“Well don’t just stand there, come in!” says the voice.

Dewmane ducks his head to fit through the door but still manages to bump it by standing up to his full height a second too soon, cracking the masonry slightly with his noggin.

"Oops, ouch. Sorry. I'll um... pay for that... just as soon as I, um... have any gold." The firbolg says, smiling sheepishly.

After taking his seat, as instructed, Dewmane addresses the question about why he wants to be an adventurer.

"Oh, gosh, wow. That's quite a question, sir." He replies, shifting nervously and adjusting his ill-fitting armor. "I guess it's not so much about wanting to be one... I think I, um, sorta feel kinda called to be one. See, I helped this fellow once who I found in the woods. He gave me this..." pulling at the neckline of his chainmail... "...armor and his dying wish was that I succeed him in, um, doing good and finding a noble leader to serve. So, um...." He shrugs, grinning. "That's why I'm here sir."

He pantomimes a few punches... "To beat up bad guys and help the innocent... And maybe fulfill some sort of divine purpose... if you can believe it."

The dwarf then asks about Dewmanes aspirations, dreams and future boasts... "Gee, golly. I never really had much of those before... I always kinda just went where the wind took me." As he answers, he looks down at his feet, noticing the glistening chain mail armor and the sword at his side. "But I guess now, things are different." He looks up at the dwarf with a smile. "I might actually get to be, like... a real hero! The type they write stories about..." 

His voice gets a little louder and a little quicker as he talks. "I might actually safe someone's life. Could you imagine that? Me!?"  He bellows out a guileless laugh of wonder and excitement. Then a thought comes to him. "And, who knows, maybe I could do something so good.. or vanquish something so bad... that word might find its way back to my clan back home and make my mom proud of me..." His eyes grow a little misty and homesick as he considers the thought.

He's lost in thought for a moment when the dwarf's question about fears takes him by surprise. "What frightens me?" Dewmane asks... He pauses so long that for a moment, the dwarf thinks something might be wrong... but finally Dewmane replies. "I guess it's the things I don't know." His brow furrows as he looks at the dwarf with an expression that says, "Is that an okay answer?" He continues. "I've heard stories of... evil things... truly evil things... Demons, devils... Things that were dead but came back...." 

He takes a deep breath, trying to summon a touch more courage. "I know if I'm going to become a hero, I'll need to face those kind of things..." He looks to the dwarf, grimacing weakly. "...but I'd be lying if I said they didn't scare me."

When the dwarf asks about Dewmane's availability for departing, he lets out an earnest chuckle. "Are you kidding? I can go right now if you want. Eldershore is pretty neat but I'm more of a country boy myself. I feel a lot more comfortable on the open road... Oh, and do we get food on this trip because I can eat a lot..."

As the dwarf returns to his desk and Dewmane realizes it's time to leave he slowly starts backing out of the room, tripping over furniture and banging his head again. As he goes he adds, "Really nice meeting you, mister. If you need, like, a reference or something, I can see about writing to my mom. I'm sure she'll say really nice things about me. She's really sweet that way... Um... anyway, I'll see myself---" He turns and manages to bang his head yet again before extending a thumbs up and quickly hurrying out of the room.

