Eccentric Jobs as a Realm Dweller

The Dungeon Daycare

The Legend Ends (and a New Beginning Begins)

Once upon a time—but not too long ago—the world was full of adventure. Heroes roamed the land, dragons ruled the skies, and monsters lurked in every unprecedented corner. The bravest warriors, and the wisest mages, all found fame and fortune in doing quests, battling wicked sorcerers, saving kingdoms, and stealing treasures (or hearts, depending on the day).

And at the top of it all was a legendary band of adventurers—heroes whose names were whispered in every tavern and sung by bards in songs from mountain tops to sea shores. 

There was Bragnor the Unbreakable, a dwarf whose great strength could knock down castle walls, whose axe could split a tree with a swing, and whose beard so thick it could stop an arrow mid-flight. Bragnor had wrestled a dragon once—bare-handed. The dragon hadn't stood a chance.

There was Trixie the Nimble, the world's greatest assassin, or so she like to say. Quick with a blade and quicker with a scheme, she was as slippery as a greased eel in a rainstorm. Her hands were faster than lightning, her feet lighter than a feather, and her tongue sharper than any sword.

And, there was Alara the All-Knowing, a wizard so powerful that even the stars bowed when she cast her spells. She could summon a storm with a flick of her wrist or turn invisible just to sneak into the royal kitchen for midnight snacks. She wasn't just clever; she was practically impossible to outwit.

Together, they had saved kingdoms, fought tyrants, and made the world a much safer, and richer, place. There wasn't a monster too terrifying, a trap too tricky, or a riddle too confusing for them to conquer.

But, as it goes with all great adventurers, time always had a way of catching up. Bragnor's knees started creaking, and his back popped like a sack of kindling on every swing from his axe. Trixie began noticing grey hairs in her once-perfectly blonde locks . And Alara? Well, she wasn't about to admit it, but she may have started needing glasses to read scrolls, not that she'd ever tell anyone.

The three of them had been through enough. They had battled all kinds of dragons, the ones that breathe fire, ice, lightning, and even the poison-breathing ones. They outwitted wicked warlocks, the kinds that is capable of destroying large cities or casting undeads, or even being an undead themselves. They had sailed to the ends of the earth, twice, even tried to map the globe once. But now? Now they were ready for something else. Something quieter.

"I think it's time I take a break," Bragnor had grumbled one afternoon as they sat on the deck of their airship, watching the sunset over the Emerald Mountains. "My back's been aching since that last troll we fought, and my knees sound like a rockslide whenever I get up."

Trixie had laughed, but then she sighed. "Yeah, I've been thinking the same. I nearly lost a race to a goblin the other day. A goblin! I think I'm losing my edge."

"And I've read all the spellbooks there are to read," Alara said wistfully. "I've saved the world at least a dozen times. What's left to do?"

They had sat in silence for a while, the weight of their decision sinking in. Adventuring had been their whole life. What would they do now? Open a tavern? Become farmers? (Bragnor had suggested goat herding once, but Trixie had gagged at the thought of cleaning up after goats.)

And that's when the idea hit them.

It had come from the most unlikely source: a letter. A very odd letter.

The letter had arrived by wyvern post, delivered in the talons of a polite, if somewhat singed, messenger. It was addressed to the "Retired Heroes of the World," which had confused them all greatly because they weren't retired—yet. But as Bragnor opened it, the three of them huddled around to read.