The crackling flames kept them company as the boar was being fried, the scent of delicious meat floating through the air like a fairy come to bring them great relief. Around them were walls of an old people long since gone from the world and now filled by dozens of men and women, all of whom were eager for a fight, and even more so for a good fight.

The party had been led here by Mirot of the Iyr, and though alarm first filled Adam, he saw that Paul didn’t seem to mind how many people were around, and so he calmed down. Then excitement filled the party, as though they had just come across a secret only a few people knew. Adam didn’t really know what the excitement was about, but he saw that all these people were people of the Iyr, Iyrmen, and for some reason, seeing so many of them here, filled him with great excitement.

Mirot had allowed them a small section to themselves in a corner of the half-ruined fort, large enough for them to sleep and relax in peace, whilst an eye was kept on them by Mirot. Even now, Adam could see the small relation she had with Jurot, the same eyes and nose, a similar enough jawline, though the same could be said for most of the people here. They were all tall and broad, with dark hair and dark eyes.

“I had expected so,” Mirot said, having heard how her nephew had died from Paul. “My brother was not one to teach his son common sense. Even now I recall a time when we had come a group of bandits, Jurot had been almost captured, and yet my brother had been ready to fling himself into the fray. We very rarely use our words to stop a bout, but there is a time and place for our axes and blades, and a time and place to allow our children to die.”

Mirot threw a look towards Adam. “You were with him in his last moments.” She eyed Adam keenly. “He fought with bravery, yes?”

Adam nodded his head. “I don’t know very many brave people, but he was one of the bravest.”

“There is a line between bravery and foolishness,” she said, “my nephew was both.”

Adam dared not to say anything against that. Though, perhaps he would have agreed, he would not speak ill of Jurot. The man had been there, and without him, Adam wouldn’t be here. Yet there was no disdain in her voice, nor did it seem she was mocking him, she was merely stating a fact. No doubt he had been close to Jurot, yet her eyes were as cold as ice.

“We will speak of his tale for generations to come,” she said. “It is rare that a man of the Iyr doesn’t become at least bronze rank, but for one who had only just become an adventurer, there could be no greater death. No one will speak ill of my nephew, not when he has met death with such glory.” She closed her eyes, as though coming to close with Jurot’s end.

“There is another matter at hand,” Paul said. “We have also come with a warning from a nearby village. The Witch of Ola speaks of a great calamity, of great undead and monsters that will soon plague this land.”

Mirot nodded. “We know of the calamity, for we have been keeping it at bay for some time.”

Paul’s brows raised in surprise. “What have you faced so far?”

“There have been a great number of the typical undead, skeletons and walkers,” Mirot said as she looked aside for a moment, as though trying to keep herself from vomiting. “A few more, skeletal beasts and that sort, a banshee recently too.”

Paul nodded. “The banshee had befallen Ola as well,” he said.

“Is Ola lost?” Mirot asked.

“No,” Paul shook his head. “Have there been any monsters?”

“None so far that we have encountered, but another group may have.” Mirot shrugged her shoulders.

Adam looked about. There were about thirty or forty of those from the Iyr, each of them quite powerful. No doubt they wouldn’t have much of an issue with the undead, though he did wonder how many more clusters there could be. Just how big was the Iyr that they could afford to send out dozens of warriors like this, and many groups of them.

A group of five more appeared, carrying with them a large chunk of the fried boar. The skin had a sear across it that would have made any chef proud, and any decent fellow drool at the mouth. The teens all gathered around the food, eager to eat, though first Paul was offered the food. Eventually everyone was situated to eat. Yet the moment they were about to eat and chat, a bell rung through the air.

With that those of the Iyr began to stand, save for Mirot who continued to eat casually, whilst the others left their food. They reached for their weapons and took to the walls, as though it had been a dance they had practised to perfection. Some drew bows, others javelins, and others skipped that step and went right to grabbed their melee weapons. Only Mirot and the guests around did not stand.

Robert looked about, but seeing as Paul did not stand, he remained sitting. Alten was uncertain as well, his eyes darting around the place, and yet seeing that Mirot and Paul were yet to reach for their weapons, he remained still as well.

“The undead have been sighted,” Mirot said as she continued to eat her food, grabbing the meat between her prongs, which were like chopsticks, though the top part was stuck together.

The teens all snapped up to attention at her, and all but Paul seemed to react in some way. Paul continued to eat his food and drink, as though this was a normal afternoon at the guild.

“Undead?” the elf boy asked.

“You need not worry,” Mirot said as she swallowed the meat. “You are with we of the Iyr now.”

Paul smiled when she said that and then he looked back to the teens. “You should eat before your food gets cold.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

With that arrows loosened and the roars of men and women echoed in the air as those of the Iyr clashed with the undead, unseen but not unheard. Mirot took quite some time eating her food, apparently not at all bothered by the sounds of fighting around them. Paul continued to chat with Mirot casually, sometimes slipping into their tongue as he did. They spoke as though they were having tea together for supper, and Adam suddenly felt a craving for cucumber sandwiches.

