A fool. nemo knew he was a fool. Helping those who asked, running around solving problems for people he never met, The lumberjacks were the worst. Should he ever meet another lumberjack... his mind began clouding over at the thought, rage blocking all coherent thought.
Heading to Daikra he heard one of those blasted, simple, nuisances begging for help. With out a thought he ran after, stretching his unnaturally strong arms.
Entering the camp was a terror, nemo was met with screaming, the stench of blood, and a mass of strong bodies rushing down the trail, pushing him back the way he came.
The lodgings were worse.
Sprayed across the walls in bright arcs were gouts of blood, the haphazard buildings deeply pitted with fresh scars, he rushed toward the screaming and...
collapsed.
He could hear a futile struggle going on around the corner, see shadows and flashes of crimson steel, but something kept him from moving, a pressure on his emotions, depression and fear and doubt slamming into him like weights.
He barely had time to dodge the ax whirling toward his head when he gained enough control of himself to think of dodging, as it was he could not roll quick enough to evade harm, a second glancing blow hitting him on the left shoulder.
Ignoring the pain nemo got to his feet, sliding backwards to avoid more wild swings, each closing in, getting closer.
All the skills he learned fighting since he left derth seemed to leave him, his movements no longer fluid and graceful. A jerk backwards to dodge a swing aimed at his chest, and nemo slipped, getting his first solid glance at his attacker.
The man was dressed in what used to be lumberjack's standard work attire, but this was shredded. Flesh seemed to melt in some places, turning to a viscous matte black liquid, other it looked to have hardened into horns, leather, and bony knobs.
But his eyes were frightening beyond explanation. It was not the dull red glow, it was the rage and sadness that seemed to radiate from them.
The sadness made nemo hesitate.
The slash of the ax snapped him out of it. Muscle screamed as the blade sliced from shoulder to rib, Ax ground against rib cage.
Pain, had to forget the Pain.
The rest of the fight was a blur of the singing ax, fists hitting flesh, and depression.
When the cursed lumberjack finally fell, shattered and weak, the ground was soaked with blood and ichor, both of the combatants covered in wounds and smeared in gore.
Every single wound on nemo's body screamed, he felt as if he was on fire.... or being frozen... galvanizing shocks rocking through muscle, or maybe acid eating into flesh.
he blamed the ichor that was oozed from the lumberjack, that continued to ooze from the downed body.
nemo could swear he heard the lumberjack apologize before dying.
He swore he left the village, though he could not remember doing so.
nemo did remember dragging himself into a town days later, wounds healing.... strangely.
He sees an elf standing over him, looking grim, then fade to black.
He hears 'it is too late' and then nothing.
He feels blood flowing from his wounds, but slowly.

Days, Weeks, A year? nemo could not tell how long he had been wandering. After emerging from Trollmire, the Rod of Recall clutched in torn and broken knuckles, time seemed to pass... oddly. Dreams that seemed too real, flashbacks of things that may not have happened. He no longer made camp, His scarred skin far to weathered to feel discomfort from anything but extremes. It made him much more comfortable to just continue walking till he dropped from exhaustion. This way he did not have time to lay back and think of what he was becoming...
once, years ago it seemed, he would nurse wounds from barroom brawls for a week or more, skimping on farm work to care for bruised ribs, wincing when he looked in the mirror at black eyes or a crushed nose.
Just yesterday he went toe to toe with a minotaur. One that was almost twice his height.
No dodging, running, fancy tactics.
with his bare hands he crushed the enormous bull's head.
How can this be? How can a human punch a bear to death, or strangle a drake?
As long as he did not rest, he could avoid the thought that told him he was cursed for playing with arcane energies, for wearing magic armor, for playing with space and time...
His delusions were playing tricks on him.
nemo gripped the Rod, wincing at the thrum of energy he could feel from it, and headed to a mountain, said to contain actual Dragons.

Today will begin the Epic of nemo, a willful resident of Derth who will find that the life of an Adventurer can be rewarding... and horrifying.
nemo was born near Derth, parents unknown for he was abandoned. Growing up poor, but not needy, he learned the importance of being a hard worker and treating others well.
But having no ties meant he was always restless.
Having no family meant he had no lineage to look back on, no family pull to allow martial training.
with only the desire to become someone important, and the fighting techniques he learned in a few barroom brawls he traveled to Trollmire, seeking to prove himself against Prox.
He would soon find out how strange the life of one who spends time collecting artifacts and at the whim of arcane energies can become.