He stood on the precipice. Below him, the chasm writhed with life. He gripped his spear and looked down, but it was difficult to tell one beast from another in the roiling pit of fiends. He took a deep breath and prepared to jump.
But wait, a tiny voice in the back of his mind said. Why should we?
Why should we?
Yeah, why should we be the ones going down into that cesspool? There are plenty of others who could.
Well, I don’t know. He planted his spear in the ground and leaned against it, considering for the first time that he seemed to be the king’s first choice for every mission like this, every long, grindy, difficult, filthy mission into one den of evil or another.
What about Lyora? the voice spoke up. She’s just as qualified as you. What about Kraven? He’s always bragging about his fighting prowess. What about the city peacekeepers? Isn’t it their job to “serve and protect?”
Well…I suppose it is.
My point exactly. So how about we just turn around, go home and let some bar wench show us a way better night than any of those fellow plan to?
He took another look into the pit. Something hissed at him, spitting a foul green projectile that burned the ground where it landed. I suppose you have a point. And he left.