---Inside of the dishevelled upper room of the Dozy'Mare.---
On the first floor, four motionless adventurers listened to the hustle and bustle from the bar below.
Not escaping the liveliness entering the room, through the cracked gaps of the greying, ageing floorboards, the slither fillings, long gone with time allowed for the commotion from below to enter.
*MUFFLED SHOUTS AND CALLS.*
Jovial cheers for the flow of ale and ordering of food echoed out, with the merriness of men, women, and beasts warping into a mass of voices echoing louder, not meant for the people above but the barlady below.
The dreary mood of the dimly lit room didn't sway; a heaviness was draped over the four as it evaporated into the air. A lone crooked stool began to shift, clanking against the uneven boards below that ran away from the window and to the lone door that was firmly shut but not locked.
*TAP OF A WOODEN CHAIR LEG ON THE FLOOR.*
Deep in the room, to the right corner, a gentle fading glow streaked in as someone began to move inside the small, dimly lit makeshift bedroom, the only one in the village of Hyrnn to cater to the lost souls with nowhere else to go, for those who are at the end of their coin.
A shuffling layered over the chair as the person in their fixed position next to the lone moonlit window breathed softly. Thoughts and worries clearly weighed on their minds as the night moved on for all of those below, but for those above... The night was only beginning.
*FAINT SCRATCHING OF WOOD.*
A budding female adventurer, almost reaching nineteen, pondered to herself, thinking on the day that was soon to end. Known simply as Amanda to her friends and the leader of the young group with no given name, she began to move her hand as she stared out and above, being called by the light in a darkened world of night.
A hand moved, now lightly caressing the freshly scraped skin running along her exposed elbow of the pulled-back leather brown sleeve, folded just above the elbow.
Green eyes watched as the two moons of near equal size far above bloomed, one brighter than the other, hid and reappeared from behind the thin, long clouds that moved across the sky, ignoring the people outside who ventured to the inn and ignoring the people below, not caring or wanting to take notice of them.
The rolled-up material tightened around Amanda's upper arm as she moved, her ass falling to sleep on the uncomfortable spot, still toying with the scrape.
Like a child picking at a festering wound, Amanda, unconsciously scratching the streaks of dried blood that fell away with gravity's lull. As long, slender fingers continued to chip at the scab that had barely formed, flaking the dead skin with each movement of a wandering mind and fingertips prodding away and digging away.
Dampness touched Amanda's fingertips.
Until the soft but worn fingertips of Amanda moved upwards slightly, inadvertently touching the raw, exposed skin that was torn, not dead or dying, the lively nerves kicked up and screamed out.
A jolt ran up Amanda's scuffed arm, reaching far up her shoulder as she let out a sound of discomfort, making her move back on the deformed chair.
It was loud enough for the other three to hear and take heed, breaking the silence that had settled.
*SHARP WINCE FROM AMANDA AND THE TRNING OF HEADS.*
Upon seeing Amanda lean back on her stool, the concerned gazes of three others faded, returning back to their own thoughts on what had happened in the day previously, seeing nothing of worry, for they all knew of the wound, knowing it wasn't something to fret about any further.
Amanda turned, facing away from the glass of webs and dirt, no longer staring out of the lone dust-covered window at the two moons that lingered behind the roaming clouds in the night.
Soft emerald eyes shifted, looking deeply into the heart of the room then flicking right slightly, unknowingly following the lines in the wooden planks to the door, seeing all the other three.
Amanda, shaking her arm from the brief sting of pain, opened her mouth for the coming words. No longer feeling the eyes that had been on her, she knew of what would need to be said about what happened earlier in the day, what led to this very moment and beyond.
Twisting her upper body just enough to face the others in the room, not wanting to talk from the side of her mouth in a show of disrespect or make them believe she had lost her mind in a conversation to the moons.
Amanda could see a young shieldsman leaning back on one of its mismatched chairs, just like her own. Then flicking to a small magician draped in a hastily dyed white cloak, sitting up on the small beds pushed together, sensing an uneasiness in her friend's face.
Finally Amanda glanced to the wall on her right side, where a scout lurked in the thick shadows, playing with a small dagger that danced in her hands and in the stray beams of light from the moon and the candle close by, precisely balancing the blade on her finger; neither side, blade or hilt, fell to gravity.
