At the base of Mount Urant, a strange and unfortunate convergence took place. Plink, Wisbel, and Crafty—each group of fools in their own right—had all arrived at the same time.
"Well, this is quite the gathering," Karina said, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Indeed," I muttered, sharing her sentiment as we watched the scene unfold through the projections of my clones.
Wisbel, always the arrogant opportunist, addressed the assembly with mock politeness. "Ah, how wonderful to see you all again. I assume you're here for the dragon as well?"
Plink shifted uncomfortably, visibly flustered. "Uh, yes… of course."
Crafty, clearly inebriated beyond reason, swayed on unsteady feet. "Y-yeah, we're here t' slay the dragon, o' course!"
The reek of alcohol almost wafted through the projection. I sighed. "Crafty and his lot look about as useful as wet parchment."
