The poor boy took a quick step outside. The previously calming background noise was now getting too much for him. It was strange, and unfamiliar.

'Even after all this time, you're still the same little child.' he mentally scolded himself for his immaturity.

Tyrael walked a few meters forward, to the commission board outside the tavern. A lich, some doppelgangers, an offer to join the military... no thanks.

More noise came from nearby, and the elf looked over to investigate.

A person seemingly made of wood and leaves, a tabaxi, an elf, and the two aasimars that he saw dancing earlier were happily prancing out of the tavern. There was also another party member, a tiefling. Sad yellow eyes stared back at him, piercing through the now inky black night. Tyrael blinked in confusion and, when he opened his eyes, saw that the only eyes staring back at him were emerald green, full of worry and even pity. Why was that everyone's reaction to him? The figure started talking with their party members, presumably about the fact that there was apparently a child walking around. Before the group could walk over and question him, he slipped away into a nearby alleyway.

He silently prayed that no one in the party cared enough to look for him. It was pretty normal for a short person to be walking around. It didn't mean that they were a kid. They could be a gnome, or a dwarf. And even if they were a kid, that didn't mean that they were in danger, did it?

After a minute or two of no one walking past, Tyrael assumed the party had left the area and went back to the commission board. All of the commissions were either boring or didn't pay enough, but he saw another one.

