Excuse me sir/ser, might you be one of the heroes from legend? Good turn to you, I have traveled, WAIT WAIT WAIT! Don't walk away! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear tale, my only wish is to tell your story. True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree? Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you!
The scarred half-orc stared at his fellow traveller. The sun was beginning to set, and he had been about to set up camp. This was a well known camping ground, wide and open, with easy access to a stream nearby. The plain was dotted with rocks, and a forest loomed to the west. The orc glowered at the stranger who had interrupted his rest. He had no desire for conversation, but there were few places as ideal as this in the surrounding area. He could either humour this reporter, or travel another hour or so and fumble in the dark, searching the night for some half-remembered forest clearing.

Now then, What is your name?
"Abe."
Short for Abraham. He didn't feel the need for a family name, so he didn't give one. He didn't deserve one anyway.

Splendid, and your age?
"25."

Fantastic, and your gender good hero
The half-orc slung the stranger an apprehensive look.
"Male."

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers?
"...You have eyes, don't you?"
Abe sat on a rock, his large body mostly covered by a dark green cloak, making it difficult to judge his full size. While he is quite large, he isn't as large as some half-orcs tend to be. His green skin is marred by scars, mostly bites and cuts from beasts' teeth and claws. Evidence of past hunts, past mistakes, and harsh lessons. Sharp black eyes and a fanged mouth give him a very harsh impression, though those more familiar with Abe would detect no particular heat from him. That is simply how he looks. His brown hair is quite long for a man, and it's clear it hasn't been cared for in some time.

His clothes were normal travelling fare, but a longbow rested on his lap, and he was wearing a leather curiass. The longbow was a large, gnarled thing, far away from the elegant curves that elves lobed so much. It looked for all the world as if Abe had just plucked the branch off an ancient oak and tied a string to it, which wasn't too far from the truth.

Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?
"Usually, I don't bother answering nosy humans." Abe said curtly.
A taciturn man, he was. Measured and careful, he always did what he had to do. Survival is first and foremost in his mind, weighing benefits and drawbacks for every action. Yet, when life and death aren't on the line, when Abe doesn't need to worry about having food or a roof over his head, he turns into a warm and generous soul. Not that it showed on his face.

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defense, healing?
"..."
Now he was suspicious of the stranger's intentions.

Abe supposed that it was a fair question. Compared to those he had the honor of calling his companions, he wasn't particularly flashy. His role was to support, on and off the battlefield. He tracked down their quarries, and read the wind for ill omens. He looked for advantageous ground and set traps to fortify it. And in battle, he created opportunities for his fellows with well placed shots. He was reliable, and he relied on his allies in the same way.

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?
"It was just normal."
He was feeling a little sentimental now. So close to home, yet so far. Life in the nomadic lands was simple, but harsh. Hunting, fishing, and moving from place to place. Sometimes your group of people would meet another group of people. If they were friendly they would trade with each other, and if not... A few warning shots usually did the trick.

Things were simple then. Abe himself wasn't a particularly skillful member of the tribe, but he did well enough. He had a mother who loved him, and one grumpy old grandfather that taught him everything he knew. He should have listened to him more.

Abe couldn't help but sigh as he scanned the horizon. The greens and greys of the grass and rocks were dyed pink by the light of the setting sun. The sky would darken soon, and he would be able to see the stars in all their glory. Not the tiny pinpricks that you could see from the cities, but balls of light wreathed in the golden dust that shrouded the night sky. Abe wondered why he had ever left this place, though he couldn't deny what he had gained through his adventures.

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes?
"Just friends."
A light word for some, but not for him. For young inexperienced Abraham, who had been taken advantage of an uncountable number of times, a friend was a rare thing indeed. It meant someone you could trust your back to. And the group had been more than that, in spite of his efforts to distance himself. He was closer to some than to others, naturally, but he generally enjoyed their company very much. Sadly, it had all ended too soon.

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.
"Oh, her."
Abe's musings took on a despondent tone.

