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Right by the edge of the pond, a steady stream of little bubbles would occasionally surface from where the large crab had buried himself, leaving just the top of his gray carapace exposed to the sun’s rays.

“I would not trade this for anything.”

Balthazar was big and hard-shelled, truly a magnificent specimen to behold, but one that still appreciated life’s small pleasures, such as peacefully napping in the water while the sun warmed his back in the afternoon, or angrily snapping his claws at the small birds that landed around his pond in the morning. Napping and snapping, that was the life.

And life was good at the little corner of paradise that was his pond, a modest waterfall feeding it from the much larger river that surrounded the snowcapped mountain above, the imposing branches of the central tree overlooking the peaceful surface, as a myriad of fish swam below and insects buzzed above it. And no one to disturb Balthazar’s solitude.

Except for the occasional birds.

The pesky, smug little feathery balls, mocking him from high up. He’d nab one, some day, and that would show them.

There were no other crabs at that pond, only Balthazar. Ever since he could remember, it had just been him. And he had no complaints, that’s how he liked it.

Better alone than in bad company, he always said.

To himself.

Because it’s not like he had anyone else to say it to.

He wasn’t the sociable type, he didn’t want to have to share his favorite sunbathing spots. Having company was highly overrated.

He was a crab, after all. He had no concept of boredom. No, of course not. That was beneath him.

Just as the lonely crustacean was dozing off, amid thrilling thoughts of what color of fish he would snack on later, something nearby disturbed Balthazar’s rest.

Stomping echoed into his shell and jolted him away from his pondering. Rolling his eyes from under the sand, he tried to shake off the blurriness of the sunlight. The stomping continued growing louder, now accompanied by the rattling of metals. It was getting closer, and it was coming from the road.

Growing irritated, the sleepy crab raised himself from his muddy resting spot, just enough for his eyes to surface and spy his surroundings.

A figure was fumbling his way up the stony path that crossed in front of the pond, erratically swaying to the left one moment, and then to the right the next, struggling to keep a straight line forward under the weight of a massive pack sitting atop his shoulders, nearly the same size as the man himself. The leather sack was almost bursting at the seams, with all manner of clutter sticking out of it from every side, from pointy weapon handles, to rolled up fabrics of unknown types.

“Adventurers. Urgh.”

Of all bothersome types, Balthazar held a special disdain for adventurers. Only slightly below birds. Maybe.

He would see them from afar now and then, traveling up and down the rocky road, always loud and proud, stomping left and right, in a trot, as if they were in a rush to go somewhere. He never understood where anyone could possibly need to go so often and so hastily. Sometimes alone, sometimes in a group. Some wore colorful clothes and leathers, others bulky metals, but they were always a nuisance to his peace.

They hardly ever bothered him directly, as they had little reason to come down to the water on their way to… whatever it was their kind did. Sometimes one would stray off the path and come down to the shore, but they would quickly scan their surroundings, see nothing that interested them, and return to the road. The rudeness of just walking up to someone’s home, checking it out, and then leaving without so much as a proper greeting to the gracious host who generously allowed their presence. Not that he needed their greetings, of course, but still, manners and all.

The man continued making his way up the road, or at least trying to, slowly. He was wearing a dull metal helmet that resembled the bottom of a kettle, with its strap hanging loose under his sweating chin, a mismatched set of leather pieces protecting most of his body, and a pair of almost worn out tall boots with cheap metal plates covering his shins.

Balthazar was finding it entertaining to take bets with himself on whether the next wild sway to the side would be the one that would finally topple the overburdened adventurer, as he desperately tried kicking a leg in the opposite direction to counterbalance the weight. If he eventually won the bet, he would pay himself up with a nice fishy treat afterwards. And if he lost the bet… well, he’d still have to pay himself with that treat anyway. Such were the perks of betting with yourself, you could never lose. “Heh, clever,” Balthazar thought to himself, with a soft tap of his claw to the top of his shell.

As the adventurer neared the pond, Balthazar noticed his erratic path veering him closer to the shore the observing crab was resting on.

“Right, I’m just going to pretend I don’t see him there, he will walk on by like all the others, and then everything will be nice and quiet again,” the crab told himself, while submerging his body back into the sand, one eye left sticking out to follow the figure of the man.

The man tried to keep a steady pace, avoiding the puddles that challenged him, carefully choosing each step while grumbling between grinding teeth.

“Curse this encumbrance debuff!” the adventurer exclaimed to himself. “I hate, hate carrying capacity mechanics! But I’ll be damned if I’m going to drop any of this loot. No, no, no, no, if I’ve made it this far, then I’ll make it back into town. These bull horns may be heavy, but I’m sure they will fetch me a good price. They have to. Just a little more and I’ll make it…” With angry determination, he adjusted the leather straps of his pack, pulling the overwhelming weight back up onto his shoulders, and landed one trembling step forward on the next stone.

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As Balthazar watched the adventurer’s approach from under the water, he kept internally willing him to lean in the other direction.

“Don’t you dare, you fool…” the crab kept muttering. “Go away…”

The heavy stomping kept resonating closer, one foot on a rock, another on solid dirt, skipping over the puddles.

