The enormous passenger boat billowed in the ocean like a toy as the sun finally came to rest over the horizon. Absent now the aqua hues and swimming, calm tones of light projected from the Crystallized Mountain. The ship now floated amongst hazy, warm orange-red beams from the Scarlet Moon.

“Come on,” Tora becconned with a gesture, “Let’s show you to the others.” The blue of her scales were almost left behind as she darted into the stairwell leading way to the ship’s lower decks. Egris lethargically followed, grasping the few coins he still had nearing the might of welding them together.

As he dived into the wooden vessel, thunderous and deafening shuffling drowned the elf. A flicker of blue caught his attention shooting through the crowds. One he was expected to stay close behind. Shimmying through the halls of the ship, mashed and crushed between a melding pot of species and races, Egris could barely keep up with the surprisingly nimble dragonborn. After what seemed like hours of thrashing through an agitated snake pit, Egris arrived at a sheltered, cramped hall laying its way to many different game rooms, some -- if not most -- gambling with illegal tender.

“HEY!” A raspy voice quietly bolted out, “OVER HERE!” At the end of the hall, tossing very noticeably with the waves, Tora was balancing halfway out of a doorway with her hands securing her to either side. Egris timidly shimmied to her, walking like a drunken newborn.

The room was more open and bare than he expected, perhaps explaining the price of boarding. Four figures relaxed at a table near the back sharing drinks and eating rations. A stone sculpture on a bench directly opposite the door. A sleazy man lay provocatively on a padded bench to the left, eyeing Egris with a mix of offense and intrigue. Two blue kobolds, much darker than Tora sat across from each other betting their food over a game of cards.

Egris broke out into a cold sweat. What he thought was a wall to his right began to move towards him out of his peripheral vision. It was out of the candlelight, turning his head proved fruitless in calming his nerves, quite the inverse was achieved. A towering form now shadowed over the elf.

Sound was driven out of the cabin, it felt.

Time slowed as Egris’ heart exploded in his ears with each pulse.

An arm extended, ashy green and huge.

The elf’s eyes slowly trailed up the arm to meet the now exposed face of his presumed end.

His gaze met with a soft, concerned, and outright confused looking half-orc covered in a burlap cowl. Egris followed the arm back down to see it was inviting a handshake. Hesitantly, he accepted.

“I’m Zagur, but you can call me Zag if you’d like.” He spoke with words eloquent and fluid, despite the jaggedness of his lips from the tusks protruding from them. “I’m in charge, after Tora. If you have any bruises from entry, we can both help - we're both medically trained.” Egris adopted a look of confusion so contorted it in itself could be confused as a scowl.

An orc as a nurse? A dragonborn as a doctor? Why do they harbor kobolds? Can that man be any more creepy? “What’s the sculpture for?” He blurted out.

Everyone stopped.

What little color Egris had, drained from his face as he realized that was the first thing he asked of his bunkmates, possibly now agitated with his errant question. Egris was used to the solidarity of his work, never being much of a social figure. His vision pulsed, and he felt sick.

The pink-eyed kobold chuffed out a snicker, followed by the cabin being engulfed in laughter. Everyone, Tora, the man, the half-orc, the statue.

The statue.

The stone adorning the lips creased and shattered, revealing soft, bronze cheeks. Its head tilted back, cracking open the jaw and neck like thin ice, showing her face. She stood, sloughing the rest of her stone cowl onto the floor. The stone never made it to the ground, fizzling to dust leaving nothing but the sound of sand in the breeze. She had a white gi covering most of her body, leaving her neck, arms and lower legs exposed. All being covered in an ever-replenishing layer of stone, like gauntlets and sabatons.

Egris held his hand out to shake, which was ignored and in response was met with a bow. “I’m Lyme, you get one joke, any more and I jab you in the stomach.” She was no longer smiling.

“Like limestone? Eh?!” The pink-eyed kobold barks out in a Pragenthian accent, before quickly receiving a smack to the back of her head by the woman. “You get one joke A DAY, Rika - I’m counting the ‘gravel’ comment as one, too.”

