Dungeon World Hack
Cassandra hails from the port town of Windsor where she was born and raised. Her father died at sea when she was three, leaving her mother to take up bartending at the local tavern to make ends meet. Much of her childhood was spent inside the tavern.
One Spring, shortly after her fourteenth birthday and after a particularly bad winter, the town’s collective food supply ran out and no one had been to get a boat out in months. In a desperate attempt, five boats manned by the towns best sailors were sent out. The next morning their bodies decorated the shoreline. The town folk were enraged, and the hunt for those responsible began. After three weeks, the winds finally calmed, but not until four mages had been executed. Cassandra’s mother being one of them.
She soon took her mother’s place at the tavern, making enough for herself and staying quiet. Waiting for the chance to break free of the small town and it’s insanity. Very little happened in the following years, the winds persisted, but never as bad as that one year. Over time, the pain eased and her thoughts of running away faded.
Until it happened again. It was mid-spring, and the skies were dark with clouds. Food had ran short again with the return of the evil winds and tensions had run high once more. It was during one of those nights that a fight in the tavern broke out. Cassandra usually tried to stay out of such things and simply bill whomever was left for the damages done, but after they smashed a few kegs she decided to intervene. The tavern’s alcohol supply was nearly dry and those kegs were the last of the rum. Grabbing the large gnarled club from behind the counter, she charged forward towards whichever guy looked like he was least likely to pay. However, before she could swing, the blade of a broadsword caught her in the neck, just missing her windpipe but severing her carotid artery. Immediately, red filled her vision as blood sprayed from the open wound. Within seconds she grew weak, falling to the floor, desperately grasping at her neck, attempting to stop the blood. Soon she was too weak even for that. Laying with her head on the floor, she could feel her self grow cold as the pool of blood expanded away from her, her still heart desperately contributing by pumping away her life. Looking upwards, she realized that it wasn’t just the floor, but everything that was covered in blood. It was everywhere around her. Cassandra watched, mesmerized by a drip on the leg of a chair directly in front of her. In her mind, she silently pleaded with the blood to stop, to come back to her— and to her surprise it obeyed. Not just the drop, but all of it. In long worm-like threads, all the blood covering the inside of the tavern was pulled back into her open wound. Laying there stunned, with the wound, still freshly open, she took a moment to comprehend what had just happened. A few moments after that, she realized she was completely alone.