Now then, What is your name?

“Hmm, well, I suppose I’ve been known by a few names over the years. I was called Gideon of the Glade in my youth and some would still call me that even now, though I’m miles away from that glade and haven’t returned in years. Some call me Sir Gideon, even though I was never properly knighted and never wanted to be; I suppose the armour makes people think otherwise. These days I’m mostly commonly called Guildmaster Gideon, because of my role.”

“But despite all the titles, real, deserved or otherwise, I’m just Gideon Fairbright. Or just Gideon, if you prefer.”

Splendid, and your age?

“Oh, 30…ish.”

Fantastic, and your gender good hero

“Male.”

Excellent and of I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers?

“I have to describe myself? But wouldn’t it make more sense for you…? Never mind.”

“Well… I’m a little over six feet tall. I have brown hair, shortish and swept to one side; err, the left side. A beard. Ah, when in combat I wear plate armour with dark blue… I guess a kind of shawl over my shoulders and a belted skirt around the waist. The belt itself is rather ostentatious; silver and gold with a very prominent shield-like design on the front; it was a gift and it does offer me protection.”

“What else… ah, forgive me, I’m not very good at this sort of thing. A picture? Yes, that would work better.”



Excellent. Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?

“Oh, that’s an even tougher question than the last one. I’ve always thought you could never really get to know a person just by asking what they’re like. Very few people are able to be objective about themselves after all; we always think much too highly or way too little of ourselves for that.”

“But I’ll do my best.”

“…When I was a young man I suppose I was fairly… full of myself. I was a big fish in a very small pond and that gave me an inflated sense of important. And that, in turn, made me quite arrogant. Meeting Madame Ravenwood and being dragged into her adventures was quite an eye opening experience, let me tell you; once I saw what the rest of the world was like and just how many other big fish there were out there, I realised that I wasn’t nearly as important or special as I thought.”

“It was a… humbling experience. One that I am grateful for.”

“Since then I’d like to think I’ve matured a little. I am aware of my accomplishments and know that they were not meagre feats, but I was not alone when I did any of them and if I hadn’t been there, there are plenty of other adventurers who could have taken my place. I am considered a hero, because I was in the place I needed to be when I was needed; nothing more.”

“Nonetheless, I know that I am strong and that I have things I can teach to others. I know I still have duties to perform. I am not being self-deprecating when I say I am nothing special, I am merely maintaining a sense of perspective, to avoid falling into the same pitfalls I did as a youth. I became the guildmaster of one of the largest adventurer’s guilds on the continent in part because people admire me more than they should, but I accepted the position because I felt I was suitable for it and so that I could pass on my knowledge and experience to others. So that I could watch other the next generation and so that I can keep my finger on the pulse of this continent’s goings on.”

“So to answer your question, I suppose I would say that I am humble and grateful to those that put their trust and faith in me. I am diligent, both to my responsibilities to those under my protection and also to the looming threats of this world. And I am… always trying to make myself and those around me better and stronger, so that we can face whatever comes next.”

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defence, healing?

“Well, I can give a basic description, but I’m sure you’ll understand why I can’t divulge too much information about this.”

“To put it succinctly; I am blessed by the waters of my home. They grant me magic that allows me to cast protective spells around myself or others, to ward off harm and avoid danger. Curses and such don’t have much effect on me, even without spells, and any that do manage to stick I can usually deal with. I can also do a little healing and my combat magic isn’t too shabby either; though obviously I have a little trouble against opponents that can resist a little splash of water.”

“I’m also a fairly capable swordsman and fighter. That armour isn’t just for show and neither is that fancy sword I carry around. I’m much stronger than average, due to that same blessing and I don’t recall ever being sick since I was a child, or even being fatigued; I suppose I’m just all around healthier too.”

Yes, yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?

“It’s an old story and easily found, so I don’t mind telling you; there was a myth in my village about an ancient King of Fairies who used to rule the land on which we then lived. That part of the continent used to all be one vast forest, until people came along and cut it down to make way for farmland and roads and towns; the story went that as the forest was cut down, the fairies who drew their power from it gradually lost their magic and their kingdom mostly collapsed.”

“Though they possessed of strange and powerful magic, the fairies were not warriors and had no way to defend the forest through force of arms. So instead, the King ordered that his subjects create wards to avoid detection and to subtly warn people away from the areas of the forest they most wanted to protect. But, as their powers shrank, the wards began to fail and even those areas were soon cleared away; all except for one, anyway. Supposedly there were still some areas that remained hidden and protected and anyone who could find them would be able to find some kind of secret fairy treasure.”

“Stories of hidden treasures aren’t that uncommon; half the adventurers in my guild are chasing after some old myth or another trying to find one. But this is the one I grew up with and it certainly inspired a lot of the kids in my village to spend their days running off into the woods looking for fairy rings and hidden spots. I was no different. I wasted many afternoons in those woods looking for… something. I was bound to get into trouble eventually and sure enough, one day I was out wandering through a part of the woods that the other children all avoided because they thought it was too dangerous; wolves were common there, supposedly. I found no wolves, but I did find a nice long drop down the side of a cliff that I couldn’t see through all of the underbrush. I stepped through a bush and found nothing but air under my feet.”

“I landed in what seemed like another world at first. Everything was so bright, the sun was shining down on this little spring that was just sparkling; crystal clear and surrounded by flat grass littered with wild flowers. It was just this perfect little glade, hidden away deep in the woods. And right there, sticking up out of the water, was an old, rusted sword.”

Gideon smiles and points to a gleaming sword hanging on the wall to his side.

“That sword.”

“I walked out into the water. I remember it being cool and soothing to the injuries I had gotten from the fall; not that I as even paying attention to the pain at the time. All I could think about was the sword. When I grabbed it, it just felt right in my hand, despite being far too large for a boy my size and covered with rust and grime. When I pulled it free, it was no longer old and filthy, but shining and glorious; like it is now.”

“That was when I heard the voices. From all around me. The voices of the fairies. The ones who lived in the glade and who had been watching me since I fell. To see what I would do. See, that glade was one of those protected places I mentioned; one of the places warded and hidden away so it would never be found. Which explained why the other children were so afraid to go there, but didn’t explain why I wasn’t. The ward didn’t work on me; I wasn’t scared away, instead I walked straight to it and I could see the spring after I’d fallen down there.”