There were some things that were only obvious from a distance. Octavia was a strong person, in every sense of the word. Strong of character, strong of arm, strong convictions. But there was also a strange magnetism to her. It was why others flocked around her so much. It was why he had taken her hand when she offered it to him. It was probably why everyone had drifted apart, after everything ended.

I see, and.....did you know?
"..."

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER!

The bowstring thrummed with a mighty twang and the stranger was impaled in the throat by an arrow as long as his arm. The corpse sailed backwards and was pinned to the rock behind it, before it exploded into blood and guts. The half orc sank back down onto his rock with a sigh. He had been looking forward to going home after so long, but he should've known it wouldn't be that easy. But it wasn't like him to leave a job half finished, and apparently, their work was not yet done.

Abraham stood up and began walking. Back the way he came, back towards Bradena. Whether these were the dregs of the cult or some manner of reemergence, things weren't so clear. But he couldn't just sit still and watch it happen.

Death to the cultists, death to the Eldritch once more. Death to the cockroaches of this world, as many times as it took. If not for the world, then for his dear friend Octavia Ravenwood, so that her soul may rest in peace. That was the least he could do for her, who had changed his life so much.

Excuse me sir/ser, might you be one of the heroes from legend?

A small figure, decked out in an almost all black outfit, except for white sleeves from a shirt beneath the black shawl and a white apron, looked up at the journalist through their mask's gray, unblinking eyes.

The journalist's words had already sunken in their mind as they dug through the satchel that had been slung onto their shoulder, but it wasn't until they pulled out a strange, small, crow-like contraption and tossed it into the air when he finally got an answer.

The crow's eyes flashed a pale blue as it flapped its wings and looked at the figure, before looking back at the journalist and saying,

"Yes, I am."

Good turn to you, I have traveled,

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in talking right now," The crow said as it landed on the figure's shoulder, and the figure started to walk away from the journalist. "I already have many things to do, people to heal, illnesses to cure. I think that's much more important than-"

WAIT WAIT WAIT! Don't walk away! Please great hero might you lend me your ear? I have traveled far and wide to hear your tale, my only wish is to tell your story.

"..."

The figure sighs as they look back at the journalist, with the crow opening his mouth again.

"Isn't there another way for people like you to find that out? It's been long enough already for historians and scholars to write about us in the history books, and you can easily find stories about even the rumors that cropped up about us, after we mostly vanished from the public eye, in libraries all across the land!

Or, if you want to get a more…inaccurate and…interesting view of us, there's a tavern near the roads we're currently on, and I've even heard it's open at this time of day. Sure, the tale of how we defeated the dragon that was plaguing the land has been over exaggerated and dramatized, and there's even some romance shoved into it, but it's probably something that a journalist like you would be interested in. Considering that you're not wearing a pin that I don't recognize…and you're also not accompanied by two other journalists, like big, widely known journalist companies usually do…"

True, I suppose if I wanted to know of various deeds I could just visit my local tavern or library, but to get it from the horse's mouth, now that would be a treat, far better than any old watered down story you hear on the streets, wouldn't you agree?

"..."

The figure stares at the journalist again, their mask's eyes giving nothing away. They sigh.

"...Alright, you know what? I'll do it. Only because I want to clear up some things, though."

Oh you will? Joyous occasion! You shant regret this my friend, I promise you!

"I sure hope not."

Now then, What is your name?

"You and your readers can call me Crow, thank you very much."

Splendid, and your age?

"Twenty four."

Fantastic, and your gender good hero?

"As long as the crow flies…you will never know its secrets."

((Out of character for a moment, but Crow's nonbinary, goes by they/them, and likes to answer questions about their gender with cryptic bullshit. Sounds good?))

Excellent and of course I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers? (pictures or a description will do, or both)

https://www.deviantart.com/filibusterfrog/art/traditional-plague-doctor-ranks-828309866

((Crow’s wearing the outfit of the third guy in the picture from left to right, basically. Like, the guy who has the crow mask, but doesn’t look as decorated or impressive as the other crow mask wearing dudes in the picture.

