Threadbare - Volume 1: Stuff and Nonsense
Author: Andrew Seiple
Date: 2017-12-21 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Humor; Fiction; Magic; Adventure; Comedy; Young Adult; Science Fiction Fantasy; Animals
Description: Meet Threadbare. He is twelve inches tall, full of fluff, and really, really bad at being a hero. Magically animated and discarded by his maker as a failed experiment, he is saved by a little girl. But she's got problems of her own, and he might not be able to help her. Fortunately for the little golem, he's quick to find allies, learn skills, gain levels, and survive horrible predicaments. Which is good, because his creator has a whole lot of enemies... Warning: Contains profanity and violence.

Awakening 1

“Golem Animus!”
Nothing became something, awareness flooded in, and suddenly, everything was.
Button eyes wiggled, as they looked around at a cluttered room. A furry neck moved as a cloth-and-fur head twisted, using its newfound ability to look at things. It didn’t enjoy it, not precisely. If you asked it, and somehow gave it the ability to reply, then it could have told you that it didn’t know what joy was. It didn’t know much of anything.
It didn’t know that the hard thing it was sitting on was a wooden shelf. It failed to comprehend that the brown thingies lashed around its limbs that ran down through the holes in the wood were strings binding it in place. It had absolutely no concept of books, which were the things that filled the shelves across the way. It couldn’t tell you that the oddly-shaped thing three slots down from it was a wooden hobby horse, or that the thing two slots down was a stuffed ragdoll, or that the black-and-white shape directly next to it was a taxidermied skunk.
Heck, it didn’t even know it was a toy teddy bear, a very old one as they went.
The other toys looked to it for answers, and it looked back, without the mental capacity to question or the vocal capacity to answer.
“There we go. Four should be a good test batch.”
The teddy bear swiveled its head forward again, to regard the speaker.
Any human who wasn’t currently wearing diapers and had a few years of experience under their belt could have told you that this was an older man. Worn, silver-haired, and haggard, he moved with a slight limp as he paced back in forth in front of the toy shelf. A tailor would have identified the many-pocketed apron and sturdy, patched clothes that he was wearing as artisan’s gear, specifically the garb of a fellow tailor. Scissors of varying shapes, spools of thread, measuring tape, and swatches of leather and fur poked out of the neatly-kept pockets. The man rubbed his neatly-trimmed silver goatee, and considered the now-moving toys with a critical eye.
He pulled a notebook from his pocket, and scribbled in it. The toys craned what necks they had to follow the sounds of the quill.
“Standard reactions for toy golems. Visual tracking, responsive to sound, limited movement… here, none of that.” He reached out as the loop started to slip from the teddy bear’s arm. It was wiggling, and without hands, the bindings were more of a formality. “Feisty one. Superior animation?” He cleared his throat. “Command golem! Be Still!”
The words echoed inside what passed for the teddy bear’s mind. It became still. It could not conceive of any alternative, nor could it want to, even if it had the ability to want in the first place. It could no more go against that command than it could breathe fire or turn itself into marmalade jam.
But at the time it had received the command, the bear happened to be pointing at a window. Something moved beyond… a tree branch, heavy with fruit, beset by birds.
The teddy bear was not the only watcher.
On the windowsill, rapt and staring at the birds with the lust for excitement and an ancestral urge for predation bred into its very soul, was a fat, yellow-eyed, black cat. Its eyes darted back and forth in the reflection of the dusty glass, following the bird movements with a passion and quickness far belying its rotund frame.
“Eye for Detail,” the man murmured. The teddy bear tried to look at him, but couldn’t. Be Still resonated within the core of its very being. It was a golem, and a golem could not go against the words that filled it.
“Yes… Hm. Interesting… two superior qualities, good. Same craftsman? Have to ask Mordecai next time.” More scratching. More notes.
Followed by a sigh. “No point in putting this off. Test seven, four subjects, two exceptional… here we go. Yorgum watch over me.” The man moved past the teddy bear’s vision, tucked away his notebook, and stretched out his hand toward the toys down the shelf. “Greater Golem Upgrade!”
The room pulsed with golden light, and there came a sound like mighty gears turning. The dust motes hanging in the sunlight seemed to pause, pulled together in geometric shapes before dissipating again. The teddy bear watched the cat glance back at the movement… then yawn, because the cat had seen it all before.
The flashy part went on for a bit, then died away to nothing. The man nodded, and mopped sweat from his brow, before turning a bit and repeating himself, with the same arm motions. “Greater Golem Upgrade!”
Again came the lights, and the flashing, and this time the man’s eyes went wide, as his worn face stretched into a smile. “Skill up? Good, good.” He moved out of the teddy bear’s view and wood scraped on wood, then something creaked.
“Getting too old for this.” Liquid splashed against metal.
The cat whipped its head around and made a sort of ‘blart’ noise.
“No, Pulsivar. This isn’t milk, and Celia would kill me if I fed you seventy-proof rum.”
The cat yarped again, until it was certain the man would continue to ignore it.
And after some time, the teddy bear found it could turn its head again. It looked at the man, and the toy didn’t have the words to say that he was sitting in a chair, scribbling notes, and muttering to himself. “Skill’s up to a nice even eight, now. Hopeful there, might finally be able to make it work. If I can get at least one functional subject out of this batch, I can move on to the next stage.”
Seeing nothing that made sense, the teddy bear looked back down the shelf, and saw the dead stuffed skunk looking back at it. But the other two toys, the hobby horse and the doll, were frozen, save for random tremors that rocked them every few seconds.
“Well! On with it, then,” the man rose to his feet again, and the teddy bear watched him walk over, and stretch out his arm once more. But this time he could see the man’s fingers moving on the skunk, tracing glowing symbols on its ratty hide that spread to cover the grisly little toy. “Greater Golem Upgrade!”
The teddy bear watched, as the light flashed again, and the dusty sunlight formed symbols to mirror those glowing on the skunk, watched them sink into the taxidermy as golden light poured forth from its every orifice.
And the skunk fell still.
Then the man’s hand was on the teddy bear’s face, and words thundered forth, filling its being, filling it, blending in and becoming it-
“Greater Golem Upgrade!”
YOU HAVE ACHIEVED A RANK UP
SPECIES JOB IS NOW GREATER TOY GOLEM
ALL ATTRIBUTES +2
YOU HAVE GAINED THE INTELLIGENCE ATTRIBUTE
INTELLIGENCE +2
NEW SPECIES JOB UNLOCKED – BEAR
DO YOU WISH TO ACCEPT THE BEAR JOB AT THIS TIME? Y/N?
-and suddenly the world made a lot more sense.
The teddy bear realized that it could think. But right now all it was thinking of, could be summarized by its very limited, intelligence 2 mind, was “what the heck are these squiggly things right in front of my face?”
It didn’t recognize the words as words. It couldn’t read. They were just some sort of looming thing in front of it, that overlaid and blocked a good portion of its vision. And without the ability to answer the prompt, the words simply hung there, incomprehensible.
“There we go.” The man mopped his brow again, leaning against the shelf. “Woof. Takes it out of you. More mana draw at this level. Greater results? No matter.” The man stepped back, and spoke again. “Eye for Detail!” The teddy bear watched as the man’s eyes flashed gold for a second, then returned to normal. “Yes, all Greater Golems. Int score successfully gained for all of them.” He frowned. “Odd that the bear’s intelligence is so low. Good wisdom though, oddly good. Form following function? Investigate later.” He flipped open his notebook and scrawled again.
Not that the teddy bear noticed, it was busy looking around the room with new eyes. New thoughts filled its head. It now had the ability to question, to wonder what things were, and why they were that way. And it found itself growing rather annoyed at the way the glowy squiggles kept getting in the way of its looking at things.
Snap, went the notebook. The man cracked his knuckles, eyes dropping, even more tired than he had been at the start of this whole event. “No point in putting this off. Sink or swim time.” He took a deep breath, and spoke clearly. “Form Party.”
DING!
The sound rang from everywhere and nowhere, and the toys looked around to see where it was coming from. The cat growled in annoyance at the high-pitched sound, and relocated under the nearby table.
“Moment of truth… let this work!” The man rubbed his hands together, and looked to the hobby horse. “Invite golem!”
Golden light flared between them. The hobby horse looked back at him. It twitched slightly.
“No. Nonononono… not another wasted run. Come on, it has to work. Invite Golem!”
The hobby horse just stared at him, with its painted eyes. And the man’s face sunk into his hands. “Damn. Just… damn.” He looked down the row, lips pressed into a thin line. “Ah well. Three more chances with this batch. If not this one, then sooner or later I’ll crack it.”
He turned back to the hobby horse. The bear turned, angling its head until it could see what he was doing relatively well, around the gaps in the glowy words.
“Waste not want not,” the man said. “Disenchant!”
And to the teddy bear’s utter surprise, the hobby horse evaporated into dust with a flickering yellow crystal dropping down to land in the pile. The hobby horse was gone.
The man swayed, then leaned against the wall, breathing hard. “Enough for one more, I think. Mmf. Might as well get this over as fast as possible. Invite Golem!” he barked at the ragdoll, and again the golden light flared…
And the teddy bear realized that if the man kept doing that, he’d eventually get to the teddy bear.
INTELLIGENCE +1
To the bear, the words shifted for a second to display a much shorter, smaller bunch of squiggles, then faded away to return to the old familiar ones that had filled its vision for the last few minutes.
But inside its fuzzy skull, ideas started trickling in more freely. It was still relatively stupid, but now it was stupid at about one point five times the thinking speed it had before.
“You too, huh? Pity. And you’re double the intelligence, so it’s not that, “ the man mused, as the ragdoll didn’t react to his invitation. “Goodbye, my dear. Disenchant!” Again, the toy turned to dust and crystal.
Though the teddy bear was new to sentience, and new to this whole concept of, well, things and existence in general, a notion formed in its newly-enlightened mind.
And the first thought to cross its mind that wasn’t a question, was a pretty simple one;
I don’t want to be dust.
WISDOM +1
???? Character Sheet

Name: ???? Age: 12 minutes
Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 1
Attributes: Strength: 4 Constitution: 16 Hit Points: 50 Armor: 10
Intelligence: 3 Wisdom: 11 Sanity: 14 Mental Fortitude: 0
Dexterity: 6 Agility: 3 Stamina: 19 Endurance: 20
Charisma: 2 Willpower: 10 Moxie: 12 Cool: 20
Perception: 5 Luck: 5 Fortune: 10 Fate: 0
Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 1
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 1
Magic Resistance –Level 1

Awakening 2

The old man stared forlornly at the dust he’d made, shaking his head. “Such a waste. Status.”

He glanced up, nodded. “Close screen.” With those words he moved over to a pile of glassware on a nearby shelf. Collecting a pair of empty vials, he headed back and plucked the crystals out of the dust and put them into his apron pockets. The dust went into the vials. Though the vials were pretty big, he only put one pile of dust into each vial. “Stupid godsdamned nonsensical storage requirements,” he muttered, the lines on his brow creasing.

The teddy bear understood none of this. Neither the words, or the actions were comprehensible to its young eyes, especially with the class prompt in its way. Intelligence 3 really didn’t give it a lot to work with, there, and those words filled most of its vision in a really distracting manner. But Wisdom 11 was a bit better than the average golem, and the common sense the attribute bestowed was telling it that the break in the man’s routine meant the teddy bear wasn’t at risk of being dusted just yet. So it waited and watched.

The man tucked the vials away, and looked back to the skunk and the bear. “Sit tight. I’ll get to you shortly.” He reached out and patted them each on the head. “If it’s any consolation your essence will save me time and trouble with batch eight.” Then he moved over to the door, opened it, and walked out into the yard. Now that was interesting! The skunk and the bear leaned forward as far as they could, to try and see the new place that the open door had revealed. But it shut before they could observe too much. Lots of green things, more brown things underneath them, and spiky green things poking out of the ground. Gray round thingies made a path leading to the door, and the man was walking up them to a really big brown bulky thing in the distance.

“Mrp!” The cat announced with frustration as the door shut in its face, seconds before it could get out. Its pudgy legs had cost it a bid for freedom, and it consoled its bruised pride by settling back down on its haunches and grooming itself. The skunk and the teddy bear looked down at it from their post on the shelf. Then looked at each other.That grooming thing looked kind of fun. The skunk twisted, trying to copy the cat, but the strings holding it down didn’t really give it the slack it needed to raise its paws to its mouth, and the one around its tail prevented it from pushing its neck down to them. The bear, on the other hand, had been more hastily tied. And with its arms full of squishy stuffing, and no troublesome hands to get in the way, it managed to pop its paw-pads out of the string loops and touch them to its mouth.

Which accomplished precisely nothing, because its mouth was a few sewn lines of thread. Rubbing its ears with its paws didn’t do anything either.

Well, they did do one thing. The bear didn’t exactly have much fine motor control yet, so it was pushing pretty hard. This jiggled it in place… and made the loose strings on the knots holding its legs wiggle under the shelf.

The cat immediately stopped washing, and peered at the motion. Slowly, it crept forward, acting as nonchalantly as it dared. Then, when the string least suspected, it struck! A mighty leap, right onto the lower shelf-

-which, as it turned out, was just a plank of wood suspended atop three metal prongs nailed into the wall.

The cat’s twenty-five pound body hit the shelf at an angle, slid as the cat flailed widely, and whipped right off the prongs, taking about fifty pounds of books, various tailoring tools, piles of fabric, yarn, and spools of thread with it.

In a supreme act of agility, the sort that it hadn’t managed in four years, the cat twisted in midair, claws fully out, legs flailing, and one paw caught the dangling strings securing the teddy bear.

The lower shelf crashed to the ground, sending damn near everything flying in heaps across the workshop. And for a bizarre, timeless moment, Pulsivar the cat hung suspended, eyes wide open, as a sort of existential dread crept over the feline.

Because at intelligence 8, he knew pretty damn well what was gonna happen here.

And it did.

His weight pulled the strings down, causing the vastly underweighted top shelf to flip up on its prongs, then come crashing down to the tiled floor below.

Pulsivar gained a level in feline agility that day, and managed to avoid being crushed under the plank.

With a crash and a crunch, the shelf hit the ground, slamming into the two toy golems, before bouncing, rebounding, and ending up on its side. With a burst of something that wasn’t pain, but was definitely odd and unpleasant, the teddy bear watched a red number ‘4’ float past its vision.

The workshop fell silent again, save for the sound of feline slurping and frantic grooming. Pulsivar’s excuse was that nobody had seen it, nobody could prove nothing, and it didn’t matter anyway because the room was more interesting this way.

The teddy bear, now at a very awkward angle, pushed and shoved at the floor. And for some reason, there was a lot less resistance than last time. With one final heave it managed to clear out from under the shelf, turning back as it got loose to see the knots holding its legs in place entirely undone by Pulsivar’s little display of chaos.

LUCK +1

Not that it understood string, but it realized it could move now. And looking around at the mess, something told it that it might want to not be here when the old man found the state of affairs in the workshop.

But if it couldn’t be here, what did that leave?

There was a much bigger place through that moving part in the wall, it recalled that. Yes, it should probably go that way. That sounded good.

INT +1

So the little bear wobbled to its feet—

—and promptly fell over.

That didn’t work.

So it tried again, and fell over again. Finally, after about the eighth or ninth try, it managed to stay upright.

AGL + 1

Well, for all of two seconds, anyway.

Fifty-two tries later it had gained two more points of agility and the ability to stand upright and move around without going head over keister. Then the teddy bear turned to the door, and tried to amble that way.

But before it could get there, a racket nearby caught the teddy bear’s attention.

The skunk had evidently had a worse time of it. The poor thing was still caught by some of its toys, but its paws and part of its body were twisted out of joint. Though the teddy bear didn’t know it, the skunk had a sort of internal skeleton to it, a few sticks of wood and some wires binding them together. The force of the plank falling hadn’t been enough to break the sticks, but it had torn free a few wires. The effect was similar to what broken bones would be on a living creature.

And though the impact had at least gotten its upper body paws free, the string looped around its tail and waist was still intact, and that kept it from escaping the plank.

The skunk shifted, trying to look at the teddy bear. It had squiggly letters filling its vision too, asking it if it wanted to accept the Skunk job at this time. But like the bear, it had no idea what they meant, and no way of answering the Y/N prompt one way or another. Finally the skunk managed to get the teddy bear focused in the gaps between its words. Its glass eyes sparkled with mute appeal.

And now came a moment that would have send the old man into a dance of whooping joy if he’d been there to see it. Lesser golems were unintelligent golems, incapable of sentience, empathy, or even the smallest awareness that anything existed that wasn’t them. And even if they had those things, lesser golems didn’t have the slightest speck of free will. They couldn’t act of their own accord, only react to their master’s commands.

But the bear, after a few seconds of hesitation, moved in to help the skunk. It didn’t know what it was, had no clue what the skunk could be, but it was just smart enough to realize that the skunk was in a bad situation and wanted out

It too had been in a bad situation, and it had felt good to get out.

Maybe the skunk would feel good too? The teddy bear reached out, and closed its arms around the skunk’s bent paws.

Well, it tried to, anyway. When it pulled back, its arms slipped off of the skunk’s slick fur. The bear went back on his tail with a bump.

Undeterred, it got back up and tried again. And again. And again. But its stuffing was just too soft, and every time it tried to squeeze harder, the stuffing compressed. It couldn’t get a real grip.

Not until the ninth try.
DEX +1
GOLEM BODY INCREASED TO LEVEL 2

Abruptly, the teddy bear found itself changing. The stuffing in its arms and paws thickened where it was trying to grab the skunk’s paw. Even though it didn’t have fingers, the pads on the end of its hands hardened and got more flexible simultaneously.

And for the first time since it started this charitable endeavor, the teddy bear had a grip. So it did what it had been planning to do at the start of this mess, and pulled.

Strength 4 wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things. But the skunk was light, and the teddy bear was a bit more solid than he looked, thanks to his Golem Body. So he was able to tug the skunk forward, up against the strings securing it to the fallen plank.

Which worked right until the tight loop of the string constricted around the skunk’s body right at where the stick supporting its tail joined the stick supporting its back.

CRUNCH!

The teddy bear and the skunk froze in shock, as a bright red number ‘6’ floated up into the air and dissolved.

The teddy bear was perplexed.

The skunk was panicking.

It had felt that, and knew on an instinctive level that particular sensation was bad. So when the teddy bear started pulling again, and the string ground against the broken join, the skunk lashed out blindly, assuming that something was attacking it. Blinded by its class screen and the persistent prompt, it flailed with its limp claws and open jaws against the teddy bear. But with what was essentially its spine coming apart, and its own abysmal strength score, it didn’t manage to inflict any real damage. From nearby, the cat growled low in its throat as it watched the “fight”, tail lashing as red zeroes and ones floated into the air willy-nilly. Though the skunk’s claws and teeth were sharp enough to tear at the teddy bear whenever it did manage a good hit, the teddy bear was endowed with an armor rating due to its golem nature that vastly reduced the damage.

The teddy bear, blinded by his own screen, and with his head at an angle that made it impossible to see that the skunk was trying to dig out his stuffing, had no idea the golem it was trying to free was resisting. All it knew was that something was attacking it. It came to the conclusion that whatever had trapped the skunk was trying to stop it getting free. The teddy bear found that idea unacceptable! The skunk was clearly trapped and it needed to be free! So to save it, the bear endured the unpleasant ripping, and pulled with all its might!

CRIK-SNAP!

The skunk went limp, as its animus fled. Golems could not die, but they could certainly break, and this one’s animus had departed its shell. And for his part, the teddy bear’s joy at freeing the skunk was tempered by the realization that it had freed only half a skunk. It put down the skunk’s upper half, and stared at it. Maybe it was just resting?

Then new words crawled across its view, briefly interrupting the optional job prompt;

Strength +1

You have won the fight!

You are now a Level 2 Toy Golem!

All attributes +2

Suddenly, its head swam. Everything made more sense. Its thoughts swirled around it now, almost too much to manage. Some threshold had been passed, some bar invisible neatly limboed under, and concepts that were completely out of its reach now were a lot simpler now.

It looked down at the tail and lower half of the skunk, with sawdust spilling everywhere and wires and sticks poking out, where the strings had constricted and held it in place. And then it looked down at the upper half in its arms, sawdust leaking down to spill over the teddy bear’s legs.

And it knew sorrow. It had done a bad thing, even if it couldn’t figure out what exactly it had done. Slowly, carefully, the teddy bear put the upper half of the skunk next to its lower half, and tried to nudge them back together.

You are not a tanner. Seek out a trainer to obtain this job.

The letters flashed by—

—and the teddy bear still couldn’t read them. 6 intelligence was better than the 2 it had started with, but it was still nowhere near what it needed to understand human speech, let alone read written words.

But since it didn’t feel any better, and the skunk didn’t start moving again, the little bear knew it had failed. Its ears drooped.

Then they perked up again, as a rumbling growl echoed through the room, and ended in a hiss.

You are affected by GROWL! You take sanity damage!

The teddy bear watched as a blue ‘6’ floated up into the air, then turned, looking around until the gaps around the letters on that job prompt obstructing its vision revealed the coal-black, fuzzy form of Pulsivar, puffed up to twice his normal size, slit-pupiled eyes fixed upon the teddy bear’s sawdust-covered form.

Pulsivar wasn’t entirely sure of the particulars of this situation or whose fault it was, (definitely not his though,) but he was pretty godsdamned sure of two things;

One was that he was stuck in this workshop until his hoomin came back, so he couldn’t escape.

Two was that he’d just seen that teddy bear straight up murder a fucker.

And to the cat, being in close proximity to such a threat was a call to action. His butt wiggled, his mouth stretched to show all of his needle-like teeth, and he hissed like a demon straight out of hell as he prepared to leap upon the biggest threat in the room…

???? Character Sheet

Name: ???? Age: 25 minutes
Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 2
Attributes:

Strength: 7 Constitution: 18 Hit Points: 42/55 Armor: 10
Intelligence: 6 Wisdom: 13 Sanity: 13/19 Mental Fortitude: 0
Dexterity: 9 Agility: 8 Stamina: 27 Endurance: 20
Charisma: 4 Willpower: 12 Moxie: 16 Cool: 20
Perception: 7 Luck: 8 Fortune: 15 Fate: 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills

Adorable – Level 1
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 1

Awakening 3

The teddy bear turned golem’s level 2 brain was still woefully underprepared for, well, everything. But at intelligence 6, it had finally evolved to the point where it could tell when it was in danger.

And right now, every instinct was screaming at it to run away.

The bear turned tail and fled, just as Pulsivar pounced! But the bear was a few seconds too late, and the heavy cat’s paws collided with the golem, knocking it sprawling across the floor, and into a set of bookshelves across the way. The triple-stacked shelves wobbled, the book and just as Pulsivar skittered across the tile, and tried to follow up his pounce with a proper mauling.

Books rained down from above, falling from their piles, and the Bear watched with its button eyes as the largest of them wobbled…

…slipped over the edge…

…and fell right toward him.

AGL +1

…Missing him by a hair, as he twisted to the side.

Pulsivar, twisting desperately to avoid the rain of books, whirled as his claws slipped on the slick floor, and tumbled in a heap into the bear, knocking him over and against the wall. A forlorn red 1 floated up from the Teddy Bear as he was smushed between the cat’s butt and the hard wood. Pulsivar escaped any real damage, due to the fluffy bear’s padding.

The cat’s growl rang in the bear’s ears again, nibbling at his sanity. A green 4 floated up, and suddenly his thoughts were a lot more scattered. For the first time, he knew fear.

So he grabbed for the nearest thing, which turned out to be Pulsivar’s tail.

And caught it.

DEX +1

The cat yowled in rage, and churned its back legs, trying to push away from the wall, trying to get its tail free from whatever had it. But the frightened teddy bear clung on like grim death, as the cat went lurching and skidding across the floor, slamming itself and the plush toy into the legs of the table, knocking over chairs, sending glass bottles and dirty dishes crashing to the ground in a rain of cacophonous destruction!

STR +1

But the golem hung on.

Your actions have unlocked the generic skill: Ride

Your Ride Skill is now level 1

Finally Pulsivar, using most of his remaining stamina, did a damned half-somersault and managed to get himself on his back, and the golem onto his belly. Laying in with his claws in a scratching, spitting fury, the big black cat ripped and tore with wanton abandon.

21 hit points later, the teddy bear’s grip finally slackened, as he was hurled away to skid across the floor, through the glass and pottery shards, before slamming into the already-battered table leg—

—and breaking it loose from the table entirely.

The leg hit a wall, rebounded, and shattered an urn next to the window. Ashes puffed out.

The table, down to two legs, promptly fell edge-first toward the prone teddy bear, who rolled as best he could-

-but not far enough. A big fat number ten drifted up into the air, as the table slammed into his midsection, trapping him under it. It would have crushed all the stuffing out of him, if his body hadn’t been toughened by the ritual that had made him what he was.

Your Golem Body Skill is now level 3!

The teddy bear lay there for a second, taking stock.

Pulsivar, thoroughly spooked by all the loud noises and breaking objects, relocated to a corner to lick his wounds. He stared at the teddy bear for a long moment, then slurped his paw and smoothed his fur back into place, activating his “Grooming” skill and healing the few scratches he’d sustained during his horrifying ordeal.

Then a scritching caught his ear.

The teddy bear was still moving.

Long rents in its fur, stitches cut, half of its stuffing on the outside, one ear gone, the bear was slowly rocking, trying to wobble the table edge free.

Pulsivar stared. He tried to groom himself again, but his paw was shaking, ever so slightly, and he botched the skill.

Finally the bear gave a mighty heave and a twist, and the round table rolled free.

STR +1

And against the odds, with damage crippling him and every atom of him aching, the bear. Stood. Up.

CON +1

Pulsivar growled again, but he was rapidly running out of Moxie.

And the bear didn’t seem phased by it. The bear was beyond fear.

WILL +1

The words obscuring its sight were impossible to manage now, but the teddy bear was pretty damned sure that big growling thing in the corner was his enemy.

He was also sure that he was thoroughly dead, if his enemy came for him one more time.

The teddy bear looked around for something to help him out, and saw a possibility.

PER +1

It half-slumped, half-marched its way over to the fallen table leg.

Pulsivar, spooked now, but knowing that it was either him or the bear, puffed himself up and stalked closer, step by step, waiting for the moment of weakness, psyching himself up for one last pounce.

The teddy bear grabbed the table leg, wrapped its arms around it, and lifted. Stitches popping, one button eye half-off, legs flailing to keep upright on the tile, the bear managed to get the makeshift club upright.

STR +1

And then he brought it down toward the growling mass of cat.

At least, that was the plan.

What actually happened, when the teddy bear tried to swing the table leg, was that his plush feet slid on the smooth tile floor, he fell backward, and the table leg shattered the window.

And that was enough for Pulsivar, thank you very much! His nerves were shot, his foe was supposed to be dead, and it had been a thoroughly crappy day. Nope, nope, no thank you, and now there was a way out, wasn’t there?

Two mighty bounds took Pulsivar up to the shelves near the window, and a third took the scaredy-cat out the window.

“Pulsivar! Bad kitty!” A strange voice shouted from outside. Anything more intelligent than the teddy bear could have told you that it was a female voice, a young one.

The teddy bear, on its last hit point, sat up.

Outside, the cat yowled in despair. “Oh good grief! What on earth possessed you… cat…” the old man’s words tumbled to a stop as he opened the door, and beheld the destruction of his workshop. He entered slowly, eyes passing right over the bear… until they fell on the broken urn, and the ashes dusted around it. “Amelia,” the old man whispered, gathering up the fragments of the urn with shaking hands. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Dad? Is everything okay?” The strange voice asked from the doorway.

“Ah.” The man took a breath, then tucked the fragments into an apron pocket. “Yes. Everything’s fine, dear.” But he kept his face turned away from her, and mopped the tears from his eyes so she wouldn’t see.

“Oh you bad kitty. Look what you did!”

A red-headed girl, hair frizzy and tied back in a fiery poof, stepped into the room. She held the limp form of Pulsivar up to survey it, arms straining to heft the twenty-five pound cat by the scruff of his flabby neck. The cat stared mournfully at the mess that someone had made. Certainly not him. Couldn’t have been.

The teddy bear clambered to his feet.

And the girl squealed in joy. Immediately, she dropped Pulsivar who fled for dear life, ran over, and scooped the battered golem up in her hands. “Oh! Oh daddy, thank you!”

Your Adorable Skill is now level 2!

“I… what?”

“For the toy golem! Oh you finally made me one and Pulsivar ripped it up! What a bad kitty! I can fix his booboos, it’s okay right Dad?”

Her father cleared his throat, and scrubbed his face harder. “Er, give me a second…”

Excited, the girl started shouting one of her few spells.

“Mend!”

You heal 15 points!

“Mend!”

You heal 8 points!

“Mend!”

You Heal 10 points!

“Mend!”

You are fully healed!

The teddy bear still couldn’t read worth a damn, but something had picked him up, and all of a sudden he felt much better. He turned his head around until he could make out a freckled, grinning face sitting under a massive pile of red hair.

“I can have him now, right? I mean you were probably saving him for a surprise or whatever, but I’m just glad we got here in time before Pulsivar wrecked him completely.”

“What?” The old man finally found his composure and turned, goggling at the sight of the teddy bear golem in his daughter’s arms. “Ah… technically he’s…”

“Mine, right daddy?” Celia’s eyes almost seemed to double in size, and quiver with unshed tears.

The old man sighed. “Are you sure you want that one? He’s… threadbare.”

“Threadbear? That’s an awesome name!”

“No, no, T-h-r-e-a-d-b-a-r-e”

“Okay, that’s a dumb name. You didn’t name him did you? Because whoever misspelled his name like that was pretty stupid.”

“That’s not exactly what I-”

“Well, okay. I can work with it. So your name’s Threadbare, huh? Sweet!” Celia hugged the little bear close.

And the bear, healed, feeling much better, safe from the horrible black growlmonster, hugged her back. It felt… right.

+1 CHA

“All right. Well, take him back to the house then, dear, just keep an eye on him. Let me know if he starts acting funny.” The old man shrugged. Every golem he’d tried a greater animation on had been useless. The ritual was flawed somehow, or there was some important thing he was missing, and he had no damned idea what it could be. But none of the golems had been dangerous, just clumsy and stupid. They hadn’t even been able to join his party, so he couldn’t apply his creator-specific buffs to them, to get them to the point where they were useful. He hadn’t ever run into this problem with lesser golems, so he had no frame of reference as to why it would be an issue with greaters, who should be superior by default.

So what harm could it possibly cause if his daughter played with the bear for a while? Less than that obstinate cat, he thought, looking around at the wreckage of his workshop.

Then he thought of the shattered urn, and a lump rose in his throat. “Go on and play dear,” he choked. “I’ll clean up here.”

Celia ran out the door, hugging Threadbare to her shoulder.

But from the shadow of the large pine tree across the yard, Pulsivar the cat watched with yellow eyes gleaming.

Some things could be tolerated. Some could not.

He would have its vengeance upon that infernal toy.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare
Age: 28 minutes

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 2

Attributes:

Strength: 10 Constitution: 19 Hit Points: 55/55 Armor: 10
Intelligence: 6 Wisdom: 13 Sanity: 9/19 Mental Fortitude: 0
Dexterity: 10 Agility: 9 Stamina: 27 Endurance: 20
Charisma: 5 Willpower: 13 Moxie: 28 Cool: 20
Perception: 8 Luck: 8 Fortune: 15 Fate: 2

Generic Skills
Ride - Level 1
Greater Toy Golem Skills

Adorable – Level 2
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 3
Magic Resistance –Level 1

Parties and Perils 1

Deep in the woods, on top of a lonely hill, was a two-story house. It was pretty good-sized, something a wealthy merchant might live inside. Inside the house was a room that looked like it had exploded a few times. Clothes and toys and books lay about and around in messy heaps, but none had the slightest trace of dust on them. A window full of nose marks and breath streaks let in the noonday light, while a low, poofy pink bed sat against the opposite wall with its sheets and blankets scrambled and twisted. The wall across from the door held a fireplace, currently unlit and sealed with a metal grille attached to a lever.

None of these things made much sense at all to the bear, since it had only managed to attain an animalistic level of intelligence, but it peered at them with intense curiosity nonetheless. Well, as much as it could with those annoying squiggles in the way.

If he’d been capable of reading, they would have let him know that he had a choice to make.

NEW SPECIES JOB UNLOCKED – BEAR

DO YOU WISH TO ACCEPT THE BEAR JOB AT THIS TIME? Y/N?

But he couldn’t read, so they stayed there, obstructing about half of his vision. He didn’t have a very good perception to begin with, and this didn’t help.

“This is my room!” His new benefactor told him, using words he didn’t comprehend. But he turned around in her arms and looked at her anyway. A small red-headed girl in a green dress, with woolen stockings over her feet. Her hair was tied back into a big poof, and her manically-grinning face was splattered with freckles.

The teddy bear was pretty certain that he owed her his life. She’d saved him from the cat, after all! At least something like that had happened anyway, the whole thing was very confusing to his thirty-minute-old mind.

The girl, Celia, waded through the room without a care for the mess. She absent-mindedly scootied piles of books away with her feet as she passed through the debris, across to a smaller door in one corner. “Okay, okay okay okay. So what do you want to play first?”

The bear stared up at her. It patted her mouth with one hand. Maybe that was what she wanted? Worth a shot, he guessed.

“Hee hee! Okay, tea party it is! You can meet everyone else, too! Wait here a minute.” She tossed him over her shoulder.

Everything spun, and then WHUMP, the teddy bear landed on the bed. He sat up, shaking his head-

-and found himself in a pile of stuffed animals. Frozen, stiff, they stared at him with mute eyes.

The teddy bear, trembled as he poked at them with his paw pads.

They didn’t move.

They looked just like the skunk had after he’d killed it, with the, the same unnatural stillness.

And the Teddy Bear’s young mind jumped to exactly the wrong conclusion.

I am among the dead. She means to kill me!

“Here we go!” Celia opened up the closet door, ignoring the tumbling mass of clothes and toys that surged out, and rummaged through them until she pulled out a small wooden table, and a set of well-gnawed wooden cups and saucers. “Let’s see… yeah, there should work.” She booted a broken wagon out of the way, shoved a pile of blocks to the side, and put the table on the floor, stacking the cups and saucers on top of it. From the piles she pulled out four little chairs, and spaced them evenly around. “Okay. Come on down and… huh?”

The bear wasn’t on the bed any more.

The bear in fact had high-tailed out the open door and was waddling for dear life. He didn’t want to lose whatever life he had, and become one of the girl’s pile of dead things!

He made it as far as a railing-lined balcony, with a double-stair descending to the front room below, and froze in indecision. He’d seen the stairs on the way up, and she’d done something to climb them, but he had no idea what that something entailed. He hadn’t had a clear field of vision, or a good angle to see what she was doing. Something with her feet, maybe?

Well, how hard could it be?

He chose the left stairs, approached them, and decided to try to keep on walking.

Nine good thumps later, when the world stopped spinning, he lifted his head and looked around at the front room. A large fireplace filled one wall, with pots full of herbs drying on the mantle. Overstuffed but worn leather chairs provided seats around it, and a table off to one side was set with candlesticks and cloth doilies. Solid oaken chairs with feet on the bottom lined it, two per side. One wall was lined with tapestries and crocheted hangers, showing cats, flowers, and other simple objects. A closed door led out to the yard, a few high glass windows let in light, and two doors went deeper into the house.

And then there was the statue.

Made of blackened iron patched with lighter materials, it stood looming on its pedestal in the corner. Large, rounded pauldrons covered its forearms, leaving only blocky, jointed metal fingers poking out. It had a sort of breastplate for a chest, with gears poking through cut gaps, starting with a big one in the center of the sternum and growing smaller and smaller as they moved in diagonal lines toward the statue’s joints. For all the torso was big though, the head was tiny… a helm with two gems for eyes barely visible under its visor. And its waist was narrow, with two sturdy, wide-footed legs supporting the ten-foot-tall armored statue.

It moved, as Threadbare watched, turned its visor to face him with a grinding of metal on metal.

“Intruder!” The armor golem boomed.

Unfortunately, for all its size, it was a lesser golem. Which meant that it had no mind, only the orders it had been given.

And one of those was to destroy all intruders who weren’t in the company of someone on the very short list of family members.

Threadbare knew precisely none of these things. He stood up, staring at the creature in awe.

One leg of the massive golem flexed as it shifted its weight, and cables hummed taught as it stepped down from the pedestal. The other leg followed, and out of its niche, the golem spread its arms wide, brassy voice ringing from under its helm.

“Flee or face my wrath intruder!”

Not its words, just the words its creator had given it. It spoke words it didn’t understand to a creature who couldn’t comprehend the warning.

However, Threadbare sure as hell knew danger when he saw it. He turned and fled.

WIS +1

He waddled with all his might as the hostile golem chased him around the room, arms lashing out with clumsy swipes. And Threadbare noticed one important difference, between his current predicament and the last one. Unlike the cat, the armor golem was actively avoiding wrecking the place.

PER +1

That was about all that was saving him, though. Threadbare was stuck on one side of the table, darting right every time the golem tried to come around the left, and darting left every time the golem switched and tried to come around the right. If the golem had come through the table, the teddy bear would have been toast. But the lesser golem had no flexibility to its mind, and it had to follow all its orders. Including the one its master had given it to prevent it destroying the house.

“Emmet!” Celia yelled, from the top of the stair. The golem paused for a moment, then resumed trying to get to the bear.

“Destroy the intruder! Protect the family!” The armor golem, Emmet, boomed back.

“Stop! Recognize Threadbare as family!”

“Destroy the intruder! Protect the family!”

“Guh… I’m not his creator… wait, the emergency scrolls!” Celia ran downstairs, giving them a wide berth, and darted into another room. Threadbare and Emmett continued their deadly dance while she was out.

AGL +1

Both of them had enormous amounts of endurance, proportional to the weight they were hauling around, so they weren’t burning any stamina for their actions, at least. Such was the benefit of being a golem! They could have continued this until the house aged and fell to pieces around them, without stopping.

But Celia returned, with a pile of papers in her hands, each glowing with golden sigils. “Okay, okay…” she cleared her throat. “Command Golem! Recognize Threadbare as family!”

The runes on the topmost scroll flashed! And faded to black, crumbling to the floor like dust.

Nothing seemed to happen. Celia scowled. “Failed? Bah.” She threw the now-blank scroll over her shoulder. “Command Golem! Recognize Threadbare as family!”

The scroll flared, and golden letters materialized around Emmett, cycling in spiraling patterns… that shattered, as large white letters appeared over his head.

RESISTED

“Oh come on!” Celia howled, stamping her foot. She pulled out another scroll, glared at him, and bellowed. “Command Golem! Recognize Threadbare as family!”

The scroll blazed, the letters circled…

…and this time, Emmet stopped.

Without sparing the little teddy bear another look, the armor golem stomped back to its niche, climbed up on the pedestal, and resumed its silent vigil.

Threadbare, unable to believe that his ordeal might be over, peered around the chair legs, clinging to them and shaking like a leaf. This was all very stressful.

“Oh you poor thing! Come here…” Celia scooped him up, and he went limp. Maybe she meant to kill him, maybe she didn’t, but Threadbare knew he couldn’t fight her. She’d lifted up the monstrous form of Pulsivar like the cat was nothing, what chance did one teddy bear have against something that could do that?

“Okay. Let’s try this again. No running away next time!” Celia shifted the scroll pile, wedging it under one arm as she carried the toy golem back upstairs. “I don’t think Daddy will mind if I borrow these. Otherwise you might cause trouble again! What were you thinking, anyway?”

The teddy bear hugged her for all he was worth.

Your Adorable Skill is now Level 3!

“Aw, I can’t stay mad at you. You learned your lesson, right? Come on, let’s have a tea party.”

This time she shut the door behind her as she entered her room. Just in case.

Threadbare went limp as she put him in one of the little chairs around the table. He quivered with terror as three lifeless forms; a dolly, a giraffe, and a dragon, were placed in the other chairs.

“And now for the crowning touch!” Celia giggled, and Threadbare jumped slightly as he felt something settle onto his head.

You have equipped a toy top hat!

Weird sensations flooded his mind, and he shook his head. Suddenly his body was moving more in synch with his thoughts and feelings. He looked up at the girl and raised his hands, trying to indicate confusion. It was a motion that would have been unthinkable for him, before he’d donned the top hat.

CHA +1

“Oh! Don’t be confused, this is how it goes. Just wear it. It’s a tea party. Everyone has to have fancy hats.” Celia put a princess crown on her own head, then equipped the giraffe with another top hat, and the dolly and dragon with a wedding veil and a cardsharp’s visor, respectively. “Okay, now, okay. Hold still just for a moment, all right?”

Then she faced the dolly, poked it with a finger, and said “Animus!’

Golden light flared, and the dolly sat up in the chair.

And Threadbare slumped in relief. They weren’t dead. They were just resting after all. He mopped his brow with one arm, in exaggerated relief. Then he wondered why he’d done that.

The girl chanted her spell twice more, and the dragon and the giraffe twitched and became something more than toys.

“Yeah! Okay, so here’s the tea…” The girl put down the empty cups and saucers, and spread them out to each participant. “Now we need the party. Form Party!”

DING!

“Invite Beanarella! Invite Loopy! Invite Dracosnack! Invite Threadbare!”

And a new set of squiggles popped up in front of Threadbare.

YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO CELIA’S PARTY!

DO YOU WISH TO ACCEPT? Y/N?

“Come on Threadbare, join the party!”

Its vision became more obstructed, as the words overlapped, Threadbare shook its head and waved its arms wildly, trying to shoo the stupid squiggles away. One of the cups went flying, and Celia sighed. “Just say yes! It asked you to join the party, say yes!”

But the teddy bear couldn’t understand her. Threadbare flailed harder, bobbing its head so hard that the top hat threatened to slip off.

“Oh! Wait, duh. You can’t talk. Well, there’s a spell for this. Hold on.” In fact, that wasn’t quite true. Vocalization wasn’t required to accept a party invite. But Celia didn’t know that.

She plucked the bundle of scrolls off the bed, and pulled the next one off the pile. “Command Golem! Say Yes!”

Yellow runes flared on the scroll, yellow letters surrounded it… then what was left of his sight was filled by big white letters, that faded.

You have resisted the command golem spell!

Your Resist Magic Skill is now level 2!

“Seriously?” Celia shrieked. “I don’t suck that bad. I’m a level 5 animator, for foop’s sake. Okay, okay, fine. I have more scrolls, bear! And I’m not afraid to use’em!” She pulled out one more with a flourish, bent at the waist, flexing down until she was looking Threadbare right in the eyes, and snapped the next scroll open. “Command Golem. Say Yes!”

The light flared…

And yes became the full extent of Threadbare’s thoughts. Yes filled it from head to tail, shining through its eyes like golden enlightenment. Yes! Yes to everything!

You have joined Celia’s party!

Words faded, and part of its sight returned.

You have gained the Bear job!

Then all of it sight returned, as the first set of squiggles finally vanished. To be replaced with new words, which faded after a second.

You are now a level 1 Bear!

Strength +5
Constitution +5
Wisdom +5
Armor +3
Endurance +3
Mental Fortitude +3
Unlocked Animalistic interface
You have Unlocked the Claw Swipes Skill!
Your gain Claw Swipes level 1
You have unlocked the Forage Skill!
You gain Forage at level 1
You have unlocked the Scents and Sensibility Skill!
You gain Scents and Sensibility at level 1
You have unlocked the Toughness Skill!
You gain Toughness at level 1

Its fundamental nature changed, Threadbare felt the fluff under its hide reshape, get bulkier somehow. A new world of sensations flooded into the little golem as it gained a sense that it never had before, and suddenly the room was full of odors, clashing and competing and overwhelming as they seeped into its now-functional nose.

But Threadbare couldn’t say yes, because he didn’t have a working mouth, and so the command golem spell faded.

Celia didn’t notice though, just assumed the bear had whispered it too quietly for her to hear. Anyway its name was now in her party menu, so that was all well and good.

“There we go! Welcome to the party!” Celia said, pouring imaginary tea. “Would you like something with your tea, Mr. Threadbare? Cream or Sugar perhaps?” She offered him a small tray full of empty condiment jars.

And though the toy golem couldn’t say why, all of a sudden that honey jar she was offering looked really, really good. Its eyes slid down from the window, to stare obsessively at the little wooden jar with a bee on its side.

Which was why neither of them saw the twisted, evil little face peering in from the other side of the window.

“Oh, she’ll want to know about this,” the little creature whispered to itself.

And with a sound of leathery wings, it was gone.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare Age: 42 minutes
Jobs:
Greater Toy Golem Level 2
Bear Level 1
Attributes:

Strength: 15 Constitution: 24 Hit Points: 71 Armor: 13
Intelligence: 6 Wisdom: 19 Sanity: 25 Mental Fortitude: 3
Dexterity: 10 Agility: 10 Stamina: 27 Endurance: 23
Charisma: 6 (16) Willpower: 13 Moxie: 19 (29) Cool: 20
Perception: 9 Luck: 8 Fortune: 17 Fate: 2

Generic Skills Ride - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 3
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 3
Magic Resistance –Level 2

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 1
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 1
Toughness – 1

Equipment Head - Toy Top Hat (+10 CHA)

Parties and Perils 2

“I think Daddy was sad back there. In the workshop, I mean.”

Threadbare studied Celia’s face, bringing the teacup up to his muzzle every now and then. He didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, but the toys Celia had woken up were doing it, and she seemed happier with that.

Of course the rest of them were doing it in unison, but she didn’t mind if he was a little out of synch.

Celia lay back, her princess crown slipped half off her head, cushioning her back against a spray of pillows borrowed from the bed. “I mean, not about the workshop, not really. There’s nothing in there a few mend spells won’t fix, right? Okay, a lot of mend spells, but you know what I mean, right?”

Threadbear considered his options. She was looking at him again, turning her eyes toward him with that little wrinkle around her forehead. That probably meant he should nod. So he nodded.

CHA +1

“Yeah! So I don’t know why he’s sad. He doesn’t-he doesn’t tell me. A lot of things. And normally when I get a present from him it always makes him happy to see me enjoy it. It’s why I act really excited even when it’s a lousy present. But he wasn’t happy this time. Uh, not that I mean you’re a lousy present. Honestly you’re pretty great.”

Threadbare nodded. Celia snorted to see it. “Geeze, I give you one top hat and you think you’re all that, huh?”

Threadbare kept on nodding. It seemed to be working.

“We’ll see. I’ll put you through some tests later, buster!” Her grin turned manic.

He didn’t know what tone and her visual cues were something he hadn’t run across before so he stopped nodding. Across the table the toys raised their teacups and took a solemn sip. He followed suit.

Celia sat up, and crossed her legs, resting her head on her hands and resting her elbows on her knees“I really am glad you’re here. I mean, I can make toy friends, but they only last for a little while. Not even a full hour yet, not until I’m level six, that’s what daddy says. And then they de-animate. And I have to put them in my party to get them to do stuff without telling them to do each and every little thing. You? You’re smart. You’re the smartest teddy bear ever!” She swept him up and hugged him, before he could react.

Threadbare froze. Was hugging a thing in this situation? He wasn’t sure how the top hat and tea cup factored into things.

He reached up and bumped the teacup against her lips.

“Hahaha! That’s so cute!”

Your Adorable Skill is now Level 4!

The little girl put him back down in his chair. “Why no, mister bear, I shan’t have any more tea. But thankyew, thankyew, my dear chap.”

Threadbare reached over for the empty honey jar again, and upended it over his teacup. It had made her laugh the last time he did it, and felt right somehow, so maybe doing it again would help him understand her reactions a little better.

But instead of laughing more, she sighed, and her eyes got wetter. “It’s lonely out here. I’m really lonely. I’m glad you’re here, okay?”

There was that look again. Threadbare nodded.

CHA +1

Celia hugged her knees. “I mean, it’s just Daddy and me out here, and Emmet I guess but he has to stand still most of the time so he doesn’t break stuff, and there’s Mister Mordecai but he only stops by to visit once a week, and Daddy ‘s been sad and angry lately and I don’t know why and he doesn’t want to tell me and he doesn’t tell me a lot of things and I don’t have anyone to.. talk… to…” Tears poured down as the little girl spoke, and she drew a heaving sob, before she shoved her face down into the nest of her arms, and wailed.

Oh, oh this was bad. The little golem had never seen tears before, never heard noises like this before. It ran through its options, checked its newfound hat-enhanced social instincts, and decided to go with what it knew best.

In a flash Threadbare was out of the chair, waddling over to her, and locking his arms around her in the tightest hug it could manage. And Celia seized him up, held him to her face, and cried freely into his fluffy belly.

+1 CHA
The tears smelled… strange.
+1 PER

Your Scents and Sensibility Skill is now Level 2!

It was like her and yet not like her regular smell at the same time. Perhaps different people had different smells when they felt bad? He didn’t know the answer to that question, and it made him curious to find out.

+1 INT

Finally the little girl cried herself out. “Thank you,” she said, holding him at arm’s length. “I have a friend now.” She sighed, as she saw the state of his fur. Mending had put him together, but he’d gotten pretty dirty during his scuffle in the workshop, and her tears and snot hadn’t helped matters. “Okay. Tea party’s over. Time to clean up.”

