"Prepare the anchor!" Crane bellowed across the deck.

Most captains saw to the barking of commands themselves, but Dalkir ran his crew a little differently. The only reason Yittrill stood at the wheel in the first place was because of his prowess as a coxswain. If Dalkir didn't trust the man's ability to command the control of their vessel, there would have been no point in head hunting him in the first place.

They were running a training exercise. It was standard practice for the Black Bird crew. Before every mission, they would drill once a day for two weeks, increasing from their usual schedule. The drill would be in relation to the job they were undertaking, meaning this time they were visiting a familiar dungeon. Dalkir had bought the land and structure himself only three years prior. The dungeon had been raided by explorers countless times before the warrior had even heard of Son-Gonkiruun, but he didn't want it for its treasures. He had tasked his beast master with the job of filling their dungeon with an array of nasty creatures, and Secretary delivered eagerly.

The man was strange, but had a way with the beasts unlike anything Dalkir was likely to ever witness again. Vikram was one of the few human members of Dalkir's Black Birds, so the warrior had a soft spot for him. Not many humans made their way up the ranks of the Bellas. Most of them would take their longevity magic, and serve their first two centuries before retirement. Most of them also never made it to retirement, making the job a gamble in the first place. It was no secret that the blooded liked to send the human fodder onto the front lines of the most pointless fights. As long as they were paid, they didn't care about the fate of the mercenaries beneath them. Given his own humble and human origins, Dalkir made a point to poach as many humans rising through the ranks as he could. Secretary was based in Le-Shade before Dalkir discovered him, so his position was fairly secure. Still, the warrior had a way of convincing people to join him, and in an institution like the Bellatores, it wasn’t hard for them to join his little family of birds. Empathy and understanding were rare among the authorities. That was what the Black Birds offered, regardless of their role in the clan.

He smiled up at Wren, watching her play them in from the Crows Nest. It wasn’t necessary of course, they were on Dalkir's land after all, but she insisted on the practice. The spell she played made their ship float silent in the sky, and would divert the gaze of anyone looking for the craft. It wasn’t perfect. Someone like Dalkir would have no trouble spotting or hearing them, but the spell was in the early days of development, so he encouraged her to perfect it. He'd learned a thing or two about Runecraft over the years, nothing that would help her though. Sound magic was complicated, and didn't use runes in the same way, so she was on her own unless they found a teacher. What she had learned from tutors, she had quickly surpassed on her own. She had more skill in the craft than you could fit into a dozen travelling bards, and he was proud of her for that.

The rattle of the anchor's chain was loud enough to sing over the Wren’s song while it fell from the deck. They were moving fast, a standard way for them to port. It was good practice to remain as unnoticed as possible. The jobs they completed for the clan needed as much discretion as a bunch of warriors could muster. If everyone saw their black as night ship come into the public ports, it would stand out. The first people to be scrutinised when there was an assassination were the strangers after all. It served them well to stay out of the people's minds.

The anchor caught, and the chain cracked tight, setting the ship into a hard swing. The crew braced for the sudden stop, knowing what they needed to do. The chain's spool slid just at the right time, allowing the chain to slowly release a few more metres, absorbing some of the worst of the force. The harpoon cannons popped with a puff of steam, and sent their spears deep into the dirt below. The ship groaned, following their path along rusted cables. Dalkir nodded to Secretary, signalling for him to begin the exercise. Secretary gleefully got to work on the runed tablet he carried slung around his shoulder. After he pressed a sequence of runes, the sound of the large stone gate nearby echoed through the forest. Secretary gave his captain a thumbs up, so Dalkir got to work.

He held his hand to his mouth and blew. An enchantment on his glove took the sound of his breath, and amplified it. It was a common trick used by commanders to be heard by their men over greater distances. Dalkir had his glove custom made, making the amplified sound resemble a raven's caw. It was the signal his crew listened out for, and when they heard it, they paid close attention to his next words.

"Dungeon is live, Black Birds," he called out, stepping onto the railing to be better seen. He quickly took in the crew, and found the first few people he was looking for. Meadow, Harker and Ignas, the Sparrows. They were rare elven triplets, and his best scouts. Their upcoming mission would take the whole crew, a rare treat, so the three of them were excited to work together.

