DnD Saga: Shynanygans Part 4 -END-

Sunlight gilded the mountainside and its structures with golden luminance as the elf king led Team Shynanygans through the hidden valley that was tucked away behind the city of Revyn. What they had thought to have been a secluded city seemed now more like a sanctuary, not nearly as large as the capital outside, but still abundant with splendid towers and halls built into the very rock of the mountain and shrouded by the natural forest into which they had been nestled. The king brought them along a path that ascended one side of the valley, giving them an excellent view of the expanse of the haven and the elves that wandered, ant-like, amongst its buildings, as well as the faded ridges of the peaks beyond.

At last they entered a large palatial building, rife with windows and embellishments that enhanced every surface that met their eyes. The king brought them to a spacious room lit with shafts of sunlight that poured through the glass panes in the ceiling and outward facing walls. Here, he turned to them and said, “I must ask you to wait here for a little while. You may rest in this room, but you must not leave. I must go confer with the High Council over recent...events.” With that, he left them to their own devices and disappeared amongst the ornate halls.

“This placed is beautiful,” said Grey, his voice filled with awe.

“So does anyone else want to leave?” asked Rogar.

Grey sighed. “Rogar, I promised I would get you booze, and I got you booze, didn’t I? If we stay here, I can guarantee there will be more in store for you. I find being here with all of these elves very uncomfortable as well - maybe not as much as you,” he added quickly, “but I’m quite uncomfortable.”

The dwarf just scowled at him. “Shut up, shadow boy.”

The others had begun to settle in to wait, taking seats and finding ways to occupy themselves. Irvine pulled his elemental gun from his back and lay it across his lap with a pouch of supplies. Curious, Willow sat next to him. “Oooooh, whatcha doing?” she asked.

“Cleaning my new pretty gun,” he answered, showing her the cloth he withdrew from the pouch.

“New? You got a new gun?”

“Yeah, the one you guys gave me.”

“Huh?” She thought for a moment. “Oh yeah, you’ve only had that for a few days. So much has happened, it seems like we’ve all been together for so much longer than that.”

“I know, right?” he agreed with a bemused grin.

A stick clattered across the floor near them, followed by the clumsy bounding of the young basilisk that pursued it. Snatching it in his jaws, Buttons returned it to Aithne where she sat on the windowsill, waiting to wrest it from his grip and throw it across the room again. Nearby, Gaiashya stood beneath the cascading rays of sunlight, admiring the way the crystals that sprouted from her skin glimmered in the light.

“Wow, Gaiashya,” gasped Aithne as she looked up and caught sight of her. “The lighting in this rooms makes you look so beautiful.”

“Thanks!” she chirped, twirling around. “I’m so sparkly!”

“Can I play with your hair?” asked Willow, eyes alight.

“Yes!” she replied emphatically, and the sorceress pulled her to the windowsill and sat her down, beginning to braid the vines that flowed from the oread’s head.

Quite some time passed as they waited in the large room, and as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, leaving them in semi-darkness, Gaiashya asked, “Is he back yet? I’m getting tired of waiting.”

“Could we at least get some food?” said Aithne. “We haven’t really eaten all day.”

With some calling they managed to flag down a pair of servants who agreed to bring them some dinner to tie them over. Just as the elves returned with plates of food, however, Gaiashya seemed to tire of waiting and pulled a chunk of stone out of the wall, much to the horror of the servants who entered just in time to see her.

“Sweetie, sweetie, no.” Willow pulled her hand down as she began to nibble on the stone. “We shouldn’t destroy their pretty buildings.”

“There are some beautiful obsidian rocks that they have provided for us.” Grey motioned to one of the elves’ trays, which sported a pile of the volcanic shards. “Go to town, honey.”

The servants catered to their every whim for the rest of their stay, though they were unable to fulfill Grey’s unexpected request for bundles of feathers and flowers and Enzo’s desire to climb into the trees while they waited (though Aithne mentioned her ability to take the form of a tree, but noted that she’d rather him not climb her). The sun had long set when the High Elven King finally returned a few hours later, his expression grave and tired.

