ONE Fable Legends (+PC)

Dashing, Skilful and Perfect of Skin

A hooded figure emerged from the dark, sheeting rain. Wrapped against the howling winds and striding forward with a resolute if squelchy purpose, it began its descent down to the warm lights below. The pair of dark eyes visible beneath the hood revealed a look of relief, this journey was almost at its end. Redoubling his efforts, the traveller pushed on through banks of slippery leaves. Passing beneath the shadow of a great tree he stopped as he saw someone step out from the shadows of the building he was trying to reach. The traveller had come all this way, battling nature’s efforts to stop him, all this way to tell the story that must be told. All this way and now, as he reached the building, someone stood blocking the entrance.

“Morning, Andy.” She said. “Bloody awful weather isn’t it?” She turned, swiped her keycard and went inside.

“Achoo!” sneezed Andy and the writer dashed through the open door following her into the warmth of the Lionhead building. While the rain lashed down outside, the bedraggled scribe knew that within these walls he would find Heroes, Villains, epic adventures. And if he was really lucky, a hot fried-egg sandwich.

Hello! I’m Andy Walsh and I have the happy, honourable privilege of being the lead writer here at Lionhead. It has been a soaking, cold and blustery February in our corner of Albion, but we’ve kept ourselves warm by battling creatures and making Legends. I can’t invite you inside to shelter with us, but I hope a belated New Year’s introduction to the first of our many Fable Legends Heroes will help you see off those winter blues. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce – Sterling.

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Dashing, skilful and perfect of skin, Sterling was born with a silver spoon in his mouth*. As first son of the noblest nobleman of a small town in Albion, Sterling was brought up by his father with the hope he would become a gallant, wise member of the town’s elite. Follow in his father’s footsteps to a life of paperwork, diplomacy and ensuring that the cesspits were emptied on time. Sterling’s mother however, had loftier ambitions for her young son. She spent her time busily feeding him every tale of heroic derring-do she could lay her hands on. Minstrels sang of the ancient Heroes, travelling players acted out their deeds and Sterling grew up dreaming of sweeping maidens off their feet and skewering evil villains (or was it the other way around?). It was no surprise to his mother then, that as soon as Sterling could wield a rapier he left home to seek his fortune as a Hero.

Out in the real world, Sterling soon found that the real land of Albion is a little different from that of the story books. It is less a world of glass footwear and magical mice and more one of unwashed thieves and rabid chickens. Discovering that Albion’s roads are mostly mud and droppings instead of paved with gold hasn’t put Sterling off though. Instead he’s become even more determined to make the world the way he thinks it should be. If a chicken needs rescuing, he’ll rescue it with style. If an ogre is menacing a village, then consider it despatched with panache.

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Don’t let Sterling’s manicured hands and spotless velvet jacket deceive you. He might have been born to a life of sheltered luxury, but he’ll always be found in the thick of the action (where better to be admired?). A smile, a wink and an arc of silver, he is more than a match for the many beasts lurking in Albion’s forests. After all, he wouldn’t have kept those perfect teeth and complexion if his sword was just for decoration.

Dashing, chivalrous, deadly, Sterling is a swordsman of legend. Now when the children of Albion dream of Heroes, it is Sterling they are thinking of.

*something for which the cutlery maid was duly punished.

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I hope you’ll help me welcome our first Fable Legends Hero Sterling into the land of Albion. He’s truly a Hero amongst Heroes. I’m looking forward to introducing you to many more of them, and the villainous souls they face, over the coming months.

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The Seasoned Warrior of Skill

Grizzled and determined, Rook is a seasoned warrior hewn straight from the granite of the mountains he’s spent his life patrolling. A veteran member of the Strangers, he’s made the long journey south in response to a mysterious call for Heroes. But with Heroes long thought vanished from Albion, Rook is determined to learn more about this summons, the threat that prompted it and his role as a . . .Hero?

Though duty calls him to the green fields and lush forests of the South, Rook’s heart belongs to the bleak northern landscape of the Deadlands. This desolate corner of Albion is patrolled by the Strangers, an elusive group of men and women* who act as an army, police force and communications network for those travelling across or living along the edges of this harsh environment. As these warriors walk the northern mountains and plains alone, the Strangers’ keen eyes are ever alert for danger to fight and tankards to drain. Armed with only an icy stare and their trusty ‘Catsgut’ repeating crossbows (‘hard bows for hard people’), the Strangers are dedicated to keeping the people south of the Deadlands safe (mainly by ensuring that the strange creatures found there don’t head there to meet and eat them).

A born leader, Rook believes in honour, justice and the sort of sensible short haircut required for hand-to-hand combat. Now he’s down in the softer South, Rook sees it as his job to bring a little northern common sense to all things, and will speak his mind on this when he feels he has to. Always direct and to the point, Rook is a man of few words (and the occasional hand gesture), but you will always know where you stand with him. You’d just better hope that’s not standing at the wrong end of his bow.

*For centuries the Strangers was a strictly male organization, with the motto “All men are born strangers”. Women were admitted to the order following a showdown between the head Stranger and a fishwife who managed to knock him out, and the motto was amended to “All men are born strangers, and women too”. An attempt to make this even more inclusive briefly saw "All people regardless of gender, creed, political affiliation, height, weight, foot size and hat preference are born strangers", before the order finally settled on the simpler “All are born strangers”.

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