A cobbled carriage drawn by nothing but enchantment bumped down the rough roads. The mage inside was making his rounds like many other strange traders of magic and tech alike. Unlike the noisome cars that frequented these roads this bewitched carriage had no motor to make sound over the beautiful music of the forest. The plump mage in gaudy, purple robes sat in the front. He held reins that strapped around to the bottom of the coach. One had to be wary in these parts. Reapers and all that. Regardless of the fact the mage hummed a marry tune and shifted jollily to it in his seat.

	Wildlife in this area was thinning. Perhaps it was because they sensed a coming danger that men could not. "I remember when these parts were bustling." The mage muttered to himself. "So much life, now it's all going gray." He sighed. This man was here to peddle his trade; enchantments, potions, household goods that most would consider snake oil. A legitimate business man - and he heard a sound no trader wants to hear!

	A loud snore cut the air like logs being sawn. Then a snort as whoever it was settled. The mage pulled the reins back and cursed. "Again! Damn stowaways.." The coach rolled to a stop, hill or no it stayed in place. As he hopped from his perch the mage took his staff, clacking it against the road every few steps he took. He gawked in awe at the creature sprawling amongst his luggage. How the hell did something that big hide in his goods!? This mostly naked cat-man had to be at least a head taller than six feet. The cat scratched his furry abs and flopped over again, completely unaware he had been discovered. The mage, a little intimidated by the size of his guest, made good of his staff and gave his stowaway a poke. His guest simply batted it away like it was second nature and rolled over.

	That was enough to tip him over. "You! Get up! This is illegal and dishonest." The mage commanded. The great cat-man finally roused. He rubbed his eyes with a forearm and grumbled something unintelligible and angry sounding. "If you want to keep going you'd better damn well pay for it! I don't even know who the hell you are." The mage kept going, he must have been really pissed.

	The stowaway finally responded. "Yeah -- about that. I'm Ramm." He scratched at his disheveled mane thoroughly as he kept talking. "How 'bout this cherry-face? I guard you until we get to Auguston. After that this gets put behind us."

	The mage's face lit up a bright red on queue. "Cherry-face!? Not happening, beasty." He retorted.

	Ramm's face stretched into a terrifying toothy grin. "Beast? Where I come from that's a compliment." He chuckled a little. "Fine. I'll walk. I can smell the town from here anyways."

	There was a visible relief in the man's eyes. At the same time his own curiosity was piqued. "Smell the town? What do you mean?"

	Ramm perked up at the question. "You don't know do you? Haven't been around Auguston for a while then. Town smells like burning ever since the line got closer. Makes it easy for me to find but hard to stay." He looked around at the bleak forestry. "Can't blame the wildlife for running off when they've got senses like mine. Given the choice I'd leave with them. Too bad I love fighting, and fighting gets me paid." He beamed at the trader.

	Safety seemed to be pressing on the mage's self interest. "Fine, I'll take you to Auguston but that's it." He concluded.

___________________

	Auguston was worse now than Ramm remembered it last. The smell permeated the soil. The fabled reapers must've been getting closer to them. He hadn't the opportunity to meet them in combat yet but relished the thought. It excited him.

	One of Auguston's last, most resilient attractions was also his destination. "The Lazy Dragon." Ramm muttered as he looked at the sign. Fitting for a place to gather a fighting force. Someone needed to wake that dragon and who better than an elite team of fighters. He stomped gracelessly through the door and into a tabled area. The inn itself wasn't far better than outside. The dour mood that had settled across the town had infected the patrons in here too. A mad grin settled on his face. That meant a clash would hopefully happen sooner than later. He plodded toward the curtained off area and stuck his head through to look at the menagerie gathered together. Tabby cat, a centaur, an elf. That was a collection. He stepped all the way and paused next to the elf. He gave her a discourteous sniff. She smelled like dead people. Finally he shrugged and leaned against a wooden beam. Most people in this town smelled like dead people. Roasting the dead wasn't even a terrible smell, it was everything else they burned with it. He finally introduced himself. "Name's Ramm."