Thylea wasn't as Duris remembered it. The few memories he had of the Heartlands did not have any settlements in it. What few memories he recalled of the land were violent memories of the war he fought. The war against the titans and their servants ended five hundred years ago, yet he remained. Now, the time of peace was coming to an end, and with the world itself at stake, Duris knew it was time to finish the fight he left long ago.

If only he could find where exactly he was supposed to go to get started.

Duris traveled alongside his two companions, Thella and Leira, across the Heartlands. Leira said that there were more heroes destined to protect Thylea, and although they must work together, she had no idea who the others were. Traveling through the Heartlands, the trio found ravaged farmland, attacked by a great beast. Although finding the beast has proven to be difficult, Thella remained confident that such a beast would lure the heroes they need. Leira, in a depressive mood, noted that farmers were losing their lives waiting.

Although Duris thought that being one of the ancient Dragonlords would make him strange company, it was hard to deny that his companions were just as strange, if not even stranger. Leira, a siren servant of the Fates, was the one responsible for finding Duris and Thella. Although she was joyful when she first started her task, she had since fallen into a depression. From what little Duris knew of sirens, he recalled that although they made for great messengers with their wings capable of taking them far, they are prone to fall into different emotions outside of their control. Leira was always quick to point out that she couldn't fly while she was sad, which was typically followed by a sigh.

Thella, his other companion, was more level headed with her emotions, although there was much strange about her as well. Although she could pass as a human from a distance even with her white hair and incredibly pale skin, she wasn't human. She didn't even know what she was. Duris had a few conversations with her since she joined the group. Much to his surprise, she was older than him, having been born long before he even set foot in Thylea (although Thella looked more youthful than Duris). Yet, she deflected any questions as to how she came to the present day, saying it was a complicated explanation. What she did say was that Leira found her five years ago and brought her to Thylea, where she was able to adjust to the new times. Duris wished he had that time.

Although they made for a strange group, Duris wouldn't want to travel with anyone else. Thella and Leira were both quick to note a gift that Duris had, to gaze into the future. Although he doubted he had such a talent, the two worked together to try to unlock that power. Between Leira's magic from the Fates and Thella's own years of study, Duris was able to practice magic on his own. It wasn't magic from a pact with another or through study, but rather, magic of belief. In particular, his power came from his belief that everything happened for a reason.

Duris had to believe there was a reason why he was alive when his peers he couldn't even remember were long gone, only remembered as great heroes.

"Are we going to stop yet?" Leira asked, arms crossed. "All this walking is so tiresome."
"If you're going to complain about the walk, you could try flying tomorrow," Duris pointed out, pressing onward. It was late but there was still time to travel.

Leira sighed, her white-feathered wings motionless behind her. "I wish I could just fly away from it all…"

"I think that's an inn up ahead," Thella said, pointing towards a two-story building. "Just a little bit further and we can rest."

"I sure hope it isn't like the last inn we came across," Leira rolled her eyes.

"No, this one looks intact," Duris noted. "Whatever is ravaging the land hasn't made it this far."

Thella was right; the inn was built at the crossroads, and from the smoke coming out of the window and the sounds of conversation and ale mugs clattering, it was certainly a lively scene. Duris looked forward to the chance at sleeping under a roof for one night. While he had no problems sleeping outside, he couldn't ever shake off the feeling of being attacked even with a night watch made for the trio, especially with the beast tearing through the land. The trio approached the door where a slim dark elf sat out cold next to. Duris looked up at the sign of a woman carrying a basket of grapes and took note of the name: the Sour Vintage.

Thella was the first to come to the realization and gasped. "Sour Vintage! Just like what you said when we first met."

Duris blinked in confusion, and as the memory returned, he nodded. "So it is."

"He predicted the name of some country inn," Leira shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Congratulations. Would you like a medal?"

"I hope we get a joyful Leira tomorrow," Duris muttered under his breath.

"Leira, Duris thought of the Sour Vintage when trying to see where we would meet the other heroes," Thella reminded her companion. "This is it. This is where we will find the others."

"Could you talk a little more quietly?" the dark elf, who was barely past adulthood, asked weakly, and looked up. "I'm trying to finish taking a nap here."

"I'm sorry," Thella bowed her head in apology. "Are you a regular here?"

The dark elf grinned. "Sure am."

"Do you know of any heroes staying here?"

