Grey Miller by Don Taco

 Another character origin story from the DragonQuest RPG universe.

                                                        Grey Miller

I'm not one to brag, or even to call attention to myself under ordinary circumstances. In fact,

under most circumstances, I'm someone you barely even notice, if at all, someone that you see

but the eye just glides off and the brain dismisses and forgets. It's a gift from the universe, a

fluke, an odd combination of genetics, birth aspects, the influences of the planets and the stars, a

natural tendency to be quiet and cat-footed, to sit in the shadowed spot, and a genuine reluctance

to be the center of attention. In my youth, the village began calling me Grey. Just as well, they

might have called me Bland if someone had thought of it first. Or Dusty Miller, like the old fiddle

tune, being that we were the Millers since we were the millers of our small farming community. My

own mother even called me Grey, though she swears that I have a given name and that some day

she'll recall it. It doesn't seem important. It's just another aspect of my tendency to fade into the

woodwork if I sit still. It can have its uses. For one thing, due to the combination of my natural

tendencies and a few skills I have mastered over the years, I have an unimaginably high level of

stealth. I can sneak up on anyone. And slip away again. When I was in the Rangers, (more on that

later,) they found this valuable, and encouraged my studies.

Again, not to brag, but just to state a few facts that illustrate how unusual I turned out to be. I

was born under the aspect of the Cat. I can see clearly in the dark, and due to this and some other

training, where, given an appropriate light source, a normal human can see up to 60 feet, I can

read the country of origin on a gold piece at 562 feet. It's unheard of. The Rangers, again, found

this exemplary. I did a lot of sentry duty. All I had to do was stay awake. To guarantee that, I

would often be partnered with guys who just couldn't shut up. Sometimes I would quietly drift

away without them noticing. We were rarely caught off guard, though. And another thing I learned

during those long nights of sentry duty, is that if you have any halflings in your squad, assign

them to the last duty shift of the night. Breakfasts will be greatly improved.

I don't know when I first realized my fascination with shadows. I suppose I should have known it

from an early age, but it always seemed so natural. When we'd go to meeting, or visit someone,

I'd automatically move to the darkest spot. It makes sense now. My magical aspect is Shadow,

and that gives me bonuses that directly influence my tendencies and abilities. Again, it wasn't

until I joined the Rangers, when I left town after the mill burned down, that I discovered this. The

Rangers, and I suppose all military units, do some extensive testing to see what abilities and

tendencies you have, and how they can best make use of you. I was immediately rushed off to the

Shadow Weaver branch of the College of Celestial Magics, which was truly the most eye-opening

and world-broadening experience of my checkered lifetime. Growing up in a small farming

community, I knew little of magic, and never suspected I was capable of it. Everything changed,

and rapidly. Imagine discovering that you could not only hide in shadows, but willfully move from

one to another, even at great distances. Not to mention Shadow Wings.

But let me back up. There I was, an unassuming, forgettable young man of no notable heritage

and no anticipated future. I married a sweet young thing that they called Plain Jane, behind her

back. We were happy. Then came the year of the Black Disease. Over two-thirds of the village

elders were carried off by it in a matter of months, including both my parents and my uncle. The

disease was some horrid respiratory inflammation, quick and sure. Looking back on it, we were

undoubtedly particularly susceptible, being millers and working with dusts and fine powders so

often. I was sick for a month myself. Jane died. Before it was over, so did half the village. And

somehow, in the midst of all that turmoil and grief, the mill itself caught on fire and burned to the

ground. We had depleted the well attempting to stave off the fevers, and there was just no able

manpower to fight the fire.

I had no family, no prospects, and few friends left. So I took what I had, which didn't amount to

much more than a bedroll and a jacket, and headed out to see what I could make of myself in a

much larger world that I knew nothing of. Shortly, I fell in with a small trade caravan, and was

befriended by a pair of young men who had been hired as guards. They heard my story, and were

quick to tell me, "It's the Rangers you want to go see! Always hiring! See the world! Get trained!

Own a fancy sword!" With no better. or even other, options in mind, I made it to a city large

enough to find a recruiter in, and signed away a few years. It was the best move I ever made.

Except for proposing to Jane, which I will never regret.

Of course, I'm old and experienced now. I have an estate, investments, friends in high places.

I've travelled. And fought. And flew. So, it's hard to remember back to those giddy young days in

the Rangers, studying, training, seeing exotic places, and exotic beasts. But what I remember, I

remember fondly. It changed my life. It made my life what it's been. I still miss Jane.

copyright 2025 by Don Taco