“I have something I wish to discuss with you,” he said. He reached back into his pocket with a gloved hand and pulled out the orbelisk. “You all know what this is now - an orbelisk. It’s a gateway between our world and Hell. It’s a door that Hsskor desperately wants opened. I don’t have to tell you what it would mean for our world if he were to escape. You see, we elves remember that which few others can recall - that this age was prophesied and named ‘the Demon Age’ for a reason. The demon uprising in the south isn’t merely a confined incident that can be dealt with by the dwarves. No offense,” he added to Rogar, who simply glared. “This taint will spread. They will gather their strength and begin sweeping the countryside. Countless towns and cities will burn. This fact cannot be changed.”

The king paused. “And?” said Rogar.

“And, good dwarf,” he continued pointedly, “you can devote yourselves to a purpose - fighting back. More than just mere personal survival. While the taint cannot be stopped, it can be delayed, and it must be delayed, for we are not yet strong enough to withstand it. So this is where heroes such as yourself come in.” At being called “heroes,” Team Shynanygans showed mixed reactions, ranging from the excitement in Willow’s face to Aithne’s confusion. “You’ve already shown that you can be trusted, that you are remarkably resourceful, and that you’re strong enough to face that which stands in your way. Which makes you perhaps Karoria’s greatest hope for survival. So, I must ask something of you. It’d be a sacrifice greater than I have any business asking, but I must try.”

He fell silent, and Team Shynanygans exchanged glances. “Yes?” said Grey at last.

“Ask away,” seconded Aithne.

“I must ask you to help me slow down this demon uprising. There’s only so much I can do - I’m distrusted by the dwarves and the human kings. I’m only able to prepare my own kingdom for what’s to come.”

“Well, we’ve already seen what is to come, and we would like to avoid that,” said Grey, motioning to himself, Willow, Gaiashya, and Rogar.

“Yes. You - you all can go where I can’t. Sway those who would have no business with me. See, you can prepare Karoria for the coming war much more effectively than even a king such as myself could.” (“Pussy-ass king,” muttered Rogar.) “So, I must ask of you - I must beg of you - to help me. I care only for the survival of Karoria. Join me so that we can save the lives of our people.”

The team hardly hesitated before giving their answers. “Sure!” said Grey.

“I will gladly join you,” agreed Willow.

Gaiashya gestured to her best friend. “I’m with her…and him.”

Enzo and Irvine nodded, and Aithne gave a motion of ascent as well. “Alright.” Behind them, Rogar crossed his arms and grumbled something to himself about being “dragged into shit.”

“That’s excellent news,” said the king with a brisk clap. “I know I’m sending you on quite an expedition here. But, there are certain things and certain training I can offer you. So, if you’re willing to stay on for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months - we have that time at least - then we will help you to prepare for the coming battle.”

“Eh, what do you guys think?” asked Grey, glancing around at them.

“Sounds good, let’s do it!” said Willow. Gaiashya nodded.

Rogar didn’t seem thrilled, however. “A few months in an elven city? I don’t think my stomach can take that.”

“What about your liver?” asked Enzo.

The others chuckled. “Can you provide him with bountiful alcohol?” Gaiashya asked the king.

“Well, I’m not certain our elven ale will stand up to his standards,” he replied.

“You need to get some of that lizardfolk ale,” offered Aithne. “That shit is ridiculous.”

“Import some stronger shit to keep him in line,” agreed the oread. “Can you do that?”

He smiled a little. “I’ll see what I can do. Everything within our power will be provided for you.”

Grey lifted his hand to speak. “How will the elves, uh, you know...look at us? Because we’re kind of, well….”

“You will be treated as honored guests, of course,” he said.

Grey grinned, pleased by this answer, while Aithne shrugged. “Why should we care what they think of us, anyway? We’re going to be the ones saving them from the demons.”

“Fuckin’ elves,” muttered Rogar.

“I’ve been a mercenary for years,” said Irvine. “What could you teach me that I don’t already know?”

“Patience?” offered Grey. “You could always use that.”

“As far as military training, we might not have anything that can serve you,” said the king, “but training in diplomacy and how to raise an army, that we can provide to you.”

Satisfied with his answer, Shynanygans posed no more questions, and with their agreement to the king’s quest, they settled in to stay at the elven haven. The very next day their training began, and each of them threw themselves into what would become their daily regimen. The courses set before them by the High Elven King tested their abilities to their furthest potential, teaching them new skills in their fields and forcing them to think and strategize as they had never before. It was clear from their lessons that the full extent of their training would require several months to complete, during which time they would not only improve their strength as warriors and influence as ambassadors, but also reinforce their bond as a team.

