Day One.
I think I must have been asleep before the imp arrived. I remember vast darkness surrounding me and the warm feelings you get when someone you love holds you very close. The imp ruined that by buzzing in my face and delivering a few sharp pokes to my ribs with the pointed end of a three-pronged spear.
My memory wasn't very good at the time, so it was difficult to answer his questions. I mumbled out my name and insisted that, yes, I was always a woman. Where was I born, he demanded to know -- "Romar," I told him, "among the tall grasses, to the sounds of pounding drums and running horses." He thought this meant I was a sturdy woman built for battle; I told him otherwise. "I was a thief," I said. "I stole from the rich and gave to myself, and I never fought fair."
As I spoke, the images of my past came back to me along with all their smells and sounds. I answered his interrogation with increasing confidence. His questions came in an unceasing flood, and I told him how it all began...
I was in very high spirits and eager for a fight. Though I was too young and too poor to have mastery over any kind of weapon, I was a tough little scrapper and could mete out a fair punishment with my bare fists. Warm, salty island air filled my lungs and made me feel like nothing could hold me back. Similarly naive and eager faces surrounded me -- other would-be adventurers and scoundrels who'd made the trip to Wen. I'm not sure how or when I decided Wen would be a great place to make my name, but there I was, ready for anything.
I immediately spent my last Romar coins on a suit of light armor. A gray-eyed gypsy beauty named Pegasus was hawking suitable-looking equipment -- some of it very fine and expensive -- from her rainbow-painted wagon. My t-shirt was sacrificed in the exchange; since I was likely to be part of Wen's society for awhile, I knew I had to start looking like a local, so I shrugged and adhered to the gypsy woman's recommendations. I swaggered away from the wagon, clad in only a pair of perfectly-fitted fuzzy slippers.
As I contemplated my next action, my curiosity was piqued by loud noises of conflict. I heard the clashing and ringing of steel above the crowd's din, and I wasn't the only one whose head was turned. Several of us newcomers followed the sound to its source: one man standing against many, testing his skill against all who'd oppose him. Knowing I wasn't anywhere near ready to face such intense evaluation, I wandered away again, keeping the weaponmaster in mind. Surely earning his approval would be a swift way to establish my reputation in these parts...
The forest beckoned me. I had to start earning my way somehow, and I couldn't go about picking pockets without a good warm-up. Setting out in no particular direction I vowed to find a good fight -- anything to get my blood flowing! Unfortunately, the first creature I came upon could hardly be considered a fair match. The Cafe Employee of the Month defended his turf with a wickedly frothy Triple Chocolate Double Mocha Latte. He lunged, I parried with my bare hands, and spat out an insult to his prowess.
We fought while he wept, dejected by my cutting words. The gangly-limbed creature made good use of his brewed weapon of choice, but I was too fast for him! I dodged every slosh and fleck of hot foam, responding to each attack with slaps, swats, punches, and kicks. I would have made it out unscathed were it not for a lucky splash of steaming espresso. A curious buzzing noise and rush of wind followed, and my wound was healed before I'd barely even registered the pain. In the heat of battle I couldn't think much of the strange phenomenon; I could, however, beat the Cafe Employee of the Month into an unconscious wreck. In my rage I did just that.
I took his gold and trekked deeper into the woods.
I went on what some might call a bloody rampage. This was hardly my finest moment; I was young, angry, and I had new slippers to put to good use. My temper didn't cool until after I clashed with a canary. A songbird! The aggressive little thing pecked at my eyes and yanked on my hair, probably just looking for showy nesting materials. I felt a bit sad battering its frail body to the earth, knowing I'd robbed the world of some music. Worse, I then had to defend myself against a beautiful baby unicorn. These fights did nothing to keep my blood boiling...I trudged back to town, muscles warmed but soul dejected.
The weaponmaster waved me over when I returned to Wen's plaza. I learned his name was Vyrts. He challenged me to a fight, and though my body was prepared for a brawl, my mind and heart were not. He defeated me easily with nothing but a large spell book. Defeated, humiliated, I stomped back into town, looking for some way of assuaging my embarrassment...
I bought a rake from the weapon shop and marched back into the woods, not to create piles of leaves for children to play among, but rather to kill everything in sight.
