Whispering Rock was an ancient outcropping of stone located in the fields. Seven tall pillars of rock ringed around a circular table that looked as though it had been carved by wind and time. In between the standing stones were thick, curved spikes that had been planted in the earth that rose up towards the sky, each one almost twelve feet in height. Mottled white, it took Joseph a moment to realize they were tusks.

“Hey, uh,” he said, poking at one of them, “Do mammoths live out here?”

“Aye,” Broon said, “Most of them are solitary creatures nowadays. Not many left.”

Joseph took a look around at each tusk, “I can see why.”

It was night now, the sun having disappeared hours ago. The only source of light came from the runes etched into the standing stones, glowing light painting everyone in a blue tint. A cold wind whipped up as they waited. Joseph zipped his jacket up, Rosemary wrapped her cloak around herself tightly, and Contort cursed to himself.

“Should've brought a coat,” he muttered.

Broon didn't react. The half-orc stood at the table of Whispering Rock, eyes set forward, waiting. He had grown quiet the deeper they pushed into Salthirn, the dry jokes and prods slowly replaced by a grim silence, his face as set as the stone around him. His companions let him have his privacy. Joseph felt around in his pocket, producing the Hermes card. As he squinted at the small image of the god in the half-light runes, he felt an overwhelming wave of homesickness wash over him.

Whatever Broon was feeling, he hoped there were at least some good memories here.

A deep, melancholic horn boomed in the distance, followed by the sound of hooves thundering through the plains. Figures began to appear, silhouettes in the darkness. They were riding krem, and as they arrived at Whispering Rock, they dismounted and began stepping forward into the pale, blue light. All of them were orcs – true orcs. Each was seven feet tall at least and wore plated mail. They had taken off their closed helms, revealing sharp fangs that jutted from their bottom lips and dark green skin that looked gray in the light. Joseph noted that they surrounded Whispering Rock, keeping their distance on the boundaries of the standing stones. Save for one, who stepped forward. Almost nine feet tall, she strode towards the table, laying her great, spiked helm onto its surface. She looked down at Broon for a few moments.

“I am Lohsa of the kingdom of Neroth, one of the Three Kingdoms of Salthirn,” she announced.

“I am Broon Wildarm, half-son of Uras. My mother was human.”

“And thus is not as despicable as others,” Lohsa finished, “I welcome you, halfborn, to this table on this night. State your intentions.”

“I come not as myself, but as a representative of the Amber Foundation,” Broon said.

“So you seek passage, not as a half-human, but as an inter-planar entity that is traditionally not welcome in our lands. Not since the Battle of Evukor.”

“No,” Broon said, “We are a guild, not a national entity.”

“Your guild faced us at Evukor. I assume to recall the one known as Wakeling devastated an entire battalion.”

“Aye, that she did,” Broon said, “But we are not here to attack. We seek passage to Lake Oval to meet with a client.”

“And what will you give us in return?” Lohsa asked, “Non-orcs are only allowed on the basis of business and mercantilism.”

“Our travel is for business,” Broon stated, “We are to deliver a package to them.”

“A package? What of?”

Broon was quiet for a moment, then said, “We would prefer for the affairs of our client to remain private.”

Lohsa let out a low tut tut, “That will not do, Wildarm. As the representative of Salthirn, it is in our best interests to know what passes through our lands.”

Joseph felt the air tense a bit. Many of the orcs on the outside began grumbling to one another. The makings of a stand-off were approaching – he could feel it. Rosemary sneaked a glance at Contort, who gave a grim nod. The hairs on his arm began to rise up. Broon, to his credit, was quiet and cool. Every movement he made was measured and slow. Lohsa glared at him, a mixture of indifference and disgust painted on her face.

“It is an egg,” Broon said.

“An egg to what, exactly?” Lohsa asked.

“I...” Broon thought, “I do not know.”

“Morn!” Lohsa called out. One of the orcs stepped into the light. He held a gnarled, oak staff in his head, “Speak again, Wildarm. Do you speak the truth?”

“I do,” Broon said, “I do not know the species of the egg which we carry.”