The same broken and worn looks were present on all of their faces, even more so on her own.
She would soon begin the ball of fate that would lead to the beginning of the end—the spark that would make worlds burn.
*DEEP SINGLE BREATH PULLED IN, THEN SLOWLY EXHALED.*
Amanda: I don't want to say this... 'Thinking.' No, I need to say it. (No longer surveying the room.) We all can agree that something needs to be done about Ayrell. 'Questioning tone.'
The room that was dead silent remained so upon hearing the aired thoughts of the one by the window, no one speaking yet, just listening to the young lady's word. As the ruckus from the room below failed to take control over the empty space, the young woman began to speak again, pushing on even more on what she had to say.
Amanda: We barely got out of there alive. 'Breathing in.' I doubt we will be so lucky next time... 'Pausing.' If there is a next time, that is. (Lone finger, tapping her knee.) You all know what I am about to say...
*SOFT RYTHMIC TAP, TAP, TAP OF A FINGER ON LEATHER TROUSERS.*
Flakes of dust swirled against the warm air rising up from the dying flame, the small wick being cut shorter than needed flickered against the open words now lingering in the musty and smokey air that sat on the table in the centre of the room.
The lone twisted red candle danced far from the moonlight as Amanda's thoughts were absorbed by the other three; the tapping that would come to an end would signal for them to speak.
Another weight was growing on her heart, knowing what would be set in motion from her open thoughts. It was a discussion they all had at one time or another; this time it would be their last. Only wanting to speak the truth in her mind, Amanda turned her head back to the window, not wanting to see the eyes of the people she knew look up straight away.
A tiny jumping spider moved across the glass as the bed from afar came to life.
Yervel: Amanda... 'Sombre tone.'
A soft, attentive voice called out to Amanda, trying to draw her away from the window and her now fixed attention on the white, almost transparent spider that was scuttling up and down the single window pane.
Weaving another web amongst the others, tying the future and the past lines of doom together, making its home and end for unsuspecting prey. A part of Amanda wanted to place her hand over the spider and snuff it out to stop it from causing any harm to the other creatures around.
Amanda, now visualising her younger self standing above a spider's nest with that same open hand, stood still as a faint thought of a small boy materialised, his light-coloured hair rocking in an imaginary wind as he stared at her with a wide friendly smile.
Before the words of the small boy called to her in her nightly daydream, only Yervel's manifested, as she spoke up once more, breaking the memory. The long, thin sheathed blade on Amanda's hip rubbed against the thigh-high boots, turning away from the spider that had scurried away, no longer making its home on the glass.
Amanda wanted to reach for something on her chest; instead, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and turned to the one sitting on the beds by the door.
Yervel: Before we speak about Ayrell... I didn't get to ask properly before... well, you already know why... how's the arm? (Concerned look.) None of it actually touched you, did it? You know... those walking lumps of scales called lizards really have a nasty habit of spitting all over the place.
Amanda, pulled from her nostalgia, briefly looked at her scrape and smiled at the comfort of Yervel's interest and care, seeing as the small hands of the magician moved to her waist and began to tug at the long cloak hanging down to the side, draping off the bed, like a child sucking the collar of their shirt—a habit that never went away.
Yervel: (Thumbing the rough burnt material.) This was new! 'Upset.' Why is it always my cloaks... Lizards, goblins, what's next... dragons? 'Thinking.' Yeah, better scratch the last one... Good thing it wasn't my hat; that always survives.
*LOUD SIGH CAME FROM YERVEL.*
The little magician, only a year younger at seventen and a half, muttered on to herself as Amanda glanced at the cloak and the damage upon it brought on by a lizard's drool, just seeing where some parts were burnt and others had been saved.
Yervel stopped, no longer thumbing the material, and gazed upwards to Amanda, no longer sighing as a warm reply came her way, accompanied by a gentle smile that met her worried composure, softening her heart and mind, even if it was for a moment.
Amanda: 'Smiling.' It's fine; thanks for asking. It must have happened when Ayrell knocked into me and made me end up kissing the rock wall, so yeah, better that than Lizards spit. (Smile fading, flicking scraped arm.) Luckily I will live. 'Fake laugh.'
