#bant posting

The hunter was adjusting to this strange, misty, and winding land well. The simple trick Vasro had told them was effective. Lying came easy, and the best lies were ones that they both knew were lies, but could believe. The current lie was that they had lived on Littjara for several years, and were from Bretagard. The old lie was dead. Bromley, just Bromley, no last name, thank you very much, was dead. The ranger from Bant, just a simple thief turned squire turned survivalist after a tragedy wasn’t a complete falsehood, but the reason they had stayed in Jund was. It wasn’t for a change of pace or because the land pulsed with mana that they could feel, but because it was only a matter of time before someone looked into the identifications he provided with a bit more scrutiny, but if Johnny Baker was dead, then it wouldn’t matter. Johnny Baker was dead, dragon attack, along with the entire company of knights, squires, soldiers, and rangers. Or, well, presumed dead. No body was found. And, well, recently, the hunter had learned that Seraphina, now of the New Dawn, was still alive. A strange title, the sigil of the New Dawn was usually one granted to commemorate those who died with honor, a testament how their virtue persisted beyond death. Seraphina was alive, yet she had it still. Simply having a deadname, despite the almost poetic resonance, wasn’t enough to get it. Was it one awarded without her body being laid to rest, because she was dragging herself back to Bant, and had been presumed dead, like Johnny Baker? Did she actually die and come back? It didn’t really matter, and the hunter didn’t know why they cared so much. It’s not like they were from Alara, or would ever see Seraphina again.

Still, laying Bromley to rest stung a bit more than laying Johnny or Jack, or most of the others did. Maybe it was because he shared a name with the first to die, Bromley Macpherson. The poacher turned thief turned killer turned pirate turned assassin turned fugitive. The little boy who played by the docks. The one who strung the harbormaster up by his own rigging. The one who created Jack. The one who loved his family enough to break the rules to feed them, who even after disappearing, left money in his parents’ house until he pulled his final disappearing act, and Johnny was made. The one who they could never go back to, no matter how much they wanted to. The one who Bant and Esper were hunting for. Bromley, both of them, were dead. It was better that way. Vasro could find the hunter, but he could be convinced to let him go. To tell the rest that Bromley was dead, for good this time. He could even conjure a corpse, pass it off as Bromley. The hunter would have to change his face, but that wouldn’t be that hard. A new scar or two, some makeup, hair dye, and a complete departure in hairstyle, maybe a short mohawk, something eye-catching enough to pull focus away from their face. And a name, a Bretagardan name. Once all that was done, they wouldn’t have to think about the people they’d met since they picked up that communicator.

They would miss Greywind though, but she was better off with Huck anyways than they were with the hunter. Gouvle was endearing, but he wouldn’t have gotten along with Bromley Macpherson or Jhessian Jack, even if he did hang out with the dead. Shregresha was the closest thing they had to a friend, but she wouldn’t mourn him long. She’d buried people closer to her than him. Vasro, maybe they could convince Vasro to erase the memory, if not of Bromley, then of the hunter’s location, from his head, if not everyone’s. Windpine was a bit annoying, but loyal. Koda, well, the kid wouldn’t feel a thing. They weren’t very close. Turrak would shed some tears, but move on. Pelt would raise a toast, but they didn’t know if it would be in memory or triumph. Seraphina would probably be hurt the most, by the failure of her mission, that is. Unless the feelings she’d had towards Johnny still existed and carried over to Bromley. Then she might be hurt a bit more.