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The Path to Heroism	By : cyberdemon107 Category: +S through Z > WAKFU MMORPG Views: 1823 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Wakfu, the characters or anything related to the show. This is a nonprofit fanfiction.

Chapter List
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The midday sun peered through the clouds, sending occasional rays past the canopy of trees. The forest below was dark and uninviting; from every angle you could feel a myriad of eyes watching your every move. Stasis was the rule of the land, and nature fought against unseen attackers. Some animals were utterly wiped out, others grew in hordes, and everything ran mad with hunger that could not be sated. The land itself demanded pain for what was done to it, and everything on two legs walking in was either too foolish or too greedy for its own good. Zell knew the difference. The young Sram's Shadow stalked this land for years, before he even became a man he knew where to hide and when to shank someone, appearing and disappearing in a flash of leaves. His camo cloak and skin-tight green unitard (painted with bones, along with a bone mask) made him appear as a ghost, leaving the hapless fools easy picking as their fear made them ever weaker. Visits to town (in alternate clothes of course) brought fond memories, as hushed voices spoke of a green reaper. Perfect...
Would-be heroes weren't rare, but neither were they useful. All one had to do was follow the battle cries, then the screams for help and eventually the smell of blood. Once, the Sram even followed the trail into the lair of a black weaver, finding great treasure in the cocoons, but no� Way too dangerous, not for all the gold in Astrub would he face that again. Besides, merchants were easier to find. And they gave so much, so willingly, just to be released from the terrible fate the green reaper had in store for them. Today was a day of rest though, as Zell couldn't bother tracking any hapless losers. He was too busy rigging a firebomb, when the loudest howl he ever heard broke his concentration. Something was actually dumb enough to awaken an ancient treechnid. The giant tree of howling souls could not be mistaken for anything else. This had to be quite a show... After a brief hesitation to review safety, the Sram's curiosity took the better of him, and he dashed across the branches, light as a wisp and true to his namesake. He had to see what was stupid enough to invite such a gory death.
Zell need not run far, because close by, a clearing emerged. Trees were smashed and toppled and a battle was going on between a tree monster the size of a four-storey house and� something. Hard to see� The treechnid swung wildly with its many branches at a billowing white target, which occasionally flashed orange. Then long, ginger hair came into view. Only an Iop, thought Sram, it made perfect sense now. But he did not have time to feel smug for long, an angry woman's scream and a sound akin to shattering glass stole his attention. The enchantment of her sword evidently failed and pieces of it, still aglow, rained across the field. The fight was almost over. A few more swings and claw-like branches met flesh. The tree seized the girl and all she could do was punch it in despair.
Thoughts came with the roar of a crowd in Zell's mind. Leave her! Let the dumb broad die! Run, before you are seen. Grab what's left of the magic sword! Stay, it might get good! Get closer! Get away! But one voice stood out. One unmistakable, proud, simple, arrogant yet calm and cheerful voice filled his ears:
Some day you will have the chance to be a hero, little boy
Shut up! I hate you!
I am a Shadow of Sram, you moron. We don't seek to die for meaningless ideals unlike some people!
But you feel valor all the same. You have courage too. You just hide it. I am sure you'll make the right choice and you will be rewarded� little bonehead.
The tree, oblivious to the internal argument Zell was having, did not wasting time. The Iop was slammed into the nearby pine, and then into the ground. And again. Brief silence fell over the forest, followed by a dirty cackle, like stones rolling in a hollow log. �Then what am I supposed to do?� thought the Sram? Too far, too risky to throw a bomb. Too big to taunt. Too long of reach to meele. It's back is turned but the ground is a deathtrap. It's like fate demands a suicide mission, he sighed. Fate?
I beg you, let me go. Have this potion of fate. Forbidden throughout the land! Anything you do will succeed with it, but briefly. Just please, not the knife!
Pleaded the fat Ecaflip merchant. Zell felt his bag for the vial of green goo. There were other things he planned for the potion, but in many years, he did not have a chance. "Probably poison, or cat shampoo" mused the Sram. The tree wasted no time, and vines covered in thorns were emerging from under the ground. He couldn't bear to watch, so he downed the disgusting liquid, drew two daggers and let himself fall. His lips spelt a breathless curse to Goultard, for filling his head with such idiocy.
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The Path to Heroism