The voice from the ground was a hearty baritone. I couldn’t be certain; but it sounded vaguely Scandinavian. “Oon et berch, oon et berch. Koolt sud ting met vird.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Xola glance over the edge of the branch towards the ground. I have no idea how they could have spotted her; but suddenly the voice went quiet.

After a minute of silence there was a shout. “Aweh!” Xola immediately shouted “Aweh” back to whoever was on the ground. The response was a hearty response. Another silence followed. And then I felt something grab me by my hair and something sharp press against my neck. A voice spoke. It sounded like completely different language. It was almost like some lazy fantasy writer took Latin and stuck it in a meat mincer. In which case the ‘aweh’ might have been related to the Latin greeting “ave.”

“Volo et Nixos via.”

Of course the one year I took Latin I failed horribly. And while this language might have been related; it definitely wasn’t Latin.

“Ave. Non intelligo. Do you speak English?” I managed as a response.

She, voice sounded female, shouted something too quick for me to pick up. The tenor replied. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Xola drop her bow and hold her hands up. A fucking elf was standing in front of her with a rapier pointed at her. “Non bellum!” I shouted. “Non bellum.” The elf had pointed ears and purplish skin wearing greenish brown leather with a hood over her head and the top of a longbow sticking out over her shoulder.

I felt the hand gripping my hair loose but the knife stayed at my throat. I saw a hand in my peripheral vision point towards the ground. After she gave me a light push I started climbing down. When I reached the ground I saw what could only be half of an adventuring party. A male dwarf with an auburn beard in complex braids wearing mail and wielding a nasty looking double headed warhammer and a male orc, or maybe a half orc, with greenish skin and small tusks wearing eye searing purple and scarlet robes and an ivory white sceptre topped with an egg sized purple gem.

When I saw them I felt a glimmer of hope enter me. Hopefully they weren’t murderhobos. “Ave…”

My brain went blank. I had no idea how to ask for help. Eventually I iimprovised. “Troll bellum familia. Tu salvo?”

The dwarf’s eyes went wide. He turned to the elf. He was talking too fast for me to pick up. But I heard something vaguely similar to ‘troll’ mentioned a number of times. The elf groaned, glanced towards the ground and headed off. I hoped it was in the direction of the attack. But I was so turned around I had no idea.

At that point I saw the person who had the night to my throat. She looked like a human rogue; with short blond hair, dark grey clothes with a hood and scarf over her mouth. And two long daggers at her belt. The rest of the party each grabbed a heavy pack off the ground and followed the ranger into the trees.

I was terrified. But I made the decision to trust them and follow. Sara and Xola came nervously behind me. Sara caught up. “Do you reckon we can trust them?”

“No idea, “ I said. “I think it’s a deus ex machina. But if that’s the case it’s a day too late.”

“This isn’t a story.” Xola said.

“Isn’t deus ex a game?” Sara asked. I think she was trying to rile me up. Her marks were good in English and I know our teacher covered basic story tropes. Though to be fair she is the sort to forget about schoolwork the second the school year is over.

“An adventuring party shows up speaking canis latinicus and have now decided to track down some trolls and rescue our friends. What else could it be?”

“Our friends are dead.” Sara said.

Up ahead the Dwarf started singing. Immediately I felt my weariness melt away and my fake optimism become real. I pulled up my guitar and did my best to follow along. After that our pace increased to a fast walk.

Xola and Sara kept glancing around the trees as if they were waiting for something to jump out at us.

“Aren’t they worried someone will hear us?” Xola asked.

“If they’re not worried I’m not worried.” I replied.

Xola had an arrows nocked and Sara had her knife in her hand.

“Relax, I said. If the adventurers can’t deal with it we’re doomed. If they can we don’t have to worry.”

“Idiot,” Sara muttered under her breath. I didn’t take it personally. Most of the time she lied like her life depended on it. The fact that she was genuine around me spoke a lot about how much she trusted me.

Of course I had no idea why she was being so open near Xola. Maybe it was the fucked up situation. She definitely wasn’t like this on the plane.

