Welcome to Yartar

Before we start, I wanted to hear your opinions on something. I have introduced a few characters so far, but I haven't made any images, partly because I wanted their appearance to be unique to each reader. However, curiosity is getting the better of me, and I want to see your interpretations of the characters so far.

So give me pictures of what you think the following characters look like...

Fin (Pre-Second Life and Current)

Helga

Fin's Father 

Put the best images you want of them, ai or no ai, let's see what you got.

Fin's POV

After two long weeks on the road, filled with sleeping on rocks, eating dry-ass bread, and putting up with Helga's snoring (which she swears isn't real, but totally is), we finally rolled up to Yartar. It felt like hitting a Walmart or something after living in the woods—busy, loud, kinda dirty, but weirdly comforting.

Helga had parked our cart near the edge of what locals called the Fishyard. And man, you could definitely smell why. It was basically an open market filled with every fish and crusty seafood thing you could imagine. The smell of salt, fish guts, spices, and grilled seafood blended into something borderline nauseating, but at this point, I'd take whatever warm food I could get.

I stood off to the side, leaning against the cart while Helga did her thing, arguing with a big, burly fish vendor with a beard so thick it looked like a raccoon glued to his face.

"Three silver for a pound of eel?!" she practically shouted, looking offended enough to win an Oscar. "What, did the eel die swimming in gold or something?"

The fish vendor grunted, arms folded stubbornly. "Three silver's fair. Best eel in Yartar, fresh outta the river."

"Fresh?" Helga shot back. "It smells like it crawled out of the river on its own last week and just gave up!"

I almost snorted, watching them bicker back and forth. Helga's voice got sharper, and the seller's got louder, attracting a small, amused crowd.

"Lady, you're killin' me here," the guy finally groaned, throwing his hands up. "Fine, two silver, and I'll throw in some crab."

"Crab?" Helga scoffed dramatically, raising an eyebrow. "Better be some premium crab. Not those pathetic, tiny ones you sell to tourists."

He glared but eventually sighed, giving in with a grumble. "Deal. Premium crab, for the fierce lady who threatens my livelihood."

Helga shot him a victorious grin, happily handing over the silver, which disappeared instantly into his greasy apron. Watching her haggle was always hilarious—like a spectator sport where no one won but her.

I shook my head with a small smile and took a second to look around. Yartar was bigger than I expected—busy as hell too. The city sat right where two big rivers met, making it this prime spot for boats, merchants, adventurers, thieves, and everything in between. The streets were cramped, and people bumped shoulders constantly, yelling apologies (or insults) without even looking.

Buildings here felt ancient, all stone and dark timber, crammed together like the city planners said, "screw it, let's shove them wherever they fit." Taverns and inns were everywhere, their signs painted bright to draw attention. A few of them seemed pretty sketchy, especially a place called the "Bargewright Inn," where dudes stood outside looking shady as hell.

Street performers dotted almost every corner, playing songs or juggling knives or just loudly begging for coins. Merchants shouted deals so aggressively that you'd think your life depended on buying their overpriced vegetables or second-hand armour. It was chaotic, overwhelming, and honestly pretty exciting after weeks of trees and dirt roads.

One place caught my eye—a worn-down shop called "Esklindrar's Maps & Books." It looked shady as hell, the kind of place selling fake treasure maps to gullible tourists, but it also had that weird, magnetic pull of mystery. Definitely worth a look later.

In the distance, I spotted a massive stone building sitting on a small hill overlooking the city. Helga had mentioned it earlier—it was called something ridiculously cheerful like "The Happy Hall of Fortuitous Happenstance." Apparently, it was a temple to some luck goddess named Tymora. Adventurers loved it because they got free food and shelter there, at least if they survived whatever adventure they'd just stumbled back from.

I glanced back at Helga, who was carefully placing her spoils of war (or seafood) into our cart, looking way too pleased with herself.

"Did you really have to make a scene for some eel?" I teased, grinning as she shot me a playful glare.

She tossed her hair dramatically. "Of course. Half the fun of shopping is making sure the seller thinks they lost."

I laughed, shaking my head. Typical Helga.

As the sun started dipping lower, the buildings cast long shadows over the crowded streets. Yartar buzzed with energy and life—dangerous, messy, probably sketchy as hell, but it felt alive. It was the kind of city where anything could happen, good or bad, at any time.

