"We have to travel through that? The thorns will eat us alive!"
Chora looked in despair at the hills that were covered with what seemed to be an endless sea of thorny brier.
"And by my approximation, it'll take us six days to get there if we travel at dwarf speed," Valor, the raptoran squawked heartily.
He seemed to be unfazed, as if he was happy that the party would be going through tough terrain for the first time.
"Bah, shouldn't be a problem. Let's march," the dwarf, Dwallen grunted.
The group decided that Chora would ditch her armor and march ahead with Valor while Dwallen marched at his own pace. Although slower, Dwallen's constitution would allow him to force his way through the fatigue. He was very enduring, you could say. The going started out slow and steady. But it got slower. The sea of thorns began to take its toll on the adventurers as they got caught everywhere: inside boots, down socks, into pants, up the pants, and places that should never be mentioned. Every hour or so, the members would have to stop and spend 10 minutes pulling out the thorns in order to keep walking somewhat comfortably. The whole situation was very unappetizing.
Nevertheless, Chora was excited to finally be traveling with her peers and going to fight a terrible evil. She was eager to make a name for herself and tell stories about her accomplishments. It was her chance to show her teeth and take a bite out of evil. The hardships that she endured throughout her life were finally going to be worth it. She had been an outcast, shunned by her community that despised anybody who was not 100% human. Her family had disowned her when they had found out about her dragon lineage. She took up singing as a bard in order to gain the affections of friends and win back her family. However, even with her talents, she was eventually thrown out of her village at the age of 15 (which was considered adulthood). With no friends or family, only her song was there to guide her. Chora roamed the Dawn Way, barely living off of the gold from her performances. She sang songs of bravery, perseverance, and love in order to help her forget about her exile. Life on the road was never safe, especially as a homeless teenage girl. It was a cat-eat-cat world out there. However, she was good with words; she could talk her way out of almost any situation. Her voice was her only companion.
One fateful day, her inspirational song caught the attention of Captain Lars Ulverth, the leader of Brindol's Lion Guard as he was walking down the streets of Brindol.
"What is your name, kind girl?"
"Captain Ulverth! My name is Chora," she said as she fell to her knees. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."
"Get up, Chora. No need for this."
She scrambled to her feet, her face turning red.
"My soldiers are trained and combat-ready. But the problem is that they have no motivation. They lack the fire in their souls to fight. You are a bard, Chora?"
"Yes sir."
"Then I must ask you this question. Would like you to join the Lion Guard as a standard-bearer? Your music would do wonders on my men."
"Oh! Of... of course, I'll do it! It'd be my honor!"
"Excellent."
Ulverth pulled out a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and gave it to Chora along with five pieces of gold.
"Report to the barracks to get your uniform and equipment. The money is for your personal spending; spend it wisely."
Chora stared at the gold pieces in her hand with wide eyes. She had never held this much money before. Ulverth laughed.
"And don't worry, you will be getting paid for your service, Chora. Good day. I will see you tomorrow at sunrise in the training yard."
At first, Chora thought she bit off more than she could chew. She thought that she would only be standing there with the banner and singing her magical bardic song. However, all members of the Lion Guard were required to know how to fight. It was over the course of two years that Chora found her true calling and became an excellent Fighter. Her meteoric rise through the ranks of the Lion Guard caught the attention of not only the Captain, but also many enemies. She became tough enough to lead platoons of Guardsmen against the threats that faced Brindol. She charged her way through rebels, thieves, and mercenaries alike. Her favorite tactic was to run right into the thick of it and sunder all of her opponents' weapons. For this purpose, she had forged a magical adamantine greatsword that could cut through steel like butter. Her recklessness and eagerness to prove herself, partnered with her distinct lack of awareness of the battlefield around her, however, meant that she got hurt. A lot. Chora was especially prone to surprise ambushes and vicious flanks. Ulverth saw this potentially fatal flaw, and as a gift for her years of service, he gifted her with magical full plate. This armor kept Chora alive and well, and it even made the difference between life and death in some of her battles.
