Chronicles of the Heralds

[The Ramirez]

“It’s not like the stories…” Kaleb mused as the meeting with the Admiral concluded. Deep in thought, he returned to his quarters to ponder the events that led up to this. Much has transpired since he had the dream. More than a dream it would seem. A calling, he came to realize.
            Upon entering his quarters, he began the calming ritual that was playing his guitar. It was an instrument of his own design, named for his mother. Not unlike a common lute in its function, but with a longer fretboard, wide enough to accommodate six strings instead of the typical four. It was a prototype, one of only two in the world. His missing mentor held the other one. It was a gift to her, clearer in sound quality than the one that would become Kaleb’s signature.
            His mind went back to that day at the tavern where he met Gar, Arwen and Faralli. His fingers expertly changing from chord to chord, practicing the scales as he had so often done. The memory of the rat pie he was served still on his tongue. It was his first run in with the cultists of the Serpent’s Hunger. It would not be the last. As it turned out, they to had a similar dream. Fate, perhaps providence. Kaleb was glad that he would not have to embark on such an impossible task alone.
            Shortly, the fellowship grew with the addition of Dimple and his faithful steed Ellie, and Elironda, a curious winged elf. Elironda seems to be hiding some great secret. There is a pain behind her eyes which she doesn’t talk much about. Kaleb decided not to press the issue. After all, a person’s past is their own. He figured she would share her story when the time was right.
            “Such a motley crew I find myself in,” Kaleb thought to himself. Besides their good sir knight, Dimple, none of the fellowship would fit the heroic mold that the characters in the stories portrayed. Arwen, and by extension Gar, seem to have a history with some pirates met recently. Faralli, while having a fatalistic world view, is a jovial sort. Quick to see the best in people and yet paradoxically, not very trusting of outsiders. Kaleb himself was not prone to acts of heroism, preferring to support his compatriots rather than engage in deadly combat.  
            Originally, Kaleb decided to travel with his newfound allies until he found his mentor, Sahasrala. He wanted to tell her of the stories he’d witnessed and the places he’s seen. Now it would appear that he might put that off for a bit, and let fate decide his course. Perhaps it was a good thing that his new friends were different than the old stories. Together, they would make a new one, with more complexity than is typical of the one-dimensional heroes with no personality. The old stories were about great deeds, not the people that performed them. Rather than paint his friends in the kindly light of near sainthood, he would write of their individual natures. His experience with Elironda earlier in the evening showed him that the classic idea of goodness is not necessary to being good. Kaleb wondered if she would come to the same conclusion in time. “Not like the old stories at all…” He thought, smiling to himself as he speculated at the adventures to come.