The inn doors swung open, and for a heartbeat the noise inside dipped as a few heads turned.

  Then recognition spread.

  Cheers broke out from across the common room, mugs raised high as voices called out over the din.

  “Oi! They’re back!”

  “First run, yeah?”

  “Well done!”

  “Still breathing! Drinks on you time!”

  Josh blinked, caught off guard, as a wave of good-natured applause rolled over them. A couple of adventurers they’d shared glances with that morning thumped tables in approval. Others they’d seen drinking the night before raised their mugs in salute, grinning like they’d just won a bet.

  Bhel lifted both hands, axes conspicuously absent now, beard still stained dark despite his best efforts. “Aye, aye, no need to make a song of it!” he boomed, though the pride in his voice was impossible to miss.

  They barely had time to find their bearings before a barmaid appeared, already balancing a tray heavy with tankards. She slid them onto the nearest table with practiced ease, foam sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

  “On the house,” she said brightly. “First run’s a big one.”

  Bhel seized his immediately, taking a deep pull before anyone else could react. Josh followed suit, the cool bitterness of the ale washing over his tongue and settling warmly in his chest.

  Carcan eyed her mug as though it might bite her. Brett leaned in, sniffed his, and grimaced.

  “Nope,” Brett said, pushing it away. “Not for me thanks.”

  Carcan nodded in agreement. “I think I’ll go for something a bit, erm. Different.”

  The barmaid burst out laughing. “More for them then,” she said, gesturing at Bhel and Josh. She vanished back into the crowd, still chuckling, leaving the drinks for the pair.

  They claimed a sturdy table near the hearth, the heat a welcome contrast to the lingering chill of the dungeon. Armour creaked as they sat, weapons leaned carefully within reach, old habits slow to die.

  “Food,” Josh said immediately. “Lots of it.”

  “I’m going to eat an entire platter of meat,” Bhel declared, slapping the table for emphasis. “All of it. Whatever beast it was, it died for this moment.”

  Perberos snorted. “You said that last time.”

  “And I meant it then too.”

  Another barmaid approached, notepad in hand, and the table erupted into overlapping orders. Bhel did not exaggerate. He ordered meat in every form the inn offered. Josh followed close behind, adding bread and something fried. Carcan and Brett opted for lighter fare and proper drinks, pointedly specifying wine and something herbal respectively.

  As the food order was sent off, they settled in properly, drinks in hand, the tension finally beginning to seep out of their shoulders.

  Nearby adventurers drifted over in twos and threes, drawn by curiosity and shared experience. Questions were asked. Exaggerated stories traded. Someone insisted they’d heard the dungeon had shifted again. Someone else swore blind the kobolds were breeding faster.

  Josh found himself laughing more than he had in days, the sound rough but genuine. Brett animatedly re-enacted part of the fight with his hands, earning a mix of groans and impressed nods. Carcan listened more than she spoke, smiling softly, occasionally correcting Brett when his version strayed too far from reality. Perberos offered dry, cutting remarks that somehow only added to the camaraderie.

  Bhel simply drank and basked in it all, a contented, battered dwarf among fellow survivors.

  For a while, the dungeon felt far away. For a while, they were just adventurers in an inn, sharing food, drink, and the simple, precious knowledge that they had gone down into the dark and come back again.

  Laughter rolled from a nearby table, louder and sharper than most, cutting through the general hum of the inn. Josh glanced over without meaning to and found another party watching them with open curiosity.

  They were an odd-looking group, even by adventurer standards.

  Closest to Josh sat a female beastfolk, unmistakably rabbitkin. Her fur was a rich, burnished gold that caught the firelight, and long ears rose proudly from beneath a crested helm she had set on the table beside her. She wore full plate armour, polished and heavy, the kind usually reserved for frontline veterans. Despite it, she lounged with easy confidence, one boot propped on a chair rung, tail flicking lazily behind her.

  Beside her sat a female dwarf in well-worn leather armour, dark and supple, fitted for mobility rather than brute force. Her curly brown hair spilled loose around her shoulders, and she had the sharp, assessing eyes of someone who missed very little. She leaned back with her arms crossed, lips curled in an amused half-smirk.

  Across from them loomed a tall human mage, long-bearded and broad-shouldered, robes neatly pressed despite the day’s apparent adventures. He held his mug delicately, posture straight, eyes keen and thoughtful as he studied Josh’s group like a scholar examining an interesting text.

  To his left perched a gnome who looked like he might topple over at any moment under the sheer number of gadgets strapped to his person. Small brass devices hung from belts and bandoliers, gears and lenses glinting whenever he moved. Something ticked softly every time he shifted.

  Rounding out the group was a human woman with short brown hair, practical clothes, and an expression that sat somewhere between weary patience and quiet embarrassment. She noticed Josh looking and offered him a quick, apologetic smile.

  The bunny beastfolk leaned forward first, resting her chin on a gauntleted fist. “So,” she said, voice light but sharp, eyes flicking over Josh’s battered armour and scorched cloak. “You lot the ones who crawled out of the Warren looking like you lost an argument with a furnace?”

