Young Writers Society

The kingdom of Itozan was once a peaceful place. Visitors would flock from neighboring regions to admire its natural beauty. Though, like any other kingdom, it was filled with monsters, Itozan and its visitors had relatively few issues with its monsters. But then King Ithos died, and his son – the just Ximum – came to power. The monsters took offense to the area's new ruler, and an enemy rose from the depths of darkness to fight against his kind rule. Known simply as the Slime King, he commanded hordes of monsters at his disposal. Some believe he may have once been human, while others believe his origin lies among the slimes he leads.

But wherever his past truly lies, it does not matter. After King Ximum took the throne, reports of villages ravaged by monsters began to flood Itozan's capital and the surrounding cities. The monsters leave few in their wake. The only survivors have been ushered into the kingdom's castle, and all have been so traumatized that they haven't left it since.

King Ximum has sent the royal army to defeat the Slime King and end his reign of terror, but none of the troops have been successful. They have all been outwitted or defeated by the monstrous hordes. The king – and his kingdom – have grown desperate. Few wish to risk their lives. As such, King Ximum was left with a single option: band together a group of unlikely heroes and set them off into the wilderness with the promise of a reward – should they succeed.

1. Please include a description of your character in your first post - you can throw it into a spoiler using the code down below and put it at the top of your post.

Code: Select all

[spoiler]Put your description here![/spoiler]

If you don't include the description in your first post, make sure to mention it over in the OOC thread!

2. Feel free to pick characters from whatever you want. They can be from another roleplay, a storybook, a novel or even a fanfiction of yours. The world, time and plot they're from ultimately just impacts how they interact with this roleplay, so it's really up to you.

3. You can have as many characters as you want, but there'll come a point where you can no longer add new ones because it would alter the plot too much. I'll make sure to say something when that happens, so don't worry about it for now.

4. Please don't write for anyone else's characters. It's hard to predict what someone else might have their characters do, and it takes away some of the fun for the other writers.

5. You're free to have your character guess what the plot is, but don't make any plot-altering decisions with talking about with me first. You can PM me or chat in our OOC thread if you have an idea - I love scheming! I just want to make sure your schemes can be incorporated into what I'm already scheming.

(It would also be really helpful if you said you were joining over in that thread, rather than in a post here. )

6. Don't post multiple times in a row, and make sure everyone has a chance to get a response in. There's going to be times where it makes more sense to post back-and-forth between two people, but try avoiding it unless you absolutely have to - it prevents the other writers from getting too behind and feeling like they aren't involved with the story.

7. Have fun!

To my dearest Nakhem,

The day has finally arrived. I've spent the past week preparing for this quest – for whatever horrors we'll face along the way, and for whatever people end up traveling with me. I hope that we'll be able to get along. I'm used to the occasional glance or suspicion, but it grows tiring when I keep being met by the same actions.

Please take care of Myst while I'm gone. You know how to reach me if she does something unexpected – which is likely, considering that the bird never wants to stay put. I will let you know if anything comes up that will lengthen the time of our quest.

I can only hope that I'll have made friends out of my fellow travelers by the time that our quest is over. If not, I suppose you'll have to allow me to host them at your residence, as food and comfort do wonders for friendship. There is the added benefit of your dwelling being more guarded than the taverns I have spent the past months at; one can never fully trust strangers.

Best of wishes, Nakhem, and may we see each other's faces in the nearest of futures.

Sincerely,

Erevan Lalian



The sun had barely risen in the sky, but Erevan had already made his way to the small, miniature fortress that lay outside the walls of the city. It had once been used to house diplomats before King Ithos passed, but King Ximum preferred to house them within the confines of his kingdom. Now, it seemed, the small but sturdy building was being used for a complex summoning ritual.

The king had grown desperate. Summoning rituals like those had been outlawed centuries ago, mainly because there was something morally questionable about stealing people from other world's. But it wasn't Erevan's job to judge the king. He was simply one of the heroes meant to serve him on this noble quest - though his record was probably less packed than the records of whoever would appear within the summoning circle.

After confirming his identity, the guards outside the building let him in. He saw how their gaze lingered on his appearance. He tried not to think too much of it; he just fingered the amulet resting above his chest. One of the guards left her post to guide him towards the right room. When they finally did arrive, he found the court's finest sorcerers gathered around a complex magical circle.

