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Lucinder was just in time for lunch. The travelling party had been sipping tea and eating biscuits when she had been assaulted by those horrible gnoll creatures. The group was travelling light, by the looks of things, as they weren't carrying much in the way of luggage. Much the same as her. The goblin Lieutenant offered her a drink of tea in a pretty cup, poured from a large teapot. There was no fire to be seen as she glanced around. So, they'd magically made tea? That wouldn't have been allowed back home for a start. A wanton waste of precious Power.

Everybody here was rather curious, and no exceptions. She'd certainly never seen a real dragon before, and here was one wearing crude sunglasses, sat politely on a rock with his pinkie out as he delicately supped. She wondered where his treasure hoard was. All dragons collected something: gold, jewels, crystals, magical artefacts, weapons. People, even. The books back at the Polytechnic suggested they could shape shift and blend in with other races to keep themselves safe, but this guy was clearly reptilian and scaly and dragon-like. He even had his wings and tail showing.

The goblin Lieutenant lady was small and green and sprightly. She was currently drawing in the dirt with her dagger tip. What a whimsical thing to do.

"Is that the horse Nightmare?" she asked politely.

"Yep. It's alright, isn't it? I've always liked drawing. I suppose you can magic a picture and make it come to life?"

"No. No I don't think I can. If I wanted to draw a picture, I'd just use pencils and paper."

Brook looked disappointed. "And then you'd make it come to life?" she asked, hopefully.

Lucinder shook her head. "we only use magick for important things."

"Art is important."

"Really isn't. You can have a licence to make artistic decorations if you're so inclined, but only a few take that branch. In the society I'm from, magick is only used by those trained in arcane arts, and it's rationed out carefully. It's... not like that here, huh?"

General Warlock held his hand out and let his power flow through into a blue swirling sphere in his palm. "It's an organic element in this world. You can mine for it, hunt for it, you can extract it from magical creatures like dragons and unicorns, or use it straight from the source, like the horns of the mythical Tri-Horn."

"Ah," she said quickly, "but the Tri-Horn isn't a myth. I'm hunting a Sceptre that was stolen from our vaults that has the three horns in its grip. It has a dark magick inside, completely unregulated and totally illegal to use of course. It is said that just one scratch from it can kill a living entity instantly."

There was a hush.

"I know, right? Scary stuff."

The aardvarkian wild magick user was giving her an even more intense glare now. He was a bit scary, not least because he appeared to have an unlimited source of power and no discipline in its proper uses. He pulled down his long red tunic and let her take in the black, spidery scar that sat there. "It is very scary stuff," he said flatly.

"Wait, what? That's... that's not from the Sceptre I'm looking for, right? Because you'd be dead. Like proper dead. You know? There's no coming back from that type of dead." Lucinder looked around at the others, but they just sat quietly. The horse grunted, loudly. It sounded like a snort of derision.

"If you survived a stab from a Tri-Horn, I would write a book on it, that's how impossible it is."

"And yet, he did," The Dragon smiled. "With a little help from myself, of course."

That was too much! "Dragons don't help people. They don't. Dragons are selfish magickal beings. If you helped him," she pointed at the General, "you would have asked a high price in return. So, he would be your servant forever or something."

"Servant?" Anar covered himself back up again.

The Dragon waved a hand, calmingly. "Nothing of the sort. That would have required a bargain to be struck in the event of him dying. The General is a good man, and I gave him my aid because his death did not sit right with me. It cost me greatly, not him."

"You paid a price?"

"Most of my power was transferred when I resurrected him. It will regenerate eventually in his presence, but for now I am considerably weakened. Hence why we are so very grateful to have found you. The General needs more magical aid than I can give."

"More magickal aid? He lit up on my Magimeter like a beacon!"

"Yes, but he hasn't been instructed in arcane ways. If we go to war with the rat, we will need extra help. Your help."

Lucinder's mouth flopped open. "War?" she asked, feebly. "I don't think I can write that on my slot sheet."

"How are you with a blade?" Brook waved hers in the air.

She gulped, "I can fillet a chicken..."

