[ WP ] A generic RPG story ( such as , but not necessarily , `` the princess has been kidnapped ! '' ) from the villain 's point of view . Make the audience sympathetic to his/her cause .

The Old Man watched from afar as the townsfolk lifted the Hero on their shoulders and marched him through the streets. A proud, confident smile shone from the Hero's face. He had every right to be so proud and confident, the Old Man supposed; he had just slayed the Dragon of the Wastes. And of course, this was after he personally fought back and defeated the Cursed Ones, which was after he felled the Great Golem of the Rock. 
 
 Indeed, he had earned this celebration. The townsfolk again would sing their songs, praise his name, laud his victories and immortalize him in legend. Soon, they would ask him to be their leader, their lord, their ruler. Why should n't they? He alone stood up to the mortal danger that threatened the townsfolk and he alone saved their lives on several occasions. The Hero did by himself what no other single person could do. He was a Man among men, a Hero among innocents. 
 
 *A Lion among Sheep*. 
 
 The Old Man had seen this song sung many times before. Eventually, the Hero would have no more beasts to slay, demons to defeat or monsters to fell. Eventually, the songs would go quiet, the celebrations would cease, and the Hero's glory would be a mere memory. 
 
 And the Hero would then act upon the townsfolk's insistence that he be their lord and leader. With no more mortal threats to defend the people from, the Hero would chase the high of his old glory through other means; through means he was not suited for. He would trade the sword for the seat; battle for politics; bravery for diplomacy; love for power. 
 
 *Or at least he would try*. 
 
 But the Hero is not suited for the position of ruler. Skill with a sword does not necessarily entail competency in ruling. Soon, the Hero would realize the townsfolk can be bitter, ignorant and impossible to please. Soon, the Hero would have to make hard decisions with no correct answer. The Hero would help some number of townsfolk only to discover that in doing so, he adversely affected other townsfolk. The poor and starving folk he fed would get their food from farmers without proper payment or compensation. The thief he hung would be the poor son of a family who was only taking desperate measures to keep them fed and healthy. Those townsfolk would grow angry. Resentment would take root. The Hero would grow frustrated. The universal, absolute love he once enjoyed would diminish. He would forget what brought him to this point. He would become disillusioned; cynical. And on top of it all, old age would begin taking its toll. 
 
 The townsfolk would begin calling for him to step down; to remove himself as their lord and leader. But the Hero would see that without him, the townsfolk would tear each other to pieces. Infighting and rivalries and mob justice would rule the town. Without an external, mutual threat, the townsfolk would project their fears, paranoia, grievances and anger at the Hero. And if not the Hero, themselves. 
 
 It would only be a matter of time before some foolish, idealistic townsfolk would attempt to assassinate the Hero, imagining a better life and society without his rule, with no regard to who would take his place or how the town would function in his absence. The attempt would fail, of course. The Hero may be many years removed from his glory days, but he would still be thrice the man and combatant of any of the townsfolk. 
 
 But this would make the Hero distrustful. The proud, confident smile that once shone from his face would be replaced by a stern and unflinching gaze. Dissent would be met with violence, the smallest of victimless crimes met with punishment by death. The Hero who once slew monsters would become the Monster himself, only this time, there would be no Hero to slay him. Until another external threat arose that threatened the town -- *if* it ever arose -- the townsfolk would forever be at the mercy of their Once Heroic leader. 
 
 *And even if a new threat did arise, and even if a new Hero stepped forth to face it, the cycle would begin again. The townsfolk would sing his praises, laud his victories, and immortalize him in legend. And again they would insist the Hero be their new lord, leader and ruler. Again the townsfolk would forget their past; would fail to see the chain of events creating the same problem time after time. Again the townsfolk would be blind to the fact that they themselves are planting the seeds of their own future turmoil and tragedy. * 
 
 The Old Man pulled himself from his thoughts, still looking upon the celebration and cheers as a group of townsfolk paraded the Hero around on their shoulders after his latest victory. The Old Man scowled beneath his hood, lamenting to himself that the townsfolk can not see what he can see; that placing so much power and praise and love in a single man is exactly what would bring about their bleak future. Their best future could only be found in themselves as a whole. The Hero as a concept was a relic of the past. If the townsfolk were to ever enjoy happier lives, prosperity, and a better future for their children, they would have to stop turning to the Hero. Their dependence would have to be severed; the cycle broken. 
 