“Gravel… comment?” Egris quietly probed. “BECAUSE SHE--” SMACK

Lyme took back her seat at the table as Rika rubbed the sore spot on the back of her skull, as the lizard turned, a nub was present where her arm had been, and her tail was absent. On both, slightly lighter blue, almost gray scar tissue wrapped around and splotched them.

As she returned to the table, she counted on her four fingers the remaining bits of snacks she had been betting. Anger swarmed her as she bolted onto the table, locking her gaze with the violet eyes of the near identical one sitting across from her.

”PEP, GIVE EM BACK! I’LL KILL Y–”

Zagur caught Rika by the collar of her chestplate and sat her back down on the other side of the table. He then reached down and picked up a chunk of chocolate off the ground, bringing it to her view and placing it on the table. “Oh.” Rika sputtered, before hastily shoving the morsel into her mouth.

An aimless plucking of strings caressed Egris’ ears from the left, the red-haired, sleazy man was dressed in fabrics much more striking than most in the room. He held himself in a manner that oozed cockiness. Egris, among other things, felt acid reflux in the back of his throat just gazing in his direction.

Tora chuffed a bit under her breath, reassuring him that everyone felt about the same. “You have no idea how good of a negotiator Stigur is, that’s half the reason we keep him around.”

This stirred the man, yanking one of his lidded eyes open, stared emerald daggers through the two. He gingerly sat down his lute and popped up from his sprawl on the bench. Expensive boots clacked against the wood floor until he was face-to-face with the elf. Admittedly a foot or two further down than what Egris expected.

Nothing but muffled splashing of the ship reverberated for a bit between them.

Stigur still was inspecting Egris from tied-back hair to gloved hands, apron, down to his old, beaten boots. Egris hadn’t had the fortune of changing into more fitting clothes since his termination at the shop.

The man smirked, gave a raised eyebrow, and spoke in the most jovial inflection he could muster.

“Not lookin’ too sharp yerself, laddie. Keep yer ego unda wraps, and ya moight survive.” Stigur did a quick pivot on his heels, and clacked, spun, and sunk back into his bench. “Probah, what did I tell ye about bringin in strays?”

Egris felt all his hair stand on end closest to the dragonborn. She gritted her sharp teeth together, and hissed out with a crackle and buzz to her voice. “Shove it up your arse, you half-witted midget! I told you to stop it with that name!” Behind the blue scales of her cheeks, Egris made out a hint of cherry.

Above all else, he was genuinely confused by the dynamics of the band. Tora calmed herself, and turned to Egris. “When’s the last time you've been around Tameroque?”

It’d been around a century that he could recall, he couldn’t remember even the smallest of details. Only one thing in particular did stick, the largest city on the continent.

Faines-Hiem. City of his birth. The town he ha– “Eugh?”

Before even allowing him to get lost in thought, something foreign brushed against Egris’ leg. Swinging his head in that direction failed to help - it was already circled to the other side. This continued for several moments, a short game of cat-and-mouse with the predator being a mere hair slower than his prey.

A clunk redrew his attention to the refilled seat of the amethyst-eyed kobold, viciously scribbling away at a scrap of parchment. She was enthralled in whatever it was she was doing, A shiftily-lidded eye bouncing to the elf every few strokes of charcoal.

"Don't mind Pepper," Tora said with a huff of resignation, "She's always like that."

The kobold was finalizing the details on her paper and shoved the crumbling writing implement into her metalworking apron when she finally piped up with a hushed, chittering voice.

"What alchemy do you specialize in?"

Egris was taken aback.

He clambered for an answer, he didn't know.

"I mainly make potions, but I can create almost anything, minus poisons."

"Not a merc, then?"

"A salesman."

Pepper stared through his chest with a blank look, before turning to Tora.

"I know better than to question, but-"

She meets eyes with the dragonborn and quickly averts her gaze.

"N- nevermind." She stuttered, huffing out a surrender.

