| Death is naught more than an inconvenience. I can withstand the onslaught, under which most would crumble; carry a load upon my pixelated shoulders and not stagger to betray the weight of my impressive inventory. A potion, a spell, or perhaps an apple pie shall heal my mortal wounds. I am witty, I am cruel, I am the benevolent hero. Wield a staff, a sword, a bow, or a pitchfork in a pinch. I am all powerful, now that I have gained a few levels and my helm has an attack bonus. I live a thousand lives, fall in love a hundred times, feel the sting of betrayal, the exultation of success, and the onset of a fangirl obsession. And with the push of a button, I can start all over: fall in love, be betrayed, and succeed once more. ----- Prompt: Favorite past time. Words Forbidden/ Additional parameters: Don’t use the name of your hobby. Just describe what it is. |