Life of the Party - 1. Chapter 1

Thomas squinted, his eyes assaulted by a bright light. He was standing in the middle of a rather large dirt road, and there were four others standing slack-jawed around him. He felt like he knew them all somehow, but he couldn't grasp any kind of memory.

“Where the hell am I?” he heard one of them demand.

He looked his companions over. The man, or elf, who had just questioned them was an interesting shade of medium brown, bordering on a dark brown. He had white hair that hung just past his shoulders, and lavender eyes provided a startling contrast to his skin tone. Dressed in plain-looking clothing, he stood with a three-foot sword on his hip, and a large black book attached to his other hip.

Near him stood a weird, almost monster-like woman. She had grey, almost pallid skin, and short tusks were sitting on either side of a strong chin. Not much more could be seen, as she wore a helmet that would make a dragon run in terror. Thomas’ gaze travelled down her body, and he noted that she wore armour that had large scales overlapping down its frame, and four-inch long spikes protruding from the shoulders of her armour. In addition, she carried a long sword on her back. Though he had no idea why, Thomas felt a faint loathing for this woman.

Beside her stood a man who appeared to be completely human. He was clad in leather, and a mace was slung on his hip. On his arm was a sturdy-looking steel shield, with the picture of a large green claw on a pure white background stencilled onto it. He had a light tan, and dark brown hair, and wore a dragon claw amulet around his neck.

The fourth person in the group was the most beautiful of them all in Thomas’ eyes, an elven man, youthful in appearance, with silver hair, and an amazing pair of sky blue eyes. Thomas stared at his face for too long, before moving his eyes down this Adonis’ body. He had a slim body, but an athletic build and wore brightly painted leather. A shield hung over a bag on his back, and a sword similar to the dark elf’s dangled at his waist. On the other hip hung a crossbow, and a pouch sat bedside it, no doubt filled with bolts. A violin case completed the look, hanging from his bag.

Examining his own equipment, Thomas found he was wearing brown robes and had a quiver with a bow and twenty arrows slung over his shoulder. A curved blade hung at his side, and a bag hung on his back. As he moved his hands, he noticed his skin was a golden tan colour.

Thomas saw a red wolf trotting towards him, and he tensed, before relaxing suddenly. Something about the wolf almost seemed familiar.

“Garyn!” Thomas called, acting on instinct.

The wolf broke into a run, heading for the elf.

“Who are you?” the human asked.

“My name’s Thomas. I feel like I know you. But how?” Thomas asked the human, as he scratched behind the wolf’s ear.

“I’m not sure. My name’s Marc Thatcher. Does that help?”

“Marc… The name sounds familiar. You’re a cleric of the god of life, right?”

Marc nodded. He walked to the monster and took her hand.

“Are you okay Margaret?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly.

Slowly, Thomas began recognizing them. Margaret Thatcher, a half-orc who was Marc’s wife. Logan Arvelli, an elf wizard. And Frank Wallein, an elf bard.

“Hello! Is anyone going to tell me what is going on here?!” Logan yelled.

“Hey Logan, chill out a bit. We’ll figure this all out, but we have to remain calm,” the silver-haired beauty said.

“Does anyone know where we are exactly?” Margaret asked.

They were in the middle of a vast plain. In the distance, there stood several buildings to the east. To the north was a small forest, and west was nothing but more plains. South led towards what looked like a swamp.

Thomas felt a nudge of recognition in the back of his mind.

“I think we’re in the plains near the village of Ayre,” he said.

The group stared at him.

“And how do you know that?” Logan demanded.

“I have no idea. I just do.” Thomas shrugged and pointed at the buildings. “I think that is Ayre.”

“Well, that is the best direction to go in,” Marc said. “Night is coming, and we need to get indoors.”

“I can only summon three horses,” Logan said with a smirk. “Someone will have to walk.”

“This will work,” Marc said. “Margaret, you will need one to yourself. Logan, I’ll ride with you, and Frank and Thomas can ride together.”

“Fine.”

Logan dug through a pouch on his side and pulled out a tuft of hair.

Holding the material out, he said, “Mount.”

With a pop, Logan was suddenly holding the tail of a horse. The horse kicked him, hard, and he flew backwards with a loud grunt.

“Shit…” he groaned, sitting up.

“Maybe hold it higher next time?” Frank said helpfully.

