"Wenn man klares wasser will/ Rosenrot.."

To My Lord

I have learned a fair bit from these townspeople. I think I may have even found myself a few allies.

A man named Iamisom runs a small tavern. Apparently, he kegs his own alcohol. After a nice conversation with the man, he revealed to me that his homeland was through a portal. The place was war torn and overrun by nasties of all kinds. Poor man. His voice got soft as he described the woman he never got to confess his love to. I tried to show him sympathy, although I have never loved a woman like that.

Another potential friend I met was a young woman named Roxanne. She told me she was a stylist. Personally, I find it a bit silly that a stylist would work out in the wilderness, but I couldn't say that. After she told me a bit about her, she asked me about myself. I struggled to answer her. What would I say? That I had been a leader of the most feared cult in the land? That I had tried to kill nearly 30 people and failed? What I ended up telling her was that I was studying in a far away land after I lost my family. I told her it was very cold there. Hopefully that will not set me up for any problems in the cover story I have been using. She expressed sorrow for my lost “family” and offered her hair services to me at a discount. I refused as fast and politely as I could. For some reason, the idea of a blade near my neck makes me feel sick. I can't think of why.

The next potential friend I met was a girl who told me, very loudly, that her name was Bailey, the party girl. She swept the hair out of her face and held up a closed fist, which I didn't understand. Apparently, it is a greeting to bump one's fist with another person where she comes from.

She told me about herself. Yes, she is as young as I believed her to be. The girl told me about her love for parties because, in her words, “it's the only time I see all my friends smiling.” Naive child.

After she finished giving me her manifesto on why I should party with her, she asked me about my mask.

Oh no.

After asking many questions about it and being shot down every time, she relented. The look on her face was like that of a kicked puppy. I tried to smooth out my rejection by patting her shoulder. I told her that there was an accident before I left home and it left my face unsightly.

I think I did something wrong. Her eyes widened and she nodded as if I just told her the secrets of the universe.. I think what I said may have been taken differently than how I meant it.  Curses.

Lord, you are my strength and my resolve. I am proud to wear the mark of your servitude. My only concern is that others will not accept it.

This day has been long. Goodnight.

To my Lord

It has been a day. Lots of talking. I didn't sleep much last night either because I was altering the mask.

I went out this morning in just my underclothes (I figured the robe would be much worse) and a nearly broken mask, albeit beakless.

Also, I really don't think Clay saw me when he spoke first to me that night. He seemed confused at my strange appearance. There was also another man with him, a blonde fellow whose stare seemed to contain the eyes of many. My blood chilled. It was as if he regarded me as who I truly was, although we had never spoken. 

The hero however, seemed much more naive. He was happy to chat about nothing with me. I remained tense the entire time.

Eventually however, good things must come to an end. The hero asked me where I came from. I faltered and my voice shook. Ended up telling him that I came from the Arctic. His friend, the creepy one, asked where my family was. I played up my discomfort for sympathy.

“I can't bear to think about it… they're gone. All gone.” With an extra quiver in my voice, they had to drop it. It would seem cruel for them to keep interrogating a man who just “lost his family”.

You are the only family for me, Lord. I know you’re not dead. 

After I spoke like that, the hero's face changed. His eyes went wide and he rushed to assure me I didn't have to go on. My relief was palpable. His friend, the creepy one, stayed very stiff, very still. He watched me like a cat watches its prey.

Finally, he said something, voice quiet and tight,

“Can you tell us your name, stranger? I am Jake, the Guide. This is Clay, the hero.”

I told him the first name that came to mind. I've had no use for one for the past 15 years, so I had to improvise. Benjamin is the name I gave.

After that, the hero and guide left to go discuss an item Clay wanted to craft. I am not entirely convinced they weren't speaking about me.

Not that I would blame them. If a stranger had showed up at the dungeon, I would have been skeptical.

It fills me with a wistful feeling to know that I was that stranger, 15 years ago. Now, I am a stranger again.

