Fynrael was still getting used to dungeon life, originating from the surface where he grew up happy and healthy. His parents were average horses and didn’t feel the pull to the dungeon the same way Fyn did, or at least they made it seem that way. As a foal he would ask questions, ones his parents couldn’t answer and quickly grew frustrated with him for, and so he learned to keep them to himself. Living in the country, Fynrael didn’t see many other horses except the other children in nearby lands, but on the days they went to market, he was thrilled.

All of the new sights, sounds and smells always brought back his youthful curiosity and if he was lucky, his parents would let him out of their sight. The first thing Fynrael did was go searching for the horses that had been to the dungeons. They always seemed so cool and strong, and Fynrael would sit and listen to their stories for hours, until it became too late his parents came to get him, dragging him away and back home. His whines only lasted so long before he gave up and followed them, tail between his legs.

Eventually the call became too much to ignore, and old enough to make his own decisions, Fynrael joined some horses on his first exploration of the dungeon. It was on this journey that Fynrael met his now friend Vraegar. Vraegar was confident, strong and so dashing that Fynrael couldn’t help but follow him. They became a tentative party, at least when Fynrael was in the dungeon, his parents still needed him and as much as his curiosity drove him to explore, he needed time to adjust to a less peaceful life.  

It was on one of his dives into the dungeon that Fynrael came across another horse, one he had seen around before. He couldn’t forget the confident horse that had once been a surface dweller like him. “Hi… Logue, isn’t it?”

Logue grinned at what was clearly a newcomer. “That’s right, newbie. You lookin’ for an adventure? I was just headin’ down if you want to join?”

“Re-really?” Fynrael stammered, caught off guard by the offer.

“‘Course. Always happy to help out someone green. You gotta learn somewhere, right?”

“Right. Yes. Please,” Fynrael said, eagerly tagging along. He was quiet at first, before the questions started, starting off small and with such a soft voice, but the further they went into the dungeon and the more Logue happily answered the questions, the more confidence Fynrael gained.

Fynrael was so focused on Logue that he didn’t notice as his pack began to slowly slip down his shoulder. All it took was for him to look down at the lava, fascinated by the glow and the heat, and one of his small possessions fell out, sinking into the molten rock before anything could be done. 

Logue quickly fixed up Fynrael’s pack, closing it and securing it for him. “That’s unfortunate. You gotta be more careful down here, Fynrael. I don't mind the questions, happy to answer as many as you have but you have to stay on guard.”

Fynrael nodded, his tail flickering anxiously. “Sorry, Logue.”

“What did you lose?” Logue asked, his gaze softening.

“Just a horned beetle, I discovered it on one of my first times in the dungeon,” Fynrael sighed sadly. It was more sentimental than anything.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe we’ll find somethin’ good this time to help you feel better. C’mon, lets go see what we can find you,” Logue said encouragingly as he guided Fynrael deeper into the dungeon.