The sun began to rise from below the horizon just as Ithan finished his morning stretches. As the light peered into his room, he thought briefly about finding some fabric to cover the windows. Not important right now. He took his belt from next to the bed and counted his daggers as he put it on. One, two, three, four. As he turned to the door, he was startled by a sudden and firm thud.

“You had better not still be sleeping in there,” Taer’inar’s muffled voice called from behind the door as Ithan walked over and opened it. His new elf companion carried a pile of studded leather armor. The thud he had heard was likely Taer’inar kicking the door with his foot, since he was carrying the armor with both of his hands underneath the pile.

“What’s this?” Ithan asked.

“Those clothes aren’t going to do you any good out there,” Taer’inar replied as he shoved the armor at Ithan. “When we run into trouble, you’d be the first to go down.”

“I’ve gotten along just fine so far without armor,” Ithan said.

“Just put it on,” Taer’inar ordered. “And meet us at the fountain.” He turned away and walked toward the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ithan called as Taer’inar reached the stairs. Taer’inar turned back to look at Ithan, his face contorted into one of both confusion and mild amusement. “Let’s put the past couple of days behind us, okay?”

“Of course,” Taer’inar replied, his face brightening. “Now hurry up. The others are waiting.” He descended the stairs into the tavern below as Ithan retreated back into his room to redress.

After some difficulty, Ithan managed to get into his new attire. As he inspected himself, he could not help but admire the quality of the armor he now wore. The armor felt almost like a part of Ithan’s body as he wore it. It was not much heavier than the clothes he was wearing. It fit snugly yet allowed him his full range of movement. Whoever crafted it clearly took great pride in their work. He looked over to his bed, where he had placed the boots Taer’inar had given him, then down at his hooves. Shame I can’t wear those. He left them behind, stepping out of his room and closing the door. I should leave the door unlocked… Wait, what? Ithan quickly shook his head as the strange thought dissipated, and he locked the door.

“Drat,” someone said behind him. As he turned around, the door to the room across the hall closed with a creak. Thinking little of it, he headed down to the tavern. As he came into view of Briryn, the dragonkin waved.

“Take care now,” he said as he picked up a mug and started cleaning it. “Remember what I told you.”

“Yes sir,” Ithan replied as he walked toward the door. “Fenvyre’s in good hands.”

“I hope so, for your sake.” As Ithan closed the door behind him, Briryn shouted after him. “And don’t get yourself killed out there!”

The square was near empty, save for the five people at the fountain. Three were people Ithan recognized: Taer’inar, Fenvyre, and the ignan. The other two were, as Taer’inar had said, a minotaur and an auran. The minotaur stood about as tall as many of the other dragonkin and wore chainmail over his large frame. His horns curved forward and ended in sharp points, perfect for impaling enemies. He held an axe in his right hand.

The auran was closer to average elvenoid height. His skin was a deep shade of blue, and his hair was bright white. His pointed ears were feathered as if they had once been a bird’s wings. He wore armor similar to Ithan’s, and he carried a bow and quiver on his back.

“Oh good, it fits,” the minotaur said as Ithan approached the group.

“Excuse me?” Ithan asked.

“Dhurik here crafted that armor,” Taer’inar replied. “That’s where he was last night.”

“Oh. Well, it’s great. Feels great, too.” Ithan turned back to Dhurik. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Dhurik said. “Are we all here?”

“This is it,” Taer’inar said. “Shall we move out?”

“Hang on,” the auran chimed in, his eyes trained on Ithan. “Who is this?”

“My name is Mor’lavan.”

“And what are you?”

“Good question,” Taer’inar said.

“Not important,” Dhurik grunted. “Let’s go already.” He started walking toward the western end of the square. The auran shrugged and followed, with Fenvyre and Taer’inar close behind. When the rest of the party was a bit further away, the ignan walked around the fountain to Ithan.

“Are you interested in hearing the teachings of Laht?” the ignan asked in their high voice. “The others did not seem the least bit interested, but you… You have a certain air about you.”

“I don’t have time right now,” Ithan said as he turned away from the ignan. They walked around him to face him again.

“But you are interested?” The ignan smiled.

“Mor’lavan!” Taer’inar called. Ithan looked up to see most of his party glaring at him from across the square. Fenvyre looked worried.

“What a lovely name for a lovely creature,” the ignan said. Ithan was getting uncomfortable; his face was heating up and the ignan would not stop smiling at him.

“I really have to go,” Ithan told the ignan as he moved around them. As he turned away from the ignan, he let out a loud yip as a jolt of energy surged through him. He turned back to the ignan, who was still smiling.