The animated toys quickly picked up the table and teacups, and put them back in the closet. Their hats were handed in with solemnity, and Celia plucked the top hat from Threadbare’s head. “It was fun though, you did great Threadbare! Disband Party!”

Your party has been disbanded!

Threadbare reeled, as his charisma suddenly lost its boost. He patted his head, where the hat had been, but nothing happened.

“No, tea party hats are for tea parties,” Celia explained. “Everybody knows that. Now it’s laundry time, and you, Mister Bare, are getting a bath!” She scooped him up, paused, and scooped up the pile of scrolls on the bed as well. “Better put these back before Daddy notices. Uh, not that he’d mind. Probably. Maybe.”

They trekked downstairs, and this time, Threadbare shifted watched her feet carefully as she traipsed downward. He was amazed to find out that holy shit, you could bend your legs when you walked! That was a pretty novel idea!

INT +1

That would make things so much easier. He looked forward to trying it out.

Celia strolled through the leftmost door at the bottom of the stairs, into a crowded room full of shelves, books, and papers. It was about as messy as her room upstairs, but there seemed to be some order to it. She opened up a dark wooden rolltop desk, hauled out a book, and opened it to show the pages inside had a big hole cut into them.

Threadbare found himself deposited on the floor while she folded up the scrolls, and tucked them back into place in the fake book.

Threadbare watched for a bit, then tried practicing that bendy-leg walking thing.

Five tumbles and two knocked over piles of books later, he thought he might have figured it out.

AGL +1

“C’mon silly old bear,” Celia grabbed his arm, and ran out into the front room, skidding on the floor, then taking a sharp u-turn through the next doorway. “Let’s get you clean!”

The next room turned out to be the kitchen, not that the bear understood the notion, or knew what any of the objects scattered around might be. Bowls, pans, and strands of garlic wound around hooks set in the walls just under high cupboards, and a hand pump sat in a corner, with a large basin underneath. A pair of windows let in cheery light, and two closed doors indicated more rooms further in.

The garlic really caught Threadbare’s attention. The smell was overwhelming, and he covered his nose. A pressure started to build, behind his muzzle.

“Kff!” Air whooshed through his nose, and Celia dropped him, surprised.

“What’s wrong?”

“Kff! Kff!”

That went on for a bit, with Celia getting more and more worried. “You’re sneezing, why are you sneezing? Are you sick? Oh no!”

This wasn’t doing him any good, and the little bear was thoroughly annoyed at it. He wanted it to STOP.

Animalistic Interface Activated!

Instinctual activation and deactivation of BEAR job skills is now enabled.

He didn’t know what the words meant, but the smell was gone, and all the other smells were gone, too. But most importantly, the sneezing was over with, and both he and Celia were very relieved at that.

Celia sighed. “You had me worried there for a moment, Threadbare. Here, sit here.” She dropped him in the brass basin under the pump, and started hauling on the handle. There was a strange gurgling noise, and Threadbare stared up into the faucet, trying to get a look at whatever was making that noise.

Then, all of a sudden, water came flying out, hitting him smack dab in the face, and knocking him over. He flailed, found the water rising around him, and panicked. Scrambling for the edges of the tub, he tried to haul himself out.

You have unlocked the generic skill: Climb!

Your Climb skill is now level 1!

He almost made it too, before Celia grabbed his soggy fur, and tossed him back in. “No no Mister Bear! You need a bath!”

After a few more failed attempts, and Celia’s repeated insistence, the tiny golem settled down and accepted his fate. He felt bloated, as it seeped through his seems, and made his stuffing swell up inside him. His fur was soggy, and he was thoroughly miserable.

“Hm… water alone won’t do it. Wait here.” Celia went to one of the doors and opened it, revealing a dark stairway down. She reached up and tapped a crystal hanging from a small chain, and it lit up. “Back in a bit. Don’t go anywhere.”

She was back in a few minutes with a jar of powder. “Wow the rats are getting bad. Droppings all over the place down there.”

Threadbare simply stared at her with accusing button eyes. He was soaked, bloated, and thoroughly unhappy with the situation.

His tormentor giggled, unrepentant. “No, it’s fine, watch this.” She uncapped the jar and dumped a little powder in. It tingled a bit, and fizzed when it hit the water. Curious, the little bear poked at the bubbles that came out, and watched them pop.

Celia took a brush to him, scrubbing all the dirt and stains away. Then she wrung him out, making him squirm as she twisted his body and squished his stuffing every which way. It wasn’t exactly bad, just uncomfy. But he did feel better at the end of it all.

Brushing out his fur was best of all. He settled back into her lap as she sat on the floor and combed him, enjoying the tugs against his hide with every sweep.

“There we go! Just gotta hang you up to dry.” Celia bounded up, tucked the comb into her frizzy hair, and pulled a line from one of the cupboards, stringing it between the nearest hooks so that it stretched across the room. “Oh, gotta let some breeze in so you don’t get musty!” The little girl popped open the nearest window, and drained the tub, letting the soapy water gurgle away into the pipes. “Just hang out for a little while, okay? Okay.” She fastened the teddy bear to the lines with clothespins on his arms, putting a bowl under him to catch any stray drips.

Thus half-crucified, the little golem watched her run out the door back to the front room, open up the front door, and slam it behind her. “Hey Daddy, do you need any help? Are you done? When’s dinner?”

Then she was out of earshot, and the golem turned as best he could, surveying his surroundings, trying to make some sense of this new environment now that he wasn’t being soaked in water for no good reason.

And then he froze.

Peering in through an open window, scorn written into every whisker, was a feline face. A familiar one.

Pulsivar the Cat strolled in over the windowsill, and sat his haunches down on the counter, staring up at the little golem.

Threadbare stared back.

Then the golem began jerking frantically, trying to get itself free of the washing line.

Pulsivar’s eyes got bigger and bigger, as the thrashing motion enticed him. He crouched low, wiggling his butt, as his tail lashed in anticipation.

“Daddy, do you think Threadbare can help with dinner tonight?” Celia’s voice came from just outside the door.

Threadbare’s head whipped to the left, and hope rose within his heart-

“What? Oh hold on, I didn’t know there was more. Coming!” Celia’s footsteps retreated down the path.

-and swiftly fell, as his salvation left him to the mercies of the cat, Futile, because the cat had no mercy, and he leaped upon the hanging golem like a fuzzy, fat arrow loosed from a bow with a catgut string.

But Pulsivar hadn’t accounted for one very important thing.

The hooks holding Threadbare’s washing line up weren’t meant to bear twenty-five pounds of pissed-off feline.

The rightmost one ripped out of the wall, the line swung, with Threadbare pinned to it and Pulsivar swinging below him like a fuzzy pendulum-

-and both of them went sailing through the still-open basement door. Celia had forgotten to close the damned thing.

At the end of the arc, Threadbare’s eyes went wide in horror as the pin holding him to the clothesline snapped off, and cat and golem went sailing down together, bouncing and rolling down the steep wooden stairs, to land in a heap on the dirt floor. A pair of red numbers, 6 for Pulsivar and 2 for Threadbare, drifted up into the air and vanished.

CON +1

Your Toughness Skill is now level 2!

Max HP increased by 2!

Above them, stirred by the breeze of their passing and nudged by one of the cat’s flailing legs, the door swung closed with an ominous CLICK.

The light, at least, was still on. Threadbare and the cat scrambled apart, rising to their feet. In the light reflected from the glowing stone above, button-eyed determination met a malicious feline glare.

Threadbare found himself all out of fucks to give. He was stronger now, tougher, and this creature had fled from him before. Alien instincts flooded him, and he hauled himself up to his full height, putting his arms out wide. He tried to growl, but the lack of a mouth made it impossible.

Pulsivar hissed, with a sound of boiling water. This time would be different! This time the bear would not escape! His fur puffed up…

And in the shadows where the light didn’t reach, red eyes faded into view.

Pulsivar paused, as his nose twitched.

Rats. Lots of them.

A chittering filled the dank air, and Threadbare stopped, looked around as well.

And then there was no time for anything but violence, as the rats charged out to kill the invaders.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare Age: 1 Hour

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 2
Bear Level 1

Attributes:

Strength: 15 Constitution: 25 Hit Points: 63/71 Armor: 13
Intelligence: 8 Wisdom: 19 Sanity: 25 Mental Fortitude: 3
Dexterity: 10 Agility: 11 Stamina: 27 Endurance: 23
Charisma: 9 Willpower: 13 Moxie: 16 Cool: 20
Perception: 10 Luck: 8 Fortune: 17 Fate: 2

Generic Skills Climb - Level 1
Ride - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 4
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 3
Magic Resistance –Level 2

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 1
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 2
Toughness – 2

Equipment

Parties and Perils 3

Months ago, when winter was in full swing and the vermin of the forest were looking for shelter, a pair of rats had found a crack in the foundation of the house, large enough to squirm into. They’d found themselves in a gloriously dark cellar, lit only by one small window, high up in the wall. They’d also found several loosely-stored sacks and barrels of grain and dried vegetables.

Eventually they grew too fat to leave the cellar, but there was plenty of food, so they bred litters, ate, and slept.

But in time, a change came over the oldest of them. Glowing, squiggly symbols appeared in front of the eyes of the older of the original pair. Letters that if they could have been comprehended by ratty minds, would have shown that he was eligible for a rank up.

And he had taken that rank up. The next time he happened to think positively about something, willing “yes” to a small question that involved ratty life, he’d accepted the rank up. This was how most wild animals ranked up without a benefit of comprehending the words.

And, as had happened many times before, an otherwise-ordinary animal became a monster.

That had been a week ago.

The monster’s children had stirred when the girl entered the cellar, gathered around, wanting to attack her with an aggression that normally they didn’t have. But the monster was eating more and more of the food, even eating his children at times, and the rats were desperate. The little girl’s sheer size was the only thing that kept her safe.

But Threadbare and the cat? They were just the right size.

And so the monster lurked behind a row of pickle jars, watching through multiple red eyes, as its children swarmed. It would let them take the brunt of the intruders’ attacks, and wear them down with numbers. Then it would come out and claim its due from its ratty children, taking the choicest bits from the kill. It was only natural, really.

It was, after all, their king.

Threadbare was aware of none of this, having too low a perception to see the monster hidden behind the pickles, and Pulsivar the cat was too goddamned busy for a clear look around. The rats hurled themselves at the two creatures like a tidal wave of furry flesh, cramming in tightly together and charging, leaping upon the pair.

Pulsiver moved with lightning speed, sweeping out with his claws as they came at him, dancing back and batting them away as they came, but there were too many angles to cover. One larger rat took a bite out of his tail with its chisel teeth. Another one latched onto his ear and the cat howled, spraying blood as he shook his head, sending the rat flying as a red number 5 floated up to the ceiling.

Threadbare, without the benefit of the cat’s agility, stumbled back as half a dozen rats harried him, ripping into his furry body… and finding it tougher than anticipated. A virtual storm of red zeroes floated up to the ceiling of the basement, with only one or two forlorn ‘1’s among them. But it was still aggravating, and he really didn’t know how to handle the situation. He looked to Pulsivar, and saw the cat’s paws flickering like lightning, slapping and slamming the rats as they came.

Well, why not? That looked like it might do something.

INT +1

The little golem flailed his arms in great clumsy sweeps, losing more and more of his hide to ratty nibbles as they easily evaded his attacks.

Up until the point one of them didn’t.

“Squeak!”

You have unlocked the generic skill: Brawling!

Your Brawling skill is now level 1!

The little rat rolled backwards, bounced off a few of its brethren, then surged back into the fight. But Threadbare was busy trying out his newfound skill, and didn’t have time to notice. Again and again his arms slapped down on the rats, battering them, wearing them down. Eventually a few of them fled, bruised down to only one or two hit points.

The teddy bear kept going as fast as he could, ignoring the numbers and letters scrolling through his field of vision. The rats fought back, and he felt his body get more and more unresponsive as needle-like teeth tore at him.

He dodged a few of them…

AGL+1

But there were just too many, so he had to resort to battering as best he could.

Your Brawling skill is now level 2!

CON +1
Your Brawling skill is now level 3!
STR +1
Your Brawling skill is now level 4!
STR +1
Your Toughness Skill is now Level 3

Max HP +2

Then, with a lucky strike, he managed to catch a leaping rat full in the mouth with a wild haymaker, sending it up a full four feet, before it fell down to hit the floor.

CRUNCH!

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Your Brawling skill is now level 5!

You are now a level 3 Toy Golem!

All Attributes +2!

And suddenly, he felt good. He felt stronger. Still banged up, true, but… now, somehow, he felt more confident about his chances. He had no idea why these things were trying to kill him, but he figured he’d be walking out of here one way or another. He bonked a few more rats, smacking them until they retreated, and glanced back to Pulsivar.

The cat was not having a good day. Unlike the golem, his feline hide was a lot thinner and softer. And while the rats had to work harder to hit him, there were a lot of the little bastards. Also, it didn’t help that unlike most of the nests of vermin he had dealt with before, these little bastards weren’t going down or fleeing when he thumped them or batted them away. So he switched to more lethal tactics.

At the cost of taking more hits to his unprotected flanks, Pulsivar popped his claws and slashed wildly, getting stuck in and tearing screaming rats into meaty gobbets. He tore two to bits, losing a tip of his tail in the process, stood on his haunches and raked three more with long swipes as two more bit into his back, then rolled, scooping up a large rat with his claws and jaws as he eviscerated it with his hind feet.

The golem would have blinked, if his eyes worked that way. He watched, fascinated, as Pulsivar turned into a screaming, hissing whirlwind of blood and claws and teeth— —and something within him realized that at least part of that sort of fighting style was within his reach.

Movement to his side, a rat coming in with a furious charge— PER +1

—And Threadbare turned and SWIPED it out of the air.

Claw Swipes Activated!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 2

The rat disintegrated. Bloody bits rained down on the somewhat-thinned crowd, and for a second, the lot of them hesitated.

Threadbare, oblivious to the momentary reprieve, studied his paw. Black, hardened claws about an inch long stuck out of it, dripping red, red blood in the dim light of the crystal.

And Pulsivar, seeing the opportunity, used his ace in the hole.

Rats weren’t the only ones who could rank up. And long ago, two years at least, Pulsivar the cat had slain enough rabbits and rats and birds to unlock the next part of his evolutionary chain.

Pulsivar was a Tomcat, and he unleashed the full force of his mightiest skill upon the ears of all present, as a screeching, hissing, buzzsaw of a howl echoed through the tight basement and shook the mason jars on the shelves!

This was Caterwaul: The sanity destroyer!

Instantly, the area effect skill ripped through the rats like a hot knife through butter, as scores of green “17”s filled the air of the basement.

Threadbare felt the pain too, as a green “3” floated past his vision… but it wasn’t that bad, just mildly disconcerting.

You have successfully resisted Caterwaul! Sanity damage halved!

WILL +1

The rats fell to the ground, stunned cat-atonic, their sanity fled.

And in the silence, Threadbare turned to look at Pulsivar. And the cat sat on its haunches, panting, looking back.

Threadbare looked at his claws, then at the cat.

The cat crouched low, and prepared to resolve the unfinished business it had with this infernal thing.

Then, from behind the row of pickle jars, came the strangest sound that either of the two enemies had ever heard.

A royal fanfare, trumpets and all, followed by officious-sounding squeaking. Though without words, it somehow had the weight of dignity behind it. It spoke of valor and duty, to rat, king, and pantry…

…but most importantly of all, it added a sanity buff to its fallen subjects.

And around them, the fallen rats rose, one by one. The ones slashed to death were unmoving still, but the effects of Pulsivar’s caterwaul were thoroughly undone.

The two enemies looked to their renewed foes. They looked back to each other.

Threadbare knew he couldn’t survive this alone. And while the cat wasn’t exactly a friend, the rats sure as hell were enemies to them both.

INT +1

So he gave the cat a small nod, and turned his back on Pulsivar, taking the biggest risk of his short life, and hoping that the cat understood the message.

Fortunately for both of them Pulsivar had spent long hours grinding his perception.

Threadbare relaxed slightly, as he felt a furry flank slide against his back.

CHA +1

The message had been understood. They might just walk out of here after all.

The rats, down to two-thirds of their starting number, charged in; the real battle began.

At first it was slogwork, with the cat and the golem ripping them up and taking bites in return. More words flashed by, as the seconds turned into a minute; CON +1

Your Brawling skill is now level 6!

STR +1

Critical Hit!
LUCK +1

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 3!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 4!

Your Brawling skill is now level 7!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 5!

Your Claw Swipes skill is maxxed, raise your Bear job!

But as time went on, the bear began to feel an alien sensation.

It was getting tired.

Unbeknownst to the teddy bear, the Claw Swipes skill ate up a little of its stamina with every hit. And while it was brutally effective, it wasn’t designed for prolonged fights. Bears were more of an “overwhelming force” fighter, as melee combatants went. Trying to fight like Pulsivar wasn’t doing him any favors, especially since he didn’t have a mouth to bite with.

Pulsivar, fortunately, was coming to the same conclusion. While they were covering each other’s flanks, he was getting tired too. His own Catscratch, and Rake skills were getting the job done, but his endurance was running very low. Too many hours grinding Nap, not enough grinding Hunt. He contemplated another Caterwal, but dismissed the notion. He was already low enough on Moxie, another shot of that would surely knock him out.

Then the teddy bear had an epiphany; Pulsivar was better at killing, but judging by the rips in him versus the less-severe wounds in the teddy bear, Threadbare could take damage more easily.

He thought he could maybe use this to their advantage.

INT +1

Threadbare gave Pulsivar a shove, then waded out into the regrouping remnants. Pulling his claws back in without knowing quite how, he went back to thumping at the rats, deliberately letting himself get surrounded, and taking the bites. His already abused hide was rent further, stitches giving way, and desperately he fought, hoping beyond hope that the cat got the message.

Fortunately for him, the cat did.

LUCK +1

The rats were thin on the ground now, depleted enough that they weren’t filling the bloody, corpse-strewn ground. They had to peel off into two separate rings, one around the golem and one around the cat. And when the cat got surrounded he simply leaped out of it, smacking with both paws on one of the ones snapping at Threadbare.

CRUNCH!

Before they could realize that death was among them, the cat mowed down the distracted rats like a scythe through grain. Then Threadbare ran past him, intercepting the next string of rats, and making them ring up around him again.

And Pulsivar was free to rip and tear without fear of reprisal. He had much more stamina left than the teddy bear, even if his endurance was abysmal. And so, when the last rat fled squeaking, the cat settled back on his haunches once more, glaring with cruel eyes. Threadbare, for his part, sat on the ground and tried to push the few puffs of escaping stuffing back into the holes in his chest.

You are now a level 4 Toy Golem!

All Attributes +2!

The cat looked at the bear once more. The bear looked back. Then the cat started to groom itself.

Threadbare couldn’t tell exactly, but he thought maybe that meant that Pulsivar might stop trying to kill him now?

PER +1

CRASH!

Both cat and bear jumped upright, as a row of pickle jars broke.

And something crawled out from the darkness.

At first it looked like another group of rats… bigger, filthier, and even more angry. But they were moving strangely, jerking and stopping, straining against the floor, practically clawing their way along.

Then they got into the light, and Threadbare saw why.

Their tails were twisted together into a pulsating knot, and sitting on top of this knot was a rat twice the size of the others, In its clenched paws was a scepter, a little golden shiny stick with a stylized rat’s head on it. And as Threadbare watched, it sat upright on its knot, pointed the scepter at Threadbare, and let out a screeching warcry.

Threadbare turned to look at Pulsivar…

… who promptly leaped up on the nearest shelf, eyes wide and full of nope.

Threadbare stared after him, hope fading. Then there was no time for despair, as the rat king was upon him.

These rats were stronger than the last, well-fed and sleek, with muscles about double that of the subjects Threadbare had tanked without much difficulty. Three bites in, he knew he was in trouble, as red “5”s floated up into the air.

CON +1
Your Toughness Skill is now Level 4!
Maximum HP +2

Claw swipes took down one of the big rats, but there were nine in total, and they dragged along their fallen comrade, only slightly slower for the effort.

STR +1

Your Brawling skill is now level 8!

Your Claw Swipes skill is maxxed, raise your Bear job!

Shuddering, with a large gash in his left side, and one arm limp and only hanging on by (literally) a thread, Threadbare stumbled back, out of the light. Sensing weakness, the rat king pushed forward.

Up on the shelf, Pulsivar moved forward to get a better look, nudged a jar of strawberry jam, and thoroughly failed his agility check.

The jam careened downward, narrowly missing the rat king. It squeaked and ducked, chittering, and directing its bearers to the side away from Pulsivar’s shelf.

Threadbare watched all this with button eyes.

And he remembered the workshop, and the table, and what it had done to him. And he came up with a plan.

INT +1

The rat king resumed pursuing him, murder in its gleaming red eyes. This blood-stained bear, this ratshit-smeared slayer, it would pay for what it had done! With a wave of its scepter, the rat king gave in to its instincts and leaned forward, puking green smoke from all nine of its remaining mouths!

The skill was called “Plague Breath”

And it affected the little golem not at all.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 4!

Threadbare leaped out of the cloud, leaped past the king onto the nearest shelves— AGL +1

—Moved himself between the shelf and the wall, grabbed one of the wooden rods supporting the shelves at its back, planted his feet against the wall, and pulled.

His arm gave way and fell off, and he doubled down with his last arm, curling it in tight, and pulling, feeling his stitches along his side give, feeling his stuffing slip and fall out of him, straining with every inch of his augmented body regardless of the damage done to himself— STR +1

CON +1

Your Toughness Skill is Level 5!

Max HP +2!

And he toppled the shelf, and all the jars and cans on it, onto the rat king.

The shelf went to pieces, dowel rods flying. Threadbare hit the dirt floor and rolled, streaking his bloody form with mud, his loose arm landing next to him.

He lay there still for a minute, until the rat king screamed. The shelf rustled, stirred, as Threadbare looked at it… then fell still.

Threadbare stood, limping, wrapping his right arm around to his left side to hold himself together, and stumbled over to peer into the shelving.

The biggest rat, the king itself, was straining, trying to get free of the wreckage. Around it, the corpses of its nine dead bearers lay broken and dying among the shattered glass, fallen wood, and heavy cans.

The rat king hissed. He was cornered now, and all his stats gained a nice buff for it. When that little bear came near, he’d shred him to death.

Fortunately, the bear saw that, too. Though he didn’t know about the buff, he was pretty sure the critter was still highly dangerous to approach.

WIS +1

Threadbare went and picked up a dowel rod. Much easier this time, he noticed. Which was good, because he was down to one hand.

Then he limped back to the rat king and slowly beat it to death, staying well out of its reach the whole time.

INT +1

You have unlocked the generic skill: Clubs and Maces!

Your Clubs and Maces Skill is Level 1!

Your Clubs and Maces Skill is Level 2!

Your Clubs and Maces Skill is Level 3!

Your Clubs and Maces Skill is Level 4!

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Somewhere around Clubs and Maces Level 6, the thing finally succumbed to its injuries.

You are now a level 5 Toy Golem!
All Attributes +2!
You unlocked the Innocent Embrace Skill!
Your Innocent Embrace Skill is Level 1!
You are now a level 2 Bear!
CON +3
STR+3
WIS +3
Armor +2
Endurance +2
Mental Fortitude +2

He felt good for all of three seconds. Then, to his horror, a new set of those damned squiggles showed up in his vision and did not leave!

Congratulations! By committing regicide you have unlocked the Ruler job!

Would you like to become a Ruler at this time? Y/N?

Threadbare was about four fucks beyond his limit, and he’d started with no fucks at all. This was too goddamned much… but fortunately, he knew how to make those squiggles go away, now didn’t he?

He concentrated on the feeling he’d had at Celia’s tea party, concentrated on the feeling that was “Yes!”

DING!
You are now a Level 1 Ruler!
CHA +5
WIS +5
LUCK +5

You have Unlocked the Emboldening Speech Skill!

You gain Emboldening Speech at level 1
You have Unlocked the Identify Subject Skill!
Your gain Identify Subject at level 1
You have unlocked the Noblesse Oblige Skill!
You gain Noblesse Oblige at level 1
You have unlocked the Royal Request Skill!
You gain Royal Request at level 1
You have unlocked the Simple Decree Skill!
You gain Simple Decree at level 1

None of this meant anything to the bear. But he did feel different. He couldn’t say how, so he shrugged with his remaining arm, and turned with a weariness that his body language hadn’t had the complexity to show before.

Then a gleam caught his eye.

The golden scepter lay next to the fallen rat king. Threadbare marched over and scooped it up, examining it curiously… and the stylized rat’s head on the end of it turned into a teddy bear’s face.

His thoughts swam again, and jumbled into order. Well beyond animal intelligence at this point, he was now somewhere around the level of a sharp toddler or a very simple adult.

Twenty-five pounds of cat leaped down onto the dirt floor next to him, and Threadbare turned to study Pulsivar.

Pulsivar, for his part, leaned in and sniffed the bear.

He didn’t smell rage, or fear, or hostility. He smelled rat blood and shit, sure, that was everywhere…

…but under it all, he smelled soap. The soap that Celia used to launder every piece of clothing and sheet in the place. It was a scent that to Pulsivar meant home, and family. He’d known it all his life, and associated it with shelter, food, and love.

Pulsivar looked at the bear, and wrinkled his nose. Why hadn’t anyone told him the little golem was part of his family? His hoomins would get a stern lesson later. Perhaps a hairball in a shoe, or maybe he’d spray the big one’s pillow. This whole thing could have been avoided.

He was still miffed at the little guy, but he had earned Pulsivar’s respect during the fight. Besides, what he was dealing with here was obviously some sort of malformed kitten, thoroughly clueless and dumb. But cute.

Threadbare watched words go by.

Your Adorable Skill is now level 5!

“Marp,” Pulsivar told Threadbare, less an apology and more of an explanation. Best to let bygones be bygones.

Just to show that there were no hard feelings, he leaned in and started grooming threadbare. Normally this would heal anyone he groomed, but sadly, the little golem was incompatible with standard healing effects.

But the little bear had no idea what the cat was doing. It had seen Pulsivar doing that before, to himself, so to his newly-socially-boosted instincts, it seemed to him that the Cat was telling him that he was no longer an enemy. That he accepted Threadbare.

So, the bear leaned forward and gave him a hug as a “thank you”. And as he did so, a golden glow enveloped his arms and sunk into the cat.

Spent 10 Sanity! You have healed Pulsivar 10 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 2!

Wow, he felt light-headed.

Pulsivar stopped, surprised. Then he gave Threadbare a few more licks, and pulled away. None of that touchy-feely stuff, thank you very much.

The bear stared at him for a bit, then started looking around for a way out. Celia was around here somewhere, she’d know what to do. Maybe she could clean up this mess.

He made his way back to the stairs, tucked his new scepter into one of the holes in his body, and did his best to climb the stairs one-armed.

Your Climb Skill is now Level 2!

Your Climb Skill is now Level 3!

AGL +1

After some time and repeated falls, he managed to make his way up to the door. He pushed on it, but it didn’t open. He pushed harder, and stopped once more stuffing threatened to bulge out of him. He didn’t have that much left, so this clearly wouldn’t work.

He clambered down the stairs once more, and looked around the basement. No way out, except…

PER +1

One window, high on the wall. About five feet up.

Threadbare looked to the dowel rod, picked it up, and smashed the window.

INT +1

Immediately, just like before, Pulsivar jumped up on the nearest shelf and fled through the newly-made exit. Much slower, and with a great deal more effort, Threadbare followed, fell a few times, kept trying until he got up there…

Your Climb Skill is now Level 4!

…And managed to squirm through the window.

AGL +1

He lay there for a bit, in the grass and the flower beds, watching the trees overhead. The wind swayed the branches in the sunlight, and finally, just maybe, this particular ordeal was over.

“I think it came from over here!” Celia’s voice came from around the corner of the house. Tired, drained, and hurt, Threadbare clambered to his feet and ran as fast as he could toward her voice.

“Oh my gods! What happened to you?” Celia grabbed him up, then wrinkled her nose. “Ew ew ew you smell horrible! What is this-is this blood?” She went pale. Then she fled, shrieking, toward the front door. “Daddy! Daddy Daddy Daddy Threadbare’s dying!”

She hugged him to her so tight that she pushed the scepter well down into his body, without even noticing. The bear just clung to her and hugged her as best he could, with one arm gone. This time no glowy stuff happened, and he didn’t know why. Someone could have explained to him that Innocent Embrace only triggered if the target was injured or the caster had enough sanity to use it, but again, he probably wouldn’t have understood.

Not yet, anyway. He’d been through a lot, and he was starting to learn, learn and grow.

“Celia, what’s… wrong?” The old man burst into the front room as his blood-smeared daughter cried and thrust her toy at him.

“Oh dear heavens! Ah, let me… ugh, this is horrible. Give him here, give him here.”

“Can, sniff, can I mend him without his arm? Will it stay that way?”

“No, he’s a golem. The severed parts will dissolve from where they’re at and reattach as he’s mended, so it shouldn’t be a problem. No, don’t mend him yet, if there’s anything inside him the mending will seal it in. We’ll have to get the blood and filth off him first.” The old man held Threadbare at arm’s length, and cleared his throat. “Clean and Press!”

Instantly the grime fled Threadbare’s body. The old man nodded. “Now you can mend him.”

Celia shouted her “Mend” spell until he was whole again. Relieved, she hugged her best friend close. “Oh thank you thank you! And I even skilled up! Yay me…”

“Then it was worthwhile, whatever happened.” The old man frowned. “Er, what did happen? That wasn’t your blood, so whose was—”

“Wait a minute.” The little girl’s face turned into a mask of dawning comprehension. “You cleaned him in like an instant. How did you do that?”

The old man coughed, and reddened. “Ah, we’ll discuss that later. For now, let’s figure out how he got so bloody in the first-”

“You said you were low on sanity, and couldn’t do any more magic today! And that was a spell!”

“Well I was, I mean, it’s only a level 1 spell.”

“I’ve been doing the laundry for years, and you could have done it just like that with a level 1 spell? What the hell, Daddy?”

“Celia!”

“It’s like hours a week out of my life and you could have done that at any time? Seriously?”

“It’s a very important chore! You can’t depend on magic, you have to learn how to do things without-”

“Well why not teach me, then! I’m old enough to be a level 5 animator, why don’t you teach me that level 1 trick!”

“It’s not an animator trick, it’s a tailor skill-”

“Then teach me to be a tailor!”

“You’re not ready to make such life-altering decisions yet-”

“Not ready? Not ready! That’s all I ever hear from you is that I’m not ready!”

“No! There’s an upper limit, you can only ever have so many jobs! I can’t waste your potential with the trivial stuff-”

“But it wasn’t too trivial for you! And you’re okay with wasting my potential on doing laundry by hand! What the hell, Daddy!”

The old man stood bolt upright, glaring down at Celia. “I will not be talked to like this in my own house! Go to your room, young lady!”

“Fine!” Celia stormed upstairs, threw herself onto her bed, hugged Threadbare to her, and cried her eyes out.

Inside Threadbare, the scepter itched a bit. He settled into Celia’s embrace, and moved by new instincts, stroked. He’d been frightened and upset when Celia and his creator started shouting, but it hadn’t come to a fight. Which was good, because he didn’t have any shelves around to drop on the old man and he was pretty sure the guy would be harder to take down than the rat king had been.

Outside, the light faded as dusk came on, and night covered the land. The little girl fell into a troubled sleep, and Threadbare settled into the crook of her arms. For now, at least, all was well with the world.

*****

In the dark of the night, in a sprawling hillside village set among several farmers’ fields, a batwinged form settled onto the window of the largest house. It slunk in, peering with beady eyes, as it folded its wings against its scaly back.

Sitting up in bed, a blanket clutched to her voluptuous form, a raven-haired woman smiled sweetly at the imp. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, which might as well have been chips of ice.

“Caminthraxus? You have a report to make? About the girl?”

“No, milady. About Caradon.”

“Ah… So the old man has figured it out, then?”

“Er, no. The old man has made no real progress with his research.”

“Then why do you waste my time?” Her tone didn’t change, but the imp knew how close he was to torment, right now, unless he found a way to make her happy.

The tiny demon shuddered, and tried to find his courage. “I, I learned that he keeps a set of scrolls within his house. An emergency stash. Many of them are spells that let the user command golems.”

Icy eyes gleamed. And a set of perfect white teeth smiled. “Ah. Yes, that will make things easier. I’ll send word on to the master, and we’ll see how he wants to use that information. Thank you Caminthraxus, you’ve done well.”

“Just my duty,” the lesser demon hissed, though his gaze was drawn to the figure next to the woman, just visible through the sheets. “Are you going to finish that one?”

The woman turned, and considered the man next to her. Drawn skin over shriveled bones, his paper-like eyelids moved up and down, as horrified eyes moved from her to the imp. Muscles thoroughly drained from the night’s earlier activities twitched, and the woman easily held him down with one red-nailed hand.

“Mmmm… no, I think I’m done. You can have what’s left.”

The imp grinned, showing teeth that Pulsivar would have envied, and moved in for the feast.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare Age: 2 Hours
Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 5
Bear Level 2
Ruler Level 1

Attributes:

Strength: 31 Constitution: 41 Hit Points: 112 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 20 Wisdom: 34(39) Sanity: 54(59) Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 17 Agility: 19 Stamina: 46 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 17(22) Willpower: 21 Moxie: 38(43) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 17 Luck: 21 Fortune: 38 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 8
Climb - Level 4
Clubs and Maces - Level 6
Ride - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 5
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 4
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 2

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 5
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 2
Toughness – 5

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests and Questions 1

The tension in the house lasted for a few days. Celia spent most of her time in her room, playing with Threadbare. On the few occasions she left, for food or to use the toilet or whatever, she’d hurry back as quickly as possible.

Occasionally Threadbare heard Celia talking with Daddy downstairs. They didn’t shout, but his new-found social skills could hear the tension. The discussions were always short, and Celia usually showed up within a minute afterwards.

Threadbare spent a lot of time playing with Celia. It was good for a few more points of Charisma and Perception, and a few Adorable Skill level ups, not that he knew what was going on there. He just knew that the more time he spent around his little girl, the better he could understand how she was feeling.

But as the days went on, the attribute and skill bumps slowed down. The little bear had no way of knowing that the higher a primary attribute rose, the more time and practice it took to increase.

He did gain a small intelligence boost, as well. And his newly-grown intelligence was starting to comprehend a few words, here and there. Celia was the girl, he understood. Daddy was his creator, and Celia’s too, he guessed. Threadbare was his name. And Pulsivar was the cat, who was roundly cursed when the smell from the basement started emanating into the house proper.

That ended the stalemate between Daddy and Celia. He knocked on her door, humbly asked for her help in cleaning up Pulsivar’s mess, and agreed to take over the laundry from that point on. Celia enlisted Threadbare and her squad of stuffed toys for the task, and the lot of them marched downstairs, to look at the mess below. Flies had gotten in through the broken window and found the rot, and the hum of their eager feasting filled the basement. Spilled preserves sent up a sickly-sweet smell that mixed with the rotting rat flesh, and it was all the two humans could do to keep their lunches down.

“Um. I don’t suppose your cleaning spell will handle this?” Celia asked.

“If it could I wouldn’t need the help. My spell only works on textiles.”

“What’s a tek style?”

“Cloths, furs, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.”

“Well. Let’s make this a proper quest, then.” The old man blinked a few times, staring into the distance.

DING!

And to Threadbare’s surprise, a whole bunch of squiggles appeared in his vision.

CARADON GEARHART HAS OFFERED A PUBLIC QUEST!
DETAILS: CLEAN THE BASEMENT
REWARD: TWENTY-FIVE EXPERIENCE POINTS

COMPLETION: AUTOMATICALLY FULFILLED WHEN BASEMENT IS CLEAN

DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N?

Annoyed, Threadbare willed “Yes!” and the squiggles disappeared. Stupid things!

But now the old man had a light glowy shine to him, for some reason. He didn’t know that only people who had accepted a quest from Caradon could see that shine.

Celia grinned, as she accepted the quest as well. “Yay! Twenty-five experience! Let’s get to it!”

Her jubilation lasted up until she looked at the mess. “Okay. Okay okay,” Celia said, glancing back to the six stuffed animals she’d brought. “Let me get my party going, then you can clean them.”

“Capital idea. I’ll handle Threadbare.”

“What do you mean? I’ll just tell him to-“

The old man shook his head, and pointed at Threadbare. “Command Golem: Clean this mess.”

Threadbare straightened up. He marched up to the old man, took the bucket of soapy water and scrub brush that the man offered, and got to work.

Celia shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Come on guys, hup to it!” The toys bumbled down around Threadbare, and contributed as best they could.

“So what happened in here anyway?” Celia asked. “I knew we had rats, but… this is a lot of them. I think. It’s really gross and I don’t want to look too hard at this.”

“As best as I can figure out, Pulsivar got trapped in here somehow and panicked, like he did in my workshop. He killed all the rats in a frenzy, tearing my shelving to pieces in the process, then broke the window to escape.” The old man rubbed his eyes. “That cat’s stronger than I thought. I’ll have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t go monstrous.”

“He wouldn’t!” Celia turned to him, shocked. “He’s our kitty and he loves us!”

“Probably not. But there’s always a chance, and if his instincts are this violent, I can’t take the risk of inattention.”

Celia just stared up at him. After a time, the old man’s stern face softened, and he rubbed her frizzy red hair. “He’ll be fine, though. He probably won’t become anything. That cat’s five, if he was going to go bad he’d have done it by now.” He glanced back at the cellar, watching the glass chips and broken crockery get piled in one corner by the giraffe and dolly, as Threadbare tossed armloads of dead rodents into one of the few intact wooden crates. “What I wish I knew, was how Pulsivar got trapped down here in the first place. The glass was outside in the flower bed, so he came out that way. He didn’t enter that way. And I’m pretty sure he can’t get the basement door open by himself.” He shook his head, but his eyes slid back to watch Celia, catching the way she bit her lip. “It is a mystery.”

Long minutes passed. Threadbare got a couple of points of dexterity from chucking rat corpses and handling cleaning supplies. He paused every now and then to glance back at his family.

Finally, Celia swallowed hard. “I uh, I think I left the door open. The basement door.”

“Oh? Did you now?”

“I was washing Threadbare so I got the soap, and I might have left the door open. I guess… Pulsivar could have… gotten in. And maybe the door shut or something. It was shut when I came back in the house, so maybe he accidentally knocked the door shut. I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think anything of it! Threadbare had wiggled loose from the clothesline so I went looking for him, and then he was all bloody, and-” The little girl put two and two together and got three point five. “-Pulsivar must have grabbed him on his way down to the basement! Then the door shut and he panicked, and got the mess all over Threadbare! THAT’S where the blood came from!” Celia looked down, and her eyes went wide. “Oh gods I got it on my face when I hugged him oh gods… MRP!” She covered her mouth with both hands and ran upstairs, retching.

The old man looked after her, and nodded. “I knew you had it in you, girl. I’m proud of you,” he whispered. Then he turned around, and frowned as Threadbare tottered toward the stairs. “Here now, has the command worn off already? Command Golem: Clean this mess!”

Golden light flashed, and Threadbare went back to his task. But it didn’t stop him from worrying for his little girl, so he kept sneaking glances back toward the stairs. The old man took no notice of this, standing on the bottom stair, arms folded behind him, waiting for Celia’s return.

Eventually she did, wearing a different smock, looking pale. She shook as she stood at the head of the stairs, too afraid to come down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the door open and this whole mess is because of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Celia…” The old man winced, as he walked upstairs, and folded her into his embrace. “No, I’m not mad at you Celia, it’s okay. You didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s not your fault. This is on Pulsivar, and even then he was panicked so I can’t truly blame him. It’s just bad luck, that’s all. And, look at it this way; Pulsivar saved us the trouble of having to chase the rats out.”

She snorted laughter into his chest, as she hugged her Daddy for all she was worth.

“In fact, I’m proud of you for confessing what you did… what you THOUGHT you’d done. So I’ve come to a big decision.”

“Yeah?”

“I was planning on stepping up your lessons, telling you some of the things I’ve been holding back. You’re mature enough to handle the truth now, I think.” A shadow passed across his face, unseen by the little girl or her bear. “Some of it, anyway. Bear with me, you’ll get the whole story in time.”

“Really?” She looked up at him, snuffling, but her eyes were filled with hope.

“Really.” He glanced back down to the basement. “Come on. The toys can’t reach everywhere. Get your gloves on, it’s time for us to do our part.”

At the end of the job, Threadbare felt no different for being twenty-five experience points richer. And a level of Resist Magic, after it took the old man a few tries to get “Clean and Press” to work on him. Threadbare silently and uncomprehendingly watched his Magic Resistance skill kick up a notch. The old man saw nothing but a stubborn toy that couldn’t help but resist him.

“Golems,” the old man snorted. “I swear, that resist magic skill is more trouble than it’s worth, sometimes. Normally beneficial magic bypasses it, but since the golems don’t care if they’re dirty or clean, it doesn’t hurt them either way.”

“Is that how it works?”

“More or less.” The old man tossed Threadbare to her, then beckoned her back upstairs. “Come on. Let’s go to the back porch and break out the slate and notes. It’s a good day for lessons.”

With the promise of answers, Celia eagerly scrounged up the schooling supplies and followed her Daddy through the Study, and onto the wooden porch overlooking the downward slope of the hill. The forest lay beyond, thick, towering trees blooming with springtime growth, birdsong heavy and filling the branches. In the distance she could just make out the river that marked the edge of their property, such that it was. As she watched, a brown figure stomped through the trees briefly, and she smiled to see it. The Raggedy Men were a familiar sight.

The old man took no notice of this, as he took the slate from her, and settled back into his chair. Producing a piece of chalk from his apron, he started scrawling on the slate.

“The thing that I must tell you, before anything else, is that the world was not always this way.”

“Uh, what?”

“Letters in the air. Little boosts to your fundamental qualities, for doing difficult tasks. Jobs, status screens, even quests… none of this was a thing, forty years ago.”

Celia stared at him, uncomprehending. “How? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“But that’s how it was.” The old man scrawled words on the slate, and crossed them off one by one.

“But… how did people learn skills without jobs?”

“We didn’t have skills. Not as you know them, anyway. We got better at things by years of practice, and trying to learn new things.”

“Like unlocking generic skills?” Celia still looked unconvinced. This was a lot to swallow.

“Sort of, only without the words appearing to tell you you’d gotten better at something.” The old man snorted. “I was a wizard’s apprentice, back then. I’d spent years learning the basics, and my biggest trick was animating a rope. I could do that once per day…. Twice a day if I didn’t memorize detect magic, and double-stocked animate rope spells.”

“What?”

“Things were very different back then. We had spell slots, and don’t ask me to explain those. Anyway, it took years to get good at things. Decades, even, for some complex skills. I suppose it still does, now, if you take it slowly and avoid danger.”

Celia shifted, hugging Threadbare tight. “So what about level ups?”

“They weren’t called that. I think… I think what happened was that the numbers still appeared, but nobody could see them. You had to guess what you had, if you cared about that at all. Most of us didn’t, we were too busy living our lives.”

“So what happened to make everything change? How’d we get to level ups and jobs and stuff?”

“Nobody knows.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. One day, the words started appearing, and everyone found out that they had status screens. And qualified for various jobs.”

“Awesome!”

“No, actually.” The old man looked at her with solemnity. “It was utter chaos.”

“What? Why?”

“Think about it. We’d gone for years without knowing exactly how smart, or how strong, or what our limits were. Then, in a heartbeat, all that knowledge of ourselves was at our fingertips. In fact, we couldn’t get away from it! You’d be right in the middle of kissing your girlfriend, and CHA +1 would float up out of nowhere!”

Celia’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what?” The lesson had gotten even more interesting. “Tell me more about how kissing levels charisma.”

The old man flushed, as he realized his mistake. “Ah. Uh, later. Much later. Anyway, nevermind that. The thing was, once we started figuring things out, and looking around, as the months went by we found out it just wasn’t us, here in the Cylvania Valley. It was Baramor to the west, and Mighty Hallas to the north, and the Cane Confederation to the south, and pretty soon we realized that it was everywhere. Everywhere was like this. Still is, probably.”

“Why do you say it’s probably like this?”

The old man sighed. “It’s not a very nice subject. Which I suppose is why I’ve avoided talking with you about it. But… cards on the table, as it were.” His chalk scratched the slate. “Those early years, we thought the words, the jobs, we thought they were a blessing. Even when monsters grew in numbers and the first dungeons formed, we took it all with a sense of adventure. We even had seven heroes, that swore to protect Cylvania. Seven brave souls, that deserved better than they got.” He stared off into the distance, watching the wind over the trees. “Much better.”

Celia bit her lip. “I don’t understand.”

The old man shook his head. “I’m woolgathering. But essentially, it turned to chaos. Jobs only go to level twenty-five, that we found out in the first few years. But the monsters kept getting tougher and tougher. Soon we were losing the smaller settlements. Then we were fighting to keep the larger ones. And it never ended, more monsters came in from outside, drifting in from the bigger countries, where more people were around to kill them more easily. We didn’t have enough people to manage them, and for a while it was pretty ugly.” The old man took a breath. “But even that, we could have lived with. In the end, as it always is, the biggest threat to our little kingdom came from other men.”

“Worse than monsters?”

“Oh yes. Monsters just want simple things, like to eat you, or take your treasure, or to act as their nature tells them to. Men? Men want to rule you. To change you, until you’re what they want you to be, rather than what you want to be.”

“So what happened?”

“You remember how I told you once, that jobs can’t go beyond level 25?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s not exactly true. And in one land, they figured out a way around it faster than anyone else did. So we knew the time had come for drastic action-”

Celia blinked. Then she whipped her head around, and stood, as a figure broke the treeline at the side of the house. “Oh! It’s Mister Mordecai! Hi hi hi!” She waved, lessons forgotten, as the brown-coated figure waved back.

“Ah! Is it that time already?” The old man smiled, and put the slate down. “We cleaned the basement just in time, then, I’d hate to have him subjected to that smell. Come on, let’s go meet him.”

They got inside just as their visitor rapped at the door. Celia ran ahead and answered it, squealing with joy. Threadbare watched from under one arm. He hadn’t understood a word of that lesson earlier, but this seemed interesting.

Leaning against the doorframe, clad in a hunter’s brown leather coat that had seen much wear, collar turned up against the cool winds off the mountain, and a brown, floppy-brimmed hat over his bald head, was a man not much younger than Threadbare’s creator. He was whip-thin, with a face rounded by nature rather than good eating, and the only hair on his face was a stubbly brush that parted to reveal missing teeth as he reached down and lifted Celia up by the armpits. “Garrr! What’ve we got here, then?”

Celia laughed. Threadbare held onto her arm for dear life as she flailed in the newcomer’s grip. “Put me down! Hee hee! I’m not a little girl any more! Ha ha ha!”

“Whew! Truth in that, you’re getting big little Celia!” Mordecai knelt and deposited her on the floor. “Ere we go. Big hug?”

“Big hug!” Celia embraced him. Threadbare found himself shoved up against the man’s neck. Curious, he followed his instincts and sniffed at his hat.

PER +1

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now Level 3!

Oh, right, that was a thing he could do. The teddy bear compared the scents to those he’d sniffed around the house. Some similarities, but more differences. He rather thought he knew what all this huge two-legged scents had in common, though. And even though he didn’t know what humans were, he was starting to figure out that he could smell something and tell if it was human or not.

INT +1

“Mordecai.” The old man nodded.

“Caradon.” The newcomer gave the old man a sober look, over Celia’s shoulder. “Run silent.”

“Run deep,” Caradon replied, and gave the woods a cursory glance, before shutting the door. “Did you bring the usual supplies?”

“That and news.”

“News?” Celia pulled back from him. “What’s happened? Is it something with Taylor’s Delve?”

“Er… big picture stuff. Borin’ stuff. I’ll tell yer Daddy later. Want to help me bring the supplies in?”

“Sure!” Celia trekked outside, next to Mister Mordecai, who listened somberly, nodding as she burst out with a week’s worth of words, telling him all about Threadbare and how Pulsivar had gone crazy twice, and how she’d seen her first Cardinal redbird a few days ago, and how they’d had to clean up the cellar. Mordecai spent a lot of time nodding, and Threadbare was glad to see that the newcomer’s technique for listening to Celia matched the one that the teddy bear had figured out. Lots of nodding, and she was happy.

They reached four stuffed packs at the treeline, and Celia went for the smallest one, grunting as she tried to heft it. Threadbare slipped free of her grasp and tried to help her…

…but holy heck, was it heavy. The little girl staggered back toward the house, grunting and sweating. Threadbare was nearly crushed several times, but managed to take the weight off of her now and then.

STR +1

“How do you get these up here?” Celia whined.

“Told ya before, Scout’s a good job. Got skills ta help with that.”

“I want to learn that.”

“You always say that. An’ what do I always say back?’

“Not… without… Daddy’s… permission…” She made a farting noise with her mouth.

“Ayep.”

