Aimil gritted her teeth as the all-too-common insult rang in her ears. “Let it go,” muttered her companion, Kamdoth. Before he could stop her, she charged at the boisterous drunks with a sudden swiftness, trampling one beneath her powerful hooves, nearly impaling another with her silver-tipped horns, and sending the third flying across the room. As the dust settled, she looked around the bar and asked, “Is there anyone else here who would care to call me a ‘cow-person’?”

Kel swung his quarterstaff in a wide arc in front of him, leaving a flurry of petals in its wake, as the cultist dodged out of the way. “Ha, you missed!” mocked the robed man. Kel smiled, as the cultist’s nostrils flared, and his eyes suddenly glazed over, his dagger falling limp at his side. “Who said I was trying to hit you?”

As the bandits entered the damp cave in search of their prey, heedless of the deadly spores that floated silently through the air, they heard a voice in their heads, “You shouldn’t have come here.”