“May Laht grant you good fortune on your journey,” they said before they walked back over to the other end of the fountain. When Ithan turned back around, Taer’inar and the auran looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh; the corners of Taer’inar’s mouth twitched as he stood there. Dhurik still wore his menacing glare, but Fenvyre seemed to be delighted by what she had just witnessed.

“That was adorable!” Fenvyre cried as Ithan approached. His face was on fire now.

“Let’s go already,” Ithan muttered as he tried to shake off his embarrassment.

The few dragonkin that were out this early in the morning murmured amongst themselves as the party passed. They had plenty of reason to gossip; besides the strange assortment of creatures marching through Greenreach, rumor had already spread of them planning to explore the wilds of Averion.

“...poor Fen…”

“...insane…”

“...death-wish…”

“Do they always talk about you behind your back?” Ithan asked Fenvyre.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t bother me,” Fenvyre shrugged. “We just don’t see eye-to-eye.” Her smile wavered ever so slightly. “Besides, when we come back, they won’t do that anymore!” she exclaimed. When the group approached the town’s western gate, a dragonkin stationed there stepped out in front of them.

“Excuse me,” the dragonkin grunted. He looked at Fenvyre as he spoke. “I hear you lot plan to venture out into Averion.”

“Indeed,” Taer’inar replied. The dragonkin looked at the elf, then back at Fenvyre.

“I have a favor to ask of you while you all are out there.” The dragonkin turned and pointed toward the mountains in the distance. “There’s an old mining town up there, called Rockfall. It was taken over by kobolds many years ago, and we never managed to reclaim it.” He turned back to the group. “If you can manage to get rid of them for us, we would be ever so grateful.”

“What’s in it for us?” Dhurik grunted.

“Well,” the dragonkin said, “I personally can’t promise anything.”

“Sounds like a waste of time to me,” Dhurik said as he started marching off. The dragonkin stepped in front of him.

“B-but I’m sure there are treasures within the mines that you can help yourselves to!” The minotaur and dragonkin stared at each other for a moment, and then Dhurik huffed.

“I guess it’s worth looking into,” he said.

“Terrific!” the dragonkin shouted. Dhurik motioned for the party to follow him, and they continued on. After the party had walked a short distance from the dragonkin, they heard him shout, “May Laht favor you on your journey!”

“Who is this ‘Laht’ they keep going on about?” Ithan asked as they walked along the dirt path outside of town.

“Some goddess that the ignan made up,” Taer’inar muttered. He pressed a hand to his head. “They’ve been here a week and already they have a cult following.”

“I think they’re trying to build a church,” the auran added. “Or a casino. Or both.” He looked over at Ithan. “So, are you going to tell me what you are now?”

“He’s a deer-fox,” Fenvyre said. The auran’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve seen many different kinds of animus in my travels,” the auran said, “but a ‘deer-fox’? Seems suspicious.”

“It’s not important, blue man,” Dhurik interrupted. “Just go with it.”

“My name is Storm,” the auran asserted.

“I don’t care,” Dhurik grunted. Storm grumbled under his breath, then carried on in silence.

The party spent a few hours traversing the old path, with Dhurik leading the way. He stopped every so often to pick up fallen tree branches and bend them. He tossed aside those that broke and put those that survived in the bag that he carried on his back. When Fenvyre asked him what they were for, he simply grunted and continued onward. When they finally reached the trail that led into the mountains, Dhurik halted the party again and began investigating the ground.

“What are you looking for?” Taer’inar asked impatiently. “There are no sticks around here.”

“Not sticks,” Dhurik muttered. “Footprints.” He motioned for the party to look closer. There were many small tracks on the trail leading toward the mountains. They looked like miniature dragonkin footprints.

“Those look like kobold tracks to me,” Storm said. “How many do you think there are?”

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“There had to have been many to overpower the dragonkin,” Taer’inar replied. He made a motion with one of his hands toward Fenvyre.

“Kobolds are crafty,” Fenvyre added. “They don’t need numbers. I’d guess there are maybe ten or so.”

“Only ten?” Dhurik pulled the bag off his back and frowned. “I have too many stakes.”

“You mean sticks?” Ithan questioned.

“Whichever,” Dhurik shrugged. Ithan shuddered. “Whatever, let’s keep going.” Dhurik continued along the trail, following the kobolds’ footprints. Fenvyre and Taer’inar followed behind, leaving Ithan and Storm at the rear in awkward silence. As they made their way into the mountains, they soon found a small camp. It appeared to be empty, yet Storm and Dhurik stayed on their guard. Storm slowly pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back as Dhurik raised his axe. Following their lead, Ithan quietly conjured up a glaive and made ready for an attack.

