John the farmer stood leaning against a fence on a warm afternoon, looking down the path exiting Oakfield and going on to Rook ridge road. It was a quiet day, like most days in his little corner of Albion, and it was on days like this that John liked to stand and stare down the road, watching all who came and left. Once his eyes took hold of who was coming up the hill today, however, he wished he'd have found another way to spend this afternoon. The realization of who approached him was accompanied by an overpowering sense of dread, the beauty of this warm Albion afternoon dissolving away in seconds as all of John's senses focused in on this demon of a man. This hero, although only a hero in name, was evil's incarnate, he possessed unnaturally dark skin and horns and his eyes glowed a bright red. He was dressed in the torso and leg garb commonly seen on bandits, with a black, patchy cloak and bright crimson boots.
John could have sworn their crimson color came from the blood of fallen foes and a gruesome thought of the hero stomping a mans skull into a pulp came to mind. John was already trembling as the hero let out a horrific yell into his face. John expected this to be followed by the hero brutally butchering him, but what the hero did next shocked him. The demon man began to dance, it was a very merry Cossack dance, followed by him jumping up in the air and yelling hey!. John found himself clapping, such a great performance deserved applause. The hero followed his dance with a loud fart, the horrid stench almost made John gag, yet he found himself laughing. He knew all the horrible rumors about this man, but he seemed so merry and loveable that he just couldn't hate and fear him. The demon continued his acts of hilarity, and John was soon joined by two other villagers and even a monk from the temple of light. The hero generously gave them all gifts of chocolate and rare jewels, and beckoned them to follow. The crowd thought nothing of it, surely someone so silly and generous couldn't have malicious intent.
John the farmer's mangled, bird shit covered corpse now hangs from the temple of shadow's gate, his glassy eyes staring down Rook ridge road, watching all who come and go.