Omaros. A bustling city surrounded by plentiful kilometers of open land, vast forests, and mountain ranges. Yet, despite its location so far from other settlements, it had been a well-populated location in recent decades, attracting plentiful people to its gates. Particularly, those of a certain inclination. The adventuring kind.

Where there were adventurers, there was a need for establishments that support their activities in some way or another. Case in point; the Dozing Lamb, a bar tucked away in the basement of a supply shop, making it a popular location for adventuring clientele in Omaros City. Yet, even such a place has its quiet hours. In the case of The Dozing Lamb, those quiet hours may include the dead of night, as heavy rain pours down over the city, coating the cobble streets in a fine mist…

“Pattyyy! I’ll have another!” a young man called out louder than necessary after finishing his ale, bringing his mug down onto the counter with a thump. The waitress being addressed, Patty, rolled her eyes as she obliged and poured more ale into the mug.

“This is your last one.” Patty said.

“Mm-hm…” The young man stifled a hiccup and immediately began chugging down as much of the ale he’d be able to before he needed to come up for air again. His long, tied black hair swayed a bit with the movement of his body as he leaned back to do so.

On an average day, an onlooker may view this man as an intimidating force. The dark, form-fitting clothing he wore, made from a mixture of heavy cloths and dark leather straps for protecting vital areas. The long cloak that bore a symbol of a white raven along the left breast. The oversized, ornate scythe that leaned against the counter next to him, its snath and grip wrought of heavy dark metal, its heel reinforced by a design of gilded silver shaped like the head of a raven, the curved blade forming its beak. Someone knowledgeable enough may have pieced all of these details together to recognize him as a practitioner of the harbinger arts.

Someone who knew him personally enough and could see him in the state he was in now—someone like Patty, for example—might call him sad and pathetic.

“Was is really that bad of a day, Dubhan?” Patty asked the dark-haired harbinger.

“Yeees,” Dubhan whined, bringing his mug back down, along with his face as he apparently decided to rest his head on the countertop. “I’ve been looking for three days—Three. Days.— and no one wants to join my guild…” He let out a pitiful and exasperated groan.

"Make a guild with you, you mean. You don't have a guild yet. Is two people even a guild?"

"It'd count!”

While Dubhan was busy whining to Patty and drowning his sorrows in ale, a sight that the few other patrons present were content to ignore, the front door opened. A new guest walked down the steps that lead into the bar's floor. His stature was small and thin, the features of his face delicate and smooth. His pointed ears and pale grey-blue skin marked him as lunarian. He and his clothing, including a heavy black coat, were soaking wet from the rain. He shivered slightly before taking a seat at the end of the bar, closer to the hearth and the warm fire within it, and running a hand through his fluffy white mess of hair as if trying to get the rain water out.

"Can I get you anything?" Patty asked, clearly eager for a chance to step away from Dubhan's lamenting for a few moments. Dubhan sighed and sipped his ale, eyeing the new arrival. He hadn’t seen a lunarian before. There weren’t many in Omaros.

The lunarian removed a strange, intricately-designed book from his coat, looking over it to check for any damage from the rain. "Mm... Something warm... Cider sounds nice." He didn’t make any eye contact with Patty as he speaks, fixated on the book, and flipped through several pages of it.

Dubhan watched for a few moments while Patty stepped away to fetch the order. He couldn’t decipher much about the book at a glance, but the markings on it seemed to be... were those runes? He'd heard warlocks originated in lunarian culture... That’s when an idea struck Dubhan and he smiled, eyes lighting up with a renewed enthusiasm that was previously doused from his recent efforts. He stood up from his seat, taking his drink with him and moved to the seat next to the lunarian man, offering as friendly of a grin as he could. "Well, hello there," he said, somewhat too cheerfully.

The lunarian glanced at Dubhan for no more than a second before apparently deciding he wanted none of this and returning his attention back to the book. "Disinterested."

Dubhan was taken aback at the blunt rebuffal. The nerve! "Wha—but, but I didn't even say what I was gonna say yet..."

"And I do not need to hear it. I am not interested."

"But you got a... Whatsit, a magic book there, right? You're a... warlock or somethin', right?” Dubhan slapped a hand down on the counter in some effort to emphasize his point as he announced, “I want you to join my guild!"

"If this is how you've been asking everyone,” Patty said, returning to the counter, “it's no wonder no one's accepted." She placed a mug of hot cider in front of the lunarian, then gave Dubhan a warning glare. "Stop hassling the patrons, Dubhan."

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"But..."

Patty turned her attention to the lunarian. "Ignore him. He's had one too many, I should've cut him off earlier."

The lunarian lifted the mug of cider to his lips, taking a tentative sip to test the temperature. "It's fine,” he said. “I do not intend to stay long. I have research to return to."

"Whatcha researchin’?"

"Dubhan," Patty warned.

The lunarian sighed, his eyes traveling to Dubhan. "If I answer your question, will you go back to drinking yourself into a stupor elsewhere?"

Dubhan grinned.

"I can always have him thrown out if you'd rather,” Patty offered.

"Patty, don't be meeean..."

