When a dark sorcerer is having children kidnapped for nefarious ends, the 'Counterfeit Hero' Bailey Silvertongue is forced to stop him. But will he succeed when forced to deal with mercnearies, orc raiding parties, his own cowardice and travelling companions that would rather see him dead?
Heroes aren't made. They most certainly aren't born. They're just the poor saps that weren't smart enough or fast enough to run or find cover when the Gods start playing their games.
So what the hell does that make me you ask?
I'm just a fool prancing around, telling lies and taunting fate with a proverial red cape. The sad part is I didn't think for one second that the raging bull of destiniy would come charging down and trample me into the ground, leaving me bent and broken.
More the fool I.