The scent of smoke and ale hung like a thick cloud in the crowded tavern. The oil lamps were dimmed low, casting long shadows over the faces of the many patrons nursing drinks, singing songs, and laughing jovially. A small group of bards played merrily upon a worn stage.

It wasn't a large establishment by any means. Still, the owner was clearly trying to maximize the business they were receiving by hugging the bar as close to the wall as humanly possible. The single bartender was only just able to squeeze between the brick and wood. The rest of the space had a small stage that had seen a bit too much use to be seen as functional anymore and about thirty or so tables. Each one was filled with patrons, mostly men who had just worked a shift at the docks and needed a stiff drink to quench their thirsts.

Except for one.

Pressed into a dimly lit corner was a single round table set for eight, but so far, only one seat was filled. The young man kept his head down, tracing the wood grains to avoid the curious stares of the other men and women of the tavern. His hood was down, revealing a crown of dark brown hair and sharply pointed ears. His dark eyes flickered around the room, and for the briefest second, he wondered if this was worth it, whether he could find a way to earn a few coins without having to get into this. He sighed because he knew that he really didn't have a choice. After travelling all this way, his last few gold coins were not going to last much longer.

Still, he thought to himself, it could be worse. I can kill monsters, I know how to do that, how hard can it be? But he wasn't going to be on his own. The flyer had stated that clearly, "A party of hunters," he tried not to think about what that could mean.

"It's just a job," he muttered quietly under his breath, "It's not permanent so just suck it up. You need this." Somehow he didn't quite believe himself.

He drummed his fingers anxiously on the table. He hadn't seen the halfling who had shown him to the table for a while; maybe that meant that there was someone else coming. I mean, it couldn't just be him, right?

Two sets of new footsteps piqued his attention, one light and brisk, and the other was heavy and followed by the dull scrape of plate armour. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips as he saw the halfling and the human woman walking towards the table. It seemed that he wasn't the only one partaking in this madness, after all.

***

This was not the sort of environment Bella was used to. Usually, she avoided these places like the plague, especially considering her extensive knowledge of what a few pints of alcohol could do to a man. Still, the person she was to meet had set this as the place, and she wasn't about to criticise a man who could give her a significant amount of money. Her coin purse was depressingly empty as well, so she wasn't about to be a choosing beggar either.

As she stepped into the dimly lit room, a small halfling woman, who was not far out of her twenties with choppy brown hair and an exhausted expression, darted up to her. "Are you here for the Beast Master?" She asked with a fair bit of stress edging her words.

Bella tried not to roll her eyes like she had the first time when she had seen the name 'Beast Master' printed in bright, gauzy letters on the flyer. She nodded simply, and the young woman perked up considerably. Perhaps this "Master" hadn't received as much attention as he'd hoped.

She had to squeeze through the labyrinth of packed tables, her face flushing as a series of whistles and cat-calls echoed from all over the room. Those promptly stopped as prying eyes drifted to the four-foot-long greatsword strapped to Bella's back. It was amazing how quickly people left her alone when Widow Maker entered the equation.

The table came into view, and Bella was surprised to see a young man hunched into a corner. He was incredibly young-looking, probably still a teenager or just into his twenties, with dark eyes and dark hair but not an expression to match. He looked a little uncomfortable but not exceptionally nervous or miserable. Bella carefully observed him as they got closer. A bow was slung over his shoulder and, with the calluses to match, labelled him clearly as a ranger of some description, and his pointed ears showed he was an elf- no. Not quite. He did have elven features, a sharp jaw, elegant lines, but they had all be softened, so he wasn't quite as ethereal as elves could sometimes be. Definitely a half-elf, then.

He looked up as they approached, and Bella room a seat opposite him. A regal, throne-like thing was set up beside her, no doubt for the master. She shifted one place further away from it. The halfling smoothed her faded dress and smiled at Bella, "May I get you something to drink?"

Before she could answer, the half-elf spoke up, "I wouldn't bother if I were you. It's eight silver for a glass of water. "

She decided to pass on the drink. As the halfling wandered off back to the main entrance, upsetting a tray of ale in the process, Bella turned to the half-elf. "Thanks for the warning. I'm onto my last gold pieces."