Nola is a Harper she has been tasked to look into locating a magical artifact. Her senior Harper wasn't forthcoming wth any facts. Been a Watcher in the Guide meant she wasn't in any position to ask any questions. With little to go on she heads out to investigate. It's getting dark and the weather has started to turn for the worse. Been in the city her sense of frustration is compounded at times like this. "everything gets dirty when the rain starts" she murmurs to herself pulling her cloak tighter around her. "OK, senior says to go to the building as directed. "Bit fancy" she notices as she arrives but thats OK, Nola tends to stand out been a wood elf anyway. A rather brutish voice calls to her, "Well don't just stand there, come in!". Not quite what she expect, disorganised, cluttered no sense of priority, a mess confronts Nola. "Take a seat" the Dwarf says to her, "I'd rather stand thank you". Nola isn't touching such mess. The dwarf continues to move to a seat and pulls out a notebook, noting Nola isn't sitting down, "You got the note didn't you? he continues while Nola looks at him with the beginnings of clear frustration. "The note, adventurers wanted and all that?" Nola looks on with clear disdain, "Im here because my employer tasked me to find an item, is that not so?' The Dwarf continues as if he hasn't heard what Nola said and continues asking his questions. "What are your aspirations and and what do you dream of at night?". Nola is perplexed but compelled to answer. She says, "I aspire to do good things be an example to those who are persecuted, what do I dream about? I dream of seeing justice brought for those persecuted and as an Elf I am well versed in this". The Dwarf respond, "hmmm hmmm, what do you brag about to your friends that your are going to do someday?", Nola gives a small gasp, "Brag, brag I don't believe I've ever bragged, its hard enough been an elf my family were persecuted, I .. I don't feel I need to brag about anything". The dwarf sees genuine discomfort and sadness from Nola and asks quietly, "I need to ask, what frightens you what keeps you up at night?. Nola sits down, amongst the mess and the disorganised items around her. She seems to answer from a far away place. "Im frightened about not been wanted, I need to do my best to help the common good, what keeps me up at night...? and here a deep sadness comes across Nola as she responds with tears falling from her eyes and looks directly at the Dwarf, "My parents were murdered for being elven and all I have left of them is my fathers bow, one day I will find who did this and I will seek revenge". The firmness combined with the sadness of Nola's response hits the Dwarf hard. "If you are chosen to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away? Nola looks at the Dwarf, and says with her original disdain, "I'm here am I not? and the weather is terrible out there right now!". The Dwarf smiles for the first time and thinks to himself. I like this elf we could get on very well. Very well indeed.

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!” 

Amaryllis is taken aback by the curtness of the request and boisterous voice from within the room, but he does as he is told and meekly walks in.

As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room. 

Amaryllis takes the hint and sits down, "Greetings, I'm Amaryllis, I got told to come here. Just not sure… why?"

After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

"Yes that's correct, my patron told me the note would be coming and to make sure I meet at this place and at the right time. And here I am."

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

Adventurer? That's something Amaryllis wouldn't call himself. But Lo'ra knows what she's doing.

"I am taking up the mantle of Adventurer as I need to find a way to free a friend. The world holds many secrets, hopefully just one can be enough. But like the old tales say, what you are looking for is never the first thing you find."

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

"I aspire to bring peace and joy to those who need it most." Amaryllis pauses as he contemplates the second question, his dreams are usually invaded by Lo'ra. Asking questions about the world, which is fair, when you've been trapped in a book for who knows how long you'd want to converse about anything. He didn't think the Dwarf would appreciate that answer.

"I dream of bringing light to the dark and to dismiss evil." He lied.

The last questions he tells it straight from the heart, "I tell my friends I am going to make a difference."

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

"What frightens me? A lot of things, monsters, devils, snakes. But mostly that I am not in control of my own destiny."

A certain Ki-Rin keeps him up at night.

"Mostly those who are evil, but do it behind a veil of good. They keep me up at night, because they are the ones that are the hardest to vanquish."

"I travel light, I can leave at the shortest notice."

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

Winged Boots

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!”  As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room.  After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

"Yes, I got the note and came as soon as I can"

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

"I want to be an adventurer for Amelia. She always told me about the wider world in her stories and I believe it is time I take a look for myself. Though in truth I seek adventure to test myself to see if I have a soul so that one day I may be reunited with Amelia once more." says Falchion with somber tone.

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

"I aspire to live a grand life so that when I see Amelia again, I will be the one to share the stories. To have tales that last a lifetime. I don't dream the same as other people, but I do imagine sitting by bay window and just being there with a trusted friend. Content that all is well"

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

"I fear that I am just a construct with no soul and that the thought of never seeing Amelia again tears at my heart." says Falchion with a look of fear and sadness. He takes a moment to compose himself "I can get away for the adventure at any time you deem ready" 

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

Arathorn's early life was the epitome of the idyllic countryside.
Born to a loving family on a farm near Baldur's Gate, he spent his days working the fields, surrounded by the warmth of his parents and the laughter of friends.
His childhood friends were his constant companions, and together they forged memories through countless adventures.

The tranquility shattered when a marauding group of Orcs established a camp near Baldur's Gate, disrupting the peace of the region.
In an attempt to rid the land of this threat, soldiers from Baldur's Gate confronted the Orcs.
The battle was fierce, and many Orcs fell, but the survivors sought revenge. Tragically, Arathorn's village bore the brunt of this retaliation.

The once-thriving farmstead became a scene of devastation. Arathorn returned home to find his family and friends slain, their lives taken in a brutal act of retribution.
With nothing left, he made his way to Baldur's Gate, a city that once felt like a distant neighbour but now offered a cold refuge for the grieving.

