So it was going to be another night like this. He was almost used to it by now. Ethan stood there motionless, broken sword in hand, observing the same horrific sight he beheld almost every night. Littering the floor of the dungeon were the bodies of his friends, cold, lifeless. Among them was a moon elf, Ceridwen. Her bow lay broken next to her, the intricate carvings now meaningless in their destruction. Towering over the carnage was their killer. A hulking beast, the likes of which the unfortunate party had never seen before.

  In the darkness, it was impossible to get a complete view of the creature, but a handful of features were quite clear. Tall, wide horns sprouted from the sides of its head, silhouetted by the dim light. A broad frame and tail could also be distinguished. Given the gashes in the bodies, the severed limbs, the creature’s claws were quite sharp. More than capable of killing or maiming, as his eye had learned the hard way.

  Yet, as the creature lunged for him, all faded to black. Red eyes glowed in the darkness that enveloped every inch of the space around him. There was no creature anymore. No corpses. Only a presence that seemed to suffocate him and snuff out any ounce of light that may have existed in this horrid place.

  “You were weak before me…” The voice whispered in his ear, deep and powerful. “And without me, you still are…”

  As the voice reminded Ethan of his inadequacy, he simply nodded in acknowledgement. This was a familiar ritual to him. He knew not to speak, not that he even could in this space.

  “You will do as I command… carry out my will… or I will take it all away…” The voice continued. “Come to me… Heed my call, mortal.”

  As the horns grew once more on his head, Ethan took a deep breath, readying himself for the only part of this nightmare that wasn’t quite so hellish. The darkness slowly withdrew, the creature still mid lunge. With a surge of power, Ethan stepped forward and blasted a hole straight through its chest, the eldritch blast slamming into the stone behind the beast. The burst of magic was bright, illuminating the space briefly, but just enough to see the fallen creature in its entirety. It was a face he would never be able to forget.

  And then it was morning. With a heavy sigh, Ethan rolled out of his bed at the inn, blinking open his one green eye. He tentatively reached up to touch his eyepatch, feeling its familiar texture as if to remind himself that it was there. With that confirmed, he ran a hand through his black hair and got ready for the day. With his hair tied back like usual and his robes on, Ethan grabbed his staff, feeling the familiar surge of power, and headed downstairs to meet with the rest of his new party.

  They weren’t exactly difficult to spot. Not every inn in Wyrmroost had a half-orc and a satyr in a shoving contest while trying to eat faster than the other. As long as they didn’t do actual damage to each other, he didn’t mind too much.

  The satyr was a fair bit taller than Ethan, with darker skin and shaggy brown hair and fur. His horns curled into a proud crown, the ultimate irony to frame his grey eyes. Moss adorned his staff of twisted and gnarled mangrove, which lay resting against the table at his side, the druidic focus seeming almost as if it were also sitting down for breakfast. The half-orc was much taller than either of them, muscular and broad. Her light brown hair fell into her brown eyes as she ate, the signature tusks on full display. Clipped to a belt, her twin axes hung by her side. The rusted metal was hand-crafted and scrappy, a clear rush job. Despite this, she was quite fond of them and they did their job well enough as evidenced by the dried blood she hadn’t been able to scrub off yet.

  “Who started the contest this time?” Ethan asked calmly as he walked over to the pair.

  “Ruth.” The satyr answered hurriedly before shoveling more food into his mouth and getting shoved out of his chair by the half-orc.

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  Having a substantial lead on her opponent, Ruth paused to look between her friend on the floor and the warlock next to her.

  “Cassius pushed first.” She protested before getting back to her breakfast and getting shoved by the satyr in question. It didn’t topple her, but it did make her push him over again.

  “That’s on you, Cass.” Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “You thought you could win a shoving match with a half-orc?”

  “Not really.” He answered, getting off the floor again. “Worth a shot, though. She’s kicking my ass.”

  “I was hungry.” Ruth shrugged. “Get something to eat, little guy. We got a long trip to Moonloft.”

  “I am not little.” Ethan protested, getting his breakfast anyways.

  “You sure knew who she was talkin about.” Cassius jokingly jabbed, finishing up his meal. “Ha! I win!”

