Boots hammered down on and around Donovan, churning the wet dirt into mud in short order. Two of them slammed down on his stomach knocking the air out of him in an explosion of pain. The fingers of his left hand were crushed in the next second but he managed to get his arms over his head as he curled up trying to shield himself the only way he could. One boot found a kidney while another stomped on his knee. There was no reprieve, the aching in his back matched with the burning in his lungs.

A terrifying howl filled the air. It was the unnatural scream of a mob, hundreds of voices transformed into a roiling wave of hatred.

“You killed us” A woman shrieked.

“Sixty years!” rang out from over Don before a particularly heavy boot slammed into his head tearing an ear. The mob was replaced by ringing as one ear bled and the other was forced deep into the thickening mud. Another kick in his shoulder knocked him free in time to hear.

“-my children you demon!”

The kicks finally, abruptly ceased. They kept falling but Don no longer felt them. With a gasp, he began to breathe again and found that his cracked ribs seemed fine.

System message:

You have died.

Respawn locked

Respawning in 5…

“No”

His body dissipated into glowing motes of crimson. The people nearest to Don stepped back, unsure of what to make of that newest development.

Respawning in 4…

“Fucking”

The ring of confusion expanded as the people rushing forward to get revenge suddenly backpedaled.

Respawning in 3…

“Way”

The crimson motes streaked off like comets to land in another part of the town. Those in the mob who were unsure howled with fresh rage as their prey escaped.

Respawning in 2…

Donovan gritted his teeth. The motes came together rebuilding him from the feet up.

Respawning in 1…

He finally understood his punishment as he woke up again. He looked around from his back. The rain no longer fell on his face. He was in some sort of cave. He laid on a cold hard surface and light filtered in from a crack in the wall. Don scrambled to his feet, afraid of being caught on the ground again. He promptly fell on his face. His body was larger than he was used to.

More carefully this time, he pushed himself into a kneeling position before standing upright. He cracked his head on the ceiling. It seemed that his head was a bit harder than it used to be because that didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Stooping now, Donovan made his way to the crack of light, holding a hand out wardingly to make sure he didn’t run into anything else. When he came to the chink in the wall he found it to be the center of a pair of double doors. He peered through.

Outside was a wet field. Polished stones stood in neat rows and most importantly, there wasn’t anyone in sight. He pushed one of the doors open, wincing at the shriek of rusty metal. Hoping that no one had heard, he dashed across the field. Still clumsy, he slowed his pace after nearly slipping and falling headfirst into one of the stones. The stone seemed to be marked but Don wasn’t interested in stopping to read anything right now.

Now outside of the crypt, Donovan could hear the not so distant howl of a predator who had been robbed. Naturally, he didn’t want anything to do with them right now. Don turned and slipped as fast as he could in the other direction. There was a large building the same grey as the stones in the ground. It looked strong with sturdy doors but Don didn’t fancy his chances at hiding from so many people. He had to get as far away as possible. Then-. He would deal with whatever else happened when it came but first he had to get away. Don tumbled over a low wall intending to run right past the large building when his legs gave out.

He was suddenly weak and smoke rose from his stinging skin. Was this part of his punishment? He kept dragging himself away from the mob. They were growing louder and he found another reserve of strength.

“Why is a demon trying so hard to get into my sanctuary? “ asked a curious voice.

An elderly man, older than anyone Don had ever seen stood at the steps of the large building eyeing him suspiciously. Don met his eyes and looked back towards the approaching sounds in panic.

“Ohh, I see. You must be the cause of all this commotion. Now, let’s have a look at you. Hand of God”

A giant disembodied palm slammed into Don. Translucent fingers wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He was lifted off the ground and pulled in front of the elder who fixed him with eyes the color of cold steel.

“Level 1 and already up to no good? You demons really do try hard to uphold your reputation don’t you”

A waterfall of a beard cascaded down the front of his simple brown robes. The foam-white beard ran up the sides of his chin and wrapped around the back of his head marking the edges of a prodigious bald spot. Ruddy cheeks and an overlarge nose dominated his face. His mouth was barely visible through a part in his mustache. One palm thrust skyward, folds of his robe falling back to reveal a surprisingly muscled arm.

“Guiding Beacon”

An orb of golden light flew from his hand whistling into the sky. It grew as it rose and left a tether of light trailing behind it. It stopped a hundred feet up, clearly marking Donovan’s location.

“Time to see what has everyone so upset.”

The sides of his mustache hitched up and his cheeks bulged out. The elder strode confidently to the wall. Don drifted along in front of him, helpless. Recovering from his surprise, Don began trying to wriggle free. The fingers didn’t budge and the stinging was becoming worse.

“You have to let me go!” Don explained, “they’re going to kill me.”

“I don’t take orders from demons. As far as that mob you made goes, maybe they’ll kill you and maybe they won’t. I’ll want to hear what you did to them before I decide if I’ll let them.”

