Longbeard had thought that he would be first to arrive. He'd woken with the sun and headed out just as soon as he put the hat on his head. There was no real need to prepare or clean himself up: a simple flick of the wrist removed all the dust and dirt from his clothing. Then he was off, sliding across the deserted landscape with undeniable grace.

He'd spent the two days in Devon, shooting the breeze with some of the inhabitants, and using his particular talent with the earth to aid them in various ways. He purified a well for one couple about his age, and he helped a pair of young men lift heavy planks into position through the use of what amounted to stone lifts. Basic things: he knew the world viewed his kind as dangerous and devil-worshiping, so it was always on his mind to leave a good impression. Tip your hat to everyone you meet, and do you best to leave a place better than you find it.

Now he was on the road--rather, he was out and moving, because there were no more roads--heading for the meeting point which they had been describe two days earlier. It was gonna be a tough mission. He got a feel for these kind of things in his bones, and his bones were telling him to prepare for the worst.

Lucky for his bones, Longbeard was always prepared for the worst, especially when heading into the Helscape. So it was no surprise to him when he passed a dead bird on his way out. Just another omen to things he already expected. He'd already been on the move for a while when the first speck of living beings popped over the horizon. With them came the Helscape, and Longbeard had to take a moment to catch his breath.

The Helscape. Even now, after decades of watching the place and venturing into those forsaken lands, seeing them still brought numbing fear into his heart. A place so devoid of life that the very earth itself bled red fire. The one good thing about the Helscape was the utterly ridiculous amount of obsidian just lying around. While he was in these parts, he'd have no need for regular stone bullets, because there was enough of the black rock here to keep him stocked and shooting until the day he died, and then some. Besides that, obsidian bullets were much easier to charm than heterogeneous stone mixtures like he was used to, and they were fiendishly sharp and damaging besides.

"Ho there!" He called as he approached. Flynt was there--how did the young bastard get everywhere faster than he did, anyway?--along with Essex and, Reginald assumed, the others in the surveyor group. An Ancient goliath who Longbeard didn't know, and a very lovely small woman who he would have loved to get to know better, were he just a decade or two younger. Nowadays his interest in beautiful women was purely optical. He'd seen enough people die from getting close to Mages to know where to draw the line.

"Mornin' to you all. Essex. Flynt. Glad we ain't dead just yet. And who're you?" he asked politely, tipping his hat to the strangers.

"Ludo Greene." Said the Ancient. Nothing more.

"Jane Wrathebone," said the pretty dwarf. She took his hand firmly and squeezed. "Jane to me friends. Glad t'make yer acquaintance, Longbeard." At his raised eyebrow, she chuckled softly. "Ahhh, yer reputation precedes ya, Stoneheart! A relic in a sea o'nubiles, ain't it so?"

"As you say, ma'am," said Longbeard, smiling gently at the woman's forthrightness. "Pleased to meet you as well, Jane. Hope we'll be workin' well together. Gotta make sure we all come back'n one piece, hey?" He straightened and glanced around. "And where're our fine fellows? They're missin' some lovely daylight."