  Bhel barked a laugh. “Aye. Won it though.”

  The dwarf snorted. “Won it?” she echoed. “Looks more like you survived it.”

  Josh felt Brett stiffen beside him, but before he could respond, the human woman at their table cleared her throat pointedly.

  “Bun,” she said, giving the dwarf a sideways look. “Behave.”

  The bunny shrugged, unapologetic. “Just curious.”

  The tall mage inclined his head politely, beard swaying. “Forgive my companions,” he said smoothly. “Victory tends to make them… exuberant. Still, it is no small thing to walk out of the Warren alive on a first descent.”

  His eyes met Josh’s, calculating but not unfriendly. “Adventuring is easier when one has allies. Friends, even. The dungeon teaches that lesson quickly.” He said as he moved his chair to sit between the rabbitkin and the dwarf. “We for example have run the warren several times, and one would assume are a number of levels higher. So we’re here if you need out advise. You know. To help you grow.” His final words ended with his eyes on Carcan.

  Josh nodded slowly. “Seems to be teaching a lot of lessons today.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  The gnome suddenly leaned forward, hands braced on the table, goggles slipping down his nose. He began speaking with a rapid-fire, guttural rhythm, every word laced with a thick accent.

  “Ah, da, da, listen here, ja! Dis Warren… it’s a tricky, tricky beast, da? Full of traps, yes, tricks, an’ nasty little surprises where you no expect, da? If you no watch your step—bam! You are meat before you know it, ja!”

  Josh blinked, leaning closer, trying to parse the words. The gnome jabbed a finger in the air, voice bouncing up and down with excitement.

  “Pressure plates! Sneaky little detonators, ja! An’ da wee blighters, nibble at your ankles like tiny daggers! You must be… careful… very careful, da!”

  Josh furrowed his brow, concentrating, but couldn’t help letting a small, exasperated laugh escape. “Right… got it. Tiny dagger-nibbling kobolds. Noted.” Josh said finally, after a long pause. “Pretty sure I caught about half of that.”

  The gnome beamed. “Good enough!”

  The human woman groaned softly and covered her face with one hand.

  Despite himself, Josh laughed. The tension eased, just a fraction, as the two tables settled into an uneasy but curious truce. Whatever else they were, this place was full of people who understood exactly what it meant to walk back out of the dark.

  The human woman pushed her chair back slightly and stood, clearly deciding that if introductions were going to happen, they were going to happen properly.

  “Sorry,” she said, offering Josh’s group a small, earnest smile. “We’re not usually this… loud. I’m Butler.” She gave a short bow of the head. “Party healer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Carcan said at once, relief flickering across her face at finding a kindred role.

  Butler gestured to the gnome beside her. “This is Choc. Engineer.”

  Choc puffed up proudly, a handful of brass widgets clinking against each other as he shifted. His words tumbled out, each syllable rolling and snapping sharply.

  “Ah, da, da, dat’s me, ja! If it clicks, or it whirs, or it… explodes, eh? Or maybe it no should do any of daes things, but—hah!—it does anyway, da? Most likely… my fault, ja!”

  He grinned, shrugging as a small gear slipped from his fingers and bounced on the table, jingling merrily.

  “That explains… all of it,” Brett muttered, eyeing the sheer quantity of devices strapped to the gnome’s belt.

  Next, Butler nodded toward the dwarf. “This is Bean. Our rogue and scout.”

  Bean didn’t bother standing. She crossed her arms tighter, one brow lifting in something that might have been acknowledgement. Josh’s eyes flicked down almost unconsciously, catching the twin daggers resting easy at her hips. Not ornamental. Used, and frequently.

  “Hmph,” Bean said. That was apparently all she had to contribute.

  Butler moved on, motioning toward the large human mage. He was broad through the shoulders, beard thick and carefully braided, robes open just enough to suggest he enjoyed being noticed. One heavy arm was draped comfortably around Bean’s shoulders now, the other looped around the bunnyfolk woman on his opposite side. He was actively trying to pull them closer, grinning like a man who found his own company endlessly amusing.

  “And that,” Butler said, tone carefully neutral, “is Fire. He’s a soul mage.”

  Fire flashed a slow, confident smile. “A pleasure,” he rumbled. “Always good to see fresh faces still breathing.”

  Bean’s jaw tightened. Bun’s ears twitched sharply.

  Before Butler could continue, the bunnyfolk woman drove an elbow back into Fire’s stomach with practiced precision.

  “Oof—!” Fire wheezed, laughter bursting out even as his arms loosened. “Worth it.”

  The bunnyfolk slipped free immediately, reclaiming her space and lifting her mug. “I’m Bun,” she said flatly, cutting across Butler mid-sentence. “Front liner.”

  She took a long drink and turned slightly away, clearly done with introductions.

  Fire rubbed his side, still smiling. “See? Teamwork.”

  Bean shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Touch me again and you’ll be down a hand.”

  Fire only laughed harder.

