The first spear flew through the air like a viper striking its prey, its jagged, chipped point embedding itself in the ground just shy of the dwarf’s boot. He barely had time to curse before another came sailing in, this one deflected by his hastily raised shield.

From the dense underbrush, the green men poured forth like an infestation, their shrill war cries echoing through the clearing. Crude axes, rusty swords, and spears glinted menacingly in the dim light, their weapons as vicious as their snarling faces. They moved with reckless abandon, their movements wild but purposeful.

The dwarf, undaunted, let out a booming war cry of his own. “Kar mugh!” he bellowed, raising his warhammer high. He charged forward, meeting the first wave head-on. His hammer struck true, the weapon crashing down on a green man’s skull with a sickening crunch. Bone and sinew gave way, blood splattering in a wide arc as the creature crumpled to the ground, its lifeless eyes staring skyward.

Beside him, the archer had already taken a knee, his longbow drawn taut. The first arrow flew, piercing the throat of a snarling green man mid-leap. The creature hit the ground with a gurgle, clawing at the shaft embedded in its neck before succumbing to stillness. Another arrow followed, this one sinking deep into the chest of a green man who had been rushing the mage. The creature staggered, clutching at the protruding arrow as its knees buckled.

The mage, her crimson hair whipping about her face, was a whirlwind of destruction. With a fluid motion, she traced glowing sigils in the air, each one flaring to life with fiery intensity. “Mortifva!” she commanded, and a fireball erupted from her hands, streaking toward the densest cluster of attackers. The explosion was deafening, the heat so intense that the grass beneath the flames withered instantly. Green men screamed as they were engulfed, their bodies consumed by the inferno. The acrid stench of burning flesh hung heavy in the air.

But the green men were undeterred. For every one felled, two more seemed to take its place, their relentless assault pressing the group back toward the center of the clearing.

Dreven watched, transfixed, as the chaos unfolded. The dwarf’s hammer rose and fell like a metronome of destruction, each swing accompanied by the wet sound of bone shattering. The archer’s arrows never missed their marks, each one claiming another life with surgical precision. The mage was a force of nature, her magic ripping through the ranks of their foes with merciless efficiency.

They fight as one, each covering the other’s weaknesses. They’re seasoned, disciplined… dangerous. Dreven wasn’t sure if he could take them alone. While he had superior strength as a baseline compared to average normal human he was still a young Sanguinari and thus he couldn’t know for certain if he was stronger than them in terms of raw physicality.

But the green men were closing in, their numbers overwhelming. One of the creatures lunged at the dwarf’s unprotected flank, its jagged blade aiming for his ribs. Before Dreven realized what he was doing, he was moving. His feet barely touched the ground as he darted forward, his body reacting with a speed and precision that startled even him.

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The green man turned at the last moment, its wide eyes meeting Dreven’s. He grabbed it by the arm and wrenched it violently, the joint dislocating with a sickening pop. The creature screeched in agony, dropping its weapon. Dreven didn’t hesitate. He drove his fist into its chest, feeling the ribs crack beneath his knuckles. The force of the blow sent the creature flying into its comrades, knocking them off balance.

Another green man charged him, its crude axe raised high. Dreven sidestepped the swing, his movements fluid and instinctive. He grabbed the creature by the throat, lifting it off the ground with a strength he hadn’t realized he possessed. It clawed at his arm, its nails leaving shallow scratches on his skin. With a grunt, he slammed it into the ground, the impact sending a shockwave through his arms. The creature went limp, its body broken.

The dwarf noticed, his hammer smashing through another attacker’s chest. “Hmph,” he grunted, his tone grudgingly impressed.

But there was no time for acknowledgement. More green men closed in on Dreven, their sharp teeth bared in snarls. One jabbed at him with a spear, the weapon grazing his side. The pain was sharp but fleeting, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. He grabbed the spear’s shaft, snapping it in half with a twist of his hands. The green man barely had time to react before Dreven drove the broken end into its gut, the jagged wood piercing through flesh and muscle.

With that kill the last of the green men fled back into the forest depths they clearly only fought if they had a clear numbers advantage.

“What an inconvenience,” Dreven remarked with a casual shrug, bending down to strip the loincloth from one of the larger green men. The rough fabric felt gritty against his skin as he strapped it around his waist, a makeshift garment to shield his nakedness. At least I’m not completely exposed. Small victories, I suppose.

Satisfied with his modesty, he turned to the party. Growing up with decorum, he decided to give a small bow, cupping his fist to his chest, a gesture of respect. The dwarf exchanged glances with his companions, their expressions a mix of caution and unease.

“Hello!” Dreven waved confidently, his voice cutting through the lingering tension.

The dwarf grunted something to the red-headed mage, who responded with a wary glance. After a moment, she stepped forward, her staff glowing faintly as she wove runes into the air. Each symbol shimmered with violet light, and as the last one settled, Dreven blinked in astonishment.

“Can you understand me now?” the mage asked, her tone clipped but measured.

“I… can!” Dreven stammered, marveling at the magic’s effectiveness. “Incredible.”

The mage raised an eyebrow. “Who are you? Why were you out here, naked, in the middle of Nortaberg Forest?”

“I…” He hesitated, bowing slightly again. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dreven Sorrowmoon. I mean you no harm.”

Her expression hardened as she glanced back at her companions. “Dreven Sorrowmoon. This is a strange place to find a stranger.”

“They do not understand?” Dreven asked, gesturing to the others.

“No. And they don’t trust you,” she said plainly. “And frankly, neither do I.”

Dreven felt a pang of frustration but forced himself to remain calm. “I only wish to travel with you. Learn from you. I have nowhere else to go.”

She studied him, her expression unreadable. “We’ll see. But step out of line, and they’ll kill you before you can explain yourself.”

The others muttered among themselves, their distrust clear. Dreven held his hands up in a gesture of peace. This will take time, but at least I’ve been heard. There was no way he was going to drink these green men’s blood in front of them.