Morn's staff crackled a bit, and he brought his hand to it, waving and pushing air into it. The wind whistled to the cracks, becoming high-pitched ringing as it passed through, before Morn nodded.

“The halfborn speaks true,” he said.

“May we see the egg?”

“...No,” Broon said.

“Then we are, once more, at an impasse,” Lohsa said.

“I promise you, Lohsa of Neroth, we mean you no harm,” Broon said, “We are prepared to give anything in payment.”

“Anything, you say?” Lohsa raised an eyebrow, “The life of the human behind you. With the blue jacket on.”

Joseph felt his heart drop. Broon turned to look at him, his face impassive, his eyes glazed over.

“Almost anything,” he amended.

“Ha!” Lohsa let out a loud laugh, “Learn to pick your words wisely, Wildarm. You speak well, but not nearly well enough. The human blood in your veins, I suppose.”

“I offer you a deal, then,” Broon said, “One of us will stay here, at Whispering Rock.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. One of us stays here, the rest of us will move onto Lake Oval.”

Lohsa thought for a moment, “That is agreeable. I choose that you stay here, Broon Wildarm.”

Broon was quiet. Lohsa continued.

“You are a half-orc. A… curiosity in these parts. And not a fun curiosity, either. To be frank, Broon, I don't think you should be here. I am aware that you are the Wildarm, infamous for your skill with that blade of yours. Were you pure of blood, your orations among our kind would be legendary, and you would stand as a paragon for orcs across Londoa.”

Her eyes narrowed, “But you are not pure of blood, are you? I do not think you should travel these lands, Wildarm. Not anymore. You have made enough stories here – many of them dark. It was not just Wakeling at Evukor. Were you not here as a member of the Amber Foundation, I would have you arrested right here, and right now.”

“I understand,” Broon's voice was taut as a line.

“The rest of you are humans. Merchants, under our laws. You may be of the multiverse, but you are still here on business. You have stated your intent – to go to Lake Oval and give an... egg... to a client. You will do this, and then you shall leave Salthirn.”

“That's agreeable,” Contort said, “Broon, you good?”

“Aye, I'll be fine,” Broon whispered. Then raising his voice, “I agree to your terms, Lohsa of Neloth. I will stay here. Under guard, if you wish it.”

“I shall remain here with you. Morn, take the rest of the guard and return to Gremeran. I will personally ensure that Wildarm does not leave Whispering Rock.”

Morn nodded, then began barking out a few orders. The rest of the guard re-mounted and thundered off. Broon waited for the sounds of hooves to disappear, then turned to the rest of the party.

“This is... not surprising,” he said, “Contort, I'm putting you in charge of the rest of this job. Get to Lake Oval.”

“Right on,” Contort said, “You'll be alright here?”

“It is nice out, and I don't believe Lohsa means me harm. Far from it, in fact. None of you participated in the Battle of Evukor. Don't reveal yourselves as members of the Amber Foundation. I believe it is because I am the Wildarm that we are able to pass through Salthirn at all.”

Joseph nodded. Then, remembering about the other guild, turned to face Lohsa.

“Hey,” he said.

Lohsa looked down at him, “Yes, human? You have more to say?”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “There's another guild here, isn't there?

Lohsa stared at him. Joseph got the distinct sense he was speaking out of turn – like a child yelling back at their parent. The orc strode forward until she was right in front of Joseph and rose up to her full height, dominating his vision, her eyes hardened and almost angry. He stood his ground, looking up at her, hoping that he was hiding his trembling well enough.

“You are either very brave or very ignorant, human,” the orc said, “But I can forgive ignorance. I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of another guild here.”

Then she gave a nod, and stepped back to the table.

“Best we be on our way,” Contort said, “We'll set up camp a bit later, yeah?”

He put a hand on Joseph's shoulder that was a bit too tight. Joseph got the message.

“Right,” he said, “Let's go.”

They said goodbye to Broon, who nodded morosely. They left Whispering Rock behind.

“Kind of dumb thing to do back there,” Contort said.

“Yeah, kinda got that impression,” Joseph said, “She was surprisingly...”

