Power trip

You looked out the window and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. It said sunny but it's fucking raining blood, boy! You cleave the gargoyle in half with the help of a mighty blade. Look at that thing; it's fucking huge! It hums in your hands, delighted by the life you keep feeding it. As you slit the throat of an imp, its head rolls beneath your muscular feet. A motherfucking champion, that's what you are! Kicking that stupid face sends it flying in the arms of its youngest. Oh man, you've done it now... They swarm from all directions. You disembowel one with the tip of your heater shield, stomp the head of another, slice, and dice a few cousins; you save the youngest for desert. You fucking smash its head with your bare hands, adding a layer of brains to your garments. It looks quite slimming, next to the guts and crusty bloodstains. Those things we're pushovers, time to face the trolls. Because you rock an eighteen in wisdom you came fully prepared. Pouring oil on the blade your voice echoes within the cave, something like <it's about to get hot in here> or <burn, you sons of bitches!>. Then you strike your steel gauntlet on the rocky wall and light your blade. Goddam you're so fucking awesome! Blocking a fearsome claw swipe and using your bulging shoulder muscles, you position your body under its armpit. The blade sings as it over-penetrates, slicing through flesh and bone. Flames engulf the beast as it shrieks its torment. The other two gang up on you. Using the skill the retired mercenary passed on, you unleash the mighty widow-spin. Oh man, that's so cool! Look at you: a whirlwind of death and destruction, fire and vengeance.

They pile dead at your feet. Breathing heavily you latch the shield to your back and sheath the demonic blade. Taking the helm off you bend a knee and softly touch the woman's face. She's so glad you came for her. That tore dress, messed up hair, sweaty, glistening, golden skin makes her look like a blue-eyed forest nymph. Just as you break the chains and lean in to take her in your enormous arms she gets a fucking spear through her sweet chest. Oh shit, you mad now, bruh! Those fuckers killed your girlfriend. What are you gonna do now? Enraged you cry out her name accompanied by the traditional <nooo!>. Towering from across the cavern, an oily red-skinned demon the size of two men stacked on top of each other howls in mockery. It has a wolf's face, claws like daggers, and a huge bulge under its loincloth. That doesn't impress you; although still a virgin, you remember King Fish-breath's words < it's not the size that counts it's how high your charisma and dice-rolls are. Oh, and I hate fish…>

You slowly unsheath the blade. It sings and hums, spurring you on to massacre that titan. The kill count is high enough to summon the cavalry. You invoke ancient evils, unspeakable horrors to breach the veils of our reality; like rushing waters, they flow out of the earth's crust and pierce your chest. Oh fuck, now you're cooking! You rush the beast and cut towards his forehead with lightning speed. Unfazed it blocks the blade with its talons and counters with a thrust to your stomach. You feel the tips inside your guts, breaking past your armor. You drop the sword in agony, clutching the demon's hand. It grabs you with its freehand and chokes the living shit out of you. This motherfucker is starting to piss you off. Digging deep inside your essence you summon the strength to pry open those suffocating claws. With utter hatred, you headbutt its stupid mug, splattering its maw. It drops you and bends at the knees. Sensing victory, you grab the sword and in one single elegant move, you slice its shins. The fucker buckles, dropping on all fours. Crisscrossing cuts on its chest expose the white of the ribs, blood draping you from head to toe. It's done for. It can barely hold its head up. You punch a hole clean through the mouth and exit the back of its skull, gore pouring out like oatmeal. Your rage knows no boundaries. It's not enough you killed everything in this cave. The ancients lust for more souls. Your demonic sword hums in delight as thick blood drips from its razor edge. Where will you go? What will you do now? You lost your girl, your best friend the mercenary is dead, King Fish-breath is out of town… When all is lost you remember your true self. Revitalized you stand up and do the only thing that brings you joy: looting corpses! Ah yes, a high-level sash on a gargoyle, a bitching helmet on one of the troll boys and the cherry on top: a magical ring that grants the wielder three wishes! What are you gonna wish for, oh behemoth of awesomeness? Also, remember I said you looked out a window, in this cave? Do you want your girl back, maybe she'll let you get to second base this time, eh? Resurrect the mercenary, hit the town, get plastered, and start a fight with the local thief guild? Then kill them all and rule as the new chief of tramps? Or maybe you want to sell the ring, repair your gear, and venture to a new land; where a powerful lich-king dwells and conjures up unspeakable evil? Whatever your wish, just remember: all is possible in the land of books, the land of imagination, where you are free to embrace your dork side. Just make sure to take a break once in a while. Those real tits aren't going to fondle themselves. Slowly, you pull yourself out of the imaginary and into the real world. You now have to answer people's questions, fucking look at them and hear their stupid voices. You have chores, responsibilities, commitments...Goddamit, real-life blows!