I was looking at Xola when the dwarf stopped singing. When I glanced ahead I noticed the rogue and ranger had disappeared and the wizard and cleric had their sceptre and warhammer drawn. This is it. I thought. I heard a roar that made me want to piss myself. And then I saw two of the monsters from before charging towards us with clubs raised. The dwarf raised his warhammer to meet them and charged forwards.

Fuck it. If wizards and clerics exist in this world maybe bards do as well. I pulled out my guitar and started singing the first song that came to mind.

“He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.”

“He checked off all his equipment and made sure his pack was tight.”

“He had to listen to those awful engines roar”

“You aint gonna jump down no more”

Sara, bless her, continued with the chorus.

“Gory, gory what a helluva way to die.”

“Gory, gory what a helluva way to die.”

Gory, gory what a helluva way to die.”

“He aint gonna jump no more.”

Up front the monsters had reached the dwarf. A bolt of fire shot out from the orc’s sceptre. And flaming arrows came pouring out of the trees. If they’re vulnerable to fire maybe they are trolls, I thought as I continued the paratroopers’ anthem.

Xola loosed one arrow. And then another. On her third shot I heard a scream as a huge gash appeared on her arm. Her bowstring must have snapped. A club knocked the dwarf off his feet. But another fire bolt hit it right in the eye. The troll screamed. Two more flaming arrows hit and it dropped. The other troll turned tail and fled. It barely reached twenty meters before falling.

As the adventurers crept towards the corpses I did my best to remember the latin for three. “Tercio. Tercio.” I called out. The dwarf looked around, laughed and pointed towards a camp fire that was still burning. He then pointed at what I thought was a log and mimed eating. I hadn’t noticed the log had a foot on the end.

A wave of despair hit me. If they ate their friend they’d eat anything. The adventurers then started looting the bodies; with Sara quickly joining them. I did the best to hold back my tears while the battlefield was inventories. There were maybe five bodies worth of stuff. Weapons, clothing and gear were ignored. But rings; necklaces, and a few of the fancier watches were taken. The adventurers were mighty confused at some of our higher tech stuff. The orc cast a few spells over the phone. He then tossed the phone to the ground looking disappointed. Maybe he was expecting magic?

Eventually we moved on. The ranger was following some other tracks. I was completely turned around. I had no idea if we were heading back to camp or not. To my relief we eventually crossed the stream back into the winter wonderland.

Maybe a half hour later I heard a scream. “Stay back. Stay back.” I walked towards the front of the group. The sound was coming from a thicket flanked by the rogue and ranger.

“Jeremy,” I shrieked, “you’re Ok.”

“Sian? What the fuck is going on?”

“We’ve been rescued by adventurers.”

“Then why are they pointing weapons at me?”

“They don’t speak English.”

I pointed at him and said, “Non bellum. Familia.”

The two adventurers relaxed; but their weapons remained at the ready.

Jeremy then said. “I can’t get up. My leg is fucked. And Meacham is unconscious.”

“Shit.” I pointed at him again and said, “dolor.” Jeremy screamed as the cleric reached forward to examine his leg. I dry heaved. The entire foot was pulped. The cleric then said, “non germinus pedus nova.” I had no idea what that meant.

When I didn’t respond the cleric started chanting and a glow surrounded both of them.

When the cleric finished I leaned forward for a closer look. The foot was still fucked. There were toes missing and it was crooked. But it was recognisable as a foot instead of a blob of meat attached to his leg.

When Jeremy looked down his expression of awe turned to disgust. “What the fuck is that. Why didn’t he heal my foot properly?”

Sara then said. “He might not have regeneration as a spell. If he’s just got cure wounds in his spell slots it might be the best he can do. It’s better than nothing Jer, at least you can walk.” Sara was using her gentle voice. I guess she wanted to avoid a fight.

Meacham was quite woozy when the cleric woke him. It took a couple of hours for him to be able to recognise what was happening. In that time the ranger tracked down five more survivors scattered around the area. None of them were seriously hurt. After that we travelled in the direction of what I assumed was the camp. And in that moment I was hopeful for the future.