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Jalas sighed, looking around the dingy interior of a battered tavern called the Golden Eagle, located in the slums of Fretyrd - which just so happened to be the capitol city of Talazene, one of the most powerful nations in the world. He was a massive, scarred Dalynther, with livid green scales, bright blue tattoos, glittering silver eyes and colourless hair, wearing a set of battered but well-kept chainmail armour. He was covered in all manner of scars, collected during a lifetime of battle, war, and combat.

It was sad, really - hundreds of people living - and dying - in poverty amongst battered, ramshackle buildings. And this was the supposed "City of Life"! He took a long draught of ale from the battered tin mug that the bartender, a portly, bald half-Elden, half-human hybrid had given him. He turned his gaze, looking over the other patrons and workers in here with him. Over in the center was a series of tables filled by locals - thieves, food vendors, street dwellers, and other villainous-looking characters. A jumble of nobles was off near the door, dressed finely and surrounded by their burly, well-equipped bodyguards. Then there were a few tables of mercenaries and adventurers, all eagerly discussing their next job or journey. And finally, there were a few loners scattered about, watching the others as intently as himself. It was a pair of strange types that finally caught his eye and kept it.

One was a tall, lean creature dressed in extremely loose clothing, with many layers. A voluptuous cloak, hood drawn up and over its head, loose breeches, heavy boots, several long-sleeved tunics, gloves - every inch was covered. Despite all of this, he could still see the impression of folded-up wings beneath the cloak, as well as the vague idea of a feminine form. Another Dalynther like himself, perhaps? Regardless, the other was much more brazen in the way of clothing than the first. A muscular, well-shaped Saleeth female, dressed in a fur mantle, a harness made out of several leather straps, and a fur-trimmed loincloth. She had silver-blue scales, with bright blue eyes. She had a notched steel claymore over her back, held in place by an ornate leather half-scabbard attached to her harness.

He stood up and approached them with a smile, sitting down at their table with practiced ease. He figured that he presented a fine enough image to the both of them, dressed in his fine body as he was - vaguely respectable at the very least!

"Hello, fine maiden, and... kin?" He finished the sentence with a lingering, curious look at the heavily-garbed creature across from him. "I am Jalas."

"I'm Kraeia, and that is N'tessi!" The Saleeth said this snappishly, glaring at him. "Now what do you want?"

"Can you not speak for yourself, then?" He gently inquired of this N'tessi.

"She cannot. So I am forced to ask again, what in the Hells do you want?"

She, then. He had been right after all. "Well", he began, "I suppose I should ask if you mind a little more company." He finished this sentence with a wide smile that stretched the scar across the left half of his face.

"...You know what, fine. Sure. Just don't bother N'tessi. She's still... adjusting. I wouldn't want to have to leave this... fine city... so soon."

"Why would you need to leave?"

"Because she would probably kill you."

"Er. Of course. So, tell me, what are you two doing in a place like this, then?" He swiftly changed the subject, uncomfortable with the way the conversation had been headed.

"It's comfortable enough, for the price. Besides, I'd rather be in a dive like this than some snooty nobleman's clubhouse." If this Kraeia took any notice of his abrupt change in tact, she gave no sign of it.

"Hah! True enough, I suppose."

As they spoke, Jalas noticed the hooded head of N'tessi snap up, gaze seemingly fixing itself on a figure entering the already-crowded taproom. Following her gaze, he saw that it was another Saleeth, the same as Kraeia. He had pitch-black scales, a suit of dark iron chainmail, and a non reflective, shadow black sword hanging at his side. He was sauntering easily towards their table even now, quite calm, his golden eyes taking in the full sight of Jalas.

Kraeia bolted up from her seat, charged this newcomer - Jalas put his hand on the small axe at his side, expecting a fight - and hugged him.

"Alaxas! You're finally back!"

"Easy, easy...! It's only been a few months, Kraeia! Lovely to see you again, of course. And you as well, young one," he added, chirping a few times in N'tessi's direction. "And who is this, now?" He looked back at Jalas, curiously, as he finished.

"Jalas, mercenary and troublemaker extraordinaire, at your service." He stood up and finished his brief introduction with an elegant bow.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir Jalas," the other replied firmly. "Alaxas Kri'oran, warrior of the Silver Marshes. I'm sure you've met the others, then?"

"Oh, yes. I've learned their names, at least, as they have mine." At this, he nodded quickly. This one was quite clearly not one to toy with.

"Good! Good, very good. Well, sit back down, sit back down. Won't have you just standing around. Feels awkward."

"You sure, Alaxas? We don't really know him." This came from a doubtful-sounding Kraeia.

