Their first encounter with Uilly occurred deep within the humid, dense jungle of Elaria. The crew had been pressing forward into their quest, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the sounds of the jungle’s exotic wildlife. Uilly had tracked their movements, staying hidden, not wanting to alarm the seasoned adventurers. His twin hand axes were strapped securely to his back, and his gear—rope, grapples muffled with wool, and a bag covered in Dwarven runes—allowed him to move silently through the underbrush like a shadow.

  He had listened carefully to Bartel’s non-stop chatter and gathered that they were after the same treasure: the Jade Monkey Idol. Uilly, a Draven treasure hunter, had taken on the same commission as Captain Alaric’s crew. But instead of competing, Uilly figured he’d join them—if they’d have him. If not, he was confident in his ability to claim the treasure if they fell to the island’s dangers.

  As dusk began to settle, Uilly emerged from the shadows into their camp. His hands were raised in a gesture of peace. Sern, ever watchful, was the first to spot him. Instinctively, Sern drew his bow and called out, “Who goes there?” His voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. Uilly barely had time to take another step before an arrow thudded into the ground in front of him.

  “Name’s Uilly,” the dwarf said steadily, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “Thought you could use an extra hand.”

  The rest of the crew gathered, weapons at the ready. Hernkull, the half-orc brute, clenched her great axe, her eyes narrowing as she sized up the newcomer. Bartel stood slightly behind her, crossbow ready. Sern remained in the tree, his bow drawn and ready for another shot. Captain Alaric observed quietly from his place by the fire, his piercing blue eyes studying Uilly with calm intensity.

  Uilly spoke again, more directly to Captain Alaric, who hadn’t moved. “I’m a Draven treasure hunter. I’ve been tracking the same treasure—the Jade Monkey Idol.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Draven. The Draven were legendary within dwarven society—a secretive sect of treasure hunters dedicated to recovering lost dwarven masterworks. They were renowned not only for their skill but also for their ruthlessness when it came to reclaiming what they believed was rightfully theirs.

  Captain Alaric leaned back slightly, memories stirring. He had crossed paths with the Draven treasure hunters once before, many years ago. He remembered their intense dedication to their craft and their unyielding belief that dwarven artifacts, no matter how lost or far-flung, belonged in dwarven hands. The Draven weren’t just thieves or adventurers—they were guardians of their people's legacy, willing to go to extreme lengths to retrieve it. The captain also recalled how these treasure hunters, despite their sometimes morally ambiguous methods, were unrivaled in their knowledge of ancient traps and relics. They could navigate the deadliest of ruins with ease and expertise.

  Alaric’s eyes softened slightly as he recalled these past encounters. He knew that having a Draven treasure hunter on their side could make the difference between success and failure on this perilous quest. If Uilly was who he claimed to be, then he might just be the key to recovering the Jade Monkey Idol. And if Uilly’s cause was aligned with theirs, that made the decision easier.

  “Draven, you say?” Alaric finally spoke, his deep voice commanding attention. The rest of the crew shifted slightly, glancing between the captain and Uilly. “I’ve encountered your kind before. You lot don’t walk away from a treasure once it’s in your sights.”

  Uilly nodded. “I’m here for the Jade Monkey, same as you. And I can help you navigate the island. It’s crawling with traps and dangers, and I’ve been trained to deal with them.”

  Alaric weighed his options carefully. The crew was capable, but Elaria was a treacherous place, and their goal was no small prize. A Draven treasure hunter would bring invaluable expertise. He finally nodded, making up his mind. “Alright, Uilly. We’ll give you a chance. But if you cross us or try to take that treasure for yourself, you’ll regret it.”

  Uilly smirked and lowered his hands. “Understood, Captain. No tricks.”

  The crew relaxed slightly, though Hernkull still eyed Uilly with suspicion. “Why should we trust you, dwarf? For all we know, you’re working with the sorceress.”

  Uilly met Hernkull’s gaze steadily. “I have no love for the sorceress. I’m here for the Jade Monkey, and if stopping her is part of that, I’m in.” Uilly lifted one of his hand and it held Bartel’s trip wires that he must of removed as he entered their area. “I replaced these and left markers for the Elf he should be able to see them when he returns.”

  Bartel, ever curious, piped up, “And what makes you think you can handle whatever traps and dangers are ahead?”

  Uilly lifted one of his hand and it held Bartel’s trip wires that he must of removed as he entered their area. “I replaced these and left markers for the Elf he should be able to see them when he returns.”

  Uilly reached into his pack and pulled out a weathered map covered in notes and symbols. “I’ve been tracking the sorceress and studying the island’s layout. I know what to expect. This island is deadly, but I can help you avoid the worst of it.”

  Captain Alaric studied the map briefly and then nodded again. “We’ll see what you’re made of, Uilly.”

  The tension eased further as the crew accepted Uilly, though they remained cautious. The crew returned to their preparations for the night as Grendor emerged from the jungle with evening meal, the butchered remains of a massive snake. He tossed it down by the fire with a grin. “Dinner,” he announced. Hernkull moved to spit the snake on the fire while the rest of the crew gathered around to listen to Grendor’s tale of the hunt.

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  Uilly settled near the fire, maintaining a respectful distance from the crew while still joining their circle. He glanced at Bartel, who had been eyeing him with curiosity. “Name’s Uilly,” he said with a nod. “I’m a treasure hunter, specifically after dwarven artifacts.”

  Bartel’s eyes lit up with interest. “Dwarven treasures, you say? Like the Jade Monkey?”