Pepper quickly crumpled the page and stuffed it into a satchel sitting next to her, filled with dozens of similar ones. She then got up and offered her seat to Tora, before laying down on the bench opposite of Stigur.

Tora gave Egris a motion to sit, to which he obliged. She swiftly locked him into his seat by gently shoving him further in the booth.

"So," the half-orc started, breaking the silence. "A salesman, huh? Haven't really met any so desperate just out of a job…"

"Desperate?" Egris mumbled. "What do you mean by desperate?"

"This ain't such a quaint job we do. Did Tora even tell you what we're doing?"

Tora looks away from the two, more-so from Egris.

Zagur shows a bit of annoyance in his face, but quickly calls his focus back to the elf in front of him.

"Most of our jobs are given to us via letter. We're agents in a peacekeeping service that formed shortly after the war." He shifts back in his seat. "We're actually two teams that were dispatched to Aestus to help with evacuations, but our funding's out. We've been recalled to our headquarters in Faines-Hiem to receive payment."

"Faines-Hiem? You're going back to Faines-Hiem?!" Egris' elation was hardly disguised. His outburst was met by the ambient sounds of creaking wood.

"... yes?" Replied Zagur. "Our HQ is in the guard district, next to the Western Gate. My team has me as leader, with Lyme as enforcer, Stigur as advisor. Tora's crew has her leading, with Rika and Pepper as an enforcer and advisor, respectively. With how we are currently, I'm not sure where'd you fall as a potential agent, but I'm sure they'd find a use for your talents."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Egris had been under the impression that this was a band of misfits, not professionals. Their personalities were so mis-matched, not to mention their races- companies normally only hire one group.

"What's your story? How'd you end up here?" Zagur inquired.

Egris, with a pained sigh, started.

"I was born in Faines-Hiem a few years before the war-"

Stories were shared around the room. Egris' past as a thief, Tora's self-inflicted exile and how she found the twins. Zagur had been raised in a cabin by his father, a human, after his mother died of illness. Lyme shared a few stories of her upbringing in the Elemental planes, before being summoned to this world by an errant ritual. And Stigur… did not shut up about his 'escapades' accompanied with a melodic strumming of his lute. Which, under the circumstances, made his repulsive descriptions bearable.

The ship tossed on the waves for three days, thankfully not running into any whirlpools or cyclones. After the first day, however, a storm began and had not stopped.

In the early hours of day four, a distant ringing of a bell woke the seven from their sleep. They had arrived.

Fighting elbows to get above deck, Egris was greeted by a sight he didn't expect. The ship was sailing through massive rocky spires, jutting from the depths. And the port they were coming to was eerily silent.

There were no welcoming parties for the families returning.

There were no loved ones waiting for their endangered islander.

The port was empty, with nary a soul to be seen, nor crew to aid landing.

The boat's crew rushed into a precise routine. They manned the anchors, dropping one after another. Sails were folded and the ship began to slow its drift to almost still. When the vessel closed in on a dock, a final, large anchor was dropped. Despite the snail's pace the ship moved, a jolt nearly knocking everyone off their feet shook the deck.

The exit was slow, there were no lines. Just wave after wave of faceless people trying to desperately find their footing on land. It was only when the flood of passengers thinned did Egris and the party disembark.

"Welc'me to Barreeoak~" A local drunk hiccupped and fell off his barrel near the end of the dock, nearly tumbling into the icy water. There was a welcoming party after all.

Pepper stood behind the group wrestling open a map, "Bareoak?" She croaked, "What happened to docking at Ouemarth?"

A bulky elven crewmate slid down a rope from the mast and plopped down on the railing of the deck. "Got word that Ouemarth is in a not-so-civil dispute about its border with Brathen, judgin' by the smoke we saw a day out, I'd wager it's not a great place to drop off refugees."

The kobold huffed and stuffed the map back in her satchel. She waddled up to Tora and gave her a tired look. "Closest town on the way is Primak, it should land us back on the main road to the capitol."

Tora scrunched her snout, "Blimey, isn't that a week's walk? Isn't there anything closer?"

