Skeleton

You lie in darkness, solitude, surrounded by an absolute quiet, oblivion and the most peaceful sleep of eternity. Rats and insects had stripped the flesh from your bones long ago and since then you have known the serenity of the dead.

The pain and misery was gone, all you had known was the most restful sleep possible. There is nothing to disturb you other than the occasional hero wandering through making a racket and ruining your eternity. On this occassion it was the sound of them smashing urns which woke you up, you never understood why they did that, what did they expect to find apart from the ashes of the cremated? Why did these ghoulish self proclaimed "heroes" steal from the dead? When had grave robbing become a noble endeavour? Who replaced the smashed vases and urns? You rise up from the scattered remains of your coffin since age had rotted the wood away, it wasn't much but it was comfortable to you and for all intents and purposes your home.

You look around through empty eye sockets and notice everything covered in dust which always surprised you considering how often the living marched through as if they owned the place. It disgusted you how little respect these people had for the dead, you hear the latest gang of hooligans getting closer and move towards the noise to give these interlopers a piece of your mind when blam, a stream of fire engulfs your face.

Even though you do not have eyes you are somehow blinded by the light and lift your arms to protect yourself as you stumble forward to confront your assailant. A couple of arrows hit your body and bounce off, you wonder idly who would use arrows against a skeleton when everyone knows they should use a blunt weapon. You continue to stumble forward through the fire before being flung backwards by the **** of a warhammer smashing into your ribcage confirming whwt the correct tool can achieve. Your body explodes as you hit the ground, your head spins on the uneven flagstones which served as the floor of the tomb for awhile before coming to rest facing your latest murderers. You glare at them as only a skull can and try to open your mouth to give them a peace of your mind before realising your jawbone is lying three feet away.

"Hey Dave01roCks that was my kill!" Complains one your assailants carrying a bow and arrows. She looks pretty sexy to be honest, dressed all in black as a rogue and has the smallest waist with the largest cleavage possible in the game. Why if you were a couple of hundred years younger, had flesh, a blood supply, were alive and had a cock you'd show her a thing or two, mainly how to cook as with that thin a waist she doesn't look very healthy and from an actual skeleton that means something.

"Shut up seeXXXygrrrl876, you were too slow and anyway, everyone knows you shouldn't use piercing weapons against skeletons" declares a bald man with a thick beard dressed in heavy armour detailed with religious symbols which identified him as a priest. You're not sure but something makes you think that priests in your day didn't wear armour, wasn't their faith in their god supposed to be enough to protect them. That's the problem with today's generation of heroes, they rely too much on fancy armour, fancy weapons and fancy spells with lots of graphics, why back when you were alive you used to wrestle giants for fun and armwrestle bears before drinking flagons of ale and bedding ten men and women at once, at least you think that's right. You don't remember anything of when you were alive but you know you would probably have been awesome, or at least pretty cool, yeah, a pretty cool awesome guy. Your rambling mind comes back to the current problem, where were we.....

You watch the two of them wonder off still arguing about whose kill you were as you wish you could yell at them to come back and feel your vengence. Your worldview changes as suddenly you are lifted into the air and turned around to face a hooded figure who smiles and raises you above their head "alas poor Yorrick, I knew him well" declares the figure dramatically in a feminine voice. Being a jawless skull you can only glare at your tormentor with spite at how unoriginal they were. "Oh my gawd, look at your glowing eyes! You're not defeated yet, you must be an Easter egg or special ingredient. Imagine how awesome you'd look on my staff, you're coming with me" declares this hooded figure, then without consideration about how you might feel about it your kidnapper thrusts you into their backpack.

As you bounce around inside the backpack you discover that it seems to be some sort of limbo because there would be no way all this crap could fit in the figures small backpack without magic. You would be happy floating in the void if it wasn't for the constant noise of battle keeping you awake. Your frustration at your predicament grows as you are kept awake from your usual peaceful slumber. To pass the time you decide to check your stats.

Name : Skeleton
Class : Minor undead
HP : 1/10
MP : 0/0
STR : 2
DEF : 1
Strengths : resistance to piercing weapons, resistance to sorcery, resistance to acid, heat and cold, immune to poison and drowning
Weaknesses : Turn undead, blunt weapons, cleric magic
Special abilities : None

Ok, so no surprises there, you were the weakest of the weak but how can you get the noises to stop so that you could go back to sleep. As there was nothing else to do you reviewed your situation. You were undead, you were bodiless, jawless, no means to communicate, some random thugs had tried to **** you after you had dutifully attempted to stop them from desecrating what you considered to be your home, you had been kidnapped and placed in a limbo which if it wasn't for your sunny disposition would be considered an unliving hell. All in all it wasn't looking good and there was nothing you can about it unless fate intervened.