Today’s snippet, titled “Graduation Day”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      The white rose she had worn with pride, tucked behind her ear to match all the other graduates, but the yellow had been a gift from her halfing friend, Mira. Together, they made Rhiallis Corweir feel beautiful and accomplished; and, she realized, casting a smile down at the girl, it made her feel less alone than she had been in years.
      Emma and Navara were here as well. The four young women, friends from the Temple of Iomedae, stood together in the Saint Clydewell Plaza. Of them, perhaps only Rhiallis was genuinely eager to hear Prelate Hulrun’s speech this year, but each was enjoying the anticipation of the crowd. It was exciting, here amongst so many people. Rhiallis did not typically like being in thick throngs of people, but the thrum of humanity was so positive today. Not even a sourpuss like Emma could dampen the mood.
      “Look!” Mira nudged her with an elbow, pointing inconspicuously. “I didn’t know they’d be recruiting today!”
      Rhiallis blinked in surprise. The Everbright Crusaders were amongst the most famous mercenary company in Kenabres, and lately, the most successful, too. She closed her eyes for a moment, imaging Viggo Relane in the polished silver plate with its cobalt and gold crest gleaming from the center of the chest. Her heart began to beat faster and she had to swallow the pain once more.
      “Are you going to join them? Commander Ciar Coloben is awfully handsome, don’t you think?”
      A chuckle and a nod were the only acknowledgement she would allow herself. Ciar Coloben was indeed a congenial and attractive fellow, but the Everbright Crusaders were so very pompous and rigid – Rhiallis knew her own form of gentle valor would not suit their Order.
      Emma was telling Navara a tale of some new foundling – not that there was any lack of them, here in Kenabres new orphans were made daily – and Navara looked positively bored. Rhiallis rescued her elven friend, interrupting with a timely question about whether Navara was going to try and pledge herself to one of the major Orders or a mercenary company.
      That bloomed into a lively conversation between the four. Emma, with her long silvery hair and undeniable beauty, was the only other Aasimar Rhiallis had ever really gotten to know. Their kind, such as it was, seemed to be fairly common here, but that made sense; by-and-large, Aasimar were valorous creatures designed from the moment of their creation to do good on the material plane. Where better for them than at the heart of the battle against the Worldwound?
      The four of them had all vowed, in their own way at least, to do that very thing. To push back the darkness and give their lives in service of the greater good, if necessary. Rhiallis was proud to be considered their equal, though never in her life (before Surdar, at least) had she considered the path she now walked. Emma was a kind and generous soul, though she had a disconcertingly prickly side, and Navara was, while admittedly the plainest elf Rhiallis knew, twice as clever as most people and so dedicated to her swordcraft that one could not help but admire her. Mira, mischievous as only a halfling can be, was so dear – her sense of duty and rightness was as strong as her desire for adventure. Rhiallis wondered, watching their animated faces, if they had dreamed of this day since they were small?
      One of these days, she thought, I really must ask them.
      “..and that’s when I showed her what a REAL cock looked like!”
Raucous, braying laughter erupted a few feet away and Rhiallis glanced over at the huddle of men. They were all large and brawny, with huge weapons (the largest, she noticed, was a disconcertingly enormous earthbreaker that, had she not seen it hefted easily over the man’s shoulder, she would not believe a mortal could wield at all) and even bigger personalities.
      “C’mon, Mickey,” the one in a boiled leather skullcap growled, skeptically, “You gotta be pulling m’leg wit’ a story like dat. Ain’t no way you you’re tellin’ the truth. That’s just a whopper.”
      The hairy beast – apparently named Mickey – laughed again and wriggled his thick eyebrows. “That’s what she said.”
      And they all burst out laughing again. Rhiallis felt her cheeks color.
      A pair of men – well, an elf and a man – nearby were whispering to each other and though, even with her keen ears, should could not quite make-out the words, the feeling was clear. They were too polite and mannered to bust a gut as the other mercenaries, but they found the bawdy humor amusing. The elf was tall, taller even than Rhiallis, and dark-haired with piercing eyes that made her blush again when they met for just an instant. His biceps were sculpted as if by a classic master of anatomy and his handsome face would have been the stuff of dreams, were it not for the remarkably constant sneer he wore. The other fellow was unarmored, but still looked somehow formidable. Rhiallis hardly had a moment to consider his other features for suddenly she heard commotion from the stage.
      “There! Prelate Hulrun is coming out.”
      She bounced a bit on her toes despite the weight of her heavy armor. His speech last year had truly reinforced her belief in the rightness of the Crusades, that although they had been marked by privation, corruption, and defeat in the past, the future would surely be shaped by the victories they made today and in the future.
      “At last! I can’t wait,” Rhiallis clapped her hands a few times, quickly, then clasped and tucked them up beneath her chin, prepared to listen to each word rapturously.
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me