First, however, a funeral was arranged in the honor of the king’s daughters, as well of the rest of the rebels that had been executed with them. Grey finally revealed the reason for his desire for feathers and flowers by placing a beautifully crafted wreath at the base of their monument, and Irvine honored them in his own way by giving what he called a “21 gun salute” - however, being the only one able to operate a firearm, that meant that instead of many simultaneous shots, the gunslinger made twenty-one individual gunshots, making for a loud and very tedious commemoration. All the while Mr. Snuggles sang a low dirge that supposedly originated from his homeland, the words a jumble of the mysterious language he and Grey often spoke in to one another.

Several weeks after this memorial, the High Elven King pulled Gaiashya away from her combat training and invited her on a walk. As they made their leisurely way through the haven, he began, “Gaiashya, you know of your lineage, yes?”

The oread hesitated. “...Mostly,” she replied quietly.

“Well, you’re clearly a child of the earth. I’m sure you knew that at least.”

“Well duh.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well, what you may not know is that this gives you an enormous amount of potential in more than just battle. You may have felt it before - a deep stirring within yourself when you’re -”

“When I’m hungry?” she asked.

“No, Gaiashya, not when you’re hungry,” he said patiently. “I mean when you’re in the wilderness or in battle, or even when you’re connecting with nature simply by standing in a patch of grass. The earth can give you strength if you let it. So the next time you hear it calling, make sure you listen. And perhaps this will help as well.”

He had led her to a small building somewhat apart from the others, covered in vines and half hidden by the mountain that seemed almost to devour it. Through the doorway and down a dark set of stairs they went, until they reached an underground room lit by tiny shafts of sunlight peeking through cracks in the earth. At the center of the room was a display case, inside of which lay a large greatsword glittering in the rays of light. The blade appeared strangely natural - though most definitely metal, it held an odd stone-like quality that seemed to have been molded by the earth itself, and from its edge grew jagged crystals of every conceivable color. The hilt was wrapped in a vine-like material that worked its way around and over the cross-guard to creep snake-like up the lower part of the blade. At the sight of it, Gaiashya gave an odd giddy noise.

“This was recovered many years ago,” said the king. “It was a remnant of the first great war, actually. The earth claimed it and kept it for many years before we found it.” He opened up the case and lifted the sword into the air, causing the walls to dance with reflected light as the sun glittered off the many crystals. With that he handed it to Gaiashya, who could do no more than stare at the beautiful artifact in her hands. “May this strengthen your connection to your elemental lineage,” he said with a solemn nod.

The oread looked up at him and returned his nod, and the moment they had left the room she scampered off to show her new toy to Willow.

The training went on, and after some time the king appeared at Rogar’s morning warm ups and also asked him on a walk. The two of them proceeded in silence for several moments, until the king finally gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re not one of those dwarves that has a problem with elves, are you?”

“What the hell would give you that idea?” he replied.

He smiled a little in return. “You don’t seem to like me much. Would that be accurate?”

The dwarf gave him a wary glance-over. “Perhaps.”

“Is it just me? Or is it all elves?”

He nodded. “It’s all of you guys.”

“You think us weak, right? Frail?” the king continued.

“Perhaps. One could say so.”

The pair approached a rather large building. “I assure you, this is not the case.” As the king spoke he threw open the door to this building, out of which burst the cries and grunts of combat. A large stone ring was set into the floor, and upon it several bulkier elves than they had seen previously seemed to be sparring. Their moves were brutal, and it was clear that they held nothing back as they slammed each other to the stone with thunderous thuds and the sound of the cracking ring beneath them. Sweat soaked their bodies, pouring off both those that fought and those that kept to the side, resting.

“Some of the less academically-inclined elves come here to hone their fighting talent,” explained the king. “I can see the merit of it, though of course I’d never participate myself. But, if you ever care for a little sparring, I’m certain you will always be welcome here. Perhaps you could even show us a thing or two, and perhaps we can show you a thing or two. For now, though, I have a gift for you.”