He shrugged. "Lots of hunters are here looking for that boar that's been causing a lot of trouble."

"You mean to tell me that a boar is responsible for the destruction of the Heartlands?" Duris asked in disbelief.

"That's what I've heard," the dark elf answered. "Take it as you will, just as long as you talk about it inside."

Duris turned to Leira. "Do you know anything about the other heroes? You said there were at least ten others."

"I'm just a messenger," Leira looked down at the dark elf. "Are you a hero?"

"I most certainly am not," the dark elf chuckled.

"Okay, the first rule is that we don't ask people if they are a hero directly," Duris explained. "Let's take it slow, rent two rooms and order a drink or two. We'll listen and look around for anyone who stands out."

"If you say so," Leira said and shrugged.

"It's a good plan," Thella agreed.

"Good luck," the dark elf said and closed his eyes. "Have fun being heroes."

With a final nod, Duris turned to the door and pulled up his white hood. He opened the door to step inside the inn. It was time to find the heroes that would help save Thylea.

Korax downed the goblet of wine to wash down the stew and bread he had. The Sour Vintage wasn't as lively as when he and his companions arrived an hour ago. A satyr had taken to the stage and currently played a melody on his flute. The song and performance was good, although it was much slower than what should be expected from a tavern at night. Cyrene focused on the song, appreciative of the work, while Halius had his head on his shoulder, sound asleep.

Drowning out the music, Korax grabbed the pitcher at the table and refilled his goblet with wine. His thoughts dwelled on his new orders. He was ordered to meet with the Oracle, and although she was a figure of legend, finding her dwelling was rather difficult. He was still a lokhagos of the Epilektoi of Mytros and held some authority in the military. Cyrene and Halius were both quick to follow his orders, even though they were more relaxed with protocol now that they weren't with other soldiers. All he was told to find the Oracle was to wander the Heartlands. At first, he believed that the boar would lead him to the Oracle in some way, and if not, it was at least his duty to slay it.

It was tonight that a different thought came to mind, as Korax recognized two other lokhagos present in the tavern.

"Are you enjoying the show?" Korax asked, looking at Cyrene.

"I've always enjoyed the music of the fey," Cyrene commented, tilting her goblet towards Korax to show it was empty. "There are times where they can be lively but the more insightful songs come from the natural world."

"I'm just surprised that no one is demanding good dancing songs," Korax poured wine into Cyrene's goblet.

Cyrene chuckled lightly. "Perhaps the music is too tiring for that. It certainly worked on Halius."

"So it would seem," Korax moved to fill Halius' goblet with wine while the young man was still asleep. "There are other lokhagos here. I'm going to talk to one briefly."

"You never really cared about making friends with the other lokhagos before," Cyrene pointed out and took a sip from her cup of wine.

"They are here but without any epilektoi at their command," Korax set the pitcher back down on the table. "Does that remind you of anyone?"

Cyrene nodded. "Do you think that they've received orders to see the Oracle as well?"

"Maybe one of them," Korax turned to Halius. "Wake up!"

Halius gasped and nearly fell out of his chair. "Huh?!"

"At ease," Korax said, his tone voicing command. "There's a single dwarf in this inn. Find him, keep an eye on him. If you see him approaching me, try to stop him."

"What?" Halius asked, blinking in confusion.

"Isn't that a little rude?" Cyrene crossed her arms. "What if he's here to meet with the Oracle? What if he wants to talk to you?"

Korax shook his head. "I'll do without that conversation. Halius, if you have any questions, feel free to ask Cyrene."

"Er, right," Halius quickly nodded.

Korax stood up from his chair and walked carefully, trying best not to draw attention. At least most people were preoccupied with satyr's show. He made it over to a table where a male stygian and an elf woman sat. Although they rarely talked, Korax knew lokhagos Yesleth Bronzebreeze. While out on patrol, she frequently stops by whenever he sets up camp outside of Mytros to await for new orders to tell him of anything new within the city. Of course, when he returned to command his epilektoi afterwards, there were always rumors of what those visits really were. Even Cyrene asked if anything happened between the two with a sly wink. Korax always told the truth, that nothing happened.

Yesleth's companion was a stranger to Korax. He was a stygian with crimson skin and black hair. There were a pair of curved horns coming from out of his hair and a tail that extended from his back to the ground behind him. Although he didn't look like much of a warrior, he was dressed to fight in leather armor and a belt of various blades at his side. It was him that first noticed Korax's approach, taking a careful sip from his goblet as his yellow eyes focused on him.