A long minute passed by, and then the Iyrmen returned, weapons stowed away. Some of them had taken light blows in the fight, but none seemed to be that bothered by it. In fact most of them seemed rather disappointed.

“Skeletons,” one woman said as she sat down beside Mirot, returning to her food. “There were a few beastly skeletons too, dogs and such.”

“A shame,” Mirot said. “Perhaps we shall face something worthy soon.”

The teens looked all around, confused by the situation, but Adam could see that Paul was rather used to such behaviour. He wondered just how close Paul was to the people of the Iyr, as he seemingly spoke with them all with a level of familiarity that Adam hadn’t expected. He wondered what the story between Paul and the people of the Iyr was, but that would be a question for another day.

They continued to speak with one another, and Adam’s ears kept perking up to a name. At first he thought they were talking about money and gems, but the context behind the words seemed to imply they were speaking of someone.

“Who is Ruby?” Adam asked.

Paul turned to look at Adam, raising a brow towards him. “Ruby is our Guild Master,” he said. “Did no one tell you?”

“No,” Adam replied, shaking his head. “No one told me about… them.”

“She is a mage of great power. She is currently off to complete a mission, though I don’t have the liberty to tell you much more than that. She’s an interesting sort.”

“Most mages are,” Mirot said.

“How great of a power?” Adam asked, wondering how much power a Guild Master would hold.

“She knows spells of the fifth gate,” Paul replied. “Well, at least spells of that level. I’ve seen her blast a large group of people with ice, and they were frozen stiff. Though, it was their fault, and no one could really blame her for reacting in such a way. That was when I had first met her.”

Adam whistled. That sounded very much like a fifth gate spell, one he was some-what familiar with. He wondered what other spells she knew, and he wondered if he could copy some of her spells. That was, of course, if she was a Wizard like him, and not another sort of mage.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Adam asked.

Paul shrugged. “In the next few months, or maybe next year.”

“Oh.”

Everyone soon made to sleep, with those of the Iyr taking watches throughout the night. Adam looked up to the stars, taking a long moment to think to himself. He wondered whether or not he could have someone cast resurrection on Jurot.

The spell was high level, that of the seventh-gate, and would cost quite a pretty penny for the spell itself, not including the price of having it be cast. Yet, could he do such a thing? The world was new to him, and he didn’t know whether that was a fine thing to do, or if perhaps it was seen as immoral.

Jurot was dead.

He had died fighting with great valour, and his people would love him for it. He had brought glory to his name, and these people seemed to be that type of people.

Why would Adam resurrect him? He didn’t really know Jurot. He hadn’t even known he had an aunt, the only thing he really knew was that he was a man of the Iyr, and that his father had died. What of his mother? Did he have any siblings? No, resurrection Jurot would be only to satisfy his own ego.

His thoughts were broken by a shadow that loomed over him. Adam reached for his blade quickly, but relaxed once he had seen it was just Mirot.

“You were deep in thought,” she said. “A bad habit of your kind.”

“My kind?”

“Feyblood, yes?”

“Only half.”

“It is a part of your whole, there is no difference.”

Adam nodded his head, unsure of whether or not she understood he was joking.

“What was it you were thinking of?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“That is an issue of your kind as well, thinking hard about nothing. To act is to think.”

“Wise words,” Adam said, smiling to himself.

“I have come to ask of you about Jurot. I want to know his story, about what he had done as an adventurer, how you knew of him, and his last moments. As much as you are willing to say.” Mirot sat down beside him. Adam regaled her the tale of the man he had known, Jurot of the Iyr, accompanied by the stars and Mirot.

Morning had come quickly to the dreamless Adam, who was getting used to not dreaming. They had all gotten ready, for those of the Iyr were going to lead them Iyr. Breakfast had been quick and light so they could quickly move on their feet.

“It will take two days, for we will show you a path to the Iyr which is quick of feet.” Mirot said. She was the apparent leader of her band of six, and Adam wondered if perhaps it was because she was the strongest of the group.

With that they were led forwards, their wagon and cart being pulled by the pair of mules who had rested up quite well, and who were growing accustomed to the delights of treats that Paul would feed them.

“You had been travelling the long way to Iyr,” Mirot said. “Why?”

“Those secrets are not mine to give,” Paul replied.

“You may give them,” she said. “For you are a welcomed guest.”

“A welcomed guest, but not a man of the Iyr.”

Mirot seemed to want to say more, but she did not. Instead she left Paul alone, leading the group along. Paul fell back towards Adam.

“The pair of you spoke quite a lot last night,” he said.

“We did,” Adam replied.

“About Jurot?”

“Yes.”

“For people of the Iyr, Jurot died with great glory. That is all there is to it, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I know.”

“Are you alright?”

“I am.”

They continued to walk for a long while. Lazina would spend her time entertaining the teens now and again, playing pranks on them. Adam would sometimes do so as well, casting Light on something they were wearing. They had first thought that Lazina had done so, but they quickly figured out that it was Adam. It was good to see the teen relaxing.

