CI RPG!!! - Patryk's Story

[Prince Ricard]

Wow, you defeated Crash.
Congrats?

[Linds 269]

ahhh exciteddd that was a fun chap btw

[KeatonLabs]

I like the story.Its funny as hell and just great.

[cinnamonstyx]

alright so after this weekend i think i'll be able to get back to a relatively normal posting schedule.
one or twice a week at a lil over 1000 words a chapter.
i think i'll have another one tonight or sometime over the weekend i think, so yea!

also, thank you everyone for the continued kind words! i really appreciate it.


Chapter Cuatro

Spoiler:

We arrive at the tower. Fortunately for us, the path to the Wizard’s tower was full of signs and directions and maps. Literally, we didn’t have to go off the path once. For a supposedly sequestered, hidden, brooding dark tower to loom over the skyline, they honestly couldn’t have made the path any easier to traverse.

Unfortunately, the path was full of rats. Why rats? Why not rats? They were larger than the average rat, and if we all weren’t full armored and full of brand new tricks and methods of killing, they might even have been slightly threatening. Might. As it was, they literally took one slice of the sword or shot of the arrow before disappearing into oblivion. And they couldn’t even hit first as we always had priority of offense. Sadly, this ease was reflected in our lack of progress. After the initial training, not a single one of us had been able to level up. Though a traumatic experience to be sure, the surge of power assured our continued existence.

The tower was a large cylinder of moss and ivy infested bricks, poorly maintained and smelling of sulfur. Magic was in the air. We open the door and see nothing but darkness.

And then we stepped in and everything was bright. I saw the word ‘Loading’ above our heads for a moment as we stepped into the darkness, and as it disappeared, around us a massive tower interior surrounded us. Was this a part of his wizardy? I certainly hope not, because if so, we were in for true hell.

It was around this time, however, we realized we hadn’t had a drink in over three hours. So, before we traversed up the winding spiral of a stairwell to the wizard’s keep, we grabbed some chairs that happened to be lying around and took out our flasks.

“So, whatdya think of all ths?” I ask my companions, now holding the tin flask in hand. “Let’s pass this around and all give our first impressions.”

“That sounds stupid.” Harry chastises. I figure now is as good of a time as any to describe my travelling companions. I mean, it’s not like I won’t be writing about them this entire time, so the readers should get to know them, too.

Harry is a sarcastic and snippy man, with a well-defined sense of right and wrong, and heavy ideals on justice. He’s very bright and well meaning, and even before the crystals the most athletic of us. Harry is also the youngest, which Brandt resents due to his stature. He’s the sturdiest and most resilient of us, and also the only one us to ever actually hold a job, having been a town guard for a time before quitting and joining our slacker club. He’s also the designated lancer. To all of us. He’s the lancer, the only lancer in the world.

“You sound stupid.” my inner five year-old spouted back.

“I’m sick so of course I sound stupid, you jerk.” I think this tower was channeling the immaturity in us. Perhaps that was the wizard’s power.

Brandt spoke up, his usually calm and relaxed demeanor showing through radiantly. “Let’s just appreciate this moment of peace before we fight this wizard, yeah?”

We all nod in agreement, and continue to drink and make small banter.

Brandt is the heart of our group. The wisest and most even keeled of us, he’s pretty much like me if I ever got my neurotic ass together and also knew how to be nice. He’s the shortest and oldest of the bunch, and before the crystals the most successful, what with his bard work and existent sex life. He’s also the least confrontational, and the weakest physically in battle. He’s my most recent friend, but our platonic chemistry is undeniable. (BRANDT x PATRYK OTP FANFIC 2013.)

“Hey, do you guys think I could snipe the Wizard outside of combat before we got into the turn-based thing and we could just go back to drinking?” Retro muses, poking fun at the very mechanics of our world.

Retro, known only as Retro and nothing else except to his dearest friends, is the most street smart and savvy of our group, and by far the most hardcore. He’s always had an affinity towards the obscure, and especially so after the crystal, always had the most imposing presence of us. He’s also been one of my best friends since I was five when I saved his life from a witch-hunt as they persecuted him for unholy coolness. We don’t talk about that much these days.

“Naw. Not unless you could get, like, a critical hit.” I chuckle, laughing at the fact that critical hits only have a one-millionth of a chance of occurring at our current luck levels.