  Josh exchanged a glance with Bhel, who looked delighted, and Brett, who looked faintly overwhelmed. Carcan watched Bun with open interest, while Perberos quietly catalogued everything.

  For all the rough edges, though, there was something familiar about them. A group worn down by danger, frayed by stress, but still standing together.

  Adventurers, through and through.

  Carcan cleared her throat lightly and rose just enough from her seat to be seen over the mugs and elbows.

  “Right. Fair’s fair,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Carcan. Healer and support.” She gestured around the table in turn. “That’s Josh, our front line and shield. Bhel’s our heavy hitter.” Bhel lifted his mug in acknowledgement, already halfway through it. “Perberos handles ranged and scouting. And Brett’s our mage.”

  “Fire, soul mage,” Fire echoed with a grin, lifting his own drink in mock salute. “Always good to meet another spell-slinger.”

  Brett returned the gesture awkwardly. “Uh. Fire mage. Regular kind. Less… soul involved.”

  “Pity,” Fire said lightly. “Souls have character.”

  Carcan slid neatly into conversation with Butler after that, the two of them comparing healing methods, mana thresholds, and the particular terror of watching a tank’s health dip into the red. Butler nodded along, clearly sympathetic.

  “Oh, don’t get me started,” Butler said. “You ever had to heal someone who’s mid-leap?”

  “Yes,” Carcan replied instantly. “It’s not something I’d like to repeat.”

  Across the table, Choc clambered up onto his chair, leaning closer to get a better look at Bhel’s axes.

  “Ah, now dose,” he rattled off, eyes sparkling, words rolling together with a cheerful force, “proper pieces of steel, yes? Balanced? Reinforced haft, da? Very strong, very sharp!”

  Bhel grinned, pride flashing in his eyes. “Aye. Like ‘em sturdy. And sharp.”

  Fire chimed in now and again, adding commentary that was half helpful, half boastful, clearly enjoying being included in every conversation at once.

  Bean remained silent, nursing her drink and watching everything with narrowed eyes. Bun stared into her mug, ears flicking idly, posture loose but coiled.

  Then, without warning, Bun’s head snapped up.

  She fixed Perberos with a hard look.

  “You, ranger.” she said flatly. “You use a crossbow?”

  The table went quiet.

  Perberos blinked once. “No.”

  Bun leaned forward. “Good. Why not?”

  Perberos hesitated, then answered honestly. “Bow’s faster. Quieter. Better control.”

  Her ears twitched. “Exactly.”

  Josh felt the shift before it happened. Brett leaned slightly away.

  Bun straightened in her chair, voice rising. “Crossbows are lazy weapons. Crank-and-click nonsense. No feel. No rhythm. Anyone can point and pull. No respect for the shot.”

  Perberos, to his credit, engaged seriously. “They have their uses. Armor penetration. Training new recruits or unskilled fighters—”

  “Training bad habits,” Bun snapped. “You lose timing. You lose awareness. And gods help you if the string jams mid-fight.”

  She was on her feet now, gesturing sharply with her mug. “I’ve seen people die because they trusted a crossbow. Standing there reloading while something nasty closes the distance.”

  Fire tried to interject. “Now, Bun—”

  “No,” she cut in. “They’re awful.”

  Choc nodded vigorously. “Aye, aye, mechanism failure rates are—”

  “Especially repeating ones,” Bun continued, steamrolling ahead. “Over-engineered deathtraps.”

  Perberos opened his mouth, thought better of it, and simply nodded. “Bow works for me.”

  Bun studied him for a long moment, then sat back down with a satisfied huff. “Good.”

  The noise level slowly returned. Butler sighed quietly. Bean took a long drink. Fire laughed like this was all perfectly normal.

  Josh leaned over toward Brett, keeping his voice low.

  “This party is weird,” he whispered.

  Brett didn’t look away from Bun, who was still muttering darkly about trigger mechanisms.

  “Yeah,” he murmured back. “But… I kind of get the feeling they do well in a fight.”

  Josh snorted softly.

  After the conversations continued for a while longer, Josh began shifting uncomfortably in his chair, tugging at his singed cloak. “Uh… I just remembered something I need to… check. In, uh, the… washroom?” he muttered, waving vaguely. “Yeah, I really need a shower. And maybe… some sleep.”

  Bhel choked back a laugh, Brett snickered, and Carcan gave him a knowing look. “Sounds like a wise choice,” she said.

  The group quickly rose, offering polite nods and murmured excuses to the other adventurers. Josh practically bolted down the hall, the others falling in behind him without a word.

  Once inside their room, the door closed with a quiet thunk, and the party let out a collective, exhausted sigh. The tension melted just enough for a few relieved chuckles to escape. Josh dropped onto his bed with a grunt, already imagining the warm water of a long-overdue shower.

  Bhel flopped onto the edge of his own bed, shaking his head. “Finally,” he muttered, stretching. “I could almost sleep standing up after that mess.”

  Carcan leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, while Brett plopped onto the floor, resting his back against the bedframe. For the first time in hours, the party allowed themselves to simply breathe, the chaotic energy of the dungeon finally receding.