"So, anyways, I didn't know if my dog was hungry, but the minute that he went for my jugular, I realized that he obviously needed to have his teeth brushed. The beasties take dental hygiene with the utmost seriocity, which just goes to shows how important teeth really is..."

Helmut felt his attention span diminish and made no attempts to stop it. The old man had been talking about teeth for the last… hour ? They didn’t have watches on Rthor and because they did have watches on Earth, he wasn’t wearing one when he was summoned. Either way, it was long enough to cause one to question the passage of time. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in the buckling cart that threatened to fall apart at any moment and tried to ignore the stubborn javelins of hay that poked at his skin.

Above them brawny buzzards over six feet in length cawed in conversation with unseen brethren as they noisily flapped about, the persistent rhythm doing very little to calm the unease emanating from his stomach. To the right, he observed a heavily-plated rhinoceros, built more like a komodo dragon, with a horn that resembled a curved smokestack observe the pair him heavy, doe-like eyes. The beast rose on its eight legs and took a few tentative steps forward, though it did not move fast enough to engage the donkey drawn cart, assuming that was its purpose. Even if the rhino had been fast enough, he was far from concerned. The somewhat sad truth of the matter is that he had engaged multiple rhinos and worse in hand-to-horn combat many times. Helmut returned his attention to patting his dog, a Husky known as Nate and the longest-lasting relic that had accompanied him from Earth.

"Um, okay, listen, I think we'll get off now," interjected Nina. The bronze, blonde, blue-eyed elf had grudgingly become his traveling companion, primarily because of the advantages offered to her due to his station. Being the Thunderkind, the one fated to save (or lead) their world from (or into) darkness depending on translation, had earned the otherwise unremarkable teenager privileges comparable to royalty, such as access to vaults of clandestine knowledge. What Nina intended to find, Helmut did not know and, truthfully, could not care.

"Are you sure ?” inquired the old man, a distinct scraping sound could be heard as he furrowed the rough skin of his brow. “Howzabout I tells you ‘bout the story of the boy who cried sheep…"

"No, that's okay,” said Nina somewhere within his rant. “Let's go,” she hissed, gripping Helmut’s bare arm with her inch-long fingernails. An inch never seemed like that much of an amount until it was sinking into your flesh.

"Geez, I thought he'd never shut up," mumbled Nina, a whip cracking in the background as the old man continued along one beaten path while they traveled another.

As uncomfortable as the hay ride had been, Helmut had more then his fill of walking and was only placated because of the high walls and gate that could be seen in the distance. This placidness was threatened when his final companion, Chewy, an adorable, blue-skinned anorexic gremlin child, climbed onto his shoulder and clung to him like cat with an equivalent amount of nails.

“Geez, Chewy, get off me,” griped Helmut, a half-hearted effort at pushing the… thing to the ground met with squirms and giggles. “You want to do something about this ?”

"He's probably still talking," commented Nina, slapping the ground methodically with the gnarled, bulbous end of her wooden staff. “Stupid old man.”

Just as they reached the gate an arrow landed near Helmut's foot. This was also less surprising than it ordinarily would have been.

"Uh-oh," proclaimed Helmut; there was an equal chance that the situation would be resolved or the quartet would get bum-rushed.