Old story teller (who shall remain nameless):
Gather round children, for I have come to tell a tale. Have any of you heard of the book of Havoc?

Bothersome child with a stutter:
I've n-n-ne, I've n-n-nev, I've n-n-n, He's news ta me.

Old story teller (who shall remain nameless):
Then I shall read it to you all. *smiles* Havoc, you see, was a power leveler, in a world known as Altin. His tale is
hardly unique, but it bears repeating none the less. Now, to begin...

Chapter 1. The Apprentice.
Havoc's player was increadibly uninventive, and thus could come up with no better name than Havoc. Apparantly it took far too much greater an effort for the poor fellow to make up a name, than to simply use a catchy phrase. Wanting to do well in the game, and more or less not caring at all about the roleplaying effects of his stats, Havoc decided to take a hefty 25 strength to start. This left his intelligence at a pathetic 4, but he didn't really mind, because of course, he could just roleplaying being dumb. *coughs*

Havoc (character now), the ogre barbarian, was born in a small village of ogres, and pretty much was just taught to kill stuff as a kid. Goblins, wolves, sprites, and even humans, basically just anything within his club's range, was brought swift death. Obviously this backstory allowed young Havoc to do whatever he pleased, and still shrug it off as 'roleplaying'. Havoc was a prodigy of sorts on Falcion, for he fled through the place in about 5 hours. Normally apprentices study for weeks at least before leaving Falcion (if not months), but Havoc joined the forces of Nexus in just a day. Now Havoc never really spoke much (once he finally gained that extra Int by accident, forcing him into an unfamiliar talking game that he mostly used just to complain about things oocly) beyond the words of "Me want bash", "We go kill?", and of course "Dis not good." Given this limited vocabulary, Havoc never established any level of dialog while in training, and thus never gained any respect from fellow Falcionites. Because of Havoc's success rate, however, he did gain alot of friends..... one 'might' call them friends anyway, though they were more like door-to-door-salesmen type friends. *coughs*

Chapter 2. So now you're a hero?
Upon entry to the ranks of Nexus, Havoc was mostly ignored. Those who prefered to roleplay didn't like his tier rushing attitude, and left him out of hunts. Eventually the Nexians gave him a chance though, and he gained a few tiers. All of a sudden, Havoc was VERY popular. The desperate amoung Nexus were quick to beckon him into hunts, so they could use him as a living shield against attacks, and let him thrash the enemy to a bloody pulp. Havoc was pleased.

*The old story teller stops a moment, flipping through a great multitude of pages*

Old story teller (who shall remain nameless):
Chapters 3 through 45 basically detail Havoc slaying 497 winterwolves, 813 bugbears, and 241 weretigers. There's a few places where he grunts, growls, or says one of his famous three word phrases, but that's basically it.

Chapter 46. Time to try roleplaying.
Having reached the 22nd tier of his guild in around 900 hours of gameplay now (would have been less, but he died a couple times on quests because, in his own words "Havoc says out of character, "Well I was laggin, and those damn clerics didn't do their job!"), Havoc decides to roleplay a bit. He stands around town square, grunting at anyone who enters the room, and thinking himself quite clever when he yells out a few time "Cry Havoc, and let loose the dogs of war!" He doesn't fully understand the quote, and he's not sure whether he got it right or not, but its famous, and his name fits in it, so who cares? Then he spots his big chance when he hears a broadcast.

### ^Insert Nexus enemy #1 here^: Your guardsmen look sleepy Nexus. Perhaps I should wake them up? Obviously the so called 'heroes' wouldn't mind a few mundane losses?

### Havoc: Know this you vile wretch, should you so much as lay a finger on them, you'll have to do personal battle with me! The city of Nexus was born of unity, and we watch out for each other. Those guardsmen do not stand alone, for I stand with them!
A bit more bantering followed this, until finally a battle did result, which, of course, the heroes won. A few mages died, but that's expected. Afterwards, Havoc promptly recieved an RP penalty for speaking like an english major, when he'd been RPing an idiot (well, 8 int now, who could blame him?) for as long as he'd existed. Havoc fumed over this, and held it up a divine testament that the GM's infact didn't care about roleplaying at all. After a scathing letter to Quentin, telling him how his tyrranical rule was 'bullshit', Havoc decided to leave for a while.

Chapter 47. Let's try this again.
After a month or so absent, Havoc returned to Altin to try his luck again. His pretend friends come out of the woodworks to catch up on old times. (Well, mostly they just relayed all the stuff they'd done while he was gone, because he never really took part in the RP situations of the past anyway.)

The GM's (oddly not angry at him for his letters over the last month, detailing their short comings) decide to give Havoc another chance at roleplaying, and proclaimed him the Master of the Guard.

Chapter 48. Game Over.
After giving a few official orders under his new title, Havoc felt he had beaten this game. Not surprisingly, he completely missed the point of a roleplaying MUD being an ongoing interactive virtual environment, in which title and tier are only really beneficial if they pertain to your role in the world. Regardless, Havoc said good bye to all his 'sort of' friends, and committed suicide.

And the moral of the story children?
Life is ironic, but no life can equal the irony of a powerleveler's.

Bothersome child with a stutter:
Wh-wh-what's th-th-that sposed'a m-m-mea.... m-m-mea.... m-m-mea... I don't get it.

Old story teller (who shall remain nameless):
Eh? No good huh. Ok, then the moral of the story is, Powerlevelers have boring lives (we'd assume from their complete lack of imagination), yet that's not about to stop them from having boring virtual lives too.

Bothersome child with a stutter:
I wann-nn-nn.... I wanna b-be ju-ju-just like H-Ha-Havoc!

Another nameless, and possibly mindless, child:
Me too! I wanna be just like Havoc!

*cheering errupts from the gathered children, as images of high tiered glory flow into their minds*

Old story teller (who shall remain nameless):
Well I'm glad you learned nothing from this tale, for is that not the point of a story?

--Kalron, the almost bard