I don't want to think about this any longer. I think I will try to mingle with the townspeople.

Wish me luck Lord. I am very tired but, I must try.

To My Lord

The day is cloudy with a cool breeze. I have decided to look for the dungeon.  ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶ ̶l̶o̶n̶g̶e̶r. Soon, snow or freezing rain will fall, and I don't want to be sleeping outside when that happens. It will not do.

Fortunately, the dungeon should be somewhere in this world too. Perhaps even with people. That would be a dream. I will write more when I pause my walk.

I have decided to go west. It has been a long time since I started walking. The grassy forest floor has morphed into the desert. I am not fond of all the sand. It gets into every crevice and I swear shall never be removed. The sun is not much better. I vow to get through this as quickly as I can.

The sun has begun to set. I see lights in the distance. I believe I have finally found it. Although, it seems closer to the center of this world than my first dungeon did. I must reach it before night comes.

I'm too tired will finish tomorrow. It's not the dungeon.

 I didn't even know this many people existed. It's a town, Lord! I think it's the hero's too.

I walked to the perimeter, just looking for shelter, and a man greeted me. He said his name was Clay. Shook my hand, spoke to me like an old friend. The wand strapped to his side suggested that he was the hero, the terrarian warrior. I have never seen a hero work with magic before.

Clay offered me a safe place to sleep for the night, which I was very grateful for. He seemed to be nursing a fresh injury as well, dark welts around his neck. I thought it would be inappropriate to ask.

He also didn't ask me questions about my mask or robes. Perhaps he couldn't see them very well? It was rather dark outside. The hero’s probing is something I must prepare for in the morning.

As much as I hate to admit, I don't fare well alone. I have grown too used to the twins, archeress, and you, my lord. I need the company as much as I need the town's hard skills. I don't imagine I'd be too good with an ax. 

For now, I must figure out how to disguise my face without drawing too much attention. These people will surely throw me out if they see how I look. It is only natural for them to fear what they don't understand, Lord.

I think what I must do is change this mask, hurts me as it does. The beak will draw too much attention. How to go about chipping it off? I also must not wear the robe out. I feel it would identify me as a threat.

Lord, give me strength. This is a big change.

To My Lord

I miss the twins. I miss their laughter and mischief. It is so quiet.

That gives me a lot of time to think. So much happened in my last life. When you were killed, I felt it. The balance of the world changed, I think. Your presence, something I had grown so used to, was ripped away. It scared me, Lord; It frightened me.

Is it selfish to talk and think like this? I hope not. Thinking about it has given me clarity. 

When you died, I was full of so much anger. I knew who did it. Of course the hero dealt the finishing blow. It saddened me but it was prophetic. I could be at peace with that. What truly hurt me was to know that a woman I had called my sister killed the man I dedicated my life to.The archeress had slain the almighty God she had pledged allegiance to so many years ago. The fury and sadness I felt was immeasurable. 

To cope with it, I concocted a plan. I would find the hero and his settlement. The archeress would likely stay with him. It would have been stupid for her to come back to the dungeon. She had always been too smart for her own good.

After I found the hero’s town, I would call a solar eclipse and its beasts. Using skills you taught me, Lord, I would send the beasts to attack the town.

Then, after the hero had tired of battle, I would come in and kill him myself. Once he had expired, I would pick off the townspeople one by one. A perfect outlet for the hurt your death had caused me.

Of course, things never go as planned. I wonder what it would have taken to carry my plan out to success.

The archeress distracted me. Had my head been more clear, I feel I could have won that fight. Instead, I was blinded by my grief and rage.

I think it was divine intervention. You knew how it would go, as you always do. I thank you. Someone needed to stop me.

Perhaps, with this second chance I have been so graciously given, I can try again. Maybe I could even recruit new followers for you. It is hard to be alone.

Thank you Lord. I cannot wait to see you again.

To My Lord

I am not sure where I should start. 