“You’d better not—”

Balthazar buckled within his shell as his body caved into the sand under the weight of the overburdened man, who had just stepped on his shell as if it was just another rock. And just as soon as he felt himself pushed down, the weight lifted and the rude boot carried on stepping forward to the next stone, as if nothing had happened.

“That does it!”

It’s not as if the weight of the man even hurt him. No, he was a big, strong, hard-shelled crab, he could take it. The damage wasn’t physical, the damage was to his pride.

With a rushing stream of bubbles, Balthazar lifted himself from his lair, emerging from the surface with the anger of an ancient sea monster being awakened off the deepest of oceans from a centuries long slumber, water rolling down the sides of his shell, determination in his beady eyes.

As the mighty lord of that domain turned to the foolish offender, the man continued trying to find his footing on the nearby rocks, still clueless about his rude behavior. The crab stood proudly on all of his eight legs, tall enough to pass a grown man’s waist, and twice as wide, two thick pincers flexed in front of himself in an intimidating manner he knew to always strike fear into the hearts of all the songbirds that dared land on his shell.

“Take that!”

Balthazar lifted his right claw up in the air, the bright light of the sun shining on it like an instrument of righteous vindication, and with one swift downward motion he took a swipe at the man’s right shin, the metal plate protecting it crumpling between his claw.

“What the—OW!” the adventurer cried, as he tried to turn around and face the consequences of his own actions, but with his right leg firmly held in place by the mighty pincer of karma, he finally lost his balance.

With widening eyes, the doomed adventurer found himself falling over to the side, his helmet flying off his head, surprise and shock painted on his expression, as he was diving face first into a group of rocks that cluttered the sides of the pond.

The adventurer’s head hit the stones with a loud crack, his ugly helmet splashed onto the water and floated upside down, his leather pack finally burst open spilling its contents everywhere, and the crab stood there, claw still tightly holding the man’s now limp ankle. He stared down, slightly confused, and gave it a small shake, as if looking for a reaction.

“Well, serves him right!” Balthazar finally said, letting go of the leg.

The rudeness of these adventurers. Not only do they run up and down the path in front of his pond all day with no consideration for how much of a disturbance they cause, but now they would even step on him like some common stone on the road? No way, he would not take that lying down, even if that was his favorite position to be for most of the day.

Balthazar turned and looked at the aftermath of the ruptured pack. There were all sorts of random trinkets and doodads scattered around his precious slice of heaven. A large cooking pot had landed upside down on the road, a sword that went flying was now firmly stuck with its tip between some rocks, books of all types scattered by the shore, and even some form of undergarments had somehow gotten stuck all the way up on a branch of the central tree, blowing in the wind like an embarrassing flag.

An absolute mess. The more he looked, the more chaos he spotted.

“Look at what you’ve done, you idiot!” Balthazar poked angrily at the sole of the adventurer’s boot. As was to be expected, he gave no response. Typical irresponsible adventurer behavior.

As he was shaking his shell in disapproval at the man whose face remained firmly buried between the rocks like some lazy child who didn’t want to wake up in the morning, Balthazar’s eyes caught something, a hint of a glint, something small shining from a small brown purse lying on the ground near to where they both were. The sunlight was hitting it directly and reflecting in an even more intense yellow that was ever so captivating for the crab. He had always loved shiny things. Ever since he was a wee little crab playing around in the sand, anything that shined brightly would always grab his attention. He had a very dull childhood, one could say.

As he approached the mysterious source of the glow, he saw it was not one thing, but multiple items that had spilled out of the purse. Perfectly round, thick slices of a yellow metal with some kind of figure carved on its surface, all identical in size, shape, and design. Balthazar had never seen such a thing before, but he knew in that moment that they were simply… beautiful.

With the care and precision his massive pincers allowed, he started dutifully pushing his precious new treasures back into the purse, where their beautiful glint couldn’t capture anyone else’s greedy eye.

The crab turned and scanned the treetops, his eyes squinting in suspicion. They were there, always there, with their bird’s-eye view, watching and plotting. He knew it well enough, but not this time, little ones, not this time.

As he turned back to the now closed purse, he saw something else fall out of the adventurer’s pack. Some kind of rolled up tube of a smooth, pale material. It didn’t shine or reflect any light, but it still looked curious. It also didn’t look much like food to him, but he reached one arm forward to get a feel for what that peculiar thing might be.

“Ah!” Balthazar screamed, and jumped a couple of paces back, which in itself was quite the surprising event, seeing as until then he didn’t even know crabs could jump.

But the bigger surprise came from the mysterious roll, which had reacted to his claw’s touch by lifting itself up into the air, hovering slightly above the ground, while glowing with an intense, humming white light.

This crab had seen many crazy things in his life, but never anything like this.

Fine, maybe he hadn’t exactly seen that many crazy things in his mostly sheltered life spent sunbathing in a pond, but even then, he was quite certain that ranked fairly high in terms of insane things to happen to a crab.

Despite his apprehension, Balthazar slowly approached the glowing item again. After all, it wasn’t doing anything, except hover there and ruin the decor.

His curiosity took charge, and he stretched a firm, clenched pincer towards the object a second time. He touched it, and a slight shiver ran down his arm, as the tube unrolled itself, revealing a white, bright page, and a set of words appeared, glowing on its surface:

[Scroll of Character Creation]

[Allocate attribute points: 10]