Don’s chest caved in as he remembered. The panic and the pain had driven it from his mind but it all came rushing back in this lull when he couldn’t run. He killed all those people. The stinging faded as he was carried out of the churchyard but Don barely noticed. He turned, numb, to watch the first of the angry faces cresting the hill. The shouting intensified as they stampeded up the lane. The mob seemed unstoppable.

“Barrier”

They stopped. The first rank of Don’s victims slammed against an invisible wall. They fell back only to be rammed forwards again by their compatriots. The yelling took on a whole new tone as the ones who had just led the charge were crushed by those who hadn’t recognized the obstacle yet. The mob slowly ground to a halt as confusion took the place of anger.

“Voice of God” The elder finished his incantation at a volume which shook the stones of the low wall behind him.

“I will NOT have a mindless rabble tearing my town apart!” he barked. “If you will not behave in a civilized manner I will personally escort you out of town.”

To add emphasis to his claim the translucent hand keeping Don off the ground tossed him at least twenty feet in the air. Don pinwheeled his arms trying to keep track of the ground. It didn’t matter, the hand caught him deftly before he could land, locking his arms into new immovable positions.

“This Demon seems to have wronged you. Lay forth your grievances so I may judge them.”

His newest statement reignited the mob. Once given license to vent their fury by the man with this inexplicable power they didn’t hold anything back. Donovan listened to their accusations and found himself agreeing with them. He hung his head, every word cutting him to his core in the way only truths can. This was worse than the beating he had just endured.

The elder combed his beard with his fingers listening intently. His face grew more serious as the accusations mounted. After a minute he interrupted the flow of vitriol.

“Do you mean to tell me that this demon killed you and in doing so transported you from another realm to Arcadia?”

“He just as good as!” a lone grieving voice called “He smashed our homes leaving us no choice but to evacuate here!”

“I find it hard to believe that such a weak demon could do so much damage but there is no reasonable explanation for how so many fully grown new-b’s appeared at once. I won’t stand in the way of your vengeance but I will NOT tolerate mobs in my town.”

With that, the elder threw Don to the ground at his victims' feet. Two of the largest men at the front descended on him. They took his arms and hauled on them, bringing Don up to his knees. He didn’t fight them. He looked up at the crowd assembled before him, tears masked by the rain. Someone stepped forward.

“I’m sor-”

A fist slammed into his open mouth.

“I don’t want to hear it” was screamed into his face before another fist hit him, knocking his nose to the side in a spray of blood. Don tried to apologize again but had no more success. His broken nose making any attempt to speak sound like a pained groan. After a few more hits the figure stepped aside shaking its hand. Another one stepped forward and really leaned into its first punch. This one caught Don in the jaw, breaking it cleanly and making it even less likely he could be understood. After the fifth person in line stepped forward. He resigned himself to this grisly parade. After the eighth, he died again.

Don respawned in the same cave he had appeared in before. This time, however, the crowd of victims could clearly see where the red motes went and were waiting for him at the entrance. The two strong men hauled him outside into the rain and the beating continued. Some of his victims brought sticks, some held stones, but the vast majority were content to pummel him with their bare hands. later in the day, after Don lost count of the number of times he had died one brought a knife. Digging it deeply into Don and introducing him to a new kind of pain. He didn’t fight them. He knew he couldn’t and more than that he knew he shouldn’t. He looked each one in the eyes as well as he could, committing their faces to memory and accepting their hate. He wronged these people and it was only right for them to have their revenge. As the grey sky blackened and the already dim light leached from the graveyard the elder finally came back out from his church.

Foregoing any displays, he marched straight up to the two holding Don in place. A fresh pair, the original two had tired out long ago.

“That is quite enough for one day,” he said “The demon will keep until the morning but you won’t if you don’t find someplace to rest. If you need to do some forgetting you can get some decent mead at Sue’s Place. She’ll be glad for the customers so long as you have the coin.”

Grumbling, the people who had waited hours to hurt Don turned away. Word about the elder’s display spread fast and no one wanted to anger someone who stopped an entire mob single-handedly.

“It’s probably best to keep that thing in its spawn point for now.” the elder pointed at Don

The two brutes holding Don’s arms nodded. They weren’t dressed in the same white robes as the rest of the victims. They wore cloth jerkins under chain shirts. Round shields hung from slings on their backs. A leather skirt protected their thighs, leaving the knees exposed before leather boots covered the rest of their legs. A spear and sturdy leather cap completed the uniform of the town’s guard.

They tossed him unceremoniously onto the stone floor of the crypt and slammed the doors shut behind him. The rattling of a chain was followed by the click of a lock. Don was alone again. He lay in a crumpled heap, despondent. Unable to process the events of the day. A flickering orange light swept across the floor from the crack in the wall, evidence of the guards patrolling outside Donovan’s makeshift prison.