Sitting in Bloodstone admiring her own weapons, Sparrow (Queen to you) had a strange feeling.

She was officially bored. Her brainchild-buying everyone luxuriant pieces of furniture-had been competed too soon. She surveyed her options. Back home, to the continual barrages of 'Mummy!' and the endless gifts from her spouse, or to the Crucible, to beat her own record.
Nah, the Crucible, and its all-annoying commentary team, sounded like a boring idea.

She studied a map of her Albion. Far to the north-Oakfield. Before that came Rookridge. Bowerstone. Then Bower Lake. Lo and behold, Brightwood. The Bandit Coast. Westcliff. Wraithmarsh. Bloodstone. SNORE. Never forgetting Knothole Island, of course.
Sparrow lounged in her chair, a lock of her dyed-black hair falling over her shoulder. There came a whine.

"There, there, Rin. Have a treat." The golden retriever, Rin. Her trusty companion. Well, him and Marine, her death-defying, golden-blonde, all-powerful Henchwoman.

She'd seen Marine when Marine was a little girl and Sparrow was fifteen. She had felt sorry for the girl, remembering her own tough childhood, and so she had bought her from a slave trader, eventually training her too.
Now, ten years later, and all the better for killing the slaver that had captured her aged five, Marine was as much a threat to evil as Sparrow.

Sparrow grinned as Marine jumped over the wooden balustrade and landed perfectly on her feet in front of Sparrow. She'd been jogging, and, by the looks of it, had caught some news while she had been doing so.

"Ms Sparrow, you might want to do something close to skedaddling for your life. Reaver's coming back for his house."

Sparrow smiled and closed The Hero Of Oakvale.
"So, it appears it's time for some sacrifices, then?" she asked.

"Ugh yes. So, true to the ancient laws of tactical retreats, how about we leg it NOW?" Marine suggested. Sparrow laughed.

"It appears you're scared," she said, climbing up the bookcase onto the balcony. Marine pouted.

"I'd just prefer to keep unnecessary holes out of my head, ta," she replied, huffing. Sparrow nodded.

"A wise and beneficent idea, Marine. Run?" Sparrow suggested. For answer, Marine pegged it. Sparrow giggled and followed her at a comfortable pace.

She unfortunately cannoned straight into the arms of a young man with styled black hair and green eyes. Marine zipped back and helped her up again.
They were just leaving when they heard the familiar, self-inflated drawl of…

"Reaver." Marine moaned.

"A pleasure to see you too, Marine," came the reply. Sparrow forced a smile on her face and turned around.

"Reaver!" she said in a forcedly bright voice. "You're back. So soon. Time flies. We were just leaving."

With that, she grabbed Marine and the two women shot off into the distance.

"I…er…don't really know what to make of that." Reaver mumbled. Then he gave a shrug and chased after them. Marine looked behind them.

"Sparrow. Reaver's chasing us," she pointed out.

"It wouldn't be the first time, now would it, Marine?" Sparrow asked.

"Er, no," came the reply.

"Why IS he chasing us?" "Why does he do anything, Marine, unless it benefits him?" Sparrow asked again.

Marine snorted, and they hopped onto a ship. Reaver got out his Dragonstomper and shot the captain dead.

"Ever sailed a boat, Marine?" Sparrow asked brightly.

"Only an enchanted one," Marine replied.

"Well, this isn't enchanted, so we'll have to hurry." Sparrow cut the lines. She took the helm and they sailed off to Westcliff.