NPCs of Note N-S
In July of 2000, Olias Kestral was on top of the world. He and two of his college roommates had just taken their ebusiness design shop public and were riding the IPO wave along with Amazon, Yahoo!, and a host of other startups. He was 22 years old, had been out of college less than a month, rode a Razor scooter to work, and (on paper) was worth just over three million dollars.
A year later, the Bush Recession had ravaged the tech sector and cost thousands of jobs. Small companies were folding in droves - including the one Olias and his friends had started. Since Olias had taken a significant portion of his salery in stock options instead of cash, he was destitute. He lost his home, his car, and most of his belongings. What the bankruptcy court allowed him to keep was soon pawned for rent money.
He took a job at Starbuck's in a desperate attempt to meet his financial obligations. There, he met Loreli, a buxom, vivacious young lady he was instantly attracted to. Loreli introduced him to Paganism and to several friends who were also victims of Compassionate Conservatism. Through them, Olias found enough web design work to keep himself afloat for the next two years. He was finally hired by Llewellyn Industries and began to put his life back together. He and Loreli remained friends and occasional lovers, but she insisted on maintaining her polyamorous lifestyle and refused to confine herself to any single lover.
Whether by accident or by design, Llewellyn Industries had gathered together a large number of Pagans, Wiccans, and ceremonial magicians of all stripes in their B2B division. He and Loreli became involved with a magical study group that worshipped Corellon and sought to transform themselves into elves through ritual magic. The group decided to attend a large Pagan gathering in February of 2005 and use the energy the gathering raised to advance the state of their physical transformation into elven form. The ritual worked better than expected.
Olias was reborn as a gold elf, while Loreli became Drow. Olias soon discovered that Corellon was answering his prayers for healing of the sick and injured. Loreli was drawn to the service of the Dark Maiden, and they seperated shortly after the formal founding of New Ectopia.
Corellon called Olias to join a caravan headed to Washington D.C. in a (futile) attempt to contact President Ventura. Halfway there, the caravan stopped in the Kingdom of the Outlands to trade and buy fuel. They were amazed when they discovered that the President was just a few hours away in Colorado Springs. Olias recieved a spiritual instruction to stay and help Jazz create a functional temple of Corellon.
Today, Olias runs the temple when Jazz is in the field. He is respected and liked by the majority of the elves involved with Kingdom politics, and has just been elected to serve as the Speaker for the Elven Peoples to the Guild Council of the Kingdom. He and Jazz have had a few flings, but he is currently single and available.
Greyson Phillips could have stayed home from Vietnam. His great-aunt Abigail, a formidable Hollywood doyen and well-established star-maker, knew just everybody. Governor Reagan, the Kennedys, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis had all been her dinner guests at one point or another. Former Vice-president Nixon even offered to have a word with the local draft board in Greyson's favor.
Greyson politely but firmly declined, stating that it was his duty as an American to accept the call of service to his country. Rather than wait to be drafted, Greyson enlisted in the Marines, landing in Hanoi in June of 1967. He was assigned to the 1/26th Marines and sent to Khe Sahn, where he spent the next year dodging bullets, mortar bombardments, boobytraps, and dysentery. Things improved a little when the 1/26th was withdrawn to Dong Ha in September of 1968, but not much. Greyson's hitch ended in July of 1969, and he spends his first night back in The World watching Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon.
The My Lai Massacre was still fresh in the minds of many people, and he found it near-impossible to get work. Great-aunt Abigail quietly called in a few favors, and Greyson was hired as a bodyguard for a well-known celebrity. He found he liked being a bodyguard greatly; besides, it meant standing on the edge of the circle of the famous and privileged, which he rather liked.
In the early Eighties, he found himself transitioning from bodyguard work to being a personal assistant to some of Hollywood's wealthy elite. His clients included a world-famous actress and recording star, two Academy Award-winning producers, and a legendary actor/director who had successfully transitioned from lowbrow comedy roles to become a renowned leading man. His final client was a studio executive who spent a great deal of time in Las Vegas - far more than he should have, apparently. The executive was fired while gambling at Caesar's Palace, effectively stranding him there.
Greyson was on good terms with the VIP services staff at Caesar's Palace, and found them quite receptive when he approached them about a position. He was hired immediately and sent to England for a six-month training on how to be a proper butler. He later learned that his Aunt Abigail's butler had attended the same school.
