mother, who was a ditzy washer-woman who worked half the day and slept through the other half. Your father went out to work as a smith and had more free time than your mother, but you secretly despised him for his constantly exploding temper and inability to take responsibility for anything. He would beat you quite often when you messed up and say it was for your own good, which you knew was bullshit. In a way, his awful nature as a human being was the perfect example of what not to become in life and you lived your childhood years trying to avoid becoming him. When you were twelve, you found out that you had quite an affinity for magic and managed to earn a wizarding scholarship to a hero school in a competition. The spell you made to win it, called "Immolate", was quite useful and quickly grew in popularity, making you very popular at school by proxy. During your sixth year, you had to reach level 2 with a party of adventurers from the school in order to graduate. You joined the best party in the school and smiled in giddy joy when you finally received your stat slate for the quest after so many years of anticipation, giggling lightly like a drunkard as it carved out words into its black rock surface when you touched it:Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Level EXP STR DEX CON WIS INT CHA
1 0 11 9 12 14 17 10
You grinned as you wondered what kind of monster you ought to slay to get the most EXP the quickest. Goblins, maybe? Regardless, you''d be able to abandon your father''s name and make one of your own by adventuring. You could get wealthy enough to buy your way into the nobility, perhaps, and get a family name of your own. That way you''d not be weighed down by the name you were given at birth, the name of your disgusting father. You would no longer be Hale Reeves. You''d be a hero. You''d be a god. I - Scraper You''re in the famous school garden of beautifully trimmed green hedges lined with vibrant and sweet-smelling flowers on a clear-skyed summer afternoon, sitting on a wooden bench with your magical quarterstaff next to you as you wait for your party members to arrive. You decide to observe the passersby in order to kill time: most of them are fighter or paladin students in polished plate armour that gleams against the sun as they swagger and talk loudly, while a few in wizard or cleric uniform robes walk with their heads high as they quietly chitter and chat. You see one or two warlocks and you don''t see any rogues, which doesn''t surprise you considering they''re not meant to be seen. You eventually get bored with watching the people pass by and decide to take out a book from your bag that you''d recently taken from the library: Spell Slots in Theory and Practice, a thumb-length thick tome regarding the management and magical theory behind the consumption of magical energy for more advanced spells, one that you absolutely do not enjoy reading for a second but absolutely have to read. Sure, the author clearly didn''t understand the concept of ''simplification of explanation'' if you ''simplified'' his form into that of a tadpole, but it couldn''t be denied that it had useful information on what situations a young wizard ought to expend spell slots and how to best conserve and generate them, information that you need to pass onto your party members if they''re to succeed on the quest. As you try to read through the pages and pages of minuscule, tightly packed text and feel yourself dozing off from the warm blanket of the summer sun and the dull pretentiousness of the book, you silently swear to yourself one day you''ll rewrite everything this damn author did in less than fifty pages and put him out of business. As you''re trying hard not to doze off, you suddenly jolt as you feel a meaty hand clamp on your shoulder, followed by a hearty yet muffled laugh. You open your eyes wide to see the party''s fighter, Alvar: a tall, slim and toned man, covered tip to toe in glinting steel armour and with his face masked by his famous helmet which he apparently wears even as he sleeps and bathes. Behind him stands the party cleric, Aala, a shorter young lady with a cheerful expression on her sharp-featured face and a mane of unruly long red hair that cascades down the back of her white cleric uniform and tanned cheeks. She clutches close to her chest a disproportionately large war-mallet with the crest of the Throne of Wisdom emblazoned on its face. Alvar''s hand grips at your shoulder. "All that reading tiring you out, eh, Hale?" He chuckles, his voice resounding in the helmet. "You''re better at it than I am, at least. I can''t get through a page without falling asleep!" He pulls his hand from your shoulder and playfully punches you in the shoulder. You shrug his hand off your shoulder, smiling politely at him. "Wizardshave to read, Alvar. A great deal of effort goes into learning new spells and preparing them." Aala grins at you. "That''s the great thing about you wizards, isn''t it? Always putting in so much effort into studying and improving yourselves... that''s some real dedication you guys have." You raise an eyebrow at Aala. "Oh? It almost sounds like you have respect for the heretical wizard who dares to ''study'' and ''learn'' his way into divine power, wise cleric." She laughs, while Alvar looks between the two of you in a confused motion. "Sorry, er, I don''t really get the joke," he says. "Oh, it''s nothing," you answer as you snap your book shut. "Just a little in-joke between spellcasters. Anyway, we''re still waiting for Donovan, aren''t we? Where is he?" The two of them shrug. Apparently, neither of them had seen the party rogue around either. You sigh in feigned annoyance. "We can''t start off the quest until all the party members are here," you mutter. "If he doesn''t turn up, we''ll have to go on without - " Shock runs through you as you feel two cold taps on the back of your shoulder. You whirl around, grabbing your quarterstaff as you do so and - You see Donovan standing above you from behind the bench: a dark-haired spindly man with pallid skin and a strange sanguine face, dressed in the brown leather rogue school uniform. He smiles softly at everyone. "Hey," he says in a soft, cold voice, "how''s it going?" Everyone stays silent for a moment. You swear you can still feel tingling on your skin where he tapped you. You try your best to look as calm as you can, but you can feel sweat build up underneath your clothes as you stare at that serene, cruel man.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Alvar laughs heartily. "It was cruel to sneak up on Hale like that!" He wheezes out as his armour creaks with his heaving lungs. "Look at him, he looks like a ghost, isn''t that right, Aala?" Aala, who had been looking on with a bizarre expression on her face you didn''t recognise, suddenly goes red and speaks up quietly. "Oh - um - yes. I suppose." "Anyway," Donovan says, "I was doing some research and I found something quite interesting - a goblin god-worshipping cult!" Alvar turns his chin upwards, while Aala gasps. "God-worshippers? And they''regoblins?" "Exactly! We''d be doing the world twice the service if we take them out! Not to mention... they say their religious artifacts are made of gold." Alvar tilts his head. "Gold! I don''t know about you two, but I''m in - " "You can count me in too," Aala cuts in. "It''s my duty as a servant of the Thrones to destroy the gods, their worshippers and their remnants." "Great! It''s settled then!" Donovan says, clapping his hands together softly as he met everyone''s gaze, before turning his icy eyes to you which make you shiver. "Unless, of course, you have any objections, Hale?" "No," you barely manage. "Then we''re off!" He said, beckoning the party to follow him as he walks away from your bench. Aala and Alvar follow him while you shove your book into your backpack. After around ten seconds, you finally give in and follow him too as you clasp your quarterstaff with a white-knuckled grip. You trail behind the rest of the party, scarcely listening to their discussions as you walk to the school gate, with stormy thoughts brewing up in your head. It was ridiculous.Donovan is the most charismatic man you had ever met and you''re certain he has a Charisma score of 18. But he''s also the most perceptive man you''ve ever met. He must have a Wisdom