Chibi-Reaper
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Someone requested a continuation for the Great Hero, so after mashing my brain against it for a while, the saga of Sir William Smythe continues!
---
Billy took a moment, possibly as many as a hundred miles away, to rest and catch his breath.
"Man.... the parties are great, but these people just keep expecting things." he sighs, adjusting his shades.
"Eeeeeek!" A painfully shrill voice calls from nearby.
..... Billy studiously ignores the shriek.
"Someone... help! Surely some brave hero must be near, to save a damsel in need!" The nasally falsetto calls again.
Nope. Nuh-uh. This is someone's problem, but not Billy's, no sir.
"There's.... there's fire, and brimstone! The virgin is going to be sacrificed!"
Nothing doing.
"They, they're drowning puppies!" The call tries again. "And bludgeoning poor little baby seals, and eating kittens and baby birds! They've started up an orphanage just so they can bar the doors and burn it down! Ooooh, the goblinity!"
"Humanity." Billy calls back, voice flat.
"Ooooh, the humanity!" The voice tries again, theatrically.
.... Billy lets loose a long, heartfelt sigh.
"I don't know who piles this shit on me." He grumbles. "Man, if I just ignore it, then they're going to jump me down the road anyway... what a pain."
Sulking a little, Billy stalks off the road and through a narrow patch of woods to a cleared area with an old man tied to a pole.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Goblins shriek, dropping out of trees and popping out from false ground. "It was a trap, iiiidiot!"
"OF COURSE IT WAS A TRAP." Billy yells, punching one in the face. Unconscious, he takes it by the feet and uses it as an impromptu bludgeon against all the rest. "Do I look stupid? It's obviously a trap! And come on, you retards are like a foot tall! What the hell? Stop following me around!"
"The hero is too strong!"
"Run awaaaaaay!"
Having retreated almost as soon as they appeared, Billy snorts and tosses the last goblin aside into the bushes, and cuts the man down.
"Oooooooh...." the withered wretch groans faintly, rubbing his wrists. "Thank you kindly, son. I don't know how much longer I could have lasted. I wonder if there is any way I can repay you...?"
"Do you have any money?" Billy suggests, cutting right to the chase.
"Hmm.... but I am but a simple and humble vagrant. What might I have that a hero such as yourself...."
"If you have any money then that would be great." Billy hints subtly again.
"Hmm.... Hmmmm..... Ah. I have it. Take this, hero.... a blade handed down from father to son for the past hundred generations. It pains me greatly to break this tradition but, well, after the war injury and all.... I won't be able to anyway. Please, take it."
Billy holds the short dagger away, looking at it suspiciously.
.... Oh well. At worst, he can pawn it for a few coppers.
Onward, then.
Back on the horse, the Great Hero rides for hours yet before coming to a halt in a small, riverside village, where he charters passage further west on a fishing vessel headed out to sea, where it is to drop him off on a tropical island. Tired from the flight, Billy boards and rests.
Late in the morning, and hung over, he wakes to the sound of screaming, fire, and death.
"HERO" the dragon bellows. "I HAVE WAITED FOR YOU. AND I SMELL YOU KNOW. PREPARE, FOR THE NAME OF YOUR DEATH... IS KARNGORAC!"
"... oh, bullshit." Billy croaks. "I got on... the wrong damn boat."
"PREPARE. FOR I COME FOR YOU."
"Fuck oooffff!" Billy roars, hurling the dagger in his pocket in a gesture of infuriated futility.
The blade flies straight and true, piercing the great dragon's eye and driving itself further and further still.
"THE.... DRAGON... SLAYER." Karngorac howls, slumping. "HOW COULD YOU... POSSIBLY HAVE....?"
With a great crash, the dragon collapses, defeated and dead. It takes another few moments for peasantry cheers to start rising.
The great hero, for his part, stares blankly, before quickly striking a pose. Hung over or not, confused as hell or not, clearly things went better than expected and he was damn sure going to take advantage of it, and the hospitality of generous and grateful local housewives.