“Watch for traps,” Fenvyre whispered. Dhurik nodded, then strode forward. As he began to take a step into the open, Storm grabbed the back of his armor and pulled him back.

“What was that for?” Dhurik cried angrily before Fenvyre covered his mouth. Storm pointed to the ground. Where Dhurik would have stepped was a thin strand of string, pulled taut by unseen mechanisms. It was obvious that it was a trap, and Ithan did not wish to find out what it actually did. Storm and Fenvyre both let go of Dhurik, allowing him to walk again. He stepped over the thin wire and began to proceed forward but froze when the sounds of creatures nearby began to echo from the camp.

“Where are they?” Taer’inar whispered, searching for signs of life. Storm pointed to a large tent at the far end of the camp. As Ithan focused in on the tent, he tried to make out what the creatures were saying. Unfortunately, they spoke in a language he did not know.

“Uh oh,” Fenvyre said as she leaned toward the sounds. “They know we’re here.”

“Good,” Dhurik replied. “Hiding’s no fun.” As he spoke, a creature exited the tent. It looked much like a dragonkin, though much smaller in stature. Its red scales glistened in the sunlight, and it looked very irritated. It glared directly at the group and hissed. Then, to Ithan’s surprise, an arrow flew directly between the creature’s eyes, and it fell to the ground. Ithan turned to see Storm had drawn his bow and had already begun preparing another arrow.

“That’s a kobold, all right,” Taer’inar said as angry sounds began to rise from the camp.

“Was,” Storm replied as he readied another arrow. He stepped out into the open with Dhurik, who swung his axe a few times to ready himself for battle. As the rest of the group followed, kobolds began to appear from all of the tents in the camp. Ithan counted fifteen of them, including the one that Storm had shot down. They all jabbered on in their strange language as they approached the group, knives and slings at the ready.

“I’ll take ten of them,” Dhurik said, “and you guys can have the other four.” Without another word, he then charged at one of the nearby kobolds. Most of them reacted in kind by running at him, while a few others ran toward the rest of the group. Storm shot one down, and Taer’inar launched a firebolt at another. Ithan leapt forward at one of the kobolds and slashed at it with his glaive. By the time he looked back at Dhurik, he had already taken care of the rest.

“That was… a lot easier than I thought it would be,” Taer’inar said.

“It was barely even a warmup,” Dhurik muttered. He leaned over one of the kobolds, lifted his axe, and thrust it down. Ithan looked away before the axe met its mark, but the sickening snap sent a chill up his spine.

“What are you doing?!” Ithan heard Fenvyre cry. Dhurik continued on in silence. Ithan looked over at Storm and Taer’inar; they too were trying not to look at whatever Dhurik was doing. “We already hurt them enough, why are you‍—what are you doing with‍—oh, gods‍—”

“Just look away, Fenvyre,” Taer’inar finally called. “He’s not going to listen to you.”

“Done,” Dhurik announced. Ithan hesitantly turned his head toward Dhurik‍—he was now surrounded by the heads of the kobolds mounted on the sticks he had been collecting on their way up the mountain. This sight, surprisingly, did not bother him as much as the sounds of the creatures’ heads being chopped off their bodies. When he looked over at Fenvyre, though, his stomach turned. She was shaking uncontrollably, and she looked like she was about to get sick.

“Wh-why?” Fenvyre stuttered as she moved her hand over her mouth. “Couldn’t you have dealt with them in a less… disgusting way?”

“No,” Dhurik replied, rather bluntly. “I’m going to do what I’m going to do. Not my fault you’re a weak-stomached tree-hugger.”

“Dhurik!” Taer’inar shouted. Dhurik huffed and turned away to admire his handiwork. Taer’inar sighed and walked over to Fenvyre. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t know he was like this.”

“You had to have known we would be killing things out here,” Storm interrupted quietly.

“I did,” Fenvyre whimpered, “and I was ready for it. I just wasn’t ready for… this.” She glanced at the disembodied heads for just a moment, then turned away. Ithan rested a hand on her shoulder, thinking that might provide her some comfort. She smiled and patted Ithan on the head. “I’ll be okay. I just have to… not look at them.”

