Rachel's hero story

Description of Rachel: Short, with bright red hair, though she hides this in a cloak. Pale complexion, and a forcefully neutral countenance. She became a Hero for the benefits. Obviously, she isn’t the heroic type. At least, that’s what she tells herself. She drinks, she steals, she maybe accidentally drops some money near a group of orphans, on accident of course. She is protective of her self-image, and will cut you up if you piss her off. After all, even if they wanted to, the law couldn’t catch her. She was really made a Hero because of her reputation among the lower class of the city, not because of her skill, though she doesn’t know she even has a reputation. She has no family nor loved ones. Maybe I’ll write a thing about Rachel’s childhood later, but suffice it to say, she grew up on the streets. She has a sour outlook on life on the outside, but with a soft inside.

“Rendarion’s Independence? 's long as I get paid, I don’t give a howling damn what you prissy rich folk do, you’ll let the people starve either way. Get out of my face, you’re spoiling my drink. Yeah, yeah, treason, yada yada, you’ll say that, but I’m a Hero, aren’t I? Leave me be already.”

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Chapter 1 - Tavern Rumors

Rachel strolled down the street, taking in the sights. She wasn’t very heroic, no. But she was a Hero.

She slipped into the pub she likes in the backstreets, the Silver Crow, ordered a drink and settled into her usual spot in the corner. Comfortable.

As always, she kept her ears open. Oftentimes, a crowded area can be the most private area you can find. But not with Rachel around. Bits of speech filtered in. "…and then she had the audacity to tell me…” “…and I struck a deal with him, swindled him into a whole…” “…the kid’sh nobody important, we can’t just waltsh up to the abandoned warehoush and fight off a hundred banditsh for him… hic!” Her ears perked up at that.

She stood up and walked in their general direction. They were a group of well-dressed guards, clearly heavily drunk. “There’sh a whoooole bandit hideout… hic! One peashant kid isnnt something we’ll just juuuump into banditsh for….”

She took her cloak off, approached their table, and smiled. “Sir, is there anything else you’d like? Some water perhaps…?” The guard stared at her, then his eyes slowly moved downwards. “Ssshure darling, what I’d like ish you…. Wanna go out sometime baby?” She sighed and walked away. As soon as the guard stopped staring, she dropped the act, grabbed her cloak and left.

Rachel strolled down the street, head bowed, hands in pockets. She strolled down the street, “accidentally” dropping a few of the guard’s coins towards the kids in the street. As she approached the warehouse in question, she scooped up some dirt from the ground nearby and rubbed it over her clothes, then sat in the alleyway and waited.

A short time later, a group of four bandits exited the warehouse. One gave her a passing glance, but none considered her a threat. That was a mistake. Rachel pulled her shortbow from her cloak, took a deep breath, and hit the rear bandit in the head. Before the body hit the ground, she hit another. The third wheeled around, sword already unsheathed, while the fourth looked around, dazed. She hit the third in the knee, making sure he would no longer be an adventurer and hit the fourth right between her eyes. She walked to the third, still alive, and knocked him in the head with her light hammer.

With the guards down, she climbed the outer wall of the abandoned warehouse and surveyed the inside through a hole in the roof. “…look, the guards know we’re here, we need to take the loot and move to the other hideout. We can’t afford to get caught here.” “And we would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for this windblown boy.” “Shut the hell up, Lin, you drynet fishbreather, nobody wants to hear your half-baked, sparklit opinion for Tygens’ sake.” There was silence for a moment. “…well damn, alright.”

As the bandits dispersed and started preparing to leave, Rachel spotted the boy, tied up in the corner. Rachel sighed. Too late to go back now. Rachel dipped her arrows in shellfish poison, then grabbed a few of her handcrafted smokes and threw them in. The entire warehouse interior was soon engulfed in smoke. Rachel aimed her shortbow, and when the bandits started yelling, she started shooting. A shout silenced, a yell stifled. She kept shooting until she heard no more.

As the smoke dispersed, she dropped down into the warehouse and examined the area. She seems to have gotten them all. She untied the boy in the corner, and he took a deep breath. “Thanks, miss! I like to play here, but the bad men were here today. I wasn’t scared at-” His eyes widened, looking behind Rachel. She spun aro-


Her seax knife barely deflected the dagger, but it threw her off balance. The cloaked figure recovered quicker, and plunged the dagger towards Rachel’s stomach, only for it to be dodged. The attacker spun, cutting Rachel in the side, who kicked the attacker away. The two circled each other, the boy already gone. Rachel pulled out her shortbow, notched it and fired it, all in one smooth motion. The arrow clipped her assailant in the side. Rachel notched another arr-


Rachel deftly dodged the projectile, surprised by its appearance. “Storms, you’re good. But I’m better.” She charged the attacker as they fell to the ground, paralyzed by the poison on her arrows, and landed a kick to the head, knocking the bandit to the floor.

“Now, by the fifth tree, who the hel-” Rachel sniffed, then sniffed again. “Reigmor’s sweaty left buttcheek, did you ACTUALLY just catch the wall of the warehouse on fire?” As Rachel turned around, she saw that her attacker did, in fact, catch the wall of the warehouse on fire. A fire that was quickly spreading across the dry planks and cobwebs. And it had hit right above the main entrance. “Storms, this is why you don’t use fireballs in-”The mysterious assailant was gone. “GODS F-” A loud crash silences anything Rachel was trying to say. “Right. Right. Gotta get out.” Rachel spots a hole in the wall she can climb to, but the fire is spreading fast, and the smoke was getting to her. It’s almost as if the smoke was clinging to her. Oh, right. Magic fireball, magic fire, which of course means magic smoke. “Curse magic and its ridiculousness,” Rachel muttered. As she climbed to the hole in the wall, she inhaled more and more smoke. Eventually, it was too much for her, and she lost her grip. Starting to blackout, she muttered every curse she knew, cursing her assailant, the Heroes and Reigmor himself. As her vision grew dim, she thought she heard angels shouting. Great.

Awake, awake, where’s the-

Rachel sat up from her cot. A small voice yelled for its mother, and a young lady not too far off Rachel’s own age entered the room. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” the woman said, handing Rachel a bowl of soup. “Mom, mom, she’s awake!” a child exclaimed. As Rachel slowly wakes up, she begins to understand what happened. This child was the boy the bandits captured. He must have run for help. She looks around the room she’s in. Clearly, the family is impoverished. After thanking the family, and receiving their thanks in turn, Rachel leaves the house, having relieved herself of the soldier’s money pouch. The fire had been stopped, saving the buildings around the warehouse, but the assailant escaped. That weighed on Rachel’s mind as she stepped into the pub, settling in the same spot as always.

As Rachel sat down in her familiar spot, she noticed a large man eying her from the other side of the room, and after she finished her drink and stood up, the man followed. By the time Rachel arrived at her home, the man was gone, lost in some backwater alleyway on the way. But this wasn’t over. There’s more to this story, and Rachel can sense that she’ll be dragged into it yet again.