The rest of the trip was silent. Mordecai went ahead, walking with the three, heavier packs slung over his shoulder like they had no weight at all. Celia and Threadbare finally caught up, to find Mordecai and Caradon talking in low, solemn voices. Threadbare caught a bit of it, just before he and Celia staggered through the door.

PER +1

“…don’t think he’ll look out this far right away, but you best watch yourself. Had a few people askin’ about where all them toys are going-“ Caradon cleared his throat, and Mordecai glanced over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck as Celia stared at them, curiosity writ large on her face.

“Celia?” Caradon spoke, tousling her hair. “I’ve got some catching up to do with Mister Mordecai. Why don’t you go play outside?”

“Can I go down to the river?”

Caradon looked to Mordecai. Mordecai nodded. “River’s clear. Ent much rain. Worst of the snowmelt’s down from the mountains. No sign a’ monsters.”

“All right, but stay to this bank of the river,” Caradon told her. “Give us about half an hour.”

“Okay! Okay okay. Come on, Threadbare!” She gathered up the little bear, then ran up, and came back down with an armload of stuffed toys. “Bye, Daddy!”

Celia jogged down to the treeline, went a bit further down the hill, to where the pines stood in the loamy soil, and glanced back at the house. “There we go. Out of sight.” She knelt down and put Threadbare and the other toys on the soft cushion of pine needles, and leaned in close. “Did you know something, Threadbare?”

Threadbare nodded his head.

“Well you don’t know this. If you go down to the river and keep going west, then circle around on the sycamore’s bluff, you can get right up to the other side of the house. And you can hear what they’re talking about, without them knowing!”

Threadbare nodded.

“That’s our quest! We’re gonna go figure out what’s got Mister Mordecai so worried! I mean, I’m not gonna give you any of my experience for it, but that’s our adventure. Are you with me, Threadbare?”

The little golem nodded once more, and Celia clapped her hands in glee, before turning around and animating the rest of her toys.

And from a low pine tree, its black scales blending into the hollows between the needle-filled branches, an impish face smiled at the opportunity presented. A short, stealthy flight, a quick hop over the river, and a woman’s arm rose to meet him, as he settled onto her wrist, and met her icy blue stare.

“Well?”

“The girl’s playing outside.”

“Finally!” The woman shook her head, staring up at the little house, just visible through the trees. “Can you run distraction without revealing yourself?”

“Maybe. Mordecai’s no slouch. I can barely sneak by him when I’m invisible.”

“Get as close as you can, and prepare yourself. We’ll only have one shot at this, and I don’t want to meet the master empty-handed when he arrives…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 4 days

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 5
Bear Level 2
Ruler Level 1

Attributes:

Strength: 32 Constitution: 41 Hit Points: 112 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 20 Wisdom: 34(39) Sanity: 54(59) Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 16 Agility: 19 Stamina: 41 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 21 (26) Willpower: 20 Moxie: 38(43) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 21 Luck: 21 Fortune: 38 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 8
Climb - Level 4
Clubs and Maces - Level 6
Ride - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 6
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 4
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 3

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 5
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 3
Toughness – 5

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests and Questions 2

Celia stared at the blade in her hand, then back to Threadbare. Her face grew solemn. “I’m afraid you don’t make the cut, Mister Bare.”

Then she giggled, and tossed the little dagger high up in the air. “Animus Blade!”

The knife fell toward the ground… but it slowed as it did so, stopping at mid-height to Cecilia. It turned over a few times, then settled into an upright guard stance.

“That’s one of the spells I learned when I got to level five,” Celia told Threadbare, grinning. “Neat, huh? It acts like there’s somebody holding it.” She patted the little bear’s head.

Threadbare nodded, watching the dagger move. It swung around Celia as she moved back and forth, inspecting her toys. There were five of them, now. The usual tea party guests plus a wooden skeleton string puppet, and a stuffed knight, with knitted wool for chainmail.

“I’m sorry I’m not inviting you into my party Threadbare, I don’t have any of daddy’s scrolls. But I guess it doesn’t matter since golems don’t get experience. And my buff doesn’t work on you. It works on them, because I animated them, but not you.”

Threadbare nodded. He really didn’t understand what she was talking about, but it seemed to satisfy her.

“Here we go… Form Party!”

DING!

“Invite Beanarella! Invite Dracosnack! Invite Loopy! Invite Sir Dashing! Invite Morty! Invite Dagger Underscore One!”

The toys perked up, and fell into lockstep beside her. The dagger shuddered, slashed the air several times, and resumed its orbit around the little girl. Somehow he could tell it had more confidence to it.

Seeing what the toys were doing, Threadbare fell into line behind them. That was what she wanted? Maybe?

Celia giggled. “Okay. For’ard Marsh!”

The little group set off down the well-worn path through the pines, heading down the hill. Soon the trees thinned, and the sound of trickling water filled the forest air. Trickling water, then something more.

Celia stopped as pine cones crunched in the distance, and glanced down to Threadbare. “Hold still, okay? We uh, we might have to run quick if I’m wrong about this.”

There, at the base of the treeline where the hill met the riverbank, moved a patchwork figure in loose brown leathers, furs, and clothes. Haphazard cloth covered it from head to toe, and its lumpy head was entirely covered by a brown sack with holes cut in it. Straw poked out of one hole, and from holes in its mismatched gloves, thorny vines twitched and coiled.

“Hello Raggedy Man!” Celia waved. The Raggedy Man gave her a long look, then surveyed the party. Its gaze stopped, when it looked down at Threadbare.

Threadbare looked back. He did what he’d saw Celia do, when someone approached her from the woods, and waved.

“Uh-oh,” Celia whispered, as the Raggedy Man tottered three steps closer. It swayed straight-backed, as things under its coat rippled and writhed.

But then, it simply turned and walked back to the treeline, resuming its patrol.

“Daddy made them. The Raggedy Men keep monsters and bad people out,” Celia explained as she scooped up Threadbare. “I didn’t know if he’d think you were an intruder, like Emmett did. I think it goes by how big things are. I mean, I’ve seen Raccoons and Raccant’s up on the hill, but the deer stay away. So I guess you’re small enough it doesn’t care.” She headed out into the sunlight.

Threadbare goggled, at the rushing river in front of him. So much water! Wait, she wasn’t going to wash him again, was she? Threadbare turned in her arms, and gave her a suspicious look, pointing to the river then at himself.

Celia seemed to understand his concern.

CHA +1

“What? No, you don’t need a bath. And if you fell in there you might drown! Well I guess you wouldn’t do that but you’d get swept away. But come on, we’ve got a ways to go and if we don’t hurry they’ll be done before we get there.”

Threadbare nodded. Celia hurried on, following the curve of the river out of sight from the house. As she went, flickers of silver motion caught the little bear’s eyes. Something was in the river, something that blended in well against the foam and rocks.

PER +1

Threadbare had no concept of fish, but that’s what they were. And something in him stirred, told him that he should probably try to grab some of those. He squirmed in Celia’s arms.

“What? You want me to put you down? Okay.”

Celia turned away, heading back down the river. The rest of the toys followed.

And Threadbare, with no obligation to follow, toddled over to the river to investigate those silver flashy things.

“Threadbare? What are you-”

It would have probably been fine, if Threadbare hadn’t hit the slick mud that the Raggedy Man’s path had worn into the banks, and thoroughly blown his agility check.

“Threadbare!”

He slipped on the mud, skidded into the river, and instantly the current grabbed him up, bouncing him off rocks and whipping him downstream!

Red “0”s and “1s” drifted up as he careened from stone to stone, arms flailing, trying to get some traction. And mostly failing.

He did manage, for a few seconds, to flail against the current.

Your actions have unlocked the generic skill: Swim!

Your Swim skill is now level 1

Celia’s cries receded behind him, his body got more and more sluggish as it got waterlogged. The surface receded away from him, as the river started to spill out into the deeper waters at the base of the hill, and the sun vanished as he sank into the muddy depths…

…and a crimson-nailed hand, much bigger than Celia’s own hand, darted down into the water and scooped him out.

The world blurred, and Threadbare found himself lifted up, water pouring from his seams, staring at a strange woman’s face. Any human who looked upon it would have called it beautiful… not a single blemish on the skin, perfectly symmetrical. Black lipstick covered tiny lips, and large, almond-shaped eyes surveyed the tiny bear from bedraggled foot to soggy head. Straight, long black hair blew in the breeze, as light as feathers.

But those eyes were ice, and they held as much emotion in them as the Raggedy Man’s eyesockets had.

“Threadbare, come back! Whoa-”

Threadbare twisted in the woman’s hand, and looked over at Celia. She’d skidded to a stop, so quickly that her toy retinue slammed into the back of her feet. With a squeak, she went head over heels backward. “Ouch!”

The woman approached, swinging Threadbare easily. “I think you lost this,” she said, in a low, warm voice. It seemed to resonate somehow, and made Threadbare think of good things. It was a comfy voice, and it brought to mind the tea parties with Celia, the hugs, and the purrs of Pulsivar as the cat groomed him.

Curious, he sniffed the woman.

PER +1

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 4!

And he was very surprised to find that she didn’t smell like a human at all. She smelled like that weird, spicy scent he sometimes caught around the windows of the house.

“Uh… thank… you? Who are you?” Celia tried to scramble up, tripped over the knight, fell to her knee again. “I, wait, you’re a stranger. I’m not supposed to-”

The woman bent and swept back her green cloak, offering a perfectly manicured hand. Celia took it, and with effortless strength she hauled the little girl to her feet, before tucking the teddy bear into her arms.

“It’s all right Celia, you can talk to me.”

A pressure in Threadbare’s skull, just a brief one, as the words whispered of warm days in the sun, and the lovely quiet of night in a warm bed, and-

WILL +1

Your Magic Resistance skill is now level 4!

-and suddenly her tone changed. It sounded different. Kind of… smug? Like Pulsivar’s purrs sounded when he was sitting atop the wardrobe and Threadbare tried to join him, but just couldn’t climb the side of it. Threadbare, puzzled, burrowed into Celia’s arms.

But Celia didn’t seem to notice the shift. “How do you know my name?”

The woman smoothed her hands down her green coat, and the traveling leathers under it that hugged her voluptuous figure. “I don’t have time to go into details, but I knew your mother.”

“You knew…” Celia frowned. “How?”

“It’s too long to go into detail here. Let’s just say your Daddy made some choices, and… cut ties with my employer. We think he made the wrong choice, but he doesn’t listen.”

Celia snorted. “Yeah, he’s bad at that.”

The woman shot a glance downriver. “I have a lot to tell you. You’ve got a choice to make, Celia, and it’s going to make a lot of difference. But we just don’t have time right now. I can’t approach openly, because Caradon’s going to attack me if I turn up. And if we scare him, he might kidnap you and vanish. Like he did last time.”

“Kidnap? Wait, what?”

The woman reached out and smoothed Celia’s frizzy hair. “But I’ve got a solution. We can talk here at the base of the hill, if we can fool those walking scarecrows into ignoring me.” She glanced upriver, at the shambling, brown-coated golem still a kilometer distant. “It’s almost on us. Here, the quest should sum it up.”

DING!

And words filled Threadbare’s vision, once more.

ANISE LAYD’I HAS OFFERED A PUBLIC QUEST!

DETAILS: BRING HER THE GOLEM CONTROL SCROLLS FROM YOUR HOUSE
REWARD: 500 EXPERIENCE
COMPLETION: DROP THEM OFF AT THE CHEST HIDDEN IN THE DEAD TREE TWO MILES DOWNRIVER
DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N?

Annoyed at how they blocked his vision, just when something really interesting was about to happen, Threadbare sighed and thought “Yes!” as hard as he could. The words went away, and he could see again.

But Celia frowned. She took a step back from the woman. And her eyes went wide as an idea struck, and her intelligence, for the first time in a long while, rose by one.

“How did you know about those scrolls?”

“What?”

“Have you been spying on us? Those scrolls are a secret, even to Mister Mordecai.”

“Well, it just makes sense. Caradon’s an enchanter and a golemist, of course he’d-”

Celia backed off further. “No. No, I won’t. He told me never to take them out of the house. And I don’t know you. You could be a monster in disguise.” The orbiting dagger suddenly snapped around to put itself between her and the strange woman, and the toys formed a line in front of her, paws and hands and mitts raised. Threadbare, realizing the tension, slipped out of Celia’s arms and spread his own paws wide, like he’d faced the rats in the cellar.

The woman sighed, and massaged her face with her hand. “Celia. I’m not your enemy. But fine, I understand. I won’t ask you to disobey your… Daddy.” She glanced up and smiled, showing perfect teeth. “Amelia would have been proud of you.” She gave one more look over Celia’s shoulder, frowned as the raggedy man in the distance switched from marching to running, making a bee-line toward the obvious intruder. “It’s not perfect, but maybe we have can talk later. As long as you don’t tell Caradon.”

“I’m not going to make any promises.”

“It’s in your own interest, to keep it secret. If he learns of me he’ll take you away from everything you know. Everything you ever grew up with.” The woman sighed. “I’ll be out here again in one week. If you want to talk, find an excuse to come out and play. Goodbye, my dear.” And the woman turned and fled across the river, hopping nimbly from rock to rock, despite the high traveling boot she wore.

The raggedy man slowed as it watched her go. Celia stared after her with a mix of emotions, confusion warring with caution, warring with curiosity.

She looked down to Threadbare, and knelt down beside the little teddy bear, put her hand on his shoulder. Threadbare looked back.

“Do you think she was telling the truth? About knowing Mommy?”

Threadbare looked her over carefully. She had that look that seemed to want reassurance. He knew how to handle that, and nodded.

“She didn’t seem to mean me harm.” Celia sighed. “I’m not giving her the scrolls, but maybe we can talk. And if she tries anything funny you’ll help defend me, right?”

Threadbare nodded again. Celia smiled and swept him into a hug, standing up to watch the woman disappear into the forest on the other side of the river, her traveling cloak blending into the underbrush. Behind Celia, the Raggedy Man resumed its patrol, neither taking note of the intruder it had routed or caring. Its orders had been fulfilled. Back to its job.

Celia put Threadbare down, and gestured upriver. “Okay. Let’s try this again. Follow me and don’t go in the river!” Celia pointed at the river, at Threadbare, and shook her head, sending red frizzy hair whipping everywhere.

Threadbare got the message.

PER +1

Not that he’d go back in that river if he could help it, that thing would fucking kill him if he tried.

WIS +1

Celia started back upriver again, hurrying to make up for lost time, glancing back every now and then to make sure that Theadbare was keeping up.

He was, but it was kind of tough going. He’d never had to walk across this sort of varied terrain before, and as the trail broke away from the river and went up another hill, he was having to struggle with fallen branches, steep grades, and loose footing, things that were very troublesome for a small toy.

AGL +1

AGL +1
Your Climb Skill is now level 5!

But he managed, even if he did fall behind a little bit.

And then his nose picked up a familiar, troubling odor.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 5!

Blood.

Slowing, he turned right, pushing through the underbrush to a small clearing on the hillside.

And the gutted fawn carcass, lying broken in the middle of a small tree, weighing it down. Dried blood dyed the spring flowers under it.

“Threadbare?” Celia whispered, from up the hill. This close to the house, she didn’t dare call out, for fear of drawing Mordecai’s attention.

Threadbare moved in to examine the carcass, completely failing his perception check as the branches overhead rustled…

*****

At the minute, Celia shouldn’t have worried about drawing the old scout’s notice. Caradon and Mordecai were in the middle of a weighty discussion. The most troubling news was done with, and they were on to more pleasant topic of discussion. Even if this topic was vexing in a way all its own.

“I’m running out of ways to stall her,” Caradon confessed, staring at the bottle of rum he’d dug out of the hiding spot in his study. “She’s asking more and more questions, and not taking ‘because I say so’ as an answer any more.”

“Figured the day was gonna come. Takes after Amelia, that one does.” Mordecai held over a tin cup, accepted the splash of rum with a tip of his hat. “What level is she up to now? Eight? Ten?”

“Five.”

Mordecai squinted at him, and leaned forward in his chair. “Why?”

Caradon sat down heavily, with his back to the woods. “What do you mean?”

“Me youngest is nine, and he’s stompin’ around at level six. Celia’s got two years on’em.”

Caradon scowled. “Yes, but we’re not like you, we can’t run around as we want. We’re trapped up here, so long as he’s alive we can’t risk leaving.”

“Mm. Maybe so.” Mordecai tilted back. “She asked me to teach her to be a scout again.”

Caradon rolled his eyes. “Dear gods. No, of course.”

“She ent gonna be satisfied wi’ just one job, Caradon.”

“And if I let her go after every adventuring job she wants, she’ll fill up her choices before we know it, without the one we need. Then we’ll all be sunk. You know the stakes, Mordecai.”

“I do, but…” Mordecai finished his rum. “Scout’s good fer passin’ unnoticed. Good fer seein’ danger, and escapin’ it. Veeeerrrrry useful skills, wi’ how the kingdom is right now. Verrrrry useful.”

“And absolutely no synergy with her animator job.”

“So what? It’d help ‘er get more well rounded. Gi’ her a few bow tricks. And hells, if I ever figure out how to unlock ranger, I’ll share the trick wi’ her. And you knows what a second tier job can do, mister Golemist.”

“What it should be able to do,” Caradon corrected, swirling his own rum in a glass tumbler, and staring at it moodily. “Research isn’t going so well. I should have a way to make golems sentient by now. I don’t. Every test fails, they don’t come out right. When the time comes, if we don’t have our army-”

“About that.” Mordecai looked at the empty tin cup, and turned it upside down on the table. “She’s gonna have to meet more people. Learn how to get along with’em. Polish her charisma till it shines, if you want this fing to work.”

“Gods.” Caradon rubbed his eyes. “Too risky. Too risky by half.”

“Nah, lessn’ you fink. Dye her hair, mud up her face, take ‘er into town as me apprentice from a family out in the hills, won’t nobody bat an eye.”

“Mordecai, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then you sure as fuck won’t wanna hear this. Right now she’s eleven. In a year or two she’ll get her woman’s blood. And if you fink she’s restless now, what d’ya fink she’ll be like then?”

The silence stretched. Caradon closed his eyes, and sunk back into his chair.

Mordecai broke it. “I’ll teach’er woodlore, get’er some practice in a safe space that won’t kill her, so she can level up. Start ‘er off spendin’ time wiff me lads, learning how to be around boys wivvout the downside of puberty muddlin’ er head and loins. And then, once I’m sure she can handle it, I’ll take’er to the town. She ‘as to learn people, Car, if we want to win. She ‘as to learn people.”

Caradon studied Mordecai for a long minute. Then he smiled. “And while you’re at it, you’ll introduce her around to the other leaders as well. Let them get a look at her, to settle their worries. To show them that I’m not the crazy old hermit who’s forgotten about our cause, up in the hills alone in his workshop.”

Mordecai coughed into his hand, and had the grace to look guilty. “There’s been talk, Car. This last round of purges at the Capital… things are getting’ tight. People getting’ worried. I know you, I ent worried, but they… people talk, Car.”

Caradon rubbed his head. “This would give me more time for my research, without having to worry about her. I hate to admit it, but she is a distraction.”

“All kids are. Ever parent needs a li’l time off.” Mordecai grinned. “Benefit o’ being a scout, ya get plenty, out in the wild spaces.”

“Your wife’s a damned saint, Mordecai.”

“Shaman, actually.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Is saint even a fing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe cleric blended with oracle, but I’ve no idea how people qualify for that unlock.”

“Here’s to us that ent saints. Not sorry to not make that cut.” Mordecai raised his cup, and frowned. “Ah, empty.”

“Bottle’s dry,” Caradon sighed, rubbing his hand through his wispy gray hair.

“I brought some a’ the good stuff this load. Lemme go get it.” Mordecai rose and went inside…

…and not ten seconds later, Caradon glanced over as a large bird, easily as big as a human, shrieked with a deafening wail and burst out of the trees with its prey clutched in its claws.

“A screaming eagle? Hunting this close to my land?” Caradon frowned, and finished his tumbler. “Have to check the perimeter later, make sure the Raggedy Men are doing their jobs.”

From this distance, with his perception, he had no way to see that the Eagle wasn’t clutching its usual sort of prey.

Threadbare, on the other hand, had a very clear view of the Eagle’s claws and Celia’s screaming face, as she stood below him in the clearing, crying out as the Eagle carried him away.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare
Age: 4 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 5
Bear Level 2
Ruler Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 32 Constitution: 41 Hit Points: 107/112 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 20 Wisdom: 35(40) Sanity: 54(59) Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 16 Agility: 21 Stamina: 41 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 22 (27) Willpower: 22 Moxie: 38(43) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 24 Luck: 21 Fortune: 38 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 8
Climb - Level 5
Clubs and Maces - Level 6
Ride - Level 1
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 6
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 4
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 5
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 5
Toughness – 5

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests Help Anise Layd’i

Quests and Questions 3

QUESTS AND QUESTIONS 3

The Wintersgate mountains had always been home to eagles.

Long before the world changed, almost forty years ago, they were there, hunting and breeding along the spine of the continent, and roosting among the cliffs and towering trees, far from civilization. Even when civilization crept in and they found themselves hunted for the prestige of their feathers, they were too well-established to truly be threatened.

Then the world shifted, but for the most part, their lot remained the same. They kept clear of the bigger predators, struck down intruding aerial predators and prey with swift, terrible strikes, and remained overall the most common apex aerial predator in the region.

But as the years rolled on and the eagles slowly leveled up, inevitably, some of them started reaching their maximum ranks.

As far as scouts, shamans, and other people who studied nature and beasts knew, the Eagle job had three rank-up options.

The first option was that of a Golden Eagle. Found mainly in areas where seams of gold were common, or treasure was simply lying about near or in its nest, the golden eagles had dazzling light-based attacks, and a hard, armorlike skin.

They gave up some maneuverability in flight, but could hit like a falling comet if they got a proper diving strike off. Golden eagles were uncommon but sometimes seen in these hills, often followed by prospectors looking for their nest and the nearby seams or hunters who thought they could take one down and make a killing from their feathers.

The second option was Totem Eagle, usually only found where certain monster tribes or human cultures worshipped eagle spirits or a related pantheon. They could deliver blessings unto the faithful, call down rain, and had raw perception boosts that were unmatched in the monster kingdom. At least for most in their level range, anyway. There weren’t any Totem Eagles in the wintergate mountains. The cultures that could produce them lived far from here, or had died out in the region long ago.

The third option was Screaming Eagle, and they were pretty much everywhere in the mountains. They were eagles who had focused on their “Piercing Cry” skill and used it at every hunting opportunity.

Like, oh, the one that had come up twenty seconds ago.

This particular screaming eagle had nabbed the fawn from its mother upslope, as she strayed out of the treeline foraging. Its piercing cry had gone unnoticed by the residents of the home nearby, as had the falling deer as it bashed its life out on a high rock above, then bounced to land in a clearing only one hill away from the structure. The eagle didn’t care, and had feasted from it. It was a fat creature, and the eagle had returned today to finish eating. Carrion wasn’t its first choice, but it hadn’t found many other options in the last twenty hours, and it was hungry.

So when the appetizing little furry morsel had toddled straight into the clearing, the eagle did what it always did. Emitted a piercing scream, watched the green seven and “Stun” float up above its head, then dived in and scooped the prey up.

From Threadbare’s perception, one second he’d been staring up at an unfamiliar corpse, the next second a sound ripped through his ears and he was reeling, he’d lost a chunk of sanity, and then by the time he could move again, some bizarre creature was carrying him off. Off and up.

He hadn’t even known you could GO up. It didn’t seem right, somehow. So he turned his face from Celia’s pale, panicked visage and looked up at the bird carrying him.

Silver feathers mixed with white, on a form that was shaped roughly like an arrow. Its wings were double-jointed, and beat the air with a whistling shriek. A sharp, serrated beak crowned a feathered head, with no visible neck. A series of smaller-beaks, currently shut, lined its torso.

Blood stained its beak. The same blood smell as the deer, Threadbare realized. Then his button eyes shifted to the wings. Those were the reason it was flying, he realized, as they flapped above his head and he felt the wind shift by with staggering force. The songbirds he saw through the windows had wings too, and this must be how things flew. No wings, no flight, no matter how many times he’d tried to jump off the bed in hopes he could fly like the birds.

Well, at least he could stop doing that, now.

INT +1

Perhaps, like so much of his existence-to-date, this was all just a big misunderstanding? Threadbare hugged the eagle’s claws.

The eagle didn’t spare him a glance. But its claws moved back, ripping into the bear’s hide, sending a red ‘4’ floating into the air, and falling away in the slipstream.

Nope, no misunderstanding. Threadbare drew his arms back, called up his own claws, and whacked the eagle right back! Surprised, the bird’s grip loosened, and Threadbare dropped through the trees, hitting every branch on the way down before bouncing off a rock, so hard that one of his button eyes cracked.

But he had no bones to break, or organs to damage, and as he sat up amidst a floating red ‘11’, he eyed the words in front of his face with a bemused stare.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 5!

Your Toughness skill is now level 6!

Max HP +2

He still couldn’t read the squiggles, but he was starting to remember the shape of some of them. And these shapes in particular always turned up when his body was getting beaten up. He wished they’d turn up less, but oh well, at least this had ended well. Threadbare toddled to his feet, and started looking around for Celia.

Then that scream came from above again, and 10 more sanity went poof.

You have been affected by piercing scream!

But this time, it was slightly different.

Your golem body renders you immune to stun!

His head ached terribly, but unlike the last time, he could still move. Could still think. So when the eagle came howling down at him again, all of its beaks open, Threadbare rolled to the side.

AGL +1

Your actions have unlocked the generic skill: Dodge!

Your Dodge skill is now level 1!

The eagle’s claws closed on air, and it swept by, flapping its wings furiously as it pulled up.

Threadbare ran over and grabbed the biggest stick he could find, hefting it with a strength out of proportion to his twelve-inch tall body. He waved it around a few times, hoping the Eagle got the message.

But sadly, the eagle’s intelligence was far worse than his own. The bird pulled up, reversed, and hovered in an action thoroughly unbelievable for its ten-foot wingspan.

Threadbare watched as the creature’s chest inflated, beaks clamped tightly shut, and he had one slim moment to wonder why it was doing that-

-and then it SCREAMED.

All of its beaks slammed open in unison, as the vents on the Eagle’s back drew in deep breaths of air, slamming them through its mighty lungs to unleash solid sound on the offending prey.

The skill was called Raptor’s Racket, and this wasn’t one that the Eagle used for hunting. Which was good news, since it hadn’t practiced and leveled up this skill to its maximum, like it had the piercing scream.

The downside was that this skill was designed for defense, and it was, simply, designed to HURT.

Threadbare found himself flying, fetching up against a tree, as the sound thundered around and through him, and a great red ‘29’ floated up into the sky.

CON +1
Your Toughness skill is now level 7!
Max HP +2

Fur shredded, stuffing blew out of the holes and gaps in him, and seconds later when the blast ended, Threadbare fell to the ground, wondering what the heck he’d done to deserve this.

The eagle, tired from its rarely-used skill, flapped to the ground and stalked over, torso-beaks once again shut, studying the twitching form.

Threadbare watched it come, and racked his brain for ideas. This thing was like Pulsivar, it pounced and killed small things. But Pulsivar didn’t care about things that weren’t moving, so maybe Threadbare could stop moving, and the Eagle would go away?

INT +1

He tried it out.

But the eagle’s perceptionwas far, far more advanced than the bear’s poor charisma, and Threadbare thoroughly failed to be convincing.

With a rapid, shuffling stride the eagle half-flapped, half hopped forward, and lashed out with his head. He did have a neck, it was just buried in the feathers and skin of his shoulders and wings, and it strained as he bit into the bear and tore, gashing Threadbare open and sending him flying down the hillside. Threadbare rolled to a stop, feeling more and more of his body going unresponsive. He wasn’t sure how hurt he was, but he knew he didn’t have much more to go.

He stood up, looking around. A small hollow, a crumbling log, and pines all around. He could run, could maybe find someplace to shelter. Maybe.

But no. The thing would just hunt him down. This was a good enough place to die.

WILL +1

The eagle burst up from the treetops, glaring around and acquiring him immediately. The bird looped back and prepared another dive as Threadbare hauled up the biggest branch he could find, staggering and feeling his remaining stitches start to go, as the twelve-pound branch weighed down upon him.

STR +1

The bird screamed, and more of his sanity fled, but he drew the branch back and waited, waited for the moment as the bird dove…

…and veered off, as a red-haired form ran up through the trees downslope.

“MEND!” Celia shouted, puffing and panting.

You heal 17 points!

Celia’s toys pattered downslope, having fallen far behind, and the eagle, thoroughly annoyed, took note of the smaller prey, dismissed it. Too small for the amount of energy and effort it had expended.

The little girl, on the other hand, didn’t look like she weighed much more than that fawn from yesterday.

So while she shouted her mending spell, over and over again, the eagle switched targets and screamed, watching the green number drift up…

…but this particular prey resisted the ‘stun’ effect.

For Celia was an animator, and on top of that her willpower had been honed by years of arguing with her father. She turned, saw it coming, and her animated dagger lashed out. The Eagle evaded, hastily, coming within a few feet of the ground as he swerved-

-and met Threadbare’s heavy club head-on.

THWACK!

Your Clubs and Maces skill is now level 7!

The pine branch broke, Threadbare staggered back, but the makeshift club and mighty swing had done its job.

The great bird crashed to the ground, a red ‘13’ floating up, surprised and hurting for the first time in a very long while. It struggled to its pinions and claws-

-only to be swarmed by the five animated toys, bashing and thumping with their magically-hardened extremities. Boosted by Celia’s magic, ‘4’s and ‘5’s floated up as the creature screeched and turned, backing up until it had both the girl and the toys in its arc. Its beaks snapped open again, the unseen vents on its back below its feathers drew in air…

…and Threadbare dove forward, shoving Celia out of the way as the bird screamed once more, throwing the toys across the clearing and over a small rise, sending Threadbare tumbling, mended rips tearing open again, catching ahold just barely of a low-hanging tree branch, and riding out the storm.

The eagle fell silent, gasping. It felt its blood running down its chest, felt its head pound. Its moxie was drained, its hunger forgotten as the toll the toys had taken registered on its nerves.

Then, motion. Celia sat up, glaring, and pulled two more daggers, tossing them into the air. “Animus Blade! Animus Blade!” They joined their steely brother, orienting toward the Eagle as she pointed at him.

On the other side of the clearing, Threadbare dropped from his branch, stood up, and spread his torn arms, meeting the eagle’s disbelieving eyes with a black-buttoned glare.

Following an impulse, the bear thumped his chest with an arm, and pointed at the bird. Then down.

This time, the message was received.

CHA +1

Faced with a foe who could take whatever he could dish out, and those weird, dancing blades that really shouldn’t be moving like they were, the Eagle flapped until he was skyborne, and whirled to head upslope.

The rising arrow caught him in the rump, tore through the mostly-hollow part of his chest, exited through one shoulder, and ended his life in a microsecond.

From below, Threadbare and Celia watched as a red ‘182’ rose above the falling corpse of the bird.

Then the girl and her bear looked backward, to where the trees rustled. Barely a second’s warning, then a brown flash of leather, as Mordecai bounded from branch to branch, landing in a crouch, whipping an arrow from under his coat as it flared back revealing four quivers bandolier-style across his body, and nocking the shaft as he tracked the falling Eagle. After it hit the treeline he nodded, straightening up and letting the bow go slack. “Sorry,” he offered. “Not tryin’ to steal yer kill. S’why I waited till I was sure it’d escaped-”

He broke off, as Celia glomped him. She wailed, crying into his coat, and he sighed, dropping the arrow and hoisting her up, adjusting her arms until he could slide the bow away. He bent down to scoop the arrow up…

…and found Threadbare there, offering it to him with both hands.

Mordecai blinked. Then he nodded down at the little toy.

The teddy bear nodded back.

Mordecai took the arrow and juggled Celia, sliding it back into its quiver. “Sh, sh, sh. That’s right. Sh, yer safe.” He had to watch his movements, as the three daggers she’d animated orbited around her, taking a slightly wider route to go around Mordecai as well. It was unnverving, to tell the truth, but the old scout ignored it as best he could.

“I was so scared,” Celia whispered, but the scout’s sharp ears caught it.

“Why?” Mordecai said.

“What?”

“Why? Were you afraid it’d kill yer?”

“No. I mean, I was, but… I was afraid it would kill Threadbare.”

“Threadbare. That yer little bear down there?”

Celia shifted in his arms, looked at the teddy bear. “He was so brave.”

The bear, somewhat annoyed at being left out of the cuddle puddle, stretched its arms upward.

“Oh, he’s still all torn up. Ah…” She sniffed. “Status.” Then she winced. “Oh. No, no, my sanity’s a wreck. I spent way too much today, I can’t heal him any more.”

“S’all right,” Mordecai said. “Cavalry’s comin’.”

And indeed, heavy iron footsteps echoed through the forest, as Caradon charged up the hill, breathing heavily, with Emmet the armor golem right on his heels. Branches broke against Emmet’s form as he lumbered through them, feet grinding inoxerably into the pine needles and soft soil, sending sprays of detritus to the rear.

“Celia!” Caradon shouted, and she barely had time to blink before Mordecai deposited her into the old man’s arms.

“I’ll just find them toys you lost, eh?” Mordecai asked. “Be hard for any but a trained scout, eh?” He gave Caradon a knowing look. Then he was gone, slipping into the shadows of the pines.

“Daddy?” Celia asked, her voice very small as she smushed her face against Caradon’s chest. “Can you please mend Threadbare?”

The old man looked down at the teddy bear, stretching its arms up for a hug, smeared with pine needles and mud, torn nearly to shreds.

For a second he wanted to punt the damned thing down the hill. He didn’t know how, but he was sure the little golem was at fault, somehow.

But only for a second. It was Celia’s prized possession, after all.

Besides, even torn to hell and back, it was still bizarrely cute. And while objectively he knew that it was all due to its Adorable skill, the truth of the matter was that he wasn’t immune to it, nor did he mind so much.

Threadbare watched as letters rolled by.

Your Adorable Skill is level 7!

Caradon sighed and released Celia. “Mend,” he told it, simply. The bear had earned those battle wounds honestly, defending the little girl. It was the least he could do.

You have been healed for 302 points!

Threadbare shuddered, as golden light pulsed through him, bringing him back instantly to full health. It really was overkill, though not as much as the old man thought.

“I’m okay,” Celia told her father, scooping up Threadbare. “The Eagle didn’t hurt me. Threadbare saved me when it screamed. He pushed me out of the way.”

“Must have been a small Screamer then,” Caradon said, remembering the teddy bear’s pathetic hit points. “Well. That’s over with.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I… I skilled up in mend for the first time in a long time. And got some intelligence and willpower, and agility, and constitution… and, I kind of lost track, I’m sorry. Uh, no, wait, some Animus skill too. Wow, a lot of skill.” She studied the air for a second, then shook her head. “Close Status.”

“Yes. That was because you were in a real fight, with real consequences,” Caradon said, taking her hand. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.” She blinked, as realization struck. “Is that what I’m going to have to do? To get more levels? I’m going to have to keep doing… that… again?”

“Yes,” Caradon said, feeling every second of his fifty-eight years weighing down on him. “Yes it is.”

Celia turned and vomited on the pine needles. Caradon let her go, then held his hand down once she was done. “I’m sorry. But this is the world we live in. It is what it is, now.”

The little girl took it, and hugged Threadbare tight with her free arm. Then she took a deep breath, and looked to her bear, and back to her old man. “If this is what it takes to protect Threadbare, and you, and everyone I don’t care. I’ll fight a dozen times or a hundred or whatever, so he doesn’t have to. I won’t let any monsters or anything get him! Or anyone else!”

Deep in the woods, perched on a hollow log with the remnants of the toys sitting beside him, Mordecai took a puff on his pipe and smiled to himself. He’d heard every word of the conversation from a quarter-mile away, and more importnatly, he’d heard the spirit in her voice. There was hope after all, he thought.

“Well, let’s get back home,” Caradon said, draping his arm around her shoulders. “That’s quite enough adventure for one day.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Celia spat to the side. “I need a drink of water.”

“Easy to do. Come along, Emmet.”

The mighty armor golem fell in behind them, as Threadbare’s family picked their way back down toward the home. A few steps in, Caradon cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you serious about learning to be a scout?”

“Oh heck yeah? Did you see that thing with the arrow? Where he shot the Eagle out of the sky? It was like POW, and then that was the most damage I’ve ever seen in my life! Well aside from when Emmet punched that raccoon who was hissing at you on the porch that time. I want to learn how to do THAT!”

“Ah, technically that’s an archer trick, Mordecai’s good with that job too.”

“Can I learn that?”

“We’ll see how you do with scout…”

The voices faded into the trees. Behind them, Mordecai chuckled and took his own path back to the house, giving Caradon and his daughter time to themselves.

And in the deep woods, the imp faded into view, crouched among the pine needles and grinning. “So the little girl’s leaving the house for the first time ever. Oh, this’ll make things much, much easier. Anise is going to laugh her tits off when she hears this one-”

Twenty-five pounds of the gods’ perfect killing machine crashed down on the imp.

Before he could react, Pulsivar the cat grabbed the demon’s throat and slashed his claws on the target below, rending its shrieking form into shreds.

FINALLY, it had caught that annoying weird bird which taunted it from the windows. It had been worth it, following its sulfurous trail from the house when his hoomin had rushed off into the woods. Now vengeance was Pulsivar’s, and no more would the little thing be annoying.

To the cat’s annoyance, it faded into smoke and puffed away, before he could even eat it. Even in death, the thing was annoying. Pulsivar groomed himself, pissed on the pine needles where its stench lingered, and waddled off back to the house, keeping a weather eye on the skies.

There were eagles out. One had to be cautious, after all.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 4 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 5
Bear Level 2
Ruler Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 33 Constitution: 42 Hit Points: 112 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 22 Wisdom: 35(40) Sanity: 33/54(59) Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 16 Agility: 22 Stamina: 41 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 23 (28) Willpower: 23 Moxie: 38(43) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 24 Luck: 21 Fortune: 38 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 8
Climb - Level 5
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dodge - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 7
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 5
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 5
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests Help Anise Layd’i

Does a Bear Sit in the Woods 1

Threadbare never left Celia’s sight for the rest of the day, even when she bathed. Which was weird, because he hadn’t known that her clothes could come off. (She’d been too shy to change in front of him before and he had never been in Caradon’s bedroom, so he had just thought that humans could shapeshift.) But now everything made more sense, and it explained why she and Caradon looked different every day. That was worth an intelligence point.

And later, as he slumbered in her arms, cared for and loved after a long day of playing and hugging, his reverie was interrupted by a chime. His Toy Golem level had reached six, and once again, he felt a little better in every way.

The next morning, he found that he could follow Celia and Caradon’s conversation a bit better. “Yes” and “No” made a lot more sense, he caught the occasional one or two-syllable word, and he practiced nodding and shaking his head at appropriate times. His charisma ticked up a few times when Celia talked with him, but Caradon scarcely took notice… the old man was too busy assembling a quick lesson.

Dusty books came out of the study, as did a notepad, and Caradon showed Celia pictures of trees, plants, and animals, and made her read and copy down words from the books.

And Threadbare stood there stunned, as he realized that hey, those words on the papers matched the squiggles he kept seeing in front of his face.

INT +1

There it was! There it was again! That was the one that meant he could think more easily! The squiggles MEANT something!

INT +1

In fact, those letters were on the page too, just usually not in the order that they were in his vision. Fascinated, he watched Celia write. It had never occurred to him that you could draw pictures of what the words you saw looked like!

INT +1
Gleefully he reached out for a quill-
-and toppled ink across Celia’s notes.

“Threadbare! Be more careful.” She scooped him up before the spreading puddle could stain him. Caradon sighed, and got water and rags.

“In any case, I think this is enough for now.” Caradon glanced at the sun’s angle through the windows. “He’ll be here soon. So I suppose I should do this formally…” He finished scrubbing, then sat down in his chair.

Once more, words scrolled across Threadbare’s vision, then stopped.

CARADON GEARHART HAS OFFERED A PUBLIC QUEST!

DETAILS: GO WITH MISTER MORDECAI TO OBLIVION POINT AND FOLLOW HIS INSTRUCTIONS

REWARD: 1000 EXPERIENCE
COMPLETION: RETURN TO CARADON FOR REWARD
DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N?

“One thousand experience?” Celia’s already pale skin went paler. “Daddy, are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then yes.” Celia beamed. “And thank you.”

Threadbare’s mind worked overtime. Now that he knew the words meant something, he thought that he might want to know what they said. But he didn’t know how to read them, like Celia and Caradon did. Maybe if he copied what they looked like his family could read them?

INT +1

He reached out for the quill again… and Celia pulled him away, again. “No Mister bear, that’s quite enough of that, I’m sorry.”

Fine, fine. Threadbare sulked a bit, crossing his arms like Celia did when she and her Daddy argued, and Caradon snorted laughter. “You’re teaching him bad habits.” He teased.

“Normally he’s not this fussy.”

Grudgingly accepting the fact that he couldn’t try his idea right now, Threadbare sighed, and thought “Yes”. The squiggles-that-weren’t-just-squiggles disappeared.

Half an hour later, a knock came on the door. Celia answered it, and gave Mordecai a happy hug.

Caradon just looked him over, rubbing his goatee. “Run silent,” he greeted his old friend.

“Run deep. Ya ready, Celia girl?”

“I am!” Celia gestured at her pack, about half the size of her.

Mordecai winced. “Give that ‘ere.” He sorted through it without mercy, ignoring her wails as he pulled stuff free and sat it on the dinner table. “No… no… no…” He pulled out Beanarella the doll and looked to Caradon.

“Yes on those.”

“Guess you’ll need some backup. Yes, then.”

Practically dancing on the balls of her feet, Celia reached for the doll. “Okay, just let me animate her-“

“Nah.”

“No? Then what’s the point of bringing her?”

“I seen how yer animated toys move. Where we’re going, they’ll just slow you down. If you need ‘em break’em out. Otherwise keep them in tha pack.”

“I can carry them.”

“You ent gonna carry that one?” Mordecai pointed at Threadbare, who pointed back.

Your Adorable skill is now level 8!

The old scout fought to keep his face straight.

“…yeah I’m gonna carry him.” Was Celia’s subdued reply.

“Good.” Mordecai cinched up the much smaller pack, ignoring the books, writing supplies, snacks, changes of clothes, and rock collections that Celia had lined up for the trip, leaving all those behind on the table. “Here yer go. Come on. Gi’ yer Daddy a hug and let’s be off.”

Threadbare found himself smushed between Celia and Caradon, and then it was out the door and off through the woods.

“So where are we going? The quest says Oblivion Point,” Celia said, following Mordecai’s even, long strides as he strolled through the pine bluff.

“Tha’s where. Ya never heard of it?”

“No. It sounds… dangerous?” There was just a hint of excitement in her tone. Mordecai chuckled.

“Only if ya get really stupid. And I know you ent stupid.”

“Oh that’s a relief. So Daddy showed me a book today, and I learned how to tell trees apart, and-“

Mordecai stopped, turned on her, knelt down to her level, and put his finger on her lips. “Shhh.”

“Buh-what?” She froze, staring at him with hurt eyes.

“Look around, Celia girl.” Mordecai’s voice went low. “Do you know this place?”

She did. “It’s the pines. Just a hill or two over. I think, right? I’ve lost track.”

“Yeah. Tha’s why yer here. Scouts don’t lose track. Scouts look and remember. Can you do that?”

“I… oh. Oh, sure!”

“Scouts also know to keep quiet when they’re in strange lands. So things don’t know they’re coming. Can you do that?”

Celia opened her mouth, and he shushed her again. Instead, she nodded, and he smiled for the first time since he’d turned around. “Good. Come. If you have to speak, keep it quiet and short.”

She followed him, chastened, but with excitement growing in her chest. She was going to be a scout!

So instead of talking, the little girl held Threadbare tight… except when they came to a steeper grade, and she had to put him down to clamber on all fours. The bear followed, doing pretty well as he went.

AGL +1

Your Climb skill is level 6!

They moved through the pines and down into a small valley, filled with rambling streams, wildflowers, and different sorts of trees.

“Oak,” Celia whispered to Threadbare as they went. “Sycamore,” she named another, as they passed it, leaves just starting to grow from its buds. “Willow,” she pointed at a mass of tangled branches over one of the creeks they splashed through. And though the old scout’s ears twitched under his hat at her every whisper, he tolerated it. This was good. He’d have less to explain, later on.

Then it was back uphill, up a rocky slope, to where a moss-green boulder jutted out over the path they’d just taken. “C’mere,” Mordecai said, scrambling up. “We can talk up ‘ere. Time for a break.”

Celia nodded. She’d long since stopped whispering, conserving her breath for puffing and panting as she climbed. “I just… got… a con up,” she said, dropping to her rump and dangling her legs over the edge of the boulder.

“Good. You’ll get more afore the day’s through. We’re a quarter of the way there.”

“What?” Celia’s jaw dropped. “I, I need a snack! My stamina’s way down! There’s no way I’ll make it all the way there with what I’ve got.”

“Yes, you will.” Mordecai sat down next to her, pointing across the way. “See over the little culvert of woods we just came through?”

“Yeah. It looks so small, but it seemed so big while we were in it.”

“Now stand up and look over it.”

Celia did, and blinked. “Is… is that our house over there?”

“Yeah. Only two miles off.”

“It looks so small. And I just got a perception up.”

Threadbare caught most of that, and he turned in her arms, trying to see.

He DID see the house!

PER +1

But he turned too quickly, and wiggled right free of Celia’s grasp! He tumbled toward the slope below as Celia shrieked-

-And Mordecai’s hand shot out like lightning, snagged him, and deposited him back on the boulder.

LUCK +1

“Careful there. Don’t wanna lose yer toys.”

“Oh! He’s so naughty sometimes!” Celia backed away from the edge, knelt, and picked up the trembling bear. “Oh, he’s frightened. Come here.” She hugged him, and Mordecai chuckled.

“Anyway, that’s why yer out here. Eleven years old and ya never been two miles from yer house. We’re gunna fix that, today. And you’re gonna rake in bonuses you ent seen in a long while, unless I miss my guess. You’re worried you can’t do it, because every time before when you lost stamina you went and ate to get it back. And you didn’t bring no food.”

“No. You took it out of my pack!”

“So yer gonna rest here and get it back the old-fashioned way.”

“But that takes so long…”

“What else are ya gonna do?” Mordecai shrugged. “Scouts have to travel hungry, sometimes. Key there is to pace yerself. You don’t not have the option of going where you need to go.”

Celia parsed the sentence, then looked at him. “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” She flopped down, and played with Threadbare, but eventually, the vista got to her. It really was a nice view, and she found herself staring off in the distance, watching the birds, following the leaping forms of deer from afar, and studying the river as it wound on its way.

Then she blinked. “I just leveled up?”

“Weren’t an animator level, was it?”

“No. How’d you know that? It was a human level. I haven’t gotten a race level since… wow.”

“Humans are built to wander. S’called exploration experience. Like a built in quest wi’out words. The more you explore, the more you see, the higher ya get. Key is followin’ yer instincts. Ya do that, then the better a human ya are.” Mordecai frowned. “A course, sometimes it’s bad if you foller your instincts. Got ta find a balance. Use yer intelligence AND yer wisdom. Like me wife. Level 9 half-orc, she is, and couldn’t be happier. Mostly cause she’s got wisdom ta match her strength.”

“I don’t have any jobs that get wisdom boosts. Well, human does, I guess.”

“A little bit. But Scout gets more.” Mordecai stood. “And now since ya leveled up, yer stamina’s full again, ya?”

“It is.” She rose, and stretched her legs. “I’m ready!”

Three hills over, he took her to the peak, pointed at the tallest oak tree he could find, and made her tell him all about it. He seemed pleased with her assessment. Threadbare was more interested in the busy beehive that churned up in its branches. But Celia held him tight, and it was a bit far away from her, anyway.

One valley later, Mordecai’s eyes went wide, and he whipped a hand up. “Monsters,” he whispered.

Celia instantly started pulling out her daggers, and he shook his head. “I got this. Come along an’ stay quiet.”

He led her through some young trees, past stumps and corroded metal bars sat into the ground. And there, at the base of a solid stony cliff, lay a series of planks nailed across a cave heading back into the mountain. A few crumbled, rusted metal carts lay scattered nearby. Obviously it was one of the abandoned mine shafts that her Daddy had told her about.

Two strange creatures patrolled back and forth in front of the mine. They had black and gray and white fur, bushy tails, and each one wore a crude wooden mask. The one to the left had one that said “KITY” and a crude caricature of Pulsivar’s face. The other one had a mask that looked like no creature Threadbare had ever said before, and had the word “DOGY” scratched into it.

“Wait here. Do NOT move, Camouflage,” Mordecai said, and then he was gone, blurring into an outline before the blur itself moved away and vanished in the afternoon haze.

Threadbare had understood that sentence, up until the last word. But the rest of it was simple, and it made sense for the situation.

INT +1

So he froze. Celia froze too, but her breath came a little heavier, and one hand crept inside her coat to where she kept her knives.

Minutes crawled by, and then Mordecai crawled up, reappearing. He pointed at Celia, pointed back the way they came, and straightened up, heading back through the underbrush. Celia followed, glad to be away from the monsters.

