text: “You lying whore!” You bash her head into the ground and clobber her with your fist.
  
  
  “Stop, please. I don’t know anything.”
  
  
  “Tell me the truth!”
  
  
  “I am. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
  
  
  Her pleas for mercy only anger you more. You know she is lying. “Last chance. Tell me what’s going on. Who are you? Who sent you? What the hell is that floating madman doing?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  You hit her again and again and again and again. You pummel the poor girl until her once fair face is a mask of blood and tears. The tent flap ruffles open and you spin around to see Jon step inside the tent.
  
  
  He gapes. “What the hell are you doing?”
  
  
  “She distracted me while the lunatic set the world on fire.”
  
  
  “No she didn’t. I sent her to f-” he smacks his forehead. “Damn it all. What’s done is done. We can worry about this later. Right now, we have to stop this lunatic. Come on.”
  
  
  You leave a broken Bell lying on the tent floor and follow Jon outside. Everything except your tent is in flames. The moneylender – perhaps it is time to start calling him a sorcerer – floats toward you on his cloud. You and Jon draw your swords.
  
  
  “Why didn’t he fry my tent too?”
  
  
  “How should I know?” says Jon. “Let’s just kill him and go into damage control mode.”
  > You attack
  You don’t have the time to sit around and listen to a monologue. When evil rears its ugly mug, there is only one viable option: destroy it with extreme prejudice.
  
  
  With swords in hand, you and Jon leap into action, literally. Unfortunately, the sorcerer is beyond your reach on his floating cloud. You and Jon jump as high as you can, but your best efforts are nowhere near good enough.
  
  
  “Well this is embarrassing,” says Jon after another failed leap.
  
  
  “A bow and arrow would really come in handy right about now.” You scan the bedlam for a projectile, but there is not much of anything to work with. “Well I’m stumped.”
  
  
  “Fools.” The sorcerer cackles as he tosses bolts of lightning toward you. “You should know better than to defy an all-powerful mage such as myself. Now perish!”
  
  
  You successfully dodge the first couple bolts, but the sorcerer is throwing them around like candy and eventually one catches you in the leg. The bolt explodes on contact, obliterating muscle, tissue, ligaments, tendons, and bones. The intense heat cauterizes what little remains of your leg. The stink of your own charred flesh hits your nostrils and you gag. Crawling on hands and knee, you seek shelter in your tent, praying the smoke will conceal your movements. Jon will have to handle this on his own now.
  
  
  Inside the tent, you pass out from the pain: never to awake again.
  
  
  What the hell happened?
  
  
  Bell cut your throat with your own dagger while you were unconscious. If it is any consolation, Jon and Sir Jamison Hill managed to kill the sorcerer. When Jon found your lifeless corpse, he took it upon himself to brutally murder Bell.
  
  
  What happens now?
  
  
  Well, you were on the path to heroism, but you failed to kill the big baddie and fell into an act of villainy by beating the ever-loving life out of poor sweet Bell. So I imagine you’ll go to limbo where they’ll force you to play a never ending game of Monopoly for the next 1,000 years.