DSMP oneshots

Woe To The People Of Order

This oneshots gonna work a little differently, since there is technically talking in it. Considering this, some of the dialogue is from the song, which means that technically some lyrics will be skipped, and there won't be much dialogue in this oneshot. All the bold dialogue is from the song, while regular dialogue is me.

Okay?
Okay.

~<•>~

Oh violence does call me, I've answered before
I'd made many enemies, I'd settle my score
But I did grow weary and settled down
And proudly bore the weight of my crown

~<•>~

I was made a warrior since I was barely a teen. All the blood on my hands from the thousands, perhaps millions, of people I killed throughout the years have stained my skin pink.

I never had time to cut my unruly natural brown hair, so it had significantly grown in length throughout the years. It's long enough to tie back now, perhaps even put it in a small braid if I really desired to. I noticed the pink I dyed it in my teenage years was starting to grow out. It looked more like pink tips and streaks than a full head of pink hair.

I look over to the dull turquoise blade sat by my bedside, along with my heavy golden crown and blood red cape.

The Blade was the nickname they gave me in my teenage years, as well as Technoblade.

I'm sure hearing "You're going up against The Blade" is much more terrifying than hearing "You're going up against Dave".

Dave. God, what kind of name is Dave!? My parents just had to give me the worlds most boring and generic name, huh? Didn't they love me? It's not even David, it's just Dave.

Doesn't even look like a word anymore.

~<•>~

I lived in my lonesome away in the far
Where there was no violence to trouble my heart
I'd hung up my sword and raised my hoe
And lied as I said that I never would go

~<•>~

I made a living in farming, primarily potatoes, but I also dabbled in farming other items.

That being said, though, the voices in my head demanding blood never faltered.

~<•>~

But came a cry from a man that I'd known
Someone to whom rare compassion I'd shown
And so I opened my door
To the man who promised me blood and war

~<•>~

I've known Wilbur since we were small. We were practically inseparable growing up, some even mistook us for brothers.

He wore a dirty and torn uniform, bags evident under his eyes.

"I need your help," He told me. "They've taken everything from me."