Once away, they resumed their walk. Finally, Mordecai gestured a halt, at the base of the tallest, steepest hill yet. “We can talk. Those were Raccants.”

“Raccants? I think I heard Daddy swearing about those once. They’re what raccoons can become, right?”

“One o’ the options. They’re raccoons what like livin’ around humans. They see how easy pets got it and want to be pets, but they can’t pull it off. Just ain’t got the temperament. So they wears masks and nicks stuff and causes trouble.”

“So what are they doing here?”

“There’s a steading or two just on th’ other side o’ the ridge. An’ yer father’s house ent far. They roam. As to what they’re doin’ here, they made a dungeon.”

“What?” Celia almost shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “Dungeons are bad!”

“Aye, they can be, if ya let’em go. But this one’s small yet. Figure it’ll take a few years before it even reaches a level where ya’d find it a challenge. So fer now, it can stay.”

“But shouldn’t we take care of it? You and me, we could stop it from being a threat.”

“Celia.” Mordecai knelt to stare into her eyes. “Everyfing has a purpose. Dungeons have a purpose. And raccants ent likely ta kill, not like some o’ the other monsters out here. Time goes on, it’ll make treasure, too. Be a good trainin’ ground, and source of loot.”

“But… I mean…”

“Not all monsters is bad. Some just is. And bad or good, this’ll be a good spot fer ya to level up later.” He straightened up, and cast a gaze up the cliff. “Come on. One mile left ta go, and it’s the worst part.”

Two hours later, as dusk fell, Celia clambered up the last slope, and stared wide-eyed at what lay in front of her.

It was nothing at all.

Literally, nothing at all.

Around her she could see a high mountain plateau, with snow melting and forming a pool, that ran off into a small waterfall she’d passed on the way up. A few straggly pines grew up here, but nothing else.

But on the other side of the mountain?

Nothing. Blackness so deep that light seemed to vanish into it. It filled the horizon, wrapped around with a visible curve, and literally bisected mountains to either side.

“What is that?” She whispered.

“Oblivion Point,” Mordecai told her. “Easiest place around here ta see the evidence of our stupidity.”

“I never heard of this.”

“It’s not somefing to be proud of. Not as I count it, anyway.” He sat on a rock, next to an old fire ring, long burnt-out and now filled with snowy ashes. “Yer Daddy tell you how we got afraid, when the changes hit? Started losing settlements?”

“Yes. But not much further. We were interrupted.” She pulled Threadbare out of the back where she’d stowed him, and sat him down. and walked toward the pit, with the little toy golem following. They pulled up their own rocks, eyes staring into the nothing.

Threadbare had no idea what it could be, but he wasn’t about to leave Celia’s side, so he figured it could stay over there and he’d stay over here, and that would be fine.

Mordecai spoke again. “So the king at the time, he gets the notion that we need to seal off our kingdom. Cut ourself off from the madness. He goes to the high wizard, th’ oldest member o’ the Seven.”

“The Seven?”

“Tell yer about them later.” Mordecai coughed. “Much later. Anyways, Grissle, the high wizard, spends years figurin’ out the spell. Then he gives it a try.” Mordecai scowled, and hucked a pebble into the void. It disappeared without a trace. “And damn his eyes, it works. Sort of. Nothin’ goes out a’ Cylvania. Nothin’ comes in. But we didn’t know that the trouble was already in here, sealed in wi’ us.”

“How does it work? I mean… does it kill anyone who tries?”

“No. Yes. Nobody knows. Knew a man once, swore up and down that the farther you go in there, the weirder it gets. Said that you go far enough, you start seein’ numbers. Nothin’ but numbers. And he said that if you do that, you turn and get back as fast as you can, or you start turnin’ INTO numbers.” Mordecai shook his head.

“Who said that? What’s his name?” Celia asked.

“Don’t matter. One day he went in and didn’t come back. Which is what happens ta most who go in there.” Mordecai shrugged. “The wizard’s gone, too. His labs under Castle Cylvania are a dungeon now, the most dangerous one left in this sealed-off little land. If there’s any way to fix it, it’s lost forever.”

Celia shuddered. Then she clapped her hands with glee as Mordecai pulled out several plants he’d foraged, and a pair of rabbits he’d hunted on the way up.

He showed her how to build a fire, striking a steel knife against a flint stone, and how to dress and clean rabbits. Threadbare watched, fascinated, gaining a point of wisdom as he learned that living things could be disassembled too.

Mordecai also showed her how to build a bed of branches and pine needles, sheltering it out of the wind and close enough to the fire that it’d hold a little heat. And as she slept he sat across from the fire, looking at her, then around, keeping watch.

She was tired by then, and never thought to question why he didn’t make one for himself.

Threadbare didn’t sleep. And as he lay in Celia’s arms, as always, he watched Mordecai eventually take out a piece of paper and dig out a stick from the fire. The old scout scratched the stick against the paper, leaving charcoal letters. Then he stuck his knife through it, stuck it into a nearby tree, and hung his waterskin from the knife’s handle.

The bear stirred, and Mordecai caught it. “Stay still, Mister Bear. This is her test, savvy?”

Threadbare didn’t know what a savvy was, but he understood most of the rest. So he nodded.

CHA +1

Mordecai nodded back, and vanished into the night.

And when Celia woke up in the morning, he was long gone.

Threadbare’s Character Sheet

Name: Threadbare
Age: 6 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 6
Bear Level 2
Ruler Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 35 Constitution: 44 Hit Points: 123 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 30 Wisdom: 38(43) Sanity: 62(67) Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 18 Agility: 25 Stamina: 52 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 26 (31) Willpower: 25 Moxie: 50(55) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 27 Luck: 24 Fortune: 51 Fate: 6

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 8
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dodge - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 8
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 5
Forage – 1
Scents and Sensibility – 5
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests Do what Mordecai Says
Help Anise Layd’i

Does a Bear Sit in the Woods 2

Threadbare watched as Celia woke. She didn’t panic when she saw Mordecai was gone. And she didn’t burst into tears, which is what Threadbare thought she was going to do.

She gulped air a few times, rubbed her face, and retied her frizzy hair into a braid, plucking out pine needles that remained from last night. Threadbare helped with that, managing to get a few out with much effort.

DEX +1

After he was done, Celia sat on the rock, next to the smoldering remnants of the fire, and stared at the knife in the tree.

“I’m afraid,” she told Threadbare. “I’m afraid of what that note says.”

Threadbare tried to understand. He didn’t think the note was saying anything right now. It was pretty quiet up here, except for the wind howling across the slope below.

“If I open it up, and it says I’ve failed, and I shouldn’t bother, then I’ll never be a scout. And I really, really want to be a scout. I want to show Mister Mordecai and Daddy that I’m strong enough to do something on my own, with only a little help. Just some help learning, that’s all.” She swallowed. “But if it tells me I’ve failed, then I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Threadbare hugged her.

CHA +1

“Oh, I’ll still have you, of course. I’ll always have you. That won’t ever change.” She beamed down at him, and ruffled his head. He leaned into it, like he’d seen Pulsivar do now and again.

Your Adorable skill is now Level 9!

Celia shook her head. “You always know how to cheer me up. And…” She bit her lip, as she looked back to the note. “On the other hand,” Celia said, staring at the note with hope so raw even the bear picked up on it, “If he says I’ve passed, then this is everything I ever wanted. I mean, out of this trip, anyway. But it could say either. And I don’t know which one it says. And I won’t until I go and read that note.”

The wind howled, then faded.

“And I’m afraid of it, and I don’t want to, because so long as I’m sitting here and the note’s unread then it’s not telling me what I’m afraid it’ll tell me. It’s stupid and it’s cowardly but that’s how I feel right now.”

Threadbare curled into her arms. She looked down at him, then back up at the note, and her face scrunched up. “Oh to… to hell with it.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, then looked around, and giggled. “To hell with it! No one out here to hear me say that! Let’s go read that fu-” training, discipline, and a lifetime of manner lessons warred with the exhilarating freedom of being finally out of earshot of anyone who cared, but a lifetime of good manners proved too hard to break. “-fumping. Yes, that fumping note. Let’s go read that.”

And before the little girl could lose her nerve, she tugged the knife free of the tree (it took a few tries and a strength increase), let the waterskin fall, pulled the paper away from the blade, and read it with her hands all-a-tremble.

Celia’s whoops of joy echoed around the mountaintop. “Yes! Yes! Whooo-hoo, yes! Look, look!” She said, thrusting the paper down to Threadbare.

Threadbare took it.

And instantly more squig-more WORDS appeared.

MORDECAI SKUNKTHUMPER HAS OFFERED YOU A TIMED QUEST!

DETAILS: GO HOME BEFORE TIME RUNS OUT
DEADLINE: 42 HOURS 32 MINUTES
REWARD: YOU WILL UNLOCK THE SCOUT JOB
COMPLETION: RETURN TO YOUR HOUSE TO QUALIFY
DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y?N?

Threadbare looked at the words, tried to peer around them to the note, couldn’t quite do it.

Wait, Mordecai had written last night, using the charcoal stick like a quill, hadn’t he? There were sticks a plenty in the coals. Threadbare could easily grab one and copy the words he saw onto this handy piece of parchment…

INT +1

But the stick he tugged out burned the parchment as he touched it to the paper.

“Threadbare!” She tugged it from his hands, and shook it out. Then reconsidered. “We probably should burn this. Even though it’s a timed quest, the quest is tied to the paper. So if the Raccants come up here and grab it they might come to my house and be scouts, and I don’t want either of those things to happen.” She shuddered. “Invisible little furry monsters. Horrible notion, huh?”

The little fuzzy toy golem sighed, thought “Yes”, and nodded his head up and down as soon as the words disappeared.

“We’ve got two days. We reached this place in one. It should be easy to get back, right?”

Threadbare considered. He understood most of what Celia said. But this place was very new to him, and he had no clue where home was from here. So he shook his head instead.

“Don’t worry, I think I can do it. I have a really good memory. Animators get good intelligence boosts each level. But uh…” her stomach rumbled. “First we need breakfast. Did ah, did he leave us any food?” She looked around the camp hopefully. No food presented itself. Even the bones and offal from their baked coney skewers was gone. “Maybe he hid it. As a test. You go that way, I’ll go this way.” Celia started poking around through the little grove of trees.

Threadbare followed her suggestion, and went hunting around the tiny plateau. There wasn’t much up here, really. A few drifts of snow, the copse of trees that Celia had slept in, and that little pond.

That little pond did have those silvery things swimming around in it. Threadbare gave a nervous glance toward the stream that trickled from the pond to the waterfall, but it was pretty tiny.

He looked left. He looked right. And then he gave into his instincts, and waded into the shallow pond.

The salmon were young, recently spawned, and exhausted from hatching. In another day they would have worked up the strength to navigate the lip of the rocks between pond and stream, and made their way down the waterfall. As it was, they had no hope of dodging the fuzzy creature that waded into them, claws flashing out left and right. He wasn’t very dextrous but they were pretty tightly packed; it was a target-rich environment.

STR +1

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 6!

Your Forage skill is now level 2!

Your Forage skill is now level 3!

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Your Forage skill is now level 4!

You have unlocked the Grizzly job! Level up to meet rank requirements!

You are now a level 3 Bear!

CON +3
STR +3

WIS +3
Armor +2
Endurance +2
Mental Fortitude +2

Threadbare paused, hip deep in the now-bloody water, as that good feeling rippled through him again. His stamina, drained from claw swipes filled up once more, and he felt a rightness to it, a satisfaction that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Then fingers wrapped around him. “Threadbare! What did you… oh.” Celia said, looking at the five small fish drifting on the surface of the water. “Oh! Breakfast! Thank you!”

Twenty minutes later, with the stoked fire drying him out and the fish sizzling on makeshift skewers, Celia’s eyes opened wide. “I just unlocked the Cook job. What should I do?”

Threadbare looked at her. What was a cook? What was a job? He shrugged.

“Is this all it takes to unlock that job? No wonder Daddy never let me cook.” She bit her lip. “There’s only so many jobs you can learn, and I know that the adventuring ones and the profession ones are different. So you can learn up to three profession jobs without cutting into the adventuring ones. But…” She sighed. “No. No I won’t be a cook right now. If I change my mind I can select it from my status screen, I think. Status!” She checked. “Yes, we’re good.” She hauled the salmon skewers, slightly scarred, out of the fire and ate them. “Ugh. Well, it’s better than nothing. Thank you Threadbare!” She ruffled his soggy head.

Once he was dry and the salmon were consumed, the sticks and bones hurled into the Oblivion to dispose of them, Celia and Threadbare started down the mountain, with Threadbare poking out of the top of her pack, watching as she carefully climbed down the steep slope, backing down and moving from handhold to handhold.

It worked pretty well until her foot slipped. She managed to catch herself but the sudden jolt threw Threadbare out of the pack, and rolling madly down the cliff.

She shrieked, he banged off of one rock after another, and wound up at the treeline, caught up in a tangle of thorny bushes and down a few hit points.

He sat up with more annoyance than anything else, and tried to pull himself free.

And the bush pulled back.

Gropevines were a hazard in this region, even in the highest mountains. They usually subsisted on all sorts of birds, small animals, and even bugs. They were also attributed all sorts of questionable actions and had a lurid reputation that was entirely out of keeping with their motivations and modus operandi. All they wanted to do to people was rip them up with thorns and strangle them, it’s not like they were weird about it.

All of this was lost on Threadbare, as the bush opened up to reveal masses of vines, long thorns, and two clusters of white and black berries that looked like eyes. The bear glowered at his attacker, and drew back his hand for a swipe-

-and promptly got a dagger bladefirst into his paw.

The little bear and his viny foe looked at it. Then they both looked up, ignoring the red “3” that floated away from them.

“Oops! Oh no! Uh, sorry, I was aiming for right next to you. Just use that to fight it!” Celia shouted from above. “I’ll be down as fast as I can! Hang in there!”

Threadbare pulled the dagger out of his paw, looked at the vines trying to wrap around him, and got to slashing. He’d seen how Celia had used the knife to gut the fish, so that was probably how it worked, right?

INT +1

Well, he tried, anyway. The vines were all thorny and covered in bark, and he was pretty clumsy with the blade. It was more like a sword to him, not that he knew what those were.

Fortunately, his armor was more than enough to ward off the worst of the vine’s efforts. A few squeezes and 4 points of damage later, he got a good cut in.

Your actions have unlocked the generic skill: Dagger!

Your Dagger skill is now level 1!

The gropevine sizzled, sounding like the fish had as they fried on the fire, and swept Threadbare’s legs out from under him with one quick sweep. Then it piled vine on vine, binding his arms, and trying to keep that blade from nicking it again…

…to no avail, as Threadbare twisted it, snapping through the vines binding him. The little bear didn’t look it, but he was about as strong as the average young teenage human now, and the gropevine couldn’t match his concentrated muscles.

STR +1

Your Dagger skill is now level 2!

Then more noise from above, as Celia reached a safe spot, yanked out her toys, animated and invited them into her party. They rained down from above, and waded into the gropevine, pummeling it relentlessly. The gropevine tried to peel its vines away from Threadbare to deal with the new threats, but Threadbare well-remembered the lesson of the rats and team-fighting with Pulsivar, down in the cellar.

INT +1

Threadbare dropped the dagger and pulled the vines to him, as many as he could get. With him tying up the enemy, his friends were free to beat it up with impunity.

Your Brawling skill is now level 9!

This allowed his toy allies to get past the exterior vines and attack the interior. It sizzled again as they laid into its vulnerable berries, then fell silent and limp, amidst a cloud of red numbers.

“Woohoo!” Celia shouted, from above. “Level 6!”

Threadbare let the vines drop, just as his little girl got to the bottom of the cliff, and ran up behind him. “Mend!”

You have been healed for 18 points.

She considered him. “Are you okay?”

Threadbare nodded, and offered her the dagger back.

“Why don’t you keep it until we’re back home,” she said. “You always seem to end up in trouble way more than I do.”

Threadbare shrugged, and slung the blade over his shoulder.

“I figured you’d be okay. Gropevines aren’t that big a deal unless they’re really big.” Celia collected her toys. “But we should-”

A drum sounded in the distance. Celia froze, and peered into the trees.

“Threadbare?” She said, eventually, “Does that sound to you like a big raccant banging on a stolen bucket with a stick as it charges and leads seven other raccants this way?” She bent down and gathered up her toys as she spoke, stuffing them into her pack.

Threadbare looked up at her and shrugged.

“Well it should because that’s what’s coming towards us.” She knelt and grabbed up the little bear, and ran for her life.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 7 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 6
Bear Level 3
Ruler Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 40 Constitution: 47 Hit Points: 130 Armor: 19
Intelligence: 33 Wisdom: 41(46) Sanity: 72(77) Mental Fortitude: 9
Dexterity: 19 Agility: 25 Stamina: 54 Endurance: 29
Charisma: 27 (32) Willpower: 25 Moxie: 52(57) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 27 Luck: 25 Fortune: 52 Fate: 6

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 9
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 2
Dodge - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 9
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 6
Forage – 4
Scents and Sensibility – 5
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Equipment A finely-made Dagger - (Level 5 Knife)
Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests Do what Mordecai Says
Go Home
Help Anise Layd’i

Does a Bear Sit in the Woods 3

The Raccants chased Celia and Threadbare around the hills for the better part of a day. It had the side-benefit of unlocking Threadbare’s generic stealth skill and raising it a few levels, but it was mostly an annoyance. From his safe haven of Celia’s arms he waved his knife at any who got too close, and the little wooden-masked varmints steered clear.

At some point during the chase Threadbare unlocked the qualification for Black Bear, and got told he needed more experience. But he barely had time to notice it as he watched the pursuing monsters with fascination.

Celia, on the other hand, was terrified. The irony of it was that she shouldn’t have been. Raccants were territorial creatures, but not aggressive. They were trying to scare her off from their claimed turf, that was all. Mind you, if she dropped any interesting trinkets or slowed down enough to the point where they could nick her pack, they would’ve in a heartbeat. But they wouldn’t have hurt her. After all, maybe they could fool her into adopting them someday! Then they’d have easy lives…

But the chase went on far more than it should have, because Celia kept getting hopelessly lost, and turning back into their little valley. She was smart, and her perception wasn’t lacking, but fear and exhaustion did a number on her, and she made mistakes.

But Threadbare had a different sort of brain, one that… well, it did have fear, but it wasn’t the same sort as most organic types knew. It was afraid of something bad happening to Celia, or to Daddy, or Pulsivar, but that was about it, really. He wasn’t afraid for himself.

So when he noticed her turning around to pass the same boulder for the third time that day, he knew that they were going the wrong way.

PER +1

He tugged on her sleeve.

“Wh-wh-what?” Celia chattered, simultaneously drenched in sweat and cold from the chill air of the peaks.

Threadbare tugged on her sleeve again, and pointed with the dagger.

“That way? You’re, huff, you’re certain?”

Behind her a stick banged a bucket again, and she flinched. “That way it, ha, it is!” Exhausted, barely jogging, she set off past the boulder, and down a winding deer path that vanished into a mass of tangled scrub.

She didn’t see the lone Raccant Chief heave a sigh of relief behind his BLLDOGY mask, and put away his bucket. Finally she’d gotten the message. He looked back to where he’d left his minions behind, as they dropped from exhaustion, and waddled back to find them. For a second he considered keeping a watch, to make sure she didn’t come back. But then he decided against it. She’d gone down into that valley. She wouldn’t be back.

Five minutes later, peering out at a slope full of dead trees, Celia knew she was well and truly lost. She turned to head back…

…and Threadbare stirred in her arms, shaking his head.

“No?”

Threadbare put the dagger under one arm, and covered his face, then pretended to drum an imaginary bucket.

“You’re right. They haven’t followed me down here. But they’re probably waiting for me up top.” Celia swallowed, and looked around. “I don’t know where this is. I didn’t see this place on the walk up.” She swallowed. “And my throat’s dry.” She reached to her side, then froze. “I totally left Mister Mordecai’s water skin up at Oblivion Point, didn’t I?”

Threadbare nodded.

“Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.” She palmed her face.

Threadbare patted her arm. He’d forgotten about it too.

“Um. Well, finding water is totally a thing a scout would do. And Daddy’s books said to only drink from moving streams and rivers. There’s tons of little brooks all through these parts, we crossed enough of them. Just have to keep an eye out.” The pair descended into the dead trees. Celia put Threadbare down after a bit, tired enough from even his small weight.

Eventually the slope evened out, but the dead trees didn’t. Celia eyed the murky puddles of rainwater and cold marsh, that started to crop up but thought it best to find water elsewhere. It didn’t look, oh what was the word… Patable? No, that wasn’t it.

Dusk was coming on quickly. The light was fading, sun setting behind the western mountains.

So naturally, that’s when she found the graveyard.

“Ohhh boy.” Celia whispered, as she realized that the rows of rocks among the dead trees were actually tombstones. “Yeah, not drinking water here.” Her voice was a rasp at this point, but she knew what graveyards meant, and there was no way she was drinking water that was anywhere near dead people.

Threadbare tottered over to one of the tombstones, and saw there were words carved into it. He squinted, but didn’t see any that usually appeared when he did things. No, no wait, there was one.

Threadbare pointed at the stone. Celia came over and read it. “Here lies Axey Dent. Like most barbarians he shorted Int.”

The little bear pondered, then looked at it again, trying to match up the symbols with the words she’d just said. He was close, he knew, so very very close…

“Okay, somebody’s got a weird sense of humor,” Celia said, still spooked.

Threadbare moved to the next stone, and checked it for words. Celia followed, reading as she went. “Here lies Sandra Schtupp. Pissed off a vampire, never looked up. Here lies Barry the Bold. Went into my mausoleum to get out of the cold. Here lies Dorothy Gunn. Looted my lair but failed to run.”

Words started to repeat, here and there as she went, and Threadbare’s mind expanded.

INT +1

Midway through the morbid recitals, Celia stopped, as a spreading look of horror crossed her face. “Oh. Oh no.”

And from behind her, from the darkest part of the trees, she heard the slow, steady sound of flesh on flesh, as someone clapped their hands. Trembling like a leaf, she turned…

…to see a girl just a bit shorter than her, leaning against a tree.

She looked about the same age as Celia, but even skinnier, with short brown hair covered by a polka-dotted green and purple bandanna. She had an apron very like Celia’s daddy wore, only hers had hammers and chisels and measuring tape sticking out of it. She wore a sturdy pair of work boots on her feet, and had tough leather gloves on each hand. Short, poofy trousers and a simple bloodstained white shirt that was three sizes too big completed the picture.

“Finally, somewahn gets it!” The strange girl said with a nasal accent. “Good on yah! Four stahs! Now scram, kid, befahre I eat yah.”

Celia shrieked, ran, tripped over a tombstone, struggled back up, ran back for Threadbare, scooped him back up, and ran.

The girl laughed hard, clutching her belly and doubling over. Then her belly grumbled “Mff. Your bad luck, I guess. Sorry kid, but mama’s hangry.” She straightened up, giving the tree next to her a pat. “Looks like yah’re on the menu tonight-”

An arrow sprouted between her fingers, quivering in the tree trunk. The girl’s eyes went wide. Two more arrows appeared in between her fingers.

“Oh. Ah. She’s one a yours, then, Mordecah?”

Arrows sheeted down, tocking into the tree with rapid-fire precision, tracing out a word in feathers above her.

“YES”

“Raht. Raht. Message received. I’ll play nahse.”

Oblivious to what was happening behind her, Celia ran for her life… again. But the day’s exertions had taken their toll on her, and she was losing steam rapidly. Also, it was very dark now, and she’d moved from the field of tombstones to the thickets beyond, and she was having trouble seeing her way through. “I… I have to rest. I need water,” she told Threadbare, as she leaned against a tree, and panted. “I… need to find a place to sleep. Do you think we’re far enough away from… from the… oh gods…”

Threadbare looked around, and saw nothing chasing them, so he nodded.

“Okay. Find a spot, and build a shelter to sleep in. Like Mister Mordecai showed us.” She forged back upslope, until she saw the signs of pine trees just past the dead trunks. “Maybe this is the limits of the v.v..v… of her territory? I hope so. I can’t take another step.” She took another step, then six more, then knelt down and started gathering branches. They were well into twilight now, and the light was going. Threadbare helped as best he could, and aided her as she tied them together.

DEX +1

“Fire. I… undead hate fires, right? It should be safe.” She pulled out the Knife Mordecai had given her, and the chunks of flint she’d pocketed from his last demonstration. It took about twenty tries, but finally they got a small fire going, out of the wind, and at the mouth of the shelter. Celia curled into it and went out like a light, entirely exhausted.

Threadbare crawled in beside her, but hesitated. She said she’d needed water earlier, right? And she’d probably want more food, too.

But there was that other girl out there who had threatened Celia. No, the little teddy bear decided to stay. Anything could happen out here, and he didn’t want something bad hurting Celia while she slept.

WIS +1

So a little while later, when the girl in the apron faded out of the shadows, pale skin gleaming in the firelight, Threadbare hauled out his dagger and put himself between Celia and the stranger.

“Relahx,” the girl said, offering a bloodstained goat. “Here. This’ll be good breakfast, yah?” She mopped her stained mouth with one free hand.

Threadbare tilted his head, then nodded. He assumed it would be. It was made of meat, after all, like the rabbits and fish had been.

“So she’s an animahtah?”

Threadbare nodded again.

“You her pet?”

Threadbare considered the word. Then he walked over and petted Celia’s tangled hair.

Your Adorable Skill is now level 10!

The girl laughed, showing really big fangs. “So she’s yahr pet? Aw that’s cute! Don’t suppose I could steal you away from her, yah? Come live with me? Sleep in a really swanky stone cahffin all day, an’ carve gravestahns all naht?”

An arrow flew past her ear, tweaking her bandanna just enough to catch her attention.

“Just an ideah, jeeze, keep ya trawsahs on old man.”

Threadbare was shaking his head anyway. He looked to her, looked to Celia, and hugged Celia’s form. His little girl drooled on him.

“Mm. Awraht. Well, if you go that way, ya’ll come to tha big tree. Kind of a central point around here.” The girl pointed.

Threadbare looked. Sure enough, there was something against the moon. It could be a really big tree.

“Just past thah’s a rahck with a great view. Icewahn river’s not fah north. Find tha river, there’s roads beyond.” She grinned. “I should know. Good huntin’ on them. Lots a King’s Gahds to eat.”

Threadbare shrugged. He’d never seen Celia eat any gahds so he couldn’t say.

“Oh relax, they all have it cahmin. Things the King gets up ta, hells.” The girl plopped down, and stared into the darkness. “I’m a monstah, I admit it, but he’s got no excuse. I mean, who thinks summoning demons is a good idea?”

Threadbare shrugged.

“Yahr a good listenah, ya know that?”

CHA +1

Threadbare nodded. Idly, he sniffed at her, found her scent to be old blood and cold meat. Strange, and not human at all.

PER +1

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 6!

“Wanna play some Grindluck?” She hauled out a deck of cards. “No stakes, dahn’t warry.”

Grindluck was a game taught to very young children. It pretty much did what it said, allowing them to get their luck up to the point that they could survive a walk outside without heavy armor, the best buffs available, and a small party of higher level relatives.

She taught him the game, and they played as the fire burned down. It was a fairly simple thing where you tried to match cards, and kept the cards you matched. It did indeed help his anemic luck, giving him four points worth as the hours passed.

The strange girl kept up a chatter as they went, talking about how she used to be a minion in a smaller dungeon, before it got busted up by the King’s troops, and her master had gone and gotten splattered. She’d tried to blend into the local town, but it hadn’t gone so well.

“Too many scouts. They can look at yah and see yahr status. Just like that. Well, the good ones can anyway. So I found my way out here. Lahts of folks don’t look too hahd at strangers who mind their own business. I can even go into Taylah’s Delve now and again. It’s nahse. Lonely sometimes, but nahse.” She sighed, and put her cards away, looking up at the moon. “Thought about making my own dungeon, but what’s the point? Used ta be you made one, it was fun fahr the whole region. Brings in adventurers, tourists, falks who spend mahney. But nah the King’s running tha show, yah gahtta have permits ta go into dungeons. Yah gahtta hand ovah all ya magic loot when ya get out. And if people staht cheating or if he feels like it he sends in tha troops, and they mine it out and break tha core. Where’s tha fun in that?”

Threadbare examined her carefully, and shook his head.

CHA +1

“Raht. Ah’m glad we had this talk, mistah bahr.” She ruffled his head, and reclaimed her cards. “Ya little gahl’s lucky to have yah. Ya take care of her, aright?”

He nodded, and she faded into the shadows and away, as the first light started to appear on the horizon.

Finally, Celia stirred, as the dawn’s light fell on her face. “Mfrafef. Feh? Fah!” She sat bolt upright, put her hand squarely on the bloody dead goat carcass, looked down at it, and screamed.

Five minutes later, after she’d calmed down, she started cleaning and dressing the goat. Well, trying to. Well, she got maybe a few pounds of usable meat off of it. Goats were way harder than rabbits, as it turned out.

“I’m still so thirsty,” she croaked, her voice rattling around inside her throat like a stone in a bowl of dust. “Do you think there’s any water around here?”

Threadbare wandered off into the trees, looking left and right. “Okay, just… don’t go far,” Celia croaked, trying to cook the goat without burning herself too badly. “This cook job is really tempting…”

It took about twenty minutes of searching, but eventually Threadbare found a small stream.

Your Forage skill is level 5!

But he didn’t have any good way to bring the water back.

He thought about it for a bit, trying to scoop it up in his hands. It seemed an insurmountable problem, right until the point he remembered what happened to him every time he got soaked.

INT +1

The little bear flopped into the water, got himself good and soaked, and waddled back to the campfire, leaking with every step.

“Threadbare! What did you… oh. Oh, that works.” Celia smiled. Then she picked up the little bear, put his knife to the side, and wrung out his limbs over her mouth, greedily gulping down the droplets that squirted out.

Being made of cloth had a few advantages, after all.

“Aw, your feet are all muddy. Sorry. Well, the rest of you’s a little stained too. Daddy can clean you once we get home.” She winced. “Nineteen hours left. I need to get a move on.”

But it took half an hour more to cook and eat the goat meat. Then ten minutes for Threadbare to lead her to the little stream, so she could more properly drink her fill.

After that, he seemed pretty insistent on tugging her in one direction. “You’re sure?” She measured the cliff ahead of her with her eyes. “We’ll have to go around that, there’s no way I can climb it.”

He was insistent, nodding up and down over and over again.

So she followed him, and after quite a bit of walking, she found her way up to the top of the ridge where he was pointing, and looked to the northwest. “Waitaminute. I know that tree!”

It was indeed the tree that Mister Mordecai had her examine during their hike up. “I’m just seeing it from a different angle, that’s all.” She considered the rocky escarpment between herself and the tree. “It’s a long way, but it’s a clear shot. Come on, let’s go!”

Three hours later, she sat at the base of the tree, looking up it.

Threadbare looked up it as well, button eyes held by the hypnotic patterns of the bees high up in its branches, hard at work making wildflower honey. And within him instinct stirred again.

“I don’t think I can climb that, not as weak as I am,” Celia told him. “But if you could climb up there and look-”

Before she could say another word the little bear scrambled up the trunk, fell down, scrambled back up, got twenty feet up, fell down, and got up for a third try.

Two climb skill level ups later, he got up to that tantalizing beehive.

“Threadbare! Just ignore it. Please go to the top and-”

The bees landed on him as he crept closer to it. He heard Celia’s words, but he could no more look away than he could sprout wings and fly from the branches. Slowly, carefully, as the bees hummed and settled on him, stinging him with stingers that did absolutely nothing he crawled over to the hive and pushed his paw into the papery structure.

Your Forage skill is level 6!

He pulled free a dollop of angry bees and some sort of brown liquid that smelled divine, it smelled like nothing he had ever scented before, and while bees stung his button eyes he inhaled the scent, and slowly brought the goop to his mouth-

-only to pat against the cloth patch that served him as a tongue.

Nothing.

The teddy bear had the distinct feeling there should definitely be something going on there. He tried again, and the only thing that happened was that the bees got more pissed off.

With a shake of his head at the disappointment, Threadbare resumed his climb up the tree. Honey pulsed from the hole in the hive, dripping down. And Celia, for her part, shrugged and held out her hands, catching it and licking it eagerly off her palms. The bees weren’t coming after her, and food was food out here. She’d burned a lot of energy walking this far, and this would keep her going. She checked her status as she ate, sighing as her stamina ticked back up after every slurp.

After a while, Threadbare crawled down. The bees had long ago given up trying to sting the weird little scavenger, and were concentrating on patching their hive, so that was all well and good.

“Did you see the rock? That was the next thing, that boulder you nearly fell from,” Celia asked him.

Threadbare nodded, and pointed.

It took most of the rest of the day, but they made it back to the rock, and from there they could see the house, and retrace their path back. As night fell for the second time, Celia staggered into her front yard, hair sticky and stained with honey, pine needles, sweat, and dirt. Threadbare rode with his arms clamped around the back of her neck, sitting on her pack, knife stowed away so he didn’t accidentally cut her.

And as Celia lurched up to the door and put her hands on it, words flickered into Threadbare’s sight.

Go Home quest complete!

Congratulations! By becoming lost in the wilderness and finding your way home you have unlocked the Scout job!

Would you like to become a Scout at this time? y/n?

Threadbare read it. The long words didn’t quite make sense, but he knew what scouts were. Scouts were Mordecai! He wanted to become a scout.

The words vanished, and instantly he felt better. And more words flashed by.

You are now a level 1 Scout!

+3 AGL

+3 PER

+3 WIS

You have learned the Camouflage skill!

Your Camouflage skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Firestarter skill!

Your Firestarter skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Keen Eye skill!

Your Keen Eye skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Sturdy Back skill!

Your Sturdy Back skill is now level 1

You have learned the Wind’s Whisper skill!

Your Wind’s Whisper skill is now level 1!

And if his eyes could open any wider, they would have.

Celia, her stamina refilled, jumped straight into the air and almost banged her head on the porch. “Yes! Wow, yes yes yes!”

The door opened, and Caradon stood there, smiling. “I am so, so very proud of you.”

“I followed Mister Mordecai’s instructions!” Celia beamed, dirty as she’d ever been, with some fried goat tendon sticking out between her teeth.

“Yes, you did. That’s the quest complete then. Take this, you’ve earned it.”

Do What Mister Mordecai Says Quest Complete!

You have gained 1000 experience

Threadbare looked on in amazement, as everything got more awesome.

You are now a level 7 Toy Golem!
+2 to all attributes
You are now a level 2 Ruler!
+3 CHA
+3 LUCK
+3 WIS
You are now a level 2 Scout!
+3 AGL
+3 PER
+3 WIS

He looked at his paws, flexed the muscles of his stuffing. Yes. Yes, this was good. Quests did this? Quests were good, then!

For his part, Caradon hesitated. “Two thousand experience? What…” He shook his head. “Getting senile. Must have upped it a bit.”

“What was that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on in. Dinner first or… no, bath first, I think. Mordecai’s already here, but no dinner for him. He’ll be asleep for a day or so.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s a trick they have at higher levels, to delay sleeping. Here, let’s get you clean. Ah, him first.”

One quick Clean and Press on Threadbare later, and he was left to his own devices, downstairs. That was fine. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could try to write something now.

He remembered seeing paper in the study, so he wandered that way. And sure enough there was paper, and there were plenty of ink quills and parchments…

…but more interestingly, one of the books on the desk glowed with a strange, shiny light.

Threadbare opened it. It was the hollow book with the scrolls, and they were glowing. Vaguely remembering something about these, he picked them up, and instantly a chime sounded, in his head.

More words appeared, and FINALLY, he was smart enough to read them all.

Step one of help Anise Layd’I complete!

Take the scrolls to the hidden chest downriver!

Oh right, right, that thing she’d asked Celia to do, before Celia got mad at the lady for some reason.

Well, it was a quest, right? Quests were good.

He shut the book and put it back neatly like Celia had taught him. Then the little bear toddled out the open back door, hopped down from the porch, and set out toward the river.

They found him in the yard after a frantic search four hours later, muddy, quite battered from having to shank another gropevine on the way, and a bit worse for the wear, but he seemed happy.

After all, why shouldn’t he be? He was 500 experience and another bear level richer!

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 8 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 7
Bear Level 4
Ruler Level 2
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 47 Constitution: 54 Hit Points: 145 Armor: 22
Intelligence: 37 Wisdom: 55(60) Sanity: 92(97) Mental Fortitude: 12
Dexterity: 22 Agility: 33 Stamina: 65 Endurance: 32
Charisma: 34(39) Willpower: 27 Moxie: 61(66) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 37 Luck: 34 Fortune: 71 Fate: 7

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 9
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 4
Dodge - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 10
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 6
Forage – 6
Scents and Sensibility – 6
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 1
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests

A Wildling Brood 1

The wind stirred the trees, as the hills fell behind in the distance. A squirrel poked its head out of a bole in a large ash tree, peered around. Seeing nothing, it began the descent, ready for another day’s foraging.

“That one,” someone whispered, and the squirrel froze-

-then promptly ran for its life as a rock smacked into the tree behind it, knocking loose a bit of bark. With a flash it was
gone, back into the bole, chattering its head off.

“Aw,” Celia whined, lowering her slingshot.

“Ya tried, ya missed. No sense fussin’ about it. C’mon then.” Mordecai nodded, and ambled off back to the trail. Celia followed, casting glances back at the squirrel-filled bole. Behind them both, Threadbare trotted, his arms full of smooth stones. Not enough to increase his strength, sadly. But he was alright with being Celia’s ammo bearer.

Besides, carrying them around seemed to be slowly increasing his newly-gained “Sturdy Back” skill. It almost seemed like they got a little lighter every time the skill ticked up.

“I don’t see how this counts as a thrown weapon,” Celia eyed the slingshot. Newly crafted from leather and fresh stretchweed on a wooden stock, it had been Mordecai’s gift for her for passing his test. “I mean, I guess you make a throwing motion when you use it.”

“Actually ya don’t. All yer work’s in the pullback, after tha it’s a clean release. Ya just do a little nudge. Let the straps do the work. Hsst!” He held up his hand. Celia stopped, for about the tenth time since they’d set out that morning, right before dawn. Threadbare stopped too, and barely managed to keep from spilling the stones all over.

DEX +1

“What?” Celia whispered.

“You tell me.”

Celia frowned, then muttered “Keen Eye.” Blinking a few times, she stared in the direction Mordecai was looking. “Is there something behind the blue jay?”

“Nah. Blue Jay’s yer target.”

“You want me to kill a songbird?” Celia’s voice rose.

“Keep it down. Jays ent songbirds. They’re jerks what beats up and drives off songbirds. And they sound horrible.”

Celia’s lips twisted. Finally she nodded, reached down, and grabbed one of the stones from Threadbare’s pile. Carefully she drew it back in the slingshot, aimed, and took a breath.

SNAP!

“AWK!”

The bird fell, broken, and Celia whooped! “Yay! Level 7! It IS a thrown weapon!” Then she fell silent, as she watched blue feathers drift down. “Um.”

“Good.” Mordecai clapped her on the back. “Normally I’d teach yer to prop’ly harvest the feathers, but yer Daddy tells me ya want to wait on learning new crafting jobs.”

“I… yes.” She rubbed her face, still looking at the bird’s corpse, her smile fading. “After we found Threadbare last night we had a talk. He taught me Enchanter and Tailor. That means I only have four adventuring jobs left that I can choose and uh…”

“Two.”

“Two crafting jobs left.” She swallowed. “One of them will probably have to be smith, if I want to-If I want to follow in Mom and Dad’s footsteps.”

“Because of Emmet?”

“Yeah. And more like him, someday. So I’ll probably need Tinker too, like Mom had. So I don’t have a lot of room to learn more stuff.”

Mordecai nodded. “Smart. Wise, y’might say.” He grinned at her, as he shinnied up the tree the Jay had fallen from, and scooped a nest from where it had been hiding in the crook of a branch.

“Wait, I just killed a mama bird?” Celia looked stricken.

“Yah. And got us lunch.” He retrieved the bird’s corpse.

“But… but…”

“But what?” Mordecai pointed at the bark. “Still got yer sight up, yah?”

“Yah. I mean yes.”

“See ‘ere?”

She squinted. “Clawmarks, really small ones… and I just skilled up Eagle Eye.”

Oooh! Threadbare looked at the tree too, and saw nothing. He tried thinking Eagle Eye as hard as he could, but nothing happened. This was a problem he’d have to fix at some point.

“These are ferret clawmarks. Kinder old. Prolly before the nest was here. Unless the ferret’s dead, it’d be back and it’d eat the eggs an’ prolly the jay too, most likely. If we didn’t eat it now, it would later. This is how nature works. Ya want ta eat, ya got ta hunt. We ent got enough time ta harvest veggies on tha way fer this trip. We eat meat an’ eggs or we go hungry.”

Celia looked down, searching her soul, trying to get over the fact she’d just killed a momma and was about to eat her babies…

…and was betrayed by her treacherous belly, as it grumbled. It had been a long walk through new territory, and she was hungry. “I’m a scout now,” she told herself.

Threadbare nodded so hard his ears flapped, and stones spilled to the ground. The pair of humans looked his way and chuckled.

Your Adorable skill is now level 11!

“Come on. Get some practice wi’ Firestarter,” Mordecai clapped her back.

One small meal later, as Celia tried hard not to think about the bird embroyos she’d just eaten, Mordecai explained. “Firestarter does wot it says. Jus’ means ya don’t have ta mess with flints, so long as ya got wood or tinder or anything burnable. Also costs 1 endurance, so ya can do it ennytime more or less no matter how wiped ya are. Keen Eye’s for seein’ things from a distance, sharpens yer perception up nice. Sturdy back’s why you ain’t griping about yer pack. Camouflage blends you in wiff tha surroundings. Costly, eats up a bit o’ sanity fer every minute, but ya got that to spare, especially you bein’ an animator.”

Celia nodded. “And Wind’s Whisper?”

“Focus,” Mordecai said. “Think Wind’s Whisper Mordecai as hard as you can, an’ move yer mouth like yer talkin’. Like yer sayin’ the words, but don’t put air behind them.”

Celia tilted her head, then her lips danced as she mimed speech. Her eyes went wide.

“Ya said I’m a jay murderer,” Mordecai smirked. “Yah?”

“Yes.”

“Well ‘ere’s what I says to that,” Mordecai’s mouth twitched, and Celia glared at him.

“What do you mean you’re just my accomplice?”

“You ‘eard me.”

“I did.”

“That’s ‘cause I thought ‘Wind’s Whisper Celia’, and pretended to whisper my words.”

Threadbare, watching all this, realized that he’d finally, finally caught a break! He could finally talk to Celia! Wind’s Whisper Celia, the little bear thought, and then he moved…

…nothing, because he didn’t have lips. Or a mouth that wasn’t a stitched on piece of cloth. Aggravated, he slumped to the ground.

“Does this work anywhere?” Celia asked.

“Ya got a skill up, right?”

“Yeah, it’s level two now. Status.” Celia blinked. “Oh, that cost a little sanity. Not much…”

“The more ya level it, the further out ya can be heard. Too far out beyond yer level, an’ ya start getting hard ta hear. Gets garbled, words get lost. Figger yer prolly limited ta a few hundred feet ‘till ya hit level ten. Level thirty gets ya up ta a mile or so.”

“Wow,” Celia blinked. Then her eyes moistened over. “I can whisper to Daddy while I’m away.”

“Eh… we’re too far out from him, where we’re going. Sorry. We usually sends little golem birds back an’ forth.”

“So THAT’S what they’re for!” Celia raised her hands. “I asked him and he wouldn’t tell me! He’s got a whole hutch of those things, and they come and go and I never found out why.” She frowned. “Wait, why would he need a dozen of them to talk with you?”

“Ah…” Mordecai shifted. “I ain’t the only one he talks with.” His eyes flickered, and his face darkened. “Though I reckon a lot of his friend up north ain’t gonner be talkin’ much wi’ him no more.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Anyway, come on, time ta dig a hole.”

“What? Why?”

“Ya always bury the trash an’ bones an’ bits. Makes ya harder ta track. Keeps random necromancers from animatin’ bird skellies.”

“Wait, that’s really a thing?”

“Eh, ain’t likely ta run into many out here, but ya always get oiks poke their noses in where they shouldn’t. Best to keep ‘em from temptation. But first…” Mordecai scooped up the bird’s head, tugging it free from its body. “Bonestripper,” he told it, and tossed away a palmful of bloody meat and brains, leaving only a clean white skull, with beak attached.

“Um. Ew.” But Celia’s curiosity warred with her disgust, and won. “What was that?”

“Tanner trick. Gets stuff off the bones cleanly. Intact if you cares about it, which I dunt right now.”

“Why do you need the skull?”

“Let’s just call it a present an’ leave it at that.” He grinned, and tossed it up and down.

Once the remnants of lunch were buried, and Celia had a pocket full of blue and white feathers and mixed feelings about the whole affair, Mordecai led her onward. Threadbare followed close behind, thinking furiously.

The smarter he got, the more he realized that he’d need a way to talk to people. Or just talk in general. There were all these neat things that people could do that he thought he could do too, if he understood jobs and skills and ideas correctly, but a lot of them seemed to require talking. No mouth, no speech. He’d thought writing would work out, but boy howdy, did humans ever seem to be annoyed whenever he tried to write. So he’d given that up, at least for the minute. Maybe he’d find a good opportunity later to sneak some paper and a quill and experiment. Or a charcoal stick or whatever.

But his sulk didn’t last through the whole trip. He saw new territory, mostly woods and fields and meadows, sprinkled among the hills. His perception ticked up a few times, and that sturdy back skill did as well, topping out at Level five. The rocks were as light as they’d ever get, he realized, passing his wisdom check. Maybe something heavier would raise it?

Then the trio crested a small bluff, and Celia gasped. “What’s that?”

“Tha’s Taylor’s Delve”, Mordecai gestured to the town, sat on a trio of large hills overlooking a pass between two of the largest mountains. “Mining town. Used ta be a trade town too, but the caravans got nowhere ta go since the Oblivion sealed the South.”

“I mean, I saw the smoke, but I thought it was a camp or something…” Smoke did pour out of the place, from foundries and houses and other, larger buildings scattered throughout. Celia shivered, as she looked the place over. It had more people than she’d ever imagined! Why, there had to be at least thirty people out and moving around between the sturdy wooden and stone buildings!

“Get a good look, then c’mon. That ent where we’re going today.”

“Oh.” Celia felt a fluttering sense of relief. That was a lot of people, a whole lot for someone who’d seen three other people in her whole life before. Well, four if you counted the vampire, though she rather thought monsters didn’t count.

And Threadbare of course, but he was a golem, so technically a monster. She spared him a glance back, and he waved, dropping half his rocks.

“Go ahead an’ drop them,” Mordecai told the little bear. He did so, scattering them on the slope and dusting his paws. “No more slingshot practice fer now,” Mordecai nodded to Celia. “Ya got the way of it, ya can practice on yer own time.”

“Okay-dokay. Where to now?” Celia smiled, and tucked the slingshot into her coat.

“Home.” Mordecai pulled the jay’s cleaned skull out of his pocket, studied it, and replaced it. “Gonna be good times later. Oh, an’ carry Threadbare from here. Tell him ta stay still fer now.”

The trio headed back down the bluff, and back into the hills across from the pass, following the trail back into a small hollow. They passed shacks and small houses as they went, half of them boarded up and clearly empty, but others had livestock outside, or hard-eyed men and women who turned into smiling, friendly people who waved and called over when they saw it was Mordecai. Mordecai exchanged waves and a how-do-ya-do back now and then, but he didn’t stop to talk, and he ignored questions fired his way. Most of which were about Celia.

The girl, for her part, felt out of her depth and shut up, clutching Threadbare tightly and making sure she didn’t make eye contact.

“Jus’ the neighbors,” Mordecai told her. “You’ll meet ‘em later. We’ll come up with a story for who you are.”

“I’m Celia. Who else would I be?”

“It’s yer last names that could cause trouble. Just, ah, call yerself Celia Hornwood. Tha’s a family that’s feuding up north. People will think yer down here ta get away from that.”

“Won’t the other Hornwoods be mad that I’m doing that?”

“Nah. Most of’em are dead already.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Tha’s what happens when yer a clan of humans feuding wi’ dwarves. Dwarves don’t just hold grudges, they juggles them.”

“What?”

“Long story.” Mordecai paused, where the trail led down into a dark hollow, on the lee side of a hill. “C’mon. Now… you’re gonna see some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Jus’ stay out of it. Remember I’m fine wi’ it, wouldn’t be doin’ it if I didn’t love ‘er. An’ stay out of the hut till I gives yer tha all clear.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Good.”

At the end of the trail, sat a wooden and straw hut, with a thatched roof of woven sticks. Skulls poked out from it, capping the end of every stick. Big ones, little ones, mostly animal skulls… though Celia hissed, to see a few human skulls mixed in among them. Others were from creatures she’d never seen before, hollow eyes staring from weather-yellowed sockets. Smoke poured from the center of the hut, and a strange odor, spicy and strong, filled her nose and made her sneeze.

