Poldaran's page

“So,” I said, massaging the bridge of my nose with one hand and using the other to point at pirate lady, “Batman here, who turned my sword into a fish, needs us to do a job, and then she’ll take us to Emily. And she has a way to get into contact with Persephone, apparently, without needing Emily? It’s all very vague and confusing and, occasionally, everything around us suddenly turns into meat.”

“Wait,” Gregor said, “you had a sword?”

“Every man thinks their knife is a sword,” pirate lady whispered loudly.

“…I…have decided that…that for the sake,” I swallowed hard, “for the sake of my family-”

“Are you okay?” Burin interrupted. “You’re talking very slowly. Have he suddenly been hit by a slow spell, Samantha?” he asked pirate lady.

I stared at him, repeatedly clenching and unclenching my fists at my side. “Burin, I need your help to-”

He reached into his coat and offered me a cup. It was already halfway filled with water from his dunk in the lake. “Here. It should clear things up.”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST MAKE THIS EASY?!” I screamed.

Instead of responding to my cry, he forced the cup into one of my hands. “Drink up,” he told me. “You might have some mental damage.”

I walked away.

I plopped down in at the edge of the lake. Part of me hoped that the goose wasn’t dead and would come back to eat me…

“Okay, so let’s make this quick, and explain why Burin’s plan isn’t going to work, so that we can move on,” Samantha declared. She snapped her finger. Mercifully, this time the teleportation didn’t involve gelatin. The garden evaporated and she, the boys, and I were suddenly sitting in a giant room filled with rows of red seats facing a giant, wide magic mirror. I think, in Earth terms, it was called a movie theater? Samantha stood up and waved a hand. The disgusting frozen image of Baba Yaga’s gnarled face filled the magic mirror. Behind her, three on either side, were six tall pillars.

Samantha cleared her throat and turned to address us. “So, when you were in Baba Yaga’s realm, you returned her death to her. This means that she can currently be killed. As a stopgap measure, because she cannot remove her death again until the next Witch’s Moon, which is months from now, she needs your daughter fattened up. To fuel the ritual. She needs to fatten up Emily’s soul, store it with enough power for the ritual to work.” She pointed at the pillars. “At the moment, Baba Yaga has tied her lifeforce to these six pillars. So you need to destroy them. But you can’t do that till Lyriana gets back. So there’s something else we need to do before you do that. And by ‘we’ I mean you because I’m not going.”

I raised a hand.

She pointed at me. “Yes?”

“So, you need us to do a thing before we can do a thing before we can do a thing before we can actually do a thing and then do that next thing and then finish the thing so that we can finally save the day,” I said dryly.

“Exactly!” she laughed. “Glad you understand!”

“…And you just don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Oh, no! It’s just if I show up, Baba Yaga will know that we’re up to something. She’ll sense me.”

“And she won’t sense us?” Gregor asked. “Are we no longer her Black Riders?”

“Nope,” Samanatha replied.

“Because she gave the mantel to that b!%$%!” I sneered. “I knew it, guys! You can’t trust a b@!%%…”

“To be fair, the people Baba Yaga would least suspect of stopping her would be the ones she just killed,” Gregor said, a trace of anger in his voice.

“Yahtzee!” Samantha exclaimed. I don’t know why. She just did. She then pointed at me. “Now, imagine you have your robots, and you need to sneak into the farmer’s garden to steal the carrots. You don’t send a giant robot, because then he’d notice and whip out his shotgun. No, you send the tiny versions. You understand yet? I’m the big awesome robot and you’re all the teeny tiny pathetic robots.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied sarcastically.

“So we’re stealing carrots?” Burin asked.

“No, I’m talking about destroying those pillars,” Samanatha answered.

I raised an annoyed eyebrow at her. “But you just said that we can’t do that until Lyriana gets back from…being dead?”

“Oh, no, Lyriana can’t truly die. She’s just on her own journey right now. She’ll meet up with us…eventually. But never mind that. We’ll burn that bridge when we get there. But now let’s talk about artifacts. Artifacts have certain conditions to be met so that they can be destroyed. What they are is…Eh. We’ll burn that bridge, too. But I happen to know that there’s this one object you’re going to need to destroy the pillars. At some point. So I need you to steal it while I wait here until Lyriana arrives.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “And what exactly is this magic carrot?”

“Well, do you remember Typhon Lee?” Samantha asked.

“You know I do,” I spat back.

“Well, he was working with a demon lord. She was making some ultimate weapon for him.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know exactly what it is, but you’re gonna go steal it for us.”

I frowned deeply at her. “You want us to steal from a demon lord?”

“She’s not there right now! She’s busy!”

She waved a hand. Baba Yaga and her pillars were replaced by the image of a grey planet. “The Abyss sometimes sticks to the material plane and infects worlds. This is one of those worlds. There’s a laboratory there, so I’m gonna send you down there, you’re going to grab the ultimate weapon, and then another weapon that I know someone will pay you A LOT of money for-”

“Money?” I interjected. “Alright. We’ll do it.”

Samantha shot me an odd look. “Anyway. It’s going to look like an orb. I don’t know what it does. But you need to get it for me.”

It was Burin’s turn to raise his hand, yet he didn’t bother to be called on before saying, “The dreamlands is a massive place though. So in this analogy of the farmer’s plot, couldn’t this dreamlands have a form of government that could acquire the land and crash this space ship into said land?”

Samanatha stared at him. She didn’t look like someone used to being out…Burined. “Here’s the thing,” she finally said, “doing things like that is like…everybody wants the same land. Gods, demon lords. The Abyss has claim on part of Golarion, there are gods who wanna stop it, some who wanna help it, it’s a thing. So if I reach my hands in there and try to claim the land, there’ll be, like, thirty-two gods who’ll come and kick me in the face. And I don’t want that…So we’re not doing that.”

She raised a finger before Burin could argue. “And even if you did crash land this ship on Baba Yaga, it would destroy everybody else but her because the pillars are still up and functional.”

“Which means that Emily wouldn’t be eaten,” the dwarf countered.

“Er, yes, but she’s still in that area. So the impact would probably destroy her…or warp her horribly.” Samantha turned to me. “How do you feel about your daughter having tentacles?”

“…I am very opposed to the idea. Personally.”

She turned back to Burin. “There you have it. The dad vetoes it.”

All this talk about Emily dying brought up something I’d been meaning to ask, so I did. “Hey, so reviving just one person usually talks a lot of money and top tier magic. But you revived three?”

“I did,” Samantha said with a nod. “Easily.”

“Except Lyriana? Is that part of being an O’Halloran?”

“Hmmm, not really. More of a present I gave her before she was born.” She then smiled with far too many teeth, and the nausea returned. The room warped, becoming goopy meat. Gregor and Burin hadn’t changed and didn’t seem to be seeing what I was seeing. But what I was seeing mattered less than what I was hearing. It was like back when I’d been hearing Burin’s voice in my head, but this time it was a thousand voices in a thousand languages, laughing and screaming until they all came together, converging into one, booming voice.

THAT IS NOT DEAD WHICH CAN ETERNAL LIE.

As soon as the last word was uttered, the world around me went back to normal. Samantha was back to smiling with a normal amount of teeth, conversing with Burin while Gregor drank from his flask.

“…Uh, um, where…where was I…What was I talking about?” I managed to gasp out.

“Me reviving you all and not Lyriana,” Samanatha said.

“Oh. Right.” I swallowed hard and straightened up in my seat. “So, theoretically, you reviving a baby shouldn’t be a big deal.” I raised my hand before she could speak. “Okay. I don’t actually care about the money. I’ll do this. For my daughter. And my wife. But I also want my son, Toby, back. And that should be super easy for you, right?”

Samantha grimaced and sucked in air through her teeth. “That’ll actually be tricker than you’d think. See, Typhon kind of sent your son’s soul to-”

“The Abyss,” Burin said.

“No. Hell. Not the Abyss. The Abyss is easy. They don’t pay attention there. You can just walk in and out. But Hell? It’s all paperwork.” She slapped a hand to her brow and groaned, “There are sooooooo many forms. You have no idea. It’s like the DMV?”

“DMV?” Gregor, Burin, and I repeated.

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Okay. Let me think…Smuggling! You have to have the proper paperwork to smuggle goods from one city to another, maybe grease the right palms…Wait.” She snapped her fingers. “I got it! Okay! I know these guys. Super chill bros. They like saving the innocents. Well, one of them does. The other one likes experiencing new things and having fun. And making pancakes. A lot of pancakes. So I call in a favor…and another favor…And apparently Cayden Cailean is a friend of a friend of mine, so I’ll borrow one of his top guys. Tiefling. People think he walks around naked-”

“But he actually wears armor that’s invisible,” I finished. “You talking about Bard Pitt?”

“Yes!”

“Old friend?” Gregor asked me. “Er, well, considering this is you we’re talking about, ally?”

“Pitt was once a high-ranking general in Lee’s syndicate. Abdicated a year or two before…Well, what happened at the farm happened. I asked Pops to see if he could track him down for help while I was in Emily’s body, but no luck. Guy became a ghost. One who also considers himself to be Cailean’s boyfriend or something.”

“Anyway,” Samantha said, “these three will go on a little bit of a crusade and steal your son’s soul back from…well…” She coughed into her fist, “Asmodeus.”

No one spoke for a full minute after that. We just stared at her in horror.

“…Let me get this straight,” I finally managed to say. “My son, my baby son, was kicked so hard into the fireplace that he ended up with ASMODEUS!”

“…Basically,” Samantha replied sheepishly.

“He’s been with Asmodeus for the last THREE YEARS!”

“…Maybe he’s learning the magic dance?” Samantha leaned back against the back of a nearby seat. “Listen, Pitt and the guys will be storming the gates of Hell in no time. They’ll be out of there in twenty minutes…though time does run differently in Hell, so it’ll likely feel longer for them. It’ll take a bit, but I have plenty of faith that they’ll get Toby out.”

“…Okay,” I said, running my hands across my face. “So, my son is being saved by a naked tiefling and pancake-maker from the evilest of evils.”

“Eh, Asmodeus is more of a big grouch than an EVIL evil,” Samantha said. “I mean, he is so terrible at parties. He gets so mad when you put the bean dip by the nachos. Because apparently the bean dip should go next to the Fritos.”

“What the f#*~ are Fritos?” I groaned.

She snapped her fingers. Something fell into my lap. I looked up just in time to watch a band of men with fluffy mustaches bust in, playing guitars. Samantha had also replaced her pirate costume for a poncho and stupidly big, wide-brimmed hat. Atop my lap was a bowl of curved, brown chips. Gregor and Burin had also received a bowl.

Samantha gave us a few minutes to eat and mull over things and then whisked the band away. She then pointed at the image of the planet. It suddenly zoomed in, focusing on a few buildings made out black stones illuminated by magic fire. There seemed to be some commotion going on. I squinted and spotted three…demons? They were running away from the building, carrying various things. Had they just looted the place?

Each demon seemed to be a different type. “By three they come,” Samantha said with a wicked smile. She reached into the image and tapped one demon on the head. He froze in place and the others stopped to look at him. “By three, the way opens.” Her arm stretched and tapped the other two. They dropped their loot, pulled out knives, and slashed their own throats. Blood dripped out and rose up, creating a web of blood that stretched out across the magic mirror. Samantha took back her arm and nodded to us. “Alright then. Time to go.”

“Yeah, alright,” I said, unbothered by the casual demon murder, “but I’m gonna need a new gun, lady.”

“Oh. Right.”

She snapped her fingers.

A giant banana fell into my arms.

Unfazed, I peeled it. And found a new gun inside.

“Now this is just a loaner,” Samantah told me. “We’ll work on getting you something more permanent. But this should be enough for now.” She took a step back, gesturing to the giant, bloody portal she was expecting us to walk into. “Good luck, fellas. And you know what they say: when life give you random vials lying next to the corpses you’re going to spawn next to, drink them.”

Gregor, Burin, and I exchanged looks and then walked forward into the demon planet.

I mean, it’s not like things could get any weirder. Right?

Right?

“Burin-Aarrrgh!” My vision suddenly doubled as a pang of nausea threatened to rip my stomach apart. I stumbled back towards the bed I’d woken up in and…and everything changed. Meat. Everything was made of raw flesh. The bed, the walls, door, even the floor I was standing on. And it pulsed beneath my feet, making me fall back onto my butt-

The impact stopped the nausea near instantly. My vision cleared and everything around me went back to normal.

“…Is this Hell?” I asked, eyes narrowed. Had the dream with Hertz been a trick? Emily had mentioned that Nocticula was fond of games like that. Giving hope, letting her victim think they’d escaped, only to yank them back in for another, fresh way of torture.

Something caught my eye. Over on the other side of the bed, my guitar case was leaning against the wall. My breath came out shaky as I got up and slowly walked to it, sure that the bed was seconds from sprouting teeth and pouncing on me. I step kept half an eye on it as I ruffled through my case. Everything except for my rifle and guns were there. Even my bombs and bots. When not activated, I kept my little guys in a case lined with foam. I chose five of them at random and set them down on the floor around them. They’d already been implanted with a special bullet that would allow me to control them. Two of them stretched, one waved up at me, and the last two started fighting.

Attention! I thought down at them. In unison, they all hopped into a single file line and stared up at me, arms straight at their sides.

“Good,” I said. I took our various knives and daggers I kept in my case and gave each of the bots one. The little guys might as well have been carrying broadswords. Without my guns, I looped a few bombs to my belt and took out the Kukri. I sighed down at it. It’s not that I can’t swordfight, but that was always more Persephone’s thing, plus this Kukri made painful memories start to resurface. The only reason I hadn’t traded it away or outright ditched it was out of a respect for a doofus paladin I’d once almost called friend…

“Focus on this story, Terry,” I scolded myself. And so, blades in hand, me and my robotic vanguard approached the door again. It’d closed while I’d been inside preparing. It slid apart again.

“Go out there,” I told the bot directly in front of me. “If there are people on the other side, give me a headcount.”

He nodded and did as told. Dragging the dagger behind him with one hand, he looked back and forth and then turned back towards me, raising four very tiny fingers.

Four. But “four” what? Demons? Enemies?

Well, I wasn’t gonna find out just staying put. So, steeling my nerves, I stuck my head out just enough to see into the hallway waiting on the other side. Unlike in my room, there weren’t any windows, with the walls and high ceiling all forged from polished steel. It was spacious and reasonably populated with humanoids. All of them wore militaristic uniforms in varying shades of blacks and greys. The nearest one, a male with too-wide eyes in charcoal grey, waved at me as he passed by-

“Ah! What?!”

I’d jumped him. I wrapped an arm around his neck and dug the bladed edge of my Kukri against his jugular. Down below, my bots pressed the points of their weapons against they guy’s calves, ankles, or shins.

“Where the hell am I?” I snarled into his ear. Yet, if he offered an answer, I didn’t hear it. Before I could stop myself, I clamped my teeth together and squeezed my eyes shut as the same wave of nausea bubbled up from my stomach and invaded my mind. It lingered as I forced my eyes back open. It took all of my self-control to not cut my hostage’s throat right then and there.

I was no longer holding a man, but a humanoid bug. The face was ant-like, with two bulbous green-black eyes, and mandibles clicking rapidly against each other. I glanced past him and saw that my surroundings were back to being forged from wet meat. Yay.

Suddenly, in my ear, a familiar woman’s voice chuckled, Oh, you’re going for the PG-13 rating. Some scary situations and mild violence. You know, I never would’ve thought a Mighty Ducks and Small Soldiers crossover would work, but I think you’re making it happen.

I turned my head sharply towards the voice. No one was there.

“Did you hear that?” I hissed at my hostage.

“Um, that was the Admirable,” he said, showing me his tiny-barb-covered hands.

I threw him off and grabbed a bomb from my belt. As I did so, I glanced past bug man, to see if the others were coming to help him out. Because of that, I found myself staring across the hallway at fat, tentacle-faced moon beast.

Yep. Bomb Time.

I chucked it at him and prepared to run the other way.

But my bomb suddenly stopped, midair, as if caught by an invisible hand.
And then it turned into an apple. A set of too-white teeth appeared next to it and took a wet bite. They then formed into a wide smile as a face and body steadily unraveled, becoming a pirate. She was tall, wearing a scarlet coat with gold trimming, knee-high black boots, and a horned hat. A six-winged parrot sat on her shoulder. The woman took another bite from the apple and then said through a mouthful, “What? What’re you gonna do? Hit me with that fish?”

I looked down.

Instead of a Kukri, I was now holding a large, freshly-dead fish.

I stared at it, and then at her, and then threw the fish at her.

As it flew, my surroundings shifted again, going from flesh to metal. Bug man and the moon beast also changed back. The latter quickly jumped in and caught the fish before it could hit the pirate lady. Kiss-ass.

I sent a mental command to my robots. They formed in a circle around me, knives out, as I started marching away from pirate lady and her goons, down the hallway. “Nope!” I called back. “A whole lot of nope! I’m just noping out of here!”

“Good thinking!” she laughed after me. “Burin’s down that way!”

At the sound of the dwarf’s name, an uncomfortable ringing filled my ears. It took me a second to recognize it. It was the dwarf’s voice but sped up. I stopped dead and tried my best to focus on my breathing. I’d heard his voice back in the room, as well, but he hadn’t been there. Were we still linked somehow? But wasn’t he supposed to be linked to Emily’s body, not me? And did this have anything to do with how everything kept turning into the inside of some monster’s stomach?

Finally, my mind settled. When I opened my eyes, I fully expected everything to be meat-time again, but no. My surroundings were still normal. Ish. Resigned, I turned to regard pirate lady. “What. Is. Going. On?”

She tossed the apple’s core away and clasped her hands together. “Well, you wouldn’t know this, because you were playing Uno the last time they went to the dreamlands? But you’re in the dreamlands.”

“….Okay.”

She nodded. “Good. Let me explain-Er, wait. No. There’s too much. Let me sum up instead.” She raised white-gloved finger. “So the short of it is that Baba Yaga has your kid. And she’s going to eat her soul. I want to help you because Emily getting eaten would make Lyriana sad. But in order to help you, there are some things I need you to do for me first. So,” she gestured to me and then back to herself repeatedly as she said next, “help me, help you.”

I didn’t have nearly enough self-control to keep my left eye from twitching at the sight of the smug grin she had plastered on. “…Who are you?”

“I’m Batman!” she growled, leaning in menacingly. She then burst out laughing near immediately and waved a hand. “Just kidding! But does who I am matter nearly as much as regrouping with Gregor and Burin-who are both alive by the way!-so that you can all save your kid?”

“Uh-”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Or, I mean, if you don’t want to, I could just tell your wife about it…”

That made me blink. “Wait.” I took a few rapid steps towards her. So rapid that me bots struggled to keep up and the former moon beast shot me a wary look. “You have access to Persephone?”

“Not yet,” pirate lady said. “But I’m sure I have something I could trade for it-Er, her.”

“You mean, you can un-demon her demon-ness?”

“I didn’t say that.” She then shot me wink.

I glowered up at her. “…I don’t like you,” I finally said, my eyes narrowed to slits.

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t like anyone.”

“I like…one or two people!” I exhaled deeply. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s-Question: Do you know what a ‘comic book’ is?”

She shot me an odd look. “…Yes?”

My memories of Hertz were still foggy, but gradually coming together. “Because I talked to this guy, and he said we were in a comic book. Something about every alternate reality being an alternate comic book or something…” I showed pirate lady my hands. “I was dead at the time-and a robot-so…”

She scratched at her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just crazy.” She beamed. “But it’s okay. We’re all mad here-”

HONK!

I jumped back at the noise. I looked around. Pirate lady’s goons look similarly taken aback. In contrast, she just sighed while shaking her head. “I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone in the garden.” She then tapped an emblem on her jacket and declared, “Bridge, beam Guiser and me straight to the Goose!”

And then, without warning, both of us were gobbled up by gelatin. It covered every inch of my body. I tried to scream.

Plop!

The gelatin spat us back out in a completely different room. I landed on my side, unsure whether to scream, barf, or cry. Next to me, pirate lady stood, hands on hips, looking both disappointed and amused. Driven by newfound hate for her, I forced myself to sit up. We were in some kind of garden. It was populated with trees, but they’d been planted towards the outer edges of the garden. At its center was a HUGE circular lake. And at the pool’s center was a giant angry goose with a pair of dwarf legs sticking out of its beak.

There was a tug on my jacket. I looked down. All five of my bots had been transported with me. They all looked at me, and then at the goose.

“…No,” I said, horrified, as the goose shook its head like a mad dog, trying to force its meal down its throat. “You don’t have to!”

My bots looked at each other and then nodded.

“No!” I took a knee. “Not for him! I…I…I can make you stop! I-”

One by one, my robots gave my knee one last, loving pat, and then marched off towards the goose. A part of me, the human part, the part that still felt love, fatherly love, screamed at the rest of me to will them back. But I didn’t.

“Farewell, small soldiers,” I whispered, my eyes stinging. “Farewell.”

With a heavy heart, I watched them jump into the pool, swim over to the oblivious, monstrous goose, latch onto its legs, and-

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Despite its size, the explosions knocked the goose around, sending blood and feathers flying through the air. Because of that, I nearly didn’t catch sight of the emerald fighter flying towards it. He struck the goose in the back of the head, knocking Burin out of its mouth. The feathered behemoth slammed forward, face-first into the lake. A wall of water rose up and carried both Burin to the dry land.

And, at the sight of his stupid face, my vision went red.

Back during the span of time where we didn’t have much to do but wait for the hut to shunt us to wherever we had to go to set Baba Yaga free, Lyriana recommended that Persephone and I have a “date night” to try and ease the lingering tension between us. Percy put on a civil face in front of Emily and the others, but there was a…wall between us now. So much had happened since she’d died. To me it’d been more than three years, but she said it was like waking up from an intense, but short, nightmare for her. Waking up into the body of a monster. Thankfully, her sparring matches with Greta were helping her vent out the excess aggression of her manticore self. Before all of this, she’d been the only person in the world I trusted, who I could talk to. Now it felt like all the sex was more so that we wouldn’t have to talk. And then, inevitably, Emily would go to sleep. Persephone then blinked out of existence, like a bright but painfully temporary light.

So, Lyriana promised she and the others would keep the kid awake (this was after the whole Nocticula ordeal, by the way) while Persephone and I set up shop in the library. She showed me how to use my magic mirror to project images across the far wall. She then sent me a list of Earth movies she thought that we might like.

“So, what are we watching?” Persephone asked. Burin and Gregor had dragged in a couch from one of the other rooms for us to sit on. She’d ditched her armor for a simple tan sundress and sandals. She still wore the magic tiara that allowed her stay in human form for prolonged periods of time. Back in the day, being around her all of the time, I’d gotten desensitized to how beautiful this stubborn princess was. The person inside-as much of a pain and monster magnet as she could be-mattered far more to me than the pretty face and big t~+&. But looking at her now, Lyriana was right. A guy like me didn’t deserve to be with someone this hot.

“Don’t know,” I said, cycling through the list. Both Lyriana and Emily had bullied me into taking a bath and ditching my usual gear for something called a “tuxedo.” They’d even confiscated all of my guns and bombs! “How about…this one. This lady’s got a sword and, judging by the title, gonna murder some guy called Bill.”

I hit play and sat back.

…I’m not saying I ignored Persephone the entire time the movie was on. But at one point I was just hunched forward, hands tented under my chin, unable to look away from this bloody masterpiece of intoxicating violence. Our hero, an assassin, hunts down the other assassins who betrayed her, all with the ultimate goal of taking down her old boss, Bill. Every time she sees one of her old “friends”, her vision goes red and horns start blaring through her ears.

So, back in the present, all I saw was scarlet and those same horns screamed through my skull as I watched soggy Burin Frostfist get to his feet. He pushed his wet hat out of his eyes and looked around.

Every fiber in my being seemed to vibrate with rage as I walked towards him

“Oh!” He perked up at the sight of me. “Hello, Terry!”

The horns became thunder as I bent forward and placed my hands on his shoulders. I then whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, “I want to hear why you did what you did.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, towards the dying goose. “I was looking for a way to take this ship out of the dreamlands and into Baba Yaga’s realm, so that we can ram it into her. And then the goose ate me.”

I dug my fingers deeper into his shoulders. If it hurt him, he didn’t show it, and that just infuriated me further. I felt the corners of my lips pull back into a painful smile. “Listen, I am all for ramming metal objects into old ladies, but that is not what I’m referring to, Burin. I’m talking about the part where we all died. The part where Baba Yaga said you traded away my daughter’s soul.”

“No!” Burin cried. “I traded a life. Though, I, um, likely misspoke while making the deal…”

Both of my eyes were twitching uncontrollably by this point. “And you didn’t think to run it by the rest of us?!”

“Like you informed everyone else when you tried to kill yourself?” he shot back.

“That was my life!”

“Yes, and I was giving up my life.” He looked down at himself. “…I was willing to die for her.”

Eventually, you reach a point where you’re just so angry, so enraged, that your brain and body just give up. They just can’t sustain it. You go hollow. I shoved him away. What else could I do? I could throw all kinds of bombs at him, shoot him all day, and he’d probably survive. So, face hurting, my insides feeling cleaned out, I took a step back. I glanced past Burin and saw Gregor approaching, sipping from his flask. He sniffed it and then told me casually, as we both hadn’t just come back from the dead, “This cranberry juice tastes a bit off.”

Pirate lady approached the fighter, sniffed it herself, and then told him, “It’s not cranberry juice. It’s milk. Trust me. You don’t wanna know which kind of creature it came out of.”

He grows up to become a bit of a trickster supervillain who lives for the brawl and the fun of lording his ability over others, but is generally a pretty good guy. Well, as good as you can get while being the kind of guy to go around kidnapping famous musicians to help you make a music video in which you go on a spree of snatching priceless treasures from museums alongside your minions.

He even dated a superhero for a while, but they kinda broke up after they returned from fighting off an invasion of extradimensional ancient Incan(or was it Aztec? I don't remember) gods and she had some terrible PTSD.

Then something happens, and he gets sucked into some kind of portal into a world where two nations are constantly fighting each other back and forth(and having no concept of proper supply lines, so they gain the advantage against their overstretched foe as they get pushed back just a little beyond their borders). Of course, the nation between the two is the real victim of all the fighting, and bad stuff happens to those poor folks.

Well, the faction who he ends up accidentally getting entangled with(vikings who control lightning magic, essentially) is getting their clocks cleaned by their foes(fire magic Roman legions, sorta) thanks to a new sorcerer who fights on their side. And the army who is poised to win the war once and for all is being jerks about it.

And Herr Doktor Hertz hates a bully.

I looked down. My hands were empty. And semi-transparent.

And identical to those that belonged to the other Terry lying unconscious on the ground beside me. No. Not unconscious.

Dead.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” I groaned. “Again? How?!”

“Terry?” I turned towards the voice. Like with me, there were two Gregors. One already going cold on the ground, and another standing, staring down at his semi-transparent body, confused. The edges of his image were shimmering with silver veins, as if the nanites were trying to keep his very soul from breaking apart and going to Martial Arts Heaven or whatever. The fighter reached out with a degrading hand towards me. “Are w-we dead?” he asked with an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice.

“Apparently, kid,” I said, glowering past Greta, at Baba Yaga. The ancient witch was making some grand speech as she conjured up creatures of night and winter to be her audience. Greta stood nearby, a suit of blackest armor having manifested around her body. The b*+&! even had the gull to hold the enchanted axe that Lyriana had made for her-

Lyriana!

I stepped forward, pieces of myself breaking off as I moved. The girl had fallen onto her side. The knife in her gut had frozen the wound over, caking her stomach in frost and making icy veins spread across her body, freezing her from the inside out. Damn. What a way to go. Say what you will about fire, but eventually, after all the nerves in the body are charred, it’s a generally pain-free way to die.

I frowned at the corpse, confused. Gregor and I had manifested phantoms after…Well, I still wasn’t sure how we’d died. But she was clearly dead and yet there wasn’t a ghostly Lyriana in sight.

“Terry!” Gregor bellowed. I turned back. By this point there was little more than his face and random sections of his arms and chest left. He used a floating, dismembered finger to point. “Burin?!”

No, I thought, gritting the dissolving teeth in my mouth. That idiot!

The last time I’d seen him, the dwarf had headbutted Emily and carried my daughter off to safety, back to the hut. Or maybe to try and get out of the hut now that Baba Yaga had betrayed us. Once she woke up, Emily could summon Persephone and the three of them could…I don’t know. Go back to Melos, try and make a truce with Hercules and Hecate? Or maybe use the magic mirror to contact Lyriana’s dad. Again, I don’t know, I’m just spit balling here!

But no! The dwarf was back. Dragon wings out, he flew over Lyriana’s body and swung his frost-covered axe at Greta. “SHE LOVED YOU!”

The winter wolf just barely managed to get her own axe up in time. The echoing clang of metal striking metal, along with blue-tinged sparks, filled the air as the two weapons clashed. Baba Yaga’s creatures screamed in alarm and rage, but the old witch raised her saggy, wrinkly, probably smelly arm. Her eyes were alight with cruel amusement as she allowed the show to unfold. Maybe she was testing Greta’s resolve?

Well that resolve remained firm as Greta pushed back at Burin, her mouth warped into a fang-filled snarl. “Traitor!” she bellowed. She jumped back, ducked under a swing from Burin’s axe, and slashed upwards with her. The cut wasn’t deep, but a line of blood seeped from the dwarf’s left side. “You’re the one who made the deal!”

“FOR MY SOUL!” Burin roared with as much ferocity as a dragon. “NOT THE LITTLE GIRL’S!”

He released a hand from his axe and used it to shoot a spray of color at Greta. Greta threw her axe up into the air and changed, becoming a giant wolf. The wolf leapt sideways, avoiding the spray. She dug her teeth into the dwarf’s calf, knocking him onto his back. Then, before he could recover, she changed back, caught her axe, and rammed it straight down into his chest. After kicking his axe out of his hand for good measure, Greta leaned in whispered breathlessly to Burin, “Baba Yaga always gets what she’s owed. And right now, she’s owed one lost princess.”

She tore the axe out of him with a meaty squelch. As Burin’s eyes rolled back into his head, she nodded to Baba Yaga. “I promise you, Mistress, that I will find Emily Guiser.”

“See that you do,” the ancient witch replied. “She still has a very important, very tasty part to play.”

“I’m going to kill you!” I screamed, leaping at her. She glanced towards me, seeing me, and then lazily flicked a gnarled finger…

…And someone started whistling.

I opened my eyes and was instantly bombarded with the grinding of rusted gears. But unlike the whistling, the grinding was coming from inside my head. But that didn’t make sense. I glanced down at myself, and everything started making even less sense! First of all, I’d gone from being a ghost to being a crippled automaton! My body was made of bronzed metal. Both of my arms and legs were missing. I was lying on my side in debris-covered dirt. The gears in my head and my chest kept on grinding as I tried to turn myself over.

And then the whistling stopped, and a man’s voice commented, “Ooh! Great! Another robot.”

A pair of hands grabbed my by the shoulders and dragged me over to a large pile of mismatched slabs of metal, propping me up. The hands’ owner then hunkered next to me. He was a stocky man wearing a long, brown coat and big goggles on his forehead. As his coat moved, I spotted metal sections across his torso.

“You seem to be working,” he said with a noticeable accent. He reached into his coat and produced a small oil can. Without asking for my permission, he started lubricating my joints. He then touched my neck, forcing my head slightly to the side. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my jaw to move. There was an odd sensation as he pressed a gloved finger into an indention in my neck, as if he were inspecting a wound.

“Ah. The key’s missing.”

With a look of determination, he ventured off. Now that I was upright, I could see that this whole world was just a giant junk heap. I spotted literal mountains of scrap metal off in the distance. The sky was dark yellow, as if filled with poisonous gas.

“Here we go!” the man laughed, running back over. He held up a clockwork key and then inserted it into my neck. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was better than any cup off coffee I’d ever had. The gears in my body turned double-time, including the ones in my neck and face.

“Uh,” I grunted, my voice echoing as if funneled through a metal tube. “Thanks?” I sighed, shaking my head. “This must be Hell. Sorry you got dragged into it, man.”

“Not Hell, I think,” the man chuckled, using the oil can to lubricate my joints again. “More like a bad dream.”

“If the dead can dream, than yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I am not dead,” the man replied. “I was asleep.” He gestured to himself. “And now here I am.” He shrugged. “Must have walked into someone’s dream.”

I looked him over. His clothing reminded me of the type of stuff we saw back in the dream version of Lyriana’s home. A pang of remorse and rage filled up my clockwork heart as I recalled the sight of her frozen corpse. “Are you an O’Halloran or something?” I asked. “My friend could do dream stuff like that-Why are you laughing?”

“O’Halloran?” the man giggled, giving me the side-eye. “Surely you jest. I am no character from comic book. You are either wizard or inventor. Not both!”

It was my turn to give him the side-eye. “What the hell’s a comic book?”

The man set down the can. “Book with pictures,” he told me. “Nobody stays dead. The heroes always win.” He made a face. “Which I think is b#@!$%!*.”

I laughed bitterly. “Well, not in this comic book. We won…But also lost. Bad.”

“I also know such experience,” said the man. “Let me find a seat and I shall hear your troubles.” He pulled over a discarded, eroded metal cube and took a seat. He gestured to himself again. “Tell Dr. Hertz.”

“Terry Guiser.” Instead of pouring my heart out, I asked, “This comic book stuff. If I’m just a character in one of those, does that mean that my life…everything I did, everything I went through, doesn’t matter?”

Hertz leaned back on his hands, looking thoughtful. “You must understand. There are many worlds. So many. Incan gods come from different worlds, and I beat them up. And then I go to other world and beat up Vikings.” He made a scribbling gesture with his hand. “So, for all we know, your world is just a different world, and someone has the sight to write down your story.”

“So,” I said carefully, “by that logic, you’d be a ‘comic book’ character to me?”

“Is possible,” Hertz conceded. “Are you aware of String Theory?”

“Yes. But explain it to me anyway so that I know that you’re not wrong.”
He then rambled on and on, using big words and terms I’d never heard before. But, eventually, I cobbled enough of it together for it to jog a memory. “Oh, like that show on the magic mirror…Sliders? Watched some of while I repainted Zeus with-”I jolted forward, nearly toppling onto my face. “EMILY!”

“Emily?” Hertz glanced around. “There is no one else here-”

“She’s my daughter,” I growled. “The dwarf messed up. Made some kind of deal. And now…now that b$%#! Greta’s after my daughter!”

I glanced down at my broken body. My metal shoulders sagged. “But I’m dead,” I whispered. I looked at Hertz. “And you can’t help her because when you wake up, you’re just gonna think that all of this was either a dream or comic book.”

He had the audacity to laugh. “If I remember at all.”

I looked him over. “You got kids, Hertz?”

“Doctor Hertz,” he corrected. And then, “No.”

“Wife?”

He considered it. “I got a woman…Let us say ‘accidental slave.’” He held up his hands. “It was either be claimed by me, or Viking rape.”

“At least you weren’t blackmailed into kidnapping a princess,” I said dryly.

“Who blackmailed you?”

“That same princess…And now I lost her. Again.”

"Ah,” Hertz said, nodding. “Classic videogame blunder. You must always know where a princess is. Or she might be in another castle.”

“Sometimes I kind of wish she would have been in another castle,” I retorted darkly. “For her sake.”

“But then you would have no daughter to raise together,” Hertz pointed out.

“Persephone-my wife, the princess-raised her. And my son, Toby.” I couldn’t stop the memories from coming back. But they were memories from before I’d “killed” Typhon. During our time on the farm. Or really… “I’m a murderer, Hertz-”

“Doctor Hertz”

“-not dad of the year. And eventually, once Toby came along, we had to settle down. My boss gave us a farm. Peaceful. Safe.” I hung my head. “Boring. Persephone wanted to be a hero, but she was okay with settling down up until the kids were old enough to adventure with us or go off on their own. But being on that farm was…I don’t know…like being in a giant, cozy coffin. All I had to relieve the boredom was tend to our goats,” I winced, “and chickens and work on my guns. I couldn’t shoot the guns ‘cause they’d make Toby cry. And Emily was so…girly. I lost count of how many times I had to stop myself from setting her dolls on fire after our play sessions…”

I leaned back against the heap, shaking my head. “When I was an assassin, I was out there. Making a difference. Or at least, it felt that way to me. Deciding which s&&~ty people no longer deserved to live.” I scoffed. “How does that apply to raising kids? Look at me…I’m broken. And all I can do is hurt people with my pieces.”

Hertz shrugged. “It takes all kinds of aliens to invade. Sometimes you need hero to save everyone. Sometimes you need villain to kill alien. If you do not have heroes, you have no one to save, and why kill alien if there is no one to save. So what you must do, Terry, is find heroes and form symbiosis."

I considered his words. “That kind of make sense,” I conceded. “Me and Persephone did something like that…and we did okay. Let us survive against werewolves, vampires, and an angel’s cult at least.”

“See!” Hertz beamed, leaning in. “So you mention dwarf? Is he hero?”

“…………………………………………Yes.”

Hertz intertwined his fingers.

“So if you wish to save girl, you should find dwarf.”

I gritted my teeth with such force they cracked despite being made of metal. “I really am in Hell,” I snarled. I rolled my eyes at Hertz. “But how am I supposed to do that?”

He stood up and gestured to all of me. “Well this is dream, so we really must find out how to wake you.”

I nodded down to where my legs should have been. “You think you can make something to give me the decency of being able to walk?”

He snapped his fingers. “I think I know just the thing!” He approached while reaching into his coat again. He then pulled out this glowing, green…thing. He hunkered down tore open a panel in my chest that I hadn’t noticed before. I spotted my metal heart and all of its whirring gears. “I must warn you,” Hertz said, prepared to drop the green thing into my body. “This is nuclear battery. And you appear…clockwork.”

Judging by his apologetic expression, I think I knew where he was going with this “So it’ll either fix me or blow me up?” I laughed humorlessly. “I’m already dead. I’m not even sure that you’re real, Hertz.”

“Doctor Hertz-”

“Hey, man. I got my PhD, too. So as a doctor, I don’t gotta call you doctor. Only basic people have to do that.”

He shot me an odd look. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Tough. Now shove it in me."

Hertz did, slammed the panel shut, and immediately bolted for cover. I watched after him, unsure how to feel. I mean, I was already dead. Was there such a thing as “deader than dead?” Would I cease to exist from any and all planes of reality? Or-

Remember what I said about that key being better than any cup of coffee?

Scratch that.

Nuclear batteries are where it’s at!

Green energy surged into my metal body. Like a giant magnet, the energy pulled in random metal objects and bonded them to my stumps. And then a larger pieces attached itself to my chest. And then my head, creating a helm. But instead of being suffocating or blinding, I was suddenly able to see more clearly then ever before. The grinding gears in my head became a raging chorus. That chorus filled me with the strength to lurch forward, back onto brand new, shining feet.

