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
One Weakness
The city of Liceria loomed before us, its towers piercing the dawn sky like weathered sentinels. The sun, cresting the eastern wall, painted the hills in long, somber shadows. The familiar hum of city life was absent, leaving only the distant rush of the river to fill the silence.
Bethiv halted the Last Light Company half a mile from the city walls. A low rumble of chants rose from the ranks, and hundreds of magic circles bloomed around our soldiers. Our army was divided into squads, each a tight-knit unit of a mage or two and a dozen soldiers. They received orders from their officers but operated with a degree of independence, a merit-based system honed during the company's monster-hunting days. It allowed for greater autonomy but was only truly practical when we held the advantage in power and skill.