At the sound, the three youths on the porch sat up and peered at her with curious eyes. They wore mismatched clothes, half of sturdy cloth and half of leather and hide.

The youngest was about half Celia’s size, a little boy with green skin and yellow eyes, and short frizzy black hair that reminded Celia of her own. He hid a turtle behind his back, and stared at her for only a second, before his gaze slid to Threadbare and his jaw dropped open.

The one in the middle was built like a block of stone that someone had put muscles on. Thick and squat and about as tall as Celia, wearing a crudely-stitched suit of leather armor. He had the hilt of a battleaxe hanging from his belt, and though his skin was pink, he had his brother’s yellow eyes and two small tusks poking out over his upper lips. The overall effect was if someone had poured a boar into a human skin. He smiled and waved.

The third one was tall, taller than Celia, with wispy hair on his upper lip. Green-skinned like the youngest, he was all lean muscle, dressed in a bone-beaded leather shirt, a hide cloak, and a pair of trousers. His black hair was drawn back in a ponytail, and he had a bow slung on his back. Unlike the youngest one, his eyes were human and gray. Much like Mordecai’s, Celia thought. In fact…

“You never told me you had kids!” She burst out. But Mordecai wasn’t looking at her anymore. Mordecai was moving up, staring at the beaded curtain that led into the darkness of the hut. Then he drew his knife.

Celia stepped back, fumbled for her own daggers-

-and promptly dropped it, jumping backward in fear, as something inside the hut roared and charged through the curtain, bowling Mordecai over as they rolled across the grass.

It was green and brown and roaring, and it battered him with a heavy club, as Mordecai fought for his life, knife flashing. Blood sprayed and for a second she dared hope-

-but then he reeled back as the club hit his face with a CRACK, and Celia gasped as the two separated, staggering back to take stock of each other.

It wore a painted wooden mask, she saw that, and stood like a human did… broad and scarred and green and muscled, taller even than Mordecai, clad in a leather halter top and loincloth. Black, dreadlocked hair flew out from behind the mask as it snarled, and stalked back and forth like a beast, yellow eyes shifting in the holes of the mask as it stalked Mordecai. The skull-topped club shook, as the creature feinted, testing for weakness, testing for hesitation.

Then Celia blinked, as she realized what the curves under that halter top meant.

“That’s a woman?” She asked, putting her hand to her face.

The creature spared her a glance, filled with malice that she’d never seen and then Mordecai was on the thing, stabbing desperately, and with a great wail and a blur of motion the fight was back on. Celia turned tail and ran, hugging her bear tight, getting way the hell away as fast as possible. She reached the treeline, turned…

…only to see a limp Mordecai being dragged by one leg, hat off, into the hut.

“No!” She shouted, dropping Threadbare, and pulling out her daggers. “Animus Blade! Animus Blade! Anim-”

“Hey, s’all right,”

“Huh?” She dropped the last dagger, stared up at the tall, thin youth with the green skin. He’d worked his way around while she’d been distracted. The two blades whirled around, aimless, as she stared at him, nonplussed.

“Yeah, this is what they do,” The sturdy boy said, walking up from the side, with the smallest boy in tow. “Dad was away too long without telling Mom first, so first they’re gonna fight. Then she’ll heal him up and they’ll get to the other part.”

“That was your… that’s his wife?” Celia realized. “Oh my gods.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, what’s the other part?”

“Uh…” The tall one shot a look at the fat one, who put his hands over the youngest one’s ears. Then he told her.

Celia blushed.

“Yeah, we don’t stick around for that part. Wanna come fishing with us?” The fat boy smiled.

“Yes. That would… yes.” Celia blushed more. Then as she followed them into the woods, a thought struck her, an old fancy, and she glanced back at the now-quiet hut. “Um. I read… there was a book, once. It had a knight on the front, and a lady with her shirt half-off. I think it was Mom’s. It was… interesting.”

“Yeah?” The fat boy asked.

“Do you think, ah, what, do you think it’s like that?” Celia asked, with something like desperation.

There was a pause. The three boys looked at Celia, then simultaneously the four kids, and Threadbare, turned to look at the hut.

With a crash, Mordecai’s head and torso rammed through the straw. He shot an arm through, grabbed one of the larger skulls, and threw it back inside. His wife shrieked, and pulled him back in, as he fought desperately for a handhold.

“No,” the tallest one said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “I rather fink it ent like that.”

Feeling entirely out of her depth, Celia retrieved her fallen knife, and followed the trio into the woods.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 8 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 7
Bear Level 4
Ruler Level 2
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 47 Constitution: 54 Hit Points: 145 Armor: 22
Intelligence: 37 Wisdom: 55(60) Sanity: 92(97) Mental Fortitude: 12
Dexterity: 23 Agility: 33 Stamina: 65 Endurance: 32
Charisma: 34(39) Willpower: 27 Moxie: 61(66) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 37 Luck: 34 Fortune: 71 Fate: 7

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 9
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 4
Dodge - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 1

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 11
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 6
Forage – 6
Scents and Sensibility – 6
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests

A Wildling Brood 2

“So I’m Garon,” the fat boy said. He pointed at the tall youth who was walking ahead of them. “That’s Jarrik. The small one with the turtle is Bak’shaz.”

“I’m Celia. This is Threadbare.”

Threadbare waved, and Garon chuckled. “So you’re old man Caradon’s daughter, then?”

“Um, yes, how did you know?’

“Not too many moving teddy bears out in these parts. Has to be an animator and I don’t know any in town. We used to have one as a neighbor but she was kind of crazy.”

“Oh yer talkin’ about Mimsy?” Jarrik spoke up.

“You know she hated that name.”

“Pssh. She wanted ta bake me into a pie.”

“That was only ever a rumor.”

“Yeah, right, no baker needs an oven that big. And yer can’t tell me them cages was all fer animals.”

“Whatever. Her thing was animated gingerbread men. And baking. I think she might have been trying to find an unlock.”

“Summat mixed with cultist, prolly.”

“Hey, that was never proven.”

“What happened to her?” Celia asked, curious. She didn’t know any other animators than her Daddy. Didn’t know many people, really, when you got down to it, but this Mimsy shared a job with her so it made her more intriguing.

Garon shrugged. “Bad business. Someone pushed her into her own oven.”

“I still say she crawled in herself,” Jarrik grumped.

“Whatever. She’s gone. But yeah, animated gingerbread men. Less fun then you’d think, between the bad weather we get out here and the bugs.”

“But…” Bak’shaz spoke up for the first time, and the two older boys immediately stopped talking, and looked at him. Celia, her mouth half open to ask a question, managed to shut up. The little boy’s voice was high-pitched, and creaky, higher than hers. “But Mimzal’s gingerbread men all said ‘animi’ in their status. His says greater toy golem.” He pointed at Threadbare.

“You can read status screens?” Celia burst out. “That’s amazing!”

Instantly the little boy smiled widely, showing all his teeth, and stuck his hands in his overall pockets. “Ow!” His smile disappeared, and he pulled out a turtle, that was chewing on his thumb. “Okay yes Shelly it’s feeding time. We’re almost to the creek. Please be patient.” He cranked up his smile again, and the turtle let go.

Threadbare felt strange. That kid suddenly seemed a lot nicer looking. Totally a good guy, the golem could tell, though he couldn’t say why.

“It’s not as amazing as you think,” Jarrik said. “It’s not as awesome as scouts, we can use Scouter to start reading people at tenth level.”

“Which you haven’t got yet, so shut up,” Garon said, amicably. “Bak’shaz is a Tamer. He’s all about making friends with monsters, and collecting them as companions. So one of his abilities lets him look at monster status screens. And it looks like golems count as monsters.”

The woods thinned a bit, and Celia started to hear running water ahead. But she barely paid attention to where she was going, fascinated by the conversation and her new… friends? Hopefully friends. “Oh, uh, yeah, my Daddy made him. Golems are special animations that you don’t have to renew every time their spell runs out. They’re pretty tough.”

Bak’shaz nodded so hard his frizzy hair wobbled, still staring fascinated at Threadbare.

“I didn’t know he was a greater golem, though.” Celia looked down at Threadbare, and the little bear hugged her. “I thought Daddy was still working on those. I knew he was special, but I guess Daddy wanted me to have him to protect me. You’re the first of his successes!”

Threadbare shrugged.

“What’s so great about greater golems?” Garon asked.

“Everything. They’re smart. Regular golems are as dumb as animi, but greaters are as smart as people.”

Threadbare nodded. “See?” Celia grinned. “He agrees.”

“Can he fight?”

“Oh yeah. He helped me fight off a gropevine when Mister Mordecai was teaching me to be a scout.”

“Wait, Dad taught yer to be a scout?” Jarrik asked, looking unconvinced.

“Um, yes, why?”

“It’s just that yer ‘bout to walk right inta a big patchof poison ivy.”

One hasty scramble, a dropped bear, and a minimal amount of chaos later, they reached the creek, Threadbare toddling along behind them as Bak’shaz kept peeking at the little golem.

“I’m not a very good scout yet, I guess,” Celia sat on one of the big rocks near the water.

“Did he take ya out to Oblivion Point?” Jarrik asked.

“Oh. Yes.”

“Yeah, thass a good run. If Dad taught you how to be a scout, yer a scout. Good comes wi’ practice.”

Garron grinned. Wow, his teeth were sharp. “Jarrik is Dad’s son, through and through. Wants to be a scout and an archer just like his old man.”

The way he said that was weird. “Wait, if he’s his Dad’s son… You’re… not your Father’s son?”

“What? Oh no, no. We’re all his sons. It’s just I don’t want to follow in his footsteps, that’s all.”

“He wants ter be a mercenary,” Jarrik explained. “Do ya have a fishing pole?”

“No, sorry. I can watch, it’s all right. Wait, mercenary is a job? I just thought most of them were knights or archers or other fighting jobs.”

Jarrik hunted around found a stick, started tying some twine to it. “Oh don’t get ‘im started-“

Too late. Garon grinned widely, and spread his arms. “Let me tell you about my awesome career path!”

Bak’shaz rolled his eyes and started digging in the mud, putting Shelly down to do so. Jarrik sighed, and worked on the makeshift fishing rod. Garon continued, oblivious. “Most of the fighting types come from the four warrior classes, it’s true, but sometimes they don’t fight for money. Mercenaries, now? We fight, but it’s secondary to getting paid. In fact, we’ve got stuff that lets us fight better so long as we’ve got money! And we always get paid.”

“Yeah that’s one of his skills,” Jarrik said, in a sing-song voice, clearly copying his brother. “If you give him a quest and stiff him on the reward he can give you a permanent luck and fate debuff.”

Garron punched his shoulder, and Jarrik yelped.

“Wow!” Celia leaned in. “That actually sounds pretty good.”

“That’s not all!” Garon grinned, rummaging around in his pack and pulling out his own fishing rod. “When I’m on a quest I get bonuses to every attribute when I’m doing something to complete that quest.”

“So wait,” The girl frowned. “If mercenary isn’t one of the warrior classes, what is it?”

“It’s one a tha wanderer classes,” Jarrik said. “Explorer, Mercenary, Merchant, and Scout.”

“Yep. We’re made to travel. I won’t be around here forever.” Garon glanced over to Bak’shaz. “How are you coming on those worms?”

“Shelly eats first.” Bak’shaz pointed at the turtle.

“Right, right. Don’t leave us hanging, I want to eat tonight too.”

“He’s got you covered.” Bak’shaz pointed into the creek.

The three other kids turned, to see Threadbare in the shallows, claws hooked into a fat trout, dragging it ashore. Another forage level and point of dexterity achieved!

“Okay, I like this little guy,” Jarrik said. “I see how he got you through the scout test.”

“We kind of helped each other,” Celia smiled. “But yeah, he’s great.”

Threadbare toddled up and laid the flopping fish at her feet. Garon leaned down, grabbed it, and casually beat it against a rock until it stopped moving.

Celia jumped a bit, then settled down, but Jarrik caught it. “Woss wrong?”

“I… guess I’m just new to killing. Ah, things.”

“Well yer a girl, I spec it’s diff’rent fer girls.”

“Maybe?” She shrugged. “I don’t have any sisters. It’s just me and Daddy, most of the time. And Emmet, but he doesn’t do much. And Threadbare, now.” She smiled down at the little bear. “Thanks for the fish.”

He patted her knee, then started to amble back to the creek. “No, no, I remember what happened the last time you got into running water,” She scooped him up. Then juggled him to one side, as Jarrik handed her a rod, with a freshly hooked worm writhing on it.

“Ya know how this works?”

“I’ve… read about it.”

They spent a good hour fishing. After a bit of prodding, Bak’shaz made him a little rod, too, though Threadbare took care of gathering his own worms. It bumped up his forage skill again, so he figured that was worth the effort.

And finally, he caught something-

You have unlocked the generic skill: Fishing!

Your Fishing skill is now level 1!

-and was promptly yanked into the water. Sure, he had the strength of a weedy human at this point, but he still had the mass of a twelve-inch tall teddy bear.

Here we go again, he thought, as the waters closed around his head. Irritated, he flailed around, looking for purchase.

Your Swim skill is now level 2!

He did manage to get his feet to the bottom. Unlike the Icewine river that ran past Celia’s house, this little creek was much slower. Threadbare came to a halt, and walked along the bottom, emerging up on shore…

…and staring right into the face of a creature he’d never seen before. It was four times his size, with a grubby snout, two squinty little eyes, and hooves for feet. It had a ridge of hair down its muddy back, and two tusks that positively dwarfed Garon’s sticking up from its lower jaw.

The boar, which had been enjoying a peaceful drink up until now, snorted.

Threadbare considered his options, and waved.

The boar’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh boy,” came Jarrik’s whisper from upriver. The boar shuffled back, glaring between the tall half-orc and the little bear.

“They’re over here,” Jarrik called, as loudly as he dared, then froze. The young boar stared his direction for a while, then looked back to Threadbare. It snuffled him, and Threadbare snuffled back.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 7!

Then Celia burst through the trees and the boar whipped around to face her, squealing and pawing the ground.

“Hey!” Bak’shaz burst out behind her, a big goofy grin on his face, with a dead fish in each hand, and Shelly clamped on for dear life to his hair. “Let’s be friends!”

The boar hesitated.

Behind Bak’shaz, axe out, Garon moved up, step by step, slowly. “You sure you want to try this, Bakky?”

“I always wanted a boar.” Bak’shaz never looked away from the pig. He approached, step by step. “Besides, I got my Beast Truce.”

Celia froze, a stuffed animal in both hands, and looked over to Jarrik. The thin scout nodded. “Let ‘im try. If it dunt work…” Jarrik tapped his bow.

The boar and Threadbare watched Bak’shaz approach, holding the fish, grin up the whole time. Eventually the smell of the fish became too strong, and the boar sniffed once, twice, then paced forward and tore it from the boy’s hands, slurping it down in three crunching bites.

“Tame Monster!” Bak’shaz said. Green light flared…

…and the boar instantly shrunk to half its former size.

“What?” Celia said, staring.

Behind her, Jarrik and Garon relaxed. “It means it worked,” Garon said. “He’s Bak’shaz’s pet now.”

“Yeah, but it’s a manageable size fer him until he gets ta a higher level,” Jarrik explained.

“That’s… that makes no sense,” Celia said.

“And moving teddy bears do?”

Well, they had her there. She watched Bak’shaz laugh delightedly and tackle the boar, winced as they rolled around on the dirt, and the boar bit and shoved at the little half-orc. Red numbers flashed up, low ones, but still… she hissed between her teeth. “Are you sure of this?”

“Relax, this is why Tamers get good con. Besides, I’m not just a mercenary.” Garon pointed at his brother. “Slow Regeneration.”

“Mom taught ‘im shaman,” Jarrik explained. “Figgered if he was gonna go off ter fight in battles, he should prolly know how to fix himself.”

“His name is Porkins,” Bak’shaz finally declared after the scuffle was over, and Shelly was returned to his pocket.

“Well, tha’s nice. Let’s get tha fish and go home before Porkins eats any more of our dinner.”

“As for you!” Celia shook her finger at Threadbare, who looked back at her, seated as he wrung water out of his legs.

CHA +1

Your Adorable skill is now level 12!

“Aw, it’s not like it was your fault,” Celia said. “We’ll just… tie you to a rock or to me next time you’re fishing. Here, let me try this… Clean and Press!”

Mordecai’s sons watched, as the water sprayed out of the bear, along with the mud, stains, and random weeds he’d collected during his dunking. “Neat!” Garon declared. “Is that an animator trick?”

“No, just a tailor skill. The only tailor skill I’ve got right now. I’m still new at it.”

“Huh. Well, none of us can do that so that should make Mom happy.” The kids and their assorted companions started their walk back home.

“Wait, should we be going back?” Celia asked, a few hundred feet later. “Are you sure they’re… done?”

“Yah, yah,” Jarrik nodded. “Dad whispered tha all clear twenny minutes ago.”

“Oh, right, we can do that.” She shook her head, and Jarrik patted her back.

“Dun’ worry. We’ll teach yer tha ropes, Da’ and me.”

Garon chuckled. “Just make sure you tell Beryl about Celia before she finds out on her own. She’ll jump to entirely the wrong conclusion.”

“Who’s Beryl?” Celia wondered.

“His girl.” Garon grinned, and blocked Jarrik’s punch.

“She is not!”

“Totally is.”

“It ent like that!”

“Pretty much is.”

“You don’t know nuffin’ about it!”

“See this, Celia? This is probably like that book you read, with the knight and the maiden and the ripping bodices.”

“Oh!” Celia brightened up. “How romantic!”

“Not you too…” Jarik groaned, shooting her a betrayed look.

Garon and Bak’shaz laughed, but then they were at the hut, and Celia felt the gnawing of fear coming back to weigh her down. That look the woman… that Mordecai’s wife had shot her… that look had been pure wickedness. What if his wife was angry that he brought Celia home? What if she was going to, to… Celia’s imagination failed, but she was sure it was something horrible.

What if she was mean?

“Ah, there y’are.” Mordecai rocked on the porch, seated comfortably in a fur-covered chair, feet up on the railing, puffing his pipe. “C’mon up an’ meet Zuula.” He had a weary smile on his face, that she’d never seen before. It was almost smug.

Gathering her courage, reassured by the presence of her new friends at her back, she pushed through the beaded curtain and into the hut.

The scent was different now, she noticed. Not that raw, spicy scent, that hotness that grabbed at the nose that she’d first smelled. In her arms, Threadbare snuffled, turning his head to see.

The walls were lined with beds, and the largest of them had Mordecai’s boots next to it. In the center of the hut coals smoldered in a firepit, the smoke from the bubbling pot escaping through a hole in the roof. Idly, Celia wondered what they did when it rained, but she was soon distracted by the decorations on the walls. Broken weapons, a pair of shattered manacles, what looked like half a dozen shriveled up body parts from animals she didn’t recognize, tapestries, dried plants of all kinds, and looming above it all like a god’s idol before its offerings, was that painted wooden mask. Much too large to fit Celia, too large to fit Mordecai, it loomed with red-painted wood and bone teeth filling its mouth, the eyesockets empty but seeming to dance in the firelight, shifting around as if it was constantly surveying its domain.

“Child…” A deep voice purred, and Celia jumped. What she thought was a wall hanging was a curtain off to another room. While she’d been woolgathering, it had been swept aside. Yellow eyes peered out at Celia from the darkness, and the little girl swallowed.

But this time, the eyes were free of malice.

“Welcome to Zuula’s home, child.” A somewhat plump woman swept into the room. She had a robe on this time, loose around her enormous bosom, but snug around her wide hips. Her visible skin was green, dusky green in the firelight, and Celia could just make out the traceries of scars starting where her wrists met the robe’s sleeves.

But she had a pretty face, and though her teeth were many and sharp, her satisfied smile matched Mordecai’s for friendliness. Her dreadlocked hair was pulled back in a braid now, not loose.

It almost seemed like two different women. Celia’s eyes flickered from the matronly figure to the mask.

Perhaps it was two different women. She gained a wis increase then, and didn’t know why.

Zuula merely stood there, arms wide, smiling at her.

“Er, hello,” Celia said, nervously stepping closer. “I-ah!”

Zuula swept Celia into a bonecrushing hug, squishing Threadbare against her side. The little bear wriggled, and Zuula looked down. “Ha! De little Golem!”

“Er, yes, he’s Threadbare. Say hi, Threadbare.”

Threadbare waved.

“Dreadbear. Good name.”

“Ah, no, Threadbare.”

“Is what Zuula said, Dreadbear.” The woman released Celia, dropping her to the ground. The little girl staggered madly on the planks of the floor, trying to avoid going into the stone-ringed fire. “Come come, you is welcome. Mordecai be sayin’ you feed him, yes?”

“What?”

“On de way here. You hunt him food, yes?”

“Oh, the Blue Jay…” She rummaged in her pockets, and pulled out a handful of crumpled blue feathers. “Yes, I guess I did, though he did most of the-“

“Then Zuula owe you a dinner!”

“She helped with the fishing too, Mom.” Garon offered up from the doorway.

“Ha ha! Fish for dinner! Goes well with every ‘ting that Zuula growed this morning! Bring it in, put it in de gumbo, Garon.

”

“Oh, and we’ve got a pig now.”

“Pig can go in de gumbo too.” Zuula pulled a massive, curved knife down from a ceiling rack. “Part of it, anyway.”

“No, I mean, Bakky tamed it.”

“Hm! Den he go in de gumbo eventually, but not now. Pig, not Bakky.”

“Almost done cleanin’ the fish,” Mordecai called in.

“Tch. Waste of good fish heads,” Zuula groused, but shrugged. “Feed to de pig, den.”

“Already did!” Bak’shaz yelled.

“Not all of dem, Zuula hope.” The woman licked her lips.

“Saved you the biggest one, mom!”

“Good. Good boy.”

And so, a little while later, they all had gumbo. All except Threadbare, which was fine with him. The others seemed to enjoy the taste, but it smelled spicy and weird to his bear nose, and he was much more interested in exploring the hut, anyway. He ambled around freely, peering at things. Behind the second beaded curtain he found a small room with a heavy fruitlike scent over the smell of dung. It had a toilet and small sink in it, a thing he’d never seen before because he’d never accompanied Celia to the bathroom or even been in the bathroom of Celia’s old house. Curious, he clambered up and peered into the bowl of it, staring at the water, not seeing any fish.

From there, it was easy enough to climb up onto the seat, and stretch up, take hold of the sink to hoist himself up and examine that…

…which worked until his paws slipped, and he tottered backward, feet sliding on the well-worn ceramic of the toilet seat-

-only to be caught at the last minute by a callused hand.

LUCK +1

Mordecai looked down at him. “You keep fallin’ at bad times, mister bear. Need ta work on yer footing.”

Threadbare nodded, and patted Mordecai’s wrist.

“Glad I ran into yer. Summat we needs ta discuss, anyway.” He left the bathroom. “Celia, you mind ifn’ I have a word with Threadbare?”

“Um, no? He doesn’t talk.”

“He lissens, though, yah?”

“Yes! He’s great at that!”

“Right, then.” Mordecai headed out the door, putting the teddy bear to the ground as he did so. “Walk wi’ me a bit, Threadbare.”

The bear nodded, and followed.

Mordecai headed out towards the setting sun, to where the woods grew thin and the hills started up again. “You’re a bit more’n ya seem, me friend.”

Threadbare shrugged.

“I knew Caradon was up ta somefing when he asked me ta bring him toys every week. Bunches of ‘em. Rose some questions in town, I tell you that. But I did. An’ yer the result.”

Threadbare considered it, and nodded.

“Smart golems. Tha’s part of what we need. Figurin’ out a way to make’em work properly, so he can upgrade Emmet. Because we need Emmet, if this fing is gonna work.”

Threadbare shrugged.

“Ya know scouts of tha proper level can look at yer status screen, right? I did when I met ya. And for tha longest time I couldn’t figure out why Caradon had given yer tha ruler job.”

Threadbare shook his head. He hadn’t gotten that from Caradon. He’d earned that through regicide, thank you very much. He wasn’t sure what regicide was, but it was the word that had popped up, he remembered.

“Two possibilities come to me, then. Both pretty ugly.” Mordecai stopped in a field of grass. It was empty out here, with the sun well on its way down, and the wind riffling through the field. Just Mordecai standing there solemn and patient, and Threadbare looking up at the old wanderer.

“First thing that come to me, was that yer tha way for Emmet to get the Ruler class. Emmet pops you, an’ then becomes king. But then I think nah, if he’s found a way to give it ta golems, then he could just give it ta Emmet, right?”

Threadbare nodded. That wasn’t what had happened, but the statement was true. The part that he understood, anyway.

“The second thought, an’ the one that makes the most sense ta me, is that yer how he wants to give the Ruler job to Celia. And it ent through marriage or adoption. Which leaves…”

Regicide, the grass seemed to whisper. Threadbare shivered, though he didn’t know why. He’d have to figure out that word at some point. It boded.

“Tha’s the one job we need for ‘er, the hard one ta get. We need ‘er ta have that job, an’ there ain’t many kings around these days. Or queens. Or other kinds of royalty. Balmoran has fallen in th’ North, and the Earl’s dead, along wi’ his son. The engagement’s not an option no more. There’s just one king left, an’ she’ll need everyfing she’s got against ‘im. And so will them what follers her.”

Threadbare stood in the grass, staring at Mordecai as the wind swirled and howled across the hills.

Mordecai stared at the little toy for a long time. He’d seen it in action, first against the eagle, then during Celia’s test. Watched it every step of the way. He knew what it was capable of. At least, he thought he did.

“I suppose the question I got fer yer, the big one, is simple. Will ya give yer life for Celia when the time comes? Give up everyfing you ‘ave for that little girl?”

Threadbare considered it.

For exactly three seconds.

Then he nodded.

Celia had saved him. Saved him from being dust, he thought, saved him from the cat the first time around, though that had worked out okay in the end. She’d definitely saved him from the Eagle, and they’d more or less saved each other from the troubles during that whole scouting run. He couldn’t imagine a life without her, and though he didn’t know what love was, he knew that he loved her. She was his little girl, and he was her teddy bear, and that was that.

Mordecai sighed. “Can’t say I like it, even if I unnerstand it. Hard times. Hard choices. But I respect yer creator, so if yer at peace wi’ it, then I’m at peace wi’ it, regardless of what comes. Come on Mister Bear, let’s go home.”

Wondering what all that had been about, Threadbare followed him back to the hut.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 8 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 7
Bear Level 4
Ruler Level 2
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 47 Constitution: 54 Hit Points: 145 Armor: 22
Intelligence: 37 Wisdom: 55(60) Sanity: 92(97) Mental Fortitude: 12
Dexterity: 24 Agility: 33 Stamina: 65 Endurance: 32
Charisma: 35(40) Willpower: 27 Moxie: 61(66) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 37 Luck: 35 Fortune: 71 Fate: 7

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 9
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 4
Dodge - Level 1
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 1
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 12
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 6
Forage – 7
Scents and Sensibility – 7
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests

A Wildling Brood 3

The meal was winding up by the time Mordecai and Threadbare got back. Celia helped wash the dishes in the bathroom sink and put them away in the little cupboard niche behind one of the wall hangings.

“Thank you. That was delicious.” She scrunched her nose. “Weird, but delicious.”

“You be welcome, child,” Zuula smiled down. “Also you be red.”

Celia mopped her forehead. “I thought it was just hot in here.”

“Hot inside you belly, too.” Zuula chuckled. “Be hot coming out too. You know how toilet work?”

“Oh, er, uh, yes.” Celia turned redder.

“Good. Mistah toilet gon’ be your friend come an hour or two.”

The boys chuckled, as Celia turned the reddest she’d been so far, and covered her face with her hands. Zuula shot them a glare, and they fell silent. “Why be embarassed? You alive. Living things eat, people shit. Is nature of world.”

Threadbare wondered if that meant he wasn’t alive. If he wasn’t that, then what was he? The little bear, his mind heavy with his first philosophical crisis, sat down with a bump and tried to work it out.

WIS +1

And he thought that if he wasn’t alive, it didn’t matter, really. He had a friend, two friends if you counted Pulsivar, who treated him as if he were alive. So that was the most important part. The other troublesome parts of that notion could be worked out later.

Celia didn’t notice. Her eyes were wide under her hands. Zuula had just said a forbidden word!

Although…

…maybe it wasn’t forbidden, here. Not under this roof, anyway.

“Yeah, I guess so,” the little girl said, moving her hands away. “So, um, what now? Do we go to sleep?”

“Nah.” Mordecai said. “Clear night tanight. Up fer starwotchin’?”

The family nodded, and Celia nodded with them.

Starwatching, as it turned out, involved climbing a ladder in back of the hut and stretching out full on the thatch-and-plank roof. It was slightly sloped, but not so much that they risked falling off. Which was good for Threadbare, since his agility was still a bit underpar. He only managed the ladder because he clung onto Celia’s skirts for dear life and let her carry him up that way.

Your Ride skill has increased to level 2!

“Oh, that’s the rain plug, isn’t it?” Celia pointed to a wood-and-leather object lying off-center from the roof, with ropes coiled around it.

“Clever girl,” Zuula said. “We move it up top before rain come. Keeps stuff dry. Have to open windows to let smoke out, den.”

“But what if it rains before you can get the plug in?”

Zuula snorted. “Unclever girl. This home to a shaman and a scout. Rain DON’T come we don’t know about.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. Dumb question I guess.”

“Not really. You don’t know much about shamans, do you?” Garon asked, from where he was sitting, and honing a knife with a whetstone.

“No. They’re… nature priests?”

“Pah. Say more like priests are sellouts.” Zuula grinned, all sharpened teeth in the moonlight. Her yellow eyes were almost aglow… as were Jarrik’s and Bak’Shaz’ eyes, too, Celia noticed. “World come first. Gods come later. World remembers. All tings in nature remember. People forget. Shamans remind dem.”

Celia frowned. “But the books say that Kolnol created the world.”

“Books, pah!” Zuula threw her arms in the air. “What dey know? People wrote them! People not dere when it all start. Mountains? Mountains dere. Oceans? Oceans dere. In different places now, yes, but still dere.”

“Oh.” Most of Celia’s earliest friends had been books. She wasn’t sure how to handle the fact that some of them might be wrong.

“Shamans work wif’ plants an’ beasts an’ natural forces. Comes to a pinch, Zuula can call winds.”

“Don’ do dat too often, dough,” Zuula said, relaxing. “Pull winds out of place, dey get cranky elsewhere. Dey take it out on tings dey shouldn’t.”

“She also does the sweat lodge,” Garon said. “You ever tried that, Celia?”

“I-I don’t even know what that is.”

“Oh you poor girl!” Zuula rolled over to face her. “Tomorrow night, we do sweat lodge.” She pointed at a shape in the darkness back from the main hut a bit. Celia had taken it for a storage shed, the first time she’d seen it. “You get nice an’ dirty, sweat lodge get you clean. Also…” She tilted her head, looked to Mordecai. “Dream quest, you tink?”

“Too soon,” Mordecai said. “Some things she’s got ta learn first.”

“Things? Like what?” Celia asked. “What’s a dream quest?”

Mordecai and Zuula shared a long look. “Summat that’ll require yer daddy’s permission,” Mordecai finally said. “Gets inta prophecy an’ hints a tha future.”

“Ways it can go, not prophecy.” Zuula corrected. “Possibilities….” She stretched the word out, hissing it.

“Oh. Um. Well, okay. I’ll ask him when we go back. When is that?”

“Tired of our comp’ny already?” Mordecai said, teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Oh no, no no, this is fun!” Celia said. “You’re all very nice, and I’ve seen and done things I’ve never done before. It’s probably doing great things for my human levels!”

The family laughed at that, and Bak’Shaz made a googly-eyed face at her. Jarrik kicked him in the butt, and the little kid yelped as he almost slipped off the roof. The family laughed more at that, and Celia, hesitating only a bit, joined in.

Threadbare, getting into the spirit of it, pointed at Bak’Shaz and held his belly, shaking.

Your Adorable skill is now level 13!

“Right on, little guy,” Garon ruffled the teddy bear’s head.

Then they settled back and watched the stars glimmer.

“Um,” Celia said after a while. “What’s it like being half-orcs?”

Zuula didn’t answer. The boys rolled onto their sides, looked at her, then looked at each other.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I don’t… it’s… oh dear. I said something wrong, didn’t I?”

“No. Is honest question.” Zuula decided. “But let Zuula ask first… what is it like being human?”

“Um… I don’t know. I guess. I never thought about it much.”

“You don’ have to. Mos’ everyone around here human. But we got tink about it. ‘cause we not. But Zuula going to keep her tinkin silent because maybe you a bit young to hear her tinks on it.”

“Boys, why don’t ya field this one?” Mordecai asked.

Garon nodded. “Sure. First off, people who aren’t human might get a little angry because they get asked that a lot. By humans. In fact it’s only ever humans who ask that question. Ever.”

“I wonder why that is?” Celia’s face was innocent, and Jarrik and Bak’shaz relaxed. She hadn’t meant anything by her question.

“So… the first thing you have to understand is that orcs come from overseas. There’s this bunch of idiots, they’re down below the Oblivion now, what’s their name again-”

“The Cane Confederation,” Zuula spat.

“-Right, them. Bunch of little kingdoms and tiny nations, all feuding and only banding together when bigger nations try to invade them. Thanks to constant warring and not enough people to work the fields and do the lousy jobs, they had the bright idea of using slavery to get by. And for a time this worked for them, but it got them a lot of anger from the surrounding neighbors, who didn’t like slavers to begin with and liked them less when it was their folks being enslaved. So some genius, he decided hey, let’s go enslave some people nobody cares about.”

“Orcs,” Mordecai said. “Big, big mistake.”

“Yeah. After a few decades, there were big rebellions, bloody wars, that are probably still going on today. The orcs escaped into the swamps down there, and the places too wild for humans to survive, and grew. Every few years a new horde forms and sweeps up, and there’s a whole lot of death.”

“Orcs don’t forgive. Orcs don’t forget. Cane be enemies. Cane be dead,” Zuula hissed. “It take ten generations or a tousand, dey die.”

Celia shivered. “But if they imported orcs… humans and orcs fell in love and got married, right, half-orcs are because of that, right? Proof it can happen?”

The boys looked to their mother, shared a long glance. Mordecai coughed. “Sometimes, ya. The local orcs only got a grudge against the Canefolk. Mind ya, the wild tribes will kill you if they fink yer weak. Or if they’re hungry. Or if they fink they could prosper from yer death.”

“Dey do dat to other orcs too, so is fair. Orcs do dat to everyone. Stronger peoples makes for stronger world. Means demons and worse tings get butts kicked when dey show up.” Zuula made a squiggly hand sign. “Evil beware!”

“But do ya know what orc means, in orcish?” Jarrik asked her.

“Um, no.” Celia said. She was far, far offshore in very deep waters, and a storm was brewing, but she didn’t know how. She just knew she had to ride it out.

“Orc means tribe. Thass it. If they accept ya, yer family.”

“S’how I met me Zuuly,” Mordecai curled his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Got hired ta raid one of the little Confederation kingdoms. Fort we raided had a captured tribe in it.”

“What was left of us,” Zuula hissed. “Damn dem.”

“I sprung ‘em and guided ‘em out. An’ after I fought alongside’em, I was family. They helped me mop up the rest of that kingdom, an’ Zuula followed me north. An ‘ere we are.” Mordecai sighed. “This was all back ‘fore the Oblivion, of course.”

“When it done, we go back and see tribe,” Zuula said. “Might have to kill a few to get back in, it’s been a while.”

“When what’s done?” Celia frowned.

“The Oblivion.”

Mordecai sat bolt upright, as did all the boys.

“What?” The old scout choked out. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

“Oh. Right.” Zuula smacked her head. “It be coming down. Saw it in last Dream Quest.”

“Dream quests are jus’ possiblities,” Mordecai insisted.

“Yes. And all possibilities here say it coming down. Few year or few decades. But it gone eider way.”

Mordecai was shaking now, hands white-knuckled on the roof. Zuula looked at him serenely. “We need to talk about this.” Mordecai whispered.

“Come, den.” Zuula rose, and headed to the ladder. “Not you,” she told her boys, as they stirred as well. “We be back.”

The adults left, disappearing into the darkness. The kids looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“Okay, we don’t talk about this. Ever,” Garron decided. “This is the sort of news that gets you hauled in front of the Royal inquisitors.”

“They prolly know anyway. Won’t their own shamans have figgered it out?” Jerrik asked.

“King ain’t got no shamans,” Bak’shaz pointed out. “Too un-simple-eyed.”

“Uncivilized,” Garon commented. “Though maybe the clerics and oracles said something. And who knows what his cultists told him. It would explain why everything’s so tense in the garrison in town. I thought it was just because of the troubles in the North, but… this could be it.”

“What?” Celia asked.

Jarrik looked over at her. “The garrison of guards in town grew four fold in the last two weeks. Something big’s going down.”

“Word is they’re bringing in dragonriders!” Bak’Shaz grinned. “I wanna see that!”

“Not up close and personal you don’t,” Garon told him. “But we don’t talk about this. Not till Dad says it’s okay. Swear?” He held out his hand. “Put yours on mine and swear,” he added, at Celia’s look of confusion.

The four kids and Threadbare touched hands, as they swore their first oath of secrecy against the rest of the world. Well, Threadbare thought it, anyway. He got his head ruffled for being cute again.

Afterwards, they were silent for a while, digesting the news in their own way as the stars wheeled overhead.

“Hey,” Garon finally said. “You wanted us to tell you what it was like being half-orcs?”

“Oh. Never mind, it was a stupid question anyway.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re tribe now. You’re family.”

“Oh, uh… thanks!” She gasped. “My charisma just went up!”

They laughed at that. “Ya must’ve lead a pretty sheltered life,” Jarrik jeered.

“You have no idea,” the girl muttered.

Garon shrugged. “Alright. So being a half-orc means people are gonna look at you and think to themselves ‘wow, that guy’s really tough and really violent and really dumb.’ It means having to live with that, knowing that people will think you’re either a threat or an idiot.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Well… it can be, if you let it. But here’s the thing. The people who are stupid enough to think that’s all there is to you, they underestimate you. So if they’re your enemy, you can exploit that. They die easier when you pull off something smart. And if they fear you, you can use that to your advantage, too. Me, people look at me and think hm, axe, half-orc, the dude’s a berserker, who’s going to murder his way through life, go into a rage, and kill indiscriminately.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, especially since what I want to do is murder my way through life, go into rages, kill discriminately, and get paid for it.”

“But you aren’t a berserker, how can you rage?”

“Race skills. We get born with one orcish skill and one human skill. In my case I’ve got that human drive to achieve, which gives me bonus experience for quests and stuff like that. And I’ve got twisted fury. It’s… pretty horrible. It’s a rage that burns me up, eats up hit points.”

“Oh. That’s… kind of dangerous, right?”

“It would be if I weren’t smart.” He tapped his forehead. “Shamans get slow regeneration which helps me survive, and mercenaries get Blood is Gold, which lets us trade money for instant healing. I’m gonna be a legendary fury on the battlefield, when I start getting paid enough. And when I’m on a battlefield. Which is going to be soon, if the Oblivion’s going down in our lifetime.” his eyes gleamed. “It’ll make grinding all that charisma totally worth it…”

“We didn’t get his fury,” Jarrik said. “Just as well. He goes through so much crap keepin’ his temper down. We got Darkspawn instead. Lets us see in tha dark, get bonuses to stuff at night or in tunnels and such.”

“Oh. That’s pretty handy!”

“Yeah, all the best monsters come out at night,” Bak’shaz grinned. “Downside is I’m stuck with Orky charisma. But my tamer job helps there.”

“Mom put a scorpion into his crib to toughen him up when he was a baby,” Garon explained. “No shit, he made friends with it! Didn’t sting him, slept with him, kept other bugs away from him.”

“Wait, she did what?” Celia’s voice rose.

“It’s all right. She had the antidote right there, and was ready to heal him up. She did stuff like that to all of us. Orcs are born with lousy luck and no real clearics among most tribes. So children have to get tough fast or improve their luck quickly, or they die because they just didn’t have the luck or fate to survive.”

“She lost a few children that way, before she started getting tough on us,” Bak’shaz said. “Then we lost one more ‘cause she got stupid.”

“Don’t talk about Mastoya that way,” Jerrik scowled. “You don’t know nuffin’ about it.”

“What… um…”

Garon glanced Celia’s way. “She joined the King’s guard. She had twisted fury too, she’d be dead if she couldn’t find an outlet for it. Can’t blame her. She’s off in the North somewhere right now. Still sends letters and money back. Dad keeps the letters and gives away the money. Which is a shame, because I could put it to good use. In fact…” He bit his lip, considered Celia.

“What?”

“You’re family now.” He glanced around. “Jarrik, are Mom and Dad gone out of earshot?”

“Keen Eye,” Jarrik whispered, then stood up and looked into the woods. “I think so.”

“Good.” Garon smiled, and leaned in close to Celia. “How would you like to help us run through a dungeon?”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 8 days

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 7
Bear Level 4
Ruler Level 2
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 47 Constitution: 54 Hit Points: 145 Armor: 22
Intelligence: 37 Wisdom: 56(61) Sanity: 92(97) Mental Fortitude: 12
Dexterity: 24 Agility: 33 Stamina: 65 Endurance: 32
Charisma: 35(40) Willpower: 27 Moxie: 61(66) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 37 Luck: 35 Fortune: 71 Fate: 7

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 9
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 4
Dodge - Level 1
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 2
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 13
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 5
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 6
Forage – 7
Scents and Sensibility – 7
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests

Catastrophe 1

“I still don’t know if this is a good idea,” Celia confessed, clutching Threadbare to her as they walked up the lonely pass. The wind howled alongside the trail, dusting snow off the sheer drop to the valley below.

In the distance, through the curtain of snowflakes, the three peaks of their destination loomed like forgotten idols to dead gods.

“It’d be a bad idea if we was going far in,” Bak’Shaz shrugged. “But the Catamountain don’t get nasty unless you cross the first bridge. Long as we stick to Housecat Peak we won’t have no trouble.”

“I guess.” Celia chewed her lip, and shivered in her coat. “I wish we’d come up here with the others. All in a group.”

“Won’t be any problems until we get in. Guards keep the path up clear. Might be problems with the guards.”

“Problems?”

“Yeah. It’s why I left Porkins at home. The guards don’t like us too much because we’re half-breeds. I used to have a Bloodhound, but they kicked it off the mountain, said it was because he was too weak to survive in there, so they were saving it the trouble of a slow death.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yeah. I loved that Hound.” Bak’shaz sighed, and stuck his hands in his overalls. “So I’ll find a pet in there an’ use it for the run, then let it go ‘fore I come out.”

“I-you don’t think they’ll do that to Threadbare, will they?” Celia hugged the little bear tight.

Threadbare didn’t like the notion of being kicked off the mountain much. He started fumbling in Celia’s pocket for one of her daggers.

“Hey, no. Settle down, I won’t let anyone get you.”

Bak’shaz watched them, and chuckled. “No, they won’t do that to Threadbare. You look rich. Uh, they might call you some nasty stuff because you’re with us. But whatever you do, don’t let them see you getting mad. They got cells up there they can stick ‘troublemakers’ in.”

“Why are the guards so awful?”

“Dad says it’s ‘cause good men don’t get assigned here. Just the jerks who can’t cut it in the reg’lar military, so they get their kicks picking on people and ‘busing their authority. But they’re mostly cowards, they know Dad would kill them in their sleep if they killed us or disappeared us. Besides, they need him to train their scouts. He’s the best at that.”

“There y’are!” An unfamiliar voice came from ahead, and Celia flinched, thinking they’d hit the guards already. But no, it was an unfamiliar figure, Celia’s size but three times as broad, wearing jingling chain mail and green eyes barely visible above an oversized shield. “We figured you’d be late. Not as late as I thought, from how Jarrik described you.”

“Um, you must be Beryl.” This was the first time Celia had ever seen a dwarf that wasn’t in a picture book. She had a horned helmet with multicolored braids hanging out of it, purple and black and pink. As Celia got closer she saw the girl’s eyes were surrounded by black makeup, that matched her lipstick. The ankh on her steel breastplate gleamed silver, though, and Celia thought it looked familiar.

“Is that a holy symbol of Aeterna?”

“Yeah. Not my choice but you got to keep the fam happy, right? And she’s actually pretty cool when you get to know her.” Beryl sighed, and rolled her eyes.

From behind her, Jarrik waved. He had black lipstick smeared on his throat and mouth, and Celia’s high int let her put two and two together.

She decided not to say a word, and blinked as her wisdom increased.

“Just so you know, girl, if you try to steal my boy I’ll rip your tits off,” Beryl grinned, showing flat, even teeth. “Do you understand?”

“I, I, I wouldn’t, I mean yes. I understand.”

“Great. Come on, let’s go make some money.”

Beryl stomped forward, and Celia watched her go. Jarrik smiled, looking a little out of it.

“You got a hicky, bro,” Bak’shaz mopped his own neck and mouth.

“Oh! Shit.” Jarrik wiped them away, fell in with Bak’Shaz and Celia. “She’s the leader, okay?”

“All right.” Celia shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride with this one.”

Ahead, a gatehouse loomed out of the snow, sealing off the trail. It looked like the construction ran back into the cliff to the side, with arrow slits and parapets above. Two guards stood stock still, wielding halberds, dressed head to toe in black plate with red glowing glyphs on it.

“Magical armor?” Celia sucked in her breath.

“Aye,” Beryl had stopped, and heard her question. “Work for the king, you get the good stuff. Just costs your soul.”

“What?”

“He consorts with demons. Everyone knows it.” Beryl spat off the cliff. “But that’ll get political and it’s too cold for that shit now. Where’s your damned brother, Jarry?”

Jarrik pointed a thumb back down the trail.

Celia turned, and saw a fountain of snow rushing off the cliffside, as something brown sped up the trail, moving way faster than she’d seen anyone run before. She took two steps back… and Garon appeared out of the snow cloud, skidding to a stop on the rocky path. “Forced March. So useful.” He tossed a package at Celia, and she almost dropped Threadbare as she caught it. “Got your tailoring kit. Wasn’t too expensive so we’ll just take it out of your share.”

“Tailoring kit?” Beryl snorted. “You gonna make us pretty dresses while we’re in there, girl? Maybe some pretty bows for our hair?”

Celia frowned at her. No one had ever been this rude to her before, and she didn’t know how to handle it. “No. They told you I’m an animator, right?”

“Right. So what?”

“So it takes sanity to heal my toys. This will let me repair them without spending sanity points.”

“I do the healing for the group. That’s the rules, squirt.” Beryl took a step forward, squinting at her.

“Then try it,” Celia held out Threadbare. “See what happens.”

Threadbare waved.

“You’re joking, right?” Beryl squinted harder.

“Uh, Beryl? That bear’s got more class levels than you do,” Bak’shaz told her.

Instantly Beryl’s eyes opened wide. “Get the fuck out!”

“He’s a golem,” Celia told her, and Beryl’s jaw dropped.

“Seriously? They have a pair of big stone ones guarding the gates of Shalekeep. My Da’ told me about how they came alive during the troubles, and crushed armies.”

“I think I heard of those,” Celia said. “My mom’s notes mentioned that she helped build-”

“Okey-dokey then!” Garon interrupted, clapping them both on the back. “Let’s get sorted. Beryl?”

“Right, what’s the little bastard’s name then, so I can invite him?” Beryl knelt down a bit to smile at Threadbare. “Oooh, he’s got a wee knife! How cute!”

Your Adorable Skill is now level 14!

“He’s Threadbare, but, uh, it takes a special skill to invite golems into a party. I’ve tried without it and it doesn’t work. The only way to do it takes scrolls I don’t have.”

“Well what use is he then?” Beryl frowned.

“He’s pretty smart and he’ll do what I ask him to. Won’t you, Mister Bear?”

Threadbare nodded, and patted her arm. Celia put him down. “Let me get a few other toys out to fill out our ranks. And maybe a dagger, I’m thinking.”

After a bit of animation and sorting, it ended up being Beryl, Celia, the brothers, a floating dagger, and the little dragon toy.

“That’s all seven then,” Beryl nodded. “Sorry Bakky.”

“S’okay.” He hauled out a slingshot that looked quite a bit nicer than Celia’s. “I’ll just be support, and if her stuff gets wrecked I can tame something.”

“Works better this way. Your little golem won’t siphon our experience,” Beryl grinned. “We’ll just have to make sure we make the kills, not him.”

“Okay. Time for the next step.” Garon sighed. “Let’s hope they’re in a good mood.”

“They can’t do anything to us. My family’s rich. She looks important, too,” Beryl pointed a gauntleted finger at Celia.

“What? Me?”

“You look soft, like you’ve never had to work much. They’ll think you’re rich too. I’ll pretend you’re my friend if they ask or give you a hard time.”

“Thanks, I think.” Celia frowned.

“If you want to thank me, do well in the dungeon and help make me rich. Then we’ll see about being friends for real.” Beryl punched her in the arm. Hard.

“Ow!”

But the dwarf had already turned, and was trudging up the path again, with her back and forth gait.