score of 18. He''s also the best rogue you''ve ever met. He must have a Dexterity score of 18... he excels in everything with his innate talent, taking everything for himself as he steals away the things you desire from right under your nose... and the worst thing is, despite being the best wizard in the school, you can''t call yourself his rival. The ice rogue manages to freeze you up every time you''re in the same room as him from his raw, terrifying presence... to be honest, you were hoping he wouldn''t turn up so you''d end up as the leader. You know it was a pathetic train of thought, but you don''t care especially. All you know for sure is that this was your only shot at subjugating him - you know for sure you outclass him in Intelligence and Constitution, perhaps Strength too, if only by a little bit. If you could use it to your advantage, you could overcome his natural power and take his place as leader. That would bring you one step closer to becoming a true hero and a mortal god who - "Hey, Hale, are you okay?" You hear, interrupting your thoughts. You turn to see a concerned-looking Aala at your side as you stand before the mighty school gate that slowly drawls itself open for your party. "Yes, I''m alright," you reply. "Just a little lost in my thoughts, that''s all." You go for a polite smile - You accidentally make eye contact with Donovan, who still has that soft grin on his face. He doesn''t say anything, but you know exactly what those eyes are telling you. Don''t get in my way. I''ll crush you underfoot. Your smile fails halfway through. You pull up your hood to hide your face and continue walking as you trudge through town, ignoring the others as you do so. You silently recite the spells you prepared before coming here - Expeditious Retreat, Grease, Sleep. Expeditious Retreat, Grease, Sleep. Expeditious Retreat, Grease, Sleep - Why are all the spells you chose that of a complete and utterweakling? Would these spells help you in defending yourself from your piece of shit father? No. All they''re good for is running away. That''s all you''re ever good for. Talking a big talk, studying to prove you''re not full of crap, and then when it comes to proving yourself, all you prove is that you are full of crap and get everything stolen from you from people who deserve it more as you run away. Be ruthless, Hale. Use what spells you have to scrape onto what you have like a screeching demon, even if you don''t deserve it. That''s all you''re really good for, anyway. Do what you can with your feet planted on the ground. You speed up and walk ahead, right up to Donovan, before turning to him and looking him dead in his cold eyes, your own eyes obscured from him under your hood. "Hey Donovan," you say to him quietly. "Where exactly are these goblin god-worshippers? I think I''d like to lead our little group there..." He smiles softly at you and you repress the reflex to turn away. "It''s nice of you to offer to help but I think I''ll be fine on my own." You smile as you feel a tiny bit of magical energy pulse through your body, emanating from your core and reflecting back through your staff with renewed power, escaping through your fingertips as you almost silently mouth the incantation for the cantripPrestidigitation. "Is that so?" You say to him with an edge in your voice. You tap Donovan''s leather uniform twice, letting a tiny amount of heat into it. His eye twitches. "Yes," he curtly replies. Your lips curl in quiet joy. "Good," you reply. "Good." You fall back to the rest of the party. Donovan''s walking a little slower now. And now you know, for a fact, that by the end of this quest, this party will be yours. You''ll scrape for it like a screeching demon. II - Thief As you and your party follow Donovan out of town and into the nearby forest, the bright afternoon slowly dims into twilight and the humid air on your skin cools down a little. Aala looks a little concerned. "Hey, it''s getting pretty dark out, Don," she says. "How much further out are these goblins?" "Hm? Oh, don''t worry, we''ve basically arrived already," Donovan says as he twists in between the increasingly dense tree trunks. "In fact..." He hacks away at a couple of tangled tree branches, revealing a small clearing beyond them and a pitch-black cave entrance under a mound of green grass, before entering the clearing. He turns to face the rest of the party and smiles softly. "Here we are," he says. "The cave of the goblin worshippers of Goz, the living god sitting on the Throne of Thieves." Alvar tilts his head inquisitively as he follows Donovan in. "Throne of Thieves? As in, he''s a god of thievery?" Aala steps into the clearing, her face expressionless and voice monotone. "The Throne of Thieves is a minor Throne that most people ignore since its father Throne, the Throne of Trickery, is a lot broader and comes with more perks as a result. The only reason anyone would worship the Throne of Thieves would be if they''re not interested or capable of trickery - " "That''s it, then," you say as you enter the clearing. "Goblins are uncharismatic and simpleminded little things. No-one normal would fall for a goblin''s tricks. They apparently are pretty quick though, so they''d be better thieves than tricksters." "Indeed," Aala says, "those little fuckers would turn to god-worship since they''re too stupid to rely on the Thrones themselves. And only a god could love those damn greenskins..." You gasp in mock shock. "You said a bad word! How could you be so cruel? So sinful? The Thrones shall strip your powers from you and smite you for your crime Aala! Truly, truly, woe upon you!" Aala doesn''t say anything, but you see a tiny smile tug at the corners of her lips and her white-knuckled grip on her war-mallet loosens. You allow yourself a small smile, hidden from the rest of the party by your hood. Donovan smiles at her. "Well, even if the Thrones strip away your powers from you, that fighting spirit of yours won''t disappear. I like that about you." Aala quickly turns away from Donovan, but you can tell her face is going red. Your blood boils at the sight. "Let''s go on then, shall we?" You loudly say as you walk towards the cave, before taking out a tinderbox and oil lamp from your robe pocket and lighting it. You use it to illuminate the cave entrance, revealing a hole going a short distance downwards before turning horizontal into a tunnel. You turn back to the others. "Aala, come take a look at this," you call out. She walks towards you, peering down into the cave. "See anything unusual?" You ask. She squints her eyes. "No... not really..." You frown. "No? No tripwires or traps or anything?" "No." This deeply concerns you. Goblins are known to rely on alarm systems and traps to detain enemies since they''re too weak to risk fighting head-on. There must be something else here... something a lot worse than goblins... you turn to Donovan to ask him about it - But then you see those cruel, icy eyes. His brow is raised in a mocking fashion. He''s daring you to ask him for help, goading you into relying on him... you turn away from him and fix your gaze on Alvar. "Alvar, come over here and go down this hole first, please." He clunks over in his armour, tilts his head at the hole, and jumps in. "GOOOOLD!" You hear him land at the bottom of the hole unharmed, with a loud clank. "WE''RE COMING FOR YOUR GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD!" He calls out into the darkness. He turns up to you and shrugs. No response. This concerns you even further, but you don''t show it. Aala looks at you with an eyebrow raised and a quizzical look on her face. "Why''d you send him down first?" You grin. "The fighter ought to go in first, no?" "Normally the fighter isn''t soloud." "The fighter has to be loud. He can''t hear you over the sound of him swimming in all that gold." You all chuckle. All three of you. You realise Donovan is softly laughing behind the pair of you before you feel his cold grip on your shoulder. You feel yourself flinch slightly at the contact and Donovan seems to start laughing a little louder. "Well," he says, "I think I ought to go in next, don''t you think?" But he''s not talking to you. You turn to see Donovan''s other hand resting on Aala''s shoulder, who''s looking up at him with big eyes. "U-uh, yes," she stutters. Donovan moves past the