Heroist
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– Don't mind me, guys, just performing my routine procedure to calm down the enraged and the sorrowful…
Having completed his usual ritual, Dorian sighs, looking even more exhausted than before:
– You know, my dear, I think I've wasted more nerves and resources on you than on a real wife. So many dialogues interrupted, so many skills missed, so many plans unrealized, so many journeys unfinished. And all because you need attention every second of every minute of every hour.
Stretching, he yawns tiredly:
– But I don't hold it against you. Even though this is the most ungrateful task, and all I've heard in response is criticism, disbelief, and accusations. You have your reasons, and I have mine. But tell me, doesn't something seem strange to you in all of this?..
Looking around, he glances at the remaining villagers and lowers his voice:
– Look, here are the suffering civilians. Elves, dwarves, orcs, even Ivalians. They're all on your list. Okay, if you were only targeting humans, I could understand. Our rotten race, I can accept. But what have these random people done to offend the One? That's the first thing. Second: if you were really created as a healer by someone from above, then why were you thrown into the Dungeon on the edge of the map? It seems like you were deceived. I think there's something missing. If there are no complaints about your work, then there's no need for guards. But if there are, then it means someone has misinformed you? They don't want to see you in the city, which means they don't agree with your genocidal mission. But they don't do anything about it, why? Don't you want to think about this dilemma in your free time? I'm sure that if you dig into your memory, it will turn out that a thousand years ago, you only killed real maniacs. In general, we need to try to cooperate in this direction. Then I won't have to watch over you, and all your conflicts with your superiors will be resolved. I myself sometimes dream of the surface; wouldn't you like some freedom? I'm sure this misunderstanding can be easily resolved with our joint efforts.
Having completed his usual ritual, Dorian sighs, looking even more exhausted than before:
– You know, my dear, I think I've wasted more nerves and resources on you than on a real wife. So many dialogues interrupted, so many skills missed, so many plans unrealized, so many journeys unfinished. And all because you need attention every second of every minute of every hour.
Stretching, he yawns tiredly:
– But I don't hold it against you. Even though this is the most ungrateful task, and all I've heard in response is criticism, disbelief, and accusations. You have your reasons, and I have mine. But tell me, doesn't something seem strange to you in all of this?..
Looking around, he glances at the remaining villagers and lowers his voice:
– Look, here are the suffering civilians. Elves, dwarves, orcs, even Ivalians. They're all on your list. Okay, if you were only targeting humans, I could understand. Our rotten race, I can accept. But what have these random people done to offend the One? That's the first thing. Second: if you were really created as a healer by someone from above, then why were you thrown into the Dungeon on the edge of the map? It seems like you were deceived. I think there's something missing. If there are no complaints about your work, then there's no need for guards. But if there are, then it means someone has misinformed you? They don't want to see you in the city, which means they don't agree with your genocidal mission. But they don't do anything about it, why? Don't you want to think about this dilemma in your free time? I'm sure that if you dig into your memory, it will turn out that a thousand years ago, you only killed real maniacs. In general, we need to try to cooperate in this direction. Then I won't have to watch over you, and all your conflicts with your superiors will be resolved. I myself sometimes dream of the surface; wouldn't you like some freedom? I'm sure this misunderstanding can be easily resolved with our joint efforts.
Whatever