Giving a nod to the summoners, he lingered on the edge of the room. The guard returned to her post. And then the summoning ritual began. Within moments, the first of the heroes would appear. The first summoning, of course, was always the hardest - they could only manage a single person with that one. Any summoning after that would be much easier; they could summon groups at a time. Until they had a strong party, they would continue the process.

The summoning circle burned bright red.

And then, in a way that wasn’t dignified in the slightest, the hero fell from several feet above the circle and landed in a tangled heap on the ground. If Erevan didn’t know how dangerous it was to approach the recently summoned, he would have made a move to help them up. Instead, he looked them over and tried to determine what exactly made them so heroic.

But the man that was letting out a low groan didn’t exactly fit the classic definition of a hero. If anything, he was the complete opposite of it. One of his eyes was covered by an eyepatch. His clothes, though slightly similar in style to Erevan’s, had a flair that wasn’t present in his own. A large pirate hat sat nestled - though admittedly lopsided - on his head. And when the hero finally caught a glimpse of his summoners, the hand that went to rub his uncovered golden eye was actually a hook.

Their first hero, apparently, was a pirate.

“Me thought me be done with th’ isekai,” the man complained with yet another groan. He unsteadily got to his feet. As he moved, Erevan caught a glimpse of a strange instrument on the man’s back. It almost looked like a guitar, but its edges were much sharper and the entire instrument was painted a metallic red.

The hero gave an over-exaggerated bow, good hand holding onto his hat to keep it in place.

“Me be Captain Foxy of th’ Diablo,” the pirate offered. “Me would remove me hat, but me hat hair be atrocious. Me suppose me be here to save th’ world.”

Erevan gave a smile underneath his bandages.

“A little less than that,” he said. “King Ximum wants you to save his kingdom. His arrival must have been delayed, but I’m sure he will explain things more once he gets here - as well as when the other heroes are summoned.”

Captain Foxy popped back up.

“Me see,” he said. He thought for a moment, hook resting underneath his chin. “Before ye test me to see me magic an’ say me power levels be over nine thousand, let me say ye the trouble. Me can manipulate fire.”

“That is good to know,” Erevan said. He looked the pirate over again. He was still concerned about the lack of weapons besides the fire magic, but he was sure the guards could direct them to the armory after the other heroes arrived. “It would probably be a good idea to leave the circle now. The summoners are beginning to look impatient - I believe they are ready to summon the next hero.”

Captain Foxy joined him over by the wall.

“Me probably be th’ most interesting out of them,” he mused.

Erevan raised an eyebrow. “You might be surprised.”

The pirate’s lips split into a smirk.

“Ye may be surprised,” he replied. “Me have a few tricks an’ secrets up me sleeves.”

And on that note, the next batch of heroes were summoned.

"So you're serious about this whole going on a small vacation thing?" asked Jason, frowning.

"Uh huh," replied Harry," its not going to be a big thing, just a couple of days or so. But I do think I need a bit of a day off."

"We've worked our butts off cleaning up the Farlingoran lines for like the last month," said Jennifer," we need a darn day off."

"Amen to that," agreed Harry.

"Fine...but when you two get back, I'm taking a vacation," stated Jason firmly.

"Oh come on, now you like vaca..." began Harry, but Jennifer cut him off.

"Done. Bye. Catch you later little bro."

"Hey I was born only three seconds after you," said Jason, as Jennifer marched out, dragging Harry with her.

Harry gave his brother a thumbs up a blew him a kiss with a wink as he was dragged outside.

As soon as they were outside, he disengaged himself from her hold and crossed his arms.

"Come on you know that argument would have lasted an hour," she said, smiling, "did you really want to waste that time?"

"Right," he said, "That is correct."

"Exactly, now come on, where do we go?" she asked.

"Umm...how 'bout we do something fun, I mean like a small quest or something?" said Harry.

"Hmm...that would probably be better than a boring beach or something," she said, nodding.

Harry suddenly felt a strong pull.

"Uhh...something's trying to drag me somewhere," he said.

"Crap. What's it this time?"

"It's...different somehow. Maybe a chance for some crazy quest?" he said.

"You wanna check the..." she began.

"Noo...let's do something fun. No peeking at the future. No powers...I'll just pretend to be some random superhero."

"Really?" she said, looking skeptical.

"Come on Jen, after all we've faced, I doubt there's anything that could actually be a threat," he said. The pull was now getting stronger.

