“NO!” Yelled Henry Carval, Tay’s new “Captain.” The man, unlike Tay, showed no sign of the battle as he sat at his desk. Tay was fuming. “But he’s still out there!” He pointed out. “Yes.” Said Henry dramatically. “Look,” He sighed. “We’ve just halved Harrow’s best fighting force, and no matter where he runs to, we’ll find him.” He said reasonably.

“So when do you plan to deal with him?” Asked Tay. He didn’t want ‘reasonable.’

“When the time comes, Mr. Mallor.” Henry sat back. “For the time being, you need to work on yourself.” He gave Tay a once over.

“Until your familiar comes back, you won’t be of much use to us as you are.” He said as he reached for a folder. “And, if I’m honest, your fighting skills could use some more polishing.” Tay ground his teeth. “Yes, Captain.” He said with mock respect. He turned stiffly and headed for the door. He stopped just before it.

“What did Harrow mean when he asked you what you were planning?” He asked, somewhat curious. Tay wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that he saw a smirk on his face. “It was nothing, we can’t expect a murderer to make sense, now can we? Especially this one.” He smiled easily. “Now, here.” He threw the folder at Tay, and he read it. “Hungry Dogs team credentials.”

Henry waved as Tay looked at the folder in disgust. Tay didn’t notice that the smile had turned into something sour and malicious as he left.

“HA, look at this one.” Said Frankly Wester, the leader of the Hungry Dog Adventuring team as Tay walked towards them. Evidently he didn’t realize that particular fact. “He looks newer than us.” Tay doubted that. Out of the three members, none of them looked battle-hardened in the slightest.

The team leader had a short, almost buzzed blond haircut. He had just the faintest traces of extra skin around his neck. He had a broad sword that looked bigger than what he should be using. THe second member, a Charlie McDrin, was standing next to him, personifying the word “minion.”

He had a thin sword, but not a rapier, at his hip. His long, thin brown hair was flowing free behind his head. The third member was a younger Boy, maybe 16. He had a bow, with no arrows, of course. He sat as the others stood, looking to be outside the two man circle.

They stopped snickering as Tay stopped before them, throwing the folder at the team leader. “Your new member, Tay Mallor.” He said, holding any possible disdain in his voice from showing.

“You?” He asked with a chuckle. So he just doesn't care. Tay thought. Frankly’s smile dropped as he read the words on the piece of paper, turning into a deep—and rather funny, frown.

“Problem?” Tay asked with a pleasant smile. The team leader, or sergeant, huffed and shoved the paper back inside the folder. “Whatever, let's go.” He turned and trodded out of the guild building.

“Ugh!” Tay gasped as his back met the cold Stone walls of the tower. A level three monster surrounded the team, it’s dozens of tentacles waving wildly. Tay had just saved the idiot of an adventurer, Charlie McDrin.

He rolled as another flailing appendage tried to take his head. He cut as he moved, nicking the fleshy thing. He activated his spell, throw, and flung a ball of fire at where the tentacle was attached to. The flesh burned, and the tentacle fell to the ground, limp and harmless.

He heard the other team members struggling as they fought the higher level monster. McDrin was lying helplessly on the ground, curled into a fetal position. Frankly swung with abandon as he was blinded in the moment.

The only one that seemed competent was the third member, s Quincy Jones, the magic archer. He had wind magic and fired sharp, percies blasts of air that almost always hit their mark.

But just Tay and Quincy weren’t enough. They were like mildly annoying bees to the monster, and they needed to fall back. Lunging forward, Tay moved to the archer. “We need to leave, now!” He yelled as he blocked attacks.

“Agreed.” He said quickly. “They both instantly lept for one of the two other members and grabbed them. They tried their best to drag them out, but Frankly was too entranced in his own brute strength, and Mcdrin was nothing but dead weight.

With the most strength he could muster, Tay grabbed the man's leather armor with both hands and spun, and flung him across the floor. The act made Tay stumble, but it had worked.

Quincy managed to get Frankly out by wacking him with his bow over the head.

Tay tried to make a run for the door, but soon found it to be blocked. The Fey didn’t want him to leave. Knowing there was no other option, he turned and readied himself to fight. He knew he wouldn’t win.

“...Help?” Something in his head asked, almost in a pained voice. It startled him at first, but then he recognized this feeling. Without thinking, he gave the once inactive spell, power.

Flame surged from him like the floodgates of a dam being opened.

Like A great phoenix rising from the dead. “Orby…” Tay gasped. His eyes stung as he watched the new, and improved, Spirit of fire. “...Tay.” The voice said again. It was Orby. “ where’ve you been, friend?” He asked as a smile crept onto his face.

“Time. None.” The Spirit said. Tay realized that he was right, and he refocused on the enemy in front, and around him. “Any ideas?” He asked.

“Burn.” The Spirit said, a hint of anger coming across Tay's mind. Though he knew it wasn not his own. And then, as if reluctantly, It added, “Run.” Burn and run. Tay thought. He couldn’t agree more…but how.

“You. Run. Watch.” Tay understood, but only ran after his familiar prompted again.

Ifirit was furious. In all his time as a Spirit King, he had managed to keep any and all emotions within himself. He praised himself for that ability. But now it is different. He had been kept on the side as his puny little useless body slowly, and painfully formed something moderately better.

And finally, after all that time, what does Ifirit find? His summoner in the colors of those witches, inside the tower with incompetent adventurers, fighting a level 3 Fey practically on his own. Knowing answers would have to wait, and already feeling that the effort it had taken to talk to Tay was beginning to wear on him, he wanted to get this done quickly.

He would apologize later for the strain he would put on his summoner.

He began to channel power through his body. It was greater than what he had been able to do previously, and he exploited that. Using his old spell, he launched a great pillar of Flame at the monster’s flesh

It burned like dry wheat on a field. But he wasn’t done. Using his new spell, he formed two balls of fire, the most he could manage. They floated freely from him, and acted like miniature versions of himself.

With nothing more than basic thoughts required to control them, he sent them out. They burned through the tentacle at a shocking rate for a level 2 being. Ifirits speed had been improved as well, and he made good use of it.

He couldn’t beat the thing in a straight brawl, so he needed to out manuvare it. Puting what power he had left over from using his other spells, he boosted himself forward. Flying at greater speeds than any horse could dream of, and being three times as small, he dodged the attacks of the Fey expertly.

His Drones soon had half the room cleared of the monster's flesh. Though one soon made a mistake and was caught cleanly by an enraged appendage. Scraping the bottoms of his, and his summoner's reserves, he created one more. It flew out, away from immediate danger as soon as it was born.

There were two ways to kill a level 3 Fey. The first was to destroy enough of its mass quickly enough that it could not regenerate it before it died. The second way was to destroy the only part of it that still resembled a normal living creature. This spot was known as the epicenter. That was where Ifirit and his Drone had been trying to get to.

Normally, it would be harder to eliminate the creature the second way, but Ifirit felt like proving a point today. Recalling his Drone as they finished off another tentacles, Ifirit charged forward, all power to the single bellowing pillar of fire.

Tay watched anxiously as his Familiar weaved its way through the looming tentacles like they were no more than vines in a forest. Then suddenly, and, Tay thought, recklessly, Orby Charged into the midst of the chaos.

He held his breath as smoke plumbed out of the cavern's mouths and into the cave where he stood. He cared not for the smoke, but rather for his friend…his only friend now.

And then as Orby came rushing out of the cavern, a trail of fire behind it, Tay smiled and touched the semi-hard shell of the Spirit. “It’s good to have you back, friend.”