This'd be interesting.

~~~

"Still can't believe I found that commission!" Carawin barked. "I mean really, a dragon? How lucky could we get!" he babbled on for a while, talking about how much money they thought they could get for it.

Tyrael really wished he could do this alone. Then it wouldn't be so bloody loud, at the very least. The sound of Carawin's voice was worse than a mandrake's screeches.

He continued, "Hey Tyrael, what're you gonna buy with the money? Me and Swallow are tryna figure out how to split it."

The elf was confused. "Wouldn't we just split it evenly?"

"Why'd we do that? Like, if I wanted to buy a sick weapon but you just wanted to buy a book or something, why'd I give you the money, y'know?"

He just stared at the floor for a while. Anything he'd say would just get him less money than he needed. Lodgings would make them laugh, and he didn't know enough about weapons to buy one he could use. Maybe...

"An outfit. Maybe two."

"You'd use 3k gold for clothes?" the tall firbolg questioned, a weird look on his face. Swallowtail looked like she was going to burst out laughing, but that wasn't entirely out of the ordinary.

Tyrael simply nodded. It wasn't a complete lie, was it? He'd probably buy just that, an outfit or two, along with some rations. So his conscience could be clear. 'Pfft, bold of me to think that's still possible,' he internally laughed at himself.

The firbolg nodded, as did Swallowtail. "Good idea. An attack would go right through that raggedy old cloak!" he exclaimed.

"All like, whapow!" he hit Tyrael on the side of his torso, "And kerboosh!" he hit him again, this time on the shoulder. And finally, "Kaaaapow!!"

Carawin full on punched Tyrael this time, in the nose. The small boy fell backward, trying to look unimpressed, but he couldn't help but notice his vision start to blur. And, as much as he'd love to blame it on fog or something of the like, he knew he was crying. And his party members knew too.

"What's wrong pipsqueak, can't handle a fake hit?" the pixie, who mind you was less than half Tyrael's height, chimed in with a voice that sounded more aggressive than Tyrael had expected.

Carawin laughed. "That wasn't even a proper hit! Pfffft, you fell over like a tree!" he added not-so-helpfully to the conversation.

The elf just stood up and pulled his hood over his face. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, but then his party members would probably laugh at him for not jumping.

Thankfully, the group continued walking. Sure, Swallowtail kept making snide remarks, but Tyrael made the very useful decision to ignore her, instead focused on the quest.

The details were few and far between, but the ones they did know were intriguing to say the least. It was a village, Ghoulcrest, and it was being regularly attacked by a dragon. They supposedly had a guardian, supposed to protect the residents from any danger, but it had been suspiciously inactive in its role.

First of all, it was super cool that they had a guardian, what was it, Tyrael wanted one. Secondly, why was said guardian not helping? Had it been killed by the dragon? And how did a town even have a guardian in the first place? Was it a golem or something? Or maybe just a really strong adventurer?

The elf shook his head slightly. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd ever get the answer to any of those questions.

Starting to get more and more bored, Tyrael started to kick the falling leaves on the forest floor as he walked. What else could he even do? He didn't really want to hang out with his party members, but should he? They couldn't be that bad, right?

Tyrael's train of thought was interrupted when a sharp rock came flying at his head, making Carawin try and fail not to laugh. Swallowtail, on the other hand, wasn't even trying as she burst out laughing. Everyone on the continent probably heard her, she was so loud.

He decided to walk a bit faster. Just to be safe.

Rubbing his now quite sore head, the elf tried to look around and find something else to do. He could think, sure, but about what?

The landscape was pretty, maybe he could draw it or something? His mind drifted to the item in his pocket. No, he couldn't. It was complex and stuff and he never was that good anyways.

Oh, he should probably think about what to do when he got there. That would be pretty smart of him, wouldn't it.

So, a dragon. He'd have to fight a dragon. He wasn't quite sure of what Carawin and Swallowtail were good at, but Swallowtail looked a bit like a healer and Carawin looked like he could hit pretty hard. Maybe he used a sword or something.

Tyrael took a savory biscuit out of his pack of rations and began nibbling on it while he walked.

He could kind of use a dagger, and maybe that would be enough? All you had to do was get the weapon in between the scales, right? You could do that with a dagger, couldn't you? Tyrael brought his foot up, fetching the dagger from inside his shoe. He turned it around in his palm. Wasn't in extremely bad shape, it would work for a bit. And he would probably buy a better weapon with the reward money either way, so it would hopefully work out all right in the end.

Tyrael, at the front of the small group as to not be picked on quite as much, audibly gasped when he saw Ghoulcrest.

The town – if it could even be called such a thing – was burnt to the ground. It was... terrifying. It wasn't even actual flames, that Tyrael could handle just fine. The thing that truly chilled him to the bone was the fact that it wasn't flames, nor anything even vaguely heat-related, but acid.

There were houses and people alike, all scattered around the ruins. Tyrael saw a flash of glimmering white in several places but had to look away so he wouldn't feel sick. They were all dead. Probably hundreds of people, all just... gone.

Footsteps somewhere behind him signified Carawin and Swallowtail's arrival. Tyrael expected some sort of sigh, and was about to utter some sort of agreement, but

"Wow, we'll have to get a raise for this! This wasn't on the poster, was it Swallow?"

"Yeah, it'll need to be more like 20k now!"

'W-what? What is WRONG with them-' but Tyrael's train of thought was quickly cut short by a small – or rather, Tyrael's height – child running towards them from behind one of the ruined buildings. Although, as a satyr, her running was more of a skip. She had obviously been crying for a while, given her red eyes and wet cheeks.

"Quick! Leave! The air's really bad and it made Daddy go to sleep and now he won't wake up and-" she started, but Tyrael cut her off, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, uh... it's alright, it's alright, we can help you and maybe even your Daddy. Now, what's your name?"

The young girl stared up at him. Well, more like forward, but the look in her eyes was similar to that of a small child gazing up at their savior.

"Talia."

"Well, Talia, I think that's a beautiful name." Tyrael replied, copying a scroll he read a few months ago word for word apart from the name. Even doing this, he felt it would sound a lot more reassuring if he was taller, not so obviously a scared child trying and failing to help another scared child.

Although, he had been in this position before. So at the very least he had some experience in the matter.

