In this hell of a forsaken place, you had become good friends with Dusekkar, a magic man with a blue pumpkin for a head. You talked a lot, bantered, gave each other a small comfort after every round, became roommates in one of the cabins outside. But you weren't too close. That's what he considered.

Dusekkar wasn't the type to get angry easily, or do anything rash in a fit of fury. He was good at keeping himself at check, and you catch him taking a few deep breaths in the background whilst the other survivors argued, although he looked so done with everything most of the time.

You wondered what could really set this guy off. And you tried. But no matter what you did, whether you pulled a nasty prank on him or jumpscared him during rounds, he was never angry with you, albeit sometimes a bit annoyed. It seemed he really saw you as a good friend.

Dusekkar was actually the literal definition of "fuck around and find out."

And you had to learn that the hard way. By complete accident.

One day, you had broke his staff.

The magical one. The one he uses to protect survivors in rounds. The one he's had for years and cherished like a real person. And now you were standing in the hallway of your shared cabin, ash on the walls from a failed magic trick and a broken staff in your hands.

You looked up, and Dusekkar was standing at the doorway, frozen. You stood very still for a moment, before he spoke with so much disdain in his voice and unbridled rage on his face that it was almost unbearable to face him.

"What."

"The."

"FUCK."

...you're so cooked. Good luck.