The Companions

".....can't breathe fire, it's not biologically possible." muttered the shortest of the four. He was young, wearing a bright green tunic and brown trousers. In his hands he held two daggers, which he juggled in the air sporadically.

"Look, where dragons are concerned, anything is possible, biological or otherwise." argued the second man, the tallest of the four. A blood red eyepatch covered his left eye, and his face bore countless scars, giving him a very dire countenance. He held a mace in his left hand, and wore dark plate mail. "Fire is one of the eldest majicks - why shouldn't it be imbued into the great beasts?"

"You're getting confused between real fire and magical fire, Sehrvat." retorted the short man. "Dragons can't 'breathe fire' per se, it's an illusion. They probably just......cast spells from their mouths, and no doubt their favourite ones are incendiary in nature."

"I know the difference between flame and sorcery, Quillian." stated Sehrvat, his war-torn expression betraying only a hint of irritation. "None are protected more from the elements than dragons, and there's no smoke without fire, as they say. Say to someone 'dragon' and the first two words they'll think of are 'fire' and 'breathing'. I believe that dragons do not cast fire magic from their mouths, as you so spuriously claim. They breathe it, as we breathe the air."

"I'm hungry." claimed the third man, who was fat. He held no weapon, and wore only a large, baggy brown robe. Around his sizeable waist was a wide belt, upon which dangled at least a hundred miniscule potions - each one a different colour, each one no more than a gulp's worth.

"We'll move inland at nightfall, Cowran." said Quillian, with a disdainful sideways glance. The fourth man, a wiry, elderly gentleman with a jet black robe, had been staring at Fred as they had approached. Fred, who was now barely a few feet away from them, called a greeting.

"Good day, sirs." said Fred, tapping the pocket that held the strange runic scroll he had found a moment ago. "What brings you to this place?"

The other three in the group - Quillian, Sehrvat and Cowran - jerked their heads in Fred's direction, only now aware of his presence. There was a moment of silence.

1. "Good day, sir." returned Quillian, apparently satisfied that Fred was not hostile.
2. "Your money or your life!" roared Sehrvat, moving in to attack Fred.
3. "My God, that......that's Frederigo D'Honaire!" exclaimed Cowran, looking flabbergasted.

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