"Can we help you?" the tiefling asked.

"I'm here to speak with an acquaintance," Korax answered bluntly and looked at Yesleth.

"He's a friend, Valros," Yesleth told her companion and turned toward Korax. "I wasn't aware your epilektoi was in the area."

"They're not," Korax shook his head. "I've been given a new command."

"Really?" Yesleth asked as she brought two fingers to twirl part of her red hair. "And what's that?"

"I am searching for the Oracle."

"Hey, we're trying to find her too," Valros said, taking another sip from his wine. "Of course, we haven't found her, but any day now, I'm sure we'll find her."

"Then you have a lead?" Korax asked in a pressing manner.

"Err, well, not really," Valros admitted, waving his hand back through his hair. "I'm just confident that after weeks of searching, we've narrowed down the search."

"And I take it you haven't had much luck as well," Yesleth commented.. "Why are you looking for the Oracle?"

"Because I was ordered to."

"And you were ordered why?" Valros questioned.

"I don't know," Korax answered dutifully. "I'm following my orders."

Yesleth smirked. "You're still the same loyal soldier as always. Well, if you want, we can work together to find the Oracle. Valros is actually the subject of a prophecy the Oracle wrote, so we're interested in finding out more details."

"I'll consider it but I'm not traveling alone," Korax told her.

"Of course," Yesleth nodded. "How is Cyrene?"

"She's well," Korax glanced briefly back at his table. "It's us and a new recruit, Halius, traveling together. I'll speak to them, see if they're interested."

"We won't keep you then," Yesleth yawned. "I think I'll stay up for another cup of wine."

"If only this bard would play something lively," Valros sighed.

Korax stepped away from the table, having some answers yet more questions. The Oracle was to have more guests than he expected her to have, yet for what, he didn't know. Although he would still seek out the Oracle as ordered, he figured by now that there was definitely something going on. Perhaps the Oracle saw something in the future, although Korax wasn't sure what role he could possibly have. The soldier made his way back to his table when a call from another table interrupted him.

"Korax, is that ye?!"

Korax froze in place with one of his hands forming into a fist.

"It is ye! Come over here an' join us, brother!"

With a sigh, Korax turned to face the table where a ginger dwarf bearing the red cape of the Epilektoi of Mytros sat. Lokhagos Ranri Cuhug grinned eagerly to see his comrade. The two served under the same officer when Korax first enlisted with the military and the dwarf was present to see his promotion. Yet, despite Ranri's belief, Korax never saw the dwarf as a friend. It was Ranri's devotion to the Dragonlords and their dragons that turned him away. It was a relief for Korax when the dwarf was promoted to lokhagos and given command of his own men. He had hoped that would be the last they would see each other but today ruined those hopes.

Korax hesitantly stepped forward toward Ranri's table. The dwarf was joined by a half-orc man and a human woman; neither of them were recognized as members of the Epilektoi of Mytros. The half-orc was bulky with long flowing black hair and wore blue robes over a white tunic and leather pants. The woman had longer hair that was blonde and wore green and brown robes that would fit in well at a forest. It was on closer inspection that Korax came to the conclusion that the woman wasn't human; something about her made him realize that she was a nymph. If Ranri was joined by these two just as Yesleth was joined by Valros, it could mean he too was summoned to meet the Oracle.

"Ranri," Korax greeted bluntly.

"Come an' take a seat!" Ranri encouraged, motioning to an empty seat. "We have a lot te catch up on."

"I was just thinking about going to bed," Korax commented. "What are you doing in the Heartlands anyways?"

"We're recruitin'," Ranri gestured to his companions. "Yer lookin' at th' new Dragonlords!"

Korax couldn't help but roll his eyes. The half-orc grunted with a glare. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Other than my doubt at your claims, there is no problem," Korax answered with a stoic tone.

"Don't be like that, brother," Ranri shook his head. "Ye know, we could use a tactician such as yerself. Say, why don't ye tell these two o' th' time ye took command fer th' first time."

"I'm not interested in storytelling or joining your group."

The half-orc stood up with a scowl, towering over Korax. "There's no need to be rude."

"I'm the one being rude?" Korax asked in a defiant tone.

"Ranri was just trying to talk with you," the half-orc pointed out, stepping forward. "Maybe you should."