two of you and swiftly, gracefully, hops into the hole, barely making a noise as he lands. You look at Aala with a polite smile on your face. "Hey, do you knowLight?" You ask. "Yeah, I do - "A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Why don''t you cast it on your war-mallet and jump in next? I''ll follow in after you." She begins to laugh at your proposition, before stopping upon realising you''re being serious. She looks at you with an eyebrow raised. "You know, normally, the cleric goes in last so the rest of the party can protect her." "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn''t ask you to go in before me, but these aren''t exactly normal circumstances." "Yes, but even so - " You playfully punch her shoulder. "You know you can trust me. I know what I''m doing." She sighs. "Yeah, you are pretty smart, aren''t you? Alright, I''ll go in," she says, before casting Light on her war-mallet and jumping down into the cave. You keep your eyes on her glowing mallet as she falls, and once you''ve put away your oil lamp you jump in after her with both of you landing with hard thuds against the rocky and uneven cavern floor on your feet. Your eyes are still on her. She''s looking wistfully at something a little up ahead... oh. It''s Donovan. You walk in between the two of them. "Well, it seems there''s no gold here," you say loudly as you look around. Indeed, there''s no gold as far as the light from Aala''s mallet shines, but there''s something else missing too. "No goblins either." Donovan frowns. "I''m not sure what''s up. I''m certain my sources were correct... this is definitely where the cult of Goz is located along with their gold." There was something very wrong with this situation. You didn''t doubt Donovan''s skills - even though you despised him, he''s still an exceptional rogue. But that''s the thing. He''s an exceptionalrogue. It wouldn''t be far-fetched to consider that he might have lied about this cave for one reason or another. But what a convincing and specific lie it is... he even knew the name of the god of thievery, which seemed unlikely if he really was lying. No. This truly is a goblin hideout. But there must be something more insidious deeper inside... Your party cautiously goes forward into the cave, Alvar leading it, seeing nothing but dust and rocks as you do so. But the cave is much longer than any of you anticipated - perhaps the goblins simply lurk deeper in the dark and the traps are all there. But Aala suddenly pulls her war mallet to her side as though preparing to fight and has her brow furrowed. "I hear voices. Someone''s up ahead." Her expression softens from that of determination to one of confusion. "But they don''t sound like goblins... they''re... people? Humans?" Donovan dashes off into the darkness before anyone has a chance to say anything, and you hear a call from him a minute later. "It''s safe!" His voice echoes. The three of you follow him into the darkness, finding at the end of it a bend into a small crevice, where torchlight dimly flickers across Donovan laughing with a group of much older adventurers clad in painfully shiny steel armour as they stand over a deep pit. "Donovan, are these your party members?" A tall adventurer with a face of stubble asks. "Hm? Oh, yes, these are Aala, Alvar and Hale," Donovan says, pointing you out to him. "Guys, this is Rodrick. He''s a captain of the White Paladins, sworn to the Oath of Liberty. Level 6. And he''s made our job a lot easier." "Indeed," Rodrick says, turning to Alvar, "are you the leader of the party?" His voice is deep and smooth. Alvar tilts his head. "Erm, no, not really, I would say that - " "Regardless," Rodrick cuts in, "I believe that you were here looking for goblins to kill as part of an examination quest from the Academy of Freemen?" "Yes, we were, but also go - " "WELL, GOOD NEWS FOR YOU! We''ve done your job for you!" "What?" "Have a look in that old pit, will you?" "But what about the go - " Aala and you step forward to look into the pit and you see... You see... Oh, by the Thrones... Your skin crawls as you see dozens of green-skinned little creatures, each no larger than a six-year-old child, sprawled across each other, softly moaning and groaning in pain in pools of their own blood. Some of them clearly have horribly broken bodies and broken limbs as they heave and crawl over each other. They crawl towards... Towards... Oh,no... A massive, beautiful idol of gold stands at the other side of a goblin standing tall and mighty, dressed in fine robes of silk and wearing a crown. It''s surrounded by countless gold and silver coins. This must be their god, Goz. They''re trying to reach their god... trying to beg for him to help them in their time of need... you feel a little sick - But you repress it. You turn to see Aala and see exactly what you need - her grinning face, one of righteous hatred of the evil of these pathetic, pilfering little pieces of shit that didn''t deserve to live. This was no different to swatting a mosquito. Them crawling towards the idol is simply like a moth fluttering near a flame - idiots attracted by things that will bring them nothing but destruction. You hear Rodrick sigh behind you as he talks with Alvar. "Are you really sure you''re a fighter? With just how much gold you''re trying to pick at, I think you''d be much better off as a moneylender..." "Listen, friend, I understand that you wish to be compensated for your good work, and I understand you''re already kind enough to grant us the privilege of slaying these goblins for their EXP. That''s why I''m letting you take the gold idol, while we take the coins!" "I keep telling you, we don''t want the idol! I''m not going to have something like that with me, no matter how much it''s worth in gold!" "Might I suggest," came the soft voice of Donovan, "thatweget the idol?" Aala suddenly turns around to Donovan, her face one of shock. "We can''t do something so terrible as to = " "Aala, my dear, don''t forget that Hale knows the cantripImmolate. In fact, he invented it, didn''t he? Why doesn''t he simply use it to melt the statue down? And while we''re at it, why don''t we let those crawling goblins get to it as he''s melting it with the fire? Then we''ll not only kill two birds with one stone, but we''ll get quite an amusing display..." Her expression goes blank for a second before she smiles gleefully. "What a splendid idea!" She says. "The heretical fools will feel the price of betraying the Thrones and the Heroes in the fires of hell, while their god melts before them!" Your mind begins rushing through ways of avoiding having to do this, but you only find one. Immolate is a cantrip you created that causes a fire of extreme heat to be created in exchange for the fire to burn through something of value - "Don''t be silly," you say. "Goblin blood has no value." Donovan smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Yes, but the idoldoes." He''s right. As you melt away at the gold, the idol''s worth as an artifact will disappear, turning it from an item of worship to nothing more than a lump of metal. You must burn it. You look back at the heap of goblins crawling towards the idol. Rodrick looks at it and decides to speed things up, casting a telekinetic spell you don''t recognise to move the idol towards the goblins as they crawl all over it. You stare as they slowly clamber, moaning louder as they touch and rub the gold, staining it with their blood. you feel a sickening voice enter your head... They''re so weak... They''re so weak... Look at them, scraping away at the gold, trying to grab it, hoping their god will save them... Scraping like little, feeble demons... "IMMOLATE!" You hear a voice scream it, resounding across the walls of the cavern, and you realise it''s your own. The idol begins melting in terrible flames. The goblins are screaming hoarsely as they try to get off, but the soft gold sucks them in and sticks them to the burning statue. Some goblins'' screams are cut short as the molten metal trickles into their mouths. They slowly become ash as the proud face of Goz deforms and disappears into nothing but gold. Soon there''s only one left, and you swear you hear him, surely a shaman, whisper into your mind using the last of his power... Our god has forsaken us. Yours will too. He turns to ash. The flames