And then there is me. Patryk, the essentially de facto leader. I’m the second youngest and also the tallest, and the most powerful in attack stat of our band of merry men. I’m the most aggressive and confrontational, but compared to this flock of lambs, that actually just equates to I have a temper that most males my age do. I don’t really know how to describe myself, I’m kind of lanky and a bit awkward with one-on-one conversations, but able to articulate myself and speak publically. Basically I’m pretty normal. I guess I’m the leader because I’m the only one willing to yell at other people.

Luckily I don’t have to write about us any more because the wizard appears. God bless.

“What’re you doing in my fortress? My fortress for a team? With only two inhabitants, both named myself. ” The wizard states, floating and holding his staff high. “Are you here to steal my mods? NOOBS.” He shoots a fireball at us, propelling us to the wall. Except not, because then we suddenly stood up in our battle stances as per usual.

Our battle raged on for hours, with explosive fireballs and spectral hedgehogs attacking us left and right, with only our spells and swords and arrows to protect us. Fortunately, the Crash Wizard was not a difficult adversary. Our slashes and counter fireballs and piercing arrow strikes could not be resisted by his low constitution, and he collapsed on the ground in defeat soon enough. And by soon enough I mean like two hours later.

“NO THIS IS TOO SOON. MY GMOD COMIC WASN’T FINIS-” and then the crash wizard disappeared into oblivion for ever. Level ups for all abounded. A treasure chest appears in his wake, gilded in fine gold and carved from fine ebony wood.

“D-do we open it? Is it safe?” I ask, fidgeting with the lock on it a little bit. “C-c-can we open it?”

“Well, the wizard left a key on the ground when he died.” Retro says, picking up the key from the ash remains of our fallen adversary.

He places it into the lock, and turns it left, making a small click. He slowly opens the lid of the chest as we beckon him to be careful or to all together stop. Upon opening it, however, there was simply a dull interior, a handful of gold coins, and the MacGuffin we had been hunting for.

R appeared behind us. “Ah, lovely. I shall be taking this back. Good work, please continue to serve Scott always.” He snatches the MacGuffin, which was a fine bust of the king, from Retro’s hands, and then disappears as quickly as he came.

“God I feel accomplished.” Harry states, hands on his hips. A chandelier falls behind him, and none of us even bat an eye as it turns into an explosion. We’ve officially leveled up to movie level cool.

We left the tower one by one, and all reappeared in the over world of green grass textures and flaccid trees. We traveled quietly for a time, unsure of what to do with ourselves. But then I had a bad idea.

“We have eight more MacGuffins, yeah?”

“Yeah.” They agree in unison.

“Why not split up and each of us take two?”

“Because none of us are good enough on our own.” Harry states.

“We don’t need to go solo. Can’t we make our own teams?”

“How?” Brandt replies.

“I dunno, I guess we could probably just walk up to people and get them to use our crystals and then call it a day.” I shrug. Everyone else unenthusiastically nods their heads. “So, like, see ya later right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.

“See you, man.”

“Bye.”

And on that note, our own separate adventures had begun.

[mintdrop]

wow techno this is really great! I'm enjoying it a lot.
it sort of makes me sad I volunteered as an NPC *crey*
o well

[Starmy]

aldjfhadfac i enjoyed that as much as usual u wu excited for the future chapters!!! aaa

on another note have no fear i showed this to my friend ava and she said that the patryk x brandt fics are on the way
stay tuned

[Lamby]

@Starmy: Yes. I am pleased.

But more serious post, your humor is just top of the line, Pat. Proud to be collaborating with you.

[cinnamonstyx]

aldjfhadfac i enjoyed that as much as usual u wu excited for the future chapters!!! aaa

on another note have no fear i showed this to my friend ava and she said that the patryk x brandt fics are on the way
stay tuned

i like you and your friend ava
ask her if she has demons

[cinnamonstyx]

i maybe went overboard but there you go.


Chapter Pentagram

Spoiler:

Where do I begin? How do I begin?

What am I beginning?

I’m having trouble remembering exactly how it all ended up like this, what with my head about to go under a guillotine and my friends nowhere to be seen. Mortal fright tends to screw up your thought process. I do remember not having written much lately. I think that has something to do with why I’m here.

