Roger stared, mouth open, at the giant hyena-man. It was both giant, and also had the head of a hyena. He didn't know if it was a friend or an enemy, but then again, if it was an enemy it wouldn't just be standing there. It would be probably be using Roger's butter knife to pick the leftover bits of its former owner out of its teeth, by now.<br/><br/>It wasn't until another newcomer approached that the rogue managed to string some words together.<br/><br/>"I'm good. Thanks for asking… Hell No."<br/><br/>The words sounded strange in his head, but he hoped they made sense to those who heard them. It was the small reptile-thing's name, after all. It probably carried some kind of meaning, he was sure of that much. Just like his own name.<br/><br/>The next entrant was clad in plate armor and had the name Eris floating above her head. She also had dark red hair and something of an attitude problem based on the way she asked him about his name.<br/><br/>"Well yeah," Roger replied, watching her closely, unsure of what her point was. "Of course it has 'Ass' in it. My character hails from Assguard. Which makes him an Assguardian."<br/><br/>He regarded her for a moment, before smiling sympathetically. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. If you wanna learn about the ancient Assguardians, I can always teach you. "<br/><br/>The barrier disappeared and the imps came barreling (and hopping) forward at impish speeds, hunched over and shouting the same war cry over and over again.<br/><br/>"Nyeh!" they shouted.<br/><br/>"Agh!" Roger yelled back, his conversation forgotten as he quickly began backpedalling. He drew his butter knife, which didn't even gleam properly in the light streaming into the cave from the world outside, and turned to regard the giant hyena-person again. Perhaps he could hide behind him. Or maybe climb on top of his shoulders? But then again it didn't seem like the type of person (was it a person, though?) that would be okay with something like that. In any case he wasn't going to risk it.<br/><br/>Two imps approached him, one to either side, and Roger's backpedaling continued. In spite of their diminutive size, the pickaxes they wielded looked much deadlier than his own pathetic weapon ("Nyeh!").<br/><br/>The knife in his hand wasn't going to cut it - the irony of the thought hit him a second later and he found himself stifling a hysterical guffaw of crazed laughter as his foot landed on something that wasn't solid ground; he slipped, nearly falling right onto his backside as the loose stone skittered out ahead of him, coming to a stop a few feet behind the advancing imps. Text similar to what he'd seen upon starting the game, albeit smaller, floated in the air for a moment before fading away entirely. He managed to quickly skim the words before they vanished, but his attention was mainly focused on what was happening in front of him.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FFBF00"><span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="font-size: 95%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-style: italic">'<span style="font-weight: bold">DISTRACT</span>' - 80</span>% <span style="font-style: italic">success rate against lower leveled, low intelligence enemies</span></span></span></span></div><br/><br/>Both imps stopped and turned, seeking out the source of the sound, giving Roger enough time to stand up again. Evidently the things were incredibly dimwitted in addition to being small; in any case, he saw his chance.<br/><br/>With no hesitation he charged forward and plunged the butter knife into one of the creatures' backs, as only a rogue could do. And then it happened.<br/><br/>He<span style="font-style: italic">felt</span>it. He'd just stabbed a living thing. He felt the resistance on the other side of the blade, felt the vibrations of the pained scream it emitted, and he felt it drop forward, its tiny body leaving the metal behind to slap lifelessly against the ground. This was all supposed to be a game, nothing more, and yet what he'd just done felt like something quite different. It felt<span style="font-style: italic">real</span>.<br/><br/>More than that, something else was happening to him - it was as if the one attack had sapped him of all his energy. His head grew foggy, his vision blurred and his knees nearly buckled as he grabbed a nearby wall in order to stay on his feet.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FFBF00"><span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="font-size: 95%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-style: italic">'<span style="font-weight: bold">BACKSTAB</span>' - 150</span>% <span style="font-style: italic">damage against distracted enemies. Costs 93.5% stamina at current level</span></span></span></span></div><br/><br/>The other imp turned around and rushed towards him, pickaxe raised, clearly ready to incite its vengeance upon him ("Nyeh!"). Roger could only look on, swaying slightly where he stood, completely unable to defend himself.