stop. There''s nothing left but a puddle of shiny liquid and ash. You hear beeps throughout the cavern. It''s your party''s stat slates. You''ve all levelled up. One step closer to becoming a hero. III - Mercy After killing the goblins, your party pawns off the gold lump from the quest for quite a bit of coin. You get your fair share of it. You then return to the Academy and present your level 2 stat slates to the professors as proof of your completion of the quest. They appear surprised that you completed the quest so quickly, look the slates over for any tampering, see none, smile at you and inform you that you can attend the Lower School Graduation Ceremony next week and graduate. Almost everyone in your year is moving onto the Upper School, where students spend three years grinding and studying like hell to reach level 5. In fact, you don''t know anyone who''s dropping out this year except for a few ambitionless swine who are probably just going use their magic for something dull like smithing or farming. You always looked down on those kinds of people: too weak to chase anything worth chasing, too soft to try and grasp true power. Of course, it appears you''re weaker and softer than those pigs. Here you are, all alone in the school library, well after dark, with only the sound of the crackling of the warm fireplace to zone you in as you sit at a desk with a thick tome of spells for you to drill into. You have exactly the kind of book you love right in front of you and the perfect atmosphere for reading it. No distractions. No-one else around. Only you and these yellow old pages. And you can''t focus on it at all. All your thoughts keep leading back to the final ghastly thoughts of the goblin shaman. Our god has forsaken us. Yours will too. You don''t understand why you''re so hung up over this. You''re a civilised member of modern Lograsian society, of course you don''t worship gods. You don''t even worship the Thrones much - you reckon that being Aala''s friend is good enough for the Throne of Wisdom to have mercy on you and you''re too busy studying magic to worry about them most of the time. And why do you care so much about the opinion of a dead, dirty goblin? A shaman too. It was probably senile. They''re all evil by nature anyway... Then again, you''re not exactly good by nature, are you? You are evil. You accepted this as a fact long ago. Being cruel to others is the only way you can get your way to the top. You have to get to the top and you have to stay there. You can''t let anyone else take anything else from you. Not your father, not Donovan, not even yourself, no matter how much it hurts to hold something you don''t deserve. You want it, don''t you? Then you better get it. Why are all goblins evil, anyway? And why are you struggling with this? Didn''t the Throne of Wisdom want you to kill them? Isn''t it a good thing? Why are you suffering for it? You rub your eyes in exhaustion as you uselessly try to figure it all out when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see Aala looking down at you, a concerned smile on her face. "You''re not doing okay, are you?" She says. "Hm? No, no, I''m fine," you reply. "Just a little scatterbrained from the quest, that''s all." She sighs, the smile vanishing from her face. "You didn''t put any effort into that lie. This isn''t you at all." She pulls up a chair next to you and sits down. "Tell me what''s wrong, will you?" You groan in annoyance and tear your gaze from her to the book. "Don''t you have better things to be doing?" "This is part of my duty as a cleric of Wisdom." "Well, as a wizard of Intelligence, it''s my duty to make sure you''re not doing something stupid, which you are at the moment. You should be spending this time learning a new spell, not wasting your time trying to coddle me." "I''m not - " "Yes, you are," you snap. "And I''d appreciate it if you do literally anything else." You expect that to have worked in driving her away but to your surprise, she remains seated. You turn to look at her and she''s grinning widely with an outstretched arm on the table. Your eyes widen as you realise what you''d just said. You begin to protest. "Aala, please, I''m really not in the mood for messing around with learning - "The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She quickly snatches the book from under you, moving too quickly for you to catch her in time. She smiles as she holds it. "Hm... I suppose I really ought to belearning new spells as acleric, shouldn''t I?" "You know I said that without thinking - " "Of course, clerics have tolearn their spells all on their own, just like wizards. It''s not like my Throne grants me spells as a blessing - " "Just give it back to me!" You try to grab it from her but to no avail. You silently swear to yourself to figure out a way to improve your Dexterity from a 9. "I don''t think so... I mean, it can''t hurt give it a read, can it? After all, I have to learn new spells as a cleric, don''t I?" She begins flipping through the pages and keeps moving it out of your way as you try to get it back. "Mmm, let''s see, Mage Armour, Burning Hands,Sleep... oh, look here!" She stops at a page and holds it up to you - the title of it readsDetect Magic. "I know this one! I got it from my Throne this morning!" "Can''t I just - " You cut yourself off as you realise what she just said. "Wait, you already know this one?" "Yep! It''s always important to know when you''re up against someone or something magical, isn''t it? Especially so for a wizard, no doubt. I''m sure that you already have it in your spellbook as the best wizard in our school." You kiss your teeth. You should haveDetect Magic, but you learnt a bunch of speed boosting and inhibiting spells instead to make up for your poor Dexterity. She knows this. In fact, she''s probably the only person you''ve told this to. Her grin widens. "Oh, could it be? Our ancient and proud Academy''s most promising young wizard, Hale Reeves himself, doesn''t know such a fundamental spell to the arcane? How woeful! Truly, truly, how terrible!" You raise your hands in defeat. "Fine. I surrender. What are you getting out of this? What do you want?" She slides the book in between the two of you and shifts her chair closer as she looks at you with those big emerald green eyes, still smiling. "Let me teach you," she says with a light tone to her voice. "Like the old days." You can''t help but smile a little at this. While it was true that clerics got their spells from their Thrones and as a result had no need to study spells, Aala befriended you by sitting across you from in the library one day and demanding you teach her Mending ''the wizard way''. You indulged her and taught her from a cantrip textbook, not thinking much of it, and her Mending apparently turned out better and quicker than anyone else''s in the school from that little tutorial you gave. She''s been the only person you''d call a friend ever since. You sigh. "Guess I have no choice. Take it away, Professor Aala Prost." She giggles lightly and draws the book closer to her. "Alright then, here we go! So the first thing you need to know about Detect Magicis the way it feels." You raise an eyebrow. "The way it feels?" "Yeah, it''s this sort of funny buzzing in your eyes..." You and Aala spend the next few hours in the library alone, sitting by candlelight with no sound but the crackling of the warm fireplace and each other''s voices and laughter. It''s exactly the kind of book you love, but not the perfect atmosphere for reading. There are distractions. You''re not alone. It''s you, a somewhat overly persistent young girl and these yellow pages. And after you spend many hours focusing and scrawling notes into your own spellbook, you eventually manage to see a faint bluish glow around Aala, along with a strange feeling like your eyeballs are vibrating in your skull. It tickles and you laugh - You feel two cold taps on your shoulder, breaking your concentration on the spell. The glow disappears and your eyes stop vibrating as your laugh is cut short. Aala looks behind you with a look you didn''t recognise until yesterday, but now you know exactly what it is - it''s soft, distant and warm, yet slightly uncomfortable. It''s lovestruck. And you know who it''s directed to. Donovan is standing behind you. You don''t turn to face him. "Well, it''s