I’m in a jail cell. They’ve provided me with enough sheets of paper to write a substantially interesting manifesto, or some last words, or to wipe my buttocks with. These poorly cut sheets of papyrus are no doubt more comfortable than whatever else they have here. I’m really not sure why they bothered giving me this paper at all, but hey, I’m not one to complain at the sight of a small comfort. Small, uncomfortably jagged, unevenly cut comforts.

It’s been some time without my stalwarts. I’ve gotten over it. Who needs a bunch of chumps like them anyway? They were holding me back. I reflect on their uselessness and my supremacy as I’m sobbing into my afternoon pint, choking down a poorly prepared sandwich in between bursts of hysteria. They couldn’t even be bothered to treat me with actual food. This sandwich has nothing on it except bologna. And I don’t even know what bologna is. The beer tastes like piss, but then again it always does, so I’m not worried about that. It’s just this sandwich.

I’ve got some idea as to what’s happening. Like I’m about to die. And that my meal sucks. And then there’s the whole I’m about to die thing again. I’m about to die without friends, and I never had a family so I guess they’re not showing up for the funeral either. Also my head hurts. Like really bad. I think it’s bleeding a little, even.

I think might’ve gotten myself a nice little concussion.

It’s ok. I know how to treat this. I’ve just got to bang my head against the wall for a little bit to jog the memories back.

“One, two, three, head smash!” I bang my head against the cold cobblestone walls of my cell, shaking my entire nervous system and rattling my brain.

“Why did I do that?” I cry to myself, screaming out in pain. Morgan lied to me.

Okay. Nope. That isn’t going to work. I sit down on my cot, and pick up my paper and the piece of charcoal they relegated for will writing purposes. “Maybe if I try my hardest to write from the beginning, it’ll come back to me.” Yeah, that makes sense. Totally not a cop out either.



It was only about a day after I left my initially companions that I had already established myself as a hero. My first stop was to visit Artwood, a city famous for its art scene. Sort of like a medieval Portland, whatever medieval Portland denotes.

The local bar here is known as Ka’s Place. I mean, what else would such a sleazy looking building be, right? Actually it isn’t sleazy at all. It’s a creamy-yellow color on the outside, two stories of painted wooden carpentry, with a red brick tiled roof. A furnace can be seen sticking out of the side of the kitchen, and windows that stretch across almost the entire wall reveal a busy little… place with lots of things that aren’t alcohol being served. I’m almost afraid to enter.

But I do so. And boy, was it not a bar. It might’ve been a tavern, but I couldn’t even smell a single pint; and my nose is sensitive to that stuff. Open seats are hard to come by, but eventually I find a small booth that isn’t infested by strange people I have no interest in.

I used to live in Artwood when I was a younger lad. I still have some friends in town. We’ve kept in touch through whatever methods we could, and I’m sure if I needed I could scavenge some help. That’s the reason I made this place my first stop: recruitment.

Unfortunately, I don’t recognize anyone in this tavern. Or whatever it is. It says ‘café’ on the menu, so I’m assuming it’s one of those. Whatever it is. A few waitresses in maid outfits wander around tables with mugs of hot drinks and pastries. A man stands behind a counter prepares colorful confections with apprentices at his sides. The smell of freshly baked chocolate desserts wafts through the air. I take a whiff. Still no alcohol. What kind of place is this?

As if the Gods of the Island knew and understood my woes, they gifted me with a chance encounter with an old friend.

“Hey, welcome to Ka’s place, can I take yo-“ She stops and looks at me. “Oh no.”

“Hiya Devy.” I smile, waving my hands like a dumbass. This is customary between us.

“Hey. What’s up?” She smiles back, putting her short-order docket away.

I shrug and lean back in my seat. “Not much. Saving the world. What about you?”

“Not much. Café maid and waitress, still working on those art studies.”

“Oh that’s coo.” I nod.

She raises a brow. “What do you mean saving the world?”

And so she sat down with me and we talked about how I was the world’s greatest hero (I actually mostly just called myself terrible and we had an in-depth analysis of how bad I was at my job). I finish my story, and we finish our cups of whatever this… liquid… is. I think it’s called coffee. “Wanna tag along?” I ask.

