[Ransom]

Ransom’s visor dropped with a clink. Someone or something was coming. His polearm, which he had named Ancalagon’s Claw in a brief moment of literary genius, had taken its portion of souls. The armor had proved extremely useful when an orc tried to tackle him only to be killed by one of the blades that extended from his arms. He crouched, ready to pounce on whatever hapless creature that appeared.

One woman, wielding two weapons resembling toasting forks, shouting a loud battle cry. Her companion, a tall elf with long read hair, spouted a unbroken string of curses. He drew back his weapon, preparing to unleash a powerful blow and end the battle before noticing the identity of the foul-mouthed elf. Elwyn!

“Well, these orcs merely warmed me up! What’s next?”

Ransom stood upright and lifted his helm, grinning somewhat sheepishly. Elwyn recognized him first and lowered her sword. “Ransom!”

Elanor appeared slightly confused for a moment before she remembered him. Before this unexpected meeting, she had only seen him in a dark forest with only a minute amount of illumination. Elwyn seemed to briefly consider hugging him before noticing the many sharp implements that covered the armor. Instead, she walked over and made a few tentative pokes at a flesh hook. “My, my you’ve certainly gotten new toys.”

Ransom let the visor fall with a click. “I’ve just broken out of their sad excuse for a prison, and I assume that you too know more about our present situation. What’s going on?”