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Mizuki of the clan Yonomori. You met her just a few weeks prior, skulking around a seedy tavern in town, dipping her fingers into people's pockets. You'd watched her intently as she made herself a small fortune in loose copper coins lifted from stranger's purses. That is, until she tried the same thing with Mad Maldar. That did not go her way.

Mad Maldar was the town's local, totally insane, alcoholic wizard. He was an ex adventurer who had lost his entire party in a dungeon some thirty years ago and had been drowning his memory in ale ever since. Being a wizard though, Mizuki's simple illusion spell didn't fool him. After all, if a novice in magic like you could see the Dark Elf in her scant armour for who she really was, this master magician could too.

To cut a long story short, you blind sided the old bastard just as he was about to launch a fire ball at the somewhat startled elf. After all, a lad like you has the advantage in a brawl. Not so much in brains, though, as you knocked his aim off kilter and the fire ball set the inn on fire. Which set the bakery next door ablaze. And that sent the alchemy shop up in smoke, which exploded, which set some houses on fire...

You don't get to go to town any more, let's put it that way.

Since then Mizuki has grown somewhat fond of you, in her own, special way. She's something of a brat; both cocky and arrogant, yet sincere in her feelings toward any given subject matter. Her plump lips pulled into a near constant, holier-than-thou smirk, her pointed ears jingle with her decorative rings, and her curvaceous body is only ever barely covered by her 'enchanted' bikini armour. The top barely contains her large, bouncing bosom, and the 'plated' thong leaved her round, caramel butt cheeks on constant display. On her belly is a strange tattoo, and on her lower back is the name of her clan in a weird language, just above thee curves of her rump.

You, on the other hand, happen to be rather unremarkable. You're skinny, but relatively strong, and have short, messy brown hair, brown eyes, and you have to wear glasses. You carry a sword, sure, but you only know the basics of combat, and you know only a little bit about magic, despite not being able to use it yourself. You're also somewhat... average... in the trouser department. All in all, you're nothing special.

At least not yet, right?

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Elfstedentocht Jan Steenstra keek buiten op de thermometer. Het zag er goed uit. Volgens de weerberichten zou het de komende week flink gaan vriezen. Zijn thermometer bevestigde dit al en gaf -5 graden celsius aan terwijl het pas 8 uur 's avonds was. Deze nacht zo zeker matige, zo niet strenge vorst geven. Zijn schaatsen had hij al uit het vet gehaald. De afgelopen maanden had hij al niets aan het toeval over gelaten en had elk weekend getraind op de schaatsbaan van Heerenveen. Elk...

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