Flames consumed everything, the crackling of wood engulfed by fire the only noise, everything else was silent.

Bodies lay strewn about, some horrifyingly mutilated, torn and broken, limbs ripped off or guts pulled out in heaping piles. Other bodies showing no outward signs of what had killed them, were dead all the same.
The carnage had happened within a matter of minutes, a rift opened in the middle of the outpost, miles away from the edge of the Darkmere.
Creatures of nightmare had poured out, immediately overwhelming the fifty or so Knights, soldiers and their companions before hardly any of them had raised any type of defense. Not that it had mattered.

Hulking Bipedal, scaled, furry and armoured beings of immense strength and bestial fury had reveled in the gore-fuelled orgy of destruction.
They had been the cause of the fires as well, each stomp of their feet caused gouts of hellfire to spurt out and seemingly with a will of its own, climb, cling and ignite every single flammable object they touched.
Shadow draped figures, ghostly outlines of humanoid creatures as far as the damned and dieing could see, flitted amongst those trying to escape the carnage. Draining life with a touch or consuming the souls completely if the person was already close to death.

These were the Wraiths and Behemoths demonic creatures summoned to the world by Dread Lich Myr. They were hungry, eager to destroy and stil only a fraction of the immense power that Myr held.

The evil undead beings influence was growing, few bright spots existed around his domain. One of these havens was the Wellspring Tavern.

This is the story of......No wait that part comes later......

The sound of chopping wood split the morning air, a man in his prime stood in a small clearing behind the huge structure known as the Wellspring, a massive sprawling Tavern, inn, shopping complex and unofficial adventurer's guild.
His physique was impressive, muscular and well built covered in runic markings, he cut an intimidating figure. Standing at six foot three inches in height his movements were fluid, graceful and harmonious, even when chopping wood.

His tunic suddenly flew out from the covered doorway of the kitchen and caught him in the side of his head. A red haired woman stepped out from the shadowed opening and stood with folded arms shaking her head. The man turned and toweled himself down with the tunic, but did not seem in any hurry to dress himself.

" You know we have staff to do that, right?"

"A fine morning to you too my dearest Narissa"

Narissa's frown could not hold at his tone, she shrugged her shoulders and let fly her exasperated reply.

"The owner doing all the menial tasks does wonders for our image Master Wolven"

Her tone was mocking, but Arn still shook his head at her use of the title Master.

"How many times must I say it, call me Arn, Master Wolven was my father. Besides, as owner of this place I feel duty bound to make sure that all menial tasks are completed to the highest standards that my chief of staff comes to expect of all of us"

He flashed a smile, knowing full well that she would not be able to answer that disarming response.

Narissa stood there, pouting, for all of about twenty seconds. She opened her mouth to reply, thought better of it and turned to leave. Then remembering her duty and the real reason she was here, she turned back to Arn and delivered the message that had just been delivered to the Tavern.

"We just received word that West mere outpost was completely overrun yesterday evening. Not a single survivor left. We only got the message through the druid's network of animal couriers because squirrels nesting nearby witnessed the destruction"

She hated the fact she had to be the bearer of such bad news, the devastating effect of seeing Arn's face drop from a smile to a look of overwhelming grief and defeat. he took the loss personally. Her own carefully placed mask had to hold but she felt her own grief rising to the surface.

Arn's response was brief, quick and to the point.

" The newest adventurers should be arriving soon, perhaps there are those amongst them who would be willing to join me and try to put a stop to this needless destruction once and for all.

He walked passed Narissa and entered the kitchen door, the morning sun suddenly seemed to dim and a chill wind passed through the clearing, Narissa shivered and turned to walk back in, her own duties waited.

Her last words were whispered, snatched away by the rogue wind resounded through the clearing as she walked back inside.

"I hope they brought an army"

Meanwhile outside, Therezia flutters closer towards the Tavern. She hasn't been around this many people in... well... ever? Undeterred she flutters forward, glancing through one of the windows to see what will await her inside.

She looked small as she hovered there, hands pressed to the window like a child window-shopping at a candy store. Her gaze scans the room, ready to find her first vict- ... friend. She shakes her head a bit as she tries to make out the faces of the people inside.

The sounds of the Tavern spill through the window, the sound of laughter and chatter mixing with the quiet chirping of the cicadas outside.

The scent reached her long before the building did. Warm bread. Sweet fruit. Something sugary Nyx couldn't quite name. She stopped in the middle of the path, the oversized hood hiding most of her face as her nose twitched beneath its shadow. Her grip on the plain wooden staff loosened ever so slightly while another breeze carried the aroma toward her.

"...Sweet..."

It was barely more than a whisper. Her stomach answered with a quiet growl. Whatever destination she had intended to reach had instantly become secondary. Slowly, almost as though entranced, the small girl shuffled toward the enormous tavern, every step guided less by sight than by smell.

As she rounded the corner, another figure came into view. A girl hovered outside one of the windows, hands pressed against the glass as she peered inside with obvious curiosity.

Nyx paused. Her head tilted. Does she also sweets? But if the other person is here for sweets, it might finish quickly. She started running as fast as she could into the Tavern her little legs stumbling along with her clumsily. She must, at all costs, get to the sweets first.

She reached for the tavern doors, they were massive, and heavier than expected, forcing her to lean her tiny frame against until it creaked open just enough to squeeze through. A wave of warmness hits her first, and then the mouth watering scents. Her eyes light up.