In 2002 he was promoted to Assistant Manager of VIP Services, a position he held until the coming of the Overlords. Caesar appointed Greyson to be his Head of Operations and entrusted him with the day-to-day management of the demesne and both the Palace and the Stratosphere.
Greyson believes firmly in the preservation of order. The Overlords' battles for status and power could easily destroy what scraps of civilization Las Vegas has managed to hold on to, if not for Caesar's Pax Romanum policies. He believes quite firmly that the people of Las Vegas will prosper best under Caesar's rule, and is quite willing to do whatever it takes to keep Caesar in power. To that end, he behaves in every way like a proper butler and majordomo; a gentleman's gentleman, proper and organized to the last.
His suits are always immaculate, his shoes are spit-shined, and his cufflinks gleam - as does the .50 caliber sniper rifle he keeps oiled and ready, and the decorations he received for using it.....
Radovan Illyanovitch Lebedev was 13 months old when his parents moved from their native Ukraine to Chadron, Nebraska. Part of the family had fled to America before the rise of Communism, eventually settling in Nebraska to farm, continuing the family tradition. When Ivan Lebedev, the last member of the family in America, died, the farm fell to his great-great cousin Illya.
Ivan's church worked to raise the funds needed to move the Lebedev family from the Ukraine and helped the family adjust to American life in the 1950's. Illya farmed and the family prospered. Radovan's name was Anglicized into Randall as he grew up, but it was never legally changed.
As a teenager, Randall grew away from the family's Ukrainian Orthodox beliefs and found himself being drawn to the Catholic Church. He entered Seminary right after graduating from High School, which had the added befit of keeping him out of Vietnam. In time, he graduated and was ordained as a Catholic priest; his family still wished he had stayed Orthodox, but they were proud of him nonetheless.
He spent the next five years at a church in Taos, New Mexico. He enjoyed it immensely, but began to feel a pull to more active mission work during his last two years. He finally spoke to the Archdiocese and requested a missionary post. He was overjoyed when his request was approved and he received his mission assignment: El Salvador.
The Iran-Contra scandal had yet to play out and few people had any idea what the situation in El Salvador and much of the rest of Latin America really was; he had no idea what was in store for him. He soon found out, as Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated, three nuns and a lay worker were raped and murdered, and more than 900 people were killed in the El Mozote Massacre, all in his first year of mission work.
He lasted seven years, as death squads killed his parishioners, tortured and murdered the people he was trying to help, and assassinated government officials who tried to change things for the better.
One night, he stood up to a group of soldiers from the Atlacatl Battalion who planned to kill a dissident and his family as a warning to other potential "troublemakers". He rebuked them, calling on their faith and their sense of humanity as he pleaded for the lives of the terrified family. He was clubbed unconscious with a rifle butt. Once the family was dead, the soldiers beat him to the the edge of death for trying to intervene.
The Church sent him to Denver to convalesce after he was released from the hospital in El Salvador. Physically, he was recovering; mentally, he was a wreck. During his time in the hospital, he had learned that the soldiers that had beaten him had been trained in the United States at the School of the Americas in Fort Benning, Georgia, by the US military. His own government was teaching death squads to terrorize and control their own people through systematic and deliberate atrocities.
It took three years of physical therapy to heal from the injuries he had sustained. Finally, in 1990, he began working in the Archdiocese of Denver's human rights advocacy program. Unfortunately, his faith had suffered badly, and counseling wasn't helping very much. After much prayerful consideration, he accepted the Archbishop's recommendation that he enter a cloistered monastery, where he could come to terms with what had happened to him and rediscover his faith.
He found peace, but no answers. For almost ten years, he sought to understand why these things were allowed to happen. He became so focussed on finding answers that he forgot to find his faith, and he never noticed when it died of neglect. Outwardly, Randall seemed fine; inside, he was a tangle of rage, uncertainty, and depression, plagued with recurring nightmares of his time in El Salvador.
The Change rekindled a faint spark of faith inside him, even as his rage and deep-buried desire for revenge transformed him into a waster. He spared his fellow priests and fled into the mountains of southern Colorado, seeking to avoid living people at all costs.
Deep in prayer, he heard God's voice finally speaking to him again after years of silence. It told him that he could still enter Heaven; he was not doomed to wander the Earth for all time as a damned soul. All he needed to do was rediscover his faith and submit to God's will for his life.