"Hmm...okay. Take care of yourself. Love you," she said with a smile.

"Love you too," he said and allowed himself to get dragged off.

He arrived several feet in the air and began to fall. He took everything in as the nanoseconds ticked by..

He was falling towards some kind of circle, that was slowly turning red. There were a bunch of people that were chanting. Must be the wizards/witches/sorcerers/warlocks...whatever they call them in this world. There was also some dude that looked like a textbook pirate, right down to the hook for a hand and an eye patch, and a wannabe mummy, wrapped in bandages. At least he has blue eyes. I can respect that.

He looked down at where he was going to land. Okay now how do I make this as epic as possible. A hero's gotta make a heroic entrance. Think Harry, wings folded or stretched, definitely stretched, folded would make me look like a pigeon or something. And maybe one knee on the ground, one fist one the ground...yaa the classic one works everytime. Hmm...maybe I can even like look down then do a slow motion raising of the head. As long as these darn glasses stay on, that would work. Yes...let's do that.

He did his best to look like someone that was surprised as he descended the first couple of feet, then allowed his face to slowly change from shock to a look appropriate for an epic entrance. Then he spread his wings, got his hand and feet in place and let a small burst of air release from his hand to make sure he didn't smash the floor of whatever he landed on. It wasn't like most places were designed to take the impact of 270 kilos hitting the ground hard on only two point of contact.

He made his landing, the glasses staying firmly in place thanks to a little help from telekinesis. He looked up slowly, and gave a small nod, then immediately regretted it. Oh god why did I do the nod? That was stupid. That was stupid.

He got onto his feet, and folded his wings.

"Greetings, mor...I mean heroes. My name is Prince Harrison Hardy...nooo...I meant Just Harry Hardy...oh never mind...ahh...just call me Harry okay," he said, giving the most epic smile he could muster.

Madre Tove

"Thank you, Madre!" the young woman murmured, clutching the small pouch of herbs as her eyes darted to the door. "You've no idea how much this means to me."
"I'm sure I don't," Tove replied, drumming her fingers on the goat's skull beside her. Her piercing green eyes roved over the woman's hunched figure and rounded belly. "Even so, if your husband gives you any trouble for it, he'll have a curse from me, free of charge." She lifted the skull up and settled it back over her head, pushing past the pregnant woman and shoving open the door. "Now off with you, before he knows you're gone." The woman joined her at the door, going pale as she gazed out into the dark forest. Night had fallen while Tove prepared the herbs, and it was drawing near to midnight.
"W-won't the wolves come for me?" she asked timidly. Tove snorted and came fully out into the garden surrounding the run-down cottage. Throwing back her head, she let out a guttural howl. Her breath puffed out into the cold night air and hung crystalized for just a moment before dispersing. Satisfied, Tove straightened and drew her cloak tighter around her.
"Not now," she responded. "Be on your way; you'll have an escort back to the village." The woman took a few steps back and bowed, then departed hurriedly.
Tove watched her go with a small sigh. That woman had stunk of fear and not just of her husband. That was what Tove usually wanted, of course. She was a solitary woman, not the coven sort at all. Frightening the locals preserved this little haven and made sure they took her seriously. In a man's world, there was little else to do but be feared by all.

Tove removed the skull and rubbed her head as she stepped back into her cottage. It wasn't an incredibly comfortable headpiece. She set it back on the table and went to fill the cats' water bowls. This was done with a wave of her hand, drawing water from the air molecules with the ease of a kelpie cutting through water.

"Water, sweets!" she called, and a motley quartet of strays trotted into the kitchen from gods-knew wear. The eldest, a fat tomcat with a torn ear, bullied the other three out of their food and water for the first few months of his tenancy, so Tove had gone to the extra trouble to carve out eight separate bowls of stone. It worked fairly well, though the old tom still hogged the blankets.

Once she had made sure the cats were situated, Tove shrugged off her cloak, flopped onto the sofa, and undid the wire holding her ponytail in place. She shook out her hair, dragging her fingers through it. She really needed a haircut.

