A chill breeze wafted over his skin, making him shudder and reach for a blanket. His claws scraped wet, cold stone. Rolling over in search of the blanket, his face hit freezing snow, jolting him awake.

He sat up, blinking dumbly, not comprehending the scene he sat in. Before him lay ruins of a town, stone and wood worn and covered in snow. Looking behind him, he sat on the highest step leading into a ruined temple, patches of shelter still available in the temple. Looking over the building, it seemed to have fared better in whatever catastrophe had befallen the town. Shivering, he stood, making his way into the temple.

As the storm eased outside a little, light broke through, illuminating a chamber to his side. Crouching to fit through the door not made for him, he looked in, eyes immediately spotting a pair of large drums sitting on a raised platform, two large sticks laying between them. Ducking through the doorway, he approached them, tapping them experimentally with the back of a claw.

He found himself tapping a steady beat out on the pair of drums and humming an unfamiliar tune barely a moment after touching the drums. Stepping back from the instruments, he reluctantly looked around the mostly intact room. Scenes of giant entities standing over smaller ones, fighting other large entities lined most of the walls. The wall ahead of the drums had a pair of oddly shaped windows, looking like eyes and, as he looked at the wall, the rest of the face became apparent.

“Bragi,” the gravelly voice said, reading a script along the top of the wall. “The wise and knowing god of music and prose. Beat these drums in praise.”

Shrugging to himself, he stepped forward, slowly returning to the song that he had begun.

~

The trollkin explored the village, finding it empty and long dead, the only sign of anything useful being the drums in the temple. As he played them, names came to him and he settled on one, not knowing if it was his name or even what it meant.

And thus, when the troll, wrapped in what little leathers he could find with drums slung across his back, left the ruins, he left with a name.

Stigr.

~

Wandering the frozen wastes, he eventually found a path leading through the void. Taking it without hesitation, he was jettisoned out the other side into a warm and bright field, colourful flowers up to his chest. Sneezing at the sudden change in light and temperature, Stigr pushed forward, spotting a thin plume of smoke off in the distance.

As he pushed through the flowers, the laughter of children reached his ears, making him smile slightly at the sound. Gravel crunched under his foot and he looked down at the path that was bordering the field he had just left.

“Ho, traveller!” came a call from ahead and in front of the nearest building. A gnome waved at him, crossbow clearly at his side. “Come far?”

Stigr shook his head as he approached, keeping his hands at his side. “Just from the other side of the void. I don’t know where from before that.”

“Well, you’d better come to the inn and see about staying the night,” the gnome replied.

~

The gnomes around him danced and sang, joining his song as he beat the drums, yodelling the tune while the crowd just sang along. Stigr didn’t know where the song or knowledge of the song came from him, but that didn’t matter, the song was there to be played and sung, so he played and sang.

As the song ended, cheers and claps rang out and Ustriid, the gnome man who had first met him, came up, patting his arm. “Have you studied?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Stigr replied, still tapping a dancing beat out on the drum, but softer, allowing for conversation. “I don’t know much at the moment.

“Well, my brother is heading towards Nonhatten tomorrow, if you go with him, you can talk to the bardic college there, they may be able to help you out, give you an education.”

“I would like that,” Stigr replied. Someone yelled a song request at him and his fingers changed tempo instantly as the song welled up inside, bursting from his mouth.

~

“Why would we want trollkin here?” a distasteful eladrin asked, looking down his nose at the troll, even though the troll was at least a head taller than the city elf. “The Swiftsong College does not take creatures,” the elf spat.

Staring at the elf for a moment, Stigr left, his resolve growing stronger with each step. “You will know the name of Stigr,” he said under his breath as he went to find a place to work and sleep.

~☆~

The group made their way back, shadows being thrown every which way from the glowing head of Zagthaan's hammer. As they exited the sewers, Ragnar shook himself off, spraying muck every which way, catching everyone else, who were also covered in filth.

Making their way back to the more populated areas, they pushed their way into the city office. "How can I help you?" the elderly gnome asked from the front desk.

"We killed the rats," Ragnar stated, holding out the tails.

"We'd like to see Talim," Abs added, stepping up next to Ragnar. "We need to pass on news about Dur and to get paid."