After everything we'd been through, I was ready for something new, even if it meant dealing with fish-smelling air and probably getting robbed at least once. Besides, Helga was here. If anyone tried anything stupid, I felt bad for them already.

I straightened up from the cart, stretching out the kinks from two weeks on the road, and glanced around one more time.

Yartar, huh? Guess this was home for now.

After Helga wrapped up her intense seafood negotiations, we eventually found a place to crash for the night—a modest inn called the River's Rest. Honestly, the place was pretty decent. Clean, and cozy, and the smell of seafood wasn't strong enough to ruin my appetite yet. But the best part was the bed. An actual bed. Soft, fluffy, with blankets that didn't scratch my skin raw.

I flopped down onto it immediately, groaning like I'd reached nirvana.

Helga glanced at me from across the room, smirking. "Comfortable?"

"God, you have no idea," I said, my voice muffled by pillows. "I think my spine just cracked back into place."

She chuckled, shaking her head as she gathered a few things. Her golden sword rested by the door, gleaming softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, because I have to head out for a bit. There's someone here in the city who might be able to help us."

I lifted my head, instantly alert. "Help us how?"

"Information. Maybe protection," Helga answered cryptically. "They're someone I knew... before. Back in the bad days. Not part of the cult, but they know people and know things. We could use allies here."

I sat up a bit more, curiosity stirring. "You want me to come with you?"

She hesitated, giving me a careful look. "I'd rather you didn't. The less involved you are with this person, the safer you'll be."

I raised an eyebrow, ready to protest, but Helga immediately sighed, raising a hand. "But I already know you'll just sneak out anyway. So fine, go explore, just promise me you'll keep a low profile."

I grinned, flopping back down onto the bed. "No promises."

She glared at me playfully. "Fin, seriously. Try not to blow anything up or start another fight. Just this once."

"Alright, alright," I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. "I'll behave. No fireballs, no bar fights, got it."

She nodded, giving me that soft, cautious smile of hers. "Thank you. I won't be long."

Helga lingered by the door for a moment, giving me a look that said way too much. I waved her off gently, and she finally stepped outside, leaving me alone in the small but cozy room.

After a few minutes of savouring the softness of the bed, curiosity got the better of me. I wasn't gonna waste our first night in a proper city cooped up in some inn. I got up, stretching dramatically again before pulling on my coat and checking the black bracer on my wrist. My father's weapon—still silent, still mysterious, but comforting in a weird, unsettling way.

I stepped out into the cool evening air, breathing deeply. Lanterns were just starting to be lit, casting a warm, inviting glow along the streets. Yartar felt different at night. A bit sketchier, but definitely more exciting.

With a smirk, I shoved my hands into my pockets and started walking down the crowded streets. Time to see what kind of trouble I could find in a city like this—just, hopefully, not the kind Helga warned me about.

Exploring Yartar alone was a lot more boring than I thought it'd be. After dodging Helga's warnings about staying put, I'd wandered into the streets ready for adventure, but so far the "adventure" amounted to being nearly run over by drunken sailors and avoiding eye contact with creepy street vendors hawking questionable "magic" potions.

First, I headed toward Esklindrar's Maps & Books, the sketchy-looking shop I'd spotted earlier. From the outside, it looked mysterious, promising all kinds of hidden secrets and buried treasures. Inside, however, it was just a musty old bookstore run by a half-asleep elf who didn't seem particularly thrilled by my questions about hidden treasure maps.

"You looking for maps to lost cities, kid?" he drawled, barely glancing up from his scroll. "Sorry, fresh out. Got maps of Yartar's sewers though, if you're into that."

Hard pass.

Next, I checked out the Happy Hall of Fortuitous Happenstance, which sounded interesting enough in theory. A temple to Tymora, goddess of luck, adventure, and probably gambling. But it turned out to be less of a temple and more of a glorified community centre packed with broke adventurers arguing over free stew and priests who tried way too hard to rope me into "exciting new opportunities" for a "small fee."

Not exactly the thrill I'd been looking for.

Feeling disappointed, I kept moving, dodging street performers and shady-looking merchants. Night fell quickly, cloaking Yartar in shadow and lantern light. Taverns opened their doors wider, music and laughter spilling into the streets alongside drunken patrons stumbling home.

Finally, half-expecting disappointment again, I stepped into the last place on my mental list: the Bargewright Inn. From outside, it looked like exactly the kind of sketchy dive Helga had warned me about. It was a large building built out of dark, rough-cut timber, sitting right by the docks. Lanterns hanging above the entrance flickered weakly, barely illuminating the worn wooden sign.