The little mage stood there. Completely oblivious to the conversations filling the room as her hidden eyes searched with laser-like focus for the source of the irresistible sweetness. Any adventurers, quests, or looming dangers the tavern held would simply have to wait until she found whatever smelled that good.

Lorn could see the haze of lanterns far ahead. He must be close. His nose smelt all a meaning of earthly vices, sweet, savory, homely. It all struck the orc like a broadside as he loped down the road, axe on shouldered and knapsack slung aside. He needed sustance for his travels, he knew that much. He recked of road travels and needed a inn too, perhaps a chatty barmaid to flirt the evening away too. He dreamed for a brief moment before sullenly sneaking into the main entrance with a group or dwarven adventures. Something of a dragon and and a horde, but he didnt bother, no he sought the bar. A strong drink would do him well he thought.

The corner of his eye spotted a tiny hooded figure near the barstool feet. He glanced down, curious, before an auburn minx entered his vision. She offered drink, respite, lodging, but no work particularly. He accepted what he was given, ale, of the strong sort. A large mug appeared. and Lorn once again sought his desires.

"I seek work. I know many places. and tis axe isn't... particular. What novelties enter this hearth? " he guttural spat, orcishly with revel to the tasty drink that seeped between his tusks.

The driver up front called out something to the horses, and the carriage began to slow. Rizx's ear flexed, but she stayed in her seated position, a small spot she'd made between the bags and chests. Maybe someone was trying to rob the coach?

Instinctively, she reached for the leather thong around her neck, revealing the obsidian amulet, and the small brass ring looped into the cord.

"Let's 'ope 'e's not found us, eh Mister Wolf?" the goblin whispers, but the amulet made no sound.

After a moment, the coach came to a stop, and she could hear the driver muttering to the person still inside, then felt as the coach swayed as they got off.

Moments later, the leather awning that covered the rear boot was unstrapped and flung to one side, leaving her blinking in the light of a lantern. The driver coughed, then spat to his left - a wad of trail dust and mucus.

"We're here," the driver managed, "Ya need help?"
"Oh, all that I can get," Rizx wheezes, holding out her small hand that was instantly devoured by the driver's huge human hand as he pulled her out.

It had been a long, uncomfortable ride for her in the back, but she didn't want to sit with the others - if anything, she had the more comfortable seat, and didn't have to endure the other passengers' stench.

"So 'ow long is this stop?" she asked, glancing around as she tried to stretch her sore muscles.
"Mornin'," the driver said, lowering her to the ground. "Need my ale, dinner, and beauty sleep."

Rizx glanced sharply at the driver's face, clearing waiting for the usual response, and nodded. "Ale, dinner and beauty sleep it is. Let's hope I don't get chucked out to the stables, you snore too much."

The driver walked in first, then she followed with her rescued carpet bag and a pack of her few possessions.

"Is there a room available?" she asked, glancing about for whoever was in charge. Nobody argued with the wizard, but she didn't have him anymore. Was civility a lost cause?

Lorn huffed through his nostrils, a flap of scar tissue from a spicy adventure from last winter making him snort unintendedly. He gave a furtive glance over to the mention of the Darkmere. He'd dabbled in that horror before, but his long years were as a clever orc and clever orcs don't go to haunted woods. Still, a tavern boast on sly words was worth a retort.

"That is an evil place. Those roots can take you to untold hells...." He got suddenly fixated into a distant stare. " twas a guide back then, a trailblazer. Still am me tinks." the big orc rattled off twiddling a tusk trying to do the quick arithmetic on his resume. It was ponderous and rude as the blech that followed. Lorn looked around half-expectantly before continuing to the barstooled mate. "What is it for you then, ay? Darkmere? I've been cutting timber since they gave me an axe. And I can tell you that shant no normal forest of this realm. No it is sick, vile, contemptuous, the sulfur and brimstone hangs in the air in those hollows." His stout clunked with a ThUdDDD as he fetched near his wayside knapsack. Coin rattled, and he sauntered his axe under the bartop as he leaned forward on his stool. a sliver of silver tickled across his brawny knuckles as he spoke once more, continuing. As of the young evening, more travers entered with no halt in sight. Maybe this was a working man's post the orc thought.

"Coin, now that talks."

Therezia watches as more and more people walk through the door. "I suppose that's the way inside.", she says to herself as she flutters towards the door. She gives it a push, but the heavy door doesn't budge.

She tries again and again, fluttering against it with all her tiny might. No movement. "How peculiar...", she murmurs. As she flies back a bit she spots the doorknob. Quickly, she pushes it down and tries again, and finally the door gives way just enough for her to slip inside.

The heavy door falls back into place with a loud thud behind her. Wide eyed she takes in her surroundings. The warmth of the fireplace and the mixture of smells and sounds hit her like a hammer and she almost instinctively sways in the air for a moment, as if unsure what to do next.

"Right... a friend. Hmm...", she reminds herself of her mission and immediately starts checking out the taverns patreons. Her gaze wanders over many different people, all seeming like unsuitable targets for her. After all, if her attempt at befriending the person goes wrong it would be unfavourable if said person was a tall orc or a guy wielding a big sword.

She decides to try her luck with what looks to be a young child, deciding that her odds at winning in a battle against it would be in her favor. She flutters closer, examining the young girl like she's never seen a person before.

Arn's anger was not allowed to take hold. His disciplined mind pushed it to one side, compartmentalizing it for a time when the extra rage might be necessary.

