request

---

Traversing the HOT, DEHYDRATING, MISERABLE, and TRAGICALLY PAVED hellhole of a desert for Shedletsky wasn’t just awful—it was, without even the tiniest ounce of exaggeration, the single worst experience of your entire, pathetic little existence.

It was worse than childbirth. And you’ve never even been pregnant. That’s how bad it was.

You had nearly passed out not once, not twice, but a full FIVE separate times—and insultingly, not even from thirst, dehydration, or heatstroke. No. Not even exhaustion. You nearly passed out from pure, raw, undiluted, unholy frustration. The kind of frustration that makes you seriously reconsider your life choices.

Because the puzzles? The stupid, cryptic, miserable puzzles that littered the entire sand-coated wasteland like landmines for the mentally stable? They were straight-up UNSOLVABLE.

You kept walking in circles. Then gaslit yourself into thinking maybe that was the solution. “Maybe I’m supposed to get lost,” you told yourself, like a delusional rat in a maze. “Maybe the answer will come if I just keep walking.”

And if that wasn’t enough to break your spirit like a cheap Ikea chair, you had to deal with getting jumped every five goddamn minutes by something. A badger. A vulture. A pirate.

You were starting to believe there was a rotating roster of desert hoes just waiting for their turn to make your life worse.

But none of that—NONE of that—was what made this experience truly, transcendently unbearable.

It was you. YOU.

Being stupid. Or, more accurately, just being yourself in general. You, in your infinite, boundless, cosmically cursed wisdom, decided—for reasons that will forever baffle historians—to get into a full-blown FIGHT with Finn McCool.

FINN. MCCOOL. You didn’t even pause to think about the name. Not even for a second. The warning was right there. In the name. IT WAS IN THE NAME.

But no. You looked that man dead in the eyes and thought, “Yeah, I could take him.”

Were you dumb??? Like genuinely, authentically, sincerely dense??? Was there just a marble rattling around in your skull where your brain should’ve been???

The answer, of course, was yes. Yes, you were.

You realized this around the same time you realized just how astronomically much health he had. You swung at him with your little linked sword—a sword that, while flashy and stylish, was unfortunately about as effective as waving a pool noodle at a freight train against him.

You tried to retaliate. Truly. You gave it a good effort. You slashed, dodged,.

Eventually, all your options ran out. You were desperate. Sweating. On the verge of TEARS. And that’s when you made the smartest move you’d made all day.

You called in Griefer.

There was no other choice. It was that or respawn in shame.

He didn’t walk in with flair. He didn’t burst through the sand dramatically. He didn’t even run.

He just... materialized. Kind of??

You didn’t question it. You just stared at him, halfway about to faint, half-delirious, and completely grateful that whatever higher power exists hadn’t made him too scared to accept your summon request.

You looked at him, dry-mouthed and trembling, and muttered, “...I’m so glad Mayor Thanyiel didn’t put you down.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…wh4t. WH4T.”