Pepper gathered herself and looked at Sar and Keana. Sar broke the silence. “Well, I’d be lying if I said don’t watch me around carnies. But the one I’m looking for is chiseled in stone in my memory. I won’t make a mistake, and we won’t just stumble on him. You can count on me. Until I hit level 20 anyway. Then my real hunt begins.”

As Sar fell silent, Keana spoke. “The man who killed my mother died before I even knew she was dead. I don’t even know who or what he flipping was, but it’s done. I’m not out hunting the streets or whatever the fuck it is the Sisters do. I’m here to make enough gold to bathe in. Maybe tip the butler a little extra if one of my man-toys fails as badly as Arn here.” Keana tried a smile, but her heart didn’t seem to be in the joke.

The silence stretched past awkward into something heavy and oppressive. Arn looked to Val, but for once he seemed to be out of words; if anything, he looked nervous.

My story is nothing to theirs’, but I’m past being embarrassed. Arn swallowed and began to speak. “My story doesn’t have a villain, but my parents died just the same. It was seven years ago; I was nine. Plague swept through these parts like a tidal wave. My village had a healer; a couple of the villages did, but none of them made a damn bit of difference. I got sick too, but I got better. Partly.”

“They had us all together in a tent, watching each other die. I was delirious when my parents died, but one of the others told me when I woke. I cried, I slept and I watched people die, I couldn’t tell you for how long, but I know the healer tried to give me a tart for my birthday. Everyone you loved is dead, but here is a flipping tart, happy birthday."

"When the dying was done and plague let me be, the healer helped me to stand. Only I couldn’t. I passed out. It took a while for her to figure out was wrong. Plague didn’t just take my parents, it took my heart, and left some crippled thing in its place. I learned to walk, slowly. To never get too excited, never run.”

“Elder Dannis took me in. He was kind. The other children, not. They had no use for a child that couldn’t run, couldn’t play and would feint if it got too hot or for no reason at all.”

“Some of you aren’t from the Snake villages originally, so you might not understand. The land is fertile, but every now and then something comes out of the jungle. Livestock dies. People die. It is somehow considered a mercy, a kindness, to force cripples, invalids and drunks to go north.” Arn shook his head, still furious at the brutally harsh custom and the villagers who allowed it to happen.

“I grew knowing I wasn’t wanted. I tried every damn class. Hells, the seamstress taught me to sew. But I had so little stamina. Fat, clumsy fingers. The Elder gave me puzzle books. I thought if I solved them all, I would be smart enough to do . . . something. Life shat on me sure enough. But I made it worse. Every day. My own worst enemy. I couldn’t bring myself to really give my all to any of the classes that might have worked; I knew I would fail, and so I did. I wasn’t alive. Not really. I slept, I ate, I did it again.”

“The day I got my class, I died twice. But for the first time in years, I started to live. The crazy things Elder Dannis mentioned, they happened. I trained by being stabbed, beaten. I served as warg bait. I swam naked with the slarns. I died, once or twice more? Lost count to be honest. But none of that really matters. I’m finally alive, really alive.”

Arn looked at his teammates. “I lived too long barely living. I won’t be afraid of getting hurt, of dying. I want to map the heart of the jungle, delve in ancient ruins, and defy the impossible. I want to live.”

"Val, spit out your story and lets end this. Life maybe hasn't treated us well, but tomorrow is a new damn day and we are going to kick some ass, make some gold."