They were known as The Furies of the Dawn Coast. To any who heard the name, it brought to mind a plethora of brilliant tales of stellar and substandard nature. It flashed into their minds a team of adventurers-- mercenary heroes of a sort-- local legends up and down the coastline for deeds spanning just as far inland Zaria Dawnwalker Vuma-Thauga. Exile of the Vuma-Thauga clan. Warrior of the mountains, breaker of bones. Bigger than most men and stronger, too-- vicious with any weapon, but feared for her archery and swordplay. She has walked the length of the Dawn Coast to kill a man. Kliammec Valcoria, the Dragon Shaman. A shaman of the dragon-priestesses, worshipper of Bahamut and Tiamat. Her works are spoken of as miracles and blasphemies-- the legendary and draconic brought to life with dangerous ease. Pocket. The Green Shadow. Gobtown's most prolific pickpocket, turned tomb robber, with an eye for gold and a penchant for stealing what she ought not to. Best known as the group's mascot, she is rightfully as bewared as she is beloved. Nilthara A'Dorrahel. Spider-Witch of the Underdark. A spiteful, vicious, man-hating Drow, inexplicably seeking a life on the surface world where her matriarchal views gain remarkably little traction. Still, where she fails to spread her dogma, she excels at the creation of undeath. Ashes. The devil songstress. A tiefling of such fiendish talent with song that it goes beyond words. She could steal the heart from your chest if her voice did not drive you to cut it out yourself. A silver-tongued and iron-handed seductress, and undisputed leader of-- "UNDISPUTED WHAT?" Ashes lowered the bounty poster, iron hands unconsciously crumpling the sides as her companion shrilled in her ear. "Thara, by Asmodeus himself I will SCOURGE you if you start a fight over this." As she turned around, she was surprised to see the same people on the posters circled around her. Nilthara, the bratty witch of a woman they had rescued from a slave revolt had grown exceptionally, becoming a true friend if a bit of a zealot. She never truly outgrew her position of power and privilege, and so there were moments like these where they fought over her... haughty disposition. Still, she was the only woman on the team that was, well... womanly, and so Ashes had a certain kinship with her. That kinship fled like a swarm of rats when she became... like this. "I assumed *I* was the figurehead!" She pouted, folding her arms under her bust the way she did when she wanted to subtly accentuate out her figure. Yes, she was undeniably the most beautiful so amongst them, but it was hardly as subtle as she thought when she wanted to draw attention to it. "You might be, if you didn't treat every gathering of housewives as the staging ground for a womens' revolt!" Ashes spat. She could hear her ear ringing from her clenched teeth, but managed to wrangle her anger into check. "Look, you're our Spider Witch! Men fear us! Women adore us! We're finally the bad-bitch adventurer ladies we set out to be!" She swiveled to look at the others, and caught the expressions of pride and admiration on Zaria and Pocket's faces. The three of them had started their journey together, only meeting Val and 'Thara along the way, but the phrase "bad-bitch adventurer ladies" had sparked their memories of a group of amateurs and outcasts, as desperate for coin as they were eager for the thril of adventure itself. "Imagine if we hadn't all chosen the same brothel that night." Pocket giggled from the Goliath's shoulder. "We'd all be sucking dicks right now." "How *classy* of you, Pocket." Nilthara cringed at the very notion, but Ashes knew she was right. The three of them had been on the brink of prostitution when they met. That night began with spirits as damp as their clothes, but had ended with their dreams and a bordello burning bright. "But NOW look at us!" Ashes squealed, delighted. "The Furies of the Dawn Coast! Could that name BE more badass?" "You are missing the point, Ashes." Valcoria tapped a clawed finger on the phrase beneath her own poster, marking them out as WANTED. A 500 gold reward for each of them captured alive, and a fraction of that for proof of their death. "Pfft." Ashes waved a hand. "Please. As if any old mook could capture US. Face it, we're on the track to legendhood!" She pumped a fist in the air, smiling ear to ear. The others glanced between themselves, initially hesitant except for Pocket, who joined in right away. Zaria was the first to acquiesce. "Fuck it. We're FURIES!" She threw her fist up as well, nearly knocking Pocket from her shoulders, but getting a laugh out of both off them. Nilthara shook her head with a smile, but matched the gesture, raising her fist. "Furies." Valcoria chuckled and raised hers as well. "Furies!" *** Around their table in the tavern, Pocket raised the question first. "What was our *most* humiliating 'feat, tho?" "Humiliating feat?" Zaria asked, her brow cocked. "None of our feats have been humiliating." "Nah, DEE-feat." Pocket slurred, her natural, Goblin manner of speaking bleeding through as a single cup of meadturned her into a drunken green blob, barely standing on the seat with the help of the table-- though she was not so much leaning on it as bent over it. "I mean we LOSS a LO', at firs, yanno?" She hiccuped. "Whuwas... whuwas the mos 'umiliatin' fer you guys?" Nilthara sighed. "I don't think any blunder after we met can quite match the way I felt WHEN we met. I mean I was covered in measly slave-men, being treated like some kind of boy-slave by my inferiors-- as if they had no fear of a witch like myself-- I was in the running for Coven Head!" She pounded a fist on the table, then winced and rubbed her hand, her drink forgotten. "Oh yeah," Ashes laughed, her metal fingertips plucking at the strings of her instrument. "How could I forget," and though what came next out of her mouth was but words, it vividly awakened their respective memories of the event.