Legend: Champions of Geram
Short and voluptuous, with a brunette ponytail and a sharp gaze
If she chooses to let you see her as you pass through her forest, count yourself lucky, because you’re one of the few. You may have noticed her pet falcon circling overhead as you passed through that last clearing, and you may have heard the hushed whispers of the chipmunks in the tree behind the mushroom ring you decided to avoid. Those were signs of her presence, if you’d known to look. You didn’t, but she’s interested in you, all the same, and so she’s chosen to reveal herself.
At first glance, the girl that steps out from behind the tree ahead of you can’t be more than a teenager in the prime of her beauty: a set of long, lean legs curve up into full, luscious hips that melt into a strong stomach to support a truly remarkable pair of breasts. Her skin’s bronzed complexion is radiant and nubile. Chestnut hair, pulled back into a ponytail, waves at you sensuously from where it grazes her left shoulder. Her clothes, an airy, yellow cotton blouse that shows off plenty of cleavage and a tiny pair of dark green canvas shorts, seem more functional than provocative, although they certainly do their job at sparking the imagination.
By the time you get up to her neck, you’re already either very impressed or very jealous of what you see before you—but then you see her eyes, and your breath catches in your chest, because what you see in her eyes shocks and frightens you. It’s as ancient as it is primal, as untamed as it is carnal, as hungry as it is amused, and it’s looking right at you.
Surely it’s just a silly trick of the light, right?
And then she quirks a sly smile at you, catlike and coy, and the moment passes and she’s just that teenage girl who knows a little more than perhaps a teenage girl should about all the good stuff in life.
Don’t believe me? Try asking her.
I dare you.
Betana is the crazy, mysterious girl the town ranger used to “spend time” with, if you catch my meaning. People love to gossip about her—or rather, people love to gossip about her in broad daylight, in the middle of the bar or festival when lots of witnesses are around and the witch herself is nowhere to be seen.
Is she a witch? No one really knows, and nobody even has any juicy stories—and that’s the weird part, because you know old Jareza always has a juicy story to tell about everybody. But Vail always discouraged folks talking about Betana too much, and folks didn’t really take much convincing. I mean, have you seen her? Sure, she’s like sex in a pastry shop, but when she talks with that funny accent of hers, it’s like she’s from a different world or something. And when she looks at you, really looks at you, half the time it’s like she’s studying a bug under an alchemist’s glass.
On the other hand, Vail did say she was the one that mixed that poultice that fixed young Feskan’s leg when Tenni said it just couldn’t be done, not even with magic. And when Widow Mardek got lost in the forest the time she got burned by the lightning that fell on the Wishing Tree, it was Betana that knew where to look for her and Betana’s pet stag that carried her safely back to town. And tell me you’ve never eaten one or ten too many of those honeysuckle cane candies she makes for the Harvest Festival in the poor years!
But nobody knows how long she’s been going to those festivals. Nobody knows where she lives out there in the woods, all alone. And nobody knows why she never likes to come into the town proper, but always seems to hang around the edges of the wood like a forest sparrow.
It’s peculiar. She’s peculiar, and we don’t know what to make of her.