"So, uh, do you have any other family, or is just you and your dad?" he asked, hoping not to do anything to scare the girl.

She nodded furiously, her cherry colored hair falling in front of her face. "I have a younger sister, Melpo. She's at home right now, looking after Daddy." Talia had stopped crying by now, only hiccupping every couple of sentences. She seemed to have a newfound determination, most likely to look after her sister.

"Can you take us to Melpo? We wouldn't want her being too scared, home alone. And I think everyone gets scared when they're home alo-"

"But Daddy's with her! She isn't alone!" Talia insisted, raising her voice.

Tyrael was starting to get nervous. Or rather, more so than he was before. He added carefully, "Yes, but your Daddy's asleep, so Melpo might still be scared. Either way, we should get going." He gestured to his party members to follow him. And, although the pair seemed relatively irritated, they silently followed.

Along the walk, the young satyr tried to make pleasant conversation with the older elf.

"Do you have a name?"

"Sure."

"What is it?"

"Maybe it's Talia too? Wouldn't that be funny?"

The satyr frowned. "But that's my name!"

"I said maybe, didn't I?"

"Stop it!!" the satyr groaned, more joking than angry. Tyrael smirked in victory.

"But, if it helps, a heap of people call me Pipsqueak? For obvious reasons." he added, trying to be as nice as he could. In return, Talia nodded and continued interrogating him.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Mr. Pipsqueak?"

"No, I'm an only child."

"Any pets?"

Tyrael chuckled a bit at that. "I'm an adventurer, I couldn't really bring a pet with me. Well, maybe I could have a bird or something, but still. And you?"

Talia nodded, excited. "Daddy has a pet shop, and me and Melpo get to keep anything that doesn't get adopted within a couple months!"

"Well, maybe when I'm a bit older I could stop by here again, adopt someone? When I retire, I'd get lonely. A pet'd be perfect for me."

The young girl looked confused and asked, "But don't you have your friends? Why would you be lonely?"

The elf, scared to look back and see his party members' reactions, simply laughed. "But we're different ages! What if we retire at different times, then can't find each other again?"

Talia looked like she was about to respond, then did a little hopping thing on the spot. "We're here!! Wait one second." She quickly ran inside, leaving the party alone.

It wasn't a fancy building by any means, but it was still more intricate than any place Tyrael had ever had the honor to live in. It was several stories high, seemingly made of wood, with vines and wildflowers growing all over the windows and walls. But it was hard to notice the fact that it was pretty much nonexistent. The cottage was, like every other building in town, on its last legs.

The putrid smell of acid filled Tyrael's nose, overwhelming him. He silently prayed to whichever god was listening for this town, for Talia and her sister. He'd seen ruin before, but this? This... disaster? And the fact that the sweet little satyr he had been chatting with just a moment ago had probably just lost her father...

The sound of hoof steps brought Tyrael back to the present. Talia and a similar looking girl, presumably Melpo, were trotting back to the party with a hopefully passed out man between their arms. A single red butterfly sat upon his curly, maroon hair. The girls managed to lift him to a sitting position, in his unconscious state. He could see the man's chest lifting and falling slightly, but it was slow. He needed help.

Turning to his party members frantically, Tyrael called out "Do either of you know any healing spells?"

Swallowtail nodded, then turned to the sisters. "I can heal your dad, but it'll cost ya. How much gold do you have?"

"We have 14, but we could get more fro-"

"I'll pay."

Swallowtail glared at Tyrael. "What?"

"I said I'll pay. How much do you need?"

The cream colored pixie continued glaring, unblinking, into Tyrael's eyes, although a smirk started to grow. "Since you're paying, I'll take... 50 gold."

Tyrael wanted to tell at her for her stupidity. '50 gold?! What's wrong with her?"

But that wouldn't do. These girls could lose their father, who seemed to be their only family member. He would just be another one of the corpses, just another body to the ever growing count of whatever dragon had attacked the city.

So the young elf reached inside of his cloak, pulling a small pouch out. He quickly counted the gold, his fingers almost dropping a few of the cold coins, and practically threw the 50 coins at Swallowtail. She turned and muttered a few words, holding her hands dramatically over the satyr's passed out body.

Carawin yawned and turned to Talia, "Any spare beds? I've been walking for hours, I need some sleep."

Melpo tapped him on the elbow, being too small to reach his shoulder, and led him somewhere inside of the ruins. In the meantime, Talia just sort of... froze. She didn't seem able to look away from her father's form, but she obviously wanted to. Having been there before, Tyrael tapped her on the shoulder and pulled her a few feet away from the drama. He then sat down on the ground, and gestured for her to do the same. They sat in silence for a while, before Talia prompted conversation.

"Did you see that butterfly earlier? On Daddy's hair."

Tyrael didn't know what to say. That wasn't just him? "I did, yeah. It's a weird color, isn't it?"

Talia just shook her head, smiling again. "Nope! Daddy says that red butterflies like that are good luck, that they're from a god."

"Is that so? Anyways. Can you tell me about what sort of pets you have?"

"Sure! Well we have two cats, first of all. One's a really small ginger one, her name is Luna, and we also have a big black and white one, his name's Ulvo." She started, and Tyrael almost interrupted her but went silent for a few seconds before stating his question.

"Ulvo? Where'd you get that name from?"

"The local courier's called Ulvo, and he found the cat, so we named it after him! Why?"

The elf paused. He didn't exactly want to tell her the truth.

"It's just I knew an Ulvo, that's all."

"A friend?"

His smile crumbled, melting into something that wasn't a smile but wasn't anything else either. Well, it was something else actually. It was sad.

"No, Ulvo was my father."

Lying to a child was surprisingly hard. It wasn't even a lie, just a... a hidden truth. So why did it feel so bad? It was like there was a snake coiled around his throat, tightening its grip with every breath Tyrael dared to take.

But he wasn't lying. He wasn't lying. He wasn't!

Talia's face turned weird. "What do you mean was?"

Tyrael stared forward, into the distance. And that's why you don't tell the truth to strangers. Or children. No, especially children.

"Is he, uh... in a better place? Do you live with your mom?"

It would've been simpler to just lie and tell her that it was just that, an old friend. What was he supposed to do now?

"Well I- He- Um, since I'm an adult and stuff now, I call him by his actual name instead of calling him my father. Does that make sense?"

Talia nodded, before grumbling, "Adults are weird."

"Yeah."

