[i][u]Arvyria and Margareth[/u][/i]

The flaming creature froze in the face of a loud, [i]angry[/i] chimera. It stared after Clifford's retreating back for a long moment before looking up at the lion's head. Then down at the cobra's. A single fiery hand lifted to smack itself in the forehead before the chimera reared on its hind legs, its great wings flapping in rage. In a gust of wind, the fire extinguished, swirling out of existence. 

The chimera slammed its two front legs back onto the ground, shaking the earth, and it turned its attention back to the two women. With another great roar, at lunged forward, teeth bared and claws outstretched.

[hr]
[i][u]Clifford[/u][/i]

It was quiet in the tent save for the sounds of Clifford's breathing. Either the bandits who'd snatched him didn't have anything to talk about, or they'd moved farther away so as not to share their plans. It'd been years since they'd been stolen from their own lives and spirited away to this new world. In that time, they'd learned not to let their guard down around the unknown – and Clifford's mangled visage certainly counted.

Time was an arbitrary, unknowable thing as he waited in the tent. It could've been minutes or hours since the cloaked bandits had left. But then the rustling of the tent flaps broke the silence, and in walked a slight, feminine figure, masked in deer skin. She carried in a rough clay cup filled with water, but no food, as though they didn't want to spare any on something they would soon be rid of.

She was silent as she kneeled beside Clifford, though a quiet sound of disgust could be heard behind her mask. She lifted the cup to his mouth and tilted, the motion shifting her sleeve to reveal a delicate silver chain wrapped around her wrist. A small pendant in the shape of a feather dangled from it.

[hr]
[i][u]Bishop, Caleb, Cronus, and Morgan[/u][/i]

The walk was largely uneventful – they passed trees, bushes, other plant life… sometimes there would be a rustling in the branches, but after a moment of stillness, any threat seamed to pass. 

The men finally came to the river, a healthy, rushing thing that threatened to sweep away any who dared enter. It was wide and there was no end in sight to it, however. If they wanted to get to the town on the other side, they had no choice but to cross it. 

A sharp whistle cut through the air as the men stood before the river. A dozen yards away sat an aging, portly man, bare feet dangling in the water. 

[b]"Y'all lookin' for passage?"[/b] he called. [b]"Twenty hoops."[/b]

[hr]
[i][u]Robyn and Valencia[/u][/i]

As the two women stood in the emptied field establishing their new truce, a glowing ember at the heart of the blackened patch of earth went largely unnoticed. After all, it was easily written off as a remnant from their encounter with the odd fire creature.

That is, until the flame suddenly burst into life, the entire field turning to ash under their feet as the roaring fire grew. As flames licked at the air, a form slowly took shape – vaguely similar to the creature from before, but noticeably [i]bigger.[/i]

Eventually the flames died away, the last remnants dancing across the skin of this new figure: a man. Tall and broad shouldered, he had a mess of long, obsidian hair, and flinty black eyes. He wore an ornate red cloak, speckled with metal bits of jewelry and armor alike. In his hand he held a tall staff, a ball of glowing flame resting atop it.

The man blinked his eyes at the two women before him. Scrunching his eyebrows at them, he spun his head around, searching. Then with a sigh he closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead.

[color=OrangeRed]"Stupid mote can't even keep 'em all together,"[/color] he muttered to himself. He had a low, rasping voice. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and looked back up at them.

[color=OrangeRed]"Ok, so how the heck did you all get here?"[/color]