“And the sword? That was supposed to be hidden too, but I just walked right up to it and picked it up no problem. Apparently, that sword was crafted by the King of the Fairies centuries ago to be used by a chosen protector; someone who could fight and defend their forest where they could not. But though the sword was forged, they never found someone to wield it. Until then.”

“By picking up the sword, I had made myself their new protector.”

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes

(I’ll leave this empty for now. Hit me up if you have any ideas for past relationships.)

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope?

“Ah, well, Octavia was… I said before that I was rather full of myself as a young man. After finding the sword I had spent the next few years dealing with various minor threats around the region; monster sightings, bandit tribes, wild magical occurrences. The magic of the fairies allowed me to deal with those things fairly easily and I thought that meant I was something special; a chosen hero out of legend. Then one day Octavia showed up in my small village, chasing after some monster which she had been tracking down, and I… hmm, I guess I wanted to show off a little”

“Mind you this was a few years before she formed her group of sellswords; before the group of heroes that everyone now thinks of when they hear her name was a thing. I hadn’t ventured far from my village at that point and she was the first real adventurer I’d ever met. I offered to track down and defeat the monster for her, thinking myself more capable than her and she refused; very politely I must stress, but a refusal nonetheless. She said she had no need for my help and that… didn’t go over well with my younger self. I was angered, my pride wounded and I… well… I challenged her to a duel.”

“I lost, of course. Absolutely and completely… I never stood a chance.”

“It came as a shock, as you can imagine. But… I think it did me a world of good. My ego needed deflating, before I got myself or someone else hurt. Octavia left the village soon after, once she’d dealt with whatever she was looking for, and I left too not long after that. A bit of travel would help me to grow, I thought, and I suddenly had a desire to see what else was out there, over the hills beyond my village.”

“The next few years I spent as an adventurer myself. I travelled, saw new places, met a lot of people… I gained perspective and experience, both of which I had been lacking, sealed away in my village. Eventually I made my way to Bradena, where I met Octavia again and signed myself up to become a member of her sellswords.”

“The rest of the story, I’ll assume you and your readers already know.”

“So, what was my relationship like with Octavia? She was my friend. My mentor. My inspiration. I miss her dearly.”

I see, and.....did you know?

“Hmm?”

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

“…”

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

Gideon stands up from behind his desk, hand reaching out to grasp the sword that is always in reach and currently hanging on the wall of his office.

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

Rather than answer, Gideon casts a spell. A subtle blue glow overtakes his empty hand as a thin layer of water surrounds his body and the air around his swells with moisture.

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! Well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

“You failed before. You’ll fail now.”

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (cue explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)

When the explosion of blood and guts hit Gideon it was simply… swept away. The water around his body moved to swipe away the viscera and the grime before it even had a chance to touch him and the now sullied water threw itself away from his body and was replaced with fresh water, clean as the spring he had found his sword in all those years ago.

“Dammit.”

Excuse me sir, might you be one of the heroes from legend? Good turn to you, I have travelled-"

With a crackle of arcane energy, the dark figure looked up from the mess of scrolls and tomes they had been hunched over. Behind the lank strands of his black hair, his eyes were narrowed in suspicion and hostility, a fell and malicious invocation held ready cast in his right hand.

"Who are you and how the hell did you get into my sanctum?"

WAIT WAIT WAIT! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have travelled far and wide to hear your tale, my only wish is to tell your story. True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree?

"I don't agree. Get out of here. Leave me alone."

But surely you would appreciate the chance to set the record straight? Clear up any misconceptions and falsehoods that have sprung up in the wake of your glorious deeds?"

"Glorious deeds?" He laughed, it was not a pleasant sound. "I don't remember many of those. Though there are plenty of misconceptions and falsehoods, and a few outright lies."

He paused for a moment, staring at the reporter, thought not really looking at him, rather beyond him, before closing his hand and releasing whatever spell had been held there. With it, a strange sense darkness fled from the chamber, the many candle stubs that lined its cluttered surfaces returning to their usual brightness. He stood up from the work desk, stretching stiffly as he did so.

"Fine, ask your questions. You have until I get bored of this."

Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shan't regret this my friend, I promise you!

The figure fixed the reporter with a look that suggested that he was already regretting this.

Now then, What is your name?

"You came all this way to ask me my name? Fine, fine, I guess I did just agree to this." He sighed. "Eskel Rindarium, the sage of Ilmare, although I hear some fools have taken to calling the Mad Mage as of late."

Splendid, and your age?

"Wait... what year is it again?" He quickly did some math on his fingers. "Twenty-nine, if I have the date right."

He looked older. There were streaks of premature grey in his hair, lines on his brow and around his mouth, dark circles beneath his eyes. None of those were there a few years ago, and made Eskel easily pass for almost a decade older than he actually was.

Fantastic, and your gender good hero?

"...Really?" He rolled his eyes. "Male."

Excellent and of course I know what you look like, but for the sake of our readers?

"Why, tall, dark and handsome of course." He answered with a snort. "Look, you can describe me yourself, or do you really want to keep wasting your time with these banalities?"

Eskel was certainly dark, and he might have once been considered quite handsome. He was pale, fine featured, with shoulder length black hair shot through with a scattering of grey. An old scar ran through his left brow and into the eye below, blinding it into milky white, the other eye was a brown so dark it almost looked black.

He was of average height and a light build. Previously he could have been described as lithe, but now he gave of the impression of being gaunt. In the past his features were perpetually twisted into some kind of smirk, but these days he rarely smiled. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept properly in weeks, and was so pale it was clear he hadn't left the darkness of his rooms for even longer.

Even those who hadn't know him before would think that he looked unwell. Something only be confirmed the bandages that covered his left arm that were peaking out from the end of his sleeve.

Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?

"Well, I've been told I have something of an abrasive manner, if you hadn't already guessed that. I don't suffer fools or idiots lightly. People and their petty concerns do not interest me, that's why I make my home out here away from the ignorant masses. I can focus on my work here, my research, without any meddling interference or distractions. I guess you could say I'm solitary in my nature."

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defense, healing?

"Frankly I probably know more about most types of magic than you could possibly comprehend. But my specialty has always been in summoning, the act of controlling the passage of people and powers from one plane of existence to another. Whether that is to draw something from across the gulf between worlds to our own, or seal and banish it back to its own realm. It's very complicated, I doubt you'd understand."