He smiled slightly, "That makes two of us." He reached over the table, "The name's Evenwood, Hel Evenwood."

"Hell?" She said in surprise as she shook his hand, just in case she'd heard him wrong.

"One L. Stepfather's idea." It didn't take a genius to hear the bitterness in that word. He shrugged, "let's save that horror story for another day, huh, what you get settled with?"

"Arabella Ironborne, but everyone just calls me Bella."

"Good call," Hel said. He glanced behind her, "have you seen anyone else?"

Bella shook her head. "No, what about you?"

His answer was the same. That was ever so slightly worrying to Bella. Her military mind told her very clearly that they would be as royally doomed as a lone human in a pack of orcs. She was trying to remember the orcish phrase for 'please don't eat me' when the tavern fell silent, and she saw Hel's jaw drop slightly, so she turned only for her eyes to widen as well.

***

Despite the fact that he had just been chased halfway through town by an angry mob, Janus thought he was having a pretty good day. He was used to the insults and stares and the occasional pitchfork-wielding nutters, and there hadn't been any torches this time, so he really was on a win. He honestly didn't know what he was doing wrong; people just seemed to go into a frenzied rage around him. It was probably his barbarian aura that he exuded so fabulously and couldn't possibly be due to the fact that he'd told that Goliath that the dwarf had called him a pathetic excuse for a worm. Nah, it was definitely the barbarian thing.

He managed to get to the Anvil and Hammer with only minor gawking from the general public, which he answered with a wave and a smile and examined the ramshackle building. It looked like a fine enough establishment to him, so he stepped inside, and the music fell silent. Hundreds of eyes slowly turned to face him; some looked confused, others shocked, and there was even a little bit of fear in some faces. Excellent, that's just how he liked it.

A halfling woman wandered over to him and motioned him over, her voice not quite collected yet. Those eyes followed him through the room. He grinned; they're enchanted, he thought to himself. Perhaps the reason for their stares were his toned muscles, perfectly styled facial fur, or maybe, even though it was very unlikely, it was the fact he had a tail. Some things in life truly were a mystery.

He flicked that black and white banded tail under the noses of anyone within reaching distance, triggering a sneeze from one particular gentleman, and eventually sat down next to a very luxurious seat which he avoided based on pure instinct. The last time he had messed with the wrong man's chair, it almost resulted in him being turned into a rug. The other two, a male half-elf and a human female with raven black hair and a giant sword strapped to her back, continued to stare.

He waved over the halfling after he kicked up his feet on the table, of course. "Do us a favour and get us a pint of ale, would you, sweetheart?" Could he afford that? Probably not, but would that stop him? Not a chance in Hell.

The other two gawped.

He turned to them and raised a furry eyebrow. "What you looking at? Never seen a tabaxi before?"

"Can't say I have," said the half-elf

"A ta-what?"

He rolled his eyes dramatically. To be fair, it wasn't every day a six-foot-tall, leopard-spotted, bipedal feline walked into the room. It didn't take much to learn about his kind, even if they were exceedingly rare and came from a different continent that was over a two-month boat ride away. There were no excuses, really.

His drink came; he paid for it with a single glittering gold coin and drank half of it in one gulp. It wasn't the best-tasting thing he'd ever had, very bottom of the barrel flavour. Still, it was alcoholic, and he couldn't complain, even if it was a tad on the expensive side. Janus wiped the froth away from his upper lip and grinned cheekily at his table mates. "Well, I'll be honest, it could be worse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The female asked, her scarred eyebrows dropping in suspicion.

He shrugged, "you both seem like you've seen some action. Those weapons you've got on you have definitely seen some use, even that dart shooter."

The half-elf glowered darkly. "I've taken down things ten times bigger than you before breakfast."

"I'm sure you have."

Before the elf turned him into a pin cushion, the human put out a hand, "Do you have a name, or are we just going to call you a pain in the ass?"

"It wouldn't be the first time." He hopped up on his seat and bowed dramatically, "ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes upon the one and only, the man, the myth, the legend of the gladiatorial ring, Janus Embari!"

The silence stretched out for a good thirty seconds.

"This is the part where you clap."

The half-elf laughed, which Janus took as his cue to park his ass back in his chair, scowling. The human woman smiled but didn't laugh in his face at least.

