Morning. The sun's rays stretched across the horizon and flooded a small village on the eastern side of Mount Ezra. Boxton was a small farming town only a mile west of the Alicotti River. On the outskirts, were several small ranch houses that belonged to wheat and vegetable farmers. Closer to the town center were merchant stands that sold vegetables and meats while, around them, was an inn, a blacksmith, and several stores selling potions, jewelry, and even hunting supplies.
Another such establishment in the town center was a pub: Sir Woodrow's, where a rowdy bunch of locals could be seen clear across town, stumbling out the front doors. Leading the inebriated pack were their two strongest members, Michael and Andrew stepping awkwardly arm in arm, singing to the heavens.
Michael wore two iron bracers, both marked with engravings to match the tattoos they obscured. The bracers reflected the early morning's rays onto his bare chest and lit up his drunken grin-clad face to the town. Michael's drunkenness was paralleled only to his rage. Once, coming back from a hunting trip, a full grown giant had come after Michael's spoils as he dragged them homeward, but the giant wasn't around for long as Michael's thunderous shouts quickly relieved him of the beast. Andrew, also a powerful melee fighter, was known across the land, from sandy shores to rocky mountains for his fearsome, crimson complexion. Many say that if you cross the mighty Blanche, his burning, red glow will be the last thing your unfortunate eyes behold. Andrew wore a lighter brown, worn leather chest piece. This was a conscious decision he had made long ago. He realized if he were to wear a metal chest plate, the glow of his face would reflect and intensify, potentially giving away his position when in combat.
Following the team's two brutes came the archer, Barbara, who had both arms wrapped around the always-sober mage: Ray. The team had managed to, somehow, convince Ray to come to the pub with them that night, knowing of his aversion to alcohol. Ray had considered leaving earlier in the night, but he concluded that caring for his intoxicated companions would be amusing to him and helpful to them, so he was content. Coming from a very comfortable lifestyle, Ray had only worn a simple tunic and pants to the pub. He hadn't even put on shoes, but he had worn a hat in an attempt to mask the ridiculous haircut he had received from a traveling barber. When Ray had fallen asleep during the affair, the barber became angered and made a disaster of Ray's hair, leaving the only remaining hair on the very top of his head. When he awoke to see the damage, Ray became outraged and, without hesitation, scorched the barber to a crisp with a simple fire spell to exact his revenge.
In contrast to Ray, Barbara dressed in one of her finest armor sets to let everyone around her know of her prowess as a range-based fighter. In part, it was to show off her identity as a "tough chick", but also to accent her beauty, which she often used as a means of distraction on unsuspecting bandits while collecting bounties when stealth wasn't an option, which it rarely wasn't.
Behind Ray and Barbara, was Kerry, in one of his everyday coats and a pair of ill-fitting pants. He carried, in one hand, a mug he had stolen from the pub and in the other, a small amount of dynamite he had just bought from a dealer he met that night. Kerry was the team's explosives handler. If anyone needed anything to go boom, they called for Kerry.
Riding on Kerry's back, fast asleep was Michael's fiancé, Lindsay. Her ruby-red hair masked her snoozing face till a gust of wind came and swept it over her shoulder. The night before, Lindsay had attempted to take the same route as Barbara and put on her finest armor, but ultimately couldn't decide on what to wear so she put on a simple dress. It was nothing that separated her from the other women in the town. However, Lindsay was not like other women in Boxton. Years ago, she had been cursed with the ability to see the future. At first this seemed like quite a blessing, but she soon discovered that her excitement would get the better of her and she developed a tendency to ruin the ending of every story that came up in discussions. After several years of training with her ability, she has not spoiled stories on as frequent of a basis and she has shaped it to help her strategize when hunting.
Lastly, tailing the group was Mike and Dylon. Dylon, the youngest of the group, showed great promise as a supportive teammate. His healing and shield spells far surpassed all others of his age in both strength and duration. Dylon's father worked as a field medic during the Anthropes War, so the young mage had worked as his father's assistant early on. At the age of fourteen, he once held a large-radius shield spell for three hours to allow his father some time to revive some fallen soldiers. Were it not for Dylon's assistance, that battle would have surely been lost.
Mike, whose erratic footsteps kept causing him to consistently bump into Dylon and Kerry on his way out of the pub, had had only one and a half mugs of mead that night, which Michael insisted that he chug down. It didn't take much to turn Mike into a slovenly mess. This is why his departure in the morning came with less clothing. Mike had worn a shirt and vest into the pub that night, but now he had only the vest, with no memory of having a shirt in the first place. Mike was the group's fledgling fighter. He had much to learn, but he was learning from some of the best. While Mike wasn't the best fighter, he was, however, a skilled cook. Pizza was his specialty, but it wasn't the pizza as a whole, it was his marinara sauce that made the dish. If the team was going to eat, Mike had to be kept around.
Unlike the chilly temperatures from their departure the night before, the morning sun seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as the drunken group climbed the gradual, dirt slope to their large cottage on one of the town's taller hills. Just when the sweltering heat became wholly unbearable, the brass knob sizzled to Andrew's touch as he turned it and thrust the front door open. The group trudged into the musty, humid wooden house one by one. As they walked, Michael removed his bracers and tossed them into a corner, Andrew began pulling at his chest piece, Barbara shelled her fancy armor, letting it drop as Ray ripped off his cap, throwing it upward to reveal his butchered hair, Lindsay violently woke up as Kerry collapsed upon his entrance. Slowly, but surely, the group filed in, disrobing as they did, till they ultimately flopped down in a random location of the house. For some, it was a bed, for others, it was a chair, and for a special few, it was the floor.
The long night of drinking and merriment was over, the morning light had risen from its slumber, and Boxton's people had begun the day's work. The tired crew had a whole day of silence ahead of them. The air around them was still, there was the distant sound of peddling merchants in the town below and the calling of livestock in the fields, but for them, the world was...
Silent...
Silent...
Silent...
All was silent until the outside world grew louder. A commotion was heard in the town below. A vicious roar erupted from overhead. Eight heads shot straight up. Eight minds were jolted into foggy alertness. Eight pairs of eyes widened with fear as the front of their home was ripped outward by an immense, reptilian beast and a deep, booming voice bellowed, "I come for the one known as Mike Kroon!"
To Be Continued...