After you revived me, I believe I landed in a new world. I did not come back to the dungeon. Instead, I woke up in a sunny field. I actually found this journal I'm writing in in the dirt beneath a tree. I wonder where it came from.

I have learned that living in the dungeon for many moons has affected my eyesight. The sun is an evil flame to my eyes.

Moreso, I feel like a man in a new world. Everything is so bright and  ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶  alive. Rabbits wander through the grass and worms emerge from the dirt in the rain. The dungeon, as much as I enjoyed my time there, was very still. We were the ones who gave it life. You gave it life.

I only now notice how much your presence affected me. I miss it. You were always watching, weren't you?

I still feel confused. The final hours of my previous life are a painful blur to me. To continue on, I need clarity. For now, I will sleep beneath the stars and moon you love so much and adapt to this new life I shall lead.

The lunatic’s heart nearly stopped for the second time. He knew where he was.

This was the void and there was his one and only god. They stared at each other for a long time, without words.

“You came back to me,” Said the Moon Lord quietly, as if it were something mystical. 

“My lord, I- I can’t explain how-” The lunatic was cut off with a shush. His god put down a gargantuan hand for the lunatic to climb on to.

“I can’t hear you from there, remember? Let us talk. There is so much that needs to be said.”

With that, the loon prepared for a dressing down. He had failed his god. He had one mission and how he had blown it!

“My lord,” He took in a wheezy breath (his voice was betraying him), “I am deeply sorry. I have failed you.” The lunatic closed his eyes, bowed his head, and prepared for the worst. 

What he got instead was an incredulous laugh. His eyes popped open with surprise.

“Failed me? You fought for my rule until your death. I would hardly call that failure.”

“I didn’t complete your mission.”

“My mission will take more than your lifetime to complete, dear. You’ve done your part. Also, there is something greater. I must congratulate you, my mortal.”

“Congratulate?” The Moon Lord’s intimidating face went soft. He nodded,

“Yes. You have shown me your undying loyalty and love. The companionship that you have given me is something I will never find in another human.”

“Why, thank you, my lord, it is a great honor,” The lunatic’s face got warm and his cheeks flushed. Following instincts well trained over the course of his life, he knelt and prostrated himself before his god. The praise made him feel like he hadn’t just summoned an army in a fit of rage and been killed all in one night. It made him feel normal again.

“I’m not finished. Because of this, I want to bring you back to life. I cherish you, dear mortal. To leave you rotting in this void would be a disservice. Say the word and I will revive you.”

“My lord, yes, let me have a second chance. But first, could we have a moment? I missed you.”

With that, the Moon Lord laughed. The sound was rare out of him; melodic, low. His face relaxed as he enjoyed a moment of peace with his favorite mortal.

As promised, the lunatic was revived upon his request. When he returned to the living world, there were a few things he noticed about his new body.

There was a persistent and deep ache in his neck. Bringing a hand up to his neck and scratching his cheek under his mask, he felt that his face was different. It still looked like his god’s. What an honor it was to carry the mark of his lord so permanently.

A thought struck him, bringing a dark cloud down over his good mood. He had lost everything: his friend, his home, his family, his god. How could he go on alone?

Mustering strength from within, he took a breath and cast a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. At least he still had his magic.

With this discovery, he felt his resolve strengthen. The Moon Lord had brought him back for a reason, to continue the god’s mission. Additionally, with the Moon Lord’s favor having brought him back to life, the lunatic now lived for his god, physically and mentally. His reason for being was already decided. 

Tears of rage streamed down the inside of the mask. Despite blurred vision and uncomfortable sensation of wetness on his cheeks, he still kept on.  He lay in wait, watching, observing, obsessing. When the time was right, he would strike.

