Isn't that a beautiful sound, Faira Ativel thought, as her blade struck her opponent's blade. She had never been in an actual combat, but now it seemed that her supposed training - if it could be called that - started to pay off.

She was born in a small fishing town of Altme, right across the large bay from Anchorfall. She had grown watching the distant glitter of Anchorfall's lights; Kingdom of Varmhjelm seemed like a whole lot more interesting place than Treglin, the country of small rotten hovels and dilapitated fishing villages.

Altme attracted all sorts of weird people that wanted to trade mysterious items to fruits of the sea. On the early age, she had made herself very clear that adventuring was something she was meant to do.

After turning 18, the laws of the land practically demanded that she'd be wed and started doing all sorts of boring things, but naturally, she was having none of that, being an adventuresome soul. The night before her birthday, she bid solemn, yet hopeful farewell to her parents, talked to a few of the friendly tradesmen that were leaving, and jumped in their ship, the Hurtling Cart.

The ship headed to Anchorfall, then Lyrchan, then Moonbay; Anchorfall was quite an interesting sight, Lyrchan was little more interesting than Altme, but Moonbay, and elven port town, was definitely an amazing experience. Aboard the ship, she cooked - it was amazing how many different ingredients there were in such a small vessel, after a lifetime of fish, clams, herbs, potatos and ocassional apple - and worked, with needle, thread and cargo hold full of packs of cloth, on her new adventurer imago. And night after night, she listened to the sailors talk of the wonders of the world and current political climate. Rumors of mysterious boredom spreading all over the world were common, but there was no sight of boredom aboard the ship. Everyone was busy, everyone knew their place, and everyone knew what to do when they weren't doing anything important.

Two weeks aboard the ship went past, and Faira cooked, talked, and tailored. On a beautiful evening, she finally emerged from belowdecks, clothed from head to toe in a black outfit, tight but comfortable, that left absolutely no doubt that she was a cat-like adventurer. But instead of a cheery opinion from shipmates, she was faced by this particularly ugly pirate.

The years of sparring on the home beach with daggers saved her life, and she was definitely happy that she hadn't just left without planning. At least she knew the parents approved of her plan, and she could die doing whatever she had planned doing all along. But she had no intentions for that. Dodging the crude pirate's blows, she nimbly jumped on foredeck, then leapt again and landed a perfect kick right in middle of the pirate's forehead. Moments later, the pirates noted their luck had changed for worse; they were evenly matched with the crew, but the crew fought better.

Two days later, the Hurtling Cart departed from Bergluchia, where seven pirates now hanged from the walls with supporting ropes tied on places that made breathing quite inconvenient.

She never really made any decision to become a defender of justice as such. The situation was just fortunate: Those days, most of the adventure was in the seas, and most of the action had one thing or another to do with fending off pirates. There was notoriously little happening in the land - the spreading boredom, which was rumored earlier, was now a fact; the smell of apathy was heavy on most of the port towns. Faira had fun fighting pirates and earned some money doing so.

Over the following weeks, then months and the following years, the northern seas witnessed the rise of a new hero: Raven-haired, black-clad, cat-like young lady who almost single-handedly made the seas safe to sail. She was known for her skills of navigation - even when she was never known to actually hold the post of a navigator, her skills with blades and that fearsome trident that never once was seen on dry land, and that salty curry stew that later was known to play a very important role, but which our humble narrator must leave for another time.

But problems in the land grew, trade died, and ultimately, Faira found herself on a dry land again - in the port of Anchorfall, with nothing but a pair of daggers, a small bag of gold, and quite possibly some more in the bank - not much by last count, but enough to survive for some time. She was promptly contacted by Shadowhawks, a group of vigilantes who were dedicated to keeping peace.

Little was known what caused Shadowhawks to finally disperse, as details are quite sketchy. Most likely, that was not Faira's doing. The group disbanded just before the Varmhjelm's great Revolution of 627.

Together with some legends of the Revolution, such as Facyr the Brave, Gnedrnygr the Unpronouncable, and Jenyr the Just, as they were later honored as, she had countless adventures which, indeed, have to be chronicled elsewhere.