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Pathfinder Online - Player's Perspective #10
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Pathfinder Online

Mrivan's Reminiscence by Mekkis

Player's Perspective #10 (Legacy of the Savage Kings) - 09 April 2010

They say that in dire, life-threatening situations, your life flashes before your eyes.

Looking back, to that moment, I knew that was the case. From my early days, struggling with cantrips, I remember hearing songs sung about heroes who vanished without a trace. Strange, really. I suppose some of the deserve to be remembered.

In my early days, I found Lupton. She lacked the quarms I had, and we were a nice team: I would help her deal with troublemakers, she would share with me the proceeds. We had culture, relative wealth, adventure, and pursuit of knowledge. Life was good.

But all things must change, as they say. It started with the village of Willow Ridge near a godforsaken swamp. Some disease was there, and it was infecting the surrounding areas. I remember our early investigations - how the dead orcs lead us to an encounter with old Stygoth. It's a pity he wasn't in the mood for talking, and sheer luck he was unable to use his acidic breath. Although from that episode, we escaped more or less intact, it was a prelude for what was to come.

Lupton left shortly afterwards, and my poor riding dog died suddenly to an unpredictably lucky hit from a wounded goblin. Still, we uncovered more material surrounding the blight.

After a few more of us fell to the Shadows they really should have known better about (when your weapons are ineffective, often the best course of action should be to run), we encountered more people. At the time, I wondered what was attracting them.

Earlier today, we planned on returning to Willow Ridge to see how the druid's investigation was going. Then, after examining a treasure trove, Stygoth attacked.

Alomar was first to fall to Stygoth's claws. After that, Kendall and Orric. It became clear that we all weren't going to make it.

The corridor we were in was barely big enough for the dragon to walk. For him to spread his wings and reach us here seemed impossible (a large black dragon requires at least an 18' wingspan to achieve flight, and a dragon cannot manage vertical ascension at the best of times). However, he somehow managed to get in.

So, now, sitting here in this extradimensional space, yelling at my companions to get clear, with a dragon so close I can smell the taint of this disease on him, I reminisce. Whatever happens to me from now on is out of my hands. I only hope that someone appreciates what I am doing.

Time for action.

Willing myself out of the hole, still gripping the rope, my mother's words echoing in my head, "The multiverse was not designed for overlapping dimensions". The powdered corn, as fine as talc, slides over the rope, and the parchment bursts in a flash as I recite the well-rehearsed words. As the spell is released, I will myself as far away as possible.

I am falling.

I see a flash of light.

As I am drawn towards the vortex of my own creation, one final thought crosses through my mind:

Will anyone remember my sacrifice?