"My current research is just an extension of the same principles, and a unification of some other arts. What is death other than another plane of existence? The body but a construct for the soul to inhabit? Where does the physician end and the necromancer begin? It's just another reordering of spirit and matter between between worlds, these foolish labels and taboos just get in the way of a holistic understanding of life and death."

"Most of your kind think simple teleportation is the height of what we can do, and that only requires transportation of mind and matter across one plane, let alone... Oh never mind, the theoretical background I would have to spell out for you to even participate in this conversation is not a good use of my time."

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?

"Oh, I was a product of the mage schools of Bradena. The old kind, that we had after the rebellion. Plenty of corporal punishment and indoctrinated self loathing. Never did me any harm, I turned out just fine." He laughed again at that, it was even less pleasant than before. "My gifts manifested young, I was scarce out of cradle when my parents dumped me on the threshold and abandoned me there. Part of the reason I'm one of the most gifted mages of his generation, the alignment of natural talent and a rigorous education."

"Of course I left as soon as I was able, and supported my continued research through the odd mercenary contract. Monster slayers are always on the lookout for someone who can cast a six hells trigram planar binding. That's how I met her... Octavia..."

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes?

"I don't see much of them these days. It might have something to do with the fact I called them all traitorous cowards who lacked the resolve to do what needed to be done. They failed Octavia, we all did. I'm the only one trying to make things right."

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.

"She was the best of us. I... I miss her deeply."

He looked like he had something more to say but could not bring himself to form the words. A terrible and desperate longing rose up from the inky depths of his one good eye. An unspoken need for something that had been forever pushed beyond his grasp.

I see, and.....did you know?

The question seemed to pull him out of his absent reverie.

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

"Guess, guess what?"

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

A cold and horrible understanding began to dawn upon Eskel's face. There had been wards set around his tower, strong ones, how had a mere journalist managed to navigate his way through them?

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

"Impossible." He whispered. "I designed that seal myself. It was meant to hold for a thousand years."

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

Anger flared inside of him. He began to speak an twisted invocation that he would have never even dared to utter a few years previously.

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER!

He released the spell. All the lights in the room went out, the thing before him dropped to floor as a smoking desiccated husk. He could feel blood trickling on his hand, the wounds on his arm had opened up again. As he relit the candles with a wave of his hand he stared once more at the corpse at his feet.

"You will not speak of her in that manner."

Excuse me madam, might you be one of the heroes from legend?

Seated alone at her table in the quiet tavern, Shiri looks up from aimlessly watching the rice wine sloshing inside its half-empty bottle. “Perhaps.”

Please great hero, might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear your tale, my only wish is to tell your story. True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree?

She sits up and tries to look a little more presentable. At least he caught her at a time when she isn’t sloshed yet. “I guess we can talk. I don’t have much better to do.”

Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you. Now then, what is your name?

“Yuyakori Shiri. Or Shiri Yuyakori is how they would know it in Casperus.”

Splendid, and your age?

“Twenty-eight. No, wait, twenty-nine. Twenty-nine? Twenty-nine. Time flies.”

Fantastic, and your gender good hero?

“Did you forget your glasses? Female.”

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers?

“Well, I’m a human woman from Nagahoro. I’m of average height, slender, with short black hair and brown eyes. At the moment I’m wearing a simple black dress in the Gwangju style, but when I’m in the action I prefer something more practical. I don’t wear armor though, that weighs me down too much. Just a loose cloth jacket and trousers with soft leather boots is my go-to. Really, it’s the go-to of many martial artists who practice the agile styles.”

Image by Aleriia_V

Excellent, excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?

“Err, I guess I’m pretty different now from how I used to be. During our adventure, I was quite reserved, composed, determined. Kind too, I think, but with a stern edge to it. Maybe a bit too much of a stern edge, in hindsight. As for nowadays, well, I’ve been through some tough times. But that’s no fun to talk about and frankly I think it’s none of your readers’ business. So let’s move on.”

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? Do you use it for battle, defense, healing?

She perks up a little at the opportunity to talk about this. “I was trained in ascetic martial arts, with a focus on agile techniques and bladed weapons. My preferred weapon is a slender curved blade called a silksword. I have one of masterwork quality that was passed down to me from my mentor. It’s called Kare Sachi, which translates to something like “Wind Song” in your language. I’d show you, but… well, I don’t like to carry it around nowadays. Anyways, I’m skilled at unarmed combat as well. We warrior monks believe that while weapons are more practical in battle, unarmed techniques are essential to gaining true mastery of your own body. That’s why I’ve continued to maintain my unarmed skills, while I’ve admittedly neglected my swordsmanship after the war ended.”

“I also make use of wind magic, but not in the way a sorcerer does. I can’t make whirlwinds or shoot lightning bolts. It’s more of an advanced fighting technique, which we call white phoenix style, where I bend it around my own body to create powerful short-range bursts. So, for example, I could enhance a kick to strike with the force of a battering ram. I can also use it to launch myself into the sky, like a powerful jump, and then use it again to stay aloft or quickly change direction. The result seems like flying, but I can’t stay off the ground for long without tiring myself out. Lastly, by channelling the magic through a swing of my sword, I can emit a wave of air that cuts from a distance. It’s a very deadly technique, but it can only be performed with great focus and no hesitation. I’m not sure if I could still do it at this point.”

Yes, yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?

“I was born in a rural village in Nagahoro. While much of the country was in turmoil at the time, we were lucky to live under the protection of a nearby temple. The formidable warrior monks protected the surrounding land against bandits and other incursions. They were not numerous enough to stand against the major clans, but those generally left us alone for having little of value to offer. Still, life was not without its troubles. In a year of bad harvests, my parents struggled to provide for my two siblings and I. Thus, the monks offered to take one of their children off their hands, which they reluctantly accepted.”

“From then, I grew up among the warrior monks, maintaining only limited contact with my family. They taught me how to pray to the four spirits of the land, how to meditate, and how to fight. It was hard work, but I took to it well and made progress quickly. Based on my personality and build, they assigned me the tiger style, an agile martial arts form that incorporates bladed weapons. I later supplemented that with the white phoenix style, for which our temple had no mentor, but which I painstakingly learned from old scrolls. By the time I was an adult, I was the most formidable among my peers. The elders especially commended my ability to clear my mind and fight without hesitation, a key skill that most take much longer to master.”