 *There would have to be no more Heroes. * 
 
 The Old Man adjusted his hood, stepped out from the crowd and slowly approached the townsfolk parading the Hero around. He blocked their path and stood motionless. Soon, the townsfolk saw the Old Man would not move for them. The cheering quieted, the singing ceased and uneasy silence quickly took hold, accompanied only by the calm breeze. 
 
 The Hero's smile remained steadfast on his face as the townsfolk let him back on his feet. 
 
 `` What is the meaning of this, friend?'' The Hero began. `` Would you not join in the celebration of my latest victory?'' 
 
 The Old Man responded by drawing his sword. Muted gasps hurriedly jumped from person to person around them. The townsfolk gave the Hero and the Old Man a large berth. 
 
 `` Ha! Alright then, friend,'' the Hero chuckled as he drew his sword. `` I've slain dragons and golems, undead and ogres. Do you really think you will be any sort of challenge for me?'' 
 
 The Old Man remained silent. Old he may be, but he had a lifetime of experience. He did not have the strength of his youth, but he was as quick as he ever was and he had found that oftentimes, the experience that had replaced his strength was of more value to him in a fight than his strength ever was. A few seconds passed until the Hero realized the Old Man was not going to respond to him. 
 
 The Hero smirked as he lunged forward at the Old Man, swinging his blade with his right arm across the length of his body. The Old Man took a single step back, effortlessly dodging the slash. The Hero followed up with a second swing of his blade back across the length of his body. The Old Man again stepped back to dodge the Hero's slash. 
 
 The Hero brought his sword above his right shoulder and swung down towards the Old Man's head. The Old Man parried the blow with his own sword. The meeting of their blades sung a high-pitched song that reverberated across the town square. But this song would only have one note. 
 
 As soon as their swords connected, the Old Man spun underneath both of their blades, positioning himself next to the Hero's right, guiding the Hero's sword with his own towards the ground, sliding his blade up the length of the Hero's sword and towards his elbow, slicing off his arm all in one, quick motion. Blood gushed forth as the *clang* from the steel hitting the ground was drowned out by the Hero's cry of agony. The Hero fell to his knees as the townsfolk began to flee indoors. 
 
 The Old Man slowly walked in front of the Hero and stood over him. 
 
 `` Why...?'' The Hero asked. 
 
 `` I was you, once,'' The Old Man began. `` I was the Hero. Then I was the Ruler. Then I was the Monster. I was Savior and Sin. I was Glory and Tragedy.'' 
 
 The Old Man pulled back his hood so the Hero could gaze upon his face. Silence returned as they saw themselves within each other. The Old Man saw his past. The Hero saw his future. 
 
 The Old Man placed his sword next to the Hero's neck. `` Your death will make you the greatest Hero of all,'' he said. `` And if these people are to ever live better lives, it will give them cause to lead themselves to a more prosperous future. You will die a Hero and the purity of your memory will break the cycle.'' 
 
 The Hero's eyes grew wider, but words failed to reach him. The Old Man saw in his eyes that the Hero knew he was right. 
 
 *A true hero, * the Old Man thought. 
 
 The Old Man took his sword in both of his hands and swung it briskly through the Hero's neck. His head tumbled to the ground as his body slumped backwards. The silence had returned again, this time without the company of the calm breeze. The Old Man pulled up his hood, turned around and began walking towards the edge of the town. 
 
 *The Last Hero saved the townsfolk from beasts and monsters and demons, * the Old Man thought. *But they will never know that I just saved them from themselves. * 
 

