“I suppose,” Oscar began, “if I had not listened, I would have been forced to listen.” The man patted Rupert’s side as they continued forward, “But, when a voice from the sky claims to be a god and tells me to do something, I tend to listen.” Oscar chuckled and looked over his shoulder, not being one for secretive glances and spying. “I am not one for killing something that has not tried to kill me. If it wants to fancy us from afar, let it.” His words were soft but pointed, leaving the air split and with a divide of dry humor running through the tension of the situation. 

The goblin had pulled a wonderful contraption of a crossbow from beneath his layers, which Oscar admired with a glance. “That, little sir, is a fancy contraption; but, I don’t think that someone or something would gather all of us—people who have no relation of connection to one another—in a place like this just to kill us.” Watching him load it, Oscar counted the number of available shots; it was something he should remember if he ever found himself on the business end of the goblin’s weapon. The scent of burning herb had illuminated the clean air for minutes now, but Oscar finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Ya know,” he started hesitantly, “I could part with a silver piece or two if you had any extra smoke in one of your pouches somewhere.” It had been ages, but current events seemed to warrant a detachment from reality. 

Then they cleared the cusp of the hill to overlook the Point of Origin. “Ho-ly shit.” The words slipped between Oscar’s lips and grazed the air with little impact. “I don’t think there is enough herb in Enduwin to make this alright.” The cross pieces of rock were the first to come into sight, bathed in the sun’s light like a freshly washed virgin on her wedding night. The upright stacks formed a circle around a creature as dark as night… and a half naked dwarf with his pudgy hands clasped around a winged woman. Farrgorm were not entirely unknown to Oscar. He had seen a few in his years. But this one, the Alunei, was only a whisper in the dark and scratched illustrations in books of myth. To be in the presence of one excited Oscar. From the stories he had been told, they were wonderful creatures of peace and care. The ex-sellsword couldn’t help but think that such a creature would make a wonderful lover.

He was certain to keep this thought to himself as their trio trotted into the threshold of the Point of Origin. On closer inspection, it was apparent that the winged woman was hurt. Dismounting, Oscar grabbed one of the several canteens strapped to Rupert, ignored the Farrgorm (and the fact that he, indeed, stood at the center of the fabled epicenter of the world’s creation) for now and approached the dwarf and Alunei. He knelt, nodding to the half-dressed, half-man and asked, “What more can be done for her?” 

Rupert stayed where Oscar had left him for only a moment. He lowered his head and pretended to graze, taking small steps as he circled around to the side of the goblin. The large eyes of the equestrian creature lifted, peering at the goblin. He took a step closer, his ears flicking out against the long eared creatures shoulder. He took another decisive step and nudged his head against the goblin’s side. Neighing softly, Rupert seemed to be asking for some sort of treat, whether the goblin may or may not have one for him.