Look upon my crypt and prostrate yourself, for I am Caerac. Caerac Keep in Trouble at Caerac Keep, one of ever distracted scribbler’s works in progress is named for me. The walled city which rose up around my resting place was built with my coin and land I won after a life of adventuring, a well-deserved reward for a life of danger and hardship.
Only some don’t think I deserve my reward or any respect. My memory is reviled by the current generation occupying the city I built. I’m accused of being a murderer and a thief, because I killed monsters and took their treasure. Only they’re no longer regarded as monsters. Goblins, kobolds, they’re now ‘nonhumans’. They’re ‘innocent’ occupants of dungeons and dark places, driven there by humans, only to be hunted down by humans seeking adventure and treasure. I’d like to see any of these naive children clamouring for these creatures’ rights face one of them. They’d probably wet themselves.
This lack of respect doesn’t simply extend to my memory. No, someone is actually disturbing my grave, resurrecting me for short periods of time. Wanting to know all about my past life, particularly the Vampire Corwyth and the Dark Circle. Don’t these fools know I kept these secrets for a reason? Can’t they let a man rest in peace?
No, such courtesy is foreign to the children who live within the walls I raise. What is this Keep coming to, eh? Makes me relieved I’m dead. If only I’d be allowed to stay that way.
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