Inside, the atmosphere was chaotic and alive. Music played somewhere in the background lost beneath shouting, laughter, and occasional swearing. The smell of spilled beer, sweat, and cooked meat hit me all at once. Wooden tables were packed tight, crowded with adventurers, merchants, and rough-looking sailors deep in conversation or arguments.

Finally, something interesting.

As I made my way through the crowd, sidestepping drunk adventurers and narrowly avoiding spilled ale, I caught bits and pieces of conversations—some boasting about battles won, others grumbling about bad luck or failed quests. But one conversation stood out clearly above the rest, drawing my attention toward a corner table.

There, a group of adventurers were arguing loudly over a large parchment spread across the table. It looked like a bounty or quest listing, and from their heated tones, it seemed important.

"I'm telling you, this is easy coin!" growled a burly dwarf, slamming his fist on the table, and rattling their empty tankards. "It's just some damn wolves. We kill them, we get paid. Simple as that."

"It's never just wolves," countered an elf woman, her voice sharp with annoyance. "If it was that easy, the farmers would have done it themselves. They're not regular animals—something's spooking them."

"And that's exactly why we're getting paid, Lira," snapped a rugged-looking human man beside her, clearly fed up with their arguing. "You think they'd hire adventurers if it wasn't dangerous?"

I stopped a short distance away, intrigued, pretending to admire an old decorative sword hanging on the wall as I listened.

The dwarf snorted. "Dangerous, my ass. We're not green recruits. Besides, it's 100 gold. Easy payday."

The elf woman—Lira—crossed her arms stubbornly. "Not if we end up dead. I'm telling you, something isn't right."

As they kept arguing, I felt that familiar itch at the back of my mind—the feeling that always came before the System nudged me about something important. With a glance around, I subtly pulled up my achievements panel, scanning through the notifications quickly.

My eyes widened slightly at what I saw.

New Achievement Opportunities:

Slay Your First Monster — 100 PP

Complete Your First Quest — 150 PP

Defeat a Creature with a Party — 75 PP

Kill an Alpha Predator — 300 PP (Bonus Reward Possible)

My pulse quickened. Suddenly, these bickering adventurers and their mysterious wolves felt like exactly the opportunity I'd been waiting for. Farming tasks and petty town errands had long stopped paying off. But this—this was the kind of stuff the System rewarded.

Adventure. Real adventure. Risks and rewards.

I glanced back toward the arguing group, feeling a grin creep onto my face. They seemed strong enough to handle trouble—but not so experienced that they'd turn down an extra pair of hands, even if those hands belonged to a seven-year-old. I'd have to convince them somehow, but with my skills, it probably wouldn't take much.

Besides, if things got hairy, I had a bracer full of options and plenty of tricks they couldn't see coming.

I took a deep breath, excitement bubbling up. Helga would kill me for even thinking about this, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Or me. Probably.

Right?

I shoved the doubt down, pushing away from the wall and walking confidently toward their table. As I approached, their argument faded slightly, replaced by cautious curiosity.

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, sizing me up sceptically. "Something you need, kid?"

I smiled confidently, probably a bit cocky, and crossed my arms casually. "Actually, yeah. Heard you needed some extra hands. I'm in."

They stared at me for a moment, stunned into silence.

Then the dwarf burst out laughing. "You? How old are you, boy? Seven? Eight?"

"Old enough," I said firmly, keeping eye contact. "And I promise, I'm a lot tougher than I look."

The elf woman glanced toward her companions, clearly doubtful. But the human man watched me quietly, considering.

After a second of silence, the dwarf erupted into deep, rumbling laughter, pounding the table with a heavy fist. "Are you serious? You're barely old enough to tie your boots, let alone fight monsters."

Lira—the elf woman—shot him a quick glare, then turned toward me with a gentler expression, the kind someone uses when trying not to crush a little kid's dreams. "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm. But these wolves are dangerous. You could get seriously hurt."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm tougher than I look. Seriously. Just let me prove it to you."

The dwarf snorted loudly, exchanging an amused look with the other man. "And how exactly are you gonna do that, squirt? Arm wrestle me?"

More laughter. I scowled slightly, annoyance building in my chest. These guys were seriously starting to piss me off, and I knew I could do way more than arm wrestle. Maybe it was time to show off a bit.

