Frost soon left the group alone, there was much more to do after the attack. The five individuals had some time to themselves while the guards cleaned things up, and so got to continuing their own business.

“I should pack up, somehow I find it hard to believe I’ll have more customers today,” Astari remarked, starting to take things off the shelves around her cart.

“‘Fore y’go runnin’ off,” Svaudna held up the ornate chest she’d been carrying about, “how’s about one more sale?”

“Oh, very well,” Astrari sighed dramatically, then winked, pouring water into her pot and igniting the fire once again, “I don’t think we got to make proper introductions before?”

“We did not! Svaudna Brickbrook!” the dwarf took the initiative, holding her hand out.

“My friends call me Astrari,” the Witch shook her hand, sitting on the step of her cart, “I do hope friends isn’t too forward?”

“No better way t’make friends than fightin’ t’the death!” Svaudna laughed. Astari swirled her hand and ethereal blue light released from her fingers, weaving into a solid wooden stool beside the pot.

Svaudna happily took a seat on the magic stool, the newly conjured seat glowing ever so slightly beneath her. Tana remained standing on the other side, watching the pot as it began to bubble, “and you lot? Got names?” Svaudna asked their other companions.

“Svish!” the little goblin held her hand up excitedly, “happy to have new friends!”

“Not so sure I want you as my friend after what you did to those last ones,” Tana remarked, arms crossed.

“Those goblins weren’t my friends, stupid!”

“And would’ja rather enemies?” Svaudna laughed, clapping Svish on the shoulder, “little whirlwind of death, she is!” Svish gave a proud, toothy smile.

“If I might interrupt,” Monodris took a seat on the street itself, still a full head taller than even the standing Tana, “Monodris,” he introduced himself quickly, turning his monoeye to Svish, “You truly know nothing of this ‘Boss’?”

“I don’t lie!” Svish snapped, an angry flash of pearly white teeth, “never met Boss.”

“I don’t doubt that you speak truth, I merely wonder if the other goblins never… let something slip.”

Svish stared at her feet, thinking quietly. Eventually, she told Monodris, “...others said Boss could do strong magic. Was bigger than an ogre,” she looked up at Monodris, “bigger than you, that means.”

“Indeed. Is there anything more you could say?”

“No. Others started keeping lots of secrets,” Svish gripped her scimitar tightly, “speaking languages I didn’t know.”

“Languages you didn’t know?”

“Common, they called it. New goblins couldn’t speak Goblin tongue, taught the others,” Svish explained, “I had to learn alone.”

“You taught yourself Common? That’s very impressive,” Astrari remarked, sprinkling salt and pearl dust into the boiling water, creating a pink smoke. Svish got her big smile back.

“Hang on, you keep mentioning new goblins,” Tana interrupted, holding a hand up, “were those the ones we saw? The pitch black ones?”

“Mhm. Coalskin, they said.” Svish told the orc, “Weird goblins.”

“I’ll say!” Svaudna spoke up, “fought a hundred goblins, they can adapt to any environment, but Coalskin ain’t one I’ve heard of. And I’ve sure never seen gobs like that! Sounds more like a clan name, like Brickbrook!” Tana snickered, “Oi!”

“Well, suppose they are a clan,” Tana cleared her throat, “what sort of goblin clan doesn’t speak Goblin?”

Monodris opened his mouth to propose something, but Svish loudly cut him off, “Goblins don’t use stupid clan names!” she shouted, “That’s stupid Dwarf stuff!”

“Is that so?” Astrari put a finger to her chin, thinking, “So what kind of goblins look like goblins, but speak Common and use Dwarvish clan names?”

Monodris held a hand up to interject, “I don’t think we’ll find that answer today, so if you will excuse me,” he stood up, “I still have to meet Tovil.”

“Tovil?” Svaudna wondered aloud.

“I came here to purchase an important piece from him,” Monodris told her, “despite the current situation, perhaps our deal can still proceed.”

“Best of luck!” Astrari waved as the Woodworker left, thudding off down the street, “now, let’s examine your gold.”

Astrari retrieved a single, folded owl feather from a pouch behind her, dropping it into the water with a quiet kerplunk. The water turned a swirl of bright emerald and sky blue, plumes of matching smoke curling from its surface.

