In the city of Kaer Maga, it is said, one can find anything, so long as it doesn't find you first. Kaer Maga being the City of Strangers, there are never a shortage of residents who have yet to recognize quite how literal this warning is. Strangers being what they are, many find the lesson to be a terminal one. There are a great many ways to die in Kaer Maga, as there are a great many ways to live. The great irony of both is, of course, that you can only choose one.
Or, at least, most can.
But of all the many things one can find in Kaer Maga, it is best known for second chances.
Spoiler: Mitch
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, a man who has never once thought of himself as such. Mister Vanilla lived the life he was meant to, every step following the path which had been charted for him. Even those who charted the path seldom had much to say about Mister Vanilla; a good worker, to be sure, but not a man to stick in one's memory.
And thus he drifted through life, as close to a cnidarian as any man could aspire to be. If he had achieved no great accomplishments, it must be acknowledged that he had also suffered no crushing defeats. This was, he told himself, better than many could say, and in any case a tie was certainly better than a loss in the game of life. He lived a simple life, and he died a simple death. In a dark and hollow room, he found death at the hands of a gentle killer, a quiet end to a quiet life.
He died. He knew that he died, with a certainty that left nothing to doubt.
And yet here he lies, in an alley off Downmarket. He recognizes it, of course he does, nowhere else could such a riotous display of mercantile spirit be found, he would know it in a moment. He is alive, and to all appearances unharmed, as though taken in the moment of death (though it is clearly not the moment of his death, for the sun is shining brightly above, visible in the market as in few other places in the city) and revived, halfway across the city.
As he awakens, he notices an oddity, a slight irregularity in his regular existence. He is not entirely unchanged after all, for there is something in his hand, something he has never laid eyes upon before in his life. It's a coin, a small coin, made of some dull grey metal he doesn't recognize. Upon closer inspection, the surface of the coin is covered in fine markings, delicate lines drawn in geometric designs which almost fall into regular patterns, but never quite do. He feels, for no reason he could name, that the coin is important, and very strongly that he should keep it safe and hidden from prying eyes.
Having looked at his new coin, he decides to set out for the grand Bank of Abadar, for if there is anywhere he might find an answer to the mystery of his death and rebirth, surely it must be there.
Spoiler: Rose
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, a woman who has always dreamed of seeing herself as such. Rose is an adventurer of the truest sort, a scion of the grand old tradition. Having always longed for action, for victory in the face of hopeless odds and daring deeds against the most terrible of foes, she had little realized how far she had exceeded her goals in finding Kaer Maga. Thinking herself powerful and secure in her magic, she struck out boldly into a strange city, and soon found to her chagrin that she was neither. A blade in her chest, she watched her life's blood flow out onto the stone, and knew in her heart that she was doomed to be forgotten as though she never lived at all.
And yet, she stirs. She lives. She finds herself lying on the ground in one of the darkened warrens of the city, alive, seemingly unharmed. People pass her by on all sides without a second glance, for this is the City of Strangers, and who would extend a hand to help a stranger? Who would stop to give aid to a foreign face? The answer, clearly, was no one.
Yet Rose knew that she should not think such negative thoughts. She was alive, and this was far more than she had expected. Though she finds, after a moment, that she is not fully unchanged, for she is holding something in her hands, something she's never seen before. A box the size of her head, it seems oddly patchwork, assembled from pieces of a dozen different kinds of wood, each a different color. After a moment she realizes it is a puzzle, that the pieces of wood are meant to slide over one another until at last they found the proper arrangement. She finds that all her cleverness cannot open the puzzle box, though the shifting pieces of the puzzle form odd, intricate geometric patterns as they move. She feels, for no reason she could name, that the puzzle is important, and very strongly that she should keep it safe and ponder further over its mysteries.
Having looked at her new puzzle, she decides to set out to find the Duskwardens, for she has few other friends in this city, and after what has happened she thinks that she very much needs a friend. She furthermore decides to duck through an alley just up ahead, though this choice might seem an odd one for her. This will turn out to be a fortunate decision, since to her surprise and pleasure, she will find that a certain fox happens to be scavenging for her supper there.
Spoiler: Istila
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, a woman who would seem at a glance to be far too free a spirit for such a weighty title, though there is a heaviness upon her soul. Istilia Ennira is an artist, but one who has known darkness as well as light, and seen too well that terrible beauty which dwells therein. The onus which she carries is a heavy one, and while she may still dance, let no one think that dance is unburdened. For did not that burden pull her down from her dance, a star falling from the sky, gone before it struck the ground? Did not that burden kill her?
And yet she lives. Lying on the stone beside two tall stone pillars, she awakens, and after a heartbeat she remembers. For a moment she thinks that it was all but a dream...but no, it cannot have been, it is far too real, and in any case she can feel that heavy darkness within her spirit still. Those visions, she realizes, were a madness, a corruption in her mind, and she resolves at once not to investigate them any further, for doing so can only end poorly.
