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
Wrath of the Ice Demon
The ground shook as powerful spells and magical techniques ripped through the battlefield. The Last Light Company stood firm against the endless onslaught of scions, filling the canyons with cascades of infernal blood. Their reserves had since joined the fray, reinforcing and supporting wherever the lines grew weak. Their bodies were sturdy and my spells guaranteed the lives of the mercenaries, but they were still subject to the mortal constraints of exhaustion and mental fatigue.
Captain Bethiv and his vice-captain, Jackal, had split their attention, one going to rally each canyon, leaving me alone atop the icy perch overlooking the battlefield. My gaze was locked onto the Dungeon Commander, who rested coiled up beside the crevasses in the ice, through which scions continued to stream.