"What a mess," said a clipped voice from the fireplace. Tove jumped, grabbing her staff from its place at the arm of the sofa. A little man wrapped in dead leaves was sitting crosslegged atop the unlit logs, grinning. His skin was grey as ash and his hair was white and feathery, and his face was reminiscient of a bird of prey. "Ye'd think ye were askin' for the brownies to come, lassie."
"Papa," Tove groaned, letting out a breath. For a moment she'd thought the brownies really had come. "There's a door right over there."
"You know the rules," the little man snapped, unfolding his spindly legs and climbing out of the fireplace. His beady eyes darted around the room. "Can't come in through the door unless I'm invited."
"That's intentional. It's supposed to give us humans some privacy."
"But you en't human." He hopped up on the sofa, scattering ash and cinders on the plush cushions. "You're as fae as me, Goatsknee."
"Almost as fae," Tove corrected. "I haven't forgotten where I come from."
"Nor have I, but ye drank from the spring and yev taken up witchery. I'd call that fae."
"Not many fae would agree with you." Tove brushed off some of the ashes. "What do you want, Papa?" Her father twiddled his thumbs, chewing on his lip with a morose expression on his face.
"Yer da's taken a bad turn," he said finally. "Thought ye might want te come see him before he goes to the Choosing." Tove's heart dropped. The Choosing, so soon? Da had fallen ill just a few months ago!
"It's that bad?" she asked quietly, fixing her eyes on the floor. Her father nodded, scratching his ear.
"'Fraid so. He's tired, Tove. He's lived nearly as long as this land has. It's only fair that he rests for awhile."
"But--" Tove exhaled and clenched her fists tightly. "Alright. I'll head out tomorrow. Thank you for telling me." Her father gave a small dip of his head and hopped off the couch. Tove rose with him.
"He'll be glad to see ye, lass. So will the rest." He embraced her knee, which was about as high as he could reach. "I'll see ye soon." Tove nodded, biting her lip. The little man returned the fireplace, giving her one last smile before he leaped up the chimney.

Tove stood there in silence for a moment, lost in thought. She couldn't imagine a world without Da's booming laugh and twinkling eyes. He'd been her rock as much as Papa had been her river. The two of them were inseparable, but here they were going to his Choosing. Tove knew that Da wouldn't really be gone--know fae ever really left this world. But it still wouldn't be the same if he came back as a boulder or a tree. She doubted she'd still be in this form by the time he cycled back to fae form.

A steady pull had been growing since her papa's arrival, a pull she had assumed was the usual drag of the natural world at her essence, but it was much stronger than it ought to be at this point. Tove looked around, snapping herself out of her thoughts as she grabbed her staff and strode to the kitchen to retrieve her skull.
"Who's there?" she demanded, securing the skull over her face. "Show yourself!"
Could be the brownies were taking their revenge on her, but she'd never heard of them doing anything like this. Tove began to utter an incantation to ward off the pull, but at that moment something in her gave way and then she was falling.

Tove landed hard on the ground in the middle of some sort of pulsing red circle. She groaned, praying she hadn't broken anything, and pulled herself to her feet with her staff. She was surrounded by what looked like cultists, and they were all chanting. Heart pounding, Tove reached into her satchel for the little purple bottle she kept specifically for emergencies like this.
"You have thirty seconds to explain yourselves," she growled.

None of the heroes so far seemed exactly like what the sorcerers had in mind, but the king's men had the tact not to outright address it. They also wisely left explaining what exactly was happening to the one hero that was from this world. If Erevan hadn't known that this was far above their usual pay grade, he would have felt a bit more frustrated.

Instead, he smiled underneath his bandages and took a cautious step forward. Captain Foxy just kept watching from by the wall.

Erevan opened his mouth to give an answer-

-but was promptly cut off by the pirate behind him.

"Ye be isekai-ed," Captain Foxy said. There was an almost jealous look to his eye as he spoke; it seemed like he had realized that he was completely outdone by the other two new heroes. "This kingdom be needin' savin', so they be kidnapping people from other worlds an' calling them heroes."

Erevan did his best to hide his smile.

"Kidnapping is a little bit strong of a word," he said, glancing at the sorcerers. They, at least, had the intelligence to look a little guilty.

Captain Foxy shrugged.

"Me say it as me see it," he proclaimed.

Erevan turned back to the woman and ducked his head in apology. "I apologize for you being brought here so abruptly, but I have no control over something like this. I'm in a similar situation to you - the only difference is that I am a hero from this world."

"I didn't ask to be brought here," Tove retorted. "Can't you find other heroes? I'm not even a hero!" She shook out her cloak. "I'm a witch, see? I eat children and skin dogs!" None of that was true by any stretch, but once again: intimidation was key.