"So, let me get this straight. You're a mage from another world, who can only use a bit of magic when you absolutely have to, and can't fight?"

"Yes?"

"And you've been sent here, with no gear or provisions, to hunt down a murderous rat who has a whole army behind him, to take his Sceptre away because he stole it from your armoury?"

Lucinder looked miserable. "If I don't, I'll lose my application for the job post," she complained. "I'm very privileged to have been offered it at all, although I'm starting to think they only accepted me to fill their diversity quota, and they're hoping I'll fail miserably so they can give me the boot. It's hard to be a modern woman!"

"It does sound as if the people who sent you here have set you up for failure. Us girls have to do so much to get a fraction of the recognition men do," Brook frowned.

"Right? It's so unfair!"

General Warlock rubbed his snout and shifted his gaze. "Don't look at me, I've never had a problem taking in women. Fight like demons when they've got families to protect. Real mean streak if you don't notice their new haircut..."

Lucinder rolled her eyes, "comments like that don't help any."

"I'll teach you to use a weapon if you have our back in battle," Brook offered. "Maybe you can help the General learn to control his magic? Seeing as The Dragon gets fatigued so easily."

"I mean, wild magick is very dangerous and unpredictable..."

"All the more reason to show him how to use it, then."

"I don't think I have much choice, do I? If I want to get the Sceptre back. What's in this for you though, Brook? I get he wants revenge on the rat," she nodded to Anar, "and The Dragon goes where he goes in order to regain his powers back, and the Nightmare is his ride so also goes where he goes, but you could have just gone home? Right?"

The gobliness shrugged her armoured shoulder-pads, "gone home to what? The rat destroyed my city, same as he destroyed the General's. I want to stop Nisgarant, too. I was going to visit other towns and citadels and offer help rebuilding them, but even better is halting the rat in his tracks so no more families suffer. That's what a real warrior would do."

Lucinder bit her lip. Brook may be a small lady, but she was clearly brave and determined, and wasn't going to let a little thing like height get in the way of her goals. She undoubtably was an absolute menace when she dug that blade into your kneecaps.

"Right. Well. Ok then. Good. I'll... I'll see what I can do for you all." This would mean having to spend more time with the General. He was looking at her again, now, with that steady gaze. He had a faint blue glow around him, stuffed full of magick as he was, even from his eyes. She wondered if it was uncomfortable, having it coursing through your veins, living in you. She'd keep to amulets and charms any day. That scar of his was pretty nasty, would need tending to most definitely. A survivor of a Tricorn-horn wound! With the help of a dragon! If she hadn't seen it and heard it for herself, she'd have never believed it.

They cleared away their tea making supplies, the General carrying a large velvet bag holding seemingly everything they needed within. She asked about it as they began walking together on the litter-strewn track. "that's an unusual item you have there, General, where did you find it?"

"Please, call me Anar. And I made it." He looked very proud of his creation, "I wanted a blanket, it was a cold night, and I didn't want to attract attention with a large fire, see. I'd been left for dead, I had nothing but the clothes on my back; which reminds me, I really don't want to wear the rat's colours anymore," he frowned, pulling at his soft leather jerkin, "I've left all that behind me... Anyway, I couldn't conjure a blanket, I was hopeless. But as I thought about the bags of supplies back in the army carts, I managed to make this..." he pulled the drawstring open, showing the contents. "everything you see in there I've pulled out of it. My brain made a link to a bag being capable of holding the items I required, and the magic made it reality. So now I have a magic bag that can give me anything."

She scoffed, "surely not anything?"

"If I believe it's in there, it appears."

"So, like, only things that could physically fit, then, and that actually exist, and are inanimate objects?"

"Perhaps. It's pretty new, and I haven't exactly tried getting something I shouldn't be able to out of it. It's grown in size somewhat since I first had it. The Dragon did say magic has a tendency to have a will of its own."

"Natural magic may do. My magick is tame, and fully wieldable. It would never take charge of itself like that."

"I see," he smiled, closing his bag again. "You don't seem the tame and wieldable sort. You've got a spark to you."