Maybe I’ll make a picture showing Crow with their mask off/wearing a non-plague doctor outfit, but for now, just know that they’re essentially wearing the outfit I told you about above. Well, besides the mask’s big “ears” that Crow’s actual ears go into when they’re wearing plague doctor getup, at least.))

Excellent Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quarks and such. What makes you you?

"Well…"

The crow stops talking as Crow starts to think, rubbing the part of their mask that covers their chin.

"I, at least, try to be polite and open minded, first of all. I find that jumping to conclusions or going off the handle won't serve a person well, so I usually go for a diplomatic approach. I'll fight if I need to, but…I always hope it doesn't have to come to that.

Second, helping people has always been my primary goal. Not for money or fame, but because I want people to live healthy, happy lives, and seeing them finally able to be happy, at least for a while…well, it's a bit cheesy, but it kinda warms my heart, honestly.

Life is so precious and shouldn't be wasted, and hope is the same way. If you give them a reason to hope, you've given them a reason to live as well."

The figure suddenly cleared their throat.

"Enough of the sappy stuff. I've got work to do after this.

Besides all that, I also try to usually be straight to the point if I need to be, as well as assertive. I used to struggle with that when I was younger, often getting caught up in my words, and bending to another's will if they were an authority, or more loud and proud than I was. Over the years, though, I think I've found a good balance of being able to think for myself and be clear and concise in my wording, while also sticking up for others and being thoughtful towards them as well. I still try to be kind, I’m just now overall efficient about it.

I could talk about the things that I need to improve on or my hobbies, but, again, I should be helping others at this time of day, and not standing here and talking about me, myself, and I.

I will say that I love attaining and learning new pieces of knowledge, however, and this mainly applies to everything, even though I usually apply it to making constructs and magical devices. Still though, I love opening my mind up to new things, and applying them to my overall knowledge of everything, you know?"

Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? Do you use it for battle, defense, healing?

The crow’s eyes flashed a pale blue again, and flew to Crow’s now outstretched arm, before they started to pet it. As they did, they also revealed the magical circuitry that was hidden underneath the crow’s feathers, and if the journalist had a keen eye, they could see that there was a bit of a runic language on them as well.

“As you can see, the crow that’s speaking to you right now, Peter, is not real, and was instead magically handmade- pawmade? Nah, that’s stupid.

But anyway, he was made by me, and put together with tarnished silver, some wire, bark, feathers, and fur, and other things, though mostly through some good, old fashioned crafting and magic. He’s my pride and joy, but! If you want to see more of my inventions, I’d be happy to-”

Crow cleared their throat and let their arm drop to its original position, making the crow land and settle back down on their shoulder as well.

“Right, I should show all that at a later time. For both our sakes. But! Back to the question; I’m what others would call an artificer. I make things through crafting and making something new out of things that others would pass by. Though a lot of magic is included in the process of all of my constructs and inventions, I also made them from scratch and worked out the kinks until they work as you want them to. While using only magic to make them function is the easy way to do this, the true joy of creation, I think, is finishing and activating them in tandem with magic. While some of my inventions seem to work as if only through magic and spells, I assure you, Mister…Journalist? That most of the inventions I have in this satchel are 100% handmade, with crafting and magic AND, ready to be used!”

Yes Yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?

“Ah yes, my past. The part that everyone gets mostly right, but still fumbles with some of the details. Might as well correct them while I’m here, I guess.

“First of all, I did not spawn from the depths of the underworld, nor am I an unsettling creature who just appeared in Deilia one day, and whose clothes and mask hide a hideous monster or unsightly abomination underneath. People really need to calm down about not being able to see people like me’s actual appearance, and then pitching a fit about it when we still don’t want them to see what’s behind our masks, jeez!