"One moment," the gnome replied, touching one of several coloured stones on his desk. "Sir, visitors to see you, want to talk to you about a Dur and rats."

"Bring them down," came a distant sounding reply.

The gnome stood slowly, leading the group down a hall.

"Who's Talim?" Zagthaan whispered to Abs.

"The job provided. His name was on the desk."

"Oh."

They were slowly lead down the hall and, upon arriving at an unmarked door, the gnome pushed it open, waving the group in.

Returning to the room they had initially all met in, Zagthaan now saw the small bronze plaque on the desk. A small feeling of embarrassment washed over her.

Taking the tails from Ragnar, Abs lead the way, the others behind him. "We killed some of your rats," the gnome began.

"There was a really big one with three heads too," Zagthaan added.

"Killed it too," Stigr finished.

"Where's Dur?" Talim asked.

"He was unfortunately killed by the biggest one and dragged down a drain point," Abs replied, morosely.

"Getting paid ten gold per rat each was contingent on his survival," Talim said, scratching at his snout.

"We know, and we tried to save him," Zagthaan offered.

"We have the tails as proof," Abs stated. "Can we at least get paid for those?"

Talim sighed and scooped up the tails. "Look, I'll pay you all twenty-five gold each as a token. The higher ups might not like it, but fuck it." As he finished, he tapped his speaking stone. "Rockport, bring me four, twenty-five bags," he said.

"Yes sir," came the distant reply.

The group waited for a few minutes in awkward silence as the elderly gnome, brought them their bags of gold, taking the tails from Talim.

"Let me know if there's more work," Ragnar said before leaving, the other three agreeing with the sentiment as they left.

~

Several weeks passed, the city moving on with life.

Work started to dry up for everyone. Zagthaan had less people to heal at the clinic, Ragnar was sent on fewer collections rounds, Abs found less and less people to buy his goods while Stigr found fewer bars willing to pay for a troll musician, even for a night.

So, when Stigr found himself with a gig at a rough dive bar, he sent an invitation to Zagthaan, hoping to sway the barkeep to keep him employed for a few more gigs.

Zagthaan, bored and without guidance, readily accepted, feeling a small divine tug, pulling her towards the bar.

When the request for a doorman came through to Ragnar, he accepted straight away before anyone else could take it from him. The bar was already under the protection of his group and, as he found himself on guard duty, he found himself next to the smaller troll from the job agency. "Ragnar," he offered to the troll.

"Clack," the leather bound, great club wielding troll replied. "Barkeep is expecting a full room, apparently the bard is good."

Ragnar nodded, stepping aside as Zagthaan, wearing her armour, shield strapped to her back, hammer at her waist, paid her silver coin entry fee and entered.

Spotting Stigr on the stage, warming up, she made her way through the crowd to the bar, getting a dwarven ale before passing close enough to the stage to greet Stigr. As she did, she spotted Abs at a nearby booth, talking to a pale blue dragonkin, who, as she approached, stood, drained its drink and left, leaving the spot for Zagthaan.

"This seat taken?" she asked loudly enough to be heard over the din.

"Not any more," Abs replied, waving her to sit down as he sipped his glass of absinthe.

As the crowd grew, they ordered more drinks as other random people clambered in, drawn to the crowd.

Zagthaan gave a silent prayer of thanks for having the foresight to wear her armour and come armed, as she spotted several other armed and armoured patrons. It was one of the rougher areas of town after all.

The beat started as Stigr finished warming up. After taking a sip of his drink, he started a low, guttural chant which grew into his yodelling performance, drawing people to the dance floor in front of him.

"Eh, who do you think you are, drinking dwarven ale?" a voice said to Zagthaan as she swallowed her mouthful of said ale.

Looking at the dwarf across from her, next to Abs, she gave him a stare and drained her mug, tossing it to the table. "The elderly can't hold their booze," she replied in dwarven, issuing her challenge, receiving a glare in return.

Several drinks later, the dwarf, very much unable to consume as much as Zagthaan, gave her a stare of not understanding how she could out-drink him. Grinning broadly, she pulled out a little trinket of an anvil and hammer, showing him. "Ah," he said before slumping on the table. Zagthaan burped and grinned, leaving her mug half finished on the table before reaching over the small table to pat the dwarf’s head.

