“Thank you! Come again!” Clover smiled at the departing customer, who’d forgotten to bring a gift for his partner currently down on the third level. It was their anniversary, and he’d been in a panic about what to get her. Clover had recommended a beautiful dagger, as deadly as it was ornate; its jewelled hilt was stunning, but the blade itself was a true masterpiece- Kygorian steel, blued and folded a thousand times to form a perfect, razor-sharp edge. It had, of course, cost him a f...

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Blight said as the ground rumbled beneath them once again. Kyros said nothing, but the tension in his body was apparent. He and Lujayn had only barely escaped the last split of the chamber floor minutes ago. They'd thought they were safe now; the shifting of the tiles underfoot had stopped, and he'd stood panting for a good long time. His lack of sight may have enhanced his other senses and been an asset in the darkness of unknown chambers, but ...

“We’ve been here before,” Percy said, his voice fuzzy with lack of sleep. “Look, that’s where we forced our way through.”   “Yeah,” Sartoris said with a yawn. “That’s where I got bitt-“ suddenly alert, her head flew up and her ears pricked. “That’s where I got bitten. Where’s that asshole of a dead Courser? I just want to talk!”   ...

“Well, that wasn’t ideal,” Blight grumbled from under his hood, his ears pinned flat against his head. A leather strapping, formerly adorned with a a row of daggers in various sizes, now hung at his side. The giant sphynx cat had severed it- better the leather than his skin, Blight thought to himself.   Sartoris had escaped unharmed. Or, at least, not ...

The bickering had been going on for the better part of an hour. The passage they were travelling was long and boring, and even Blight’s floating eye had gotten bored of trying to spot traps and fallen back to the rear of the party.   “Whatever, Mr. I’m-Such-A-Great-Rogue,” Sartoris griped. “You can’t even say ‘boo’ to Percy’s goose.” Her mole chittered from its satchel, as if to say �...

They are all from Elsewhere.   The being watched from above as the party entered the cavern. There was no telling what havoc these Coursers would wreak upon its kingdom; scores of adventurers before had been through here, some worthy, some not. The being would test them.   The smallest of the group, a young Courser with a red coat, carried a bag...

This room was booby-trapped, Blight could just tell. There was something off about how quiet it was in here. The tinkling stream on the other side of the room was the only real attraction, but it would be enough for a weary traveller to head towards in their time of need. That would be a potentially fatal mistake, and Blight wasn’t keen on making those.   His eyes scanned the room, their glint hidden in the depths...

The lush greenery of the caverns made for a nice change from his usual hard-tack rations of dried fruit jerky and slightly stale crackers. Not that he was one to complain about food anyway; he was always glad of anything to line his belly. He had years of experience ignoring the growling of an empty stomach, but he preferred not to be starving, thank you very much.   ...

The incessant dripping was getting on his nerves.   Blight shook another shower of water from his muzzle, glaring at the ceiling accusatorially. The dim glow of the moss stared back, unblinking, and dripped another droplet directly into his eye. Cursing, he yanked his cloak higher up his neck, hoping the hood would cover most of his face.   He moved almost silently through the dungeon. Years of practice lent ease to his movements; he stayed in t...