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It all started with a wayward young wizard.
He wasn’t trying to burn my house down. It was an accident, he swore, claiming there were goblins on my roof!
Goblins, why was it always goblins?
Well, I’d had it this time, and threw my tiny carving dagger at him. How was I supposed to know it’d hit him in the eye and kill him instantly? There should really put a warning label on those. Anyways, that party thought I was crazy and dashed out, calling me a “boss demon” or something. I dunno. Adventurers have weird lingo.
Anyways, I figured, why waste the good wizard spell books? So I kept his stuff and neatly buried the body in my son’s beautiful garden. And above the grave sprouted a single gorgeous sapling, a sapling much prettier than the wizard had been in real life, I might add.
The second time was…. a little less of an accident. But I mean, the girl just wandered into my home and started picking through my stuff! What would you have done if a robber was in your home? I know you’d have shot her with the magic missiles, too, like any sane person would. I mean, she was even dressed all in black! Totally a robber, and, possibly, even a murderer! How was I supposed to know the difference?
This time, I was a little more careful when gathering the rouge’s things, keeping the poisons I could identify and hiding the rest. I buried her in the garden next to the wizard, who was now a fair fir. By the next morning, a sapling standing the height of the rouge was looking positively scrawny compared to its neighbor.
The third was deliberate. The dragonborn’s bow was so… shiny. I just had to have it, you know, like a magpie. I may have slipped a little something from the rouge into a dart and… shot it out my window. Slowly, he became woozy and fell behind his party as darkness encroached.
The bow now sits upon my mantle and the trees are joined by a maple.
And so I continued collecting my treasures this way. My son opened a little shop in the next village to pawn the things that were of lesser quality, riding home every night to cultivate our garden.
Then the adventurers began to target me.
The first party came and were only three of them, not many, but enough to put up a little fight. My son was gone to the next village, attempting to sell a sword too heavy for either of us to wield, so I was alone. It began with a barbarian entering. Quickly, I oiled the floor and he fell prone. His companion fired an arrow at me and I dodged, chuckling as I sent a ghostly hand to startle him into submission. Finally, a rouge appeared behind me, and I quickly disarmed him. Then, my son appeared at the door, finishing off the remaining two prone opponents with a sneak attack.
The forest had well overtaken the garden by now.
One day, out mulling the soft dirt for another deposit, a soft moan came from within the trees. Slowly, I approached and found a wounded red dragon, sides slashed.
As you all know, you should never let a wounded animal escape. It isn’t humane.
I couldn’t bear to see it suffer, so I called upon my son to use his nature’s touch to heal the beast.
The dragon swore his allegiance to us, now living within the forest of fallen foes and guarding our home. Although, he prefers to eat trespassers instead of allowing the trees to grow in number.
Many more parties have come seeking us. Out of revenge, or valor, I care not which. My son’s second-hand shop is running well, the forest continues to grow, the dragon is kind, and no one can remember a time anyone has ever harmed us.
The power of my trio is strong and mighty, but we have grown bored with this contented life.
We need a new challenge to keep us on our toes.
And that is why I should be considered for the Epic Level Villain’s Guild. Thank you for your time.