Astrari leaned into the smoke, obscuring her features, but they could see her eyes growing a vibrant blue. From her own vision, the world was awash in shades of azure, lines of white light becoming the outlines of everything she could see. Svaudna had a faint glow of gold around her, as could be expected from the magic she had demonstrated in battle, surely if she had time to recover and draw more magic into herself the glow would be stronger.

The chest she held was inert, no sign of magic in or about it, and she told as much to the patiently waiting dwarf. Astrari took a moment to look across the other members of their group, Svish had no glow of any magic about her, but as Astrari turned her gaze to Tana her vision suddenly became pained.

The orc’s form glowed a powerful, blood red. It was not like the aura of magic Svaudna possessed, not something Tana could wield, Astrari wasn’t sure if the orc was even aware of it. In Tana’s very nature, very essence, a powerful malevolent magic had been woven in the form of a curse. Astrari gasped and inhaled a lungful of smoke, coughing quietly.

“If the gold isn’t cursed, I want my cut,” Tana held her hand up, and was quickly passed a portion of the money, “I’m gonna see what’s still open.”

“Ah, I’ll come with,” Svaudna jumped off her little stool, “goin’ the same way tonight, anyway.”

“Fine,” the pair left together as Astrari was still gathering herself, waving the magical smoke away.

“W-Wait!” Astrari coughed, but it was too late, the pair had gone off somewhere, “oh dear…” she felt a little hand tug gently at her sleeve and looked down, finding Svish’s wide eye watching her.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I’m alright, but I fear Tana might not be,” Astrari responded, “oh, I should have said something faster…”

“All sleeping in the Lazy Duck-thing tonight anyway,” Svish remarked, patting Astrari’s arm, “talk to her then.”

“You’re right!” Astrari snapped her fingers, “which means I’d better get up there right away! Who knows how brief their trip could be after the attack?”

“I’ll help!” Svish scooped an armful of ingredients from the shelf, hurrying aboard the cart.

“Wait, Svish! Not there, there’s a system!”

-

Monodris moved through the market, calmly observing the damage around him. Blood sprayed across shattered cobblestones, bodies of dwarves, goblins, undead and worse being thrown carelessly into carts, to be hauled away and dealt with when someone bothered to care.

It was mostly the guards who had suffered. Surprised and slaughtered in the darkness, the unprepared patrols had gotten it the worst, killed before they ever had a chance to see their enemy. They had been moved to the sides of the streets more respectfully, white sheets laid over them.

Monodris saw dozens of them on his short walk. He couldn’t bring himself to bother any of the survivors for directions.

On one of the lower levels of the market, he found a permanent stall, outside of which hung a sign that read, “Tovil’s Woods and Wares,” with an open front. Wooden boxes, musical and practical, picture frames, toys, bird houses, a dozen other varieties of items hung on the walls and littered the tables. The floor was a nice brown hardwood, and a counter in the back left corner had a half-finished chest resting on top, behind it lay a door with a simple fabric curtain over the front. In the center of the space was a huge table, something long wrapped in a strange red leather was resting on its surface.

The body of a dark-skinned halfling lay on the floor in a small pool of blood, fine leather clothes run through on a crude blade. A younger halfling, somewhere in her twenties, knelt beside his body and two guards waited patiently to one side.

Monodris recognized the unmoving face of Tovil. He forgot himself, stepping closer, and the floor creaked loudly.

The guards turned towards him and the younger halfling looked at him over her shoulders, locking eyes with the cyclops. Monodris could see streaks in the sawdust where she had been crying.

“...Sylri?” he asked, quietly.

“Do… I know you?”

“You were a babe last I saw you,” Monodris told her, “I am Monodris, Tovil was an old friend of mine. I’ve not visited in an age.”

“Monodris… I remember,” she nodded absently, “he sent you a letter.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Monodris lowered his head.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I got lost before the attack. If I had been here…”

“It’s not on you,” Sylri sighed, wiping her eyes, “it’s on whichever bastard put a knife in his guts.”

Monodris held his tongue. Sylri stood up, wiping her hands on her pants.

“I… I don’t know what to do, now,” she said, after a moment, “guess I’ll have to arrange a funeral.”

Monodris reached to the back of his belt and retrieved his coin pouch. A hundred and fifty gold he’d intended to spend today. He emptied the pouch into one, oversized hand and set it on the counter.