After he left Narissa in the courtyard he had gone to his room, washing and dressing in freshly laundered clothing. He looked around his room and smiled at the memories many of the trophies he had on his wall brought to mind. Sighing at what lay ahead he went out to the common room to take part in fulfilling his duties as owner, bar staff and story teller to those who were frequent customers who continued to return here.
His other duty was to keep an eye out for potential companions.

The usual hustle and bustle of the day wore one, meals served, kegs tapped and stories told. Informants came and went and knowledge was exchanged between Arn and a steady flow of adventurers. He saw a group of Dwarven warriors sitting at a table, one of the serving girls came back and muttered something about a dragon and a mountain that Arn only partially listened too. His focus was on a few newcomers, people he had never seen before. Probably green adventurers looking to make some quick cash he thought to himself.

He waited until all the drinks were served then in a sudden inspired and somewhat reckless decision, climbed atop the bar, nearly stepping on someones meal and knocking more than a few tankards of ale or mead over.

" Welcome friends and newcomers alike, to the Wellspring. I have no doubt some of you know of me and my reputation, for those that do not I am Arn Wolven"

He stopped for a minute as several of the dwarves took it upon themselves to stomp a cadence and roar in cheer at his declaration. When they had calmed, as much as any dwarf with as much mead in them as they had imbibed, could be he continued.

" News reached us this morning about the West mere outpost being over run, none survived it pains me to relay"

Shocked gasps and groans from several areas came back to him after he announced the devastating news. He gave everyone time to absorb this. Then broke the news he had wanted to share. although doing so probably would annoy Narissa greatly.

"In three days time, I plan on heading out to the Darkmere, to infiltrate the ruins in the centre of that accursed place and put a stop to the Lich Myr once and for all. I am looking for adventures to come with me, it will be a difficult task and I cannot vouch for your safety or return."

Silence met him at first but then a slow rumble went through the room as more patrons decided this was a good thing.

He played his last card next.

"Anyone who is willing to join me must meet me here in three days at sunrise. I am willing to risk my own life because I feel it is my duty. For those of you who are motivated in other ways I offer a thousand gold pieces, or an equivalent to its worth with any items from our armoury, it is a paltry fee and if any of you have family you wish to leave something to I will arrange for that as well. Whatever the cost."

He stepped down from the bar, hoisted a tankard of ale and watched, looking to see if he had drawn any attention to this seemingly suicidal march. He was pleased with himself for about thirty seconds, then a hand grabbed his arm and spun him about. He knew instantly it was Narissa and the look he spun round to face was not completely unexpected either. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do. Especially when it came to the offering of payments.

He just hoped someone would interrupt his berating before it got too embarassing.

At one of the tables near the windows, sitting where the light would slant across the wooden surface, a tall, wiry man sat almost bent double, his silvery eyes closely scrutinizing a few snatches of minute print on a scrap of paper. Rubbing briefly along his narrow chin with one long fingered hand, he scooped up the parchment and slipped it into a leather book, joining the dozens of similar pieces of paper already inserted between the pages of his handwritten notes. His gaze then swept over the myriad collection of maps, notes, and series of other books taking up nearly the entirety of the space before him.

He had just reached for another book, his well worn and stained sleeve of his robes threatening to topple over a stack of papers, when movement caught his attention from beyond the window. The wizard paused to take a closer look, finding himself meeting the gaze of what was unmistakably a fae creature with her hands pressed against the glass to look in. Abruptly, he yelped with surprise, knocking over the tome he had been reaching for and sending the paper over the edge with it. As his hand shot out instinctively to try and catch everything before it fell, he inadvertently unbalanced his long staff, the elegantly carved wood hitting the floor with a clatter. He automatically tried to reach for this, resulting in his head hitting into the window with an audible clunk.

Hissing with pain, one of his hands clutching at the spot where his head had collided with the window, the half elf felt his pale cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he carefully bent to scoop up his belongings, trying desperately to avoid meeting any glares or curious glances, unable to help but hear a scattering of laughter around his immediate vicinity.

"Master Virell! Are you all right," a voice gasped, a young woman with her hair done up in a braid hurrying over to help him pick up the scattered pages.

Theron Virell grimaced delicately, going, if possible, an even deeper shade of red. He recognized the woman as Cinta, one of the many maids employed at the Wellspring Tavern. She in particular had taken sympathy with him, taking it upon herself to keep an eye out for him since his arrival a few days earlier. He thought she was simply a genuinely kind person, but he couldn't help but notice the stifled exasperation that he sometimes caught in her expression. He could only hope that she wasn't one for gossip about him when he wasn't there.

"Th-Theron will do Miss Cinta," he began, carefully maneuvering the staff so that it wouldn't hit the tavern made as he picked it up from the ground, but she cut him off with her own words.

"I've already told you. I'll start calling you just Theron if you start calling me just Cinta," she said, handing over what she had gathered with a smile.

Theron wished his face could have a moment to finally cool off. He felt like his skin was going to catch fire.

"Yes Miss Cinta," Theron automatically responded, quelling under the surprisingly stern look he was suddenly getting. He fidgeted with the ink stained sleeves of his robes for a moment as he stammered uncomprehensively before he finally managed to speak again. "Yes... Cinta."

Cinta slipped back into a smile before she gave the nervous wizard a more serious once over.

"Are you alright?"

A brief wince passed over his expression, but Theron brushed away her concern by running his fingertips briefly across his forehead. It ached, but it wasn't as bad as some of the other injuries he had gotten over his lifetime. "I'll be right as rain in no time, ho-honestly," he said, though the stammer ruined the confident air he had attempted.