I looked at the dwarf dead in the eyes and smirked. "Actually, yeah. Something like that—but way more interesting."

His laughter died down, and curiosity lit up his eyes. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

I shrugged casually. "How about this? If you land even one hit on me in thirty seconds, I'll walk away and never bother you again. But if you can't touch me, you take me along."

For a moment, nobody spoke. The dwarf's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and Lira let out an astonished laugh. The human man just looked intrigued.

"Kid," the dwarf finally chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, "you've got balls, I'll give you that. But this isn't some playground. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," I said confidently, folding my arms and tilting my head up just a bit. "Trust me."

Lira placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, kneeling slightly to meet my gaze. "Look, it's a clever challenge, but you don't have to prove anything to us. Go home before your parents start to worry."

I gave her an annoyed glance. "Look, I appreciate the big-sister act, but just give me a shot. Worst case scenario, you get a good laugh, right?"

She sighed softly, straightening up and looking at the human man, clearly expecting him to end this ridiculousness. Instead, he smiled slowly, intrigued.

"You know what?" the man said, standing and crossing his arms, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Let's see what you've got, kid. Grom, go easy on him."

The dwarf, Grom apparently, sighed heavily, muttering something about kids these days and stupidity. He got up slowly, rolling his massive shoulders as he cracked his neck.

The patrons around us quickly cleared a small space, interested murmurs filling the inn. Grom cracked his knuckles loudly, clearly trying to intimidate me. I just stood calmly, hands relaxed at my sides, heart pounding with anticipation.

Lira stood nervously to the side, giving me a worried glance. "Don't get hurt."

"Relax," I reassured her, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "This'll be quick."

The dwarf snorted again, eyes glinting dangerously. "Your funeral, kid."

"Thirty seconds," the human man reminded us, watching carefully. "Ready… Go!"

Immediately, Grom lunged forward, quicker than his bulky frame suggested, his big hand swiped toward my shoulder, but I smoothly stepped aside, his fingers brushing nothing but air.

He grunted in surprise and whirled around again, clearly annoyed. His next swing was stronger, quicker—but still too slow. I ducked easily beneath it, moving fluidly around him like he was standing still.

The crowd was starting to murmur now, clearly impressed.

Grom's frustration grew, his swings becoming increasingly wild and uncontrolled. I easily sidestepped each strike. Each miss made him angrier—and clumsier.

I had to admit, it felt awesome.

Finally, with just seconds left, Grom lunged forward with a frustrated growl. I smoothly spun around him, lightly tapping his back with two fingers as he stumbled forward, nearly colliding with a nearby table.

"Time!" the human man shouted, clearly amused.

Grom stared at me incredulously, breathing heavily. "What the hell was that?"

I grinned at him, relaxing my stance. "Told you—I'm tougher than I look."

The crowd erupted into laughter and applause, thoroughly entertained. Even Lira looked impressed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Grom was still breathing heavily, his face beet-red, eyes practically bulging with frustration. His embarrassment quickly twisted into anger. He growled furiously, turning toward me, fists clenched tight enough that the veins on his arms popped out.

"You little punk!" he snarled, grabbing the handle of his warhammer from his back, eyes blazing. "Let's see you dodge this!"

Shit. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Before I could even protest, he swung his weapon straight at me, completely disregarding everyone yelling at him to stop. I rolled my eyes—this guy seriously couldn't handle losing, could he?

In a heartbeat, the black bracer around my wrist rippled and expanded, morphing fluidly into a curved short sword. I raised it instinctively, catching his Warhammer mid-swing. The impact jolted my arm, but surprisingly, I held firm. Grom stared down at me in shock, jaw dropping open.

I smirked, seeing an opening. With my free hand, I quickly traced a simple shape in the air—my fingers sparking to life as I unleashed Igni.

A tiny burst of flame shot forward, landing squarely in the middle of Grom's thick, bushy beard. Instantly, flames crackled and flickered, climbing upward. Grom's eyes went wide as dinner plates.

"My beard! My bloody beard!" he screamed, dropping the hammer and slapping wildly at his face, panicking and stumbling around in circles. "Someone help me, for Moradin's sake!"

The entire tavern erupted into laughter. Even Lira doubled over, clutching her stomach. Drave, the human who'd quietly observed the whole thing, nearly fell off his chair, tears streaming from his eyes as he watched his comrade frantically try to douse his flaming facial hair with ale, only making the fire flare brighter.

