With the wolves subdued, you decide to make use of this opportunity to find out more about the town you’re heading into.

“Heel, vile dogs, heel!” you command the dire wolves and starting with the leader they walk to your side, away from the adventurers. Then you look at the four of them and say, “Are you alright, good sirs and lady?”

“Y-yes…” the bow-girl stammers still trying to figure out what is going on.

“It is dangerous in these parts,” you say playing up an old-timey British accent. “Had I come but a moment later, I am afraid all four of you would have been beyond my aid.”

The large, muscular green orc with a square jaw and countless pointy teeth sticking out of his mouth lowers his weapon and walks toward you while saying, “Thank you, kind traveler! You really saved our behinds—”

“Gorrazsh, stop!” the young boy calls to his green companion and reaches out to him with one free hand, the other still holding the book that he apparently uses to channel that purple circle around him that the orc just stepped out of. “You cannot be so trusting! For all you know this could be some kind of an evil warlock or a minion of the Demon Lord that may yet reside somewhere in these parts!”

“Bwahaha! Always the story-teller, Cassandor!” The orc laughs off the boy’s speculations before speaking to you, “I am sorry, we keep telling him that he should write books with that imagination of his. May I ask your name?”

“Ah, yes, my name,” You stall for time, trying to come up with a suitable fantasy name, but coming up short under pressure you just blurt out, “William.”

“Pff, no doubt a made-up name!” Cassandor snorts.

“Hey, that’s my real name!” you shout at him.

“Pay no attention to him, my good friend William!” Gorrazsh comes up to you and pats you on the shoulder. The weight of his massive palm of a hand causes you to tilt slightly to one side.

“Come here, my friends!” the orc waves to the others, motioning them closer. “Introduce yourself to this trustworthy fellow, we must not be rude!”

You hear Epsilon sigh deeply behind you. You turn around to look at her. Her disappointment at the current development is as clear as the stars appearing in the sky, now that the sun has set.

The dwarf clad in heavy armor also sighs as he steps forward and says, “Cassandor’s wild theories aside, he has a point—you can’t be so easily trusting to everyone, Gorrazsh. It has bit you in the backside more than enough times in the past.”

“Point well made, Mori! But I’d rather assume the best in people and be disappointed than be the to snuff out the goodness of the world with my own hands!” Gorrazsh says to the dwarf and turns to you. “How can we ever repay this debt to you?”

“Oh, the thought that you all are safe and may return to your families is all the reward I could dream of,” you say, pretending to be the best person imaginable. “Where are you from?”

“We set out from Ranville four days ago, though I can’t say anyone is waiting for us back home,” the orc says.

“Hey!” The archer-girl shouts, still standing next to the boy. “I’ll have you know that Rafael is waiting for me! He’d cross the Howling Forest and the Mountains of Despair for me!”

“Your imaginary boyfriend, Lyanna?” Cassandor asks and glances at the girl with a mix of pity and disgust on his face.

The girl smacks him across the back of his head and says, “You’re lucky Rafael is not here right now!”

The boy rolls his eyes and then flips through a couple of pages of the book in his hands. You notice that the purple circle is brighter. Or is it just because it’s getting darker?

“Not that I’m ungrateful for not being eaten alive, but who exactly are you and what are you doing here?” the boy asks you, remaining rooted in place, in the center of the magical circle.

“I am but a humble wandering wolf-tamer,” you say and bow slightly. “I find nature preferable to the noise of the crowded towns. But, perhaps, I could offer to guide you back to Ranvill, to ensure your safe return? Rafael would no doubt be heartbroken should anything happen to this fair maiden!”

Lyanna blushes and hides her face.

“That would be greatly appreciated, William,” Gorrazsh says.

“And who are those two bunnykin girls behind you supposed to be?” Cassandor asks. He is persistent.

“Oh, another wandering pair I met in my journeys. Epsilon and Alpha are their names,” you gesture to each of the bunny girls respectively. “As it just so happens they also plan to stop by in Ranville, before their path takes them further.”

“Well met, my fair ladies!” Gorrazsh bows slightly to the girls. “It’s a rare sight these days to meet one of your kind in these lands.”

“Indeed,” Cassandor agrees. “You wouldn’t be a part of the local group of bandits that have been terrorizing these lands? I hear they’re lead just by one such bunnykin.”

“So, you assume I’m a bandit just because of my race?” Epsilon nearly snarls herself and walks forward, but you put your arm in front of her to stop her from going past you.

“Well? Are you?” Cassandor asks.

“I am but a humble wandering torturer for hire,” Epsilon says, her every word dripping with sarcasm.

Gorrazsh raises and eyebrow and then laughs, “Ah! This one is a jokester! Serves you right Cassandor for making such wild accusations left and right!”

Nothing on Cassandor’s face indicates that he treated that as a joke.

It that really a kid? You can’t help but wonder trying to read through his stern face.

“It is late and most of us are weary,” Gorrazsh says, trying to change the subject. “Shall we make camp? I am sure the discussion will be much more pleasant once everyone ate my special stew!”