"... all right," Cinta replied slowly, clearly unsure about his response. "Well," she continued, brushing absently at her apron with the backs of her hands, "i'll at least go and fetch you some bread. You've been forgetting to eat again."

And with that, Cinta was hurrying away, leaving Theron to gape after her for a moment. Did she think him incapable of taking care of himself? He snorted a little before feeling his stomach suddenly give a prolonged rumble of hunger. And he had to concede that she probably had a point.

With a soft sigh, Theron set to work clearing a space for the inevitable food, organizing his papers and scrolls into a more condensed scattering.

That was when he remembered the fae.

Quickly, his silvery gaze flickered back towards the window, part of him hoping that he had just been imagining her presence, the other half very much itching with curiosity and intrigue and wishing to see her delicate hands still pressed against the glass. He felt a flicker of disappointment when she was no longer there. Sighing to himself, the half elf glanced around surreptitiously, hoping no one was watching him still. He thought he caught a smirk out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he could make sure. He did catch sight of a short creature that had recently arrived, something he hadn't been expecting, if what he saw under the cloak told him anything. A goblin. He hesitated a moment before attempting to catch their attention, waving them closer with a quirk of a few fingers.

Unfortunately for him, he saw movement at the bar and a person stand up. His stomach did a sort of flip as he saw it was Arn, someone he had spoken to many years ago. He spoke of yet more death and destruction, something that made his stomach twist for a different reason and his hand instinctively fell on his book of handwritten notes and gripped it tightly, knuckles going white.

'Well, you were looking for an excuse and group to head into the forest. Here's your chance, he thought to himself as he listened, feeling his heart stutter at the idea of facing danger head on. But there really wasn't a way around this. Not if what he had been discovering was true.

When the speech wound down to a close, he blinked, and then snapped his attention back onto the goblin, hoping that she hadn't moved either.

Nyx had already managed to acquire a generous handful of sweets from one of the kind-looking barmaids, carefully stuffing every last piece into her little satchel as though it contained priceless treasure. The big man's speech drifted through the bustling tavern. She listened... well, sort of. She wondered if the payment came in sweets. Or perhaps they had interesting rocks instead.

Mmm... rocks.

A journey to an unknown place meant discovering unknown rocks. Unknown rocks meant unknown flavours. The thought alone made her little stomach flutter with excitement. The tiny mage suddenly noticed the fae still hovering nearby. In Nyx's mind, there was only one logical explanation.

She's after my sweets.

With a tiny gasp, Nyx darted away into the crowded tavern. Being so small had its advantages. The sea of adventurers barely noticed her weaving between boots and chairs before she crouched low and crawled beneath the tables instead. It was much safer underneath. Much fewer sweet thieves. As she peeked between the table legs, she spotted the awkward-looking mage from earlier waving toward the fae.

Yes...Go, mister mage.Keep her busy...Protect the sweets.

Feeling considerably safer, Nyx slowed to a stop beneath another table. Two pairs of legs stood nearby. One belonged to a massive orc.The other... well...Probably a human? Maybe.

His clothing looked mysterious enough that Nyx couldn't quite tell. She was about to crawl away when something hanging from his belt caught her eye. Twin blades. Her hidden eyes widened. The silver gleamed unlike anything she had ever seen before. Slowly... very slowly... Nyx crept closer. She clasped her tiny hands together.

He looks dangerous...

A second thought immediately interrupted.

But maybe the blades taste nice.

That seemed like a perfectly reasonable risk. Decision made. With remarkable care, she gently untied one of the twin blades from the man's belt. A small shiver ran through her as she held it. She lifted it to her nose.

Hmm. It doesn't smell like anything...

Her curiosity only grew. Turning the blade carefully, she found the smooth, blunt side and gave it a cautious little lick. Instantly, her eyes sparkled. Grapes...and oranges. That's strange. But sweet. A delighted smile spread across her face as she happily continued giving the blade a few appreciative licks. Only then did she notice its owner staring directly at her.

Nyx froze. Very, very carefully, she placed the blade onto the table exactly where she'd found it. She gave the mysterious man an awkward little smile.



Without waiting to see his reaction, she squeaked in embarrassment and vanished into the crowd once again. After weaving through countless legs and chairs, she spotted the nervous mage from earlier seated alone at a table. His staff immediately caught her attention. She wandered over and found an empty chair beside him. It was far too tall. Nyx grabbed the edge with both hands and tried to climb. Nothing. She kicked her feet. Wriggled. Slipped. Tried again. With all the determination of a worm attempting to scale a castle wall, she finally hauled herself onto the chair, breathing a tiny sigh of victory as she settled into the seat.

Exhausted from the monumental climb, Nyx simply sat there beside the mage in complete silence feeling tired.

Before Therezia could get out a sentence, the tiny girl suddenly bolts. A small pout forms on her lips as she watches her curiously. Was she scared of her? Mayhaps she had heard tales of the Fae before, and decided to heed the warnings that came with them.

All the more reason to prove her wrong. Therezia flutters up, hovering close to the ceiling as she just watches the chaos in the tavern unfold from above. It was both enchanting and overwhelming all at once, as the loud chatter and laughter echoed in her ears.

She crosses her arms and watches the small girl from above, cocking her head to the side when she disappears under tables and weaves through the crowd. When she finally appears again she climbs into a chair next to a mage, and Therezia decides to try to approach her again.