“He’ll yea- Oh wait. Nope, I can’t. I’ve got a job now. I can’t just quit. But, I think Twi is still free.”

“What’s she up to these days anyway?”

“Dragonslaying.” She tells me. I laugh a bit, thinking it a joke. She doesn’t, thinking it true. “No, legit, she kills dragons for their scales to make herself armor. Not mythical dragons or anything, idk, just small little things.”

“O-oh. Wow. I should, like, probably hit her up.”

“Yeah.” She takes out her quill and notepad again. “Do you have an order to make while you’re here?”

“What is ‘here’ anyway?”

She shakes her head, and walks away.

“Aww c’mon Dev. Dev? Dev? Dav? Daven? Devanagari? Devan? Hello? Aww, whatever. See ya later.”

“Bye.” She shouts back from across the bar.

And so, I decided to hit up my old friend Twizzly.

Twizzly, like Devan and everyone else in Artwood, was an artist. But she always had an affinity towards animals, and was even the occasional taxidermist and blacksmith. So, maybe her dragonslaying didn’t surprise me; it mostly just disappointed me. I needed a crystal to be able to do anything. She, on the other hand, was a talented dragon hunter of her own volition.

So, when I came up to her old home and was invited in like the old pal I was, I came in with all my guns out. I didn’t even ******** for a second. “Wanna come help me save the world?”

“You’re saving the world?”

“Yeah!”

“OH MAN. LET’S DO IT. LEMME GET MY THINGS.”

So, I wait on her couch, observing the paintings, mounting and sculptures that clutter the room. It’s cozy in that ‘I’m so scared’ sort of way. When she steps out of her bedroom, however, she’s adorned in the most impressive set of armor I’ve ever seen. The armor was fashioned out of the scales and horns off of a volcanic dragon that she had apparently slain. Its scaling shimmers in the sunlight, and a soft glow of the fiery soul of the dragon still residing within peaks its way through ever so slightly. Every once in awhile, it breathes out volcanic plumes of smoke, singing everything around it. The armor is dark as ash, and it glows the beauty that is fire. (Also, she told me how to describe it like this. I remembered.)

“What do you think?”

“I WANT.”

“Hearts.”

“Luv you gurl. Now let’s get going.”



Someone is banging at my jail cell. “Get up, trash. You’ve got a visitor.”

“Uh oh.”

R appears before my cell, behind the guard. He taps the guard’s shoulder, and suddenly he faints. “I heard you were about to die, so I decided to check on you.”

“Thanks. Do you know why I’m about to die? And are you here to help me?”

“That would be a resounding no to both inquiries. I apologize.”

“It’s coo. A hero’s gotta learn about stuff by himself, right?”

“Er. Yes. That is certainly one way to look at it. At the very least, your companions are doing marginally better. So the quest won’t fail.”

“Oh. Well, if you see them, tell them I said hi.”

“Say ‘hi’ to them yourself. I only give greetings.” And at that, he disappears, and the guard is suddenly awakened.

“Whud happened?”

“I dunno.”



Twizzly and I exit her house and return to the town map. “Do you know anyone else who might be willing to join the cause?” I ask, kicking my feet in the dirt

“Nah.” She flatly replies.

“Oh.”

“I’m hungry. I’ll be back later. You go find other peeps and then meet me at Ka’s place.” She says, heading back towards that pastel colored nightmare.

“Aight. Bye.”

She waves. “Byeeee.”

And so, I’m alone again. Fortunately, I think our reunion won’t go too badly.

I’m in the streets of the town. Bodegas and roadside stands of artwork, music and food line the avenue, and the well-treaded cobblestone path I follow is hardly a lonely one. Plebeian folk and affluent travelers alike wander these roads, perusing the various muses and amusements, taking in the sights as selfishly as possible. I smile. I forgot how pleasant Artwood was.

Along one of the houses a person dressed in all black presses a sticker against the wall. They’re dressed and equipped like a thief, but they’ve clearly got a much higher, more artistic purpose in their vandalism, and a magical aura permeates from their being. The only way to describe their presence would be to say they have ‘swag’.

And only one person I know has that much swag.

“PAAAAXTON.” I high five him, and we bump fists Adventure Time style. Whatever an ‘Adventure Time’ is.