Yet there were certain thoughts that had ate away in Adam’s mind, thoughts about Paul, thoughts about the Iyr, thoughts about the guild, and thoughts about the world in general. It seemed to him that if he concentrated on figuring out something that was common place in this world, he’d know about it, but he needed to first actively think of the issue. Since there were far too many things he’d need to concentrate one, he decided to at least figure out more about Paul.

“How did you come to know the Iyr?” Adam eventually asked.

“I am local to the nearby area,” Paul said, his eyes going to a distant past. “I grew up hearing the stories of the Iyr, as most in this land do. When you’re a boy and you hear about the Iyr, it seems like a mythical place. Those of the Iyr grow up with a blade in hand, they are some of the best warriors one could ask for.”

Certainly, it did seem as though it was a mythical place. Even those that were outside of the Iyr, when they had heard Jurot was of the Iyr, they behaved with a certain level of respect.

“I eventually became an adventurer,” Paul said, “and when I was iron rank, I met with a party who had a woman of the Iyr. We eventually became close, sweet with one another.” Paul winked and a smile crossed his lips. “I often spent some time returning to the Iyr with her as her guest, which afforded me certain priviliges. She welcomed me to her family too, and we had made some plans. We eventually went up the ranks together, reaching steel, and then… well, half my party died.”

Paul remained staring ahead for a moment, thinking about the moment. Adam could see that within those wizened eyes of his, he was replaying the scene in his mind. “Our Priest had tried to bring her back, but in the process of reaching her, he fell. We managed to defeat our enemies, but they had passed by the time we reached them. I brought her body back to the Iyr, regaled them of her tale, and then left.” There was a long moment of silence. “I didn’t return for some time. I was still an adventurer, I had joined that other party I told you about, but after I almost died, I became semi-retired. Then, during that phase of my life, another party came to guild with a dead Iyrman. The party had asked for directions of the Iyr, but I decided to take them back. I became a Vice-Guild master soon after, and since then I’ve returned to the Iyr every time one of their people died, and now and again if I needed to speak with them about certain matters.”

“You do it for every Iyrman that dies?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To make sure their spirit finds their way back,” Paul said, “and to make sure their families are at peace. We try to do that for every adventurer, but some of them don’t tell us where they are from, so we try to do whatever is normal for their race or culture.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t go dying on us, rookie.” Paul grinned wide.

“I won’t.”

“Don’t get complacent, just because you’ve beaten a bunch of men by yourself.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re going to bring a lot of coin and fame to our guild, so I’d rather you stay alive. We don’t get many that have your calibre of adventuring spirit.”

Adam nodded.

“Plus, we made a deal, and the moment we get back, you’ll be figuring out all these weapons,” Paul whispered.

“As long as you have the coin for it. Forty gold a cast, wasn’t it?” Adam said with a long smile.

“Well, first, we’ll check which items are magical through the typical means, and you can identify those that remain.”

Adam chuckled. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on ripping you off.”

“Just needed to be careful.” Paul laughed.

The group continued along until they stopped at a clear spot for lunch, bringing about various logs to sit down and then they finally began to cook some stew of some kind. They would stop for a couple of hours it seemed, though Adam didn’t mind so much since their journey had decreased by several days.

One of the men, Orosot was his name, had disappeared for a short while before returning with some berries. He was a large man, and one of the only Iyrmen that Adam had seen with a bit of a gut. He had a thick, long beard, and wielded a large great-axe across his back. He handed the berries out to Paul first, then the teens, and the remaining few to the remaining adults. Mirot revealed a small pack of nuts she had kept with her, handing them out in the same order.

Mirot paused for a moment, as though the wind had brought her some news. She threw a look off in the distance and then said something in her tongue, motioning with a hand. There was a rattle nearby. Then more, and more, until finally the entire area was surrounded by rattling.

Paul stood, drawing his blade. The others were already up on their feet, weapons drawn, and Adam soon found his shield in hand, swept up by the dance of alarm.

“By the stars that leave in the night,” the elf said, “the restless souls that darken the land have arrived.”

Adam turned to look at the elf and then followed his gaze into the forest where he saw it.

A large bull-man, made of thick muscle, with leather skin, heavy fur across most of his body, two large horns that jutted out, and a large greataxe in hand. Besides the bull-man creature were two large skeletons, bear shaped, rattling as they moved closer.

“Minotaur,” Adam said.

“This is going to be rough,” Paul said. “Can you handle your side?”

Adam’s eyes were glued to the three ahead of him. “We’ll see.”

He heard the whimpering of the teens behind him.

“I’ll support you,” Lazina said.

“Stay with the children,” Adam said.

He did not hear Thunderhammer’s protests this time.

There was a roar behind him, not that of a man, but of a bestial creature. The minotaur ahead gave the same roar. Adam clutched his wizard’s die in hand.

Battle Order
D20 -1 = 0 (1)