He produced a pair of handwraps and boots, handing them to Rogar. “They’re custom-made to fit a dwarf, of course, and enchanted for a grappler such as yourself. Use them well.”

Rogar studied the gifts for a moment, then removed his own boots and donned his new equipment. Then, without so much as “thank you,” he turned and entered the sparring arena to test them out on the unsuspecting elves.





Black clouds blotted out the stars, their rumbles counterpointing the whispers of the wind-swept trees. The storm that was inevitably brewing over the valley did nothing to disturb the rogue that perched within the boughs of the forest, sleeping in a nook against a trunk. What did disturb him, however, was the voice that called his name from somewhere below.

Instantly alert, Enzo leaned out of his cover to find the High Elven King motioning for him to join him on the ground. In a matter of seconds the rogue was beside him, and the elf motioned for him to walk with him. The pair made their way inside, where they wandered the eerily still halls of the haven’s main palace.

“I have something for you, Enzo,” he said at last.

“Indeed?”

“Two things, in fact, though one’s not from me.” He drew from his robe a bracer made for the left hand, crafted from leather as black as the night around them. “This,” he said, holding it up for Enzo to see, “is a remnant of Umbara, the High Demon of Darkness. It’s a wicked thing, really, and so we’ve kept it safe from the world here, where it can’t be bothered.”

“What would I want with it?” asked Enzo warily.

“Well, it’s high time that it was returned,” the king replied, only furthering the rogue’s confusion. “I would hope that you would use it against the forces of Hell. This brace, when activated, will cause you to blend into any shadow, effectively making you invisible. Though the light will always reveal you, of course. Use it sparingly, for it is an instrument of Hell, and it will try to claim you if it gets the chance.”

He passed it to Enzo, who fastened it to his arm, and continued, “This brace is for your left arm. I have another for your right arm, though this one’s a little different.”

He lifted his arm, revealing the bracer that clung to it, and with a quiet shink a blade shot from its end to extend a hand’s length past his fingers. Then he stabbed Enzo through the stomach, pulling it out swiftly as he fell to the ground with a choked gasp. The king sheathed the blade, removed the bracer, and placed it on Enzo’s chest with nothing more than a quiet whisper.

“Rest now.”

And with that, Enzo blacked out.





Blasts of magic flew across the courtyard in all directions, aiming at various training dummies placed in various positions. Though some narrowly avoided their demise, others weren’t so lucky, and began to melt away under the sizzling acid that had drenched them. Willow lowered her staff and took note of how many she had hit, noting her slight improvement throughout the day’s work.

The tip of her staff began to glow again, but before she could fire the sorceress felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around, holding her weapon at the ready, to find that the High Elven King stood behind her. She dropped it immediately, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!”

He waved her off gently. “It’s perfectly alright. I just wanted to have a chat. I have a question for you, Willow.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever seen a dragon?”

Her eyes grew wide again. “Uh...not in person.”

He smiled. “Come with me.”

He lead her across the grounds and into the palace, where they proceeded along a rather convoluted path through the halls. They seemed to walk for nearly half an hour, taking sudden turns, descending many staircases, and making their way into a part of the building Willow hadn’t even known existed.

“Few have ever seen a real dragon in person,” the king went on. “They were hunted to near extinction many years ago. Little of them remains - a few bones, maybe a couple of scales. But every now and again, we find something truly marvelous.”

He finally stopped at an unfamiliar door, unlocking the latch and stepping in. Willow followed, finding on the other side a rather small room with a chest on a pedestal in its center. The king opened it carefully, revealing the satin-lined interior. He turned his back to her as he reached into it, blocking her view as he picked up its contents. When finally turned around, his arms cradled an egg that appeared to be made of pure obsidian.

Willow’s face broke out into a grin, and he smiled as well. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“Is it a dragon’s egg?” she asked, nearly too excited to speak.

He nodded. “This is indeed a dragon’s egg. Even rarer, it’s a black dragon egg. Black dragons haven’t been seen for some time - they are actually believed to be extinct, unlike the more common red dragons. This egg will live on forever until a mother comes to hatch it.” He met her eyes, still smiling. “This egg needs a mother, Willow.” He handed it to her, and she noted that it was warm to the touch.

The sorceress nearly vibrated with excitement as she cuddled the egg to her chest. “I’m gonna be a mommy!” she squeaked. And then, without warning, her squeak became a scream. “I’m gonna be a MOMMY!”

