“Better nations have risen in the ashes. The Emperor of the Sands leads his armies across the deserts even now! The other nations break their armies upon his forces as he rises in the west. Nerrhavia sits fat and indolent to the south, and Medain pushes ever southwards against Jecrass and Belchan. While our people starve, Germina’s agents flit about, and the Quarass and Hellios test our borders. I have told you this time and time again, Lord! If you will not take the throne, why do you ask it of me?”
Oh. Hell yeah. I can tell when the first bell tolls which song it is. “I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin. Then the guitar and drums blast in, and everything disappears. I run like I’ve never run before.
What the hell do they want from me, a hand-drawn portrait with anatomical references? …Hell, I’d buy a monster bestiary if they had one around here. But all these adventurers want to know is how to kill one, and I’m definitely not the person to ask for that.
She couldn’t breathe. Hell, she could barely move. Calruz was shouting something, her ears were ringing, and Ceria was telling her to stay still. But Ryoka’s blood was still on fire. She still wanted to fight.
Hell is something you create. Ryoka was a firm believer in not believing in religions, but the idea of hell had always been intriguing to her. Obviously a place of brimstone and pitchforks was ridiculous, but the idea of suffering, of damnation was interesting. How could hell be one thing? How could it be a constant, when it should be the representation of misery and suffering for each individual?
Fortunately, I know how to deal with pushy people. Hell, the people my dad worked for are all like the worst kind of used-car salesmen. You have to know how to deal with people like that. With care, tact, diplomacy…
The cruel pain of existence lasted for several more minutes after Erin was inside the city. It was even worse because everywhere she looked, Drakes were walking around bundled up and Gnolls were walking around still practically naked. But then Erin found Market Street, and the world became a small slice of heaven. Or hell. Hell was probably warmer.
But for me, it’s making my eyes water. Hell, it’s like being skunked. I’d better ask how thick those potion bottles are. If it breaks in my pack, I’ll either have the street to myself or get kicked out of the city. Not that I wouldn’t mind the privacy—
*Public libraries, that is. Any wealthy merchant or noble probably has their own library of books, but I don’t see them letting me in. Hell, back in my world I needed to put on sandals every time I wanted in to a library.
I run on, trying to get somewhere indoors before the melted ice and winter weather kills me. It’s time to turn in my Seals anyways. I could use a hot bath, a hot meal, and a hot bed. Hell, I’ll eat and sleep in the bath if I could.
I’ve got nothing to say to that. He’s right. This isn’t a safe place like America. Hell, America’s not even that safe, but at least only a few people get shot every day. But here you could get eaten by a giant…snail or something.
I’m no storyteller, and neither do I have a gift for words. Hell, my throat was hurting after the first five minutes. But I had an audience who hung on my every word, tiny mouths agape, and Mrsha and the Gnolls as well. They might not have gotten every nuance, but they understood heroes, and I think they were just as blown away by the idea of a superhero. Not someone with a [Class], but a truly supernatural person, someone who could lift a mountain over his head and had skin stronger than dragon scales and could outrun even the fastest arrow*.
“Hell isn’t a place. I mean, not a place on earth. Not in this world. It’s the afterlife. The place where bad people go when they die. We go to hell because we sin. We suffer in life because we sin—that’s what the Bible says, anyways.”