“I’ll lead this time,” Ithan said, grabbing Fenvyre’s wrist. She closed her eyes tight. He walked Fenvyre past the severed heads to the other side of the camp and behind the large tent. As he passed Dhurik, he gave the minotaur a stern glare. Dhurik shrugged and picked up his blood-stained axe, ready to follow.

“We’re past the camp now, Fenvyre,” Taer’inar said calmly as Ithan guided her further. She slowly, cautiously, opened her eyes again. When she saw no dismembered bodies, she breathed a sigh of relief. With a smile and without a word, she marched forward as Ithan let go of her. After just a few more minutes of walking, the group came across a cavern‍—two, actually, though one seemed to have caved in on itself. That one had a sign in front of it that read, “The mines are closed.”

“Did the kobolds cause the cave-in?” Storm asked.

“No, I think Etris might have done that,” Fenvyre answered.

“The wind dragon?” Taer’inar questioned as he gripped his swords. “He nests this close to Greenreach?”

“No, no,” Fenvyre reassured. “We think his nest is further north. But the kobolds worshipped him, so maybe he… flew by?” The rest of the group, including Dhurik, stared blankly at Fenvyre. “What?”

“I think dragons have better things to do than cater to some kobolds,” Storm said. “They can worship all they want, but they are likely beneath Etris’s notice.”

“But the people who used to live here told us that they heard roars coming from the mines,” Fenvyre argued. “They said they had to close them because it got too cold to work in there.”

“I don’t think a dragon could fit in the mines,” Ithan said. “There’s something else in there.” Taer’inar nodded.

“I’m bored,” Dhurik interrupted. “Can we get moving?”

“Yes,” Storm added, “there’s more to explore here and we’re just standing around.” He and Dhurik started walking into the other cavern. Taer’inar followed, and after exchanging glances, Ithan and Fenvyre did as well.

The light outside provided enough light inside the cavern to see several strange tunnels dug into the walls of the cave. They were roughly half his height and appeared to have been dug by creatures rather than by shovels or other mining tools. Other than these tunnels, the cavern appeared to be empty, except… Is that… a body?

“Someone’s over there,” Ithan said to the group as he pointed to the body.

“I don’t see anything,” Fenvyre said, squinting her eyes. “It’s too dark.”

“I see it,” Taer’inar said. “Mor’lavan, come help me.” He motioned for Ithan to follow him as he began walking into the darkness of the cave. Ithan looked back at the others, who were still trying to peer into the shadows to no avail. He followed Taer’inar over to the far end of the cave, where he got a better look at the body. To his great surprise, the body that lay before him was made primarily of steel. In between the plates that covered its body were tangles of root-like cords. It had a strange sigil on its forehead, and its eyes were made of crystal.

“What is it?” Ithan asked aloud, moving toward its face to more closely inspect it.

“It looks to be one of the terrans that the Burning Scale Dynasty employed,” Taer’inar answered. “It doesn’t look like it’s been here long, but it looks pretty damaged. I wonder what did this…” As if on cue, loud screeching began to echo throughout the cave.

“Griffon incoming,” said a voice that came from the terran, making Ithan jump. Its eyes lit up, its hinged jaw moving as it spoke in a low, monotone voice. “Please evacuate the area.” It began to slowly rise from the ground, though it seemed to struggle a little. Taer’inar helped the terran to its feet. “Thank you. Now please evacuate the area.”

“Who’s back there with you guys?” Dhurik called from the cavern’s entrance. “Can I beat it up?” Ithan and Taer’inar assisted the terran to the mouth of the cave.

“What the heck is that thing?” Fenvyre asked. A griffon was standing in front of the group when Ithan emerged from the cave, its wings spread wide. The griffon had the body of a lion, but the head, forelegs, and wings of an eagle. Its talons were stained with blood, and its beak held the remains of a kobold.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the terran said to the creature. “Anything you say will be held against you.” The griffon screeched in the terran’s face, to which the terran responded with a quick uppercut to the creature’s head. Ithan readied his glaive as the griffon reeled from the attack. Next to him, Dhurik gripped his axe and Taer’inar unsheathed his swords. With another screech, the griffon charged the group.

“You guys, don’t hurt it!” Fenvyre cried from behind as the griffon took a slash at the terran. Though the terran blocked the attack, it looked as though its armor was damaged.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Taer’inar said, swinging his scimitars at the griffon’s limbs. Though large, the griffon was surprisingly quick, and it evaded Taer’inar’s attacks.