“What?” Contort said, “Eloquent? Orcs usually are. Salthirn's known for its mercantilism and trade enterprises. That's why the three orcish nations here unified – better trade opportunities.”

“They sound like business majors,” Joseph muttered, “'Can neither confirm nor deny' my ass.”

“Well, we'll have to be even more careful, from here on out,” Contort said, “Without Broon, we've lost quite a bit of our combat effectiveness.”

Joseph turned to look back at Whispering Rock. He could just barely make out Broon's form in the light of the runes. The half-orc was staring at them, his head hung as he watched them walk away, far from the standing stones and into the dangers of the night.

***

They set up camp soon after leaving Whispering Rock behind. Contort pulled out three tents out of his pocket – something which Joseph accepted after a moment of hyperventilation. He also had brought some firewood, starting a nice blaze with which they cooked some soup over. All three of them were quiet, the only sounds being the cracking of the flames and the wind in their ears.

“Best to set up a watch,” Contort said in an uncharacteristic whisper, “Joseph, you mind taking first watch?”

“Sure thing. I'm not tired, anyway.”

“I'll take second watch,” Rosemary said, “You look exhausted, Contort.”

“Was it that obvious?” Contort let out a dry chuckle, “Thanks, Rosie.”

He went into his tent. Rosemary and Joseph remained by the fire for a little while, before Rosemary said her good nights and went to bed. Joseph sat by the fire, legs curled to his chest, alone with his thoughts. The fire died down, bit by bit, until eventually it died out. The night became very cold, and Joseph shivered as the hours dragged on. In the distance, some bird let out a call, though it was alien and deep, not at all like the seagull’s cries in the morning like back home.

“You'll catch a cold, not keeping the fire going.”

Contort stepped out of his tent, rubbing his eyes a bit.

“I, ah,” Joseph stammered, “I don't know how to keep a fire going.”

“What, your old man never taught you?”

“No, he didn't. I've... I've never gone camping before, actually.”

“Really?” Contort gave a weary smile, “Well, congratulations. Joseph Zheng, first time camper.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me my merit badge and let me go home.”

Contort tossed a few more pieces of wood into the fire, lighting a match to restart it, and sat down across from Joseph.

“Shouldn't you be asleep?” Joseph asked.

“Yeah, I don't think sleep's gonna come,” Contort scratched the back of his head, “I don't really like being forced into the 'leader' role. I don't know how Broon does it.”

“Yeah,” Joseph agreed. Contort tossed a few more logs into the fire.

“You don't like it,” Contort said, “Having to leave Broon behind.”

“That Lohsa... she wasn't very nice to him, was she?” Joseph said, “I mean, what was the Battle of Evukor?”

“Big guy doesn't like to talk about it. Wakeling took a few members of the guild to Evukor during a big war a few years back. Salthirn was invading a country to the north called Milandra. Evukor was a city there. They helped that city's defense. Broon even killed one of the princes of Salthirn.”

“Which explains why they don't like him.”

“They don't like him for a lot of reasons. He's half-orc – an aberration to them. He shouldn't exist. He's also only got one arm, essentially a cripple in their eyes. Finally, he's the Wildarm. He's got stories on his shoulders.”

“Then why did he lead the mission, then?” Joseph asked.

“Because even with all that, he's still an orc. He's still going to at least have the time of day given to him,” Contort's face went dark, “Salthirn's... they're a mercantile nation. One of the most dominant nations on all of Londoa. They've even got an embassy in the High Federation. But that doesn't mean they have to be nice.”

“They're allowed to get away with it,” Joseph said.

“Yeah,” Contort rubbed his eyes, groaning, “Listen, losing Broon is a huge knock on our capabilities as a group. I'm not a leader, Rosemary's still new, and you just started a couple weeks ago. If we get into a fight with that other guild, I want you to take the egg and make a break for Lake Oval.”

“Got it,” Joseph said, “You get some sleep, too.”

“I told you, I can't-”

“Contort,” Joseph shot him a look, “We're going to need you for this. Can't have you zonking out halfway through a fight, right?”

“Damn you,” Contort chuckled, “Alright, I'm going back to bed. Night-night, sleep tight, newbie.”

