In my past life I eyed each turn with suspicion. I didn’t know what hid in the shadows, lurked in the gloom and peered at me from within the dark corners of each dungeon. I do now. In my past life I didn’t know my limits – we grouped together and ran into the unknown hordes, drunk on the previous victories to limp back out broken bodied. Crimson blood pouring over the moaning lips of comrades clinging to their friends shoulders. The dead flung over backs and warforges soulless vessels beyond repair dragging trails from the gates of our demise, hiding our defeat from others.
Sometimes we drank and boasted our deeds. Other times we sulked in our drinks. Such is the luck and draw of eager adventures looking for fame, glory and coins.
Now I know. The road. While things change; the kobold chief chattering in one dungeon replaced…
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