As the night wore on, the sleeping dwarf was replaced by other patrons as Zagthaan attempted to drink and be happy and to enjoy just doing something other than sitting around her apartment or the clinic.

As she finished her last drink and was about to leave, the dance floor erupted with a black, smokey pillar, too thick to see through. Screams erupted from the dancers as small floating, toothy balls emerged, biting arms and legs, dragging people back into the smoke. As Zagthaan stood from her spot, pulling her hammer out, small, fleshy blobs crawled their way out and onto the dance floor, looking sort of like a torso with a mouth and deformed arms and legs, also biting and pulling at the nearby dancers.

People screamed and started moving for the door, the crowd pressing together and getting in the way as Zagthaan and Abs pushed out, warhammer and rapier striking out, Zagthaan's glancing off, smacking into the floor while Abs' rapier pierced, but bowed before he withdrew it.

The tone of Stigr's song changed , the cadence quickening as he shifted to a battle song. As he did, the pair of doormen, Ragnar and Clack, pushed their way through the crowd, both drawing their weapons.

As Zagthaan brought her shield between the creature and herself, another of the crawling creatures released a cloud of thick, wet, nauseating gas. Abs drew the top of his shirt over his mouth and Zagthaan moved to follow his lead as she sucked in a breath, intending to cast a spell. She wasn't quick enough with the cloth though, sucking in a lungful of the vile smog.

Instant nausea hit her, making her double over in pain. As Abs launched his next assault on the creature, she stepped back, infusing her feet with a little magic, allowing her to clamber around the other patrons, those either tripped over or hit hard by the same gas as her.

Ragnar and Clack, seeing the thick fog, barrelled into it, striking at one of each of the creatures, their weapons connecting, but finding resistance. On the other side of the pillar of smoke from them, Stigr bared his claws and teeth, swinging at the orb harassing him.

Screams piercing the air stopped abruptly as a woman and a man were dragged into the black pillar, vanishing from view. As Zagthaan tried to get out of the expanding smog cloud, the sounds of battle reached her ears over the sound of her own vomiting.

Stigr paused his battle song as the orb attacking him gibbered indecipherable words, making his head fog over. He found himself staring at his fist as his body reacted to the hostile magic, making him punch his nose. As the orbs tried the same magic on Ragnar and Clack, the troll became slack jawed, standing there dumbly while Ragnar struck at the squat creature, striking it with his shield and shrugging off the magic. The squat creature died, its body falling slump and instantly starting to dissolve into similar black smog.

"Help," came a weak call from the bar owner as Zagthaan yelped in pain, one of the floating orbs latching onto her leg and dragging her towards the pillar.

"Clack, get to Bruu," Ragnar ordered. As he took a measured strike at the orb on Zagthaan's leg, Abs' rapier struck a moment before him, causing the creature to fall to the ground, dead. Ragnar's strike went wide and the hammer slipped from his grasp, flying past Abs' head. As the creature hit the ground, it also started dissolving, the same as the crawling creatures.

Stigr regained his senses, beat his drum rapidly and shouted towards the bar, his voice hitting an unnatural chord, causing the air to solidify and burst forward, spraying shards across an orb, two crawlers and the bar owner. As the creatures, sensing the hostile magic, ducked behind chairs, the bar owner, Bruu, was less fortunate, the blast hitting him in the side as the second crawler made its way to him, latching onto his leg.

Ragnar roared at the creatures biting into the bar owner and charged, drawing his boarding axe and leaping up, using a chair to get extra height. Bringing the blade down, he sliced through one of the creatures, cleaving it in half, freeing Bruu's leg.

Zagthaan crawled away from the fight again, the nauseating fog started to clear, letting her breathe properly again. Seeing Abs still fighting one of the crawling creatures, she sat up and pulled a small length of chain from a pocket. Running it across the wound on her leg, she growled an incantation as she stood, whipping it towards the creature. A vicious chain rose up from the ground, striking at the creature, causing it to squeal as Abs struck it again.

Clack, raising his club high, brought it down on the crawling creature nearest to him, crushing it flat moments before the pillar of black smoke in the middle of the room vanished with a loud crack. Shrieks came from the creatures and, taking advantage of the moment, Stigr, Ragnar and Clack proceeded to smash their closest enemies into pieces, their strikes now causing greater wounds now that their connection to their home was severed.