"It's not a problem, Argades," Ranri chuckled. "Korax will come around te my idea eventually."

"No, I won't."

The half-orc, Argades, cracked his knuckles. "I take it personally that you doubt me."

"And I'm supposed to care for someone I don't know? Korax asked, unable to hide his irritation any longer.

Before Argades or Korax came to blows, the nymph stood up and quickly got between the two. "Now isn't the time for this, Argades. You'll prove yourself to him soon."

"We'll see about that," Korax crossed his arms.

Argades grunted once, and after a moment of the two glaring at each other, sits down. "Leave us be, Korax."

"Ye did well, Semestra," Ranri complimented the nymph. "An' Korax, if ye change yer mind, we'd have te talk about ye an' Argades."

"Stopping a fight from breaking out is the least I can do," Semestra sighed in relief. "Someone has to keep you two out of trouble."

"I don't think I'll change my mind," Korax said and turned away to walk.

Even if Ranri tried to convince him to stay and listen, Korax was finished. The topic of dragons and the near-fight with Argades was enough to enrage him. He walked back quickly to his table. Halius looked nervously away from him while Cyrene placed her hands on the table calmly. Korax pulled back his seat and sat down.

"I'm really sorry," Halius muttered. "He didn't approach you, and well, I asked Cyrene what your history with him was, and she just asked to watch and see."

"I wasn't expecting for his friend to pick a fight," Cyrene held her hands up. "I take all the blame for Halius not intervening."

"Ranri's not out to see the Oracle but Yesleth is," Korax said then grabbed his goblet of wine and downed it.

"Are we close to finding the Oracle?" Halius asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"More importantly, why is Yesleth seeking the Oracle?" Cyrene joined in.

"I don't know and it relates to her companion," Korax answered while filling his glass with the pitcher.

"What's the plan?" Halius continued his questioning.

"Right now, I need to calm down," Korax said, which was enough to end the conversation. He set the pitcher down and took a drink from his refilled glass.

"This is him."

"This is him?"

"That's right."

"I… this is the man who can speak with the dead?"

"The very same. He looks just as the rumors described him."

When Iraster lost his family in Mytros and no one could remember them or him, he didn't expect for his journey to take him here. It was Tellek, Iraster's centaur student, that encouraged him to seek a man capable of speaking to lost spirits, it was enough to convince the halfling to seek him out. For weeks, the two traveled alongside Ferrous, a construct the two were able to activate (it was Tellek who insisted on giving it a name after their journey started). The trio made their way to the Heartlands, where a mighty boar was making its mark. Iraster realized that it would be the perfect way to find the medium, who would no doubt be lured by the restless dead. He had to keep hope at least.

It wasn't until that night, whenIraster came face to face with the medium, that his hope was dashed.

"Tellek, you mean to tell me that this drunk is who we seek?"

The trio stood in front of an inn, gazing down at a scrawny dark elf, one who was barely an adult. He wore rags that were stained with red wine and his white hair was short, although his bangs covered his eyes. The dark elf was seated against the wall, asleep or passed out with his head on his shoulder. Iraster couldn't help but look in disbelief. He had spent weeks chasing after a lead only to come upon this.

Tellek, for his part, tried to at least defend his lead. "Maybe we should give him a chance."

"This dark elf is clearly drunk," Iraster held a hand to his face. "He sees spirits of alcohol, not of the dead."

"You're wrong on all counts," the dark elf suddenly spoke, brushing his hair out of his red eyes. "I'm half dark elf and half human, I can see ghosts, and I'm not drunk, not yet at least."

"Seriously?" Iraster blinked.

"I knew it!" Tellek grinned. "Someone owes me an apology."

"You're both so loud," the half-elf groaned and looked at Ferrous. "You're quiet. I like you. Do you know the time?"

Ferrous looked down at the stranger but made no attempt to speak. The construct, crafted out of marble, was a magnificent creation, and although it looked on at Iraster and Tellek's academic conversations, it made no attempt to join them. Tellek was able to determine that while Ferrous' mouth was capable of moving, it simply didn't speak. The centaur first thought this was due to it not knowing how, although this thought fell away after failing to teach it how to speak. Ferrous would remain silent, no matter who tried to talk to it.

"Ferrous isn't much for conversation I'm afraid," Tellek informed the half-elf. "But we're outside. You can clearly see it is night."