Struggling to survive in the urban chaos, Arathorn resorted to theft and lived as a shadow beneath the city's bridges.
His luck changed when a mercenary company, in need of able bodies, discovered him.
Joining their ranks, Arathorn became a soldier, honing his combat skills and finding a sense of purpose amid the chaos of war.

Company leader became greedy and reckless, taking more and more riskier contracts and pitting us against one baron only to switch sides moments later and turn on our employer,
decision that he will come to regret.
Finally he met his end, together with most of the company; fate Arathorn barely escaped.

Alone once again, Arathorn wander the lands, trying to survive, one day at the time.

You enter the building hesitantly.  You have never been in this building before and honestly other than looking official, you have no idea behind the purpose of it.  There are some people walking around looking all fancy in their robes and such, but no one you recognize.  The lady at the front desk told you the third door on the right down this hall…there it is.  It is slightly ajar, do you knock or just walk in?

Before you make up your mind, a voice calls from within, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!”  As you walk into the room, you see that it is a very cluttered office.  You don’t even see the body that the voice is connected to for a moment, but then you see the small dwarf, buried behind the piles of papers stacked upon an unruly desk.  He smiles up at you and points at one of the two empty chairs in the room.  After taking a seat, he looks at you expectantly.  As you are unsure one, as to why you are there, and two, who he is, you look back.  “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?  Good good.”

He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at you appraisingly.  Long enough to make you uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

Arathorn hearing him speak thinks to himself, only person that never left the comfort of his office would call almost getting eaten by owlbear an adventure, gives a dwarf a look of man that didn't sleep in a nice bed for weeks and haven't had a decent meal even more... Dwarf realizing the situation, calls for his assistant and orders him to bring in a plate of food and drinks. Conversation takes a more informal turn for the duration of Arathorn's meal.

He takes notes as you answer, asking a few clarifying questions as you do, frowning if it is the typical I need to get out of this town sort of answer, so you think harder and give real feeling to his question.  After you seem to trail off on the main gist of adventuring, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations?  What do you dream about at night?  What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

Arathorn sipping on a glass of vine, looks around the office, spotting all around him traces of rich life, turns to the dwarf: "Something like this wouldn't be so bad for retirement... Cold stone to shield me on hot days, servants to light fire in the winter, nice place to settle down..." 

These are getting tougher you realize but answer to your best ability.  He then changes tact on you, “What frightens you?  What keeps you up at night?”  Finally, after he flips a page and continues taking notes as you answer, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

"What drives all... Fear of death... But if I had a chance to pick between starving or dying from a sword, I pick later, at least it's poetic."

"How soon can you produce gold...?"

He then thanks you for your time and heads back to behind his desk, you realize this is your cue to exit and leave through the door back into the hallway, but the place seems eerily quiet.  As you head back to the front door, even the woman behind the front desk isn’t there anymore.  Shrugging your shoulders at the oddness of it all, you leave the building and head back home.

       She walks into the room barefoot and head down.  Her eyes scan the room without ever really moving.  The room is cluttered and seems to have drowned the speaker who is somewhere beneath it all, she assumes.  The clutter is mostly papers, all very important she is sure, but also various bric-a-brac.  One item in particular catches her eye but she doesn't give it a second thought as the drowned dwarf points to one of the seats miraculously empty of disorder.  She sits wordlessly.

     “Oh!” he exclaims, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here.  You got the note right?  Adventurer’s wanted and all that?"  She gives him a wan smile and nods once.  "Good good.”

     He walks out from behind the desk and sits in the other empty chair.  He pulls out a notepad and looks at her appraisingly.  Long enough to make her uncomfortable and wonder if the letter was supposed to be addressed to someone else?  “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?”

     Mother Anachain tilts her head to one side and ponders the question for a moment.  She didn't.  That was the truth.  She didn't want to be an adventurer.  She wanted to be a wife.  A mother.  Part of a family.  She wanted to be happy.  "I...  I want..." she begins to say, finding it difficult to form words after so, so long.  The dwarf looks at her and waits.  Waits with growing impatience.  But finally it comes out.  

     "Revenge..."