  Hernkull let out a skeptical grunt, still not convinced. “And what if it’s not dwarven? What then?”

  Uilly acknowledged the question with a slight nod, his gaze briefly flicking to Captain Alaric, who seemed to be weighing the same concern. “If it is dwarven, I can offer a competing reward—a voucher, of sorts. But if it’s not dwarven, I’ll claim my share of the bounty, just like anyone else.”

  He looked around at the crew, meeting each of their gazes without flinching. “I’m not here to steal. I’m here to reclaim what’s rightfully ours. If the artifact isn’t dwarven, I’ll help you claim it—and take my fair share of the reward.”

  Sern, watching closely, asked, “You’ve been in the game a while, haven’t you?”

  “Long enough,” Uilly replied, his voice calm. He tossed a small pouch to Sern, who caught it swiftly. Inside, Sern found more black sand and a few pieces of cut obsidian—ideal for crafting arrowheads.

  "Rumors trickled down to my village just as I had finished my training as a Draven," Uilly began, his voice steady as he spoke, his eyes distant as though recalling a long-forgotten memory. "Of an old dwarven Winter palace, lost to time, forgotten in our history, around the same time as the last king."

  He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in before continuing. "The adventurers who had provisioned at our village were offered a deal: I would go along as the burglar and trap remover, clearing the way. They could keep all the coin and uncut gems, but anything else of dwarven craftsmanship—anything truly valuable to my people—was mine to claim."

  He leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening. "The place was buried deep in the tundra, above the Iron Mountains, in the Orc country. Cold, unforgiving, and crawling with dangers. But I was young, and the thought of reclaiming a dwarven treasure, something that belonged to us, was too tempting to pass up."

  Uilly’s gaze shifted to the fire, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. "We made it to the palace, but it wasn’t what I expected. The traps were worse than anything I had been trained for. And when we found the treasure vault, it wasn’t just coins and gems. There were artifacts—dwarven artifacts—priceless to us. And the adventurers, well, they didn’t stick to the deal. They wanted it all."

  "Not all of us survived," Uilly continued, his voice taking on a somber tone. "We lost one to a snow crevasse, another to someone who rushed in before I could check for traps in the room. Four of us remained when we finally found the treasure room. I disarmed the traps, and they gathered the coins, but the gems in that room—those were all cut and fashioned by dwarven hands. So those, those were to be mine, to return to our people."

  He paused, his eyes distant, lost in the memory. "My trainers, those of the Draven, always taught me to leave a trap or two in place until the end. I found out why, right there in that treasure room. Greed killed them. If they had been honorable, they could have lived like kings with all the gold within that room. But greed… greed kills."

  Uilly’s gaze hardened, and he let out a breath, as though exhaling the weight of the past. "I took what was mine, and I left the rest. The gold and gems didn’t matter to me—not even after what happened. I bagged up the crafted items and sealed and reset every trap as I walked my way back out of the Winter Palace."

  Alaric spoke up at the end of the tale, his voice firm. "Draven, we’re in it for the reward, simple. I’ve debts to pay, and a merchant vessel doesn’t always make the payment. If it’s dwarven, you keep it and you pay me enough for what’s owed this year. If it’s not, we split it, fair and square. But you led one of my people into a trap, and you’ll suffer their same fate."

  Alaric finished with steel in his voice and a tightly gripped fist, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

  Uilly grinned, unphased. “Perfect, just the terms I like.” He spit on his hand and offered it in good faith.

  Alaric’s eyes remained hard, but the word of a Draven was something he could count on. He clasped Uilly’s hand, sealing the deal.

  Sern still standing there with the pouch in his hands, gave a slight nod, understanding the unspoken gesture of trust. He pocketed the shards without further question, his own thoughts unreadable.

  The crew settled into camp for the night. Uilly had been accepted, though a wariness still lingered in the air. The day had been hard, and each of them moved to their bedrolls, exhaustion weighing on their bodies. Sern’s gaze lingered on Uilly, curious about where the dwarf had pulled out a well-made bedroll from, especially since he had seen no sign of gear earlier. "Where did that come from?" he muttered to himself as he strung his hammock high in the branches of a nearby tree.

  Uilly made his way over to Bartel, who was already setting up her own camp. They engaged in a deep conversation as Uilly rummaged through his bag. He pulled out two metal sewing needles and offered them in exchange for a set of shark bone needles from Bartel, explaining that for some traps, bone worked better than metal. Bartel examined the metal needles, impressed by their craftsmanship, before offering additional coin from her purse.

  Uilly shook his head and pushed the coin back toward her. "I got the better end of the deal," he said with a grin. "Consider it a fair trade, no need for extra coin."

  Sern took the first watch, spending the next couple of hours digesting the snake. Reptile meat never sat right with him, but it was better than going hungry. As the fire crackled below, he meticulously finished placing the last of his newly crafted arrowheads, his hands moving with practiced precision as he slid down the shafts, checking for warps and adjusting the fletching. The night deepened, and the sounds of the forest enveloped him, a symphony of nocturnal life.

  At the end of his watch, Sern dropped gracefully from the tree, landing softly. He moved to wake Hernkull for her turn. “All quiet,” he muttered. With a nod, he retreated to his hammock, hoping for a few hours of rest before the sun rose.

  Hernkull, ever vigilant, took her position, her eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of danger. The night was calm, but she knew better than to let her guard down. She settled into her watch but couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to Uilly and the Jade Monkey. What secrets did it hold? What trials awaited them?

  The night stretched on in a cloak of mystery and anticipation, each member of the crew silently preparing for the challenges yet to come.