“DUUUUDE. WHAT’S UP?”

“Nothing much bro. Just vandalizing everything with art. I do this in between shifts at the salon. What’s up with you?”

“Saving the world. Wanna come along?”

“Sounds pretty slots! Aight, I’m gonna run home and grab my gear, then I’ll meet you at Ka’s Place.”

“Why Ka’s place?”

“Why not?”

“THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER. I WANT LIQUOR.”

“Sux to be you. See ya dude.”

“Yeah, catch you later.”

Alone again but slowly amassing a cult following, I wander the streets a little more. I’m so excited. Recruiting people to follow you into hell and back has never been this easy for anyone, I’m sure of it. Don’t people usually have to do something for them? And all I’m doing is just wandering town and telling people that I’m saving the world. This is so convenient. Why doesn’t everyone do this?

As I ponder my convenience, I bump into yet another friend. I swear it’s like the gods developed this city to be as economical for my journey as possible. My friend Maple is around the corner, dancing in the streets. He’s dressed in rainbow colored garbs, moving to something that sounds like aliens stole a bunch of pianos and turned drums into a machine. Is this what people here listen to?

“Hey, Maple! Dude, what’s been up?”

“Hey! Nothing much, just dancing!” Oh boy is he. I’m almost mesmerized by his movements. “What’s with you Patty?”

I shrug. I think my charisma has been raised to its cap at this point. “Saving the world, rounding up peeps to die for me and stuff. Wanna tag along?”

“Ah. Aw, well, I’d love to come along, but I don’t know how good I’ll be in a fight.”

I eye a woman with pink hair walking by. “Hey, dancers can be invaluable.”

“Okay haha. I’ll meet you-“

“Ka’s Place.”

“Yep. Bye boo.”

“Bye dude. See ya’ in a bit.”



How the hell did I get to this point? I mean, I have a golden team at this point in my memory. And yet, I’m in a stony, cold, rather unsanitary smelling prison cell, about to be brought to my death. Where did it all go wrong? Better yet, where are these newfound companions of mine?

I try my hardest to remember more, but my brain aches. My head starts bleeding more. I press my hand against it, and find my hand coated in half dried blood. I raise it to my nose and smell the iron. I gag a little. A faint light peaks through the iron bars guarding my claustrophobia-inspiring window.

There’s a small mirror on the wall above the washbasin. I splash some water over my face. My eyes are the color of rubies; my skin is covered in ash as if I were some vaudevillian horror show; my hair is singed from the top. I hack up some blood into the palm of my hand. What had I even been through?

And then it hit me.



A small time after my meeting with Maple, I find myself wandering around the city. I’ve always been a poor soul, with hardly a copper to my name. After uninstalling the Crash Wizard from power, however, I found myself with some coin to spend. True gold pieces finally mine. Almost enough to finally purchase an actual weapon.

My blade is of the rusty iron persuasion, and being the only part of my appearance that I can alter, it matters that I get a better one. Regardless of what the clothes I put on in the morning, I always end up back in these leather and linen castoffs. Use the crystal, they said. You’ll be hot, they said. Girls will like you, they said. (They, of course, referring to R.)

The scenery of the town isn’t much, basically just consisting of several hamlets that grew into one another. But the life is vibrant, and the aura calm.

As I mused on the serenity of it all, a smoke stack rose in the distance. Of course, fate and the like decided ‘nope haha **** Patryk’. Being the hero that I am, however, I rush to the sight of the fire.

The sky turns dark. I guess it turns into night whenever something dramatic happens around these parts. Nearly tripping over myself in a sprint, I approach the black plume and fiery remains of a building. A rather large sign topples over the charred remains of a restaurant, and the burnt out wooden logo reads ‘Ka’s Place’.

“Oh come on…” I shake my head.

This was just my luck.

[Dr. Roivas]

you were right i do feel less angry

but still pretty miffed

[Lamby]

I love that present-past hopping. Makes you itch to see what happened to get Pat where he is.

[cinnamonstyx]

My name is Cliff Hangar
I make ambiguous chapters and don't afraid of anything.

[Linds 269]

I love that present-past hopping. Makes you itch to see what happened to get Pat where he is.

Basically this. Pretty neat.