“I’ll just throw it at you next time,” Logan coughed.

“Can we get a couple more of these things?” Marc asked.

“I just got my ass kicked by a horse, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Technically, it was your gut,” Thomas said.

Logan glared at him.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

He stood up and pulled out another tuft of horsehair. This time, he tossed the hair in front of himself, and the horse appeared peacefully. Logan cast the spell one more time, and Marc went to help Margaret get on her horse.

The horse shied away from the half-orc, and Thomas went over to calm the animal down. They got Margaret on her horse, and then the others began discussing who would lead their horse, and who would sit behind.

“You should go up front,” Frank suggested to Thomas. “You’re a druid, and animals trust you.”

“How do you know I’m a druid?”

“Probably the same way I know I’m a bard.”

Thomas shrugged and easily swung himself onto the horse’s back. He grabbed Frank’s hand and hoisted him up. Frank struggled, but eventually got his leg over the horse.

“I’m riding up front,” Logan said. “I summoned the beast.”

“Fine,” Marc said.

The two mounted the horse, and the group set off at a walk, Garyn trotting happily beside Thomas and Frank.

Thomas was instantly comfortable on the back of the horse. He could not recall having ever ridden a horse before, but he felt like he was born to be on horseback. Frank, however, was obviously uncomfortable. His arms were around Thomas, and he kept squeezing him.

He began slipping and gripped Thomas as hard as he could.

“Ow! What are you doing Frank?!”

“Falling,” Frank said, trying to work his way back up.

“Guys, we need to stop for a moment!” Thomas called to the others.

He stopped the horse, and Frank let himself drop with an oomph. Thomas dismounted and helped Frank up.

“You ride up front,” he said.

“I have no idea how to drive this thing,” Frank objected.

“Don’t worry. Just grab the pommel, and hold on to it. And keep your knees loose,” Thomas added.

He helped Frank back onto the horse and mounted the animal behind the bard. Wrapping his arms securely around the elf, Thomas felt a twinge of excitement. He forced it back down, and clucked to the horse, gently pressing against it with his calves.

The horse began walking again, and the group continued their journey.

It took forty minutes for the group to reach the village. They entered the tiny town, and quickly found an inn, next to a small shrine.

Logan leapt off his mount, dispelling the horses before his feet reached the floor. The rest of the group fell, their weight no longer supported.

“You could have let us get off first,” Margaret grumbled, brushing her arms off.

“Payback for laughing when that horse kicked me.”

“Moving to another topic, how are we paying for the room? I have twelve gold,” Marc said.

“I got 27. I’ll pay for the rooms,” Margaret offered.

“I’ll pay my way,” Frank said

“I got nothing,” Logan added.

“Me neither,” Thomas said.

A man walked past them, glaring in the direction of the elves. Frank stared after him, but let him go.

“He seemed rather unfriendly,” Thomas said.

“Oh well. They can’t all be winners,” Marc shrugged. “Logan, Thomas, I’ll give you the coins for a room.”

“I don’t want to take all your gold,” Thomas denied.

“You can bunk with me,” Frank offered.

“Wow. Sharing horses and rooms. Careful you two. Someone might think you’re gay or something,” Logan snorted.

Frank turned bright red at the remark.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“Well, let’s get some rooms. We’ll meet in my room in about thirty minutes. We need to discuss some things,” Marc said.

The rest of the group agreed, and they headed into the inn.

The inside was lit with candles, casting a flickering light over the room. The room was not the smallest room Thomas had ever been in, but it was not big either. There was a bar on the left, and a large man stood behind it, wiping the counter. He glanced up and narrowed his eyes at the new arrivals.

“Get that thing out of here,” he snapped.

The group glanced around, trying to figure out what he meant.

“That wolf! Get it out of here!” the bartender shouted.

“He’ll be good, I promise,” Thomas said, kneeling beside Garyn.

“Absolutely not!”

“Please, sir. I’ll pay extra to deal with any problems,” Frank added, flashing a piece of gold from a pouch on his hip.

The bartender’s eyes followed the coin, but he shook his head.

“That there is a druid, Gavin,” the only drinker in the room called. “If he says he’ll control the wolf, he’ll do it.”

The man was sitting against a wall, his feet on a table. He held a tankard in his hand and was idly twirling a finger in the brew. His brown hair was a little sparse, but his green eyes seemed sharp enough. With his blotchy hands, Frank guessed the man’s age at around 60.