Do I ask? Do I not ask? Which sounds more like a normal hero? Maybe I'll just ask. Its useful information.

"I see," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "A kingdom that need saving seems like a...uhh...worthy cause. I shall help with this endeavor. Pray tell me what kind of threat are we facing...demon? radioactive baboons? humans? generic evil dictator? or is like some kind of epic quest to get some ancient treasure? Oooh is there a prophecy?" By this point the slow and deliberate speed was long gone. "Please tell me its not one of those true love's kiss type of situations because that is the one thing I DO NOT do, that is way above my paygrade."

He finally managed to stop himself at that point. Oh God. Being a gruff and tough hero is hard work. How do these mortals do it? Hoping he hadn't just ruined any intimidation points from his entrance, he gave them all a stern frown.

The sun had just set, though the moon had yet to rear its glowing head in front of the clouds. Helena looked up to take it all in. She sat against a brick building, one of the city vents laying a bit of warmth on her toes. For just a moment, she didn't think. She just saw.

Then the thoughts rushed in like a waterfall. My toe hurts. Dammit, why did I stub it? And I'm almost out battery on my phone. Is it going to rain tonight? It might, with all the clouds in the sky. Oh god, where the hell am I gonna sleep? I'm tired as--

Helena groaned. "Shut up," she muttered aloud. Like that would help anything. She put her head back against the wall and opened her backpack with her left hand, a braid flopping against her forehead. With her hand, she searched her bag until her hand latched onto her water bottle. Helena pulled it out and took three slow sips.

Even if she didn't want them to, the thoughts still rushed in. If it did rain tonight, Helena needed to find a place to find cover. At least it didn't rain as much in Richmond as in Seattle. God, it seemed like it rained there every night. Maybe it was just the rainy season.

That was part of the reason she left there. Oh, and she also left because a bunch of officials there somehow found her teleporting and tried to capture her.

At least in Richmond people didn't know what she was, or really know her face. It made life easier. Plus, there was another group around here that the government was already preoccupied with.

That group of Walkers--running around here, trashing stores and vandalizing to "protest"--what were they thinking? That they could just break into one of the camps and liberate everyone? Just because two of them were Wall-walkers? Helena and them had crossed paths two days ago, when she saw them trying to break into a store. The Memory-walker they had had wanted to erase the memory that she had seen them at all, but then he saw that Helena was a Walker herself. And a Space-walker at that.

"We could use you," their apparent leader, (Jason was his name?), had said to her. "You could be our way in. Teleport past the gate, take out some guards--"

Helena had cut him off. "What, you think it'll be that simple? Just me opening up a gate and letting you in?"

Jason huffed. "We know it won't be that simple. But you'd be really valuable to the operation. We could do so much with you by our side."

"We can teach you," the Memory-walker piped up. "You know, how to defend yourself, how to use your powers better."

Helena had just looked at each of them dead in the eyes. There were six people, four boys and two girls. Each of their faces had held a grim determination, and in their eyes there were sparks of rebellion... of hope.

Leaning against the brick wall now, Helena sighed. It was impossible. Other people had tried... and failed. They were killed for their efforts. Helena had seen it on the news. Knowing she was a Walker herself... that broadcast scared her down to the core.

So she had refused to join them.

But now, reflecting back on the interaction, seeing all those eyes lit up with passion--even if that passion went into smashing windows and trashing places--the thought of the light leaving those eyes forever was scary, too. Another couple of kids, lives down the drain. They had been just barely older than she was.

And even if they were all good at what they could do, that didn't mean they would succeed. Just because that Memory-walker could delete others' memories in an instant and their Wind-walker could fly faster than Helena could sprint didn't guarantee that their mission would succeed. In the end? They'd probably get killed. That was the harsh truth.

Maybe not if I help them.

As this thought sprang into her mind, Helena felt a pull. It was like gravity was pulling her from her core into somewhere else. It almost felt similar to when Helena teleported.

But Helena wasn't controlling it.

Her eyes widened. On instinct she teleported away from where she was sitting, backpack in hand teleporting with her. Still, the pull was there, getting stronger now.

Helena stumbled back, teleporting herself into a back alley she knew by heart, away altogether from where she was before. But the pulling sensation still remained, and suddenly she wasn't in an alley at all.