Her advisor solemnly shook her head.

"Well, we can think about our next move over brekkie, all in favor?" Tora cocked her head around to see one small, blue hand waving desperately in the air. A hand connected to the other, violently salivating kobold.

Egris, seeing this, slowly agreed, whether out of pity or fear of a feral, hungry lizard gnawing him to death.

The group moved down a wide, dirt street, avoiding cracks that sank feet into the earth. A small tavern named The Broken Bark appeared around the corner.

The building had no windows, no door, and a depiction of a dog with a rope over its snout carved into the sign.

Everyone filed into the door and were greeted by another lifeless area, apart from a very young waitress tending to a single, old patron.

Upon noticing them, the girl quietly excused herself from the senior, and quickly strode to the front, stumbling over chairs and knocking over a few glasses in the process.

She couldn't have been older than eight.

"Hellowelcometothebrokenbarktavernhowcanihelpyou?"

She stumbled just as much over the greeting.

"For seven," Zagur said, "Anywhere's fine."

The waitress gave a startled high-pitched squeak in reaction.

"I'M SO SORRY." She blurted, "I didn't see you there!"

She hurriedly weaved through the tables to a larger one near the rear, pulling every single chair out.

Once everyone had settled in, almost pressured by the girl, she took a breath and calmly said, "My name is Svanni, we don't got menus at the moment, but we do got breakfast foods, as well as some drinks." She leaned in, and followed up in a hushed voice, "I wouldn't order the 'mead' though - I have no idea where my daddy got the stuff."

"SVANNI, don't badmouthh th' stufff!"

An extremely intoxicated man stumbled out of the kitchen, blubbering and rosy. He was slightly taller than his daughter, which wasn't very tall at all.

He shifted onto the counter, and picked a dirty rag, darkened by… something and wiped his mouth with it.

"Essscuse my girl there, what can IIIIIIII~ do fer you?" His lazily pointed finger was everywhere but the table.

Lyme took Svanni aside fo a moment, "Did he drink the mead?" Svanni nodded. "How much?" The girl shrugged her shoulders, "I think only a glass? Daddy's never this bad."

Egris thought for a moment, and redirected his attention to the drunk.

"I heard you had some mead on the menu, sir?"

"WHy certainly!" He twittled with a non-existent mustache, "Made it thissssmorning..? Or maybe last night?"

"Well, I'd love to try a glass!" Egris cut him off.

The man let out a wide, toothy smile and promptly collapsed on the floor. After a moment, his voice perched over the counter. "Hunny cann you get the nicce man his driunks?" The sound of snoring followed shortly.

The party was flabbergasted.

"Always knew you couldn't hold your liquor, Shorty!" The elderly man piped, sipping some bottled spirit.

Egris rushed Svanni for a cup of the mead, to which she quickly complied.

The elf procured a small box out of his apron with various powders and vials, he tapped a small amount of light pink powder into the drink.

The clear glass shot from a light amber to a dark, opaque red.

Egris' expression sank.

"Where is the keg?" He said with a shaky, hollow voice.

Egris looked to Zagur, who stood up, motioning Lyme to do the same.

Svanni led them to the back room, poorly lit and reeking of a sweet-rot scent.

On the counter, the elf saw a heavy jar about the size of a watermelon labeled Jellified Honey. It had a bow fastened on the neck, so it appeared to be a gift.

Upon closer inspection, tiny droplets of opaque, golden gel adorned the inside, most of it was gone.

Zagur turned to a large keg on a stand, slightly shorter than he was. "Is this the stuff?" He asked the girl.

She nodded, followed with a look of horror as she swiftly bolted out of the room.

The keg began to lurch and bulge. The three stepped back.

The wood creaked, snapped, then BURST open in a small flood of yellow sludge poured onto the floor, leaving steam where it touched and suckling in the wood it broke.

"OOZE!" Lyme screamed.

The three tumbled over furniture back out into the main room and took up defensive positions.

