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
Whispers of the Future
"Impossible," Soltair cried, angrily jumping to his feet. "No one could have survived that spell. Even with all three of our combined abilities and buffs, we still almost died. Levin tanked the majority of it, but his wounds didn't even recover all the way. There's nothing left of High Valley, or any slave that once lived there."
Victor waited for him to finish, his voice rising in irritation. "That's not strictly true. We found an old church preserved perfectly from the spell. The priest inside wouldn't share much, even with encouragement, but what little we learned indicates there was a red-haired demonkin present at the time of the blast."
"Hearsay and rumors," Soltair said stiffly.