"Your family sounds incredibly colorful." Mars mused over Terrence's regailing of his family and their adventures. "I'm almost envious of you for having grown up so entwined with the dungeoneering life style." 

Her mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light of the fire they'd set before settling down for the night. The wide, buried plains of the Moor of Sleep stood in stark contrast to the fiery crucible of the Furnace that lay above them. Somehow, despite the grizzly history of this deeper level, Mars felt at ease on the ancient battlefield. Quintus too seemed less on edge, his plummage fluffed up in sleep, one talon tucked away in that feathery warmth.

"So none of your family are adventurers? That's strange to me, considering how at home you seem down here." Terrence's gaze was transfixed on Mars as he spoke, their deep scarlet hue bright against the blackness of his coat.

Mars let out a soft chuckle, tail flicking from one hip to the other, "I suppose the adrenaline and unpredictable dangers of this place aren't that much different than what I've experienced during battles. Perhaps if my family had lived closer I would have been a dungeoneer from the start, rather than enlisting and following in the footsteps of my father. He was a decorated war hero, died in the line of duty when I was young."

"What about you? Are you decorated?"

"Yes, I suppose I am, thought I'm certainly not a hero." Mars considered his question, satisfied with her conclusion. "I was, well still am, a General. I'm from the Kingdom of Red Sand which had been at war with a tyrannical neighbor for years. That conflict ended and I've been honorably granted my independence."

Silence fell between the two coursers, the darkness and fog of the Moor pressing in around them. There was a certain chill in the air, a biting cold that accompanied those places haunted by events past. That too felt familiar to Mars, the spectres of that place and her own memories floating through her vision and mind alike.