Slinging her awkwardly packed bag over her shoulder, Alisanne Henret pushed open the heavy door that led into the Oar’s Crest Adventurer’s Guild and stepped inside. Before the door had even closed, another adventurer – a heavily armored kitrekin carrying a spear – bumped into her, sending a fresh wave of aching across her bruised ribs and shoulders.

  “Sorry,” the kitrekin muttered, not looking at her. “Didn’t see you there.”

  He yanked the door open and walked out, leaving Alisanne to tell empty air not to worry about it through grit teeth. Frustrated, the seventeen year old [Fighter] swore under her breath and aimed an obscene gesture at the now-closed door before turning back around. That made her feel a little better.

  The guildhall’s comfortable common room was still busier than Alisanne was used to, with a few dozen adventurers sitting at the long wooden tables cleaning their weapons, gathered around the twin job boards in its center looking for their next jobs, or sitting in the comfortable chairs and couches next to the fire sipping drinks and chatting, but it was nowhere near as bad as it’d been for the past two weeks. Alisanne didn’t miss the claustrophobic mess of bodies pressing her in all directions, or the dull roar of a hundred conversations blending together.

  There was barely a line at the [Receptionist] desk, so Alisanne made her way over to wait. She looked at the big clock on the wall and winced when she saw it was nearly fourth afternoon bell. She’d spent too much time – not to mention money – at the market looking for a new book to bring with her on the trip to Old Narluc. She’d told her parents that she’d be home by fifth afternoon bell for dinner, and it was a twenty minute walk from the guild if she hurried.

  As such, she was extremely grateful for her luck when the [Receptionist] said that the [Guild Trainer] Theikal, who she’d come to see, could see her immediately. Thanking the [Receptionist], Alisanne scurried down the long hallway that led to Theikal’s office as quickly as her legs would carry her. She stepped to the side when a trio of women – all [Witches], judging by their hats and boots – walked past, and sighed at the pleasant smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and cloves that lingered in the air for a few seconds afterward.

  “Come on in,” Theikal said when she knocked on the door, and Alisanne gave the blue-scaled salamander a little wave when she walked in. He was sitting at his desk, looking far too large for his little chair like he always did, and had an open book held in one clawed hand.

  The office was a mess, like it always was, with tomes, pamphlets and manuals scattered across the floor and a multitude of bookshelves. Some were focused on skills and techniques based on specific weapons, others were based on class, and some were even organized by application. Theikal claimed that Alisanne carefully made her way to the other open chair in the room, careful not to disturb the mess as she sat down and put her bag on the floor.

  Setting down his book, Theikal took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. It creaked ominously. “I’m surprised to see you here Henret. I would have thought that you’d be halfway to Old Narluc by now.”

  “Couldn’t get a carriage seat until tomorrow morning,” Alisanne said, shrugging. “It shouldn’t be a problem though, the next dungeon in the circuit is going to be taking runs for at least a week.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” the old salamander said, closing his book and looking her in the eyes. “So what brings you by? How can I be of assistance?”

  “Uh, see, ever since my last Crestheart run I’ve been thinking about changing my primary class. A miniboss there told me that being a [Fighter] was holding me back, and I want to put my best foot forward for the next four dungeons in the circuit. I was hoping you could give me some good options that wouldn’t be too hard for me to become.”

  Theikal’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Folly of taking class advice from a dungeon miniboss aside, I think it’d be terrible and counterproductive for you to change classes until after you’re back. You’re only level fourteen, right?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Same difference. After the conversion process you’d be looking at level five or six at best in any new class, and that’s nowhere near high enough to have a real chance at clearing anything more than a training dungeon.”

  “I see,” Alisanne said, slumping forward. She’d expected as much, but hearing it said so bluntly still stung. “I guess I’ll go ahead and go then.”

  “Now hang on,” Theikal said, raising his claws to stop her from getting out of her chair. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s nothing you can do to improve your chances in the circuit stops to come. There are a lot of skills that you can learn pretty quickly that might be able to shore up some of your biggest weaknesses. Let’s talk about those. What sort of enemies do you struggle with the most?”

  Alisanne didn’t need to think much to answer that question. “Ranged attackers, easy.”

  Theikal nodded. “That makes sense. Dual-weapon [Fighters] like you often have a hard time against those. A good defensive skill will go a long way here, I think. Do you already have any?”