Dhurik let out a roar, and a wave of heat burst out from him. Ithan winced as fire singed his fur. The griffon let out a cry of pain as it, too, was hit by the flames. Seeing an opening, Ithan rushed forward and slashed at the griffon’s side. He managed to connect, wounding the griffon and causing it to cry out again. It began flapping its wings, trying to escape, when Taer’inar ran up to it and made two quick strikes with his swords. The griffon screeched and fell back to the ground, collapsing as it writhed in pain.

“Stop evading arrest,” the terran said as the creature tried to swipe at it. The terran’s eyes lit up, and two beams of energy shot out from them and hit the griffon. The griffon went silent and lay motionless‍—dead. “Threat eliminated.”

“It was so pretty,” Fenvyre said quietly. “I wanted to make friends with it.”

“Fenvyre, not everyone is your friend,” Taer’inar said slowly. “We did what we needed to survive.”

“But…” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from the elf. “I know…”

“Anyway,” Taer’inar said as he turned to the terran, “I’m glad to see that you are alive. What do we call you?”

“I am‍—” the terran started before twitching for a moment. “I am Unit 17, on loan from the Burning Scale Dynasty.” Taer’inar flashed a grin at Ithan. “I was on patrol for kobolds and was ambushed. Thank you for your assistance.”

“You look pretty beat up,” Ithan chimed in as he looked over the terran in the sunlight. There was damaged armor in several places, and in one spot there was even a hole in the armor.

“I seem to have sustained significant injury,” the terran replied. “I will need to refresh myself before continuing my patrol.” It sat down on the ground in front of the group.

“Here?” Taer’inar asked. “Why don’t we take you back to Greenreach?”

“I can refresh anywhere,” the terran said.

“I’m sure you can,” Taer’inar continued, “but wouldn’t it be safer to do so in a town? Maybe there are more kobolds out here. They could ambush you again.” The terran looked blankly at Taer’inar for a moment.

“That is a possibility. Then I would not be able to continue my patrol.” The terran stood up. “I will return to Greenreach for now.” It looked up toward the road leading back to the camp, then looked back at Taer’inar. “My memory seems to have been damaged, as well. I cannot recall how to return to Greenreach.” Taer’inar sighed.

“Shall we call it a day?” Taer’inar asked the rest of the group. “We can escort this Unit 17 back to town and continue out again in the morning.”

“Some grand adventure this is turning out to be,” Storm muttered. Taer’inar’s eyes narrowed.

“Actually,” Fenvyre interrupted. “I think I’m going to have to call this off.”

“What? Why?” Ithan asked, surprised by Fenvyre’s sudden change in disposition. Her usual smile was replaced with a sorrowful look. It made Ithan want to do something spontaneous just to get her to smile again.

“I… I don’t think I can keep watching creatures get chopped up by Dhurik.” Ithan and Taer’inar turned to the minotaur, who had been sharpening his axe on a rock near the fallen griffon. “I’ll take Unit 17 back to Greenreach.”

“Fenvyre, the whole reason we set out in the first place was because of you,” Taer’inar said. “If you don’t want to continue, then I will be happy to go with you back to Greenreach.”

“No, you guys keep going,” Fenvyre said, her smile returning. “I’ll keep your beds warm at home.” She turned to Unit 17. “Um… Mister Unit 17? Could you do me a favor?”

“What can I do for you, citizen?” Unit 17 responded. Fenvyre whispered something to the terran. “I can comply. Thank you again, citizens.” It and Fenvyre turned away from the group, walking back toward the camp. Fenvyre quickly closed her eyes as they began walking in the direction of Dhurik’s head stakes. After they passed the large tent, Ithan lost sight of them.

“Now that Tree-Hugger’s gone…” Dhurik said, picking up his axe. He took one swing down on the neck of the griffon and decapitated it, blood splattering the ground around it. Dhurik lifted its head off the ground and began to impale it with a stake.

“You are… quite barbaric, Dhurik,” Taer’inar muttered as he watched Dhurik drive the stake into the ground.

“Thanks,” Dhurik huffed. “Now what?”

“I guess we keep going,” Ithan said. He started walking over to the mine entrance. “I’m kind of curious about the mines.”

“How about we rest for now?” Taer’inar asked. “We can camp out here for the night and tackle the mines in the morning.”

“There’s still daylight,” Dhurik groaned. “I want to smash more things.”

“Then go find some more kobolds or something,” Ithan retorted. “The sun won’t matter if we go into the mines. Can you see in the dark?” Dhurik stomped his hoof. “Didn’t think so.”

“Fine,” Dhurik grunted. He looked over at the griffon body and smiled. “Hey, you guys like griffon meat?”