"So it is," the half-elf said with a nod. "I am going to get a drink."

The half-elf stood up, and with a quick wave, opened the door of the Sour Vintage and stepped inside. Iraster didn't move to pursue him yet, still lost in his own thoughts. Despite common sense telling him that the stranger was lying, the halfling saw no indication that he was trying to deceive the trio. The medium was who he said he was. Iraster held a hand over his heart, his hope to reunite with his family coming back to him.

"It's him," Iraster muttered. "I need to convince him to aid us."

"You have better hurry," Tellek motioned to the door. "We'd join you but I'm afraid that this inn won't accommodate us, like most. You can go on ahead."

"I'll try to be quick, I promise."

While the tavern wasn't made to accommodate centaurs, that didn't mean it was made to accommodate halflings either. Tellek was able to reach the doorknob for Iraster to step through into the tavern, where he had to worry about tall humans moving about, unaware of his presence. As a satyr bard stepped off the stage, people were getting up from their seats to grab drinks from the bar. Iraster was careful and gave polite apologies when needed. The half-elf was seated at the bar; to his right was a human in a white hood while the seat to his left was still empty. The halfling rushed over to grab it before someone else could, climbing up onto the seat.

Iraster was taking deep breaths to recover from the physical exertion while the half-elf slammed an empty mug on the bar counter. "Aetela! Another round!"

"Coming right up!" a burly woman with gray-hair behind the bar counter replied.

"Excuse me," Iraster tapped on the half-elf's shoulder. "Can I just have a moment of your time?"

"You can have more than a moment as long as you drink with me," the half-elf grinned. "Aetala! A round for my small friend!"

"I sure hope one of you is going to pay for the drinks," Aetela commented, filling up another mug.

Iraster pulled out two silver coins and set them down on the counter. "I've got you covered, just as long as you can help me."

"Help can come after drinks," the half-elf shrugged.

"Maybe," Iraster held his hand out. "My name is Iraster Truedew. I am, or was, a professor at the Academy of Mytros."

"The name's Mantes," the half-elf held out a single finger for Iraster to shake. "Mytros, huh? I spent my childhood there, you know. I think my father lives there but I haven't seen him."

"Right," Iraster nodded. "Family is actually the reason I sought you out. My wife and children-"

"Just one moment," Mantes grinned when Aetela set two mugs of wine down. He grabbed one and held it up while Aetela took her payment. "To family."

"Yes, to family," Iraster cheered alongside Mantes, although he didn't reach for his drink. "As I was saying, my family was taken from me in an attack, one of supernatural proportions. No one remembers them or me except for me. I was hoping you can provide answers."

Mantes chugged from his mug and shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't say I can help you. I haven't even heard of you."

"You can help me though," Iraster pleaded. "I want you to come back with me to Mytros. We can go to my home and you can speak with my wife and-"

"No," Mantes' jolly demeanor broke with an instant frown. "I'm not going to talk to your dead wife."

"But you have too!" Iraster gasped. "The rumors say you can speak with the dead. You said so yourself."

"I don't have to do anything for you. So what if I can speak with the dead? The restless spirits are miserable folk, and they torment me. I drink to keep their voices out of my head so that I can stay sane, but it is people like you, who want to use me, that I can never avoid."

"But if you have such a gift, think of all the good you can do with it. Think of the people you can help."

Mantes turned to the man at his side. "Friend, remember me?"

The hooded man turned, arms crossed on the table. "Yes, I do. Can I help you?"

"I hate to be abrupt but can you tell me if you've lost anyone in your life?"

The hooded man paused to think. "Well, I suppose I have."

"Thank you," Mantes turned back to Iraser. "See?"

Iraster was just as confused as the stranger next to Mantes. "See what?"

"Everyone has a sob story. Do you think you're the first husband to lose his wife, or the first parent to lose their child? Because you're not. You're not special. I also haven't heard of the people who do come to me so you're not special in that regard."

"I can pay you," Iraster argued, running out of options. "I have money so that you can buy all the wine you could ever need."

"And you're not the first to offer me money, either," Mantes took Iraster's mug with a smirk. "I am not helping you and that is my choice to make."

Iraster crossed his arms and glared at Mantes. "Who have you lost? You said everyone has lost someone, so you must know what it feels to lose someone? Would you want that on anyone? Wouldn't you want to help them to move on?"