In the days that followed Willow disappeared from the grounds, focusing all of her time and attention on watching over and taking care of the egg. It seemed that, despite her insistence that she would return to her training soon, it would be quite some time before she exposed herself to the light of day again. Her absence wasn’t helped by the fact that the longer the egg was under her care, the warmer it became.

Gunshots were ringing out through the valley as the King of Revyn continued his rounds, finding Irvine taking potshots at several leftover training dummies. The elf seemed to be carrying something under his arm as he approached and caught the gunslinger’s attention.

“Irvine, I know we haven’t gotten the chance to talk much,” he said, his face somber. “I know you were...you were close with my daughters. It truly means a lot to me that you carried their legacy back and told me of their deaths. So I would like to present you with this.”

He pulled the object out from under his arm and held it out, removing the small sheet that had covered it. It was clearly a gun, but unlike any he had seen before. The barrel was very large and long, flaring out at its end as though meant to project pure widespread power rather than focus on accuracy.

“This was a gift from a few dwarven friends of mine from very long ago. They affectionately referred it to as a ‘boomstick.’”

Irvine laughed. “Sounds like the dwarves I know.”

He chuckled as well. “Yes, it was created by some...let’s say less-than-stable dwarves.”

“So normal dwarves?”

The king smiled and went on, “It was made for the defense of the strongholds. These boomsticks…I’ve seen them in action, and they create what is essentially a cone of destruction. Obviously too many incidents of friendly fire caused them to not see much use; however, that doesn’t mean they can’t be useful in the right hands. So, I present it to you as it was once presented to me. May it serve you well.”

Irvine took the gun into his hands carefully, then turned and aimed it at the training dummies. With a click of the trigger a torrent of flame exploded from its barrel, leaving nothing but smoldering bits where the dummies had been. He lowered the boomstick, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Fuck yes.”





As the world faded back into existence around Enzo, he was met with the sudden realization of the pain from his wound - or rather, the lack of pain. Gripping at his stomach, he found that there was no trace of the stab wound given to him by the elven king, and that the bladed brace that had given him the wound was now fastened to his arm. As he noticed these things, Enzo also became aware of the sounds of a city around him, and a quick glance around told him that he was no longer in the elven sanctuary, but a dingy back alleyway in some unknown metropolis.

“Rise, new apprentice.”

At the sound of the voice Enzo leapt to his feet, turning to face the man that had approached without his notice. He was large, with an imposing figure, and his face was hidden beneath the shadow of the hood drawn over his head.

“The Elven King would not have sent you here if he did not think that you have what it takes to join our order,” he continued. “Tell me, what is your name?”

Enzo paused warily. “First, may I inquire of yours?”

“Ah, well...you don’t need to know my name,” he replied dismissively. “Not yet, of course.”

“Then you do not need to know mine.”

The man smirked. “Versed in secrecy, are we?”

“Practiced.”

“Very well, then. My order is...one that you might have some interest in. You are clearly a very roguish individual.”

“Indeed,” Enzo replied. “I take pride in this fact.”

He nodded. “Tell me, do you know how to blend in to places?”

After a moment of thought, he said, “I am sneaky of a sort.”

“Do you know how to kill? To take a man’s life?”

“I’m well practiced in the art.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Have you ever killed a man with a doorknob?”

The man smiled as well. “Resourcefulness and a sharp wit. I like that. Well, you may think you’re sneaky, but we can teach you to become invisible.”

As he said this, a hand lay itself upon Enzo’s shoulder, and he spun to find another man had approached from behind with absolute silence. He too, wore hooded robes similar to the man that stood before Enzo.

“We can teach you,” he continued, “to not only kill, but to destroy the life of another...if you only join us.”

The rogue glanced between the men that flanked him. At last he replied, “Show me the way.”

“Very well.” They led him through the door of one of the nearby buildings, and thus he began his training.