Zagthaan stumbled forward as she spat the last of the bile from her mouth. "Abs, let me heal you," she said over the noise as she approached shakily.

Glancing behind him, Abs nodded, thrust hard and jumped back, feeling a healing surge flow through him as Zagthaan clasped his shoulder.

Seeing the opening, Ragnar, in his battle frenzy, charges, leapt over the hole left by the black pillar, burnt earth six inches below ruined floorboards. As he landed, he repeated his previous maneuver, bringing the blade down heavily onto the back of the creature, destroying another, the final creature.

Shaking themselves off in the relative silence, the group, with the exception of Zagthaan, crowded around the bar as Bruu, the Uruk, a city orc, shakily poured drinks for them before drinking from the bottle himself.

The warpriest, fell to her knees next to an injured dragonkin, pulling out her medkit from her small bag, treating the wounds of those she could. Eventually, Clack and Ragnar helped clear the dead, unceremoniously piling them up outside.

As Zagthaan used up the last of her supplies, the city guard came in, fanning out and attending those still injured. “About fucking time you showed up,” she snapped at a guard as he wrapped an injured arm.

“You lot,” a captain said, waving at the five fighters and the bar owner. “Come outside for a moment.”

Begrudgingly, the group stood and walked outside with the captain. “Look,” he began, sighing and looking inside. “Some higher ups want to talk to you about this mess. You’re not under arrest, they just want to talk.” He waved towards one of the nearby wagons that had delivered the city guard to the tavern. It was covered, the door on the back open. The windows were shuttered, but without bars across the openings. Zagthaan, just wanting the day to be over, stepped into it first, followed by the captain and the others. “I don’t know what they want to talk about, or even who the hell they are, but they’re insisting on speaking with you lot and even gave a description of who we needed to find.”

“Why are you taking orders from them if you know nothing about them?” Abs asked.

“Because we have been paid to not ask questions about them and they have authority from higher up.” The captain sighed and banged a fist on the wall behind the driver. “We’re just going to the precinct,” he stated as the wagon started rolling. He grimaced at the two trolls, apologising for the cramped quarters.

A handful of minutes later found them arriving at the local precinct, a sturdy and fortified building, designed to keep people in and out and to be a bastion if all hell broke loose. Leading the group through the precinct, he opened the door to a large conference room.

As they entered, the group were waved towards six seats, two of them large and sturdy enough to hold the two trolls, by a typical looking aasimar, silvery skin, pale blonde hair, who was seated behind the solitary desk in the room. Behind him stood an oddity, a pale blue, almost white, skinned tiefling with thin, curling horns giving him almost a twin halo, arms crossed, expression neutral. Both of them wore neat black suits.

“Please, sit,” the aasimar said without looking up from the notes he was already writing. As he waited for everyone to sit, he finished his notes and scanned the group. “Now, I’m going to ask questions about what happened and you’re going to answer.”

“Who the hell are you?” Ragnar demanded.

“Not important. What’s important is the first hand account of the events that have transpired this evening.” Without giving anyone else a chance to ask questions, he began questioning the group, writing down their account and, when a detail didn’t match perfectly between people, went back and requestioned the details, all the while, the tiefling just stood there, occasionally changing the focus of his piercing gaze, sometimes not to the person who was actively speaking.

The aasimar did confirm to the group that this was not a solitary event and that these events had happened throughout the realms, though never with survivors and only ever third hand accounts of the event.

After a couple of hours, the aasimar sighed and put down his pen. “We’re done here,” he said.

“Hey, some of us had to expend personal supplies helping with the injured,” Zagthaan stated bluntly. “Care to replace them?”

“Well, your personal choices to attend to the injured was your own decision,” the aasimar replied.

“Typical bureaucrat,” she said, glaring at the pair.

“However, your medical kit will be replaced, Stigr, Abs, Ragnar and Clack will receive fifty gold each and Bruu, your bar is in quarantine, so a replacement has been arranged and a supply of the damaged goods will be supplied shortly.”

“Oh!” Zagthaan said in reply as the kit was retrieved from under the desk, along with four bags of gold and a set of keys.

“How did you know that was what we were going to want?” Ragnar asked.

