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The freedom of an adventurer’s life offered many choices, one of which being that, even without a king’s decree, one could choose to track down a falling star, just because it was a falling star. After all, how awesome would it be to have a weapon made of ores cast down from the heavens? How cool it would be to be the first to lay hands upon something wholly unique? It was the spirit of rebellion that drew Cecilia out of her home, but it was the spirit of exploration that kept her out of it. Ever since that star had fallen north of Palagria, the spellblade adventurer had been on the road, chatting up farmers and merchants as she hitched rides off their wagons.

That falling star was a spear from the heavens, sent to remind the non-believers of Palagria of the might of the Gods.

That falling star was a goddess of incomparable beauty, in search of a mortal lover who had passed centuries ago.

That falling star was the precursor of a world-ending ritual, the first meteor of a swarm to fall upon these lands.

Everyone had stories, from the most eloquent of minstrels to the most tongue-tied toddler, and Cecilia enjoyed them all, her own expectations building up as she proliferated all the rumors and guesses she had gathered along the way down towards the epicenter of the starfall. It may be terrifying, or it may be nothing at all, but every night, Cecilia would find a tree to climb up upon, and would look outwards, southwards.

The star was still there, the faintest hue of green lighting up the darkness like the northern auroras. She dreamed of fantasies, of treasures and horrors, of the beginning of a myth, of knowledge even sages did not possess. And in the morning, Cecilia would wake up, make a soup out of dinner’s leftovers, and head off again, a song under her breath, a skip in her step.

A week passed like this, and though she was sick of crackers and rabbits, the brightness in her grin did not fade. Indeed, it only increased as she approached the Forgotten Ruins. Others had been drawn to this place too, haven’t they? The din of adventurers prepping their gear, the shouts of merchants selling sundries and tools, the strumming of bards’ tales, and the aroma of a hundred different meals, prepared for the tastes of a dozen different cultures. Just by the noise alone, she guessed there may have been a hundred, maybe two hundred people crowded around the ruins.

And by the Gods, Cecilia sure loved a big competition!

Brandishing her Ensorcelled Spear, the lilac-haired spellblade willed her mana through her veins, arcane energies shooting from her heart into her extremities. Others may have gotten the jump on her in actually arriving, but she’d make up for lost searching time easy!

[color=FFE4E1]“Accelerate!”[/color]

Like lightning, Cecilia ran for one of the sturdier walls, ramming her spear into the dirt as she got near. As the haft began to bend, she kicked off the ground and vaulted upwards. She planted her feet against the side of the wall first, and jumped. Once using the side of the wall, and then again in the air, each propelling her higher and higher, until she could plant her hand against the top of the wall and hurl herself over it.

She tossed in a somersault for flair, rolled to disperse the impact of the fall, and was off like an arrow once more, shooting through long abandoned avenues in search of her shooting star.