As the party pressed forward through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon, the air grew thick with a strange energy—an almost tangible hum of magic woven into the stone itself. The group moved cautiously, weapons at the ready, but Dorian, despite the tense atmosphere, couldn't help but throw an arm around Markus with a wide grin.
"Now this is a moment I never thought I'd see," Dorian declared dramatically. "The great Markus, walking through danger with me at his side once more. Feels just like old times."
Markus sighed, adjusting the grip on his staff. "We were barely together long enough to call it 'old times.'"
"Barely? That's not how I remember it," Dorian protested. "When I was just a lowly squire, you were already a terrifyingly powerful mage, the shining star of Ironveil." He gestured dramatically toward the wizard. "And yet, despite all your might, you still had the patience to guide a young, reckless fool like me."