As he and his closest kin dined on that virgin pink flesh that night, the aromas left his holt and pierced the village air. Arguing that no man or ruler should ever have the right to claim such profound beauty, and in direct defiance of the King’s laws, Sylas stalked the royal riverbanks from dusk ‘til dawn, every night, until under a golden sun, the magnificent creature revealed itself and Sylas’ harpoon struck true. This ancient, legendary fish, scales of rainbow and eyes of gold, was said to have swam only in the crystal waters of the King’s hunting grounds. It was desire that undid Sylas, not for gold or riches, but for something far more precious, for the riverways of the King’s hunting grounds held a fabled fish no otter had ever tasted. The rivers leading from the King’s grounds to the Eastern Marshlands, were bountiful and rich, and he, like his father before him, fished and defended the waters alongside his lodge. A taciturn fisherman, resolute and easy to anger, but skilled and quick of decision, reliant enough to be considered a river dog worth following. Unlike his father, it could never be said that Sylas was a hero. Stats: Fight = 5 Health = 5 Wits = 3 Spirit = 3 All this and more, when I march upon the Royal Palace and the last King, the King of Armello, falls to our cause.” And by her side, just out of Slantfang’s view, an old crone with glinting eyes watched on.
#HEROES LORE FREE#
“Soon,” she said, “our bandit brothers and sisters will find a place within this Kingdom, free from the need to pillage and plunder. The time for merciless old dogs had come to an end. She informed him that the tent was now hers, that the animals of his pack had already pledged their allegiance and he would be lead him to the borders of the Ashen Forest, never to be seen again. A voice soft, yet strong and devastatingly familiar, recounted her journey to unite the six tribes before his. Who was this new Bandit King and what powers of trickery and malice did he possess in order to accomplish what no king of bandits had before him? It was that night, in his very own tent no less, that Slantfang felt the distinct sensation of a blade pressed against his back. He fortified his camp and bolstered defenses as news of this new king marched upon him. Slantfang became uneasy and erratic as the legends quickly turned to rumors and the rumors became reports. If travelers’ tales were to be believed, three of the seven tribes had already sworn allegiance to this new king. Animals whispered in hushed tones of a new Bandit King uniting the tribes under a single banner. As time passes, change comes, and life for the Bandits was in flux. Years and countless raids passed and before too long Scarlet was merely another lost champion recounted in fireside stories. Then it happened, word came back from one of Scarlet’s raid parties that she had fallen in battle, her body taken by the King’s Guard as bounty. By the time she had barely entered adulthood, Scarlet’s raids were a thing of legend and her usefulness and enthusiasm saw her flourish among the miscreants. Naturally, her favorite targets were unscrupulous merchants and the finery and jewelry she plundered from their caravans.
Every time she found herself in the mud at the backhand of some hotheaded bandit battlemaiden, kicked out of the dinner line, or catching Slantfang’s seedy gaze, she would remember that old crone’s words… “above all to rule all.” She learnt fast and soon found herself at home awaiting caravans, weapon at the ready. Now in Slantfang’s pack, she was thrust mercilessly into danger, death and a countless number of dishonorable deeds. Ripped from high society into the company of murderous forest ruffians, Scarlet was to become one of them. Slantfang, rich with arrogance, knocked the crone to the ground, leaving her by the side of the road as the convoy moved on, an incredulous, raucous laughter leaving with it.
Spotting Scarlet in shackles by Slantfang’s side, she prophesied that the child would be his undoing, one day rising above all odds to rule all. On the road back to camp, Slantfang’s convoy came came upon an old crone. He was no ordinary dog, but King to one of the seven bandit tribes of Armello the raiders of the Ashen Forest. The victor of that card game was a dalmatian, whom the village folk called Slantfang. Quite impressively both a wealthy merchant and a terrible gambler, one particularly unlucky night he bought his freedom with his daughter’s life. Charm, wit, and merciless determination.”īorn to a noble family, Scarlet was thrust onto destiny’s path by her drunk, unrepentant father.
Stats: Fight = 4 Health = 5 Wits = 4 Spirit = 3
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