“No, instead I grew up in a tiny village named Blackstone, which, before I became a famous hero, was a small place consisting of only fifty people. The thing is, though, was that most of them came from other places in Deilia, and my parents weren't an exception to that rule; they were from a part of The Nomadic Lands that was basically a harsh desert, and came to Blackstone in order to trade both knowledge and commerce with the locals, before falling in love and deciding to settle down there themselves.

“And, no. My parents didn't belong to some horrid race or even were eldritch deities, and I don't, either! They were both Tabaxis and belonged to the sand cat subrace, and the people who consist of that subrace are usually smaller than other Tabaxi, are sand colored and usually live in self-made dens in deserts, and mostly work as traders and guides.

“Before you ask: Yes, I am also a sand cat Tabaxi. No, I will not take off even my mask to prove that I am, and I will not let you pet me, either. I'm not in the mood for that right now.

((Out of character, but yes, sand cats do exist, and yes, you can Google them.))

“But anyway, I've talked a lot already, so I'll try to make the rest of this brief.

“I wasn't born mute, actually. In fact, I could talk just as well as any other small child my age when I was younger. How I was cursed to be mute could be a separate story all on its own, but essentially, I intentionally annoyed a sorcerer boy a bit too much when I was eight, and he cast a spell on me that was meant to make me mute for five minutes, but he accidentally cast it as wild magic. From then on, I could sigh, laugh, and cry, but not talk, yell, or whisper, and the spell would last until I died.

“My parents were livid at the boy for this, but soon calmed down when they learned it was an accident. I never really saw the boy again after that, though, and while we were friends before and a bit after the incident, we just went on different paths in life, and kinda forgot to hang out or interact with each other after a while. He did feel pretty guilty about making me mute, however.

“I’ll admit, I was very unsettled at the loss of my speaking voice at first, and also really frustrated at not being able to express myself verbally, like I typically was able to do before the curse. There were other alternatives brought to my attention via my parents, and while those helped, I still wanted some way to be audibly heard.

“At the time, I had been reading a whole lot of books about Jack Candlefoot, a fictional artificer who got cursed with having an upside down candle in place of his right foot. While it was hard and very frustrating to adjust to at first, Jack used his artificer skills and created things that would help him walk around and use his literal candle foot more as a weapon, like a bellows-like contraption that made the small flame on the bottom of the candle foot grow bigger, with Jack using it to make the flame spread out and become a literal fire shield- The Folly of Mother Goose went absolutely nuts, and I love it for that.

“Needless to say, I loved the series, and was inspired by it to make a contraption that I could use to act as my speaking voice. My parents were both rogues that used their skills in different ways, but they still tried to help me as best as they could. Ultimately, it was I who put the finishing touches on him, only to realize that I had used a bit too much magic on him when it came to his animation, because he turned out to be alive and had a mind of his own after he opened his eyes.

“After a bit of gawking at his sentience and not really paying attention to his barrage of endless questions because of it, I telepathically(yes, me and him have a telepathic link to each other, even now) told him my name, and agreed to help him figure out what everything he was now looking at was and how it worked, but only if he acted as my voice. He readily agreed to this, so I named him Peter, after…er, nothing special, really! I just liked how the name sounded at the time, I guess...”

Crow trailed off, looking at Peter on his arm. Peter looked back with a neutral stare, a blank smile on his beak. Crow sighed again, though this seemed like a much heavier one than the previous.

Unbeknownst to the journalist, thoughts started swirling in Crow’s head; memories of Peter dying in an inferno after making sure that Crow would get out of the area safely, and how, when Crow had finally managed to put Peter back together again, they realized too late that, while they had retrieved Peter’s body back from the hellfire, their friend was still lost to them.

For now, while Peter’s body was rebuilt, no matter what Crow could do, they still couldn’t get back his mind…

A sudden throat clearing from the journalist made Crow jump, before shaking their head and getting them back on track.

“Sorry, I just…I was thinking of someone dear to me…but, you don’t want to hear about that, do you? You just want to hear me debunk more rumors and tall tales about my personal life. That’s how most small or tabloid papers are these days, really.