The man’s - no, he was truly a lunatic like everyone else thought - the lunatic’s plan was foolproof. For a few weeks now, he had been working on a spell to call a Solar Eclipse. Once he got to the filthy Terrarian’s town, he would summon the Solar Eclipse, and with it, all of its fearsome beasts. The townspeople would be overwhelmed and flee. The Terrarian and that double-crossing snake he used to call a sister would fight off the monsters. Eventually, they would grow tired, and he would deliver the killing blow to both of them. Afterwards, it would be simple to pick off the townspeople one by one. What a perfect symphony.

Even better, he knew that his god was watching over him from the void. With this, the Almighty Moon Lord would know the lengths the lunatic would go to for him.

“This is all for you, my lord. I hope the outcome of this carnage is pleasing to you.” He whispered, and for once he did not curse the way his voice shook. 

The lunatic summoned the eclipse a short distance away from the town. Thankfully, it worked. He hadn’t been working on it for very long. After assuming his place in the front of the monster pack, he engaged in another new skill, Lunar Manipulation. It was a unique technique taught to him by the Moon Lord in one of their private moments. The skill allowed the caster to have a degree of control over the undead.

Casting it took a concerning amount of his energy. Resting during the Solar Eclipse would be crucial, thought the Lunatic as he grew dizzy. It was with great effort that he stayed upright and walked ahead of the monsters. He guided them to the town, pointed ahead, and moved out of the way as they lurched to attack. Screams rang out from the town, signifying the monsters had found their way. The lunatic staggered to a cave to hide and inevitably, doze.

“Where the heck did all these monsters come from?!”

“Dolgrim, get your hairy rear out here and help me!”

“Who turned out the lights?!”

It was utter chaos. The solar eclipse had come on so suddenly, the town had been thrown into entropy in the blink of an eye. There was yelling and running and a general state of panic. The majority of the town was barricading doors and gathering inside second floor apartments to hunker down while the heroine, Mercury, gathered her help for the rapidly approaching fight. Freya was the newest addition to this undersized, ragtag militia. It was obvious she knew her way around a bow, and when given one with enough force, she was a deadly machine.

After showing her to her position in town, Mercury got to work holding off the monsters. It was going to be a long day.

After hours of fighting well, Mercury swore, it was like the universe had decided they were too lucky and needed to be humbled. Her friends started dropping like flies.

First Terrell, then Cornelia, then Dolgrim. It took precious time to drag these friends to safety

“Oh my good- Ben? Is that still you?”

Freya felt her heart drop. He came back. He had done all this. She had led him right to the town.

Mercury side-eyed her friend, still clutching tightly onto her sword. She could tell things were going to get ugly, fast.

“I didn't come to talk, snake. Not to you.”

“Oh, well, but,” Freya stammered, walking slowly toward Ben. “ I just wanted to say, I think HE would be proud, if he saw you now.”

Deadly silence. Mercury held weight over her toes, ready to pounce should the mad cultist become too dangerous.

“What would you know of that?” He pitched the end of the sentence up and backtracked, putting distance between them. 

“I know he means a lot to you. You always liked to show him your magic, right?” Mercury swore she saw the cultist shudder. With an intake of breath, he put more space between himself and Freya, paying no mind to Mercury.

“It was for his sake.”

“But I know you sought his approval as well. The eclipse, did you summon it?”

This was apparently too far. Bright yellow energy crackled threateningly in the palm of Ben's hand as he raised his voice, 

“I don't have to tell you anything! You've been distracting me, haven't you? Let me show you distracted!” He lunged for Freya and she screamed something terrible. As she evaded him, Mercury saw her chance. She leapt up into the air, grasping onto Ben’s robe and pulling him to the ground. Wrestling with him, she pulled out her sword. One clean cut to his neck was all it took to silence the mad cultist forever.

It took a moment for Mercury to grapple with her situation. She sat panting, knee on the chest of a body growing colder. Freya wasn't much better off. She seemed to be sobbing without tears.

Like a robot, Mercury rose and went to her friend. She took Freya's hand.

“It's ok. You'll be safe now. He can’t hurt you any more.”

