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Death Before Dishonor

Death Before Dishonor

  Have you ever run away from a bunch of presumably crazed murderers? No? Well, I have, and I have to say, the second time around isn't any better than the first. It isn't made any better by  having a companion strangely. Companions are generally a liability in most rpg's. Ever play a game where the companion keeps getting in the way, or they just downright do something stupid like get you killed? That's pretty much Sir Walter.

  As I sneak through the underbrush I decide it's time to take stock of my situation. Fear of life? Check. Out of breath? Check. Still feeling like wrinkled dogshit left out in the sun for a bit too long? Check again. I think Status and the old familiar window pops up.  

Name: Justin Brown

Level: 5

Experience: 1500/1603.125

Age: 18

Hp: 95/100

Mp: 415

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Att: 5

Buff/Degen: Headache, Bruised

Str: 10

Per: 10

End: 11 (+1)

Cha: 10

Agi: 30

Luck: 10

Res: 6 (+1)

Abilities: Experience x5, Mana manipulation (487/1000), Mana Crystallization (550/1000), Fire affinity (226/1000)

  Hmm, not much has changed really. Good, everything checks out, time to move on. Though I should think about dropping some dead weight. I have quite a few hundred pounds of metal and muscle that I should drop off at the local firestation. He likes to go by the name of Sir Walter, but I affectionately call him prince charming, well, only to myself.

  As I wrack my brain trying to figure out how to get rid of Sir Walter, we hear a bit of scuffle in the distance. My first instinct is to crouch down and play dead. Walter has other ideas. CHARGE, he screams. He immediately rushes headlong towards the sound without thinking of the danger. I'd like to say that I made a hasty retreat. I'd love to say I got the fuck out of there and never looked back. I'd also like to say that I was prom king and have a fourteen inch penis. Sadly, none of these things are true.

  I followed Sir Walter at a break-neck pace. Blame it on his charisma, or the adrenaline, either way I wasn't myself. We soon found a few crossbowman, in position, looking in our direction, and looking quite ready for us. Have I mentioned how much I think companions are fucking stupid?