Maybe if she just moved slower, she wouldn't startle her. And so she slowly flies closer, deciding to hide partially behind the mage as she approaches. When she's next to them, she gracefully lands on the back of the chair the wizard was sitting on, and peeks around his shoulder. Only then does she glance up at him as well, recognition sparking as she remembers him to be the silver-eyed man that she had seen from the window earlier.

Lorn could concede that coin was cheap, but it was also honest, hnest enough to keep orc breathing at least. The stipulations of working with a literal shady figure were not lost on the big guy. His toil and strife meant nothing if he never woke up to see it after all. But he could almost hear Fate cackle in the distance as the bartop suddenly became occupied. Pondering in Syd's speal gave way to being entranced by the luck and lore Arn spoke to the masses of mead.

"Well, there you go, big guy. Coin and treasure, both. The Darkmere's calling you back, it seems." He took a final sip of ale, set the empty mug back down with a thud, and stood from his seat, adjusting the hood of his cloak with a swift tug. "See you around."

Lorn raised a brow and nodded to the offers made, the risk calculated. He'd need to stock up at the smithy with alot more than just forager means he was used to. Sweat of of his brow and what not. Gathering of not only weapons and malice but also vittles and vitality. The were going to go to the wildest of wilds after all. Who we was wasn't really known of yet, but the adventourous orc damn near jumped up with the celebrity of the land just to agree with him. Alas, he was tugged away by his peoples and his heated ears. He'd approach when he was more ready, more sure of the players on this game board.

The cloaked figure faded into the crowd, yellow linin and smirks his only calling in lack of a name for the tusker with the axe. Lorn gave a chin-up but brow furrowed response. Best keep it safe with that fellow he figured. A tiny entrant had alerted the lumberjacks's ears, was it under the table? a flutter of wings stopped his idea of a search, and the crowd was startling to bustle with rumor and mixed alarm surprise, greed and glory, all a little too much for a nomadic orc. He needed a bed to think this over with. So he stopped gawking at the mosh and instead motioned for a barmaid. One caught his action and soon Lorn had a upstairs room a few hallways down, one with a balcony even or his hash smoking in the early mornings. The orc set his drink down, scratched his shaven scalp where scars called home, and wondered who his new neighbors were in the establishment. His charcoal beads he called eyes fell on notable attendees as Lorn sat back arms crossed ax leaning on thigh. to bode quietly, and honestly resting his social battery after a shadowy conversation, seemed right as he sat in that chair.

The goblin witch blinked, rocked back by the Arn Wolven's announcement, his declared intention to go after a lich.

"Does he do this a lot?" she asks at large. More importantly, she wondered, how often did he follow through on such announcements?

The reception seemed mixed, not surprisingly. Taking on a lich, with scores of undead at their command...? Especially with just a handful of people and not say, an army?

<Rizx!>

She stared, eyes wide, but nobody seemed to notice the unseen voice.

"What?" she whispered back.

<Get a room, we need to talk...>
"Talk? Talk about what, Mr. Wolf?" she demanded in a strangled whisper. "Don't tell me..."
<People are beginning to stare.>

Her green cheeks burned with a darker green as she glanced around the room, then bustled over to the bar.
"Hey," she called out to whoever was behind it, "How do I get a room? And a half-pint?"

Well. He had gestured for the goblin and somehow ended up with... a child. Theron blinked several times after the young girl settled into place, expecting her to start up a conversation, but she merely sat in silence. From the set of her shoulders, she looked tired or nervous. Perhaps it was a little of both.

Glancing towards the last place he had seen the goblin again, he saw that the little creature had not noticed him, but was occupied by talking to someone behind the counter. As he was tempted to sigh, a small face came into his line of vision and he almost shouted with surprise again. Luckily, he managed to keep it to a jump, though he did nearly drop his book once more. The fae was shockingly here, only inches from him. He was simultaneously excited and nervous about her proximity.

Luckily for him, while he was opening and closing his mouth, trying to decide what to say to even begin handling the unlikely situation he found himself in, Cinta returned to his table. The tavern made had a surprised expression on her own face, lifting her eyebrows at the wizard, but didn't hesitate as she put down a few plates with a fresh loaf of bread, several honey cakes, and some sliced apples. After a moment, Cinta reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pouch of sugared violets that she put down in front of Nyx, clearly having been tipped off about the child that had been purchasing sweets earlier. She gave them all a smile and a wave, before walking away.

"don't forget to eat Theron."

The half elf did sigh this time, though he kept it quiet. He had certainly earned himself a reputation already. But the sugared violets had given him an idea at least. Reaching for his staff, he gripped the carved wood in one hand and made a gesture with the other, several small slightly glowing white spheres appearing in his cupped hand that he put down on the table.

"My mother used to make me these when I was younger. She's one of the elves of the Silverwood. They make these moonflower drops from star flowers, sugar, and magic."

Theron quietly questioned the wisdom of giving a child he didn't know candy, but brushed the idea away. The drops were infused with a calming essence, so they shouldn't rile her up too much. Although he supposed if her parents came looking for her, he'd have a thing or two to explain.

He tried out a small smile before his gaze drifted back towards the fae, looking at her much more closely now. He felt a small stirring of uneasiness, but she couldn't be all bad if she was out among mortals, right? Those fangs though...

"He-hello. Might I, uh... might I ask you what type of fae you are? Why are you so far from your domain? What sort of magic do you have an affinity with? What..."

