Gnarly branches clawing towards them, spiked roots framing their path. Their walk began in a peaceful fashion. No other being ambushed them, even if eyes sometimes shone in the underbrush. Howls and nervous croaking echoed sometimes closer than she would have liked.

The deformed guy kept on mumbling, kept on muttering. She didn't know their names, didn't plan on learning them either. Not everyone is allowed the luxury of life. In a world like theirs, continuous company was indeed a luxury.

Had she thought about giving her name? Of course she had, early on in her travels she made sure to introduce herself. Hiding her surname, since as a runaway she left behind more than just luxuries of the past, she started out by telling others her name was Cecile.

People came and people passed on, disallowing her from meeting the same ones again. Her introduction slowly changed to calling herself Cessy, which later turned into a Cass until it finally petered out into light growls of acknowledgement. Names were not important anymore, maybe never were.

"It is guidance. Godly guidance, I know it." She turned her head to see the deformed man grasp into a jagged hole inside a tree. His muttering didn't change as insects crawled out in a panic, didn't change as the jagged edges of wood created bloody gashes in his skin.

He triumphantly took out his treasure, raising it gen heaven.

"For I have sinned!" He giggled before cradling the bust to his chest.

Cass wasn't surprised. People looted wherever they went, hid treasure wherever they could, in hopes of collecting it again someday. She herself kicked apart some thin sticks tied together by old cloth, having been a makeshift camp, to sift through any belongings left behind.

She liked to take it safe, only loot things which resembling something she understood. She heard far too many stories of people getting lost in their minds after looting something not of this world.

She stashed some old bandages as they walked closer to their goal.

In the distance, a few minutes away, they saw a mansion overlooking quaint wooden buildings. Why of course a lord would build a mansion first, neglecting the population. A standard beginning of a town she'd ever seen. No fences, no guard posts, not even simple wooden spikes. How does a frontier city survive without basic modicum of protection?

The coachman brushed past them to the front, vigor filling the once scared man, as he started running towards the city. Maybe it was safer than she'd thought at first?

The rest of her group meandered along, passing by the town's edges, entering the it's square.

"At least this shit hole has a bar." The axeman paid no mind to the others, walking towards it with confident steps.

"Let's sell our stuff first then I'll cash in the drink you promised?" She said and watched his direction change to the merchant next to the bar.

"That was the plan all along lassie." His tone didn't give anything away.

She looked at the bandaged man who shrugged and followed along, while the other man started crying.

"Forgiveness. Oh how I wish for forgiveness." He mumbled as he disappeared into the crowd.

They entered the bar, the axeman splitting the coin between the three of them and sat down to order some drinks.

"An axeman, a holy man and a lass walk into a bar." The bartender guffawed at his joke, filling their mugs with pale yellow liquid. "You are right in time, the lord's messenger is going to come soon for another recruitment drive."

Maybe that was the attitude needed to enjoy bartending for half insane murdery people with lots of pointy sticks. She took a sip of the warm beverage, enjoying the light aftertaste of honey filling her mouth after each sip.

"Did the lord prepare sleeping quarters for us? Or does he expect us to camp in the mud, till a messenger comes to wake us and drag us into another filthy dungeon?"

"This lord is one of the oddly generous ones. You'll have to give up half the loot you find, but in exchange food, drink, medicine. Everything be free. The lord even pays for weapon and armor upgrades at the smithy. Heard through the grapevine that special trainers were hired to help with your skills too."

"Shit, that's trouble." She heard the axeman groan. Why it was trouble she didn't know, almost sounding too good to be true.

The door to the tavern creaked open as a lanky guy walked in. He pushed his glasses with his thumb, opening a well used book and began to read.

"Short ruins exploration. Scouting. Guard, plague doctor, scribe. One more spot." He ground out the words, cutting off his sentences in a well practiced manner, readying his quill.

"As the lord preordained. Work hard and rest well. It is time to rest." The bandaged man said, raising his mug to his mouth again.

"Pass." The axeman said.

Was she ready? She just went through an exhausting journey and a surprise fight. Stretching her limbs and closing her eyes, she noticed she was in a better condition than she had been this morning. Would she feel more ready tomorrow?

"I'll do it." She said, drinking the rest of the liquid and standing up.

He turned around and walked out. "Walk and talk." He said in a formal tone as a cold breeze slapped across her face. "Position?"

"Squishy damage dealer. Somewhat skilled with fire." She wished she had something harder to drink, what she wouldn't give for a warmer cloak. "I heard free armor? Can we pass by the smith?"

He hummed as he wrote down some illegible scribbles. "First dungeon means no support. High turnover rate." The calm way he said it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

That's right, death is quite likely in this business. She thought she realized it before, as she saw people dying by the roadside of hunger. She thought she knew as she watched people bleeding out, barely surviving the track to the doctor, but having lost too much blood in the process.

"Can I exchange my cloak for a warmer one at least? Shouldn't be costly." She continued. She will not survive some exploration only to freeze to death, or worse, survive and get a new sickness. The doctors congregated in this hamlet probably already felt their eyes twitch in a nervous tic at her just thinking about it.

"I can buy it myself, worst case."

"Acceptable. The team is already at the stagecoach at the gate." He continued writing in his book. Did he write about her personality? She didn't remember telling him too many details about her. Clanking and thumping grew louder as they neared the smithy. A soft hiss rang out as they entered it.

"A warm cloak." He said as the smith grunted and gave his apprentice a look. She watched him scramble to a crate full of different mantles and cloaks.

"Any defensive levels, steward?" He said nervously, picking out a few simple cloaks.

"None."

"Just give me the warmest one with a hood." She supplied.

He pushed a mantle into her hand, decidedly thicker than her cloak. She swapped cloak for mantle and covered her head with the new hood. Turning around and following the steward. She wasn't sure if that was his name or his job, but decided it didn't matter enough to warrant a question.

They walked over the dirt road with brisk steps, already seeing a wooden carriage, not different from the one she used to get here. The steward knocked on the wood. "Last member, firefighter. Good luck."

He was gone before anyone could answer. "An otha lass?" A deep voice greeted her, she instantly connected it to the giant of a man, covered in rounds of steel plate armor. "Yer rations." He pushed a backpack towards her. She gave him a nod and looked at her other teammates.

A girl with dirty blonde blonde braided her looked up from her paper at the commotion, before looking down again. Remarkable concentration, Cass silently noted. The sound of a whip striking rang out and with a whine the carriage started its journey.

Their last teammate was a doctor. As much as she feared them, she was also as happy to have one on her side. As long as she can look past the bird's beak mask, warping their voice into something ominous. She really hoped that one was at least a little more sane, as they tended to lash out in the scariest ways she heard.

Cass sat down and ruffled through the bag, noticing a few bandages, some absinth, a bundle of herbs and a few pieces of chalk. Couldn't they have made a paste out of the herbs? She sighed and huddled up into a corner. She really should talk to them, gather some information along the way. Maybe they knew more than her? Her thoughts wandered as she dozed off.