“You don’t gotta-”

“Tovil was my friend.”

“...okay,” Sylri walked behind the counter and scooped them into a box. The guards gently took the body of Tovil and laid it on their cart, spreading a white cloth across it and setting off down the road, “I’ll tell you when I have a date.”

“And the shop?”

“...I suppose I’m in charge,” Sylri looked around at the crafts, all finely made wooden items, “was dad’s apprentice, long as I can remember. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Sylri’s eyes turned towards the wrapped package on the table, “...he was saving that for you. You ought to take it.”

“I-”

“I won’t be hearing any back talk about it,” Sylri’s eyes hardened a little, “wouldn’t know what to do with it, dad kept saying you were the only one good enough to work with it.”

Monodris took a step towards the package. Gently, he grabbed one corner of the red leather and opened it.

An eternally burning log lay on the table, its bark scorched and black, the wood within a bright, luminous yellow, spouts of flame coming from the hole in the bark. Monodris recognized it as the trunk of an ashkissed tree, a very rare variety grown from seeds planted in accursed soil, flame forever raging within its iron-tough bark.

“That’s salamander hide, fireproof,” Sylri told him, “Dad thought… I’m sorry,” her voice broke and she stopped, turning away.

After a moment, she felt one massive, warm hand on her shoulders and looked up at Monodris. Tears were welling in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Monodris said quietly, “I’ll see it put to good use.”

“You had better,” she told him, sniffling.

-

It was much later in the evening when Tana and Svaudna finally made their way to the Lazy Duckling. They hadn’t managed to purchase anything, most shops were entirely shut down after the incident, instead Svaudna had spent some time helping the people they came across and a tired Tana had gotten dragged into it against her will.

The Lazy Duckling was a very nice, expansive inn, built largely of wood with a foundation of stone and a shingled red roof. Paneled windows glowed with warm firelight, illuminating the street outside.

Tana pushed the door open, looking about. Just inside there was space to wipe peoples’ shoes, hang cloaks and whatnot, beyond that the first floor was largely open. Several tables and chairs of various sizes were laid out, fine patterned tablecloths spread across them and small candles burning on top. The ceiling, like many of the buildings in Telthoril, was exceedingly high, such that those races like Monodris’ could enter with ease, and there was a step before the counter for smaller races. On one side of the room was a huge, crackling stone fireplace and on the other was a set of stairs leading up.

Business was slow and a morose atmosphere hung about what few silent patrons there were, eating and drinking by themselves. Behind the counter, a tired satyr in a white and green top was wiping down a glass.

They looked up as the duo approached, quietly putting the glass away.

“Room or food?”

“Could go fer some food,” Svaudna remarked.

“We were set up with rooms by one of the guards. Frost?” Tana told the satyr.

“Aye, one dwarf and one orc,” the satyr nodded. She took two keys from beneath the counter and slid them across, “eleven and twelve, singles.”

“Thank you,” Tana nodded.

“Now, food,” Svaudna leaned on the counter.

Tana left her companion and headed upstairs. The hallways were spacious and lined with massive doors, most of them closed and locked. The orc kept her eyes on the doors’ numbers as she moved along, her bare feet thumping against the thick green carpet. Although cozy, the atmosphere was quiet, almost oppressive.

As she neared room eleven, the door to room ten opened. A sleepy Astrari stepped out, wearing a pair of baggy red pants and an orange shirt.

“Tana,” she blinked, “Tana! I, um… I’m glad I caught you.”

Tana slowed to a halt as she got closer, looking up a little to meet Astrari’s eyes, raising an eyebrow.

“Earlier, when I was checking your gold for curses, I…” Astrari took a breath, considering how best to phrase it, “well, it wasn’t cursed, but… you are.”

“I know.” Tana answered flatly.

“Oh!” Astrari put a hand on her chest, “w-well, I’m sorry to have brought it up then. It’s just, you know, I have a certain duty of care when it comes to these things, it wouldn’t have been right not to…”

Tana put a hardened, scarred hand on Astrari’s shoulder, silencing her, “it’s fine,” she moved the fey to one side and continued down the hall, opening her door.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Astrari nodded.

“…goodnight, Astrari.”

“Goodnight Tana!” Astrari waved and the orc closed her door.