Finally, Lira took pity on him, splashing liquid from her mug to extinguish the fire. Grom stood there, dripping wet, beard charred and smoking, looking more humiliated than I'd ever seen anyone in my life.

"Not a word," he growled at his companions. "Not one bloody word."

Drave chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "I dunno, Grom. It suits you. Might start a new trend—smoked dwarf."

Grom glared daggers at me but stayed silent, clearly not wanting a repeat of our earlier dance.

Drave turned to me then, still grinning broadly. "Well, kid, you've got some serious talent. Sure you actually wanna come with us? We attract trouble like flies."

I nodded immediately, adrenaline still pumping. "Definitely."

Drave extended a calloused hand, giving me a genuine smile. "Then welcome aboard, kid. I'm Drave. This is Lira, and you've already met our flaming friend, Grom."

I grinned, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm Fin."

He nodded approvingly, glancing at the rest of the party, who were still smirking at a sulking Grom. "Welcome to The Ravagers, Fin. Hope you're ready for some chaos."

I laughed lightly, retracting my bracer back into its simpler form. "Trust me, I live for chaos."

...

Helga's POV

The alleyways of Yartar's slums hadn't changed much. Still filthy, still shadowed in permanent twilight, and still reeking of old ale, rotting fish, and even older blood. Nostalgia wasn't the right word, but the familiarity brought a strange kind of comfort. I'd walked these streets long before I met him, before the cult and the bloodshed. Before Fin.

I stopped in front of a large, weathered building tucked discreetly among the other run-down structures. Its exterior hadn't changed in decades—still rough timber, still nondescript enough to hide its secrets in plain sight. The door, heavy and reinforced with iron bands, creaked open as I pushed inside.

Warmth and noise enveloped me immediately. The inside was deceptively cozy, lit by lanterns and a roaring fireplace that threw flickering shadows across the wooden walls. A long, polished bar dominated the back of the room, lined with bottles and kegs, manned by a familiar face—older now, but unmistakable.

The place was crowded, and nearly every patron was a woman, each bearing an air of confident danger. Their clothing was casual and relaxed, but I knew better. Beneath their smiles and friendly chatter lay blades, poisons, and hidden secrets. This wasn't just any tavern—it was the secret haunt of Yartar's most infamous thieves' guild: The Hand of Yartar.

A guild I'd once belonged to, long before my life went down its darker path.

A few curious eyes turned toward me, assessing, cautious. No recognition yet. Good. That would come later.

The bartender raised her eyes, stopping short when she caught sight of me. Her eyes widened, then narrowed slowly as recognition dawned.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured, a slow smirk forming on her lips. "The prodigal sister returns."

A hush fell over the room, heads turning my way. I met their eyes evenly, refusing to flinch under their scrutiny.

"Hello, Reina," I greeted quietly, stepping fully into the warm glow of the tavern. "It's been a while."

Reina placed both hands on the bar, her smile cold and calculating, but her eyes held something softer, warmer. "Too long, Helga. Far too long."

The room stayed silent as we stared each other down, unspoken memories and old alliances hanging heavy between us. Then Reina's expression broke into something more genuine—a cautious, welcoming smile.

"Come sit," she said, gesturing toward a stool. "We have a lot to catch up on."

I sighed, tension easing from my shoulders slightly as I moved forward, feeling the familiar weight of hidden eyes watching every step.

I eased onto the stool, feeling the tension lingering in my shoulders. Reina silently slid a mug of ale across the bar, the dark amber liquid sloshing gently inside. I picked it up, staring into it briefly before taking a long, grateful sip. It tasted exactly as bitter as I remembered—like regret mixed with a dash of nostalgia.

Reina watched me carefully, arms folded across her chest as she leaned back against the shelf of bottles behind her. "You know, when you walked out of here all those years ago, I didn't think you'd ever show your face around here again."

I placed the mug down softly, tracing circles on the wooden surface with my fingertip. "I didn't think I'd be back, either."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. "What happened, Helga? You vanished, then suddenly you're mixed up in some cult? Not exactly your style."

I shook my head slowly, unwilling—or maybe just unable—to meet her probing gaze directly. "Things happened. Choices were made. Mistakes. You know how it is."

She snorted softly. "No, I don't. One day you're here, laughing with us over drinks, taking contracts, making coins. The next thing, you're gone—caught up in something dark enough that half the guild didn't even recognise the woman you'd become. Yorz… she took it personally."