“Despite this, they were reluctant to send me into the field. They claimed I wasn’t ready for the responsibility, something I didn’t understand back then. But fate ended up leaving them no choice. One day, a bandit attack happened while I was in town visiting my family. A small group had wisely avoided detection and figured they could plunder the town before the monks would know they were there. I walked in on one of the brutes dragging away my sister while my father lay bleeding on the floor. Needless to say, that became the first time I killed someone. And the thing is, it was easy. My training kicked right in, and with a clear mind I skewered him right through the neck, where his armor didn’t reach. As thoughtless as striking a training dummy. After that, the whole thing ended as suddenly as it started, with the remaining bandits taking off as soon as they knew I was there.”

“My perspective changed a lot that day. My father survived but was crippled by his injuries, and I shudder to think what my poor sister would have endured if she was abducted. Before, I was content living in the temple, studying and practicing for its own sake. But after that, I couldn’t help but imagine the plight of all the people out there who have no temple to protect them. If this could happen here, how badly did they suffer out there? Besides, I had demonstrated to my own satisfaction that I could handle myself in a real battle. So, some time later, I decided to leave the temple and my hometown to do something about the injustices happening in the wider world. The other monks questioned my confidence in this decision, but they didn’t try to stop me.”

“Surely, you can guess how it goes after this. I fought some bandits and some corrupt clans. Travelling wherever I was needed brought me across the border into Casperus, where I met Octavia and her guild. The rest is history. Now, you didn’t ask, but here’s the thing the stories don’t tell you. That part about violence being easy, I was so wrong about that. As it turns out, being undaunted and unfeeling in the moment doesn’t stop me from being haunted by the memories of all the blood I’ve shed. In fact, the more I fought, the more that state of mind started to scare me. If I can kill my enemies without hesitation or remorse, how do I know that I won’t kill an innocent on a whim one day?”

“Over time, as I became more hesitant to use it, the stakes became more dire, so I had little choice but to keep doing it. By the end, I had to stay in that detached state all the time, because I feared that I would break if I let myself feel anything. I don’t think my comrades even knew what I was going through, since I was covering it up so hard. When it was all over and the world was saved, well, I did break for a while. I’ve picked myself up a few times at this point, tried to get back into healthy habits, but I always break down again. That’s why I’m done being a hero. That part I’ve accepted. I’m just not sure what else to do with my life yet.”

She picks up the bottle from the table and takes a big gulp of the rice wine inside, then sighs as the alcohol burns her throat. “Look at me, sharing things I didn’t mean to share. Do with that what you will. Just don’t make me look too bad, okay?”

I would have never guessed. And what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes?

“Uhm, let me see. First there was Octavia, of course. I quite liked her right away. She was powerful and she used that power to do what was right. She never seemed to fear or regret that lifestyle, which made her a bit of a role model for me. It’s a real shame that she out of all people didn’t make it. I often wish it was me who died in her place. Then she could go on making the world a better place while I would be remembered honourably instead of being reduced to this. But don’t worry, I’m not suicidal. There’s no appeal in dying now for nothing.”

“Then there was Gideon, which…” Shiri sighs and takes a drink from her wine. “I liked him a whole lot, obviously. Yes, we were… together, like the stories say. He… really made me feel alive, even as I was starting to struggle with closing myself off. Now, I’ve heard some of the stories speculating about why we split up, but it wasn’t anything that exciting. I just… pushed him away because feeling anything, even love, was becoming too much of a burden. We lost all contact shortly after we buried Octavia. I didn’t want him to see me in this broken state. I doubt he thinks about me much nowadays. He’s probably found another woman without so much baggage. I guess I’d be happy for him if that’s true. Wait, what were we talking about? Right, my other companions.”

“Uhm, Eskel. Many people would call him difficult. But I had seen his kind of austere studiousness before, in some of the monks at the temple, so I readily accepted that we could get along without having to be cordial with each other. We didn’t talk much, outside of practical discussions, but I think we had a silent mutual respect. That said, he took Octavia’s death harder than anyone else and we did not part on good terms. I heard rumours that he’s been working with dark magic since then. I don’t usually listen to those, but it sounds believable considering.”

“Abraham, I was slow to trust. His insistence on speaking so little often made me wonder if he was silently planning to kill me. The fact that he looks like a demon didn’t help. Despite all that, he turned out to be a worthy companion. He has a good heart and he does what must be done without beating around the bush. I respect that. I wonder what became of him. Returned to the wilderness, never to be seen in civilized lands again, probably.”

“Naivara. I always found her intimidating. Not physically, but in other ways. She doesn’t always humour attempts at conversation, but when she talks, she talks at length, very eloquently and about many complex topics, making me struggle to keep up. She’s very beautiful too, which makes me feel a bit inadequate at times. Not to mention her spectacular abilities. It took me a long time to warm up to her, but I eventually found out that she’s a kind and caring person beneath it all. I’ve heard she’s in high places now, which seems fitting.”

“Yadira. I didn’t like her at first. She was a bandit, no different from the man who crippled my father. Even though she surrendered, I wouldn’t have minded killing her if Octavia had called for that. I’m glad we didn’t, because her past didn’t define her future. We ultimately became good friends. I quite miss the flippant way she would take things in stride. When we sparred together, she was like a bull in a porcelain shop, always finding faults in the most well-practiced techniques, which forced me to keep improving. In hindsight, I appreciate her even more, now I that know how strong she must have been to live with her past actions.”

(TBD)

I see, and.....did you know?

“Excuse me?”

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

“Um…”

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! Well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (que explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)

Even with her senses dulled by alcohol, Shiri instinctively leaps back from the sudden threat, avoiding the brunt of the splatter. Her landing is less graceful, as she insistently guards her bottle from spilling at the cost of her own balance. She stumbles over her own fallen chair and bangs into another nearby table, bowling over the surrounding chairs while she slides down and plants her butt hard on the wooden floor. She then blinks as she wipes a drop of blood off her cheek. “Really? After I bare my heart to you like that? Bastard,” she mumbles before taking another gulp from her bottle.

Excuse me sir/ser, might you be one of the heroes from legend?

A small figure, decked out in an almost all black outfit, except for white sleeves from a shirt beneath the black shawl and a white apron, looked up at the journalist through their mask's gray, unblinking eyes.

The journalist's words had already sunken in their mind as they dug through the satchel that had been slung onto their shoulder, but it wasn't until they pulled out a strange, small, crow-like contraption and tossed it into the air when he finally got an answer.

The crow's eyes flashed a pale blue as it flapped its wings and looked at the figure, before looking back at the journalist and saying,

"Yes, I am."

