„Again!”, Menungus commanded. Rhona straightened up from the blow Menungus had just landed and went back into her fighting stance. The man who had saved her life went at her again left, right… she blocked the first, ducked under the second - and then a kick swept her off her feet and she landed face first on the deck. Some good-natured laughter from the crew of the Crow’s Eye accompanied her misfortune.

Something tapped her head. She rolled onto her back and looked into the eyes of a giant raven.

She ignored it, got back up and looked at her father again. „Not fair!”, she yelled with a fury only a 9-year-old could muster. „At least give me my sword!” Menungus cocked his head, then nodded. „Fine, you shall have it.” He took her almost comically oversized sword from the rack and slid it over to her, then unclipped his axe. „Let’s see what you can do!”
The raven tapped her head again. She hissed at it. „Go away!”

Then Menungus was on her. Again she managed to block and duck the first few blows, but was knocked of her feet once more when he used the same trick he had before. Rhona fell on her back and Menungus sprang towards her, axe raised to bring it down on her. Instinctively, Rhona yelled and tried to block the blow with her left arm, but somehow, it wasn’t her voice. At the same time, the rune that had been at the back of her hand ever since that meteor hit 2 years ago began to glow in a bright blue light and the experienced treasure hunter was thrown back several feet. This time, the laughs were on him.

Exhausted, Rhona just stayed down until Menungus got back up and went over to her, grinning ear to ear. „Knew that would work, Wild One”, he said. Then he reached out with his hand to help her up. „You really oughta work on your footwork. Treasure hunting is dangerous business.” He paused, then, as in passing, pointed at the rune and said „And probably should study that. Might be important.”
Another tap. This time it was strong enough to wake her up. „Go away, dad”, she murmured and reached out to find something to throw at Menungus. Strangely, all she felt was gravel and dirt. She sat up and the raven who had pecked at her head let out a cry and flew away. The 22 year old woman took in her surroundings.

A city. A dirty street. The ruins of a burned down house. A hooded figure scurrying through the rain that began soaking her clothes.

THE city. THE street. THE burned down house that Kalipateira - mum - found her, a 4 year old girl without a past, and took her in. For a brief three years, she had a glimpse at a normal life. Learning to cook, proper table manners, that sort of stuff. Mum had been strict, but she had loved her nonetheless. Rhona could only imagine the life she would lead now if she had stayed with her, because it never came to pass. Because of that damn meteor.

She could see it even now as she looked around. The destruction it had wreaked. The deadly Haze that had followed. For two years, she had barely survived there, clinging to the hope to find Kalipateira again, clinging to the hope of a normal life. Until Menungus had found her.
Talking about dad… “Wake up, old man!”, she said and shook the figure lying next to her.

As she looked up again, waiting for her father to wake, a moment of sorrow struck Rhona. This should have been a place filled with fond memories of her childhood. Menungus believed coming here would trigger something in her, revealing her past and the truth about that rune, but looking up and down the street, all she could remember was being separated from mum and the miserable existence that had followed. At least she still dreamed of pleasant things, she thought to herself. And coming here might yield some much needed income. Dad had been pretty hush-hush about it, but business had been a lot slower since they struck ransacking holy sites from their list of potential targets after that rather exciting run-in with that priestess Rhyia two years ago. After all, they gave their word. Also, it felt right somehow. Rhona’s hand instinctively touched the barely visible scar at her upper right arm where Rhyia had patched her up, although of course she only felt wet cloth. The rain got heavier by the minute.

It was time to go. She reached for her sword. „Dad, move it! You can sleep when you’re dead!” she said, louder this time and gave him a heavy knock with the hilt.

And watched in horror as his body lumped to the side and revealed the pale face of her adoptive father along with his slit throat and blood-soaked cowl.

“No”, she whispered, “no, no, no, no!” He couldn’t be dead. “Please, no!” For half an hour, she begged him to stand up, cried, and in the end yelled at him before she collapsed over her father’s corpse. It seemed like an eternity before the tears dried up.

She stood up, a fierce determination taking hold of her. After he was buried, she would honour his intentions. She would look for her biological family and she would find the purpose behind the rune.

But she would only truly rest when she had found her father’s killer - and returned the favour.