I come here to tell a story. It is a small story- there is no epic quest, no continent-spanning journey, no grand battle. It is a story of folly, and revenge.
An NPC's revenge.
I began a new adventurer. I play with several gun mods, and was eager to try out the rocket launcher from
zaporozhets's musket mod. So I made a gunman, and picked up a rocket launcher and companion at the nearest mead hall. I set out into the wilderness, and intercepted the first traveling group I found.
As it happened, they were a group of soldiers on an "important mission". Whatever their mission was, I was pretty sure my mission to try out the rocket launcher was far more important, so I stepped back several steps and opened fire. My companion took a bullet to the arm and fled, but I was able to kill most of the enemy riflemen, and the survivors fled. That left me to deal only with the rather underpowered melee users. I shot rockets at them from close range, and those who were not hit directly were caught in the forest fire that was roaring around them. Confident in my victory and very happy at the rocket lancher's performance, I began to look for loot among the burning bodies.
It seemed that I declared victory too soon. As I approached the charred body of the first rifleman, a voice rang out from the burning forest on the hill above me.
The swordsman charged, decapitating my companion before he could fire his rifle. I reached for my rocket launcher, and found it missing, so I did the only sensible thing-
I ran.
I was already tired, and the swordsman followed closely behind, chasing me through the raging inferno. I frantically looked for a gun among the corpses, but the explosions had destroyed all the gear. Soon the swordsman caught up to me.
With a savage grin on his face, he said:
as he stabbed me in the stomach, tearing the muscle and the kidney.
I continued to run, terrified of the monster I had unleashed. I had killed his comrades, I had tried to kill him. I knew he would not stop until one of us was dead, and I suspected that one of us would be me. He kept chasing me, always staying right behind me, occasionally getting close enough to attack but never landing any crippling blows.
As I crested a hill, the swordsman yelled, "I must withdraw" and then stopped the chase and jumped sideways. I didn't stop to wonder. I kept running, straight ahead, hoping to put enough distance between me and him to fast travel.
Perhaps if I had stopped, I would have remembered that the surviving riflemen had run down the same hill I was now going down.
Perhaps if I had stopped, I would have noticed the 3 snipers waiting in ambush.
Perhaps if I had stopped, I would have realized I was being led towards a trap.
But I didn't. And I kept running.
And the snipers opened fire. Ago died immediately, with no time to register he was dying.
The snipers, for their part, were satisfied with the justice they served.