We Weren't Heroes
We called ourselves the Heroes of the Storm. Champions of the world of Nexus. Paragons of blue team...or red team, if that's how one rolls. I used to think there was a difference. But now...
It was at the Cursed Hollow. As always, we fought. As always, we provided tribute from the Raven Lord, or endured his curses if unlucky. As always, there was a team that won, and a team that didn't. And to the victor go the spoils. I have since come to realize that at Cursed Hollow, the only victor is the Raven Lord, and the spoils are the tributes we provide him. But we're not the true losers. Not even the team that does not succeed. And as I wandered the battlefield, as I reaped the supposed spoils of victory, I came to realize this truth. And it began when I saw a grave golem collapsed against a farmhouse, having destroyed part of the wall. Surrounded by the bodies of our minions.
No. Not minions. Soldiers, men-at-arms, allies...we have no right to lord over them. It was seeing their bodies that made me realize this. Almost always, when a monster such as a grave golem was taken down, it was we 'heroes' who did it. But here, our allies had fought alone. They had given their lives for our cause. If they hadn't held the line, who knows what might have happened to our fort?
"Help..."
And I heard the voice.
"Help me..."
"Hello?" I asked. "Is someone there?"
"In the house! I'm trapped!"
I hesitated for a moment - I would like to think it is in my nature to help others. I am a paladin of the Light. But for so long I have used that power to smite my enemies, rather than use it for those who require healing. And the prospect of that power being used for a non-combatant...I had never considered the possibility.
"Help!"
So I rushed forward. With my warhammer, I smashed down part of the wall. With my hands, I lifted collapsed beams. With my eyes, I beheld the source of the voice - a young man, pinned against the floor. A woman and elderly man beside him. Both dead.
"Hang on," I said. "My name is Uther and-"
"Get away!" he shouted, blood mixing with his spit.
"Peace!" I exclaimed. "I am a paladin. I am of the Heroes of the Storm."
"You're no hero!" the man exclaimed, more blood coming out of his mouth. I suspected the beam's weight and/or the force of its impact had caused internal bleeding. "You did this! You and your battles! My family is dead because of you!"
"I..." And I couldn't answer.
The man was starting to lose consciousness, and I moved over. Channeling the powers of the Light, I moved my hands over him.
"Murderer..." he whispered.
"The Raven Lord-"
"Is fickle and cruel, but still appeasable. You...you and your kind are worse."
And he was right. Our battles would never end. We would always bring death and destruction. At the most, I could only hope to save this one life before ending countless others.
We are champions of the world of Nexus. Great warriors.
But we're not heroes.