Dreven's eyes popped open. The light poured into his golden eyes as he looked around. K'rath, this sucks, he thought, annoyed at the timing of his arrival. Why did he have to arrive during the day? Nothing good ever came from that.

A forest towered around him, the scent of damp earth and rich foliage filling his senses. Stretching his legs, he sat up. So, I don't even get to start in a town or city? he mused.

Looking down, Dreven realized he was naked. "Lovely!" he sighed, making his way over to a nearby pond. The cool water mirrored the surroundings, reflecting the tall trees and the sky above. The first thing he wanted to do was get his bearings. Being naked wasn't much of an issue for a Sanguinari.

The reflection of the water revealed his form. His familiar face stared back at him—ash gray skin, long pointed ears, and black hair that contrasted sharply with his skin tone. Two long, fang-like canines protruded from his mouth. While his body was of average height, he was well-built, typical for a Sanguinari. Retracting his incisors, he stretched.

Dreven started to make a list of things he had to immediately do. "First, find some clothes and food. Second, find a town or someplace to gather information about this world. Third, assess my strengths versus the local inhabitants."

He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. As a low-tier Sanguinari, he was now the strongest being in this world. Based on what he'd been told, he was entirely unique here. They might not even have heard of someone like him. This was a significant advantage.

As he looked around, he noticed a flicker of light in the distance. "A camp?" he muttered, intrigued. Immediately, he cautiously made his way toward the light beyond the trees. The light grew brighter as he peered through the thick underbrush.

The first rays of dawn pierced through the dense canopy, casting long, dancing shadows across the forest floor. Dreven, his eyes glowing an eerie gold, emerged from the undergrowth, his movements silent and predatory. As a Sanguinari, he was a creature of the night, accustomed to the shadows. The Sun would weaken him, which was the opposite of what he needed right now.

He paused, taking in the scene before him. The towering trees, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, were a sight to behold. The air was filled with the sounds of nature: the chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, the distant sound of a rushing river.

The small encampment was nestled amidst the trees. A plume of smoke curled into the morning sky, carrying with it the tantalizing scent of cooked meat. As he drew closer, he could hear the voices of four individuals, their laughter clearly audible through the forest.

A burly dwarf, his beard a tangled mess of gray and brown, sat by the fire, broad-shouldered with thick arms. Beside him was a petite woman with long red hair ending in a single braid. She wore simple robes typical of a mage in Dreven’s world. The woman stirred a pot over the flames. A tall, lanky swordsman, his sword resting against a nearby tree, and a nimble archer with brown eyes, his bow slung across his back, completed the group.

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Several small tents were pitched nearby, each one a different color. The camp was well-organized, with supplies neatly stacked.

Dreven watched them, his eyes narrowing. They were a motley crew. He couldn’t tell if they were strong or weak. This world was still too foreign to him to make heads or tails about it.

“The classic adventurer party,” Dreven thought to himself. This probably meant a settlement was not too far away. The main issue was how he would approach them. Dreven knew he wasn't exactly approachable. Based on their demeanor and the unfamiliar language they spoke, he was entering a world that had likely never seen his kind.

The dwarf, grinning wide as he bit into his roasted meat, spoke first, his voice gruff but carrying a warmth that suggested a familiar camaraderie. “Brahck flemorcha, dinng-ha! Allih var nalkr, nay?” He nudged the swordsman, who chuckled and gave the dwarf a playful shove.

The swordsman scoffed, smirking as he turned the spit over the fire. “Ach, dor blenro ka! Na’kern tashal, Griv? Trillin wesh-bronn ma’mal bel?” His voice had a lazy drawl, like he was just as likely to fall asleep mid-sentence as he was to crack a joke. He gestured to the pot over the fire, raising an eyebrow as if making a comment about the food’s quality.

The archer, sitting a little apart from the group, snorted, drawing his bowstring in a quick, practiced motion before letting it snap back into place. “Hach m’aluk, gozo ferlin’nai!” he teased, winking at the mage. “Drell mo’an torru vel-ash?” His tone carried a mischievous edge, and the mage shot him a glare as though he’d said something cheeky.

The mage, adjusting her robe with a practiced flick of her wrist, rolled her eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Vero lin, tas gal blinta knar,” she chided, her voice firm but tinged with amusement. She stirred the pot with deliberate precision, likely scolding the group for their lack of seriousness.

The dwarf let out a loud belly laugh, slapping his thigh. “Ha! Brash’enna no tol’gar, dinn fortra klel!” he bellowed, taking another swig from a flask. His laughter was infectious, and soon, all of them were laughing, their voices a chaotic symphony of familiarity.

Then, the archer stiffened. His head turned sharply, and his brown eyes narrowed, his expression focused. “Telgar mur, nelsh dra-gra,” he murmured, his voice clipped. He raised a hand to signal silence, his body tensing. It was as though he’d said, Did you hear that?

The others immediately reacted. The swordsman grabbed his blade, his easy demeanor vanishing. The mage stepped closer to the fire, muttering something under her breath while gesturing toward the shadows. The dwarf shifted to his feet, gripping a heavy axe with practiced ease. Their voices grew quieter, their words blending into the rustling of leaves.

Dreven leaned further into the shadows of the brush, his breath slowing as he observed their movements. The jovial atmosphere of moments ago had evaporated, replaced by tension. Their movements were deliberate, their eyes scanning the surrounding forest.

He sniffed the air again, catching that pungent, unfamiliar scent. His lips curled into a faint smile. Whatever had caught their attention wasn’t him, but the opportunity was golden. If a fight broke out, it would give him a chance to observe these adventurers' strength—and potentially feed without exposing himself.