"Of course I'm sure, Krae. He's fine. I can tell." Alaxas smiled, but Jalas could tell that the good humour was forced. Something was going on here.

At that very moment, over by the door, something was already starting. A group of drunks had started harassing the noblemen's guards, who had drawn out clubs and bludgeons, and then started threatening back.

Less than a minute later, as Jalas and the others were casually chatting at their table, the fight started. It was uncertain who exactly started it, but one of the drunks soon went flying, crashing into a table of adventurers, spilling their drinks. Although the impact didn't quite knock the man out, the ministrations of the angry travelers quickly finished the work.

Within seconds, the place was in an uproar, for some reason or another. People fought back-to-back, side-by-side, against each other, with each other, near each other, and every other imaginable way.

It was utter chaos.

It was beautiful.

Jalas ducked through the crowds, smashing aside a half-asleep Orc flailing about with a beer bottle and jumping back from a massive, red-brown furred Phelgon sweeping the area around him with a battered chair that sent several unfortunate contenders flying back into the crowd to be pummeled by others. As he did so, he fell into the arms of a battle-scarred Drakonid female, who grinned at him, then raised a fist to strike. He rolled away, knocking her feet out from under her. He began laughing, laughing at the sheer madness of it all. It was brutal, relentless, dangerous. Amazing. A dagger, guided by a skinny grey-furred arm, slipped through the links of his chainmail and gouged his side, causing him to flinch, then grab the arm, break it, and finally drag the owner of the dagger closer in order to slam his fist against his attacker's - a little Mauva - skull, rendering them unconscious almost instantly. Reason lost within a red veil, Jalas dived into the crowd, fists swinging.

* * * * * *

"Ugh... My head hurts."

"Hey, stay still. You got cut pretty badly a few times." That was Kraeia.

"What... what happened?" Jalas found that he was dressed only in his old silk shorts, and his chainmail rested nearby - he did, however, have a blanket pulled up halfway over his chest.

"Bar fight. Big bar fight."

"I feel like I'm going to fall apart. How long have I been out?"

"Not long. Maybe a half-hour or so."

"Well, where am I? We're not indoors, are we?" Jalas looked around at his surroundings and noted that he seemed to be in a tent, of some sort. It looked dark outside.

"No, we're at our camp. Well, that is, the camp that Alaxas, N'tessi, and I keep. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want." She paused for a moment. "Well, actually, we're going to be leaving on the morrow, but still."

"...Where are you going?"

"I... I, uh, can't tell you that. Sorry. You'd have to talk to Alaxas. Anyway, I need to go. I'll let you get some rest. You'll need it." She nodded once and disappeared through the open end of the tent, closing it behind her.

He decided to just close his eyes and try to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up early, grimacing in pain as he dressed in his battered old chainmail and leathers. He ducked out of the tent, looking around. There were two other tents, and he noticed N'tessi curled up among the upper boughs of a leafy tree, apparently still asleep despite the rays of the sun shining out over the green grasses of the area. Off to his left was Fretyrd, its clustered buildings and reaching spires marring the natural perfection of the landscape. He took a deep breath, savouring the early-morning air.

"Hey, you! Are you coming with us?" This was Kraeia again, who seemed much more comfortable in the brightness of the day.

"Well I suppose that depends on the destination. Can you tell me that now?"

"Yes, yes I can. We're going to the Burning Way. Got some business to take care of there. So, do I need to ask again, or what?"

"The Burning Way? Are you three pilgrims or something?"

"No, we're not. Just... travelers."

"Well, you know what? Fine. Let's go. I'll be ready as soon as the rest of you are."

"Actually, Alaxas and I are already prepared. We just have to wake N'tessi. You want to try?"

"...Sure, why not?"

"Be careful! Oh, and try not to fall on your arse if you drop from the tree." She smirked at him.

"I'll see what I can do, but I offer no promises."

He jogged over to the tree where N'tessi slept, and decided that, instead of trying to climb it, which would be a lot harder, he'd just fly up. Flaring his wings, he stepped back, then took a running jump, his wings carrying him farther up than he needed to go. It had been some time since he had tried this, but as he glided downwards carefully, his old instincts came back to him. He landed on the same branch as N'tessi, nearly toppling her as his heavy landing jolted her awake. She hissed at him for a moment, then paused, looking at him.

"Come on, come on, time to go." He smiled reassuringly.

She leapt down, landing gracefully, her knees bending with the impact. He jumped down as well, but instead of staying on his feet like she did, he stumbled and fell, ending up on his face.

"...Well! This is going to be interesting, I can tell that already!"