The walk through the forest in the early morning was rather pleasant, accompanied as he was by his companions; his friends.

His friends. It was funny, he hadn’t really thought of it that way before. Yet, odd as they were, he did count them as such. It wasn’t as if he was lacking in oddities either. It was all rather unexpected. He had his friends, back in his real life, of course. Of a kind. There was the band, and a few others, and while they were friends, he had never considered them close. Not to mention all the various acquaintances, who had come and gone, but a lot of them had been drawn by his wealth and his notoriety. Not many stuck around for the long term.

A few days before he would have never considered the possibility of the current situation. How could anyone expect, let alone plan, to be thrust into another world, another body and meet such an odd bunch of animals and creatures, let alone become friends with them? No one could prepare for that, and yet he had settled into it already. How much of that was due to Craghand influencing him in some regards, he didn’t know, but he suspected the dwarf was having an impact, much as Elder Maedreyn had indicated he would.

He couldn’t say that he was entirely happy with the situation, though he was doing his best to accept it, to learn to live with it and make the best of it. Getting back home was still his aim; after all he was living another person's life, and in their body, while his was elsewhere. Thinking of that, though, he wondered just how he would ever adjust back to normalcy properly. Probably through a lot of counselling. Not that he would be able to explain it all properly, to talk about it; his shrink would no doubt think he was mad if he told them he had made friends with a wolf, a gnoll and a kobold. The thought did make him grin a little, just thinking of the look his answers would provoke.

There was much talking, and even laughter as they walked, the gnoll cackling at this and that, even as he swept his way along with his ever-present broom.

In time they came to the crossroads, where the two side paths branched off from it, one leading across the bridge to the west and the old goblin camp, and the other headed east, skirting around the southern side of the Maedryn’s swamp, and onwards to the kobold camp. South of that path the forest grew tall and thick.

Chance studied the map again, to get his bearings. The path started to bend around towards the north, where the far side of the swamp ended, and it was there that looked to be the best place to leave the path, heading south into the forest.

He led them onto the eastern path. Insects buzzed and swarmed around the murky water’s edge and from time to time harassed them as they walked. He slapped at them ineffectually, for there seemed no means to stop them. When Chance had judged they were roughly in the right spot, as the path began to turn, he nodded to himself. He looked at the wall of trees before them, off the path. “This way,” he stated, then added, “I think.”

At least we know what we are doing, Shags noted dryly.

Oh, shush you.

The wolf grinned at him before turning and loping silently into the forest, all but disappearing among the trees and the undergrowth that grew thick in that place. Chance followed after, pushing his way through branches and bushes. As he walked, he kept an eye on the surroundings, looking for anything to forage, whether fruit or berries or nuts.

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The wolf and the gnoll, despite their sizes, barely made a sound as they moved ghostlike through the undergrowth, and nor did Yrip, the three almost undetectable. Chance, by comparison, stomped and crashed on through, getting caught up on branches and half-tripped by roots, despite his best efforts to mimic the others. It was a skill that he did not have, and one that he felt he should, somehow, get. Wasn’t he meant to be gaining levels at some point so he could learn new stuff? He was still no closer to figuring out just how that worked than when he first arrived.

That thought soon left him as they came to what they had been seeking, tumbling out of the forest into a small glade that opened up in the middle of the forest. A thick bed of vibrant green grass grew through it, and masses of bright flowers in great profusion dotted it. Swirls of golden butterflies danced about the glade, many circling around a towering stone monolith. It stood twice the height of Elder Maedryn, if not more, reaching almost to the height of some of the surrounding trees. Vines, thick with flowers, climbed it, and among them, patches of moss grew, in an array of colours.

It was not naturally formed, for Chance’s Stonesense told him as much. It had been shaped by hand, though either it had been done in a rough manner so as to appear mostly natural or it had been greatly aged by weather and the elements over many long years.

They stopped at the edge of the glade, looking upon it.

“What is it?” Yrip asked, the first to speak.

“I do not know,” Chance told him. “The map says nothing about it. It must have been raised for a purpose though, and would have required a great deal of effort to do so. A stone that large must weigh a considerable amount.”

It is a marker, Shag offered.

“A marker for what exactly?” Chance wondered.

Unknown. The wolf sniffed cautiously towards it. There is a curious aspect to it. Can you not feel it?

Chance nodded slowly. It was much as Shags had said. He could feel a presence about the monolith, almost like a faint singing in his blood that reacted to it, if that made any sense. Magic, then, he suspected, from what little he knew of it. He found himself starting to walk towards it, drawn onwards and not by his own volition. He could not tell if that was Craghand’s doing, or the monolith itself.

He stopped right before it. Up close he could see faint markings on the stone, carvings that had almost been worn away by wind and rain, and obstructed by moss and vine. He raised a hand and started to clear them away, to get a proper look at the markings. As he touched the monolith, it was as if the stone vibrated beneath his hand. He quickly pulled it back away.

“It is almost as if it is alive,” he whispered.

“How can that be?” Yrip asked.

“Beats me,” shrugged Chance. “I’m not exactly an expert on anything.”

The others joined him near the monolith, standing alongside him and looking at it. Chance pointed to one of the carvings, about the only one he could make out. “Does that look like a dragon?” he asked.

“It might be,” Snarl answered, taking a closer look. “It is a little too obstructed to make out properly. It could do with a good clean.”

At the gnoll’s words, Chance felt a laugh escape from him and the tension he hadn’t realised was gripping him released. Of course, Snarl would say something like that. “It could,” he agreed.

Raising his broom, Snarl began to brush away at the vines and moss that covered the monolith, the butterflies swirling faster about as he disturbed the place. Bit by bit the monolith was uncovered, and the markings upon them stood out more openly.

When all was done, they stood back and stared at it.

Well, Shags remarked, That is unexpected.