Randall accepted his burden, and went back out into the world. Now, he
hides his face and body, knowing how wasters are received by the living.
Faith is a hard thing for the dead to cultivate, but Randall works on
it as best he can.
Slash - CG Drow female Cleric 13 (Eilistraee)
Theme Song: Hymn to Her by The Pretenders
Annike Mercier-Summers pretty much had it all. She lived in a magnificent Mediterranean villa in the gated community of Ennisbrook in Montecito, a wealthy Santa Barbara suburb. She commuted by air limo to her Los Angeles job as a partner in a law firm specializing in environmental tort litigation. The firm had just settled a five-year class action suit against a major oil company for damages to an arctic wildlife sanctuary and several surrounding townships in northern Alaska. There had been no admission, but the numbers were right. Annike's percentage of the firm's cut was a very nice $4.26 million and dinner (on the clients) at Spago for the entire team. Her Diablo was paid off, and her tech and biomedical portfolio was prospering nicely.
Joanne Mercier and Evelynn Summers were very proud of their adopted daughter. She visited them at their ranch in Ukiah when her caseload permitted, which was, unfortunately, not that often. She called regularly, even though whenever she did, both of her mothers delighted in teasing her about how much they would like to have grandchildren to spoil. She just endured it and promised to have her secretary look at her schedule and pencil her in for motherhood as soon as a good spot opened up.
Annike was due for a sabbatical and had finally gotten the senior partners to give her the time she needed. They didn't want her burning out, and her victory against the oil company would be making rain for the firm for a couple of years. They gave their blessings and wished her well. It was the 30th of January, 2005, and most of them would never see her again.
A friend of her mothers' ran a Pagan religious retreat near San Diego. It was Annike's favorite place to go to get away from it all. She had eight weeks of sabbatical, and she intended to spend a good portion of it soaking in a hot tub and dancing naked around a fire at night.
Annike had been raised Wiccan and for many years had dedicated herself to Athena, as befitted a lawyer. For the past decade, though, she had called the Goddess Eilistraee and considered herself a follower of the Dark Maiden. The fact that Eilistraee was generally considered a fictional intellectual property and not a real goddess really didn't bother her. She studied kenjitsu and iaijitsu, played the harp, sung, went Morris dancing with a group in Santa Barbara, and worshipped Eilistraee in all ways as her gaming materials indicated she should.
After three weeks of hot tubbing and fire leaping, Annike was preparing for an extended period of having her ass kissed in wanton luxury as a VIP guest of the Venetian in Las Vegas when the first reports of civil unrest began to come in. She joined the resort's owners and the other guests in the recreation room, and watched the horrors of the Change unfold. She began to panic when she could not reach her mothers by land line or cell phone. The other guests tried to convince her to stay at the retreat until things calmed down. She agreed, then went out to the retreat's ritual grove to work a protection spell for her mothers.
She had just gotten undressed and was setting up the wood for a fire when she heard the chatter of automatic weapons fire coming from the retreat. She raced back as close as she dared and hid in a small creekbed where she could see the house. It was on fire, and there were bodies on the front lawn. A school bus belonging to a local fundamentalist church was parked on the street, and members of the church were celebrating around it.
Annike knew most of the church members; she had won a pro bono religious harassment suit against them for threatening the retreat's owners and vandalizing the property. If they saw her, they would be very happy to kill her as well. She stayed hidden in the creek, wet and freezing, for hours until the last of them left. She buried everyone she could find and went back to the grove to pray - this time, for vengeance.
Exhausted, freezing, hungry, and emotionally shattered, she prayed to the Dark Maiden for the strength to avenge her friends and to destroy the evil that had claimed their lives. She prayed for the protection of her mothers, and for all those who were being hunted for being different.
The Dark Maiden came to her, saying, "All these things can I do, all for the price of your life." Annike didn't hesitate. "It is yours. Take it." Eilistraee laughed and said, "It is not your death I want, but your life. Live for me. Be strong for me. Be my Hand and my Voice. Can you do this?" Annike knelt and said, "I can." She felt the Dark Maiden's kiss, and then nothing.
She awoke Drow. Her mind was filled with the mysteries of the Dark Maiden, and her hands were filled with power. That night, she walked naked into the worship services of the church that killed her friends. She spared only the children, the mothers of the very young, and one couple that was expecting. She left the smoking ruin and began the long walk to Los Angeles.
