My father taught me how to fight, and I am pretty good at it. So I have decided to become an adventurer just like my father used to be. Except not just like him, because I have longer hair. And because he was a ranger and I am a fighter. And because I am a girl. But almost just like him!
Dad and Granddad are both so proud. Granddad gave me his splint mail from back when he was in the army. It is really heavy! But I tried it on and tried to hit myself, and I couldn't, so I know it must be good armor. Then Dad gave me his old backpack from way back when he was just starting out. It still had some of his old things in it, like his blanket and his crowbar and his waterskin and even a couple of his old rations that never got used. Dad said they really made them to last way back then! But Mom made me throw them out anyway. Too bad.
Mom is not as happy as Dad. She thinks adventuring is dangerous, but she is only a commoner so she wouldn't understand. But she also said that I am old enough to make my own decisions and she even baked me some fresh rations to take with me. Dad said that I can use them if I run out of hammers to throw. Then Mom threw a hammer at him.
I like my hammers well enough, I guess, but they seem like a weapon that a little kid would use. I know that they are what I used, back when I was a little kid. But I am a big girl now (even if I am still not as big as some people), so I broke open my dire piggy bank and spent all my copper and silver pieces on a nice big scythe! It is fun to swing, so I hope I get to use it lots and lots and lots.
When I was getting on the coach, everybody in the village got together to cheer for me. Even the people that I beat up because they were mean! But I think maybe they were just cheering because I was leaving. Then the elder gave me a little strange package. When I opened it up, I saw a bunch of tubes and rods and cords and other bits, all bound up tight. A collapsible ten-foot pole! And that is how I became level one.