“Dave left me a rough character sketch for his fighter, Beiron,” says Bert.

“This should be good,” says Yvonne.

“His character sketch was basic. It said: ‘Soldiers in their shiny armor fascinated young Beiron Shaelar when they marched through the city. He longed to carry a greatsword across his back as he swaggered through Brookhaven. When he was big enough, he lied about his age, and joined the King’s Guard.’ That’s all he gave me, so I came up with this.”

###

The commander entered the barracks, scanning the recruits. Beiron stood next to his bunk. He hated the discipline that came with the training, but figured as soon as he fulfilled his commitment, he’d leave the company and go in search of adventure.

“Atten-shun!” shouted the sergeant. Every recruit stood ramrod straight, shoulders back, arms rigid at their sides, eyes locked on a point across the room.

Commander Qillian looked on with approval.

“They look good sergeant. Are they ready?”

“I believe so, sir. We’ve been practicing for weeks.”

“Very good.” The commander turned to the recruits. “You are about to take part in a mock battle. Each squad will have its assignment and leader. Good luck, recruits.”

The commander saluted and departed the barracks.

“Okay, you clowns,” the sergeant addressed the company, “here’s your assignments…”

Beiron was in the second squad. His slowness and lack of stealth prevented him from aiding in capturing the enemy tower. So, he defended theirs with other recruits. The two sides stood at attention on their respective ramparts, awaiting the signal to begin.

The trumpet sounded, and several recruits vanished from view. A few others rushed up the middle, fanning out to defend against potential attackers. Beiron and two others remained on the bulwark, waiting for the inevitable attempt to take their flag. The defenders felt inspired to stop their adversaries.

When the assault finally came, it caught Beiron flatfooted. He missed the stealthy pair, who slipped in unnoticed while he focused on the action at the far end of the field. When he realized what had happened, he lost his temper. Not one to admit his error, he attacked the slower man with more force than necessary. He hit the man in the back with his wooden training sword. The man screamed, falling to the ground, not moving. Beiron continued to beat the prone figure until the sergeant and three others pulled him off.

He spent that night in a small, locked cell. Two armed guards stood outside the barred door.

###

“That’s the best I could come up with, given the lack of information about this character,” says Bert.

“This ‘Beiron’ sounds like a piece of work,” says Sandra. “Considering some of the other characters Dave’s played, I guess I’m not too surprised.”

“Yea, I’d already taken his style into account when I wrote his character’s part in the campaign.”

“This should be good, then.”

“Okay.” Bert redirects the group back to their stories. “Who’s next?”

(To be continued)