Peals of laughter burst forth from the dinner table, filling the palace’s dining hall with echoes of the joyous sounds. Through the windows one could see dark layers of clouds spreading gloom across the valley, but this dismal day seemed to have no effect on the mirth of the straggling members of Shynanygans that had convened to eat together. Grey in particular seemed to be enjoying himself, sharing grins with the eidolon at his side and revelling in the simple pleasure of conversing with his friends. The adventurers fell quiet, however, as the High King approached and requested that Grey join him for a walk, each of them sharing glances as most of them had already received their gifts from the aged elf. To the sound of interested “oooohs” Grey stood and followed the king, motioning for Snuggles come along.

“Grey, I have an interesting question for you,” the king began.

“Uhhh, shoot,” he said nervously.

“Do you remember where you’re from?”

The fetchling hesitated, wearing a sheepish grin. “Eh, vaaaaguely.”

The king gave him a pointed look. “Where you’re really from.”

“Not the slums?”

“Not the slums.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “Well then. All I know is that it was dark. That was it.”

“It was a land of terror, was it not?” asked the king.

He nodded. “Yeah. There was some pretty freaky shit going on.”

“Did you fear for your life everyday?”

“Yeeeah, that’s an accurate representation.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “You know, you’re quite unique in your appearance, considering that you come from such an awful place. Did you know that?”

“IIIII’ve never seen anyone else like me,” he offered.

“It’s a beautiful face from an ugly world, and I’m certain you’ve used this to your advantage, yes?”

“Well, it kept me and my sister alive for as long as it would let us,” he replied.

“Indeed.” He nodded. “I’m going to tell you something that may not be the easiest to hear.”

Grey shugged. “Shoot.”

“Your appearance...it’s not your strength. In fact, it’s your weakness.”

“Oh...shit.” He looked down, somewhat crestfallen.

“Tell me,” the elf went on, “have you ever heard of an Umbral Reaper?”

At those words Grey’s gaze flew upwards again, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “We gettin’ into some dark shit here,” he said. “Yeah, I know a little bit about them. They - they worked quite closely with the ones we served.” On this last sentence the summoner’s demeanor changed drastically, becoming eerily haunted and fearful.

“The most terrifying of all creatures on the Shadow Plane,” he agreed. “They terrorized the very dreams of their enemies. They devote themselves only to the cause of terror.”

His head jerked in confirmation. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“You know, I’ve seen a few of these up close. I’ve been to the plane of yours. And they’ve developed ways of gruesomely transforming their own bodies into instruments of pure terror.”

“Wonderful,” he chuckled nervously.

“Now, it may not be the most, ah, appetizing aspect to hear, but we can turn you into one of these. And, in exchange for losing this beauty, you would gain something that only your ancestors know of - the ability to inspire pure, unrelentless terror into all of your enemies. It would make you a battlefield nightmare.”

After a moment, the summoner said quietly, “Well, all that I know about myself is that I’m fairly adaptable - I didn’t always look this way. In fact, um, Kegvor here,” he gestured to the panther that stood at his side, “found me surrounded by bloody bodies in the slums. So he knows me better than anybody; even though a few of my friends and I were in the same military faction, they don’t know half the things about me that he does. And the same goes for him. I only look like this because it was necessary for me to keep my little sister alive, and, even in that aspect, I...couldn’t do it. So, these guys are my new family.” He glanced fondly back at the dining hall, where cheerful voices could be heard echoing through the doorway. “What do I gotta do?”

The king gave a solemn nod of appreciation. “Well, if you’re sure about giving up your physical attributes, then we’ll schedule the operation for the soonest possible date.”

“Alright,” he replied heavily, and the king gestured for him to return to his friends.

On the day of Grey’s transformation, the fetchling was placed under magical anesthesia and made to sleep for the duration of the operation. During this slumber he was bombarded by the worst nightmares of his life, roiling scenes and images of the darkness of the slums, horrifying creatures of the Shadow Plane, and his sister’s kidnap and death. Torturous visions plagued his mind, enacting terrors upon terrors in a seemingly endless onslaught, until at last, when it felt as though the Shadow Plane itself might engulf him, Grey was allowed to wake up.

His appearance had indeed changed quite drastically - armor had been surgically implanted into his skin, causing him to have a somewhat angular look about him while also darkening his visage to give him a much more sinister facade. His teeth had been sharpened as well; but the biggest change could not quite be seen, but more so felt. Any potential enemy that approached him was easily terrified by a mere glance, and the longer they were held within his sway, they more likely it became that they would simply cower from sheer fright. Mr. Snuggles seemed to be affected by Grey’s transformation as well; the panther gained several demonic attributes, including bat-like wings that spread from his shoulders in an immense display of wingspan.