With a great effort, Theron stopped his flow of questions, though the effort made his hands fidget. They continued for a moment, setting down his staff, rummaging through his pockets, before settling on folding together. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"S-sorry. I just never thought I'd have an opportunity to meet a fae before. I should have started with, hello, my name is Theron. What might you both be called?"

Without consciously realizing it, his hands had started fidgeting again, absently tapping at the table and each other.

Therezia finally gets distracted from surveying the child at the table when the wizard, whose shoulder she had been leaning onto slightly, jumps at the sight of her. If it hadn't been for her wings she would've fallen, and she now flutters up to land on the table in front of him, arms at her hips as she gives him a slightly offended look.

Before she can say something less than friendly to him, she gets hit with the realization that an actual person was talking to her, willingly. Excitedly her wings flutter behind her as she stands, and she now gives the wizard a small smile, fangs flashing for just a moment.

She can't help but let out a giggle, the sound of her laughter was melodic and sounded almost like bells chiming in the wind. "What type of fae? Some of you call me sprite, or pixie.... some say I'm a fairy." She laughs again at that last part, amused that anyone would be stupid enough to mistake her for one. Even though apart from the sharp fangs and nails, the only big distinction between her and a fairy were her dragonfly wings.

"But you", she starts, leaning in a bit as she studied the mans face intently, "you may call me Therezia." Her voice was light and melodic, but something about it seemed almost too sweet, which made it almost unsettling to listen to at times.

"You sure are a nervous little thing, aren't you?", she adds, squinting her eyes at him as she glances at his fidgeting hands. The irony of her- a fae only a little over two feet tall, calling him little, was completely lost on her. Seemingly sizing him up she keeps her gaze fixed on him. Her face wears that same playful expression, but the sharp fangs made her look more sinister than maybe intended.

"A-AHHH!"

Nyx squeaked, her hood bobbing as she hurriedly grabbed a fistful of sweets from the table. Without a second thought she stuffed several honey cakes and sugared violets into the oversized pockets sewn into her cloak until the fabric bulged awkwardly.

"Be careful, nice Mister Mage!" she whispered loudly, as though sharing an important secret. "She's here to steal all the candy..."

With surprising speed for someone so small, Nyx slipped off her chair. Her boots landed with a soft thump before she darted behind Theron, using the much taller mage as a shield. Only the very top of her hood and two curious golden eyes peeked around his side. She stared at the winged woman in complete silence.

A sprite...

A pixie...

A fairy...

Nyx slowly tilted her head.

...A fairy...?

Her tiny hands rose to her temples as she squeezed her eyes shut in exaggerated concentration, trying to remember everything she knew about fairies.

The tooth fairy leaves shiny coins.Sometimes sweets too. Fairies are supposed to be nice... aren't they...?

After several long moments of very serious thinking, she nodded confidently to herself as if solving the world's greatest mystery. Her shoulders relaxed.

"So you're one of nice fairies."

Satisfied with her own conclusion, Nyx reached into one of her stuffed pockets, pulled out one of Theron's glowing moonflower drops, and cautiously popped it into her mouth. Her eyes immediately widened.

"...Mmm. These are good Mister Mage do you have some more. Pretty Please."

She happily sucked on the sweet before finally noticing another small figure sitting elsewhere in the tavern. Someone else barely taller than herself. Another hood. Nyx leaned sideways for a better look.

"...Huh?"

She frowned.The hood hid most of the person's face, making it difficult to tell who—or even what—they were.

Another child...?

But then she remembered hearing them speak earlier.

They sounded...Old.

Not old-old.

Just... grown-up.Nyx frowned even harder.

That's strange. Children don't sound like that....And why would a child rent a room?

Her curiosity lingered for only a few moments before drifting away, as most of her thoughts often did. She peeked back around Theron at Therezia, studying the tiny fae for another second before letting out an enormous sigh of relief. Another pause as she instinctively clutched both overstuffed pockets protectively.

"They're my emergency sweets."

Nyx finally stepped halfway out from behind the mage, though she still kept one hand gripping the back of his robe just in case. Her face brightened immediately. Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.

"Oh! By the way...Does anyone have any rocks? I absolutely love rocks. Shiny ones... smooth ones... weird ones... I even found one once that looked like a sleeping bunny. I've been trying to find rare rocks...but I can't really go looking by myself."

She scratched the side of her hood sheepishly. "I get lost. A lot. Even when I know where I'm going...Thinking is hard."

The words lingered in the air for a moment before Nyx suddenly lifted both hands to her temples, rubbing them in small circles. She let out a huge yawn.

"My brain gets tired when I have to think too much."

Another yawn followed, even bigger than the first. She blinked several times, trying very hard to keep her eyes open, but the effort only made her eyelids droop lower. Without thinking, Nyx reached out and grabbed a handful of Theron's robes, using the loose fabric to steady herself as she clambered back onto her chair. To her sleepy mind, it was no different than climbing over a tree root or pulling herself up with a hanging vine.

"I'll just..."

She rested both arms on the table before gently lowering her head onto them.

"...rest my eyes for a little..."

The sentence faded into a sleepy mumble. Within moments, her breathing settled into a slow, peaceful rhythm. Fast asleep, the tiny hooded girl remained curled over the table, one pocket conspicuously bulging with emergency sweets while the other hid her treasured collection of rocks, completely oblivious to the conversation continuing around her.

Arn's evening had been nothing short of manic. His announcement to head up a party and take the fight to the Darkere and the Lich Myr had met with pretty overwhelming support. Apart from Narissa.