Pepper quickly ran to attach a rope to the unconsious man, sprinting outside with a small box with protruding spikes. Shortly after, his limp body was pulled violently out the door.

Zagur pulled out his staff, affixed to the end was a sickle. Tora brandished her warhammer with a look of excitement in her eyes. Lyme was calmly carrying an overly-eager Rika out of the tavern by her collar.

The doorway that separated the kicken and dining area, creaked and snapped in response to the mass of sludge pushing through it.

The ooze, the size of a sofa, jetted a stream of itself in the direction of the three that remained. Ever-so-surely creeping forward. The mass of small psudopods dragging it forward made it appear like freshly risen dough clinging to a countertop.

Another stream shot out of the mass, only to be met with the heavy slam of Tora's hammer.

Zagur crumpled some herbs in his hand, removed the sickle, and wiped his hand on the staff.

Another jet of ooze missed him, but hit Tora's arm, earning a grunt and sizzle.

The half-orc jumped off a table a swung his staff towards the tendril.

"SHILLELAGH!"

A bright flash of green accompanied by loud POP filled the tavern, what was left of the tendril fizzled and boiled into steam.

Egris, in a panic, hastily shoved various plants, a sliver of lead, and a bile solution in a bottle. Shook it so that the homogenous liquid was glowing a pale yellow. The elf tossed the bottle onto the mass of sludge, which greedily broke the glass and soaked in the contents.

The ground shook as the blob gurgled, and the offshoots of slime drooped slightly, losing their cohesion for a brief moment.

Tora and Zagur glanced back to Egris, "It should be weaker now! Hit it again!"

Tora obliged, readying her hammer, and adopting an open stance. The ooze, too, obliged, and thrust its entirety towards her.

A small tendril made contact with the hammer, and almost instantly, it was knocked to the side. Her hammer glowed white-hot, swung around, and SLAMMED into the wall of slime, splattering it on the floor, and enveloping it in flame.

The bits left slunk and reformed, now about the size of a large dog, and still on fire.

"AAAAAAAIGGGGGHHHHH!!!"

A shrill cry echoed from the storefront, a blue blur shot past the three and tackled the flaming mass, punching furiously.

It quickly sunk into the ooze, and the flames extinguished. The mass now resembled a drop of water, it condensed and surrounded the assailant.

It shook, bulged and distended unnaturally before readying itself to lunge.

SPLAT

"AAAIGGGGHHHH DIE, DIE, DIE!!!"

Rika, frothing at the mouth burst from inside the ooze, slamming her fist and a hammering device attached to her nub into what was left. "STOLE MY BREAKFAST, RUINED MY DAAAAAAY!!!"

She lowered her arms and panted heavily for a moment.

Then collapsed.

Rika's body was steaming and had multiple spots missing scales, simmering and bubbling as the acidic, oozey specks ate at her skin.

The measly puddle of remaining ochre melted through the floorboards and absorbed into the dry ground underneath, neutralized.

The armor-clad dragonborn knelt down to her smaller look-alike, gently wiping the wounds with her finger, saying in a soft voice, "Consano."

Prickles of light shone out of the broken skin, slowly being obscured by quickly growing scales.

The kobold bolted upright, into another warcry.

"GRAAAARGH! YOU, SLIME! WHERE… Where's the slime?"

Zagur effortlessly helped her to her feet, "It was an ochre jelly, by the looks of it." He paused, "Not what I was prepared for, especially in a town."

Egris slumped onto one of the chairs that wasn't knocked over. Now hyperventilating, his delayed panic set in fully. "How in the GODS do you prepare for THAT? IT ATE EVERYTHING! EVEN GLASS! Most acids can't do that!"

"Egris!" Pepper's voice echoed from outside, "We need your help here!"

Tora grabbed the thin elf's arm to help him stand on his wobbly legs. They quickly rushed to the dirt road, where they saw the bartender.

He was purple around the mouth and neck, seizing rhythmically, and spitting froth.

"He drank some of it!" Lyme said, desperation clearly heard.