Good turn to you, I have traveled,

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in talking right now," The crow said as it landed on the figure's shoulder, and the figure started to walk away from the journalist. "I already have many things to do, people to heal, illnesses to cure. I think that's much more important than-"

WAIT WAIT WAIT! Don't walk away! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear your tale, my only wish is to tell your story.

"..."

The figure sighs as they look back at the journalist, with the crow opening his mouth again.

"Isn't there another way for people like you to find that out? It's been long enough already for historians and scholars to write about us in the history books, and you can easily find stories about even the rumors that cropped up about us, after we mostly vanished from the public eye, in libraries all across the land!

Or, if you want to get a more…inaccurate and…interesting view of us, there's a tavern near the roads we're currently on, and I've even heard it's open at this time of day. Sure, the tale of how we defeated the dragon that was plaguing the land has been over exaggerated and dramatized, and there's even some romance shoved into it, but it's probably something that a journalist like you would be interested in. Considering that you're not wearing a pin that I don't recognize…and you're also not accompanied by two other journalists, like big, widely known journalist companies usually do…"

True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree?

"..."

The figure stares at the journalist again, their mask's eyes giving nothing away. They sigh.

"...Alright, you know what? I'll do it. Only because I want to clear up some things, though."

Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you!

"I sure hope not."

Now then, What is your name?

"You and your readers can call me Crow, thank you very much."

Splendid, and your age?

"Twenty four."

Fantastic, and your gender good hero?

"As long as the crow flies…you will never know its secrets."

((Out of character for a moment, but Crow's nonbinary, goes by they/them, and likes to answer questions about their gender with cryptic bullshit. Sounds good?))

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers? (pictures or a description will do, or both)

https://www.deviantart.com/filibusterfrog/art/traditional-plague-doctor-ranks-828309866

((Crow’s wearing the outfit of the third guy in the picture from left to right, basically. Like, the guy who has the crow mask, but doesn’t look as decorated or impressive as the other crow mask wearing dudes in the picture.

Maybe I’ll make a picture showing Crow with their mask off/wearing a non-plague doctor outfit, but for now, just know that they’re essentially wearing the outfit I told you about above. Well, besides the mask’s big “ears” that Crow’s actual ears go into when they’re wearing plague doctor getup, at least.))

Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quarks and such. What makes you you?

"Well…"

The crow stops talking as Crow starts to think, rubbing the part of their mask that covers their chin.

"I, at least, try to be polite and open minded, first of all. I find that jumping to conclusions or going off the handle won't serve a person well, so I usually go for a diplomatic approach. I'll fight if I need to, but…I always hope it doesn't have to come to that.

Second, helping people has always been my primary goal. Not for money or fame, but because I want people to live healthy, happy lives, and seeing them finally able to be happy, at least for a while…well, it's a bit cheesy, but it kinda warms my heart, honestly.

Life is so precious and shouldn't be wasted, and hope is the same way. If you give them a reason to hope, you've given them a reason to live as well."

The figure suddenly cleared their throat.

"Enough of the sappy stuff. I've got work to do after this.

Besides all that, I also try to usually be straight to the point if I need to be, as well as assertive. I used to struggle with that when I was younger, often getting caught up in my words, and bending to another's will if they were an authority, or more loud and proud than I was. Over the years, though, I think I've found a good balance of being able to think for myself and be clear and concise in my wording, while also sticking up for others and being thoughtful towards them as well. I still try to be kind, I’m just now overall efficient about it.

I could talk about the things that I need to improve on or my hobbies, but, again, I should be helping others at this time of day, and not standing here and talking about me, myself, and I.

I will say that I love attaining and learning new pieces of knowledge, however, and this mainly applies to everything, even though I usually apply it to making constructs and magical devices. Still though, I love opening my mind up to new things, and applying them to my overall knowledge of everything, you know?"

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? Do you use it for battle, defense, healing?

The crow’s eyes flashed a pale blue again, and flew to Crow’s now outstretched arm, before they started to pet it. As they did, they also revealed the magical circuitry that was hidden underneath the crow’s feathers, and if the journalist had a keen eye, they could see that there was a bit of a runic language on them as well.

“As you can see, the crow that’s speaking to you right now, Peter, is not real, and was instead magically handmade- pawmade? Nah, that’s stupid.

But anyway, he was made by me, and put together with tarnished silver, some wire, bark, feathers, and fur, and other things, though mostly through some good, old fashioned crafting and magic. He’s my pride and joy, but! If you want to see more of my inventions, I’d be happy to-”

Crow cleared their throat and let their arm drop to its original position, making the crow land and settle back down on their shoulder as well.

“Right, I should show all that at a later time. For both our sakes. But! Back to the question; I’m what others would call an artificer. I make things through crafting and making something new out of things that others would pass by. Though a lot of magic is included in the process of all of my constructs and inventions, I also made them from scratch and worked out the kinks until they work as you want them to. While using only magic to make them function is the easy way to do this, the true joy of creation, I think, is finishing and activating them in tandem with magic. While some of my inventions seem to work as if only through magic and spells, I assure you, Mister…Journalist? That most of the inventions I have in this satchel are 100% handmade, with crafting and magic AND, ready to be used!”

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?

“Ah yes, my past. The part that everyone gets mostly right, but still fumbles with some of the details. Might as well correct them while I’m here, I guess.

“First of all, I did not spawn from the depths of the underworld, nor am I an unsettling creature who just appeared in Deilia one day, and whose clothes and mask hide a hideous monster or unsightly abomination underneath. People really need to calm down about not being able to see people like me’s actual appearance, and then pitching a fit about it when we still don’t want them to see what’s behind our masks, jeez!

“No, instead I grew up in a tiny village named Blackstone, which, before I became a famous hero, was a small place consisting of only fifty people. The thing is, though, was that most of them came from other places in Deilia, and my parents weren't an exception to that rule; they were from a part of The Nomadic Lands that was basically a harsh desert, and came to Blackstone in order to trade both knowledge and commerce with the locals, before falling in love and deciding to settle down there themselves.

“And, no. My parents didn't belong to some horrid race or even were eldritch deities, and I don't, either! They were both Tabaxis and belonged to the sand cat subrace, and the people who consist of that subrace are usually smaller than other Tabaxi, are sand colored and usually live in self-made dens in deserts, and mostly work as traders and guides.

