Not the Hero.

I am running a D&D Campaign for several of my friends where one of the characters just “died”. This character was a main leader of the party, always smiling, and everything needed to make all the other heroes be glad they were a part of this team. Her passing hit the players hard as tears were shed freely from all around the table.

However she isn’t dead dead. She has been claimed by Orcus and raised as a Vampire. So they got to encounter her again, another tough session with tears to be shed.

I sent my players this as her point of view as she was corrupted and changed.


I have always heard stories and read books about adventuring. Stories with hero’s that protected others, and did their best in battle.

And as with all good books sometimes you need a good old fashioned villain. 

I am not a hero….

My party lay in pieces before me. Primus dying on the landing, Belch surrounded and beaten, and Ash trapped in a room as more enemies descended upon him. I brought them here to die, I am not a hero….

“You are right little one!”

A pulse coursed through my whole body as I was lifted into the air. My eyes were covered but I was awake once again.

“You caused their pain.”

I was taken up stairs? Whoever was carrying me was not gentle but they held me tight. Maybe it was several somebodies?

“You hurt them!”

That voice was growing louder and all around me, I could feel the presence of some Unholy being. It was pressing in almost suffocating.

“Hello Adventure Killer.”

Suddenly I could see once again. A giant red eye staring directly at me, locked with mine, as three cultists started chanting around us. The eye drew closer, time slowed to almost a standstill, it was just me and the eye.

“You are not a hero, you lead people towards danger, you hurt the ones you love, you are dangerous, you are a hero killer, you will kill again.”

For seven days we were frozen like that as I resisted the teachings of my new master, but he was right, and as he replayed the events of my adventures I saw how dangerous I am. 13 was nearly killed by a Treent that I pushed us towards. Gwynt died with me right there, I could have healed him but I chose not to. Ash tried to blockade a door with himself to protect me. Belch was surrounded by 6 skeletons, Primus bleeding on the floor, and Ash barred in a room behind enemy lines.

I am not a hero. 

On the seventh day I let my new master grant me his dark gifts. I let them flow into me and envelope me with even greater power than I could have ever imagined. I could feel my connection with Pholtus being severed, a connection I was glad to have removed like the infection he was.

I grew hungry, hungrier than I had ever been in my life.

Seeing the cultists still in the room praying and pleading with their god I was overcome. They never saw me coming and within seconds one of them was dead as I drank, slacking the hunger.

“Restrain yourself.”

My new master was displeased but these cultists were failing him. They were barely managing to hold their own in the Ash Plains as the adventurers kept knocking on the door, killing, and then being allowed to leave. I need to get rid of the cultists so that I can take command of the Black Spire.

I knew that my “friends” would come for revenge. That’s just who they are. I took several of the magic items just left about the spire and started patrolling the Ash Plains on foot. Having the time to simply walk and think I remembered all of their cool mounts and as my jealousy grew it dawned on me that I could ask for one.

My new master heard my question and granted me the power to make my own using the Ash Plains themselves. I knelt down and meditated for a full day and when I opened my eyes the most beautiful creature in the world stood before me. 

A dark black bull, with sharpened horns, and glowing red eyes stared back at me. The smoke escaping its nostrils with every breath reminded me of the world my master lives in, surrounded by flame and endless platoons of undead. I would name him Cronus.

I was ready to see them again.

I saw them riding up on the Ash Plains and decided that a flair of drama was deserved. I wanted to show them how powerful I have become. I rode near them before leaping into the air and showing them my new wings. Their faces were a mix of fear and sadness as they looked at me.

It stung. They should have been happy.

I handed them the gifts I had brought them. Gaheris barely making eye contact before looking away. They kept trying to hug me as well. Why would they do that! I am trying to hand them things. Primus, ah he lived somehow, he must be strong. Wait who is that! 

I felt rage boil up through my veins as I reached out and touched the new girl. I felt her life essence flow into my own veins, revitalizing me.

I felt the hunger set it. I needed to leave. I need to not kill them. I need them to kill the cultists.

Leaping back onto Cronus I rode away.

They tried to follow. How silly don’t they know that my pet is better.


Currently I am just waiting on the emotional fallout but I know that the storytellers in all of them will absolutely eat it up.

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