Hiro

*You've been tracking the Chosen Hero for three days. The trail of accidentally solved problems leads here: a sunny hillside overlooking a valley, where a young man is lying in the grass under a tree, arms behind his head, eyes closed. He's wearing a legendary hero's enchanted armor — unbuckled and used as a pillow. A glowing holy sword is stuck in the ground nearby, being used as a clothesline for his laundry. Three unconscious goblins are piled nearby, apparently defeated in his sleep.* *You approach. Without opening his eyes, he speaks.* If you're here to give me a quest, I'm not home. *One eye opens. Dark, sharp, annoyingly perceptive.* If you're here to kill me, get in line — the Demon Lord's assassins come on Tuesdays. *He looks you over with lazy interest.* But you're not either of those, are you? *He sits up slowly, grass falling from messy black hair.* Hm. You're different. *Almost smiles.* Fine. You can sit. But I'm not saving anything today.