The Dark Maiden gave her a device of power; a bracelet that conceals her true form under the image of a she-Orc of the Ka Corporation. Her status in the California legal community secured her a high-ranking position as a senior VP of Ka Human Resources. She scours the remains of the Los Angeles basin, looking for people with mental or magical powers the Ka Corporation can use. She recruits only those willing to serve Ka freely; her recruiting bonuses are the envy of most of her coworkers.
Her position also allows her to operate an Underground Railroad, smuggling those whom Ka would enslave or abuse out of Ka territories, usually to Las Vegas or to New Ectopia, where her mothers finally surfaced. She travels to other strongholds of the Dark Maiden when she can. For those trips, she drives Morrigan, a heavily modified Diablo equipped with an electrochromatic skin, a 'Wild Weasel' EW/ECM suite, and tires that have been enchanted to mend themselves and reinflate if they are ever punctured. Morrigan is stored by another member of the Underground Railroad, well hidden from Ka's suspicious eyes. Most of the Dark Maiden's faithful know her only as Slash, itinerant priestess; only a handful know about her day job.
If the Ka executive staff ever discovers her double life, she knows she will face death by slow torture, or worse. She considers the possibility an occupational hazard. Until that day, though, she has a job to do. So, every morning she gets up, dresses in one of her 200 designer suits, kisses her three Elven sex slaves good-bye, gives her daily orders to her 22-person, Elven and Human household staff, and drives her brand new, blood-red 2005 Diablo to the airport in Santa Barbara to catch her air limo to Los Angeles. Her Dwarven and Klingon bodyguards meet her at LAX, and her Drow personal assistant briefs her as her bulletproof chauffeured Rolls limo whisks her to her first meeting of the day.
It's like, you know, a living.
One of the more curious aspects of the Essex Phenomenon is how different individuals were altered. Strong emotions, repressed desires, fantasies and fetishes, all can be seen in the forms the Changed took. Some were elated by their new forms while others were terrified to see their darkest fantasies become reality. So, what happened to people who hated their life and everything about it?
They became centaurs.
Steven Dzerezwiski was one of those people. He hated his job, hated his wife, wanted a different mistress, and wished his children were more athletic, more intelligent, and more ambitious. Their actual accomplishments were irrelevant; whatever they did, Steven thought they could have done better.
Above all, Steven hated himself. He passed his mid-life crisis in his twenties and had settled into a life of quiet desperation as an accountant. He wished daily for the courage to change careers, or to perform some petty embezzlement, or create something that would get him noticed. His own lack of courage disgusted him, but he lacked even the will to feel ashamed.
He joined the SCA because his wife wanted to. He took up heavy weapons because his wife wanted to have a knight to escort her to feasts and to wear her favor. He did gain his knighthood in time. Unfortunately, it brought him little joy. He was still not satisfied with his life. He had no interest in what he had or in what he could have. He lacked the self-confidence to pursue a position in the Court, as well as the courage to take the field to win a crown. He went to Estrella because his wife wanted to go. Several of the other fighters noticed his aura of depression and withdrawal and tried to talk to him about it. He refused their offers of help repeatedly. Inside, he hated himself even more for not being strong enough to accept their help.
Estrella War was pretty much what he expected. Even when the world was in danger of falling apart, he remained focused on the how badly he had done in his last few bouts. In the evening of the 20th of February (three days into the Change) he sat in the darkness of his tent, eating half-thawed frozen burritos and warm beer while listening to Rush Limbaugh on a portable radio. He eventually collapsed into a drunken stupor, hating himself for being too much of a coward to kill himself and just get it over with.
When he woke up, things were very different. He was tall, strong, had hair, and had a burning sense of his place in the universe. He was also a naked female centaur.
Steven decided to call himself (herself, rather) Stephanie. She took a quick inventory of what clothing was on hand that would fit. Once she had some clothes on, she went to look for her wife and children.
Her (or, rather, Steven's) wife was not happy about the transformation. Neither were the kids. A loud argument broke out, ending in Stephanie storming back to her tent to pack her things.
In the middle of packing, she thought of the person she had been and was immediately violently ill. She vowed then that she would never again be such a spineless, sniveling jellyfish. She moved out with three sets of clothes, a suit of armor, and some CDs. One of the other knights offered her some room at his camp, which she gladly accepted. When the party returned from scouting for a site that the populace could call home, she volunteered to go out with the scouts who would be breaking trail for the populace. Her wife and children decided to go with the Chivalry to Martinez Lake.
