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On a very, very high tower, all sorts of different people gathered. And not just people. Something brought them all to this difficult peak, from which it is so easy to fall down, some goal. But not Rurek... he climbed to the infernal throne to train his legs. He saw others climbing and, with an impassive expression, joined the procession. Why not, if it's possible? It's not always easy to get the right to climb such a long and bizarre structure... That's how Rurek learned about the expedition. Oh, these people... and why can't they stay in the pleasant, warm, and kind Ikazkan? They are all rushing somewhere, restless little guys!
The surface! What could be interesting there? Hmm... maybe some unfamiliar breeds from which new types of armor and weapons can be made. Or a cauldron. No, it's not worth it. Who is even here?
The One herself, the mistress of the Dungeon. What an interesting encounter... I would like to touch her strong, powerful sword... A self-absorbed elf. At least someone decent among the people has joined the group. One ugly one, two ugly ones, a terrifying ugly one, and a slightly less ugly one, but still a human. Nothing new. Little guys as always! Sord is clearly out of place in such company. Maybe there are others, but Rurek is tired of looking at the details.
"Why leave Ikazkan if you can stay in Ikazkan?" Rurek philosophically asked, either to himself or to Ona, whom he was looking at. "Ikazkan is our home. And the surface... who knows what's there? Foreign lands. Unknown monsters. Everyone who goes there will surely die in terrible agony."
Rurek was young by Sord standards. And where there is youth, there is pessimism, a lack of interest in life, and a tendency to seclusion.