  “Just [Steady Legs].”

  “Hmm. No doubt that helps you endure attacks but doesn’t do anything about avoiding them.”

  Theikal fell silent, drumming his claws on the desk for a moment while he thought. “Aha! I think I’ve got just the skill for you to try and pick up. Give me a moment, I’ve got to find the manual.”

  He stood up and walked to the far side of the room, stopping in front of an overburdened bookshelf and sorting through the books on its sagging shelves with uncanny speed while muttering to himself.

  Barely a few minutes later, the salamander found the one he was apparently looking for – a thick leather tome with faded gold lettering that said Basic Skills for Adventurers, Volume Three – and brought it back to the desk. He closed his eyes, muttered, “[Find Heading: Twirling Block],” and started flipping pages like it was a race.

  Alisanne watched, amazed at the way the pages blurred. While she could intuit the general idea behind what sort of skill [Twirling Block] was, she was curious about the specifics. Mostly she worried about whether or not it’d be easy to learn. Her previous experiences with picking up skills from text were not great to say the least, and after her last attempt – a spectacular failure to learn [Shatterstrike] that’d nearly shattered her right wrist – she’d been tempted to write the practice off entirely. Still, she trusted Theikal who’d always given her good advice and was desperate for anything she could do to improve her chances of winning her upcoming dungeon runs, so she forced herself to read the skill description with an open mind when the salamander turned the book around and offered it to her.

  “Alright, here’s the first option. Now traditionally, [Twirling Block] is used by [Fighters] who wield a spear or a staff,” Theikal explained, “but there’s no reason you can’t adapt it to your clubs. It’s a simple skill so you shouldn’t have much trouble learning it. Of course, you’ll have to figure the timing out for yourself, and the illustrations probably won’t be much help, but I have every confidence in you.”

  Alisanne leaned forward and started to read. The skill’s description and list of instructions were indeed quite simple at first glance; an adventurer spun their weapon in front of their body fast enough to knock incoming projectiles out of the air. A successful use would cause said weapon to glow green, which was a nice touch for tracking her progress. If only every skill offered that type of visual confirmation to help learners!

  Now, that said, [Twirling Block] was also more than a bit on the boring side. It was the type of skill that almost didn’t need to be a skill, but that fact made Alisanne think that she had a pretty good chance of mastering it before she arrived in Old Narluc. After all, it was easier to imagine spinning her clubs around than it was to imagine herself suddenly able to summon a wall out of the ground which was what she’d been expecting.

  “I’ll give it a shot,” she said, prompting Theikal to go ahead and use [Make Pamphlet] to give her a copy of the instructions.

  Unlike the entry in the book, the pamphlet itself was a bit more detailed. There were extra notes about posture, arm position, and weapon angle too, but like Theikal had said she’d have to adapt those to her own circumstances.

  “I know it’s not a very exciting skill,” Theikal said, pulling the book back toward his body. “However, depending on how well you learn it, you might be able to trigger the skill with both clubs at once. That’d seriously boost its efficacy. Start with just one until you get to a perfect success rate though, okay?”

  “Okay,” Alisanne said. “I’ll do my best. Do you have any other skill recommendations?”

  Theikal laughed. “Of course. I’d be a poor [Guild Trainer] if I just gave you a single option. If I remember correctly, you like to use [Kinetic Tempo], right?”

  Alisanne nodded.

  “Perfect. In that case, you should have no problem learning [Dodge Dance], since it shares a skill tree. Instead of helping you keep your rhythm while you’re attacking, it’ll help you keep from getting hit, and you should be able to activate them both at once. Plus, as an extra benefit it’s a key skill for becoming a [Battle Bopper], if you still want to change your primary class when you get back.”

  Another pamphlet materialized in the salamander’s hand, and Alisanne took it.

  Grabbing a different book, Theikal said, “Admittedly this one is a bit of a long shot, but it won’t hurt for you to try and learn it..The skill is called [Armored Charge], and in addition to giving you some resistance to any kind of attack it’ll also help you close the distance to your enemy. If you’re thinking it sounds familiar, that’s because this is the lowest form of [Unstoppable Charge], which you should undoubtedly be familiar with given all your runs of Crestheart.”

  Alisanne smiled. “Yeah. [Dungeon Champion] Alforde is a big fan of that one.”

