"That is not dead which may eternal lie..."
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You know, spending tens of thousands of years floating around in the same one thousand cubic centimeter space really gives you time to think, time to reflect. It is in this time that I came to one undeniable truth: being a Regulator is the worst job in the Omniverse. Sure, I've got all of these divine powers and privileges, but what's the point if you just get locked up in a stupid box for thousands of years? "Keep order, keep the peace, don't mate with the mortals", I swear those assholes over at Divinity have some kind of ginormous stick up their collective ass. So what if I want to go out and have a little bit of fun? It's not like I actually procreated. Can you imagine what it would be like if there were a bunch of super-powered mini-mes running around? I can, and it seems to me that the mortals need some kind of all powerful leader if they ever want to stop murdering each other en masse. But I digress.
This all started some forty millennia ago. I had just unveiled my magnum opus, my crowning achievement. I had developed a system to reach out into the vast reaches of the Protected Realms and snatch up unwitting primitives for the sake of research. Amazing, right? Now not only did I have an exceedingly vast amount of potential test subjects (I consider myself a scientist, afterall), but it also confirmed my hypothesis that transporting mortal souls with arcane technology was possible! I had managed to gather some one hundred thousand hairless primates from some backwater planet a billion light years away before Divinity took notice and branded me Auldre, or traitor. Something about “upsetting the balance of power”. Oh well.
My current place of residence keeps me contained by draining my divine power and using it to power itself. It's quite the marvel of metaphysical engineering. I would praise its creator if it weren't for the fact that I was stuffed into this damned container. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that wasting energy on a fruitless cause, more specifically the cause of my emancipation, only brings frustration. After one hundred years of literally banging my head against the wall in the hope of miraculously freeing myself, I decided to simply wait until some curious treasure hunter decided my box was worth opening. So I spent the past millennia waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. As it sits, I can feel my very existence fading away. It would seem that I’ve nearly run out of divine power. While it is regrettable, I understand why Divinity would go to such measures to punish me like this. I mean, what if my technology unleashed something that even the Regulators couldn’t stop. Such is the price for progress. Oh well. I have not the time for such frivoulous thoughts. Who am I kidding? I have all the time I could possibly want. And for what?
I feel strangely at peace with my imminent demise. I’ve existed for countless eons and yet, I feel as though I’ve never really lived. If there is an afterlife, I hope that when I pass on, I will find peace.
However, I don’t quite believe that it's my time to pass on...
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Francis
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! The sound of eight gigantic arachnoid legs scraping and pounding against the red soil bored its way into Francis’ skull. He had only been outside for some twenty minutes when he got separated from the rest of his party. Fuck! The disturbingly fast creature snapped its serrated pedipalps emitting an eerie *clack*. A translucent message appeared in Francis’ field of vision.
{Scorpion King’s Intimidating Snap has partially paralyzed you! Duration: 20s}
“FUCK!” Francis screams as his movements became sluggish and his muscles refused to obey his commands. Turning around slowly, he could see that the oversized scorpion had caught up to him. The two of them disturbed the desert soil enough to create a small cloud of crimson dust. Two {Carrion Raptors} circled above, screeching at each other. It would seem that they were arguing over who would get to eat the {Scorpion King’s} leftovers. Examining his surroundings, Francis noted the presence of the large spined plants dubbed by his {Identify} skill as Cacta. If he weren’t running for his life, Francis would have stopped to appreciate the landscape around him, as it reminded him of his Arizona home.
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The hissing of the amber colored arthropod brought Francis out of his day dream. The creature was taunting him, telling Francis that the end was near. If he hadn’t skipped breakfast that morning, Francis was sure he’d had soiled himself by now. Think, Francis, think! He wasn’t a powerful {Cavalier} class like Michael, or a cunning {Ninja} like Cass. Instead of being given a proper damage dealing class like his two classmates and friends, Francis had been dubbed a {Warlock}, a mage who makes a contract with ethereal beings, who in turn supply the mage with magic. However, the only spirit-type being Francis had ever encountered was a {Lesser Water Elemental}. Sure, Francis could make a semi-formidable {Water Whip} with little to no mana expense, but what good will a level 3 spell do against a level 18 {Scorpion King}?