In the days afterwards, Grey began to avoid his friends for fear of their reactions to his new visage. With his absence, as well as that of Enzo and the scarceness of Willow, more and more seats at the dinner table were left abandoned, especially during times in which team members had been sent out of the sanctuary to seek specialized training elsewhere. Soon only Irvine, Rogar, and Gaiashya were permanent attendees at mealtimes, especially once Aithne finally received her gifts from the High King.

When he found her, she was playing fetch with Buttons as usual, taking a break from a hard day’s training. The basilisk had grown quite a bit in his time with her - his shoulders now reached Aithne’s eye level - but it was clear that he was still quite young. The king took a knee in the grass next to the gnome as Buttons scampered back to her with a stick clamped in his mouth.

“Remarkable beast, isn’t it?” he said. “What’s his name again?”

Aithne tried to hide her sheepish smile as she wrenched the stick from the basilisk’s grip and tossed it again. “Buttons,” she chuckled.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m certain you know what he is, right?”

“Yes,” she replied. “He’s a basilisk.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Just making sure. And you know that he’s going to eventually grow to the size of, well...twenty of you?”

“Yeeah,” she said, watching Buttons carry the retrieved stick away and begin to gnaw on it, apparently bored of the game. “Yeah, I realize this.”

“Okay. Once again, just making sure.” He straightened to his full height and looked down at her. “Well, Aithne, you seem to be very close to this animal. You seem to understand each other in a way that few animal owners ever get anywhere close to.”

“Well, I am a druid,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” he chuckled. “Tell me, have you ever heard of any elven beast riders? This method we’ve developed of mounted combat?”

She thought for a moment. “Heard of it, somewhat, yes.”

“Well, the wood elves are our more natural, ah, cousins, I guess you could call them. Very in-tune with nature and the earth around them. A few of them become beast riders. They develop very close bonds with one animal, and they never leave that animal’s side. The two of them strengthen each other in battle. It’s truly a remarkable thing to look at.” He paused. “I have a bit of a proposition for you.”

She looked up at him warily. “Alright?”

“You’re very small in stature - no offense,” he added.

“None taken,” she said. “You’re kinder than Irvine.”

He went on, “But this battle that will inevitably come will require warriors on the ground, and I think you could stand to do with a little help. And since you have Buttons, you can possibly use him to your advantage. That is, if you’d like to learn the ways of the beast rider.”

She shrugged. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Very well.”

The king introduced her to a darker skinned, more savage-looking elf who became her mentor in the ways of the beast rider. The new training began immediately, and, tough though it was, Aithne and Buttons picked it up easily thanks to the strong bond they already possessed. The two of them grew many ways, strengthening their bodies and their connection with one another, while Buttons also grew physically, towering over a foot above Aithne’s head at the completion of their time with the wood elf. When their mentor finally deemed them worthy of the title of beast rider, the High King pulled Aithne aside again, this time showing her to a room deep within the palace’s corridors.

“Well done,” he said to her. “Now that you’ve completed your beast rider training, I have a little gift for you. And for Buttons, since you are essentially one entity now.”

The room into which he led her was large and open, with a huge display case occupying one of the walls, its doors shut tight. Once there, he produced a conglomeration of leather and buckles that revealed itself to be a rather large and odd-looking harness, obviously created for creatures not typically trained to be mounts.

“This is a little something that we developed for the beast riders, but they shunned it in favor of more natural methods. But I think that you’re not so held back by their views.” Aithne chuckled, and he continued, “Now, there is one trade off, of course. Buttons is now riding size - he seems to be the perfect size for you, in fact. This harness is specially made for the size that he is now, and wearing it would cause him to stop growing at this point. He’ll continue to get stronger, but his size will never increase. If you can live with that, there are many advantages to this.”

