CHAPTER 2: MYSTERY II
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
The deep, rumbling laughter filled the bustling tavern as five adventurers prepared for a mission that promised a colossal reward.
There were five of them: two powerful attackers, two mages, and one dedicated healer.
The leader, a man named Cogan, dominated the space. He was dark complexion, with a thick black beard and the bold, bald crown of a man who'd faced countless battles. His muscles were huge, straining the seams of his simple brown tunic, and a massive greatsword was sheathed on his back above his black trousers.
"Hope you're all ready," Cogan boomed, his voice cutting through the noise.
"This won't be easy, but with our strength and numbers, we'll take down that beast in no time."
His companions—the second attacker, the mages, and the healer—felt an immediate surge of inspiration. It was the classic, good-hearted leader's speech that always settled pre-battle jitters.
As they moved toward the door, a figure in a heavy black cloak stepped into their path. The stranger held out a folded piece of paper, then subtly pointed toward the blonde attendant behind the counter who was currently fiddling with a dusty mug.
Cogan stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, and took the paper.
"Cogan, we don't have the time for this," the second attacker, a lean man named Roric, grumbled, already gripping the hilt of his own sword.
"The sooner we do this, the sooner we're done and can get back home," added Elara, one of the female mages, her expression tight with impatience.
Cogan ignored them, his gaze fixed on the paper, then shifting up to the attendant. He knew that face. He looked back at the cloaked stranger.
"So, you're friends with Bridget, aren't ya?" Cogan asked, his voice softening slightly.
The mysterious cloaked figure gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Come on, Cogan! We've spent an hour reviewing strategies. We don't have time to be explaining things to a newcomer!" the second mage, a fiery-haired man named Jorun, insisted.
"Nonsense," Cogan countered, crumpling the paper in his fist. "Any friend of Bridget is a friend of mine. And besides, the more we are, the higher our chance of surviving."
The rest of the group fell silent. No one could argue with that logic. The creature they were hunting was a terrifying monster; it would take everything they had to kill it without dying.
Cogan turned back to the cloaked stranger, his eyes scanning the figure.
"So, what are you? A healer? A mage?" He saw no obvious weapons, no shield or staff.
The stranger simply pointed at Jorun, the male mage.
"That's perfect!" Cogan exclaimed, his excitement returning. "Three mages means three times the power! We definitely have a chance now." Still, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Why didn't this new mage carry a staff like Elara and Jorun? He shook it off. More power was more power.
All six of them set out, leaving the relative safety of the town and heading straight into the oppressive gloom of the Elmwood Forest to hunt down the monstrous beast that had been wreaking havoc on the nearby villages.
A guttural, world-shaking sound tore through the air:
"RRROOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRR!"
The five original adventurers skidded to a halt. Before them stood a true nightmare: a huge, black-horned dragon with scales like jet-black armor. Its eyes glowed an unnatural, aggressive purple, and two pairs of massive, leathery wings flexed at its back.
The dragon spun, its colossal tail whipping toward them like a scythe. The five scrambled to evade, diving left and right. The tail struck the forest floor with the force of a battering ram, releasing a devastating shockwave that sent them all flying backward, tumbling to the hard, root-tangled ground.
They were far from defeated, but a fresh wave of fury washed over Cogan as he struggled to his feet. He used his greatsword to steady himself, emerging from the dust cloud without a scratch. His gaze locked on the sixth member of their party.
The black-cloaked stranger was seated calmly beneath a sturdy oak, leaning back against the trunk, legs crossed, completely unmoving.
"Hey! Are you just going to sit there?" Cogan roared, his face darkening with anger.
"Help us!"
The stranger offered no reaction, no movement, no acknowledgment of the battle raging just yards away.
Cogan knew a futile battle when he saw one. Engaging in a fight with the mysterious mage now would only ensure their failure against the dragon. He let out a frustrated sigh, choosing to let the insult pass for the time being.
"Bridget, what kind of friends do you make?"
he muttered under his breath.
His gaze snapped back to the dragon, his eyes burning with renewed resolve. He hoisted his massive greatsword, its polished blade catching the sliver of light that pierced the canopy.
"Just like we planned!" he bellowed.
His teammates responded instantly to the familiar cue, snapping into formation. Roric, the second attacker, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cogan, his sword up and shield raised.
The two mages, Elara and Jorun, moved quickly to stand back-to-back, already chanting softly. The healer melted away, hiding behind a thick-trunked tree, on standby to rush in at the first sign of a mortal wound.
Seeing them all ready, Cogan inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with a battle cry that echoed the dragon's own rage.
"CHAAAARRRRRGGGE!"