good to see you two," he says. "Although I''m somewhat hurt that you won''t look at me, Hale." "I''m busy at the moment." "Really? What spell are you studying?" He leers over your shoulder to look at the book, which you quickly shut and hold close to your chest. Aala''s face snaps from one of a nervous young girl one of confusion. "Hey, don''t be cold like that," Donovan says. You can hear the sneer in his voice. "We''re party members, aren''t we? Friends. Family, even." You stand up. Aala grabs your arm. She''s looking at you with pleading eyes. They''re sayingplease don''t embarass me in front of my crush. "C''mon, Hale," she mumbles. "He''s right. You shouldn''t act so mean. It''s childish." "I''m tired. I''m returning this book and going to bed." You free yourself from Aala''s grip and walk away - "Really? You''re going to bed? Well then, Aala, I suppose you and I are alone for the rest of the night, aren''t we?" "Um - I suppose... what do you want to do?" "Hmmm... what to do, what to do?" You calmly put the book back where you got it from, sliding it back in a tightly packed bookshelf in a tiny space just the right size for it. It fits snugly. You feel peaceful. Serene. "Donovan, meet me outside, will you?" "Oh, are you finally going to open up to me a little? How wonderful, friend. I was hoping we could get closer." You are going to break his back so that he''ll never be able to bother you again. And you''re going to make it look like an accident. You will become a Hero - Our god has forsaken us. - you will become a mortal god - Yourswill too. - you won''t let him rob anything else from you. IV - Cruelty Before you go outside with Donovan, you make sure to grab a few important things you left in the library: your quarterstaff, made from unyielding, dark wood and tipped with iron; your bag, filled with spell scrolls you''ve secretly hoarded and stolen over the years of magic you''re too low level to truly learn; and finally your spellbook with all the magic you actually know scrawled on its pages. You walk behind Donovan as the pair of you walk through a paved path in the empty school gardens. No-one else is here with you - it must be well past curfew. It''s blanketed in darkness, with only the faint black silhouettes of hedges, benches and flowers visible as they wave to and fro with the gentle and cool night-time breeze, barely visible against the deep and dark blue hue of the night sky. The stars shimmer and shine above you, and the moon which normally has its light hazed by clouds is clear and round and full this night. The sight of it fills you with a strange determination like a fire in your soul. You quietly cast Firebolt at a nearby torch posted up along the path, causing it to burn and flicker and giving you a little light. You''re determined to burn him to the ground and you want to see him scream as you do so. But not literally burn him, only metaphorically. If you did literally burn him you might accidentally set things on fire you do not want to set on fire. "Lovely night out, isn''t it?" Donovan says as he faces away from you. "A little chilly for a summer''s night. I suppose the weather''s been somewhat strange lately. The nature spirits seem a little agitated." You don''t care. "Turn around." "It''s probably because of the Pneumas War. The elves and dwarves are going to wipe each other out at this rate." You don''t care. "Turn around." "I personally think it''s a ridiculous venture by both of them. They know it''s futile. Their struggles and deaths are all for nought. No matter how much the lesser races scrap and bicker, humanity will always be on top." You grab him by the shoulder and force him to turn around to you. His eyes have a cruel glint in them as they look down upon you. "I don''t care." Donovan smiles. It freezes your heart. "Oh, but you should, Hale. You seem to think that you''re my equal. I''m going to correct that notion." He bends down to your eye level, staring at you, still with that grin on his face. "Back in the forest, when you did that trick withPrestidigitation, I''ll admit it - you worried me. It was when I realised you weren''t going to accept my authority and I was afraid I''d have to fight to hold onto it. But all that fear vanished when I saw the look on your face when you saw the goblins dying slowly in the pit. I knew that look. It was the look of someone who''s soul is unravelling. It was a look of recognition. It was a look of - " You grip your quarterstaff with both hands as you thrust it up at the underside of his chin. He tilts his head up and dodges your attack with ease, standing his ground as he towers over you. His grin widens, revealing his perfect teeth as he reaches into his uniform and pulls out a dagger before swinging at you with it. You try to block it with your staff and barely manage to. You try to knock him back, but he''s too fast and easily gets out of the way. You consider using Sleep, but you decide against it since you want to see him suffer. Instead, you cast Grease. The ground beneath Donovan is covered in a slick oil and Donovan makes a double-take as he tries to stabilise himself against the slippery ground. He steadies himself and quickly runs further away from you and deeper into the grease puddle. As he retreats you bash him in the elbow, making him recoil in pain - you can''t help but smile slightly at this. As he stands in the middle of the grease, he throws his dagger at you and - Terrible pain suddenly shoots from your arm - you crane your neck around to look at it and see the dagger''s blade dripping with blood - your blood - as it sticks out of your shoulder. The pain gets worse as you look at the wound and your vision goes blurry, but you ignore it. Donovan laughs at you. You can''t get close to him anymore - you''ll slip on the grease if you try to approach him. But you expected him to run into the grease to protect himself. You planned for this. You drop your staff as you rip open your bag and take out the scroll at the top, one that you always, always put at the top - Colour Spray. You scramble to the edge of the grease puddle, read the spell aloud and cast it. A black cone that seems to absorb light explodes from the scroll and swallows up Donovan''s body whole. You don''t know what kind of face he''s making on the other side, but you know it must be hilarious - inside the black cone are hundreds of terribly bright and colourful lights that painfully blind whoever''s trapped inside temporarily. The cone vanishes along with the scroll and Donovan is stumbling around with a stupid look on his face, eventually slipping on the grease with a yelp and falling flat on his back. He quickly manages to jump back up and draws another two daggers from his uniform, holding them in his hands ready in case of another attack.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Unfortunately for him, he''s facing the wrong direction entirely. You rip the dagger in your shoulder out and throw it at Donovan with all your strength, and despite his attempts at preparing himself, it makes contact with his back and tears through his flesh with a sickening ripping noise. You can''t help but giggle in glee as you watch the blood pour from his back - finally, you were going to subjugate him, break him, stamp on him as you climb your way to the titles of Hero and of mortal god, the power that you''ve wanted all these years, that he dared to try to take away from you after all that you''ve gone through to - Donovan''s blindness wears off. He drops his daggers, rushes out of the grease, grabs your quarterstaff off of the floor and rises to his full height, lumbering over you like a dark tree flickering in the torchlight as he raises it above you - - you see your father bringing down his harsh cane on your defenceless body - - you hear someone scream viciously and you realise it''s your own, as you feel the rough path against your cheek as Donovan stands over your body, still holding your staff. He cuts off your scream by forcing the staff down your mouth while it''s wide open, brutally smashing against the back of it. You taste something salty in your mouth - you can''t tell if it''s your blood, the iron caps of the quarterstaff, or your own tears. Wait, your tears? Are you seriously crying right now? "Go on and wake up the entire bloody school, will you?" Donovan