With my newly improved (and green-tinged) sight, I became aware of movement all around me. But Hertz was gone. Maybe he’d finally woken up.

“Thanks, Doc,” I murmured. “If part of you can still hear me, try and remember this.” Green energy flowed into my back as metallic monstrosities rose all around me. They were big and ugly and here to keep the dead from waking up. “VIOLENCE SOLVES EVERYTHING!”

I flew up into the yellow sky, my arms turning into twin guns as I ascended. Green bullets burst from them, slamming into the monstrosities, making them go boom while I laughed maniacally! Boom! I wasn’t dead! BOOM! I was now more alive than I’d ever been! BOOM! A true machine of death! BOO-

So wake up, sleepy one. It’s time to save your world. You’re where the wild things are. Toy soldier off to war.

I bolted upright and immediately touched at my body. I wasn’t a ghost, or a robot. My super awesome Guns of Untold But Very Satisfying Destruction were gone! Replaced by dark-colored pajamas. I glanced around. Instead of endless junkyard, I’d woken up whole and healed in a bed, in room mostly made of polished steel. I say “mostly” because one wall was one giant window overlooking an endless black sky marred here and there with twinkling stars.

There was knock. I glanced over my shoulder at an oval-shaped door opposite the window.

“H-Hello?” I grunted, my mouth painfully dry.

And a frustratingly familiar, dwarfy voice called through the door, “Hello! Are you okay?”

Entries that follow will be part of "A Hazy Shade Of...". Well, those that are part of the main campaign. There should also be chapters of our side campaign, "Winter's Doll", which follows the exploits of a resurrected Thora, who serves as one of Baba Yaga's enforcers.

The upcoming couple chapters will actually be written by Terry's Player. There was a bit more to that last fight, but Lyriana didn't witness it. Terry did, for reasons, as you'll see. And then the three boys go on their own little adventure without her. Shenanigans happen. A demon explodes. Fun times had by all. I believe there was cake.

After that, I'll post what happened to Lyriana while she was split up from the rest. I'd actually written that side chapter like two years ago, so it'll be ready when we get to it.

And then...well, there's this little blue planet orbiting a yellow sun halfway across the galaxy from Golarion, and that's where the team will continue their adventure.

There are now three of us living in this house. From what we can tell, Szo's parents blame us for him not taking care of himself. Apparently we should have forced him to not order DashingDoor every single meal. We should have made him exercise. So, yeah, he's living with them and being forced to eat better and exercise.

As for the other missing member of the household. Well, I'm bitterly single now. She was Steve's sister, so he's not taking it well either. We're surviving. But I can't say we're happy. Anyway, enough about that because thinking about it is depressing.

Days we can do Reign of Winter are dependent on the three of us having a morning off together(hard) and getting Szo to come visit(also hard). But the three of us are playing, having started a new campaign.

That means I got to dust off a character concept I was gonna play, which ended up being abandoned after the campaign was scrapped: Lillian, the soul hungry, enthusiastically hellbound summoner whose eidolon is disguised as a tiefling mercenary. Barnaby is DMing(and playing a character loosely based on his FFXIV char, a halfling dragoon) and Steve is playing an oracle who is trying to gather the shards of an artifact and bring Dagon into the world.

If all goes well, Lillian will become the right hand of Eiseth after devouring a solar. Dagon will arise. And Nakoda(along with his donkey/unicorn steed, Donkiote) will find his father(and Donkiote's mother), who was kidnapped by moon beasts.

Oh, and Steve and I have secondary characters who are currently effectively supporting cast. He's playing Paco Bel Grande, a smallish tiefling gunslinger who has an intelligent ankylosaur called Turtle that carries him when he's sleeping(which is most of the time), and I have Sapphire Requiem, an android alchemist who hasn't been awakened yet from the stasis pod she's currently trapped in.

Even though the first book is loosely using Serpent's Skull for inspiration, it's going to diverge wildly after we get off the island, so probably won't be posting that here. Barnaby's posting that on his and Steve's website under "The Ass of Ages", because it's being told from Donkiote's POV.

I nodded. “I think there’s just the one layer left.”

“You are correct,” Vigliv said, reappearing. “The fate, the power, the death, and the life of Baba Yaga, all
have you claimed. Only one thing remains for you to break her free from her prison and save your world: her blood, which flows through the veins of the ruling queen of Irrisen, her daughter Elvanna.

“Elvanna’s blood is her birthright, handed down from her mother, and represents both Baba Yaga’s and Elvanna’s burning desire to rule their fates and those of others. It is only with Elvanna’s blood, returned to her mother, that you can save your world from the eternal winter that threatens it.

“Even now, Elvanna has sequestered herself in Baba Yaga’s inner sanctum, here in the Dancing Hut, where Baba Yaga formulated her most potent spells and executed her most glorious triumphs, and where Elvanna now works her greatest ritual to cement her power, conquer your world, and supplant her own mother as Queen of Witches.

“Now you must go to this sanctum and face Queen Elvanna before she can finish her ritual. But beware, for time is running short, and Elvanna is truly her mother’s daughter. Her will to power is as strong as the blood in her veins, and she will not give up her desires easily. Heed the guidance of Baba Yaga, however, and you may yet win the day, freeing her and saving your world.”

“Hey, question,” Terry said. “Won’t Anastasia’s blood work? She’s related to the lady in the doll, right? We could have the box whip up a syringe, and I could draw some in a few moments. No harm done and it’s all over with.”

“She lacks the strength of will required,” Baba Yaga answered. “If she wants power, though, I will teach her once I am free. I cannot blame her for my idiot son’s treachery. Now, while I approve of your attempt at thinking beyond the dictates of that which is in front of you – I must admit that I had not thought your meager mind capable of it – I must now require your silence. There are dangers ahead of which I must warn you.”

She told us of the layout of the innermost sanctum, and of the traps that lay ahead. We even got a history lesson on how she’d planted those trees with the edible bark to sustain the people of Irrisen through the cold. I think she just wanted to pat herself on the back about her ingenuity, if I’m being honest.

After the information was given, she rested once more, and we started making ready for our final battle. Anastasia approached Emily. “May I ask a question?”

“Sure,” the girl answered.

“Do you not miss your mom?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why not summon her? Would you not feel better with her here? I know I’d give anything to have my mother here to comfort me in this terrifying place.”

Emily sighed. “I want her here, but I worry that being here isn’t good for her. Besides, summoning her would make HIM happy, and I still haven’t forgiven him for being an a+~%*!@.”

Terry groaned. “Look, what do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry?”

Emily considered it. “Let Mister Gregor punch you in the crotch.”

“What?”

“Three times.”

Gregor looked over at her. “He would not survive more than one, even if I hold back.”

Terry gave him a look. “Come on, man. Not in front of the kid.”

The fighter gave him a serious look. “I punched GAS…and it died.”

The two began to argue, but it didn’t last too long. Apparently Burin had decided it was time to get started on the journey, because Emily teleported away suddenly. Terry and Gregor immediately began following his tracks.

“I…am not sure she truly answered my question,” Anastasia complained.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s probably for the best that you not expect normal from this group. I should follow them.”

“Wait!” the princess said.

“Yes?”

“Surely you can’t leave me here with this…grim reaper, or whatever he is any longer? He kinda freaks me out…”

I sighed. “Okay, fair enough. You can tag along, if Greta thinks she can keep you safe. Just try to stay out of the fighting.”

“I’ll protect her,” Greta said.

We caught up to Burin, who had made it to some kind of tunnel that I suspect was the path to Baba Yaga’s inner sanctum. Gregor and Terry were still arguing when Gregor just decided to punch him to show him how bad it would be.

Terry went flying, landing at Emily’s feet. “That doesn’t count,” the girl said. “It wasn’t your crotch, and you didn’t ask him to do it.”

“Oh, come on!” Terry complained as he dusted himself off.

Through the cave, we found ourselves on some kind of steppes. There was a howling, and we were attacked by a wendigo. Now, you might be wondering why I’m being so blasé about the whole thing, but you weren’t there. I know a wendigo should be a horrifying creature.

But Terry shot at it a couple times, scoring some clean hits, and Gregor teleported to it, unleashing a quick three hit combo to its crotch.
And that was all it took. “See?” Gregor said to Emily. “If Wendigo cannot take three hits, what chance does Terry have?”

“We have nanites,” she said. “We could heal him in between hits.”

Before the conversation could continue, we were interrupted by the sound of riders. A group of giants riding massive beasts that looked like hornless rhinos came bearing down on us. So Burin went dragon and dove in between them, slapping the lead rider off of her mount as he passed. Then Terry threw one of his bots, which wedged into the mouth of one of the mounts and exploded.

Gregor went into his giant form and pinned down one of the riders, so Emily summoned a fire elemental to roast it. I used my magic to turn Nebbie into one of those space dragons so she could support Burin.

A rider tossed a massive spear at Gregor, but the fighter caught it and threw it back, impaling him and sending him flying from his mount. Then it suddenly returned to his hand.

Things generally went downhill for the remaining riders from there. Burin chomped one’s throat, Nebbie grabbed one and flung it into the air like a clay pigeon for me to target. Terry blasted one with multiple rounds from his gun and Emily had her elemental finish the giant off as it fell from its mount. Gregor leapt in, dropkicking one from his steed and punching him to death.

After that, all that was left was for Terry and Gregor to finish off the mounts for Gregor to skin, but first, Terry grinned at his daughter. “See, now that’s how we set things on fire!” She just patted his cheek and went to go thank her elemental.

Of course, we also took anything of value our foes had. Burin got a helm imbued with powerful fire magic stored in gems on it, and most of the rest went into the box.

And then, at long last, we had reached it, The Witch Queen’s Kurgan. Baba Yaga’s Inner Sanctum.

I’m not going to lie. The fight with Elvanna was kinda anticlimactic. But there’s a reason for that. You see, Burin had taken that helm for a reason. “I’m going in first. Trust me, you’ll know when to follow.”

He enchanted himself with as many powerful enhancements as he could, then he charged right in. Moments later, there was a powerful explosion. “I believe I’m beginning to like that dwarf,” Baba Yaga said approvingly from the doll held by Anastasia. “I suspect that was your cue to follow.”

We chased after him, and found the room filled with steam. It took a moment to clear so we could get a look at the aftermath. Burin had been blasted back by the explosion into a wall, but was mostly okay and Elvanna was in the center of the room, encased in ice. The ice melted, and I could see that the queen had taken part of the blast. Her hair was singed, and she was cackling madly.

Gregor charged immediately, and the center of the room became deathly cold. I mean, so cold that even I was affected, and I’m pretty sure I’m immune to the cold now. I teleported back out of the effect as Gregor connected with his blow. Magical feedback struck him, causing him to take some of his own attack’s damage.

“I can do this all day!” he said.

Then a massive T-rex, summoned by Emily, chomped at Elvanna, who knocked away the creature’s massive mouth with a flick of her wrist. “That’s not even remotely fair!” Emily complained, but didn’t have time to say much more as bolts of lightning filled the room, knocking her out.

Elvanna doesn’t hold back, I’ll say that much.

Nanites flared under Gregor’s skin, trying to repair the damage from the lightning. Then Terry squeezed his trigger. The bullet shattered what little remained of Elvanna’s shield magic, and ripped right through her forehead. “LET IT BE KNOWN THAT VIOLENCE ONCE AGAIN SAVES THE DAY! MACHINE OF DEATH!” he crowed.

Like I said, anticlimactic. I didn’t even get to cast a single fireball.

Terry took the nanite gun over to his daughter and healed her. “You okay?” he asked. “I still have some of this old cake if you want some.”

“I’m fine,” she pouted.

We released Baba Yaga, who immediately dispelled Elvanna’s final ritual. “Your world is saved,” the crone said. “As promised for my freedom. The spell was far too rushed, anyway. She threatened to destabilize the entire spell with her shoddy work.”

“Don’t forget our deal,” Burin said.

“Of course, dwarf.” The witch walked over and placed a hand on his head. I watched as she instantly broke the enchantment that tethered him and Emily. She then turned to a statue on the far side of the room. “Take the girl,” she commanded. It roared to life and grabbed Emily, knocking her out again in the process.

But just before losing consciousness, I saw a plea in her eyes. “Help!” it begged.

What.

“That wasn’t our deal!” Burin protested.

Baba Yaga raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

“No!” He then blinked. “Wait. S~#&.”

Gregor reacted immediately, teleporting over and striking the witch. “You dare attack me?! I will give you one chance to apologize and beg for your lives!”

I suddenly felt ill as Baba Yaga siphoned the power of the black mantle from us. It was clear that it had hit the others like a punch in the gut as well.

Terry fought through it and raised his gun, shooting the statue’s arm off. “Don’t you dare touch my baby girl!” he yelled.

Burin scooped up Emily and fled the room. I covered his retreat with a pair of fireballs that barely even managed to scratch the old witch. Gregor struck her again, and then he and Terry both screamed in terror and collapsed to the ground, dead.

I got up from my knee, and turned to run…

Then I looked down at my stomach. There was blood there. Why was there blood there? Oh, because of the knife. But why was there a knife? “Greta?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. “Why?”

“You should not have betrayed Baba Yaga,” she warned. “I told you, no one defeats her. And…I’m sorry. I do this for my people.”

She twisted the blade and I fell to the ground. The last thing I saw was my own tears freezing in my eyes.

My vision of these two is that they aren't all that bad. In fact, Elvanna and Typhon Lee's alliance is what saves the planet from Karzoug in a version of the world where Kyle never went to Golarion.

But Lyriana andcompany are doing the best they can with limited information and resources.

After about twenty minutes, Burin and Emily appeared at the edge of the clearing, the girl looking, well, like I probably looked any time I had to go face my parents after I knew I’d messed up. She seemed to be keeping Burin between herself and me.

I sighed, then smiled at her. “Emily, come here,” I commanded softly. She looked at me hesitantly, then at Burin, who nodded. She dragged the dwarf with her, ready to jump behind him at any moment in case I started yelling at her. I hugged her, surprising her. “Come on, Dumbo,” I said. “We have work to do.”

“Y-You’re not still mad?” she asked.

I patted her head. “I said what I needed to say. Let’s leave it at that.”

We returned to the clearing and used the dagger to remove another layer of the doll, which cause Vigliv to reappear and begin to speak once more. “The death of Baba Yaga is no small thing, and you have succeeded in finding it where none have before. Now that you have secured her death, however, you must also locate and obtain her life. Although Baba Yaga hid her mortality away so death could not find her, to be more than a walking corpse, she must still have life. To this end, she ensured that a wellspring of life would flow in an ever-renewing fountain for her purposes. Guarding and protecting this source of life she tasked to her daughters, the Queens of Irrisen. After one hundred years of rule, these queens rejoin Baba Yaga and take up the responsibility of ensuring that her wellspring of life never runs dry. Now you must face the queens of old to reclaim Baba Yaga’s life and escape with your own as well.”

That wasn’t ominous at all.

“It’s mine and I want it! Get it back from them—they can’t have it! I’ll tell you if you’re getting close. Go now, into the wyrm’s maw!” Baba Yaga’s voice demanded from within the doll.

So, because we’ll do anything to save the world, apparently, we located the corpse of a frost wyrm and walked into its gaping mouth. For some reason, it seemed appropriate to send in Burin first – likely because if this thing was going to eat us, it’d definitely be unable to resist chomping on him first – and we watched as he teleported away. That was good enough for me, so I followed, as did the others.

We were in another wooded area, and a quick search led us to a cottage, to no one’s surprise. On the porch was the crumpled form of a dead dybbuk, as well as a powerfully enchanted besom – look, yes, it’s a s*!~ty broom made of twigs tied to a bigger stick. But I’m not going to write that every time, so we’re calling it a besom. And I don’t mean that it was a little powerful. This was an artifact level piece of equipment. I’ve seen enchanted planes with less magic in them than this twig broom.

Naturally, as a group of highly responsible adults, we allowed the child to grab it.

The inside of the cottage was a battlefield. Someone had gotten here ahead of us and had destroyed everything defending the house. Ensorcelled mannequins, the dybbuk outside, another animated stove, and even a jotund troll had fallen to their might.

Yes, Gregor skinned the troll. I don’t even know why anyone feels the need to question that at this point. Just assume that if something is skinnable, he skinned it. It’ll save time.

Tracks from those who came before us led into a closet. Burin investigated it, determining that there was a hidden path beneath the floor. So we all went in to investigate it. The closet was surprisingly spacious. I mean, it’s not anywhere near the size of either of my closets, but it was big enough for all of us to comfortably fit.

Gregor tried punching through the floor, only to find that it was enchanted to the point of complete resistance to his attacks. So Emily tried smacking it with the s#%@ty broom.

Have you ever been in a strange closet with several of your mismatched travel companions, only to suddenly find the floor missing and fall nearly fifty feet before you remember you can fly just in time to slow yourself before you crash to the ground of an icy cave another hundred feet below? Yeah, I can check that one off my bucket list.

Once we dusted ourselves off, we found at least some of those who got here before us. A half dozen men in livery marking them as Queen Elvanna’s elite forces, and they’d died fighting ice elementals. But footprints showed that at least a few others had survived and made it further into the cave.

So, we followed them. Into a magma chamber. Why would the Dancing Hut have a magma chamber in it? I don’t know. I’m not a crazy witch. I mean, I might be going crazy. And I can cast magic. But I’m not a witch. I don’t have a patron. Well…no, Godmother doesn’t count. She unlocked my powers. She didn’t give them to me. Not a witch.

Well, anyway. More of the expedition had fallen fighting a fire giant. But it was clear at least one or two had made it further. So, after Gregor was done skinning him and a couple hellhounds, we followed the trail.

We walked right into something kinda kinky. There was a handmaiden devil with a witch in her tentacle cage, and she had a couple Erinyes helping her torment the witch in ways I’m not gonna describe. Suffice it to say Burin reached over and covered Emily’s eyes.

They were so wrapped up in their “fun” that they didn’t seem to notice our arrival, so we struck first, unleashing a flurry of attacks so devastating that the enemies didn’t have time to react. I knelt by the witch, who begged for death. Which Terry gladly granted.

Burin tried to protest, saying that the kind thing to do would have been to heal her and show mercy. “We came to Irrisen to kill witches, remember, Burin?” Terry asked. “That’s what you kept telling everyone ever since we got here. She was a witch. She’s clearly working for Elvanna. So, she had to die.”

Burin was going to protest, but then thought about it. “I guess you have a point. At least her pain is ended.”

“Unless she went to Hell,” Emily said before she started heading towards the door on the far end of the chamber.

Someone needs to get that girl some therapy.

Maybe all of us need it, after what came next. In the chamber that followed, we finally discovered the truth of what Baba Yaga was doing with her deposed daughters. She was turning them into undead to guard this wellspring of her lifeforce. A hundred years of rulership followed by an eternity of service.

I’d have been angry too.

Over my time adventuring, my powers have developed considerably. From my “well, I don’t mind a little cold” at the beginning to full on immunity to the cold. And thank God for that. I’m pretty sure the ray of cold spell that the undead cast on me would have had the potential to kill me if not. And from what I understand of them, Winter Witches can usually bypass such resistances. To the point that they can slay white or silver dragons, or even ice elementals with their magic.

That suggests that Baba Yaga had drained them of much of their power before turning them into what they were. Not only were they the guardians of the wellspring, but perhaps the source that filled it in the first place.

You know, I’m really starting to wonder if maybe we should leave the old witch all locked up, kill her daughter and let the spell she’s started take its course. Daddy would be able to fix it later. Sure, a lot of people would die. But in the long run, maybe that was the least bad option.

I am far too young to have this kind of moral decision before me. The hardest decision I should be considering is whether I can make it to some kind of exam if I do this keg-stand, or if I should just finish my bottle and call it a day. But no…I just HAD to go on an adventure.

And I’m not complaining about that part. As scary as it has been, it has been great. I don’t mind the danger, or the hard work. I just don’t want to be responsible for the lives of millions if I make a bad call, is all. Though, I guess, with an adventure like this, if you screw up and die, whatever bad call you made that led to your death potentially affects the lives of millions anyway.

I guess I really didn’t think this one through. It was too late to have second thoughts now. I’d rolled the dice, and so far, we were up. So…let it ride, I guess?

Terry hit the youngest of the undead queens with his rocket launcher and was hit with a magical counterattack in response. Meanwhile, Burin transformed into a dragon, Gregor went into melee and Emily…

“Angles!” the girl shouted. “I choose you!”

One of these days, I really need to explain to her that it’s spelled ‘Angels’, and that bralanis aren’t angels. They’re azatas. Either way, I was grateful for their healing magic, as the undead had realized I was immune to ice and had struck me with other attacks. And a couple of them were hitting Gregor with enchanted staves, which looked like it hurt.

Burin ripped them apart, one after the other. Terry headshotted a couple of them, and Gregor ended up managing a two for one decapitation with his throwing hat. Have to admit, that was kind of cool. Also, I burned a couple to ash, because you simply do not get away with throwing ice spikes at me.

Once it was over, Terry whistled as he gleefully cut out the shriveled hearts of the undead. Meanwhile, his daughter had her azatas stand at parade attention and gave them a pep talk of sorts. Thankfully, Gregor decided against skinning them. And Burin helped me feed whatever valuables we could find into the box.

Once we used the power of the wellspring to break the seal on the penultimate layer of the doll, Baba Yaga unleashed a tirade on us, outlining every single one of our faults in her eyes like a pissed off mother-in-law, jumping back and forth between us as new thoughts struck her. I won’t dignify what she said by repeating it here, but I did find the final part interesting.

“…and you smell like feet. I’m stuck in a doll and I can smell it from here! And you, dwarf…suffice it to say that you had better be grateful that I am satisfied with our deal, or I would have it in my mind to chain you to a rock and let a giant crow feed on your liver for eternity as punishment for the sound of your voice and the completely asinine ways you’ve handled encounters with your enemies.”

Burin shrugged. “It’s okay if you’re upset at us. After all, our faults are what make us unique.”

Terry eyed him warily. “Deal? You’re hiding something. I knew you had to be evil.”

Burin looked at him, his face completely devoid of emotion. “You’re right. I am hiding something. I really was the warden the whole time,” he said completely deadpan before turning and winking at me as he walked over to Emily, who was struggling to hold back a laugh.

But I wasn’t the only “me” in these woods.

They crept out of the shadows the same way they sometimes crawled out from under my bed or out of the closet in my room I had back at the hut. They never talked when there were other people in the room. That’s why I spent so much time playing games or watching TV with Uncle Coffin. He didn’t really need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom, so he was always awake and watching over me. The only problem was when I had to go to the bathroom. During these times, I had no choice but to ask Nebula to come with me. It was kind of awkward peeing while holding a magic kitty, but I just couldn’t stand being alone.

But I was alone now. No Uncle Coffin. No Nebula. Just me.

Me and at least a dozen other Emilys.

“Good job,” one of them-the one with half her body eaten away by the hottest acid in the abyss-said sarcastically. “You ran away in a circle, back into Hell.”

“No!” I screamed at her, covering my eyes to keep from looking at her. “You’re a stupid liar! M-Miss Lyriana promised I-I wasn’t in Hell anymore!”

“And who is she to us?” another me asked miserably. I couldn’t stop myself from looking through my fingers. This Emily’s face was intact, but she was missing her arms and legs. They’d been pulled off by the pretty, goofy ponies. She sat against a nearby tree, blood flowing from her stumps. A red pool had already started to form beneath her and was spreading outward, towards me. “You said it yourself. We’re just a girl she’s known for a few weeks. Unlike you, Miss Lyriana’s a real hero. She’s got better things to worry about, more important people to save, than you, crybaby.”

“Stop it!” I cried. I covered my ears but I couldn’t block their voices-my voice-from crawling in and out of my brain like ants.

“Come on,” said an Emily directly behind me. “Daddy had the right idea the first time. You have a gun too. And thanks to him, we know how to use it.” I was suddenly very aware of the gun holstered at my hip. I’d completely forgotten about it. I’d been so distracted trying to level up my magic and my creatures that I’d never bothered using it except for target practice. “It really is as easy as opening our mouth and counting down from three…”

I collapsed to my knees. I could feel them around me. And even though I squeezed my eyes shut, I could still see them now. It was like having dozens of twisted mirrors nailed to the insides of my eyelids. All me, but all different. And just the tip of the iceberg. Nocticula had been creative. When I had first been alive, there’d been a soft but sturdy wall between my conscious mind and all of my memories of Hell. But that evil bird lady had shattered the wall when she’d “killed” me during our fight with Typhon Lee. Little by little, lifetimes of torture had started creeping in…

“…Two,” they said together and I felt my hand sliding downward, taking ahold of the gun.

“…No, please!” I begged. “I…I don’t want to go back!”

“You can’t go back, honey,” said a voice that sounded painfully like Momma’s, “because you never left-”

“Little girl?”

Like a bomb of light, the goofy voice pushed the ghosts away and made them disappear. Tears still streamed down my cheeks as I opened my eyes. Mister Burin was there, kneeling in front of me, looking very worried. He was holding onto my wrist, though he was careful not to hurt me. I saw that I had the gun up by my neck and had begun to angle it towards my mouth. I quickly dropped it and after a moment he let go of my wrist.

“You’re not okay,” he said, his voice gentle. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. Sometimes crying’s just what you gotta do.”

My body shuddered and I collapsed against his chest. And I cried. I don’t remember for how long, but I knew it’d never be enough. I was a girl made up of ghosts now. And they were all furious that I’d been the one to finally get saved. The one who got to live and be a princess and a wizard. Because of that they’d never stop. And no matter what anybody else did, nobody-not Momma, Dad, Miss Lyriana, or Mister Burin-could save me from myself…But…

“But I have things that they don’t,” I said in a shaky breath.

Up to that point Mister Burin hadn’t said anything. He’d just held me and stroked my hair back. Now he asked, “Er, and what’s that?”

“I have magic. And angles. And Better Zeus and Squidward.” I pushed myself off of him so that I could see his face. “I’m broken, but can hurt them back with my pieces.”

“Who’s ‘them’?” Mister Burin asked, frowning.

“The other mes.”

Mister Burin’s frown deepened. “Um. Okay.”

My body was still trembling and my head still ached, but when I rested my head against Mister Burin’s chest again, it wasn’t so bad. I listened to his steady heartbeat. He hugged me and I hugged him back and everything started to feel kind of real again. Mostly because I doubted that Nocticula could make up the silly awesomeness that is Mister Burin the Dwarf Wizard. “Mister Burin,” I said, “I love you. Please be a part of my life forever.”

“I…You’re going to be alright, little…Everything is going to work itself out, Emily,” he said. “I’ve made certain of it.”

“Okay.” I let go of him and wiped at my face. I looked around at the forest and that reminded me of the reason why I’d run in here in the first place. “Mister Burin, do you think Dad’s a bad person?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“I knew it,” I sighed. But I already had more than enough proof. More than I ever wanted. I could recall every kill or cruel act Dad had committed while he’d been in my body. I couldn’t hear his thoughts while he was doing them, but I was actually glad for that. I don’t think I really wanted to know what goes through somebody’s head when they shoot a guy’s penis off, set it on fire, and then used said flaming penis to threaten its original owner. Or when shooting a talking tree first and offering it cake second. Seriously, Dad. What the f$@!?

But Mister Burin wasn’t done. “But I think it’s because he had an unusually bad life. Pain changes you both for the better and the worse. He probably hurts people so that they won’t get a chance to hurt him first. And he’s not really sure how to turn that off.” The dwarf gained a thoughtful expression and said, “Take being the Burin for example. I had sigils to contain the demon carved into my body when I was a baby. I don’t remember it now, so I’m okay. But if did, if I grew up with the knowledge of all that pain, I probably wouldn’t be as agreeable a dwarf as I am now.”

“But you’ve been through more bad stuff since then,” I pointed out. “And you’re not mean.”

“Because I actively try to make people comfortable,” he replied. “I see strangers as friends or allies you haven’t made yet. Terry…Maybe guilty until proven innocent is the best way to describe your father’s view of the world.”

“But he’s so mean to you!” I pressed.

“And?”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes words are just words. And you can always take them back.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Or replace them with actions.”

“Wow,” I said. “Dad’s totally wrong. You’re most definitely not a brain-dead idiot, Mister Burin!”

“I’m also not afraid of goats,” he laughed. He stood up and helped me to my feet. I reached down, grabbed the gun off the ground, and holstered it. “Are you ready to rejoin the group?”`

I looked at him and then glanced over my shoulder. They were there, in the shadows, waiting for the next time I was alone. But they’d have to wait a while longer. “Yes, sir,” I said. “We’ve got a job to do.” A hooked my arm through his and together we teleported out of those woods, leaving the shadows and my nightmares behind.
At least for a little while.

Emily rounded on them. “I am NOTHING like him!”

“What the hell’s your problem?” Terry exclaimed. She glared up at him. “We won. Typhon’s dead. Sure, maybe we have his wife and bastard to worry about, but a win’s a win. We checked the body this time. It’s him. He’s deader than dead. And if we’re gonna save your brother from being deader than dead, we’re gonna need your mom. So stop being a selfish brat. It’s time to stop playing with your angels, giant lizard, and squid and summon her, kid. I’m not asking.”

Ooh. Yeah. Not how I would have phrased it. But no one has ever accused Terry of not being an idiot.

“You’re not asking?!” she shrieked incredulously, her face burning red with rage and her thin body trembling. “Well guess what, Dad? I’m not asking either. I don’t need you to answer any questions for me. Because I know everything that you did while you were wearing my body. But if you really, really want, I can summon Momma and we can all talk about how you put a bullet in my brain, nearly killing not just me, but Mister Burin too!”

Terry stumbled back as if she’d hit him. He looked both surprised and ashamed. Yet Emily wasn’t done.

“Or how about we build up to that?” she offered sarcastically. “How about that time you almost shot Miss Lyriana? Or really, how you can’t seem to communicate without trying to shoot or blow people up? If Mister Gregor and Mister Burin weren’t so awesome, you’d have almost blown them up to pieces a dozen times over by now! And that’s what they get for just trying to be your friends. Especially Mister Burin! From the very start, with that time-warping-dragon-thingy, all he’s done is trying to watch out for you! Help you! He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body!”

“I suspect he is secretly powerful dark lord, though he is very good at hiding it,” Gregor said, joking. “What, is wrong time to make joke? Fine, Burin is good guy, even if he needs to train more. He does seem to be even more jovial now that demon has been exorcised.”

“Exactly!” Emily said. Oh God, I was getting “warden” flashbacks just looking at the wild-eyed expression on her face. “Even with his own problems, all he does is try and help people, be their friends. And never once did he give up. And he wasn’t playing F+!@ING UNO while I was kidnapped by Nocticula! No, he and Miss Lyriana went into the Dreamlands and saved me.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “And I’m really nothing to them! Just some broken girl they’ve only known for a few weeks. I’m your d-daughter.” Her voice broke on the last word. “And even when you try to ‘help’ people, Dad, everybody suffers. You tried to save me, Mom, and Toby from Aunt Hecate and how did that turn out? Toby’s dead, probably in the Abyss, I was sent there, turned into a demon plaything while you wore my body like a sock, and Momma might be more than half demon now.

“I talked to Uncle Coffin about it. After Mister Burin gave me advice on leveling up, how I can’t take on Nocticula now, at the level I am now. But the more I use my magic, train my Pokémon, I might,” her voice hardened, “I will make her pay. But Uncle Coffin told me something very interesting: human souls can’t become eidolons. Momma’s not just a ghost. She’s being corrupted into a demon.” Emily frowned deeply. “She’s close…Really close…Uncle Coffin isn’t sure, but there’s a chance that every time I summon her, she’ll come back more and more demon until there’s none of Mom’s original self left.” She looked at Terry accusingly. “So while you probably just want her back so you two can…be gross, I’m over here trying to save her soul!”

Terry slumped. “I…I didn’t know,” he said very quietly.

“I love Momma,” Emily sobbed. “I wish it was her and not you here. All she wanted was to be a hero. I don’t think anybody except her understands why she fell in love with you, but she did and now both her and Toby are paying for it.” Her features suddenly became cruel and unyielding, exactly how they would when Terry wore her face. “If you really want me to summon her again, I will. But it depends on you, Dad. Depends on whether or not you think Mom will still love you when I tell her how you gave up, put the barrel of your rifle in my mouth, and pulled the trigger.”

“Are you done?” I asked softly, doing my best to contain the rage building in me.

“W-What?” Emily asked, still sobbing.

“With your tantrum? Has it not occurred to you two idiots to try talking, instead of screaming at each other? Has it not occurred to you two that each of you is hurting and needs the other’s support?”

“That’s not -” Terry said, but shut up as I glared at him.

“Of course it hasn’t. You’re both f$**ing idiots.” I looked at each of them, waiting for either to try to argue with me. Neither dared. I turned to Terry. “We’ve already talked about your stupidity. You daughter is scared. More than anything, she needs you there to tell her everything will be okay, even if she knows you don’t have any clue whether it will be. Trust me, I’m a daughter. It’s necessary.”

Terry didn’t argue, he just looked defeated and hung his head.

“And you,” I said, turning to Emily. “You have several things you need explained to you. First of all, you’ve been forced to grow up quick, I get it. But you still seem to cling to the idea that your father should be perfect. And you have to understand that he’s just a man, with all the weakness that sometimes entails. Yeah, he tried to kill himself while he was stuck in your body. But as far as he was concerned, you were dead and he had no way to bring you back.

“You think that weak of him? Maybe. Let me tell you about my father. He’s the Runelord, one of the most powerful men alive. But before I was born, he was just an adventurer, unprepared for what he encountered. He once told me he very nearly walked away from it all, that the dangers he faced were too much for him to handle. But he had my mother at his side and she gave him the strength to go on. So yeah, your father took the path of a coward. But he was alone, with no one he thought he could count on and nothing he thought he could live for. He deserves your sympathy, not your scorn. To act otherwise is to act like a spoiled child. You’re old enough now that such behavior does not become you.

“And don’t think I’m done, with any of you. You trust ‘Uncle Coffin’? He’s a DAEMON. They’re EVIL made manifest. They want your soul. Is it possible this one is different than the rest? Maybe. Or more likely, he’s playing a long game, trying to get that which he values with a smile and a handshake. So take what he says with a grain of salt. They have nothing keeping them from lying to get what they want. For all we know, summoning your mother here buys her a reprieve from what she’s going through. Just like when we brought you back, when she’s here, she’s safe. Or maybe summoning her is causing problems, because the contrast between what she has here and what she experiences there is too much for her to bear. I don’t know. I don’t claim to know.

“But what I can tell you is that it doesn’t matter whether she’s turned into a demon or not. WE. WILL. SAVE. HER. Just as an angel can fall and become a demon, so too can a demon rise and become an angel. But you’re going to have to believe in me. You’re going to have to believe in Gregor. You’re going to have to believe in Burin. You’re going to have to believe in yourself, and your mother. And you even have to believe in your father. Because if you don’t…if you tell her what you’re threatening to say right now, out of spite? You could very well be the one who damns her forever. Is that what you want?”

Those last words hit her like a slap in the face. “I-but…” she began crying anew and ran away, bumping into Burin as she ran. “Sorry,” she said to him before running off into the forest.

“What was that about?” the dwarf asked.

“I said some things she needed to hear, though I don’t know that she’ll ever thank me for saying them.” I sighed. “Where have you been?”

“I was talking to Baba Yaga,” he said, handing me the matroshka doll.

“Right.” One headache at a time. “I guess someone should go after her.”

“I’ll go,” Burin said.

“I am not believing you have much choice,” Gregor said, pointing at the dwarf’s beard, which was dancing with sparks. “Girl has become very fast. Perhaps she has been training?”

“She probably teleported,” I pointed out.

He looked disappointed by that for a moment, then brightened up. “Training with magic is still training!” he declared triumphantly as he clapped Terry on the back. “There is hope for your daughter yet.”

“Yeah,” Terry said with a sigh as he looked at the ground. “I guess.” Then Burin disappeared.

We are almost done with Reign of Winter, surprisingly. Then, the bonus half of the campaign.

“Baba Yaga placed her death in an athame, a witch’s knife, which she then hid in a chest within a corpse, which she buried under an oak tree on the mystical island of Buyan. Even if Baba Yaga was slain, her death would still need to be recovered and released back into her body in order for her to truly die. And so Baba Yaga plucked the island from the ocean and stored it in one of the many hidden realms of her hut so that none could stumble across it, and her death, without first facing her power.

“Now, to free Baba Yaga from her prison, you must go to Buyan, find her death, and bring it back here to her cauldron. She is gaining greater awareness as you free her and will be able to guide you to some extent; heed her counsel. Now go; the death of Baba Yaga awaits you.”

Baba Yaga sent us images, leading to another pool that would act as a portal. “This will put you in the vicinity of where you need to go, but it will still be a journey,” she told us. “There is no surety that you will end up on the correct island. You will need to search for the correct island, and locate my death.”

I considered it. “Is there any way to focus the teleportation effect and ensure we go where we need? That way we can get you out of there as quickly as possible?”

“Scrying usually allows teleportation to be more precise,” Burin offered.

Baba Yaga considered it. “You would need the assistance of one attuned to my death.”

“Mister Coffin?” Emily suggested. “I’ll go get him!”

She ran off to the hut, which was thankfully not too far away, and returned a few minutes later, dragging the daemon behind her. He seemed completely engrossed in the object in his hands… an old model portable gaming console. One that I’m pretty sure existed before Daddy was born.

“Can you help us aim this portal towards what we seek?” Burin asked.

“I am attuned to that which you would reclaim,” he answered. “If you have magic that would allow you to use that link to focus your travels, then I am fine with allowing you to use that connection.”

It wasn’t simple, but with Burin’s aid, we managed to make it work, and soon we were on a tropical island, right on the beach. It was right around sunset. Overhead, we spotted a group of winged beings flying towards. They landed about a hundred yards from us and brandished their weapons, shouting. “They want to know who we are and why we’re here,” Burin translated. “I’ll explain.”

And he proceeded to do so, in Aquan.

“Maybe I should learn that language,” Gregor quipped to Terry. “I am always curious what he is saying.”

As the dwarf spoke and gestured, it was clear that the winged humanoids were getting angrier. “I don’t think I’m getting through to them!” Burin wailed. He dropped his weapon and shield, trying to show them that he came in peace.

Terry tapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe try with that guy. He looks friendly.” We all followed where he was pointing and spotted a hideous creature that looked like a winged cyclops with an overbite flying just above the waves.

The other creatures realized what we were looking at and became alarmed, so Terry decided it wasn’t a friend of theirs and took a few shots. “When in Rome,” I said with a sigh, and launched a fireball at it as well. Then Gregor sprinted towards the water and leapt several hundred feet, punching the creature several times and knocking its lifeless corpse towards us, skipping it off the water like a stone and causing it to come to rest a few feet from us, before teleporting back to shore.