"No, I mean why do only some of them call their parents by mom and dad and stuff, and then some use their actual names? Can you, like, not decide on a word or something? Plus, why do most have really low and angry voices but then there's people like you who just sound like a kid?"

"Well I'm called Pipsqueak for a reason, aren't I?"

The satyr laughed at that. Good, at least someone was happy.

"Any other pets?" he asked.

And Talia happily explained, much to Tyrael's relief.

After not too long, Talia and Melpo's father finally woke up. The young girls both went running to him, the three of them hugging and crying and all that. It was sweet.

Carawin was still asleep, much to Tyrael's annoyance, and Swallowtail had joined him. Which meant that now he had to interrogate people.

Pleasant.

"So, erm, sorry to bother you, but do any of you remember which direction the dragon flew off to? My party members and I are trying to find it, so any information at all would help a lot." He mumbled, resisting the urge to run off and go wake the other two up.

"Oh yeah, it went that way." Melpo replied after a moment or two of thinking.

Her father nodded. "Melpo has a good memory, and I think I saw it flying that way as well. That should be the direction."

Tyrael nodded a thanks and starting walking to another house that seemed to have some people in it.

He really did want to come back here sometime. Maybe even buy a pet or two, like he said. But the elf doubted the town would want a m̵̩̭̯̱̟̞̪̟̙̭̮̳̗͗̀͆̍͒͗̄̍͊͜ͅū̷̞̑̀̓̀͆̒͛͋̈́́͘̕͝͝ŗ̵̨̠̟͚̘͕͖͎̥̰͇͔̲͔̾́͆̿d̷̠̗̘̬̤̹͉̒̂̅̍͒͗̒͛̋ȩ̵̬̜̙͉̳̜͕̟̭̞̬̹̬͌ͅr̵̨̢̧̝̤̝̞̜͓͇̲̺̮̤̔͑̉͐͆̋̓̌̈̀̚̕͜e̸̛̯̬̿̄͌͒̓̉̈́̉̓͂́̓̀̕͜r̷̙̼̱̗̙͉̜͉̭̞̹̼͗̉̅̒̇̽̃̂͂̈́̚ living among them, so Tyrael supposed he would just have to keep wandering, until he reached the inevitable abyss. It wasn't that bad though, he was long past his time.

According to every witness he could find, the dragon had flown south, into the forest. Every individual claimed the dragon had done different things. For example, some thought it had kidnapped the city's mayor, some thought it had killed her. But most people had seen her run away from the incident, so the rumors didn't spread too far.

So, south it was.

Tyrael started the walk back to Talia and Melpo's house. The air was quite chilly, sending a shiver down his spine, but the walk wasn't too far. So that much was good, at the very least. Their father was sitting outside, on the porch, staring out at the town. When he heard Tyrael's footsteps, he turned and waved. "Hey there! Guessing you're here for your party members?"

The elf nodded. "Yes sir, unless they left already?"

This was met with a laugh. "Oh no, they're still sleeping like the dead. And you've done so much for us, just call me Kentafir." He offered his hand out, and Tyrael shook it hesitantly. "What's your name, if you don't mind my asking? The girls absolutely adore you three now, and it'd be weird of us to just call you, uh, Pipsqueak was it?" Kentafir waved his hands dismissively, "It's fine if you don't want to, though. Your name, your choice."

Tyrael shook his head, feeling he should be smiling but not having the energy to. "It, um, it's fine. My name's Tyrael."

Kentafir grinned and nodded. "That's a fine name you have there, take good care of it."

He nodded, but was confused. It was a name. How would you go about losing... a name? Or damaging it? Could it be stolen? The elf decided not to ask, though, as he thought it might've been rude.

"Thank you."

Tyrael slipped past Kentafir, walking into the house. It may have been practically a ruin at this point, sure, but it was still quite nice, so Tyrael avoided what was left of their rug. This level of the house was quite small, probably because of the shop that they also apparently ran, from the same building. The stairs to the higher levels of the house were practically the only thing on this level of the house, leaving Tyrael little chance of getting lost.

The stairs were firm, and not too noisy, much to his appreciation. In Tyrael's opinion, stairs weren't supposed to be noisy, and if they were, you had to run in the opposite direction and buy a ladder. You were in a scroll, probably a scary one too. You were about to be attacked. Run. And never go up or down those stairs, no matter what you do.

Walking up to the second level of the house, Tyrael was overwhelmed by... many things. Good things, of course, this was a lovely house, but still a lot of things nonetheless. First, there was Carawin's snoring. Then, there was Swallowtail's snoring, which was much louder than one would expect from a creature of her size.

Then, there was the sweet smell of fresh pastries.

'I can't have one, there isn't enough time.' Tyrael tried and failed to remind himself that he'd already eaten today, but his stomach was complaining nonetheless. 'But they smell so good, and I haven't had one before...'

He shook his head. Again, he'd already eaten recently. He didn't need any more.

Tyrael, following the direction of the snores, soon found his party members. Carawin was sprawled across the bed, face down in the pillow under his head. Tyrael was mildly surprised that his nose wasn't holding his head up. After a moment or two of looking around, he finally noticed that Swallowtail was neatly curled up in the top drawer of the small wooden cabinet next to the bed.

Taking a deep breath, the elf gently shook the sleeping firbolg's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. He wouldn't get mad at Tyrael or anything, right? Closing his eyes, he shook his head.

He opened them to see something completely different than what he was used to.

A tall figure lay in front of him, hidden under a blanket. But it was kind of useless to hide, as his antlers lifted up the blanket and revealed his silhouette easily as he sniffled and sobbed under the floral patterned cloth. Tyrael looked up to the shorter figure next to him, who said something he heard just fine but didn't really understand. "Tyr, he's going through something really difficult right now. Do you remember Vulatir?"

He nodded. Fyrdra had been bringing them over really often, and they were really nice too. How could he forget?

The figure next to him sighed. "Well, um, they won't be coming around anymore."

Tyrael tilted his head in confusion. Did they move? That would make sense, since the other figure was so sad. His friend just moved away, why wouldn't he be sad? The figure next to him walked out of the room and asked Tyrael to do the same.

He stayed, though. The other figure didn't acknowledge his presence as he tip-toed closer to the bed and sat down.

"Why are you sad? Is there anything I can do?"

The figure still didn't acknowledge Tyrael's presence.

"Is it cause Vulatir mo-"

"DON'T YOU SAY THEIR NAME!" The figure screeched at the top of his lungs, coming out from under the blanket he was hiding under and picking up the lantern on the table next to him and brandishing it.

Tyrael stared up at him.

"...Fyr?"

Tyrael tore his eyes open.

His vision wasn't blurry. Good. Slightly lower chance of being laughed at. He did notice, however, that his eyes were all too wide, and staring at the window at something that wasn't there. Shaking his head weakly and lowering his eyelids slightly, he continued trying to wake his party members up.