The bartender sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “What are ye having?”

“Actually, we were looking for rooms for the night,” Marc said.

“Were ye now? And what sort of accommodations were ye wanting?”

“Three rooms, if you have them.”

“Aye, I have some. But they’ll cost ye.”

“How much?”

The man glanced at the wolf and the elves.

“Three gold a piece an two fer the wolf,” he said.

“That’s ridiculous!” Margaret spat.

“I want to make sure you keep that wolf-”

“Not that! Three gold per room a night! A place like this shouldn’t cost more than a silver a night!”

“I don’t know where an orc learned to think, but it doesn’t surprise me that you’re wrong,” Gavin sneered.

“Okay, let’s calm down a bit,” Marc said. “I have enough money. I’ll pay for the rooms.”

“That’s robbery Marc!”

“We’ll make more,” Marc reassured his wife.

“Fine,” Margaret muttered.

Marc handed Gavin eleven gold coins, and the human stepped out from behind the counter. He led the group up a short flight of stairs and pointed out three rooms.

“Thank you,” Marc bowed his head slightly.

“Keep the place clean,” the innkeeper said gruffly.

He stepped to go around Garyn, thought better of it, and edged past Frank instead. Logan opened the doors to the rooms and scoffed.

“Real charming. They don’t even have beds.”

“Waste of eleven gold,” Frank added.

“It’s either this or sleeping outside,” Marc said.

“This is good,” Thomas said. “I’ve seen worse. Maybe. Who knows?”

“Let’s get in the room. We need to talk,” Marc said.

The five filed into a room, followed by the wolf, and Frank closed the door behind them.

Like Logan had said, the room was rather bare. There was a covered pot in the corner and an open window with a pair of wooden shutters. There was no bed.

“Okay,” Margaret sighed, sinking to the floor.

“Let’s start with what we know,” Marc said. “We appeared in the middle of the road all suffering from memory loss.”

“Logan can use magic.”

“Yep.”

“Thomas has a wolf,” Marc added, motioning to Garyn.

Thomas sat cross-legged and began petting the animal.

“You’re a cleric, right?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I think I actually know quite a bit about Darith.”

“The god of life?”

“And healing,” Marc replied.

“That thing around your neck-”

“It’s the claw of a green dragon,” Thomas said helpfully

“It’s rather a strange symbol for a god of life,” Margaret continued.

“I’m not sure why it’s a symbol of life either,” Marc said.

Frank set his bag on the floor and began rifling through it. He pulled out a rolled-up tent and a coil of rope. Last to be removed was a tube made of leather. Opening the tube, Frank removed two rolled sheets.

“I got a map of the area, and a note,” he said.

“Great! Let me see them!” Marc said.

The cleric took the scrolls, and tried to read them.

“I can’t figure this thing out,” he finally said, handing the map back to the bard.

“Great. We have a map,” Logan said. “That doesn’t help us get home.”

“Now for the note,” Marc said, holding the parchment close to his face.

 

Welcome, adventurers, to your new lives. All your memories have been distorted. Some are missing, while others were never there to begin with. You are here with a single task: to regain the memories that you can and create new ones as you do so. I advise you all to accept your roles in the coming story and work together towards a common goal. Survival.

Best of luck to you all.

 

Below the note were their names, and a column of ones ran down the list of their names.

“Well, this raises more questions than it answers,” Marc sighed. “Someone did this to us as part of some weird game or something.”

“But why?” Frank asked.

“I have no idea. We’ll have to figure this out but it’s going to take a while, and I want to keep everything safe,” Marc said.

“Oh, it will be safe. I intend to grab as many undead minions as I can,” Logan informed the group.

“Logan, undead spells are evil,” Marc objected.

“So? If it gets my memory back, who cares?”

“I don’t want to get into this right now,” Margaret said. “What are we going to do tomorrow?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“I think we should go hunting. We need gold to live, right?” Logan said.

“What?” Thomas asked, looking at the wizard.

“What? Oh, right. You love little rabbits.”

“I actually think that’s a good idea. We should look for some kobolds or something,” Marc agreed.

“I didn’t train Garyn to attack,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, he should stay back, and so should you. Druids have a lot of versatility, but you’re weaker than Margaret or I.”