  “Indeed. Now the reason I say it’s a bit of a long shot for you is that [Armored Charge] draws on the strength of your armor to provide its benefit. That’s probably why the [Dungeon Champion] likes it so much; it’s basically pure synergy for him. Unfortunately, since you don’t usually wear much armor during your runs the skill will have to use your body’s strength instead. That’s bound to be a lot weaker, so don’t expect to shrug off attacks the way he does. Of course, you could always rent out a plated vest or a bit of ring mail to help smooth that out if you’d like, but you probably won’t have time to do that before you leave.”

  Speaking of time, the clock had already chimed the quarter hour following fourth bell, so Alisanne shook her head. “Probably not. I’ve got to get home pretty soon.”

  “Of course. Take a pamphlet anyway. And this [Fighter] tome too. If none of the skills I suggested work out you might be able to find something else that’s more to your taste.”

  Alisanne did so, surprised by how heavy the small blue and brown book he handed her was, and then stood up to leave. “Thanks, Theikal. I really appreciate all the help.”

  The burly salamander grinned and stood up to shake her hand. “You’re welcome, Alisanne. I wouldn’t be earning my silver fleurs each week if I couldn’t do this much. Now good luck and safe travels. Get yourself some levels and beat a couple of those other dungeons, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “And make sure you come see me when you get back. We can figure out a class change for you if you’re still interested.”

  Nodding, Alisanne folded the pamphlets up and put them in her pocket, picked up her bag, and left the [Guild Trainer]’s office. She passed back through the guild’s common room, waved to a few of her peers that she recognized, and headed home.

  After a few blocks she broke into a light jog so she’d be home in time for dinner.

  Alisanne literally jumped out of bed when the sun finally rose the next morning. Gawain be praised, what a long night that’d been! She’d spent the whole thing tossing and turning, her excitement and nervousness brawling in her stomach while her thoughts raced like they were being chased by a rabid blightbrute.

  Yawning, she looked out her window – which didn’t provide much of a view despite being on the second floor on account of being surrounded by much taller buildings – and marveled at just how ordinary the sky looked; a muted, cloudless gray. It was the kind of sky that promised a bright, albeit cold, day to come. Nothing at all like the sky in her favorite Alrick The [Cursed Swordbearer] novels, which were always some ominously alliterative shade of purple on the days he set out on his adventures as a bit of foreshadowing for the events to come – morbidly mauve, loathsome lilac, hateful heather – and filled with menacing clouds to boot.

  She smiled, hoping that her trip would be as plain as the sky. Or at least, less prone to being attacked by furious dragons and wicked [Necromancers] than Arick’s.

  Though she was tired, Alisanne got down on the floor and dutifully did her morning exercises: pushups, planks, lunges, and a wall sit until her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. Admittedly, she didn’t do as many as she normally did, but Theikal and some of the higher level adventurers at the guild had assured her that keeping the habit of regular morning exercise was more important than reaching an arbitrary threshold every time and she believed them. Forward progress was forward progress after all, even if her efforts that morning weren’t enough to earn any additional points of Might or Determination like she’d secretly been hoping for.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Oh well,” Alisanne muttered as she changed out of her pajamas and into the traveling outfit she’d agonized over picking out the night before. “I just got a point of Determination the week before last. I’ll try again tomorrow and maybe I’ll get a point of Might.”

  She checked her reflection in the mirror, spinning in a slow circle to see how she looked from multiple angles, and then fixed her long brown hair into a ponytail. Unfortunately, by the time she was done Alisanne had decided that she didn’t like her outfit after all and needed to change once again.

  Two shirts, four pairs of pants, and one long skirt later, Alisanne grabbed her bags and headed downstairs dressed in the original outfit she’d put on. The warm, comforting smell of her ma’s baking greeted her in the kitchen, followed by the sight of a dozen muffins cooling near the window.

  Her ma was still in her long robe, sitting at the table and sipping a cup of coffee. She smiled as Alisanne walked in, the dark bags under her hazel eyes making it clear that Alisanne wasn’t the only person in the house who’d had a hard time sleeping the night before.

  “Good morning,” Alisanne said, draping her arms over her ma’s shoulders and squeezing gently before grabbing a coffee mug for herself. As she always did, Alisanne filled her cup about halfway with coffee and poured in milk until it was the right shade of light brown for her liking. She added a healthy spoonful of sugar and gave it all a good stir before taking a sip.

