The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
The Church
The morning sun was bright and clear, breaking through the soft, billowy clouds and casting a golden glow upon the bustling streets of High Valley. Townsfolk drifted through the various markets and shops, talking, laughing, and haggling. Alone, I slipped through the thin crowds, keeping my hood low and avoiding conversation. Soltair and Trithe were back at the inn, taking advantage of the lazy morning to sleep in, but I couldn't afford that luxury. If I was to catch up with the other heroes, I needed all the practice I could get.
After almost a half hour of searching the town, I caved in and looked around for a guard. They patrolled the streets regularly, traveling in groups of four with a mounted captain. The bright flash of armor caught my attention, and I found a group taking a break at the mouth of an alley.
"Excuse me," I called, approaching, but not too close. I didn't want them to catch on to my identity, after all.