About: Leor Windblade, Broken Hero   Sponge Permalink

An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

Leor, Broken Hero (Reed Peck-Kriss), age 51 Once, you were Leor Windblade, Jon Farshield’s best friend. You were his right-hand man, his advisor, his confidant. The two of you grew up together in the same small village in the Daneb mountains, playing and working as partners. This came to a head over Lynx, the thief. Jon insisted that she was willing to work for redemption, willing to help the team. You knew better. Lynx, who should have been inside the tavern with the others. Lynx, who had somehow miraculously been unharmed. Lynx, the supposedly “reformed” thief. You knew better.

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  • Leor Windblade, Broken Hero
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  • Leor, Broken Hero (Reed Peck-Kriss), age 51 Once, you were Leor Windblade, Jon Farshield’s best friend. You were his right-hand man, his advisor, his confidant. The two of you grew up together in the same small village in the Daneb mountains, playing and working as partners. This came to a head over Lynx, the thief. Jon insisted that she was willing to work for redemption, willing to help the team. You knew better. Lynx, who should have been inside the tavern with the others. Lynx, who had somehow miraculously been unharmed. Lynx, the supposedly “reformed” thief. You knew better.
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abstract
  • Leor, Broken Hero (Reed Peck-Kriss), age 51 Once, you were Leor Windblade, Jon Farshield’s best friend. You were his right-hand man, his advisor, his confidant. The two of you grew up together in the same small village in the Daneb mountains, playing and working as partners. As time went by, the two of you became heroes together, but you always had your philosophical differences. Jon was far too idealistic—he believed in giving everyone a second chance, in redemption, and in the fact that if he truly thought he could, he could save everyone. You knew better. You knew that sometimes, you had to kill to survive. Sometimes, people weren’t worth keeping alive. That’s part of how you got your name, Windblade. You were fast and deadly, and could kill almost anyone in a straight-out swordfight. This came to a head over Lynx, the thief. Jon insisted that she was willing to work for redemption, willing to help the team. You knew better. But somehow, against your better judgement, you began to like Lynx. Time and time again, she proved herself—both to the team, and to you. More than that, you fell in love with her, and she with you. You let your cynicism start to fade, caught up in the excitement that was this new revolution, this amazing band of heroes. Maybe, just maybe, you could actually make a difference. Jon. Lynx. You. Iriya. Tiere. Together… When the attack came, you only survived by pure chance. The rest of the party was inside the tavern, while you were carrying all of the equipment to the bunk-house you were going to stay in that night. You had Jon’s eponymous enchanted shield on your back, and it caught most of the heat from the fireball. You were thrown far from the tavern by the blast, and awoke with a dozen broken bones, and most of your skin burnt off. While you had been unconscious, the Dark Lord’s forces had swept in and collected the corpses of everyone in the tavern, to make absolutely sure that Jon was dead. You soon discovered that the only reason you had survived was that someone had dragged you away, and hidden you. Two people had seen it happen—she was a beautiful woman, with long brown hair, dressed all in black. There was no mistaking that description. It had been Lynx. Lynx, who should have been inside the tavern with the others. Lynx, who had somehow miraculously been unharmed. Lynx, the supposedly “reformed” thief. You knew better. Lynx, the traitor who had sold out the saviors of the world. All of that was a long time ago. No one knows you as the Windblade, here. Now you’re just Leor, the strange old man covered in burn scars. You work in the factory, and most nights you can be found in the pits, duking it out with other old fighters like yourself. You rarely lose, even now. When you came to Tedoch, you brought Jon’s old shield with you. The kids use it as a sled in the winter, not knowing what it actually is. To you, it’s a painful reminder. Maybe if he’d kept the shield with him, its magic could have saved him. It should have been him. Instead, all its magic had been spent protecting you. It should have been him, not you. It should have been him. Recently, someone seems to have gone to the effort of befriending you. You can’t seem to understand why, but he’s a good drinking partner, and a fair hand in the bar-brawls you get into on a regular basis. He’s a fellow called Darien (Wiley Gorn), who just moved here from the big city due to reasons he doesn’t much talk about. That doesn’t bother you much at all—you talk about your own past even less than he does. You’re not going to let yourself care about him, though. There won’t be another Jon. Not ever again. You’ve also been sleeping with Semilla, the angel (Chiara Harrison-Lambe), for about a year. She comes to your house, and you have intense wordless nights. Neither of you speaks anything of it, ever. It’s just stress relief. She doesn’t really matter to you. Not really. Not in more than a physical sense. Just like Darien doesn’t matter. That’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway. Every now and again you hear word of Lynx (Gen Casagrande), who seems to be doing well for herself as a professional traitor and murderer. You’ve been thinking that it might be about time someone went and finished the job once and for all. She’s overstayed her welcome on life by a few decades, now. Leor survived the heavenly fire of the Emperor and ended the game owing a single fight to Cold Henry.
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