The fighter was looking rather ill and was covered in the enemy’s blood and bits. Emily, without saying anything, summoned a water elemental and had it begin hosing him off. Burin picked up his axe and took a swing, making sure the creature was dead, before waving at the humanoids and flashing his big, goofy grin.

The winged humanoids panicked as he approached. A couple of them broke and ran immediately, but one just cowered and began gibbering in several languages. One of which we recognized. “Hello!” Burin called out in the language of deep places and monsters. “We didn’t mean to frighten you. We’re just here looking for death!”

Dammit Burin. “What he means to say is that we’re here looking for an artifact related to the death of an ancient being,” I said, using my most soothing voice. “As long as you have no desire to stop us from searching for it, there’s no reason we can’t be friends.”

“You mean it?” one of the beings asked tentatively.

“I promise,” I said. “What was that thing we just fought? And by ‘we’, I mean mostly my friends. And by ‘fought’, I mean massacred.”

“It’s an agent of our enemies. We’ve been at war with them for as long as we can remember. Come, our queen can tell you more.”

These creatures, who reminded me of something I’d read about in Daddy’s books called maftets, sphinx-looking people who dwell in ruins, had a palace that was reminiscent of an open air palace from some movie about ancient Egypt.

Their queen, who was fairly hot, I’ll admit, explained that their ancient enemies risen from the waves two days ago and demanded she be sacrificed or they would slay everyone. With a show of force, the enemy had proven themselves capable of conquering the isle, so she was considering going to her fate in the morning in order to placate them.

Obviously, we offered our help. We were given a place to relax for the evening and treated as guests of honor. “Strange that we arrived just in time to be the big damn heroes. You think time travel is at play again?”

Gregor considered Terry’s question. “We did travel through time to face Rasputin, so it wouldn’t be too surprising. Or, perhaps they’re playing through a repeating loop, and we’re just at the beginning of the loop.”

“That could create a time paradox,” Burin chimed in.

“What’s a time paradox?” Emily asked.

Burin launched into his explanation, and it was fairly interesting. Interesting enough that I missed what Gregor and Terry were arguing about. In fact, I barely even registered the argument until Terry pulled his gun and fired. Gregor’s hands blurred as they moved, and he struck the bullet out of the air with his metal bracers.

The bullet ricocheted, striking Terry’s cheek and leaving a rivulet of blood. I rolled my eyes at the men being idiots, and Emily got up, the nanite gun in hand. “You shot yourself in the face again,” she said to Terry.

“He’s getting better at it,” Gregor quipped. At that point, I made the decision that it was best everyone went to bed, and surprisingly, no one argued with me.

In the morning, we went over the plan once more. The queen would act as if she were going through with offering her life to the enemy, and we’d lie in ambush. Bursting out of hiding, we’d down the foes before they had a chance to react.

There was only one dwarf-sized problem with that plan.

As soon as he saw the arriving foes – some nucklavees and water elementals – Burin stepped out of hiding and called out in the language of water elementals. Terry sighed. “What is he saying?” he asked his daughter.

“Just a hello. He seems really happy to finally find someone who speaks that language.”

Negotiations broke down quickly, and we immediately resorted to violence. Terry fired off a rocket, Emily summoned a giant squid. Then Burin froze the surface of the ocean for a mile.

Emily was not happy about “Squidward” getting frozen.

Gregor teleported into the sky and slammed into the ice, shattering it and sending icy shards into our foes, killing them. Emily gasped. “Guys, Squidward says something is coming!” Guess it survived after all.

The thing that came from beneath the waves looked like the unholy mixture of the Loch Ness Monster and a big octopus. It was massive. And as it struck, I remembered something from my parents’ adventures. This thing was what Daddy called a Mother of Oblivion, one of Lamashtu’s servants.

The Mother breathed a cloud of gas at Gregor and Terry as Terry fired a rocket at her. I cast a spell, imbuing the others with the power of flame. Gregor punched himself in his confusion and Terry babbled incoherently. Meanwhile, Emily must have gotten a whiff, and teleported behind me to cower in fear.

I didn’t have time to react, as a rusalka, a type of fey associated with drownings, came out of nowhere and attacked me. I did what I could to protect myself, but I couldn’t flee with Emily there.

The Mother struck Squidward, who was attacking her, and sent him flying onto the beach, where he landed with an undignified splat. Burin charged to help, managing to cut down the fey and calm Emily.

In the end, Terry and Gregor got ahold of themselves and the Mother fled in terror of our might as they began focusing on her. But that would have been too easy for her, and Gregor gave chase, managing to hit her one last time. He says she sunk to the bottom of the depths, and was probably dead.

The queen was pretty impressed at what we’d done, and gladly told us of a legend about a tree where a witch’s death was said to live. So Terry loaded his gun and we made our way over, certain that the death of the Mother would give the maftets’ foes pause.

We approached the tree, which did look suspicious. Emily summoned a fire elemental to threaten hit, proving that the fruit does not at all fall from the tree. “We’re just here for the death. You behave and we won’t burn you.” The tree didn’t answer. “Okay, I’m coming to get it. Don’t try anything.”

Before I could stop her, she marched forward, and was promptly grabbed by one of the skinny, willow-like branches of the tree. Her fire elemental attacked, but to no avail as the tree brought the girl towards its gaping maw.

Burin acted quickly, casting a wall of ice inside the tree’s mouth as Gregor charged it, his fist sending splinters flying. I created magical, spiky balls of force and threw them at the tree, causing a fair bit of damage as well.

Terry…just sat there. “Seems like a good time to call your mom, huh?” he taunted Emily.

She responded by teleporting herself out of the tree’s grasp as Gregor continued his assault, finishing it off. She then stuck her tongue out at her father before dismissing her elemental.

You know, I’m really glad I never went through this phase. I’m pretty sure Daddy would have made me look like an idiot. But where Terry and Emily were concerned, in a battle of wits and wills, they were likely evenly matched. Still, it was odd that his hatred of trees hadn’t caused him to act. I guess forcing Emily to call on her mother was more important than killing a tree.

“Now,” Terry said, “Let’s just see what it was guarding.” He walked up to the base of the tree, where a coffin laid, and pried it open. “Holy s&#!!” he shouted, immediately swinging his crowbar at the contents several times.

I got closer and realized he was attacking some kind of large doll. It seemed inanimate, so there was no threat, so I decided it wasn’t worth trying to stop him. Once he was done, he stood there, catching his breath, the doll’s crushed eye in one hand and a dagger in the other.

“Good, you have the athame,” Baba Yaga’s voice said. “There is a cave nearby that offers passage back. Beware the guardian. But do not try to evade it. You need to dip the blade in its blood before returning.”

The guardian turned out to be a khala, a type of three headed dragon. Emily conjured a T-rex, which grappled it in its mouth and held it. Gregor took the opportunity to get a fresh skin. Real fresh. Like, still alive. Terry didn’t even bother to kill it when he stabbed it with the knife. And Burin reasoned that maybe it had to be alive when it was stabbed, since the blade turned gold when Terry did so.

Yeah. I’m surrounded by sociopaths and idiots. I wonder if this is how Daddy felt when he was adventuring.

Terry…is not nearly as strong or balanced as Gregor. It was impressive that he managed to not fall down, to be honest. I called Greta and let her know it was over. She sounded excited, almost sexually so, knowing that we’d been victorious.

Burin managed to rouse Emily. The girl got up and walked over to the body of the woman, Kuro. If looks could kill, the hatred in the girl’s eyes would have turned the body to ash. Instead she satisfied herself by ripping off the woman’s necklace.

Greta and Anastasia returned shortly thereafter, and Greta bounded over to me. She kissed me hungrily, then took my hand and pulled me over to Typhon Lee’s corpse. Once there, she stabbed her other hand into the upper part of the old man’s gut. There was a wet, tearing sound, and she yanked out a red-brown mass. Oh, right. His liver.

Her teeth tore into it, blood smearing her face. She barely chewed, simply swallowing the large chunk she’d torn off. She then bit off another piece, smaller, and offered it to me. “You should have some. It’s good for making babies.”

How do you answer that? I stared at her for a moment, and decided to go with the diplomatic approach. “My love,” I said, “If you want me to eat liver, I will do so. Cooked. And from a cow, or a chicken, or a sheep. But I’m not a winter wolf. I’m sorry, I’m just not comfortable eating a person’s liver.”

She cocked her head as she regarded me. “Sometimes I forget,” she admitted. “Of course. But I will slaughter the sheep or cow myself and it will only be barely cooked and then eaten immediately. It is important.”

I nodded. “That’s a fair compromise.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Emily watching us curiously. Before I could say anything, Terry pulled her away from Kuro’s corpse. “Don’t even think about it. Your mother will kill me if I let you eat people.”

“I wasn’t!” Emily protested, but it was clear she had been considering it.

After picking the corpses clean of any valuable gear, we made our way back to the hut, and Gregor produced the keys. They were a crude pair of dolls, one about half the size of the other. He tossed them into the cauldron and then asked Baba Yaga’s doll. “So, where are we going this time?”

“To the beginning,” she answered. Gregor looked unimpressed with that answer.

“So, you’re made of wood? How’s that working out for you?” Burin asked Baba Yaga, finally voicing a question that had clearly been on his mind for a while. But she didn’t answer.

Exhausted from our day, we all turned in fairly early. I had the strangest dream. At least, I think it was a dream. I hope it was a dream. I REALLY hope it was a dream.

In my dream, I woke up feeling a little hazy. So I got up and went to go grab something to eat, and maybe some coffee. Irish coffee, even, since I was pretty sure my headache was caused by the wine I’d drank before bed.

I heard Emily’s voice, so I stopped in the hallway. “I came close. She beat me. I think the bird lady killed me. Thanks to Mister Burin, though, I came back. But I heard her voice. ‘Remember,’ it said. And I did. I remembered all the times I died when the evil lady had me. It was as clear as the TV.”

“I see,” said the voice of the Coffin Man. “How did that make you feel?”

There was silence for a few moments before Emily answered. “Before, I didn’t get why Dad said he liked to kill people. But I get it now. It felt good seeing her dead.”

The Coffin Man grunted approvingly. “That makes your life easier. Sometimes heroes have to kill people. It’s like that cartoon rat. Micksy, was it? And the war veteran duck. Sometimes heroes save people. Sometimes they execute those who would hurt people. Either way helps.”

I had no idea how to respond to that. After all, my entire short career as an adventurer had involved death on a scale that would have been unthinkable back on Earth. So, I left without saying anything, instead grabbing the last swig from my bottle of wine before going back to sleep.

Like I said. I really hope that was a dream.

When I woke up again, I found Gregor in the common room. His skin collection was spread out all around him and he was looking it over. “Maybe you could make it into a display and charge viewing fees?”

“As some kind of skin circus?” the fighter asked. “Yes, that could work. That way, I could make money from them, without losing them.”

“Where’s Terry?” I asked.

“He’s locked in his room,” Burin answered. “Been there all morning.”

The door to Terry’s room suddenly opened. “While you all have been distracting yourselves – and I can’t blame you, we have basically nothing left to do now – I’ve been hard at work. Behold!” From within the room came a robot about eight inches tall. It just walked in and waved. Terry was beaming. “I’ve managed to make bullets that allow me to take control of the mindless.”

Gregor picked up the robot. “Not practical in fight. Looks…weak.”

“That’s just the test subject. It’s what’s inside that counts. I filled that one with explosives.”

The door to the library swung open, and Emily walked in, bags under her eyes and looking fairly pale. Terry took the robot from Gregor and handed it to her, beaming proudly and ready to explain what he’d made. But the girl just wordlessly took the robot and flopped on the couch, hugging it.

“Should we really let a little girl have a bomb?” Anastasia asked me.

“It’s fine,” Terry answered. “I’ve got more.” He considered it for a moment. “I’m sure even her mom would be okay with it.”

Burin rolled his eyes and got up, taking the robot from Emily and handing it back to Terry. “Come on,” he told the girl. “Let’s go see what we can scrounge up to eat around here.” Wordlessly, she followed him.

It wasn’t too much longer before we finished our trip and the hut came to a “stop”. So we gathered our things and headed out the door into the hut’s new inner configuration. Not too far from us, we spotted a tree that was about eighty feet tall, were I to make a guess. So, since it was the biggest landmark, we headed in that direction.

Below the rocky outcropping holding the tree was a waterfall that dripped into a pool. It was pleasantly warm – at least for me, though the others didn’t seem bothered by the temperature – if perhaps a bit humid. Terry pulled out his little bomb bot and set it on the ground. “I want you to go hug that tree. Go boom if it tries to attack us.”

From within the tree, we heard a woman’s voice, speaking in Russian. “You have come far, wanderers, but the threads of fate have finally led you here to Grandmother’s Cauldron, the root of Baba Yaga’s Dancing Hut. Here was Baba Yaga’s past made, and here will her future be decided. Know then that I am Vigliv, ally and mentor to Baba Yaga, for I am norn, and hold the golden thread of her fate in my hands.

“Baba Yaga has been trapped within the doll you hold by one of her own blood, her own power turned against her to do so. But to free Baba Yaga from her prison and gain mastery over her betrayer, you must pay heed to the wisdom of the universe and homage to its fate. Here, in Baba Yaga’s Dancing Hut, lie the very fundamental essences of Baba Yaga’s being. Should her treacherous daughter recover these, she would gain great power over her mother, possibly enough to destroy Baba Yaga once and for all.

“Therefore, you must seek out these elements of Baba Yaga’s nature first. You must first take the fate of Baba Yaga into your hands, then find her power, her death, and her life. Lastly, you will need the blood of Baba Yaga to finally free the Old Crone. Only in this way can you defeat the daughter who betrayed her, and in so doing, save your own world. I can guide your steps in their quest. Your search begins now.”

As she spoke, the figure of a fey being appeared standing next to the tree. Her skin was green and unkempt, and her skin the color of bark. The little bomb bot, unsure what to do, stepped back a bit, but then held its ground, ready to charge if the tree or the woman who looked like a tree tried attacking.

“Hello!” Burin called out. “We’re trying to help Baba Yaga. You said we need her fate, and you have it, right? Any way we can get that from you?”

The woman nodded. “I will conjure it from its hidden place within the waters. If you watch the water, you may see something of interest.”

We gazed into the waters and saw a crude hut within a clearing. A young woman and her child sat outside. The little girl was playing with a crude ball made of leather, while the woman was sewing something. The woman looked up from her work towards the forest at the edge of the clearing and smiled when she spotted the man walking towards the hut. He was carrying a bundle of wood over his shoulder.

The little girl got up and ran towards the man, hugging him enthusiastically. He scooped her up with his free hand and carried her to the woman, who he kissed enthusiastically. She took the child, and he set down the wood.

The idyllic scene was shattered by sounds within the forest. “Take our daughter and hide!” the man told his wife. They ran into the hut and climbed down into a root cellar whose entrance was hidden by floorboards.

From the woods came a group of armed men. They demanded tribute, and when the man’s offering was insufficient, they beat him unconscious and tied him up. They then searched the house, but did not find the hidden cellar.

So they dragged the man off to answer for his “crime” to the local lord. Sometime later, the woman emerged from the cellar with her child, and wailed in grief at the sight of the blood. Her fingers turned white as she clutched her hands tightly, rage quickly replacing grief. She cut her hand and offered of her blood to any who would hear her and grant her the power to reclaim her husband.

A voice answered, and it sent shivers down my spine. “I will grant you the power you seek. In time, you may nurture it into strength beyond imagining. But my boon does not come without a price. Will you pay it?”

“I will,” the young woman answered, unhesitating.

“Then you know what you must do,” the demon that now stood before her said.

The woman nodded, her face hard as she grabbed the thread she had been sewing with and… I looked away as she did it, though I could not block out the sounds of the woman strangling her own daughter. I doubt I’ll ever be able to truly forget those sounds.

When I opened my eyes, the image was gone and all that remained was a bloody piece of golden thread floating within the water. And I wasn’t the only one who had been unable to watch. Anastasia was still closing her eyes as hard as she could, looking even paler than normal. “I am not entirely sure freeing Baba Yaga is best idea,” Gregor said.

“She has a tendency to kill those close to her,” Burin said. “Do you think we’ll die when she takes back the mantle?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But if we don’t free her, the world is doomed. So I’m still not seeing much of a choice.”

“I’ll miss its magic,” Burin said as he approached the water. “But you’re probably right.”

“I don’t feel magical,” I heard Terry mutter.

Burin reached out carefully with his axe and fished the thread from the water. He then took the thread and tied it around the matroshka doll that held Baba Yaga. The doll cracked and opened, revealing the smaller doll nested within.

“Hello Miss Baba Yaga,” Emily said, addressing the doll. “Are you okay?”

“I am quite tired, but I feel better,” the crone’s voice answered.

“That’s good. How do we open the others?”

“Vigliv can tell you more. Now let me rest.”

I looked up at the fey creature. “I take it you’re Vigliv?”

She nodded. ““You have taken Baba Yaga’s fate into your hands. You must now reclaim a symbol of her power. I will turn the pool into a portal. Step into it and follow in her footsteps. Witness the site of her first act of strength, as she first brought her wrath down upon those who drew her ire. Claim the crown of the lord whose orders sent the men to her home, and return here.”

We walked into the warm waters and found ourselves standing in a clearing outside of a cave. Young Baba Yaga stood over the corpses of over a dozen bandits. She was holding a severed head by the hair, looking into its eyes. “Why did you do this?!” she demanded.

“Our lord bade us collect tribute, and your family did not have enough to offer. An example had to be made.”

Her eyes burned with hatred. “I will show your lord what I have to offer,” she said, tossing aside the head, which landed with a wet thud. “Demon!” she called out. “I require more power.”

The demonic voice answered. “The power is yours for the asking. You know the price you must pay.”

She nodded grimly and walked over to her husband. The bandits had crippled and blinded him. He moaned in agony as she touched his face. “I promise,” she said, “I will make them pay for what they’ve done to you.” She then plunged a dagger into his heart. There was a crack of thunder and her eyes glowed with a cold blue light as she absorbed a fraction of his soul, the demon taking the rest as his payment.

She teleported away, and then the demonic presence manifested. “Interlopers,” he said, addressing us. “I will not allow you to interfere. This place will be your grave!” So this wasn’t just a vision of the past. We were actually reliving it in some way.
From within the cave came a great roar and a massive crocodile charged forth. Correction. It was no mere crocodile. It was a demonic crocodile, complete with giant wings.

Terry tossed out a couple of his little robots and fired at the croc. “A lizard? This thing is tiny compared to a real lizard! We faced the dragon. You’ve got nothing on him!” The crocodile responded by casting a spell. Blood trickled from Terry’s mouth, and smoke wafted from his ears. “Okay, that’s it. I’m done playing. Emily, summon your mother.”

Emily instead cast a spell, conjuring a tyrannosaurus. An albino tyrannosaurus, at that. “This is a job for a bigger lizard!” she shouted. It lunged forward, sinking its teeth into the croc’s tail. The beast roared in anger and snapped at the dinosaur.

Spotting the opportunity, Gregor and Burin charged forward. The dwarf sunk his axe into the croc’s neck and Gregor punched it several times from the other side, driving it further onto the blade. The hits caused the steel to sever something vital, and the croc thrashed for a moment, the collapsed, bloody foam dripping from its mouth. Terry’s little robots stopped and began cheering at the victory.

Emily walked over and patted the dinosaur’s bloody maw. “Good job,” she said. “You can go back to your pokeball now.” The dinosaur seemed to nod and then disappeared.

“Cute,” Terry said. “Now stop playing around and summon your mom.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with defiance. “You’re just mad because my Zeus actually did something and yours didn’t even reach the fight. You should have left him as a steed. At least he was useful.”

Terry’s eye twitched, but before he could respond, Gregor clapped his shoulder. “Come, I need your help checking the corpses for any indication of where they came from.”

The pair found us a map of the region on one of the bandits. “We could fly there,” I suggested.

“Running would be faster,” Gregor answered.

“Maybe for you,” Terry said.

“Then perhaps teleportation?” the fighter responded.

“That’s a possibility,” I said. “I’ll need fifteen minutes to prepare the spell.”

“We’ll make a pyre while you’re doing that,” Burin suggested. “We can’t just leave them here like this.”

For normal people, making a pyre big enough for a dozen corpses would have taken hours. But we’re definitely not normal. After taking the croc’s skin, Gregor started punching down whole trees, as if this was that game I used to play with Daddy when I was little. Umm…Minecraft, I think it was called? And Burin grew large so he could hew the fallen trees into manageable logs, which he stacked up. Terry went to work scraping the trees to make a sizeable pile of wood shavings to use as tinder while roughing up the logs to give them more surface area to burn.

Emily sat down and watched me as I was readying my spell. She was quiet, doing her best not to distract me. She really can be a good kid when she’s not arguing with her father.

The pyre was just about prepared by the time my magic was ready. So we lit it and teleported to the city on the map where the local lord lived. And boy, were we not prepared for what we saw.

Every building within the city was covered in ice. Baba Yaga had spared no one. Innocent and guilty alike died by her hand. Those that had offered resistance were impaled upon jutting spikes of ice. The rest had simply been frozen.

We made our way to the throne room. We found the lord decapitated, his head nailed to the throne with ice. His guards, lay dead all around him. But they didn’t stay that way. We heard the demon’s laughter as the guards rose to their feet.

But these were no ordinary ghouls or zombies. They were baykoks, an incredibly dangerous form of undead. Had it been normal people, it’s likely that that many of the creatures would have slain them. But, as I’ve already mentioned, we’re far from normal people.

Burin cast a spell, encasing a number of the undead in ice as Terry tossed one of his bots to Gregor, who surged forward with incredible speed. “Better Zeus, I choose you!” Emily called out, sending the albino tyrannosaurus into battle.

Gregor threw the robot at a group of guards near the dinosaur, and Terry took aim. “Remember, Daddy loves you,” he said as he shot the bot. It exploded, destroying several of the guards…and Emily’s summon. “Better Zeus, huh?” the assassin asked.

If looks could kill, Emily’s gaze would have caused her father’s head to explode.

The fight was pretty much over at that point. I lobbed some fireballs. Gregor and, to a lesser degree, Burin hacked and smashed apart the undead. Terry shot them. And Emily pouted.

Once it was done, we thawed the lord’s head and took his crown. And I teleported us back to the giant tree, so we could break the seal on the next layer of Baba Yaga’s prison, though we were definitely all having second thoughts about freeing her now.

Still, it was the only way to prevent her daughter from killing possibly millions of people and enslaving an entire world. So, what choice did we have?

The grippli was correct, and soon they spotted the troll torturing a familiar looking orc within an underground pool. “Please! It’s not my fault your sister died! There were too many of them!” the orc pleaded between sessions of having his head held under the water by the irate flood troll. “Skreed! Help!”

The party watched the scene, they noticed tracks leading to the south that appeared to belong to some kind of animal. The path to the north contained boot prints. Jazier sighed quietly. “Let’s not go north,” he said. “I bet there has to be some kind of mess I’ll be told to clean up.”

“Interesting,” Rodd Rigez whispered. “I’m going to go check it out. Wait here.”

Sneaking through the darkness, he soon came to an area where the natural stone and dirt floor smoothed out, giving way to worked stone. The walls did the same. It was clear that someone had put time into this. And where people put time into working stone in places like this, that usually meant treasure, in the man’s experience.

But it also meant traps. And no sooner had he approached a large statue when it began to move, and even in the darkness, Rodd Rigez could see that it was an animated skeleton. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, a pair of shadowy rats fell out of its ribcage. “Well, s~~!,” he breathed, dodging as the skeleton swung the two halves of a massive broken spear at him.

Back at the edge of the water, the others had decided to intervene. Gwen opened the attack with a shot, getting the troll’s attention. The orc took the opportunity to get a breath. “Please! Help me!”

Kurst loosed an arrow and Lucky Days charged, causing the troll to drop the orc and react. Meanwhile, Rodd Rigez was fleeing for his life, dropping caltrops as he ran.

Kermit charged forward, grabbing the troll with both claws. The jaw of his suit unhinged and he tore off the troll’s face with a massive bite before dropping the limp corpse in the water.

The orc struggled towards the shore of the pool and lie there for a moment. Qumeel approached. “You were the one who set up that bear trap, weren’t you?” He stabbed his blade into the ground next to the orc’s head. “I was NOT fond of that trap.”

The orc was so out of it from lack of oxygen that he didn’t even realize what was said. “Thanks for saving me.”

Valbrand reached into the shallow water and yanked the orc out. “Let’s get you on the shore,” he said with a good natured laugh.

From the north, they heard a cry. “GOBLIN TEA PARTY!”

“What’s a goblin tea party?” Gwen asked.

“Rodd’s in trouble,” Kermit said, rushing off in that direction.

“It means there’s a large monster and a number of smaller monsters,” Valbrand explained, casually tossing the orc on the ground. The injured orc grunted in pain as he landed. “Like a teapot and a bunch of accompanying teacups flying at your head.”

“So it’s big? Then I’ll aim high.” Gwen shot into the darkness in the direction of the sounds.

As she shot, Lucky Days ran into the darkness to help her Coach. Kurst was startled by the speed of the girl as she blasted past him, seemingly unslowed by the muddy ground. She reached the injured man, the ghostly rats hissing at her in the darkness. “Eww!” the girl shrieked.

“What’s going on?” Jazier asked, absentmindedly imbuing Gwen’s gun with the power of lightning.

Lucky Days grabbed the injured man and rushed away, receiving a slash across her arm for her trouble. “Ghost rats and a big skelly man!” she huffed.

Gwen attempted another shot, but her gun jammed. “Fall back!” she said. Valbrand stepped up and raised his shield to cover the retreat, just beyond the edge of the tiled floor, nodding at Kermit as the grippli bounded past.

Then something strange happened. The rats continued past the edge of the tiles to engage the waiting warrior, but the giant skeleton stopped in the torchlight, not stepping beyond the worked floor. “It’s not following,” Gwen noted as Jazier zapped a rat with a jolt of electricity.

They made quick work of the rats, who turned to goop as they fell. They then took time recovering from their wounds and formulated a plan. “It’s workable,” Rodd Rigez commented. “But are you sure you wouldn’t rather we do Throbbing Minstrel?”

“I would like to do something that doesn’t involve having to shave off all of my shorthairs,” Valbrand answered.

“I’m just saying it would work.”

“So will this,” Kermit said, donning his suit and grabbing the rock marked with the language of giants, which had been coated in the remaining Goblin Sap and a sticky substance. Valbrand then hurled a lasso into the corridor and the grippli shot off into the darkness.

The giant skeleton reanimated and struck the grippli, but he managed to stuff the rock into its ribcage, getting it stuck where the giant’s heart would have been. He then took a second blow, but let the momentum of this one send him flying backwards, towards the waiting lasso.

“Now!” the grippli shouted as he de-powered and landed in the circle. Valbrand, Lucky Days and Kurst yanked with all their might and pulled him quickly to safety. Then, as soon as the skeleton followed into the torch’s light, Jazier sparked the Goblin Sap, setting off a powerful explosion.

The skeleton reeled, but was still moving. “Ragathiel, grant me your blessing,” Qumeel prayed, brandishing his blade and pointing it at the ceiling above the skeleton. At first, nothing happened, but then the cracks caused by the explosion spidered outward, and a large stone fell on the undead foe.

It seemed to be downed, but Gwen wasn’t taking any chances. She fired several rounds into the fallen enemy, making sure its skull was thoroughly destroyed before she was satisfied.

“Okay,” Rodd Rigez said. “I’ll admit that worked pretty well. Anyway, I think I saw some valuables in there, and a trail of blood leading to a door. Shall we?”

After a quick bit of graverobbing, they followed the trail of blood through a door and down another corridor. As they moved, the sounds of shrieking echoed ahead. They crept quietly until they reached another door. This one was open, and inside, they spotted a group of five red-painted goblins who seemed to be arguing with a pair of orcs who seemed to have two powerful dire wolves on their side. Beyond them was what appeared to be a giant statue on the wall. One of the orcs was studying it.

Jazier quietly chanted to detect magic and his head swam with the power emanating from within the room. “Whoa. This room is most heinous, bro.”

“What?” Rodd Rigez whispered.

“What?” Jazier answered, too confused to remember what he’d said.

“This is da kween’s treasure!” one of the goblins shrieked.

“No, this is my queen’s treasure,” the larger orc argued.

“Get them!” the goblin yelled. Two of his companions leapt onto the back of one of the wolves, but one was immediately thrown.

The group of adventurers nodded to each other, then Lucky Days led the charge as Gwen fired. The orc who had been studying the statue turned. “Gorn! I told you to watch the door!” He whistled and the trained wolves turned their focus on the new arrivals.

Lucky Days crossed the distance, slashing Gorn in the stomach. He put one hand on his belly to hold in his slippery organs and swung with his blade. From behind the goblins, Qumeel charged, swinging at the nearest foe. But he missed as he slipped on a rock while he ran.

Jazier continued chanting, and he saw a vision of a giant, shadowy creature, reeking of necromantic magic, where the others saw the statue. “That’s…whoa.”

Valbrand watched the opening of the fight, and as he did, a terrible yet glorious idea formed in his mind. He grinned as he clapped a hand on Rodd Rigez’s shoulder. “Stay hidden, old friend.” He then strode into the chamber and bellowed out a song.

“Goblin smash and goblin fight
Goblins beat them with their might
Wolves are dogs beneath the furs
Stab them, stab them, stab those curs!”

As he sang, he infused his song with power. The goblins, hearing his words, were moved to a frenzy and began to roar as they attacked the wolves. The wolves continued their attack on the party, and Kermit was pulled from his feet, but the wolf was unable to go in for the kill with the goblins attacking it.

The other wolf spun and bit at Lucky Days, who was also dodging the accidentally thrown kidney that Gorn had hurled at her when he tried to swing his blade. The great beast got a flank full of small arrows for its inattention and howled in rage.

Jazier continued probing the magic in the room, and he realized that the eye of the statue was projecting something, but the shadows were blocking it. “There’s something in the eye!” he said as he turned to Valbrand and Rodd Rigez, neither of whom were there anymore. “Hey, where’d you go?!”

The orc in charge – Valbrand assumed he had to be Skreed – hurled a bomb at Lucky Days. She managed to turn her head and avoid the full on blow, but was quite singed by the flames. And that was all Valbrand needed to continue his song. So he did, eying the gold clad hammer in the hand of the statue, which would make a fine trophy of this fight.

“Goblins win and take the perks!
Take the boomies from the orcs!”

The wolf spun at the goblin archers, only to find Qumeel waiting for him. The cleric swung with all his might, and the wolf’s head went flying through the air. “Magic man! Fire sword!” the goblin archers cheered in triumph. Or at least, two of them did. They didn’t notice that their companion had been stabbed in the back by the hidden Rodd Rigez, who was now holding the goblin up like a puppet.

On the other side of the room, Kermit flailed against his attacker, managing to tear open the beast’s belly, its organs pouring out with a wet sound. The two goblins cheered and began helping pull him out from under the fallen foe.

Kurst made his way past the falling wolves and Lucky Days’ foe to reach Skreed, who greeted him with a smirk. “I’d hoped to run into you. It’s possible you’ll win here. And you may kill me, but I doubt you’ll have as much fun as I did killing your brother. It was easy. Like killing a baby.”

Gorn spun and slashed Kurst in the back. His armor took most of the blow, but it still hurt, and blood still flowed. Jazier walked into the room. “What happened here?” he asked, surveying the carnage for a second before deciding it didn’t matter and hurling a bolt of lightning at the darkness enshrouding the statue. The lightning hit the hammer, and some of the gold flaked off, revealing the sigil of Minderhall, a god of the giants.

Valbrand continued to sing as he marched forward.

“Swarm them, swarm them,
Take their stuff
Show them that
Goblins are tough!”

One of the goblin archers turned to his friend, and noticed the man holding the goblin up, but before he could react, a bullet struck the flaming sword swinging at him, and exploded into buckshot.

Kermit caught the signal and grabbed the goblins helping him to his feet. He hurled one into the wall. The impact burst its head open, sending brains splattering everywhere. He then took the other to the fallen wolf and stuffed it in the dead beast’s mouth. The last thing it saw was a giant canine tooth ripping through its eye and into its brain.

The final goblin turned in time for Rodd to grab him and kiss him on the forehead as his knife pierced his heart. It didn’t know what was happening as it died. Only that it was cold.

Jazier blasted again, his lighting bolt flying over Lucky Days, who had downed Gorn, and the fight between Kurst and Skreed. It struck the hand of the statue, which he could now tell was the armor clad skeleton of a giant, and caused it to crumble. The hammer fell from its hand, striking Skreed in the back of the head.

The orc collapsed, dazed, his weapon tumbling to the floor. Kurst closed the distance and drove his blade through the orc’s neck with both hands. “I think you were wrong,” he told his fallen foe. “That was pretty satisfying.”

His song and the battle done, Valbrand walked over and inspected the hammer. As he picked it up, it shrunk fitting his hand perfectly.

“This is a fine thing,” he said. It wasn’t fancy now that the gold plating was gone. Indeed, it was very simple, but he could tell that there might be no better made hammer in existence. It was magical, that was for certain, and as he studied it with his own magic, it was clear it was beyond any normal magic weapon.

“This was held by a god,” he said, giving it a couple test swings.

“It will serve me well.” He turned to the others. “Unless one of you wishes to challenge my claim to it?”

“Hammers aren’t my style,” Rodd Rigez answered.

“I have my claws,” Kermit agreed.

“Sakura-chan would get jealous if I used another weapon,” Lucky Days added.

“All you,” Kurst said. He looked at the corpse of Skreed. “I got what I came here for, though I didn’t know I would find it.”

“We should get that gem up there,” Jazier said, oblivious to the conversation.

Kermit climbed up and pried the gem from the skull of the giant. He then tossed it to Jazier, who inspected the gem, which was milky white and appeared to be merely half of a larger stone. “So, what does it do?”

The wizard shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said, tucking it into his bag. “So, can we go, or do I have to clean up this mess first?”

Kermit, back to being small, hopped up on Valbrand’s shoulder. “No, I think we should head back. I left Glenn up on the surface.”

Of course, without Kyle's interference and the birth of Lyriana, there are a lot of things on Earth that go unresolved that could have impacts later on.

“Should we go in and investigate?” Jazier asked as he cleaned.

“No,” Valbrand said. “We should wait.” He was motivated by caution, and not at all by the desire to pull out one of the bottles he’d taken from Rabus’ shop and have a drink.

“At least we can light the final beacon,” Qumeel said as he approached the pile of wood. “Wait. What’s this green stuff?” He smelled some of the residue on the wood. “It smells like it might be combustible. I don’t like it. This could be a trap.”

“You said green?” Valbrand asked, approaching. He gave the substance a whiff. “Smells of turpentine, only sweeter. Let me think…yes, there’s a story of such a substance. A clever gnome used something like this to make his goblin captors blow themselves up. It was described as green, and made of the resin of a fir tree they had tied him to.”

Qumeel carefully scraped some of the substance off and onto a rock. “Jazier, is there anything you can tell us about this?”

“Let me see,” the wizard said, approaching. He tripped as he walked, and in his start, he spoke the words of a cantrip, causing the resin in the priest’s hand to explode. Had his hand not been covered by a leather gauntlet, the priest’s hand would have been seriously burned. And had his hand been closed around the rock, they would have had to search clear across town for the bits of his hand that survived the explosion. “Sorry,” the wizard apologized. “My control is a bit off. I should probably lie down for a few minutes.”

“It’s fine,” Qumeel said. “Just be more careful.” He turned to Valbrand. “Do your stories tell of how to clean this substance off of the wood? There’s no way we can light the beacon like this.”

Valbrand thought for a moment, then his shoulders drooped. “There is one,” he said with a sigh. “The substance is made from the same source as turpentine, but the process to create it is different. So it is not a cleaner like the other. But there is something that will dissolve it.” He produced first one, then several bottles of the alcohol he had taken from Rabus. He handed them out and then took a swig of the remaining bottle. “Let’s get to work, I guess.”

Meanwhile, Gwen was keeping an eye on the captive assassin as she and Lucky Days escorted the rescued women back to the relative safety of the barricade. She knew that until they reached the others, they were incredibly vulnerable. And if they were attacked by the orcs, the assassin would become a liability. She wasn’t sure whether she should shoot her now or not, but had ultimately decided against it due to the noise it would make.

And thankfully, it was a moot point, as they reached the barricade without further incident. Omast was the first to spot them. She could see relief wash over the older guard’s face as he spotted more survivors arriving. “Thank the gods you’re okay,” he said. “Where are the others?”

“They’re moving towards the final beacon,” Gwen said. “We’re supposed to catch up to them once we’ve gotten these people safely here.”

“Just the two of you? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’m fast enough to get us there safely,” Lucky Days said cheerfully.

Omast laughed, surprising himself. “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “It’s good to see that even a few more made it.”

“Any word from Kurst?” Gwen asked.

Omast shook his head. “Nothing yet. But don’t you worry. Kurst can handle himself. Your uncle did a good job of teaching him that much.”

Gwen nodded, still feeling uneasy. “You’re probably right. He’s got to be okay.”

“You should tell Halgra about what you found before you head out.”

The girl considered it. “You’re probably right. We can spare the few minutes it’ll take to report in.”

The two young women bid Omast farewell and made their way through the camp, passing Tyari – who was treating Sarah’s burns – along the way. As they approached Halgra, the saw she was talking with the former captive, who was gesturing wildly. From what she could make out, he was describing what he’d done to the various orc siege engines outside of town.

“…and thanks for sending Douglas and Brollerth,” Rodd Rigez added. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked with true professionals of their caliber.”

“I’ve long ago learned that if I want to keep my town safe, I need to point those two at orcs and not attempt to restrain them,” Halgra replied. “Oh, Gwen, I heard you were back with more survivors. Rodd, will you give us a moment?”

“Of course,” he said with a slight bow. “My condolences for the loss of your uncle,” he said to Gwen as he passed. “Come, Lucky Days. Let’s give them a moment. It looks like you’ve been through a lot. Good for the legs. Let’s see a lap.” He slapped the girl’s backside, and she kicked behind her instinctively, sending him sailing twenty feet through the air. He landed with a roll, coming to his feet and bowing for the laughing children.

“Sorry, Coach!” Lucky Days said, running off to do her lap.

“That is a strange man,” Gwen said.

“He is,” Halgra agreed. “But he’s also quite possibly responsible for giving us a shot at surviving this attack. Tell me, what do you have to report?” Gwen filled her in on the events since they’d last spoken. “Wow. I’m thankful that you found them. I shudder to think of what fate was in store for them had you not done so.”

“Right. Well, we should get to the beacon,” Gwen said. “Qumeel should keep those others in line, but they might need help anyway.”

“Wait. I was thinking you should take Rodd Rigez with you. He’s a bit odd, but we can’t argue with his effectiveness.”

The girl sighed. “I guess we could use the help. Though adding another person will slow us down a little.”

There was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the barricade. “What’s going on now?” Halgra asked. “Will you check it out?”

