Heroist
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Ah, there's nothing to buy. Even potions, like those made by Kosh, are already crafted.
It's hard to find someone capable of bravely facing death, and Krailos was no exception. He occasionally recalled distant events from ten years ago, during his time in the legion, and each time he asked himself only one question: what made him flee the battlefield? Why did he refuse to die with his comrades? What was it that made him stay alive?
And only now, as he signed up for his last assignment, the mercenary unexpectedly realized the difference between his past and his current situation. Back then, he dreamed only of exploits and great achievements that awaited him. He had no doubt that he would succeed in his service. He led a proper lifestyle, despised drunkards and losers. He considered himself better than others. And he valued his own life above all else.
But now everything was different. His selfishness had not disappeared, but only by becoming one of those he had once disregarded, he realized that, ultimately, human life is invaluable. Invaluable in the simple sense that it is worth nothing in itself. Everything ultimately leads the living to the same end, which means there is little point in worrying about the future, which cannot be controlled anyway.
Pushing aside the empty mug, Krailos crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the tavern ceiling. It wasn't even a premonition, but a simple logic that told him about the danger of the adventure he had gotten himself into. Starting with the exorbitantly high payment and ending with the criteria for selecting adventurers that did not match it. And that strange conversation in the administration. Without a doubt, it would be very difficult for someone like him to return alive. But now, the former legionnaire understood that it was this kind of risk that he had been waiting for, aimlessly wandering through this dead world. An opportunity that would finally answer the question that had been tormenting him for so long: should he have died then, with his head held high, with hopes and confidence in a bright future? And if not, then this will be his last job. Alive or dead, but he will not run anymore. Because running away from oneself makes no sense. Whether it's this city or the nearest one, it will be his last stop on his life's journey. And the upcoming assignment will be the final chord in this gloomy concert of life and death.
Rising from the table, he headed out to find Varen. There was still some time left before leaving Tson-Donk-Siseba.
It's hard to find someone capable of bravely facing death, and Krailos was no exception. He occasionally recalled distant events from ten years ago, during his time in the legion, and each time he asked himself only one question: what made him flee the battlefield? Why did he refuse to die with his comrades? What was it that made him stay alive?
And only now, as he signed up for his last assignment, the mercenary unexpectedly realized the difference between his past and his current situation. Back then, he dreamed only of exploits and great achievements that awaited him. He had no doubt that he would succeed in his service. He led a proper lifestyle, despised drunkards and losers. He considered himself better than others. And he valued his own life above all else.
But now everything was different. His selfishness had not disappeared, but only by becoming one of those he had once disregarded, he realized that, ultimately, human life is invaluable. Invaluable in the simple sense that it is worth nothing in itself. Everything ultimately leads the living to the same end, which means there is little point in worrying about the future, which cannot be controlled anyway.
Pushing aside the empty mug, Krailos crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the tavern ceiling. It wasn't even a premonition, but a simple logic that told him about the danger of the adventure he had gotten himself into. Starting with the exorbitantly high payment and ending with the criteria for selecting adventurers that did not match it. And that strange conversation in the administration. Without a doubt, it would be very difficult for someone like him to return alive. But now, the former legionnaire understood that it was this kind of risk that he had been waiting for, aimlessly wandering through this dead world. An opportunity that would finally answer the question that had been tormenting him for so long: should he have died then, with his head held high, with hopes and confidence in a bright future? And if not, then this will be his last job. Alive or dead, but he will not run anymore. Because running away from oneself makes no sense. Whether it's this city or the nearest one, it will be his last stop on his life's journey. And the upcoming assignment will be the final chord in this gloomy concert of life and death.
Rising from the table, he headed out to find Varen. There was still some time left before leaving Tson-Donk-Siseba.
Whatever