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 Guild House
Adventurers approached us from all sides, creating a tight bubble around us. Fable growled menacingly, keeping them from getting too close, but the sudden circle of noise and light was overwhelming. My tail twitched anxiously as I rubbed my horn, the beginnings of headache groaning like a storm on the horizon.
"That's enough, everyone," Dyson said getting to his feet. "We've had a long night, and my companion is exhausted, so we'd appreciate some space. I'd love to tell you about our latest adventures, but that will be another time. We'll be around the city for a while, so please be patient."
As the noise quieted down, I peeked out around us, noting the crowd was filled with mainly young, bright-eyed adventurers. The older, gray-haired folk sat at their tables, calmly sipping ale or conversing in low tones. Some of them rolled their eyes at the excitable younger generation, and a few called their companions back from crowding us, shooting Dyson apologetic glances.