“But why are we killing innocent creatures?”

“They are evil. Usually, they attack travellers and cause destruction wherever they go,” Margaret said.

“Okay, tomorrow we’ll ask the locals if they need any assistance,” Marc decided.

“We’re already getting memories back,” Frank noted. “Thomas, you remember training Garyn in some fashion. Logan, you know you are… you can reanimate the dead.”

Logan shook his head.

“I can’t reanimate the dead. Yet.”

“Either way, maybe this won’t be as hard as we think,” Marc said.

“Fine by me. I like things to be easy. Anyone want to try out the booze here?” Logan asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Margaret shrugged.

“Same here,” Marc agreed.

“I got to stay here with Garyn,” Thomas apologised.

The wolf raised his head at his name, and Thomas rubbed it.

“I’ll stay with you,” Frank said.

“You don’t have to.”

“But it’s better to have a friend,” Frank replied.

“Okay. You can help me go through my bag then,” Thomas smiled.

“You two are so gay,” Logan snorted.

“Screw you,” Frank growled, his cheeks flushing.

“Come on Logan, knock it off.” Marc sighed.

The three walked out of the room, and Marc closed the door behind them.

Thomas looked at Frank.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he said.

“That’s easier said than done,” Frank sighed.

“So, what is your issue with horses?” Thomas asked.

Frank went from red to pale in less than a second.

“I… um.. had an accident at the fair once,” he mumbled.

“Really? What, did a horse run away with you?”

“It was a pony. I was eight!” Frank said defensively.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get you to ride a horse just fine.” Thomas said. “But hey, looks like you’re remembering more things.”

Garyn moaned, and rolled onto his back so Thomas could scratch his stomach.

“Hey Thomas? On the horse, when you were holding me up, did you-? I mean, I thought I felt you-” Frank trailed off.

Thomas grimaced.

“This never leaves the room,” he said.

“Of course not,” Frank swore.

Thomas sighed.

“You’re probably straight, and even if you were gay, you’d have so many better options than me.”

“I don’t know about that. You seem great to me. Remember that time you saw Logan kick that dog?”

“I did? I don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah. You stopped him and found the dog’s home,” Frank said.

Thomas gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Thomas, you are awesome. Don’t downplay yourself.”

Frank reached out and took Thomas’ hand. Thomas’ heart skipped a beat as he looked into Frank’s eyes.

A bell began ringing rather loudly outside, sounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer. Garyn perked up, and began growling after a sniff.

“What is it boy?” Thomas said, crouching beside the wolf.

“Some kind of an alarm,” Frank said. “I think we should go make sure Logan didn’t kill someone.”

“Would he really do that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Frank sighed.

Thomas followed Frank out of the room, and down the stairs. The lower floor was like a scene from a horror movie. Several short, red, reptilian creatures armed with tiny spears were running through the room, fighting the man the group had seen drinking half an hour ago. The man was holding the creatures off with a broken bottle, but he was losing ground fast. Several bodies were lying by the door, one of which was the innkeeper’s. There was no sign of Logan, Marc, or Margaret. Blood was pooled on the floor and splattered across the walls.

Without thought, Thomas stopped on the third stair from the bottom and pulled out his bow. He spent a few seconds stringing it, then nocked an arrow to the string. Drawing the string back to the edge of his mouth, Thomas let the arrow fly.

The missile hissed through the air and slammed through a kobold’s throat. Another missile, this one from the crossbow Frank was carrying, nailed another kobold to the wall. As the creatures began turning, Thomas let loose another arrow. It slew a third kobold, and the rest began converging on the staircase, as Thomas hastily stowed his bow back in its quiver. He pulled out his sword as the first kobold reached the staircase. Garyn growled and lunged at the kobold. The kobold thrust with his spear, and stabbed Garyn in the back, even as Garyn bowled him over.

“Garyn! Back!” Thomas shouted, and the wolf limped back up the stairs.

Thomas would have cried if he hadn’t been so infuriated by the kobold’s attack. He drew the sword on his hip, and threw himself at the kobold as Frank fired another bolt into the gang.

Thomas’ sword sliced through the neck of the fallen kobold, and blood sprayed the group clustered by the stairs. Enraged by their companions’ deaths, the three remaining creatures came after Thomas. He slashed at one that tried to go past him, and missed. The other two jabbed at him with their spears, and he knocked them both aside with his sword. Another bolt flew past the kobolds, shattering against the wall. Garyn snapped at the kobold beside Thomas, and bit through the creature’s arm. He growled at the other kobolds, bloody teeth bared, and the kobolds turned and ran.

