Him? Oh, he’s my Finch. He’s not the quiet, humble dwarf mage that most would imagine. With a taste for money and quite a big ego, he will fight pretty much anything. Most of the time, he sees himself through just fine, mixing blade and magic together in a formidable attack.

Sometimes though… He bites off more than he can chew. Like in town the other day, for example.

“Beastfolk have moved into an old smugglers’ cave, just up Meldine Ridge,” we were told one bright autumn morning. “If anyone can move ‘em on, before we get any trouble, we’d be most generous with a reward.”

The sum of gold was not made clear, but that was enough for Finch.

“Come, Eswen,” he said to me, that glimmer growing in his eye. “A few beastfolk should be within our abilities, no?”

So off we went, up the mountain on sharp winds. And well, as it turned out, no. They were not at all within our abilities, and we were lucky to escape with all our feathers intact. The mighty rewuard matched the mighty task. Nothing comes easy, even for my fierce, bold Finch.

We rested a few days, mostly tending our bruised pride, but we’re ready now to look for a new challe- Hey, where’s he gone? He was just there a second ago, he can’t have gone f- IS HE HALFWAY BACK UP THAT MOUNTAIN RIDGE? I’M GONNA KILL HIM

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