Discorded Humanity

by The Drifting Bard

Prologue

The chill in the air cold the young warriors burning heart, the warrior had drawn his twin blades to make his final stand. The sudden rush of adrenaline had caused the warrior to loose focus, swinging his swords wildly at his enemy, missing every time.
“Is that the best you can do” his opponent uttered with a smarmy grin. The warrior had finally caught his enemy off guard, lunging forwards with his blades extended in front of him.

The battle was over.
The warrior had won. The sounds of music played as the credits rolled.
The player had beaten the game, taking a triumphant sip of coffee.

The player wasn’t old, and wasn’t young either.

At twenty years of age, you’d think I’d have something better to do than sit around playing video games and write dodgy fan-fiction about some incredulous children’s programme which had somehow, through the miracle of the internet, gained a whole fan-base dedicated to memes and the like.
In any-case, I was in the closet about it. I was unsure of how people would think.
I’d often dreamed of being in that world, human or otherwise, but in all fairness I knew it wasn’t to be.

How wrong I was.