“Quick! To The Airship!” Sasolin yelled across the bolts of fire thumping into the ground, kicking up dirt. She cursed herself for jinxing it. “Oh, it’s just a simple job.” she had told her crew not 15 minutes prior. She should have known after all that time serving in the Last War, that there is no such thing as a simple job.

The halfling they were here to meet, a Boromar heir to something or other. He’d obviously never seen the battlefield of the Last War, his hands up covering his head and ears, tears streaming down his face. If he were to survive this warzone, he wasn’t going to do it alone. The warforged, Rust (they had a very ironic sense of humour) effortlessly picked up the halfling and held him up under their metal-plated arm, vine-like tendrils flexing beneath the armour.

They began to charge for the small airship chartered for this trip. The Lyrandar khoravar at the helm was already taking off, evidently antsy to reduce the damage to the airship as much as possible. Sasolin watched as Rust barrelled through the flying projectiles, and slowly realised that the warforged wasn’t going to make it in time.

A few dozen feet in the air already, Sasolin tossed down a half-dozen ropes attached to various cleats on the deck, just as Rust reached their other hand up and grasped a few, twisting their arm to leverage the ropes as much as possible. With the help of the gnome and the changeling (who switched to their weightlifting persona, Douglas, a man with massive muscles and a handlebar moustache), Rust and the young Boromar were hauled on board.

The Boromar looked like he might throw up, but he still managed to act like a little prince. He gave the crew, Sasolin’s crew, a disgusted look. “Who are you people? What the Khyber are you doing here? You could’ve almost got me killed!”

Sasolin, a tiefling (and a tall one at that), fought back thoughts that this kid’s face was at perfect kicking height. Instead, she told him, “1. You’re Welcome. 2. We have no idea who those guys are, but an uneducated guess? They have beef with your family. Most of Sharn does. And 3. We’re with the House Sivis Global Postal Guild. You’ve got mail.”