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.