Once upon a time there was a Quassel web server that found its origins many years ago, in 2014, in the repository quassel-webserver by the honorable knight magne4000.
From then on, updates in the form of elegantly dressed features and extensive bug fixes were regularly introduced until 2017.
But as time went on, time became increasingly scarce and the wilderness did what it always would do until infinity.
The Quassel web server was covered in a thick layer of technical dust.
The sun shone through the windows of the almost forgotten, creepy-looking room in which that strange technical-electronic monster had been standing and doing its job in the far corner for years, regardless of the rest of the world. Covered by an almost unnaturally thick layer of dust, the small diodes constantly flash wildly, which suggest that users are loyal to the device despite the lack of attractiveness, but also thanks to the lack of alternatives.
One day, as it happened, the silent observer living far away noticed, using binoculars that were far too large, that more and more of these wonderful and full of life-flashing lights were slowly going out. Like flies that fly around a lamp for an indefinite amount of time, as if they couldn't stop and would crash or leave the lamp when their time came to fly on to an even brighter one, that lamp would always lose its meaning in front of itself glow.
So the silent observer, who didn't want to admit that he himself would have been one of these flies if they existed, took heart and set out to collect some life energy that he could breathe new life into the device.
On his journey from the valley "N-Ode 6", which hardly contained any life apart from a few old, disheveled people and libraries, the observer passed many interesting places that, if he had only had enough time, would have liked to pay a visit.
However, there were also unexpected detours into dark, horrific corners that no one could have imagined. What was waiting there for the observer who mutated into the protagonist of an alleged "fairy tail" story cannot be described as anything other than pure horror, the most absolutely consuming and terrible thing that an individual could ever have imagined.
After days of torment, a protagonist rose from the ashes, like a phoenix seeing the light of day for the first time.
Only in his dreams would images of days gone by flash up every now and then, suggesting the difficulty of the journey. So he still vaguely remembered that if he sacrificed a penny to an unknown person, he would free him from an awkward situation in which he had not entirely innocently gotten himself into.
If he introduced himself as Sir De von Bugger, dealing with the stranger was even more complicated than trying to pronounce his name. His clothes were fine, almost unreal, somehow out of place and yet in the right place at the right time.
It is not uncommon, Sir De von Bugger said, for observers and protagonists to get lost in these swamps or to find themselves in front of seemingly insurmountable cliffs while they are on a journey of self-discovery and development, towards a goal that often seems closer than it is actually is. He would offer his help to every soul, no matter how lost and torn, but only a few are willing to pay the price in order not to be dragged by antagonists equipped with fangs into the depths filled with skeletons and protagonists punished with misfortune and weakness.
And again, with the target only a few hundred meters away, the flash of a memory of a joint fight between the protagonist and Sir De of Bugger against a monster straight out of a nightmare, which was commonly known in the area as TLS. A name chosen by the neighboring villagers for "The Longest Scream". At least of those who were left. The path of the "Secure Connection" led directly through that strangely glowing place where the monster, apparently omniscient, was already waiting for the two companions.
"Attack on 3!" Sir Bugger shouted, while TLS pounced on his dinner without waiting. And no, the dinner did not represent a platter generously covered with grapes and bread, but rather every comrade who, like unlucky people, was on the path to destruction. The protagonist didn't hesitate and fought a fight with TLS that was quite spectacular from the outside and for which many people would have paid a fair amount of entry into an arena. Without tiring, the monster more skillfully than expected avoided every further blow from the precision-wielded sword, which whizzed back and forth with breathtaking, air-splitting speed.
Without a single hint of fatigue, TLS continued to fight as if the lives of his entire species were at stake. So after hours of blood and sweat, the two heroes prepared to retreat to take the far less dangerous path, which surprisingly ran almost parallel to the path called (somehow ironically) "Secure Connection", but the location of the monster wisely avoided.
This memory will haunt the protagonist as a nightmare for even more nights, urging him to one day return to the monster in order to defeat it once and for all, better equipped. May he try and not fail!
Just as this is a fairy tale, the actual journey to the Quassel web server was painful. It can be described much more as a great adventure of the protagonist and his loyal companion. As is often the case, when you reach it, the goal is much smaller and less impressive than expected. And yet the joy of the result prevails, when the journey is often the goal.
Like a fairy opening its shiny wings, it was the observer who, thanks to the path, became the protagonist and when he reached his destination he only had to take a long breath before the windows cleared themselves of dirt and the dust evaporated as if by magic .
After years of inconspicuousness, his suffering was over and the joy began again for the Quassel web server.
The protagonist redecorated quassel-webserver's room so that it would always appear inviting and flooded with light. A rogue who thinks evil, whether it was so or not, just imagine it that way.
May the flies fly again, like flies around the light that would never have dimmed.