She had been pulled somewhere else.

Suddenly she was falling. Below her she barely registered people chanting and a few other guys before instinct kicked in. Her body teleported out of the air and onto the ground, standing straight in the middle of a glowing red circle.

Helena's muscles tightened. Where the hell am I?

Her hand shot to the side pocket of her backpack and flipped out her pocket knife, the big one. One finger flicked open the knife blade.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Before Erevan had a chance to reply to either of the two heroes, a third one appeared in the summoning circle. Her arrival was different - Erevan couldn't help but study the way she teleported from the air to the ground with interest. That had to be some kind of space manipulation magic. It had been a long time since he had seen magic like that before, but it was powerful. If she could take other people with her, it would make the second stretch of their journey far easier.

He ducked his head down.

"My name is Erevan Lalian," he offered. "As I was just telling the other two in the summoning circle with you, you were brought here because this kingdom is in need of help."

He glanced over at Harry.

"I'm not at liberty to describe how," he said. "The king could do a far better job of describing it than I ever can."

"It be an isekai," Captain Foxy said. He pulled away from the wall and walked to the edge of the summoning circle. He was studying the newest hero with an interest that hadn't been there with the other two. "They be desperate, so they summoned ye as a hero."

The pirate looked at the others.

"But their methods be questionable," Captain Foxy pointed out. He rested his hooked hand underneath his chin, stroking it as he was seemingly deep in thought. "They be summoning a pirate, a child-eating witch, an' whatever his royal highness be."

Erevan had to try even harder not to smile right now. It seemed like he had a good group, even though they were different than what anyone in the kingdom could have imagined. The witch and the girl both went straight for their weapons. Harry was clearly on the powerful side; he also had the advantage of flight. And though Captain Foxy was trying to play dumb, Erevan could see the glint in his golden eye - he knew that Harry was trying to hide that he was a prince after his earlier slip-up.

Erevan turned to the witch and gave an apologetic bow.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "but summoning magic is a rarely used form of magic. Because of it, it has a tendency to make mistakes - and work only in a specific way. This current spell summoned heroes from other worlds, but the definition of a hero is never clearly defined. And until the charge of the summoning spell is completed - or an alternative means of transportation is found - it is impossible to return to your original world."

"Like me said," Captain Foxy replied. "Isekai."

He crossed his arms.

"Me be guessing that we be needing to kill some evil ruler," he suggested, "in charge of an endless slew of monsters an' or demons."

Erevan went still for a moment, the words taking a moment to fully register. Then he whipped around to give Captain Foxy an incredulous look - though it was mostly reduced to wide eyes because of the bandages. "Do you have foresight?" he asked the pirate. "That's exactly what you were summoned to do."

Captain Foxy grinned.

"Nay," he said. "Me just be a student of me world's greatest texts."

Tove's heart sank. There was no way she could get back home in time for Da's Choosing, then. Unless she found an alternative form of transportation. She gripped her staff tightly and began chanting various incantations she had learned, each regarding forms of teleportation and travel.

Siren sat at the edge of river, as usual, skipping rocks across the sluggish current. Fourteen skips, twelve, eighteen, ten, twenty-five skips. She spent too much time perfecting her technique. She hummed while she worked through her small pile of perfect rocks.

"It's a Native American folk song," she explained to a rock, before tossing it across the river. Twenty-seven.

She knew it wasn't a sane thing to do, the talking to inanimate objects. But she would take what meager company she could, even if it wasn't much company. That's what happens when everyone thinks you're an evil witch. Wait, not witch.

Siren.

She also knew taking the derogatory label as her name cemented her status as one, but she had never been called anything else. No darling, sweet, or honey. Not child or kid. Not even she or her. Just "the siren".

"Well, I think it makes a pretty name." Thirty-two. Two rocks left.

She always got better the more she talked to her rocks. Or maybe it was just coincidence with more practice. She had no idea anymore. What do you expect from an seven-and-a-half-year-old who's told she's an evil monster and forced to live on the edges of the village, alone?

"Not much, I hope." Twenty-nine.

She went for another rock, but her pile was gone. She picked up a fat rock instead and chucked it into the river. It made a satisfying sploosh as it smacked the surface, the ripples sloshing up to tickle her bare toes. She giggled and reached over to her backpack, deciding which instrument to pulled from it's enchanted depths for the village's unwanted nightly serenade.