“I’m on it,” Gwen said, readying her gun. But, to her relief, it wasn’t danger that had caused the commotion. “Kurst!” she exclaimed in relief upon seeing her cousin entering the encampment. He was carrying the limp body of the old elf, Silvermane.

“Gwen, thank the gods you’ve made it through so far. Give me some help here?”

“I’ve got him,” Omast said, interjecting himself into the reunion and carefully taking the old elf from Kurst. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Kurst answered. “But someone threw him on a pile of corpses.”

“That sounds like something Valbrand would do,” Rodd Rigez said.

Lucky Days seemed to appear at that moment out of nowhere, out of breath. “Why do you say that?” she wheezed.

“Kermit always says that the closer you are to danger, the further you are from harm. So rather than carry him back, you hide him where none of the attackers would think to look. Classic Valbrand.” He pulled out a potion and carefully poured it into the mouth of the unconscious elf, who began to cough and sputter a bit. “I know, it’s bitter stuff. Here, let’s put this under your tongue.” He put a leaf in the elf’s mouth.

“So, cousin, what have you been up to?” Kurst asked.

“We just returned with some captives we rescued. We’re about to head out to rejoin the others.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“If Halgra says it’s okay, I won’t turn down the help.”

“Let’s ask, then, and get on our way.”

As they walked away, Lucky Days turned to Rodd Rigez. “What’s the leaf do?”

“Good question. It’ll be interesting to find out. Now go ahead and head to the Hopespring ahead of us. We’ll catch up, but they may need your help now.”

“Okay, Coach!” she said, already dashing along.

Lucky Days reached the group at the Hopespring in a few moments. When she arrived, Kermit was waving his hands over Jazier’s hair. Apparently all the lightning he threw around had given the sleeping wizard an ongoing static charge, causing his hair to stick up towards the passing hand.

“Ooh, neat!” Lucky Days said, heading over to join the grippli.

Valbrand, noticing the arrival of the girl, stopped what he was doing and went over. “Wizard!” he bellowed. “Wake up! There’s cleaning to be done.”

Jazier sat up, and looked at the warrior. He sighed. “I’m cursed.”

“You’re not Kurst,” Lucky Days responded. “I just saw him at the barricade. He’ll be coming here soon, with Gwen and Coach.”

The others, not nearly as fast as Lucky Days, took a fair amount of time to make it safely through the town to the party waiting at the Hopespring. When she arrived, the first thing Gwen noticed was that the Hopespring Beacon had been disassembled, with all of the logs lying in neat rows, stacked from largest to smallest. “What are you doing?!” she asked. “We need to light it.”

“Calm yourself,” Qumeel said. “We discovered a trap, and are cleaning the logs for reassembly. Though I must admit that I had not considered pulling the beacon apart to thoroughly clean it. That was Jazier’s idea.”

“Why do you smell of alcohol?” the half-elf asked suspiciously.

“It is the only thing that will clean the substance. We got as much as we could, but now are having to resort to Jazier’s magic. Which is why we had to pull apart the beacon.”

“Alcohol, you say?” Rodd Rigez asked, eyebrow raised. He turned to Valbrand. “Goblin Sap?”

“Yes,” the warrior said. “We scraped off what we could into an empty bottle for you.”

“Good man.”

“I think I’m done,” the wizard said, finally.

“Let’s hurry and get the beacon back together then,” Kurst said. “Then let’s see what lies down that tunnel that draws the orcs’ interest.”

With that many hands, the work went quickly and they were soon within the tunnel. From somewhere ahead, they could hear a rumbling growl and the sound of flesh being struck by something hard. The impact was enough that dust and pebbles fell from the ceiling even where they were. “We’re close,” Rodd Rigez said. “Shall I do talking torch again?”

Valbrand grinned. “That sounds like just the thing. Go for it.”

Rodd Rigez nodded, and lit a fresh torch as the others snuffed their own. He then quaffed an invisibility potion and headed down the tunnel, the others following just outside of the torch’s light.

To the orcs waiting down the tunnel, it was quite the sight. A torch simply floated towards them in the darkness. They stared in confusion as the torch approached. Those closest to the giant watched it, looking for signs that the creature would be spooked by the event, which could spell danger for all of them, as the corpse of the orc lying smeared upon the floor of the cave attested.

“Allies!” Rodd Rigez said in a monotone voice. “This torch has been enchanted to warn you of approaching enemies. This torch advises that two warriors will be enough to handle the threat.”

The orcs huddled, and Rodd Rigez listened carefully. “Skreed didn’t say anything about this,” one was saying.

“But it is the kind of thing he would do. Skreed always thinks three steps ahead. He’d definitely set a warning.”

Rodd had what he needed. “Skreed has ordered all warriors to heed the torch’s warning. Again, this torch must advise that enemies approach. Two warriors will be sufficient to halt this threat.”

From their position, Valbrand could see them coming easily. He suddenly got an idea. He motioned to Kermit, who powered down and hopped on his shoulder. Then he cast a magical light on his shield. The bright light between them would help hide the rest of the party from the approaching orc, even as they took cover, and the shield would block the light from washing over the others.

“Careful, brother!” Valbrand called out in orcish. “Enemies are coming. We fended off the first wave, but more will arrive soon.”

“Too bright!” the orc complained. “Stop waving that light. Did Skreed send you? Or are you reinforcements from Grenseldek?”

“Sorry about the shield,” Valbrand said. “Stupid enemy mage who followed me into the cave put in on there to hurt my eyes, so it’s only fitting I share that pain with my brothers. It’s only fair, since you got first chance at the spoils and the women.”

Kermit laughed. “That’s a good one.”

The orc squinted. “Is…that a frog?”

Valbrand smirked. “I trained him to slay my enemies.”

“Shame. I was hoping you’d let me eat it.”

“Worry about your hunger later. You know Grenseldek won’t want you wasting time while there’s work to do.”

“Like that lovesick b~**~ cares. She only cares that we work, not if we eat.”

Valbrand shrugged. “Yeah, that’s how it is.” He trudged forward, just far enough to see around the bend. The orc was wary, but not enough to stop him. From his new vantage point, he could see the torch and the giant. “Ooh, do you think the big guy will eat my frog? Should I keep my distance?”

“Crusher?” the orc asked. “He’s docile now, since he has friends he hasn’t broken yet.” At this, Valbrand noticed that a number of orcs were chained to the giant. He also noticed that one of the orcs was carefully waving his axe around the torch, trying to see what was holding it up. It was clear that Rodd Rigez was dodging the motion silently and easily.

“Continue to guard Crusher,” Rodd Rigez said. “This torch’s enchantment is almost over. This is Skreed’s order.” He began slowly lowering the torch towards the ground.

“Told you it was Skreed,” one of the giant’s handlers said in satisfaction.

As the orc began moving past Valbrand, the warrior gasped. “Do you hear that? They’re coming!” He spun, flashing the light in the orc’s eyes as he did so. “There they are! Quick! Go get Crusher! I’ll hold them here!”

Gwen aimed and fired, grazing the orc’s cheek, and he ran. But dazzled and spooked, he missed Kermit’s action. The grippli had tied a skull bomb – now with added Goblin Sap – to the orc’s belt, and had lit it. The panicked orc ran straight towards his fellows.

“Enemies are coming!” the panicked orc shouted. “And it’s more than two!”

“This torch has been enchanted to warn you of approaching enemies,” Rodd Rigez repeated. “This torch advises that two warriors will be enough to handle the threat.”

The orc that had been investigating the torch found an arrow in his gut as Kurst loosed his bow. The giant’s handlers retaliated by throwing javelins mostly ineffectually into the dark, though Gwen was grazed by one. “We fight together!” the investigative orc said, snapping the shaft of the arrow. “Protect the torch!” As he shouted, a flaming sword flew through the darkness, missing any foes and landing in the mud.

“This torch’s enchantment has ended,” Rodd Rigez said. “Skreed has a blessing for you.” He uncorked a vial of the powdered Goblin Sap, tossing it into the air. It wafted all about.”

Jazier, finally putting everything together, gasped in amazement. “I see what you’re doing! It’s a bomb!” He snapped, accidentally casting a spell and igniting the base of the skull’s fuse, setting it off immediately and igniting the cloud of Goblin Sap, which exploded with a green fire. Rodd Rigez was narrowly able to escape injury, but the investigative orc wasn’t so lucky.

He died trying to shield the “magic” torch with his body.

Lucky Days charged through the dying conflagration and slashed an orc. Its blood spattered all over her. “EWW!” she shouted.

“That’s why I keep telling you to work on your arms!” Rodd Rigez chided.
Valbrand launched Kermit off of his shield. The grippli flew through the air, shouting, “GUYVER!” as he did so. He landed on the torch, smashing it into the mud as he roared.

Kermit’s roar spooked the giant and one of his handlers swung desperately at the transformed Grippli with his axe, sending blue-green blood flying from a new wound on the suit’s shoulder. Rodd used the confusion to knife one of the orcs in the kidney, while Jazier tried to zap Kermit’s foe with lighting, but missed.

Lucky Days dashed over and slashed Kermit’s attacker, but Crusher picked the orc up and swung it at her. He hit her with a dull, wet thud, his eye popping from his skull and hitting the girl square in the nose. “ICKY!” she complained.

Qumeel charged through the cave and grabbed his sword, and Valbrand followed after. The warrior stopped when he noticed that the orc he’d been talking to was miraculously still alive. “Sorry friend. I’m sure that hurts a lot. Let me help.” He brought his axe down, ending the orc’s suffering.

One of the handlers fed the giant a healing potion. “DRINK! If you die, we all die.”

“You don’t have to die,” Valbrand said. “You could just surrender.” Then Rodd Rigez chucked an alchemist’s fire in the giant’s face. “No. I guess you’re not going to after that, are you?”

Jazier, Gwen and Kurst continued peppering the giant with lightning, bullets and arrows respectively. The giant swung the rock in its hand, braining Lucky Days. She collapsed, but was caught by Qumeel. His body shone as though he had become pure light. “Not today, young one,” he said gently, lowering her to the ground.

Valbrand rushed in and held his shield between Lucky Days’ unconscious body and the attackers. “I’ll heal her,” he said to the cleric. “You help the others.”

Kermit leapt up, clawing off the giant’s shoulder, leaving its arm a hanging pile of meat. Then he flipped over the giant’s head, biting into the tendon between the giant’s neck and other shoulder.

Crusher collapsed onto the remaining living handler, life fading from the giant’s eyes. As Valbrand helped the now awake Lucky Days to her feet, he noticed that someone had written “Murder with love, -Ma” on the rock in the language of giants.

“Sorry about the chaos there,” Rodd Rigez said. “To be honest, it went better than I thought. I didn’t think it would work.”

“What?!” Kurst exclaimed.

Valbrand and Kermit exchanged a glance and the grippli shrugged. “It didn’t work last time,” Kermit admitted.

“I told you that next time Kermit had to be on my left shoulder next time,” Valbrand said. “That’s all that was wrong with it.”

“Right,” Rodd Rigez said with a nod. “Next time, we should do ‘throbbing minstrel’.”

Both Kermit and Valbrand recoiled in horror. “NO!” the two protested as one.

“Is it always like this?” Kurst asked his cousin.

“More or less, yes,” Gwen answered.

“Halgra does not give you enough credit.” He shuddered. “And I thought Douglas and Brollerth were bad.”

We're planning to work in a discussion of everything somehow, either by Terry telling Lyriana about it or by having a mysterious narrator explain things outside character(which would be a setup for something later).

“Thank you,” Gregor said after Emily injected him. “I am thinking that my spleen may now be on the wrong side of my body. But I believe I will be fine now.”

“What’s a spleen?” Emily asked.

“It converts excess red humour into yellow humour and allows your body to get rid of it,” Burin said. He was simultaneously wrong, but also right in ways he shouldn’t have been.

Terry shook his head, possibly catching the same issues I had. “I’ll explain it later,” he said. “I read a lot about it in the magic mirror.”

“We have what we came for,” Greta said. “Let us make our way back to the hut and free Baba Yaga so that the usurpers can pay like they should.” Her mechanical arm flexed in anger as she said it, possibly remembering the torture she had endured at their hands.

I put my hand on the small of her back and she relaxed. “She’s right,” I said. “This is almost over. Let’s get back upstairs.”

We headed up and suddenly Terry froze. “What is it?” Burin asked, drawing his axe.

“Someone’s in the kitchen,” the assassin said.

Gregor nodded. “Let’s go.”

We made our way quietly into the dining hall, then into the kitchen. On the wall were the words, “Got you.” Written in Taldan.

Those definitely weren’t there before. But nothing else was amiss. Whoever had come in here to write that hadn’t even left tracks. It was like they’d flown through the room or maybe levitated or something. Perplexed, we began making our way back outside. But as we opened the door to the central corridor, Burin and Gregor stopped moving.

“What is it?” Anastasia asked.

“There’s something there,” Burin said.

“Let me see…” Terry said, walking through the door, then freezing. “Oh, s+~+. It wasn’t beavers,” he said. “It’s rats!”

I looked out into the hall and spotted what appeared to be a massive cube of tower shields. “Recon didn’t tell us there were this many!” a voice shouted from within the shield wall. “This is going to be fun, boys!” The shields shifted slightly and ratfolk hands slid out, pointing multiple tiny pistols. “SPRATAN-D, prepare for glory!”

“What is SPRATAN-D?” I asked as bullets began pouring down the hallway. Several of us took glancing hits, but the blasts engulfed us in fairy fire, which didn’t harm us, only marking each of us in different colors. I was marked in blue, Terry was in green, Gregor was red and Burin was yellow.

“SPecialized Rodent Artillery Troop, Armored Nemesis Division,” Cortana answered helpfully. I later learned that they were special soldiers commissioned by Typhon Lee, and this particular company was tasked with bringing in high value targets. Alive. Not a good thing, considering what had happened to Greta. Though I guess it explains with the bullets didn’t seem to draw blood, only striking with a lot of force.

Terry dropped prone and returned fire immediately, though those shields proved dangerously effective, especially as they shifted them closed again. Burin also reacted. “If you think you’re trapping us,” he said, “then you’re wrong. We’re trapping you!” He cast a spell and a massive wall of ice blocked off the exit behind the rats.

“Looks like they’re fodder for the slaughter!” the ratfolk leader shouted. “All fire on green!”

Terry was out like a light pretty much instantly as he took multiple shots all over his body. We had to do something quick, and Burin had given me an idea. “Can you cast another wall?” I asked.

“Yes,’ the dwarf answered as Gregor dragged the unconscious Terry back into the dining hall.

“Not beavers!” I heard the fighter tell the girls back in the room.

“Good,” I answered the dwarf. “Get ready.” I then unleashed the power of the storm within my blood, filling the hall around the rats with deadly poison – like mustard gas on steroids. Then I dove back through the open door.

I heard Burin cast his spell as Emily injected me with more nanites, healing my battered ribcage as Terry stirred. She’d probably healed him first, thinking about it.

“They’re trying to break through the wall and retreat!” Burin shouted.

“I can get us to the other side of them,” Emily said to me.

“Go!” Persephone told us. “I’ll give them something to occupy them on this side!” She roared as she transformed back into her “Normal” form after dashing through the door.

Emily teleported us to the main entry hall and I tapped into my power once more, creating a wall of force against our side of the door. There was no way they were breaking through that. Satisfied, we teleported back to our allies – there was the possibility they had backup outside, after all – just in time to hear Persephone be gunned down by the terrified rats.

“Mama!” Emily shouted, but was drowned out by the sound of an exploding rocket.

“They hid in a side room!” Terry shouted.

Gregor ran out into the hall and grew into a frost giant. “We’ll see about that!” he said. I was worried about the gas, but it had mostly dispersed into another door, which had been blown open by the rocket. Gregor dashed over and began pushing on the wall.

The wall began to groan as Gregor pushed it. I could hear the voice of the ratfolk leader from the other side. “Guiser!” he shouted. “You got us! But Typhon Lee sends his regards. We’ll be seeing you real soon, and Hell will be a much brighter place with you there beside us!”

The wall gave way and the rats died laughing as they were crushed under falling debris.

Emily immediately began crying as she rushed to Terry. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I used magic to try to protect you, but the spell didn’t do anything!”

Terry awkwardly tried to comfort her and I went to the girls in the back. “You alright?” I asked.

“We’re fine,” Anastasia assured me. “I think they killed Persephone.” She looked worried.

“Emily can resummon her. She’s not actually here. She died years ago.”

“That is a powerful girl,” the princess said. “What were you fighting?”

“Good question. Cortana, does Daddy have any files on SPRATAN-D?” I asked.

I heard Daddy’s voice respond. It was obvious he’d recorded a log. “Where to start with SPRATAN-D? Just one more example of Typhon Lee’s insanity. They’re experts on renditions, and their leader is an absolute madman. They call him ‘The Silver Platter’, after his shield. And they’re all alchemically altered. If you ever have the misfortune of seeing one, you’ll know it because they all have a third, mutant arm. They use it to reload their guns while still holding their shields.

‘They field twelve companies in all, but the most dangerous is Alpha Company, which uses weapons to mark their targets and prevent them from hiding using magic. Aside from that, their tactics seem to all be the same. Find a chokepoint, form their shield wall and begin raining a wall of lead on their foes with their magically non-lethal firearms.

‘That said, they do have weaknesses. If you can manipulate the terrain, you can open up their shield wall pretty easily. I keep a pit spell ready at all times in case Lee decides to send them after me, but walls of fire could work pretty well too. Barring that, they’re agile little bastards, but not the hardiest nor do they have the strongest wills. Attack them from the inside, either inside their bodies or their minds, and you should have little issue with them.”

As we listened, Emily and Terry joined us. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he was saying. “You tried what you had. You just didn’t know how dangerous they were. I once saw Typhon drop two of their companies into the middle of an army with magic. They took down eight thousand men before the remaining soldiers decided getting out of range was smarter than trying to overwhelm them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. At least it wasn’t Larvyn,” he said.

Cortana dinged and Daddy’s voice spoke again. “Larvyn. Now there’s a subject. If I do ever have to deal with Typhon Lee, that’s the part that worries me. How would I deal with Larvyn? I’m honestly not sure yet. Aerial Saturation Bombardment? Thermite and lots of it? I’m more prepared to deal with a Demon Lord than I am to deal with that monster.”

Oh wow. Yeah. I hope we never have to deal with that. I’m also more than a little impressed that Daddy is suggesting that he has a plan for dealing with a Demon Lord. Of course, that plan might be to let Mama and Aunt Kira deal with it, but still, that is technically a plan, I guess.

“I need to talk to your mom,” Terry said to Emily as I was engrossed in my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize what he’d said, and by then it was too late to stop her. Emily was already trying to bring back Persephone.

“It’s not working,” the girl complained after her attempt failed. She seemed really upset.

“It takes about a day for an eidolon to reconstruct its body after it gets destroyed,” I said. “But I promise she’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Emily said. “Okay. But what do I do if we get attacked?”

“You might be able to summon lesser beings in her absence,” I said. “Cortana, does Daddy have a guide on summonable outsiders?”

“Yes,” the VI answered.

“Send it to Emily’s phone.”

The girl opened the file and read it. “I can summon any of these?!” she asked.

I glanced at the list. “Based on my estimation of your power level, you should be able to summon anything from this section of the list.” I pointed to the part I meant. “Or multiples of the two lists below it.”

“I’m gonna be a master!” she said excitedly. “Like no one ever was!” I felt like that was a reference I should have gotten. It was right there, but for some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

It had been a long day.

Terry scooped up his daughter. “Come on, let’s get to the chicken house and get moving,” he said. “You can read while we walk.”

We met Gregor back in the corridor. He was surveying the damage to the wall. “I am surprised they were not beavers,” he said, sounding a bit disappointed.

“I know a creek where some beavers live back home,” Burin said. “I can take you there when this is over if it’s pelts you’re after.”

The fighter perked up. “And then my disciple and I will have to rebuild the monastery.” He was looking at Terry when he said it. The assassin looked away uncomfortably.

“I can talk to my father about getting some contractors to help,” I suggested.

“Thank you, but no. We must do it. It will be good training.”

Terry coughed. “Oh, look at the time. We really should get outside before it gets fully dark. You know how early it gets dark during the winter.”

We only made a few hundred feet out into the twilight outside before I had a bad feeling. And I wasn’t the only one. “Something feels…wrong,” Anastasia said, clutching her chest as the near panic I could feel permeating my body washed over her as well.

The whole world melted away and there was an old man there, shining in the blackness, a truly massive spiritual outline of a dragon glowing around him. “Terry,” he said with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you? I must admit, you’ve done better than I expected. I’ve received word that you somehow managed to defeat Rasputin. I am impressed. You always were one of the best. But, dammit, Terry, you always were an idiot when you panic. Why? Why didn’t you come to me when that b~$@& threatened you? Did you think I couldn’t protect you, or was it that I wouldn’t protect you? No, don’t tell me. I’m not sure which answer is more offensive.”

He laughed, like any other old, sweet man. “My business partner is pretty ticked at you for breaking into her place and pulling out Emily. You really should have left her there, you know. I felt bad for my overreaction, so I’d asked her to make your wife and daughter strong enough to defend themselves without you. Sure, her methods are a bit… extreme, but they really would have been better off with her. Still, you cared enough about them to betray me. You cared enough about them to face off against a being so far beyond you as it to be laughable. She won’t tell me how you managed to get out. Something about sneaking and trickery. Impressive.”

He sighed again. “Terry, you broke my heart. Literally, see?” He opened his coat, revealing a patch of ice on his chest. “My other business partner – you know her as Queen Elvanna – has managed to finally repair what you damaged. And now that I’m no longer in an immense amount of pain, I’ve regained clarity and have decided to make you a generous offer. All of you. Turn over the doll. Give me the artifacts Sergei was hiding. And then join me. I promise you all places of honor in my organization.

“For you, Gregor, I will give you a hundred new disciples. You will train them for me, as Sergei should have. For Burin, your family will not suffer for your destruction of the demon. Why should they? You’ve done your people a great service. You should not be punished, but rewarded! Join me and put your skills dealing with threats from other planes to use for the good of the world! Daughter of the Runelord, all I ask is that you ask your father to stop interfering in my business. Indeed, I thought perhaps we would have to come to blows eventually, but instead I think this is an opportunity to become friends.

“And Terry, if you want to retire, safe from your relatives, I will make it happen. Once I absorb the old witch’s power, Melos will be mine, so you will all be safe. You’ve suffered enough. Make the right choice.”

The image faded and the world returned. “Did anyone else just see that?” Burin asked. “I mean, I imagine so, since he was talking to all of us. But I can’t assume.”

“I saw it,” I said.

Greta growled, drawing her axe. “We will not betray Baba Yaga to that piece of s#*~. Instead we will kill him, and I will eat his liver.”

Emily whimpered. “He always came to visit, when the cycles stopped. But he was scarier than anything else there. Even the ponies. There’s something wrong about him. He feels like a big empty, like no matter how much he eats, he’ll never be full. Not even with all the cakes in all the worlds.”

Terry set her down and deliberately drew his gun. “I always thought… You know, running away was always my first option. Finding someone big enough to protect me was second. But right now, I want to kill this dragon. Not for revenge, but because it’s the right thing to do. For you, and your mom, and Toby…everyone deserves justice.” He made a sour face. “Gods, that sounds so sappy.”

“As sappy as the tree you shot?” Burin asked.

“Leaf him alone,” Gregor laughed as he hit his fists together.

“He has to be pretty close, right?” Burin asked.

“I think so,” I said. “Probably between us and the Hut.” I handed Greta the doll and motioned for Burin to give her the keys. “Take Anastasia back into the monastery and keep her safe,” I said.

She looked like she was about to argue, but then just nodded. “Save me his liver,” she said. “Follow me, princess.”

I wanted to keep her safe, but more importantly, I knew she would do everything in her power to get to the hut with the doll and keys if we fell. Even if it meant abandoning Anastasia. Saving Baba Yaga was good for her people, and she’d get it done. But as long as we were still alive, she would fight with everything she had to protect the princess.

“I see you have chosen incorrectly,” the old man’s voice echoed in our heads. “A pity.”

The world shook as Typhon began transforming. I could see the light of the transformation from where we were, miles away. Holy crap, he dwarfed the forest. “Massive” doesn’t even begin to describe him. “Now would be a good time to summon helpers,” I told Emily.

“I’m not sure how. Summoning mom is like being a mirror. I’m not sure how to reflect these other things.”

I nodded. “The thing about mirrors,” I said, “is that what you see depends on the angle of the mirror. Just shift the angle a bit and see what else you see.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. And there are probably six different reflections I can have at a time.” Six? Oh…geez. Now I knew what she had been referencing earlier. The girl wants to be a Pokémon master.

“He is…very big,” Gregor said. “Will he be alone?”

“I doubt it,” Terry answered.

“Then I hope that he does not bring any more rodents.”

“It’s not the rats you have to worry about,” Terry said. “It’s the worms.” He summoned out his platinum dragon as Typhon finished his transformation. Zeus was…colorful. His front half was painted black and red, but the back half had a rainbow tail and doodles all over it. It was cute that he’d let Emily help, but it had the unfortunate appearance of business in the front, clown vomit in the back.

It wasn’t going to intimidate anyone.

Typhon Lee, on the other hand? His unearthly roar sent terror running down my spine from over a mile away. And then I heard heavy footsteps. “It’s Qilin time!” a man’s voice shouted as the no longer invisible man in the rhino costume slammed into Burin with his massive hammer. Gregor retaliated as the dwarf’s shield absorbed the bone-shattering blow. I could feel the shockwaves from his blows as the fighter instantly brought down his foe.

“Good job. That’s Typhon’s grandson,” Terry explained. “He has the power of a fat unicorn.” I decided to not try to explain that it was obviously a rhino at the moment. Besides, we had other problems. “Watch out. He’s never alone. His sister, Kuro, has the powers of the midnight crow.”

“Angles! I choose you!” Emily shouted, as several red and white balls flew from her hands. Where they landed, bralani azatas appeared. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to first explain to her that it was ‘Angels’, not ‘Angles’ or whether I wanted to explain the difference between an azata and an angel. It could wait until after the fight.

I cast a spell, turning Nebbie into a dragon of time. She’d be able to help guard me against this Kuro, if she came. And Typhon was still too far away to deal with, though he was in the air and heading towards us.

Then the lights went out.

You see, I can see in normal darkness. Even in deep caves where no light reaches, I can see. But this was different. This darkness beyond my ability to cut through. I heard fighting. Emily cried out in pain. So I tried dispelling the darkness by conjuring light. Only, something hit me and interrupted me. Felt like the strike from a shield.

Nebbie pushed me away from the source of the blow and got between us. Then I heard gunshots in the dark and the sound of rattling bones. I cast again, and the darkness was pierced. A bone devil was standing there, fighting an armored woman with wings of sable-black feathers. I think Emily had summoned it. It was a smart choice. Devils can see even in supernaturally powerful darkness. Whether she’d thought it through or simply acted on instinct, it was pretty impressive. But we still had problems.

Typhon had landed a few hundred yards from us. “I will snuff out the flame of your life, then I will plunge them once more in blackness, where they will die. Of course, it won’t matter to you. You’ve breathed your last.” His voice was speaking in my mind, the force of his will oppressive. Then he cast a spell, drawing all the air from my lungs.

And I had been worried for a moment. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.” That’s Sun Tzu. Daddy had quoted me that.

Typhon knew himself, but he obviously didn’t know us as well as he thought. If he had, he never would have wasted time trying to suffocate me. For every second he held his concentration trying to kill me in such a manner, we won. One more second, one more victory. Tick tock, time was turning in our favor.

And we would not waste it. I held him there, pretending to fight against his efforts while the others fought Kuro.

The bone devil went down and Emily conjured a replacement. This time, it was a succubus, who immediately brought her will to bear on the black winged woman. I saw the light in her eyes fade as she succumbed to the demon’s domination of her mind.

“Drop your weapons!” Emily commanded. She sounded angry but excited at the same time. I think the girl might have found her bloodlust. Also, I was kinda weirded out how the succubus looked like a cross between Nocticula and Persephone.

Kuro did as she was told and Terry shot her, a snarl upon his lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry. What happened in the dark when I couldn’t see? It looked like Emily had been injured, but aside from some blood on her clothes, I couldn’t really tell.

Kuro managed to break free of the demon’s hold on her mind, but it was too late. Burin and the demon descended on her and tore her apart. She died screaming.

I stopped faking it, and tried to teleport Typhon out into the depths of space. He resisted and realized that I was still alive, somehow. “You should be dead!” he roared. “What are you?! WHY DIDN’T YOU DIE?!” I think the fireball that struck him while he was shouting didn’t do much to improve his mood.

Gregor charged in and got bitten in the process and I was struck by a mass of debris Typhon had flung at me with his mind. Emily dismissed the succubus and summoned azatas once more. Five of them appeared in their air forms, and began battering the massive dragon with blasts of wind where Gregor had struck him, scouring off the damaged scales near the icy heart in his chest.

Terry took aim at the exposed heart, exhaled and fired. The bullet struck true, shattering the heart. There was at first the dull sound of an explosion, like if you’ve ever set off fireworks underwater. Then cracks spread through the form of the dragon like spider webs, and finally it shattered, revealing only the man within, pale, coughing and vulnerable as he clutched his chest.

Terry shot once more, putting a bullet through Typhon Lee’s skull, and the old man collapsed. “Oh my,” Terry said. “Where are my manners?” He reached into his guitar case and withdrew something wrapped in a napkin, which he tossed next to the old man’s corpse. “Mister Lee…I forgot to ask if you’d like some cake.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk the path,” Terry said, trying to talk his way out of it. “The cliff seems unnecessarily dangerous.”

“I can fly up after you and catch you if you fall,” Burin said, unfurling his dragon wings as he spoke.

“That settles it,” Gregor said, grabbing the back of Terry’s coat. “Come. We climb.” He the leapt halfway up the cliff and pressed the now terrified assassin against the rock face. Even from where I was, I could hear Gregor’s command. “Up or down is up to you, but either way… you climb.”

I glanced over and saw Persephone doing her best to hide her laughter from Emily, but the best she could do was keep it to an evil grin. I’m not sure I understand their relationship, to be honest.

Speaking of Emily, she made a disappointed noise. “Aww, I thought Dad was about to tell us a story,” she whined.

“This is where you were born, baby girl,” her mother answered. “Sergei took us in. Oh, it looks like your father is having trouble. Hop on, baby.” She then transformed into her manticore form and flew up, catching Terry just as he fell and carrying him up to the top, holding the back of his jacket in her mouth like a mother cat carrying a kitten by the scruff.

“We should follow them,” I said, casting a quick spell and turning Nebula into a vortex dragon – the fastest type of dragon Daddy’s research mentions, capable of flying through the depths of space at incredible speeds. She let Greta and Anastasia climb on her back, and together we flew up to the top of the cliff.

The monastery looked like it had taken some mild damage from a fire, but it was constructed mostly of stone and was none the worse for wear. So we made our way inside once Gregor was done giving Terry disappointed looks.

Once inside, we began working on the puzzle box. Only…it was impossible. Maybe Daddy or Juiz could have figured it out. But I even had Cortana run multiple simulations, and she had nothing. So, yeah, we were stuck, even after an hour of work.

Something had to break. I was about to suggest that we figure it out later and investigate first, but before I could, Terry pulled out his gun and tried to shoot the box. But Persephone realized what he was doing and struck him, pushing the gun away. His bullet struck the floor and ricocheted, grazing Anastasia’s forearm, causing her to drop the box, as she was the one holding it. Only Burin’s quick reaction prevented it from crashing to the floor.

You ever watch those forensics shows? Mama loves them. So I’ve managed to pick up a thing here and there about how blood spatters depending on the wound. And there was little statistical chance of it hitting the box. Trust me, I had Cortana run the numbers. The odds were something like one in four hundred thousand based on the location of the wound, the angle of her body and the placement of the box. It shouldn’t have happened.

Which makes me think that the box pulled in her blood. Well, that and the fact that not a single drop of blood seemed to hit the ground. Runes appeared on the box and it began to move on its own, turned and gyrating – jumping out of Burin’s hands as it did so – until finally it was open.

Terry couldn’t have looked more smug than he did at that moment. “See? Violence.”

“Hush,” Persephone chided as she and Emily finished tending to the princess’ wound and Emily had finished apologized for the actions of ‘the Doofopath’.

The open puzzle box levitated out of Burin’s hand, and the spirit of a man – he looked older, and based on what I’d heard of him, I was sure this had to be Sergei. Or maybe, it wasn’t a spirit, but a magical projection. A message, of sorts, as it didn’t really address us. It simply turned to Burin – the last person to touch the box – and began to speak. “Hello. If you are seeing this, then I am dead and you have been sent by Baba Yaga. How else would you have a drop of her blood? Please tell her that I have kept her artifacts safe, at the cost of my life. You are here to retrieve them. You will require one of my disciples. I have left instructions in the pages of my journal to open the key, and only they can decipher them.”

I looked at Gregor, but the fighter’s face betrayed no emotion at the sight of his old mentor.

The image continued. “If Gregor is alive, please give him the journal when you are done. He deserves to know of my failure.”

Then the image disappeared and tendrils of purple flame shot out of the box, and into the deeper monastery. They were gone in a flash, then the box clattered to the floor.

I turned to talk to Gregor, but he was halfway across the room, inspecting some damage to one of the walls. I walked over to him. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I will need to repair monastery,” was his only answer.

Persephone was right behind me. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Your teacher was a good man,” she said. “He gave us a home when no one else could, least of all my own father.”

He didn’t respond, and luckily for him, he didn’t have to, as Emily came over as well. “Mister Gregor?” she asked, obviously embarrassed. “Um, is there a place that I can…um, you know?”

“Ah, you are looking for the latrine. Yes, you must run three miles down path outside. Take a left at the tree.”

Her eyes bulged in obvious terror that she’d never make it that far. Persephone shook her head. “That’s just for the older disciples,” she said. “There’s a place for the new kids that you can use. Come on, I know where it is.”

They were gone for a long time. Eventually, Burin walked over to the door to the room where the younger kids would bunk and called through the door. “You okay?” he asked.

“It’s magical!” Emily called back excitedly. Greta gave me a confused look, to which I retuned a shrug.

Thankfully, they returned a few moments later and explained. It seemed that Emily had spotted a hidden cache where someone had stashed some gear. One of the items they’d found was a pair of magical bracers. Gregor explained that they were used to help the new kids be a little better at fighting.

“I guess you’ll want them then,” Emily said, handing them to the fighter.

He handed them to Terry. “Your form is sloppy. These will help.”

Terry looked at them. “That’s okay,” Terry said, handing them to Emily again. “If I’m punching things, we’re dead anyway.”

Emily looked at them. “I don’t really hit things. Would they help you, Momma?” she asked, handing them to Persephone.

The woman looked at Gregor questioningly. “I believe they would help you fight,” he said after a moment.

“Then I’ll use them,” she agreed, putting on her new bracers. I used my magic to study them as she did so, and apparently they did nothing to help the kids fight. Instead, they protected the kids from injury a bit, like wearing armor might. I guess the rest was just told as a placebo, maybe? Either way, those really would help Persephone since she couldn’t wear armor as a manticore.

Back together, we headed in the direction the purple flames had traveled, and entered Sergei’s quarters. It was a mess, with papers and other objects strewn everywhere. But the most noticeable thing was a section of wall limned in purple fire, about the size of the door.

“Do you see a mechanism?” Gregor asked Terry.

The assassin pulled out his tools. “I’ll try to find one.” But no sooner had he inserted his picks between two stone bricks than purple flames shot out at him. He narrowly dodged, but his tools weren’t quite so lucky. They were completely melted. “That’s it, I’m shooting a rocket at it!” he said, but Persephone restrained him.

“Maybe I should try punching it?” Gregor then asked, not entirely sure.

“And let your hands melt like Terry’s tools?” Burin asked. “Shouldn’t we find the journal instead, like Sergei told us?”

“Yeah, Terry!” Persephone said. “Use your head for once!”

“I think what Momma’s trying to say is that this is your master’s sacred place,” Emily said. “And I think the box wants this to be a test of smarts, not muscle.” She handed him all the papers she’d been gathering up from the floor. “Maybe these will help?”

“Let’s split them up,” I suggested. “It’ll go faster if we’re all looking at them.”

We split up the pages and began reading. In a few moments, Terry whistled in triumph. “Found something,” he said. “This is definitely from a journal.” He then began to read aloud. “‘This thing is infuriating. Curse Katinka for leaving it with me. I told her she was sick, but she does not listen. She never listened.’ I guess he got a pet?”

“Terry,” Persephone chided.

“Fine,” he said, grabbing the next page. “‘It will not stop crying. I have tried everything. It is fed. It is clean. It is warm. Even when a disciple holds it, it still continues its wailing. It will only cease when I hold it, and that makes it impossible to train. I will grow fat from lack of exercise at this rate.’ I can attest to babies being like that. Emily would cry if anyone other than her mother held her,” he commented.

“That was just you she would cry for. She had no problems with Sergei or the disciples holding her,” Persephone. “Now stop being an ass and read the rest.”

“‘At last, peace. The thing has begun to sleep through the night. I have resumed my normal training. I can barely climb the wall, it has been so long.’” He held out the pages to Gregor. “That’s all the words, but there were doodles. Do you know what they mean?”

Gregor looked at them. “Those are forms. I do not recognize them. Perhaps he was working on a new fighting style. Still…” He approached the “door” and began going through the motions of the forms. As he did so, blue runes began appearing on the wall and moving as he performed each motion. It kinda reminded me of a combination lock, the way it was moving.

He finished the three forms and then tried repeating them, but the runes fizzled out. “It is as I thought. It appears we need the full set. Maybe fifteen or sixteen in all, I am thinking.”

“That’s probably why he said we’d need a disciple,” Burin said. “I looked at the papers and had no idea what those drawings meant.” He then turned to me. “Do you know of any magic that would help us find the pages?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Sorry. I could find pages of paper, but with so many around, I’m not sure that would help us.”

“Then we will search everywhere,” Gregor said, now fired up.

We next made our way to what had been the adult barracks. Within, we found a few more pieces of equipment. Most interesting was a shield that Emily picked up. “What’s it do?” she asked Gregor.

“It’s for practice catching arrows and bullets. The shield magically pulls them to it, so you know where the arrow will be.”

“Ooh!” Emily said. “Now Dad can shoot at us all day.”

Persephone looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “I was teaching her to dodge,” Terry said defensively.

Gregor ignored it and had the girl hold up her new shield. He then threw a shuriken at her, purposely throwing it off to the side. It veered through the air as though it was pulled by a magnet and bounced off the metal shield.

Terry then began speaking, using that tone of voice you use when reading. “‘I have begun teaching it as the other disciples. It is infuriatingly stubborn, refusing such simple tasks demanded of all children who train with me. Typhon Lee has suggested that he could take it into his care, but Katinka wanted it to stay with me, so I politely declined. I am not so sure I trust that man, anyway. I suspect him to be a wolf masquerading as a sheepdog.’” Terry laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“What else does it say?” Burin asked.