     The dwarf blinks.  Once.  Twice.  And then after the third time he nods and jots some scratchings down into his little notebook.  "I see."  He follows up trying to get details and information but Mother Anachain has little answers and even fewer words.  She cannot tell him exactly who she wants revenge on but she will know when she has had it.

     “What are some of your aspirations?" he asks. Aspirations?  Those are a thing of the past.  "Revenge," is all she can answer.

     "What do you dream about at night?" he asks.  She doesn't dream.  She barely sleeps.  But if she has a dream it is "Revenge."

     "What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?” he asks.  She turns her head and looks him in the eye for the first time.  Her eyes are flat and cold and they see everything but nothing at the same time.  "Ah, yes.  Yes.  I get it," he says, not needing the answer. 

     The interview, if you could call it that, continues on in this way for a bit of time.  It is a bit frustrating for the dwarf - He wants more but has to come to accept that he'd be better off bleeding a stone.  Finally, after taking his last note and closing his book, he follows up with, “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”  

     Mother Anachain reaches out to a pile a papers that sits upon his desk.  Atop those papers is a mask.  It is made of ceramic or bone or clay or something.  It feels thin and fragile yet sturdy and strong.  The face of the mask is painted with a feminine skull.  "May I?" she asks, the first words she had spoken unbidden.  The dwarf fumbles a bit and agrees out of hand, assuming she meant may she examine it.  Instead put it on.

     "I am ready," she says through the mask and then stands and walks out of the room.

Misora's (or Misa's, as she prefers) early life diverged sharply from those typical of her kind. As a baby, she was abandoned on the streets of a large human city, left behind by parents she never knew long enough to remember. For her first few years, she lived as an urchin, surviving on scraps and evading countless dangers. Her striking white hair and slitted pupils set her apart from the other street children, drawing attention that she learned to use to her advantage - it did not take long to figure out that the average passerby was more inclined to spare a few coins for a cute, charming child rather than a ragged, feral one.

At the age of seven, Misa’s fate took a pivotal turn when she was noticed by the calculating and influential Madam Xue, the proprietor of a high-end brothel catering to the city’s elite. Recognizing the young girl's potential and exotic allure, Madam Xue took her in and provided her with an education and rigorous training. Under Madam Xue’s tutelage, Misa was transformed into a courtesan of unmatched beauty and mystique, her presence becoming a sought-after gem among the wealthy.

As she matured, Misa’s training encompassed the arts of seduction, persuasion, and performance. She became a highly coveted asset in the circles of high society, her charm and skill both admired and envied by nobles and other courtesans alike. Despite the luxury surrounding her, Misa felt trapped in a gilded cage. Her true self was obscured behind layers of cultivated allure, and an insurmountable monetary debt imposed by Madam Xue bound her to the brothel, a constant reminder of her lack of freedom.

Over time, Misa’s resentment grew, fueled by an icy anger toward her situation and the society that saw her as nothing more than a beautiful plaything. She maintained her role with grace while secretly plotting her escape, yearning for the wealth and power her clients took for granted, coveting the freedom that came with such things.

Determined to claim this for herself, Misa began subtly undermining Madam Xue’s operations. She used her charms to seduce a nobleman, promising him her hand in marriage in exchange for dealing with her debt. Misa intended only to secure enough money to escape and had no plans of actually fulfilling her end of the bargain. However, the nobleman, lacking the wealth she had anticipated or perhaps simply unwilling to part with it, instead arranged for Madam Xue’s murder.

In the chaos that ensued, Misa seized the opportunity to slip away, evading both the nobleman and suspicion surrounding the death of her former madam. In her flight she left her home behind, wounding up in the much more humble city of Eldershore. It was here that she came across a note advertising for adventurers, and an idea began to form. What better way to acquire the wealth and prestige she so desired than through the heroic deeds humans seemed to so admire?

Misa enters the building with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. She has not been in Eldershore long, and  this place is as unfamiliar as the rest of the city, its official appearance giving little hint as to its true purpose. Slowly, she moves down the stately corridor, following the directions given to her by the woman at the front desk. The third door on the right…. Ah, here it is. Left slightly ajar, light seeping through it’s cracks. She is faced with a dilemma now; knock, or simply waltz in?

Before she can decide, a voice calls out from within, "Well, don’t just stand there, come in!" She pushes open the door and steps inside, her eyes sweeping over the chaotic mess of papers decorating the room before landing on the small figure all but buried behind his unruly desk.