Her main concern was Arn going off on his own without anyone he knew there to back him up, it was all well and good taking a group of people with him but how well could they fight or even work together as a group, how many of them would follow orders if he had to command them.

All valid points Arn had admitted. His compromise to this concern was to call in a few favours of his own, a Druid name Torin was staying at the Wellspring and Arn sought him out to make use of his magical communications. Sending several messages to certain areas in hopes of finding the companions he was after. He wanted to belay the concern, if not outright fear Narissa must be feeling for him. Going off with a half-baked plan would most likely get everyone killed. Even him.

He had managed to extract himself early from the revelry and somewhat chaotic atmosphere, noticing a rather odd trio of characters at a table before he had gone to his room. He had much to do before the three days were over. Best to start now.

Although his room was richly furnished compared to the more mundane of a lot of the other full time staff and permanent residents of the Wellspring it was still quite sparse considering who it belonged too. His trophies, some would say a source of pride, but to Arn they were memories, items given to him by those he had saved or rescued, and others that he had taken as a reminder of those he had not been able to. It was a way of keeping his thoughts centered on what needed to be done and how far things still had to go. This night however, he hardly gave the wall more than a passing glance. Instead he stepped behind the covering screen that seperated half his room from view of the only door leading into it.

Standing in front of a seemingly innocent looking stone wall, Arn reached into his tunic and pulled forth the leather cord tied around his neck, the passkey, an item forged from silver, amber and magic, thrummed audibly in his hand. With a slight wave against the wall he opened the hidden room. Almost immediately this side of the room was lit with a warm golden glow. Stepping inside the narrow cubby, Arn moved to the back wall and took his Shield and Sword, Ortu and Solis off the pegs they were hanging from, noticing that no dust had gathered on them he smiled at the thought he would not need to clean them. He glanced over at his plate mail on the armour stand and grimaced, that suit of armour had not escaped times touch. Luckily he would not be wearing the heavy plate as it would only be a hindrance to travelling through the Darkmere and he needed to be more mobile and fleet of foot. Experience had taught him this early on in his first forays into the accursed place.

He put the sword and shield to one side and moved past the armour stand. Behind and on the floor lay a small unassuming chest. He knelt down and pulled the lid open. It appeared the chest was empty.

Arn spoke the word that he knew would dispel the illusion and reached inside. His hands brushed against the cold metal chain links of the armour his father had specially designed for him. it was another piece of some sort of Angelic metallurgy, Arn knew not what it was made from, but it was almost as light as his leather shirts and would stop almost anything with the solidness of plate armour. His hesitance at wanting to wear the armour was due to the fact it was this shirt that had been the cause of his father's death. But he could not let that keep him from using everything available to him. It was just another grim reminder that the world had become a colder place.

Moving his hands passed the armour he grabbed a belt pouch and several metal tubes, these were the last potions he had available and would not have time to make more. His own healing abilities and spells would have to suffice unless others in the party had healing magic of their own. He left the cubby, picking up his weapons on his way out. Closing the door behind him, he was immediately aware of the fact that there was someone in the room. Sitting in his chair on the other side of the screen. He willed Solis not to glow with its usual golden light and pulled the blade from its sheath without a whisper of sound. Stepping out from behind the screen he adjusted his grip and raised Solis ready to swing to his left. Just as he was about to strike a small blue orb of light bobbed into existence and a familiar voice spoke.

"Hello, General, I got your message"

DAY ONE.....

Maxill Penderhott the 3rd, wealthy son of an even wealthier noble family that had prided themselves for their master mages, Ladies man and arrogant beyond belief was the last person Arn had expected to see in his room.

They had spoken in length about what was taking place, Arn's need for a few trustworthy companions as well as his overall plan of taking the fight to the Darkmere and Myr himself. In Maxill's defense he had not thought Arn completely insane. But had only barely stopped himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. This was mostly due to the respect he had for who Arn was however.

"So who else have you contacted, why was I only invited because I happened to be the one who intercepted the message when it arrived at my fathers estate, You know I am easily the most powerful mage you will hope to find in this beastly place."

Arn's first response was to slug the man in the face, arrogance and a sense of overblown self worth was what his father had said about Maxill and the majority of the entire family, with only the younger sister Meris being a reasonably decent person. His hand had gripped Solis's hilt and he had reminded himself that they needed all the help they could get. Even if it did come in the highly unlikeable package that was Maxill.

"I have sent word to Auril, Dorn and Linsha. Anyone else would either be too far away to get here in time or were already engaged in all the other battles, skirmishes or incursions that seem to be happening further and further away from the Darkmere of late, as for calling on you, I had hoped for your sister Meris, but we cannot always get what we desire"

He knew the last part had been uncalled for, but he wanted Maxill to know that he was not Arn's first choice and that would hopefully deflate the man's ego somewhat. He knew how powerful Maxill was and it was a good thing the man was on his side, but having to put up with his better than you attitude would grate on everyones nerves. His own patience was almost ended when the gaudily dressed man picked at imaginary lint before dropping it to the floor. His comment was laced with sarcasm.

"You still hanging onto that red haired wildcat, Narissa right? Dont tell me you are still chaste and virginal with all the grateful women you rescued over the years? I would have expected a wedding invitation before now, but if the maiden is still single, I might go introduce myself to her."

