Disclaimer: The Forgotten Realms and two of the characters in this story are not mine. I will not reveal their names at this time, but will say it should be blatantly obvious who they are once they appear and I will give you gentle readers their given names at the end of this fanfic. But trust me, it is really obvious. The other characters are mine though.
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Mathis surveyed the destruction around him and his cohorts. Most of the surviving villagers had fled a few weeks before but the reaped the unfortunate rewards of their courage. A few charred corpses slowly broke down to ash here and there stood in silent testament to their misplaced bravery. A recent rainfall had kept the damage around the thorp to a minimum, but only served to make the scene more tragic. "Keep your eyes open," Mathis grated to his three companions.
Zaiid carefully poked at some of the rain soaked charcoal that had once belonged to a small house with his curved kukri. The dark skinned, black haired and eyed Calishite managed to remain utterly nondescript in the face and his clothing tended towards various shades of brown and grey, none of it matching. Though Zaiid's clean shaven face held no extraordinary qualities, it hid a person who noticed much and had passable tracking skills. "This happened recently," the southern thief called over to Mathis in a soft tenor. "Half a day at most."
"If you say so," Branwe grumbled. The ample blond woman shifted her shield from her back to her arm, loosened a heavy spiked mace from her belt and scanned the purple-grey mountain that shadowed the burned out thorp. Helm's eye stared out from the icily blonde woman's shield and her pale blue eyes coldly regarded the surrounding fields. Scale mail glinted from underneath a drab blue surcoat.
Mathis shifted his shoulders in his steel chainmail armor as he turned a jaundiced eye towards the last member of his adventuring party. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he realized that he did not give Sashen the credit she deserved. On the other hand, he had not wanted his know-it-all kid sister along on this trip. How she managed to convince their parents to let her tag along on a dragon hunt remained a mystery to Mathis. Sashen shared his olive complexion and spare frame but not his pursuit of martial prowess. He saw her sitting in the middle of the thorp, doing something in that journal of hers. She could be prevailed upon to throw spells, but only if she lived long enough to do so.
"Sashen!" he called. "Keep your eyes to the skies! I do not want to explain to our parents how you got fried for not paying attention!"
Sashen rolled her eyes, Mathis knew the look, but got to her feet. "We're really close to the dragon's lair now," she stated.
"Of course we're close!" Branwe turned and snapped. "Look at the village around you!" The watcher of Helm had even less patience with Sashen than Mathis did.
Not that any of this seemed to bother Sashen. She tucked her journal under one arm and pointed towards a small gap in the trees. "The dragon's lair is that way," she said mildly. "There should be a cave complex around that area that it's probably using as a lair."
Zaiid heard and started poking around in that direction. Mathis noted that sometime during the past two days the swarthy thief had begun to trust Sashen's guesses implicitly. She was usually right after all. Branwe's scoffing cut into Mathis's musing, "Right. And what makes you say that, missy?"
"I read a few accounts from a band of adventurers a century ago. They had been hired to clear kobolds out of the caves but noted that the cavern complex was quite large and ran very deep," Sashen ignored Branwe's tone. "I did that while you three were feasting with the county magistrate."
The lady cleric snorted and tromped off to kick at the remains of one of the hovels. Mathis suppressed a sigh. Branwe had not been able to rein in her distaste for his bookworm sister. Well, neither had he but he felt entitled as Sashen's brother and when he bothered to admit it, he did love his younger sister.
Zaiid whistled to the rest of the party. As the fighter, cleric and wizard jogged over, Sashen grinned. She was right about the direction the wyrm went and they all followed the bits of cow that headed off through the forest and towards the single mountain.
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Elsewhere
"So, how exactly were you going to convince the Wandering Flame to invest?"
"Well, I explain that once we collect enough rogues to start a mercenary company, our first order of business will be expanding our investor's revenues for a set period of between twenty and fifty years after which we part and go our separate ways."
"At which point we should be able to kill it if it objects strenuously. Or at all. Plan B is we grab as much as we can and then run like every demon in the Abyss is after us."
"Sounds about right."
The two partners grinned at each other. Both stood near the same height and shared a slim, strong and lithe build. From there, the similarities stopped.
One dressed plainly, but carried unornamented, well cared for longswords in an open, easy manner that silently whispered of long use and skill. Slight heaviness in various locations in his shirt, vest, duster and boots hinted at hidden weapons. He crouched in the tight quarters of the dry, warm tunnel in fluid silence as he alertly focused on his surroundings.
The other looked like a fashion plate that had a sudden and violent collision with a wet wall of graffiti. While a little taller than his partner, he did not have as spare a build and managed to convey an air of unconcerned aloofness to his every movement as he kept an eye out on the way they had come.
The armed figure sighed and said, "Well, waiting isn't going to get us our business venture. Let's go."
"Lead the way."
The pair padded stealthily through lightless tunnels.
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All right, here's where you either huff that I stole X amount of time from your lives or gush with joy for chapter one or go find something else to look at on the internet. Please hit the happy author button, I really do need to keep my cynicism in check.