https://www.polygon.com/2021/3/3/22311738/open-world-dungeons-dragons-hidden-path-entertainment-development

Helmeted head shaking in surprise, Gauldryon searched the streets around him, when Tileya breathed out, “He was just here a moment ago.” The elf's long ears twitching as though it were all her fault. Which now that Gregor thought about it, it was probably was, since she was the one that supposed to be watching their rear.

Skin prickling with a heavy sense of foreboding, he tried to think of where the orc had gotten off to, when he felt his neck hairs rise, and eyes on the back of his skull. Then thought, oh, how he wished he hadn’t let his pride get the better of him this time. But what other choice did he have? He refused to be second best to anyone.

Slowly turning around to examine the wooden hovels that surrounded them in the gloom, he saw dozens of gleaming golden orbs peer out of the darkness back at him. The night sky somehow darker as he listened to the low throaty growls of wild animals. But just not any kind of animal. But Kindred.

Feeling a deep shiver run down his spine at the thought of going up against them, he watched as supple slim forms darted in and out of Glindol’s globe light. Realized the bellow-heart’s puke he had stepped in, and called out, “Ambush!”

Gauldryon, his burnished steel plate suddenly glowing with runes, falling back a step as he waved his arm up into the air. “Formation! Gregor, we need you!” The helmeted paladin, seemingly gleaming with magical energy as he unslung his kite shield from his back, and drew his longsword.

However, Gregor had his own dilemma to face as he tried to decide whether or not it was time to run. True, he had felled many vampires in his day, but nothing had compared to his near death struggles against the kindred. They, to his mind, were an altogether different breed of monster with raw primal instincts, pure ruthless power, and a strength that far surpassed anything in this world. It was only in the later years of their lives that they developed any kind of intelligence, became slower, and were less aggressive.

Twisting round to see Gauldryon, Daria, and Pelwar form a three sided ring in the middle of the road with Tileya and Glindol inside of it. He thought again of abandoning these poor idiotic fools to the fates they had chosen for themselves, when he realized that it might be too late for him as well.

Shadows closing on him from every single side, they were like huge rabid dogs with wide baleful yellow eyes, and came from every single race with large black fangs that protruded out of their mouths. Goblins, orcs, ogres, humans, dwarves, elves. All of them loped forward on all fours, their translucent skin giving them the appearance of ghosts. And if there was one thing in this world Gregor hated more than kindred, it was battling ghosts. As far as he was concerned, those bastards were far too tricky to kill.

Filled with a kind of trepidation at seeing so many kindred lurking in the shadows, he knew then that his best chance for survival was with the rest of these puke drinkers, and yet he still hesitated. It seemed to Gregor’s mind that he was too often caught up in these ridiculous fights where he did not get paid. He was a mercenary, he should at least make a little gold.

Releasing a heavy sigh that caused his breath to mist, he eventually took up one side of the formation with Gauldryon on his left, and Pelwar on his right. Movements appearing in the alleyways, up on the rooftops, when the dwarven cleric began to chant a prayer to that damned hammer god of his. And while Gregor never really minded singing, this seemed a strange time indeed to be singing. But as Pelwar clutched the golden pendant around his neck, he held out his arm, and caused a brilliant shower of white light that pushed the darkness.

Tears blinding him as he cursed the dwarf aloud, he covered his eyes trying to blink through the hazy blur, fearing he would be killed, when eventually the light weakened, and left behind a strange aura that surrounded them. The beasts who howled in agony in the alleyways and streets, tearing out their eyes, and charging forward in a rabid frenzy of bodies.

Not sure whether to count the light as a blessing, he would have told the dwarf to warn him next time, when the dwarf began a second prayer, this time causing all of their weapons to burn with a brilliant azure colour. But at least this time, Gregor was ready for it, and he closed his eyes, and opened them to see his greatsword burning blue.

Gasping for breath at the feeling of magic in the air, he saw Gauldryon bang his sword against his shield, and release bars of white energy that threw the monsters back in a jumble of bodies. Whereas the gnome held up his blackened staff, and began casting spell after spell. First summoning an elemental creature of stone that stood over twelve feet tall, then balls of fire that exploded into buildings. Daria, her warhammer raised above her head suddenly unleashed an almighty roar, and slammed her weapon into the ground creating a shockwave that tore through the soil, sending up shards of rocks into the kindred who tumbled backward, the air sizzling with arrows that flew out to poke their eye sockets.

They worked together as a group, and never in Gregor’s life had he seen such a display of awesome power. But was just as quickly annoyed that he could not show off his own considerable skills with enemies killed before they could reach him. He could have ended this whole fight with a single word, a twitch of his fingers, and yet as he whispered, “Sarsonel, if you’re listening, I could really use your help right now. Don’t make me look a fool in front of these guys." All he heard was a faint echo at the back of his mind as though she had never existed, and felt a tinge of bitter disappointment.

