• The girl peaked over a hill overlooking the desert valley as the caravan passed through. She avoided being spotted for fear of being thought an assassin. Far from it; she was simply spying for a glimpse of her father. Her mother spoke of him as a hero, a rare commodity in these parts. She knew his hero blood coursed through her veins and she just wanted to know this mystery man as best she could... albeit from the distance her shy, mousy personality permitted.

    The spyglass didn't lie. The average looking man in the torn and dusty rags was definitely him. She noticed how remarkably uninteresting he appeared. He seemed, from the creases in his face, to be a smiling, laughing man, but she couldn't be certain he really cared much for anything. She knew from his reputation the man worked mostly as a mercenary, but then why is he spoken of as a hero? He's supposed to be some great warrior-poet and yet here he is--

    Suddenly the Viashino lizard men sprung out from below the caravan! Like serpents of the desert sands they lunged forward wielding sharp spears and quickly dispatching the guards. Fearing for her father's life, the girl watched in awe as his eyes began to glow a bright blue. His hands, a red haze appearing around them, lit up and as he raised open palms at his assailants an array of tiny bolts of light shot forth. The attackers found themselves quickly dying to his defensive attacks and began positioning themselves to deal with him as a team rather than letting him pick them off one by one. As they sped up their attacks so did he until finally all was just a blur of flashing reds and blues colliding in an explosion of hues of violet.

    When the smoke cleared and the dust settled and the shouts finished echoing off the canyon walls, she saw her father standing unharmed in a ring of reptilian corpses. Now, she whispered to herself, she understands why he was called a hero.