"Sparrows," he called, demanding their attention specifically. "I want a count of anything that moves within fifty metres of the entrance."

They nodded in sync with each other, then vanished in a blur. They were fast and quiet, he was confident they would have their report by the time they met the mouth of the cave.

"Swan," he said next. "Prepare your charms. I don't know what this crazy bastard has stuffed in there this time," he ordered, casually gesturing at Secretary. The man smiled and waved, prompting a chuckle from the crew.

"Toucan, you get your poisons ready too. I'm feeling something scented today. You two are second in, give us five minutes through the door."

Toucan and Swan nodded, happy to ply their craft. They were his best bait on most jobs, given that the both of them were obnoxiously charismatic. They also happened to be married, so they came as a package deal.

"Ostrich," Dalkir continued, causing the giant of a man leaning on a barrel to stand at attention. "Let's make sure nothing is waiting for us down there."

Ostrich smiled, and nodded, then wordlessly vaulted over the railing, dropping three storeys to the ground.

"Owl and Wren, you're with me."

A sleepy looking man in a brindle feather cloak pulled himself from his spot against the wall of the captain's quarters. Wren descended one of the ropes in a smooth fashion, joining the rest of them.

"What about me?" Ted queried, eager to take part. He was new to the crew, and hadn't yet earned his name, so the crew called him Ted. Most of them were Ted at some point, it had become somewhat of a title for a Black Bird recruit.

Dalkir stepped down, smiled, and put his hand on Ted's shoulder.

"We still need a door guy," he offered, knowing it wasn't a fun job to receive.

Dungeon crawling was a culture all of its own in the Hollows. At least half of the Taverns Adventurers end up spending a portion of their career participating in the trade. The door guy was the title of the role given to the first in. Most dungeons were crammed full of defences, and depending on the paranoia of the Warlock that spawned the place, the traps could be brutal. The door guy was the one nominated to find out just how bad it was. They got a larger cut of the final haul if they were successful, but that prospect was an empty one for Ted today. Since it was Dalkir's training dungeon, there was no new loot to be found. Secretary was sure to set the traps though, he never failed on that.

Ted sighed, and nodded to his commander.

Poised at the edge of the ship, they waited for the signal to start. Dalkir waited until he felt three rounds of three pulses on his right leg, signalling that the Sparrows were finished with their scouting. He waited a moment longer, to feel for information. He felt two more pulses, Harker's identifying signal. The only reason the Sparrow would have to send the message was to let him know an enemy had been spotted. When the others failed to send their identification, he had all of the information he needed. With a specific gesture of his hand, he sent a ball of red light into the world. It hung in the air for a moment, then shot off in Harker's direction.

"One on Harker," he declared.

"What's the category?" Owl asked, his voice as monotone and uninterested as always.

"No clue," Dalkir responded with a shrug. "Vik is sitting this one out," he said, gesturing at Secretary.

Vikram tapped his nose in response, and spread his lips in a mischievous and toothy smile.

"Not that he'd tell us anyway," Toucan quipped, thumbing his nose at Secretary.

Vikram was practising a vow of silence, something he committed to for one quarter of every human year. It was a way for him to retain the bloodline boon he refused to divulge the details of. He was a devout follower of the God of The Hunt, and his loyalty spanned back for over one hundred generations. Dalkir was aware that the boon was originally granted to one of Vik's ancestors, and as long as he stayed true to the vow, he was afforded the boon. Vikram had thirteen brothers and eight sisters. If each of them stayed true to the vow, their family would retain their hidden power. It was obvious the boon had something to do with his control of his beasts, but only Vikram and his family knew the truth of their gift.

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Secretary responded to Toucan by flipping him off, a gesture the pretty man was all too used to.

"Alright Black Birds," Dalkir interrupted the resulting chuckle. "Second in, you guys go help Harker, group up with the Sparrows. Remember it's a search and retrieve. We're looking for a red flag. Don't get caught up fighting something you don't have to. I want us in and out as quickly as a date night with Ted."

Ted laughed. "Shouldn't take us long then," he added.

"I'll mark our doors, don't follow our path," Dalkir continued. "Use Ignas for the second in door guy, he skipped on dishes last week."