Something tugged at her, like there was a rope attached to her waist. She spun around, expecting to see Toss, her personal bully, trying to pull another prank. No one there. Nothing was attached to her. She waved her hands around her midsection, trying to dislodge the invisible rope. Waving her hands around like she was ensnared in a spider web, she just looked crazy. Not that this was anything new.

She paused for a moment. It was less like a rope and more like a longing to go somewhere else. A forced longing.

But Siren always wanted to be somewhere else, so she picked up her satchel and started to walk in the direction of the pull, only to find herself falling.

She failed her arms in an attempt to fly, before landing in the glowing red circle in a little crumpled heap of twisted arms and legs. It was a miracle she didn't break anything.

She groaned meekly, and pushed herself off of the unforgiving floor. Her satchel had tumbled away, landing between herself and the interesting looking group who hadn't yet noticed her. Normally, she would have been ecstatic to have been wanted, but under the current circumstances, she was merely confused. She had never experienced magic like this before.

"Uh, um, h-hello?"

For the first moment after the final hero arrived - the sorcerers had clearly used up their magical reserves from the exhausted way they were all holding themselves - all that Erevan could do was stare.

The final hero was a little girl who couldn't be older than ten.

"She be a baby," Captain Foxy whispered from behind him.

"The spell must have chosen her for a reason," Erevan muttered, trying and failing to convince himself that there wasn't something morally wrong with this entire scenario. "She has to fit the criteria."

"She be a child," Captain Foxy said with an indignant tone. Erevan had failed to realize how loud his voice was. Before Erevan could muster any kind of answer, the pirate strode over to the little girl and crouched down in front of her.

"Ahoy, lassie," he said, giving a wave and a grin. "Me name be Captain Foxy. Ye be taken by a group of evil magicians-"

Erevan decided it was best not to interject that the "magicians" were tired, underpaid castle workers at most.

"-but me will make sure no one harms ye. Pirate's honor."

Captain Foxy held his good hand in front of her, pinky extended in preparation of what Erevan guessed would be a pinky promise.

Siren stared at the man crouching before her, holding up his pinkie. Why was he doing that? Was it like the friendship handshakes the village children did? And didn't those kids usually get married?

"What's a pie-rat? Or an evil musician? And why're you--" The words tumbled out before she could think. She was sure she had only thought them, but they had been whispered a little louder than she would have hoped. She clamped her mouth shut, hoping the pie-rat man hadn't heard her.

This world was clearly a little different that what she was used to. She thought it was a different world, anyways. She'd never seen people like this before.

Which means they've probably never seen people like you before, either. This could be her chance for people to not see her curse. For them to like her. To be normal.

Hoping for the best, she quickly poked his pinkie with her own. "That's a pretty big promise there, Mister Captain. I hope you know you can't ever break a promise with a child." Her eyes glittered mischievously, an impish grin spreading across her face.

Harry almost did a "Yes" and jumped like an excited five year old before he realized that would be very out of character for he was masquerading as. Damn it. Being a hero is hard. Why can't the occasional one dance around? Maybe I'll just be a fun hero? No that would ruin the image of that landing?

"Endless monsters, sounds like a worthy quest," he said, "it will be most difficult." He almost cracked a mile at the last one. Most difficult...more like a snooze fest. Endless monsters, if I had a hurron for everytime I heard that.

And then the latest hero had arrived and Harry was having an even more difficult time staying in character. A child. Her temporal signature clearly indicated that she was not an immortal being having fun, this was a body that was only seven and a half years old. I promised not to look at the future...but maybe a tiny glimpse into the past is in order here.

He allowed his vision to expand for a moment, the area around his eyes glowing a very faint green, and he peered in, looking for the immediate past. He saw a young girl shunned by her people, having to scavenge for the most basic a needs. A beautiful voice. He shook his head, allowing his vision to return to regular mortal standards. No monster is harming a hair on that poor thing's head. And I am having words with the morons that summoned us here. What sort of nonsensical criteria is this?

He made his way towards the girl, and crouched down next to where the pirate was also crouching next to the girl and extending a pinkie promise. He smiled at the pirate. Anyone that cared for others around them was okay in his book.

"I like unbreakable promises, do you think I can make one too?" he said, also extending his pinkie, "Not a a single soul, living, dead or otherwise is going to be allowed to harm you."