[ WP ] As a villager in an MMORPG , you 've grown increasingly jaded from every single hero easily completing your `` quest '' . You 've decided to actively sabotage them from now on ...

“ Hello fair hero! Perhaps you could help me with a problem. Press X ” 
 “ There are a group of rats attacking my vegetables! Kill them and I will give you a prize! Press X ” 
 
 The young hero trudged off to my backyard, awkwardly hacking away at the low level rates by the squash. It warmed my heart a bit seeing the young man trying to defeat the vermin, learning how to swing his sword, taking 1 point of damage from a rat bite, and howling with victory when a meager foe was slain. The young adventurer, doe eyed and flush with the thrill of battle, returned to me. 
 
 “ Bless you fair hero! Have a life potion to soothe you wounds! ” 
 
 He graciously accepted and went on his way. Soon he would be slaying monsters and dragons, saving the world. 
 
 Another hero came forward. He sprinted to me in a straight line. Oh Bestus, I knew the type. 
 
 “ Hello fair hero. Perhaps you could help- “ 
 “ There are a group of rats attacking my veg- “ 
 
 Off he went. The rats fell easily. Straight back to me. 
 
 “ Bless you fair- “ 
 
 He snatched the potion, walked a few feet, fiddled with his bag, and tossed the potion aside with a grunt, stalking into Thom ’ s Shop. He exited, picked up the potion, stuck it in his bag, and walked off. 
 
 I saw it every day. Heroes who looked young but knew exactly what to do, doing it out of habit; soulless young ones without a hint of adventure. 
 
 Another approached. 
 “ Hel- “ 
 “ There- “ 
 Not even a pause. No love for the lore of it all, not a care for where the rats came from, or what my issue was. 
 “ Bl- ” and off he went. His bad was bulging with potions. He tried to stuff another in, and it fell back out. He picked it up and repeated this several times. The hero, exasperated, tossed the potion back at me. It fell pitifully at my feet. 
 
 This was all a bit too much. These weren ’ t Heroes, these were Beasts. Beasts with no care of the world around them, simply going from point to point in service to some imaginary goal. They didn ’ t care if the world was dying, they only cared about amassing wealth or claiming some lost artifact they could shut away. 
 The horizon was clear for the moment- no Heroes or Beasts were within the town gates. I picked up the discarded potion and walked into my backyard to check on my constant adversary, the rats. Free for the moment from their yolk of hero fodder they played. Over and over they attacked and fell to the sword, only to be reborn again. Now they enjoyed a brief respite, squeaking and grunting. These rats found more joy in life than the beasts ever would. 
 
 A rat ran over to me and sniffed at the potion I held. It looked at me thoughtfully. I had no use for the extra potion; my stock replenished itself automatically. Typically I collected the extras and gave them to the town goblin, Garret. Garret would place them in pots and bushed throughout the town and surrounding area for Heroes to find. 
 
 Perhaps I could do something different with this one. I uncorked the top and poured a little onto the rat in front of me. The rat looked at me curiously, and ran off to play with his friends. 
 
 I sat the open potion on the ground and returned to the front. There had to be something I could do to teach these Beasts posing as Heroes their proper place. It would be noble of me, in fact, to waken them from there lifeless slumber and engage them with the world around them. 
 
 Another hero approached. He had little time for conversation, and headed to the back. He was a newer Hero, all in cloth armour with a wooden sword. He fought absentmindedly with the rats, taking some small amount of damage. When the last rat fell, he seemed a little stronger. A little faster. A little smarter. I offered a new potion and he took it without thought and drank it. His wounds, a scratch or two, disappeared and off he went. 
 
 An idea struck me. I was but a village homeowner, living my life in a perpetual state of weakness. The Heroes that came through occasionally changed. When they fought, they got stronger. When they one, they improved even more. While I would never change, perhaps the rats could. 
 
 After the next Hero Beast left, I ran to the backyard. The rats where spread about in pieces. I ran over to one and poured the potion over him- nothing happened. A few moments later they all regained life, all the same as they where before. A toubling set back. 
 
 That night Garret came to me asking for any extra potions. I had a dozen or so that I had collected in a barrel behind the stove. I pretended to search for them, using the opportunity to question Garret. It would be morning before I would once again entertain Heroes, and I was fortunate enough to have a lock on my door. Now I wanted to make a plan. 
 
 “ Garret, ” I said, “ the oddest thing happened today. Where are those cursed potions? I was in the back with an open potion some Hero had left behind, and some fell on a rat body. It did not heal him as it does Heroes/. No, not under here either. Why do you suppose that is? 
 
 Garret looked at me with some seriousness. “ You should not be playing with them rats, Gorl. Tis no good to truck with things you do not understand. ” 
 
 “ My friend, I have no idea what you mean. I was simply describing a strange accident. ” 
 
 “ And I ’ m Blestus hisself. Leave them rats alone or no good ’ ll come of it. Let the bleedin Heroes come by an massacre ‘ em as they like. The rats come back, and they don ’ t seem to mind it too much. ” 
 
 “ Of course, of course dear Garret. You mistake me. I only wonder why it did no good to the lowly vermin when it does so much for Heroes? ” 
 
 Garret sighed and sat on my wooden stool. “ I see I ’ ll not be getting my potions fore you get your answers. Heroes come through here never dies, only gets bit up a bit by them rats. Rats do die, only temporary like. Rats come back though. Up in Wandering Woods, though, they have to deal with Forrest Goblins. Ugly and mean with a taste for Hero. Garth, me cousin, does a bit of work up there. He says when Heroes fall they got to use a White Crystal to get up again. ” 
 
 “ Ah, a White Crystal. Hmm, I can ’ t say that I ’ ve ever seen one, ” I replied. 
 
 “ Nor will ya. White Crystal are hard to come by in these parts. Not for pots, that ’ s for sure. I seen some at Thoms, where he makes a good bit of coin for ‘ em, buts that ’ s it. ” 
 
 “ Wonderful. I mean, curious. Well, here they are! About a dozen today. Take them with my thanks for the shared words, Garret. ” 
 
 “ Good then. I tell you, Gorl, you ’ d best leave whatever you ’ re planning alone. Let they Heroes do their bloody work and rest when you can. There ’ s not much joy in this life, but there is sunshine and a cool breeze. That ’ s better than a Forrest Goblin gets, and you should be thankful. ” 
 
 With that he was off. 
 
 The next morning was flush with Beasts, all slaying and swinging, all in too much of a hurry to let me give them so much as a complete thought or thank you. There was an ebb in the afternoon, and I wandered over to Thom ’ s Shop. Thom stood stoically within, his grizzled face scowling behind his counter. 