"What? Me? What do you mean?"

"You seem surprised, Luci. You don't know?"

She was taken aback at the shortening of her name, which sounded rather worryingly like he was flirting with her, considering he was some sort of medieval peasant who was more at home swinging a sword, than firing off an angry Tweet. She also didn't like this insinuation that he could see something about her that she wasn't aware of.

"Hush!" Bromor had halted, his ears pricked, alert.

Brook drew her blade and tilted her head for the company to take cover in some trees. They'd reached the river proper now, the water was rushing and gurgling, wide and deep and cold. There were the usual rabbits and birds about. It appeared picturesque.

"Well?"

"I think those gnolls are still about. The ones I drove away earlier. I was sure I heard voices," the Nightmare explained.

"Do you think they're heading back for their bows? We did just leave them behind," Brook said.

"Could be anyone, for any reason. Most give the rat's army a wide berth, but they've gone far enough ahead now for that to not matter. Stands to reason we can't be the only people out here." Anar wasn't happy about The Dragon being seen by strangers, "do you have enough power to disguise yourself?"

It shook its long head, slowly. "I could for a brief period, but if I felt weak and it fell, not only would I be exposed, I'd be depleted also."

He opened his bag. "Here." He pulled out a black leather jacket, some trousers and a pair of boots. "I can't do much about the wings, but from a distance you'll pass as a reptid."

The Dragon tucked its wings in tight at the back of the jacket, and it did indeed look a lot less draconic and a lot more reptid.

"Might want to stoop."

It did. "Better?"

"Better."

"You need a name; we can't refer to you as The Dragon if we enter civilian areas," he mused. "Skecher. That'll do nicely."

"What, like my trainers?" Lucinder asked. "How do you know about Skechers in this world?"

"You leave the name in your tracks."

"I do?!" she lifted her feet and looked at her prints. "So I do..."

The Dragon now known as Skecher didn't look entirely happy to be named after footwear, but needs must, so it said nothing.

There had been voices. Four figures with notched arrows in their bows crept along the riverbank on the opposite side, crouching and on the lookout for something or someone. Like their mage companion, they had hoods up, and long robes. At their belts were water gourds, fastened pouches and hunting knives. These guys had been prepared for outdoor adventures.

From their hidden spot, they quietly watched and waited for them to pass. They must be nearing a village or campsite. Without a map all they could do was follow the deep ruts, litter and muddied tracks of the rat's army. Nisgarant wouldn't have stopped for anything less than a named city, so whatever it was it would be small and unimportant.

"Boar hunting, do you think?" Brook asked as they left the tree shade and carried on. She sounded hungry. Biscuits weren't a substantial meal.

There was a shout behind them, and they spun to see the gnolls from earlier rise out of the long riverside reeds and pounce upon the archers, taking them by surprise, too close to fire off their arrows.

They weren't the only ones who were in need of dinner.

"Gnoll hunting more like!" Anar flicked his hands, too far away to be of much aid that wasn't magical. The magic fizzed and darted from his palms haphazardly.

The strangers drew their hunting knives and tried to keep the rodent-ish assailants out of reach, slipping on the muddy banks as strong jaws snapped and clawed paws swiped.

Brook had a weapon. The lieutenant, with the aid of The Dragon, climbed Bromor's back and he leapt across the water, his wings beating strongly.

The sudden appearance of the same black monster that the gnolls had nearly been knocked senseless by earlier was enough. Once more they turned tail and fled with high pitched yips and yelps. "You tell Nisgarant we're coming for him!" the lady goblin warrior roared as the Nightmare reared and screamed.

Lucinder turned to Anar, "you really do need some instruction with that magic of yours, don't you?"

"Sure looks that way," he replied. "I think I singed one of them a bit. Does that count?"

The archers quickly gathered themselves and turned their bows on Bromor and Brook.

The Nightmare lowered his horn, prepared to charge at a moment's notice. His wings were up as though making a shield of himself, keeping his goblin rider from harm.

Brook displayed her dagger, it glinted in the early afternoon light.

Standoff.