“Who are you? Where’s the hero?”
It was the same with every village they came to. They tried to not blame the villagers. It was understandable to hope for the hero as only the hero could actually purify the land so the monsters would stop coming. They were just part of the supplementary forces because the hero couldn’t be everywhere.
A haggard looking villager had been the one that asked an equally haggard looking fighter. The villagers’ clothes were torn and bloodied. A sleeve of their shirt was missing and the exposed arm was wrapped in bandages. The fighter’s armor was covered in scrapes and gashes. Neither had looked like they got an adequate amount of sleep any time recently.
They tried to not blame the villagers but it irked them. They might not be purifying the land but they are saving them now. Who knows how long it would take for the hero to arrive there.To be treated as a substitute by the people simply because they didn’t have that special aspect needed to save them for decades instead of months.
The monster’s population would build in the tainted land. The weakest of them would start to be forced out by those that were stronger as it got overpopulated. They were tasked with culling the monster population.So the village would hopefully be spared from any attacks before the hero could make it here.
They tried to not resent the hero. The hero really wasn’t to blame for this. It was hard for them not to though. When they came back bloodied after a hard fight, only to hear the villagers still prattle on about when the hero was coming. How they needed the hero. Their sacrifice and effort, barely acknowledged.
The hero’s armor seemed to always be glistening every time they saw them. Not any scratches let alone a dent. Their horse would carry them forward as the villagers lined the streets cheering that they were finally saved. Every time.
It was the worst when the hero was right behind them. Like the time the hero had come a day into their recovery from injuries received during the culling. The fanfare the hero received while they barely got a thank you.How the villagers still yelled that they were finally saved even though the monsters had just been taken care off. How full of themselves the hero seemed as they strode out to the already cleared lands and purified it. How forgotten they were as they laid injured in bed as the mere substitute.
They tried to not blame the villagers. They tried to not resent the hero.
SDMB1212 