Ravenwood of the Order of the Mystic Healers, formerly of the Church of the Eternal Lights, strode through the jungles of Jansmia next to his new acquaintance, a rather unique companion who was a frequent friend of those who dwelt in Treetown.

Daegon was a blue dragon-kin. Dragon-kin were a humanoid species related to dragons, complete with tails, but not, as a general rule, wings, though there were some rareborn exceptions to this who were considered to be especially blessed by the draconic gods. Daegon was a warrior among his kind, who were by-and-large a warrior people. 

Ravenwood thought his name unusual. In his religious training, Ravenwood had learned the name Dagon belonged to a deep ocean entity known, among other things, as the Father of the Deep Ones.

“No. I’m definitely not named after THAT Dagon,” the dragon-kin had said. The tone of his voice had indicated that he had tiresomely dealt with other people pointing that out many times before. This had embarrassed Rave a bit, since he prided himself on being able to anticipate what would and would not be good bedside manner with people.

The dragon-kin wore scale mail over his torso, arms, and legs. On his back was slung a short bow and a quiver of arrows, some with tips designed for hunting animals, some designed for hunting men. On his belt he wore a fabulous scimitar with a gold hilt and what looked like a black jewel or crystal mounted in the pommel. Daegon’s strides were long, forcing Ravenwood to speed up sometimes to keep up, as the former cleric realized he’d become accustomed to traveling with a gnome, a dwarf, and an elf child.

As the pair left Treetown further and further behind them, the towering species of trees that surrounded the settlement soon thinned out and were replaced by jungle trees of more normal height. They soon crossed a stream that, while large enough to exist year round even when rain was lacking, was not really large enough to be called a proper river. Daegon, familiar with the area, paused on the bank to get his bearings. After making his assessment, the dragon-kin adjusted their path a few degrees north after they crossed the water. Since they had just left Treetown, there was no need to pause to fill their waterskins there.

Their objective was to find the source of a column of smoke that had been spotted back in Treetown by some of the watchers in the upper canopy. Whatever the fire had been hadn’t seemed to spread widely or to last very long. This was not surprising. At that time of year, that part of Jasmia received more than enough rain to keep the jungle growth green and moist, very hard for a wildfire to get very far. Nevertheless, the folk in Treetown wanted it checked out. Daegon, while not a ranger per se, was very woodscrafty and was more than a capable wilderness scout, despite his easily seen natural bright blue color. His scale mail was green and his cloak sported a deep hood that could hide even his dragonish snout when stealth was called for. His clawed feet, which were not compatible with boots, had splayed out, prehensile toes that easily gripped the ground like fingers as he walked, enabling the quietest of treads.

“How long have you been on Jasmia?” asked the healer.

“It’s been about two years. I don’t go much further from Newtown than Treetown.”

“Why is that?”

“I go back to Newtown from time to time to check with the captains of the voidfaring skyships and with the recordkeepers for the World Gate. I am hoping that one day, when they recount the worlds that the many settlers, visitors, and workers come from, and that shipments of products come from, that I will hear of my homeworld so that I might return.”

“What happened?”

“I was snatched from my world by an infernal machine that populated a dungeon for adventurers to sport in. Fortunately, the machine malfunctioned and I was not forced to fight the adventurers who encountered me. I ended up joining them, and together we beat the machine at the heart of the dungeon, but shutting down the machine did not automatically send me home, unfortunately.”

“A sentient dungeon for sport?”

“Yes, companies of adventurers formed teams. There were oddsmakers taking gambling bets and everything. It was quite sophisticated.”

“That’s very strange. I hope you find your homeworld one day. Do you have a big family there?”

“An entire clan.”

“A mate? Offspring?”

Before Daegon could answer, both the human healer and dragon-kin warrior froze. They had suddenly felt the ground shake. About a hundred yards distant through the trees, a small mixed-species group of medium-sized herbivorous dinosaurs was dashing nimbly among the tree trunks fleeing the direction that the pair of adventurers was headed. The dragon-kin’s nostrils flared.

“I smell the smoke from the fire earlier. It’s not burning now, but it lingers in the air.”

