#enzeru

The pot was only half full with water Half full, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. I did not expect the outcome. I didn’t turn it on, I didn’t ask for it. But there it was, the stove was on. It heated the water. It wasn’t much at first, but it didn’t have to. Soon, it became more, much more, and fast. Faster than it should, faster than I wanted. I didn’t know what to do at first. Should I let it stay on, or should I turn it off? My hands was hesitant, it moved without my thoughts. They tried to turn the stove off, but could not. The more they fought, the more we fought, the worse it got. The water would boil and boil, it took up more space. It would not turn off, it refused to give in. The water was almost spilling over the pot. It was getting too much, too close, it had to stop. Somehow, anyhow, it had to stop. ... I took a deep breath, thought it over and removed the pot from the stove. The stove was still on, is still on, but the pot would not be. The pot would cool down, away from the stove. It would not get all it’s water boiled, despite it’s great loss. More would not be lost. I will get more later.

Imagine playing in the most epic D&D campaign ever, all have been great. You have beaten bosses that was deserved it and it was hard won. You have beaten some bosses that was in the gray zone and victory was hard earned. But then you come to the “BBEG” of the campaign and it’s a former adventure spoken off in legend. He is an old man, but still got some muscles left on him. As you slowly bring down his health, he becomes easier and easier to fight. He starts to talk in delusion. “I won’t let you demons get to her!” “I won’t let you take the last I have!” And as you bring him down to 0HP, he stumbles backward for a moment, coughing up blood. “N-no, I won’t... let you... take her...” He says, slowly with clumsy movements he moves away from you towards what looks like a coffin. His grip on his sword loosen and fall to the ground, as he slowly reaches out for the coffin, not even halfway there. “Love, I... will always... protect... yo-...” The man slowly falls to the ground as the breath of life sips out of his old lounges. The adventure’s items, as you start to loot him, have seen many fights and all but lost their magical properties. As you look into the coffin, all you see is a skeleton in a dress that have seen better days. Your campaign ends there, with you having beat a “terrible evil” that protects a “great treasure”, but it feels sad. There was no point to the fight. There was nothing to claim from the fight after. All you did was end an old man’s suffering in delusion of endless paranoia.