One fateful night, Chora received a vision from none other than the King of the Good Dragons himself, Bahamut. She dreamed that she lay on a field of grass, staring straight up into the starry night sky. A streak of platinum raced across the sky and exploded, revealing Bahamut himself. The Platinum Dragon then told her of the coming darkness and said that her story had given him hope in humanity. Bahamut knew of her gold dragon blood, and told her that it was imperative that she embrace her long-suppressed draconic heritage and channel the power to fight for him. He told her than he had a vision that Chora would die in combat against a mysterious foe named Azaar Kul, but that her party would emerge victorious in the end due to her sacrifice. He said that her body would be sent back to her home village and buried. She would finally be honored.
When she awoke, she immediately told the captain of the vision and set off on her quest to awaken her dragon side. He wished her farewell, fully aware of the importance of her mission. Her journey led her to many places, and Chora found herself once again wandering the Dawn Way. Endless arcane research and learning Draconic allowed her great insights, and visions of dragons soaring through the skies at night signaled her growth. She first started to grow dragon scales, and then dragon teeth and claws. The growth frightened and excited her at the same time. It was after a week at Starsong Hill that she discovered her ability to breath fire. She was on her way to becoming a full-fledged servant of Bahamut. It was at the hill that she met Valor and Dwallen. They told her of their quest and Chora immediately knew that they spoke of the darkness that Bahamut told her she was destined to vanquish. She pounced at the idea of being able to travel with the pair, and they accepted her into the group. They then traveled to fight the Red Hand.
The Ghostlord was their goal, and they had his phylactery. He was located in the Thornwaste. The wizard at Brindol teleported the party there, and there they appeared. The march through the brier was on.
Now, normally gazelles are wonderful creatures. They are beautiful, graceful creatures that wander through the savannas without a care in the world. But those are the gazelles wearing +2 full plate. Chora was also beautiful and graceful, but she was lacking the armor. She also looked pretty much the same as one of them unarmored gazelle-types when she was torn apart by two pouncing 3500-pound Dire Lions. Her soft, unarmored flesh made an excellent scratching post for the big cats' dire claws and dire teeth. Except in this case, the scratching post was ripped into multiple pieces that were left barely attached to each other by thin ligaments and strings of flesh. Chora's blood spattered everywhere and soaked the dry earth. What was once a living thing was now a pile of entrails, flesh, and bits of lung. The lions began eating the body. One of them bit off the right half of her head and crunched her skull in its mouth, half brains and eye and hair and all, without a care in the world. The other, clearly disgusted by the other lion's lack of manners, began the meal by biting off her toes one-by-one, being sure not to waste any scraps of flesh. Unfortunately, the classiness of that one lion would never be known by anyone, because from the sky rained down fiery, electric death. The lions had thought that it was just a lone bird floating in the sky. But they were wrong. It was a bird with SPELLCASTING ABILITIES.
"What the hell, Lionel? How is that bird shooting fireballs at us?" one lion asked with a growl.
"Beats me. Maybe it's a wild shaped Druid?"
Before they could discuss the issue at hand further, the lions were promptly killed. And although on one hand, Chora wished for her intact body to be buried in her home village, on the other hand, the fireball personally thought that cremation was a more viable, simpler alternative. Given the current spell economy of course. And so, the body of Chora, which was missing the right half of her head and all of her toes, was burnt to ashes. All it took was a particularly strong gust of wind to scatter them into a billion unrecoverable pieces all over the Thornwaste.
Perhaps Chora's ashes will go to good use. They could be fertilizer for more briers. And maybe one day, a Dire Lion will be killed by some freak accident or fumble with an encounter with a large section of brier. Or maybe some of her ashes will blind a dire lion and cause it to accidentally kill its whole pride. Or maybe her ashes will blind a nearby flying owl and it'll soar down and pierce a Dire Lion to death with its sharp talons and beaks. A girl can only dream though.
Rest In Peace, dear Chora Semprion. I leave you all with a few parting words from Bahamut himself:
"The vision I saw was of Chora dying in battle with Azaar Kul. I guess it was a lion!"