“‘It skinned its knees while fighting with one of the new disciples. There was hair pulling, so I shaved both of their heads and made them stand in the hallway holding water buckets. I returned an hour later to find that they had thrown the water at each other. The look on their faces was infuriating, but for some reason, I could not help but laugh as soon as they were out of sight.’ Is holding buckets of water that much of a punishment?”

“For a few minutes?” Gregor asked. “No. But if you do it for three hours, at the end of an extended arm? That is good training. I will have you do it later.”

“I think I’ll pass. Oh, look, there’s another page here. ‘The child has taken to drawing. Constantly, all day it doodles. I even caught it painting on the walls of the meditation room. I had to punish it severely for that, with a run around the monastery. It caught a cold. I did not tell it not to wear a coat, the fool.’”

“My little brother started doing that,” I said.

“Oh? What did your parents do to stop that?”

I laughed. “Mom thought he needed to be taught not to because it was bad for discipline, but Daddy pointed out that he’d painted the entire house in an advanced paint that would come clean of everything with a light spray of water and a quick wipe of a paper towel.”

“Anyway,” Terry said, holding out the pages to Gregor. “There are more of your dance moves. One looks a little smudged by a shoeprint, though.”

I looked at the print as the pages were handed over. “Those look like kid’s shoes. And the style isn’t consistent with the shoes made in this region. Whoever wore that came from pretty far away. You can get those in Absalom, but they can be found within five hundred miles of the city.” Everyone was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “What? I like shoes.”

“The print is less than two days old,” Gregor pointed out.

“People passing through?” Burin asked.

“It’s possible,” Persephone agreed. “Maybe they got caught in a storm and stayed here for shelter?”

“Maybe,” Gregor admitted. “It does look like it rained or snowed in the last few days.”

We continued searching, making our way next to the adult baths. There were lots of those small footprints, all the same style of shoe. “I don’t think those were worn by a child,” Burin said. “Halflings, or gnomes maybe?”

Greta shook her head. “I smell a musk here. Like rodents.”

“Beavers,” Gregor said. “Were-beavers.”

He seemed really sure of that. “Were those a problem around here?” Emily asked, looking nervous.

“One of the older disciples warned me of them. And these things spent a lot of time around the baths. Just like beavers would have.” I had never heard of were-beavers and was starting to wonder if the older disciple had been messing with him, but didn’t say anything as Terry chuckled in triumph.

“You thought you could hide it from me?” he asked, opening a hidden cache and pulling out some valuables. “Ooh, that’s a pretty necklace.” He immediately handed it to Persephone.

“I’m not putting that on before someone tells me what it does,” she said sensibly.

“I’ll take a look,” Burin said. “Oh, it’s a powerful, but nasty little charm. While wearing it, your claws and other attacks will be considerably more powerful, but the magic will hurt you as well when you use it. Not as much as it’ll improve what you do, but you need to be careful.”

“Okay, I can do that,” she said, putting it on.

“There are more pages,” Anastasia said. “Though I can’t read them.” She offered them to me, as the nearest person.

I looked at them. Sergei had beautiful handwriting, by the way. “‘The child has once more been a burden on discipline. Today, it convinced Maksim to skip training and go exploring the woods outside of the monastery. When I found them, Maksim was half dead, mauled by wolves, and the child was crying. It was mere luck that I got there in time to rescue them. Maksim has sworn to redouble his efforts in training, so that it would never happen again, so that he could protect his friend. The child wept, and kept apologizing to me and him, burying its head in my chest as it did so. I could not even bring myself to punish them, only holding the child as it wept.’”

Gregor nodded. “Sergei warned us about exploring. The wolves have a taste for children.”

I kept reading. “‘This summer, the child shot up nearly a foot. I do not know what I fed it that caused such a growth, but I will determine what it was, that I might make sure my youngest disciples can benefit as well. It appears less like a child now. I can see Katinka in its features.’” That last line was written a bit shakily, as if Sergei was overcome by emotions or something. I kept reading the next entry. “‘She and Maksim had an argument today that threatened to shatter the very windows of the monastery, it was so loud. I do not know why they fight, as they have always been such good friends, but it seems like it was a trivial matter that did not deserve such hysterics from either of them.’”

There was a girl here? This didn’t seem like a place where there would be a lot of girls. Terry seemed to agree with my question. “Who is Katinka? And what about Maksim and this girl? I don’t remember any girls here when I was here.”

“I do not know,” Gregor said. “Sergei never mentioned any of them.”

“It does show Sergei gave some of the disciple special treatment, not just you.”

“What?”

“You got special training, and you seem to be his successor.”

“You’re mistaken. I had to train extra hard just to keep up. Why do you think I would be his successor?”

Terry gave him a look that said he thought Gregor was being stupid. “The ghost mentioned your name specifically. Oh my god! It makes sense! This is a setup! Why am I the only one who can see the dots?”

Burin tilted his head. “Sometimes when I push on my eyes, I see dots.”

Emily immediately began pushing on her eyes with her fingers. “I see dots too!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Persephone gave her a look and walked over to Terry, who was still ranting some strange conspiracy theory I couldn’t follow. “I’m doing this because I love you. I need five or ten minutes.” She pulled out a roll of duct tape and put it over his mouth.

From there, we went to the dining hall. The place was a mess. Something had gotten into the preserved food stores and there was stuff all over the place. Gregor began recreating the steps of what he was sure was a food fight, trying to figure out what had happened. “Three, no four, individuals. It started over there and escalated.” Eventually, he managed to produce a large pickle with a bite in it. “Beaver teeth,” he said, showing some satisfaction as he showed us the mark.

The whole time he had been doing it, Terry had been silently mocking him, culminating in Terry rolling his eyes when Gregor showed us the pickle, then doing his own investigation.

“It’s awfully quiet in here,” Gregor said with a bit of a smirk. Terry gave him some annoyed side-eye at that.

“Does Dad know he can just take the tape off?” Emily asked her mother.

“He loves me too much to do that,” Persephone answered. Terry responded by making a very rude gesture towards her back.

We then went into the kitchen, where we found that something large had torn open a barrel with its teeth. “See? It eats wood. Definitely were-beavers,” Gregor said.

Terry produced a tuft of hair he found and handed it to Greta. She sniffed it. “Is it from a beaver?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “I’ve never seen a beaver. But the smell is familiar…not quite the same, but it reminds me of scents I’ve smelled while visiting the homes of human slaves.”

Oh, right. Her country was pretty screwed up and she had probably not been kind to those slaves.

I didn’t want to think about it, and was relieved when Terry handed the closest person his next find – a few pickle-juice stained pages. Burin took the pages and began reading. “‘Young Vasily came to me today and told me that he had seen Sasha and Maksim sneaking into the tool shed out in the garden. I went to investigate, and I found them in such a state that I nearly beat Maksim until he could no longer stand. Only Sasha’s intervention cooled my rage, but even now I seethe thinking about what I saw.’ Oh my. That seems private. I’m not sure we should be reading this.”

Burin is far too ridiculously pure sometimes.

“Please keep reading,” I said, wanting to avoid having to touch those gross papers.

“Okay. ‘Maksim informed me that he was leaving. He said that he was going to move to the village near to the monastery, to aid his family at their farm after his father was killed in an accident. He is dutiful, I will give him that. Sasha tells me that she wants to go with him, but I forbade it.’ I wonder who Maksim is,” Burin thought aloud.

“Mister Burin, please keep reading?” Emily begged. “I wanna know what happened next.”

“‘Once more, Typhon Lee asks me to join him, to turn my back on Baba Yaga. And once more, I told him that I would never betray Baba Yaga. She was the one who gave me the monastery, and my sacred charge. I will never turn my back on her.’” He turned to Emily. “Sorry, that’s all that’s there. I’ll use my magic to dry these out, then we can put them with the others safely. Want me to show you how?”

“Yes, please!” the girl said enthusiastically.

While Burin had been reading, Terry and Greta left the room, returning after a few minutes to questioning looks from me and Persephone. “We were following the scent,” Greta explained.

“Find anything?”

“They spent a lot of time in another set of baths. We found these,” she said, holding up a bullet casing. At first I thought they were the ones Rasputin had left when he had come here, but Cortana’s analysis suggested otherwise. They were too primitive to be from early twentieth century Earth.

We looked at Terry, waiting for his analysis of what he saw, but he just pointed at the tape on his lips. Persephone rolled her eyes and reached up to remove the tape, but he dodged around her and slapped her ass. It jiggled rather nicely, I must say.

“Good!” Gregor said. “You’re using the training! Now for something more difficult to dodge!” He dashed forward and punched out faster than I could see. His hand went just close enough to Terry’s face to literally punch it off of his lips.

You ever pull off a bandage too quickly? It rips off hair. Well, that’s what people tell me. I’m basically hairless aside from my head and eyebrows. It’s another one of those mutations I inherited from Mama. Anyway, even then, if the adhesive is too strong and it’s pulled off too hard, it does pull off a thin layer of skin even without hair. Well, imagine that with high grade duct tape being ripped off your lips with a force capable of punching a dragon into submission.

Terry’s lips mostly came off.

He dropped to his knees in a mixture of pain and panic, too freaked out to even scream audibly. Emily left Burin’s lesson and went over to apply another nanite injection, instantly regenerating his damaged lips. Even Persephone comforted him. “I found more pages,” he said.

Persephone took them from him and began reading. “‘Late last night, Sasha ran away from the monastery. She has gone to live with Maksim. They are to be married, if what I have heard is to be believed. Perhaps it is for the best. This place is not a place for a girl, especially one who never wished to train, only to play and to draw and to fill the halls with the warmth of her laughter. She is so very much like her mother that it hurts to know that she is gone, but I think my dear sister Katinka would approve of Sasha finding happiness. I will not get in her way.’ Good for her. A girl should be allowed to go out in search of what she wants in life.”

“Yes, dear,” Terry said. “Freedom and all that.”

She shot him a look. Her face went pale as she looked over the entry. “Oh no. ‘I received word last night that bandits attacked Swindle. I sent my oldest disciples to the farm immediately. Maksim was dead. He died fighting to protect Sasha and his elderly uncle. The uncle was alive, or at least, had clung on to life desperately hiding the only one untouched by the ravages of the bandits. What he described as happening to Sasha…I cannot write it. I cannot even think it, for it causes my blood to boil so. I contacted Typhon Lee, asked him to send one of his killers. The bandits will pay for what they did to Sasha.’” Her voice broke as she read it.

“I can read the rest if you’re having trouble,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Persephone answered, taking a breath to steady herself. “‘Typhon Lee’s dwarf, Popovic, arrived today, his new apprentice in tow. I explained to him what I wanted, how all of the bandits must pay for what they did to my beautiful Sasha. He assured me that his apprentice would make sure they did, and that he would personally confirm it. While the young man talked with my disciples, I explained to Popovic that there was something else I needed. Sasha had worn a silver locket. It contains two portraits, one of Katinka, and one of her and Maksim. I told him there would be a bonus for its retrieval.’”

Terry raised an eyebrow at that. “Pops never mentioned anything about a girl or a locket. He just said bandits hit a town and we were supposed to kill them back. That was my first solo job, a bit before I met you. Remember, the vampires kept talking about it? It was pretty f@#$ed up. And it’s why I stopped working with Pops. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t tell me anything else. A%!@*##.”

Gregor looked over the forms. “We’re missing a page. But we have searched everywhere. I do not think I will be able to open it with just this much, but I will try. Let us return to the door.”

As he tried several random final moves, we pored through the pages again. There had to be something we’d missed. And there was. Anastasia found it. The pickle juice pages had stuck together a bit, and sandwiched between them was one final page. She held her prize in her hand and tried to read it…only to realize that she didn’t know that language. Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix. So I waved my hand and spoke a word, giving her the ability to understand.

She began reading it aloud immediately. “‘It is done. The bandits are dead and I have the locket. Perhaps, one day, when he is older, I will give it to Gregor, tell him about his mother. But for now, I will instead train him. She was not strong enough to defend herself. That was my fault. My mistake. I loved her too much and so I could not be as hard on her as I should have. I did not make her strong. I will not make the same mistake with Gregor. No matter how he suffers, I will not give him a single inch. He may think I hate him. If that is so, then it is a price I will pay. He will be strong, the strongest disciple I have ever trained, even if it kills him. I owe Sasha that much.

“‘And one day, when I am too old to continue my duty, he will take my place and train new disciples, as should have been Sasha’s role, had I not been so weak. He will understand then, perhaps, why I had to be as hard on him as I was. Why I could not tell him how proud of him I am. And perhaps one day he will tell his own children or disciples about me, and I hope he will do so fondly, knowing how much it hurt me to do what had to be done to make him strong.’”

Gregor took the page from her and we watched him as he read it silently for several moments, staring at it, seeming lost in the words. Then, just as silently, he handed her the page back and went to the door. He completed the full sequence, and the door opened. He charged through without even waiting for it to open all the way, and we ran after him.

He was so much faster than us. But we could hear a voice ahead. “Come. Prove you are worthy!”

We could hear sharp cracks – sonic booms? – as fighting commenced. As we finally reached the end of the winding stairway, we saw Gregor locked in combat with the ghostly form of Sergei, who was engulfed in that same purple flame. Each of their strikes was too fast to keep up with. I only know how many blows were struck by the sound of the air cracking at the sheer speed.

Gregor had the obvious upper hand, and even Sergei acknowledged it. “Your fists are strong! But now we must test your resolve!” He disappeared into a shadow, reappearing from the shadows behind Gregor and striking him with a deadly attack to the chest as Gregor spun around.

If it had been a kung-fu movie, Gregor’s heart probably should have exploded in his chest. As it was, the shockwave from the blow nearly knocked me from my feet. And I wasn’t the only one. Greta had to catch Anastasia.

But Gregor remained standing, his stance defiant as his master’s spirit drew up into formal stance before bowing. “You are worthy,” Sergei said. I could see Gregor’s eyes beaming with pride as he returned the bow.

The two raised their heads and shared one final look before Sergei’s ghost disappeared. In its place, a silver locket clattered to the floor. He picked it up and then walked to the far end of the room, where a chest stood. Inside, he found two objects. I got a look at them as he handed them to Burin. One was a miniature carving of the Dancing Hut. The other was an ancient portrait – around the size of a picture frame you’d put on a table, though it had to be hundreds, if not thousands of years old – that depicted a man, a woman and a child. The woman looked a lot like Anastasia, though their hair was different.

There were two of them. They had to be keys. And if the picture was of who I thought it was, then I was really curious as to where they would take us.

Terry walked up to Gregor and held out his fist, which Gregor bumped in triumph. “Machine of Death,” the assassin said approvingly. Gregor didn’t even notice that Terry had taken the locket from him during the motion. He probably wouldn’t have noticed for a while, but Terry immediately opened it. “Your mom’s kinda hot.”

“Terry,” Persephone said disapprovingly, taking the locket from him and looking at it. “You look just like your dad,” she said to Gregor as we all crowded around to get a look.

“Except the eyes,” Anastasia said. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Damn. That girl had it worse than I thought.

“Calm yourself Gustav. You know that after what happened yesterday, the people are ready for a burning.”

“Bu-But we’ve only gone over the pre-preliminary evidence!”

“Well, he was going to burn anyway. So, do what you can, I guess.” Kendra, who had been listening at the door, stumbled as the door opened. “Who are you?” the surprised man on the other side asked. Natalya recognized the clothing as that of a clerk, while the standing before the desk at the far end of the room looked like a barrister, complete with his court robes and powdered wig.

Kendra recovered from her stumbling and stood up straight and proud. “I’ve been sent by Judge Embreth to look into Bastien’s case,” she said, using the name she had personally given to the Beast since he seemed to have none. One she had neglected to mention to anyone else.

“Who?” the clerk asked, annoyed.

Before Kendra could answer, Stein stepped between them, holding up his hand to stop her. “Only what is necessary, remember?” he said before holding out the letter to the clerk.

The clerk – a normally dour man known by the name of Rodd Dych - read it and laughed. “It looks like you’re getting some help, Gustav. I’d hate to be in your shoes,” he said, giving Kendra a sympathetic look.

“T-This is an outrage!” Gustav protested. “I-I-I was ass-assigned to represent the Beast!”

“I understand,” Kendra said. “But with the trial being moved up, it was felt that a lone man would not have time to properly investigate all the leads.”

Gustav’s eyes narrowed. “Th-That is a f-f-fair p-point. Fi-Fine. F-Follow me.”

They followed in a silence as thick as the fog on an autumn night in Ravengro as the barrister led them to his office. Natalya had taken a measure of the man as he’d spoken and she was certain he would behave like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum for the entirety of their time working with him. Getting anything out of him would be difficult, assuming he didn’t actively sabotage their efforts to help him.

The situation had to change. But how? She could threaten him of course. But such measures were delicate. Exert too little force and he would resist, possibly steeling himself against further attempts. Exert too much, and there could be repercussions.

There was an old saying: You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. In the adventurer’s guild, it was taught that the old adage was incorrect. You’d catch more humans with honey than vinegar. But a fly is a distinctly different creature, and they love vinegar. The point being, that if you wish to sway someone, you had to first know them.

She didn’t have time to truly size up this man, Gustav Kaple, but she had taken a measure of him, and while he seemed prideful and stubborn, he was still a citizen of Lepidstadt, and she judged him simpleminded enough to be caught up in local legends. And of all the legends swirling through town, there was only one greater than that surrounding the Beast right now. It would be a risk, but it was worth a shot.

When they reached the office, she shut the door behind her and stepped up before Kendra or Stein could speak. “Look, Gustav, I’m going to be frank with you. There isn’t much time and things aren’t what they appear. But first, I need to know if you can keep a secret. Can you?”

Kendra gave Stein a surprised look, but he responded with only a single raised eyebrow. “I-What?” Gustav answered.

“It’s a simple question. We don’t have a lot of time, and I need to know if you’re one of the good guys. Can you keep a secret?”

He furrowed his brow. “I-I can. If it’s a s-secret that’s w-worth k-keeping.”

She nodded. “That will have to be good enough. You see, while we were officially sent by Judge Embreth, the truth is that she’s only acting as a cover for the one who truly asked us to look into this matter.”

He looked intrigued, drawn in by her hushed, conspiratorial tones. Even Kendra was leaning in, curious where she was going with this. Stein smirked, having already guessed the game. “W-Who s-sent you?” Gustav asked.

Natalya leaned in closer, speaking barely above a whisper. “Have you heard of Alvin?”

Gustav’s eyes grew wide. “Alvin the Hero sent you?! Can you get me his autograph?” His stuttered had noticeably vanished suddenly, such was his amazement.

Kendra managed to avoid putting her hand to her face. “He doesn’t believe in fame,” she answered. “He’s very humble.”

“Just as I imagined him,” Gustav breathed in awe.

“Anyway, now you understand,” Natalya said. “We can’t say exactly what Alvin is looking into, but he thinks that this might be related to the werewolf he battled. He just wants to confirm whether it was the werewolf himself who committed the crimes the Beast is accused of, or if it was the people who set the werewolf loose. And that’s why we need to keep it quiet. Can you do that?”

Gustav nodded. “I understand c-completely. Let me get my f-files.”

He gathered his notes and set them on the table and began separating them into three distinct piles. As he did so, Kendra spoke up. “Do any of your notes mention anything about grave robbing or mad alchemists?” she asked.

Gustav scoffed. “Surely n-nothing so uncivilized w-would be happening in Lepidstadt.” He finished sorting the piles. “Okay, s-so here’s the b-breakdown of the t-trial. The B-Beast has been accused of t-three c-crimes. The t-trial will happen o-over t-three days. Each d-day will c-cover one of these acc-accusations. T-The first will c-cover his supposed attack on M-Morast.” He pointed to the leftmost pile as he spoke. “I d-don’t think he’ll even make it th-through that one before being found g-guilty and b-burned.”

Kendra found the man’s attitude offensive. “I have a question,” she said.

“Y-Yes?”

“You’ve had six other clients before, right? And they were all found guilty? If you’re that terrible, maybe you should quit practicing law and join a circus. I know a guy who might be able to give you a job.”

Gustav’s lips curled in anger. “I-It’s not m-my f-fault! Th-They j-just k-keep giving m-me p-people who are g-guilty!”

Stein restrained her and Natalya stepped forward. “Calm down, Kendra. I know you’re concerned about the Beast-”

“Bastien!” Kendra snarled, causing the barrister to nearly wet himself in terror.

“Right, Bastien. But it’s no reason to take it out on Mister Keple. Alvin wouldn’t want you to act like that.” She shook her head. “Tempers have flared,” she said to Gustav apologetically. “Perhaps it’s best if we take these files to show Alvin so we can see what he wants us to do next.”

Gustav took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. “Y-Yes. Y-You’re right. P-Please t-tell Alvin that i-if he needs me, I will g-gladly ass-assist in an-any w-way I c-can.”

“Thank you,” Stein said, collecting the files. “We’ll be sure to tell Alvin how much you helped us.” Even he wasn’t sure how he managed to say all of that with a straight face.

After taking their leave, they headed back into the cells to retrieve Heimish. “What happened next?” they heard the voice of the beast, his tone like that of a child as he begged for the preacher to complete his story.

“The dust from the Butterfly’s wings choked the abomination to death,” Heimish answered.

“Wow!” the Beast breathed, his chains rattling as he clapped.

Heimish looked up at them as they approached. “You’re back,” he noted. He turned back to the Beast. “Sorry, lad, it looks like I need to go. But I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

They made their way outside to a waiting carriage, as Stein had sent ahead word that they would need transportation. “That went poorly,” Kendra said, finally breaking their silence once inside.

“I thought it went fine,” Heimish disagreed.

“You didn’t see it,” Stein chortled. “Kendra nearly made the man soil his pants.”

“It just frustrates me,” Kendra said, answering Heimish’s questioning look. “Why play the game if you’ve already defeated yourself in your mind?”

Stein looked at her out of the side of his eye. “You don’t suppose he was chosen because they wanted to ensure a burning, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

“They couldn’t have found a better moron to play the part,” Natalya answered.

Kendra sighed. “Heimish, did you find out anything about the Beast’s ‘father’?”

“No,” Heimish answered, seeming confused. “Was I supposed to?”

“That’s why we left you down there,” Kendra said, frustration in her voice again.

“Oh. Oops. I got to talking about the Butterfly and I lost track of time.”

Kendra looked like she was going to say something more, but Stein interrupted her. “We’ve not much time before we reach Morast. We should read the case files.”

“I’ve never been to Morast,” Natalya said. “What kind of place is it.”

Kendra huffed, annoyed at being forced to put away her annoyance. “The people of Morast are considered pretty strange. They’re renowned for their strong constitutions. In fact, I’ve never heard of one of them getting sick and it’s said that they live twice as long as a normal human. Rumor is that they got that way by breeding with swamp creatures.”

Stein nodded. “I’ve also heard that when they die, their corpses never rot. I’ve always wanted to look into that.”

“Why?” Heimish asked.

“Curiosity, mostly,” Stein answered with a shrug.

“So, what do the notes say about the case?” Natalya asked.

“Well, it seems that ten people were carried off by a large creature that fits the description of the Beast. When we get there, we’ll have to ask the village elder. Apparently he was the one who reported it to the authorities.”

As they traveled, the well-worn dirt road soon became replaced with a track made of misshapen wooden planks kept just above the waters of the swamp in places by wooden poles. The sound of frogs and other swamp dwelling creatures echoed around them, like a strange chorus, with the rhythmic sound of the carriage wheels on the planks playing the part of the drumbeat.

Soon, they came up to a village. The huts were fairly crude, and many of them were up on stilts above the swamp below. The people watched them as they passed, and it was apparent that the rumors of the strangeness of the swamp dwellers had been no mere rumor.

Even in the tiefling ghettos, Natalya had not seen people as misshapen as these. Their limbs were a bit too long. Their eyes were a little too big. Their teeth were crowded and discolored. And they had strange miscolored patched on their skin.

The driver stopped the carriage in what could only be called the village center, and the group disembarked. Kendra walked over to an older looking man who was sitting upon a porch, carving something with a knife. She passed a rack on which the skin of some kind of red-scaled reptile hung to dry – not that she suspected anything could dry in this humid swamp.

“Excuse me, sir?” she said. “We’re looking for Lazne. Would you know him?”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he evaluated her. She felt a little creeped out by his gaze as it looked her up and down. He then spit, the saliva a brown color as it struck the porch. “Paw!” he called out, turned towards the door. “They’s some furriners heres t’sees ya!”

A man with greased back white hair stepped out of the door. “Whachoo yellin’ yer fool head off ‘bout, boy?” he asked.

The man on the porch pointed with his knife at Kendra. “Ah said that there’s some furriners heres t’see ya.”

The man with greased back hair turned to Kendra. He stared at her with focusing his right eye – which was just a bit bigger than the left – on her as he did so. He didn’t say anything for several uncomfortable moments, then spit, with little regard to the fact that it splattered onto his bare feet.

“Well?” he asked.

Kendra, taken aback, couldn’t remember what she was going to say for a moment. “Um, we’re investigating the Beast and wanted to ask what you know?” Her voice was barely above a whisper as barely managed to get out the response, clearly out of her element.

“What?” the man asked, spitting again.

Heimish stepped forward. “I’m sorry, sir. What my companion means to ask is if you could help us. We’re looking into the matter with the beast, and it would be a great help if you could tell us what you know.”

“Oh! The Beast. Why didn’t you say so?” He walked over to Heimish. As he passed Kendra, she smelled something foul on his breath, and barely managed to avoid gagging. He appraised Heimish for a moment. “You look like some kind of holy man,” he said. It wasn’t accusatory, exactly.

“Yes,” Heimish admitted. “I follow the Black Butterfly.”

“Taint never heard of ‘im.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you sometime.”

Kendra regained her composure. “Heimish, priorities,” she chided.

The man – Lazne, presumably – spit out some chewed up plant from his mouth and reached into his pocket, getting what appeared to be a fresh dose, which he popped into his mouth. He then retrieved some more and offered to Heimish. “Care fer some swamp weed?” he asked.

Heimish took the offering and put it in his mouth. It struck him as hard as a swig of rotgut, but he managed not to gag. “Smooth,” he said, his lips tingling where he’d sequestered the plant.

Lazne laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You know what, holy man? Yer alright. You and yer friends come on inside and I’ll tell you all ‘bout t’Beast.”

The inside of the home was just as crude as the outside, with several holes in the floor where the woven sticks and reeds had either worn thin or were purposefully left open, though the purpose of the latter wasn’t apparent until Lazne spit through one such hole. Given a million years, Kendra would never truly be comfortable in a place like this.

In one corner of the room, in a pot over a fire built on the only stone section of the floor, boiled a strange grey gruel that filled the room with a decidedly strange odor. “Those were some pretty interesting skins hanging out there,” Heimish said, trying to distract himself from the odor. “What kind of creature do those come from?”

“Blood caimans,” the swamper answered. “Not very big ones, those.”

“Still, they have very beautiful coats.”

A thought came to Natalya unbidden, and she spoke it without thinking. “I wonder how they taste,” she said to no one in particular. They looked like lizards, and she’d eaten lizards before. She wondered if they were more like the smaller lizards she’d eaten, or if they were like the dragon that some of her fellows at the guild had sworn they’d eaten.

Lazne grinned and walked over to the cauldron. With his bare fingers, he fished out of a piece of pale white meat and offered it to her. “Here, give this’un here a try.”

Natalya took it from him and popped it into her mouth. Considering the things she’d eaten in her life to survive, taking a strange morsel of food from the hands a man of questionable personal hygiene didn’t even make her top ten list of sketchiest culinary experiences. She chewed it for a moment, then swallowed. “It’s not bad,” she said. “Actually, it’s rather good. Reminds me of something, though.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be for another hour before she recalled that it was reminiscent of a dried sausage she had eaten with some of the others in the guild once. The guild’s leader was a renowned sausage maker, after all, prone to experimenting with all sorts of strange ingredients.

“You’re alright too,” Lazne said, slapping her shoulder.

Seeing Natalya’s reaction, Kendra cautiously asked for a taste. Lazne retrieved her some as well, and she took it gingerly, taking a small bite. It had a texture that reminded her of overcooked chicken and it tasted like fish that was just on the edge of going sour. She did her best to swallow it without gagging and offered Stein what was left.

The butler surreptitiously took a swig of an alchemical concoction, coating his tongue in flavor-blocking wax, then ate the meat without ceremony.

Heimish produced a bottle of liquor. “If you have some cups, let’s poor ourselves a wee dram and you can tell us all about the Beast.”

The swamper cackled with glee and grabbed the cups, then got to his tale. “Well, you see, we started hearing stories of something in the swamp. ‘Bout right near sev’n, maybe et feet tall. He’d come right out of the swamp, covered in swamp stuff.”

As she listened, Natalya couldn’t help but think that his description sounded an awful lot like a swamp troll. But she didn’t say anything, deciding it was best to let him continue.

“Each time, he’d get a little bolder. He’d come a little closer. Started taking people. Then, one day, he came into the houses. So we set us a trap. Set upon him as he thought he was gonna et him a baby. Chased him into that there swamp. Then he done got et by a caiman. Biggest I ever did see. The ones outsider are babes by comparison. Call that one the Lockneth Monster. Grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him under.”

“If the caiman got him, then why report it?” Kendra asked.

“Well, y’see, I never seen his body, though I was shore he was dun fur. So he must have gotten away, though whatever happened tainted the boneyard. So, when I done heard he got nabbed by the ‘thorities, I went up to town to let them high and mighty offishuls know what he done.”

“Would it be alright if we investigated the boneyard?” Heimish asked. “Maybe we can see if we can determine what happened.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ agin it. Long as you don’t do nothing fishy,” he punctuated with a laugh at a joke that no one seemed to get, then stopped suddenly and spit at the hole in the ground. “Just give me a bit to get some boats. Fishin’ is slow today anyway, so I’m pretty durn sure I can scrounge up enough for your needs.”

Back at Embreth’s house, Santino sat at the door, whining. He’d been trying for hours to turn the smooth knob with his mouth and was just about to give up, no matter how much he wanted to go inside and find something to eat. He had been so engrossed in his task that he never saw the mysterious figure watching him from the roof across the street, nor did he see when it leapt away an impossible distance.

But he did hear the creak above him. He padded off of the porch and looked up, spotting the gardener, who was stupidly leaning off the side of the house, attempting to cut a tree branch with some rusty shears.

He wasn’t sure whether he hoped the man would fall or not. On the one hand, it would probably be pretty funny. But on the other, if they were dealing with the injuries of the help, he was sure they’d definitely forget to feed him.

Though he could just eat the man, he guessed. It was truly a quandary and bore more consideration. Unsure what to do, he flopped down on the porch and chuffed, trying to decide what he should do.

Oh well. What's done is done and now I have time to put my wall scrolls up and open up/shelve all my boxes of DVDs and books. :P

Valbrand listened. “That’s the signal to regroup. Our side has done some damage, at least.”

“If they’re regrouping, they’ll all be in one place,” Kermit noted.

“Good,” Gwen said. “Then Rabus will probably be able to make it to the barricade safely.”

“I hope so,” Valbrand said, surprising the girl. “I intend to take him up on his offer of free drinks after this is over.” And just like that, she wasn’t surprised anymore. “Come on, he said to take what we wanted. Let’s see if there’s anything we can use.”

To Gwen’s consternation, Valbrand, Kermit and Lucky Days immediately began searching the shop for things to loot. She was about to chide Jazier for joining them, but when she went inside, she found him cleaning, rather than looting. In truth, she realized he was doing both, looting the bodies of the dead as he moved them to the side of the room near the door for Qumeel. She almost said something, but decided against it, instead helping Qumeel tend to the piling and burning of the bodies of the thugs they’d killed.

Inside, Valbrand kicked open the door to Rabus’ private quarters, and the trio began searching. They found a few useful objects in the pile of things Rabus had confiscated from rowdy drunks – Valbrand grabbed several well-made throwing axes – but the real treasure was found by Lucky Days. Under the floorboards, the girl found a hidden cache containing a fair amount of gold and silver coins, as well as other valuables.

Then she put the loot back and replaced the floorboards. They were there to take things that they could use to fight the orcs, not steal the man’s life savings. Valbrand might have tried to convince her that it was better they take it than leave it for the orcs to find, but he hadn’t noticed her find while he looked over the weapons.

Their looting was interrupted when Gwen came inside. “The drums are getting louder. I think they’re coming closer. We need to get moving.”

Valbrand tucked one of the axes into his belt. “Alright, let’s go.”

As they moved through the town, doing their best to avoid drawing attention as they did so, they began noticing several peculiar things about the bodies. The first was that many of the wounds were made by thrusting weapons and the tissues showed signs of frostbite, but other wounds appeared to be caused by the claws and teeth of some kind of animal.

“Dogs?” Lucky Days asked, remembering her earlier encounter.

“Those would be some really big dogs,” Jazier answered.

Valbrand shook his head. “I have seen wounds like this before. The orcs have tamed a bear, I would wager.”

The other peculiar thing they noticed was that, while there were quite a few bodies of men and even children, there were almost no women or girls among the dead. Gwen really didn’t want to consider the implications of that.

“Wait!” Jazier gasped. He rushed over to a body. “It’s Silvermane! I think he’s still breathing!” Qumeel came over and healed the man, whose ragged breathing became calmer, though he didn’t awake. “I’m sorry. I guess the assassins came for you too, huh?”

Silvermane didn’t answer, naturally.

“Should we take him back to the barricade?” Lucky Days asked.

“I do not believe we have time to tarry,” Kermit said. “But perhaps we can hide a tree in the forest?”

“What do you mean?”

The grippli pointed to a pile of corpses. “If we lay him among the dead, no one will be able to tell the difference.”

Gwen considered it. “It’s as good a plan as any, and we are short on time to act.”

“We should have someone scout ahead,” Valbrand said as he carefully moved the old elf. “Kermit, do you have any more of those invisibility potions?”

“I believe I do,” the grippli answered, fishing through his pouch. “There’s one.”

“Give it to Lucky Days,” the warrior said. “She should be able to scout quickly, see what the situation looks like at the drums, then return safely so we can decide whether to ambush them or sneak around.”

“I can do that!” the girl agreed. “But I have a potion already that I can use.” So Kermit instead gave her the skull bomb he’d taken from Brollerth. “What’s that for?”

“You’ll know the reason when you see it,” the grippli answered sagely. In truth, he had no idea whether she would need it or not, but he figured it was better to have and not need it rather than need and not have it. He just wasn’t keen on wasting the time explaining that.

“Coach was right,” the girl said, beaming. “You are really smart!” She tied the bomb to her belt and drank the potion, then bounded off towards the sound of the drums.

Lucky Days bolted through town, as swift and as invisible as the wind, making her way towards the sound of the drum. It was only by luck that she spotted a hidden figure in the shadows within a building she passed as she approached the tower that seemed to be the source of the sound. And it was only because of her invisibility and the booming of the drum masking her sounds that he missed seeing her.

She then spotted another figure watching from a hole in the wall of the tower. She made her way around the building to the other side and carefully opened the door, making her way inside. The room was dimly lit by the light coming from the stairs above, but she was able to make out the form of the woman – at least, she had a feeling it was a woman – by the small window as well as a number of bound and terrified women and young girls.

She wasn’t sure if she could get the women out safely, so she decided to make the most of her time remaining invisible and hurried up the spiraling stairway. Up top, she found six figures. In the center of the open area was hunchbacked orc, who was busy beating the drum. Watching him was a bear woman of some kind. The other four were humans dressed like the woman downstairs and appeared to be watching in all directions.

To her surprise, she recognized two of the black-clad figures. One was the man from the jail, but the other immediately drew her ire. Anger boiled right behind her eyes as she saw the face of the woman who had pulled down her skirt the other day. Didn’t the woman know how dangerous that was? What if one of the men had seen her underpants? Then she’d never be able to get married and her mother would disown her.

Deep down, she knew she should leave the five and return to her companions to tell them what was going on, but she had to do something before leaving. But what? The apparent leader of the group, the bear woman, was arguing with the hunchback. But even distracted, the bear woman looked far too dangerous to take on alone, even if it weren’t for the other four assassins.

Then it dawned on her. She carefully untied the skull bomb and slid it under the drum and lit the fuse. She would have maybe twenty or thirty seconds to escape. So she then dashed and leapt from the tower.

Magic is a funny thing. You see, if she had thrown the bomb at someone or something, her invisibility would have faded immediately. But she had simply set it down and lit it. So the cosmic powers adjudicating such an event decided that it simply did not count as an invisibility-shattering attack until it exploded and hit something, much to Lucky Days’ benefit.

She landed still running, continuing her sprint until the explosion happened and the drum stopped. Luckily for her, the others were just coming into sight at that time. “What was that?” Gwen asked.

“Women! Kids! Drum! Grenade! Bear!” Lucky Days panted as she struggled to catch her breath.

Back at the tower, the hunchback had been thrown back by the explosion. Of course, since there was no one else there to blame, he immediately began calling the assassins all sorts of unkind things as he got to his feet. Of these, “traitor” was perhaps the mildest.

But the bear woman – a skinwalker – wasn’t having it. She drew her axe across her claw menacingly, daring the hunchback to keep talking. Tensions were high, and it was a powder keg waiting for one more spark. A very distracting powder keg.

Lucky Days explained to the others everything she had seen as they made their way to the tower. It was Valbrand who came up with a plan. Once agreed, they all began to play their parts.

First, Kermit took his remaining invisibility potion and made his way across the clearing. Once he reached the door, Lucky Days and Qumeel bolted after him while Valbrand charged into the shop on the side of the road and began facing off with the lookout.

As Jazier and Gwen followed after them, one of the men in the tower – the very same man they had put in jail earlier – spotted them. “The target is here!” he said, drawing his shortbow and firing an arrow into Jazier’s shoulder.

Jazier panicked and looked for a solution. Immediately, his mind struck upon something. He faked a cough. “I’m sorry, Gwen, but I do not think I can go on. This arrow has struck a vital artery! I fear I am not long for this world. Avenge me!” he shouted as he stumbled forward and collapsed, conveniently falling behind the cover of the building’s walls.

“What is he on about?” Gwen asked, returning fire and injuring the archer. His return volley caught her in the arm. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it hurt and would make it difficult to shoot for a bit. So she dove behind the building with Jazier.

“Too obvious,” the wizard pretending to be a corpse whispered. “They’re certain to know you’re alive.”

Gwen ignored him as she bandaged her wound and reloaded her weapon with the wand Jazier was holding out to her.

The commotion proved to be the spark that ignited the powder keg, and the hunchback struck out at his “allies”, planning to make them pay for looking down on him. Unfortunately for him, he was outmatched and fell quickly, succumbing just as Lucky Days reached the top of the stairs. She dodged past the others and made her way straight to Asha, the woman who had wronged her, and slashed her in half with Sakura-chan. From the ground, all anyone could see was a spurt of blood that wafted to the ground like glistening cherry blossoms.

