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
Blood on the Blossoms
The ground exploded beneath Fable's massive claws as he lunged forward. He moved deceptively swift for so titanic a creature, a silver blur of muscle and rage. Before the Inquisitors could react, his jaws clamped around Leera, sinking his fangs into her torso. Her scream split the clearing, a sharp, ragged sound that sent shivers down my spine. With a shake of Fable's head, she was sent flying across the meadow, blood trailing in a crimson arc behind her.
"Leera!" one of the armored men cried, staggering back a step, his face pale.
The inquisitor kicked off the ground, leaping into the air behind Fable. He brought his sword down on the wolf's flank, and, in a shower of sparks, the blade skittered off the hardened spikes of silver fur. Fable whipped around, his massive tail slamming into the man's side with a sickening crack, knocking him to the ground.