“Moradins beard, I shouldn’t have set out with that storm brewing. I’m soaked to me bones and cannot see shite,” a course voice grumbled as heavy footsteps trudged through the mud and muck as the rain poured down in sheets thick as lead. A short and stout figure pushed on through the storm, not knowing which way they were going at this point and just trying to find shelter. A spiked helmet rang with taps as the water fell from the sky, obviously a curse upon the land thought the heavily armored one.  Looking up, eyes of amber red blinked as sounds started to ring through the thunder rolls. 

	“I must’a be hearing things, been out on the trail too long,” grumbled the figure as words sung broke through the sounds of the maelstrom. “Bloody hell, now me eyes be playing tricks on me. I don’t be needed no visions out here on this forsaken road,” growled the figure as a light like the call of heaven burst through the top of the forest canopy. “I best be checking it out, if I be seeing this, maybe something worth killin’ and eatin’ be seeing it. Could use some fresh meat, this dried bark they be callin’ jerky got me backed up like beavers dam.”

	After a quick adjustment to the large pack hoisted over a spiked armored shoulder the figure pushed forward. Their eyes focusing on the light as its source grew closer and closer. It was hard to keep an ear out due to the sounds of the storm but the voice on the wind wasn’t horrid. “Least ain’t being no elf squalling out,” the figure reassured itself before cringing at the thought of listening to one of them harpy singing.  As the stout one came close to the light as it suddenly faded away. “Well bend me over and turn me into a harlot, now ye shut up?” a voice hissed but kept pressing on and began to cut through the trees. 

	Thankfully the rain was beginning to die down and there was the smell of meat on the air. “Fooood,” the voice said in a slightly chipper voice with a pipe that had long been snuffed out by the rain lay clenched between teeth. Tilting a head to the side the figure stopped in the tree line as it watched an odd gathering of folk huddling under the roots of a large oak tree. “Well, ain’t that quaint,” the figure muttered to themselves as a woman up in the roots locked her legs under another root and swung down to take some clothing from a fiery haired youngster. 

	“Okay Fiona, got them,” Sana said as she took the clothing before righting herself back in the roots of the tree and began to hang up the fighters clothing. She stayed there as she waited to see if anyone else needed their clothing tended to before she jumped down, her lean legs swaying over the edge of the root. “Hopefully up here they’ll dry pretty quick but I guess as long as they are dry by morning it doesn’t matter,” Sana said before taking anyone elses clothing that was handed to her and leaping down from the roots, landing softly in the clover covered floor of the make-shift cave.

	“You the one that was catter-walling out there in the storm earlier?” the figure asked as they stepped out of the tree line and made their way into the cave, dropping their pack on the ground next to them with a thud. 

	“Who the hell are you?” Sana exclaimed as she looked at the figure. She couldn’t make out the persons features due to the helmet and the hair plastered to their face but it was obvious they were a dwarf of some sorts. A helmet was worn on top of a large head on a short but very broad body that was adorned in the oddest fashion. They wore elven chain over their torso that was held in place by a belt that was riddled with various items, the oddest of which was a collect of axes that seemed to be the size of throwing daggers. Two Cross bows hung from the back and two battle hammers from each side of the belt. The persons arms were covered in spiked armor that went from their shoulders and covered the top of their hands. 

	“Who the hell you be?” the figure grumbled back. 

	“The bitch that is about to kick you the hell our camp, that’s who,” Sana hissed.

	“In that get up?” the figure laughed, its voice going slightly higher in octave as it did. Sana went from mad to stunned as the person pulled their helmet off and pushed their white hair out of their face to reveal it was a woman, a dwarven no beard wearing woman. “Only thing you gonna do in that is catch a cold or one of me spikes up your backside. Whichever suits your fancy.”

	Sana stood there, looking at the woman in slight shock. She had met dwarves in the past but they had been decent to be around and always male. She half thought that dwarven women were a thing of legend. Sana looked around at the rest of the group, her mouth slightly agape. 

	“I… I got nothing, you guys?” Sana asked. 

	“Apparently. Listen, I just gonna rest me haunches here ya toothpick,” the woman stated as she bent her knees and her butt fell into the ground by the fire. “Oh yeah, that be toasty nice,” she commented, totally ignoring those around her as she removed the pipe from between her teeth and knocked out the wet leaves on the heel of her boot. Reaching into her belt pack she pulled out some dry ones and packed the pipe before placing it back between her lips. Running the back side of a silver ring on her finger the pipe lit quickly as she puffed away, a content smile on her lips. 

	“Excuse you,” Sana said as she stepped in front of the woman. 

	“Excuse you, you blocking the fire,” the woman said before reaching out and pushing Sana by the legs out of the way. Sana slipped to the side and looked at the rest dumbfounded. “Hey, carve me off a bit of that beast, smells good!”

	“I will not!” Sana hissed.

	“Well, that ain’t no way to be hospitable!” the woman said before pulling a knife from her belt, leaving forward and carving off a chunk of meat. “Oh, name be Shela, who be you folk?” Shela asked as she pulled the pipe out of her mouth and took a bite of the meat. “Oh yeah, that be tasty!”