Wondering what the heck she’d gotten into, Celia followed along, Threadbare up on one shoulder, the dagger orbiting her in slow circles, and her dragon at her side. The boys fell in behind her, keeping their empty hands visible and their weapons obviously stowed in their respective sheaths or hangars.

“Scouts’ll be checkin’ us out from this point on,” she heard Jarrik whisper in her ear, and recognized the Wind’s Whisper skill. “Don’t say nuffin’ suspicious or that you don’t want’em ta hear.”

She nodded back, and shot him a thumbs up.

“Full party to enter Catamountain,” Beryl waved at the guards.

The rightmost one called back, his voice deep and echoing in his helm. “The dungeon is closed. Turn back.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t have to give you that answer, citizen.”

Celia looked back to the boys, but they looked as confused as she was.

“Is this normal?” Celia asked the guards. “Is it being remodeled or something?”

The leftmost guard facepalmed. The rightmost one shook a bit, and there was a little mirth in his voice. “Orders, I’m afraid. It should be only be sealed for a few days. After that, you’re free to come back.”

“I don’t recognize your voice,” Garon asked. “Sir, are you new here?”

Instantly the mirth left the guard’s tone. “Be on your way.”

“All right,” Celia said, half feeling relieved. “We’ll go. Sorry for the fuss-”

The gatehouse portcullis shuddered, and started to rise. The guards started, then whirled and pointed their halberds at the children. “Drop to your knees! Hands in the air!” The leftmost one yelled, but the rightmost one grabbed him, pulled him back, and said something in a low voice.

The recalcitrant guard immediately straightened up, stepped aside, and banged his fist against his breastplate about where his heart would be. “You may enter. I apologize, miss.”

“Oh-kay…” Beryl said, glancing around at the group. “Let’s go then.”

Silent, they filed by, entirely uncertain of what had just happened, and how they should feel about it.

And only Threadbare, peering over Celia’s shoulder, was looking in the right direction to see a face peering out of one of the arrow slits. A face with blue eyes as cold as ice, framed with long, straight black hair. He waved, and Anise smiled, waved back, and faded into the shadows.

LUCK +1

PER +1

What a nice lady! Threadbare turned back to watch his friends struggle up the path.

“What just happened-” Celia started, but Garon shook his head. “Wait.”

They turned the corner in the path-

-and instantly the light falling snow cleared. Celia gasped, as she could suddenly see a rocky slope, filled with boulders and prowling forms. The slope led up to a cave. Further up the peak she could see some sort of scaffolding, ending up in a weave of ropes that stretched from a low peak, up to a trail on a second mountain.

“What just happened there?” Celia asked.

“We entered the dungeon.” Beryl replied. “Sweet Aeterna, you are green.”

“Dungeons are weird,” Garon said. “No one outside can hear or see us, even if they’re literally five feet away from us. So it’s safe to talk now.”

“Okay, what was that back there? Why’d they suddenly let us through?” Celia burst out.

Jarrik raised his hand. “When the rightmost one told ‘is buddy to stand down, he said ya were on the azempted list.”

“Exempted list?” Celia frowned. “I don’t know why I’d be on anything like that. How’d he know?”

“Easy,” Garon said. “They have scouts checking out every party on the way up. One sent a Wind’s Whisper to the guards, telling them to stand down. They just got one before the other, that’s all.” Garon frowned, creasing his forehead as he pulled on one tusk. “What I can’t figure out is why they were so polite.”

“That was polite?” Celia shook her head. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“You don’t know them,” Bak’shaz spoke up. “Usually they give Beryl all kinds of shit for being with us, and push us around some.”

“Fuckin’ cunts,” Beryl spat. “They know that’s all they can do, but they don’t miss a chance to be shits.”

Celia shuddered. This dwarven girl cussed worse and more in the few minutes she’d known her than Celia had ever heard before in her whole life.

Beryl mistook the shudder. “Aye, you’re all right then.” She punched Celia’s arm again, lighter.

“I think it’s horrible that they treat you that way. But these guys didn’t.”

“Yeah. They’re new.” Garon’s frown deepened. “They didn’t even try to get a bribe out of us.”

“Somefing’s going on,” Jarrik decided. “But we need ta get our heads in tha game. Came here to sweep this peak and get loot and experience, an’ if we worry about problems we can’t solve we might screw up. So let’s focus on tha dungeon.”

“There’s my Jarry.” Beryl beamed with pride. “I keep tellin’ Da’ he’s wrong about you but he just won’t listen.”

“Um… I don’t know much about this place,” Celia said. “And those things look very big. They’re cats, right?”

“Right, right, you’re green.” Beryl tapped her shield with gauntleted fingers. “So dungeons are made up of different sections. Each section has different challenges to get through. Some are monsters, some are traps or puzzles, some are combinations of those, and some are weird.”

“The Catamountain’s a pretty easy one,” Garon said, drawing his battle axe, and strapping a wooden shield to his arm. “Comparatively. For this peak, anyway. We just have to fight our way through the slope ahead, get through the catcave, and climb the catwalk.” He gestured to the scaffolding. “That’ll take us to the Kittyhawk’s bridge.”

“Wait, does everything here have a theme?” Celia was pretty sure they were kidding her.

“Yes,” the brothers and Beryl chorused.

“That seems a bit… silly.”

“Well it’s how it is,” Beryl said. “I don’t make the rules of how the world works, I just exploit them for my own gain. And yours, if you follow my lead and don’t fuck up.”

“I’ll do my best.” She sat Threadbare down. “You might as well keep that dagger.”

Threadbare nodded, and thumped his chest like he’d seen the guard do when he did what Celia asked.

“Don’t you start,” she told him, and he nodded instead.

They fought their way up the slope cautiously, creeping from boulder to boulder, staying out of sight of the bulk of the mountain lions. The trick here, as Garon explained, was to only draw the attention of one or two at a time. They were hard of hearing from constant exposure to the winds, but had decent eyesight, so noises from fights wouldn’t bring more of them down.

The lions were tough and fast, and the tactic they fell back on was using the dragon toy to soak up their initial pounces, then send Garon, Beryl, the Animus dagger, and Threadbare in to wail on the large felines while Celia, Jarrik, and Bak’shaz pelted it with slingshot stones and arrows. Celia mended Threadbare and the dragon when necessary, and Beryl healed everyone else.

It worked pretty well, and Threadbare got some dagger practice out of the deal… along with a few stat boosts.

CON +1
Your Golem Body skill is now level 6!
STR +1
Critical Hit!
LUCK +1
Critical Hit!
LUCK +1
Critical Hit!
LUCK +1

By the end of the slope, his dagger skill was up to level 9, and his Dodge skill had risen to 2.

“Okay, we’re clear. This shelf is a safe space,” Garon said, plunking down on a rock.

“I got some good mending practice out of that,” Celia said. “But I’m down about a fifth of my sanity. How is yours doing?” She asked Beryl.

“I’m going to need to rest a bit.” Beryl dug out a hip flask, and uncorked it. Instantly alcohol fumes filled the air.

Threadbare sniffed, sneezed as the unfamiliar odor teased his nose. “Kff!”

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 8!

“That’s not water, is it?” Celia asked.

“Nope. Want some?”

“No thank-” Jarrik’s hand landed on her shoulder, as Beryl’s eyes went wide in shock. Her face reddened, and her eyebrows wrinkled in anger.

“Drink with her!” Celia heard Jarrik whisper to her through the wind.

“-On second thought, sure,” Celia said, and Beryl’s reddening face slowly went pale again.

“Here you go then.” Beryl said. “Small sips. You’re a weedy one.”

Celia took a small sip, trying to ignore the fumes.

Five minutes later after she stopped coughing and Beryl stopped laughing, the dwarf corked her hip flask again. “Humans are so funny. You’re all right, kid. I think we’re friends now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Celia wheezed. “Hate to see… enemies. Drink made my… con go up.”

Beryl hooked a thumb downslope. “Enemies? We left them down there. For now.”

“For now?” Celia blinked, clearing her throat. “What… do you mean?”

“Dungeons,” Garon said. “It makes monsters much sturdier than they would be outside of here, and it removes their corpses after a few minutes. New mountain lions will show back up soon. We’ll have to watch for them on the way out.”

“If it gets bad we can just cut an’ run,” Jarrik said. “They don’t leave tha dungeon.”

“That’s bizarre…” Celia said. “What keeps them here?”

“The master,” Beryl said. “Not that we’re going anywhere near it. Whatever it is.”

“Each dungeon has a boss monster, or master, or whatever,” Garon said. “But the garrison put a barrier between the second peak and the third, so no one’s ever seen it. That I know of, anyway. Rumor is they’re hunting him, to shut down this dungeon for good. So whatever he is, he’s either smart enough to set up obstacles to keep the guards off of him, or tough enough they can’t kill him.”

“Of course, most of the guards are shit and weak, compared to the troops in the north,” Beryl said. “So maybe he’s not that tough.”

They rested there for half an hour, regaining a bit of spent sanity and endurance. Celia touched up Threadbare’s hit points by practicing tailoring on him, saving her mending for more dangerous situations. Finally Garon nodded. “Okay, this next part is easy, so long as we keep the torches lit.”

“Torches. Ya brought ‘em, right?” Jarrik asked Garon.

“No, I only brought the sewing kit, and supplies,” Garon said. “That was all you guys asked for.”

“I thought you’d know ta get torches too!” Jarrik told him, crossing his arms.

“If you don’t ask for things, how do I know to get them!” Garon threw his hands in the air.

“Settle down. Half o’ you can see in tha dark, and I can feel nearby monsters so long as they’re on stone floors,” Beryl said. “They’ll be tougher, but we can handle it. Maybe. Just need to stick close and be cautious.”

“Um, is it just torches?” Celia asked.

“What?”

“I’ve got an enchanter level.”

“What’s that do?”

“Among other things, I can make objects glow.”

“How bright?”

“I don’t know, I learned it two days ago. Never tried.”

“Give it a whirl.”

“On what?”

“How about your bear?”

“Okay… Glow Gleam!”

And then Threadbare was shiny, shiny enough that they could tell it even in the bright light of midday.

“Wow. Yeah, that’ll do,” Beryl nodded. “You were smart to bring her,” she told Jarrik. “Unlike some!” She glared at Garon, who rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Let’s get going.”

“Hang on, let’s have some backup, here. Throw it on our shields too, okay?”

“Sure, it’s cheap.” Celia cast it a few more times, smiling as it skilled up. “I think the effect is boosted by my intelligence.”

“So hiring a stupid enchanter is pretty dim, right?” Beryl asked, and Celia laughed way more than the poor joke deserved. But when you’re tired from hard work, any laugh is a good one.

The next part was the night hunter’s cave. It twisted and turned, with a lot of side passages where glittering eyes watched them go by. Most stayed out of the light, but a few cat-headed scorpions scuttled after them, biting with mandibles and toothy maws, and jabbing with stingers. Fortunately Threadbare and the dragon were immune to poison, though Threadbare’s golem body got a workout and two levels out of the business. And Beryl knew something called “Curative” which detoxified the living members of the group.

Midway through the last fight, Threadbare got his dagger knocked out of his paws, and it skittered off into the darkness.

The brightly-glowing bear switched to his claws, and the party had a good view of him shredding the Minicore that had trapped him into shreds.

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 7!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 8!

STR +1

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

CON +1

Your Golem Body skill is now level 9!

Your Brawling Skill is now level 10!

Before the rest of the group could catch up, he punched his claws through the Minicore’s face, and ripped it asunder.

You are now a level 5 Bear!

CON +3
STR +3
WIS +3

Armor +2
Endurance +2
Mental Fortitude +2

You have learned the Growl skill!
Your Growl skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Hibernate skill!
Your Hibernate skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Stubborn skill!
Your Stubborn skill is now level 1!

“Damnit, he stole our kill!” Beryl shouted.

“He earned that one, let him have it.” Garon bent down, searched in the darkness with his glowing shield. “Here it is. And whoa, this one was guarding a chest!” He handed the dagger back to Threadbare, as Celia inspected the little golem and applied a few mends. In the shadows beyond, the Minicore’s brood shifted uneasily, but seemed unwilling to press the attack. It would have been a deadly encounter without the light, but with it, the outcome had been inevitable.

They stared at the chest. Celia reached out a hand, and Jarrik caught it. “Nope.”

“Oh. Aren’t we going to open it?”

“We? Yes. You? No.” Beryl said. “Ready, Gar?”

“Ready. See, we don’t have anyone here with any rogue jobs, so… I’ve got the most hit points. Should be fine though,” Garon mused. “Worst I’ve ever taken from one of these popping a trap in this area is sixty.”

“Sixty!” Celia shrieked. She grabbed up Threadbare and her dragon and hurried to the rear of the group, who backed up and left Garon by himself.

“Here goes!” Garon yanked open the lid…

…and nothing happened. “Whew. Hey!” He pulled out handfuls that shown silver in the light. “Come back, we’ve got loot!”

The loot, as it turned out, was a good-sized pile of silver and copper coins, and a staff that shone with blue light.

“Blue is sages and water elementalists, right?” Celia asked.

“Mostly. I guess Bak’shaz could try to use it, Tamer’s a sage job…wait, you’ve got enchanter, don’t you?”

“Yes! Does this mean…”

“You get to use it until we’re out,” Beryl said. “But don’t get too attached to it. We’ll have to give it to the guards.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the King’s decree. All magic items looted from dungeons must be turned in to representatives of the crown at the first opportunity.”

Celia picked it up. “Well, it’ll be fun anyway… wait, I could disenchant it at the end of this run. Ooh, it shoots little static electricity balls!”

“No good, it’s been tried. Disenchanting, I mean,” Beryl said. “The guards take the components and fine you half your coin.”

Celia sighed. “Well, it’ll be fun while I’ve got it I guess.”

“That’s the spirit.” Beryl punched her in the arm. In the same place as before. Celia was getting pretty sure it was bruised under her coat, but was too cold to haul it back and check. “Come on. Let’s get to the Catwalk.”

The catwalk was an agility challenge. Celia scooped up Threadbare for this part, and left him sticking out of the top of her pack. It involved crossing terrifying rope and plank bridges up the side of the mountain, which actually wasn’t as hard as it seemed, so long as you were careful and went slow. But this was broken up by divebombing attacks from winged cats, Flying Tomcats, as Bak’shaz helpfully identified them.

They weren’t difficult, but they chose the most inopportune times to attack, and their caterwauls were hard on the group’s sanity. But Jarrik reigned supreme here, using his archer skills to harass and drive them back, and finish off the ones that skirmished then tried to flee.

Threadbare, for his part, didn’t care. He’d heard worse from Pulsivar.

Though interestingly, it did raise his willpower a few more points and his new Stubborn skill to level 4 by the time they were through it.

Finally they came to the top of the peak, and a long rope bridge that stretched across a slope filled with tall pine trees, that reached almost to the underside of the bridge. It was shadowed there, down between the pines, and Threadbare’s eyes just managed to pick out slender shapes moving through the bristles of the evergreens.

PER +1

But it was what was above the bridge that was of more concern. A thing looking much like a squarish, spindly creature made of wood and cloth and fur and fangs floated in the air currents, glaring down at the party with suspicious eyes.

“That’s the Kittyhawk,” Garon explained. “And this is where we’re done. Fighting that thing on the bridge is suicide. I saw someone get knocked off once. And that was pretty much it for the poor guy.”

“Aye,” Beryl said, but she was squinting up at the Kittyhawk. “Fighting on the bridge would be suicide. But fighting it here, might just be doable.”

“We got some treasure and experience,” Celia offered. “I leveled, too. Are you sure we want to push our luck?”

“You got a ranged attack item, and I’m still pretty good on healing,” Beryl said. “And we’ve got Bak’shaz on the slingshot and Jarrik with his bow. As long as we dodge when it comes in for attack runs, we should be fine.”

“You just want to see what it drops,” Garon said. But he was considering it, Celia could tell.

Maybe this thing wouldn’t be too bad. Celia thought. “Okay, come here,” she picked up Threadbare again, and put him in her pack, with just his head poking out. “It’s a long way down and I’m not losing you.”

“How about your dragon?” Bak’shaz asked.

“No, let’s leave him out,” Celia decided. “I can replace him if I have to.”

“All right. I’ll get ‘is attention. We ready?” Jarrik asked.

The kids chorused their readiness, and prepared for battle.

The first arrow embedded itself deep into a cloth wing, and it zoomed in fast, dodging the static orb from Celia’s new staff. Bak’shaz cracked it with a slingstone and it turned on the little half-orc, veering in and spreading claws wide-

-only to be knocked off balance as the little dragon threw itself into its side. For all its size, the bizarre creature was very light. It whirled a few times, regained some altitude, and hovered, directing jets of wind down upon the party.

“Grab a boulder or get low!” Beryl called. “It can’t keep it up forever!”

Celia, skidding backward, just managed to grab a boulder in time.

The little dragon didn’t, and disappeared off the cliff, falling into the pines as it tried to flap non-functional cloth wings.

And Threadbare felt himself start to slip free of the pack. Desperately he grabbed on, using his full strength to hold himself tight to the cords keeping the pack shut-

-the cords that tore, spilling the contents of the pack to the forested slope below, and sending Threadbare sailing down to join them.

“No!” He heard Celia yell, and then he was falling…

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 9 days

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 7
Bear Level 5
Ruler Level 2
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 54 Constitution: 61 Hit Points: 159 Armor: 25
Intelligence: 37 Wisdom: 61(66) Sanity: 89/98(103) Mental Fortitude: 15
Dexterity: 24 Agility: 33 Stamina: 67 Endurance: 35
Charisma: 35(40) Willpower: 27 Moxie: 62(67) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 39 Luck: 40 Fortune: 78 Fate: 7

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 10
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 7
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 2
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 14
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 9
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 8
Forage – 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 1
Scents and Sensibility – 8
Stubborn - 4
Toughness – 7

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )

Quests

Catastrophe 2

The world spun as Threadbare fell, broken by the occasional THWACK of a branch, or SNAP when he hit one small enough that he broke it and kept going.

About thirty hit points later he came to a stop, with Golem Body up a level and Toughness increased as well. Snow sprayed around him as he dropped into a bank lightly dusted with pine needles, and he poked his head up warily, certain that the fall had been the least of his problems.

The second he did, the deep shadows in the trees fled. He’d had glowgleam cast upon him back in the tunnels, and it chased away the darkness in the little hollow.

What it revealed was far, far worse.

Tons of tiny minicores filled the shadows under the pines, skittering on the snow, hissing with tiny kitty mouths, and twitching their stingers. But as the light touched them they retreated, turning tail and scampering in fear.

All save for some who were clustered around a twitching green form some distance away. Red zeroes and ones drifted up, lots of them. Threadbare squinted, and recognized Celia’s dragon toy, fighting desperately for its existence against a mob of minicores. Well, that would never do! He ran over there, waving his arms and making the shadows dance on the trees. The minicores ripping up the little animated toy glanced up and rain for their venomous lives.

But he’d arrived almost too late. The animated toy was in two pieces, stuffing spilling out of it. The upper part, its torso, wings and head twitched and looked at him with an almost sorrowful expression. Filled with feelings that his little fuzzy form could barely express, Threadbare picked the dragon up in trembling paws. He hugged the toy to him, then turned to glower at the shifting, buglike forms hiding in the trees.

Then he froze. Up above, far up in the pines, bigger Minicores clung to the branches, ignoring the unease of their brood below. They were on par with the one he’d taken out solo back in the tunnel, but there were about six or seven per tree, at least as far as he could tell.

He was glad he’d spotted them before he tried climbing out of this place.

PER +1

So. What now?

“Got it!” He heard Jarrik yell from above, and with a screech and a sound of more snapping branches, the large form of the Kittyhawk crashed down below, a little ways away. “Aw man, now we won’t…” the wind picked up, and Threadbare couldn’t hear the rest of the scout’s words. They were pretty far up there.

Suddenly, the dragon toy twisted, and looked directly at him. Its eyes had shifted, he noticed. They looked almost human now.

“Threadbare! Oh my gods. Where are you? What is this?” He heard Celia say in his ear, and turned to look for Celia, but didn’t see her. Then it struck him, she was a scout now. Wind’s Whisper was totally a thing she could do, and that was probably it.

The little dragon toy looked around. Then it tapped Threadbare on the arm with its nose, and pointed off in one direction. Threadbare stared at it. It tapped again, tugged harder.

Oh!

INT +1

Threadbare set off that way, following the dragon’s pointing head, looking around as he went. The bigger minicores stayed to the trees, thankfully, and the small ones shrunk back from his light. For now, he thought he was safe, as long as he didn’t run into anything that wasn’t a minicore and stayed a good distance away from the bigger ones.

A few minutes later, he came across Celia’s waterskin, the dried jerky that Mordecai’s sons had given her for lunch later, and the sewing kit. Also what looked like a spare set of trousers and some of her underwear.

Threadbare vaguely remembered seeing some of this spill out of her pack when the winds had ripped him out of it.

“Good! Listen, Threadbare, I need you to pick up that Tailor’s kit. I can’t mend…” Her words drifted off into hissing “That’s annoying. I can’t mend you from this distance, so you’ll need to sew yourself…” They faded again. A few seconds passed, and Threadbare picked up the tailoring kit. It wasn’t much, just a sturdy wooden box. He opened it to find needles, thread, and scissors inside, as well as several small patches, a few skeins of yarn, and a thimble.

“I’m going to teach you to be a tailor.” Celia said. “So you can fix yourself and get out of here.”

A pause, then she spoke again. “Gods this is skilling Wind’s Whisper up fast. Um, here’s what you do…”

It took the little girl a few more Whispers to get the idea across, but Threadbare got the notion. Once he was sure he had the steps down, he tried the first one; threading the needle.

Which, as it turned out, was really hard with padded paws.

DEX +1

DEX +1

Finally, more by chance than anything else he got the thread through the loop.

LUCK +1

From there, the needle went through one of the patches, pulling the thread along. Then the needle went through the little dragon. Three painstaking and crude stitches and one point of Dex later, Threadbare had sewn the patch to the little dragon.

By sewing cloth you have unlocked a crafting job; Tailor!

Do you wish to become a Tailor at this time? y/n?

Yes, yes he did!

You are now a level 1 tailor!
DEX +1
PER +1

You have learned the Tailoring Skill!
Your Tailoring skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Clean and Press Skill!
Your Clean and Press skill is now level 1!

The little dragon followed his movements, and the head nodded. “Okay. Now pick up a patch and start sewing it to yourself. Watch for the…”

She faded again. Threadbare waited a bit, then decided she wasn’t going to finish the sentence. He tried doing as she said-

-and stared in amazement as a brown frame of some sort of unknown material appeared right in front of him, just like the words did. This one said “Tailoring”, and as he watched it filled in with solid brown color.

He looked down at his side just as the bar finished filling in, and with a flicker of motion so fast he wasn’t sure he’d seen it, the patch was now sticking to his side

.

Your Tailoring Skill is now level 2!

You have been healed for 10 points!

Threadbare tried it a couple of more times. He found out that all he had to do was get the needle in and start a sewing motion, and so long as he fiddled with the needle, the little bar would fill up and the job would complete itself in about ten seconds.

Which was good, because that patch he’d sewn on the dragon had taken minutes. This was a lot faster. Two more patches and two more tailoring skill uses later, he was feeling much better. He was also running low on patches.

“Listen, Threadbare,” Celia said in his ear again, “Can you climb out of here now?”

He pointed up at the trees. The little dragon craned its neck, and studied the clustered large minicores.

“Okay, that’s a no. Hold on while I talk with the group.”

After a moment, in between the rising winds, Threadbare heard shouting from above. Mostly Beryl’s voice, though Celia’s was mixed in here and there. It eventually died down.

“Okay, that’s settled.” Celia’s voice was tight and low. “We’re going to beat up the Kittyhawk again, and go further in…”

“So just keep moving forward and we should meet up somewhere at someplace Jarrik calls the…”

“There should be a connection between the two paths. He didn’t know how to get into that hidden area, but you stumbled into…”

“Oh, and wait a bit. Then see if you can find the Kittyhawk corpses. He says there might be loot…”

Threadbare nodded, patted the dragon on the head, and looked back in the sewing kit. Only four more patches left. And he was going to have to go through a lot of stuff to get back to his little girl. Would it last? Probably not, not at a flat ten hp per patch.

What to do?

He looked around, and then his eyes fell upon the bright, fluffy panties that had spilled out of Celia’s pack. And the trousers, larger than he was.

Well, patches were just cloth. And cloth was cloth, wasn’t it?

INT +1

He hauled out the scissors and got to work, skilling up tailor as he went. He hit level 2 at the job, happy enough to have the extra dex and per. Wasn’t much, but hey.

A few minutes later, he had rigged the trouser pockets into carrying packs, and the panties got sewn together into a shirtlike tunic. The stuff he couldn’t wear got cut into patches that went into the tailoring kit. The wooden box would just barely fit into one of the packs, so that was good. That just left one thing to carry.

You have equipped a Pantunic!

He studied the dragon toy remnant, and it looked sadly back. It was his link to Celia, at least until it deanimated. He couldn’t carry it in a pack, because she was looking through its eyes somehow. It needed to see. It needed to be somewhere it could see without tying up his paws, while he was fighting or climbing or whatever.

So where could he put it?

And then he had a wonderful idea!

Reaching down, he grabbed the dragon toy, carefully moved some of the stuffing back inside it, and stuck it on his head. A few stitches to hold it in place, and it was up there peering around, sitting comfortably above his fuzzy ears.

You have equipped a Draco Chapeaux!

And words flashed up, entirely unexpected.

By creating and showing off your own unique clothing style, you have unlocked the Model job!
Do you wish to become a Model at this time? y/n?

Threadbare stood there in his panty-shirt, pockets hanging off of his back, his new hat flapping its wings to stay balanced on his head, considering the new option.

Then a noise from above, and he broke off ruminating to watch a second Kittyhawk come crashing down. He marked where it fell and went back to considering this… model… thing.

He really had no clue what a model was or what he’d done of note, but it was a new job, and those made him more powerful. And judging by the things he’d seen in this dungeon, he could use all the power he could get.

So yes, he guessed he wanted to be a model.

You are now a level 1 Model!
+3 AGL
+3 CHA
+3 PER
You have learned the Dietary Restriction skill!
Your Dietary Restriction skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Fascination skill!
Your Fascination skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Flex skill!
Your Flex skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Self-Esteem skill!
Your Self-Esteem skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Work It Baby skill!
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 1!

Well nuts, it didn’t boost anything he used to fight? Oh well. At least agility would help him get around more easily.

Right. Next order of business, the Kittyhawk corpses.

With the dragon’s help, his still fairly-bright glowgleam effect, and his newly increased perception the little bear managed to hunt down the Kittyhawks. The newly-fallen corpse was in the process of being stripped by a swarm of minicores when he arrived, and they were reluctant to leave, even with the light. He had to kill a few, but they eventually broke and fled. Sadly, they weren’t enough of a challenge to give him any boosts, it looked like.

Rummaging around, he found a rolled up piece of parchment that unrolled to reveal drawings and diagrams for something called a “Wrong Flier”. He didn’t understand a word of it, and tucked it in his pants pocket pack. There was also a small ball of something he’d last seen when Celia was cutting meat out of the goat. Though he didn’t know the word for it, it was a bundle of rolled up intestines, curiously clean even though they’d been recently harvested.

It didn’t look like much. He considered throwing it away, but decided against it. So far items that monsters dropped had been good to have around, so maybe it would be useful later?

WIS +1

Oh, well, that settled it. He pocketed it as well, and started hunting for the other corpse.

By the time he found it, he was pretty sure that the light radius of his glowgleam was shrinking. He hadn’t noticed at first, but now it was down to about two-thirds of what it had been. The minicores had noticed this too, and were pressing in around the edges of the light. Worried, Threadbare rummaged through the completely-picked over corpse, that was nothing but bones and wood and cloth, and pulled out another ball of intestines and a large orange and brown gemstone. Into pockets he went.

Now where?

He tapped the dragon, and waved at it. Seconds crawled by, and finally Celia’s voice returned.

“Sorry, we’re climbing the second mountain and it’s hard… everything’s tough. I leveled again. We’re taking it slow and it’s still risky…”

“Oh my gods, you’re not even… go towards the second mountain, look for a cave or something. They have to meet up in the middle, near the racket…”

Threadbare immediately started off towards the second mountain, or where he thought it was. It really was dark down here in the hollow between the peaks, with the sun pretty well blotted out by the high stone cliffs and the trees shadowing what was left.

And eventually, the woods parted to reveal an outcropping from the mountain, and a cave with a sign nailed into the stone above the opening.

THIS WAY TO THE CATACOMBS

“Oh geeze,” Celia said, as the dragon’s head tracked it. “Be careful. It’s going to be undead for certain. Find a club for skel…”

She fizzed out again.

“Listen, Dracosnack is about to deanimate, it’s been too long. I can’t watch you after that happens, the Dollseye…”

“Just do your best! Don’t die!” Her voice was raw. “I love you and you come back to me!”

Resolute, shining brightly from his little girl’s spell, his dragon hat twitching with every step he took, Threadbare marched into the catacombs. Then he stopped, turned around, and grabbed a heavy tree branch from the forest. He didn’t know why Celia wanted him to bring a club, but he was sure he’d figure it out.

Then he waddled back in.

The first section seemed to be a winding collection of corridors, lined with cat skulls in niches to either side. House-cat skeletons ambled out from holes in the walls, and roamed the corridors, pausing to groom themselves with tongues that no longer existed.

To Threadbare, they reminded him of the skeleton puppet that Celia had animated. They were just something like that, he figured. Oddly enough, he wasn’t too far wrong, though it would be years later before he knew that.

The teddy bear started toward one cautiously, and sniffed at it. It smelled of dust, and old death. Much like that girl he’d played the card game with, he remembered.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 9!

It sniffed back, and whatever it smelled it didn’t seem to like it much. The cat hissed and pounced on him-

-and met Threadbare’s treebranch straight to its skull as it came in.

WHACK!

Critical Hit!

The thing bounced back and came for him again, and Threadbare punched it whenever it got in close, and used the tree branch when it backed off. It took a rough minute of scuffling, and its claws swiped him a few times, but eventually it was done and his Clubs and Maces skill was two higher. Threadbare looked at the scratches, and the loose fur hanging off him, and shrugged. Not enough to be worth breaking out the sewing kit.

He set off down the wide corridor, trying to avoid them when he could. It was harder than it looked, though they entered and exited the holes in the wall, there wasn’t really any rhyme or reason to it. Twice he got jumped moving through what he thought was an empty patch because a skeleton emerged at the wrong time.

After the third encounter, he sat down, dug out the sewing kit, and used two of his precious patches to fix most of the damage, and skilling up his tailoring again. He looked down the hall, as far as his light would let him see, and yeah, it was definitely shrinking. He was down to half what he’d started with, he thought. But in that radius, he could see at least six more of the skeletons roaming back and forth.

There had to be a better way.

Come to think of it, maybe there was. He studied the hole that the cat skeleton had emerged from. It was just about big enough for him.

Threadbare poked his head inside, leading with the bobbling dragon head in an effort to tease any hiding kitty remnants into attacking him. Nothing, so he pushed the rest of the way in.

It didn’t look like much. There was a long passage, winding back to a tiny corridor of its own, and what looked like a ramp going up.

Up was good! Up was where Celia was!

Threadbare toddled back that way, leaving the tree branch behind when it wouldn’t fit through the holes.

He started up the ramp…

…and tumbled to the ground, as a cat skeleton pounced on him from above, hissing! Over and over he went, with the creature’s claws flashing at him, ripping against his seams, ripping patches free.

He fetched up at the bottom with the bony kitty on top of him, jaws around his throat, worrying him-

-and acting purely on instinct he reached up, wrapped his arms around the cat’s ribs, and hugged.

Two things happened, so quickly that he barely had time to comprehend them.

First, golden light flared, and the cat went from hissing to screaming, as black essence boiled out of its eyesockets as a red 60 exploded into the air above it.

You have healed Bonikitty for 30 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 3!

The second thing was that he felt way woozier all of a sudden. Though he didn’t know what a headache was, he definitely felt uncomfortable in his noggin region for a bit. Threadbare didn’t know that this was due to the cost of triggering that skill, and that he’d spent fifteen sanity activating it. He definitely didn’t know that standard healing magic interfered with the forces which allowed undead to move and act.

All he knew was that he’d hurt it somehow, and the skeleton wanted no more of this particular bear. It turned and fled, and Threadbare struggled to his feet, and shook his paw after it.

After a second to make sure that it wouldn’t come back, and half a minute to dig out his sewing tools and patch himself up, Threadbare turned and continued up the ramp.

As he went, a green mist started to fill the corridor. It smelled sharp, and unpleasant, so he turned off his nose after his Scents and Sensibility skill went up a level.

The further he went into it, the more his Golem Body ticked up, too. He gained about three levels of that skill before it stopped reacting to the green haze.

Eventually the small corridor opened up into a larger room, filled with green, rolling clouds. His golden light made weird patterns on it as he entered, and a shape loomed in the center of the room… some sort of structure or object. He headed that way-

-and the green haze cleared momentarily to reveal a stone table, and the biggest cat skeleton he’d seen yet, easily twice the size of Celia, crouching on it. Breathstealer the Toxic-kitty stared down at him, and roared, green haze pouring from its skull.

A green 6 floated up from Threadbare’s noggin, and went unnoticed.

WILL +1

Your Stubborn skill is now level 6!

Threadbare halted, turned around, and ran back towards the hole he’d left, dragon wings flapping in the breeze of his passing, and dragon head flopping on its long neck. But Breathstealer was faster still, leaping in front of him and batting him with a paw, sending him flying across the room as a red ‘28’ tore out of him.

He ended up somewhere in the haze again, looking around as he got to his feet, and heard bony digits pounding the stone floor once more. Annoyed, he waited until it burst out of the mist and charged it right back, making the massive creature skid to a halt in surprise. Threadbare’s claw swiped right into the side of its jaw…

Your Brawling skill is now level 11!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 9!

…and a ’4’ floated up into the air.

Threadbare and Breathstealer watched it go. Then they looked at each other.

Threadbare bopped it again.

Your Brawling skill is now level 12!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 10!

And a ‘3’ drifted off this time.

Breathstealer didn’t look at all hurt. Annoyed at the feeble attacks, the bony behemoth opened its mouth and roared once more!

The skill was called Plague Breath…

…and just like before, when he’d been fighting the Rat King, it had absolutely no effect on the little golem!

Your Golem Body skill is now level 14!

He came sailing out of the cloud, latching onto Breathstealer’s neck just above its head-

AGL +1

-And hugged it for all he was worth. He had one trick that worked against these things, and by gods he was going to use it!

Golden light flashed, a red eighty rolled up, and Breathstealer went apeshit as Theadbare’s innocent embrace literally killed it with kindness. Innocent Embrace was a costly skill, one with a sanity cost that scaled as its healing rose… but the amount of healing it did rose with each skill level gained.

By the time it was done, three skill ups and a strength bump later, Threadbare was on the ground with a four-alarm headache and nine sanity left, and Breathstealer was a smoldering pile of bones.

He lay there exhausted for a second, until-

You are now a Level 8 Toy Golem!
All Attributes +2!

You are now a Level 6 Bear!

CON +5
STR +5
WIS +5
Armor +3
Endurance +3
Mental Fortitude +3

You are now a Level 2 Model!
AGL +3
CHA +3
PER +3

-Suddenly, Threadbare felt a hell of a lot better. Though he didn’t know it, leveling up refilled his pools… all save for his poor, battered hit points. He sat down and patched his wounds, and as he did the green clouds cleared away. He saw a green, dripping dagger with a curved blade lying on the stone table, right next to another ball of cat intestines. Grabbing them both, he looked around. The haze had dissipated a bit, and there seemed to be an exit ramp, a large one, going up from here. There was another door out, but the handle was way too high up for him to reach, so he decided to give the ramp a try instead.

While on it, he got another message from Celia. “Testing? Oh thank heavens, you’re alive. I miss you. I miss you so much…”

“We stopped to rest. It’s rough, it’s so rough, we almost lost Jarrik, but we’re coming for you, okay? We won’t…”

“This is the last sanity I can spare, then I need to drink up for the next part. You survive, okay? You come back to…”

Threadbare squared his shoulders and jogged up the ramp, throwing caution to the winds. Up and up and up, waving his new dagger, not caring what lay between him and danger…

…until the ramp leveled out, and he burst into a dusty room.

In the half-reduced light of his glow gleam effect, he could see that it was filled with old furniture, covered in sheets. And every sheet, every alcove, every dusty wardrobe and cloaked chair had bonikitties sitting on it.

And all of them were watching him. Watching that dragon’s head and wings twitch and bop as he scrambled to a halt.

Watching and rising, slinking forward, butts wiggling as they readied to pounce-

“That’s enough now! Let me see who’s come, hmmmm?” An old woman’s voice cracked the silence, as dusty and faded as the room itself.

Threadbare lowered the dagger. The undead cats settled. For now.

“Come closer, my dears! Let me have a look at you… hoo hoo hoo!”

Threadbare paced into the room, and his light showed him the one section of it that wasn’t entirely covered in cats.

There was a table, set with fine, if dusty china, and a half-translucent old human woman sitting at the head of it. Her frizzy hair stuck out from under a glowing, crooked top hat, and she wore a patchwork dress covered with embroidery showing cats playing, cats sleeping, cats doing all sorts of cat things.

She was knitting bones. Threadbare watched as she finished knitting spectral strands to old cat’s bones, then once she was done, leaned down to the skull and whispered “Rise…”

The new bonikitty stood up, shook itself, and the old ghostly lady clapped her hands with glee. “Oh my dear! You’re good as new! Go play, there’s a good boy.” She pointed toward a hole in the wall, and the skeletal feline leaped down, and paced through, disappearing from sight.

“Now then, I suppose we should get to our… little… fight…” She squinted down at Threadbare, and her jaw dropped open.

Threadbare waved.

Your Adorable skill is now level 15!

“Hoo hoo hoo! Hooo hoooo hooo…” She pounded the table noiselessly with one spectral hand. “Oh my goodness, you’re just the cutest little thing! Well, you’d be cuter if you were a cat. But I suppose nobody’s perfect. Except cats.”

Beyond her, Threadbare could see a set of stairs. He pointed at them.

CHA +1

“Mmm, you want to go through?”

Threadbare nodded, and she giggled as his dragon hat flopped back and forth.

“Well, now we’re in a pickle, then. Normally I’m supposed to fight the people who come here. They all deserve it, since they’ve hurt my poor dearies so! But look at you, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, I bet.”

Threadbare nodded. He’d never had to fight any flies, after all. And they seemed really hard to hit, too.

“But… Well, the Master never said anything about fighting toys. And if I know you, you’re someone’s toy. Got a little girl to go back to, hm?”

Threadbare nodded harder, and mimed hugging the air.

“Well, I tell you what. You do something nice for me, and something nice for my dears, and we’ll let you through.” She pointed at the thirty-some Bonikitties scattered around the room.

Threadbare nodded, then pointed at the kittens, and shrugged.

“Well, they like meat, do you have any of that?”

He shook his head. If he’d brought the jerky from Celia’s pack, maybe, but he hadn’t seen a need for it.

“Perhaps a toy?”

He considered, then pulled out a ball of intestines.

Fortunately for him, the old lady didn’t know much anatomy. “Oh! Yes, that’ll do! Just throw it down the ramp, that’ll keep them from being naughty.”

He hurled it, and with a meowing, clattering cacophony, the bonikitties rushed after it, following it ALL the way down.

“Well done! Come up here.” She patted an adjacent chair. “I won’t be so easily appeased, though.”

Threadbare stood in it, staring up at her, eyes just slightly higher than the table. He pointed at the old lady and shrugged.

She leaned in and grinned. “To get past ME without a fight, you’ll have to play my favorite game. Tea party!”

And if he could have, Threadbare would have smiled.

Twenty minutes later, and three Charisma points higher, he bowed deeply to the very happy old ghost, and started to walk up the stairs. She’d given him her second-favorite cat blanket as thanks, tying it around his neck as a cape. It was embroidered with paws all up and down its length, and very, very dusty. But overall he was happy, and it almost seemed to lighten his step as he walked.

But not a second later, words flashed up right before his eyes.

Through repeated peaceful contact with the undead, you have unlocked the Necromancer job!
Do you want to be a Necromancer at this time? y/n?

Wow, another word he didn’t know. But job levels made him stronger, so why not?

You are now a level 1 Necromancer!
+3 INT
+3 WILL
+3 WIS
You have learned the skill Assess Corpse!
Your Assess Corpse skill is now level 1!
You have learned the skill Command the Dead!
Your Command the Dead skill is now level 1!
You have learned the skill Soulstone!
Your Soulstone skill is now level 1!
You have learned the skill Speak With Dead!
Your Speak With Dead skill is now level 1!
You have learned the skill Zombies!
Your Zombies skill is now level 1!

The bear shook his head, as ideas burst together, filling and expanding it. Then he ran. As thankfully peaceful as that last room had been, it had eaten up precious time. He needed to find his little girl. He needed to get her out of this place! It was dangerous, he now understood that. Any of those things down below could have seriously hurt her, or worse. What was the upper part of this mountain like, if the secret way was so rough?

The stairs topped out in a long corridor, broken by stony pillars…. Stalagmites, he knew, though he couldn’t say how. They thinned to sharp, wicked looking points up top, and they were packed in tightly. He picked his way through them, and the ceiling widened up and up until it disappeared.

“Hey! Something’s coming!” He heard Jarrik call, and sped up, overjoyed to hear the half-orc’s voice.

“I see it… Threadbare? Is that you?” Celia called. Threadbare stopped and jumped up and down, in joy. They were all right! They were alive!”

“So that’s how you get down into that chasm. I thought there was a way.” Jarrik said. “Hang on, I’m lowering a rope.”

Threadbare picked his way through the stalagmite field, to the side of the wall which wasn’t a wall at all, but a sheer cliff up to the ledge of a deep chasm, a chasm which he was at the bottom of. He grabbed the rope, gave it a few tugs, and got hauled up.

And then he was in Celia’s arms, and everything was okay.

Golden light flared, and she said “Oh!”

You healed Celia 70 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 7!

Threadbare rubbed his head, as 35 more sanity drained out of him. But what looked to be a bunch of scrapes and bruises and cuts along her arms were now gone, so that was fine.

“Right, that’s done then,” Beryl said. “Let’s… ah… “

“What?” Celia said, turning to look at the dwarven girl.

“What the hell is he wearing?”

Celia put him down, and Threadbare waved to the group, dragon hat flopping on its loose stitches, resplendent in his panty tunic and kitty cape.

Your Work It Baby skill is now level 2!

And then there was nothing but laughter, as the exhausted children sat there giggling, deep in the heart of the dungeon.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 9 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 8
Bear Level 6
Ruler Level 2
Scout Level 2
Tailor Level 2
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 62 Constitution: 68 Hit Points: 176 Armor: 28
Intelligence: 44 Wisdom: 72(77) Sanity: 116(121) Mental Fortitude: 18
Dexterity: 29(39) Agility: 42(52) Stamina: 81(101) Endurance: 38
Charisma: 47(52) Willpower: 33 Moxie: 80(85) Cool: 20 (30)
Perception: 51 Luck: 43 Fortune: 94 Fate: 8

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 12
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9(19)
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 2
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable – Level 15
Gift of Sapience – Level NA
Golem Body – Level 14
Innocent Embrace - Level 7
Magic Resistance –Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface – NA
Claw Swipes – 10
Forage – 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 1
Scents and Sensibility – 9
Stubborn - 6
Toughness – 8

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 9
Clean and Press - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - 1
Fascination - 1
Flex - 1
Self-Esteem - 1
Work it Baby - 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - 1
Command the Dead - 1
Soulstone - 1
Speak With Dead -1
Zombies - 1

Equipment Rod of Baronly Might - (Level 5 Club, CHA +5, WIS +5, +10 Cool )
Draco Chapeaux
Pantunic
Paws Button Cape - (Level 10 Cape, AGL +10, Activate bullet time once per day)
Breathstealer’s Other Fang - (Level 10 Dagger, Dex +10, Dagger Skill +10, Chance of inflicting “Cat Scratch Fever” upon hit

Quests

Catastrophe 3

Eventually, the laughter faded. Beryl resumed her resting scowlface. “All right, fun time’s over. Jarrik, do your thing, okay?”

“On it. Camouflage,” he whispered, and faded, as his skin took on the colors and patterns of the surrounding rocks and darkness. Threadbare could just make out his outline, as he jogged toward the winding tunnel exit that led into darkness, at the end of the chasm.

There were two more exits out of here, the little bear saw. Both had daylight filtering down into the tunnel. The bigger one had a massive grate set across it, with glowing red runes carved into it. SEALED BY ORDER OF THE CROWN a nearby sign instructed.

“Jarrik’s going to go see if the boss we just beat has respawned. Well, bosses, I guess,” Celia said, as she brushed dirt and dust from Threadbare.

“Boss,” Beryl said. “My Ma told me about the Cataphracts. They think and fight as one. Which is why we can’t go back through there again unless-”

Jarrik faded back into view. He did not look happy. “They’re back.”

“-fuck a duck we waited too long.” Beryl rubbed her eyes. “I wish you’d been a little earlier Threadbare.”

Threadbare walked over and gave her a hug. Beryl glared down at him suspiciously, then deigned to rub his head. In some ways she reminded the little bear of Pulsivar. Lots of noise and swagger, but good to have at your back.

“Well. Now what?” Celia asked.

“First things first, get those dumb clothes off of your bear. I can’t look at him without laughing. Second, let me think…”

“We could always run past the Cataphracts,” Garon suggested.

Jarrik shook his head. “Naw. They’re set up in a formation that puts most of ‘em between us and tha exit. And they’re spread out enough I can’t camo past them and go get help. They’d detect me an’ well, SHUNK.”

Shunk sounded pretty bad to Threadbare.

“And even if we get through, there’s tha rest a tha dungeon. Tha other bosses will ‘ave respawned. An’ most a tha monsters.”

The group chewed their lips. The odds were very, very bad.

“How about the chasm Threadbare came out of? We got rope,” Bak’Shaz pointed down into the pit.

Garon shook his head this time. “We’ve got rope but nothing to attach it to. That grate will fry anything it touches, and the closest tie-off point is in the Cataphract room. And even if we did, those Stalagmites are set really close together. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I haven’t been grinding agility. They’d flat out kill me if I fell on them. And if they’d kill me, sorry, but they’d turn any of the rest of you into gibs.”

“And there’s no telling what Threadbare went through to get here,” Celia said, stripping off Threadbare’s ‘clothes’. “His sewing kit’s out of all the patches that came with it, it looks like he had to resort to cutting patches from, uh, from… ahem.”

“What?” Garon asked.

“Nevermind,” Celia hastily tucked away the frilly remnants of her best set of panties. “Oh hey, he made little packs for himself. How cute!”

“Smart bear.” Garon sighed. “Beryl?”

“Coming up empty. It kills me, Clerics get Divine Transit at level ten. That would solve all of our problems! But I’m one level short, just one friggin’ level!” She pounded her chainmail skirt, with a jingling clash. “If only we had a couple of decent fights, or maybe one big one, I could get there. But there’s no monsters in here. And the Cataphracts are too tough. We burned up all our coins so Garon can’t use his twisted rage-blood is gold combo, so there’s no way we’d get the experience without fatalities. They’re just too smart and too tough.”

Threadbare walked over and tugged on Garon’s leggings, then pointed to the remaining exit.

“What? No. That goes to a puzzle, but I don’t think we have the components for it.”

Threadbare started ambling that way. “Oh gods! No, hold on!” Celia said, and gave up sorting through his clothing as she hurried to catch up.

“Don’t go far!” Beryl yelled.

“Relax, it’s just a catapult,” Garon said. “Nothing else out there.”

The cave opened up onto a high ledge, far up the second mountain. It overlooked the final mountain, about five hundred feet away. On an opposite ledge, some sort of large tarp secured to a matching cave entrance flapped in the wind.

To the side, Threadbare could see a long stone bridge, stretching over to another, larger entrance into the mountain. A pair of Flaming Tygers paced back and forth there, not that they had anything to guard against. Judging by the angle of the bridge, it led to a corridor that ended at the runed grating.

Sitting on the ledge, pointing toward the opposite cave, was a heavy wooden device. It had a bunch of ropes rolled up on a tightly bound crank, and a wooden arm with something like a huge spoon on the end. However the spoon had no back to it, just a bunch of hooks on its inner rim. It was like a ring on a stick.

On its side, burned into the wood, was the word RACKET.

“I’ve seen pictures of these in books,” Celia explained. “Beryl’s a tinker, she knows machines, and she thinks it can throw people across, but it’s broken.” She tapped the ring. “We don’t know how to fix it. It’s probably a shortcut to the Dungeon’s Master, so I don’t know if that would help our situation any even if it was.”

Threadbare ambled to the edge of the ledge, knocking a pebble with his paw, as he did so. It tumbled off the cliff and fell hundreds of feet, disappearing into fog.

“Yeah, that’s probably instant death,” Celia said, keeping a careful hold on his arm. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

“Oh!” She said as she got in. The rest of the group was huddled around Threadbare’s packs, sorting through his loot.