The lunarian shook his head and took another sip of the cider. "A relic of particular note to me is suspected to be hidden away somewhere in the depths of Yggdrasil. As such, I've been looking known details of this labyrinth in preparation to descend into it. Is that satisfactory for you?"

Dubhan hummed thoughtfully. This man had business in the Yggdrasil labyrinth of all things. This was a perfect opportunity! "Wouldn't that be a good reason t'join my guild, though?"

"It's a very good reason to join a guild, I agree. Perhaps not a drunkard's."

"I'm not a—Patty, tell him I'm not a drunkard..."

Patty raised an eyebrow at Dubhan. "I mean... You know what you're doing in a fight and out in the wild, I'll give you that."

"And I'm not a drunkard!"

Patty shrugged.

"Pattyyyy... Well, see, she knows I can fight and I'm competent and everything! It's just been a bad couple of days..."

"Mm-hm." The lunarian paused for a moment and glanced down the bar. "That scythe is yours, correct?"

Dubhan genuinely forgot his scythe was there for a moment. He blinked and looked at it. "Oh... Yeah! Yeah, that's mine, why?"

"Harbingers practice interesting fighting techniques, capable of offense and defense in their style, leaving them potentially well-rounded, or at the very least, a notable threat to enemies..." The lunarian seemed to be mumbling to himself a bit. "Hm... What was your name?"

"Uh... Dubhan."

"Dubhan. I see. Right, well then. I will make a proposal to you—meet me at the gate to Yggdrasil tomorrow at noon and show me what you can actually do. Depending on what I see, I may consider your request."

Dubhan grinned, eyes lighting up. "Noon tomorrow? Can do!"

"We'll see, I suppose. My name is Allouet. I expect you to be there rather than being late due to your hangover."

"Psshh, I don't get hangovers, don't worry!”

Patty and Allouet shared a skeptical glance with one another.

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Dubhan woke up the following morning to the sensation of a pounding in his head, eyes burning at the day’s sunlight. He could hear the sounds of people and horse-drawn carriages going about their business outside his apartment, even being several floors up. The downsides to living in a rather ancient and cheap complex of a building. Dubhan groaned and pulled a blanket up over his head, ready to sleep more. Until he remembered he had very important business today.

With another groan, this one of dread of the events to come rather than objection at the general sensations of suffering in his body, Dubhan forced himself up and out of the bed to prepare for the day.

Once he finally stepped out of the building with his scythe and a haversack of supplies, and into the blaring morning sunlight and active streets of the city, he mumbled a single word to himself. "Regret..."

The city of Omaros was large and busy as always, though its most prominent businesses were geared towards travelers and adventurers. A massive stone wall acted as the city’s first line of defense against threats, particularly the rare monster that wandered out from Yggdrasil, with fittingly massive gates and accompanying gatehouses manned by guards positioned to the east, west, and north. Dubhan’s destination today would be the eastern gate, which lay far beyond the buildings of the city. By the time it was in sight, Dubhan had been walking on a dirt path through grassy fields for the past twenty minutes, and dragging his scythe along behind him for the past ten.

Standing at the side of the road in front of the gate was the lunarian, Allouet. Dubhan hoped that was his name, anyway. He could have easily misremembered.

Dubhan stifled a yawn and waved hello. “Allouet! G’morning! Afternoon, uh… whatever time.”

“Later than I had hoped,” Allouet said, arms crossed as he looked Dubhan up and down, silently but not-so-subtly judging the mess of a man before him. “I did say noon, and had thought that much time was generous. Are you confident you'll not get yourself killed inside the labyrinth?" He didn’t comment on his name as Dubhan said it, at least, so that much was correct.

Dubhan leaned against his scythe and grinned. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I know what I'm doing. But... what are we doing today? We won't be able to go too far in without proper approval."

"Only the very surface of the labyrinth is necessary. I intend to collect a particular variety of flower that I will be able to brew into potions and medicines. Is that simple enough for you?"

“You make potions?"

"I have some skill in alchemy, yes. If I am to agree to your offer—or, for that matter, join any guild and enter the labyrinth's depths—they will prove a useful resource for the purposes of combat and exploration."

Dubhan nodded. "I see, gotcha..." This lunarian guy was sounding all the better to have as an ally. Time to impress. Dubhan hefted his scythe over his shoulder. "Well, what are we waiting for, then?"

The pair made their way through the gate, a friendly acknowledgment from the guards on duty as they did, and continued along the path. It took only a few moments to see the massive tree roots that dug into the ground, the great Yggdrasil tree rising up from them. To call the tree gargantuan would be nothing short of an understatement. Its entire diameter must have been larger than even that of Omaros itself. The dirt road led to the roots, disappearing into a dip that curved downward and underneath them, leading underground.

As Dubhan walked, he suddenly noticed Allouet was no longer next to him and stopped to look back. Allouet was instead staring directly up at the tree, eyes flittering about from one side of it to the next.

“Something wrong?”

Allouet started slightly at that question, blinking away the transfixed look in his eyes and continuing to walk. “Ah, no... No, nothing at all. Let us proceed.”

“If you’re sure,” Dubhan said with a shrug.

So it was that the pair descended the path leading into the bizarre landscape that was the labyrinth of Yggdrasil itself…