“…Might as well get to why I wear this outfit almost all the time, or at least when I’m out in public. When I was a young preteen…teen…don’t really remember, many people in Blackstone had caught an illness that healthy professional healers and scholars in the village called, “The Freezing”. It was a disease that was in the air that winter, and that you could catch from other people in the area. It’s main symptom was your body temperature slowly going from normal to below zero, hence the name, and while it initially seemed to be the flu but way worse, towards the end of the sickness’ reign, many people died of hypothermia due to how low their body temperature had become. Warm blankets heated up by magic and hot soups didn’t seem to help the matters, unfortunately, and neither did the fact that no one knew where the illness came from.

“Prior to popular belief, “The Freezing” was the reason I began to wear this whole getup, and not because I was hiding something or whatever. While research surrounding the disease was little at the time, professional healers and scholars quickly figured out that, as I previously said, you could either catch it in the air and from others, and soon, everyone in the village who was involved with helping the sick had to wear outfits similar to mine.

“I, thankfully, didn’t catch the illness at any time, but my parents did. I tried to help both them and the other afflicted, but no matter whatever invention that was supposed to heal them or defend against the virus that I made, nothing worked. Eventually, my parents died because of it, and half because of the grief and pain I now felt and half out of desperation to save my village from this vicious virus, I volunteered to go to the nearby city and see if anyone could help it while I was in there.

“It only took an hour and a half to arrive, but because of the snow, ice, and high winds, it felt like it took forever. I went through what could’ve been a dozen people, trying to see if anyone could help. However, due to either lack of payment, being busy with adventuring, distrust of outsiders, or just overall indifference, no one answered my desperate plea to help my village, even if some of them thought I was cute.

“That is, until I came across an older gentleman, who gladly volunteered his services and knowledge to help combat the disease, if I decided to help his superior, Madame Ravenwood.

“Not knowing much about her, I still said yes in a heartbeat, being so desperate at this point that I would do anything to save my home.

“And, well, the rest is history.”

I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes
(So this is an idea I had that acts as sort of a life path system. Since we already know each other, I figured we could all talk about our relationship towards one another)

((I’ll keep this blank for now as well, as I don’t really know the other people’s characters to portray them accurately in this section of the sheet.))

So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope.

“Madame Ravenwood, or Octavia, as I later got to know her by, greeted me with open arms when I came in to uphold my end of the gentleman’s bargain. She also gave me a hot drink, which was nice of her.

She was almost like a big sister to me, despite also being an overall authority figure. I was pretty fond of her, all things considered, and I hope she’s doing alright now, all things considered.”

I see, and.....did you know?
Peter paused for a moment.

“Know about what?”

Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?

“What are you-”

Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?

“Oh…oh no…”

Crow stepped back, Peter still on their arm and staring blankly at the “journalist”. Crow, meanwhile, had reached into their satchel and pulled out an orb with orange highlights, and markings on the center of it that looked like a sun.

What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?

“Stand back!” Crow shouted at the “journalist”, who they could now see very clearly was an evil cultist. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must!”

We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!

“...Bit-”

Inside the mask, Crow clenched their teeth. They threw the orb at the cultist at his face with full force, making the orb drop to the ground and start beeping, with the sun starting to move and act as a sort of timer.

“You’re not allowed to call her that!” Crow yelled, clenching his fists. “Octavia was a role model to me, and also a friend! What do you know about her, besides what your echo chamber cult says about the whole situation!?”

YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (que explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)

Instead of answering, Crow started to run away, with the orb finally exploding and causing a large explosion of light, which killed the cultist and sent loads of blood and some guts flying everywhere.

Meanwhile, Crow was running to the nearby mayor’s office, with Peter flying behind him. Their current appointments at the back of their mind, Crow reasoned that they could reschedule them all later.

After all, the cult’s comeback was much more important to deal with, at least for right now.