A/N
This was based on a poem challenge, to write one with the words "instrument," "element," and "hint." Combined it with the premise of You Are Not the Hero.
I Didn't Choose the NPC Life
A warbling sound of trumpet horn,
The army will arrive.
Tools of our king, who's most oppressive,
A ruler so despised.
…
But already people are in town,
Yet they're not the army type.
They go from one hut to another,
Their faces filled with delight.
…
Oh bloody hell, I start to think,
They're heroes, come to town.
Robbing from the NPCs,
Who can only stand and frown.
…
They're in their element I see,
As they gather loot.
No-one can oppose a hero,
Such an effort would be moot.
…
Like an instrument of greed they are,
And I see them near my house.
I wish I could just hide away,
Become tiny like a mouse.
…
No more I think, this has to end,
These heroes think they're grand.
I'm a lowly NPC perhaps,
But their actions cannot stand.
…
I stand firm, they all barge in,
Barrels, they all open.
Crates and cupboards, bits of gold,
My life around me broken.
…
And then they take my pendant,
Something that will buff their stats.
But that pendant, "it is mine," I say,
Not the property of prats.
…
"Heroes?" I ask, "you're bloody thieves,
Scavengers you are!
"Yes I can talk, and you can gawk,
But this has gone too far!"
…
The heroes stare, as if in shook,
An NPC, she speaks.
Perhaps I'll change the heroscape,
Give villagers relief.
…
But the heroes do not take the hint,
And they head out the door.
I hear jingle of a game that's saved,
But still the heroes play some more.
…
Well you prats, the game's just begun,
I'm getting my loot back.
It's time for this lone NPC,
To go on the attack.