"You're a gladiator? Come on, that's not real combat. It's a show."

"I wouldn't call ripping a guy's throat out with my teeth a show," he grumbled. "What do you do anyway?"

"I'm- well, I was a member of the City Watch."

Ah. That explained the giant sword then and the fact that the woman looked like she knew how to use it.

She extended a hand, "I'm Bella, he's Hel. It's nice to meet you."

Hel grunted in disagreement. Bella seemed kind enough, someone he could work with and not get instantly annoyed by. Hel was another matter, but he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it as the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen had just entered the room.

***

Sweat, smoke and cheap ale, that was the oh so familiar scent that invaded Alicia's nostrils as soon as she got within a hundred yards of the tavern. She regarded the place with barely concealed discontent. The best way to describe it, in her humble opinion, was termites holding hands, one good whack from completely caving in. She prodded the front door gingerly—sticky, typical.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and observed the gaggle of drunk or soon to be drunk patrons inside and tried not to feel that natural instinct of disgust. She hated these places, taverns, fighting pits, brothels, the lot. Truly a cesspit of the worst this world could offer, but this time with free bar peanuts!

Ugh.

She felt her skin crawl as she stepped inside, and all those hungry eyes turned to her, that oh so familiar glimmer dancing in those black dots. Some said she was bringing it on herself with her tight, revealing outfits and "seductive" makeup. She didn't care; those people got a laugh and a knife to the back. Alicia liked to sort most things that way.

So, she kept her hand discretely on the hilt of the dagger that was tucked into her silk belt and eyed the room up with all the care her experienced eyes could muster. Two bartenders, fifty-six visible patrons, three women in low cut red dresses were either sat in laps or weaving between the tables. One of them caught her eye and nodded slightly, an understanding between them. There was also one doorway and six windows that lead out onto the street.

Making a note of the nearest window in case she needed a quick exit Alicia took a quick glance at the table the young halfling woman had directed her to. The giant cat continued to stare while the human and half-elf introduced themselves as Bella and Hel.

"And my name, beautiful, would be Embari. Janus Embari." If she wasn't trying to make friends, she would have slapped that sleazy smile off his furry face.

"Janus? Well, that's one letter off being accurate."

It actually took him a few seconds to get it, and needless to say, he wasn't pleased about it. In fact, he grabbed her wrist and held it tight. "Look, missy, I usually love a good insult but trust me when I say that I've gutted people for- Erk!"

Alicia admitted that she wasn't proud of much in her life. Still, the one thing that she held above everything else was her skill with a blade, especially her quick draw. Alicia could pull a knife, slit an unsuspecting throat and have it hidden away again in under three seconds without a single drop of blood being spilt. But luckily for the tabaxi, she wasn't aiming to kill, just cut a few whiskers. The gleaming steel dagger was pressed lightly along the base of his throat, just below his Adam's apple, not firm enough to break the skin. Still, it certainly startled everyone at the table.

She smiled sweetly at his completely terrified face. "Listen to me carefully, kitty cat. When I say that I've killed for less than that, I mean it, so if I were you, I'd keep your paws to yourself or get a very close shave. Savvy?"

Janus nodded with such a ferocity that he fell off his chair. Alicia was all too happy to leave him on the floor as she sheathed her dagger and took a seat between Bella and Hel. He stared at her for a moment or two like he was trying to figure out the answer to a particularly challenging riddle.

"Where were you hiding that?" he asked in perfect elvish.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She replied with a wink and her best smile.

Dear gods, he could roll his eyes.

"I'm Alicia, by the way." She waggled her fingers at the rest of the group, including Janus, who was now sulking in his seat, scratching patterns into the wood with one long black claw. He's going to be fun to work with, she thought to herself as a pair of raised voices somehow drowned out the chatter, and unbeknownst to the rest of them, the final couple was about to join the table.

***

Sometimes honest men have to do what could be considered dishonest, a breach of moral codes and possibly illegal to get what they need. That was precisely what Aldrich Holderhek was about to do. He was about to boldly go, to his knowledge that is, to where no monk had gone before. He was about to...well, he wasn't one hundred percent sure what he was about to do, but he was pretty sure that a few months ago, he would have laughed at the idea.