Still, rather than being left out of their fight, he tried to draw energy into himself, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t seem to grasp the energy inside of him. Shook his head at the thought of being shown up by these bastards yet again, and watched as the raging battle continued with fireballs raining down in hot orange infernos, arrows whizzing through the air, and more bars of white light burst out from Gualdryon’s shield to blind his enemies. These warriors were truly something to behold, but as Gregor had half expected, once the slew of spells slowed down, it eventually came down to swords as the beasts leaped over the piles of corpses, and came at them. The elemental warrior of stone, the first into fray as it swept it’s arms to beat kindred into the dust.

Eager to prove himself a better warrior than Gauldryon, he snapped his greatsword out of its sheath, and in a blur of speed decapitated the head off a kindred, a grey bearded dwarf that had a scar on his left cheek, before he whirled around to slash two orcs apart that clutched torn jugulars..

But on they came, more of them, their yellow eyes glowing with malice as their lips drooled with saliva, and on, Gregor fought side by side with the dwarf and Gauldryon. The human, surprisingly quick with his shield, and sword moving in a stunning display of swordsmanship, while the sturdy Pelwar mashed in skulls with his fiery blue mace. It would have been a battle worthy of song, if not the fact Gregor thought they would all die here, when he saw three lumbering minotaurs stride out of the darkness in full silver armour, and come at Gauldryon, pressing the holy knight hard in a flurry of strikes. With Daria and Pelwar occupied, it was up to Gregor to save him.

But again Gregor found himself hesitating, could see the look of fear in the warrior’s deep blue eyes as he struggled to hold his own, and wondered why he should help him?

But in the end, more than anything. Gregor felt a bubble of rage swell up in him at the thought they would take away his one chance to kill the bastard himself, and so he danced forward to cut one down from behind, and met the second in a storm of steel, each stroke meant to cripple the monster, when Gregor was bowled over by an orc that threw himself at Gregor’s torso.

Twisting around midair as he landed in the muck and dirt, he immediately drove his elbow into the orc’s throat, felt it’s claws rake deep into his sides, before he managed to kick it off him, and wheel round to see most of the kindred retreating back into the darkness.

Breathing heavily, his body wracked by waves of unbelievable pain, he looked down at stomach, and thought he could see the bones sticking out of his ribcage as he swooned. Began to wonder if this trip to Vanclar was even worth it? Surely there were better places to die. Then just as quickly he slumped to the ground, his cheek hitting the dust, and thought perhaps a little rest would help first. Let these fools finish this battle without him. Saving mudsaps was tiring work.

~*~

…Drawn into yet another memory he had thought long forgotten, he saw himself in a cage filled with dirty ragged faces, their hands and feet fettered with iron chains, and beside him Daria weeping into her arms. The young girl that he had found on the streets, rocking herself back and forth as she whispered the name, Valan over and over again. The name of the man Gregor had accidentally killed.

Studying the guards in their heavy black armour, he could see more than a few eyeing the rolling desert that surrounded them, a dry wasteland of barren rock, dust, and sand for leagues around with the nearby town of Lorin the only shelter from sandstorms. Formed of intricate structures that swooped down like the necks of swans, the town of Lorin was something of a sight to behold with elegant hourglass towers, sandstone homes capped by glistening golden domes, and palatial palaces with dozens of spinnerets that shot up into the sky. But for Gregor, it had never really been home, it had been a rest stop, a way to survive the wasteland, but never his home.

Not that he had ever really had a place to call home.

Ruefully chuckling to himself, he even remembered how it had all started. Him, a hungry boy eager for adventure, joining the first wanderer to come into town. He had thought himself innocent then, impatient for glory and riches, when the man had sold him to slavers, who in turn sold him to a stingy old bastard of a merchant.

Still, his life had turned out better than most. He had escaped, survived on the streets for weeks on his own, until they had come. Warriors in black armour, calling themselves the Crows of the Desert, come to claim their bit of tribute and leave, but of course he had to go and help that bloody girl.

Still whimpering beside him, he thought of putting her to sleep if only to get some sleep himself, when one of the warriors strode over to the cage, his golden eyes peering at him through the bars, his cheeks gaunt, and skin far too pale.

Smiling as he saw Gregor examining him in turn, the man held out a piece of apple for him, but before he could even reach out for it. Another lad, much bigger than he was, grabbed the fruit, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Fists clenched as he glowered at the thieving dog, Gregor did not hesitate, and punched the boy smack in the nose, breaking it as he squealed in pain. Then never giving up his advantage, he threw himself at him, knocking him down in a tangle of fists, elbows, and knees pummeling the kid into the floorboards, when a hand tugged at him from behind.

Growling like a wolf hungry for flesh, he saw Daria looking at him with fear in her eyes, before she slapped him hard across the cheek. And whether it was the stinging pain in his face or the way she looked at him, he froze. And realized then that the man was laughing at him. Laughing at Gregor as though he were nothing. Nothing but a bit of entertainment.

Blackness swirling across his vision, the next thing he knew. He was free, out of the cage, his body soaked in blood as he swung round to see a cage full of dead bodies, and guards shredded to ribbons. The only survivor, Daria, looked at him in open mouthed horror. The same way she looked at him now…he had killed them...killed them all...Gods what was wrong with him?!