In the base of the tower, the assassin on lookout had noticed as Lucky Days ran past, and moved to the stairs to see what had run by. She didn’t even notice the arrival of Kermit before she felt sharp pain as the grippli tore her spine out and hit her aside the head with it.

“Sound the alarm!” the skinwalker roared. But before she could move on Lucky Days, Qumeel reached the top of the stairs and took down the archer that had been firing at Gwen and Jazier. In a moment of hesitation, she realized that her two remaining allies had both fled, leaping off the top of the tower. Qumeel slashed at the man near him in vain, and the assassin, whose name was Lupin, though none of his “allies” had bothered asking, made a clean getaway, though not before firing off a flare to alert his allies throughout the city.

This was not as true for the archer closest to Lucky Days. While she did manage to evade Lucky Days’ strike, it caused her to fall incorrectly, and she twisted her ankle. And more than that, she landed no more than a few feet from Valbrand, who was covered with the blood of her comrade from the storefront. She tried to attack him with her alchemical ice blade, but he simply encased his hand with frost from his enchanted armband and caught the blade. It shattered with a twist of his wrist and he struck her with his shield.

“You are bested!” he said. “I do not have to kill you. Stay down!”

She saw no other way out. If she tried to flee, he would kill her. So the woman, Varela, held up her hands. “I surrender!” she said, fighting back a tear of frustration that was hidden from the warrior’s view by her ebon locks as she dropped to her knees in submission.

The bear charged Lucky Days and tried to push her off the tower, but the horse girl used Sakura-chan to brace against the tower’s edge, avoiding being knocked off. She then dodged away and slashed, but missed. The movement also caused Qumeel’s thrown sword to miss the skinwalker, though it did manage to strike into the floor, skewering the still spurting torso of Asha as it did so.

“What do you see?” Jazier asked Gwen.

“Lucky Days is fighting some kind of were-bear or something,” the girl answered, taking a shot and scoring a glancing hit against the skinwalker’s tough hide. “Wait, something else is happening.” The door to the tower opened and terrified women and children made their way out, having been freed from their bonds by Kermit. Gwen stepped out of cover and sweeped the area with her gun, looking for dangers before motioning the women and children over.

They recognized her, of course and immediately began making their way to her.

As she watched, Gwen noticed something strange. Bright red hair. She had only seen hair like that once before. Had the woman her uncle wanted arrested as an accomplice been one of the prisoners? Then she looked closer. No, it wasn’t her. It was an elven boy, barely an adult. Either the idiots had mistaken him for a female, or… well, Gwen didn’t want to think about what other reasons they had for taking him if they knew he was male. Orcs were not known to be kind to elves.

But she didn’t recognize him, and she made a point of learning about all elves who came through Trunau. That meant he couldn’t have been there long. To arrive and get caught up in all of this suddenly had to be terrifying for him.

Up on top of the tower, Gwen saw Lucky Days take a glancing blow from the she-bear’s axe before dodging back swiftly. She could also hear Qumeel chanting a prayer, asking his god to bless someone. By the sound of the roar that followed, that someone was likely Kermit.

“Is it safe to come out now?” Jazier whispered.

“Oh for the love of – Help the kids!” Gwen said to the wizard.

The fleeing children, curious as to who she was talking to, went around the side of the building. “It’s Ruby’s magician!” one of them said.

“Not so loud!” the wizard chided. “I’m pretending to be dead.”

One child tilted her head quizzically. “You’re not very good at pretending, are you?”

Jazier quickly chanted a cantrip, giving himself discolorations like bruises and covering himself in dirt. “There, is that better?” he asked.

“A little,” the girl admitted as several of the other children began to mimic him in playing dead.

Up top, the she-bear’s eyes glowed – as did her bracer – as she swung at the charging Kermit, missing narrowly. Lucky Days saw her opportunity and dashed in, scoring a blow that missed anything vital, but still drew a lot of blood. The bear roared angrily.

Downstairs, a couple of the women were helping Valbrand tie up his captive. “A real warrior would be up there dealing with the monster, not dealing with a captured, defenseless woman,” the assassin said with a grunt as she was pushed to the floor and her hands bound.

Valbrand smirked. “My presence is unnecessary. You made a miscalculation. Our monster is much scarier than yours. Still, I guess I should head up to help with looting the corpses.” He looked to one of the other women. “I promised I would spare her life if she surrendered,” he said. What he did not say was that he had made no such promises for anyone else. What they would do was none of his concern.

Only the bound assassin caught his meaning. “My name is Varela. You would make a good Wolf,” she called after him, impressed in spite of the danger to herself.

Gwen noticed multiple flares throughout the city, answers to the one the fleeing assassin had fired. “This place won’t be safe for long. Lucky Days!” she called out. “I need you as soon as you get a second!”

“I’ll be down in a sec!” the other girl called back.

Gwen nodded, even though the girl couldn’t see her. “Round up the children,” she told one of the rescued women. “We’ll escort you to safety momentarily. We’re going to have to move quickly.”

“Is there a safe place?”

“A relatively safe one,” Jazier answered, his eyes still closed in feigned death, causing one of the children to laugh.

Up top, the she-bear had abandoned her weapon, going fully feral and attacking Kermit wither her claws and teeth. But his thick skin easily deflected one of the claws and teeth. Only a single claw struck true, and only did enough damage to catch on his hide.

Kermit answered by biting into the arm that grabbed him, tearing a massive chunk from the bear’s flesh. She let go and stumbled back. Surrounded by enemies, she made the only choice available and tried to flee, jumping towards the edge.

“Oh no you don’t!” Lucky Days shouted, dashing forward and slashing the woman midair. The blow pierced the bear’s back and went in through her heart, but did not stop her forward momentum. As she sailed through the air, her body reverted to that of a woman with pale hair, dark skin and glowing tattoos that were fading as she fell.

The body landed with a wet sound a few feet from the assassin, who was now on her feet and being led away. She noted the bite wound, how the entire bicep had been torn out. “I guess their monster really was scarier,” she whispered in amazement.

Lucky Days wiped her blade and hurried down to Gwen as Qumeel healed Kermit’s wounds and retrieved his sword. “What do you need?” she asked.

“Can you carry me and still run fast?” the half-elf asked.

“Um, not as fast as normal, probably.”

“Faster than I can run?”

“Oh! Yes, probably much faster than that.”

“Okay, you’re coming with me, then,” Gwen said. She turned to Jazier. “Lucky Days and I are taking the women and kids to safety. Have Qumeel show you to the Hopespring. We’ll catch up.”

“I know the way,” the wizard answered, though Gwen did not acknowledge it, already moving to lead the others to safety. She motioned for the women to follow her.

As they passed the alley where Jazier lay, still pretending to be dead, Varela smirked. “Well, at least we got the target,” she said to herself. “So it wasn’t all wasted.”

Once the others made their way down from the tower, the four men began moving forward. As they traveled, something became evident, though it was Qumeel who finally said it. “The stream that runs through town appears to be drying up,” the cleric noted.

“Do you think they dammed it up?” Jazier asked.

“If so, we will need to attend to that. The defenders will need water to continue on. We should hurry to the Hopespring.” As they traveled, they spotted a number of tracks, including those of a creature much larger than an orc. Perhaps an ogre, or some kind of giant. Just the kind of muscle one would need to quickly construct a dam.

But it was worse than they feared. The stream wasn’t dammed. No, someone had broken open the wall of the Hopespring, revealing a cave and causing the water to flow downward, rather than into the town.

Jazier looked around at the stone debris lying everywhere. “I hope no one expects me to clean that up,” he said, sighing. “Who am I kidding? Of course they do. Alright, I guess I’ll get started while we wait for the girls to catch up.”

Also, my GF(Steve's sister) will be moving in with us sometime in the next couple months. Which we'll probably be celebrating by starting a new campaign, because we're idiots. On a hilarious note, my character is a paladin who has some kobold slaves(it makes sense in context, it's just a legal thing, he sees them as a group of children too stupid to care for themselves but the only way the law would let him take care of them was to officially make them slaves). And my GF? She was talking about wanting to play a kobold, not knowing any of this. :P

She sat down and Stein appeared from the kitchen, holding a tray with both a plate and a cup of tea, which he set before Kendra. “I’d like to meet this ‘Beast’,” she said to Embreth before she put a piece of bacon in her mouth.

“If you agree to look into this matter for me, I can arrange it.”

Kendra sipped her tea. “And I want everything you have on the experiments on Santino.”

“It will take time to search my library, but anything I can find is yours.”

“Okay, then. Make the arrangements. We’ll start looking into this after breakfast.”

After she was finished eating, Kendra went back upstairs and changed into her armor. She wasn’t sure she’d need it, but after the way things had gone the previous night, she wasn’t taking chances. It also helped that it made her look more intimidating. She had a feeling she would need all the help she could get.

As they went outside, Santino heard them and started hobbling over from the shed where he had been busy digging. “Sorry,” Kendra said, “but you need to stay here and rest. I promise we’ll be back as soon as we can.” He looked annoyed at being left behind, but was in no shape to contest her decision, so he instead went to the porch to take a nap. When he got there, he was surprised to find waffles in his bowl, which he ate happily.

In the town square, the group found that the locals had been busily reconstructing the Punishing Man. It was as if they had been at it all night. That was, in fact, the truth. Their excitement at the sport of seeing a convicted man burned had whipped them into a near-religious frenzy. If this kept up, it would be done in less than a day, perhaps two at the latest.

Luckily, human beings can only work so long before exhaustion forces them to rest. In truth, they would only be able to work a few more hours before needing a break. Others would take their places, but these would be much less enthusiastic individuals, so their work speed would be slow by comparison.

Among the crowd, the party spotted the Crooked Kin plying their trade and helping with the clean up where they could. A large group gasped in amazement at the sight of Trollblood doing some firebreathing.

As they made their way through the crowd, they heard snippets of conversation. It was mostly rumors about the night’s events, but it also included quite a bit of talk of the hero, Alvin. The legend Santino had started had completely taken on a life of its own.

Natalya couldn’t help but laugh comparing the reality of the acolyte with statements like, “When the bogeyman goes to sleep, he checks his closet for Alvin” or “When Alvin does a push up, he isn’t lifting himself, he’s pushing the whole world down.” She wondered what the “hero” himself would say if he heard such things. He’d probably faint at the pressure.

They reached the large, squat building just past the clock tower where the beast was being held. A pair of guards at the door moved to bar their way. “Step aside,” Kendra said. “We’ve been sent to-”

She stopped as Stein held a hand in front of her. “Say only what is necessary.” He produced a letter and held it out to the closest guardsman.

The man took it, and his eyebrows arched as he read the letter. “Alright, this seems to be in order,” he said, showing it to his companion. “Be careful in there.”

Stein took the letter back and they headed downstairs to the holding cells, but as they departed, Natalya heard the guards talking. “I thought he already had someone to defend him.”

“That guy? Might as well burn him now.” That didn’t bode well. If the beast was truly innocent, they might be his only shot at making it out of this.

The cells were dimly lit by small, barred windows near the ceiling – up at ground level – and the entire floor was damp and a bit musty. In the center of the largest cell, they found the Beast, and he was not what any of them expected, except perhaps Stein, who had long ago learned to expect everything.

You see, the beast was no normal man. Not even a deformed man. No, he was an amalgamation of several men, stitched together into a single creature. “A flesh golem,” Stein mused, “I must say that isn’t the weirdest possibility, but it’s definitely up there.”

The creature rocked back and forth, moaning as his heavy chains rattled. Heimish carefully checked for signs of vile necromancy, and once he found none, he relaxed. “I think you’re right. He definitely appears to be a golem, and not a risen undead.”

Kendra opened the door to the large cell and the beast raged, trying to tear free from his chains. Natalya drew her sword and jumped in front of her. “Watch out!” the girl shouted.

Heimish stepped in front of them. “There’s no need for that.” He turned to the Beast. “Calm down, lad.” His soothing voice seemed to be having an effect. “There we are. We’re here to help, but to do so, we need to know anything you can tell us that might exonerate you. Can you help us to help you, lad?"

”I-I don’t remember,” the Beast answered, his voice thick but guileless. “But I didn’t do it!” he insisted.

“Okay,” Kendra said. “I believe you… I’m not sure what to call you. Do you have a name?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know, something others called you. Perhaps your creator had something he called you?”

The beast shook his head. “Father… didn’t give me a name.”

“What of your father?” Natalya asked. “Did he have a name?”

The Beast shrunk back like a scolded child. “Can’t tell.”

“Why is that, lad?” Heimish asked. “What would happen if you told us?”

“No, can’t tell. Have to protect Father.”

“It’s okay,” Kendra said, stepping forward. The beast panicked, terrified that the armored woman would inflict more torture on it. That she would try to elicit a confession like the others in armor had done before.

Heimish stepped between them again. “It’s okay lad. There’s nothing in my hands. Please, let me help you.” The beast calmed as the preacher approached. “These are terrible wounds, but they show little sign of healing or bleeding. I think he really is a flesh golem.”

“We need to talk to his barrister,” Kendra said. “And see what evidence they have against him. Let’s go.”

“I’m going to stay with him,” Heimish said. “The lad needs someone to reassure him.”

“Okay, but be careful,” Kendra said. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, lad, while we’re waiting, let’s chat. I know you can’t tell me anything, so maybe I should talk?”

“Okay,” the Beast answered.

“Has anyone ever told you about the Black Butterfly?” the preacher asked as the door shut behind Natalya.

Brollerth took one look at the body and cocked his head. “Is that, like, the captain? He’s still smoking. Uhh, did I do that?”

Jazier shook his head. “No. This tragedy wasn’t of your making.”

Gwen just sat by her uncle’s side, numbly staring at his lifeless face, barely recognizable from the fire damage. She was so out of it, she didn’t notice the strange stick Douglas had pulled out to pick his teeth with. Nor did she notice as Halgra began barking orders.

“I need a report,” she said. “And we need to get someone over to light the Inner Gate Beacon.”

“We already handled it,” Omast reported.

“Good. What of the Hopespring Beacon?”

“I don’t know,” Omast admitted.

“We need someone to…” She trailed off as her eyes fixated on the girl sitting there, lost to the world. “Gwen!” she said, her voice booming as she demanded attention. Gwen turned to look at her, but otherwise barely acknowledged the older woman’s presence. “I know it’s hard, right now, but I need you to focus. I need someone I can count on to go light the Hopespring Beacon.”

“Why me?” the girl complained.

“Because I will not have you sitting here, waiting to die. You are stronger than that, even if you don’t know it. You will either live, or die fighting. I need someone with that spirit. Someone who can save this town, and keep it from being taken by these a~@+$*%s.”

Unbidden, the words of the woman from the dream came to Gwen’s mind. “Your kids will likely be among the last generation of true half orcs, so there’s that.”

“No,” Gwen said so softly that no one could hear her as white-hot rage filling the emptiness in her heart. That was NOT going to happen. She stood up, her knuckles white from how tight her grip on her gun was. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“I need volunteers to go with her,” Halgra said to the others.

“You can count on me, Chief Chief,” Lucky Days said, reaching high into the air to make sure she was seen.

“I am ever at the service of those who would stand against evil,” Qumeel said.

Kermit hopped to his feet. “Tough times never last, but tough people do.”

Valbrand clapped Jazier on the shoulder. “If Kermit’s going, we’re going too.” Jazier, for his part looked resigned to the fate of being dragged along. He was probably going to die, but that was likely his fate here too. What difference did it make where he fell?

Douglas set down the stick he was picking his teeth with and retrieved a bag. “Uhh, uhh, hey guys! You maybe want a toothpick before you go?”

Valbrand looked into the bag. “These are wands!” the big man exclaimed. Douglas had so many of them. He knew he had little chance at guessing the value of the contents of the bag, but it was a veritable king’s ransom. He reached in and grabbed one. It was already chewed, but that wouldn’t affect the effectiveness of the wand, so he tucked it in his belt.

Lucky Days went ahead and grabbed one, carefully picking up one that hadn’t been chewed. As she carefully wiped it, she wasn’t watching where she was going, and bumped into Jazier, who stumbled back and slipped on the wand Douglas had set down, falling flat on his backside. “I think that one’s choosing you! You should take it!” Douglas exclaimed picking it up and holding it out to the wizard.

Jazier got to his feet and rubbed his sore back. “Thanks,” he said as he took the offered wand, carefully avoiding the parts covered in spit.

“Gwen, take one too,” the strange man insisted. “Never know when you’ll need one.”

The girl grabbed a wand as well, luckily getting one that was devoid of chew marks. If nothing else, she could use it to power her rifle, so she stowed it in her belt pouch. As she did so, Kermit began walking over, but was stopped by Brollerth, who held out a skull bomb. “This is much better than a toothpick. Make the bodies rain, frog man.”

Kermit nodded and took the offered bomb, inspecting it carefully. “Alas, poor orc, I did not know you,” he said before putting it away.

“Douglas,” Halgra said.

“Yes, boss?” he asked.

“Take Brollerth and go deal with the catapults.”

Douglas sighed. “A professional’s job is never done. Good thing I’m perfect. Let’s go, Brollerth.”

Gwen looked to her own rag-tag band as the pair left. “I guess we should get going too.”

Halgra stopped her. “Gwen, remember, the beacon is priority, but try to save anyone you can.”

The girl nodded. “Right.”

The group moved somberly through town. The stench of death assaulted their nostrils the entire time. Gwen felt physically ill. She had dealt with smaller orc raids, and the threat was a constant of her life, but this was on a scale she had never expected.

The others were similarly affected, all for their own reasons. It was easily visible on their faces, from the hard set of Qumeel’s jaw to the way Lucky Days’ eyes darted around, alert for the slightest motion – the first sign of arriving enemies. Only Kermit – face hidden behind the glowing mask of the Guyver – was unreadable. And only Valbrand seemed to be taking an academic interest in the affair. It wasn’t his first raid, though it was the first time he was on this end of one and was thus a new experience all its own.

The deafening amidst the din of battle was broken by the sound of a scream. “Agrit?!” Gwen gasped in recognition. But she had barely said it when Lucky Days bolted in the direction of the sound, quickly arriving at a burning home. She looked inside and spotted the dwarf woman doing her best to hold back a massive lizard that was trying to get at her and the lifeless form of another person trapped under a burning beam that had collapsed.

“Get away from her!” the girl shouted, charging forward and slashing at the lizard with Sakura-chan.

Outside, the others finally caught up. Valbrand hurried inside to help, but before the others could follow, Gwen and Kermit spotted several orc ambushers leaping up and preparing to charge. Gwen took aim and fired, but her gun jammed. It was a rare occurrence, and likely caused by her failing to take care of the weapon in the chaos of battle, and it terrified her.

But Qumeel stood between her and the charging orc while Kermit charged the chain-wielding orc coming from the other side. In a panic, Jazier used the wand he was given to coat the weapon of the orc facing Qumeel with magical grease. Gwen considered his action and drew her own wand, boosting the power of Qumeel and Lucky Days’ attacks by enhancing the sharpness of their weapons, using her position in the doorway to reach both targets.

The orc facing Qumeel swung, but changed the arc of his blow at the last minute, his axe biting deep into the cleric’s side. Qumeel crumpled from the blow, lying lifeless on the ground.

“Gods! He’s dead!” Jazier wailed, doing the only thing he could think to do and covering the ground underneath the orc’s feet with more grease. Gwen fumbled with her gun, trying to clear the jam and bring down the orc, but her hands were shaking from a combination of adrenaline and fear.

Inside the building, Valbrand leapt onto the lizard and swung with all of his might, his axe biting deep into the back of the creature’s skull. It twitched for several moments, but then stopped moving. “Please!” Agrit begged. “Help Sarah!”

Lucky Days nodded and cast Sakura-chan aside, lifting the beam with the entirety of her anger. Valbrand hopped off of the lizard and helped the dwarf pull the half-orc woman clear as the small but powerful girl dropped the burning beam.

Outside, Kermit bit into the shoulder of his foe as his claws slipped into the orc’s gut. The jagged talons pierced into intestines and he yanked them out. He then took the slick, rope-like organs and wrapped them around the orc’s neck, pulling tight until he heard the sound of his foe’s neck snapping.

“Kermit!” Jazier shrieked. “Qumeel’s in trouble!”

“I, Thundoor, dedicate this sacrifice to the chieftess!” the orc shouted as he raised his axe.

Time seemed to slow as Kermit charged the orc, and inside, Valbrand heard the sound of the wizard’s shout. He scooped up Agrit, who had collapsed from her injuries, and carried her with him as he ran outside, dropping her just outside the door.

Kermit slammed into the orc just in time to prevent the blow as Gwen’s bullet merely glanced the orc’s shoulder. The orc swung again, but the grease finally caused his axe to slip from his grasp. Desperate to take someone with him, he bit Qumeel, who winced in pain in his unconscious state.

“He’s alive!” Jazier said, noticing the expression. “We can still save him!” he launched a small bolt of electricity at the orc as he shouted.

Lucky Days finally got Sarah the rest of the way outside and noticed the sight. “Oh no! Qumeel is down!” she screamed. She dashed forward, trying to pull Qumeel’s unconscious body away from the orc, but the foe’s hold was too strong.

The orc reached his hands out, grasping the cleric’s neck. One quick wrench and it would be over. His brutal gods would count his death as a good one, having fought to the last to take one more enemy with him. His satisfaction shone in his eyes.

All Gwen could hear was her own heartbeat as she finished reloading and took aim. This was her last chance. Kermit was fighting with the grease Jazier had put upon the ground and couldn’t get a good blow in to stop the orc. Jazier was useless, Valbrand wasn’t close enough to get there in time and Lucky Days’ efforts to pull the cleric away might actually help the orc finish the deed. It was up to her.

She swallowed, blackness surrounding the edges of her vision as she focused on one thing, and one thing alone. She exhaled and pulled the trigger…

…and the orc’s skull exploded in a spray of blood, the shards of the back of his skull splattering all over Kermit.

Gwen collapsed to her knees as the adrenaline wore off. Jazier rushed to Qumeel’s side and began pouring a potion down the cleric’s throat, causing Qumeel to cough.

Lucky Days pulled out the “toothpick” she had been given and handed it to Valbrand. “Will this help?” she asked.

The warrior inspected the wand. “This will help a lot, actually,” he said, using it first on Qumeel’s wounds, then heading back to heal first Sarah, then Agrit. Unfortunately, it didn’t have many charges left. But it helped.

From where she sat, trembling, Gwen spotted the form of a goblin in the shadows down the street. But she was too worn out to do anything other than let the others know.

Jazier surveyed the battlefield as Qumeel started to get up. He pointed to the first orc Kermit had killed. “Why his intestines? Why not strangle him with his chain?” he asked.

The grippli shrugged. “His intestines were already in my hands.” Jazier could not argue against that.

Back on his feet, Qumeel used his power to heal everyone a bit. As he did so, Agrit took Gwen’s hand. “Thank you!” she said, blinking back tears. “You saved her. You saved us!”

Kermit came over, holding the axes he’d taken from the fallen orcs. “I hope you do not need these. But having and not needing is better than needing and not having.”

Sarah nodded. “We can make it to the nearest shelter. Any advice on where to go?” she asked Gwen.

“Halgra and Tyari have the survivors holding position at the barricade over that direction,” the girl answered.

“So Halgra made it?” Sarah asked. “What of Katrezra?”

Gwen shook her head. “Someone stabbed him to death in his cell.”

Sara’s jaw clenched. “I see. I’m sorry Gwen, but I blame your uncle for this. He hates our kind and lost his head.”

“But his head is still attached,” Kermit chimed in. “Technically, he burned to death.”

Sarah’s smile came unbidden at that, but she saw Gwen’s crestfallen face and felt bad. “Come on, Agrit. Let’s get to the barricade.”

Qumeel approached Gwen, the only one he hadn’t spoken to yet. “You have my sincerest thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” Gwen said weakly. “Come on. We have to get to the beacon.”

They continued onward, but it wasn’t long before they found more signs of malfeasance. People – humans! – were looting The Killing Grounds. From outside, the group could see multiple bodies, including that of Rabus Clarenston, the proprietor.

Only, Rabus wasn’t dead. Movement from his eyes made it clear that he was only playing dead.

Kermit drew out one of the potions he’d taken from the orcs and drank it. “I’m going inside to help him,” he whispered as he disappeared from sight.

Gwen nodded. “We’ll go in as soon as we see him moving Rabus,” she told the others.

Inside, the looters were laughing. “Look what I found!” one proclaimed, holding up the squirming form of a female goblin by the neck. They quickly set to work making a bit of sport, preparing to hang Tipi as she squirmed, unsuccessfully trying to free herself as they wrapped the rope around her neck.

Kermit reached Rabus and whispered. “We’re going to save you.” Rabus nodded slightly in answer.

Rabus rose into the air as Kermit lifted him, and Lucky Days charged in, Sakura-chan crackling with electricity as she struck one of the looters. As she did so, he let go of the rope holding Tipi. Lucky Days then swung instinctively at the falling goblin, cleaving through her neck in a single blow and sending blood wafting through the air in a spray like falling cherry blossoms.

As she hit the ground, Tipi finally released her hold on the doll she’d so desperately clung to.

“Ghosts!” one of the thugs shouted, not even noticing Lucky Days as he stared at the seemingly floating corpse before him. Kermit was making croaking sounds and filling the air with steam as he did so.

The others fell in short order, no match for the band of angry warriors they’d encountered, though one of the thugs died with a smile after getting a look up Lucky Days’ skirt as he fell. The girl stabbed him in the eyes with Sakura-chan. “It’s rude to look up there!” she shouted.

“Gwen, what’s going on?” Rabus asked the half-elf.

“You don’t want to know,” she said, ducking to the side as Qumeel flung his sword into another thug. The final thug tried to flee, but Lucky Days was in no mood to let him escape. He didn’t make it more than five feet out of the door.

“Well, thank you for saving me,” the proprietor said to the group.

“Can you make it to the barricade?” Gwen asked, giving quick directions.

“Yeah, I think I can make it. Please, take anything you want from the shop. And if we make it through this, all of you drink free here for life.”

Valbrand smiled at that. Free drinks sounded good to him. He then spotted something and knelt down, scooping up the doll. “Huh. I bet Rodd would like this,” he said as he tucked it into his belt pouch. He couldn’t help but laugh as he turned and noticed that Jazier had taken to cleaning up the mess.

“I’m not.”

“This guy’s no joke. One of the best fighters in the nation. Maybe the best that Typhon doesn’t own. He’ll break you like a twig if you sass him.” Pops the dwarf gestured to himself. “Of course, I wouldn’t let him hurt you much, Terry.”

“No. Of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Typhon Lee was Pop’s employer. A big time boss-part or all dragon, the rumors were-who some called a criminal mastermind and others a benevolent savior. Me? I didn’t really care. As long as he pays me what I’m owed whenever I join the syndicate, he can call himself whatever he wants.

I tried my best to zone Pops out, focusing on driving the carriage through the forest trail. A near full moon hung above us, partly obscured by heavy clouds. The true beginning of winter was a few days off, yet the first layers of snow and frost covered the land and the surrounding trees. My black coat pushed back most of the cold, yet I was still having trouble feeling my face and I was pretty sure an icicle was forming at the tip of my nose. Next to me, Pops was covered in thick layers of clothing and an ushanka hat he’d made out of an old grizzly bear.

He munched on some jerky and said through a mouthful, “Who knows. I might leave you with him for a bit. Let him whip you into shape.” The dwarf eyed me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not always gonna have weapons at hand.”

“Says the dwarf with a weapon literally for a hand.”

He’d removed his prosthetic arm, covered it in blankets, and nestled it in between our baggage, though close enough so that he could just reach over, grab it and put it on in case of an ambush. It was his winter model, so the frost wouldn’t damage it. He’d made it, along with most of our weaponry. My own gun, a rifle, was tucked in a guitar case next to me. There were multiple levels to it. One for the gun and the one for an actual guitar, and a few side compartments for food, ammo, knives, explosives, and anything else that might come in handy. It was heavy, but after lugging it around since the age of six, I’ve gotten used to the weight.

“Pops,” I grunted. “Either tell me why we’re traveling all the way up here, or jump in the back and touch yourself until we actually get there. You keep hyping this guy up without actually telling me why we’re actually meeting him.”

Pops scratched his grizzled chin. “Personal favor,” he finally said. “And what’s the point of taking you in if you can’t be my personal valet?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a letter. He handed it to me and then leaned back, pulling the ushanka down over his eyes. “Sergei knows that I don’t do things for free.”

“Ah,” I said. “So he a noble? King?”

“Worse,” Pops chuckled. “Monk.”

“Monk?” I stared at him and then gestured with the letter to our dark, cold surroundings. “So we’re going through all this for what? Some fanatic’s blessing? Tips on how to light scented candles?”

“I’m sure if the job gets done well and proper he’d grant us both those things,” Pops said amiably. “But a favor owed by Sergei is priceless.”

I scoffed and began to read. The letter’s contents were short and to the point: Bandits. Nearly the entire village burned down with nine innocent people dead. Qualified bounty hunters needed.

I handed the letter back over to him. “Doesn’t say anything about you specifically,” I sneered. “Just bounty hunters.”

“Oh, well isn’t it just the damnest of coincidences that I just so happen to be one of the best bounty hunters who’s ever lived? Maybe the best,” Pops shot back dryly. He turned around and climbed into the back of the carriage. “Now just keep going straight. Big g*#*%$n monastery. Can’t miss it unless you’re blind or brain damaged. While you do that, I’ma just be back here sleeping-”

“Playing with yourself,” I interjected.

“Hey, I don’t tell you how to live your life,” Pops grunted.

“Yes you do,” I said under my breath. “Every single day of it.”

After that, besides repetitive grunts from the back of the carriage, the trip through the forest was a quiet one. It wasn’t until a few more hours had passed that I spotted the monastery off in the distance. Pops was right. It was definitely hard to miss. The building itself was situated at the very top and edge of a mountainous cliff. I spotted a trail curving up around the mountain, though it looked rocky and unstable. Just looking at it made my legs ache. Unless this Sergei guy was already waiting for us there, we were going to have to leave the horses and carriage at the base of the mountain. “Pops,” I called over my shoulder. “Pops!”

I leaned over and pulled back the blanket he’d crawled under. He was gone.

“Bastard,” I hissed just as a twig snapped to my left. I dropped the reins and grabbed for my guitar case. A blur of movement came from by the trees. I didn’t have time to draw my gun. I swung the case across my chest like a shield. It took the brunt of my assailant’s kick but the wind was still knocked out of my lungs. Next thing I knew I was flying through the air, towards a second thief.

My hand was already in motion, reaching into my coat. My fingers curled around one of three alchemical sound grenades Pops had given to me for my last birthday. I tossed it over my shoulder, hitting the thief in the face. A piercing bang filled the sky. It spooked both thieves, along with knocking one of them onto their ass. It also spooked the horses. They neighed hysterically and bolted forward just as I landed in the snow.

The first thief leapt towards a nearby tree, caught ahold of a low hanging tree branch, and swung himself towards me. He did all this in under a second.

Lucky for me, I got my gun out in under half that time. I shot him pointblank-but he managed to twist midair, taking the bullet to the shoulder instead of the head. I ducked and rolled forward. He flew over me and landed with a grunt of pain, painting the snow with his blood. I whirled around to finish him off.

A kick to the shins sent me to the ground. It was like being hit with a brick. I landed flat on my back. The thief I’d hit with the grenade pounced on top of me, wrapped his hand around my throat.

And I jammed my gun up into his groin.

“Your…move,” I sneered as pressure was applied to my windpipes. My forefinger danced on the trigger…If I was gonna die here I was definitely taking this guy’s package with me…

“ENOUGH!”

The thief immediately released my throat, jumped off me and stood at attention. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted his comrade get to his feet and do the same, his bleeding shoulder be damned. I scrambled to my feet and jerked my gun between the two repeatedly in case they tried something. I needn’t have bothered. Footsteps sounded to my rear. Shooting the thieves one last suspicious glance, I turned around.

I wasn’t particularly surprised to see Pops walking towards me. He had his metal arm on and was grinning ear to ear. With it he playfully nudged the man walking next to him up in the ribs. “Think I won that one,” he laughed. “Pay up.”

The man frowned down at the dwarf. “There was never any bet to begin with, Popovic,” he said, though his tone was a mildly amused one. He was a thickly built man, but old and lined. In his prime he would have been intimidating. A real monster. But age had brought along with it a slight hunch and a searching look to his eyes. As if he were constantly trying to see beyond what was right in front of him. He was also wearing a set of green robes. I noticed the thieves were wearing identical sets.

“You’re just saying that because your kids lost,” Pops pouted. He made his way towards me.

I aimed my gun at his head.

“Explain. Now.”

Pops gaped at me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh we both know I would,” I said evenly.

After a moment Pops nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You would.” Looking mildly sad about that harsh truth, he gestured around to the three men in green. “Meet Sergei and his disciples. Or at least some of them. Think of them like the welcome committee. Sergei wasn’t so sure about giving you the job so I told him to put his money where his mouth was-”

“It was a metaphorical bet,” the old monk said. “No actual money was promised.”

“-and pit his best students against you,” Pops finished. He gave me a metallic thumbs up. “And you fought them to a standstill. That’s winning in my book. Congrats.”

“Job?” I said. After a moment I lowered the gun.

Sergei approached his students. Now out of the heat of battle I got a chance to really look at them. They were maybe a little older than me but not by much. The one I’d shot had walked up to stand next to his comrade. His right arm was now completely stained with blood. Even then his eyes were unyielding, giving no sign that he was in pain.

Sergei spoke to him first. “Vasily, you grew arrogant in that precious last second before contact was made. Shifted your weight too eagerly, causing the tree branch to crack. Never consider a battle won until the last blow is dealt. Otherwise you have already been defeated. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” Vasily said.

Sergei turned to his companion. He was the larger of the two, with a blonde beard that reflected the moonlight. “I am impressed by your commitment, Hrein. Though the fact that you found yourself in such a compromising position shows that you’re lacking in experience fighting armed opponents. We will have to remedy that. Perhaps a few days of training under constant gunfire will do.” He looked back to Pops. “If Sir Popovic would be willing to provide the firearms.”

Pops beamed.

“Willing?” he laughed. “I love shooting kids!”

Hrein’s expression faltered under Pop’s smile. Yet it recomposed by the time Sergei returned his attention to him and Vasily. “I hunger for the challenge, master,” he said.

Pops rubbed his mismatched hands together. “Oh, boy, I am going to f@#* you up,” he cackled.

Color drained from Hrein’s cheeks but otherwise he didn’t react. Sergei sidestepped and gestured to the monastery beyond. “Go. Clean yourself, Vasily, and track down our guests’ carriage, Hrein. And afterwards see if young Gregor’s finally made it up the cliff, will you?”

“Yes, master,” they said unison and bolted past him. They ran with their arms hanging out behind them. It would’ve looked stupid if they weren’t moving so fast. I watched them go before turning my attention to Sergei. The monk was looking me up and down critically. He didn’t look impressed. But he didn’t look unimpressed either. Mildly bewildered would have been the right word for it.

“What?” I said a little defensively.

“Terrance Guiser.” He said my name slowly and clearly, as if trying it out on his tongue. His eyes flickered to Pops. “Has the boy joined Lee’s syndicate yet?”

“Not officially,” Pops answered.

Sergei nodded. “Very well. He will do.”

“Wait, hold up, pause, calm your horses, put a bookmark in it, yeah?” I looked between the two of them. “What the actual hell is going on?!”

#

“Bandits struck the town of Swindle near a month past,” Sergei told me. Hrein had come back with the carriage and we’d taken the long way around to the monastery. Apparently Sergei and his disciples just regularly climbed up and down the cliff whenever they were coming or going. Man, these guys were monsters. In hindsight Pops making me kill my puppy didn’t seem so bad. At least comparatively.

Sergei had led us through the monastery where a good number of under disciples trained. One of them couldn’t have been older than six or seven. The kid trailed after Vasily, who’d bandaged himself up, looking exhausted but eager for his next test. Vasily spotted me and Pops and shot a glare in my direction. I innocently scratched my cheek with my middle finger.

And I sometimes wonder why I don’t have any friends.

Sergei led us into his private chambers. There were lit candles everywhere but no bed or cot. The floor was stone and freezing to the touch. Even then Sergei sat down, legs crossed beneath him. Pops grunted as he plopped down across him. After a moment’s hesitation I did the same. And then Sergei began to explain:

“Swindle is a trading town. My students and I have done favors for it in the past. As with any place, there is darkness festering in its alleys. Yet the majority of the people there are good. Simply trying to make a living.” With a hand he gestured to the candles. “It’s where I get my candles from. At a decent price, mind you.”

“I thought monks didn’t believe in earthly possession,” Pops said.

“Yes,” Sergei said. “But with hundreds of students training day in and day out, the monastery can get quite smelly. I’m sure the God of Martial Arts will not mind the compromise.” He then carried on with his story as if he hadn’t been interrupted, speaking directly to me as he did so, “These bandits looted the shops, burning a few of them to the ground after they were done. A few of the survivors are currently being tended to as we speak.” He voice lowered slightly as he added, “Tended and chained down.”

I frowned. “Chained down?”

Sergei looked to Pops.

“What have you taught him of werewolves?” he asked.

“To run fast and not look back,” Pops and I answered in unison.

Sergei sighed. “I was hoping for more. Or at least something.”

“So I’m guessing these bandits are werewolves?” I asked. A chill of fear ran down my back as I said it. I’d heard stories. Men and women who could transform into wolves either by will or by the light of the full moon. And not just wolves. Some of them could transform into tigers, lions, or bears. Oh my. I’d even heard legends about a particularly nasty werechicken that had taken nearly fifty armed men to take down.

Sergei shook his head. “No. Just one. Their leader. Westina Kestral.”

Pops made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “B++*&,” he said. “Literally.”

“Your master has history with Westina,” Sergei told me.

“He’s not my master,” I said at once. I then turned to Pops. “So what’s the deal with this werewolf lady? You sleep with her or something?”

“Please,” Pops said in disgust. “I have standards.”

“No you don’t,” I said.

“When it comes to her I actually do.” He leaned back up on his arms and stared up at the ceiling in recollection. “She was one of Typhon’s generals once. An active one. A real murder machine that one, especially under the light of the full moon. But she was smart. After every battle she’d have her subordinates round up the wounded and she’d give them a choice. Either die as a man or join Typhon as a freshly made werewolf.”

He shook his head. “People fear death more than anything else, Terry. And that fear can convince them to become monsters. Because of Westina, Typhon had his own personal faction of werewolf soldiers at his command.”

Pop’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “But then she got too high and mighty for her britches. She and her army of dogs tried to stage a coup. Typhon burned every single mongrel except her to the ground. And then afterwards he had all of her teeth pulled out and iron pressed into her gums so they wouldn’t grow back. So that she could never curse another soul again. Effectively neutered, he sent her off in shame. And that was the last time anyone in the organization had seen her. Walking off into the horizon with her tail between her legs.”