A moment later, she realizes, as well, that she is not wholly unchanged, for even beyond the memory and the power she can feel within her, she is holding something, something that she has never seen before. A glance shows it to be a Harrow card, though not from her deck, nor any other that she can recall. It depicts the Juggler, in its eternal and capricious dance, and on the reverse is drawn a complex geometric design, one which draws the eye and doesn't want to let it go. She feels, for no reason that she could name, that the card is important, and very strongly that she should keep it safe and consider what it might portend.
Having looked at her new card, she decides to go to the inn in which she was staying. This was, as she recalls, the last place she was before that creeping madness consumed her wholly, and perhaps she can find the beginnings of an answer there.
Spoiler: Kiyanna
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, though she would likely dispute such an accusation were it leveled at her. She? He? Or, perhaps, something both and neither? In this, as in much else, Kiyanna was an enigma, a study in contrasts. She is beautiful, yet he chooses to abandon that beauty. She is memorable, yet he has made his past a mystery. She is foolish enough to attempt a stunt far beyond her abilities, and yet he is very nearly skilled enough to succeed.
Nearly. But in some things, to fail by an inch is as punishing as to fail by a mile, and the stones of the city are not forgiving. She fell, and he died.
And yet here they lie, in the streets of Oriat, as though spared in the moment of their death. People pass by on all sides without a second glance, of course they do, for it's just one more fool sleeping off a night of revelry within the endless revel. He awakens, and for a moment thinks that he was lucky and the accident wasn't lethal...but no, of course she wasn't, no one is that lucky.
And furthermore, she isn't entirely unchanged, for he's holding something, something that they've never seen before in their life. It's a scarf, superficially similar to those it wears, and yet infinitely different beneath the surface. Woven of some fine, nearly transparent golden fabric, it weighs hardly more than a happy thought, and one can barely see the vastly complex geometric patterns which decorate its surface and seem to shimmer as it moves. Kiyanna feels, for no reason Kiyanna could name, that the scarf is important, and that Kiyanna should keep it safe and flaunt it for all the world to see.
Having looked at her new scarf, she decides to go to the Foxy Scarf. She wants to know what happened, he's feeling a need for a drink, and it thinks that its favored hangout is as good a place as any to find one or both of these things.
Spoiler: Peregrin
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, a man who at a glance seems far removed from the title. Heroes are envisioned battling the troubles of the world, and Peregrin Ardoc lived his life at one remove from them. A brilliant man, gifted as few others are, he possessed a similarly vast ignorance, a blind spot so pervasive that he never quite recognized its existence. The strength of his genius was enough to carry him over this pit, and so he lived his life without ever fully grasping the magnitude of his own lack of vision, until the day he died.
Died? Peregrin Ardoc was murdered, and he never saw it coming.
And yet here he is, lying on the stones of the street in Cavalcade. He recognizes it at once, of course, for where else in the city might one find the canals, the ceaseless mills and forges, and above all else the open sky, from which the blazing sun glares down at him? He is alive, and seemingly unharmed, though he remembers dying with a clarity that laughs in the face of any denial he could muster.
He is not entirely unchanged, though, for he is holding something within his hands, something that he has never seen before in his life. It is a box, of some fine dark wood that he doesn't recognize, subtly carved in elaborate geometric patterns, with a metal handle protruding from its side. A moment's examination reveals it to be a music box, a device which through incredibly fine engineering produces a soft, mournful tune when the handle is cranked. He feels, for no reason that he could name, that the box is important, and very strongly that he should keep it safe and marvel at the brilliance of its design.
Having looked at his new box, he decides to return to Bis, and find his family there. His brother is owed a visit, and perhaps there he can find some hint as to what has happened.
Spoiler: Juma
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We see, now, the first of our unlikely heroes, a man who always hesitated to apply such a lofty name to himself. A troubled soul, Juma had always felt a certain insecurity, an inability to see himself except through a haze of darkness and shame. Desperate for acceptance, he dedicated himself fully to those who took him in, and in the process cut himself off from any other who might. He found too late that they didn't understand, and never really had. Lost at sea and alone in the world, he chose his end.
Weep for our hero, for he has lost his way.
And yet he did not end, but rather, has only just begun. He is alive, the thousand wounds from which he spilled his life upon the dusty ground nothing more than a faded memory upon his skin. He awakens, and finds himself lying upon the ground on the Street of Little Gods. People pass him by unnoticed on every side, and why should they not? Even in the City of Strangers this is a place of extremes, the home of mad oracles and true believers. Here, a man who gave up his eyes to gain a greater sight is not such an outlandish thing at all.
He is not entirely unchanged, though, for he holds something within his hand, something he has never seen before in his life. A dagger with a narrow curved blade, it is made of some black metal that he does not recognize, something that does not seem to catch the light so much as devour it. The delicate, complex geometric patterns on the blade cannot be seen, only felt as the skin passes over the metal. He feels, for no reason that he could name, that the blade is important, and very strongly that he should keep it and remember from whence it came.
Having looked at his new blade, Juma decides to return to the church of Vildeis, and see if he can find kinship there once again following his atonement.