The dwarf looks up with a warm smile and gestures to one of the two empty chairs. “Please, have a seat.” Misa complies, taking her place with a practiced grace; back straight, legs crossed, hands neatly folded - it was all simply habit to her now. The dwarf only stares at her. With nothing else to do, she simply looks back at a him as a few beats of silence pass them by.

“Oh!” the dwarf exclaims suddenly, “I’m sorry, for some reason, I thought you knew why you were here. You got the note, right? Adventurers wanted and all that? Good, good.” He bustles out from behind his stacks of paper, soon joining her on the other chair before pulling out a notepad and giving her a scrutinizing look. She meets his gaze with her own, raising a single, arched eyebrow as the moment stretches on past its comfortable limit. Finally he speaks once more “Ah yes, good!  So, tell me.  You want to be an adventurer.. Why?” The dwarf’s casual demeanor contrasts with the seriousness of his tone as he begins to take notes.

Misa's gaze remains steady as she ponders his question. She thinks it best not to mention her main driving force - the money and fame such a career could offer. People do not seem to like such honesty. Her voice is smooth as she instead responds “Adventuring offers more than just a chance to escape. It’s a gateway to freedom, to redefine my destiny beyond the constraints of my past life. For years, I’ve played a role designed by others, navigating a world that saw me as a mere asset. Now, I seek to shape my fate with my own hands." 

She watches as he frowns slightly and does not respond, a hint of uncertainty accosting her. Was he not satisfied with her answer? Perhaps the truth was the best option after all. She quickly adds “Besides, the rewards adventuring can provide are not an unwanted bonus.” She plays her words off as a joke, twisting her lips into a smile.

The dwarf nods, jotting down notes and occasionally glancing up for clarification. After a moment, he asks, “What are some of your aspirations? What do you dream about at night? What do you brag about to your friends that you are going to do someday?”

At that, the Yuan-ti offers him a small smirk. Clearly lies and half-truths were not the language of this man, so she would speak plainly and truly. It was not as if she had anything to lose to this small man. “Those are two different questions, no? The dreams that enter ones head when they are alone are often far different to any trivial boasts they may speak to their friends. But no matter. I dream of reclaiming myself. I aspire to make a mark on the world, to be remembered not just for beauty, but for  power and influence. To my peers, I boast of someday achieving a position where I command respect and influence, founded through genuine accomplishment.”

The questions continue, though they change their tone. “What frightens you? What keeps you up at night?”

Misa’s serpentine eyes narrow slightly, though the practiced smile never leaves her lips. “If you truly must know, it is not death nor the perils of adventure that frighten me. But… the thought of remaining trapped in a role that I despise, forever relegated to the status of an object rather than a person of true substance… The idea of forever being seen as nothing more than the facade I put up – it is a fear that gnaws at my peace and disturbs my rest."
Her eyes flicker around the room as she speaks, breaking contact for the first time since she entered, before coming to rest on him once more. "I shall speak no further on the subject.”

The dwarf nods, flipping to another page in his notepad. “If you were to go on an adventure, how soon could you get away?”

She relaxes again, her smile becoming less taunt, her gaze less sharp. “I am ready to depart at a moment’s notice. Simply say the word and I am gone.”

The dwarf thanks her and returns to his desk. Misa stands up, graceful as ever, as she offers him her thanks and exits the office.

Isaiah was discovered one morning, nestled among the reeds that lined the shore of the small coastal village near the Eldershore, where the churning sounds of the sea a constant presence. He was no more than a newborn, small and frail. No one knew where he had come from. Upon closer examination, however, they soon realized that this baby was different. His skin was soft and delicate, but it had an otherworldly glow, almost like the moonlight itself was trapped within his pores. As they held him, they felt a faint aura of celestial energy emanating from his small body, like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. 

Unable to find out where he had come from, several families in the village took on the responsibility of his care and upbringing. As he grew older, Isaiah started to have vivid dreams of a man he had never met. The man would appear to him in his sleep, speaking to him in hushed tones, his voice was like the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore, and he would show him visions of things that were yet to come, like a seer gifted with a sacred sight. He would show Isaiah the ebb and flow of the tides, the coming of the storms, and the migrations of sea creatures. But when Isaiah asked the man who he was, he always turned away from him. Nevertheless, with these dreams, Isaiah was able to predict the tides and storms with astounding accuracy. The villagers viewed him as a divine blessing, a messenger of the sea who brought prosperity and abundance to their humble village. Isaiah was cherished, and his presence filled the village with a sense of hope and joy.

