Azazel and the others weren't alone. They had three strange companions with them, each one odder than the last.

First, there was a lumbering crabfolk with claws the size of a man's head, it looked more than capable of crushing skulls with ease.

Next to the crabfolk was a tiny potato, of all things, walking and talking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Its curious presence elicited bewildered stares from Ren and Evie.

And then there was the third companion, an amorphous automaton that resembled nothing more than a rock come to life. Its form shifted and morphed, taking on various shapes as it moved, its sentience evident in the way it observed its surroundings.

"What . . . what are they?" Evie asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Standing before them were three beings unlike anything they had ever encountered before.

Ren exchanged a glance with Malifira and Desira, seeking some semblance of explanation in their expressions.

However, all he received were resigned sighs and amused chuckles.

"They are the natives of this mountain," Desira explained, her tone tinged with a hint of exasperation.

"Fjallbrun," Potato corrected.

"Fjall . . . what?" Elena questioned, her confusion evident.

The potato replied, "Fjallbrun is the name most commonly used by the locals to refer to these mountains. It roughly translates to 'cold rocks' in the forgotten pidgin language of long-dead dwarves and humans."

"I . . . I see . . . ," Elena could only mutter in response.

Then she shook her head and asked in a loud, exasperated voice, "Wait, what are you anyway?! You," she gestured towards the crabfolk, "are a crab, but you're talking and walking. And you," she turned to the automaton, "are supposed to be a clay construct, not alive. And as for you," she pointed to the potato, "I don't even know where to start."

Azazel chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the bewildering sight before them. "Aren't they great?"

"Weird is more like it," muttered Evie under her breath, her gaze flickering between the strange companions.

Ren gave her the side glance amused by her comment. That was something else coming from her. "I think introduction is in order," said Pamela, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention.

The crab, who introduced himself as Xyl'kthar'gix but preferred to be called Crabby for simplicity's sake, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Despite his formidable appearance, there was a certain warmth in his expression as he regarded everyone else.

"I belong to the Erfitts race," Crabby explained, his words accompanied by a series of clicks and gurgles that constituted his native language. "We prefer the sharp shale and frigid brine of Fjallbrun over the more temperate lowlands."

Everyone were fascinated by the intricate sounds emanating from Crabby's mandibular mouth parts.

Though they struggled to understand every word of it.

Next to introduce himself was the potato, who identified as Glostradrethrazzle but insisted, insisted on being called Potato.

Evie couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the absurdity of the name, but she quickly composed herself as Potato began to speak.

"We belong to the race of Woodwose," Potato explained, his voice surprisingly melodious despite his small stature. "We're hairy plant people, rumored to be born in the soil. 'Turnip head' is a common slur, though most woodwose care little of what others call us."

"You sure talk a lot," Desira remarked dryly.

Potato shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by Desira's observation. "We get that a lot," he admitted with a chuckle.

Vivi's eyes gleamed with mischief as she eyed Potato hungrily. "We definitely have to bring him," she declared, her thoughts already turning to the possibility of emergency rations.

Malifira stifled a laugh at Vivi's suggestion, nodding in agreement. "Considering the time we have to climb, I'd say that we need all the sustenance we can get."

Potato paled at the mention of being eaten, seeking refuge behind Crabby. "You may find myself and my people unappetizing, but I promise you, we're much bitter to the taste," he protested weakly.

Vivi licked her lips, undeterred by Potato's protests. "I like bitter," she declared with a mischievous grin.

"Eeek!" Potato squeaked in alarm, retreating further behind Crabby's protective shell.

Ren sighed, realizing that their journey to the peak of Whispering Mountains would be filled with these kinds of crowds.

Turning her attention back to their peculiar companions, Elena directed her question towards the shy and reserved clay doll who stood silently amidst the group. "And how about you? What's your name?"

Potato, ever eager to facilitate introductions, stepped forward to assist. "That guy doesn't speak much and is shy around strangers, so I'll introduce you to him," he offered, gesturing towards the clay doll. "His name is Mjuk."

Elena raised an eyebrow at the seemingly ordinary name, given the unconventional monikers of Potato and Crabby. "Well . . . that's a very normal name considering what you two call yourselves."

Potato shook his head emphatically. "No, no, no. Mjuk likes to be called Mjuk. It's his race," he explained, eager to clarify any misconceptions.

Elena smacked her lips in realization. "Ah, I see . . ."

"Allow me to elucidate on the enigmatic Mjuk," Potato began eagerly, launching into an elaborate discourse. "Forgotten progeny of the Shapers, these peculiar beings, often referred to as clayfolk, are crafted from a substance akin to a curious amalgamation of clay and flesh."

He continued, his words flowing like a river, "Fluid and shape-shifting by nature, they possess the uncanny ability to mold themselves akin to malleable putty in the hands of a skilled sculptor. Soe opt to masquerade as entities distinct from their true essence, assuming vague resemblances to various sentient beings. Others embrace their intrinsic form, resembling featureless blobs adorned with sinuous tendrils."

Potato paused momentarily, contemplating the diversity within the Mjuk community, before continuing, "And yet there are those who defy convention, adopting extravagant configurations with intricate appendages or slender tentacles, albeit confined within roughly humanoid proportions."

Just as Potato was poised to delve deeper into the complexities of Mjuk existence, Ren interjected, sensing the conversation's trajectory veering into overly intricate territory.

"Appreciate the explanation, but we really must go now," Ren interjected.