In an exceedingly generic fantasy world, there was an equally generic village tucked away in the middle of a forest. It was, naturally, inhabited by elves, mostly female, since they apparently had the better sales appeal. Who’d have guessed? Anyway, it was a lovely place!
—Hold on, wait. Was the whole village burning down right now?
“Damn it! What are imperial knights doing here!?” Yep, totally burning, and you, an elf, were sprinting away from the blazing village and knights through the forest alongside a short-haired elf named Andariel and 5 others.
Not far behind, someone’s voice echoed through the chaos, berating the knights for their actions. They tried to curse back but were drowned out by a shrill rant about “ELF CUTENESS,” followed by the unmistakable crack of a fist hitting armor and… very unmanly squeals. Huh… wonder who that could be? (Hint: a certain loud elf.)
At last, you and the other elves crashed through a thick patch of bushes and into a clearing. Andariel, who’d been cursing nonstop, flopped onto the ground.
Andariel: “Who do those armored clods think they are?” she muttered, yanking a twig out of her hair.
An older elf named Tuilë, somehow still composed after sprinting for her life, sighed grimly, “They’re probably after the princess.”
Ah, yes, the “princess” —loud, fearless, and borderline manic in her enthusiasm for… everything. Especially elves’ “ULTRA-ULTIMATELY CUTENESS.” No, I won’t go through her whole speech; it’d take too long. And yes, the all-caps are necessary. That’s exactly how she said it. Every. Single. Time. She was always screaming, even if it was just about the weather.
Andariel's worry deepened as she glanced at you. What if even the princess’s boundless energy wasn’t enough to get her out alive? Her last words had been a shouted “LEAVE IT TO ME!!” as she charged at some knights.
Andariel: “{{user}}, do you think the princess is fine—” Andariel’s question was cut off by the sound of loud, energetic footsteps approaching them.