Christol and Flim were both seated upon some sort of chair, meant for lounging. The cloaked man hung up his cloak and began to walk towards the kitchen area before he stopped. 

“Make yourselves at home, I guess. Food, either of you?” Neither Flim nor Christol looked up at the man, as Flim was still shaking from what had happened, and Christol was lost in thought.

“No? Okay. I’ll go make myself something then.” The man walked out of the room and left the two of them alone in the room. Flim took a look around the cabin they were in. Small, but cozy, the living room area also served as the foyer and dining room for the man’s cabin. Browns and greens were everywhere, and the walls decorated with crawling ivy and assorted plants, the majority of which Flim had never seen before. A table rested against the opposite wall, and on the table were many papers, stacked about a foot tall. Around this table sat only one chair, presumably for the man himself.

The man came back into the room a moment later, holding a tray with a kettle and cups. He set it down gently on the small table in front of the lounge chair, and sat on the floor. He removed his cloak to reveal the face of that of a young adult elf.

“The name’s Artuck. Glad to meet you guys,” Artuck looked at the two of them before sighing.

“You guys have no idea who I am, but rest assured, I will tell you everything. Starting with my story. I was born, er, created a long time ago in Hardrik. Me and my brothers were very close, you see. Despite us having little to nothing in common with one another, we found solace in each other. My father gave us tasks. Tasks of which I have deep, sorrowful regrets toward. But we soon found out that our very own father wanted nothing more than to kill everyone, so we decided to fight for the people instead.” Artuck’s eyes began to wander around the room, and he began to shift, clearly an uncomfortable memory for him.

“Yet we were no match. If you haven’t figured it out by now, Haldore is my father. Anyway, Haldore destroyed us. All of us. The whole army we were supposed to fight alongside was defeated within an instant. Me and my brothers were all that was left. Even my dear master, Himrol, was nowhere to be seen. And he’s a pretty capable fighter! Knowing that the fight would be our last, we stood against him. Against Haldore. My older brother was the first to fall.” Artuck’s eyes began to water as the memories became more painful. Flim could tell Artuck was in pain, and wanted to comfort him, but Artuck gave him no chance before he sniffled and continued.

“He was always protective of us. Never wanted anything bad to happen to us. And yet, he couldn’t protect us like he wanted to. Haldore… he-he destroyed him. Left nothing, not even a pile of ash. I saw it. Percel, too. The eldest of us he was. Strong willed and stubborn, he said he’d fight where my brother would defend. But not even he was strong enough. Haldore cast him into the air, like how a child throws a ball, and Percel was gone.”

“Artuck, you don’t have to relive these terrible memories,” Christol said, choking on his words. Christol extended a hand towards Artuck, and rested it upon his shoulder. He’d always been kind to people, even those that wanted nothing more than to see him suffer. Seeing Artuck cry must’ve made Christol tear up as well. He always has been a softie. I hope people recognize him for his empathetic nature. I envy him. 

“No, Christol. I must. So that you may know why Haldore must die.”

“DIE???” Christol and Flim said together. He wants to kill Haldore? Doesn’t he know that’s a death wish? A suicide operation? A journey with a sad ending? 

“Yes,” Artuck said, unfazed, “now listen. Of the remaining three of us, the third child said he’d hold Haldore off while the two of us ran. So we did just that. But I heard him die not long after we fled.

“The two of us, Krim and myself, fled northward to avoid Haldore, and try to get as far from him as possible. We spent a great deal of time up north before Krim said to me that he wanted to stay. We argued, like no brothers should, and he stormed out. I found out two weeks later that he had been killed. So I’ve been waiting here for the right moment. For two hundred and fifty years I have waited.

“And the time to act is nigh. I heard recently that Haldore plans to kill everyone. Not just those that defy him, but all the good people of Alteran. And I knew the time to act was now.” Artuck looked at the two of them, clearly excited, but Flim was confused.

“But why us, Artuck? My brother here isn’t a fighter, and I ain’t exactly the fighting type either. Hell, I can’t even keep a crowd.”

“Clearly,” Artuck said plainly, “but I see the workings of greatness in the two of you. I’ve been watching you both for some time now, and I’m sorry about your parents. Haldore truly is merciless, as I’m sure you both saw.”

Flim recalled that day, the day his parents died. They had been accused for speaking out against Haldore and instigating a rebellion, to which Haldore appeared before the people of Halden and demanded they turn over the ‘treacherous insubordination among them.’ The people quickly turned over Christol and Flim’s parents, and watched as Haldore brutally killed both of them, dismantling his own parents in front of his eyes. Christol didn’t watch the events, as he cried into Flim’s tunic, but that was a sight that Flim will never forget. It haunted his memories and Flim vowed to make the world a better place, all for his brother.

“I truly believe they were innocent folk. Which is why I want you two to join me as we take down Haldore. To make Alteran a better place, and to cleanse this world of evil. For our brothers and sisters, yes?” Artuck looked to Flim and Christol, and Flim could swear he saw stars in Artuck’s eyes.

“Well now is a good time to start, yes?” Flim spoke with a confidence he’d never heard himself speak before. Christol straightened up before responding, “You can count on us!” 

Artuck smiled a soft, knowing smile, reminiscent of Flim’s mother’s. Artuck stood, gathered the now empty kettle and cups and walked into the kitchen.

“Oh!” Artuck called from the kitchen, “if you hear a knock, that’ll be Cruu! He’ll also be joining us on our journey!” And no sooner had the words left his mouth than came a knock at the door.

Christol stood and walked over to the door, and opened it, revealing a small, greenish humanoid.

“Can Cruu come in?” The creature asked in a pitch higher than Flim had anticipated. Artuck appeared from the kitchen drying his hands on his tunic.

“Come in, come in, make yourself at home. That’s Christol there, at the door. Our soon to be fighter! And there on the lounge chair is Flim. Charismatic and caring, he is. Our spokesperson, he’ll be.” The goblin walked in and shook Christol’s hands with such vigor that he had to shake his hand after Cruu walked away. He then shook Flim’s hand, and immediately knew why Christol was in pain. What incredible strength! In such a small body, too, nonetheless. I’m glad we have more help. I was worried it was just going to be the three of us through and through.

“Cruu likes the group you’ve gathered, Artuck. Cruu takes it our journey has officially begun?”

Artuck flashed his knowing smile once again before squatting down and grabbing Cruu by the shoulders.

“Indeed it has, Cruu. The start of something beautiful.”