“Up until a month ago,” I said. I turned to Sergei, who’d been listening to Pop’s story in silence. “Any idea why she’d show up now? Hit Swindle specifically?”

“Of that I don’t know,” Sergei said a tad too quickly. “Yet I have sent a few of my students to scope out the town. Strictly for reconnaissance. No direct contact was to be made. Yesterday Vasily and Hrein returned. The bandits have set up a camp a day’s travel from here. All that they stole from Swindle is still with them. It is my belief that they intend to raid the town once more before departing.”

“Either that or Kestral’s going to try and recruit the townsfolk she cursed,” Pops said. “She told me once that it was much easier after they’d experienced the pain of the first change. That they’d do anything to make it easier, to be able to master the transformation.”

“Yeah but you said Typhon Lee took away her teeth,” I pointed out. “How is she changing people now?”

“Magic?” Pops offered halfheartedly.

“Speaking of Lee,” Sergei said carefully. “I respect the man but I refuse to align myself with his organization. So far he has honored my wishes. Yet I do not wish to press me luck, or risk the independence of my students, by owing him or those under his employ any favors.”

He looked pointedly at Pops as he said this. Pops scoffed and waved a dismissive hand.

“Yet if what Popovic says is true, then I will show no such hesitation in owing you, Terry, a favor in the future. That is, if you manage to eradicate these bandits and restore peace to Swindle.”

I stared at him, at a loss. It took me a second to regain my bearings. “Wait.” I pointed to the door. “You have hundreds of super monks out there. Why not send them?”

Sergei’s eyes fell to his lap. “Because they are my sons,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather them die a man’s death then potentially be swayed by that beast woman into becoming monsters.”

The sincerity in his words hurt my heart. Was that what having a parent would be like? Having someone care whether you lived or died. I knew Pops cared about me. But it was more like the way a kid cares about a toy. The moment I broke, he’d throw me aside and get a new one.

I exhaled deeply. “Okay. I’ll do it.” I got to my feet and hitched my guitar case up. “On the condition that, when I make it back,” I pointed an accusatory finger at Pops, “I can use this place to get away from him. At least for a little while.”

Pops pressed his metal hand to his heart. “Terry, that really hurts,” he whined. “And here I was considering getting you a new kitty for your birthday.”

“I hate cats,” I said coldly.

Plus you’d probably make me kill it anyway.

I held my hand out to Sergei.

Yet the monk hesitated.

“If or when you officially join Lee’s organization, I will not object to upholding this deal,” he said slowly and clearly, like one might read aloud a binding contract. “Yet if you bring chaos into my monastery, or I get any inkling that you are trying to recruit any of my students to his cause, I will show you no mercy, Terrance Guiser.”

“Life hasn’t shown me any mercy,” I told him. “Why should I expect any different from you?”

That actually brought a smile to his aged face.

We shook hands.

I had the monastery to my back as the first rays of dawn began to shine across the horizon.

#

Swindle had clearly been a wreck even before the werewolf lady decided to stop on by. The town itself was composed of thousands of colorful shacks, all decorated with tacky decorations, doodads, and all manner of merchandise. Even with the steady fall of snow, vendors were still screaming at the top of their lungs, showing off their wares to passerbyes who had the misfortune of wandering too close.

I was one such victim. A dark, elderly woman kept trying to sell me “performance enhancers.” No matter how hard I tried to get away, she just kept chasing after me, saying that it was my duty as a man to satisfy my woman. She screamed over me when I tried to tell her that I didn’t have a woman or any plans on getting one anytime soon. Yet the lady was persistent. I ended up coughing up seven silver just get her to shut up and leave me alone. I watched her go, jar of orange dirt in hand.

“You and I seriously have different definitions of ‘good people,’ Sergei,” I muttered, stuffing the jar into my coat. I’d give it to Pops. If I was lucky it’d do something potentially harmful to the perverted dwarf’s bits.

I then made my way towards the heart of Swindle. The deeper in I ventured, the more and more signs of vandalism I noticed. The heavy smell of smoke still lingered in the air even after a month. Shacks blackened. Some of them had caved in on themselves. Despite the cold season, I spotted a crow here and there picking at burned down tombs. Likely trying to get to the bodies that hadn’t been scavenged out yet. I drew a bandana from my coat pocket and wrapped it around the lower half of my face to ward off the lingering smell of death.

Near half an hour in was when I found the first claw marks in the street. I hunkered down and ran my fingers across it. Five marks. The width of each twice that of my thumb. More marks like it kept going down the street before abruptly stopping. I guessed that this was the point where Kestrel had changed back to human and rejoined her posse with the loot. I stood up and looked around. Any and all bodies had either been burned or buried. Any more clues I could have found had already been stripped from the scene, either by street rats or, maybe, a few members of Westina’s gang coming back to do clean up. Nothing more to find here. Yet there was one more thing I wanted to do before checking out the forest.

By the third person I asked, I knew were to go. Though it cost me three silver pieces each. Damn these people knew how to haggle! The shack in question was near the edge of town. Dream catchers adorned the walls and windows. They were well crafted and decorated with dyed bird feathers. Muffled cries sounded out from the back. Never much to mind manners, I let myself in and entered into the back room. A girl was lying on a cot, sweating profusely. She was shirtless except for bandages that covered her stomach and chest. A man and a woman, likely her parents, kneeled over her. The mother pressed a wet cloth to her daughter’s brow while the father stared on, looking dejected.

I knocked on the doorframe.

“Um, hello.”

The man and woman jumped. The woman immediately leaned across her daughter protectively while the man got to his feet. “What do you want?!” he screamed at me. “We already told you no!”

He moved to shove me. I sidestepped him, ducking further into the room. He stumbled forward and then whirled around, eyes livid. “She’s my daughter!” he screamed, charging at me, his fist raised. “Not a monster!”

He was emotional. He wouldn’t have noticed a cow if it had spontaneously appeared in the room and mooed in his ear. It was all too easy to duck his punches. I then grabbed both his arms and slammed him to the ground. I placed my foot between his shoulder blades and gave his arms a twist. Not enough to break them but enough to let him know that I could if I really wanted to.

“Are you Renn Wormwood?” I asked calmly while the woman sobbed.

“Y-yes,” he murmured, half his face pressed to the floor.

I looked to the girl. “And that’s your daughter. Bunny.”

“Yes,” he said again.

“A month ago she was attacked by a werewolf,” I said. “She and dozens other like her are about to change tonight.” I looked around the room and spotted thick, rusted chains in the far corner. “And you’re already prepping for it.” I let Renn go. He scurried away back to his wife and child, gasping. “Be easier to kill her.”

A nasty laugh burst from Renn’s lips.

“Easy?” he snarled. “She is my daughter!”

“And in a few hours she’s going to become a blood thirsty dog who’d likely rip both you and your wife’s throats out without a second thought accept, ’Ooh, this is yummy, where can I get more?’” I shot back.

The woman fixed me with a hateful glare.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“A traveling bard,” I lied, jerking a thumb at my guitar case. “And also a werewolf hunter.”

Their eyes widened in horror. I could see both of them getting back up and trying to attack me if I didn’t do damage control real fast. So I said, “Relax. I only kill wolves that have a red ledger. Ones who have already killed people. Your daughter’s safe. From me at least. To everyone else she’s a ticking time bomb.”

I showed them my hands. “But what I’m really after is the type of wolf who doesn’t hunt to kill, but to curse. A month back your town got hit by one such wolf. And I’m here to see if you had any information I could use to track her.”

“Her?” Renn repeated.

“Yeah. Her.” I looked between them. “Did either of you actually see your daughter get attacked?”

They shook their heads.

“No,” the woman said. She reached over and resumed wiping her moaning daughter’s forehead with the cloth. “Bunny liked to sneak out, scavenge. Steal food from other vendors. She knew we weren’t doing so well. So I think…” A fear rolled down her cheek. “She went looking for things to put on the dream catchers, so they’d sell better.”

“They found her among a pile of bodies,” Renn told me. “Clinging to life.”

Okay. Now we were getting somewhere.

“You told me that you’d already told me no,” I said. “Who did you think I was?”

“There are men and a young boy going around town, claiming to have a cure,” Renn said. “But they say the cure’s out of town, a least a week by horseback. All this past month they’ve been going around to the families of the survivors, promising free transport for those who choose to come. They even offered money to the families. They say they have resources to keep the survivors safe during a full moon. Keep them from hurting themselves or others…”
I saw the hope in his eyes. But Renn was a smart man. Even in his grief he knew that-

“It’s too good to be true,” I said. “There has to be catch.”

Renn nodded. He looked over his shoulder at his daughter.

“Three nights out of the month,” he said weekly. “Outside of that, she’ll be my daughter. She is my daughter…My baby Bunny.”

Part of me wanted to call him a fool. Wanted to go over and shoot the girl, put her out of her misery.

But I didn’t.

Whatever monster Bunny Wormwood became it was her parents’ job to deal with. And if they failed, I’d come back. And I would show her no mercy.

I returned my thoughts to the objective at hand. “Do you know where they were supposed to round up the survivors?” I asked Renn.

“A few hours north of here, by the waterfall,” he told me.

With that I thanked them and exited the room.

I was already outside and making my way down the street when his wife suddenly burst through the door. I stopped walking and turned, allowing her to catch up to me. She had a dream catcher in her hand. The yarn was black with dark feathers. She pressed it into my hands and said breathlessly, “Raven feathers.”

“…Okay?”

“The type of feather changes the specialty of the dream catcher,” she explained to me. “Not just dreams. Illness. Death.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, “A dream catcher adorned with raven feathers will cause even death to hesitate in smiting its wearer. If only for a second. And that second-”

“Can mean everything in a fight.” The dream catcher had a noose fashioned at the top. She watched me as I put it on and tucked it beneath my shirt. “Thank you.”

She stared up at me, eyes red and questioning.

Yet her voice was iron as she said, “Kill that b@$&+.”

“I intend to.”

And so back into the woods I went.

#

Walking through the snow, searching for werewolves, got my thinking about Zigzag. He’d been a mutt Pops had found in an alley during one of his missions when I was five. He’d brought it back home (a little pink cottage on a small island in the middle of the ocean) and given him to me to care for. The puppy was lame. Some scuffle with other, bigger dogs had left his hind right leg sticking out at an angle. He could still walk but not run. I’d named him Zigzag because of a lightning-shaped mark on his back.

I loved Zigzag. He was my friend.

Kept me company while Pops was away on missions.

And then one day Pops had come back to the island with another boy. Vincent. He resembled a weasel. It was loathing at first sight. The cottage was already crowded as it was with all of Pop’s inventions and weapons. There was also only two bedrooms, meaning Vincent and I had to share. Usually I cuddled with Zigzag in my arms.

Zigzag saved my life.

Vincent had stolen one of Pop’s small swords, stuffed it under his cot. He’d waited until I was asleep and tiptoed up next to me, sword raised. He would have killed me if Zigzag hadn’t jumped out of my arms and bit his leg, tripping him over. The fall had knocked the sword out of his hand. Instantly wide awake, I dove for the sword and aimed it at Vincent’s throat.

But then I froze.

He had both hands around Zigzag’s throat, squeezing the life out of the puppy’s body. Zigzag didn’t even have enough air to whimper in pain.

“Drop the sword, or I kill the rat,” Vincent hissed.

I looked from him to Zigzag.

And tossed the sword away.

That’s when Pops entered the room. Vincent immediately dropped the dog and pointed to his bleeding leg. “Terry’s dog attacked me!” he whined.

“I saw that,” Pops yawned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He turned to me. “After this little toad here tried to gut you, Terry. But then you had him dead to rights. Why didn’t you take it? Take revenge?”

My bottom lip quivered.

“H-he was gonna hurt Zigzag-”

I didn’t see the punch coming. If it had been from his prosthetic hand, the wall would have been painted with bits of my skull and brain. Yet Pop’s meaty fist still sent me to my knees, made me see stars. Next thing I knew he was standing over me, holding Zigzag over my face by the scruff of his neck. My puppy stared at me with large, brown eyes. He even tried to lick my face, to tell me everything was going to be okay.

“You sacrificed vengeance for this?” Pops asked incredulously. He dropped Zigzag onto my lap. He then went over, retrieved the sword, came back and forced it into my hand. “Kill the dog, Terry.”

I stared at Pops in horror. Vincent had slinked back into the far corner, grinning.

“No, Pops, please!” Tears fell across my cheeks. “But…but Zigzag’s my friend!”

Pops stared at me long and hard before taking the sword from me. “Follow me. Bring the dog.” He glowered at Vincent who quickly stopped smiling. “You stay here. I’ll deal with you later.”

Numb, I followed after Pops, clutching Zigzag to my chest. I followed him down into the workshop. There were other versions of his prosthetic, along with more swords, guns, and a lone guitar case in the far corner. There was a large, metal door at the far end of the room. Pops unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked it. He then walked in, gesturing for me to follow. The room’s walls were adorned with maps and volumes of books. I walked past Pops and turned around in a circle, staring at all the maps and books in wonder.

“You’re not leaving until you kill the dog.”

With that Pops closed the door on me. Leaving me alone in the dark with only Zigzag for company.

There was food. Wartime rations in case of an attack. Me and Zigzag shared them. There was no place to go to the bathroom. Eventually it began to smell. Every morning (at least I think it was morning, there was no way to tell time) Pops would knock on the door and call out, “Dog dead?”

Sometimes I pleaded. Sometimes I lied, told him that Zigzag was already dead. But somehow he always knew I was lying. I spent nearly two months in there.
I loved Zigzag. He was my friend.

But in the end it was either him or me.

#

The waterfall wasn’t too hard to find. Icy water flowed down from it into a ravine that ran through the forest. I approached at a slow, precise pace. In hindsight I needn’t have bothered being quiet. A kid’s incessant wailing drowned out whatever noise I would have made. I crept low and peaked out from behind a frosty bush. Quite a few people had gathered around the waterfall. A few of them wore bandages like Bunny and looked rather sickly. Some were kids, others were elderly. A few family members had come with them to say their heartfelt goodbyes. Either that or collect the money they’d been promised. Yet even the sickliest of the cursed victims wasn’t crying. No they were all staring at the boy a ways off, balling his eyes off.

He stood in between a pair of thugs. They were tall, ugly, and made of muscle. If at least one of them wasn’t at least part orc, than I’m a werechicken. They exchanged wary glances but didn’t comment as the kid continued to cry.

“This is soooo saaaaaaaaad!” he blubbered, rubbing at his puffy face. He was a skinny kid, on the cusp of becoming a teenager. His shaggy brown hair hung over his right eye while a grey sword tattoo marked the left side of his face. “F-families torn apart…I-I c-can’t deal with this!” Snot ran down his upper lip. “I...I…I think I’m gonna cry!!!!”

Neither thug pointed out to the kid that he was already crying.

I rolled my eyes and stepped out from behind the bush. I kept my arms in full view as I approached. Even then the thugs tensed. One of them, the likely part-orc, drew a curved blade from his belt. The kid hiccupped and immediately ducked behind the pair.

“W-who are you?” he squeaked at me.

“Travelling bard,” I told him. “And a wolf.”

“W-wolf?” the kid repeated, eyes growing large.

“Yup. Heard stories that you fellas had a cure.” I showed them my hands. “I’ve got the money and the time if you’re willing to take me in. I’m not so bad in a fight either, if you’re expecting any trouble.”

Hesitantly the kid stepped out from behind the thugs. “W-we don’t want any trouble, mister. We j-just want to help people.” His eyes began to brim with tears again. He rushed at me, arms out. I pushed down the instinct to send him sideways with a kick to the head. His scrawny arms closed around me. He buried his face in my chest, staining my shirt with snot. “Of course we’ll help you!”

“You go through the change yet?” the orcish thug asked, his eyes slits.

“Now, Brody, that’s so rude!” the kid cried. He dislodged himself from my person and clasped his hands together. “B-but he’s got a point, mister. Have you?”

“Kept waking up in the woods around my home, covered in animal guts every month,” I said. “Wasn’t so bad. But then last month I woke up in a farmer’s barn. Ate him, his wife, kids, and his cow. Would’ve been lynched if I hadn’t made a run for it.” I pressed a hand to my heart. “Honestly I’d be content to go on being the way I am if I didn’t have a sweetheart back home. I can’t go back to her a wolf…” My voice broke. “…A monster.”

Some of the women in the crowd who’d been listening in had begun to go teary eyed. Suckers.

“And so I came here, hoping-”

I stopped. The kid was looking up at me, face contorted into an emotional wreck. The sword on his face was scrunched up, now resembling more a crooked cross than a sword. “OF COURSE WE’LL HELP YOU!” he wailed again, throwing his arms around me again.

I’ve never wanted to hit a kid more in my life.

The thugs were clearly wary of me but they held their tongues. Instead the more human looking one called out, “Get your goodbyes out of the way. We need to leave before sunset!”

Final hugs and kisses were exchanged while the thugs went around giving out the money. Meanwhile the kid pulled me towards a trail leading away from the waterfall, deeper into the forest. “I’m Splott, what’s your name?”

“Emilio Abraxas,” I said. Nobody except me and Pops knew my middle name. It wasn’t in Lee’s records as far as either of us knew. As for Abraxas, I just thought it sounded cool. “Pleasure to meet you, Splott.”

“Y-you really mean that?!” he gasped, punching the air with excitement. “Making friends is fun!” Splott blinked and then rubbed at his shoulders anxiously. “I…I don’t have a lot of friends.”

Maybe it’s because you’re a f$~*ing crybaby, I thought. Out loud I said, “Hey, Splott, we need all the friends we can get. How’s about we be pals?”

“Pals?!”

He hugged me again. What was with this kid and hugging?

Soon enough we were being followed by the thugs and the survivors. The part-orc followed at the rear of the group while his partner kept pace with me and Splott. Splott led the way, whining about how scary the forest ways, all the ways you could die, and how saaaaaaaaad he was about what had happened to Swindle. I half-listened to his ramblings, answering politely when he asked a question, always keeping my answers vague if I could, and generally just trying to control my homicidal impulse to shoot the kid in the face. While I did that, I scouted our surroundings. Carriage tracks appeared an hour into the trek, along with boot marks. They were fresh. By the look of them, I guessed that, besides Splott and the two thugs, Kestral had to have at least five or six more goons on her payroll.

This gave me options. My first instinct was to shoot Splott and the two thugs right here and now and follow the tracks back to Westina and the rest of the bandits. Yet I didn’t how long the trail went on for. If it took hours to reach their camp, then I’d likely arrive there after nightfall.

I glanced back to the survivors. They followed, cold, confused, but hopeful for a cure. Even if I managed to kill Westina, I still had them to deal with. I didn’t like the odds of me making it out of the woods with over a dozen fresh-faced, hungry werewolves on my tail.

“Hey, Splott,” I said casually. “People I talked to said you fellas had a way to transport us. Even after we’d changed.”

“Oh!” Splott thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand. He turned around and waved his arms back and forth. “Hey, e-everybody!” He called out. The thugs and the survivors came to a halt. Splott stumbled back under the combined force of their gaze. “…Um…I was…I was supposed to g-give you something…”

He reached into his coat and produced a wrapped package. With trembling fingers he unwrapped it. Revealing a series of small vials. He handed one to me and the rest to the thug standing beside him. “C-can you hand these out, Ivan? Please?”

Ivan took the vials and began handing them out to the survivors. There were a few vials left over, clearly meant for those who had decided to stay in Swindle. He then returned, handing them back to Splott. I looked my own vial over. It was a tiny thing, barely larger than a thimble. It was filled with a clear liquid.

“The cure?” I asked.

“Oh no!” Splott said hastily before the survivors could get their hopes up. He squeaked out to them all, “These are all r-really, really strong sleep potions! T-they’ll knock you out for a whole twelve hours straight. If timed c-correctly they’ll let you all sleep through the entire transformation.” He pocketed the vials left over. “But please take only what we give you. T-too much and it could kill you, so…please don’t steal…I…I…”

His face scrunched up again, his eyes welled with tears.

“I DON’T WANNA SEE ANYBODY DIE!”

Sigh…Have I mentioned that I really wanna kill this kid?

I touched his shoulder. “Splott, it’s getting dark,” I said gently. “Maybe we should get going, buddy?”

He wiped his face on his sleeve and nodded vigorously.

“C-come on! She’s waiting!”

It was at least another hour before we made it to the camp. The sun was dangerously low by this point, and the survivors were eyeing their vials of sleep potion apprehensively. I heard the rest of the bandits well before we saw them. A campfire had been set up, pushing back the falling snow with warm light. I followed close behind Splott, close enough to grab and use as a hostage if need be. Yet he then bounded forward out of my reach, nearly tripping twice, and called out, “We’re here!”

The bandits huddled around the fire, five of them, glanced over, curious. One was another part orc, probably the other thug’s brother or cousin, while the rest were simply grimy, tattooed brutes. One of them, a red-bearded man of maybe forty, had a rifle slung across his back. I made a mental note to take him out first the moment s~++ hit the fan. I wasn’t particularly worried about losing in a gun fight, but I didn’t want Red Beard providing cover for Westina and the others in case they decided to run.

Carriages were parked in the shadows cast by the campfire. Supplies and loot had already been loaded up, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, my eyes were drawn to the iron cages they’d set up. Designed like birdcages, they were covered in frost. Each and every one was the same size: just big enough to house you’re average person, give or take a little breathing room. I wasn’t the only one to notice the cages. The survivors had begun to murmur amongst themselves, with some pointing at the cages, clearly second guessing whether the cure was worth it.

A whistle rang through the camp, immediately killing the whispers.

Amongst the quintet of mean muscles and tattoos, I’d actually overlooked her. She was sitting atop a wooden treasure chest, roasting a slab of meat on a stick over the fire. I guess I’d been expecting an animalistic amazon or something. Instead she was kind of petite. The freckled skin of her face, neck, and arms was pale, shown off by the sleeveless red tunic she wore over dark pants and boots despite the cold. Reddish-copper hair framed her face, with a few tufts standing on either side of her head like dog ears. Half her face was sharp but pretty. The other half was a mess of pink scars. Apparently Typhon Lee had pressed the iron against more than just her gums. She wore an eye patch over her left eye, along with a pair of round reading glasses over both. Her glasses reflected back the fire’s light, making them shine like a wolf’s eyes at night.

Westina handed the stick of meat over to Red Beard and got to her feet. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to your salvation.” Her teeth shined silver as she spoke. Metal dentures I guessed. “I’m sure you have questions-”

“Mommy!”

Splott tackle-hugged her, nearly sending both of them falling over the treasure chest. Yet Westina regained her footing at the last second. A big smile spread across her face as she ran her fingers through Splott’s hair affectionately. “Whoa now, puppy, you trying to kill mama?” she laughed. “You really need to get a handle on those muscles of yours.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Splott said at once. He buried his face against her chest, crying. “I just missed you so much!”

“It’s only been a few hours, puppy,” Westina said tenderly, holding him to her, resting her scarred cheek against the top of his head. “But now we’re together. And you brought new members of the family.”

Her functional eye returned to the survivors. It traveled from one face to the next before finally settling on me.

“As I was saying, you all likely have questions,” she continued. She turned to Ivan and the half-orc who’d walked over to rejoin the circle. “Did you give them the vials?” The pair nodded. “Good, good.” She resumed speaking to the crowd. “Exactly a month tonight you were all attacked by a creature of unrestrained strength and ferocity. A god amongst wolves. The alpha of alphas. And yet you survived to tell the tale. You’re standing before me with that same wonderful power coursing through your veins.”

“Wonderful power?” one of the older survivors, a weathered man, said incredulously. “It’s a g&+~~$n curse!”

There were nods of agreement amongst the survivors. I watched on, trying to keep my face as blank and unopinionated as possible. Yet I couldn’t help noticing how dark the sky was now. The sun’s last rays of light were quickly fading. Soon enough the moon would be out. Full and ivory and the trigger to unleashing the beasts inside these people’s souls. I crossed my arms across my chest, keeping my hands as close to my guitar case as possible. All while keeping my eyes focused on Westina.

She gently dislodged herself from her son and climbed up on top of the treasure chest. “I speak now to all the women in the crowd. Those who’ve had lovers. Did it not hurt that first night? Did you not bleed? Yet eventually-well, if your partner was at least adequate at it-the pain was replaced by orgasmic bliss-”

“Mom, this is so embarrassing!” Splott whined, covering his ears. “I don’t like thinking about you having s-sex!”

“Shhh, puppy, mommy’s making a point,” Westina muttered out of the corner of her mouth. She then said to the crowd, “Pain is a part of change. We have given you each a vial to stave off consciously experiencing tonight’s transformation. You will each be given two more vials, one for tomorrow and the night after. Yet the following month there will be no such reprieve. You will experience the glory, the power of being a wolf.”

“B-but what about the cure?” one of the women called out.

Westina’s smile died, replaced by a blank, scarred stare as she said what all of the survivors had known all along to be true, “There is no cure.”

In unison the bandits by the fire got to their feet. Red Beard drew his rifle. A few of the survivors had edged back the moment Westina had made her confession, on the cusp of running. They hesitated at the sight of the man’s gun. A few of the survivors, not all of them women, had begun to cry. A few of them were glaring at Westina and the bandits.

I put on a sad face for show. The crestfallen expression of a lonely man who would now forever be separated from his lover blah blah blah. I even pumped out a single tear for dramatic effect.

Westina’s smile returned. “Yet that does not mean all is lost,” she assured the crowd. “We are taking you all to an isolated location, where you can all train to harness this power. Where there will be no chance of any of you harming innocents.” She raised a finger. “I will not lie to you and say that it will be an easy process. Or a quick one. But I will never give up on you. Of that I promise. For I will guide you into becoming the best that you can be.”

Her smile widened, flashing her metal teeth.

“As any mother should.”

The survivors exchanged glances amongst themselves. Gradually the fight or urge to run left their eyes. They gave in to despair. And this despair slowly convinced them to take this woman’s offer. To join her pack.

Ivan touched Westina’s shoulders.

“Ma, it’s almost time,” he said, eyeing the sky.

Westina nodded eagerly. “Right, right!” She pointed at the surrounding cages. “Now, everybody, jump into these transportation units we’ve set up for you. It doesn’t matter who gets into which. They’re all roughly the same. My men will lock you in, just to be on the safe side. And once you’re all inside, you’ll drink your potions. After that we’ll be off and you’ll all wake up to sunrise in no time.”

With no other options, the survivors did as they were told.

Okay, I thought. Now or never.

I couldn’t get into a cage. I just couldn’t. Even if I faked drinking the potion, they’d all figure out I was a fraud when I didn’t change. So I hung back, pretending to readjust my boot while the others climbed in. Red Beard eyed the crowd, clearly looking for the first sign of deserters. Eventually his gaze landed on me and his finger slipped over the trigger of his gun. I flashed him an apologetic smile and straightened up. But instead of heading towards the carriages, I approached Westina and Splott.

Splott was talking excitedly to his mother, talking about how scary the forest was, all the ways you could die, and how saaaaaaaaad he was about what happened to Swindle. Westina listened to his rambling, looking amused. “It was necessary, puppy,” she said gently, tracing his tattooed cheek with her thumb. “And look at all the new friends you’ll have now. New brothers and sisters. Won’t it be great!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ivan suddenly stepped into my path. He glowered down at me. Damn. Up close he sure was ugly. And his head was too small for his body. Or maybe his body was too big for his ugly face. Tomato, tomahto? “Hey, quit staring at me, pretty boy. I asked you a question.”

“Your head’s too small,” I decided. “Probably because you’ve got a tiny brain.”

His eyes became livid. He grabbed me by my shirt collar, yanking me a full foot off the ground, guitar case and all.

“Care to repeat that?” he growled, peppering my face with spit.

My hand was already in motion, reaching into my coat for one of the sound grenades, when Splott suddenly cried out, “Ivan, p-put Mister Emilio down right now!...P-please.”

Ivan glared at me a second longer before slowly lowering me back onto my feet.

He then stepped aside to let Splott through. The kid tackle-hugged me. Again with this kid and all the g#%+#&n hugging!

He pulled me over towards his mother, who watched us approach with a guarded but curious expression. “This is Mister Emilio, mom,” Splott told her. “He’s not from Swindle. He’s a bard. He ate a family and c-cow.” Splott suddenly looked up at me, mortified. “Mister Emilio! If there’s no cure, you can’t go back to your girlfriend!”

I put on a defeated but resigned posture.

“I…I guess not,” I said quietly. “But I figure she can do better than some outlaw wolf like me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Westina said, looking me up and down with her eye. There was a hungry look in it that seriously creeped me out. She pointed at my guitar case. “Do you just play, or do you sing as well?”

“I don’t sing well in front of crowds,” I told her. “Not without at least a few drinks in me. And even then ‘well’ might be pushing it.”

That made her laugh.

“Mister Emilio and I are gonna be best friends!” Splott declared.

“Is that so?”

“Yup!”

Westina continued to smile as she looked around the camp. The last of the survivors had been locked up in their cage. That just left me. “How long have you been a wolf, Emilio?” she asked me.

“Like I told your son, not long,” I said. “Didn’t even mind it at first but…Well, you can’t unkill a family. Or a cow for that matter.”

“No. You can’t,” she said in a faraway voice. “And yet that fool Popovic sent you here to kill mine.”

Both semi-orcs jumped me from behind. Or they would have if I hadn’t grabbed Splott and swung him around, slamming his feet into their faces. He screamed out in panic while the thugs stumbled back, more surprised than in any real pain. Yet I barely paid them further mind. I drew a pistol from my back, tucked into the waistband of my pants, and aimed it around, locking it on Red Beard just as he trained his rifle on me.

“Mister Emilio!” Splott cried as I wrapped my free arm around his neck. “W-why are you doing this-Gah?!”

I tightened my hold on the kid, enough to shut him up. Westina’s bandits circled around me, weapons drawn. I couldn’t take my eyes off Red Beard without him shooting me. And I couldn’t reach for a grenade without letting go of Splott, who right now was my only trump card in this situation.

It was blurry and vague but I saw Westina cross her arms over her chest through my peripheral vision. “It’s been over a decade but I never allowed myself to forget that nasty dwarf’s stench,” she said. “Him or any of Lee’s other generals. So imagine my disgust when I smell this one-armed traitor enter this forest, walk alongside my son, with the obvious intent to kill me and all my kin.” Her voice raised an octave, became inquisitive. “But you’re no dwarf. And definitely no wolf. And I don’t smell the slightest trace of Typhon Lee on you. No matter how hard or often you washed, boy, that’s one scent you could never hide from me. You’ve never even stepped foot in the dragon’s presence, have you?”

“I’m my own man,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t work for any dragon.”

“Oh, is that so?”

She stepped around her thugs and into my line of sight.

“Then either you’re incredibly brave, Mister Emilio. Or incredibly stupid.”

“Not too stupid to figure out your game,” I said, tightening my hold on Splott. The kid’s wet eyes were bulging out of his head and face was going purple. “With your teeth gone, you can’t curse anybody. That’s why you let loose the kid here. He goes wolf in the middle of town, letting your band of thieves here loot the shops while everybody’s either panicking, running, or dead. Then you kidnap those bitten, luring them out with promises of a fake cure.

“You managed to catch a few new wolves this time, meaning you’ll have to use one of them to infect more people after I break your son’s neck.” I let the threat hang in the air for a moment before saying, “Unless you tell your thugs to back down. Now.”

Westina stared at me long and hard.

Her eye then flickered to Splott’s terrified, oxygen deprived face.

“Do as Mister Emilio wants, boys,” she called out. “Go. Ready the carriages and make sure our guests drink their potions. My son and I will join you shortly.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “In a fashion.”

Red Beard immediately lowered his weapon. The other men also lowered their weapons and backed off. A few of them were grinning as they hurried off towards the carriages. I kept my gun aimed at the back of Red Beard’s head, yet something didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel in control. Not one bit. I lessened my hold on Splott a tad, enough so as to keep him mildly alive for the moment. His head lolled sideways, eyes staring into the back of his head. Yet, even unconscious, the kid was still crying. “Mama…Mama…”

Westina ignored her son’s pleas. Didn’t move to help him. Instead she said, still wearing that almost-smile, “You’ve no idea who you have there, do you?” she chuckled. “Popovic would. Or at least, he’d have put two and two together. But if he’s really the one who sent you here to hunt me, so unprepared, then he’s one crappy advisor.”

Tell me about it, I agreed in my head.

Out loud I kept quiet, slowly dragging Splott back towards the forest. I doubted Westina or her thugs would let me get that far, but I at least wanted to get into a position where I could see them all, especially Red Beard. Some of the survivors were watching me and Westina from inside their cages, gripping the bars anxiously. I couldn’t tell who had and hadn’t already drunk their potion. If I was lucky they’d all be going unconscious in a few minutes. Otherwise…

“Let me tell you a little draconic history, Mister Emilio,” Westina began.

I shot her. Twice. In the chest.

And then dropped Splott and ran.

Hey, some people are willing to hold their ground and go down swinging, willing to die with honor rather than embrace their inner b~%#@. More than half of those guys end up in a grave. Me? I like living. Maybe I don’t like the particular life I was dealt, but I enjoy eating a good meal, taking a long nap, and pumping out a decent s$&+ as much as the next guy. So for the sake of that next awesome crap I booked it the hell out of there.

Red Beard moved immediately, just as I’d expected. I ducked and rolled onto my back. His bullet grazed the side of my head. Warmth spread down along my temple. He was a good shot.

But I sent my bullet through his right eye. I think that’s more than enough to prove me the better marksmen. Especially with all the blood and bits of brain that splattered across the carriage behind him. His lifeless body slumped forward onto the ground.

Westina’s body had done the same, her glasses having been knocked off by either the first or second bullet. And for all her talk of being a “family” her thugs barely paid her or Red Beard a second glance as they boarded the carriages and ushered the horses into motion. Only Ivan looked back, specifically at Splott, still unconscious and crying on the ground.

And then he smiled at me.

You asked for this, that smile said.

I watched them head out, keeping my gun at the ready until the sound of horses died out completely, and then scrambled back to my feet, started running in the opposite direction-

The clouds parted, releasing moonlight across the camp ground.

Westina’s body shuddered. Her eye rolled around in its socket before finally fixing on the full moon above. Blood seeped from the bullet wounds in her chest. Accompanied by two muffled pops, the bullets I’d put in her were pushed out. A wicked smile spread across her lips as she front flipped back onto her feet. For a moment her face was hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Everything except for a glowing yellow eye.

“Next time, aim for the head,” she cackled.

My hands were already in motion, dropping my pistol and drawing my rifle from inside my guitar case and then aiming it at her face. “I’ll keep that in mind this time,” I said darkly.

Her smile widened, revealing fanged teeth.

“Oooooooh this is going to be fuuuuuuun!”

Before meeting the monks I would have been caught off guard by what happened next, shocked that a person could move that fast. She was already behind me by the time I got the first shot off. I ducked. Her arms grazed the top of my head as she tried to wrap them around my neck. With no time to turn around, I elbowed her in the chest, right where I’d shot her. It was like elbowing a wall. The woman was pure muscle. Nearly sprained my arm but it did make her stumble back, giving me enough breathing room to whip around and slam the butt of my rifle across her face.

Red spittle burst from her mouth and across my face. I managed to blink most of it out of my eyes as I jumped away again but my vision now had a nasty red tinge to it. I repositioned my gun in my hands and prepared to unload the whole thing into Westina’s skull.

But she was gone.

A sound that was half cackling and half howling filled the night air.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!” Westina roared gaily. “God, you clever boy, it’s been soooooo long since I’ve felt that womanly urge. But you’re just bringing it out of me! Lay your gun down and I’ll let you lay me down. Fill me up with more than your bullets! Please say yes! Oh please!”

I whirled around, trying to gage out her location from her screaming.

“Considering all of those guys you’re travelling with, I seriously doubt you haven’t let them pass you around, Kestral!” I called out. “And I’m not interested in Ivan’s sloppy seconds, sorry.”

Westina’s laughter gradually died down. When she next called out to me her voice deeper, raspier but no less sensual. “Oh your sweetheart back home doesn’t have a prayer of matching me, Emilio. Or perhaps she’s just another lie you told my son alongside your promise of friendship. If that’s the case, then have you ever truly been in love? Have you known the softness of a woman’s skin or the heat of her sex?”

She sniffed the air extremely loudly for dramatic affect. “No…Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe we have a virgin! Ha-ha, oh, Emilio, that only makes me want to nibble on your bits even more!”

Despite the danger and insanity of the situation I felt myself start to blush.

“H-hey, well, you know what, lady…You can go f+*& yourself!” I yelled back. My voice didn’t crack. I swear!

I took another step back and my left foot bumped against something.

It was Splott, still out cold. His face was drenched in moonlight, with his sword tattoo darkest black against his skin. I frowned. The kid hadn’t started to change yet. Was he not a werewolf after all? Was lycanthropy not inherited from mother to child after all? Was it actually Westina who had cursed the townsfolk? Maybe not with her teeth, but with claws or something? Damnit, the b!@@$ was right!

Damn you, Pops! You’re a horrible werewolf-hunting teacher! Why don’t I know these things when they’re ACTUALLY RELEVANT!

Well maybe you should have done some independent studying, Terrance, a small, snide voice in my head said.

Shut up, I told the voice. Hate that guy.

“Who are you talking to, Mister Virgin?” Westina suddenly asked, bewildered.

Oops. Apparently I’d been saying everything I was thinking out loud.

Totally not embarrassed at all, I pressed the nose of my gun against Splott’s nose.

“Either you come out and take it to the head or your kid does!” I declared.

That same howling cackle of hers rang out. If I wasn’t drenched in cold sweat before I was now. How could she think herself in control of this situation with my gun literally pressed to her son’s head? Did she care for him that little? See him so expendable?

“…Mommy…”

The word was a haunted whisper escaping his lip.

I felt sorry for the kid. But hey, at least I’d been killing him in his sleep. Quick and painless.

“One!” I called out. “Two!”

Westina’s reply was to start whistling.

It started off low and disjointed. If I had been taking a simple stroll through the woods I might have mistaken it for a particularly noisy breeze. But the longer it lasted the more solemn the sound became. Solemn and beautiful and very much like a lullaby.

“…Mommy,” Splott moaned again. “…Don’t…want to…be scary…”

Westina continued her lullaby, whistling it louder. The tempo grew quicker, eager, seeming to fill the entire sky and the stars beyond. It was so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think, let alone scream out, “Three!”

My finger began pressing down on the trigger.

Westina Kestral’s lullaby abruptly became an animalistic howl of rage, sorrow and regret.

Splott’s eyes burst open. They were the same pulsing yellow as his mothers. But with one key difference: the pupils were slits like a snake’s.