quietly whispers as he grinds the staff against the back of your throat. "This is exactly my point, Hale. That look back in the cave when you saw the goblins was one of someone who looked at their reflection and saw something hideous. You''re weak - " He kicks you in the stomach and you splutter - " - delusional - " He rubs his boot against your face - " - ignorant - " He mashes his heel against your eye - " - cowardly - " He knocks out a couple of your teeth with your staff - " - and above all, you''re aiming to become something you can never be. A Hero. Because you''re not powerful enough - " He kicks you in the face - " - to killanyone for what you want. If you really wanted to be a Hero, you know what you would have done?" He smiles at you. "You would''ve burnt me to a crisp with Firebolt. You would''ve ripped out Alvar''s heart. You would''ve snapped Aala''s neck while the two of you were alone together and run away in the night." He kicks your body and you roll over, your mouth wide open on the dirt of the gardens as you bleed and cough and splutter and cry. He tosses your quarterstaff at you. It lands on your back, and it hurts. "Stay at this school. Grind to level 5. Go on an adventure with Aala and Alvar. Get killed in battle by some orc chieftain. But never,ever try to exceed again unless you''re willing to burn down everything and everyone for the power and glory of Heroism. I''ll be there to break you down again every time." You grimace as you try to pull yourself up with your staff. Donovan knocks it out from underneath you. "Don''t..." you croak weakly. "Hm? Don''t what? You want me to stop bullying you? You gonna go cry for your mummy or daddy? Tell on a teacher?" "Don''t hurt Aala..." "Oh.Oh. I see. Well then, I won''t hurt her at all." He grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to face his eyes. They''ve gone from having a cruel glint to just being... cruel. "On one condition."
You''re standing in the school library entranceway. The fireplace has been put out and the place is completely dark, save for a few beams of moonlight streaming through its windows. The bookshelves bask in its silvery glow and the books seem ethereal, displaying the power of the knowledge within them. Tonight, the library is looking the most beautiful you''ve ever seen it. You''re crying at the sight of it. You hear hurried footsteps behind you. You wipe your tears and turn and see Donovan and Aala behind you. Aala is in her bedclothes, holding a flickering candle in one hand and her war-mallet in the other. Her eyes are wide with shock and despair as she stares at you. Donovan is still wounded. His eyes are cruel. So, so cruel. "Hale," Aala says shakily. "Please. Don''t do this." You say nothing. You can''t say anything. "Why? Why would you hurt Donovan? Why would you..." she swallows hard. "Want to do this?" You remain silent. "ANSWER ME!" She screams. "I DESERVE AN ANSWER!" You can''t deny that, so you silently shake your head. She takes a step back. "You... you''re not going to tell me? You won''t tell me?" You remain silent. She turns away from you. "Fine. I guess I have no choice." She raises the war-mallet. You see Donovan crack a smile as she brings it down, screaming incantations and - You feel almost all the pain vanish from you. You look down at your body - all your wounds are gone. You turn to her in shock. "Don''t give me that look, idiot." She smiles with tears welling up in her eyes. "You''re pretty smart. I know you wouldn''t do this without a good reason, even if you won''t tell me. I - " her voice breaks. "I trust you, Hale. No matter what you do. And of course, a cleric can''t leave her friends wounded, can she?" You smile in acknowledgement of her. Your soul is silently burning deep within you. It''s burning with torment and sadness and joy and pain all at once. You think of Aala as you take a deep breath and raise your quarterstaff. The library truly is beautiful tonight. "Immolate." A book bursts into flame. It travels along and down and between bookshelves, spreading between them. The heat of the fire makes you sweat. All you hear is the crackle of flames and - - is that a girl screaming? It stops as quickly as you hear it, and you decide you''re going a little mad. Eventually, after a few minutes of burning, all that remains of the library is an empty hall and piles of ash. The smell of it makes your eyes water. V - Wolfs Head You grimace as you try to pull yourself up with your staff. Donovan knocks it out from underneath you. "Don''t..." you croak weakly. "Hm? Don''t what? You want me to stop bullying you? You gonna go cry for your mummy or daddy? Tell on a teacher?" "Don''t hurt Aala..." "Oh.Oh. I see. Well then, I won''t hurt her at all." He grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to face his eyes. They''ve gone from having a cruel glint to just being... cruel. "On one condition. Burn the library down." Your eyes widen in shock. His grin widens. "Oooh, is that a little too scary for you? Why don''t you have Aala next to you while you do it so you don''t piss yourself?" "No... please - " He punches you in the face. "Didn''t ask for your opinion, did I? Shut up. I''ll play the part of the hero who valiantly tried to stop you and wounded you badly, but you managed to drive me away and I went to get Aala to help me stop you. Then you''ll burn the library in front of her using immolate and run away from the school in the dead of night without saying a word to her or anyone else." His fist hurtles to your face once more and -
You wake up with a start, staring up at the light splitting through the dense canopy of leaves over you, the back of your head chafing as it rests against the rough bark of an exposed tree trunk. Your back itches, and as you get up tiny insects fall out of your robes - they''ve probably been biting at you all night. Every inch of your body aches. How long has it been since you got here? Two days? Three? They say you lose track of time when you stay in Rifan Forest for too long - living off the strange plants here slows down your soul and body and what would feel like ten minutes would stretch out into an hour. But that myth appears to be false - as long as you''ve been here, you''ve never noticed any plant which had such an effect on you. That''s not why you''ve been losing track of time. No, you just don''t even have the time to pay attention to sunrise and sunset anymore. Every second you''ve been awake you''ve been fighting to survive. Hiding from rainfall in the hollows of giant trees before being chased out by woodworm infestations, testing berries for poison by rubbing the juice on your arms and hoping you don''t get a rash, eating maggots and sleeping in the dirt - it''s all been an exhausting string of humiliating and painful events, one after another. Story of your life, isn''t it? You take your backpack off (you slept with it on; you didn''t want to risk it getting damaged, stolen or lost) and take out your spellbook, flicking through the pages idly. You honestly don''t even think you''re going to bother preparing any different spells:Expeditious Retreat,Unseen Servant andFalse Lifehave all been enough in the time you''ve been here. You don''t need anything else at the moment. But you sure as hellwantto get out of here. Burning down the school library meant you burned down Freeman property and burning down Freeman property meant you''d committed a crime worthy of the highest punishment: outlawry. Now anyone could do with you as they wished. They can shoot you, hang you, enslave you - it doesn''t matter. The law will not defend you. No-one will defend you. You''ve become something like a common wolf who can be struck down by anyone and nobody will care. So you hid in this forest away from society, living like a wolf -Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Wolves are strong, Hale. They''re powerful and kill without hesitation. You''re not really a wolf. You''re a - You can''t spend time listening to the voice right now. You need to get breakfast. You chuck your spellbook back into your backpack and put it on, before digging away at the soft soil beneath you with your long, dirty fingernails, eventually revealing a long, dark wooden pole - your quarterstaff, hidden away safely. You take it out and brush it off before using it to pull yourself up. There