“Before you ask: Yes, I am also a sand cat Tabaxi. No, I will not take off even my mask to prove that I am, and I will not let you pet me, either. I'm not in the mood for that right now.

((Out of character, but yes, sand cats do exist, and yes, you can Google them.))

“But anyway, I've talked a lot already, so I'll try to make the rest of this brief.

“I wasn't born mute, actually. In fact, I could talk just as well as any other small child my age when I was younger. How I was cursed to be mute could be a separate story all on its own, but essentially, I intentionally annoyed a sorcerer boy a bit too much when I was eight, and he cast a spell on me that was meant to make me mute for five minutes, but he accidentally cast it as wild magic. From then on, I could sigh, laugh, and cry, but not talk, yell, or whisper, and the spell would last until I died.

“My parents were livid at the boy for this, but soon calmed down when they learned it was an accident. I never really saw the boy again after that, though, and while we were friends before and a bit after the incident, we just went on different paths in life, and kinda forgot to hang out or interact with each other after a while. He did feel pretty guilty about making me mute, however.

“I’ll admit, I was very unsettled at the loss of my speaking voice at first, and also really frustrated at not being able to express myself verbally, like I typically was able to do before the curse. There were other alternatives brought to my attention via my parents, and while those helped, I still wanted some way to be audibly heard.

“At the time, I had been reading a whole lot of books about Jack Candlefoot, a fictional artificer who got cursed with having an upside down candle in place of his right foot. While it was hard and very frustrating to adjust to at first, Jack used his artificer skills and created things that would help him walk around and use his literal candle foot more as a weapon, like a bellows-like contraption that made the small flame on the bottom of the candle foot grow bigger, with Jack using it to make the flame spread out and become a literal fire shield- The Folly of Mother Goose went absolutely nuts, and I love it for that.

“Needless to say, I loved the series, and was inspired by it to make a contraption that I could use to act as my speaking voice. My parents were both rogues that used their skills in different ways, but they still tried to help me as best as they could. Ultimately, it was I who put the finishing touches on him, only to realize that I had used a bit too much magic on him when it came to his animation, because he turned out to be alive and had a mind of his own after he opened his eyes.

“After a bit of gawking at his sentience and not really paying attention to his barrage of endless questions because of it, I telepathically(yes, me and him have a telepathic link to each other, even now) told him my name, and agreed to help him figure out what everything he was now looking at was and how it worked, but only if he acted as my voice. He readily agreed to this, so I named him Peter, after…er, nothing special, really! I just liked how the name sounded at the time, I guess...”

Crow trailed off, looking at Peter on his arm. Peter looked back with a neutral stare, a blank smile on his beak. Crow sighed again, though this seemed like a much heavier one than the previous.

Unbeknownst to the journalist, thoughts started swirling in Crow’s head; memories of Peter dying in an inferno after making sure that Crow would get out of the area safely, and how, when Crow had finally managed to put Peter back together again, they realized too late that, while they had retrieved Peter’s body back from the hellfire, their friend was still lost to them.

For now, while Peter’s body was rebuilt, no matter what Crow could do, they still couldn’t get back his mind…

A sudden throat clearing from the journalist made Crow jump, before shaking their head and getting them back on track.

“Sorry, I just…I was thinking of someone dear to me…but, you don’t want to hear about that, do you? You just want to hear me debunk more rumors and tall tales about my personal life. That’s how most small or tabloid papers are these days, really.

“…Might as well get to why I wear this outfit almost all the time, or at least when I’m out in public. When I was a young preteen…teen…don’t really remember, many people in Blackstone had caught an illness that healthy professional healers and scholars in the village called, “The Freezing”. It was a disease that was in the air that winter, and that you could catch from other people in the area. It’s main symptom was your body temperature slowly going from normal to below zero, hence the name, and while it initially seemed to be the flu but way worse, towards the end of the sickness’ reign, many people died of hypothermia due to how low their body temperature had become. Warm blankets heated up by magic and hot soups didn’t seem to help the matters, unfortunately, and neither did the fact that no one knew where the illness came from.

“Prior to popular belief, “The Freezing” was the reason I began to wear this whole getup, and not because I was hiding something or whatever. While research surrounding the disease was little at the time, professional healers and scholars quickly figured out that, as I previously said, you could either catch it in the air and from others, and soon, everyone in the village who was involved with helping the sick had to wear outfits similar to mine.

“I, thankfully, didn’t catch the illness at any time, but my parents did. I tried to help both them and the other afflicted, but no matter whatever invention that was supposed to heal them or defend against the virus that I made, nothing worked. Eventually, my parents died because of it, and half because of the grief and pain I now felt and half out of desperation to save my village from this vicious virus, I volunteered to go to the nearby city and see if anyone could help it while I was in there.

“It only took an hour and a half to arrive, but because of the snow, ice, and high winds, it felt like it took forever. I went through what could’ve been a dozen people, trying to see if anyone could help. However, due to either lack of payment, being busy with adventuring, distrust of outsiders, or just overall indifference, no one answered my desperate plea to help my village, even if some of them thought I was cute.

“That is, until I came across an older gentleman, who gladly volunteered his services and knowledge to help combat the disease, if I decided to help his superior, Madame Ravenwood.

“Not knowing much about her, I still said yes in a heartbeat, being so desperate at this point that I would do anything to save my home.

“And, well, the rest is history.”

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes
(So this is an idea I had that acts as sort of a life path system. Since we already know each other, I figured we could all talk about our relationship towards one another)

((I’ll keep this blank for now as well, as I don’t really know the other people’s characters to portray them accurately in this section of the sheet.))

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.

“Madame Ravenwood, or Octavia, as I later got to know her by, greeted me with open arms when I came in to uphold my end of the gentleman’s bargain. She also gave me a hot drink, which was nice of her.

She was almost like a big sister to me, despite also being an overall authority figure. I was pretty fond of her, all things considered, and I hope she’s doing alright now, all things considered.”

I see, and.....did you know?
Peter paused for a moment.

“Know about what?”

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

“What are you-”

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

“Oh…oh no…”

Crow stepped back, Peter still on their arm and staring blankly at the “journalist”. Crow, meanwhile, had reached into their satchel and pulled out an orb with orange highlights, and markings on the center of it that looked like a sun.

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

“Stand back!” Crow shouted at the “journalist”, who they could now see very clearly was an evil cultist. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must!”

