It started with a sheep... It's always a damned sheep. Whenever a story starts with a person, usually a boy, watching the sheep you just know the animal is going to wander off somewhere and start the whole thing going. And so it is with this story.
Contrary to popular opinion, sheep are not the catalyst for adventures solely because they are stupid, except when attempting to kill themselves in which case they display flashes of demented genius, it is also because Cayden Cailean recognized them as the perfect method of providing those with the potential a chance to become accidental heroes.
Impura has no mother, no father, and no siblings, or rather, she doesn't know if she has any, and doesn't know where she came from. In fact, she came from a small village nearby. Her mother died giving birth to Impura and her twin sister. She is survived by her husband, a daughter, the eldest, and a son, only a little older than the twins.
Raised in a branch of the Sisters of the Golden Erinyes, Impura learned two things: First, that she is filth. An aberration so vile that even the vermin who spawned her abandoned her. Only the Sisters had the patience and fortitude to see if something so lowly could be made into a useful creature. Everything she is, or could be, is from an investment made by those graced by the wisdom of Eiseth, and investments must be repaid.
Second, she is the stronger one. In the monastery, children must fight to survive. The winners of the nightly sparing matches are given food. Those that lose must do without. While some achieved victory through guile or strategy, Impura learned to strike hard, fast, and relentlessly. Strength from victory, victory from strength. That is the second lesson she learned.
No acolyte is allowed the title sister, or allowed to venture beyond the monastery, until she achieves the first level of proficiency in one of the styles of combat. Her chosen style reflects her strengths. The dragon, a creature of overwhelming offense. And thus she became sister.
Sister she may be, but she is still the lowest of such, barely fit to bear the title, and here is where the sheep becomes important. Among her duties was the tending of the Sisters' flocks. A job well suited to a brutish creature like herself, barely above the animals she tended. One day, a sheep was noticed to be missing. Finding its trail, Impura followed. Through the well-kept pasture and into the woods beyond. From somewhere in the trees, came the smell of roasting meat and the course laughter of men. There were two, laughing as they ate. A woman bound beside them. From a bowshot's distance, Impura called to them. The sheep belongs to the Sister's. Punishment and recompense are required for this.
Recompense? You mean pay for it? Well, come 'ere and I'll pay you for the trouble. The man replied with a suggestive gesture. But if you run along now, we might not even follow ya. Said the second with a shooing waves.
And that was all she needed. Rules had been broken and the punishment must be given. Impure had chosen her distance well. Distance increases speed, which increase power. In a few seconds it was over. They were weak and had stolen from the Sisters. It was just.
Once freed the woman gave her thanks, and promised a reward if Impura would take escort her home. A place called the Dragon's Draught. Normally, Impura would have declined and returned to the monastery. Impura should have returned to the monastery. But something about the experience called to her. The crunch of bone, the taking of life, the adoration of this pitiful creature. It was intoxicating. Tearing into the half-cooked flesh, the first time so much food had been hers, and hers alone, she looked at the girl. In her mind a voice seemed to echo, We will take all that life has to offer, we will suck the marrow from its bones, and we will laugh.
She smiles, Let's take you home.