Yervel could see the hollow emotions in her face and words, but she smiled in kind at the answer; they were all putting on a front, some more than others.
Amanda: When I saw Magio, she said she would give me some ointment for it later on, so I can bear with it until then. (Noticing Yervel no longer picking at the charred edges of the brown cloak.)
Darkly melted, tanned white leather had fallen to the wooden floor below; some of it pilled onto the thin, tattered sheet on the bed.
*SMALL HANDS BEGAN TO PAT THE SHEET.*
Yervel, now wiping the sheet, smeared little black crumbs of burnt leather that disappeared with a few strokes of the back of her hand, not stopping until it was all gone. Meticulously checking if there was anything she had missed, hating the sight of dirt.
Yervel: 'Exhaling' How hectic that last encounter was—even I couldn't keep my bearings, let alone what was happening. (Looking down at the now semi-clean sheet.)
A dreary atmosphere settled over Yervel, thinking back to the entrance of the small cave, the thick black walls coming to life as the Lizards lay in wait.
Yervel: It's my fault they snuck up on us. 'Sighing.' I didn't expect lizards, let alone four of them and for them to be hugging the wall. 'Frustration.' Why did it have to be lizards? I HATE LIZARDS... THEY DESTROYED MY NEW CLOAK! (Slapping the thick feathered mattress.)
*SMACKING OF A HAND ON A BED.*
Amanda felt some relief wash over her at the sight of Yervel's altercation with the bed, like a cat having a tantrum with a toy, batting at it with little paws. Wanting to laugh at it all, but the day that had nearly passed sprang back up, quenching the moment instantly.
Amanda: No... It's not your fault... (Looking down.) It's mine and mine alone. 'Depressed.'
Yervel stopped her battle with the matress, hearing the words as the woman near the window carried on talking, her tone growing even sadder.
Amanda: I know they roam around in that area; I've just never seen them near the forest entrance before, let alone Brimmak's cavern. 'Brooding.' You'd think they would stay away with all those warding stones littered around the place. I assumed... and assumptions easily get you killed. If I didn't put Ayrell in the rear... If I only looked up... If...
The small magician spoke, trying to remove some of the weight from Amanda's thoughts and words.
Yervel: You can't blame yourself; we all had our parts to play... (Looking directly at Amanda.) Well, some less than others. Plus, no one would suspect them to be hiding in plain sight.
Yervel, now thinking about the one who wasn't in the room and his role in all of it, thinking of him as the loose cog in a machine that turned and stripped all the others around.
Amanda: Just our luck, I guess. (Placing her arms away from her legs and folding them.) Luckily for us, we had those potions on hand. 'Concerned look.'
Amanda wanted to lighten the mood and spoke about the beaten-up cloak and the attachment Yervel had to it.
Amanda: Don't worry; after this quest, we can get you a new one or at least repair it somewhat. We can't have you walking around in rags, now can we... 'Cheeky wink.' Though it would save us some money.
*FAINT GIGGLE ROSE FROM YERVEL AND AMANDA.*
A shadow moved along the wall to the left from the waning candlelight; it was a tilting motion of a body coming from the centre of the room, followed by the pressure of wood being leaned upon as it creaked out.
*FAINT CREAK OF A CHAIR LEG.*
It was a young blonde-haired man leaning back on the small wooden stool, his sword unsheathed sitting up the side of the cracked wooden table, and the large, thick, heavy shield lay against the edge of the table, digging into the floor with its weight.
For a man of eighteen to wield and adorn both was a feat in itself, a feat Fern easily could do.
Covered in the same brown leather under-armour as Amanda, the only difference being the thin sheets of iron plating hastily added, it was just enough to protect the vital spots but not enough to cover Feryn in a steel cocoon of a wannabe knight.
Small cultures of green dew grew on the underside of metal, especially around the young man's boots and buffed-out dents, clearly showing the armour's age just as the leather did, cracking and peeling in places.
*DEEP RUMBLING CHUCKLE.*
A dirty laugh rang out from Feryn, aimed at Yervel and Amanda.
Feryn: (Rocking back on one leg of the stool.) Well, if you'd like, we could all strip off and check each other out! 'Playful.' I might have hurt my leg; come here and check it for me, will you Yervel? (Rubbing the inside of his left leg.) I must have pulled a muscle... 'Feigning pain.' It hurts.