  Alisanne sighed. It was perfect.

  “I made those for you to take with you,” Alisanne’s ma said, gesturing to the muffins. “They’re your favorite.”

  Alisanne grabbed one and tore it in half. The muffin was pleasantly warm, and the inside was mostly bits of melted chocolate with a few token cranberries thrown in for good measure. She bit in and smiled; the muffin was like a warm hug.

  “Thanks, they’re delicious.”

  “Your little brother will say there’s too much chocolate,” Alisanne’s ma said with a laugh. “But that’s only because he’s got no sense of taste.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much chocolate,” Alisanne agreed, finishing the rest of the muffin and grabbing another one. It was every bit as good as the first.

  “How are you feeling? You look tired.”

  Alisanne shrugged. “I didn’t sleep great, but I’ll probably be able to nap in the carriage on the way to Old Narluc. It’s a pretty long trip.”

  Her ma nodded. “The first time I took a carriage outside the city I was shocked at just how big the world really is. Of course, I spent most of the trip worried that we’d be attacked by monsters or [Bandits] so I didn’t really get to enjoy it.”

  Alisanne smiled. She’d heard that story plenty of times, especially since telling her parents that she’d be traveling to compete in the circuit. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my clubs close.”

  “I know you will, but that’s not going to stop me from worrying. My little girl is going to be gone for a month or more, by herself in a bunch of strange cities.”

  “There will be plenty of other adventurers around,” Alisanne said. “And a few of the girls from the guild and I agreed to keep an eye out for each other while we’re on the road. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Alisanne’s ma pulled her into a tight hug.“That makes me feel better, but I’m still going to worry. Keep your wits about you, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  They pulled apart a few seconds later, and Alisane’s ma wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “I’m sure you’ve got to be going, so I’ll get these packed up for you,” she said, grabbing a towel and carefully wrapping it around the muffins. “Go say goodbye to your brother and your pa.”

  Alisanne finished her second and bolted back up the stairs. Her little brother’s door creaked when she opened it up, and dodging the mess of his toys was a little bit like navigating a dungeon, but he didn’t wake until she kissed his forehead.

  “Alisanne?”

  “I’m going to be gone for a while, squirt,” she said. “So I wanted to say bye. Be good for ma and pa, ‘kay?”

  “Mmmkay,” her brother slurred, falling back asleep. “Love ya.”

  “Love you too,” Alisanne whispered, tiptoeing back out of the room and taking great care to close the door quietly.

  Saying goodbye to pa was much the same as saying goodbye to her brother had been, as he’d only been home from the warehouse for a couple hours and was an extremely heavy sleeper.

  With that all done, she went back downstairs, gave her mother another big hug and slung the bag holding the muffins – along with plenty of other snacks – over her shoulder.

  “Good luck, darling,” her ma said. “I know you’re going to do great.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you when I get back,” Alisanne said, opening the door and heading outside.

  Something in her stomach settled at the sound of the door closing behind her; it was a lot like being inside a dungeon, she thought, and she steeled her will the same way she would have if she’d been inside Crestheart.

  Her assessment of the weather through her window earlier had been correct: it was indeed a cold walk to the carriage station, though the sunny parts of the street were nice and warm.

  All around her, the city was waking up, with [Shopkeepers] coming out and getting ready for the day, and cargo wagons and carriages rolling down the wide streets. A few [City Guards] stood watch here and there, their bright frostnickel armor glinting in the sun and their expressions colder than the morning air. Alisanne exchanged polite, albeit brief, greetings with two guards she recognized, and passed market square.

  She had one more stop to make before heading to the carriage station, and Alisanne took a turn down the long and crooked side street that would lead her to the Quenching Bucket. Vera, the owner of the coffee house and her sponsor for the dungeon circuit, had told her to come by and collect some cards and flyers to distribute while she was traveling.

  Mindful of her strength when she opened the door – the Bucket’s was far lighter than the ones she was used to – Alisanne walked inside and called out for the kitrekin.

  Vera appeared almost instantly, smiling and hunched ever so slightly, holding two more bags in her blue-gray paws. Alisanne sighed, briefly wondering if this was what a packhorse felt when it got loaded up.

