Keith

Keith looked upon the mighty tower standing before him and couldn’t help but touch the pendant on his neckchain nervously. Surely he was the one most suited to this challenge, defeating and destroying all the competition before him. 

He looked around at the battlefield on which he stood, the bodies of his foes and competitors strewn about. Some of them looked almost peaceful, with smiles on their faces and their bodies carefully laid down as if they were sleeping; others were close to being in pieces, the limbs and torsos, even some heads, just hanging by a mere flap of skin or a few unbroken tendons, their bodies violated and savagely ripped. 

The latter set of bodies looked so ravaged, it was almost as though several large animals had torn into them and tugged until satisfied. The skies above Keith were clouded with ravens, the raucous cries accompanied by the artificially mixed and high-pitched ringing from Keith's pocket. 

"Hello," Keith's uncharacteristically deep voice answered in a bored tone.

"Ah, Keith," the voice came out squeaky and small through the reciever. "Glad to hear you're still alive, my friend."

"Mm," was all that came out of his mouth.

"Aaaiya....so cold, eh, Keith," the tiny voice responded jovially. "Well, I guess it can't be helped, what with sending you on these insane missions all the time. I mean, c'mon, defeating a veritable horde of men so as to save one measly life?" The voice paused, and giggled. "That might be a bit much for me to give you now, no?"