[cinnamonstyx]

Chapter 666

“Oh- Oh come on! This is ridiculous! Who the hell burns down a coffeehouse? They’re not even important!” I scream to the sky, throwing my fists around. “WHY?”

“Jeez, calm down.” Dev tells me, coming from behind.

“Th- the whole building is gone! It’s up in smoke! What happened?” I hack up some black saliva. Ashen particles float through the air, and the even the simple inhale of such is painful. My teeth look blacker than usual just from the burning remains of an eatery floating through the air.

“Some bandits came by and burned the place to the ground. No idea why it happens, but it’s happened a couple times now. They just come through the town, take all of our food and burn the place to the ground. If we’re lucky we keep our chastity and lives.” Ka states rather flatly, shrugging a bit. He walks up to us from behind, wiping away a single tear from his eyes. “It’s been awhile, though, so I thought maybe I could get away with a nice restaurant this time. I guess not.” He frowns, and turns away from us. Dev comforts him with a pat on the back, and my companions, who were all apparently unharmed, surround me.

“Why doesn’t anybody do anything about this? They’re just frickin’, pardon my French, coming in and destroying everything and you don’t even fight back!” I exclaim, gesticulating and flailing my hands all over the place, demonstrating my frustration. Where articulation fails body language soars.

They all shrug. “We’re just civilians, we don’t fight back. We have no playful character to fight back with.” Dev states flatly, betraying her usual personality for a second for the sake of meta-discussion.

“That’s just silly! You’re happy with this life?”

They all sort of passive shake their heads no, but nobody really does anything.

I stroke my absence of a beard introspectively, and hold the hilt of my blade. This was quite the predicament I was faced with here. Here we have repeatedly abused victims of bandit violence, refusing to fight back because their ‘programming’ destines them not to. Despicable. Garnering all of my articulation and verbosity, I utter the most encouraging thing ever conceived. “Daaaaang. Aight, aight. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna kill those bandits, and I’m gonna give you superpowers, and not in that order!”

“Shhhhh. It’s ok, Patty. Please stop.” Dev shushes me, putting her free hand onto my shoulder. I shrug her off and go back to making crazy images with my hands.

“No, no, really! This crystal right here gave me superpowers and it can give you superpowers too!” Suddenly, my inner infomercial came out. I caught myself and stopped speaking. This had gone too far. “I’m serious. We can do this. I need a team to save the world with and y’all are just the people for the job.”

Finally, one by one, they all start to nod with me. They passed the crystal around, and upon my instruction, they became heroes themselves. Their rags became armor, their possessions became weapons, and their instincts became golden. A team of champions surrounded me, and to call me proud would be the understatement of the century. I was hype.

Only Ka and Devan remained unturned.

Ka spoke up. “You can do whatever you want, I’m going home. It’s been too long of a day and I have ducks to tend to.” And thus, Ka was not a hero. That’s okay though, I barely knew who he was. I was much more concerned with mia amica, Dev.

“C’mon…”

“Let’s not.”

“C’mooooon….”

She sighs, and shakes her head. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with.” She grabs the crystal, and loses her maid outfit for the armor of a Valkyrie.

“Alright!” I pound my right fist into the palm of my left, and then raise my sword. “Let’s do this!”

“Wait. You do realize, there’s only five of us?” Twizzly speaks up, motioning to each of us with the tip of her spear.

“Y-yeah? And?”

“There’s like three-hundred bandits in that clan alone. Don’t you think we’re still a little outnumbered? El oh el…”

“O-oh. T-t-that many? Well, we’re heroes. We can take them. Maybe!” I say with a bunny hop, barely able to contain my mortal fright.

“Orrrr we could get more people.” Maple suggests.

“That’s also an excellent plan! Alright! Let’s go find more volunteers for world saving. Any suggestions on who before we leave?”

Dev is the first to speak. “Vic is probably free.”

“Radical.”

Paxi, in a moment of retrospection, tells me, “I think I saw Alex and Starmy up to no good. Not together, but I remember Alex still preaching that religion of his, and Starmy just looked bored.”

“Also rad, I like those two.”

Twizzly is the last to make a suggestion. “Fandral should be willing.”

“Oh rad. I think that’s enough!”

“But that’s only nine…” Maple speaks up, his dancers outfit completely at odds with his sheepishness.

