Leafiara (prime)/Non-Canon/The Ambassador of Cold River

She'd slain tens of thousands of bandits, and, if the guild's reports were accurate, her contract work was about to lead her to take the lives of another twenty as she patrolled the trail between Wehnimer's Landing and Solhaven.

Bandits weren't her preferred battles these days, but the events at Melgorehn's Reach had left her exhausted--more spiritually than physically--and she needed something straightforward before bed. These patrols had become so routine that she usually entertained herself by taking varied approaches; sometimes using her blades, sometimes her bow, sometimes magic, sometimes a mix.

No sooner had her ghezyte-reinforced sandals stepped foot into the Underway tunnel than three bandits immediately leapt from the shadows, their blades and maces crashing down toward her head--only to bounce harmlessly off the evanescent shield of divine magic surrounding her.

By reflex, she chanted a strident invocation that left them immobile save for light twitching. Three of them, she observed: a human man, a half-elven woman, and an erithian man. Perhaps it was the rare sight of an erithian that stirred her out of reflex and into a passing thought.

What are we doing differently than bandits at this point? We've battled the krolvin with ambushes, first Amos' ruse and now Thadston's ruse.

She looked into the eyes of the half-elven woman, their color indeterminate in the scarcely moonlit tunnel entrance, and she felt an epiphany crystallizing in her thoughts.

Is this how I want to be remembered? Helping to end a conflict whose leaders and principal players were all about trickery?

She'd slain tens of thousands of bandits and she'd slain tens of thousands of krolvin too. Deceit was never needed. She glanced down at the ghezyte banding of her combat gloves, then closed her eyes briefly. A faint smile lit across her lips, then grew larger as she opened her eyes again.

"I face my battles head on," she said, "but you don't need to be one of them and you don't need to live like this." She pulled a wrapped bundle of inky black plumes from her tote, then tossed it at the feet of the still-frozen bandits.

"Those feathers are worth as much as diamonds because I skin them from creatures beyond your imagination. All yours, because getting more is no challenge to me. But if you want more--if you aspire to my height--then I invite you to meet me again in the fine frontier I represent, a town on the edge of civilization where we can grow strong together. A place of freedom and adventure, whose people are hearty, tenacious, and brave."

The magic would fade soon and they'd be moving again. Would the bandits listen to reason? Would they try to kill her? Would they try to grab the plumes and run? She didn't care. Her life couldn't be about them. Her life was about her.

"Name's Leafiara, and I invite you to Cold River!"