He got back up, patted Joseph on the shoulder, then went back into his tent.

Rosemary came to relieve him a couple hours later. She must have overheard part of the conversation, as she didn't wake up Contort, instead covering his shift for the night. She was rubbing her eyes as they ate the soup for breakfast and went off.

“Lake Oval's not that far away, fortunately,” Contort said, “About a day's walk. Let's get some spring in our step.”

His voice was devoid of his usual arrogant bounce. They walked, once more without conversation. The day passed without incident – save for Rosemary accidentally tripping a few times from a lack of sleep.

“Alright,” Contort said in the evening, “Rosemary, you take first shift.”

“Okay,” she yawned.

“Only for a few hours, though,” Contort said, “Joseph, you good staying up for six hours?”

“If I can sleep beforehand, I should be fine,” Joseph said, “Got any coffee?”

“If only,” Contort growled. They ate dinner and went to sleep. Joseph's dreams were strange and muddled, and he woke up for his shift with a pounding headache that only went away with the rising sun. Contort was quiet as he woke up and put the tents away. Rosemary seemed more awake, now that she had gotten more sleep.

“You ready?” he asked her.

“You bet,” she clutched her mace, a look of determination on her face.

“Alright,” Contort said, “Let's go, ladies and gentlemen. We have a guild to fight.”

Their destination loomed on the horizon, a forest that crested out to either side like a half-moon, growing larger and larger as they walked. Lake Oval, Contort explained, was deep within the forest. There was no trail that had been marked by orcs into the woods. Quite on the contrary, they almost never went there save for the occasional woodsman.

“So it's the perfect place to intercept us,” Rosemary said, “They'll probably attack us while we're in the forest.”

“An ambush,” Joseph said.

“Right-on. Keep your wits about you,” Contort said. He stretched a bit, his gaze serious.

***

They went up to the forest's edge and, without much fanfare, picked their way past the treeline. Joseph was shocked at how difficult it was to walk – it seemed there was a root at every footfall, ready to snag and pull him to the ground. More often than not, he found himself tripping over. Contort or Rosemary could grab him as he fell, but sometimes they would be slightly ahead of him, or slightly behind, and he would land face-first in the dirt. This wasn't the average hiking trail like back home. The trees here seemed almost malevolent, in the way they obstructed the journey.

“I'm starting to understand why orcs don't go here,” Joseph said as he fell for the hundredth time.

“It's not so bad,” Rosemary danced from root to root, “You just gotta hear what the forest's saying.”

“Is that elven stuff?” Joseph asked.

“A bit. It's mostly just looking at the ground to see where your feet are going.”

Joseph rolled his eyes at that.

It was a few hours into the forest when Joseph began feeling... uneasy. It was a sense both familiar and unfamiliar, as though something deep within him that he had pushed down had re-awoken. Contort and Rosemary both stopped, almost at the same time, Rosemary pushing her hair back from her ears, cupping them, Contort grabbed the bottoms of his and pulled, the lobe stretching down until he looked like a human elephant.

“Trouble,” Rosemary whispered, “Big trou-”

She let out a scream of surprise, whirling to the right, mace extended out. She projected a shield of light around them as something slammed into the shield. Green bolts – almost globules – of energy. Coming through the wood was a woman with gray-blue skin, tall and in white combat armor, a futuristic rifle in her hands. She picked her way through the forest.

“Alright,” she shouted, “Hands in the air, Amber Foundation! We have you dead to rights.”

“And you are?” Contort shouted.

A voice from above answered them.

“We are Exodus Walkers.”

All three of them craned their heads up to see a man in one of the trees. He looked as though he had walked right out of an office – with a nice, white dress shirt a bit scuffed from his woodland journey and black pants with a silver belt holding them up. The only thing that was off was the luchador mask he wore, a red, green, and blue affair that covered his entire head. He had rolled up his sleeves, and the way he held onto the tree branches – the way that they cracked and broke beneath his grip – made Joseph uneasy.

“I know you,” Contort said, “Alonso Moriguchi, right?”

“Yes, that's the name,” Moriguchi said, endlessly polite, “No Wildarm, then?”