The air around him spontaneously burst, sending me flying twenty feet through the air. I landed hard across the treasure chest Westina had been sitting on top of when I’d first arrived. It tipped over, spilling coins and precious jewels across the ground. All very pretty and probably worth a lot, but I barely noticed any of it or the pain spreading across my lower spine. My eyes were fixed on the nightmarish phenomenon coming to life in front of me and I just couldn’t look away.

Little Splott was getting bigger. He’d spasmed over onto his hands and knees. Primal noises burst from his mouth along with-I s&~% you not-small plumes of fire. The skin of his lips cracked while fangs forced their way out of his gums. A violent seizure shook his body, from the tip of his elongating nose to the tail tearing out of his back and through his trousers. His muscles broke down before then being shifted around and quadrupling in size. His shirt and the remains of his pants broke apart at the seams. That gave me a better look at the rest of his morphing body. It was covered in reddish-gold scales, with hot steam rising out of the breaks between them.

Little Splott was gone.

Eaten up by a giant wolf with the eyes, scales, and fire of a dragon. It pushed back onto its hind legs and let loose a draconic howl at the moon. A blast of fire exploded from its mouth, igniting the sky.

I looked from it, down to my gun, and gulped.

“I hate my life.”

And I only hated my life that much more when the wolf sniffed the air in my direction and then locked its eyes on me. Its lips pulled back into an animalistic grin. Hellish light seeped through its fangs.

Throughout all this I hadn’t noticed that Westina had stopped whistling. I caught sight of motion beyond the wolf. Kestral dropped down from a tree, caught hold of one of its branches, and swung herself over. She spun through the air like a dancer, weightless and free, before landing across her bestial son’s shoulders. If the steam coming off his scales hurt her she didn’t show it. No, Westina kept on smiling that wicked smile of hers, like she was the queen of the word.

She stretched out across the wolf’s shoulders lazily. She was almost tiny in comparison to the beast. It continued to glare and growl at me but made no move to attack. At least not yet. “As I was saying, Mister Emilio, you’re seriously behind on your draconic history,” Westina declared smugly, leaning over and kissing her son’s scaled brow. “Specifically what happens when a wolf and a dragon love each other very much and screw like bunnies on and off for years.”

I stared at her and the wolf, realization slowly dawning on me.

“…Splott’s Typhon Lee’s kid?”

I blinked repeatedly at the pair of them.

“How is that even fair?!” I screamed. “A-aren’t there, like, rules of nature against that kind of thing even existing?! I mean, f&@@, lady! I’m just a guy with a gun, guitar, and whole bunch of emotional b$+$!*$&!” I’d started laughing halfway through that last statement. Panicked, giddy laughter that usually only the most chaotic and stressful situations brought out of me. Just like this one. “Okay, seeing as I’m probably about to die no matter what I do, care to explain to a dead man how a dragon werewolf even works?”

Westina perked up. She swung her legs around so that they hung on either side of the dragon wolf’s head. She crossed her arms atop its head and rested her cheek against them. “My puppy’s a lot simpler than you’d think,” she said lovingly. “Since he was born a werewolf, it’s easier for him to transform whenever he wants, regardless if there’s a full moon or not. Or he could if he wasn’t such a timid babe. Yet he can only become a wolf. No more powerful than others of our kind.”

She raised a finger at me.

“EXCEPT on a night of a full moon. During a full moon his father’s side comes out to play.”

“So those people your guys took away,” I called back, slowly getting back to my feet. The wolf’s eyes followed my every movement. “They gonna turn into dragons too?”

“No. Unfortunately,” Westina huffed. “They’re just regular werewolves. Puppy’s dragon half isn’t infectious.”

“But it sure is hot,” I noted. “You and your thugs didn’t set half of Swindle on fire. That was just collateral damage from your bastard’s bad breath.”

Westina’s smile faltered.

“You really are a smart cookie, Mister Emilio,” she said, staring at me pensively. “I could use a man like you. But not as a man. As a true wolf.” She showed me her hands. “If you drop your gun, I will personally change you. But if you try to fight, I will sick Splott on you. And I assure you, his bite will go far deeper than mine.”
Her smile returned.

“So go ahead and choo-”

A bullet burst from between her eyes and whizzed over my head, the ghost of her last smile frozen on her face. Said face lost all traces of lycanthropy. Her lone eye lost its shine, her teeth shrank. And then Westina Kestral’s corpse fell sideways off the dragon wolf’s back like a ragdoll.

I didn’t get a chance to look at the body for long.

As if in reaction to its mother’s death, Splott the dragon wolf howled and rushed to kill the closest living thing in the area.

Lucky me.

No, but seriously, I was lucky that the beast was as big as it was. Its size kept it from moving as fast as its mother. It gave me time to swing my rifle up and shoot. My bullets shot straight towards its face, between its snake eyes-

Its mouth shot open and puked up a geyser of fire. The flames consumed my bullets whole. “S&*%!” I ducked and rolled to the side. The spot I’d just been standing in might as well have been struck by a bomb. A flaming crater and a few scraps of coin and jewels were all that remained.

Wait. Bomb.

I had one shot. This wasn’t a gun fight. I wasn’t going to win with bullets. And if the wolf managed to get its teeth in me I was a roast turkey at worst and looking forward to a lifetime of dog training at best. I reached into my coat, yanked out a grenade, and chucked it at the wolf. The sound from the explosion would distort its heightened sense of hearing and give me a chance to run.

That was the hope at least.

That hope imploded when I saw what I’d actually thrown.

It was the jar of performance enhancers.

“…No…”

The cry escaped my lips just as the jar smacked across the dragon wolf’s face. Its head lurched in my direction, mouth opening again to breathe fire at me-And then it rolled over, wagging its tail happily. It scratched at its own face and neck. A roaring purr filled its throat. It continued on for a few minutes longer before the fierce, indestructible, apex of apex predators, the dragon wolf rolled over and fell asleep.

I stared at the giant mass of fangs and scales, beyond confused.

“…The hell…?”

That’s when I noticed that the inside of my coat was wet. I reached in, past the two sound grenades, and came away with the remains of the vial Splott had given me. The stopper had come off. There were also bits of orange dirt in the same pocket. Apparently my fall had knocked the “performance enhancer” and the sleeping potion together, tainting the former with the latter. And I’d thrown this mixture at Splott by mistake…

“Maybe…” I licked my lips. “Maybe-”

“Maybe the gods don’t hate you after all, Terry!” a male voice laughed across from me, from inside the forest. After a moment a dwarf caked head to toe in mud walked out, a giant rifle slung across his thick shoulders.

“Pops?” I said, blinking repeatedly at him.

He beamed at me. Or at least I think he did. It was hard to tell through all the mud. “Good show, kid!” he said, making his way over. Even with the rifle, and the beast currently unconscious, he walked the long way around the dragon wolf. “Ridiculously dumb luck saved your ass at the end there, but you were doing swell before then. For the most part.”

My eyes became slits as I watched him approach.

“You were tailing me,” I hissed.

“Naturally,” Pops said. He gestured to himself with his prosthetic hand. “Next time, when dealing with werewolves, swim in mud first. It hides your scent. Makes it easier to get the drop on ‘em-”

“Thanks for telling me that NOW!” I roared. Rage and leftover adrenaline was making my hands shake. I wanted to hit him. No, I wanted to shoot him! But I didn’t trust myself to make the shot that I’d been dreaming of since I was five. “So what’s all this really about?”

“Westina,” Pops answered. He walked past me and ventured into the crater the dragon wolf’s fire had made. He shifted through the treasure that was left. He eyed a few diamonds and such before finally pocketing a small metal object, seemingly for the hell of it. “Mostly. Mostly for her. And partly to take the long lost prince home.”

“Splott,’ I said, looking towards the wolf. “…Is he really…? Is that really Typhon Lee’s son?”

“Y’know, until tonight that was in doubt,” Pops said, climbing out of the crater. “But thanks to you, kid, that’s no longer the case.”

“I see,” I said. “So I was bait.”

Pops didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it either.

He leaned in and smelled me. “Whatever you threw at Kestral’s bastard sure does smell delicious. After we chain him up, you’ll have to introduce me to that vendor lady-”

“No time,” I growled, looking around anxiously. “Kestral may be dead and the monster down, but her thugs are still out there. They might be back any second now-”

“No they won’t,” Pops said.

The finality in his voice left no question as to what he meant.

“You killed them,” I said quietly.

He nodded, beaming with pride. “And all the pups too.”

I stared at him. And as I did I recalled the sadness and desperation worn by those Splott had cursed. I recalled their hope that Westina had actually had a cure. And then the resigned despair when she had revealed it all to be a sham. I didn’t know them. Didn’t remember the finer details of their faces. But even though a large chunk of me knew that Pops had made the right choice to kill them, keep them from hurting anyone else, the rage in my heart doubled.

“…What about the others,” I asked slowly. “The ones who stayed back in town.”

Pops shrugged. “Figured we’d chain the kid up and finish them off on our way through town. Start with that little girl-”

I shot him.

Or at least I tried to.

He was faster.

He moved forward just as I raised my gun. And even though I saw it coming, the five-year old in me panicked, allowing his fist to connect with the side of my face. Now I’ve been hit plenty of times since our spat over Zigzag. Especially by Pops. But this time he didn’t hold back. The blow knocked me off my feet and my gun out of my hands. I landed across the scorched grass with a heavy thump. And then a second thump followed as Pops jumped on top of me, having dropped his own rifle. His eyes were hollow as he brought his fist back.

“No mercy,” was the last thing he said before beating me to the brink of death.

#

I woke up some time later in a bundle of blankets. A boy with a shaggy brown mop of hair was running a hot wash cloth across my face. I stared at him dumbly with my right eye seeing as my left one was completely swollen shut. Everything hurt, especially my head. I was in near agony as it took everything in me to move my lips and say, “…Hey…”

The kid stared at me while rinsing the wash cloth behind him on the stone floor. The cloth was stained a light pink. He opened his mouth to speak but a steady voice suddenly said, “Good. You’re finally awake. You may leave us, Gregor.”

The kid hurried back to his feet, bowed to whoever had entered the room, and left. I wasn’t too surprised when Sergei walked over to my side and sat cross-legged next to me.

“Hello, Terry,” he said gently.

There were so many questions I wanted to throw at him. How did I get back to the monastery? Where was Pops? Or Splott, Typhon’s dragon-werewolf son? Were you playing me this whole time, Sergei? Along with Pops? And what are you going to do with me now that I’ve caught on to your little game?

But I was in too much pain and too tired to try. I turned my gaze towards the ceiling.

“I’m sure you have questions,” Sergei said. When I didn’t make any gesture that I’d heard him he went on, “As do I. Two days past Popovic returned, with you bloody and beaten to near death. He told me that you’d killed Westina but that her band of bandits had cornered you. That they would have killed you if he hadn’t arrived in time. Does any of this ring true?”

Again I gave him nothing.

“Popovic left yesterday, to inform Lee of Kestral’s death,” Sergei said. “He asked me to look after you. And I gladly will. Beyond it being part of our deal, you did this monastery a great service, Terry. More than you know. Not to mention all the souls you both avenged and saved from that woman’s wickedness.”

Westina Kestral’s face flashed across my eyes. But not the bestial, cackling woman bathed in moonlight. Instead I saw the mother holding her crybaby son to her chest with love in her eyes. That mother was dead now. But what of her son? Had Pops killed Splott or taken him to dad…?

More questions that I just didn’t have the energy to ask and I was pretty sure Sergei didn’t have the answers to.

“All of your equipment is here, along with a hefty sum of gold Popovic took from the bandits. You can stay here for as long as you wish, until you see fit to return to your master-”

“…He’s not…my f#%@ing…master.”

It took everything in my being to pack in as much rage and hate into those words as I did. And even then it wasn’t enough. And it never would be. I’d been played like a sucker. And as I lay there, battered and beaten, I made a vow never to trust anyone again.

Not Sergei. Definitely not Pops. No one.

Ever.

I could have had the same issues, but Daddy and Momma had made sure that I knew what I’d need to know before packing me off to Golarion for my little sabbatical that turned into trying to save the world. I felt bad for the princess.

“In the land of dreams,” I said, “there is no one who can keep her safer. Perhaps a god could threaten her, but I can’t imagine any of those will get involved.”

“I see,” the girl said, frowning.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“It is still much to take in. I… do not disbelieve you. But to think, everyone I know is dead. Even those who were not murdered have died of old age.”

“You do have a relative still alive,” Burin said cheerfully.

Anastasia sighed. “Yes, my grandmother, the witch from folk tales. And she is stuck in a doll.”

“It is not so bad, being alone. You get used to it. Also, we are working on freeing your grandmother,” Gregor said.

“How exactly are you working on it? I see nothing but idleness. You play cards, and yet you call that working?”

“We can do nothing while we travel,” Gregor said defensively. “So we must train. As the body is trained, so too must the mind. And the cards are part of that training.”

“They are games for children!” she countered.

“Games are training!” Gregor argued.

The two continued bickering like that for several minutes before Greta had enough. “Stop it, both of you!” she said, growling. “I have not torn out your throat out of respect for your grandmother. But it has grown annoyingly loud in here since you arrived.”

Things devolved from there, in general. I don’t think she expected Greta’s reaction to being called a b&+~$ – it doesn’t bother her, as technically, well, you know. But what killed the argument was when she condemned me and Greta for “living in sin” and I told her suggestively that she was welcome to come discover what she was missing. After that, she stormed out to go sleep in the library. Gregor was angry with us for ganging up on her, though I think he was mostly annoyed that we didn’t leave the fight to him.

After she was gone, the boys continued their game with the Coffin Man while Greta and I went to bed. Getting into an argument had fired up my wife and she had some aggression to work off. I was more than happy to help with that.

I woke up early the next morning to a familiar sound from the living room. It took a few moments for my brain to register what I was hearing, but when I did, I quietly got up and crept over to the door, peeking out.

It seems that even here, no one wakes up earlier than children and old people. And so it was that I found Emily and the Coffin Man watching cartoons while the rest of the house slept. He was seated in a rocking chair while she was on the floor staring raptly at the screen, her mouth moving along with the words of the theme music.

Sometimes I forget that she’s younger than she looks, thanks to her body aging while her soul was trapped elsewhere. Her body might be around thirteen, but her mind is closer to ten years old. And I hadn’t been much younger when I’d watched that particular show with Daddy.

I quietly closed the door and got changed, my clothes taking the appearance of the costume worn by the show’s protagonist. I then crept out and took a seat in another chair behind the girl, motioning for the Coffin Man not to say anything. Then I watched along, waiting for the episode to finish. I was in luck. This was the one where the credits were to the opening theme instead of the instrumental ending because of certain events that transpired in the show.

So I sang along, waiting for the right moment to join in with Emily, who was already singing along. “She will never turn her back on a friend. She is always there to defend. She is the one on whom we depend…”

About that time, Emily turned around and noticed what I was wearing. “Miss Lyriana!” she gasped. “You’re…”

“An old fan,” I said. Not of the original. The animation was too bad for me even as a kid. No, I liked the remake that was released back in the summer of twenty nine. “I watched this show back when I was about your age.

“I… wow!”

I grinned. “So you like this one?” I asked.

“She’s a hero,” Emily said with a nod.

“I see…” So she was still serious about being a hero. “She’s also really good at magic,” I said. A thought occurred. “You wanna see a show about a girl who summons monsters to fight evil?”

Her eyes went wide. “There’s a show like that?!” she gasped.

Actually, I could think of at least half a dozen that loosely worked on that kind of premise. But I knew just the one. The main character was a princess, after all. It was perfect.

The Coffin Man took our choice to watch such kids’ fare like a champ. I mean, he was also traveling through time, so this was all new to him too. It was a little creepy how he identified with the evil spirit that had granted the main character magic through a pact, though.

Greta joined us about an hour later, kissing me on the top of my head as she came to see what we were watching. At that exact moment, the show introduced the main character’s second love interest – the cyborg. Greta stared at him for a moment. I couldn’t blame her. For an animated character, he’s pretty hot. And shirtless in that scene too.

“Is that possible?” she asked.

“I mean, yeah, I guess you could kill a dragon that big with that much plasma,” I said. “Maybe not a red or blue. But a black dragon like that wouldn’t have any immunity to fire or electricity.”

“No,” Greta said. “His arm…”

Oh. Right. The character had his arm replaced with a robotic one. I’d been waiting to talk to her about that, when I was more sure of myself. “I’ve actually been thinking of making one for you,” I said. “I just wasn’t sure I would be able to properly implant it, so I’ve been waiting until my magic headband made me a good enough surgeon that I could implant it with no trouble.”

“I could help with that,” Terry said from the door to his room.

I mean, he was a decent battlefield surgeon, but this was some delicate work. “You sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. I got something called a PhD now, so I think I’m qualified.”

“Wait, what?” I was mystified.

“I asked the mirror how to make money, and it suggested I get this PhD thing. So I did. I had to learn a lot. Not sure how it’ll make me any money, though.”

I just stared at him for a moment, then I remembered something Emily had said when we first revived her. “‘I’ve seen one of those before. But there were a lot of naked people in the mirror.’ She was remembering you studying anatomy, not watching pornography,” I said as realization hit. I was almost disappointed in him.

“Porno-what?” he asked.

“Never mind,” I said. “Back to the arm. It’ll be made of modern materials, lightweight and strong, with artificial muscles and everything. Also, I think we can make it shapeshift when you take your wolf form.” That part had surprised me, but Cortana had suggested it. Apparently it was based on something Daddy was working on, some kind of shapeshifting armor for someone he knew that was both a dragon and a paladin. Yeah, I don’t know.

But it would work for Greta, and that was awesome.

So I went over to the box and activated the crafting function. It had the specs for the last thing made still loaded – some kind of magic shovel. It was collapsible for easy storage and had what the specs described as a “point and dig interface”. It could excavate a hundred and twenty five cubic feet of dirt in six seconds.

Basically, it was an unlimited use magic wand capable of casting a first level spell. And Burin had created it for digging. Some things never change.

We scanned Greta’s other arm and used that as a template, then made the other one. It took only moments before we were staring at a perfectly crafted limb made of dull gray metal. The end was a mass of nano fibers, artificial nerves that hopefully would be woven into Greta’s own nervous system, allowing her to control the arm as if it were her own natural limb.

It all happened so fast. It took hours, but it seemed like only minutes later, Greta was lying on the table unconscious while Terry and I finished attaching her limb and injected her with several doses of nanites. And then the waiting began. We would have to wait for her to wake up, since we couldn’t use nanites to do it without risking interfering with the other nanites already at work.

To distract myself, I worked with Cortana to make Greta a new weapon. She’d used that big axe when I first met her, but I wasn’t sure she’d have that much coordination for a while. Something one handed, maybe. I browsed through the weapons catalog, until finally finding something I liked. The label on the file called it a Sun Blade. But it had some problems.

First of all, it was a sword, and my lovely barbarian wife seemed to like axes. That was an easy fix. The paperclip made that switch easily. Next came the hard part. You see, a sun blade is made to be wielded by Good creatures, like angels and paladins and such.

Greta… is a winter wolf. They’re not known to be Good. It’s possible she’s Neutral, but let’s be honest, she’s probably Evil. Which I can work with. I like bad girls just fine, and she’s always treated me well. But the weapon wouldn’t work for her. So that had to go. It was intrinsically linked to the weapon’s properties, though, so it had to be altered, rather than removed. So next it became an Evil weapon. Burin wouldn’t be able to wield it, though it would likely be useable by Gregor or Terry if they wanted, since I’m sure they’re both at least Neutral.

Altering the alignment had also altered the sunlight power, so instead of producing light, the axe made the air around it colder. That wouldn’t bother Greta or me, and everyone else was wearing gear that would protect them against such effects. So that was fine.

All that was left to have the weapon made. I told Cortana to begin. “Error!” the paperclip shouted as the process started. “Crafting unstable! Power draw greater than expected. Compensate?”

“Do it!” I shouted. Cortana looked at the clip and nodded.

I thought the box was going to explode, but moments later, there was a ding like a microwave timer and a burst of mist. When that cleared, there it was, a beautiful axe the size and shape of one of those larger ones the dwarves use and covered in snowflake filigree. I picked it up, and it was ice cold to the touch, and super light. Like, lighter than mithral. But it felt perfectly balanced. I didn’t dare swing it, for fear that would cause it to react negatively with my alignment. But I could hold it just fine.

After Greta woke up, we tested out her arm and I led her to our room so I could give her my gift. “It is beautiful,” she said. “Almost as beautiful as the one giving it to me.” I blushed as she swung it. “It is very light,” she said, her tone sounding perhaps a bit hurt and almost accusatory. Crap. I had failed to account for her feelings when I’d made it.

“It’s, well, I…” I raced for an explanation. “It’s made to be used one handed,” I said. “It’s just, well, you got hurt, and I was worried. So I was hoping you’d also use a shield.” It was the only thing my mind could come up with that would explain why I’d done it that way without calling into question her abilities. It was my fear – not her strength – that was the issue.

She regarded me for a moment, then smiled. “If it will make you feel better, then I will use a shield,” she said, testing the axe again. “Thank you for the gift.”

I hugged her. “You’re welcome. So, are you going to name it?”

“That is traditionally the job of the smith,” she said.

“Oh. Well, in that case, how does ‘Winter’s Kiss’ sound to you?” I asked.

She tossed the axe aside and pressed me to the wall. “That sounds lovely,” she said, pressing her lips against mine.

An hour or so later, we returned to the common room, where we found Gregor teaching Anastasia and Emily how to bowl in a sports game. It’s just as lame as it sounds. But I have to admit, he’s pretty good at the game. We ended up forming up teams and having a competition, and it was more fun than I expected.

Since there were nine of us, we split into three teams. The Guisers were on one team, then it was Burin, Gregor and Anastasia on team two and Greta, the Coffin Man and I on a third team. Terry, Gregor and the Coffin Man got really into the competition, while the rest of us were just having fun. All in all, Team Guiser won thanks to Anastasia’s low score, followed by Gregor’s team and finally ours, thanks to the penalty incurred for Greta breaking a controller with her new arm.

After that, we switched to boxing competition. Gregor lost his first match Anastasia, who was treating the game like a game, using short, stifled jabs to make the character attack inhumanly fast. Meanwhile, Gregor was performing proper combat maneuvers, which did nothing to benefit him in the game, much to his consternation. In the end, it was Emily versus Anastasia, and the younger girl won, playing the game the same way as Anastasia. She has the eye of the tiger, that one.

After his losses, Gregor stayed up drowning his sorrow in cranberry juice. Burin stayed up with him. From my room, I could hear them talking, and I admit that I listened in. “I find that I do not know what to do next,” the fighter was saying. “Tell me, Burin, what will you do now?”

“Probably return home after we save the world,” the dwarf answered. “I left a lot of work for my cousins. I guess I should get back and carry my share of that load, since I don’t have the demon to worry about. What are you going to do?”

“I… do not know. I am thinking perhaps I will rebuild Sergei’s monastery. Or perhaps travel the world to become stronger first. Freedom… is a daunting prospect. It is perhaps not good to have so many options available before me.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Burin said. “And if you can’t, I can always use help back at home. I’ve been meaning to rebuild the wall on the south end of our property for decades. An extra set of hands and a strong back might make the work go quicker, and having someone to talk to while I work will definitely make the work less tedious.”

Gregor laughed. “I suspect you will turn into a dragon and have the work finished in a week.”

“But then I’d have nothing to do,” Burin pointed out.

Gregor made a noise as though he were considering the dwarf’s words. “I will think on this for a time.”

The next morning, I was awoken by a knock at my door. When I opened it, I found Terry there. He was covered in paint and chomping on an apple. “I was just working on repairing and painting Zeus when I heard a noise. Then I went and investigated, and found our wives in the library. They were going at it pretty hard.”

I’m pretty sure my eyes went wide at his words. I mean, I know you know what I thought he meant. I know I almost fell running to the library, slipping on the wood floor in my socks. Then I threw open the library door to find…

A normal sized wolf and a manticore the size of a puma chasing each other around the library, attacking each other without doing any real harm to the other. “Oh!” Emily said from where she, Anastasia and Burin were watching the fight. “Sorry, Miss Lyriana, did they wake you?” Apparently she and Burin had cast spells to shrink Greta and Persephone to make better use of the smaller space.

I sighed, disappointed. “No, it’s fine.”

Gregor, who had heard the commotion, came in the room behind me. “Are we sparring?! Why did no one wake me?!”

That signaled the start of a whole physical fighting tournament. Gregor won that handily, though Burin gave him more trouble than he expected. Then Gregor and Persephone decided that Emily and Anastasia needed combat training.

Have you ever seen kids start martial arts classes? It was like that, but worse, somehow. They sucked. It was so bad that Greta left rather than continue watching. Eventually Emily gave up and went to go play games with the Coffin Man – they were working on getting their fourth gym badge, I think – and even Gregor gave up on training anyone, leaving to go eat.

But Anastasia wasn’t finished. She wanted to make some progress, so she and Persephone continued and I watched. But not because I wanted to see Persephone sweaty and grunting. They just needed someone keeping an eye on them. I was being altruistic.

After another hour, I could see Persephone was ready to give up. She’d been trying to teach the girl to fight with a sword – using wooden practice weapons, of course – and Anastasia just couldn’t master even the simplest of moves.

“Alright,” Persephone said. “One more round, and then we’re calling it a day. I’ll have you down in three seconds.”

Anastasia nodded, then took her stance. There was something different to it. Her shoulders were angled slightly differently from usual, and she held the sword with its tip pointed slightly lower than usual. At first, I thought she was just worn out. But then Persephone charged…

And Anastasia surprised both of us by dropping low and kicking the legs out from underneath Persephone. She wasn’t able to capitalize on the maneuver though, and Persephone leapt to her feet and still won the match. Still… it was pretty impressive.

“I didn’t teach you that,” Persephone said.

“I… saw Gregor do it during training.”

“Oh?” Persephone asked, her eyebrow raised as she shot me a knowing look. I caught the implication immediately. Oh my. “So you’ve been watching him train?”

“No, well, I…” the girl stammered. “There is nothing else to do here!” she complained.

Persephone put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “There’s no need to be bashful,” she said. “We’re all girls here. And I think you have excellent taste. You can tell a lot about a girl by the man she watches.”

“By that logic…” I said, pointedly leaving it hanging.

“Hey!” Persephone said defensively. “Terry’s good. Well, kinda.”

“I do not know how I feel,” Anastasia admitted. “Everything is so confusing right now.” And Gregor was the most normal person here, all things considered. I understood where she was coming from.

“I understand,” I said. “But if you decide you do have feelings for him and want to make a move, we’ll definitely support you.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course,” Persephone agreed.

“Now,” I said, “let’s use a little magic and get you both cleaned up. It wouldn’t do to have the boys see you all sweaty.”

“I’m pretty sure that would just turn Terry on,” Persephone said. Ugh. I do not need to have something in common with that psychopath. I didn’t comment aloud. I just started using my magic to clean away their sweat.

No sooner had I finished than there was a commotion from the other room, so we ran to check on it. And you’re not going to believe what we found. I mean, really, I guess, it’s par for the course. We’re pretty weird. But still, come on, this was too much for us.

“I thought violence solves everything?” Persephone asked with a smirk as we all stared at Terry.

Terry flailed, trying to block Zorka’s broom swing. “I just haven’t applied enough violence yet!” he shouted. “Emily, go get my rocket launcher!”

“But I’m fighting the boss right now!” the girl complained.

“Let your friend have a turn and go right now, young lady!”

She rolled her eyes, but handed the Coffin Man the controller and ran off, only to be caught by the collar by her mother. “You are not using that thing in the house.”

Terry rolled his eyes – I wonder where Emily gets it, eh? – and kicked at the kikimora, who dodged back. “Fine! Zeus, sic her!”

The next few moments are a blur, but when it was over, Burin was a dragon – and covered in pudding – I had mashed potatoes in my hair, Zorka had retreated into her little magic hiding hole, Terry’s gun had been knocked from his hand, discharging at Anastasia but luckily Gregor was there to catch the bullet and Persephone was just staring at the chaos with a befuddled look on her face.

We were dead silent and near motionless for nearly a minute when the calm was suddenly broken by the exuberant shout of Emily. “I did it!” she shouted, accompanied by the sound of video game victory fanfare.

It was so absurd, all of it. Of course we all began laughing. And didn’t stop for a solid five minutes. Thankfully, I don’t need to breathe, because I would have passed out if I did.

The next few days were mostly uneventful. We played games. Persephone brokered a truce with Zorka. And we genuinely just rested, even if being stuck in such close proximity was getting a bit grating. And then the hut came to a stop.

Anastasia demanded to come along, and Greta wanted to come as well. With the former not remaining behind, we really couldn’t justify leaving the latter, even despite my worries that she might not be fully recovered. We even invited the Coffin Man, but he said that the terms of his deal with “his cousin” were that he had to remain in the hut. Which was fine, but the way he was looking over at the gaming console while he said it made me wonder if he was being completely honest.

And then we went outside, though Terry realized he’d forgotten something just before we exited and ran back to get it. So we stepped out into the crisp mountain air. Immediately, Gregor seemed surprised. I followed his gaze and spotted the Old Man, the one who had saved us against Typhon Lee so long ago.

“Wait here,” the fighter said grimly as he went over to talk with his temporary mentor, his “god of martial arts”.

As we waited, I looked around. The place was harsh, but peaceful. Even beautiful, in its own way.

We sat in silence, unable to hear the conversation over the winds through the mountain pass. We didn’t even hear the door open behind us. But we did hear Terry let out a whistle of surprise. “Huh. What are we doing here?” he asked.

“You know this place?” Burin asked.

“Yeah, we’re just outside of Sergei’s monastery. Though I guess we’ll want to take the long road, unless you all feel like climbing up the cliff face.”

Next week's special episode will be the story of how Terry first came to Sergei's monastery, which explains why I've been waiting to post it even though Terry's player wrote it months ago. :P

“The orcs appear to be regrouping,” Kermit answered, pointing off in the distance. “But Rodd Rigez is up to something.”

Valbrand looked over where the grippli was pointing. He could see his friend, painted green and dragging the unconscious body of an orc behind him as if he was trying to help his “comrade”. The warrior could only imagine what his crafty ally had planned, but he knew it would be great.

“Something’s going on inside the walls,” Qumeel said. “Look there.”

The group looked and spotted a crowd forming down the road. They couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but they recognized one of the voices in the din of the crowd.

“Commander?” Omast asked. “He sounds upset,” he said to the others.

“Then we will investigate,” Qumeel agreed.

They approached and were able to spot the form of Jagrin within the crowd. He was holding a sword and ranting as he pointed the naked blade at the form of a woman standing on a stool. Kermit pulled out a potion he had taken from one of the orcs. “He is hanging that half-orc woman,” Kermit said.

The others looked, and could see it as well. It was Brinya standing on the stool, on the tips of her toes. It was clear that this was a lynching and that Jagrin had lost himself to his grief and fear. Indeed, his hair was streaked with gray and matted with sweat and dirt. “She took my son away from me!” the commander shouted. “And now she’s brought her brothers and sisters here to take away your sons and daughters! I won’t allow it! I will end her here and now!” It was clear that his words were whipping the crowd into a frenzy. They were afraid, and desperately wanted someone to blame.

“This isn’t right,” Omast said. “I have to stop him!”

On the edge of the crowd, one of the other guards stood in his path. “I can’t let you do that, Omast,” Lazlo said, his lazy eye looking off to one side. “Captain told us not to let anyone interfere.”

“This will not be reflected well in the tales,” Valbrand said. “There are enemies out there, and your leader attacks an unarmed woman. Stand aside.” His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped his axe.

“Please,” Omast pleaded. “Get out of their way. I’ve seen them kill dozens of orcs. You will die too if you stand in their way.”

Another guard, Cuthbert, stood next to Lazlo. “Sorry, Omast, but this isn’t a good place to be. You can’t save her.” He lowered his voice. “But, maybe, if you find Halgra…”

Omast spat. “You’re nothing but cowards! He’s just a man who is letting fear rule him. You have to stand up to him!”

“Sorry, Omast,” Cuthbert said, lashing out with his shield. Omast deflected the blow with his forearm, but winced as he spotted Jagrin kicking the stool out from under Brinya’s feet.

“Someone help her!” Omast shouted, glancing back at the others. “Wait, where’s Kermit?”

The grippli was gone, but Valbrand charged. “Don’t worry about it,” the big man said as his shield crashed into Lazlo’s. “Friends!” he shouted. “This isn’t justice! Justice would be standing on the wall, facing an enemy who wields a weapon! You’re cowards, and people will DIE while you waste time here!”

The warrior’s voice carried over the crowd and caught Jagrin’s attention. Regret flashed in his eyes, but he scowled. “You will not get in the way! Men, do your duty and buy enough time for justice to be done!”

Qumeel closed his eyes and prayed. “Ragathiel, guide my blade,” he said, flinging his sword over the heads of the crowd. The burning blade flew true, slicing through the rope strangling the half orc woman and lodging into the door frame behind her. Brinya fell to the floor, motionless as the wood began smoldering.

Omast was pretty sure he heard an unearthly howl in the distance.

“That’s going in the tales!” Valbrand said in congratulations as he burst into a battle song. But Cuthbert was less impressed, and lashed out with his shield once more, striking Qumeel. A third guard, Rowan, shot an arrow, hitting Omast in the shoulder, which provided Cuthbert the distraction that had allowed him to strike the cleric. Valbrand responded by slamming into Cuthbert, knocking him to the ground with his shield.

Among the crowd, an unseen figure gently tore the rope from Brinya’s neck and poured a healing potion into her mouth. She awoke with a cough. “What?” she gasped.

“Shh,” Kermit’s voice whispered. “It’s not easy being green.” He heard footsteps behind him and turned his body to shield the woman. Jagrin’s blade bounced off the hard scales of his magic suit. “Run!” Kermit told Brinya as he rose and reappeared. He stared down Jagrin as the half orc got up and fled. “Now isn’t the time to fight among ourselves! Look, the enemy is coming over the walls!”

Jagrin’s sword fell from his hand as everything was falling apart around him. “I’m trying,” he said. “I tried so hard. But I failed you, my son.” He walked past Kermit into the building behind the grippli, which had erupted in flames. He pulled out Rodrik’s hopeknife. “I’ll see you again soon, Rodrik.” Then he cut his own throat.

Seeing their leader give up, the guards stood down. “Don’t be fools,” Omast said. “The walls need us.” He pulled the arrow from his shoulder and Qumeel healed his wound. “Thanks. Now, does anyone have any bolts?” he asked.

“I’ve got some,” Lazlo said sheepishly. “Come on, boys, let’s get those bastards.” As they began firing, Qumeel was pretty sure he heard voices, possibly those of women and children, approaching from the other side of the building.

Lucky Days saw the flames first, and ran forward to investigate. Tyari was horrified at the sight of the blaze. “That was where we were keeping our medical supplies! Commander Jagrin was supposed to be guarding it.”

As she spoke, Lucky Days reached the front of the building and spotted the sword. She tried to pull it out, but the heat coming from the blaze caused her to recoil. As she tried to consider what to do, she spotted a dead body in among the flames. Unsure what to do, she turned to run back to the others, but stopped as she nearly ran into Tyari, who had run after her.

As the priestess rounded the corner, she spotted a burst of ice as Valbrand used his magical armband, beginning to quench the flames with ice. “What’s going on here?!” she demanded of the large man.

“It is a very long tale. Perhaps, when we have time, I will tell it to you.”

“Why not now?” she asked.

“Take a look above you, consider the view. If you haven’t noticed, please do,” Kermit said, pointing at the orcs on the wall. He then powered down and hopped onto Lucky Days’ shoulder. “Shall we go?” he asked. Lucky Days didn’t answer, but sped towards battle.

Valbrand jumped forward, blocking an arrow that would have struck the priestess with his shield. His response was drowned out by the sound of gunfire as Gwen rounded the corner and immediately began shooting at orcs. She downed one as Kermit and Lucky Days crossed the distance.

At that speed, the grippli went flying over an orc as Lucky Days stopped to fight. He then powered up and tore another orc to ribbons. The orcs didn’t even wait to watch Lucky Days decapitate her foe before fleeing. Word of the terrifying monster that was Kermit in his suit had spread. The orcs weren’t staying around to face him.

Gwen watched with a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment as the orcs fled, happy that they had been repelled, but disappointed that she hadn’t managed to kill more of their foes before routing them. Then she noticed that the other members of the watch weren’t cheering. Instead, they seemed to have gathered around something she couldn’t quite see just outside of the smoldering building.

A voice was saying something. “He was doing what he thought was right. I just wish we could have stopped him.” She knew that voice. Omast noticed her and stood. He was holding something in his hand as he approached. “Commander Grath was not a bad man,” he said. “He was just a man, forced to deal with life’s traumas with no way to cope.” As he spoke, he placed the object in her hand. It was a hopeknife. Rodrik’s hopeknife. And it was smeared with blood.

Her heart nearly burst out of her chest in panic. She couldn’t breathe. “Was?” she managed to ask as terror gripped her.

The knife fell from the girl’s hand and struck the floor with loud clang as she rushed through the crowd. “Out of her way!” Lazlo called out to the others, who moved to allow Gwen to pass.

The dam holding back her emotions since the death of Rodrik broke as she looked upon the lifeless face of Jagrin Grath, her uncle, the man who had taken her in when she had nothing. Tears flowed from her eyes and the guards watched awkwardly, feeling guilty for their role in everything that had transpired as she wept over the man’s body, repeatedly asking “Why?” over and over.

Even Valbrand could think of nothing to say as he watched the scene.

A tear fell from Tyari’s eye as her heart broke for the girl, but she knew that they weren’t safe. Moreover, something was wrong. “I left you three at the barricade with the acolytes,” she said to Lazlo, Cuthbert and Rowan.

Halgra’s eyes narrowed. “We will discuss how you abandoned your post later. Get the body. We have to move.” She looked at Valbrand. “Call over your companions. We’re moving.” Valbrand whistled and Kermit turned to look at him, then the big man waved the grippli over. “Therese,” she said to one of the older women in the group as she collected the hopeknife from the ground.

The older woman nodded and went to Gwen’s side. She helped the sobbing girl up and moved her into the group with the children and they all began moving once more towards the barricade. The journey took some time, perhaps half an hour, but finally they were in sight of the barricade when Lucky Days, Valbrand and Kermit – the latter from the shoulder of the large man – noticed something strange in among the acolytes from their place in the party’s vanguard.

Sitting among the surviving townsfolk was the strange pair of guards, Douglas and Brollerth. They were surrounded by the decapitated heads of several dozen orcs. The orcs’ faces were all frozen in expressions of surprise and terror.

Douglas flipped his hair in acknowledgment of their arrival. “Ohmygod, like hey guys,” he said.

Omast looked at the duo with a combination of amazement and horror. “You two killed all of these orcs?” he asked.

“Well, uh, uh, these were just the ones we could carry,” Douglas said.

Brollerth looked up from one of the skulls as he finished packing it with explosives. “What? Like, where did you think I got all those mines from?”