I sighed, taking another long drink. Reina wasn't wrong. The last time I'd seen Yorz, the guild leader had practically thrown me out herself. I'd earned that treatment, fighting against the very people who once considered me family. But at the time, I was so sure he had all the answers. I was blinded by promises that never materialized.

"I'm not here to make excuses," I murmured "I'm not even sure I could explain everything that happened if I wanted to."

Reina's eyes softened slightly, curiosity blending with cautious sympathy. "And him? That cult leader. We heard things… dark things. Rumors about what you two were doing out there."

I stared into my mug, my voice barely above a whisper. "Most of it's true."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Damn, Helga. And now?"

"Now…" I hesitated. "Now he's dead. And I'm here because I'm out of options."

Reina studied me carefully, absorbing that quietly. "Out of options, huh?"

I nodded slowly. "Something like that."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "What exactly do you need, Helga? You wouldn't come back here just to drink and reminisce."

I paused, meeting her gaze directly for the first time. "As nice as catching up with you has been, Reina, I didn't come to speak to you. I came here because I need to talk to Yorz."

Reina's eyebrows shot up, confusion clouding her face. "Yorz? Do you think that's a good idea after last time?"

"No," I admitted, finishing the ale and pushing the empty mug toward her. "But I don't have a choice."

Reina watched me closely, her expression softening. "Seriously, Helga, what happened to you out there?"

I hesitated briefly, unsure how much to reveal. But looking at Reina's face—a face from simpler, if still dangerous, times—I sighed, deciding honesty was best for once. "After everything fell apart, I left with my son—"

Reina nearly dropped the mug she was cleaning. "Wait, a son? You?"

I chuckled, a warmth rising in my chest just thinking about Fin. "Yeah, a son. Fin. He's seven going on thirty, I swear. Sharp tongue, attitude for days, but he's good, Reina. Good."

Her surprise slowly melted into genuine amusement. "Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd see you playing mother. You're hyping him up like he's the second coming of Mystra."

"Not quite," I laughed, unable to help the smile spreading across my lips. "But trust me, he's something special. A real pain sometimes, but special."

Reina leaned against the bar, visibly relaxing for the first time since I'd arrived. "I'm glad, Helga. Sounds like you're finally in a better place."

I exhaled slowly. "Better is relative, but...I'm trying. And I have someone to protect now."

She nodded thoughtfully, then eyed me curiously. "Where are you staying? You're not camping outside Yartar, are you?"

"Close," I admitted with a slight grimace. "We're at the River's Rest for now, but it's temporary. Haven't planned beyond tonight."

Reina hesitated for a second, then straightened decisively. "You know, your old place is still available if you want it."

I blinked, stunned. "My old home? The place outside the city? Is it still free?"

Reina winced slightly, offering an awkward smile. "Well, not technically."

Before I could press her for clarification, she gestured for me to follow. With confusion twisting my gut, I stepped out into the night behind her, the chill air biting gently as we made our way through the winding streets of Yartar toward my old property.

We arrived just outside the city limits, and immediately my heart sank.

My modest old home, a quiet cottage on the outskirts, was anything but quiet now. Bright lanterns hung everywhere, music blared from inside, and young nobles—wealthy, clearly drunk—wandered around outside, laughing and shouting as if they owned the place.

"Reina, what the hell?" I growled, turning to glare at her. "Did Yorz seriously—?"

She smirked apologetically, shrugging. "Yeah, after your... disagreement, Yorz was a little bitter. So she sold your place to some noble brats attending that fancy magic academy nearby. It's their version of 'spring break,' whatever the hell that means."

I clenched my jaw, irritation rising. "Wonderful."

She nudged my arm gently, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Come on, Helga. You're not gonna let some spoiled rich kids take your place without a fight, are you? Tell me you've still got it."

I stared at her, comprehension dawning slowly. Then, despite myself, a fierce grin spread across my lips. I cracked my knuckles, feeling the familiar thrill of trouble bubbling up inside me.

"Oh, I've still got it."

Reina laughed heartily, eyes bright with excitement. "Then let's go crash a party."

...

End of Chapter.

For the next few chapters it'll mainly be following the two storylines established here, it want be too long and they should tie up nicely I hope. 

Remember to drop your pictures in the comments, this goes for any character introduced from now on. 

I can't wait to see what you all got.