by LowResQuail
The scaffolding gave way. My last thought wasn't fear. It was finally. Then I woke up in a desert with a strange voice in my head, a tiny orange lizard following me around, and absolutely no idea why I wasn't dead. I'm a builder. Houses, walls, roads, fences - give me the materials and I'll figure it out. I never expected to build an empire. The people who found me weren't heroes. They were refugees, beast-kin, goblins, exiles, undead, demons, and anyone else the world had thrown away. So I gave them a place to belong. One settlement became a town. The town became something more. Then the gods noticed us. Now I've got cultists, a Holy Order, goblin inventors, undead knights, demon smiths, and a bartender who happens to be a golem. Oh, and that little orange lizard? He's changing. So am I. Apparently, my skills aren't normal. They're evolving with me - and something out there has decided I'm important. I still don't know why. I'm not a hero. I'm just a builder. But if we're going to survive, we'll need to build something worth protecting.
