'It's 3 o’clock in the afternoon and the humble monk Nen Par Shik is slumped on the bar at the Great Hare Tavern. He is tanked, inebriated, wasted on Orcen grain vodka, laced with rue, artemesia and other herbs particularly potent to Orcs. The owner of the tavern keeps a gallon jug of the stuff, left by an adventurer, under the bar for stripping paint and sterilizing the floor after mopping up vomit on a satyrday night. Par Shik has been drinking straight out of the jug, his head propped on his hand, his elbow on the countertop and talking to himself, loudly, for well over an hour and a half.
“I mean...it was there, just minding its business. Maybe it had a job to do. Just like me. I had a job to do. You shoulda seen it, it was marvelous. Majestic, even. Even as it was terrifying. 6 heads. I think it started with six heads. And we cut off half of them. Then from each stump, as we watched, it sprouted 6 more heads. I pissed myself a little right then, I am not ashamed to tell you. What a wonder of creation; I was sure we were doomed. I just stood there, like a dummy. We were able to overcome it in the end, the team and I. The Monster Hunters. I said I’m a Monster Hunter, I belong to the Guild of Monster Hunters! Stupid.
“We killed it, working together. I don’t know if any one of us could have done it alone. I myself dealt the killing blow, and I cannot forget the weight of that ferocious monster falling limp beneath me. The grace and majesty of this rare and mighty beast, destroyed. And for what? Gold Coins?” The monk throws some glittering coins across the countertop in disgust.
“Why was this monster my enemy? Because he stood in my way? Because he stood between me and treasure? Master would be so disappointed in me. I raised my hands in violence against another creature, a creature causing no one harm; just protecting its horde at the bottom of the sea. It was really not guilty of any evil act; it simply sought to protect what it deemed was its own; just as any man or woman might do. It’s only offense was to be monstrous, to be ugly, to be an abomination, an affront to the eyes of Men. But then what am I? Am I not ugly? Am I not a monster, striking fear into the hearts of women and children, disgust in the eyes of men?
“Was this monster ‘evil’ simply because it was monstrous? Because it stood as an obstacle to ‘good’? Is ‘evil’ a ‘thing-in-the-world’. as it were, or does it require an agent? A monster, a villain, an adversary to work through? Is it a thing, a substance ‘out there’ or does it exist like a stain within each one of us? Perhaps there is a stain of evil in me, like the corrupt, inhuman blood of my cursed father, rapist, mercenary, murderer; loyalty bartered to the highest bidder. And am I, his bastard son, anymore righteous?
“What?! Why don’t you shut up? And mind your own business. Oh, and you’re gonna make me? Look, I’ve already broken my vow of non-harming once this week, and for a creature far nobler than you...Right...You’re done for now, you motherless cur!” '
Much more interested in co-creating a fantastic story than an endless series of boss fights, or murder and pillage parties. Looking for a regular game, with a continuing campaign. I want to feel like this Fantasy world is a living breathing entity, bigger than me, bigger than this module or that adventure. Living World PbP servers have promised this, but I have yet to find one that can meet me. I am a decent writer, and prefer text based games. Interested in GMing in the future, as I become more confident with online game play.