But that was then, and this was now, and he really didn't have a choice. He'd spent most of his life in a monastery for Moradin's sake; what sort of real-world skills was he supposed to have that could earn that amount of money that quickly? His blacksmithing skills most certainly would not be up to what some would consider a "fine standard", so that wasn't an option. What choice did he have other than sign for some crazy contract with a bunch of strangers who-

It wasn't the fact that the figure standing outside the tavern was a dragonborn that bothered Aldrich; he had nothing against the scaly bastards, to be perfectly honest. No, what bothered him was that the silver and blue colours stuck out like a sore thumb after it had been whacked by a white-hot hammer against the dragonborn's golden scales. The carefully polished armour, the flowing blue cape that brushed the ground, the deadly morning star hanging from his belt, a paladin of Bahamut if he'd ever seen one. And that was the problem.

Aldrich grunted, sauntered over to the dragonborn and smacked him hard on the back of the knee. He managed to not fall on his ass and glared with those reptilian eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"You goin' in, or you just goin' to stand there and look like a Goliath that's just 'ad his brain melted by an intellect devourer?"

His brow dropped lower. "How do you-?"

"Well, you're not 'ere for the nightlife, are ya lizard boy?"

He muttered something under his breath that sounded very much like, "I forgot how irritating dwarves could be."

"And I forgot how high and mighty paladins were," Aldrich said. "We don't always get what we want."

"Who are you to call me high and mighty?" The dragonborn wore an expression that stated that no one had talked to him like that for a while. "Who the hell are you anyway?!"

"Aldrich Holderhek from the order of Moradin."

"Who?"

Usually, the dwarf would have beat him to a pulp for that particular insult, but instead, he just sneered. "Typical Bahamut lackey. Ignorant as per usual."

He was utterly baffled. "What?"

"Out of my way, scaly!" He muscled his way past the very confused dragonborn and swung open the door rickety door, so it slammed into the wall with a bang and a yell of pain. Oops.

Aldrich marched in, ignoring the tirade of insults from the man who had been standing behind the door. He was in a bad mood, to begin with. Besides, if he was going to be forced into a party with one of Bahamut's lapdogs, he and a good reason to be a little irritable in his personal opinion. A small halfling woman dashed forwards, probably aware that someone was about to try and sucker punch Aldrich as the dragonborn attempted to diffuse the situation in the background.

"Oh good, are you both here for the Beast Master? Perfect, you're the last ones then."

And with that, she scurried off into the crowd. Aldrich followed her while the dragonborn shouted insults after him in both common and a harsh, heavy language that Aldrich didn't recognise. Even so, the general gist of what he was trying to get across was very much apparent.

"Shut yer face reptile," he shouted back.

"I've just lost five gold because of you...you little faessi!"

"I don' know draconic ya moron!"

"Henich! Aithyas! Tiamash!"

It didn't take a genius to work out that those weren't exactly compliments. Helpfully the dragonborn shut up as they reached the table. This gave Aldrich a chance to size up the giant cat, half-naked blonde elf, a fully armoured human woman and a half-elf who was staring at the lizard.

"Well," Aldrich said stiffly, "I can safely say that this is the most miserable group of sad sacks I've ever laid eyes upon."

"Nice to meet you too." The cat had a peculiar accent that Aldrich had never heard before.

"And who the Hell are you?" The elf asked.

He stood straighter to address the table, pulling himself up to his full height. "My name is Aldrich Holderhek, and I've got one piece of advice for ya morons. Don' piss me off, and we'll get along fine. If ya do, then prepare to get a hammer to the face."

***

It wasn't for the first time that Carnate wondered if his god was messing with him. He had to be; why else would he have sent him halfway around the world to a dingy tavern in a small port town in the middle of nowhere? He was almost expecting Bahamut to blast a vision into his brain, saying, "Ha, ha! I got you!" But Carnate knew better. Gods don't make jokes.

However, this little quest did undoubtedly feel like one. One moment Carnate had been sat in his tiny room, dutifully pouring over the pile of books splayed out in front of him. The next, he was lying face down in a puddle of his own drool with instructions ringing in his ears. He had wasted no time in packing his things, waving goodbye to an irked Keeper Va'run and hopping on the first boat to the mainland of Azaire. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this, and it definitely was not the first time he'd admitted that this was complete madness.

