“How did it end like this?”, Ciriodhul asked himself. “How could this happen? This is bad, very bad.”
A rather fragile man with long white hair bound to a ponytail wearing a long but still novice robe stumbled across the Romalian forum. He aimlessly threw his eyes from left to right as if he was searching the crowd for some kind of solution to his problem. His thoughts raced. Time was limited. By now he was used to being rejected, he was used to being mocked and he was used to being beaten by those he approached to maybe join their party. However, no one had ever gone this far. He tried to sort his thoughts by reliving the events that had just unfolded. It had all begun, when he had entered the tavern a few streets from here. He usually went there to offer his assistance to anyone that might need it. The same thing he had done this very morning as well. A group of three adventurers, a monk, a ranger and an assassin had been currently discussing a hunting mission they wanted to do, when he had begun scanning the room for anyone who might need a healer class. He had then approached them and asked the one single question he had uttered too many times the last months: “Excuse me, my fellow adventurers. I see that you lack a support class. May I be of assistance?”
“And you are?”, the assassin had responded in a harsh tone.
“ Frowin Leon-, I mean, Ciriodhul, a shaman. At your service.” He had made a small bow, while he had been saying these words, and had put on a humble smile after his tongue had slipped. He was still not used to using his character’s name.
“A roleplayer? Seriously? We are stuck in game for months now and you are roleplaying? And not only that. You are even messing your own roleplaying up?” For some reason, he had managed to anger the assassin immediately. The much stronger looking man had abruptly gotten up and had made a few steps into his direction, before he had been stopped by the ranger sitting in-between.
“Don’t be rude. He just offered us his assistance and service. We should take him seriously”, the ranger had said in a very condescending tone, smiling to his comrade, who had in return smiled back.
“You are right. We should take him seriously.” With those words the assassin had been let through by the ranger and had now been standing directly in front of him. “We are currently not looking for a healer class. But you could be of assistance in a different way. You see, due to this whole apocalypse stuff I have lost my girlfriend.”
“I am deeply sorry for your loss”, Ciriodhul had shoved in immediately trying to fight the assassin’s anger with more politeness. However, the assassin had completely ignored him: “And you see, now I have nobody at home doing the chores, cooking for me or sharing my bed. I sure could use someone like you, slave.”
“While I am unsure about the latter part of your request and would not name myself a slave, I am a housekeeper after all...”, he had responded in a slow and insecure manner, still trying to somehow join this group of people. Maybe they weren’t as bad as they seemed to be.
“I cannot believe, you pathetic insect of a roleplayer are even thinking about this. Don’t you understand what has happened? This is our life now, not some kind of masochistic wish fulfillment. You’re making me sick. If we were not in Romalia right now I would have already killed you on the spot.” It had been clear by now that this assassin would not cool off quickly. But since death didn’t seem to be much of a problem in this world, Ciriodhul had had a very bad idea: “I am sorry for making you angry. If my death would make you feel better, I gladly follow you out of the city.”
This had been the last straw for the assassin. He had let out a scream of frustration and had been about to draw his weapon when he suddenly hesitated.
“Why are you doing this?”, the assassin asked with held back anger in his voice.
“I already said that. I want to be of assistance. I want to help you. I just have to help people”, Ciriodhul had said in a last desperate attempt to ease the tension, but again he had only made the assassin even angrier. Additionally he had now given him an idea. The assassin had looked around the room as if he was searching something. Then he had stormed off to grab a lonely teenage girl at the other side of the taproom by her hair and had dragged her outside into a small back road. Ciriodhul and the group of his had wasted no time in following him.
“Do you see that pathetic man?”, the assassin had asked the girl while pointing into the general direction of the now completely confused shaman. “Because this man is not valuing his own damn life enough to come back at him by a simple fight, I will now force you to be my wife, NPC girl.”
“Stop that madness!”, Ciriodhul had begged him. “This is something between us. You cannot just punish this poor little lady in my place.”
“I knew it.”, the assassin had simply responded. “You value the life of an NPC more than your own.” He had smiled. “It seems I am teaching you a valuable lesson here. Oh, and I guess, I really have to thank you after all. In the end you made me realize how foolish I was to miss my girlfriend. This world is full of puppets walking in the streets which are just waiting to be used.” After that the group had gone around the next corner and had vanished in the streets of Romalia. Meanwhile Ciriodhul had been unable to make a decision, just standing in the back road waiting for something to happen.
Now he was stumbling across the Romalian forum. Many times he had tried to be of assistance here without much success. This time he was the one needing assistance. But did he even deserve help? No, but she did. The girl deserved it. She was completely innocent after all.
“Help me”, he whispered quitely. Then he mumbled it: “Help me.” The third time he pounded his staff on the ground and screamed in a weak and cracked voice: “Help me help her!”
Silence. A lot of eyes changed their direction directly to him. Then, after deciding that this white haired man was not much more than one of the adventurers, who could not handle the apocalypse, most of the distracted people resumed their previous activities.
Word count: 1,146
Total word count: 1,146
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Atlas Astaroth Notes: I sure hope, this can make for a good thread.