Mantes grew silent and stared at his reflection in the mug of wine. "You want to move on? Drink and forget. It works for me. I'll buy this next round."

Iraster sighed in defeat and watched Mantes call for Aetela before downing his glass of wine. Despite the new obstacle in his way, he wasn't going to give up on getting the medium's help. The halfling hadn't come so far only to be turned away now. As a teacher of philosophy, Iraster was aware of the arguments he would continue to make against Mantes. One of them would eventually draw him in, and then, he would come willing to help.

Or maybe Mantes would remain stubborn. If that did happen, Iraster was at least convinced that Tellek and Ferrous could drag the half-elf back to Mytros if needed.

Halius was glad when the satyr stepped off stage. Even though he lived in a farm in the middle of the Heartlands for most of his life, far away from any of the big cities, he had never been so bored in his life before. He was careful to avoid making eye contact with the satyr when he walked past his table and sat down at the table next to his, joining a large and bulky woman. Halius bit his tongue lightly to hold back saying anything wrong about the satyr's performance. With Korax drowning his anger in wine and Cyrene over at the bar to get rooms for the group, Halius hoped for better entertainment.

The next performer to take the stage was a young woman in a white dress and traveling boots. She was a slim woman with black hair with youthful features and a playful look in her eyes. She held a scroll in her hand and waited as most of the audience turned to her. Halius was intrigued to see what she had in mind. He didn't see a lot of entertainers back home so it was a new experience to see what performances there were, even if they were not so good.

"Good evening, everyone," the woman greeted with a smile. "Thank you for allowing me to take the stage. I'd like to share the gift of poetry with you."

The poet gazed down at the scroll she held and spoke.

"There was one a mighty hero,

One who started off as a zero,

He who performed twelve great labors,

Least of all his feud with his neighbor,

But that is a story for another time,

Although to not speak of it would be a crime…"

Halius couldn't keep himself from snickering, although laughter may be more polite than the groans that some of the other members of the audience gave. Many were farmers who wanted to relax after a hard day of working in the field. Halius never heard much poetry before, but while this poem may have his flaws, there was a certain quirk to it. There was certainly more to enjoy about the poem than there was of the satyr's performance.

While the poet continued with a hero's feud with his neighbor, Halius glanced back at the satyr, who scowled. The satyr wore a red vest and styled his hair and goatee with braids. His legs were covered in brown fur as well as his forearms. A belt held his flute in a special holster. The satyr spoke harshly, serving as a critic towards the poet.

"This is by far the worst poetry I've ever heard."

"Why's that?" Halius questioned.

The satyr looked at Halius. "There is no deeper meaning, the rhyming is forced, and it goes line by line rather than alternating every other line. I wouldn't tell this poem to children."

"Well, I like it," Halius commented with a smile. "It's funny."

"I suppose anyone who is simple-minded enough can find amatuers funny," the satyr said with a small laugh.

"Hey!" Halius glared at the satyr. "I'm not simple-minded. I'm… I'm complicated-minded? That works. I'm complicated-minded."

"You are as brilliant of a wordsmith as the current poem," the satyr said, continuing with his jabs.

"Oh, and what do you know of poetry?" Halius asked and crossed his arms.

"Quite a lot, actually," the satyr grinned. "I studied with some of the great poets in Mytros. I've been struggling with writing recently but I can definitely write better."

"Are you as good of a poet as you are with your flute?"

"Indeed I am," the satyr's grin grew and he closed his eyes.

"Good, because I could use some help falling asleep again," Halius taunted.

The bard gasped then jumped off his chair. "If it's a fight you want it's a fight you'll get."

"What, can't handle some criticism?" Halius challenged, standing up taller than the satyr.

After a moment of hesitation, the satyr stepped back and squealed out "Phoebe!"

The satyr's call was enough to interrupt the performance and draw eyes over to the scene, much to Halius' embarrassment. The audience's gaze remained when the satyr's companion stood up behind him. Halius was quick to dismiss her, only noting that she looked strong. Now that she stood up, he gulped, realizing just how mighty she was. Her muscles were large with curved blue tattoos on her right arm and she towered over the two with ease. She brushed back her long blonde hair, braided similarly like the satyrs, and cracked her knuckles.

"Do we have a problem here?" Phoebe asked in a bored voice.

"Err, no problem at all, ma'am!" Halius waved both of his hands passively and took a step back.

"This farmboy just insulted my work!" the satyr pouted.

