Inspired when I was watching my friend play Fable 2 for the first time…

(I own nothing!)

BLOODSTONE

Reaver

I groaned at the sight of bloodstains on my expensive carpet, nothing would get it out. It had happened when the last so-called 'artist' came and tried to capture my glorious likeness. None have so far, you'd think it would be easy, to find a capable artist after all my years alive. No. Hard to find a good woman too, sure there are ones who look good and can give you fair ride, but none who have challenged me, none came close to my glory and if I dwelt on the subject, I felt a little defiled. Still I had a visit to look forward to, adventurer by the name of Sparrow. Huh, hardly been around, I don't see how they could have earned all this 'fame'. They're still a-nobody anyway you look at it. When they come knocking at my door, they'll have to prove themselves worthy of my presence first…

Sparrow

Reaver huh? More like bloody pain in the arse. That man is the reason I've had to travel through a damned swamp (if the legends are true he created the accursed thing as well!), fight waves of rotting hollow-men AND fight a stinking troll. Not to mention travelling with her. The blonde bimbo I've had to pull out of every sticky situation imaginable including pulling her out of quicksand! I don't even know how I got stuck with her in the first place! wait, I do. I found the stupid bitch sitting on the outskirts of Wraithmarsh, showing leg and chest to get some poor hapless fellow to drag her to Bloodstone, all in the name of a good shag! Why she wanted to get to Bloodstone is beyond me, but once the air head decided to shut up the Samaritan in me had to go and open her big fat mouth and offer her safe passage through the swamp. I'm gonna kill those monks, them and their damn values, but I suppose its better than following some loopy cultists who sit in the dark all day. Slicing through the last hollow-man I looked around, Blondie was some distance away fixing her hair. Great. She can just enjoy some pampering while I fight to keep hordes of animated corpses from ripping her conceited head from her whorish body.

"*huff huff* why do you need…*huff huff* to go to Bloodstone anyway?" might as well ask I suppose

"Oh? Well, there's a man there, whose body is said to be the stuff of legends" I grimaced at the freakishly high voice, grating on my nerves. A man eh? Why did I not see it coming? Hannah? Garth? Theresa!? Why did no one stop me!!

"…and when I get my hands on his-"

"Enough! It doesn't bear thinking about" I saw the evil grin on her face as we walked through the gates to Rookridge. She enjoyed anything of a sexual, perverted nature (much to my disgust) and enjoyed watching me wince at the sound of anything so vile. She thought it was my lack of experience (I do have experience thankyou, Little-Miss-Fuckbunny) and sneered at the thought.

"Do you know this heavenly mans name? If you don't than just give me 50 gold for the passage"

"Of course I do silly, his name is Reaver" my jaw dropped, it then clenched as white hot pain seared from my abdomen

"Oh come on…" I gritted through clenched teeth as a saw the hollow-man scythe sticking though my stomach. I whirled and kicked its legs, which crumbled beneath it, retaliating it stabbed me in the shoulder and I cried out.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled as I tore its head from rotting shoulders. Grapping at my stomach I tried to free the scythe, no good, all my efforts did were cause me to lose more blood. The world was beginning to swirl, piercing screams echoing through my thoughts, biggest house…Reaver…must find, a red fog clouded my vision and as I stumbled past the Tattoo shop I felt people stare. Sometimes I loathed being a hero, I would survive this, I knew that much but why did I have to go through so much bloody pain. Dimly aware of a gold gate I stumbled on, using anything that was stronger than me for support, a few of the kinder prostitutes helped me a few steps before returning to their claimed spot. There was a door, gilded, I fell to my knees god-damn not even the Crucible was this hard and with a last bout of strength, hauled by bleeding frame up the stairs. I scratched at the door like a common house cat but soon I couldn't find the strength to hold up my own head. Blondie knelt beside me screaming, the least she could do was be helpful but she needed help with even that.

"Knock…*rasp*…I-idiot" I slumped to the ground, darkness consuming me.