“I just… I need.. I don't know. I wanna go to bed. I'm exhausted.” Freya managed to speak with much effort. Mercury gave her a little smile. For those less used to it, a whole day of battle would be truly wearying. Without further comment, she walked Freya back to her home to sleep.

Whenever prying eyes had finally left her alone, Mercury crept back to the center of town. She squatted down next to the cultist’s severed head, and with delicate hands, she pulled his now cracked mask off. Underneath the ceramic was a face so unusual that she gasped as she saw it.

His visage looked eerily familiar to the god she had killed not long ago. The cultist had extra nostrils, sharp and thin teeth, a ghostly pallor, and was that a third eye? Mercury shivered. Her spine seemed to wriggle and crawl from within her. What had happened to this man? And more importantly, who was he? Freya seemed to know him personally. Mercury had to ask her after she had an opportunity to rest.

In the meantime, she had a body to bury. She tried to dissociate herself from the sensation of dead weight in her arms. Days later, she still couldn't erase the scent of blood from her head.

It had been a few weeks after the cultist’s failed attack on the town. Things had gone back to normal, after a healthy period of paranoia. No one had ever specifically targeted the villagers. Every threat they had encountered before was on a mindless path of brutality. The zombies in the forest and beasts of the blood moons couldn't think, couldn't take revenge; their one purpose was to raise as much hell as possible in their undead rebirth. That being said, being attacked in the name of revenge rattled the villagerS deeply. The distrust that had grown from the event would take many moons to ease up.

One good thing that came from the attack was that it had changed Freya’s reputation from “public enemy number one” to “town hero.” The villagers were much more trusting of her after hearing about how she put her life on the line to protect total strangers. Mercury only had one question about that. Who saw it happen? 

None of her fighting crew had spoken of it. They had accepted it as fact once Freya had joined forces with them. She was genuine.

That meant one of the townsfolk must have seen it. This felt impossible however, due to the fact that they were instructed to hide below ground if possible and barricade doors and windows. There would have been no way for them to see Freya helping in the fight, right?

Mercury shrugged it off. Perhaps word would get out soon. She could probably hear the gossip from the stylist, Beth.

Freya approached the dungeon with bow in hand. She was prepared for anything, or so she thought.

Ben was in the foyer instead of who she wanted to see. Curses.

She stayed quiet but still, somehow, he heard her. He got up from the pillar he was seated against and closed his book.

She couldn’t see his face under his birdlike mask but she could tell he wasn’t happy to see her by the way his shoulders grew tight and hunched. It was as if ready to defend the dungeon. She reminded herself that they were no longer on the same side.

“You have some nerve showing your face around here after what you did, archeress.” He said, voice low and dangerous. 

Freya took a deep breath to stay calm. Ben sat in a dungeon and read or casted spells all day. She used a hunting bow and lifted dead animals for dinner. She could overpower him if need be.

Physically, that is. Magically, he would have her pinned in no time. It was truly horrifying to see his capability as a mage and know that she was on the opposite end of that.

“I came to see the twins.” She said, forcing a sort of docility into her voice, “I never told them goodbye. Nor did I tell you goodbye.”

This, apparently, was the wrong choice of words. Ben scoffed,

“They don’t need to see someone like you. You turned your back on us, sister! On all of us! You killed our lord. Do you not remember who took you in when you were cold and alone? Who was it, sister?” He asked, breathing hard beneath the mask. Ben had been getting closer to her as he ranted. 

Freya gripped her bow tighter, but made no move to nock an arrow. That would only serve to anger her old friend even more.

“Brother, it,” It pained Freya to speak like this, like a doormat. Sadly, it seemed to be the only way out of this mess, “It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry, huh? I bet you’ll be sorry. You’ll be sorry when HE comes back and crushes you with his fist first!” Ben summoned a deadly sphere of ice from practiced hands and threw it her way. All bets were off.

“Guess we’ll do this the hard way.” Muttered Freya as she rolled out of the way. She really didn’t want to hurt him.