However, slowly, Isaiah noticed something was wrong. The man's guidance had always been accurate, but now his predictions were leading the village astray. Crops were failing, fishing expeditions were coming up empty, and storms were catching the villagers off guard. Isaiah was at a loss. He had always relied on the man in his dreams, and now he didn't know who to turn to for guidance. The villagers grew restless and began to turn on him, blaming him for their misfortunes. They no longer saw him as a messenger of the heavens but rather as a fraud and a charlatan. Then, even the man in the dreams stopped showing up. The villagers changed, their once-reverent attitude transformed into vicious cruelty. They abused and battered him. Isaiah’s pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of the crashing waves and the jeers of the villagers. Despite his cries for help, the sea and his dreams remained silent, with no way to escape.  

In a desperate attempt to appease the sea and calm the raging storms, the villagers decided - Isaiah would be sacrificed to the sea. That night, Isaiah was forced to walked into the frigid water, the chill bit at his skin. The waves rose above his head, the current merciless, each drop feeling like a thousand icy needles piercing his skin.

Just when Isaiah thought it was all over, a massive wave rose from the depths of the sea. It towered over him, casting a shadow that blotted out the sun, and then it crashed down upon them with a deafening roar. It swept everything in its path, dragging the villagers and their boats out to sea, devouring everyone.

For a moment, everything was chaos and darkness. Isaiah felt himself being tossed and turned by the raging waters, feeling like he was going to drown, and fell unconscious.

That night, a man waded in the ocean and carried Isaiah’s lifeless back to shore. Isaiah was heavy with fever, barely clinging to life. But as he looked up, he recognized the man - the same man from his dreams. "Why?" Isaiah managed to whisper. Why were the predictions wrong? Why had you left me to suffer at the hands of the villagers? Why had you allowed them to sacrifice me to the sea? Isaiah's mind was a whirlwind of questions, and his heart ached with a deep, lingering pain. The sound of the waves grew louder and more intense. The ocean seemed to be in a frenzy, its energy wild and uncontrollable. The moon, now higher in the sky, shone down on the tumultuous water, creating an eerie glow that illuminated the man's features as he waded through the waves. The wind was bitter and cold, whipping through Isaiah's damp clothing and making him shiver uncontrollably, but the man's arms were warm and comforting.

"I had to see if you were truly worthy," he said, gently closing Isaiah’s eyes. "And they had failed the test."

The man’s name was Theron. He took Isaiah back to his tower and gave him a few basic magical books, but he was barely around to teach him anything. Isaiah taught himself everything he could from the books, practicing for hours on end until he could cast spells effortlessly. His fingers would trace the intricate symbols and diagrams, memorizing each step of the spells until they became second nature. The tower was his sanctuary, and the magic he wielded was his shield against the outside world.

As time went on, Theron would appear intermittently, offering praises for Isaiah's progress, but never staying long enough to truly guide him. Isaiah grew older, and their relationship became more volatile, turbulent. Still, Isaiah hesitated to use the word "lover”, even if he did, it would be a pretty sick version of it.

Theron would often tell Isaiah that he was not good enough, that his magic was weak and flawed. He would criticize every spell Isaiah cast, even if it worked perfectly. He would then tell him that he was teaching him magic out of pity, not because he believed in Isaiah's abilities. They would have fight after fight, with Theron hurling insults and accusations at Isaiah, and Isaiah pushing back with his own anger and frustration. Isaiah confronted Theron of using him as a pawn in his own twisted scheme, and Theron called him ungrateful. When Isaiah asked about the dreams, Theron would outright deny it, claiming he never used him. He told Isaiah that his dreams were his own fault, and any visions he had were not under his control. Sometimes Theron’s denial would make Isaiah doubt his own memories, and sometimes Isaiah would hate Theron so much that he wanted to tear off the man’s lying face and expose the deceit lurking beneath. It was a battle that raged within him, tearing at his soul and threatening to consume him whole. Isaiah both loved and hated when he was with him, but the sharp sting of physical pain could somehow distract from the dull, throbbing ache of the true wound in his heart. Despite their twisted relationship, he also knew Theron was his only chance to make it in the world. With power like Theron’s, no one would dare to hurt him again. He had to become stronger, and learning under Theron was the only way. 

