Daybreak had never known home, in the way the other delvers oft discussed it. A familiar place of warmth and comfort to which one could reliably return, perhaps shared with those who were dearest in the world. The world Daybreak always knew was not warm, nor familiar, nor comforting, and certainly was not safe. Daybreak was the spawn of the dungeons themselves, and so there was nothing unusual to them about encountering bloodthirsty treasure-thieves who marked no difference between the monsters in the caverns, and their own sort. 

"You really shouldn't take what doesn't belong to you," Daybreak drawled idly. Darling snarled from where she perched upon his shoulders-- a gesture which might have been more intimidating, were her mouth large enough to wrap around a Courser's leg. Then again, Daybreak doubted very much that the band of ruffians raiding their camp would have been intimidated if Darling were much larger. They seemed a sturdy sort. Accustomed to violence. Nothing like the cluster of rookies standing at Daybreak's back. 

"Oh?" a burly Courser with fur the color of dried blood dropped the sack he had been nosing through in favor of sauntering toward Daybreak. "I don't see anything here that doesn't belong to me. Do you?" 

"We should leave," fluffy little Dahlia whispered from somewhere behind. Daybreak could almost feel the rabbit-eared youngster quivering.

"You're raidin' the camp of a king, you know?" Daybreak glanced idly at Cyneric, who returned their look with more than a little alarm. The princeling was always glad to boast about his station, until he might have to do something about it. "I'm sure if you put everything back in its place, he will be merciful." The raider laughed, a great booming sound. Daybreak's tail, which had been slowly swaying, stilled. 

"Oho! Did you hear that, boys? We've got a king's loot here!" The massive leader turned his back on Daybreak, immersing himself in the echoing laughter of his scarred companions. Daybreak quietly sighed. 

"Have it your way, then," and they struck one cloven hoof sharply against the stone. In an instant, the chamber plunged into darkness. The campfire still smoldered nearby, the torches still crackled, but not one fragment of light cut through the shadows. They were cloying, sweet in the throat. Thick with the promise of rot. All was still for the fragment of an instant-- then both parties of Coursers started to scream.