The pair continued on cautiously and soon, even the weaker-nosed human could smell the ashy smell also, but it would have been unnecessary at that point. By then, they could then see charred and burned up trees.

“The pattern of the burns here is strange,” said the dragon-kin woodsman. “I don’t like this. It makes no sense unless…Get down!”

Rave was dragged down to the ground by his companion, who, though he could give the impression of being a slow reptile, was actually startlingly fast. Rave made a note to never think that dragon-kin were slow ever again. Though Daegon was an ally, dragon-kin like most species, including Rave’s own humankind, could be good, evil, or selfish, friend or foe. Rave hoped he never faced one in combat, which as a healer, wasn’t his forte anyway. Years ago, when he had been younger, he had had some rudimentary combat training as a cleric, but nothing like that of a true warrior

“Achoo!”

That sounded like a sneeze, albeit a very loud, roar-like sneeze. Rave felt a wave of heat on his back, He could see nothing as his face was buried in jungle floor detritus, though he screamed a muffled scream of pain. He wondered if his cloak was on fire. From up above, he could hear tree branches overhead bursting into flame.

Daegon’s hand came off his back. Rave excruciatingly sat up. Surprisingly, his cloak was not on fire.

Twang! Twang! Daegon’s short bow sang out. Rave saw his arrows fly toward a bright red target in the trees. Rave couldn’t believe his eyes. Daegon’s target looked like a red dragon-kin. The red dragon-kin had been using its fiery breath on the jungle. That’s why there had been strange conical swaths of burned trees rather than a more naturally distributed burn pattern.

The first of Daegon’s arrows looked at first like it was headed straight for the chest of the red dragon-kin. Then at the last moment, the big red reptilian humanoid magically shifted to the left a few feet, leaving Daegon’s first arrow sailing through empty air. The second arrow, which would have missed, was suddenly in a good position to pierce its target’s leather armor and bury itself in the crimson firestarter’s left arm. Rave realized the red dragon-kin must possess a displacement enchantment to have had the first arrow miss like that.

“Surrender!” commanded Daegon, rising from a crouch and slowly walking toward his red-colored kinsman, knocking a new arrow in his bow and never taking his aim away from the center of the red’s leather armored chest. “I won’t miss again.”

“We believe you,” chimed in a new voice, a goblin voice.

On the forest floor, his head only coming to the height of the tall red dragon-kin’s lower thigh, a goblin emerged from camouflage, not some magical trick like the red’s displacement enchantment, but real, highly skilled camouflage. The goblin wore a motley of jungle colors, facepaint, and had a natural skin color that helped the overall effect of blending in. Rave had been impressed with Daegon’s woodcraft, but this goblin must be a ranger, though Rave had never heard of a goblin ranger.

“Please excuse him.” The goblin had weapons but didn’t draw any of them. The diminutive woodsman held his hands out in a peace sign, placating gesture. “He hasn’t been a dragon-kin very long. Yesterday, he was a dwarf.”

“Then I died.” The red dragon-kin said, as if that explained everything.

Rave was sure his face looked as confused as Daegon’s.

“He changes into a new species every time he dies,” the goblin said. “I think he’s allergic to the jungle here. And he wasn’t born a dragon-kin so he doesn’t know how to sneeze without spraying fire everywhere. You’re a dragon-kin. Can you teach him?”

“I–” Daegon started to reply but the red dragon-kin suddenly made a choking sound, slapped his large, red-scaled hand over his mouth, and spun around 180-degrees.

“Achoo!”

Whoosh!  A huge area of jungle became a conflagration.

The red dragon-kin turned back around, grinning sheepishly. Rave had had no idea that it was even possible for reptiles to grin sheepishly. The two duos stood facing each other for a long, awkward movement.

Finally, the goblin broke the tension.

“I’m Ukan of the Clan of the Stalking Wolves. This is Solomon of the Many Lives and Faces. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hi,” said Solomon, waving with his good arm then pointing to his arrow-shot arm. “I’m bleeding.”

“I’m a healer,” said Rave.

“Good,” said Solomon.

After another moment of awkward silence, Daegon lowered his bow and Ravenwood stepped forward to tend to Solomon’s arm.