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

“...Bit-”

Inside the mask, Crow clenched their teeth. They threw the orb at the cultist at his face with full force, making the orb drop to the ground and start beeping, with the sun starting to move and act as a sort of timer.

“You’re not allowed to call her that!” Crow yelled, clenching his fists. “Octavia was a role model to me, and also a friend! What do you know about her, besides what your echo chamber cult says about the whole situation!?”

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (que explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)

Instead of answering, Crow started to run away, with the orb finally exploding and causing a large explosion of light, which killed the cultist and sent loads of blood and some guts flying everywhere.

Meanwhile, Crow was running to the nearby mayor’s office, with Peter flying behind him. Their current appointments at the back of their mind, Crow reasoned that they could reschedule them all later.

After all, the cult’s comeback was much more important to deal with, at least for right now.

Excuse me sir/ser, might you be one of the heroes from legend? Good turn to you, I have traveled, WAIT WAIT WAIT! Don't walk away! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear tale, my only wish is to tell your story. True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree? Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you!
The scarred half-orc stared at his fellow traveller. The sun was beginning to set, and he had been about to set up camp. This was a well known camping ground, wide and open, with easy access to a stream nearby. The plain was dotted with rocks, and a forest loomed to the west. The orc glowered at the stranger who had interrupted his rest. He had no desire for conversation, but there were few places as ideal as this in the surrounding area. He could either humour this reporter, or travel another hour or so and fumble in the dark, searching the night for some half-remembered forest clearing.

Now then, What is your name?
"Abe."
Short for Abraham. He didn't feel the need for a family name, so he didn't give one. He didn't deserve one anyway.

Splendid, and your age?
"25."

Fantastic, and your gender good hero
The half-orc slung the stranger an apprehensive look.
"Male."

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers?
"...You have eyes, don't you?"
Abe sat on a rock, his large body mostly covered by a dark green cloak, making it difficult to judge his full size. While he is quite large, he isn't as large as some half-orcs tend to be. His green skin is marred by scars, mostly bites and cuts from beasts' teeth and claws. Evidence of past hunts, past mistakes, and harsh lessons. Sharp black eyes and a fanged mouth give him a very harsh impression, though those more familiar with Abe would detect no particular heat from him. That is simply how he looks. His brown hair is quite long for a man, and it's clear it hasn't been cared for in some time.

His clothes were normal travelling fare, but a longbow rested on his lap, and he was wearing a leather curiass. The longbow was a large, gnarled thing, far away from the elegant curves that elves lobed so much. It looked for all the world as if Abe had just plucked the branch off an ancient oak and tied a string to it, which wasn't too far from the truth.

Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?
"Usually, I don't bother answering nosy humans." Abe said curtly.
A taciturn man, he was. Measured and careful, he always did what he had to do. Survival is first and foremost in his mind, weighing benefits and drawbacks for every action. Yet, when life and death aren't on the line, when Abe doesn't need to worry about having food or a roof over his head, he turns into a warm and generous soul. Not that it showed on his face.

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defense, healing?
"..."
Now he was suspicious of the stranger's intentions.

Abe supposed that it was a fair question. Compared to those he had the honor of calling his companions, he wasn't particularly flashy. His role was to support, on and off the battlefield. He tracked down their quarries, and read the wind for ill omens. He looked for advantageous ground and set traps to fortify it. And in battle, he created opportunities for his fellows with well placed shots. He was reliable, and he relied on his allies in the same way.

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?
"It was just normal."
He was feeling a little sentimental now. So close to home, yet so far. Life in the nomadic lands was simple, but harsh. Hunting, fishing, and moving from place to place. Sometimes your group of people would meet another group of people. If they were friendly they would trade with each other, and if not... A few warning shots usually did the trick.

Things were simple then. Abe himself wasn't a particularly skillful member of the tribe, but he did well enough. He had a mother who loved him, and one grumpy old grandfather that taught him everything he knew. He should have listened to him more.

Abe couldn't help but sigh as he scanned the horizon. The greens and greys of the grass and rocks were dyed pink by the light of the setting sun. The sky would darken soon, and he would be able to see the stars in all their glory. Not the tiny pinpricks that you could see from the cities, but balls of light wreathed in the golden dust that shrouded the night sky. Abe wondered why he had ever left this place, though he couldn't deny what he had gained through his adventures.

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes?
"Just friends."
A light word for some, but not for him. For young inexperienced Abraham, who had been taken advantage of an uncountable number of times, a friend was a rare thing indeed. It meant someone you could trust your back to. And the group had been more than that, in spite of his efforts to distance himself. He was closer to some than to others, naturally, but he generally enjoyed their company very much. Sadly, it had all ended too soon.

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.
"Oh, her."
Abe's musings took on a despondent tone.

There were some things that were only obvious from a distance. Octavia was a strong person, in every sense of the word. Strong of character, strong of arm, strong convictions. But there was also a strange magnetism to her. It was why others flocked around her so much. It was why he had taken her hand when she offered it to him. It was probably why everyone had drifted apart, after everything ended.

I see, and.....did you know?
"..."

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER!

The bowstring thrummed with a mighty twang and the stranger was impaled in the throat by an arrow as long as his arm. The corpse sailed backwards and was pinned to the rock behind it, before it exploded into blood and guts. The half orc sank back down onto his rock with a sigh. He had been looking forward to going home after so long, but he should've known it wouldn't be that easy. But it wasn't like him to leave a job half finished, and apparently, their work was not yet done.

Abraham stood up and began walking. Back the way he came, back towards Bradena. Whether these were the dregs of the cult or some manner of reemergence, things weren't so clear. But he couldn't just sit still and watch it happen.

Death to the cultists, death to the Eldritch once more. Death to the cockroaches of this world, as many times as it took. If not for the world, then for his dear friend Octavia Ravenwood, so that her soul may rest in peace. That was the least he could do for her, who had changed his life so much.

Excuse me sir/ser, might you be one of the heroes from legend? Good turn to you, I have traveled, WAIT WAIT WAIT! Don't walk away! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear tale, my only wish is to tell your story.

"I have no story to tell, anything you wish to hear can be told all over Deilia"

True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree?

"I suppose" She said, Yadira had not been one for story telling, but it looked like this person was going nowhere until they got what they wanted "Fine, I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities"

Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you. Now then, What is your name?

"Yadira Bladesinger"

Splendid, and your age?

"I don't really see what that has to do with anything but if you must know I am 27"

Fantastic, and your gender good hero

"Female, can you not tell?"