The fighter downstairs was blocking the door, fighting a solo kobold. He did not seem happy to have two more suddenly jump on him.

Thomas dropped his sword with a clang, and brought his bow back out. He fired an arrow at a kobold that was charging the man, and hit him in the back. Beside him, Frank lined up a shot, and fired his crossbow. His shot flew into the shutters beside one of the kobolds, and the creature let out a terrified yip. It was silenced a second later as the man knocked the kobold out. Thomas shot at the last kobold, and his arrow pierced its heart.

In the sudden silence of the inn, Frank could hear the sounds of fighting outside the inn.

“We need to go,” he said.

Thomas grabbed his sword, hastily wiped the blood off the blade, and slid it back into his scabbard. Frank walked to the man.

“There is a rope upstairs, in a bag. Tie this one up so we can talk to it later,” he said, handing the man a knife.

“Thank you,” the man said. “I don’t think I could have held them off any longer.”

He turned to Thomas.

“That was some great shooting. Where did a druid learn to shoot like that?”

“I had a ranger friend once. He taught me a bit about shooting,” Thomas fibbed.

Or maybe it was the truth. It wasn’t like he could remember.

“Excuse me, we need to find our friends.”

“They went that way. I was about to follow them when those kobolds attacked.”

“Thanks,” Frank said, before the two ran outside.

 

Logan raised a crossbow to his eye. He sighted a kobold running towards him, and he pulled the trigger.

The bolt flew between Marc and Margaret, and hit the kobold in the shoulder. The kobold dropped with a cry, and the yapping of the rest increased tenfold.

“Let one through when they reach you!” Logan called to the others.

“I don’t think that will be a problem!” Marc yelled, as almost twenty kobolds approached the alley they were backed up in.

Margaret twirled her blade around and held it at the ready, waiting for the kobolds to approach. A pair of the creatures came within reach, and the two defenders struck. Marc slammed his mace into a head, and Margaret stabbed her sword into the other kobold’s throat. Margaret shoved the kobold back, and stepped forward, standing over the new corpse. She snarled at the kobolds, blood dripping from her sword. The rest of the kobolds stared at her, stunned.

Suddenly, another twenty kobolds came into view, most of them wielding bloody spears. The kobolds grinned, and began walking forward again.

“Shit!” Logan yelped, as a rock hit the wall behind him.

Margaret swung her blade again, as a bolt from Logan hit a kobold in the arm. She stabbed into a kobold, using the body stuck on the blase to bludgeon another. Marc cracked the injured kobold in the head, and yanked his wife back as a spear almost skewered her.

“Well, we’re screwed,” Logan said.

A kobold stepped forward, an evil grin on his face.

“You have put up a fight,” he yipped. “But like all others, your village will fall.”

Logan dropped the crossbow and drew his sword. With his other hand, he removed a bit of wool from the pouch at his side.

He whispered, “Army of rats,” and blew on the wool.

A second later, everyone heard a swarm of squeaking rats approaching. The kobold leader began glancing around nervously, and Logan reclaimed his crossbow, loading another bolt in it. Before he could shoot the kobold, an arrow sailed into the back of the kobold’s head.

Silence reigned, as the kobold fell. Kobold, elf, human and half-orc all stared at the fallen kobold. Suddenly, with several loud yips, the horde of kobolds split ways. About ten came charging towards Marc and the other two, while the rest fled either right or left, trying to escape.

Margaret leapt into action, whirling through the kobolds with her sword. She skewered a pair and missed a third as it darted past her. Logan shot the runner with his crossbow, quickly reloading as Marc pushed forward. An arrow landed in the ground by a kobold, and it squealed, trying to stab Margaret with its spear. Margaret stepped aside, her sword decapitating the kobold as it fell past her. Bringing her weapon back up, she knocked another spear aside.

Marc swung his mace at a kobold, and missed, hitting the ground with plenty of weight behind the blow. The kobold lunged, and Marc threw himself to the side, almost hitting the alley wall. He knocked another spear aside as Logan shot the kobold that had made its way through the line.