The giggling came to an abrupt end after hearing the words form Feryn.
Yervel and Amanda gazed in dismay into the centre of the room, both of them staring into the soul of a fool who spoke out their lewd ideas.
Someone in the shadows began to move, giving the young man the same stare but out of view.
A rebuttal came from the young woman by the window.
Amanda: 'Irked.' That's the only thing you are pulling in this place. 'Pausing.' I think one of those lizards must have spat in your brain. (Sitting up.) So, Feryn, keep it in your DREAMS! (Quickly turning to Feryn, realising what she had justsaid.)
The young man in the middle of the room shot a grin at the woman's words, knowing she had fallen for the trap he had laid.
Amanda: Wait, forget I said that! 'Blushing.'
A small outcry came from Yervel in protest to what was unfolding; deep purple strands of hair moved from left to right under the large pointed hat.
Yervel: Amanda! (Quickly shaking her head.) Don't give him any ideas; I don't want to be part of his weird fantasies, let alone be a part of his dreams! 'Annoyed.' Who knows what goes on in that sick mind of his.
*A LOUDER CHUCKLE ROSE UP FROM THE CETNRE OF THE ROOM.*
A growing commotion arose as it came to an eruption.
Feryn: In my dreams, you say Amanda; well, you did say it. 'Laughing'
Feryn turned to Yervel.
Feryn: While you're safe here, Yervel, I'm king in my dreams; no one can stop my imagination there, not even you and your spells. (Leaning forward, grinning from ear to ear.)
Feryn's playful acts continued on as wriggling hands joined the theatre, aimed solely in the directions of Amanda and Yervel, turning from one to the other, left then right, easily forgetting about the one who was out of sight and mind, who was long gone from the shadows.
Both women moved their arms over their chests in disgust.
Before Feryn could continue his tirade, he felt something behind him—his sixth sense finally kicking in as he looked up and saw what it was—no longer moving his hands, the what turned into a who in an instant.
Rache, the lone scout of the group, being the oldest of them all at nineteen, had made her move; no longer standing in the shadows to the right and playing with her dagger that had returned to her legband, she manifested herself as an ominous presence that coated the wall behind Feryn.
Walking out from the shadow the candle had made, a slender body appeared, the thick red hair tied up in a single ponytail rocked as the deep crimson eyes glared at Feryn from above, almost beast-like, with a clawed hand slowly falling down on the back of the young man's blonde hair, ruffling it as the hand dug in.
*GULP FROM FERYN.*
A specially made tight-fitting brown and black leather armour allowed her to move as silently as she pleased, offering little in the way of actual protection from direct attacks. What Rache lacked in defence she made up for in speed, stealth, and cunning.
The huntress of the shadows was a name she went by; for tonight she would become the silencer of creeps.
Rache: You know... 'Grinning.' I could end him here if you all wanted; that would finish his reign of terror in the dream world for good! (Devilish smile, reaching from ear to ear.)
*GIGGLING RETURNED, COMING FROM THE DOOR AND THE WINDOW.*
Rache: It looks like you managed to get out of there unscathed, I see. I believe I can finish up where the lizards left off. (Leaning in.) Don't worry, I won't bite... Not too hard.
Amanda and Yervel's childish sniggers filled the room, no longer recoiling from Feryn's words and warped ideas, protected by their savour from the shadows.
Yervel: 'Smirking.' Well, we would be doing the "Lords of Slumber" a favour by removing one degenerate from the world, and I could sleep easier, well, just a little... 'Giggling.' He would make a fine sacrifice, don't you think, Amanda? (Winking to the other women in the room.)
Knowing his end was near, Feryn let out an audible gulp and a whimper.
Feryn: 'Cowering.' Please spare me, dark lord! I have seen the error of my ways; I repent! (Glancing up at the shadow looming over him.) I repent...
*LOUD CLAP.*
Two hands met, the clap slapping together in a prayer gesture as continued pleadings of compassion came from Feryn halted and the infectious chorus from the bar below mixed into the childish antics of the four that settled into laughter for all but one who wasn't in the room.
A tiny creak came and went...