The White Hare

Dungeon Running

A man armored in unblemished platemail pokes at the fire with a particularly long stick. Looking at his traveling companion he finds the both of them studying a map. "So you guys are sure we are going the right way? Last thing we need is to go deeper into this hellish place."

"Yes, for the last time we know where we are going." A man dressed in expensive looking clothing rubs the bridge of his nose as he points at the map. "Right now, we are here near the border. We just have to cut in here and then follow this road to Crest. It's one night. Most of the monsters are hibernating and we can handle the weaker ones that aren't." He sighs and begins to walk away from their fire in order to open his magic satchel. Pulling out a heavy duty sleeping bag accompanied by two less extravagant ones.

"Do you really have to flaunt around your wealth all the time? Seriously, some of us have trouble finding a reasonable price on food let alone the shit you buy." The fire tender tosses his stick into the fire with an exacerbated groan.

"Says the guy who just bought a brand new set of plate." The humbly dressed man with a small bag on his hip mumbles under his breath. 'Even if it is untested plate that you probably bought without considering your being scammed.'

The eloquently dressed man takes a moment to explain that he enjoys the finer things in life and won't claim that he doesn't. He also points out that he has offered to pay for them on more than one occasion. Which gets him into an argument when his armored companion points out his "offers" also come with a criminal interest rate. He just smiles at them as he claims that the offer always stands and explains that he couldn't help it if they couldn't pay him on time.

He is so busy explaining this that he fails to notice a figure in the dark around the edge of the fire light.

"I still don't understand why people live so close to this place." The armored man says with a shake of his head. "The place is crawling with powerful monsters and demons raised in dungeons no one has even explored yet. Hells there are KINGDOMS smaller than this cursed place." He gestures around himself as he rubs his head in an armored hand. A sudden chilling wind makes everyone shiver. The flames of the campfire dim for a moment before returning to their previous brightness.

While grabbing a glass bottle of booze from his bag the man finds the contents of the bottle frozen solid. "Then shit like this happens and proves my points all over again. Look at this-strong enough to knock heavyweights on their asses with one swig but now?" He holds the bottle upside down and taps the base against his armored shoulder. "Solid as a deviant in a-"

A nearby scream cuts off his tangent causing him to lose his grip on the bottle and drop it on the ground exposed by the melted snow. The glass breaks, the contents inside the bottle are still rock solid though. The scream is quickly followed by steel bashing against something solid enough to make the weapons ring. The trio begin to move. Gathering their weapons and preparing for a fight the moment that they get there. The armored warrior with his greatsword, the man with expensive tastes with his rapier and parry dagger, and the humble sorcerer with raw magic power gathering in one of his hands. In his other hand is a one handed sword. The sounds of metal ringing through the air is cut off after a while longer but they continue to press on. Picking up the pace to try and get there as quickly as possible.

Midway through their march the three are passed by a white blur. The figure bounds from tree to tree, leaving gouges from the bark. Making it to the location is easy. The biggest issue is keeping the snow from clinging to their clothing. Once they arrive they find a man and a woman alongside their damaged wagon. The horse that was drawing it is long gone. The fallen man is held in the woman's lap, bleeding from the arm and shoulder. His broken weapon fallen to the side of the road.