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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1212408
This is a story about feelings of loss, despair, and regret.
4th Age, 320 or 330, During the Days of Smoke

    The Hunchback stood atop the tower. Smoke plumed into the air from huge fires of destruction. Black trees, shells of once-great oaks, lined to the far edge of the horizon. The stairs lining the interior of the stone tower shook and raddled as orcs in their armour raced towards the Hunchback. The Hunchback had been the talk of the land for the past month. And he was the cause for the terrible things happening around him. All the soldiers littering the green ground; the fires, oh the fires they cause. I caused it all, me. I mixed the rocks and I lit them. I made the Arms and I caused the pain. Like bees orcs are, with their hive miles away, their stingers stinging. All that I have done is over, and all that I could have helped will be forgotten. I stepped up, axe in hand, orcs below. Coming. And the Hunchback wept.
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