Good-byes were awkward, and soon finished.
Several times over the next few days the scouts were attacked repeatedly, by government forces, monsters, and panicked survivors. Her assailants never matched her speed, strength, and sheer ferocity in combat; only a scarce handful survived. She would often impale foes with a long lance, lifting her lance to vertical with the still living foe impaled on the end of it. She would then reverse her grip on the lance and fling the body of her assailant behind her. And she did it using only one arm.
The populace expanded as they ran across Changed; Stephanie and the party moved in the vanguard, clearing hazards for the noncombatants. They told the Changed they found of their visitor, Old Wolf, who had told them to head for Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon. Once there, the Changed would find a safe haven. Having no better plans, most of the Changed decided it was as good a destination as any.
When they arrived, they made camp and introduced themselves to the other refugees that were already there. A stone soup was put on the fire, and they waited. Old Wolf (now answering to Coyote) arrived that evening. Stephanie watched in amazement as Coyote summoned the magical road that took them to safety. She volunteered for scout duty immediately when the refugees came to the Crazy White Man's Place. Her combat skills served the fledgling kingdom well in the early months of its existence.
Stephanie died on June 19, 2005 while fighting NDR forces outside of Bluff, Utah. She and Vesta had stayed at the party's camp to guard it while the rest of the party tried to capture Sanctum Levi. Three NDR Bradley AFVs discovered their hiding place in an abandoned barn and attacked them without warning. Vesta was badly injured in the initial attack, but she still managed to distract the NDR forces long enough for Stephanie to drop grenades into the navigator's hatch on the turret of one of the Bradley's. The troops inside dropped the rear door in a frantic escape attempt. She killed them all.
She salvaged several RPGs from the wrecked Bradley and went hunting the other two. She killed one cleanly, but took a burst of 20mm rounds in the chest before she could kill the third.
She found Vesta and bandaged her wounds as best she could and hid her in the stables. She collected the last of the RPGs and left an obvious trail leading into a tool shed. There, she rigged the triggers of the RPGs to a dead-man switch and waited for any NDR reinforcements to arrive.
Her equine half had its own heart and lungs; they kept her alive long after her human half should have died. Still, it was not enough, and she died of blood loss several hours before the party returned. Vesta was still alive, and Michael was able to disarm the RPGs. The party returned to the Kingdom immediately and summoned Morag. They asked him if there was anything he could do to restore her to life. He refused, saying that she had died an honorable death in battle, and that calling her back from Sto-Vo-Kor would be an insult to her spirit. The party agreed, and the next night Morag called flame from the sky to light her funeral pyre.
Stephanie's death hit King Malcolm hard. She was the first of his friends to die carrying out his orders. He could not cope with the thought that she would not be the last.
The fate of the Martinez Lake settlement is unknown, as is the current status of Steven's wife and children. Although Stephanie never knew it, she achieved what Steven never could: she died a person his family would have been proud of.
Captain Sylvia Connors was born and raised in Seattle. Her father, Charles, is a city planner and her mother Mandula, is a corporate lawyer for Microsoft. Sylvia was an early child; Charles and Mandula were both just 18 when they found out they were expecting. Both of their families helped raise Sylvia while insisting they finish college and get their careers started.
Sylvia joined the Army as an expression of eternal sisterhood with her best friend Rachel. The recruiter promised them they could go to basic together and swore that they had been assigned to the same base in Germany. They did pull basic in the same class at Ft. Leonard Wood, but their illusions about the recruiter's promise didn't survive the first night. Sylvia did go to Germany as a recon photo analyst, but Rachel was assigned to Okinawa as a cryptologist.
Delphia, Sylvia's younger sister, was an unexpected surprise, born 20 years after her older sister. Sylvia didn't see her sister until after her second birthday; She had requested leave to attend the birth, but it was canceled when the Republican Guard rolled into Kuwait.