“Hey, that’s…”

“Keep your knickers on. The few you’ve got left, anyway. We’re looking for something to help us survive this,” Beryl snapped.

“Of course, that’s fine. What did he pick up, anyway? I didn’t look too closely.”

“Well, he got a kick-ass dagger for you to animate, so you’re getting that for now,” Beryl slid it across the ground to her, and Celia picked it up and frowned at it.

“Status. Oh, wow! Yeah, this will be great for an animus blade.”

“It improves our chances a bit. Let’s see…” Beryl slid open the scroll, and her eyes went wide. Her gauntlets shook, rattling the chain mail sleeves coating her arms as she surveyed the paper. “This is a tinkering recipe! Holy fucking shit he found a tinkering recipe!”

“Really? That’s good?”

“Those things are really rare,” Garon explained. “Beryl’s a tinker, and most of the rest of her family are smiths and tinkers. That recipe, whatever it is, is worth a whole lot of money to them.”

Beryl whooped! The dwarven girl shot to her feet and literally jumped for joy. Maybe. It was hard to tell under the chain mail skirt. “It’s a flying machine!”

Instantly Jarrik laughed and scooped her into a hug, kissing her passionately. She kissed him back, grabbing his ass as she did so, and still laughing into his mouth.

Celia turned beet red and looked away, clearing her throat.

“Get a room,” Bak’Shaz whined.

“Bitch, I’ve got a cave and no reason to keep quiet so don’t tempt me,” Beryl said, popping her mouth off of Jarrik’s.

“Okay. If we’re really lucky, let’s see… here… well, shit.”

“What?” Jarrik said, squinting at the paper.

“It’s a single seater. And it takes wood and cloth. Lots of wood and cloth.”

“Well.” Celia said. “We’ve got our clothes. And the wood from the catapult.”

“And it takes a flight skill to manage.”

“Um…”

“Yeah, I didn’t know that was a thing either.”

“I did,” Garon said. “Mom can shapeshift. She told me if I stuck with shaman I’d learn that skill eventually.”

“Ah-huh. And how many crashes did she say you’d have when you were starting out?”

“Let me put it this way. She said the best way to survive and learn the skill is to cast slow regeneration before I tried.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Beryl sighed, as she read further down. “It also takes a Mark I Fizznocker engine. This is too high end for me to build, guys, even if I had the parts. Hell, it might be too high end for my Da. Which is a pity, because we’ve been looking for something like this for years.”

“Won’t the guards just take it like the other magic items?” Celia asked.

“Nope. It’s nonmagical. Their wizard’s scan won’t detect it. Yeah, technically this belongs to Threadbare since he’s not in the party. We’ll have to do some formal negotiations with you Celia, see if we can buy it from you. This is too valuable to us, no matter how much it’ll cost Da.”

Celia considered. They’d had a pretty big argument, when she tried to convince the dwarf to help save Threadbare.

Technically, Celia’s conviction had been the one to land them in this situation. So… “Then it’s yours for free when we get out of here, no negotiations necessary.” Celia decided.

Beryl’s jaw dropped. “What? You… you’re just GIVING it to me?”

“Yes.”

“But… I…” Beryl stared straight ahead, and for a second Celia thought she’d done something wrong.

Then Beryl lifted up in her strong arms, and hugged the hell out of her. Celia squeaked, and tried to avoid being grated like cheese against the other girl’s chainmail.

“Thank you,” Beryl choked out. “We owe you a debt. Know now you’re a friend to clan Wirebeard.”

“Can she do that?” Garon whispered behind her.

“Sssh,” Jarrik cautioned.

Finally, Beryl put her down. “Right. Right, ahem.” She cleared her throat, mopped away something that she stoicly pretended wasn’t a tear, and glanced back to the little pile of loot. “What else do we have?”

Oblivious to the drama, Bak’Shaz had kept sorting through the loot. “A tigerseye gem. Worth some money but no help. Unless you can blood is gold it, bro?”

“Nah. Only works on coin,” Garon shrugged.

“Um, we got his cape. Which sized to him when he picked it up. I don’t think we can wear it.”

“His cape does something?” Beryl asked.

“Yeah, bullet time.”

Jarrik’s eyes got wide. He snatched up the little blanket, tried to button it around his wrist. “Nothin’. Damn. Woulda been nice.”

“Yeah, he’s the only one who can use it, so…” Bak’shaz handed it back to the little bear, who put it back around his neck with a gravitas he hadn’t had before the model job.

“It’s really that good?”

“It would let bro here dodge a massive spell,” Bak’Shaz hooked a thumb back towards Jarrik. “Or let him stop time, fire a dozen arrows, then start time and the arrows would all hit at once.”

“Wow.” Celia studied Threadbare, who waved back. “What’s a bullet, anyway?”

“Beats me,” Jarrik shrugged.

“The only other thing he’s got in there is these.” Bak’Shaz held up the two balled up tangles of intestines.

“Ick. Why did you even touch those, Threadbare?” Celia made a face.

Threadbare shrugged. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Wait, hold on,” Garon said, leaning in. “I found one of those on that Lion Eyes midboss we took out. I left it there because I thought it was just a tanner component-”

“It is. It’s catgut,” Bak’Shaz interrupted.

“-right, but it looked exactly like these. I think we’re looking at a key item, here. Key items, anyway.”

“Key items?” Celia blinked.

“They open up new sections of the dungeon, or you need them to solve puzzles,” Beryl said. “It’s a long shot, but maybe there’s a hidden puzzle around here.”

Celia stared at her. And behind her eyes, gears turned, and the young animator’s 89 intelligence earned its keep.

“Beryl?” She asked, very carefully, “this dungeon is big on puns, right?”

“Yeah, it’s one of the silly ones. They do stuff like this.”

“What if that catapult isn’t a racket. What if it’s an unstrung racquet?”

Celia’s grin shone in her moment of triumph.

The rest of the group was silent.

Finally Beryl asked “What’s a racquet, then?”

Twenty minutes later, they finished stringing the catgut through the hooks around the enormous catapult’s ring.

“Wait!” Garon said.

“What?” Celia asked, her throat dry. It had taken about five minutes to explain the concept of badminton racquets and another five to sell them on the notion of, well, this.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re hurling ourselves across the gap to fight the boss, in hopes that he’s less of a lethal fight than the Cataphracts were, in the hopes that he’ll provide enough experience to level Beryl up so she can cast her dungeon escapey spell.”

“Divine transit,” Beryl clarified.

“Right, that.”

“Yeah,” Celia nodded. “I know. It’s really bad odds, but-”

“Okay. Give me a quest and offer the tigerseye as a reward.”

“What?”

“I get bonuses when I’m on quests with material rewards.”

That was a good idea, so she did it.

“Do the Job!” Garon intoned. Then he smiled. “There we go! Hey, skill up! Mff. Not much. I haven’t had much chance to level this yet. But hey, every bit helps. Then once we get in there I’ll use fight the battles, that’ll help us all more.”

“That’s the party buff, right?” Celia asked.

“Yeah. Oh, wait… Do you want any of your little pets out for this?”

“Just the dagger. Which leaves… crud, I guess I could stuff a pet in there, otherwise that leaves us with six.”

“Nah. There’s a little guy here who’s earned his place,” Beryl said. “Invite Threadbare.”

“That won’t work,” Celia said. “You’d need one of Daddy’s scrolls to-”

Threadbare has joined the party!

There was a pause. Celia stared at the little bear, mouth open.

“Guess it does work,” Beryl grunted. “Okay, party screen.” She stared at the air in front of her, eyes getting wider and wider as she went. “The fuck?”

“What?”

“Okay, Greater Toy Golem you told me about.”

“Yeah.”

“Bear makes sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bak’Shaz, you said he had scout levels, right? And Celia, you taught him tailor?”

“Yes. I’m very glad that worked,” Celia said, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the golem had just done something she’d been repeatedly told he couldn’t do.

“So why in the ninety-nine hells does he have ruler and model and necromancer levels?”

That brought silence.

They all stared at the little bear.

He shrugged.

Garon broke it. “Models get that thing where they get bonuses or something from wearing clothes, right?”

“I think so. Don’t know much about them,” Beryl said, eyes unblinking on the teddy bear. She’d poked a molehill and been blindsided by a mountain.

“Well then, give him his clothes back,” Garon said. “We need every edge we can get right now.”

“But they’re made of my-” Celia broke off.

“What?”

“My… I mean…”

“You can get new crotchrags,” Beryl told her. “Sew his gear back on him.”

Blushing, Celia did so. Then they piled into the catapult.

“Necromancer,” Celia said, staring down at the bear, clutched tight in her arms. “So you can cast spells too, now?”

Threadbare shook his head and tapped his mouth.

“Right. We’ll do something about that.” Visions of teddy-bear led zombie apocalypses filled her mind. “After I talk with Daddy. Most definitely after that. This is… yeah, I think something’s gone off the rails here.”

“Yeah,” Garon said, unslinging his battle-axe, and gripping the side of the racket. “Us.”

And he cut the rope holding the arm in place.

“You could have just thrown the levvEEERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!” Beryl screeched, as the party went flying.

WHUMP! The tarp against the cave entrance on the opposite cliff gave way, billowing inward, as they fell into a pile of thousands of balls of yarn. The tarp flapped, loose, as the youths sorted themselves out.

Celia cast Animus Blade, and sent the magical dagger whirling around her, dancing with grace far beyond her normal blades. Then she checked her static rod, and took a deep breath. “Ready.”

Garon pulled out the Cataphract shield he’d earned from the last fight, and hefted his well-used battle axe. “I’m good.”

Bak’Shaz waved his slingshot and shrugged. But he was wearing the Lion Mane he’d snagged from the Lion Eyes boss earlier in the day.

And Jarrik nocked an arrow, and shared one last kiss with Beryl.

“Right,” Beryl said, smacking her lips and clearing away the last remnants of her black lipstick, “Let’s go get this fucker.”

A flight of stairs later, they came to the Master’s Chamber.

Tall, vaulted ceilings filled a Cathedral like-hall, complete with an altar up front, covered with well-thumbed copies of “Cat Fancier”. Balls of yarn were strung across and around the candle-sconces, hanging between the pillars and draping down, ends blowing in the draft from the high windows. It had the reek of a thousand thousand litterboxes, and as the group stood coughing, Threadbare took the bump up to his Scents and Sensibility level, and shut his nose off as fast as it could go. To either side of the altar stood large chests, overflowing with coins.

“Hoomins!” A voice boomed from above. “Ceiling Cat is watching you!”

A blur of white above, that shifted away as a door slammed open, next to the altar. Greenish eyes glared out. “And Basement Cat will swallow your souls!” Came a hiss that would have put Pulsivar to shame.

“Oh sweet Aeterna,” Beryl gasped. “A two part boss!”

“Um, excuse me?” Celia raised her hand.

“What?” The white blob above in the ceiling poked out through its hatch, silvery eyes shining with a gentle light, extending into a halo that surrounded its head. “What is it, my child?”

“I’m the only human here.”

There came a pause.

“Right, sorry,” Ceiling Cat apologized. “Hoomin, I am watching meOWWW!” A red ‘43’ drifted up as Jarrik pegged it with an arrow, and then there was no more time for grammar correction.

“Holy Smite!” Shouted Ceiling Cat, dropping from the ceiling, paw glowing as it became surrounded by a silvery outline of a much bigger appendage. It aimed for Jarrik, but the scout dodged, and Garon took it on his shield, grunting as a red 25 drifted up from him. “Fight the Battles!” he roared.

Instantly, Threadbare felt… heavier.

You are affected by a temporary party buff!
+7 STR
+7 CON
+7 Armor!
+7 to all weapon skills!

Ceiling Cat flipped off the shield, landed, and darted back in clawing and scratching-

-just as Bak’Shaz screamed. He was on the floor, being dragged backwards. Basement Cat had charged out, nabbed him, and was trying to carry him off into the darkness.

“Oh no you don’t! Come on Threadbare!” The dagger zipped out at Basement Cat, and Celia angled for a clear shot, readying her static rod. Threadbare, for his part, simply dashed in and unleashed his ultimate attack! Before Basement cat could react, the little bear hugged him!

You healed Basement Cat 80 points!
Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 8!

Basement Cat paused. He dropped the squirming Bak’Shaz and stared at the little bear. “Thank you?”

Threadbare let go of him, puzzled. That hadn’t worked.

“Uh, what the hell are you even wearing?” Basement Cat continued, thoroughly distracted by the bizarre figure’s garb.

Your Fascination skill is now level 2!

Then a static orb slammed into the cat, and he howled again, lashing out at Bak’Shaz and Threadbare.

Well, Threadbare had claws too, didn’t he?

Basement Cat blurred, fading in and out of sight, striking from unexpected angles, aiming for critical points on the little bear.

He found none.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 15!

Con +1

Your Golem Body skill is now level 16!

“Celia! Switch fire to Ceiling Cat!” Beryl called. “Basement’s a rogue type, keep the dagger on him!”

“Got it!”

Threadbare didn’t care about the long claws sliding into places his organs should have been, and the damage drifting up was a secondary concern. Celia would keep him healed there, if he needed it. So the little teddy bear swiped and clawed back, aided by the magical dagger which whirred by and cut into the boss’ side every now and then, and Bak’Shaz, who got to safety behind the altar and pelted it with slingstones.

Five more brawling levels, two more strength, a point of luck, and six more Claw Swipes levels later, Basement Cat staggered back. Threadbare spared a glance to the others, found Garon tanking Ceiling Cat next to Beryl, supported by shots from Jarrik and Celia’s static orbs.

“Lesser Healing!” The white cat mewed, flying just out of reach for a second.

“Yeah? I got that too, you little pussy!” Beryl yelled. “Lesser Healing!”

Garon grinned as his wounds sealed. “Thanks!”

The fight went on for a few more minutes, and gained the little bear another Brawling level, but Threadbare could see how it would end up. Which made him wonder… were these guys supposed to be the strongest monster here? The group was handling this one fine. Why had they worried about it so much?

He got his answer as the two polar opposite cats reached the same conclusion, glanced to each other, then disengaged and bound upwards, to stand on the altar.

“By our paw-ers combined,” meowed Ceiling Cat,

“Call the ultimate magus!” finished Basement Cat.

“Come forth, Nekomancer!” The two cats blurred and bended together, mystical energies crackling and flaring, obscuring them from view.

“What the fuck you mean they got a final form!” Beryl bellowed. “Ah shit, uh, uh… Party Heal! Get ready, guys!”

“Mend! Mend!” Celia shouted, and Threadbare felt himself pull together. His cape fluttered in the wind, as the flashing light resolved…

Into a girl. Small, thin, wearing a black fur bikini, with white kitty ears. A twisty tail, made of swirling black and white fur, waggled behind her. “Nyaaaa-aaan,” she purred, squatting on her haunches, and grinning big…

…showing very large, but cute fangs.

“Awwww,” the youths chorused.

Threadbare wouldn’t have joined in if he could’ve.

You have resisted the Adorable effect!
WILL +1

Your Stubborn skill is now level 7!

With a magic-item boosted leap, he hopped up on the altar, and bopped her in the face with a fistful of claws, sending a red ‘40’ skyward.

AGL +1

Your Brawling Skill is now level 19!
Your Claw Swipes Skill is now level 16!

“Me-OWWW!!! That is NOT KAWAII!” She kicked him off the altar, and Celia caught him.

Your Toughness Skill is now level 9!

Max HP +2

“Yeah! You’re not cute at all!” Celia shouted. Then the little girl looked down at her bear, and blanched, stared up in shock at the red ‘65’ that drifted its way up above. “Oh no! Mend! Mend!”

The Nekomancer leaped into the party, slashing and gouging with unbelievable strength, and slowly but surely, the youths were driven back. Garon went down first, coughing blood, gasping as he hauled himself away from the fight.

“Shit shit shit! Lesser Mending! Lesser Mending! Lesser-” Beryl broke off as the Nekomancer caught up to her, ignoring the slingstones and arrows that thunked into her. Beryl raised her shield, and staggered backward as red numbers crashed out from her, glaring against her armor. That was the only thing that saved her, as she scrambled away.

Then Threadbare was there again, and punted away again, for another 57 points of damage.

Jarrik fell next, holding his side and gasping as he bled on the stone floor, and the Nekomancer chuckled. “Hee hee hee! Is that all you’ve got? You’re no match for meee-eeee nyan nyan nyan…” She posed, somehow managing to get her bikini-clad boobs and butt in the same line of sight.

Then a static orb bounced off of her, sending up a red ‘24’ and she turned.

To glare at Celia.

“Oh no!” Celia whispered, bringing the dagger in front of herself. “Stay back, or-”

“Blood Is Gold!” Garon thundered, and the entire group and the boss froze, and whipped around to stare over by the altar-

-and past it, to one of the large, coin-filled chest, that now looked a lot-emptier.

Next to it knelt Garon, glowing with health, one hand buried up to the elbow in the loot. He grinned at the Nekomancer.

“He-ey! My shinies!”

“Oh you’re gonna love this, lady.” Garon sneered. “TWISTED RAGE!” He howled, and as the Nekomancer charged him he scooped up the treasure chest with one arm, muscles bulging and popping open his leather armor as he roared pure hatred at the boss!

Seconds passed, as Celia and Threadbare stared. The half-orc’s immense, boosted strength brought his axe crashing down again and again on the head of the Nekomancer, and her claws flashed so quickly that they could barely see them. Red numbers flew up left and right, blending together so much they couldn’t tell whose wounds were whose.

“Blood is Gold!” Garon howled again, and the coin level in the chest shrunk again. Then he hit the Nekomancer harder.

“Don’t just stand there, help him!” Beryl yelled.

“Right!” Celia tried for an angle where she wouldn’t catch Garon in the crossfire, but it was tricky. She sent in the dagger, and waited for her moment.

“Divine Shield!” Beryl yelled, pointing at Garon as energy flared around him. Some of the numbers got smaller, but not by much. “I’m almost dry!” The cleric yelled.

“Analyze Monster!” Bak’Shaz took a look, and paled. “She’s only down to half!”

“Half?” Celia shrieked. “He’s almost out of money! When that happens…”

“We need a distraction,” Beryl called back. “So he can switch chests!”

And Threadbear knew what he had to do.

The first major boss battle of his life had been against a housecat, after all. And this girl seemed to be at least part housecat.

He ran toward the fight, pushing himself to the limits, leaped for her, saw he was going to miss-

-and time slowed, as his Paws Button cape sped him up to the point where everyone else was in slow motion.

Hitting the ground, Threadbare marched over, grabbed the Nekomancer’s tail with both hands, and hung on. He knew what was coming.

Time renewed-

-and the Nekomancer flipped out.

“AH! Getitoff getiitoff getitofff!” She screeched, breaking off the fight and bouncing from pillar to pillar, flipping around, slamming the little bear against the stone again and again. If he’d had bones they would have been jellied, if he’d had internal organs they would have been ruptured. But as it was…

STR +1

Your Ride Skill is now level 3!
Your Golem Body skill is now Level 17!
Your Ride Skill is now level 4!

“Mend!” shouted Celia

CON +1

Your Ride Skill is now level 5!
Your Toughness skill is now level 10!
+2 Max HP
Your Ride Skill is now level 6!
Your Brawling skill is now level 20!
Your Golem Body skill is now level 18!
Your Ride Skill is now level 7!

“Mend!” Shouted Celia.

All told, it lasted for far less than it seemed it did.

Finally, perhaps a minute into it, Threadbare heard a rip, and went flying. One of his arms was gone, he realized, shortly before he hit a pillar and fell, cloak flapping, dragon hat dangling to one side, the stitches torn.

“My tail! You brute! I’ll use your stuffing for my litter box-”

“Ahem, ” Garon said.

She turned, and her eyes went up three sizes as she shrieked. “Not again!’

“Again!” Garon roared, his arm buried into the coins of the other treasure chest. “Blood is Gold! Twisted Rage! RARRWRWRWRWARWQGQGQHQGHAERWAWEAW!!!!”

It took every last bit of stamina they had.

But finally, finally, they brought her down.

You are now a level 9 Toy Golem!
All Attributes +2

You are now a level 3 Ruler!
CHA +3
LUCK +3
WIS +3

You are now a level 3 Scout!
AGL +3
PER +3
WIS +3

Threadbare dusted himself off, went over and picked up his arm, leaking stuffing with every step, then hauled out the sewing kit and started patching himself up.

Your Tailoring skill level is now 10!
You are now a level 3 Tailor!
DEX +1
PER +1

And just as he finished, he noticed that new words had appeared before him.

By defeating a foe using a level 20 or higher weapon skill, you have unlocked the Duellist job!
Do you wish to become a Duelist at this time? y/n?

Well, any job was a good job!

You are now a level 1 Duelist!
+3 AGL
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You have learned the Challenge skill!
Your Challenge skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Dazzling Entrance skill!
Your Dazzling Entrance skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Fancy Flourish skill!
Your Fancy Flourish skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Guard Stance skill!
Your Guard Stance skill is now level 1!
You have learned the Weapon Specialist skill!
Your Weapon Specialist skill is now level 1!
Searching…
Your Weapon Specialist skill is currently set to: Brawling!

That felt weird, but good. Threadbare flexed his paws, feeling separate pressure points rise and fall beneath them. It was like he had claws under there that weren’t claws. He picked up the tailoring kit one handed, and marveled at the ability to do so.

“What the fuck?” Beryl said, staring at Threadbare. “The little shitter just leveled into duelist.”

“To be fair, that was a pretty swashbuckl-ey move back there,” Garon said. “Kinda fits.”

“This is definitely not supposed to be happening, I’m pretty sure,” Celia said. “Threadbare, just… let me talk to Daddy before we do any more adventuring, okay?”

“Tell me ya got to level 10,” Jarrik begged Beryl, who nodded, sweaty-faced, bruised all up and down her side, but with a big grin.

“I did. I can get us out of here.”

“Oh, give me that tigerseye, will you?” Garon asked Celia. “Quest’s done.”

She handed it to him, then hugged the fat youth tightly. “Thank you.”

“Eh. Most of our loot’s gone. Except some small gems, and a few of magic items we’ll have to turn in so there’s no point in getting attached.” He scooped up an armload of weapons and armor. “Let’s go. Experience is its own reward, looks like.”

“Divine Transit!” Beryl said, and the world blurred around Threadbare…

…and instantly, they were back at the beginning of the dungeon.

“Oh this is gonna make things so much easier,” Beryl grinned. “Thanks, guys. Good party.”

“Good party,” Celia agreed. Level 9! In one day she’d gone up two levels! And that wasn’t even counting her gains as a scout, and an enchanter. She was so close to her level 5 skills she could taste it…

…but it was time to go. Night had fallen while they were up there, a trip that was supposed to take perhaps half the day gone way late, due to Threadbare’s unexpected fall.

They walked out of the entrance, and headed back to the gatehouse. It was shut once more, and the guards were on the dungeon side of the gate, now. Atop the gatehouse, a man dressed in blue robes, with a bushy beard, stared down at them.

“Halt and surrender your unregistered magic items,” the guards demanded.

“Sure. It’s a good haul, the Crown should be happy,” Garon said, offering the collection from the chest one by one.

“Come on, get his little cape too,” he reminded Celia.

Forlorn, she handed over the Paws Button cape, the dagger, and the Static Rod. “I think that’s it.”

“We’re done here too,’ Beryl said, after checking with the brothers. Come on-”

“Analyze Magic,” The old man in the gatehouse window said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Check the bear.”

“What? No!” Celia said. “He’s not a magic item, he’s a golem, that’s all.”

“Yes, and there’s something in him that’s registering.” Said the wizard.

“Don’t-” Then one of the guards tore Threadbare from Celia’s arms. He fought back, but the armored man ignored his attacks, squeezing each part of him, compressing the stuffing. Red zeroes flew upward as he swiped at the guard, to no avail.

“Something inside him,” The guard said, then Threadbare shuddered as the man casually tore his side open, and a red ‘120’ floated up into the air.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 19!
Your Toughness skill is now level 11!
Max HP +2

“Don’t you rip him up-” The other guard moved past Threadbare’s field of vision, halberd leveled, and he heard Beryl shouting.

And the guard holding him pulled out the scepter. A tiny golden thing, with a teddy bear’s head on it.

“There it is,” said the wizard. “Trying to smuggle out items, hm? Trying to cheat the Crown?”

Threadbare feebly grabbed for the scepter, and the guard tossed him aside. Jarrik just managed to catch him, before he went over the edge of the cliff.

LUCK +1

“Mend! Mend! Mend! Mend!” Celia shouted, and Threadbare was mostly whole again. He leaped out of Jarrik’s arms and squared himself, glaring at the guards, standing between the one with the halberd and his girl.

“I don’t know why you decided to break the law over such a small trinket,” said the guard holding the scepter, “but it makes no difference. You are under arrest, for smuggling. Come quietly and be tried for your crime or resist and die here, it’s your choice.”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 9 days

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 9
Bear Level 6
Ruler Level 3
Scout Level 3
Tailor Level 3
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1
Duellist Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 68 Constitution: 72 Hit Points: 192 Armor: 28
Intelligence: 46 Wisdom: 75 Sanity: 121 Mental Fortitude: 18
Dexterity: 35 Agility: 51 Stamina: 96 Endurance: 38
Charisma: 52 Willpower: 36 Moxie: 88 Cool: 20
Perception: 57 Luck: 49 Fortune: 106 Fate: 9

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 20 (21)
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 15
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 19
Innocent Embrace - Level 8
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 16
Forage - 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 1
Scents and Sensibility - 10
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 11

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 10
Clean and Press - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 1
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 1
Zombies - Level 1

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 1 (Brawling)

Equipment

Quests

The End of Innocence 1

A FEW HOURS AGO

Anise put her hand on the scout’s shoulder, as they peered down at the pass, and the group of children below. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. The bear’s got a magic item equipped, the stat boosts are way too large for any mundane equipment.”

“Unregistered, most likely,” Anise considered her options, then nodded. “Whisper to the guards. Tell them the kids are on an exemption list.”

“Ma’am?”

Anise’s cold, cold eyes narrowed. “Did I stutter?”

The Scout, Jericho was his name, paled and nodded, lips moving as he used his magical skill to pass on the message.

Anise threw the lever to open the gate, and hurried over to the arrow slit at the sound of shouting. But it was just the typical problem you ran into with Whispering Wind, and people who were on hair triggers. The guard who hadn’t heard overreacted, but fortunately his friend had calmed him down. They were all on-edge, and highly trained, overtrained really, for this situation.

But then, Melor had insisted on bringing only the elites out here. She rather thought it overkill, but it didn’t matter in the end. She had what she needed. Everything else was details to be arranged at her pleasure.

Like those details outside. She peered out the window at the children moving up the path, and stifled a giggle as the little golem waved at her. She waved back.

“No,” she told Jericho, as he reached toward a clipboard of parchment. “Don’t record this one.”

“Well, they brought an item in, we don’t want any misunderstandings after they come back out-“

Actually, Anise did. “I’ll tell the next shift personally. Keep this one off the books.”

“Those are Mordecai’s kids, miss. I…” Jericho snapped his lips shut. Like many of the King’s scouts in this region, the old man had trained him personally. Which was why they were still around, unlike the local garrison. They were the best scouts in the Crown’s army, and the King had nobody more elite to replace them with.

“You need to be going on back to town, to the mustering point,” Anise told him. “We’re moving tonight, and your help will be crucial to the Crown’s success, Jericho.”

He paled. “Yes ma’am!” Snapping off a salute, pounding his fist against his heart, he rose and departed.

Anise smiled, and pinched out the candle, leaving the observation room in darkness…

NOW

Celia had never been in jail before, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Ten feet by ten feet wide, it held a bedroll in one corner, and a chamber pot that smelled like it had been changed a few years ago. Though Celia desperately needed to pee, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do that, even if the boys had promised to turn their backs.

The cold stone walls were only a little warmer than the snowy mountains a few feet outside, and the bars set high in the wall looked out over a sheer drop. They’d thought of pushing Threadbare out of them and sending him to get help, but even with his stuffed form and the benefits of Golem Body, there was no way he’d survive the fall.

The guards had shut them in here and left them. Nobody guarded the dark hallway beyond, lit by a single glowstone hanging from a chain. The guards hadn’t even bothered taking their equipment, except for Threadbare’s confiscated scepter. At first they thought it had been an oversight, but as an hour crawled by and Jarrik wondered for the seventh time why that was so, Garon voiced the truth of the matter; “The guards don’t care. We can’t take them on even with our stuff.”

“We didn’t even try,” Jarrik shook his head.

“Suicide. They’re knights for sure, and did you see how Threadbare was wailing on that one? He was doing decent damage to the Dungeon Boss. But it was all zeroes on the guard, he had to be double his level if he was a day, or that magical armor was stupid tough, or both. And with a wizard up out of our reach? No, we would’ve died.”

“That one guard hurt poor Threadbare more than the dungeon boss too,” Celia added. “In one hit, anyway, and he wasn’t even trying.”

“Guards ain’t usually this buff,” Bak’Shaz said.

“Aye,” Beryl frowned. “They go off duty in town and get into bar fights, and they’re not that hot. They’re decent, but not that badass.”

“Goes back ta what I was saying before,” Jarrik put his arm around Beryl, and leaned back against the cold wall as he considered. “Something’s goin’ on. High-level guards out here, dragon riders comin’ inta the barracks, closed dungeons… I don’t like this. This ent good.”

“And they planted a magic item on poor Threadbare!” Celia hugged him tightly. “Why?”

The little golem tried to gesture and explain that no, he’d had that to begin with, and he was quite sorry because it had slipped his mind, but Celia just thought he was squirming and put him down.

“We could send him through the bars,” Beryl nodded to the darkened corridor. “See what he could find.”

“No! You saw how that one guard tore him up like he was… just a… just a thing!” Celia was horrified. “If they catch him out there they won’t think twice about killing him!”

“It might be our only option,” Garon said. “Besides, he can handle himself. He fell into certain death and walked out of that hidden dungeon area with two new jobs.”

“Three if you count tailor,” Bak’shaz offered.

“Look, I got this, maybe.” Beryl said. “Let me talk with Aeterna. Ask her for advice.”

“Oh. Oh!” Jarrik brightened up. “Yeah, good idea.”

The little cleric closed her eyes, cupped her hands, and chanted. “Pray to Aeterna!”

The children, and Threadbare, leaned in to watch Beryl as her lips moved, silently.

JUST A LITTLE LATER

Steam filled the room. Steam filled the world, and gusted and eddied, and pooled in Zuula’s vision. Herbs smoldered in their pots, mixing with the hot, wet clouds and soaking into her as the sweat left, breathed in, not just by her lungs but her very pores. And as the steam billowed, the walls of the lodge expanded, fell away, became darkness and stars.

And Zuula drifted in the darkness, turning in the sheltering heat of the steam, peering down upon the green and white and blue, seeing the patterns that ran through.

She saw, and she grieved. Ah, that is how it is, she thought not with her mind, but with the soul that was all she was now, for she’d left her brain behind in her other body. Where she was, you didn’t need fleshy eyes to see. Or a brain to think, for that matter.

Slowly, once she was sure of what she saw, she began the long drift back to her body. Oracles really had it easier, she thought. Gods were oddly small, in the grand scheme of it all. They could throw easy puzzles at their Oracles, symbols and hopes and visions. Dream quests were much more difficult, because the grand sweep of nature not only had no real interest in things that weren’t it, it didn’t bother to adjust its comprehension so that smaller things could understand it. How could the ant comprehend the elephant, or the pebble comprehend the mountain?

The bottom line was that dream quests did better with natural things, and stuff that disturbed them. Which is why she knew the Oblivion would fall, in five years or twenty-seven. She knew that the wild animals around here would get a population boom soon, and with a sick feeling she thought she knew why that was so.

But the thing of being a shaman, is that to do so you had to put yourself into nature, but keep a foot back in the world of people. You had to stand in the middle, and nature being what nature was, it got into you, grew outward, made you more of a part of it then you would be otherwise.

Which was why Zuula knew for certain the timeof her death. And precisely how many worms would eat her corpse after all was said and done.

Nude, she left the sweat lodge, trekked back to the house, and dried herself by the fire. Flipping up the loose board beneath the hut, she withdrew her good club, the one she hadn’t turned in to the king’s men when they demanded that her family register all their magic items.

Then she stared up at the totem mask. It stared back, purring with restrained power, holding all the primal emotions she’d poured into it through the years. Fear, rage, and lust, mostly. Easy stuff to work with. Powerful stuff, when all was said and done.

Mordecai had thought she was just into rough foreplay. Well she was, but like most things she did, it served a deeper purpose. High wisdom let you do that sort of thing, after all.

With both hands, she took the mask down, feeling it writhe within her hands, the painted wood becoming more than wood, stretching to her face. Put me on, she heard within her mind. Her own voice, but not a part of her that normally bothered speaking, just doing. Put me on, it whined again, and Zuula shook her head.

“No just yet,” she sighed, staring out the door of the hut. Her death she’d seen, but others were far, far from decided. “No just yet. Soon…”

EARLIER IN THE DAY

By the house at the edge of the hills, in a newly-cleaned workshop, Caradon sat and stared at his enchanting supplies. Golems were resource hogs, and he’d used up every smuggled magic item that Mordecai had brought him this week, disenchanting them and mowing through the entire supply of reagents and crystals in its entirety. And then he’d disenchanted the last two batches of toy golems that he’d tried, and failed to enhance. That hadn’t returned as many reagents as he’d hoped.

Sighing, he sat back and did the equations. He had enough left for one more Toy Golem. Not one more batch, one more Toy Golem. He rubbed his knuckles against his eyes.

First, he needed a toy. The old man rummaged through the bin, found it empty. His daughter had taken all of hers, so that was out, not that he’d touch her toys without her permission anyway. That left one option.

He drummed his fingers against the wood of the table, turning it over and over in his mind.

Caradon didn’t want to do it. But he’d been through two batches since Celia had gone, and he felt he was on the cusp of a breakthrough. He could work straight through, without interruptions, without having to spare time to tend to her, or mind the house. One good push might do it.

He had to stop holding back.

Caradon went back to the house, rubbed Pulsiver as the cat purred against his leg as soon as he got through the door, and made his way upstairs to the attic. And once there, with only the cat looking on, he dug out the trunk he’d hidden safely away oh so many years ago. Trembling, he opened it, and snatched up the loose sack inside, feeling the weight of the contents. He started to open it, then stopped. No, no. Not here.

Downstairs, at the broad table, with only Emmet and Pulsivar looking on, he poured himself a glass of wine and felt his sanity refill a bit while he drained it. Then he opened the sack, pulling out two things. A framed portrait of a smiling woman, and an old, ragged teddy bear. Six inches tall, with jet black fur, it stared at him as he held it up. One button eye clattered off as the moth-eaten thread gave way, and Caradon sighed.

“Hello Missus Fluffbear.” Caradon put down the toy, and looked at the portrait, feeling a lump swell up in his throat. “Hello Amelia.” He took a breath, two, three, until he could speak again. “Ten years gone, and I’ve never missed you more. No man should outlive…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I’m sorry, but I have to borrow Missus Fluffbear. Will you… don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

Pulsivar purred like a buzzsaw and rubbed against his calves, and Caradon picked up the fat cat, grunting as he did so. He scratched Pulsivar’s neck, and waited until the tears that threatened his eyes had subsided.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Thank you, Amelia.” Caradon put Pulsivar to the side, and picked up Missus Fluffbear.

Then he dug out his sewing kit and got to work.

Ten minutes later, in his workshop, he made the final pass of his enchanting wand over the little bear, and the crystals and dust he’d arranged in arcane patterns around her glowed, disappearing as magical patterns flared over her body. The vessel was ready.

Fifteen minutes later, he stumbled out of the workshop, pounding his fist against the door frame, barely holding in his disappointment. Another one! Another stunted little barely-intelligent thing! He’d sacrificed Amelia’s childhood toy, her favorite, for what?

In fury, he turned back to look at the failed experiment, his still-running eye for detail showing every pathetic detail of its anemic status screen, screaming in wordless frustration…

…and Missus Fluffbear cowered away from him, putting its paws over its head.

He sighed, feeling his anger ebb. Sure, it was only due to its adorable skill, but…

Wait a minute.

Its charisma… hadn’t it been sixteen, when he’d first checked the little toy?

Now it was seventeen.

He blinked, as his eye for detail faded.

Implications crashed in on him, but he shook his head. It hadn’t responded to the invite. But it had just gained an attribute point, something lesser golems couldn’t do.

On the edge, so close to completing the equation, he unbound the little golem from its place on the shelf, and picked it up, hugging it to him. It was stiff in his arms for a bit.

“Hug,” Caradon said, and hugged the bear once more. “Hug means this.” He embraced it once more, then held it out.

And Missus Fluffbear looked at him solemnly, then held her arms out for another hug.

Caradon gasped, as her intelligence ticked up from five to six.

“I’ve been a fool. I’ve been a damned, stupid old fool.” He hugged the tiny teddy bear, and now the tears slid freely down his face. “What have I done?” The empty spaces on the shelves where dozens of test subjects had sat haunted him, and he turned his face away. “It doesn’t make supergolems. It makes golems into people.”

Noise from outside, a rumbling crash, and that’s all the warning he got before the wall of the workshop exploded, and a rock the size of his dining room table rolled towards him. He yelled and jumped back, dropping Missus Fluffbear in the process-

-and the boulder swerved, the damned rock hit some tiny obstacle and swerved, heading straight for the prone form of Missus Fluffbear.

“No! Animus!” Caradon shouted at his chair, “Invite, ah, Chairy Mcchairface!” Split seconds to go as the rock tumbled, but now the chair was in his party, and subject to his buffs and will, and it scooped Missus Fluffbear up and fled the workshop at Caradon’s heels as the thoroughly random rock took out another wall and rumbled to a stop.

A short distance away, Caradon stared at it, then stared upslope, at an outcropping which now looked decidedly less sturdy than it had this morning. “That stone shelf has been up there for years. That’s an odd stroke… of… bad… luck….” A horrible thought filled him, and he looked back at Missus Fluffbear.

Sitting calmly in her chair, she held her arms out for a hug.

And to his horror, he realized that her luck had just gone up. From four to five.

“Oh no. No, no, no.”

From behind him, he heard the call of Screaming Eagles on the hunt. Eagles, plural.

He grabbed Fluffbear and ran.

Hours later, after the last monster was dead, the fires were out, and Emmet was stomping around the yard hauling monster carcasses away, a haggard and exhausted Caradon looked at the battered but triumphant Raggedy Men. The wards on the house had been damaged a bit, but that was fine.

“Two greens,” he told Missus Fluffbear as he put his hand of cards down, and she considered, and put down two blues.

“Good! You win!” He patted her head, and she wiggled with pleasure, something she’d picked up from Pulsivar, probably. The cat had taken a look at her and fled, for no reason Caradon could tell. “Keep playing grindluck,” he told her, studying her status screen’s thirteen luck with his eye for detail. “We’re going to be here a while.”

A few more hands later, and silence surrounded him for once in… hours? Something like that. He’d kind of lost track after the third avalanche. But now he felt secure enough to send the Raggedy Men back to their patrols.

As to the wards, eh, he could get to those later, when he had more enchanting supplies and sanity. As it was, the only ones that were seriously damaged were the ones against demons, and what the hell were the odds that any of those would show up tonight?

He took another look at Missus Fluffbear’s luck. The odds were entirely too high, he decided. So he had Ah Chairy Mcchairface go fetch him one of his toy golem birds. “We’ll call Mordecai in, just in case,” Caradon said, and blinked as his wisdom went up for the first time in years. “Definitely Mordecai!” he said, scratching out a hasty message and sending the bird on its way.

*****

NOW

Anise’s heels clicked as her boots hit the stone floor. The corridor was dark, lit only by a single glowstone. She approached the bars, taking no effort to hide the sound of her approach.

“Someone’s coming,” She heard one of the half-breeds whisper.

“Shh! Don’t interrupt Beryl!” The girl whispered back.

“It’s all right, I’m done. She said say yes.”

“What?”

“The goddess said say-“

Anise moved into the pool of light just outside the cell. “Oh dear, such a misunderstanding.” She looked down at the little golden scepter in her hands, and looked back to Celia. “Would you and your little friends like to go free?”

There was a long pause. Beryl slapped her forehead. “Yes!” she said.

“Come along then.” Anise took out a slender key and unlocked the cell door, then unlocked the door to the rest of the keep. The children filed out, cautiously, save for Threadbare who marched up and pointed at his scepter. She handed it to him with a closed-mouth smile, and patted his head, before moving further into the keep.

They followed her through empty halls, past abandoned rooms and arrow slits letting in nothing but darkness and the cold night’s air. The wind howled down the hallways as they went, playing an odd sort of tune entirely by accident. Anise sneered to herself as she felt the tension build behind her. The glowstones were few and far between here, leaving large pools of darkness between them, and she felt almost at home.

It was one of the half-breeds that broke the tension. “Where are all the guards?” The fat one asked.

“Gone,” Anise replied. “Seven of them went to go seal this dungeon for good. The rest are headed to town. There’s a small matter to take care of tonight.”

“Seal the dungeon? What?” The godlicker gasped, her ridiculous braids swaying as she stomped up to walk alongside Anise. “You can’t do that?”

“Me? No. The guards? Yes,” Anise said. “King’s orders. As is the business with the town.”

“Business with the town? What business with the town?” The tall half-breed with the bow moved up to flank Anise on her other side.

Anise halted, and nodded to a thick wooden door. “There’s the exit. I trust you can find your way home?” She opened it, letting a sliver of moonlight into the darkness.

“What business with the town?” The tall green freak insisted, moving towards her, pushing away the fat one’s cautioning hand.

Anise ignored him, walked past him to kneel by Celia. “Thank you so much for trusting me,” she said, icy blue eyes staring into the girl’s own green ones. “I won’t forget it. We’re going to sort matters out with Caradon, and then your long nightmare will be over. We will do what we must, and then I will help you, Cecilia. I will help you become who you were meant to be.”

“Nightmare?” Celia blinked, staring uneasily at the pale white arm, almost shining in the moonlight, and the bloody hue of the scarlet nails on her shoulder. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“You will, soon. Which is good, because we’ve got so much to talk about,” Anise smiled. “But you’re going to have to hurry if you want to say goodbye to him.” Anise turned and stood, stepping back out of the moonlight into darkness, regarding the children without pity. “That goes for all of you. Say goodbye to everyone you know and love, children. Ladybug ladybug, fly away home…”

Green skin turned pale. The children backed away from her as one, and Celia clutched Threadbare tight as they ran out the door. Anise smiled. “No,” she said, grabbing at the air well after they’d left. “Wait,” she said, going to the door. “Stop!” she commanded the air, shutting the door.

She gave it another five minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back or anything stupid like that, then hauled out a disk of black marble. She kissed it, then knelt, holding it aloft with one hand as she watched a red image blur into existence, standing on the flat disk. A man in heavy armor, his horned helm crowning plate worked with demonic faces and glowing with its own enchantments.

“Master,” she whispered. “The children have escaped me. I tried to stop them, but failed.”

His anger smote her down, and she fell, gasping as she continued. “Cecilia is returning home, master, home to Caradon! But her friends, I don’t think… I think they might go into the town! I fear… I fear we have loose ends.”

Her master bowed his head. Seconds passed, and Anise kept her face sorrowful, kept her ambition caged in her heart, hoping against hope that she’d struck the right tone…

“No loose ends,” her master said. “We planned for this, if necessary. Once Cecilia is clear, put the town to the sword. Then join me. It’s time to end this sordid farce.”

“Thy will be done,” she said, closing her eyes. “My love…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 9 days Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 9
Bear Level 6
Ruler Level 3
Scout Level 3
Tailor Level 3
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1
Duellist Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 68 Constitution: 72 Hit Points: 192 Armor: 28
Intelligence: 46 Wisdom: 75(80) Sanity: 121(126) Mental Fortitude: 18
Dexterity: 35 Agility: 51 Stamina: 96 Endurance: 38
Charisma: 52(57) Willpower: 36 Moxie: 88(93) Cool: 20(30)
Perception: 57 Luck: 49 Fortune: 106 Fate: 9

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 20 (21)
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 15
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 19
Innocent Embrace - Level 8
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 16
Forage - 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 1
Scents and Sensibility - 10
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 11

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 10
Clean and Press - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 1
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 1
Zombies - Level 1

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 1 (Brawling) Equipment

Rod of Baronly Might (Level 5 Club, +5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)
Quests

The End of Innocence 2

THE SHAMAN

Zuula sat on her porch, and listened to the night. Listened to the song of hunting creatures falling silent, listened to trees rustling against the wind, and finally, listened to the sound of running feet moving poorly through her woods.

It was time. She reached for her mask-

-and made her perception check, as she realized that she knew the sounds of those particular approaching feet. She stood bolt upright, and stared out at the woods, possibilities churning in her mind. No, this would not do!

“Mom!” Jarrik shouted, as he burst out of the treeline; first as usual, her little scout. But she pushed down motherly pride, drowning it in a sea of motherly worry.

“What you do? What you do here? You should no be here!”

“Mom, they’re going to kill everyone! The soldiers are here to kill everyone!”

“Yes, which is why you must go!” Zuula shouted, green knuckles turning white as she gripped the porch.

“No! We’re not leaving you!”

“Child!” Zuula threw up her hands as the others came out of the trees, Garon’s forced march faltering as he reached his destination, and the others who had been swept up in it coming down from it, feeling their stamina drain all at once.

“Ksh! Inside, quickly!” The shaman commanded, holding the curtain open. “Much to do and you can help, but then you go!”

The children piled in, Celia clutching Threadbare tight, and Zuula punched through the floorboards, pulling rag-wrapped bundles from below and tossing them. “You, Jarrik, take these.” She threw a bundle at him. “Put high in trees around clearing.”

Jarrik opened the bundle, and looked at its contents with a puzzled expression. “But these are-“

“Do it!” Zuula bellowed, digging out another parcel. “Bak’Shaz, here be food. Elven waybread. Keeps forever, little bit last whole day. Elves not miss it, they be Zuula’s gumbo and shit out long ago. Porkins be out back. Get him and get back in here.”

“Oh man, Porkins!” Bak’Shaz took the pack and scrambled. “I almost forgot about him!”

“And for you,” she turned to Celia, with a large sack and a bundle of papers. “Take these. Animate with scrolls and invite to party. Then invite Zuula in and leave party.”

“What? You’re…” Celia took the bag and looked at the five items inside. “Okay…”

“Once they animated go put in treeline around clearing. Ask Jarrik if need help. Go!”

Celia scrambled.

Zuula looked up at Garon and sighed. He had his arms folded and his eyes set in a familiar glare. The same glare he always gave her as a child, whenever she tried to get him to eat sprouts.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Garon said. “Not alone.”

He never did eat those fucking sprouts, Zuula reflected.

“Your father left Zuula here. Trouble coming for him too,” Zuula said, thinking fast. “Need him if we gonna win this one.”

Garon squinted at her, and his eyes un-narrowed a bit. “You have a plan?”

“Yes,” she lied. “He out at Caradon’s. You go get him!” Zuula tossed him the last sack.

He opened it, and gasped. “This is… you just made a quest out of it? What the heck, Mom?”

“You get bonuses, right? There reward. Don’t spend none until you get you father safe!”

“This is at least…”

“Mordecai maybe not take foolish daughter Mastoya’s money when she send it, but Zuula got no problem with pride. Use it if you need to.”

“All right…” He frowned. “I don’t know if the others have the stamina to get there. I should leave them here-“

Zuula almost howled in frustration. “Unclever child! You be talking to shaman! Get them in here!”

After a few frenzied minutes, the crew was assembled. They’d left Beryl back in town to warn her family, so she was out of the equation, but Celia was looking ragged, Jarrik was wobbling, and even Bak’shaz, her little ball of energy, was drooping a bit.

Zuula sighed. “Gonna use the heavy stuff.”

Garon’s eyes flew wide open. “Whoa, mom, no, that stuff is-“

“Then make sure they don’t never get it again. Not for about five years or so.” Zuula reached into the bundle of herbs on the wall, pulled out a bright green and orange one that almost seemed to almost glow with slickness, and threw it in the fire. Smoke billowed up, and the children coughed as it filled their lungs.

When the smoke died down, they were vibrating, literally vibrating as the boards underneath them rattled.

“What is this?” Celia said, staring at her fingers. “I feel so weird… status?”

There was a pause, as the other brothers did so, all save Garon who palmed his face.

“Um…” Celia frowned at the air, blinking five times faster than she normally could. “What is the ‘high’ condition, please? And why is everything all weird colors?”

“You don’t want to know,” Garon said. “Come on, let’s go before it wears off. Forced March!”

Zuula watched them go, then sucked in the smoke with a few deep breaths. The old familiar smell hit her again, peeling a year or two off her lifespan and filling her veins with fire. Being a shaman, with the poison resistance she had, it carried more benefits than the agility and stamina restore and buff it had given the children. It also added to her perception. And right now her heightened ears heard the flap of leathery wings in the distance and the tromp of metal-shod feet.

She stepped outside, seeing the air swirl with smoke, seeing through the darkness as clearly as if it was day. Better, even. Darkspawn was a good trait, about half the time.

