The wood in the campfire crackled and splintered, small embers lifting up into the air and burning up. The sky was dark, the moon hung high in the sky. The woods around Astarion creaked and groaned in the gentle breeze. He had been traveling on his own since the nautiloid ship had crash landed on the coast. It wasn’t the best situation, but it was the only way he knew how to survive.

A branch snapping from behind him in the woods drew his attention, and he quickly stood, drawing his dagger. He had felt a gaze on him, but he hadn’t realized just who it was. Gur stepped out from the trees, their eyes trained on him.

“Come now.. things don’t have to get rough..” one spoke, attempting to calm, but his hand reaching for his weapon did little to help. Astarion’s grip on his dagger tightened, and he prepared himself for a difficult fight. There was no way in the world he was going anywhere with these men.. and they looked like they had no intentions to back down..