"Is that so?" Phoebe slowly grinned. "Zyfon has been a loyal minstrel to me for months. I won't stand for any insults thrown at my friend."

"I mean no harm! We were just talking!"

Phoebe stepped forward. "I'm tired of talking. Let's just skip to the part where I throw you across the room. Or would you rather I throw you out the window?"

"That'll be enough," Korax said and stood up, earning a sigh of relief from Halius.

Phoebe glanced towards Korax. "Are you sure you want to step in this fight? I think you've had a bit too much to drink."

Although Korax's cheeks were flushed red, he held his ground. "The Epilektoi of Mytros fight as one against any who threaten us."

"Your friend started it by insulting my friend," Phoebe declared.

"Actually, he started it by calling for you," Halius pointed out.

"It's two-on-two!" Zyfon jumped up on the table, knocking a pitcher down. "This will make for a great poem! I'll be sure to tell you a week from now when you wake up from the beating that you are about to receive!"

What started as a small conversation turned to insults which was now turning into a fight. Halius never expected this much of an escalation and never wanted it to begin with. He should have been content with the poetry. While he hoped that Korax would be able to talk for a peaceful solution, the commander was not completely sober, and more than ready to fight. Halius took a quick glance around the room, finding Cyrene unable to get past a line of farmers eagerly waiting for the fight to start.

"Wait!" All eyes turned towards the poet, who still stood on stage. "I would like to propose a challenge to settle this feud that will benefit everyone in this room! A challenge that will give the soldiers a fight, a champion a challenge, a bard a story, and the farmers peace."

"We're listening," Phoebe said with Korax giving a small nod in agreement.

"As you've heard, a great boar tramples through the Heartlands, destroying fields and homes and harming and even killing the good people of Thylea," the bard explained. "Fight not each other but instead compete to slay the boar. I will even give the winning group a trophy worth their time."

"This would make for a good story," Zyfon whispered to Phoebe.

"Korax, do you think we could help the people here?" Halius asked quietly.

Phoebe and Korax looked at each other and the two nodded. Korax glanced back at the poet. "We'll hunt the boar."

"And when I return with its head, you will know who would have won this fight," Phoebe said with a grin.

"Oi!" Halius turned to see Ranri standing up on his chair. "If anyone's goin' te be slayin' this boar, it'll be th' Dragonlords!"

"Did you say there'll be a reward?" an half-elf next to a halfling asked. "I could use some more gold to pay off my tab."

"It would seem as though there are others interested in the challenge," Yesleth, the elf Korax spoke with, commented. "I think I would like to join in."

"The more the merrier!" the poet said in a cheerful tone. "The hunt will begin tomorrow morning, and the group that slays the boar will be heroes of Thylea."

Duris nearly choked on his wine with the poet's announcement. Thella patted him on the back to help him.

"Are you okay?" Thella asked, concerned.

"I'll live," Duris nodded. "She said heroes of Thylea. I think we've found who we're looking for."

"It would be a shame if the boar killed them," Leira, who was seated on Thella's other side, said. "Some heroes they would be."

"I think we're on the right track," Thella said. "Are we to join the hunt?"

"We are," Duris answered confidently. "We should get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

When Duris first arrived at the sour vintage, he never thought that the possible heroes would be presented to him in this manner. There was the thought of them not being the heroes that stuck in his mind. Then again, it wasn't like their search had much luck to begin with until today. If they were wrong, they would be wrong, but if they were right, then they were one step closer to saving Thylea.

The trio stood up. Alongside their meal, Leira paid for two rooms, one for her to share with Thella and one for Duris to have to himself. The hunt would start early in the morning and they would need their rest. Duris only hoped that this was the right path to go on. It had to be. Even if there weren't heroes to be found, someone needed to put an end to the boar for good.

A/N: So, it's National Novel Writing Month, and as promised, I am here with a story based on Odyssey of the Dragonlords. This will be a huge project that I am very excited to show. Over the past three days, I wrote about 6000 words, which is a great start in my opinion. I may be a little bit behind and there is schoolwork to worry about, but I believe I can catch up.

I think that from here on out, it should be more easy writing for me too. This was a difficult chapter to write as I have to recap what characters from the prologue had done, connect old and new characters, and come up with a terrible poem. Now that the hard part is done, I am hoping that the next chapter (which will have a battle, which is always exciting) will be easy to write.

Until next time.