Egris bit his cheek, and grabbed his box. He crushed up some seashells and mixed it with a magnesium salt in some fresh water, feverishly pouring it down the man's throat. Zagur hefted him to a seated position and massaged his throat to aid in swallowing.

His eyes unrolled from his skull, regaining lucidity.

Gurgle, brumble

"Step away if you don't want stained boots," Egris warned.

The barkeep's eyes crossed, and he wretched, earning everyone but the orc supporting him to back away in response.

Urghhhuuugh, bluuuursgh, p-shluk.

A foul-smelling chunk of ochre dislodged from his throat, followed with a bit of sour alcohol mixed with blood. Zagur smacked the ooze with his staff, killing it.

The man's mouth was bleeding profusely, and he was choking on his blood.

Just as she had done prior, Tora crouched, gently caressed his neck, and whispered, "Consano."

Again, light beamed from his mouth, with a few prickles shining out his ears.

"Lords," he said, gasping for breath, "Thank you, I- I would've died!"

The short man bumbly rose to a stand, "People call me Shorty, next time y'all are in Bareoak, stop by my place again, anything you want: free, on me."

Rika tugged on his pant leg, "We're here now, aren't we? How 'bout some food?" She sounded less angry and more desperate.

A smile came to his face, "A'course! I'll make a sampler for y'all!"

Eggs of all preparations, ham, bacon sausages, toasted breads, griddle cakes, grits and oatmeal, beans and mushrooms, even choice-cut steaks were stacked high on the table. The kobolds fought over the various meats, while the half-orc, genasi, and dragonborn made their meals pretty typically.

Egris settled for the grits and griddle cakes, which were deceptively good! The grits had goat's butter and cassia spice, while the cakes were served with jammed peaches and berries, all washed down with a sap-sweetened ylang tea.

Lyme slowly lowered her fork and eyed the other occupants of the table. She began to search, swinging her head in a restrained fervor. By the time most took notice of her actions, she plainly asked, "Where is Stigur?"

The others stopped.

He had been missing since they first stopped at the tavern.

Tora held a claw up, telling the others to wait. She swiftly left her seat and paced to the door, disappearing from view as she rounded a corner. Pepper and Rika both continued eating, as if nothing happened.

A tingling wave of energy passed over Egris, by the looks of the others, they felt it to. Again, the sisters resumed, as if they knew what was happening.

Not three minutes later, a disgruntled Tora dragged in a barely conscious Stigur.

"We should leave," she said disappointedly, letting go of Stigur's collar, his head thudding onto the floor. "This bloke just got caught trying to con Bareoak's mayor. She's not too chuffed about it, and her guards'd prefer if we made ourselves scarce."

Pepper looked to her sister, assuring her they could take what they hadn't yet eaten.

"Isn't it still a week out?" questioned the genasi.

"Lyme," Zagur spat cockily, "You should know better!"

Zagur got up and walked outside, whistling.

The group gathered the leftover morsels into a wooden container made by Pepper, it was lined with a hardened wax and sealed air-tight. Tora hefted the now fully unconscious bard onto her shoulder, and led everyone else outside.

Zagur stood accompanied by four wild horses, with one noticeably larger than the others approaching him. The half-orc quickly took reign of it, "We should be in Primak by tomorrow afternoon."

Each horse, excluding Egris', had two riders. Zagur had Pepper map out and direct their herd, Tora was burdened with calming her horse of Rika's antics, and Lyme had to secure Stigur to the haunches of hers.

"Stay close," Zagur started, "These guys should listen, but they'll get distracted easily. Give them a few taps on their neck if they start straying."

Pepper whisper to him, and he nodded in response. "We'll stop an hour before sundown to set up a camp. Everyone got it?"

The riders all gave half-hearted affirmations, before being cut off by a loud 'YeEAAAAAH!' by Rika.

Egris looked down to the brown dappled horse he sat upon, a single white speckle in the center of the horse's head resembled a coin of sorts.

He sighed in hesitant acceptance as his horse began to follow the others.

Two days, he thought. Two days and I'm back home.