--- Adventure 1 ---

Duro'than privi amuzat scena dintre gnom şi elf. "Are tupeu micuţul". "Micuţul"

"Da...să mergem....." zise Angy hotăr

So, Ias and Rissa hurried to keep the front lines. They had the road in front of them.

"Do we avoid the cities? There is no bright alternative though... Snakewood? Troll Mountains? Giant's Plains? These people must be terrorized by such things..." the Nekorrim smiled.

Ronin got up and joined his "colleagues".

Duro'than

Rissa knew this would be a boring road for her, so she tried to make it more interesting by listening to Ias and the Barbarian.

The horse made a long way-back to his past and tried to be reasonable with everybody else... especially the Barbarian. "Some may say it's a burden to be between two species. But I think it's a gift. You are actually supperior to both, a combination of strength and beauty..."

And the heroes would walk, walk... real-time walk!!!

Duro'than se g

"I was looking initially for an artifact, a dark armour of no interest to you. But then, I really do like lost cities and ruins and legends... maybe this is why I made myself a singer - to share them. Plus, I am good at finding trouble... never to solve it. Road-life is a solution... for a while." Ias said.

Drogo was extremely satisfied with himself. It didn't even cross his mind to remain stranded somewhere and wait for his master to find him... or for one of his servants. Actually, he had no idea what was worse, a minotaur sharp on his heels or the menacing bushy eyebrows of his master (former master... he had to remind himself that) just before unleashing some terrible spell upon him.

In this company he felt safer... even if somewhat unsecure. He was regarding the werewolf with mistrust and Ias definitely intimidated him... he sensed his power. The Barbarian seemed friendly, but he didn't dare approach him as long as he walked next to the great horse. In these circumstances, the most approachable for conversation seemed Angy. Argh, if only he needn't concentrate so hard just to keep walking in the snow... He ran a bit on his short legs until he was in line with the girl. He was astonished and proud at the same time that he had managed that without falling face down into the snow. It was a good omen.

He smiled a broad and sincere smile. "Hello... I am Drogo... I think I've said that before." He stammered a little. He didn't quite know how to talk with girls. "What... what was your name again? Anyway, you seem nice. The others scare me a bit. And Thorn (he wriggled his nose as if he had bitten into something sour)... he's unbearable. He barely spoke to me. I am amazed I even know his name. Come to think of it... I don't. I'm almost certain it's just a nick. Myeah... well, as I was saying, I am Drogo. I come from the Orsaun Mountains... but that's not important right now, is it?" He laughed a short, nervous laugh. He didn't know whether the girl was listening or if she was interested. But it felt good to finally speak. His courage seemed to grow too. He turned his head to her and smiled again. "I'm glad you are with us in this advent..." Bang! The instant he took his eyes off the ground, he had stumbled over a rock hidden underneath the snow and was now laying splayed on the ground in all his length... or width, for that matter.

***********

Seeing that the group had headed North, toward Shilmista Forest, Thorn shrugged. He didn't mind. A Hlaf Elf was just as adept as an elf when it comes to managing in woodlands... even if that wood be Shilmista, the Forest of Shadows. He raised his collar and stuck his hands in his pockets underneath his cloak. On his back he felt the reassuring familiar sensation of the leather straps holding the sheaths of the two swords he used in combat and which, if he wanted, could be fixed together to form a double sowrd. A spectaculous and deadly weapon. Only that Thorn preferred to rely on daggers and crossbows, as well as to stay away from spell effect areas: at a distance or even better, behind the enemy.

He had remained somewhat behind, even though his job would've been to stay at the front. However, until entering the woods itself, there shouldn't have been any danger. Hands in his pockets, clutching the daggers in his sleeves by instinct or habit, he walked with rare steps behind the group. He let himself fall in a sort of reverie, a half-sleep state. If his father hadn't been a darn human, it would've been a much easier thing to do. Any Elf could: a state between sleep and consciousness, allowing one to dwell on one's thoughts while at the same time staying alert, with senses keen and fully connected to the real world. He had needed years of training in order to manage just about as good as any full-blood Elf, but it was well worth the effort. In lack of sleep, it was a perfect substitute.

He was thinking of his 'native' forest, Thornwood and the years of his childhood and his adolescence on the dirty, narrow streets of Mintar. How long ago that all seemed. And how his ambition had grown. Yes... in the Vanished City he had to find what he was looking for. If not there, where else? One day... he'll know how it feels.

In that moment, he heard a thump. Myeah. Obviously. Drogo, who else? This gawk should be taught a lesson. It might be amusing watching him stick his nose in the snow now, but later on he might endanger the whole party with his clumsiness. He frowned in disapproval and walked past him.