was yet another day of work to be done. You clumsily stumble between the dense network of trees, your boots and your staff shifting and slipping against the uneven and loose ground as you search for some berry bushes. Your eyes are peeled for a certain kind of bush you found yesterday - thorny with bitter purple fruits, but surprisingly filling. Every now and again, you mark trees you pass by with a small dent into their bark using your quarterstaff so you can find you way around, but eventually, the sunlight begins to fade away and the forest gets too dark for you to even see through. You''ve gone quite deep and not found any food. You decide to head back and - You hear the clanking of metal nearby. The voices of two men, loud and careless. They''re approaching you. You see them - they''re both clad tip to toe ridiculously shiny steel armour that glint painfully in what little sunlight comes through. Paladins. Oath of Liberty Paladins. You recognise the stubbled face of Rodrick, the one who threw those goblins into that pit on that fateful day. The other one is a short, unimpressive man with a pale and bony face. You hide behind a nearby rock as best you can, facing the dark part of the forest. "Axel, I will hear no more of this," Rodrick says flatly. "We must find these wolves, no matter what. It is our duty!" The other man, apparently named Axel, groans in annoyance. "All I''m sayin'' is that we two level 6 paladins shouldn''t be out there huntin'' 50 EXP animals. I mean, come on! We''re some of the best in the order! Why''d you sign us up for the worst quest?" You recoil at the sound of his voice - it''s nasally and extremely irritating. "Because with great power comes the requirement for great virtue." "Great virtue? Bitch, we''re huntin'' wolves in Rifan forest, nobody''s thanking us! Didn''t someone get outlawed recently?" "You mean Hale Reeves? The wizard?" Your pulse quickens at the mention of your name. "Yeah, that guy! We''d be doin'' everyone a service by - " "Axel, he''seighteen. A level 2 wizard at that. What could you possibly gain from killing someone so weak?" "...300 EXP?" Rodrick groans in annoyance, while you cringe at the feeble attempt at humour. But you''re also put on your guard - it appears that your outlawry has quickly become common knowledge, at least among the paladins. You can''t risk being caught byanyone and you really should get out of this forest as quickly as you - A crossbow bolt whizzes out from the dark, soaring over you and hitting a tree behind Axel, who stares back at it in shock. Rodrick sees it and quickly draws his blade from the scabbard at his hip. Axel quickly and clumsily follows suit. "Foul assailant, show yourself!" Out of the darkness steps a slim and tall man covered in full steel plate with a crossbow in hand and although his face is covered by a visor, you instantly recognise him by the shape of his armour and the way he clunks with every step he takes. There''s no doubting it, and yet it can''t be true. This man is Alvar. And he''s standing right over you. He hasn''t even seen you yet. Rodrick lowers his sword in confusion. "You... aren''t you the leader of that party of youngsters I gave the EXP for beating up some goblins to?" "Yes!" Alvar calls back. "Er, well, I wouldn''t really consider myself a leader, per se, but I was the fighter of that party, indeed." "What are you doing, attacking Paladins of the Oath of Wisdom?" Rodrick demands. "I''m sorry, but Rifan Forest is private property. You can''t be here." "What? No, it isn''t!" "Yes it is, I bought it." "You did no such thing!" "I have the deed with me if you wish to see it." "Yes, I would very much like to - " Rodrick is cut off as Axel punches him in the shoulder. "No, that won''t be necessary, sir. We''ll leave these forests immediately," he says as he glares at Rodrick. Rodrick stares back at him, before sighing in defeat and sheathing his sword. "Very well. We''ll take your word for it. Goodbye." He and Axel turn around before trudging away, weaving between trees before disappearing from sight entirely. Meanwhile, you''re practically shaking in terror underneath this bloody rock with this oblivious idiot standing over - He looks down, seeing you, and tilts his head. "Hale? What''re you doing here?" VI - Deceit You stare up at the hulking man in steel armour, with his face hidden from you under his helmet''s visor that glints in the darkness as he looks down at you with his head tilted in confusion. He''s still gripping the crossbow and a quiver of wickedly sharp bolts is hanging from one side of his belt while his longsword''s sheath hangs from the other side. They look... painful. "Well?" His voice rumbles from under his helmet. "Aren''t you going to answer me? Why are you here?" His words make you flinch. "Oh, um..." Wait. Why is he asking you whyyou''re here? Isn''t it obvious you''re hiding from the possibility of being killed like the snivelling coward you are? What''she doing here? You pull yourself to your full height with your quarterstaff, looking him in the eye-slits of his visor. "I should be asking you that question, Alvar." He lowers his crossbow. "Didn''t you overhear that conversation I had with those paladins? I own this forest now." You scoff. "I find that quite hard to believe." "The paladins didn''t!" "The paladins realised they had better things to do than contend with some freak in armour claiming he bought a worthless forest so they could kill a few wolves. They didn''t believe you either." "Freak - ?" Alvar takes a step back from you and puts his free hand on his hip, looking truly ridiculous as he does so. "I am nota freak! And I don''t remember you being so rude - " "I don''t remember you being so rich," you growl as you step forward. "And I think I''m allowed to be a little ruder now that I can be killed on sight. Now tell me what you''re doing here or I''ll - " "What, you''ll burn all my books?" You take a step back, surprised by the quip, but you feel the rock you were previously hiding behind hit the back of your shoe and you lose balance - you yelp as you trip back over it and hit the dirt with a thud. Alvar starts laughing heartily and you grimace as you pull yourself back up. "Oh, you''re simply not in your prime!" He wheezes. "Hiding out here in outlawry has made you an unwise fool!" "Yeah, well apparently buying a forest has turned you into a smartass," you shoot back. "Just tell me what you''re really doing here." "Well, I''m not lying when I say I bought this forest. Here," he says as he takes a folded piece of paper out of his armour, "I have the deed." He unfolds it and waves it at you - sure enough, it''s a declaration from the Crown granting Alvar Glengness full ownership of Rifan forest, signed by him and with the red wax seal of the Winged Lion of the House of Scoparius - it seems official and completely authentic, much to your surprise. But that just raises even more questions. You narrow your eyes at him. "Well, what are you doing with the forest? And how''d you buy it?" He folds the deed back up and puts it away. "I''ve gotten something of a hefty inheritance from a rich relative of mine. As to why I bought it - EXP! I can grind up the dryads that live in the deeper parts quite easily." "Easily? Dryads are extremely dangerous creatures for low-level adventurers such as yourself." "Nothing a small fire can''t fix! Burn a dryad''s tree down and they go mad, don''t they?" "Do you know how fire-resistant a live tree is? You''d need more than just a small fire to burnone down, let alone multiple. And you can''t make those fires easily." Alvar suddenly goes very still, like a steel statue basking in the shadow of the forest canopy. "Mm... indeed... I can''t make those fires." He slowly raises his crossbow back up, loading it as he does so, with the bolt''s gleaming tip pointed straight at you. You feel yourself begin to sweat in dread as you stare it down. "But you can, wizard outlaw. Burn them down for me, or I shall end you here." You did not expect this. You had always thought of Alvar as just another bug for you to crush on your way to glory and power. You never expected that bug to have much in the way of bite, and yet here it is, pointing a weapon right at you. But that doesn''t matter right now. You need to figure a way out of this situation. You consider fighting him