“Welp, nine is better than five.” I give a halfhearted sigh. Even a sigh is too much energy for me to expend at this point. We’re going to die regardless of what happens, we might as well avoid any unnecessary casualties. Only the truly brave have to perish. “Anyway, would y’all mind going out of your way to contact them yourselves? I kind of need to take a break, I’ve been wandering around the city all day.”

“Yeah, sure.” They say in unison.

“Danke.”

My companions wander off to find more recruits, and I find myself alone again. I take this moment to recollect my self. My first real battle since I left my companions was at hand. A small army was now behind me, but in front a tidal wave of adversity. A ravenous band of marauders and cutthroats set against newly minted stalwarts of justice. When I write it like that it almost sounds interesting. But whom am I kidding; I was never as good as Brandt when it came to writing.

I was never really good at anything when compared to anyone else. I’m not untalented, simply a jack of the few trades I know and a novice of all else. I’m barely even successful at heroism. It’s been several days since our split, and as the others make their way through adventures unknown, I’ve been muddling around, shopping and chatting and eating; an excellent use of time, no doubt. Makes me wonder how I could inspire so many people to follow me into hell after just a three-minute pseudo-conversation.

To be fair, there’s a lot more to what I know about these people than simply three minutes in a conversations. I know these people near me well for the most part. Those I don’t know as well as others are in the uncomfortable position of me wanting to know them better.

The fire before my eyes dies down. Unsurprisingly, the thick black smog that had previously enveloped the entire city had dissipated along with the flames of demons. I wonder what demons I have of my own, and whether I’ll ever straighten them out. Reliance on alcohol is a no brainer, but why am I such an addict anyway? Why am I so doubting of my potential? Why do people like me? What am I writing for? What am I fighting for? Who am I fighting for?



Why am I in prison?

The question flashes before me again.

Of course, I know this story all to well. Against all odds, my companions and I slay the bandit kin, with myself taking the head of their chieftain. I can relay that story for sure.

But this clearly doesn’t explain my imprisonment.

I snap out of my trance. Memories in this cell are prisons of their own, clutching me and pulling me tight, refusing to let my mind wander further. Therapy has never hurt so badly. The wound on my head has largely healed, only dried blood and a scar to remind anyone of what has happened, and when I get enough water to wash myself off I might even look presentable. It has been a few hours since I have regained consciousness.

I rub my eyes and wipe the sleeping dust from them, and then yawn. This self-induced therapy, though emotionally trying, also involved me getting as much sleep as I could. Small comforts, I suppose.



My new team is assembled around the remains of Ka’s Place. We’re armed to the teeth with the most default looking weapons you might’ve ever seen. If there was a single metal involved beyond rusty iron and a single type of wood beyond driftwood in the craft of these arms I’d be shocked to the core. The very fabric of my being would be fundamentally in question. Blades are blades, however, and in the hands of an unseasoned soldier they’re worthless regardless of make.

Fandral, Alex, Starmy and Vic have joined us. We now suddenly have a much higher magical inclination on this team. That’s nice. I’m sure magic will save them from getting decapitated. Our band of heroes consists of the following:

• Patryk, Hero
  Alex, Blue Mage
  Fandral, Beastmaster
  Vic, Summoner
  Maple, Dancer
  Devan, Valkyrie
  Twizzly, Dragoon
  Starmy, Trickster
  Paxton, Red Mage

The crystal doesn’t lie. This is my team with which I am to save the world. I feel confident in the fact that if we ever get attacked by nine wizards most of us will not die and instead be taken captive. Strangely though, I don’t even care. My entire physical being is telling me that we’re going to take these bandits by storm. We’re going to kick buttocks and chew acacia gum, and there are no acacia trees within any walking distance.

So, naturally, the next thing I remember is all of us with our heads and hands between pillories, with a rather large man in a horned helmet screaming, “Tonight, we feast boys” to a crowd of middle-aged men with no sense of personal hygiene. Lovely.

I’m not exaggerating when I say this is literally the next thing I remember. The whole travel to the bandit camp is completely void from my memory. I suppose it’s because what immediately follows is so strikingly unusual.

“Sup.”

