“Can’t I at least have something?” the bard demanded, “A shortbow? A dagger?”

“For the last time, no,” the fighter said, “All of those weapons are important to me.”

“So were mine,” the bard whined.

“Can’t you ask the rogue?” the fighter asked.

“Those weapons weren’t important to me,” the rogue said, “So I sold them.”

“What?” the barbarian asked, “Do you at least have a set of backups?”

“Of course I do,” the rogue said.

“Great,” the bard said, “Lend them to me.”

“Absolutely not,” the rogue said.

“Good call,” the barbarian concluded, “If he did, he wouldn’t have back ups. What are you even worried about?”

“We haven’t been attacked in two days now!” the bard said, “It’s unnatural! Normally, we’d be tripping over orks, or goblins, or dire animals, or bandits, or something! Why would I not be worried about that?”

“I do find it unsettling,” the wizard admitted.

“Oh please,” the fighter said, “Until we find a dire dragon, I’m not worried. Those are all things we’ve carved up before, we can do it again.”

“Then why haven’t we seen anything?” the wizard asked.

“Wizard, we can count the number of things that want to see us on one hand,” the fighter said.

“Most of those nobles don’t even like us,” the cleric said, “I heard they’ve been trying to hire other adventurers.”

“Well that’s nonsense,” the wizard said, “Nobody can compete with us.”

“Still doesn’t stop them from trying,” the cleric said, “Hold up, we’re close. Rogue, do you want to scout?”

“That’s always risky,” the rogue said.

“When was the last time you were caught?” the fighter asked.

“Well, years ago,” the rogue said, “But that still doesn’t mean I can’t be caught. And we don’t really know anything about this plane.”

“Then just don’t scout deep,” the wizard said, “You don’t know anything about this plane, but we don’t either. Even if you only come back with the basic layout, at least that’s something.”

“But-” the rogue said.

“Hey!” the barbarian said, “We’re adventurers. Go out and adventure.”

“Alright, fine!” the rogue, throwing up his arms in frustration.

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Leaves did not rustle, and branches did not creak as the rogue slunk through them. His fingers found purchase on tree bark as the rogue all but flew up the tall, mighty trees. Thick branches swayed in the wind as the rogue slunk along them, keeping low as he looked down at an outpost of some kind. The centerpiece was some kind of tower. Gravel paths led to and from the tower, and while the rogue wasn’t an expert on this like the cleric was, he knew enough to recognise an evil sigil when he saw one. Cabins covered by white panels complete the outside of the sigil, and the rogue watched as people wandered about. With a quiet gust of wind, the rogue returned to the adventurers.

“Well?” the fighter asked.

“They look like humans and I didn’t see any weapons,” the rogue said, “There’s some sort of evil sigil, but the cleric would need to take a look at it.”

“Alright, we’ll go with the regular battle plan then,” the fighter said, “Everybody ready?”

The forest shook as the barbarian charged forward with a thunderous roar. The researchers all froze, turning to stare at the barbarian. From the other side of the clearing, arrows ripped into the humans as the rogue unleashed his bow. The arrows dug into the researchers, whose bodies twisted and melted against the assault.

“Shapeshifters!” the cleric shouted as the human’s bodies moved like water. Two of them dove onto the barbarian, wrapping around him, and the others leapt at the rest of the adventurers. The fighter’s enchanted bastard sword, Wedblock, ignited with fire as the shapeshifters splashed against his shield. The shapeshifters arms and legs formed deadly whips and lashed out at the adventurers, striking the heavy plate armor of the fighter and cleric as she moved to defend the wizard. The wizard’s fingers crackled with arcane power, firing white hot lances at the shapeshifters. The shapeshifters squealed in agony at the wizard’s magic, backing off to circle around him.

The shapeshifters squashed under the cleric’s hammer, squishing and bending under her assault, only to spring back into shape and lash at her with their whips. The cleric caught one shapeshifter in a big, overhead swing. The shapeshifter flowed over the hammer, letting it slam into the ground. “Switching weapons!” the cleric barked, rummaging through her bottomless bags, “Cover me!” The fighter stepped back to better defend the cleric and wizard, and the shapeshifters sunk into the ground and weaved towards the wizard’s back. Arrows pinned the shapeshifters to the ground as the fighter’s guttering sword cut searing lines through them.

The barbarian was having the time of his life. Multiple shapeshifters were grappling with him, and he ripped them off with unrelenting savagery. Trying to tear them apart was like trying to rip up a puddle, but that didn’t stop the barbarian from trying. He spun them in the air over his head, stretching them out until they were noodle thin, and slammed down into dirt so hard they splashed into droplets. The shapeshifters tried to suffocate the barbarian, wrapping around his mouth, but they quickly retreated at the gnashing of his teeth. As the shapeshifters fled, the barbarian brought his axe down on them, splitting them as lightning shot from the axe and fried the shapeshifters.

The cleric drew a morning star, the spikes of the mace pulling the shapeshifters apart at the seams as she drove it through them before slamming her shield against the shapeshifters behind the wizard.

“Are you hurt?” the cleric called out, pulling chunks off of a shapeshifter.

“No!” the wizard shouted back, conjuring giant, ethereal hands that scooped up the shapeshifters.

The fighter thrust his burning sword into the wizard’s conjured fists, burning and boiling the shapeshifters trapped inside.

“On me!” the rogue shouted, raining arrows at the shapeshifters slithering up to him, “Enemies on me!”

“Don’t worry!” the barbarian thundered. The barbarian leapt through the air, nearly flying, and slammed into the tree the rogue had climbed. Splinters flew as the barbarian split the tree apart with his mighty axe, and the wizard’s magic pulled the rogue to safety. The massive redwood collapsed on top of the shapeshifters, skewering them with countless branches. Wounded shapeshifters writhed in pain as the branches shredded them.

“You think that’s all of them?” the cleric asked.

“That seems to be the case,” the wizard said, surveying the area.

“Should we go looking for runners?” the rogue asked.

“A waste of time,” the barbarian said, hopping down to rejoin his team, “They’re no threat to us.”

“What if they ambush us while we sleep?” the rogue asked.

“We can count the number of times that’s worked on us on one hand,” the fighter said, “I say we leave them. Cleric, is this tower evil?”

“Do you really need to ask?” the cleric asked, eyeing up the dark, twisting tower.

“Alright then,” the fighter said, “Rogue and barbarian, clean out the houses. Leave no stone unturned and no wall intact.”

“On it,” the rogue said.

“Wizard, you and cleric work together to destroy this,” the fighter continued.

“With gusto,” the cleric said.

“And I’m going game hunting for tonight’s dinner,” the fighter finished.