All endings had a beginning

Betty Hearthstone sat on a little stool outside her cottage in Dejune. The sky had just lost its morning red colour, fading to the usual blue of a fine spring day. It was accompanied by a soft warmth seeping through the last of the nights chill, carried by a barely moving breeze. She blew gently on her cup of tea before sipping it timidly. Mint. Her favourite.

She hadn't been in Dejune long, but she had quickly grown fond of it. It reminded her of Sandpoint in a way, where she grew up. It wasn't a big place, but as a center of trade there were always new people to meet, bringing with them succulent cakes and exotic trinkets to peruse at the markets. Plus, as a small bastion of civilisation in the middle of wildlands, there was always a hint of danger. Very exciting. Betty sipped her tea a while longer, simply enjoying the moment.

Her day was going to be a busy one. She was loaning herself to a local adventuring band, which was something she hadn't done for a number of years. There was a nest of vampires housed in a series of tunnels nearby known as "The Bloodways" and while Betty was no longer the unending font of Positive Energy she had been in her prime, she was still pretty sure she could do some good there.

The town started to wake up, and with her tea finished, Betty decided it was also time for her to get moving. She stood up awkwardly, stiffing a groan. Her bad knee was playing up again. She made a mental note to get it looked at by a cleric, but she was quite sure that this was simply a malady that accompanied age. Not much you could do about that, unfortunately.

She headed into her little cottage. The cosy building was full of cheerful and bright knick-knacks from all over the continent. An ornate dagger in a lacquered sheath rested on a small display stand on the table, a souvenir from her time spent with the Aberdeenians. Her gaze drifted over to the frame hanging from the wall in which were some pressed flowers, an exotic species she had harvested from an oasis in The Sands. Sitting just beneath it on a set of bookshelves was a small stone tablet with the word "DYE!" carved on it. She shook her head with a giggle. She still wasn't sure why she tried to introduce literacy to that tribe of goblins. They certainly hadn't appreciated the effort. She got her stiff knee moving again, and spent the next few minutes pottering around the place, lost in thought.

The cottage was full of a lifetime of memories, and while not all of them were good, they were all a part of what made her, her. The years had tempered Betty. She was no longer the boisterous youngling who threw herself at every problem with gusto and exuberance, and while she did still have the general optimism and friendly openness that drew people to her, it was marred with a soft sadness. Her past was part of why she felt she had to keep relocating. She had lost friends before, and it had cut too deeply.

With a small sigh, she made her way to the large cabinet in the corner. Inside was her trusty suit of white-lacquered plate with accompanying tower shield. It looked old and worn, with the white lacquer patched in several different shades as a result of various blacksmiths repairing it over the years. She remembered the day she had it ordered - almost 20 years prior - the very afternoon she was almost gored to death by a boar. She wore the scar with pride, as it was accompanied by a lesson well learned. Piece by piece, she removed the armour from the cabinet. She would need help later to finish adjusting it, but for now, she attached it to her body as best she could. She slung the shield over one shoulder with a grunt, and slid her trusty bopping-stick through her belt.

She closed the windows, made her bed, and triple-checked her flock of chickens. With the last of her chores done, she slung her backpack over her other shoulder and slipped a small weave of donkey hair into her pocket. Without a backward glance, she made her way out front door. It closed behind her with a soft click.

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Walk in the darkness where-ever you can, for you are Mitras torch.

Spread Mitras light to those who cannot see it. Let them bask in it, but do not force it upon them. Redemption is a choice. You can illuminate the path, but they are the ones who need to walk it.

Help those that ask for it. Offer help to those who might need it. Understand that people are capable of helping themselves, they might just need your shoulder

All who walk under Mitras Sun are Blessed. Treat them with kindness and humility. Listen to their story and do not judge

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