Attack On The Witcher
A monk with a passion for cooking and being on top of any situation.
Growing up in the mountains of (To Be Decided), Watcher was aptly named to be one of the many hoard guards for an imposing lighting dragon who cared for the life of her minions almost as much as the formations of birds that flew by their enormous cave’s entrance.
Over the decades, Watcher became bored. He could tell that he was different from the other Wyvarans and the Koblods. They didn’t treat him like one of their own. They were too stupid to see his talents. He would occupy himself by training his body, relentlessly for hours daily, using all of the interesting weapons that his Master had collected. Kama, nunchaku, quarterstaff, sai, shuriken, siangham, and temple sword. there were others to choose from, in plenty, but these combined with his quickly developing body which was aided by the hand to hand fighting books at his disposal, felt natural.
It wasn’t long before those around him didn’t just treat him with dislike, but also fear as any time they would make remarks about him, he would teach them not to. His life quickly turned to that which was full of hatred. His companions, his situation, his overwhelming boredom and futility seemed to overtake him. He had two saving graces.
Pettal. She was… Is the most beautiful creature that could have possibly existed in this plane of existence. She was pure and honorable. Though she was born a mute, she spoke to Watcher in ways that none other could. She would help any who were injured, and she could craft a suit or dress of any kind without a second thought. She was perfect.
Cooking was a release that was desperately needed in Watchers life. A time where he could be distracted. The aromas of a slow roasted stew, seasoned with a few key, but subtle ingredients kept Watcher going. It was his freedom from his life.
Then it came.
The best and worst day of his life. Pettal had been chosen to enter the lower caverns. Nobody knew what was down there, none returned.
Watcher ran to Pettal as she was being dragged away by two chains latched to her ankles. As watcher leaped to the ground to grab her, he saw her smile. She forced something into his hand and kissed it.
He saw stars, but no Pettal. Waking up from unconsciousness on the cavern ground he opened his hand to see the key to Pettals sewing draw. With dull mind and a body that no longer existed, he made his way to her chamber.
Inside the draw, he found a new soft leather travelling outfit, a few unmarked vials with a green liquid inside and a note. The note read simply: It’s time to go. Use these in a meal for everyone, eat none.
I love you.
As the others lie asleep wherever they happened to be eating tonight’s stew, Watcher knew that he must travel light, and that taking anything from the hoard would inspire the dragons wrath. He took some weighted dice from the body of a fellow Wyvaran and promised to make his fortune, starting with these. He will make his life meaningful, and he will some day, avenge Pettal, his love.