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
Viriden Banquet
Aristocrats and Soldiers stood as we entered, their thunderous applause ringing in my ears. Instinctively, I edged closer to Fyren, taking refuge behind his wide back. But as we walked to the Lord's table, I mustered my courage and forced myself to remain open and unguarded, leaving my slave crest and demonic features on full display. To my surprise, the cheers only seemed to increase, with several soldiers even whistling in appreciation of my beauty.
Growing red from the army's adoration, I walked faster, catching up to Soltair before Lord Griffon. The soldiers fell silent as the handsomely dressed Lord stood and extended a hand toward us.