Seriously, what sort of sane person drops everything to follow the orders of someone who, according to some people, might not even exist? Well, Carnate did because even though he might find himself doubting his god's instructions, he never ignored them. After all, Bahamut hadn't let him down yet.

Yet, as he regarded the tattered tavern with mild displeasure, unseen cosmic forces decided to mess with his head just that little bit more and sent a dwarf to punch him in the knee. Carnate was not the most dexterous of fellows, so it was a miracle he didn't fall flat on his face. He was thankful for that as the dwarf would have added that to the list of insults he managed to spew in the first five seconds of their meeting.

While he stood and regarded the dwarf in utter confusion, Carnate couldn't help but notice his tattered auburn hair and beard that fell to his chest, intense coal-black eyes. A slightly pungent odour of sweat that clung to the dwarf-like a noxious cloud. From what he managed to gather from the very one-sided conversation, the dwarf was a monk. By the sounds of his heavy accent, only familiar to Carnate from the dwarven clerics and paladins of his own temple, he originally hailed from the Giant's Spine, the massive mountain range to the north earnt its name for obvious reasons. The fact that he was a monk was evident from the fact that he had a very negative view of paladins and the major religions in general, a typical attitude from those isolated monastery's.

Granted, Carnate probably didn't help the situation by pretending to not know who Moradin was. He did know about the dwarven deity of creation, but he wasn't about to tell that to the man who had just punched him for no good reason. He sighed miserably as he followed the dwarf inside the building only to come face to face with a huge, very red-faced man who asked him if he knew the dwarf. Apparently, he was called Aldrich.

Why he chose to defend the dwarf was a mystery that Carnate steamed over as he convinced the man with the bruised ego to not toss the dwarf out of the nearest window. He even gave him five gold out of his own pocket to sweeten the deal.

"Trust me," he muttered angrily as he stalked towards a secluded table, "I'm about to knock his teeth out myself."

By the time he got there, Aldrich was already introducing himself to a strange cat-like creature that he only just recognised as a tabaxi. Two women, one a warrior in heavy plate armour, the other blonde elf with an ethereal beauty, sat with him. And the other- Carnate's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

Olive skin, lightly curled brown hair that framed his face like a halo, sharp jawline and cheekbones he could have cut himself on. And those eyes...were they forest green? Or ink blue? Or maybe even a deep honey brown? They seemed to shift in the light, like two kaleidoscopes. He was clearly elven; his perfect beauty made it very much obvious, but not entirely.

A half-elf. Carnate had always preferred half-elves as they weren't as alien as their full-blooded counterparts. Still, either way, none of them had taken his breath away quite like that before. Carnate's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, and those eyes met his gaze, steady and curious. Hazel. They were hazel green in this light. The moment between the two of them dragged on like they were frozen in time. Then Carnate remembered he was still in the real world, and he also recalled the short-tempered dwarf beside him who had just punched him in the ribs.

The temptation to go for his Morningstar was definitely there. Still, he resisted and instead chose to let a few flickers of flame spark around his lips. He'd only been zoned out for a few seconds at most. "What?"

"Quit starin' into space and introduce yerself ya overgrown reptile."

He growled and muttered in draconic something along the lines of, "I'm going to set you on fire and use you like a cannonball." The half-elf chuckled. Could he understand me? Carnate thought as he glared one last time at the dwarf and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Sorry about that, my name is Carnate Kerrhylon, and it's a pleasure to meet most of you." With that, he shot a glare at the dwarf, sat down at the end of the table where everyone else introduced themselves.

Hel. His name was Hel, he thought as he glanced back at him, albeit a bit more sneakily. There was no rule against saying he couldn't look, right?

He was just pondering that over when the scurry of feet indicated that the halfling was on her way back, but she wasn't alone. Carnate frowned slightly as she had told him that he and Aldrich were the last ones to arrive, and then he realised. He sat up straighter instantly and observed the man walking behind her. A veil of hushed silence fell over the table as all of them, even the tabaxi, sat up, fully alert at the new figure. A slight smile played on Carnate's lips.

It seemed their employer had arrived.