“Maybe he's with us, maybe he's just a bit behind,” Contort bluffed, “You don't know.”

“Except we do!” a harsh, large voice said behind them. From the path they had walked came a large bear of a man in hide armor, the skin of a large lion draped over his shoulders. He held a greataxe in one hand, and his large, pug-like face was red with frustration, “The damn half-orc's back at Whispering Rock! Just when I was going to face him! Gods, dammit!”

“Calm yourself, Meldorn,” Moriguchi called from the trees, “Another time, perhaps.”

“DAMMIT!” the man, Meldorn, seemed to be on the verge of tears. Then he took a deep breath.

“Anger exercises, Meldorn,” Moriguchi said.

“Right, anger... exercises...” he took a deep breath, “I am one with the world. All is well. I am on an ocean, surrounded by cuttlefish...”

“Now!” Contort yelled. Rosemary dropped the shield, the light warping into a beam that she fired at the woman in combat armor. It slammed into her like a fist, sending her through the forest. Moriguchi dropped down. Contort jumped to meet him.

“Joseph!” he screamed, “The egg! Go!”

Rosemary tossed Joseph the satchel. Joseph grabbed it, and, with the rest of the Exodus Walkers distracted, began running away...

***

“Dammit!” Meldorn roared. He brought up his greataxe to give chase. Rosemary spun around and fired another beam of light, which caught the man in the chest, carrying him up to the tree tops before dissipating. Meldorn fell to the ground with a harsh crash and a flurry of curses.

Contort wrestled Moriguchi, the latter wrapping his arms around the former's torso. Contort grunted, collapsing his ribcage and jumping up, slipping through Moriguchi's wrestling hold and slamming his knee into his enemy's stomach. Moriguchi grunted, making a blind grab that snagged around Contort's throat. Moriguchi spun, regaining momentum and choke-slamming Contort into the ground. The hair on Contort's arms stood on end, and he slashed wildly at the Exodus Walker, who leaped back, the hairs grazing his shirt and tearing thin lines across his chest.

The two squared off against one another. Then, Moriguchi noticed that Joseph was gone.

“Jani!” he called out, “Take out Contort!”

He turned, Contort sprang at him, then twisted in midair as he noticed more plasma bolts slide his way. Jani – the blue-skinned alien – rushed towards the scene, eyes alight with fire, bolt after bolt rocketing out of her rifle. Contort grunted and cursed, collapsing more and more of his skeleton, shrinking down like an accordion, the plasma just barely missing him, burning bits of his arms and legs...

He hit the ground and pivoted, still scrunched down like a spring. Jani had stopped running. Her aim was bad, by the looks of things – then again, it didn't seem like she had any auto-targeting software in that armor of hers. That was good for him. Jani took cover behind a tree, and from the green gas that emanated from behind it, Contort guessed she was reloading.

He sprung, letting the energy of re-stitching his body together push him forward, unwinding and snapping his bones back into place. He jumped, twisting his arms around the tree, dislocating his shoulders to give him better reach as he sharpened his hairs once more, ready to wrap his arms around the tree and Jani's neck.She ducked out from underneath, dropping her half-loaded rifle and producing a sidearm. Contort looked at the design on it – the pistol had a distinctive, curved claw on the bottom of it to act as a knife in close-quarters. A Chtenian weapon. This Jani was from the Silver Eye Galaxy...

Blue bolts of light flared from the rifle. Contort's fingers tightened as he threw himself up the tree, running to the top of it as the bolts sailed. One grazed his back, and another fired a hole directly through his left leg. He screamed in pain, almost letting go. He shifted his skin and bones to cover the wound, giving him a bit of stability as he leaped down, crashing into Jani. The two tumbled to the ground.

***

Meldorn got up from the ground. The girl stood a ways away from him, mace clutched in her hands, light dancing around its rose head. Her cloak billowed in the wind. The barbarian stood back up, glaring down at the little one. She stood between him and the egg – that modern-looking fellow had run off with it.

“Hey, girl!” he called out, “You should put that down. You might hurt someone!”

“I already have hurt someone!” she shouted back, “You, ya dumb lug!”