Something in Arn's eyes, or the set of his mouth, must have tipped Maxill off to just how far he had overstepped the bonds of familiarity. He muttered something about making his own preperations and had excused himself. He was that flustered he actually left the room by the door, instead of his usual exit of teleportation.

Arn hoped he did not run into Narissa, especially if he was intent on "introducing" himself to her, Maxill might have been a mage of no small repute, but Narissa's skills with a heavy pot was nothing short of legendary. Arn knew he would still be a mage short if Narissa heard anything like what Maxill had said to him. Sighing heavily at the newest challenge, he had gone to keep an eye on things. This took up the vast majority of the day.

DAY TWO....

Auril arrived with the coming of the sun, her white stag Amix causing a stir with the early risers or the very latecomers entering the Tavern. The elven ranger looked almost ethereal, she had greeted Arn warmly and they had spoken briefly, Arn giving her the information needed and the time of departure and Auril readily agreeing, she knew the Darkmere was encroaching and all living things would face destruction, or worse for those with souls, oblivion, if the attempt was not made to destroy that which controlled all. She had declined to stay in the Wellspring and chose to sleep in the woodlands nearby. Promising to return by the appointed time. Arn watched her disappear into the woods. Knowing that he might be leading her to an early grave.

Dorn appeared in the Tavern's entrance at about dusk, his large frame engulfed in furs and a vast array of weaponry, the Barbarian grabbed Arn in a back wrenching hug and immediately called for mead and meat. He had consumed several plates and a dozen or so tankards whilst Arn told him of the purpose behind the call to arms. Dorn, belching loudly, agreed that it was a worthy cause and pledged his spear, sword, axe and knives to Arn's cause. He promptly fell asleep at the table, snoring loudly. Arn considered it a success and went about his evening as best he could. He knew his last visitor would not arrive until midnight. It was the way with her people.

He was not taken by surprise as was some of his late working staff, who he promptly bid to leave, nor the few last stragglers drunkenly making their way to rooms they had booked, when the woman materialised in a cloud of mist.

"It isss good to ssseee you Masster Wolven, although it isss alsso a ssurprise for you to want to ssstrike a deal with my kind isss it not?"

The sibilant hissing accompanied her voice, Arn couldnt be sure if it was actually her speaking or if the voice just appeared in his head. He had not been fond of this meeting for many reasons, the fact that he was nervous already spoke of the high price likely to be paid. He tried to keep his mind focused on the task ahead, knowing that Linsha was more than likely scouring his thoughts.

"Welcome to my home, it is good to see you also Linsha, I called you here because I have need of a shadow scout, it is not going to be a simple task, but it is of the utmost importance. This is why I could not leave this task to one of your sisters."

Linsha's reptillian eyes flashed at this, Arn had spoken truthfully enough, although he was guarded, she moved, glided it seemed, closer to Arn.

"Tell me your proposssal, if I feel it worth my prowessss you know my fee, if not then one of my sssssisssssters will have to sssufice"

Arn nodded in agreement, stepping backwards slowly, he reached behind the bar counter and grabbed the scroll he had placed there earlier.
Moving back with the scroll in plain sight he slowly approached Linsha, keeping his mind carefully focused on the scroll in his hand. He knelt before her and passed the scroll. When she took it he reached up and undidhis tunic slightly, tilting his neck to the side and baring it towards her.

Linsha unrolled the scroll, read its contents through twice thoroughly, her eyes flashed and then narrowed dangerously at several key parts.
She took the information in, nodded as if coming to a decision only she knew about and then snapped her fingers, the scroll rose into the air and burst into green fire, consumed by this magical means nothing was left of the parchment, not even a trace of ash.

"I will do assss you asssk of me, now I will take my payment"

As the last words left her lips, long fangs sprouted from her teeth, she lent forward and bit Arn on his exposed neck, avoiding the areas of Tattooed skin, she fed on him for a full 30 seconds, then with some reluctance but an indomitable willpower she let the embrace end. The wound closed almost instantly and through it all Arn had not made a single sound.

Linsha tapped him on the forehead and prepared to leave. Her part in this had only just begun. The mist rolled in and engulfed her in seconds. moments later the spot she had stood in was empty.

Arn pulled himself up, loathing the fact he had let one of her kind feed on him, enduring the perverse feeling of his life force being taken and doing so without any emotional outburst had left him feeling drained. It was a much needed bargain, if this expedition went horribly wrong then the contingency plan he had just put in place was well paid for.

He took one last look around the common room before the need to sleep would be too much for him. He knew he should have rested over the three days, but he had taken on the monumental task of this excursion and knew that a lot of it rested on him. His hand lingered on the bar that he had lovingly helped to create, tend and live in for the last two decades or so. His ventures into the Darkmere had been well documented, some small successes here and there, villagers rescued and enemies slain, however it never seemed like it was enough. The darkness was still encroaching and he knew that one way or another this would be the battle to end it. He just hoped more of the adventurers lived long enough to see it.

He walked to his room and opened the door. light from the hallway spilled into his darkened room. it lit the bed up and he was only mildly surprised to see Narissa sitting on it. He walked in and closed the door. Aprroaching the woman who, for the last decade or so had been the rock that kept him tethered. He took her in in arms and held her in an embrace that transcended the need for words. As he broke away Narissa looked up at him and gave him a smile.

"I did not want you to leave without saying goodbye properly"

Arn smiled and moved to sit on the bed, his tiredness forgotten. They might only have tonight after all.

Outside the Full moon shone brightly, only five hours until dawn remained. Then things will really get interesting.