Or his name wasn't Billy Smith.
---
Billy took a moment, possibly as many as a hundred miles away, to rest and catch his breath.
"Man.... the parties are great, but these people just keep expecting things." he sighs, adjusting his shades.
"Eeeeeek!" A painfully shrill voice calls from nearby.
..... Billy studiously ignores the shriek.
"Someone... help! Surely some brave hero must be near, to save a damsel in need!" The nasally falsetto calls again.
Nope. Nuh-uh. This is someone's problem, but not Billy's, no sir.
"There's.... there's fire, and brimstone! The virgin is going to be sacrificed!"
Nothing doing.
"They, they're drowning puppies!" The call tries again. "And bludgeoning poor little baby seals, and eating kittens and baby birds! They've started up an orphanage just so they can bar the doors and burn it down! Ooooh, the goblinity!"
"Humanity." Billy calls back, voice flat.
"Ooooh, the humanity!" The voice tries again, theatrically.
.... Billy lets loose a long, heartfelt sigh.
"I don't know who piles this shit on me." He grumbles. "Man, if I just ignore it, then they're going to jump me down the road anyway... what a pain."
Sulking a little, Billy stalks off the road and through a narrow patch of woods to a cleared area with an old man tied to a pole.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Goblins shriek, dropping out of trees and popping out from false ground. "It was a trap, iiiidiot!"
"OF COURSE IT WAS A TRAP." Billy yells, punching one in the face. Unconscious, he takes it by the feet and uses it as an impromptu bludgeon against all the rest. "Do I look stupid? It's obviously a trap! And come on, you retards are like a foot tall! What the hell? Stop following me around!"
"The hero is too strong!"
"Run awaaaaaay!"
Having retreated almost as soon as they appeared, Billy snorts and tosses the last goblin aside into the bushes, and cuts the man down.
"Oooooooh...." the withered wretch groans faintly, rubbing his wrists. "Thank you kindly, son. I don't know how much longer I could have lasted. I wonder if there is any way I can repay you...?"
"Do you have any money?" Billy suggests, cutting right to the chase.
"Hmm.... but I am but a simple and humble vagrant. What might I have that a hero such as yourself...."
"If you have any money then that would be great." Billy hints subtly again.
"Hmm.... Hmmmm..... Ah. I have it. Take this, hero.... a blade handed down from father to son for the past hundred generations. It pains me greatly to break this tradition but, well, after the war injury and all.... I won't be able to anyway. Please, take it."
Billy holds the short dagger away, looking at it suspiciously.
.... Oh well. At worst, he can pawn it for a few coppers.
Onward, then.
Back on the horse, the Great Hero rides for hours yet before coming to a halt in a small, riverside village, where he charters passage further west on a fishing vessel headed out to sea, where it is to drop him off on a tropical island. Tired from the flight, Billy boards and rests.
Late in the morning, and hung over, he wakes to the sound of screaming, fire, and death.
"HERO" the dragon bellows. "I HAVE WAITED FOR YOU. AND I SMELL YOU KNOW. PREPARE, FOR THE NAME OF YOUR DEATH... IS KARNGORAC!"
"... oh, bullshit." Billy croaks. "I got on... the wrong damn boat."
"PREPARE. FOR I COME FOR YOU."
"Fuck oooffff!" Billy roars, hurling the dagger in his pocket in a gesture of infuriated futility.
The blade flies straight and true, piercing the great dragon's eye and driving itself further and further still.
"THE.... DRAGON... SLAYER." Karngorac howls, slumping. "HOW COULD YOU... POSSIBLY HAVE....?"
With a great crash, the dragon collapses, defeated and dead. It takes another few moments for peasantry cheers to start rising.
The great hero, for his part, stares blankly, before quickly striking a pose. Hung over or not, confused as hell or not, clearly things went better than expected and he was damn sure going to take advantage of it, and the hospitality of generous and grateful local housewives.
Or his name wasn't Billy Smith.