Each successive Hero is born a hundred years after the death of the last. No one knows where the Heroes originate. Some believe they enter this world fully formed and others believe they are born in the belly of the world to the Heroic Progenitor. Whatever the case, they are raised on the memetic legacy of the previous heroes, becoming acquainted with the Heroes' past accomplishments and failures, learning more and becoming better suited to the fights to come, for the Heroes are locked in an endless, seemingly futile battle against evil; each moment of progress dwarfed by countless defeats.
Year 560 of the 3rd Era
The smell hit. Like a tidal wave of decay, it made the Hero stagger and fight back the bile rising in her throat. Tears streamed down her face from the sting of the corrupted air. The enchanted cloth tied around her face kept the miasma from ravaging her lungs. This cavern of death was overwhelming in every sense.
She wore light armor; leather with scarce iron worked into the shoulders, the right breast, and the right arm. It didn't offer much protection, but it left her light enough to maneuver and avoid taking any hits to begin with. She bore a round shield, red with a silver Pheonix in the center, with her left hand, and a thin longsword, which had been imbued with an enchantment of light; you could see currents running the length of the blade, casting a small light around her. At her waist were various items: a dagger of some black metal, a pouch with some sort of powder, a ring of keys, and a flask filled with a form of healing liquid.
After rubbing something into her eyes that prevented them from stinging and watering, the Hero set off through the tunnels of the large cavern. The Hero cast her eyes around warily, flicking from wall to wall to ceiling to the path behind her and back to the front again. Slowly she stepped, inching forward, careful not to make the slightest of sounds; it would not do to alert anything malicious.
The Hero continued this way for quite some time before coming to a very distinctly familiar spot. The tunnel she had been traversing opened up into a wide room, a sort of hub that had other tunnels branching off from it. She began to step into the room when a vivid image filled her mind. The image was of a knight who was warily proceeding to the center of the room that she herself was about to enter when suddenly, in the image, a score of enemies came rushing in from all of the tunnels except for one, the one directly opposite this tunnel.
Before she saw what became of the knight, the vision ended. When she came to, her foot as still in mid step and lighted softly upon the stone floor. She looked around and realized that if she had proceeded into the room, she would have been overrun by enemies. She recalled that there was one tunnel that seemed safe, directly across from her.
Taking only a few steps into the room, she circled around to the other side, hugging the wall and carefully checking each hallway she came across for signs of movement before passing in front of it. It wasn't until she made it to the other side, to the opening that she planned on going into, that she experienced anything; right as she came upon the opening, her foot pressed down on some sort of panel and her heart thumped harder at the realization that she had just activated a trap.