I vowed to return to the weaponmaster the next day. I vowed to win our next duel.
My memory wasn't very good at the time, so it was difficult to answer his questions. I mumbled out my name and insisted that, yes, I was always a woman. Where was I born, he demanded to know -- "Romar," I told him, "among the tall grasses, to the sounds of pounding drums and running horses." He thought this meant I was a sturdy woman built for battle; I told him otherwise. "I was a thief," I said. "I stole from the rich and gave to myself, and I never fought fair."
As I spoke, the images of my past came back to me along with all their smells and sounds. I answered his interrogation with increasing confidence. His questions came in an unceasing flood, and I told him how it all began...
I was in very high spirits and eager for a fight. Though I was too young and too poor to have mastery over any kind of weapon, I was a tough little scrapper and could mete out a fair punishment with my bare fists. Warm, salty island air filled my lungs and made me feel like nothing could hold me back. Similarly naive and eager faces surrounded me -- other would-be adventurers and scoundrels who'd made the trip to Wen. I'm not sure how or when I decided Wen would be a great place to make my name, but there I was, ready for anything.
I immediately spent my last Romar coins on a suit of light armor. A gray-eyed gypsy beauty named Pegasus was hawking suitable-looking equipment -- some of it very fine and expensive -- from her rainbow-painted wagon. My t-shirt was sacrificed in the exchange; since I was likely to be part of Wen's society for awhile, I knew I had to start looking like a local, so I shrugged and adhered to the gypsy woman's recommendations. I swaggered away from the wagon, clad in only a pair of perfectly-fitted fuzzy slippers.
As I contemplated my next action, my curiosity was piqued by loud noises of conflict. I heard the clashing and ringing of steel above the crowd's din, and I wasn't the only one whose head was turned. Several of us newcomers followed the sound to its source: one man standing against many, testing his skill against all who'd oppose him. Knowing I wasn't anywhere near ready to face such intense evaluation, I wandered away again, keeping the weaponmaster in mind. Surely earning his approval would be a swift way to establish my reputation in these parts...
The forest beckoned me. I had to start earning my way somehow, and I couldn't go about picking pockets without a good warm-up. Setting out in no particular direction I vowed to find a good fight -- anything to get my blood flowing! Unfortunately, the first creature I came upon could hardly be considered a fair match. The Cafe Employee of the Month defended his turf with a wickedly frothy Triple Chocolate Double Mocha Latte. He lunged, I parried with my bare hands, and spat out an insult to his prowess.
We fought while he wept, dejected by my cutting words. The gangly-limbed creature made good use of his brewed weapon of choice, but I was too fast for him! I dodged every slosh and fleck of hot foam, responding to each attack with slaps, swats, punches, and kicks. I would have made it out unscathed were it not for a lucky splash of steaming espresso. A curious buzzing noise and rush of wind followed, and my wound was healed before I'd barely even registered the pain. In the heat of battle I couldn't think much of the strange phenomenon; I could, however, beat the Cafe Employee of the Month into an unconscious wreck. In my rage I did just that.
I took his gold and trekked deeper into the woods.
I went on what some might call a bloody rampage. This was hardly my finest moment; I was young, angry, and I had new slippers to put to good use. My temper didn't cool until after I clashed with a canary. A songbird! The aggressive little thing pecked at my eyes and yanked on my hair, probably just looking for showy nesting materials. I felt a bit sad battering its frail body to the earth, knowing I'd robbed the world of some music. Worse, I then had to defend myself against a beautiful baby unicorn. These fights did nothing to keep my blood boiling...I trudged back to town, muscles warmed but soul dejected.
The weaponmaster waved me over when I returned to Wen's plaza. I learned his name was Vyrts. He challenged me to a fight, and though my body was prepared for a brawl, my mind and heart were not. He defeated me easily with nothing but a large spell book. Defeated, humiliated, I stomped back into town, looking for some way of assuaging my embarrassment...
I bought a rake from the weapon shop and marched back into the woods, not to create piles of leaves for children to play among, but rather to kill everything in sight.
I vowed to return to the weaponmaster the next day. I vowed to win our next duel.