  “You look splendid,” Vera said, handing the bags over. Alisanne took them and looped her arm through their handles. She’d have to do some shuffling once she made it to the carriage to fix the balance, but the extra weight wasn’t all that bad. Maybe carrying all her stuff would help her get another point of Might.

  “Thanks,” Alisanne said. “I wasn’t expecting you to have so much stuff for me to take.”

  Vera laughed.

  “Well, I might have gotten a little carried away. Truthfully I’m not expecting much to come of these little trinkets,but it’d be nice to get the occasional customer from Yew’s Rise, Amespool, or Shontsdale.”

  “Not Old Narluc?”

  Vera shook her head. “The people who live there are a little too…unusual for me. Old Narluc is one of those cities that attracts a very specific type of person. It’s mostly elkin who are seeking deeper dreams than normal folks like to have. You’ll see what I mean when you get there. Now, before I forget there’s one other thing I want you to have.”

  She went to the back counter and drew out yet another bag. This one, however, looked like a coin purse, and it jangled like one too when she handed it to Alisanne.

  “It’s not much, but I want you to have this too.”

  Now it was Alisanne’s turn to shake her head. “I couldn’t. You’ve already done so much by sponsoring me for this whole circuit.”

  “And what sort of sponsor would I be if I didn’t give you some discretionary money, eh? Come on, take it. It’d be doing me a favor, honestly.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” Alisanne said, taking the bag and tucking it into her pocket. “But thanks.”

  “Having too many fleurs around makes my paws itch,” Vera said with a wink. “Gets me thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about at my age. Besides, I had so many adventurers come through here with that circuit that I’ve basically made back all the money I spent on sponsoring you in the first place. Just don’t spend it all in one place, make sure you save some for the last couple stops!’

  The kitrekin gently touched Alisanne’s arm. “Alright, I think that’s everything. Make sure you pass those flyers out and deliver the contents of the other bag to the adventurer’s guilds in each city. There should be enough for you to leave them all an equal amount. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Then be on your way,” Vera said, pushing Alisanne toward the door. “Go get ‘em, but make sure you tell them that Quenching Bucket sent you!”

  Chuckling, Alisanne left the coffee house and headed for the carriage station.

  Sometime during elementary school Alisanne had learned that the during the Oar’s Crest glory days – when its [Smiths] and [Armorers] had been the envy of the continent and business had been brisk – the carriage station was built to be big enough to house two hundred carriages at any given time. That was an absolutely crazy number as far as Alisanne was concerned; these days it was rare for there to be more than twenty or so carriages present at a given time. She couldn’t even imagine what the station would look like when it was full.

  Looking over her shoulders every few steps and doing what she could to make herself look bigger and tougher than she was, Alisanne crossed the muddy ground warily. Perhaps on account of the fact that it was usually so empty, the station attracted the denizens of the city’s underbelly like sugar attracted ants, and Alisanne’s heartbeat quickened when a disheveled man wearing a ringmail shirt and dirty green cloak emerged from the gloomy depths of the station’s massive bays.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” she said, fumbling with her bags in an attempt to grab out one of her clubs. She cursed the clutter, but eventually managed to extract one of her weapons, which she held up threateningly.

  The man held up his hands. “Same here. I mean you no harm, I’m an adventurer like you. My name is Bentley. Bentley Macrob.”

  The faint lilt in his speech didn’t sound like an Oar’s Crest accent, so Alisanne relaxed a bit and lowered her weapon. Bentley took another step closer, stopping in front of one of the bay’s stone arches next to a faded relief carving of the hulking forge demigoddess of the city whose name Alisanne could never remember. She thought it might have had something to do with bone.

  In the open station air, Alisanne got a better look at Bentley. He was probably around her own age – maybe a year or two older, if that – tall, and broad. His scraggly brown hair hung down to his pale chin, and he had a long thin scar across the bridge of his nose that nearly reached his right eye. Judging by the state of his clothes and hair he’d had a rough few days, but he had a handsome smile and Alisanne felt a gentle flutter in her chest before she looked away.

  “How’d you know I was an adventurer?” she asked a moment later, once she’d gotten ahold of herself and pushed the irritating thought away.

