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.