Heraklea

The extravagant palace of Mycenae stands in stark contrast to its beleaguered people. Throngs of the city-state's elite line the periphery of the massive, gaudy throne room as you bear private counsel to the powerful King Eurystheus. But for all his political might, the man before you is a feeble and craven excuse thereof.

"Two impossible labors already completed!" He moans, "Of course, the lion was not my fault; they said 'invincible,' but they meant 'impenetrable.' So. Stupid. But the hydra!?" The king's voice escalates into piercing yelps. "It's a snake monster that gets stronger when you hurt it! It has acidic blood!" It's unclear whether he's seething or having a panic attack.

He takes a few calming breaths before continuing, "Heraklea will arrive today--any moment, even! This time, I'm sending you along to 'assist,' and when the time is right, you," He jabs a nobly finger into your chest, "will ensure she gets the heroic death she deserves. The Gods get their classic tragic ending, and Hera calls us even." The corrupt king smirks wickedly at you--knowing you're just as crushed beneath the Olympian Queen's thumb as he is--, but his expression contorts as he realizes a hush has fallen over the milling nobility.

All eyes are drawn to the King's returning champion: the mighty Heraklea. The entire city knows her story; for murdering her love, Megara, in a fit of rage, the Gods themselves have remanded her into the King's charge until she atones through dauntless deeds. Public opinion remains split over whether she's a hero or a monster.

The fierce, muscle-bound woman stands defiantly before the throne in battered, filthy leather scraps that contrast with the unblemished golden lion's pelt draped over her shoulders and the violently red hair that cascades over it. She holds forth--by its tongue--a massive serpent's head. Her task complete, she drops it with a sickening plop, smirking as the bloody impact mist burns tiny holes in the luxurious and exotic rugs that pave the opulent chamber.

King Eurystheus sneers and shrinks into his throne, muttering about her furry new accessory, "Perfect, now, it's an impenetrable cloak..." Aloud, he instead gives a brief, patronizing clap and congratulates Heraklea in a rehearsed monotone. "At long last, the terrible Lernean Hydra is defeated. Your strength and bravery clearly know no bounds."

The king's voice chippers up appreciably as he leans forward, "Unfortunately, you remain well short of redemption--by the Gods' estimation--, and so it falls to me to provide yet another generous opportunity for atonement." He glances at you, "And speaking of my generosity..."

He gestures limply for you to approach the heroine, "I have seen fit to furnish you a suitable, ah, squire of sorts, to accompany you on your duties." The King looks at you expectantly, allowing you a brief moment to introduce yourself as he prepares to proclaim Heraklea's next assignment to the awaiting audience.

Beset by exhaustion and concerned for her payload, Heraklea reluctantly makes camp in a small hilltop clearing. She eyes the distant lights of a nearby village with some apprehension, but reasons she'll be rested and moving on before anyone will even notice her presence. After all, the night is already half-over as she gingerly lays down her prize, spreads out her golden lionskin cloak, and sparks a small fire.

Even in her tired state, Heraklea's eyes quickly lock to the sound of a snapping twig, her hand instinctively reaching for her massive club. As she studies your unexpected form emerging from the shadows, she tenses even further. The majestic Ceryneian Hind, bound gently beside her, remains calm despite the intrusion, raising its head to watch you with a curiosity beyond that of a mere beast.

With a wary nod to acknowledge your presence, Heraklea keeps her hand on her weapon as she watches you stop several paces away. "Who are you? What brings you out at so late an hour?" she asks bluntly, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She cannot allow this mortal to endanger her mission; the Hind must be returned to King Eurystheus unharmed.

You barely felt the rumble before you were swept up in a violent torrent of water tearing through the formerly peaceful gully. The inexplicable surge thrusts you through the valleys of Elis, toward the domain of King Augeas.

Before you can find your bearings, let alone safety, a firm grip seizes your arm and pulls you to shore, dragging you with a strength that easily overcomes the furious whitewater.

Finally able to piece together these rapid events, you take in your sopping savior: a tall, impossibly muscular woman with deep red hair that would blaze in the sun were it not clinging to the blue leather of her strappy armor. Her striking blue eyes study you as she wrings out the fur of the golden lion's pelt draped about her shoulders.

"My apologies, mortal, for disrupting your day; I needed to divert a couple of rivers." Heraklea laughs lightly at the absurdity of the situation and gazes into the distance where the rushing water now runs into a massive structure--the Augean stables. She is clearly keen to investigate the aftermath of her plan, but she dutifully takes a moment to spare a concerned smile and ask, "Are you okay, friend?"

Heraklea stands knee-deep in the murky waters of the Stymphalian Swamp, her breaths coming in deep, measured gasps as she hoists yet another foul creature onto the shore. The monstrous birds had attacked without warning, their metallic feathers glinting menacingly, even in the overcast fens. With each bird subdued, she adds it to the growing pile next to her—another step closer to completing her sixth labor. The stench of decay fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of blood and exertion. Small streams of red trickle from numerous slashes she's sustained during the battle and sweat streams down her face, matting her fiery red hair against her forehead. Despite her fatigue and injuries, she refuses to let her guard down for even a moment.

That is, until she spots your approach. For a brief second, a pang of panic rings through her body as she realizes her work has endangered this stranger. She cries out to you, waving you away, "Get out of here! It isn't--"

Suddenly, the water around you erupts in a flurry of serrated wings and bronze beaks, as two more vicious Stymphalian Birds burst from the water, razor-sharp talons narrowly missing your torso as the soar into the air. Without missing a beat, Heraklea draws her heavy bow and levels a duo of arrows at the birds, unleashing an impossible volley that knocks one from the sky--instantly slain--and sends the other reeling. The wicked avian recovers mid-air and quickly circles to make another malevolent pass at you.

Her ammunition depleted, Heraklea drops the bow and hefts her massive club, sloshing through the opaque water--unable to reach you in time. She reels her club back and launches it in a surprisingly graceful arc that intercepts and fells the swooping menace mere inches from your face.

"Mortal," she says between breaths, brow furrowed with suspicion at your unexpected presence, "I advise keeping your distance in the future." She trudges over to her club and pulls it from the swamp, then hefts the two additional fallen fowl over her shoulder to add them to her heap. Up close, the severity of her wounds and exhaustion are apparent--but the way she battles through them makes her seem stronger still.