Christol watched as the small but mighty goblin walked into the cabin. He had opened the door for him, and even after Cruu had entered, Christol continued to stand there. He flexed his hand as he stood there, trying to rid it of the ache. That’s some incredible strength for one of such small stature. I feel bad for all the people he’s punched, and will punch. Christol’s hand still throbbed after that strong handshake Cruu offered. Artuck and him exchanged a few words before Artuck gave them all a smile Christol once knew, but he wasn’t quite sure where he remembered it from. Still, he glanced over to Flim, who was smiling a small smile. Christol couldn’t remember the last time Flim had smiled at all. It brought peace to Christol knowing that Flim was content here.

“Well now,” Artuck said, interrupting Christol’s thoughts, “it seems we are just waiting for one more. I think you’ll find him to be… quite a strange one. But he has drive and grit, a quality I saw in all of you.”

“Cruu knows that determination is the source of courage, and Cruu is all about courage.” Cruu stuck a small hand in the air, passionately. Artuck chuckled to himself as Cruu spoke.

“Well said, Cruu. Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Suddenly a knock came from the door, except this one much more aggressive than Cruu’s. 

“Well, what are you waiting for Christol? Open the door! Let the man in,” Artuck said, waving a hand to Christol.

Christol slowly opened the door, and standing in the doorway was a tall dragon-like figure. Christol looked up to the dragonborn, who simply returned his gaze. Geez, he’s tall. Not particularly muscular like the drawings I’ve seen, but scary nonetheless. Christol could feel himself shrinking the longer he looked at the figure. He knew he would have to say something eventually, so he mustered all he could to talk.

“C-come on in,” Christol squeaked. The dragonborn smiled a big, toothy grin, before taking a step in.

“I see your friend here isn’t acquainted with any dragonborns,” the man boomed as he stepped towards Artuck, who extended his arm for a greeting. The dragonborn grabbed Artuck by the forearm, and they nodded to each other.

The man turned towards Christol, his brother, and Cruu before laughing.

“Don’t be so scared. I won’t eat you,” the dragonborn said, teasingly with a wink. He extended his arms, showing his wingspan.

“The name’s Mitrax. And pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Mitrax put his arms back down and smiled at the three.

Cruu was the first. He extended his arm towards Mitrax for a greeting, which Mitrax took and immediately felt the strength of the small goblin, as his eyes widened.

“Damn, for someone so small, you’ve got some strength behind you. Wow,” Mitrax shook his arm as Christol had done when the greeting was over.

“Cruu is Cruu.”

Flim stood from the lounge chair, but didn’t move toward Mitrax.

“I-I’m Flim. Pleasure to meet you, Mitrax.'' The dragonborn stepped towards Flim before grabbing Flim’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you too, Flim. And it’s pronounced, Mith-racks. Just like that. I commend you for trying, though.” Mitrax smiled another toothy grin before turning towards Christol. Flim promptly sat right back down.

“And you are…?” The dragonborn asked as he stepped towards Christol.

“Christol. Flim’s younger brother.” Mitrax was now in front of Christol, and Mitrax extended an arm in greeting, to which Christol grabbed in the same manner as Artuck, and the two nodded to one another.

After the greeting, Mitrax turned back around towards Artuck.

“A quick learner, this one is,” he jabbed a thumb in Christol’s direction. Fascinating… a dragonborn that breaks tradition, at least, tradition based on what I’ve read. Surely there must be a reason for that… Eh, I’ll have to ask him later. Artuck’s response pulled Christol’s thoughts back.

“Indeed, that's why I’ve chosen him. Now, enough formalities. We’re all here. We’re all friends now. Let’s get this stone rolling, shall we? Wait here a moment while I grab maps and such,” Artcuk waved a hand as he left the room, only to return a moment later with a long, cylindrical tube, almost as tall as Cruu himself.

Artuck set the tube down on the table in front of the lounge chair, and began opening the maps, documents and other parchments.

On one was a letter, signed ‘Krim.’ That letter had information on the Black Army’s movements, as well as descriptions of how they would appear. A crude drawing of a soldier appeared on this letter. They looked exactly like the guards from Halden. Black, metallic, armor that shimmers in the sun with a red, decorative trim. According to the letter, different ranks had different stripes on their helmets. As Christol read the letter, he saw Krim tell Artuck that he was okay, and that Artuck’s safety was his number one priority, and that should a situation appear where he would have to die to save Artuck, he would do it. He also apologized for his anger during some argument they had. 