With that, he turned and threw open the doors to the display case, revealing an entire wall lined with set after set of colored plate armor. “This,” he said, “is the beast armor that we have developed. See this one here,” he gestured to the first of the sets, which was particularly thick and hued in a rich, verdant green, “is much heavier than the other ones.” He knocked on it, producing a very solid sound. “This one will make you much more of a tank in battle, and make it harder for you to take damage.” He moved on down the line, continuing with a darker one that appeared to be made of cured leather. “This black one here is for stealth, and the blue one for speed. Then the red one for battle - this one’s my favorite, of course,” he added with a smile. “And then this white one, which is still experimental, but we’re going to give it to you to try it out.  We call it the Glider Armor.”

Aithne gawked at the shining pieces before her, particularly baffled by the set the king was gesturing to now. Gleaming in white trimmed with gold, the armor also possessed several extra bars that extended from the point where Button’s shoulders would be. Most of them were belted together, making it hard to discern their purpose, but if she had to guess, Aithne could only assume that they were some type of prosthetic wings.

“So, I gift these armors to you and Buttons,” said the king, sweeping his arm before the entire case.

“All of them?!”

He nodded. “All of them. Use them well.”

With these new assets in hand, Aithne and Buttons set to practicing with the armors and devising strategies for their use in battle. The day was soon approaching, however, when each member of Team Shynanygans would have completed his or her training and would reunite once more within the palace’s great hall, ready to embark on the quest set before them.

But before this day arrived, there came a night when a loud cracking noise woke Willow from her sleep, drawing her eyes to the egg that rested on her bedside table. The obsidian shell had been punched outward, and a large piece fell to the floor, allowing a lithe black lizard the length of her arm to crawl out. It blinked languidly at her, wobbling on unsteady legs, and then stepped over onto the bed to cuddle against her chest, unfurling tiny, paper-thin wings as it did so. Willow could hardly contain her squeal as she hugged it too her, careful not to crush it in her excitement.

Days later the members of Shynanygans finally reconvened, some of them seeing each other for the first time in months. Irvine, Rogar, and Gaiashya arrived first, and then Willow made her appearance to much acclaim over her new hatchling. The baby dragon perched upon her shoulder with its tail wrapped around her neck, gazing curiously at these new giants as its mother introduced them as its “aunts and uncles.”

From the shadows of a doorway Grey edged into the room, nervously calling attention to himself with a wave. “Hey, guys.” The others turned, greeting him with a myriad of responses.

“What the hell?”

“Grey?!”

“Dude, you look badass!”

They gathered around him and he grinned in relief as they spoke to him as normal, showing him their new equipment and introducing him to Willow’s dragon. “Is - is that what I think it is?” he said upon seeing it. “I think it is. That is fantastic.”

They went on in that way for some time, catching up with the happenings of the last couple of months, until Irvine glanced up at the ceiling and cried out, “Holy shit!”

The others followed his gaze and gave similar yells of astonishment as they caught sight of the huge basilisk walking along the ceiling with Aithne sitting upon its back. “Hey, guys,” she said, looking down at them past her hair.

“Mister Buttons is so big now!” exclaimed Gaiashya as the druid and her companion descended the wall in front of them.

“Heh, he’s grown quite a lot, huh?” she replied. “You guys should see the armor we got from - is that a baby dragon?!”

She swung Buttons close to Willow and immediately began to fawn over her hatchling, cooing as she reached out to stroke its tiny head. The sorceress had barely introduced Aunt Aithne, however, when the main doors of the room swung open with a woosh and through them strutted Enzo, his robes rippling behind him. There was an obvious confidence in his step, mimicking the smirk visible even under the hood that hid his face. The rest of the team greeted him warmly, inquiring of his whereabouts during the last few months and clamoring to update him on their new equipment and abilities.

Their voices echoed through the great hall as the friends caught each other up on everything that had happened, all glad to be within each other’s company once again. After some time the doors opened again, this time revealing the High Elven King as he strode into the room and addressed Team Shynanygans.

“It pleases me to see that you have all completed your training so well,” he said, smiling. “We have provided for you all that we can in order to help you prepare and aid Karoria in the coming war. You have all come very far, but you still have much further to go in this journey you must take. I wish you all the best of luck.” He met each of their gazes, and then gave them a nod. “May you protect us all from a future that must be undone.”

With that Team Shynanygans set out on their quest that very day, inspired by their newfound strength and the faith invested in them by the High King of Revyn. They made their way out of the sanctuary and back into the wide expanse of Karoria, prepared to take on their task of protecting their homeland from a fate it had yet to even foresee.