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers? (pictures or a discription will do, or both)

"Why the seven hells would....nevermind. I am fairy tall for your average woman with a muscular build, some might be put off by me, but that matters not, as long as my foes see how formidable I am. Where was I...oh yes, I have long black hair dyed white at the ends, blue eyes and blue face paint usually covers the top half of my face to honor those that are not with us anymore. I usually wear the ceremonial armor of my late clan when in battle and when out of battle, it is a normal shirt and britches.

This is getting us nowhere, will a picture help?"



Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quarks and such. What makes you you

"Ah! Now that is an interesting question. How do you sum up the mannerisms and quirks of one person in just a few sentences, or even a paragraph? We had a way of getting to know someone in my clan, knowledge through battle, you could learn a lot by fighting with someone. Be it side by side or against each other, but I will save that for some other time. I suppose if I had to describe myself, I would say I am quite reserved out of battle, or would quiet be a better word? I do not speak that much, why waste words on pointless small talk.

You know I have never thought about it until now, hmm...a lot of my former comrades say I am too brash with my words. I cannot help this and I see no point in sugarcoating words. The truth often stings, but it is far worse to only tell someone things they want to hear all the time. I am not heartless, I understand the time for tact.

After years of belonging to a community and my comrades, I have learned the meaning of loyalty. Anyone who has earned mine will have my sword by their side and their foes will taste the edge of my blade. Ah...I apologize, I have been told I am quick to turn to violence, something I am working on, I believe you city dwellers call it "diplomacy", we are in a time of peace after all."

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defense, healing?

She scoffs at the thought of her using magic, not that she had anything against those who did. "No magic to speak of, nor do I need it as long as I have my sword. It's been with me for years and has served me well, seen me through many battles and such, but your question was about what my skills were. I am well trained in the use of heavy weapons, axes, swords, and the like, but my primary weapon of choice is the greatsword. Where did I get it? A tale I am sure would not make good entertainment for your little report I'm afraid. Perhaps another time when we have more of it.

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? who were you?

"I was orphaned at a young age and taken in by a clan of less than reputable folk. I'll be honest, I wasn't always the hero they tell in those stories you hear in the taverns. Make no mistake, I am grateful for them taking me in and teaching me their ways, without them I would have surely perished in the wilds, they are partly responsible for who I am today. I grew up outside of Bradena along with my brothers and sisters, they may not have been blood, but they were kin nonetheless. We trained, hunted, and shed blood together. With them I learned how to fight, how to survive, yet for all the things that they gave us, there was much that was taken away. Innocence was the very first thing to go, something unheard of for what they were. The things we did, a conscience would just get in the way.

They were a band of raiders you see, a dangerous one at that. We knew what they were and what would ask of us They operated away from the kingdom and pillaged the surrounding villages eventually earning the notoriety they so desperately craved and yes I did take part in it. It was for survival they said, until it wasn't and some of us saw that. I was young and foolish back then, eager to prove myself, so when I came of age, I went on my first raid. Have you ever killed an innocent Mr. scribe? It's something you never forget, something that haunts you for the rest of your life. I was fifteen when I made my first kill, I still remember the screams." The woman stared at the ground with a look that gave a thousand chills, it was as if she had seen the most horrifying thing imaginable. Trying her best to carry on with the story, she slowly regained her composure. "I had nightmares for weeks, but surely you care not for my daemons. I stayed with that clan for years as resentment and regret grew.

We eventually caught the ire of the king and fearing we would be bold enough to march on Bradena, he put a bounty on us. However ambitious we were, we knew better than to march on the capital, but the bounty was set and who answered it you ask? Why the company of heroes no less. The battle that ensued between us and the heroes was a fierce one and I as well as my brothers and sisters grew tired of fighting it, over the years we grew tired of all of it. After days of fighting, a few of my brothers and sisters defected and although only a few of us lived to tell the tale, we survived, but we were at the mercy Octavia Ravenwood. The reward was for our defeat, so she saw no point in putting us to the sword, instead she offered us a place with her and her comrades. I was the only one of my surrogate family to take the offer, the others who survived were done with fighting and went on to find more honorable means of making a living. I still talk one of them, she runs a coffee shop in Bradena."

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes

"You wish to speak of my comrades now hm? We worked well together, sure we had our differences and some of us were complete arseholes, but we made it work.

Of course there was Octavia, my sister in arms and my most formidable opponent when training. If you've ever had the pleasure seeing her swing a sword, it was like art. She saw the way the world was and showed us what could be. At first I cared nothing for her vision, but after seeing how our deeds changed things for the better well...how could you not buy into it. She was my shield sister, I would and have fought and bled along side her unto my last breath. When we buried her, it was the saddest day of my life.

"Shiri, quick on her feet that one. I got the feeling right away she didn't care for me when we first met. I thought I'd have to sleep with an eye open at all times around her" The woman laughed reflected fondly on her old comrade "she eventually warmed up to me, honestly I wouldn't have blamed her if she tried to kill me. I was an ex bandit

Some of them I miss dearly and some of them I would punch in the face if I ever saw them again, but I would not hesitate to leap to their aid should they have need of it. They are part of my clan after all."

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.

Her eyes perked up at the question, but that perk was quickly replaced with a sorrowful look. "Octavia Ravenwood, a name I haven't heard what seems like years. When she died...I..." She tried holding back the lump that quickly appeared in her throat to no avail, but as quickly as it came, it went that quickly. Her time with her comrades meant more to her than she let on and the disbanding was heartbreaking, but nothing was as earth shattering than the death of the one who had given her a home. For the longest time it was hard to even hear her name without almost bursting into tears "She was my shield sister. Valiant, brave, fearless, she gave me a purpose when I had none. Yadira hung her head low and clenched her fists "Now here I am trying to find another"

I see, and.....did you know?

"Did I know? is this part of the question thing?"

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

"What in the seven hells are you on about?"

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

"you're starting to annoy me"

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

Yadira narrowed her eyes at the man and grabbed the hilt of her sword ".....Who did you say you worked for again?" She sensed the man was up to something, but who he referred to "it couldn't be"

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

"You dare use her name in vain around me?! I'll feed you that damn tongue of yours!" She said as she raised her blade and charged at the man.

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (que explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)

The explosion followed by the blood and guts stopped her in her tracks as she staggered back and dropped her weapon. "Bastard!" She yelled as she wiped the guts from her face.