All heads turn and face the mysterious voice in the distance, and suddenly all the bandits clear a path for a wizard. He’s wearing glasses, but these glasses have shutters on them. Around his neck is the sort of necklace a clergyman would wear, but without any symbol for the gods, and the chains of pure gold. He’s got false teeth, clearly made by the greatest goldsmith and dentist in the land, and his hair is all the colors of the rainbow enveloped in a ball, constantly changing between each shade of every color. His pants are the shape of bells at the bottom, and he walks around shirtless, his body reminiscent of the types of models they make statues out of. I feel as if for the first time in life I’ve seen religion.

He approaches me with the grin of a demon, or perhaps an angel, and tells me “You know, you don’t have to die in a turn based fashion. You can fight back right now. We have the technology now.”

“What are these words that you are saying, oh Great One?” We all say in unison. We, of course, referring to my companions and myself, not to mention all of the bandits.

“We’ve changed the lands themselves. You may now fight in real time. Like real men. And women.”

“Thank you, Oh Mighty and Magnificent Lord of Funkiness.”

Thunder cracks and lightning flashes, and I hear Fusion’s voice once more. “Funky G get yourself back here now before I permanently ban you from life.”

“Welp, that’s my queue. Bye kids.”

Suddenly, the wooden bindings around our bodies are gone, and the psychological hold the wizard’s presence had over us is gone.

“What just happened?” One of the bandits yelled from the crowd, all of us standing in shock, awe, and confusion.

“I think this means we get a plus one towards badass-ness, right?” I ask, looking around at my companions. They’re all a little out of it.

With myself being the only cognizant person around, I grab my blade and drive it into the side of the chieftain’s neck. The blade refuses to go all the way through however, his massive muscles and my lack of strength not going well together.

Fortunately, he can’t breathe, staggers back, and trips on one of his bandits, forcing the blade the rest of the way through. My first head has been taken.

“ALRIGHT LET’S DO THIS!” Twizzly yells, plunging her spear into some unsuspecting chump’s chest.

A slash to the chest. A plunge to the heart. An axe to the side. A spear through the eye. Hellfire along their feet. Unholy beasts summoned from nothingness clawing their victims to death. Spells of healing life recovering our own wounds. Head butts, shin kicks, rogue punches, icicle impalements, bitten off ears, bloody noses, blood shot eyes, burning raider shacks. Roasting corpses, piles of bodies by the tens, the occasional decapitation. We were monsters, but damn straight if we weren't monsters who level grinded into oblivion.

At the end of it all, only my companions and I remained. I felled the last of the brigands, and we simply stood in admiration of our prowess with slaughter for a moment. After the final bandit had been killed, however, all the blood and fire and guts and cadavers simply ceased to exist, disappearing in a puff of smoke. This was our new life. This was the life of heroes.

The amazing thing is as we vanquished, mutilated, decapitated, and broke our enemies down into smithereens, husks of once enemies, not a single one of revealed any duress or regrets. We stared our victims in the eyes, tore them limb from limb, and simply moved on to the next one. I felt, for the first time in my life, like a Real G.

And a Real G would save the world.

[Lamby]

Patryk's internal struggles are very real and heartfelt, and I'm extremely drawn to his character. The direction you're taking is great. Keep it up.

Keep following this guy everyone, great things are coming.

[Prince Ricard]

praise b
to funky g

also

What am I fighting for?

don't be a zero
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LISmPmdUhYA

[Linds 269]

I also appreciate Patryk's internal struggles and can connect. The action was pretty awesome too. And Ka is a lazy butt. Anyway, yeah, can't wait to find out how Patryk's in prison and what happened to his teammates!

[Poseidon]

As I said last night, this is awesome. Really awesome.
I think I'm gonna do some sketches for this just for fun.

[cinnamonstyx]

hi i wanna respond to comments cuz i don't do that enough!
danke everyone!
linds and brandon, ur continued support is radical.
paxi, if you did art, i'd literally explode with happiness.
titu, your nonsequiturs are comments and that's cool comments are cool.

[Prince Ricard]

thanks man you're cool too

[Aruesso]

i'm here
i'm queer
...hi there dev *wink*

(i finally got around to catching up to pat's story, now time to do the other three, sobbu)
if it means anything tho i was inspired to make an art (CI RPG!!! EXCLUSIVE "SNEEKPEEK") [HIGHLY RELEVANT]

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