I ran and ran and when I thought I couldn't

I ran some more

Life felt unfair all the time.

Ronald was dying…

My feelings on adventuring were beginning to come to a fork in the road.

Do the costs, the damages that come from, outweigh the rewards?

Then it hit me.

It literally, physically hit me.

Sending me spiraling into the ground

Whatever it was, rung deep.

Piercing any innate guards produced by my gear

As I glared up.

As I sent that tragic, ruthless glance.

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At what stood ahead and, turning to see…

All around, surrounding me in a ring of combat

A mob of bandits had found me.

They either had tracked me for a while, or I simply wandered into their aggression range.

Whatever the case may be, it mattered not.

All led to the same outcome.

I was here on the floor, dazed and stunned.

Overlooking a mob of bandits that reeked of power, but worst of all…

They had no reservations on killing, on death, on everything that came instinctively to them, as if programmed into their being.

Behind the first few lines, the scouts in their leather armor and shining green tipped daggers…

Was a man that looked the part of a bounty poster come to life.

Long brown hair, black eye patch, a set of armor that looked unique, as if part of a set.

The armor glistened in a dark onyx material, like spikes of black piercing the night.

He hummed with power.

A foe that would require a party to down.

A party that I did not have.

"Welcome to your death boy. For your sake, we will end it quickly and give you a man's burning."

Slithered a cold tongue, that told of his Northern accent.

Out from a sheath, the unique bandit leader produced a monstrous obsidian blade.

One that resonated with an evil unregulated power.

An aura afflicted me.

A mark of death hovered above my head.

Death is coming if you don't run away

The voice whispered as I began to control my breathing.

I was dazed.

I was hurt

I was not the man I needed to be.

Getting up, I produced every potion, every elixir, every herb, every drop with any semblance of a combat buff and downed it.

Energy invigorated my resolve.

Stats rose drastically.

Timers on a limited power were set.

Repercussions and consequences would come.

But damn it all.

Dam it all if I was to turn away ever again.

I would not turn back.

Producing a pair of dragonic daggers, ones that glowed a crimson red.

Reiglyn's Ravaging Claws….

My first set drop.

That now looked to be my final one as well.

I prepared for death.

Then, with feet of wind, I smiled and threw myself into my end.