Somewhere in the southern valleys of the Duran Mountains, where the trees grew twisted and a little black as if poisoned by the very soil, two young adventurers pushed deeper into the gloom.
Clad in mismatched leather armor, one carried a massive warhammer slung over his broad shoulder. The other clutched two slender wands so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
"Are you sure this is the place?" the mage whispered, voice cracking at the edges.
The hammer-wielder didn't even slow his stride.
"As I've already told you a hundred fucking times… Yes. This is exactly where my brother saw that demon.
We take its head back to the guild, collect one whole gold coin, and we're done. One gold coin, man. You know what that buys? I can finally open that sword shop in Lowmarket, settle down, see my little sister grow up without worrying about next month's rent.