~~~

As much as Tyrael would've loved to stay in the village with Thalia and Melpo like their father offered, he couldn't. He, sadly, had things to do. More specifically he had to slay a dragon, which would not be very fun.

He tried to imagine how it would happen. He would stab it, and Carawin would also attack it while Swallowtail provided support for them both...

Nope, that probably wouldn't be how it went. It would be more like Swallowtail and Carawin shoving him forward then, as the dragon ate him, they'd steal the gold and run.

That'd be more like it.

If he was being honest with himself, which he did very sparingly, it was scary. He was about to fight something that just killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. Tyrael was terrified.

But at least he had some comedic relief.

Carawin and Swallowtail had found an old, seemingly abandoned campsite. He guessed this much from Carawin's saying, "Wow, this place is wrecked!"

Always to the point, that one.

The elf heard rustling somewhere behind him. "I don't think we should stay here for long..."

"But what if they have loot?" Carawin replied, not bothering to look away from the barrel he was trying to open.

"There's people here!"

This time Swallowtail replied. "Stop whining, pipsqueak!"

A short goblin jumped out from behind a bush, holding a club. Tyrael tried to yell another warning, but a strong pain in his head made him fall.

He was out before he hit the ground.

There was darkness... then there wasn't.

Like the blink of an eye.

'Ugh, it's boiling here. I think I should take off my coat... wait. Where am I?'

He clenched his eyes further shut, his head throbbing beyond belief. Tyrael tried to piece things together, but his head was so sore that he couldn't focus. Additionally, there seemed to be cloth covering his face. The elf felt a drip of blood trickle down – or maybe up? He couldn't tell anymore – his forehead, into his eye. So that meant he was upside down. Pleasant.

Then, there was the heat.

There weren't many things that hanging upside down with a rag on your head over a fire could mean.

Tyrael was apparently going to be goblin stew.

a/n
4455 words

so, tyrael soup. thoughts?

question 3: do you think he's gonna get out of this? if so, how?

from now on, the chapters won't be updated very frequently, but they will hopefully be a tiny bit better so look forward to that hopefully. the next chapter will be released now, but after that it won't be for a while.

see you next time!