Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the old ruins deep in the wasteland. A trap caught her. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, walls too thick to pass. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Hiding in passages. But she pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the Lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Went to the town. Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the cave deep in the wasteland. New erosion. Old ruins. A trap caught her good. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, walls too thick to pass. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Hiding in passages. But she pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the Lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Went to the town. Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the cave deep in the wasteland. New erosion. Old ruins. A trap caught her good. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, walls too thick to pass. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Hiding in passages. But she pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the Lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Went home. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the cave deep in the wasteland. New erosion. Old ruins. A trap caught her good. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, walls too thick. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Hiding in passages. But she pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the Lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Went home. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the cave deep in the wasteland. New erosion. Old ruins. A trap caught her good. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, walls too thick. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Built barricades. Hit and Run. Hiding in passages. She pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Went home. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax. Torture and Wizards everywhere. Watching your thoughts. Hated it. Ran away young, with just a sword and guts.
Best go where nobody is.
Found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rain exposed it. Old ruins inside. A trap caught her good. A pod. Some kind of wizard thing. Old and half-working. But it changed her. Skin different, insides different. Broke it, from within. Kept going down.
Monsters. Darkness. Didn't need food anymore. Sometimes, doors and walls. She'd hammer for months. Break them down. More monsters. Healing took time. Built barricades. Hiding in passages. She pressed on. After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
Came back up changed. Tougher. Sharper. Faster.
Went home. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer.
Killed the Priests. Killed the Lords. Killed the Wizards.
Started moving. Farm to farm.
Quiet. Careful.
She taught the peasants. How to shoot crossbows. How to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. Wizards were still around. Reading the minds of the peasants. They learned not to.
It came sooner than planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up. Crossbows came out. Took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
The peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. Not quite human. Still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks. It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground. There were old ruins inside. A trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. Tt changed her. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls she couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them down. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time. Always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
She ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
Was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground. There were old ruins inside. A trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them down. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the count, the priests, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground. There were old ruins inside. Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the count, the priests, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the count, the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them.
Their children went to farmers to raise.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count. No-one has seen them, and they haven't shown up in the county. Sensible for a count
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the count, when he rode out to meet them.
Their children went to farmers to raise.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the count, when he rode out to meet them.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the count, when he rode out.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the old count, when he came up to the hills with his bully-boys.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away to be an adventurer, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have other than this. She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the old count, when he came up to the hills with his bully-boys.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away to be an adventurer, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have, other than this? She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the old count, when he came up to the hills with his bully-boys.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away to be an adventurer, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have, other than this? She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the old count, when he came up to the hills with his bully-boys.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
Séfora grew up in Cheliax, and hated it. Torture and wizards everywhere. Always watching your thoughts. She ran away to be an adventurer, with nothing but a rusty sword, and her guts.
She wandered for weeks.
It was best to go where nobody was.
Séfora found the cave deep in the wasteland. Rains had exposed it. Ancient stone, dark passages stretching deep underground.
There were old old ruins inside, but what did she have, other than this? She went in.
Early on, a trap caught her good, pulled her into a pod. Some kind of wizard thing, old and half-working. It changed her, somehow. Her skin was different, her insides were different. She smashed her way out. She didn't need food or sleep anymore. She kept going down.
It was hell down there. Always more monsters. Always more darkness. Sometimes there were walls Séfora couldn't find a way around. She'd hammer for months to break them. She learned, built barricades, hid in passages. Just healing took time, but always she pressed on, deeper and deeper. What else did she have? After a year, she hit bottom. Found the lair. Killed the skeleton thing, deep below.
When she finally saw sunlight again, Séfora was different- tougher, sharper, and faster.
She went home to her village. Cheliax looked worse now. Or maybe she saw clearer. Séfora went from house to house, seeking the guards, the priests, the lords, the wizards. Killed them all. Quick and quiet.
Séfora ran, then. Word spread. She started moving from farm to farm, all across the West Hills. Quiet and careful. She taught the peasants crossbows. How to shoot them, how to hide them. Made sure they had one for every grown-up, tucked away. Waiting for the right moment. The wizards were still around, reading the minds of the peasants. They quickly learned not to.
It came sooner than she'd planned. The Four Day War started. The people rose up and the crossbows came out. They took down the the priests, the barons, the taxman, anyone who'd hurt them. Even the old count, when he came up to the hills with his bully-boys.
When it was over, Cheliax had changed under her. Supposedly there was a new count, down in the lowlands. They haven't shown up in hill country. Sensible.
Now the peasants wanted to choose Séfora to help write new laws.
She looked at her hands. They were not quite human. They were still stained.
