Character piece: "Second Choice...or Second Chance?" (Dungeons & Dragons)

Back in my college days, I played my fair share of Dungeons & Dragons, and I was fortunate enough to be part of a group of players who encouraged each other to create backstories for our characters. My writing senses were very much indulged and nurtured in this free-form creative environment, and I do assert that some of my best writing came from late-night sessions spent rolling dice, scarfing down McDonald's, and laughing about nonsensical things. Please enjoy this prologue piece from one of my past characters.

“Second Choice…or Second Chance?”

For as long as I have lived, I have been in the shadow of my older brother, Jaren. All my triumphs, my accomplishments, my efforts, they only paled in comparison to his. Although Jaren always tried to talk me up to others, especially to the members of the Elder Council, it was his talents and reputation, not mine, that everyone noticed. I was often discouraged, yes, but it only strengthened my resolve to become stronger and wiser. Luckily for me, pride was no fault of Jaren’s, and he helped me to train and study hard each day, no matter how much I bothered him or messed up along the way. Sometimes, it felt like even he wanted me to succeed him. Whether it was true or not, it was a comforting thought. As much as I did not always want to admit it, Jaren really was the strongest and wisest member of the clan, and with him assisting me in my training, nothing would stop me from rising to the top.

There is an old saying that our mother use to tell us: “Sometimes, glory hides within the mouth of misfortune.” I never really understood what it meant, but I soon came to know the truth behind those words.

One day, our house was approached by emissaries from the western lands across the Inner Sea. They had a brought a summons for Jaren, bidding him to come to the city of Kenabres. They were seeking manpower from across the nations to help bolster the defenses at the borders of the Worldwound, where a great evil lurked. Jaren was among the few selected to represent our nation of Varisia in the vanguard. It was a most dangerous-sounding proposition, but at that moment I could not have been more proud to be his brother.

However, misfortune fell upon us the night before Jaren was the leave with the emissaries. I was watching him spar with a few of his friends, and during one of their bouts, one of them fell against a stack of hay bales, causing them to begin tipping over. Jaren managed to run up and shove his friend out of the way, but the falling bales crushed his leg. The emissaries were distraught. They needed more able bodies to help guard the Worldwound. They could not afford to come back empty handed.

Jaren did not hesitate one moment. He told them that I would take his place in the vanguard.

At first, the emissaries resisted. I was too young and inexperienced. But Jaren assured them that he had been training me in private to be his successor for years now, and that I exceeded him in both skill and expertise. No one from our clan would dare question the word of our greatest warrior, at least not in public. That seemed to satisfy the emissaries. I was to pack my things and be ready to leave my morning.

Jaren was lying. I was nowhere near as good as him.

He and I stayed up all night, talking everything I learned, and everything I feared. But despite the physical pain he was in, Jaren’s spirit never seemed to falter. “If anyone can protect us, it is you, brother,” he told me. As scared as I was, I knew that to back down now would be to turn our back on our honor, and on everything we held dear. The moment I had been waiting for my whole life now lay before me. I was to finally succeed my brother, and emerge from his shadow. I would be the hero he could not be.

The next morning, we ate little and spoke less. He was unusually quiet, only managing to smile and nod whenever I said something. That is when I knew that for the first time, he was scared. He was scared for me, his little brother who was only just beginning to grow, and now it was my turn to be brave for both of us, just as he had done countless times before.

As we embraced for the last time, he told me the words our mother once told us:

“Go, brother. From my misfortune, seize your glory.”