Margaret sliced through another two kobolds as an arrow slew a third. The final two kobolds glanced at each other, then charged desperately towards the fighter. Margaret dodged their assault with ease, but it left her in no position to attack. Marc missed a kobold, and two arrows flew through the air. One hit the kobold’s foot, while the other landed in its neck.

The last kobold struck at Margaret again, and she knocked the spear out of the way with her sword, before running her other blade in the kobold’s gut.

Silence took over once more. Marc looked at his wife.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked.

“They didn’t even touch me. For having so many attackers, I’d say we were lucky,” Margaret said. “We need to see if anyone else needs our help though.”

“Hey! Are you guys okay?” Thomas called, jogging towards them.

“We’re good. You?”

“Doing okay. So, these are kobolds?”

“Yep. Not so innocent, are they?”

Frank hurried toward them.

“There’s a mob headed this way. It looks like a melee, but it’s mostly kobolds. A large group too.”

“Larger than that group?” Thomas asked.

“Much bigger,” Frank nodded.

Logan began pawing through the kobold leader’s robes. He found a foot-long stick, a wand, and shoved it in his own robes. He also lifted ten silver off the corpse.

“Let’s get going. We’ll need to hold off the mob for as long as possible,” Marc said.

“This is a good place to do it, as long as they don’t have any archers,” Logan said, straightening.

“Good point. We’ll try to lead them back here,” Marc agreed.

The group headed out of the alley, and began wandering the town. Soon enough, they came upon a patrol of about thirty kobolds in another dark alley.

The kobolds began yipping excitedly as they chased the group back towards the first alley. Their excitement soon turned to terror as the group turned around with their backs to the wall, and began laying into the kobolds.

Margaret once again allowed them to approach, before she brought her weapon skills into the fight. She stabbed at a kobold, skewering it, but missed her second target. Marc tried to help her, and managed to catch the kobold in the head. The two were standing behind a pile of corpses by now.

Two missiles flew into the swarm of kobolds, closely followed by a third. The kobolds advanced under the hail of fire, and two of them managed to reach Margaret and Marc. Their spears shot forward, and Margaret swiped hers out of the way. Marc was pierced in the side, and he cried out in pain.

Thomas was on him instantly, words springing into his mind.

“I heal you in the name of Belvira.”

“No, wait!” Marc cried, but the spell had already been cast. “I could have healed it myself!”

Frank fired again, as Margaret swept her blades around. The swords sliced through the two kobolds, and two more took their place. Marc raised his mace, and swung at one, as Logan fired a missile over their heads.

Marc’s mace smashed through a skull, and Thomas fired an arrow past the cleric, catching a kobold trying to sneak past him in the throat.

There was a sound of fighting coming from behind the kobolds, and Thomas could tell they were being attacked.

“We have some help,” he said, nocking another arrow back.

“Good,” Margaret replied, striking another two kobolds.

Marc grunted as another spear struck his arm. He swung his mace, and completely missed his target. Thomas picked the kobold off with a shot to the eye, and Frank fired another bolt, followed by Logan. The two bolts both slew a kobold and left only four kobolds remaining alive.

Margaret stepped forward, into the path of three spears. She knocked one aside, and the other two were turned away by her armour. She swept her blades through another two kobolds, and an arrow caught a third in the gut. The last one tried to scurry away, but Margaret hooked her leg around the kobold’s and tripped it.

“I surrender!” the kobold squealed.

“We have one back at the inn,” Frank said, stepping forward.

“He surrendered. I will not kill a helpless creature,” Marc said, sliding his mace back in its holder. “Do we have some rope?”

He began casting a healing spell on himself and on Garyn.

“Hey! There’s survivors behind this wall!” someone called.

The wall of kobold corpses fell over, and three young boys stood in front of the group.

“Elves!” one gasped, curious as well as cautious.

An old man approached them, well in his fifties.

“You killed all these kobolds?” he asked.

“Most of them,” Marc shrugged. “A couple might not be ours.”

“Quit being modest,” Logan said. “We just took out close to fifty kobolds!”

“The mayor will want to see you,” the man said. “Follow me.”

As the rest of the group turned to follow the man, Logan drew his sword and plunged it into the kobold’s throat. The blood hissed as it touched the steel of his blade and the elf frowned, wiping the liquid off on the reptile’s corpse. He sheathed his sword, hurrying after his companions.