head-on for a second, but quickly dismiss the idea - you have no combat spells prepared while Alvar is strapped with ranged and melee weapons. Running away might be a good idea - - it suits you well, coward - - but Alvar''s crossbow is trained on you right now and if you tried to run he''d instantly fire it. The same issue comes with usingExpeditious Retreat - the moment you mutter the incantation he''ll put a bolt through you and you''d lose concentration, ending the spell. False Life could buy you a little time but not much - the extra bit of hardiness it grants you would let you survive one extra crossbow bolt at most. The only other spell you have is -This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. - wait. That''s it. You grin at Alvar, raise your quarterstaff and mutter the incantation forUnseen Servant,gritting your teeth as he fires the bolt and it tears through your arm''s flesh. You sense an invisible presence flood the area between you and Alvar as he reaches for another bolt from his quiver, oblivious to your spell, and you telepathically give your new servant orders. Before he''s managed to grab the next bolt, Alvar''s belt falls to the ground, unbuckled by your servant, along with his quiver and the sword attached to it. Panicking, he grabs the belt and fumbles with it as you run into the deep end of the forest. He swings at you with his fist as you run past him and although it smarts as it makes contact you don''t let it slow you down as you go delve deeper and deeper, the sunlight fading away under the increasingly dense canopy, castingExpeditious Retreatas you do so and feeling power flow into your legs as you run faster and faster, the servant disappearing into nothingness as you move out of its range - - your back strings as a bolt pierces through it, but you cast False Life and the pain fades away - - you castDetect Magic and your eyes begin to vibrate as you dart between the darkening silhouettes of tree trunks, until you finally see one glowing faintly with green magical energy - the tree of a dryad. You can''t hear Alvar''s footsteps anymore - you must have lost him. You heft your quarterstaff in the air and cast the cantrip - Firebolt. You hurl a ball of flame at the tree and it bursts upon as it makes contact, the fire quickly spreading across the bark with ferocity as it consumes it rapidly. This kind of fire couldn''t be replicated by a tinderbox. It was more than enough to burn down any live tree. You''d be damned if you let some idiot fighter take the dryads'' EXP from you. You''re not going to let anyone take anything from you ever again and you meant it this time - not your father, not Donovan, not Alvar - you''re going to take as much EXP as you needed to become a Hero and a mortal god, regardless of your outlaw status, and you would burn down anyone and anything that came in your way of achieving that, so that you''d never,ever have to feel that humiliation again, and you''d prove them all - You hear a scream. Someone staggers from the burning tree, their body totally engulfed in flame. Within it you can see the ashen form of what might''ve once been a diminutive young woman. The dryad. She screams desperately claws at her skin, trying to put the fire out, but they continue to sear away at her flesh without respite. Your skin crawls and your body goes stiff at the sight of it. She reaches her shaking hand out at you in terrible desperation as she collapses to her knees. She''s begging you to put the flames out. You begin to take off your bag - Don''t even bother. Don''t you want to be strong? Let her go mad, then kill her. She''s probably just using herFey Charm on you to trick you into helping her. - but decide against it. Instead, you just stare as she screams and the tree is slowly but surely reduced to nothing more than a pile of smouldering ashes. The flames run out of fuel and disappear, both on the dryad and what''s left of the tree. She''s nothing more than a dried-out husk of pale skin and bones, curled up on the ground and wheezing terribly as she tries to scream, her mouth wide open and frothing. But the worst thing about it was that her eyes were still that of a beautiful dryad, and they were filling with tears. She could no longer speak, you were sure of it, but those eyes were begging you for an answer to a simple question. Why? Why are you doing all this? Why did you destroy her? Why did you kill those goblins? Why did you attack Donovan? Why are you hurting so many people? So that you''ll be strong enough to never be hurt again. Ever since you were little, you''ve justified every fucked-up thing you''ve done with that one little argument. You beat that kid up so that he''d be too afraid to steal your toys. You stole those spell scrolls from your roommate so that he''d never be able to use them against you. And now you''ve destroyed this dryad''s mind and body so you could mince up her soul into EXP so you''ll never meet the same fate as her. Even if it doesn''t make your actions right, it makes them have some purpose - you do awful things to protect yourself. You''re not hurting all these people in vain. But as you stare at this living corpse of a dryad you created, you can''t help but wonder why you believe that. The voice of the goblin shaman echoes through your mind. Our god has forsaken us. Yours will too. You hear the trudging of Alvar''s iron boots, at first a whisper in the distance, slowly get louder and louder. Eventually, he stops - he''s right behind you. You don''t turn back to face him. Or rather, you can''t. You can''t stop staring at the dryad. At what you''ve done in the name of protecting yourself. You hear a metallic click. It sounds like Alvar''s loading a bolt into his crossbow. "Easy now. Step away from the dryad," he says, "and I won''t strike you down right here and now." You can''t help but smile at that comment. ''Strike you down''? Who even talks like that anymore? A strange thought crosses your mind. You decide to pursue it. "Alvar," you say in monotone as you turn to see him, "why do you hide your face?" He shifts uncomfortably in his armour and his aim on his crossbow wavers. "That doesn''t matter right now. Just let me get the dryad''s EXP and we can all - " "It does matter. You''ve always been rather strange, haven''t you?" He takes a step back, lowering his weapon. "Where is this coming from?" "Your manner of speech is old-fashioned. You search for gold on quests, despite having plenty to spare. You claim to have rich relatives and yet you go to a Freeman school instead of some fancy rich-kid academy." "I - you - no - so what?! That doesn''t prove anything!" "I never said there was anything to be proven." You narrow your eyes and approach him. "But apparently there is." You knock the crossbow out of his hand easily with a strike from your staff. He doesn''t resist. He can''t. He''s paralysed in fear. You lift the helmet off of his head. You silently celebrate to yourself; your hunch was right. Alvar has an elegant, sharp-chinned face, without so much of a hint of a beard or stubble. His black hair is long, wavy and smooth, and he has perfectly shaped eyebrows that arch over deep, sea-blue eyes. But you don''t care about that. No, there''s something far more interesting here. His ears are long and pointed. He''s an elf. He stares at you in terror. You smile at him. He flinches and whimpers. "You''ve been trying to forget your own race, haven''t you? Considering you''re entirely willing to kill dryads, you''re an exile from the elven countries who decided to settle here. But your kind aren''t welcome in Logras - you''re just as much an outlaw here as you are one there. So to avoid persecution, you decided to blend into human society the best you could. You hid your face, began worshipping Thrones, joined an adventurer''s school, quested for riches, sold what you had for gold and bought land with it - you did everything you thought was human in an effort to be one. But you still managed to fail in your deceptions. And the worst thing is that you''ve even managed to fool yourself a little. I''ll tell you one thing, Alvar Glengness, and one thing only. "Your lies have broken down. The life you''ve desired with all your heart has slipped through your fingers and become dust. Despair, fool. Your toils and crimes have been for nought but shame and pain."