A simple incantation and a snap of my fingers lights the campfire. I had been left in charge of setting camp tonight; the party’s warrior and ranger were hunting for game, while the rogue secures our perimeter, setting up noise traps made from tins and ball bearings to detect intruders. In an adventuring party, it’s important to share out jobs evenly. Doubly so for a ‘hero’ party. I must find myself wondering once per day what makes all of us so special that the Hero would choose us for this journey. An old one-eyed ranger, a young warrior with more anger than skill to him, a rogue that by all laws of the land should have been executed… and me, a mage who can barely manage more than a spark. Maybe one or two firebolts on a good day. She could have had the greatest, most skilled adventurers in the nation at her beck and call…
The hero comes out of her tent, carrying with her a new pair of gloves, freshly crafted. Better than anything we ever find in stores… hell, better than some legendary gear I’ve heard of. She always spends every stop to camp crafting and improving our gear, maintaining all of it. I wonder sometimes if it’s more out of pity than anything. She goes up to me and puts them in my hand.
“Here, try these on. We need to check the fit!”
I glance down at the gloves and slip them on. The mana flows through them easily, sparks circling around them. They’d probably make my spells use less than half as much energy. I turn my hands around this way and that, marveling at the craftsmanship, still lost in thought. She shoves my shoulder.
“So? Pretty great, right?” She’s grinning at her own statement when I look over my shoulder at her. She always takes pride in… everything she does, really.
“They’re astounding.” I respond.
She frowns. There must have been something in my tone. She puts her hand on my shoulder and shakes me gently. “Hey, I can tell when you’re brooding, you know. What’s going through that big wizard brain of yours?”
I try to give her a smile. “It’s nothing, really. I was just thinking…”
She listens to me trail off, and sits down next to me by the fire. “Yeah? About what?” She actually looks serious for once as she asks me the question.
I poke her on the forehead. “Now you’re brooding too? Go back to being irresponsible, if you stay serious for too long the sky will crumble.”
She slaps my hand down with a laugh. “Ass.”
I look into the fire for a little while, meditating on things… she’s patient, waiting for me to respond in my own time. “I was just thinking… why us? Why this… band of misfits? You’re a hero. You could have anybody for your party.”
She puts an arm around my shoulders. “Well, lemme ask you a question. What do you think is the most important thing for a hero to have?”
I have to think on that too. It’s not something I’d really considered before… “Strength? Bravery? …Luck?” I’m listing off anything I can think of, really. I’m not certain where she’s going with this line of inquiry.
She shakes her head. “Bravery is close, but… not quite right. No, the most important thing for a hero… well, let me tell you a story. From my childhood.”
I nod, sitting myself down to listen. The rogue had returned at some point. He’s pretending to be aloof, like usual, but I can tell he’s listening even as he sharpens his knives.
The Hero takes a breath. Trying to gather her emotional strength, I presume…
“Okay, so. You know I was raised in the Church, as an orphan. What you might not know is… I hated it.” She laughs, a little bitter. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. They meant well, they did their best… but to the priests, raising the orphans was just another job. They did it out of obligation, not love. Every day, I… I spent them missing my parents. Wondering who they were, even though I never knew them. Seems stupid now; they probably never gave me a second thought after abandoning me. Ah, sorry… getting side-tracked.”
“So, the church…” she continues on. “three square meals per day, tutoring in the holy scriptures and a variety of useful every-day skills… some of the nuns came into our bunkroom and read us bedtime stories sometimes. But… it still wasn’t any environment for a child. Children are selfish. They demand attention from their families, from each-other… but the nuns, well. They had other priorities before us. Again, I don’t hold it against them. It was definitely better than being on the streets. At the time though? I resented them for it.”
“It was mostly the children looking out for each-other. Older kids trying to grow up and be parents for the younger all at the same time. They were a bit better… but it was still something they did because they ‘should’ do it. Not because they wanted to. Still more out of duty than love.” She’s looking at something far-off, remembering her time at the church… not fondly, I would imagine.
“There was one kid who was a bit different though. For her, helping the other kids, taking care of them… it wasn’t just a duty; it wasn’t something she did just because nobody else would. She had… drive. A spark. The difference between doing something because you should, and doing something because you must. She gave us her all, a big sister and parent all in one. All of us loved her for it too.” She holds up a single finger, nodding towards me.
“So, to answer your question… the girl was a hero to me. Helping me find happiness, not because she was better at raising us than the nuns, but because she had resolved herself to do it. Because she put her heart and soul into it. So, if you ask me why I chose this group… well, I know you have your flaws. Those aren’t what I define you all by, though. I look at this party…” She glances around the campfire at everyone, the ranger and warrior having returned in the middle of the story and sat to listen. “I see a ranger who gives his all to protect nature. A warrior who burns with the need to defend the weak. A rogue who refused to let the law shove him off into the corner to die… and you, a mage who drives on ahead, learning how to be more and more efficient with the mana you have rather than just letting your low capacity stop you.”
I smirk a bit, leaning back to glance up at the stars, and respond to her story. “So… a bunch of nobly stubborn idiots?”
“Hey, stubbornness is a good thing! I wouldn’t trade a single one of you for any of those guild adventurers that treat all of this like a job. What are their ambitions? To make money and gain fame? Nah, I’d take a stubborn idiot like you any day of the week.”
The rogue raises his hand. “Also in it for money and fame over here.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, the tension firmly and completely being crushed into dust at his affronted look. The warrior starts laughing, which sets off everyone else. Even me, the ‘broody’ mage.
Well, I can agree with her on one thing, at least, even if I think she’s overestimating me… I wouldn’t trade this group for any other either.
Commentary: It’s pretty common, in games and novels both, for the hero’s party to be fairly ‘unique’ compared to others in the same profession. I wrote this piece to explore that a little; why would a hero favor a band of misfits and oddballs? The answer I came up with was, essentially, ‘because they’re looking for something more important than mere technical skill.’