Come on Francis, you’re supposed to be smart! He was running out of options. The {Partial Paralysis} effect still had fifteen seconds left on the timer. The {Scorpion King} inched closer to his prize, snapping its claws in anticipation of a meal well deserved. Just when Francis thought he might actually die on this godforsaken world, a brilliant idea hit him like a sack of bricks.
In an effort to distract the {Scorpion King} for just a little while, Francis called out to his contracted spirit. This is my only chance! Francis, if you make it, you deserve a nice long break from this adventuring bullshit! Channeling the magic power to his face, Francis cast his one and only debuff spell, {Freezing Mist}. It wasn’t a water spell per se, but the {Lesser Water Elemental} still came with it. A cloud of white ice crystals shot out of the warlock’s mouth, impacting the left side of the {Scorpion King}. Ice gathered up on the legs of the arachnoid monster, preventing it from advancing any further. Seizing this opportunity, Francis immediatly did his best to hobble over to two cactas situated adjacent to each other, with a two and half foot gap between the spiny green monoliths.
Calling his magic to his hands, Francis began the casting process for {Water Whip}. It was the most expensive spell in his repertoire, and if his plan didn’t work, Francis would be shit out of luck. The spell itself remained in effect for forty-five seconds, making it nigh-unsuitable for one-on-one combat with, well anything, really. However, Francis had never been in any one-on-one situations.
Taking the newly formed {Water Whip} and tying it around a spike on the cacta on his left, Francis took the strangely leathery rope and did the same to the cacta on his right. What he was doing, was making a giant slingshot with water and two cactas. His target: the {Scorpion King}, which was situated approximately fifteen feet away from Francis and his makeshift siege weapon. The ice on the creature was melting. Fast.
Using a rock, Francis broke off three of the largest spikes he could find. They were smooth to the touch, and the tip of the cacta spike could easily puncture low quality armor. Alright Francis, it’s do or get fucking eaten! He readied the first cacta spike on his stationary slingshot. He could feel the water leaking out of the whip. He didn’t have much time left before the spell would dissipate. Pulling the whip back as far as he could without breaking it, Francis did his best to aim the spike at the {Scorpion King}. Here goes nothing. With a loud *thwap*, the spike launched off of the {Water Whip}... and landed completely off target, piercing into another unfortunate cacta. “Fuck!” The {Scorpion King} regained some of its movement and began to limp towards the warlock and his slingshot. Loading another spike onto the weapon, he again pulled it back and released, watching as the spike once again missed the {Scorpion King}. “GODDAMMIT!” He was panicking now. Shaking with fear, Francis loaded the last spike onto the nearly-gone {Water Whip}. This was his last chance. As if to add insult to injury, the {Scorpion King} was now completely free to move. In an almost unnatural display, the arachnoid reared up on its back four legs, hissing loudly, spittle flying from its mouth mandibles, as it moved with a frightening pace towards Francis. The warlock closed his eyes. He knew that death would soon be upon him. Cass..I’m so sorry.. Francis released his grip on the {Water Whip}, sending the final cacta spike soaring through the desert air as the {Water Whip} burst into a cloud of mist. Francis prepared himself for his death. However…
{Critical Hit! 300 damage done to Scorpion King!}
{Level 18 Scorpion King has been killed!}
{Awarded 175 EXP, Title: Bug Stomper, Scorpion King Stinger Staff}
“Huh?” Francis opened his eyes. Instead of being greeted by a gigantic scorpion chewing on his entrails, he saw the creature leaned up against the two cactas. The spike had found itself in the monster’s mouth. The tip of the spike poked out of the creature’s back. Streams of dark green liquid poured out of the {Scorpion King’s} mouth, creating a green puddle on the desert sand. “Well I’ll be damned.” Francis did not feel particularly happy about his victory. All he cared about was the fact that he was alive, and relatively unscathed. At least until..
“Serves you right you nasty son of a bit-” Before Francis could finish shouting obscenities at the deceased {Scorpion King}, the ground itself opened up, swallowing the cactas, the dead {Scorpion King}, and of course Francis. “AHHHH-!” His screams fell short as his body met the floor of the sinkhole. Luckily, he lost consciousness before he could hear his left leg snap.