I’m a simple guy with simple needs but big dreams. I was born in Human Country to a pair of loving parents that I never met. I’m sure they were cool. They probably died out in the wilderness.

But don’t worry; I was good. I was raised by the most beautiful nun you had ever seen. Tall, blond, smelled like freshly baked bread, and extremely well-endowed. We lived in a decrepit orphanage where rats nipped at me on some days and on others kept me warm. Honestly, it was heaven. Largely due to her.

Every now and again, some fat bastard would come around to harass the Sister—maybe he would threaten her. Tell her the orphanage would be torn down for one bogus reason or the other. Whatever. The men would come and tell her it was over and that she had no choice but to throw herself at their feet, but they always underestimated how popular the Sister was. Every single time, some random hero or heroine would come out of nowhere, do some simple quest and save the orphanage. How many times can an orphanage be saved? I got the answer. Three times a year. At least. One year, we got saved twelve times. That was... a very culty year.

Still, it was heaven because that Sister was a vision of beauty. And theeen, I found out the Sister was actually my sister. Like, blood related sister.

She felt guilty about leaving on a journey with some Hero to serve as his healer, and came back around the time I was born, having reaffirmed her dedication to her god.

Jumping ahead just a bit--I met the hero she traveled with once. I’m pretty sure my sister came back because the Hero rejected her for his childhood friend. Anyway, not the point, my sister was perfect. The hero was an idiot, but an idiot that I loved because he cut her loose.

Back to my story. Finding out the Sister was my sister really messed up my head. But I didn’t really get the opportunity to have closure. Someone murdered my sister. I was there; I saw it. I would never forget the sight of that cloaked figure wielding the dagger with an eyeball on its hilt and the ominous purple glow. I swore that day that I would dedicate my life to getting my revenge...

Didn’t last long though. Someone killed the assassin four days later. Here’s the messed up part. The assassin was actually this one girl I had met and gotten close to. We worked at the same restaurant—that’s where we met. Now, you might think I would never trust a woman again, I mean, my sister lied to me, this girl lied to me, yada yada, but no. There’s yet another twist!

My friend had her mind controlled, and the culprit was... the Hero’s former ranger. The ranger came to get rid of my sister and then killed my friend after the deed was done. Ever since then, I devoted my life to finding out why he was such a murderous dick... except, the Hero showed up, killed the ranger, and killed my life’s goal.

He came to my sister’s funeral too. Brought flowers. As for why the ranger did it? Well... it seems like he had a crush on my sister... and the Hero... I’m not too sure what he was trying to accomplish, but he had killed the Hero’s former mage before targeting my sister, so he was pretty committed... You know what I learned at the end of all this?

 

***

 

“Hey,” I said, gesturing at the bald and burly bartender. He stared at me. “Come on; you’re supposed to listen. This is a big moment for me. I’m explaining my origins before I set off on my biggest adventure.”

His scowl was piercing, and his bushy brown mustache was divine. “I’m not a therapist.”

“Do you work in a bar?”

“... Yes.”

“Are you cleaning that glass in your hand with a rag?”

He looked down at the glass in his hand—one he had been cleaning for the last five minutes.

“… Yes.”

“Then you’re a booze therapist.” I pulled a coin out of my purse and slapped it on the booze-soaked counter. “Now give me a Unicorn’s Temptation and asked me what I learned.”

“... What did you learn?”

“Life’s hard, messy, and fucked.”

I glanced back at all the ruffians groaning and bleeding on the ground. Many had suffered a violin bow to the ear too. Don’t worry; my bow was fine.

“But you probably get that. Now pour the damn drink and listen to my story, man. I’m getting to the good part.”

 

***

 

So, I had a wild life, and I learned my lesson. There’s no point getting so worked up because the drama of life has a way of resolving itself by the Main Characters. Just keep doing you. And you know, stay away from Heroes. Nothing good comes from associating yourself with the heroic sort. No-siree-Sister! I see someone with some heroic narrative force behind them—I’m going the other way. It’s me and my hobbies.

 

***

 

“Hey, ask me what my hobbies are.”

“...”

“Don’t make me pull out my violin. Or better yet, my kazoo. You don’t want to hear the kazoo.”

He let out a sigh. “What are your hobbies?” he asked, sounding like a zombie that died of boredom, and was then reanimated by a bored necromancer.

“Glad you asked!” I said, hoping to breathe some life back into that miserable husk.

 

***

 

See, we live in such a magical world. Sisters, Heroes, Villains, Monsters, Monster Girls, my Sister who was actually my sister—really all kinds of things.

 

***

 

“Say—“

“What? I was in the middle of my story.”

“Don’t you think you might be having a bit of a weird thing about your sister?”

“Yeah, duh. It’s called a sister complex, sir. Read a tome. This is what happens when the Sister tells you she’s your sister three days after dying.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Yeah, she came to me as a ghost. I know it was real and not a fever dream brought on by the numerous infections the rats gave me because she told me the combination to a sealed safe she had. Did I not cover this?”

“No.”

“... Oh. Well. Whatever, give your balls a tug and crack open a book. They’re not that scary—the worst that can happen’s a paper cut.” I bobbed my head. “Or a curse… I guess.”

“I can’t read, sir.”

“Oh.” He looked really sad. His mustache somehow lost some volume too. “Well, shit, now I feel bad.”

“I never got the chance to learn. That’s how I ended up here.”

“Okay, well, my story will cheer you up.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

 

***

 

So there are magical creatures in this magical world. I don’t know why, but I was always drawn to beauty. And beautiful women. And beautiful women who exuded discipline and believed in higher powers. Ones favored by higher powers, be they divine or profane, were also super hot. Did I mention my sister was an elf? Technically we’re half-elves, but I got the more human side and my sister inherited more of the elf factor. Anyway, I’m also drawn to--

 

***

 

“Are you drawn to elves?”

“Wipe that smirk off your face with that used rag, Booze Therapist. No. Elves are whatever.”

“Oh. That’s a surprise.”

“I’m drawn to monster girls.”

“My surprise is gone.”

“Why?”

“It was obvious since your sister was an elf.”

“Go read a book. Elves are pricks, not monsters.”