  Ruth sat there in front of her empty plate, practically licked clean, staring at Cassius like he was an idiot.

  “Damnit.” He muttered, shaking his head.

  An hour or two later, the trio of adventurers found themselves on horseback, making their way down an old trail through the woods. The clip clop of the horses’ hooves filled the silence, forming a sort of beat to the whispered melody of the wind blowing through the trees. Sunlight filtered through the branches, illuminating just enough of their path to be visible and make the nearby stream glisten.

  “How far out did you say this place was again?” Cassius asked, glancing over his shoulder at Ethan. “Feels like we’ve been riding for hours.”

  “That’s because we have.” Ethan answered, his horse coming up alongside Cassius and Ruth. “You wouldn’t want to overwork the horses just in case we really do need them to run.”

  “We’re almost there, though. Right?” Ruth asked. “I’m gettin’ antsy. I’m ready to go on some quests!”

  “Yes, we’re almost there. It’s just on the other side of these woods.” Ethan nodded, the worn path all too familiar to him.

  It was odd. He knew things were different now. Knew they were never coming back. Yet, as he looked at Cassius and Ruth, Ethan could almost feel the spirits of his friends riding with them. Aria, Jackson, Phelmi… and of course, Ceridwen. Here he was, coming back to Moonloft years later. Without them. It wasn’t quite the homecoming journey it used to be. For now, Ethan pushed those thoughts aside. This wasn’t about him. He was going to help the people who had helped him. Adventuring was their dream, just as it had been his. For better or worse, he would make sure that dream was realized.

  As the trees cleared, the legendary guild lay before them atop a hill, declaring to the world that it was the peak to strive for. The pillars of ancient redwood held the structure aloft while anchoring it to the earth below. The lime plastering had been polished to perfection, practically shining in its brilliance despite the many generations that had come and gone through the mighty doors. Even the roof was immaculate, each shingle tended to with the utmost care, framing three tall chimneys for each section of the guild. The billowing smoke promised warmth and safety in the grand halls.

  “Well, I’ll be chipped…” Cassius mumbled under his breath. “It’s even more spectacular in person.”

  “That’s a big building.” Ruth agreed, eyes roaming over the massive structure as if she were looking for something.

  “Just be ready. They’re not exactly known for welcoming new parties with open arms.” Ethan cautioned, gripping his staff tighter. “They won’t kill you or anything, but it’s best to be ready for a fight.”

  Almost on queue, a gold tipped arrow zipped past Cassius’s head, making him flinch before it embedded itself in the trunk of a tree.

  “Oh, they’re letting us know already.” Ethan commented, dismounting from his horse. “Come on, guys. Time to pick a fight with Zenith.”

  “Zenith?!” Cassius shouted, dismounting as well and following behind the warlock. “You’re joking, right?”

  “We have to fight the best party just to get in?” Ruth questioned as she fell in line with her party. “That seems a bit harsh.”

  “Oh, we’re already in.” Ethan responded, staff now humming with power. “They just want to see that we won’t back down. But yeah, this is going to hurt.”

  There they were, standing above the new party on Moonloft’s massive front porch. The pinnacle of perfection. A dragonborn paladin, a changeling rogue, a moon elf cleric, a high elf ranger, and a human wizard. The cleric stepped forward, hands held out to her sides to gesture to the grandness of the structure behind her. Her skin was a pale bluish-purple color, long black hair braided fancily and with hints of blue in it. Her eyes were a bright teal color, the color solid throughout both eyes, which seemed to glow somewhat. Looking close enough, it was possible to see the stars in her eyes.

  “Welcome to Moonloft.” She greeted, haughty superiority dripping from every word. “Allow me to welcome you properly to-... Ethan.”

  Her voice had lost its friendly edge. Now cold and indifferent, she glared down at the human warlock in disapproval. The rest of the Zenith Party tensed, seeming to know where this was going. Ruth and Cassius, meanwhile, looked between the two of them, confused by the sudden shift.

  “Hello, Lithika.” Ethan responded, unable to meet her gaze. The tension in the air was palpable. Thick enough for the paladin to cleave through with his sword.

  “Right. Oputor, Soors, you two take the half orc. Tsarra, Lenny, you can have the satyr. The warlock is mine and mine alone.”