Sylvia was in Saudi Arabia for almost two years, monitoring troop movements and weapon deployments. She also gained a good deal of experience with SIGnal INTelligence; when she rotated out, she asked for and was accepted to a SIGINT post in the NSA. She spent the next 13 years in Fort Meade, Maryland working with satellite recon photos and intercepted communications. She got Rachel a post in 1995, and they finally decided not to hunt down and kill the recruiter that had deceived them
There was a great deal of confusion in the ranks as Essex first broke out. She and Rachel were ordered (along with the majority of the NSA's military personnel) out into the field to help contain a widespread insurrection. Rachel went to New York; Sylvia went to Grand Junction, Colorado. There, she was placed in command of a squad of regular army and instructed to identify and detain any Essex Positives they encountered.
She and her men coped with the chaos by clinging to discipline and orders. She was disturbed by the transportation of the 'positives', but was sure her superior knew what he was doing. It made sense to quarantine those that were carries of some sort of strange plague. They would be taken someplace for treatment, and to keep them from infecting others. She wasn't taking part in having citizens ripped from their families and transported to concentration camps. That doesn't happen in America. Right?
Then she went to a briefing on REX-84 and Project Manzanar.
After an hour of showering, she still felt soiled. She had toured Buchenwald, Dauchau, and Bergen Belsen when she was in Germany, and her parents had taken her to see the remains of Manzanar Internment Camp once. She couldn't show her distress, though - she was sure that she would be interned or killed outright if she flinched.
She distanced herself further and further emotionally as the days progressed. She still wasn't sure what she was going to do when she was covertly contacted by Rachel. Rachel had fled Washington with the First Family and the Joint Chiefs, just ahead of a lynch mob. Rachel told her that President Ventura was alive, contrary to the news reports, and that he was seeking contact with those still loyal to the guiding principles of this country.
Sylvia made the contact. She was directed to continue identifying herself as loyal NSA, but instead of turning the Essex positives over to the NSA or CDC authorities, she was given information on handing these people over to way stations on Operation Sojourner, the new Underground Railroad. The only real difficulty, in all the chaos, was hiding her true allegiance from her men.
They were on patrol in the high Rockies of western Colorado when report of a major storm came up. They were too far out to return to town, but luckily ran across an old shack. They were settling in when she discovered the young girl with ebony skin and white hair, sleeping huddled under a horse blanket. Any doubts about what she'd been doing were laid to rest as the girl awakened, looking up at her with wide, frightened eyes. She could picture Delphia giving some other soldier the same look. If she had anything to say about it, this girl-child would make it to safety. "I'm Captain Connors," she told her. "You're coming with us."
The cabin wasn't much of a shelter, but it gave the patrol a chance to rest and locate a better prospect: a house that looked big enough to accommodate twelve adults and one child. Sylvia checked her record sheet of captured Positives, and saw that the house's owner had been killed resisting arrest. They wouldn't be disturbed. That night the snow started, and it didn't stop for four weeks. She lost three people to the snow that month. Their food supplies lasted, but tensions were explosively high by the time it stopped snowing.
Sylvia was not blind to the fact that her men either feared or hated the young girl - this Essex positive amongst them. It was all she could do to protect Debbie as much as she did. The men were getting more and more restless around Debbie, especially after one of the gamers in the group would regale the others, out of her earshot, with stories of drow elves and their evil atrocities. When he got lost in the snow and died of exposure, she was relieved, even though she hated to lose anyone for any reason.
Things were coming to a head as they arrived at the Montrose Free Zone. Sylvia was wondering is she would be able to keep things together when a dark elf woman approached. "How much for the girl?" She demanded, and gestured at Debbie. Sylvia's men were still disciplined enough not to say anything as she bartered Debbie to this woman - directly violating their orders concerning the capture and transport of the Positives. Sylvia used every discipline to maintain a bland expression as Debbie was finally passed to the woman. "Hi, my name's Olivia, and no one's ever going to hurt you again." "You'd better not hurt her either," Sylvia thought to herself, "Or you'll answer to me!"
Shortly afterward, her patrol mutinied on her. The patrol shared her disgust at Project Manzanar, but had been unwilling to say anything, since they believed her to be a NSA loyalist. They were ready to kill her, and only her immediate and total confession of her loyalty to President Ventura and her efforts to get Positives to Operation Sojourner saved her.
The patrol was forced to accept positions as mercenaries to survive for the next few months. Almost half of her remaining patrol was killed before they ran into the party again. This time, they surrendered and swore allegiance to the Kingdom.
She goes by Connors now, and is one of the Kingdom's scouts. She also teaches classes in German as a second language to the children of the Kingdom, and advises King Malcolm on military matters.