He felt anger boil in his veins. Meldorn gripped the handle of his greataxe. He was starting to shake in pure anger.

“No,” he whispered to himself, “Control your anger, old friend. If you get angry, you lose control-”

“Hey, buddy!” the girl shouted, “You just gonna sit there all day, or are we gonna do this?! What, are you chicken?”

“THAT'S IT, SHE'S DEAD!”

Meldorn charged, his eyes seeing nothing but red. So red, in fact, that he didn't register that he was once more sailing into the air. The anger disappeared for a brief moment to see that he had, once more, been hit with one of her beams of light. Meldorn had always hated magic.

But he couldn't deny its usefulness. Meldorn twisted his body in midair, landing on his feet in the wood, the runes attached to his boots flaring to absorb the blow. He rose back up to his full height. She had given him a boon, at least – his anger was gone. He had underestimated this girl and her magic. He couldn't afford to play with anger.

He needed to play smart. Meldorn took a deep breath, resuming his calming exercises.

He was in a sea of cuttlefish, and they were his friends.

Meldorn charged.

They were around him now, massaging his body with their tentacles, relaxing him.

He effortlessly dodged another beam of light.

The sea was calm, nary wave nor wind.

Another beam flashed, one that he hardly noticed as he sidestepped.

All was at peace.

The girl wove a web of light, casting it like a net, only to scream as he cut through it.

He was at peace.

Meldorn raised his greataxe and, with a single stroke, brought it down on the girl.

***

Rosemary lifted her mace, a shield of light emanating from it as Meldorn's axe fell. It crashed into the shield. Her eyes widened as she saw it crack and break through the shield, one curved edge landing just barely at her nose and stopping. Her heart hammered as the lion-covered man wrenched his axe free of the shield, hefting it up again, a most serene expression on his face. The axe sailed down once more, cutting another deep gouge into the shield. Rosemary glanced down at her mace. It was running out of juice – she would need to charge it up in the sun when she got a moment.

For now, it was better to conserve. Meldorn pulled his axe free, shards of light breaking off with it like glass, and he lifted it up again. Rosemary dropped the shield, spinning to the side as the axe sank deep into the roots where she had been standing. Meldorn looked confused.

Then he winced as Rosemary snapped the mace into his temple. He took a few steps back, clutching his head, growling in pain, leaving the axe behind. When he turned back to her, his eyes were full of tears.

“You...” he grunted, “You hit like my sister.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Rosemary snapped, “Not hard enough to get through that rock of a skull?”

“No,” Meldorn said, “My sister is the strongest person I know. It was a compliment.”

“...Oh.”

He surged forward. Rosemary took a stance. That mace hit hadn't seemed to really do much damage – save for addling him, perhaps. She reasoned that she had one good beam of light in the mace, just enough to send him up again.

But to where?

The anger that Meldorn had exhibited had evaporated away. He was a tactical juggernaut now, powering through the pain and anything Rosemary was throwing at him. Rosemary took a few steps back, mind reeling. Panic began setting in. She needed to be quick. She dodged to the side, putting her back to a tree as Meldorn barreled forward, arms clubbing at the air. He ignored his greataxe – it would take time to get it free, no doubt. Meldorn pivoted, rushing at her. Rosemary launched herself up, using the tree as a springboard. She spun in the air as Meldorn charged underneath her, about to grab onto the tree to stop his momentum-

And she fired off another web. The net of light sparkled forward, wrapping itself around Meldorn and pinning him to the tree’s trunk.

***

Joseph ran through the forest, hearing the sounds of combat behind him. His mind raced – if any one of those three caught up to him, he wasn't sure what he'd be able to do. The egg felt like it weighed a ton on his back. He kept glancing back, seeing flashes of green and blue from that terrifying blue woman's rifle light up the woods behind. He heard screams of rage coming from that one guy – the lion-covered barbarian.

Then Joseph tripped on a root, falling onto his face. As he spit up dirt, he heard movement behind him. And a voice.

“Now, comacho, I think that's far enough.”

Joseph turned to see Moriguchi calmly picking his way through the woods, an almost serene gait to his step.

“Now, why don't you hand that egg over, nice and easy?”