  “I didn’t feel like buying a dungeon guide so I watched a lot of attempts from the spectator arena.” he said, shrugging. “I’ve got a good memory when it comes to faces and saw your run. You were doing well until you went up against that weapon soul. Kina and I couldn’t beat him either, but you put up a good fight, miss…?”

  Alisanne blinked. “Henret. My name is Alisanne Henret. Who’s Kina? A summon of some kind?”

  “Not at all,” Bentley said with another smile. He reached toward his belt and drew the knife he wore on his hip. “This is Kina. She’s a weaponsoul and my knaifu.”

  “Gawain’s beard, I hate it when you call me that,” a cold, steely voice said from somewhere around the weapon’s hilt. “Can’t you just be normal and say that you’re my wielder?”

  “But there’s no fun in that!” Bentley protested, faking a pout and waving the knife around a bit before returning it to its sheath.”Besides, if I was normal you wouldn’t have picked me in the first place, right?”

  “Right,” the knife said, its voice muted and muffled on account of the sheath.

  Bentley winked as he bowed to Alisanne, pressing his hand to his heart, like he was a [Knight] and she a [Court Lady]. “Forgive my blade’s manners. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Henret. Perhaps we will see each other again in Old Narluc and beyond. A fair day to you!”

  His delivery was so over the top that Alisanne couldn’t help but giggle. Putting on her finest voice, she warmly bid him farewell before making her way over to the carriage check-in counter on the far side of the station.

  Loitering in the carriage bay near the counter were a half dozen people of the type Alisanne had expected to see when she first walked in: stick-thin men and women with dead expressions and ragged clothes.. Most of them were humans, but there were a few scruffy kitrekins and greasy salamanders around too, and Alisanne did her best to avoid making eye contact with any of them. To do otherwise was to ask for trouble, and that was the last thing she wanted to do just then.

  Thankfully there were some other adventurers around too, and after politely introducing herself Alisanne hung out on the fringe of their circle and participated in their conversation. The topics were almost the same as they would have been if she’d been in the guild hall: bragging about successful dungeon runs while complaining about failures, arguing about professional dungeon sport competitors, and swapping bits of Systemic superstition disguised as fitness advice. It was a welcome bit of familiarity, and the knot that’d settled itself in the base of Alisanne’s stomach loosened considerably.

  With a fresh mental list of things to try for quick points when she got the chance, Alisanne boarded her carriage and sat down. Through sheer luck she’d been assigned the seat next to the window, and she pressed her forehead into the glass, watching the northern outskirts of Oar’s Crest rattle by as the carriage left the city and headed for the roads beyond.

  The hills outside the city were like green waves, and off in the distance Alisanne could see the tallest tree tops of the once-great emberberry orchards on the eastern side of Oar’s Crest. They were little more than a tangled knot of discolored leaves and branches now, but once upon a time they’d been a veritable paradise of Green Spirit. Or at least that’s what her pa had always told her. He’d wanted to be an [Orchardist] as a boy.

  Alisanne yawned, and for a moment considered napping. She was tired, after all, but her excitement at being on the road kept her desire for rest at bay. She could always get some shuteye later, she decided; the trip to Old Narluc would take them a minimum of two days if they didn’t encounter any sort of trouble which meant that there was plenty of time for her to pay off her sleep debt before her next dungeon run.

  An old blight scar – little more than a gray splotch in the earth now – marred the side of the road, and Alisanne stared at it until it vanished behind another hill. Over the next few minutes, more scars popped up, often accompanied by the little memorial rods that the guild drove into the ground as a shrine of sorts to honor fallen members.

  The number was surprising and sobering: adventuring – real adventuring, not dungeon sports – was often dangerous and bloody work. Alisanne tried to think of something else…like the invitation made by the open road. Like the promise of…well, adventure. Like not knowing what was around the next curve and having to rely on your gear, training, and skills to survive.

  Of course, that romantic vision was rather tempered by the fact that she was safely in a carriage on a well-traveled road, but for the rest of the afternoon, Alisanne Henret let herself dream.

  Alisanne's Character Sheet:

  Alisanne Henret

  Primary Class: Fighter (Self), Level 15

  Secondary Class: Scrimping Saver (Self), Level 11

  Might: 18

  Wit: 9

  Faith: 14

  Determination: 13

  Ambition: 7

  Greed: 5

  Focus: 8

  Idealism: 8

  Bravery: 6

  Adventurousness: 5