Randolphina is a painfully thin, greasy haired woman with a bad overbite. Her eyes are rimmed in red as if she has been crying. She always has a proud expression on her face.
She wears a chainmail tunic that is better fit for a giant and a dented, warped, wooden buckler painted green.
Once, Randolphina may have been a different person, perhaps one of the peasantry, always hearing of heroes born to save the world. Perhaps Randolphina found these inspiring, or perhaps exciting, or perhaps they were merely diversions to her, but in some way they became wedged in her mind. She was never a very good worker, and, as she put it, “was always searching for something more.” But she never really had the guts to leave. Until one day.
She had been planning for weeks to leave and go adventuring. She had gathered her money and found an old rusty knife in the blacksmith’s scrap pile. Her time had come. She dropped her trowel, put down her bag of turnips, stood up….And was struck by lightning. She survived, of course, but was never quite the same.
Randolphina now believes that she is one of the heroes from the old stories, destined to save the world from some monumentous evil. She wanders the wilderness getting beaten up, or, as she calls it, “adventuring”.
Quite a sad tale, really…