Toucan smiled wide, and took a bow. "It will be done, oh great captain."

Dalkir smirked. "And don't you forget it," he said, before stepping off the edge of the ship.

~~

The door to the dungeon was hidden inside a cave. It's likely that the cave didn't exist before the dungeon landed there, but it had been long enough since its inception that the land around it made it look natural again.

Ted let out a long and shaky breath as he stepped up to the heavy stone door. He tossed a handful of special sand against it, trying to spot any obvious tricks. The sand was a standard for dungeon crawling. It was made up of a variety of different materials in order to test against a variety of magical traps. The sand hit the door and scattered normally, so he gingerly tapped at the stone with the back of his knuckles. There were dungeons so dangerous that you wouldn't dare try and test a door in such a way, but this dungeon wouldn't have been in that category at its prime, let alone now. He noticed the stone felt a lot colder than it should have, and that gave him an idea. He pulled a strip of dried meat from his rations and held it on one end, placing the other against the door. After a small delay, the meat began to freeze, ice slowly creeping along and towards his fingers.

"It's an ice trap," he declared, fishing through one of his many pouches.

"Can you get past it?" Wren asked, picking up and studying the flash frozen meat.

"No problem," Ted declared, pulling a small vial of glowing dust from the pouch. He wore a charm on either wrist that connected to his gloves. The charm and glove combo was a design popular among fighters, but a lot of mages found more practical uses for them. They had a reservoir in each charm for holding crystal dust. Most fighters used raw power crystal, giving them an edge against their opponents. Ted however, liked to use a lot of queer crystals in his magic. This time, he was using a relatively simple fire crystal. The aspectral energy would flow into his gloves through the conductive leather composite they were made from. Without a rune system to tell the aspect what to do, the result was that the outside of his gloves became incredibly hot. Each of his dust vials had a good portion of melt dust mixed in to reduce their potency, otherwise he could cause himself a lot of issues. It was risky wild magic, but Dalkir had a particular interest in practitioners of wild magic, so he was free to practise.

The heat was enough to make him sweat, and the warmth could be felt by the other three from a few feet away. He got to work quickly, and grabbed the small hand holds at the centre of the door. With all of his strength, he began to pry the doors apart. Steam squealed from between his fingers and threatened to scold his face, but after only a few seconds he was able to open the door wide enough for them to slip through. He held his hands out, and made a gesture with his thumbs and pinkies. His charms made a clicking sound, and the dust was washed free with a small amount of melt infused alcohol. With another toss of a handful of sand through the threshold, he was confident they could move forward.

The next challenge for him was not knowing what was on the other side.

"Are you ready?" Dalkir asked him earnestly, offering him the hook end of a tether.

"Not even a little," Ted chuckled nervously. "But that's never stopped us before."

He took the tether, and hooked it onto his belt. The other end was attached to the spool inside Dalkir's bracer. Should something go wrong, Dalkir would be able to pull him free of the dungeon. At least in theory.

"You'll be fine," Wren said, punching him in the arm. "Just scream if you see a monster, and we'll save you."

"That simple, huh?" He responded in sarcastic desperation.

"If you're too scared to walk in, I understand," she said, looking at him seriously. "You just say the word, and I'll chuck you right in there, no questions asked," she offered.

"You really are a giver, aren't you Sarah?" He asked with a sigh, stepping back up to the threshold.

It was dark inside, so he started by tossing in a glow stone. It would stay lit for a few hours, hopefully they'd be on their way out before it went dark again. The stone ticked against the floor, revealing an empty room from his vantage point. With a gulp, he stepped through. It was five long steps until he felt himself start to calm, then two more slightly shorter steps until he realised his short lived calm was unwarranted. He hit the stone floor hard when something dropped onto his tether. He tried to spin to see his attacker, but Dalkir had already reacted to the tug on the cable. The captain tried to pull him free of the room, resulting in the now terrified Ted slamming into the thick furry hide of something angry. He scrambled for the dagger at his hip, quickly cursing himself for not having it out already. Before he could get a glimpse of the creature, he had to cut himself free. Dalkir was still pulling on the cable, making it harder to manoeuvre. He was able to cut the cable at the base of the hook, but in his attempts he had carved into the creature by accident. The whole ordeal lasted only seconds, but by the end of it, Ted was bouncing along the floor towards the far wall. The creature had kicked him, and his ribs stung in response.