When the mystical letter arrived, speaking of the need for adventurers and the disaster and famine ravaging Eldershore, Isaiah realized it’s a way to leave Theron behind, once and for all. He could find his new purpose in life. As Isaiah packed his bags, memories of his time with Theron flashed before his eyes. He remembered the early days, the moments of tenderness, the harsh lessons, the intimate nights. Despite everything, there was a small part of him that still loved the man, no matter how he didn’t want to.

Isaiah thought he could leave without Theron knowing, but as he walked towards the door, Theron's words caught him off guard. Isaiah turned around to see the man sitting at the table, his face half-hidden in shadows. 

“Do you really hate me that much?” Theron had asked. Isaiah realized he hadn't seen Theron age one bit, despite the years they have spent together. He looked just the same as he appeared in his dreams, fifteen years ago, sharp features now etched in pain. 

"Does it matter?" Isaiah had said, his voice almost a whisper. "All my tears were washed away that night in the sea."

Theron’s laughter broke the silence, but it was not the sound of mirth. It was a bitter, hollow sound that reverberated through the empty hall like an echo from a forgotten place. The sound made Isaiah's heart ache, but he didn’t stop. He walked out the door, and Theron didn't stop him. The crisp air of the night embraced him. It was a new life for him, and this time he won’t let anyone hurt him anymore.

Isaiah pushed open the door to the cluttered office, finding a seat. He smiled politely as he crossed his legs and placed his hands together, resting them on his knees.

“Yes, I did,” Isaiah said, “I received the note.” 

A faint smile touched his lips as he continued, “I could give you the run-of-the-mill answers. I want to uncover ancient mysteries, help those in need, and perhaps even leave a mark on the world. I aspire to achieve something great, something that will be remembered long after I’m gone.” He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands, the shadows of his eyelashes playing on his high cheekbones. A soft chuckle escaped him, a sound that seemed to linger in the air like a ghost of old wounds. 

“But the truth is...” Isaiah’s voice grew softer, vulnerable, “I wanted a way to escape. People once praised me as a celestial messenger, a gift from the divine, only to turn around and call me a liar and a charlatan. They lifted me up only to pull the rug out from under me. They helped me rise and then watched me fall. And after that, I realized for all of my life, I’ve always been in someone else’s control. Manipulated. Played like a pawn in a game. I want to run away from that. And I need this chance to help me get back up on my feet.”

Isaiah’s gaze lifted, his green eyes flecked with gold shimmering like strong tea in sunlight. “My aspirations?” He said. “I want to be powerful. To protect myself. I want to reach a point where I no longer need anyone else’s protection, where I won’t be hurt or betrayed again. I want people to fear me and respect me when they hear my name. I dream of those who once hurt me bowing at my feet… and regretting everything they’ve done to me.” He flashed a sorrowful smile. “But that will never happen. They were swallowed by the sea. And the scars they left will never fade. If I had friends, I’d tell them the same.” 

“What I am afraid…” Isaiah murmured, his gaze drifting as if looking past the dwarf at something far beyond the walls of the office, into an abyss of his own making. “I fear he’s right. That I don’t know what I’m talking about. That all of this—visions, prophecies, everything—was just my imagination. I worry that my mind is playing tricks on me. I’m afraid that I’m a fraud, that I’ve lied to everyone.” His eyes returned to meet the dwarf’s, his gaze intense and earnest, searching for understanding. “Do you believe that? That a person’s mind is capable of making up everything? When I’m up at night, I always hear his voice. Whispering in my ears. Telling me that no matter what I do, it’d all be in vain.”

The weight of his confession seemed to hang in the air. After a moment of palpable introspection, Isaiah took a deep breath, visibly gathering himself. A professional, composed smile reemerged on his lips, though it barely masked the lingering traces of storms that turmoiled within him. “My apologies,” He said, his voice regaining its steadiness. “I seem to have wandered off-topic. But I want to assure you - I am the right person for this job. I am capable, determined, and, most importantly, I have nowhere to turn back to. This is my only way forward.”

Isaiah didn’t have to think on the final question. “I can leave now. The sooner, the better.” 

Rising from his chair, he extended his hand for a handshake. His fingers were long and slender - a wizard’s fingers, graceful and efficient. His handshake was gentle but firm. After a final nod of thanks, Isaiah turned and walked out of the building. The night air greeted him, and he found comfort in that.