Epilogue: Hepolita

Hepolita would be alive long after most of the mortals among them would live. She had a long time to think about what to do with her long life. At first she had just wanted to brawl and get drunk but now she craved the adventure that she had had with the party. She wanted to recapture that wonderful feeling of defeating a terrible monster and getting rewarded for it. After Aleera stepped down from guild leader, she took over the hall and the adjacent tavern. It was the marriage of her two loves, fighting and drinking. 

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The guild ran well for a number of years. Their team won the yearly Grand Guild Games every time. This had earned them the title of number one guild, surpassing that of the Golden Fist, which had dominated the games for years before. Their title afforded them the privilege of being the main security force for the city. They had a reputation for being ruthless but fair. No one was allowed to abuse their position, even the lowest member of the guild had to uphold a good reputation.

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Despite the years of reckless abandon during battle, Hepolita ran the guild like a well oiled construct. She worked as hard as she partied and everyone was just a little afraid of making her mad, so they went out of their way to make sure she never felt the urge. She did quite well for the guild and herself. When she finally retired, she was happy knowing she had accomplished what she had wanted. The recognition she had received for her fighting and leadership meant so much to her. 

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A part of her had wanted to stay on, but she knew she needed to give the next generation a chance to lead. After stepping down she moved closer to her childhood home, the village of the elves where her family lived. Although they had revived her mother long ago, the rift had never been mended thoroughly. Her mother was understanding but her father never forgot the pain of losing his wife and child on the same day. He was too afraid to trust her again only to lose her again. She didn’t live in the village but rather stayed in the secluded glen where a small pond was located and white flowers bloomed every night. She became more connected with the moon and the goddes that ruled it. She lives there to this day, carving a small line into a large tree every time the wind brings whispers of the word “justice” emitting from someone’s lips. 

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With the proceeds from her work as a mercenary she never has to want for anything and has an unusual collection of weaponry. Her favorite of course is the gun. She had many made for her by the dwarves of Drakenforge over the years, though none match the splendor of her first guns. Living so in such a remote place makes it hard for any enemies to find her and she doesn’t know or doesn’t care that some still stalk her to this day.

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Published by dndwife

My husband and I run a dungeons and dragons table together and I write about our crazy adventures both in and out of the story. My husband DM's and I am the table artist. I paint minis for everyone at the table and provide crafted gifts like dice boxes, bags, and artwork.

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