“We know a lot of things and have eyes in many places. We investigate circumstances like this, and, if you will, consider the gold a payment for not spreading what happened tonight. If word got out about the events that transpired tonight, it could cause a panic. Hell, consider the gold and the bar to be a bribe if it suits you better. Now, please leave, the captain will take you to the new bar.”

“Got any jobs going?” Ragnar asked. “What you do sounds fun.” Stigr echoed the request.

“No, though your group skills may be required in the future sometime. We will be in touch if we need you.”

Zagthaan, standing to leave, threw a final glare towards the other tiefling. As their gazes connected, she felt the strongest impressions that he could read her thoughts. She strongly imagined a toilet and the man's thin lips quirked into a tiny smile.

The group were led out to the waiting carriage, larger than the wagon that had brought them there, the captain who had brought them to the precinct earlier waiting by the open door. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, stepping into the carriage and taking a seat.

A short and slightly more comfortable ride later, the group found themselves passing the bar where the fight had been. The area around had been roped off and those working in the area all wore full body suits, panels of glass letting them see out as they went through the bar.

The wagon turned and, barely a street over, came to a stop in front of a bar that was slightly larger than the other had been. It was an old dive that had been shut down and used as a place for scavengers and homeless to find shelter, but had, in the space of barely two hours, been cleared out and restocked, new shutters in place with repaired or replaced chairs, stools and tables around.

Bruu pushed his way into the bar, walked behind the counter and immediately began pouring drinks for everyone, remembering their prefered drinks without prompting.

Zagthaan, tailing behind, asked the captain where the injured had been taken.

“They’ve gone to the hospital in Downtown,” he replied.

Grumbling about the distance and giving in to the temptation of more alcohol, Zagthaan waved farewell to the captain and entered after everyone, scooping up the drink waiting for her and downing it.

“Anyone else feel like not going to their home?” Abs asked into the silence.

“Mhmm,” Clack grumbled, sitting heavily on the floor near the door. Ragnar, nursing his drink, leant against the bar as Zagthaan started stripping off her heavy metal armour, letting it clatter down in the corner.

As the night continued on, the six of them eventually fell asleep in their various places, the silence and exhaustion eventually getting to all of them.

~

Zagthaan opened the door to her apartment building and stepped out. An enormous black pillar towered up from the center of the city, piercing the clouds and vanishing into the distance.

She approached the base of it in Space Square, miles from her home, touching it with her outstretched hand.

“Come. Some see us,” a voice said into her thoughts, the voice not hostile, but more insistent.

~

As she woke in the bar, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and stretched. The dream had definitely felt similar to her usual divine prompts. Retrieving her breastplate, she stood, strapping it on as she stepped out the door, looking towards the city center. No tower stood in view.

“That was a crazy arse dream,” Abs muttered as he woke and headed behind the bar. “Fucking giant towers and voices.”

“You too, huh?” Zagthaan said as she went about strapping the rest of her armour back on. “I’ll be back, I need to go get coffee.”

Heading off, she left the group, who were all starting to wake, getting various forms of alcohol to wash the dust from their mouths.

Retrieving her enchanted stein from her apartment, she found an open coffee shop nearby and walked in. The shop was deserted except for the lone worker, a bright eyed and happy looking aasimar girl, bright pink with purple striped mohawk greeting Zagthaan, the very grouchy tiefling, with an overly happy tone.

“Coffee,” Zagthaan demanded, dropping the stein and several drinks worth of coin on the counter.

“On it!” the girl chirped, chatting away to a non-responsive Zagthaan, who waited patiently for her coffee.

As the tiefling left, sipping her steaming coffee, the girl started singing loudly behind her, making her scurry back to the bar quicker.

As she returned almost twenty minutes later, she found everyone else awake and discussing the shared dream, everyone confirming what they’d seen, Bruu stating he hadn't had the dream. Everyone had left their residence, which while not normally facing the city center, was in the dream, had seen and touched the tower, heard the voice and had woken, all about the same time.

Zagthaan listened while she did her morning meditation to replenish her spells, the coffee allowing her to focus on replenishing her energy. "It didn't feel hostile. It didn't feel divine either, but it felt like a divine dream to me."

“What the hell does it even mean?” someone asked, silence descending on the group as no one had an answer.