He scrambled against the wall and chanced a look at his attacker. It was a chimaera, standing at least twelve feet tall. The ceiling was further away than it seemed the outside world would allow, a common in dungeons. The extra space meant that something bigger than expected might be able to lurk within, it seemed Secretary was using that fact to his advantage this time. The creature looked like a cross between a great ape, and a really ugly possum. Wherever Vik was getting these things from, Ted was sure it was a less than legal avenue. The making of a chimaera required the use of transmutation, and there weren't a lot of places someone could openly practise that kind of magic.

The creature screamed. It was loud enough to shake his insides, and the pitch was something straight from a nightmare. He shook his head, trying to gather his senses. It was go time, in a matter of seconds that chimaera would turn him into paste. He found his dagger beside him, not realising he'd let go, so he rolled through his pain to retrieve it. The stone bursted out behind him with the strike of a meaty tail.

"Of course it has a fucking tail," he growled to himself, standing to sprint across the room.

He knew he had no hope of fighting this thing. Big monster's were for Raven or Ostrich, the rest of the team had their own specialities. As if the thought alone had summoned him, Dalkir appeared in the centre of the room from a darting cloud of black smoke and feathers. He spun in the air, right in front of the monster's face. When they met eyes, the Raven Cloak clashed his scimitars together, setting off a flash of bright light. The creature flinched away from the offending photons, giving Dalkir an opportunity to slash at its eyes.

Hot blood sprayed the walls and floor, and Dalkir flew backwards to avoid the writhing monstrosity. It squealed again, this time louder and more aggressively. The walls started to shake, and the dungeon crawlers were all forced to cover their ears. It kept screaming for a time, making it harder for Ted to find his way to safety. Dalkir struggled to fly in a straight path to avoid the swipes, the sound disorienting even him. Just as their ears started to bleed, the sound began to grow from somewhere else. It wasn’t quite the same pitch, but it matched closely. The creature managed to clip Dalkir with a claw, sending the warrior spiralling into a wall. He dropped to the floor and tried to get a hold of the situation. He searched frantically for the second creature. When his eyes met the source however, he found himself stepping back against the wall with a sadistic smile on his face.

Wren stood at the entrance with Owl. She had her flute to her lips and a look of pure determination in her eyes. The sound grew to match the volume of the creature's scream, then she shifted her fingers in just the right way. In an instant, the room went as silent as night. Not even the monster's swipes through the air dared to make a whisper. Dalkir glanced at Ted to see if he was alright, and saw the man mesmerised by what was happening. Owl stretched, and stepped into the room. It seemed the creature wasn't aware it had been silenced, and the sleepy Demai planned to take full advantage of that.

He floated effortlessly into the air, not making a sound, and began to circle the writhing beast. Once he spotted an opening, he reduced to a silent blur, passing right through the creature. Once on the other side. He made another pass back. He continued for a few more passes, but the creature seemed none the wiser.

"Alright Yadack," Dalkir said, his deep voice being the only sound in the room. "That's enough playing with your food."

Owl stopped, and nodded to his commander. He refocused his attention onto the chimaera with an intense gaze. In a moment he was behind it, and in another moment, the beast's throat exploded.

The giant began to topple immediately, some of its joints seeming to come free on the way down.

Ted was washed in a wave of bitter gore, unable to avoid it going into his mouth as it took him to the ground. For a brief moment, the creature's scream could be heard from Sarah's flute, but she was quick to cease the assault.

Dalkir cheered, and jogged to help Ted to his feet.

"That was a close one," he laughed, helping the recruit up. "Next time bring an extra pair of trousers, just in case."

"This is the first room," Ted said sheepishly with wide eyes.

"Surprised me too," the captain laughed again. "Looks like that quiet bastard is treating us today."

"Some treat," Ted responded, shaking his head.

"Are you ready then?" Dalkir asked, brushing a bit of meat from the recruit's shoulder.

"Ready for what?" Ted rebutted timidly.

Dalkir smiled at him, and held up the end to a new tether. "Door number two," he said through a devilish smirk.