Rowan was angry.

Although there were a number of reasons for his current emotional state, the primary cause was probably the dagger that was currently jutting from his chest, sticking out from just below the ribs, blood staining his once clean brown shirt.

Okay that’s a lie, Rowan admitted. It wasn’t clean. He grimaced as he felt the dagger move within him. He had been tempted to take it out, but the sudden drop in health from touching the hilt had been enough to discourage that. He had had few enough healthpoints before having a dagger plunged into him. He didn’t need to go losing the few he had left. Checking his health, Rowan’s face fell.

31/150

Watching as the number fell again, the one fading away to be replaced by a zero, Rowan forced himself to continue moving, fighting through the pain in his chest. If he didn’t find a healer soon, then he was finished. Unfortunately, healers in Taureen weren’t too keen to cater to alley rats such as himself, nor were they easily convinced to work for free.

That’s something to worry about when it comes up, his inner voice told him. If you don’t get seen too soon, then you won’t have to worry about anything at all. Except for how an alley rat is going to pay for passage to the underworld.

“That’s fair,” Rowan muttered to no one in particular. Staggering slightly, he leaned against the wall for support. The end of the alley that had once seemed so short was now impossibly far away, retreating from his sight as darkness encroached on the edges of his vision.

24/150

The nearest healer's house was a block away, a short distance under normal circumstances, but it might have well been in Fyrinth for all the good it did to Rowan. Chuckling darkly for a moment, Rowan laughed at himself. The situation was ridiculous, but all too common in Taureen. No one would question why a street-dweller was found dead, the guard would report it as a gang-related killing, and the populace would be thankful that another menace was gone from the streets. No one cared that Rowan wasn’t a part of any gangs, or that his only relevant abilities had zero combat applications. All that mattered was his status, or lack there-of.

16/150

Feeling his consciousness fading, Rowan stumbled, his hand leaving a bloody streak along the wall as he fell bodily to the rough cobblestones of the alley below, twisting just enough as he fell to avoid plunging the knife in any deeper. Hopefully, some kind soul saw fit to leave a Silver Dirrin over his eyes, even Copper Gorins would do. Eyes closing, Rowan let out a regretful sigh. It hadn’t been a long life, nor had it been a happy one. But he was still sad to see it go. Regretful almost. It was funny; until today, his only ambition had been to escape the streets of Taureen. But now that he lay dying, all his dreams seemed to be circling him, sadly informing him that with his passing, none of them would be accomplished.

He had always wanted to be an adventurer, bravely going where others dared not and enacting justice wherever he saw fit. Or perhaps a mage, using the secrets of the arcane to wield powers normal men could only dream of. Hell, there had even been a time he’d dreamed of life as an accountant, living safely in a home with as much food as he needed. Unfortunately, it seemed that none of those futures would come to pass. His health had fallen into the single digits, and the bleeding showed no signs of stopping. His dreams which had once seemed so lofty, but still possible, were now permanently out of reach.

Sorry. Next time, I’ll do better, Rowan promised them, his vision now completely dark. As the blood pooled around his body, the dreams departed along with his consciousness, leaving only the still form of a former alley rat, lying prone in an alley as he awaited death.