What is a hero? What makes them? What drives them to perform the unbelievable actions that they inevitably do? Ask a hundred philosophers in a hundred different worlds and likely you would get a hundred different answers. One world, at least, believes that they have the answer. In times of trials most dire heroes are called, a grand summons that reaches distances beyond comprehension and brings those that would wear the mantle called "hero." Of course, things are rarely as simple as they might seem. Your vision blurs, a violent vertigo washes over you as if thrown suddenly across a great distance. After a moment the sensation passes and your surroundings come into focus. You find yourself in a small room lit only but a candle on small table in one corner. The room itself is windowless, hard packed dirt floor and wooden walls add to the impression that it's underground. The only exit is a door on the far end of the room. You find yourself on the floor next to a handful of others, that seem to be similarly regaining their senses. Near the door a man chants in an unknown tongue, a surprisingly firm voice despite the man's aged appearance. He is attended by a slightly frightened looking younger woman, perhaps in her early twenties. The chant quickly reaches its climax and the man falls silent before crumpling to the ground. The younger woman immediately kneels beside him checking his status. As if triggered by this the door opens and three new human men enter. The first is a large, bearish man with brown hair and beard in tight curls. A shield as wide and tall as he covers most of his form and he enters first, scanning the room with cautious eyes, pausing on you and the other figures a moment with a clearly appraising look. He's followed closely behind by a taller but more slender man, reddish-brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail. A pair of swords hang from his belt, sticking out behind his back. He seems more relaxed, though is clearly ready to move on a moment's notice if needed. He steps to the side to allow a last figure in. The third man is considerably older, though not so much as the man who has collapsed, perhaps in his fifties or sixties. He's dressed in fine robes though they are well worn and appear to have several days of travel in them. His face is creased with tension, if you had to guess you would say he has not slept much of late. He steps slowly forward, the other two making eye contact and nodding slightly, then drops down and prostrates on the ground, bowing to the floor. "Thank you for answering our call. It is a time perhaps darker than we have ever known." He rises to his knees then slowly pulls himself to his feet. "If ever we had need of heroes it is now." His face lightens somewhat, eyes hopeful with the faintest glimmers of tears showing in the corners of them. "I'm sure you have many questions, I will attend to them as best I can. What sparse comforts I can offer are yours."