[ WP ] You are a `` hero '' in a fantasy world , but as you `` adventure '' , you are slowly realizing YOU are the antagonist .

`` I stand here before you as a meek servant of The Man With the Compassionate Horns,'' I cried. The men and women of the village stood still, nervously looking at one another. Slowly, a man began to nod. 
 
 `` At last you've come!'' he said. He launched into an enthusiastic applause, soon followed by rapturous roars from the crowd. `` We have been awaiting your arrival.'' 
 
 I felt a great relief. The dim-witted villagers tended to resist conversion, occasionally resorting to violence. My task was dangerous, but more so important. 
 
 The Man With the Compassionate Horns had for years tried to assimilate dwellers of all the villages of the realm into his order. As of now, and since the dawn of time, chaos had been the dominant force of our existence. Tribal strifes and petty conflicts -- they were tearing the people apart. Trolls, elves, dwarfes, man; all were scattered and their alliances split. Finally, hope had come. 
 
 As his chief Compassionate General, I was responsible for spreading the good word. I'd ventured into territory uncharted by man and seen savagery beyond description. I'd slain creatures unknown even to our finest scholars and converted soulless ghouls of the swamps. Now, there was hope. This tribe of mud apes welcomed me with open arms. 
 
 `` I go by the name of Xerox,'' said the nodding man. `` I have been chosen as the King of the men of the Mire.'' 
 
 `` Greetings, King Xerox,'' said I. `` I have travelled far and wide and would much appreciate a hot meal and a bed for the night.'' 
 
 Xerox gave me a smile and a pat on the back. `` Least we could do for such a compassionate fellow.'' 
 
 As I entered the King's hut, my heart was warmed. They had gone through the trouble of decorating in their simple ways, obviously in expectance of my arrival. Mud statues and filthy lanterns were arranged in intricate patterns. I made a mental note to enlighten our scholars that the mud people had developed a rudimentary form of craftsmanship. Perhaps we were not as different as was commonly thought. 
 
 `` Feel free to employ the King's seat, as is befitting of a man of the Man With the Compassionate Horns.'' As he named my master, I could sense a certain unease among the mud dwellers. Surely, they were ashamed of their savageness being contrasted with the purity of a divine force. I understood. I, too, had loathed my heathen ways. Yet I was saved as I entered into His service, as these barbarians would soon be saved. 
 
 I was given a flask of wine and what appeared to be bread. As I drank, it was if a great burden had been lifted off their collective shoulders. Relief is, after all, as pungent as the body odour of the dwarfes. Obviously, they were concerned I would reject their offerings. By partaking in their meal and drink, I was declaring us as equals. It was as if I could smell it. And it truly did smell of ``... dwarf?'' 
 
 Before me stood a dwarfen creature, naked as they come. I did not understand. These were mud men. For centuries they had battled the dwarfes over game and territory. 
 
 `` Aye, yes. Observant as well as compassionate, are we?'' 
 
 `` As would be expected of the Beast's general,'' said a man with an Elvish accent. 
 
 `` W-What is going on here?'' I said. I stood up, and stumbled. `` T-The wine, it's... you have --'' 
 
 `` Poisoned it?'' said a creature with the guttural voice of the trolls. `` General is wise.'' 
 
 I looked up, and saw the discordant assembly before me. Elf beside troll beside dwarf beside mud man. It was all too much. 
 
 `` You will no longer attack and destroy the citizens of the realm. The terror of the Beast shall be no more.'' 
 
 I looked up at Xerox. His eyes were afire with passion. 
 
 `` His reign is over. I hope you now, in your final moments, understand the nature of the compassion you have so eagerly thrust upon us.'' 
 
 I listened to their merry celebration as I felt the world slip back into chaos.