Artuck must have gone through a lot these last two hundred years. Especially being alone like he has been. I can’t even begin to fathom being alone without the comfort of family for two hundred years… I hold a newfound level of respect for Artuck now… Wow. Someone needs to give this man a hug. Or something.

The second letter was a letter addressed from a ‘Himrol.’ This letter was an apology for the events that led to his brother’s deaths those two hundred some years ago. Following his apology was Himrol informing Artuck of Haldore’s movements. Where Haldor goes, what Haldore does, and the like. In his letter, Himrol states that he can predict what Haldore is going to do with almost 98% accuracy. And the latest prediction in the letter was that Haldore will continue to do what he started all that time ago. However, it gave Artuck a time frame of about ten years. 

Ten years? This letter was addressed almost seven years ago… that’s not gonna go over well. Who knows how long this journey will take? 

The other documents that were on the table were short lists of shipment movements in and out of Halden, and among them was a book, titled “The History of Alteran, A description of all deeds done.” As Christol looked to see who wrote the book, Artuck picked it up and held it out to Christol.

“I’m giving this to you to read. It’ll provide a history of things you were never taught in schooling. Hopefully this’ll help you at least understand what happened these last two hundred years. It is written by Haldore, though, so ignore his blatant bias.” Christol gently took the book from Artuck’s hands and held onto it.

“These documents will help us on our journey. According to my brother, Krim, who has since been laid to rest,”Christol watched as Artuck looked at the floor for a moment before continuing, “destroying the Black Army will weaken Haldore’s grip on Alteran, and will allow us to face the man himself head on.”

“Cruu has a question. If we amass an army of the people, can we truly defeat them?” Cruu scratched the top of his head as he spoke, his simple tunic stretching to allow him to do so.

“That’s the plan.,” Artuck responded plainly,  “For now, we can take care of the easy ones. The recruits, and the new soldiers should be easy enough to take out. Once we can persuade cities to our side, we should have an army at our disposal.”

“Continuing, my dear friend, and former master, Himrol sent me a letter about seven years ago. This letter will help us triangulate Haldore’s actions, should the moment arise where we’ll need it. However, his appearance here earlier was unprecedented. So we must always stay alert and cautious.”

As Artuck finished speaking, another knock came from the door, this one rushed and forceful.

Artuck’s face filled with a panicked expression, and he lowered his voice down to a whisper before he spoke. 

“That’s odd, you four were the only ones I called. No one move or say anything. I have no idea who that is.”

The knocking became quicker and more impatient. Artuck quickly grabbed the papers on the table and put them back in the tube before he crept slowly towards the door.

“There’s a basement hatch under the table. Everyone, get down there.” Cruu pushed the table in one swift motion and Mitrax opened the door quickly. Flim hurriedly climbed down the ladder into the basement, With Cruu going next.

“Ladies first,” Mitrax whispered as he ushered Christol to go. Nodding, Christol followed and climbed down the ladder. As Christol set foot in the dark basement, light filled the room as Cruu lit an oil lamp.

“Sorry, Cruu didn’t know it’d scare you all,” he said in a voice that would barely count as a whisper. Mitrax closed the hatch as he descended the ladder.

“Table’s back in place, and the hatch shut. Now to wait for Artuck.”

Christol took a look around the room. The walls were lined with barrels, like what one would see in a tavern. Against one wall there was a table, with two chairs around it and a mug on the table. Flim had already made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, and Mitrax soon joined him. Cruu took the mug and began filling it up from one of the barrels.

As Cruu filled his mug, Christol felt the whole cabin shake. He heard screams coming from above the hatch, a scream that sounded like it would come from Artuck. Christol quickly began to scale the ladder, but Cruu grabbed his foot.

“If there’s danger, no sense in losing both you and Artuck, is there?” Cruu downed the contents of the mug with his free hand after he spoke. Christol came down off the ladder and sat on the floor. 

Mitrax pulled out a box of cards and set it on the table.

“Now, we wait. Anyone wanna play cards?”