“Call Winds,” she said, waving her good club in the air, and the distant howling changed, started to grow as they peeled away from the mountains and gathered behind her. In the distance a storm rose, a good ways west. For now.

Then, before she could regret it, Zuula clamped the mask on her face. It bit into her, taking its toll in blood.

“Slow Regeneration,” she gasped, casting her buffs before her mind could go to the place the mask sent it to. “Beastly Skill Borrow, Owl! Call Vines! Call Thorns! Fast… ah… hah, hahahhaha…” She laughed, as the mask became her, and she became it.

“Come then!” She roared, in three voices at once, raising her club to the air. “Come and die!”

*****

THE SCOUT

Mordecai approached Caradon’s house with caution, caution that turned into concern, as he stepped out of the woods. Half the windows were broken, one wall was covered with holes, and the yard was filled with bloodstains and fur.

Mordecai knelt down, looked at it. “Manticore?” he gasped in disbelief. Then the old scout remembered what he’d taught so many others, and stepped back into cover, fading into the trees as he activated his camouflage. Wind’s Whisper, he thought, and the skill activated. “Caradon, ya in there? Give me a sign if it’s safe ta come in,” Mordecai mouthed.

After a pause, a bedsheet waved from one of the upper story windows.

Mordecai walked into the lower room. The table was on the floor, legs shattered, and the chairs were scattered kindling. A glass picture frame lay shattered and spiderwebbed on the table remnants. All the pictures and trinkets on the mantle lay scattered about, and the floor around the fireplace was scorched so badly that he could see the basement through it. Smoke filled the air.

And Emmet was nowhere to be seen.

The stairs looked broken, gaping gaps where some steps should be, and jagged nailed boards sticking up from impact craters. Emmet had done that, Mordecai could tell.

“Run Silent,” Caradon shouted from upstairs.

“Run Deep!” Mordecai shouted back. “What the hell, Caradon?”

“Get upstairs!”

Mordecai leaped, caught the upper railing, and flipped himself over, hatchet out and ready for trouble. Then he relaxed. Nobody but the old man was up here, his senses told him. And two things moving clumsily, one big and one tiny. Animi or golems, and the big one was Emmet.

“Invite Golem,” he heard Caradon mutter, as he entered the old man’s room. Books lay strewn all over the place, one of the windows was broken, manticore spines were embedded in the wall across from the window, and Caradon turned to him with a sigh, putting down his cards. “Still not responding to that,” Caradon explained, beaming. “Probably intelligence related. She can’t read or speak, I bet that’s why!” The golem maker said, standing and waving his hands. His clothing was torn, his apron hanging askew.

“What happened?”

“I succeeded.” Caradon smiled. “I succeeded.” He pointed at a tiny black teddy bear, who waved back and showed him her cards.

“A grindluck deck? What…” Mordecai’s eyes went wide.

“She came out with minimal luck. That’s what caused all this. Worse than an infant’s, worse than a goblin’s. But she’s up to about twenty-five now. We’ll keep working on that, won’t we Missus Fluffbear?”

“That’s Amelia’s old… bear…” Mordecai blinked.

“Yes. And she works. They’re people, Mordecai. They can gain stats, and I’m pretty sure they can gain class levels.”

“Going by tha last teddy bear you made, yeah, yeah they can.”

“Oh, did he pick up something? That’s nice,” Caradon said. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and I need you to stand guard.”

“Did he pick up something? What are ya talkin’ about? You mean you didn’t give him tha rul…” Mordecai froze. “Wait, guard? What are you-“

“It works. And I know what I did wrong. I’m going to give Emmet the upgrade, I’ve got just enough sanity left for that.”

Mordecai froze. “Caradon…”

“He’s a superior golem, Toy Golems are at the bottom of the chain. Armor golems will surely have superior luck!”

“Caradon-“

“These are our hopes and dreams, Mordecai! Moreso than we ever planned! It’s a chance, it’s our only chance, and every minute I delay is a minute that the King’s forces draw around us! Balmoran has fallen, Mordecai, and this is our only hope! This is Celia’s only hope!” Cardon’s fist hit the table.

Missus Fluffbear tried to give him more cards.

“What? No, thank you.” Caradon said, momentarily distracted. He turned back to the old scout. “Look, we can handle this.”

“This is a bad idear,” Mordecai said.

“I’m low on sanity, just enough for the upgrade, but I’ve got ten years worth of spare scrolls downstairs. You stand guard, I’ll chip in if necessary, and Emmet will grind his luck through fighting or cards. We can do this. I just spent the day doing it, and this was a worst-case scenario. Help me, Mordecai. Please, help me.”

“It’s a bad idear, ya. Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna do it. We come this far on bad idears, why stop now?” Mordecai sighed, pulling out his bow. “Dark as a witch’s asscrack out there, but I should be able to hear most things comin’. Lemme go get them scrolls for ya. Where are they?”

“Downstairs in my study. A book entitled Keep an Ace in the Hole.”

“I’ll go get them for ya, then set up on the roof. Good luck, old man.”

“You too, old man.”

Mordecai leaped down to the floor below, as Caradon thundered behind him.

“Greater Golem Upgrade!”

The book was empty. Mordecai stared at the hollow space where a bunch of scrolls had once been.

“Caradon!” he shouted.

Then the first lightning bolt struck the house, as the storm built overhead.

*****

THE ENEMY

Jericho stared at his hands.

He could only see them due to his enhanced perception, and the Sensate-created illusions they were hiding behind didn’t help matters. It was dark out here, Dark as a Witch’s asscrack, he remembered his mentor saying, on nights like this.

His mentor, the traitor.

Jericho hadn’t wanted to believe it, but there the old man was, up on the roof of the house, dodging lightning bolts and firing at the Spirewolf pack below.

Up the line, past his unit and the next two, the King paced back and forth, his crimson plate cloaked and silenced by yet more illusions.

They’d been waiting for hours. The army had rolled in at the beginning of the night, but the King hadn’t given the order yet.

“What are we waiting for?” Yules said in the party whisper. Jericho could just see her blonde crewcut, crouched among the reeds of the riverbank. He’d have to talk to her about that later, she really should have hidden better.

“We’re waiting on demons, I hear,” Zanzibar replied. His dark skin made him almost invisible, only his white, white eyes giving him away. Top marks.

Jericho wanted to tell them to shut up, to keep the chatter down, but he suppressed it. He was their Captain, and a little pre-op chatter was to be expected. He’d always given them a free hand, more so than Courtly doctrine was comfortable with, but he found he got better troops out of it. After all, it had worked with him.

Just like Mordecai did with you, back in training, the thought curled around Jericho’s brain.

Yules continued. “Demons. Wonder if it’ll be imps. Or hellhounds.”

“Those are the least kind,” Moony said. He’d been a cultist, once upon a time. And not the sanctioned kind, which was why he was working off his crimes in service. “The worst ones are the ones that look human.”

“Now why’s that?” Zanzibar wondered.

“Demons are from the outside. They have no way to understand this world, unless they’re the greatest of lords, or they’re bound by a pact, or both. And to seal the pact, you have to give it the head and heart of something. Not the body, just the head and heart. Takes a bird or a bat, to pact an imp. Kill a dog, get a hellhound. So to get one that looks human…”

“You can stop there,” Yules said.

But Moony didn’t. “They get the memories, some of them, if the brain’s intact. They get the senses, and the perspectives, and some people think they get the souls, too. But the ones that look human are the worst. They come back wrong…”

“Enough,” Jericho said, looking up the line. “The Inquisitor is here.”

And there she was, walking up to the King, dressed simply in her white-furred coat and high traveling boots. She put a hand on his shoulder, and pointed back towards town.

But Moony kept talking. “There’s always been talk, you know, of the Fallen Six. Of why they had closed-casket funerals. Why the king had all their portraits destroyed…”

“Stow it, Moony! Look alive!”

The Inquisitor ambled over to them, and nodded.

“I’m with your unit tonight, gentlemen.” She brushed back long, straight black hair with one red-nailed hand. “You have your orders. Let’s go do this.”

Jericho nodded, and the horns blew, as the legion started forward. Scouts in the vanguard, and Jericho and the rest of the ninth were among them, leaping over the rocks in the river’s ford, and charging up the hill. He saw Mordecai’s head snap toward them, as lightning flared, but then they were in the treeline and charging past the first Raggedy Man. It raked out at Zanzibar and the scout cried out, twisted aside, and nocked an arrow.

“Leave it and keep moving!” Jericho bellowed. The Raggedy Man pursued, but stopped as the first wave of infantry hit it, heavy shields dripping from the ford, swords rising and falling as they clustered around the wood golem. It turned and lashed out with thorny hands, sending troopers flying, but more closed in, and around the perimeter Jericho knew the other units were doing the same.

Then he was out and into the clearing, as the first of the three dragon knights they’d brought flew overhead, breath flaring to illuminate the area. Mordecai was gone from the roof, and Jericho’s eyes tightened. “Camouflage!” he snapped, and the scouts faded from view one by one.

Unconcerned, the Inquistor sauntered across the bloody lawn… up until she reached the door, then blue sparks flew from the handle as she tried to turn it.

Sneering, she pulled out a scroll. “Dispel Enchantment,” she told it, and magic flared, and dissipated.

Shouts from the left, and arrows flew out of the trees, into the unit following. “Rapid Fire!” Jericho heard Mordecai yell, and he held his breath and ducked low as a spray of arrows flew from the trees, into the infantry unit following behind. Men screamed and fell back. Casting a glance backward, the Inquisitor moved through the doorway, and Jericho followed. “Give me a perimeter!” he hissed over the Party Whisper.

“On it, Captain!” Yules said, and the rest acknowledged, but by then Jericho was in the wrecked front room of the house, moving from doorway to doorway, securing the area. “People moving upstairs,” he sent a Wind’s Whisper to the Inquisitor.

But the woman was stopped, by the ruin of a table. Crouched low, she held a picture frame in both hands, staring at a portrait through shattered glass.

“Miss, we need to move, you’re in danger,” Jericho tried again.

“No, Mr. Scout,” Anise said, rising up, still holding the twisted frame, staring at the distorted image through shattered glass. “I’m as safe as if I was in my own house.”

CRIK… CRAKK… CRUNCH. With inexorable strength, the woman broke the frame, ripping it and the portrait below into pieces. She tossed them into the smoldering coals of the blocked fireplace.

“What? Who’s there! Mordecai!” Came a bellow from upstairs, and the Inquistior waved a hand in Jericho’s direction.

She can see me? A chill ran down his spine.

“Go play with the old fool outside. I’ll handle the one in here,” she told him, leaping up to the second story.

Jericho nodded, and got outside just in time to see one of the dragons bellow, and fall from the sky, wings torn off by glowing arrows.

Jericho closed his eyes, and drew his bow tight. “All right, boys and girls,” he told his squad. “I want him taken alive.”

*****

THE SHAMAN

They came, with the runes on their armor suppressed, without torches, not that they needed them. Behind the unit of soldiers, Taylor’s Delve burned, sending smoke and fire far up into the sky.

Just one more house, Grant figured, then they’d be done with it. Bad for morale, running down civilians and killing them, but he’d done worse in the North. Besides, they were all traitors. And he had his orders, there, with the King’s Declaration of War buffing all his fighting stats. Death to Traitors, it said, and that was their job tonight.

A dragon flew overhead, heavy wings beating. The first pass had shown only darkness, its rider had reported.

“Gonna kill us some piggers,” one of the footmen next to Grant said “Gonna roast ‘em up and hear ‘em squeal. Makin’ bacon.”

Grant shot him a look. “Shut up.”

“Just saying, I bet they smell like ham when they burn.”

Grant’s fist crashed into the footman’s helm, and the idiot fell like a poleaxed cow. Grant didn’t even break stride.

“What the shit? What the shit was that about?” The idiot was saying as he got up, and Grant heard Boyle and Kaney restrain him.

“The Grand Knight’s a pigger, you idiot,” Kaney hissed. “Lucky she ain’t here yet! Say that word around her you’re dead!”

They made it out into the clearing, and the crude little hut on the hill. Smoke seeped out of it, and for a second, Grant wondered if the family that lived here had saved him the trouble. He was running without scouts this time, for reasons that hadn’t been made clear to him, so he was running blind and pissed about it.

“Come out with your hands over your head! By order of the King!” he called.

No answer.

He started forward-

-and the winds whipped up, as thunder roared across the clearing, as the freakish storm that had suddenly sprung up to theweast roared in, pounding rain and hail, and instantly visibility went straight to hell.

The fires of the town were rendered down to a shrinking glow, and the night pressed in…

And a voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere.

“Stupid boys…” It hissed, and Grant turned, barking orders, spreading his squad into a perimeter.

“Unclever girls…” the voice growled, and somewhere behind Grant, Kaney screamed.

“Come out and show yourself!” Grant barked.

“You come to kill an orc? You come to kill an orc in the night?”

Then the drums started all around them, and the rain fell harder as the soldiers screamed in the darkness…

*****

THE CHILD

“This is as far as I’m going,” Garon shouted, ending the forced march.

“What? No!” Celia shouted, staring in horror.

Ahead of them, a half-mile upriver, the forest burned. Two dragons wheeled overhead, one rider gone and the other slumped in his saddle. They were visible due to the fires that roared and billowed among the pines, glinting off of corpses in armor, and showing figures rushing back and forth through the trees.

“Yes!” Garon said. “Go and save Dad! Your Dad too!” Garon turned, and started back. “I’m going to get Mom. We can meet back at Oblivion Point, now go! Forced March!”

“But…” Celia gave up, as he sped off down the river. Already enhanced by his movement buff, the weird smoke he’d inhaled supercharged his agility. There was no stopping him, and no catching up to him.

“Come on! Follow me an’ be quiet!” Jarrik commanded, and they waded through the trees and the chaos.

Amazingly, somehow, they managed to navigate the chaos and get to the side of the house. Crouched down, hidden by the remaining bushes, they were secure for the minute. Celia froze, as she saw the remaining windows shake, as a great, hollow bellow of reverberating metal came pouring out from the structure. Flames licked at the other side of the house where a dragon had sprayed it with its breath during a pass.

“I hear Dad!” Jarrik said, pointing off in the woods.

“You!” Caradon shouted from upstairs. “What is this? What the hell is this?” The old man’s voice held a pain Celia had never heard, and she panicked, her somewhat herb-jumbled mind dropping to the worst conclusions.

“We have to save Daddy!” She insisted. The boys shot her a look, looked at each other…

…then looked at the black armored guards, walking out of the burning building’s front door. They saluted in unison, as a huge man in red armor, glowing with almost its own malevolence, walked up the hill. Great horns rose from his helm, his featureless visor turning from side to side as he strode forward, sword out and shield leering, showing a moving, demonic face. Hellish images glowed in the firelight as he strode forward, not bothering to step over the bodies in his path, grinding the corpses of the fallen under his heel as he went.

“Oh my gods,” Celia hissed.

“We can’t take him,” Jarrik said. He pointed at the back porch. “Get to the second story from the overhang, get your Daddy out! We’ll need Dad to get us out of here. We’ll go get him. Use Wind’s Whisper when you’ve got him and we’ll figure out a way to escape. Go!”

Celia nodded dumbly. She threw Threadbare up to the porch overhang, then grabbed a few chairs and piled them together. “Go make sure it’s clear!” She hissed at Threadbare.

Threadbare nodded, and slipped through the broken window. He ran down the hall, just as Emmet burst out of one of the rooms the little bear had never entered. For a second, the toy golem and the armor golem stared at each other, kindred soul to kindred soul.

“Command Gol-,” Threadbare heard Caradon croak from back in the room, before the sound of flesh hitting flesh interrupted him.

“Oh do shut up, old man,” came a familiar woman’s voice. “Let’s see…” Paper crinkled. “Command Golem. Go out of this building with your hands up and do nothing once you’re out.”

Emmet stomped toward the stairs and fell off the railing, with an enormous crash. A lot of yelling came from downstairs, and Threadbare realized that hey, there were guards inside the house too.

“Is it clear?” Celia whispered from the end of the hallway.

Threadbare toddled back and shook his head no. No, the direct approach seemed to be pretty much suicide.

WIS +1

“Ohhhh… Fump it!” Celia swore. She glanced up. “The attic window’s broken. Come on, let’s move.”

It took some careful balancing and scrambling to get up into the attic. Half of the house was burning, and the heat sweltered down on them as they scrambled through the boxes and crates, until they heard voices. Celia lay down, and squinted through the cracks. Threadbare did too.

They saw Caradon, in his bedroom, laying against the wall. He was bruised and battered and bloody, with his apron torn and tools spilling around him. Next to the old man, squatting on her haunches, with one red-nailed hand wrapped around his throat, was a familiar figure.

“You!” Celia gasped, then covered her mouth.

Anise Layd’i looked up. She squinted, as Celia pulled away from the crack, covering her mouth…

Metal-shod boots clanked, boards creaking below, as the crimson-armored behemoth stomped into view. Celia looked back, sighed silently in relief as she saw Anise standing, looking away from the ceiling… a sigh that turned to a gasp as she saw the armored man wasn’t alone. Five twisted black blades orbited him, the demonic faces on them gibbering and looking around with glowing green eyes as they circled and looped.

She knew that spell. Sort of… It was Animus Blade, but what kind of blades were those?

“You…” Caradon hissed with a venom Celia had never heard before. “You son of a bitch.” The old man stood, and Anise stood with him.

“Are we alone?” The demon knight said, his voice deep and unearthly.

“No,” Anise said, and pointed upward. “The girl.”

Horns tilted as the man glanced upward and that was all the warning they had.

Celia shrieked as five blades punched a hole in the ceiling around her, then shifted clockwise, cutting through the floor.

Before she or Threadbare could do anything, the girl fell through the floor, into the room below.

No! Celia!

Threadbare threw himself through the hole, going after her-

-and one of the demon blades twisted, blurred into position under him, and shot upward.

SHUNK!

CON +1

Your Golem Body Skill is now level 20!

Your Toughness Skill is now level 12!

Max HP +2

The sword pinned Threadbare to the roof of the attic. The blade sunk in easily and kept on going, until the hilt slammed against him, stuffing spilling out, spraying to either side of him as he felt the blade rip through.

He hung there, suspended, as a red ‘159’ filled his vision, and floated up through the ceiling.

“You leave Daddy alone!” Celia yelled, shouting, going red in the face as she ran to Caradon and hugged him.

The old man, staggered, clasped Celia to his apron. He stared at the demon knight, and the womanlike thing that smiled serenely next to the intruder.

“Please, just let us go!” Celia howled.

“I can’t do that, Cecelia,” The demon knight rumbled. He waved his hand, and his whirring blades fell silent one by one, landing in a clatter on the floor. The one holding Threadbare blackened as he stared at it, green eyes fading out and fiendish face twitching before it fell still. But it was still stuck in him, holding him suspended above the people below.

“It’s time to go,” the demon knight continued. “Here. Invite Cecelia. I’ll explain everything.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Yes you are. It’s time to go home.”

“This is my home!”

“Judging by those flames, not for very much longer,” Anise said, smling serenely. A smile that turned to a gasp of pain, as the Demon Knight glared at her, and a yellow ‘84’ floated out from her.

“Now is not the time for your twisted brand of humor, dear.”

“Sorry love,” Anise caressed his visor, pretending to forgive the moxie damage he’d just dealt her. “I’ll behave for now.”

“What did you do to her,” Caradon rumbled, finding his courage in outrage. “Why is that thing wearing Amelia’s face!”

“Wait, what?” Celia whipped her tear-stained face away from his apron. “You’re… my mother?”

Anise winked at Celia.

“No, it’s… run, Celia! Run!” Caradon shoved her toward a window-

-and the armored figure shook his head. “Animus, invite sheets,” he said before the little girl could react. The sheets peeled off of the wrecked bed and wrapped Celia before she could escape.

Caradon grimaced. “Ani-“

Anise punched him, and he fell, with a bloody nose.

“This is pathetic, old man,” The demon knight said. “Especially against your own family.”

“You’re no blood of mine!” Caradon growled, hand over his nose.

“No. But I’m blood of hers,” The figure said, pointing to Celia. “And you’ve kept her from me long enough.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Celia said, from her binding among the sheets.

“He never told you, did he?”

“Told me what?”

“Don’t listen!” Caradon shouted, then Anise was hauling him up, and wrapping her hand around his mouth.

The demon knight bowed his head. Then he reached back behind his helm. “Hello Cecelia…”

And as clasps fell away, the big man lifted away the horned helm, revealing a stern face, almost luminescent green eyes, and a manelike spray of red, frizzy hair.

The same kind of hair that Celia combed every morning, and had wrestled with all her life.

“…I’m your father,” said King Melos Ragandor the First.

Name: Threadbare
Age: 9 days Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 9
Bear Level 6
Ruler Level 3
Scout Level 3
Tailor Level 3
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1
Duellist Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 68 Constitution: 72 Hit Points: 33/194 Armor: 28
Intelligence: 46 Wisdom: 76(81) Sanity: 121(126) Mental Fortitude: 18
Dexterity: 35 Agility: 51 Stamina: 96 Endurance: 38
Charisma: 52(57) Willpower: 36 Moxie: 88(93) Cool: 20(30)
Perception: 57 Luck: 49 Fortune: 106 Fate: 9

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 20 (21)
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 15
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 8
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 16
Forage - 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 1
Scents and Sensibility - 10
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 12

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 10
Clean and Press - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 1
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 1
Zombies - Level 1

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 1 (Brawling) Equipment

Rod of Baronly Might (Level 5 Club, +5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool) Quests

The End of Innocence 3

THE HEIR

“What?” Celia said, shocked beyond belief. “That makes no sense! I… no.”

“Tell her, Caradon,” Melos said, sitting heavily on one of the room’s few remaining intact chairs. “Tell her how you’ve been lying to her all these years.”

Celia looked up to Caradon-

-and saw the old man bow his head. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Daddy?” She whispered, feeling hope sink in her chest. Feeling the first sting of betrayal.

Sighing, Melos gestured, and the sheets holding Celia fell away. She took a few hesitant steps, then ran to stand before Caradon. She stared up at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending.

“Celia…” Caradon started, then choked. He cleared his throat, opened his eyes, and the pain within them made her flinch back. “I’m your grandfather. Amelia was my daughter, not my wife.”

“You raised Amelia well, Caradon. But you never did like me much.” Melos shrugged. “Not that it mattered. She loved me.”

“And you killed her!” Caradon found his anger once more, his hands whipping out, grabbing fast to Celia’s shoulders.

“Ouch! Dad-” Celia bit her tongue. She couldn’t call him that anymore, could she? Then what he’d said sunk in. “You! Did you…”

“No!” Melos looked shocked. “No, no no no no. I swear to you, I swear!” The armored figure fell to his knees, stretching out a gauntleted hand. Celia flinched back, and pain flashed across the demon knight’s face. Then his visage hardened, and he glared up at Caradon. “Was that what you told her, you old fool?”

“I told her nothing of her father.” Caradon said, his own face harder than stone. “And please, I can read between the lines. Six heroes go down into the dungeon, and the dark knight alone returns alive. Then the King ‘mysteriously’ passes away. And who takes the throne, but the lone survivor?”

“You have no idea what went on down there, old man. You have no idea how I lost my wife!” Melos roared, climbing to his feet, glaring down at Caradon’s stooped frame. “How I lost the few people in this world who trusted me!”

Celia tore from Caradon’s grasp, and ran to the corner, huddling, her hands over her head. “Stop it stop it stop it! Please stop fighting! Please just… stop…”

Above them, Threadbare stirred.

He didn’t quite understand the situation, not in its entirety, but Celia needed him.

Slowly, carefully, he tried to work the blade loose. But he had no leverage. He put his paws against the ceiling and pushed, trying to get it to come out of the wood…

Rriiiippp…

A red 3 floated up, and he stopped. He was too soft, and the cut was too wide. He couldn’t wiggle free of the blade without damaging himself. He bent over as best he could, staring at the hilt. How? How could he get off this without literally tearing himself apart?

Below him, Melos was talking again. “I’m… sorry, Celia. But the truth hurts, and there are things we must set straight now. I don’t want…” He palmed his face. “I never wanted this.” He said, waving a hand at the house, the destruction, Caradon’s battered form… and the creature beside him, who was currently filing her nails. She looked up, put the nail file away, and smiled cheerfully at him.

“You’re doing fine, my love. It’ll work out.”

“I seem to recall ordering you to never lie to me.”

“And I’ve kept that pact. Master.” She’d never said who it would work out for, after all.

“She wears her face!” Caradon roared, his face blotching red. “She speaks in Amelia’s voice! What did you do, you blasphemous…” The old man’s anger faded, burned through him like a wildfire. “What did you do?” he whispered.

“What I had to, Caradon. I’ve always ever done what I had to and only that. Which is why my friends trusted me, they knew I only did what I had to. You never saw that, in your self-righteousness. In your arrogance.”

“Please just stop,” Celia whispered again.

Threadbare tried another wiggle, and tore another seam. Stuffing spilled out, and a fleck drifted past Caradon’s head, just as Melos shifted to look at Celia.

Caradon looked up.

Hope filled his eyes, and he spoke under his breath, barely a whisper.

And words flashed in front of Threadbare.

Caradon Gearhart has Invited you to join his party! Do you wish to accept? y/n?

And the old man’s eyes filled with hope, as Threadbare thought yes. Hope and pride, for his wayward creation, for the first time ever.

Melos spoke again. “Do you know that I was the one who sent her to you, Caradon?”

“What? Impossible! Amelia…”

“Amelia was dead. I put her ashes in an urn, and entrusted her and Cecelia to Emmet. It took the last command golem scroll she’d left behind, but I sent him on to you. I knew you wouldn’t trust me if I showed up with her, but you’d trust Emmet when he showed up with your infant granddaughter crying in his arms. You’d helped make him, after all, you and my wife, working together.”

“You were the one? Why?” Caradon paled. “I wondered, but I figured… some sort of failsafe…”

Meanwhile, above him, Threadbare found his form charged with power he could barely imagine! The old man had two skills that applied, one from animator that charged his personal creations in his party with power proportionate to his will, and one from golemist that buffed up any golems in his party.

But though they raised all of Threadbare’s attributes and his maximum HP, they did nothing for his wounds.

Threadbare tried to tug the sword free again, but even with his strength, he had no leverage. And as he turned to put his paws on the ceiling again, his buffed intelligence told him that he’d literally rip himself in two if he wasn’t careful, so very careful with this.

Fortunately, his agility had just gotten the biggest buff it had ever had. He started to squirm again…

“I sent her to you as soon as I knew I had to take the throne. I knew I had enemies, and would have more, who would strike at me through her. And I knew you would raise her right.” Melos sighed. “And I wanted you to have some time with your granddaughter, old man. I’m not the monster you think I am. I just use monsters.” He gestured, the demonic faces in his armor leering and gnashing their teeth. “But as hideous as demons are, they pale next to the evil that men do. When I found out that you’d turned traitor, started helping the resistance, I gritted my teeth and let it be. You were old, senile, but I’m used to spite. I kept a watch on you and let you be. But then I beat Balmoran, and captured the Earl. He talked before he died, Caradon. He told me of the betrothal. Of how you’d planned to marry Celia to the son of my most treacherous enemy!”

Celia lowered her hands. Face puffy from tears, her body shaking like a leaf, she stared at Caradon. “What?”

The house groaned and shook, and Melos shot a glance back. “Party screen,” Caradon muttered, then he paled. He shot a look up at Threadbare, and shook his head. “Stop,” he mouthed. He’d seen Threadbare’s hit points. He knew what would happen if the teddy dropped now.

Unnoticed, Anise followed his gaze, glanced up to Threadbare as well. She smiled, then turned her eyes to Celia, drinking in the girl’s shifting expression.

“Betrothal?” Celia asked.

Caradon flinched. “We had to… we had to keep you safe. We thought he would win…”

“He promised Balmoran an army of golems, with you commanding them. And your bloodline to theirs, so they had a legitimate heir to the throne.” Melos said. “But that’s neither here nor there. Now I have Emmet, upgraded to its full potential. And I have you, and with Balmoran gone, we are finally, finally safe.”

“I don’t feel safe at all,” Celia said, shivering. “I’ll never feel safe again.”

And Threadbare writhed, to hear the pain in her voice. He reached out again, as another seam gave, and a red 5 spilled past his head. But he couldn’t get past the hilt that trapped him in place.

“Come. Anise, take her home. I’ll get Caradon into custody.”

Celia stepped back into the corner. “I don’t… I don’t know… Who to trust…”

“It’s a moot point,” Melos said. “You have to come with me now, and you don’t have the power to stop me. That’s how the world works. It hurts me too. I have to do what I must and I hate it. That’s what growing up’s all about, Celia. That’s what Caradon has been sheltering you from. But we have far too much to do. We have responsibilities, and-oh just go with her Anise, that fucking fire is going to drop the wall in a few minutes.”

Celia shook, as Anise approached, offering one red-nailed hand. Her head twisted back and forth between Melos and Caradon. “You won’t hurt him? Please? If I go with you willingly you won’t hurt him?”

“I won’t hurt him. But he must answer for his crimes. You won’t see him again for a very long time, I’m afraid.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She gave Anise her hand. Anise handed the scrolls off to Melos, pulled out a crystal, and threw it to the floor. “Teleport Castle Cylvania,” she declared.

And in a flash, both of them were gone.

Threadbare sagged.

Here he was, filled with the most strength and resilience he’d ever had, and he was powerless to stop it. Any of it.

The fire raged on, snapping and popping, filling the room with smoke as Melos stared at Caradon.

“I’m not going into custody, am I-” Caradon’s speech cut off as Melos crossed the room in two fast strides, grabbed him, and shoved something in his mouth. Caradon gagged and coughed, but the demon knight forced him to swallow.

“What… wha…” Caradon twitched.

“Numbing powder. I won’t hurt you because you won’t feel a thing.” Melos pulled out a curvy dagger, and put Caradon on the bed, just out of Threadbare’s sight. “The perks of being a cultist, you learn to say things very, very carefully. I promised Celia I wouldn’t hurt you, and that she wouldn’t see you again for a very long time. She won’t, she’ll have a long life ahead of her. You’ll have plenty of time to reminisce with her in the afterlife.”

“So you’re killing me… for… vengeance?” Caradon gasped out.

“No. You leave me in a hard spot, old man. I have to do something horrible, because of you. You see, you’re the only Golemist left in the kingdom. The only one who’s cracked the unlock for that. You had the right idea with an army of golems, after all. Golems don’t betray you. Golems don’t lie. I could use an army of loyal, tireless, honest monsters. And I don’t think you’re going to teach me golemist, are you? Not even if I ask nicely.”

Silence for a bit. Melos barked joyless laughter. “I figured. And I’ll need it to teach Celia, for her to follow in her mother’s footsteps, since you held her back too long. I can’t trust you near her, Caradon. You spoiled her for too long. You made her weak. I’ll make her strong, so strong, and I’ll hand her a kingdom all of her own. But first, I need golemist from you. Fortunately before I became a ruler, I was a cultist. And we have a ritual, just for this.”

“You… bas…trrrrd….” Caradon slurred.

“It works a bit easier if I’m in your party, but you’ll never invite me so oh well. Still, it should do. You’re all alone here, Caradon. Golems can’t learn, Amelia taught me that, so it’s just you and me. The rite will benefit the closest person if you’re not in a party, and well, here we are. Any last words?”

“Go to Hell….”

“Every night, Caradon. Every night. Rite of Reclamation!”

Words popped up in next to Threadbare’s head.

CARADON GEARHART HAS OFFERED YOU A PRIVATE QUEST

DETAILS: SAVE CELIA. I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. I AM PROUD OF YOU, MY SON.

REWARD: NINE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY TWO EXPERIENCE POINTS

COMPLETION: WHEN CELIA IS SAFE

DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N

Yes. Yes he would. He didn’t know how he would do it, but he would.

Threadbare shuddered, as he heard wet noises below him, and Caradon fell silent for the last time.

But the King was not silent. The King was bellowing in rage.

More words flashed all around Threadbare, filling up his sight.

Through blasphemous ritual you have unlocked the Animator job!

Would you like to become an Animator at this time? y/n?

Through blasphemous ritual you have unlocked the Enchanter job!

Would you like to become an Enchanter at this time? y/n?

Through blasphemous ritual you have unlocked the Golemist job!

Would you like to become a Golemist at this time? y/n?

Through blasphemous ritual you have unlocked the Wizard job!

Would you like to become a Wizard at this time? y/n?

Through blasphemous ritual you have unlocked the Smith job!

Would you like to become a Smith at this time? y/n?

Yes! Yes to all of those! Those jobs would give him the strength he needed to save Celia!

You are now a level 1 Animator!

+3 DEX

+3 INT

+3 WILL

You have learned the Animus skill!

Your Animus skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Command Animus skill!

Your Command Animus skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Creator’s Guardians skill!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Eye for Detail skill!

Your Eye for Detail skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Mend skill!

Your Mend skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 1 Enchanter!

+3 DEX

+3 INT

+3 WILL

You have learned the Appraise skill!

Your Appraise skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Glowgleam skill!

Your Glowgleam skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Harden skill!

Your Harden skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Soften skill!

Your Soften skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Spellstore I skill!

Your Spellstore I skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 1 Golemist!

+5 INT

+5 WILL

You have learned the Command Golem skill!

Your Command Golem skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Golem Animus skill!

Your Golem Animus skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Invite Golem skill!

Your Invite Golem skill is now level 1!

You have learned the Toy Golem Construction skill!

Your Toy Golem Construction skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 1 Smith!

STR +1

CON +1

You have learned the “Refine Ore” skill!

But the last one came up with words he’d never seen before.

You cannot learn the wizard job at this time, all adventuring slots are full!

Seek out your guild to forget an existing job!

Nothing to help his strength or constitution! He wasn’t in much of a better situation Threadbare realized, mind churning with the enhanced power from his buffs. He had to think fast, figure a way off of this stupid sword before-

Your party has been disbanded.

-and there went his stat boosts.

Below him, Melos put two and two together and got fifty-seven.

“The Scout!” he hissed. He rushed from the room. “Take the scout alive! I want him alive!”

Grimly, Threadbare considered his chances. He could probably do it, he thought. One last good lunge, hope it didn’t rip him completely open, and he could be off the blade. Then he’d find his way outside, go to find help, and try to communicate matters to Cecilia’s friends. It would be hard, but they could find a way to save her. He would find a way to save his little girl!

All it would take was one good push, and a little luck…

…a flash of black fur caught his sight. Movement below? Threadbare stared down, as a teddy bear half his size toddled out from where she’d been hiding, and looked around.

Then she looked up at him.

And the house collapsed, as red numbers flashed by Threadbare’s vision and everything went dark…

*****

THE SCOUT

Mordecai sagged in the tree. Out of arrows, out of stamina, out of sanity. His quivers were empty. Through hit and run tactics he’d dragged them off into the trees and the hills, combing wide for him. They’d find him, soon. He’d trained their scouts well.

He’d had to put down his own students, this night. Every corpse who wasn’t armored was a face he recognized, and he hated it. What had it been for? What had it all been for?

Four jobs he’d pulled up from the unlocked jobs section of his status screen and added, strictly for the benefit of getting their level up pool refills. Four times he had refilled his stamina and sanity. Four times he’d gone back in, using One Last Arrow to pull ammunition out of nothing, and channeling his stamina into his other archer skills. He’d harried the troops, worn them down through hit and run tactics, and used Arrows of Light to take down the second dragon. But it had taken everything he had, those four times, and now here he was, hiding in a tree, with men spreading out his way and one more goddamned dragon above.

“Status,” he whispered, and the old scout glared at the jobs he’d grabbed, for no other reason than to buy Caradon time. Alchemist, Assassin, Bandit, and Bard, the first four on the list of options.

Beyond, the house groaned and shivered, and Mordecai closed his eyes as it fell into fiery ruin. His last hope was gone. He’d been buying time for nothing. The king’s voice rung out, ordering him to take the old scout alive. Mordecai wasn’t the brightest man, but he figured he knew who that was.

“Fuck it,” he growled, and below him the King’s scouts twitched at the noise and started toward his section of the forest. “Damned if I’ll give ‘im tha pleasure!”

If you’re going to go out, go out in style. He went down to the job listings, and found the next one in line… and chortled at the appropriateness.

“Yeah…” he drawled.

And then Mordecai was a Berserker.

“Rage!” he bellowed, and leaped from treetop to treetop as the dragon came in. His agility, already off the charts, was boosted as his vision turned crimson, and he leaped up to meet the big beastie, grabbing ahold of its harness and swinging up to meet its very surprised rider. Unfeeling of his wounds, with stamina full to bursting, Mordecai yelled “Headbutt!” and slammed his skull into the rider’s helm.

But no matter how good Mordecai’s attributes were, the Rider wasn’t too far a level from him, and the newly-trained Berserker’s skill was only at level one.

The rider dropped his spear to draw his sword-

-and Mordecai caught it, broke the heavy spear into two, and wailed on the rider with the two improvised clubs, rattling his armor, knocking him free of the dragon. With a wordless howl Mordecai leaped on him and rode him down, watching red numbers fly out of him, riding him onto the mountain and into a tree, clubs flashing as he hammered him to death and beyond.

And as the all-too-short rage faded, and the crimson washed away from his view, he realized that there were words there now.

By attaining level 25 as both a scout and an archer, and killing a foe using two weapon style while in the wilderness, you have unlocked the Ranger job!

Would you like to become a ranger at this time? y/n?

Mordecai stood, stunned, staring at the air. “Yeah,” he whispered.

The ranger skills and stat boosts scrolled by, but he closed his eyes. Decades he’d sought that job, that job that nobody knew how to get anymore, that job that had evaded him for so long. And now, here at his last stand, he’d unlocked it. His jobs were full now, he knew. That was fine.

But seriously, what the hell kind of weird unlock WAS that? What did two weapons even have to do with being a ranger?

“Here! He’s here!”

Grinning, Mordecai whirled. “One Last Arrow!” He snapped, pulling an arrow from what had been an empty quiver a second ago…

….and realized he’d dropped his bow during his berserk rampage. “Shit.”

The scouts dogpiled him, punching and kicking, and he fought, but he was already wounded and tired, so tired, burned through so much stamina in one last mad rush.

Jericho, his own student, looked at him sadly, watching on with his bow down. He had one arrow nocked, just to make sure. Mordecai fought anyway, glaring at him…

…then a rustle in the bushes, and Jericho glared to the left. Mordecai, struggling to get free of the beatings, managed to shoot a look left-

-to see Bak’Shaz looking on with horror. “Run, boy! Run!” Mordecai whispered to him through the wind, and Bak’Shaz withdrew into the underbrush.

Mordecai sagged with relief, which fled as he saw Jericho’s eyes. He saw too!

But Jericho lowered his bow, and nodded once to the old scout. Mordecai bowed his head. He’d taught the lad well, after all.

Five minutes later, bound, he was unceremoniously thrown at the King’s feet. The bare-visaged demonic helm glared down at him, crimson metal gleaming in the light of the burning house.

“You were his last companion, weren’t you? You’ve got that vital job, the one nobody else in this kingdom has. And let me guess, you’ve no intention of teaching it to me.”

Mordecai looked at him. “Yeah,” he said, “Thass right. And the secret dies wi’ me.” He had no clue why the King cared about the ranger job, but he wasn’t about to hand it over to this son of a bitch.

“No lies detected,” one of the armored troops to the King’s left said. The tyrant shook his head.

“Nothing’s ever easy. All right, bring him. We’re done here.”

*****

THE SHAMAN

Zuula struck from the storm, on spirit wings, gliding silently as an owl. She killed, then swept back into the rain-filled night. She’d borrowed owl skills, using her spell, and they came in useful when one wanted to kill quickly and quietly.

Every time she struck another soldier down, she’d call in the thorny vines she’d summoned to rip at another group of soldiesr, keep them panicked and shouting. The totem mask boosted her strength to obscene levels and let her strike down the soldiers with a quick flurry of blows, shattering armor and spilling blood to the ground.

One of the drums in the distance fell silent. “It’s a toy!” She heard one of them shout. “Just an animated toy!” Zuula grinned. The girl had done her job well. She commanded the four remaining drums in her party to pound louder, and dove down to snatch another soldier up. He cried in her arms, turning to look at her, and she jammed the pointy end of her warclub through his visor. He died, choking and she dropped him.

“Burn the trees!” She heard the officer call, and she grinned with wicked glee as she soared back past the treeline, knowing what was about to happen.

The dragon overhead beat massive wings, burst through the rain, and its rider gave a sharp command. Flames billowed forth, coating the trees, coating the hut, coating a few of the screaming soldiers who didn’t get out of the way in time.

And every firework that she’d had Jarrik tie into the treeline went off at once, sending up flares and bursting lights and smoke trails in a hissing, brilliant roar of pyrotechnics.

“Unclever fools!” Zuula boomed, as she flew up, flew up to the dragon, reeling as it threw its rider, reeling as she caught it around the neck, hung on like a monkey, and clamped her club against its windpipe. “You come to kill an orc at night?”

Zuula choked the dragon out, shooting glances back as it died, doing her best to keep an eye on things as it tumbled through the sky, trying to shake her.

It was a good time to get out of the clearing, honestly. The rain was dying down as the winds let up, and more than that, the hut was on fire. The fireworks had been one of the little traps she’d laid.

The hut itself was another, Or rather, the piles and bundles of dried herbs that lined the walls of the hut had been a trap.

By the time Zuula had killed the dragon and flown back to the clearing, billowing greenish fog filled the air. The pattering rain had dispersed it a bit, but without her Poison Resistance, Zuula couldn’t have safely gone back in.

The men who had been stuck breathing the smoke hadn’t been shamans. They didn’t have poison resistance. Zuula found them stumbling around the clearing, hacking at trees and each other, frothing through the visors, and she killed them, one by one. It was hard work and tiring work, and by the time she was done, her buffs were about half gone. So was the smoke, but that was fine, it had done its job.

The middle-aged woman sagged, leaning on her club, feeling sweat pour off her mostly-naked form. Tiring, this. Four children and a lot of days tending the hut had softened her, made her fat. But this wouldn’t be a thing, soon. Soon she could rest.

And more armored forms moving through the woods meant her job wasn’t done yet. Zuula took to the trees again, flying up, silhouetted against the burning hut-

“Dispel magic!” A woman’s voice snapped.

Zuula tumbled to the ground, shorn of her flight in the space of two words. But she pushed it aside, for she had bigger problems.

She knew that voice.

“Mastoya…” she hissed. “Traitor girl! Unclever daughter!”

“Hello mother,” A woman, clad in form-fitting white armor, enameled plates assembled into a spiky mass of metal. She wore no helm, and her face was as green as Zuula’s. But all-too-human eyes found her mother’s, seeing even through the glow of the totem mask, and Zuula felt her stomach roll.

“Stand down, mother.”

“No!”

“I have the authority to take you alive. You and my brothers.”

Zuula sneered. There was only one way this night would end. “You been lied to, or you lying.”

“So that’s it, huh? You’re going to kill me like you did the rest? I knew some of them. Some of them were worth a damn, mother. They didn’t deserve you. Nobody deserves you.” Mastoya drew her sword, blade shining with blue runes, crackling with ice as she pointed it around the clearing.

Zuula hefted the club, and hesitated. She’d built things into the totem mask, yes. She’d built them in there to protect her mate. Protect her tribe. Protect her… family…

The mask’s strength faltered, and Zuula closed her eyes. So this was how it was to be.

“Orc means tribe,” she said to Mastoya, her biggest failure and strongest child. “Orc means family.”

“Well,” Mastoya said, reaching up to run her gauntleted finger along the scars her mother had given her years ago. “You’re half right.”

They fought in the rain, gentle now, too gentle to help. Between the remnants of the fire and the glowing runes of Mastoya’s armor, there was too much light for Zuula’s darkspawn skill to help her. And every time she cast a buff, her daughter would dispel it.

“Corps a Corps! You taught me how to fight you,” Mastoya hissed, as they struggled, blade to club, and the freezing glow sapped Zuula’s stamina. “I’m a cleric now, a priestess of Ritaxis. The Goddess of War!” Mastoya shoved her back, and Zuula staggered, off balance.

“And a knight, too! Pommel Strike!” Mastoya yelled, striking her mask with her heavy hilt. Wood cracked, and Zuula fell back again, trying to regain her footing. But Mastoya would not give her the space, and her blade flashed, getting past Zuula’s guard, carving through her armor and skin and chilling her blood.

Finally, Zuula had enough. “Beast Shape Five! Bear!” The shaman roared, throwing her club to the side and spreading her arms.

“Dispel Mag-shit!” Mastoya yelled, finally out of sanity. In front of her, her mother grew larger. The newly-transformed black bear lashed back at the armored knight, and Mastoya hissed as she fell backward, slipping in the mud.

“You drove me to this!” She yelled, after the third claw swipe ripped along her side, buckling the plates and cracking a rib. “Twisted Rage!” Mastoya screamed…

Zuula fought, but was no match for the raging half-orc. Her daughter’s blade clove into her again and again, and the black bear staggered, slumped to the side, and fell.

Roaring in triumph, Mastoya closed in for the kill, sword raised high, any sense of mercy gone to the fury.

And to her horror, Zuula saw a figure racing through the mud, a familiar figure running, axe out, rage shining in his own eyes. Garon, her second son, come too late, far too late and at the worst time. She had failed! Her child would die!

“Run, unclever boy! Run!” Zuula croaked.

And then all was bloody darkness.

*****

THE CAT

Well, that had been a mess. Pulsivar had marked that new little bear for trouble, and fled at the first opportunity, retreating far back into the woods. Then there had been shouting, and fighting, and a whole lot of stuff he was quite sure was absolutely not anything to do with him. The rain had been unpleasant, too, while it lasted.

Those big scaly burny things in the sky had been right fucking out, though. Pulsivar drew the line at those things. He’d fled further, up into the hills, to his favorite sunning spot where he could overlook his domain and pee upon it freely. There he crouched, grooming himself sternly as a rebuke to the silly hoomins below.

It took quite a while to get done, so he took a nap. Tiring, climbing up this high. Took a lot of work. He hoped his hoomin appreciated all the trouble Pulsivar had gone through.

He woke hungry and killed a songbird on his way down, to whet his appetite until he got to his bowl of cream. He did hope his hoomin was prompt with it, sure, there had been some trouble last night but whatever. One had to have priorities, after all, and Pulsivar was sure that the old man had learned that by now.

The house wasn’t.

The house was a smoldering wreck.

Pulsivar stared at it, tail twitching.

Well, shit.

His cream was going to be late!

*****

THE HEIR

LUCK +1

The word rolled across his view, in total darkness.

Threadbare had no way of knowing that he’d been just lucky enough, that the house had collapsed in just the right way to drop him into the basement without killing him.

Cautiously, he felt around. His life was literally hanging by a thread, he knew.

Then another paw tapped his. Smaller, hesitant, it tapped him then felt up his body. He felt something smaller hug him, and he hugged it back.

Golden light flared.

You have healed Missus Fluffbear 90 points!

In the brief flash of light, he saw the little black teddy bear, now good as new, studying him. Then the light faded. Missus Fluffbear. That was a good name.

Two little black paws found him in the darkness again, and started to tug-

-and Threadbare remembered, with a flash of horror, how he’d accidentally killed the stuffed skunk when he was trying to free it.

A red one floated up and he twitched, feeling something give way inside him.

It would be a just death. An ironic death.

He was so very hurt. So very tired. For a minute he thought about giving up, and letting the little toy kill him.

But then he remembered Celia, and he found his conviction again.

The skunk had been as weak, if not weaker then him, but Threadbare had a week of life and many class levels over the juvenile toy golem. He shoved her away.

She came back and tapped him with a paw, and he hugged her.

She tried to tug him free and he shoved her away again.

It took a while to get the message across, but eventually she stopped.

After a time, light came filtering through the cracks above. They were in a hollow spot, Threadbare could see. Most of his lower half was below the remnants of the roof, with the blade hilt twisted, jutting out at an angle. Threadbare’s stuffing lay coated in ash and grime, strewn about him.

Across the hollow, Caradon’s apron poked out of the rubble, the old golem-maker’s body below, laid to rest in the ruins of his house.

Missus Fluffbear waved at him, once she saw him, and he waved back.

She wasn’t trapped, he saw.

He also saw what looked like a small tunnel, formed by the hollow of a crumpled shelf. And beyond it, daylight.He considered it for a long while, considered the strange bear.

And then, insipiration struck.

INT +1

He rummaged around at his side, and found his scepter. It had come through unscathed… he’d been holding it under his arm the whole time. Threadbare took it, and scraped along the floor, digging up grime and dirt and flipping it around. Levering it under fallen trash, and prying at it until the trash moved.

Then he pointed at the shelf.

Over and over Threadbare did this, with the patience of the inanimate. And eventually, he thought she got the message.

CHA +1

He handed her the scepter, and she toddled over to the shelf, and started trying to work it back and forth, using the little magical rod as a pry bar, scraping away at the floor and the trash.

More words appeared.
You are now a Level 4 Ruler!
+3 CHA
+3 LUCK
+3 WIS

Well, that was nice. Still didn’t help him much.

No worries, though. Miss Fluffbear could take care of the way out. Now he just had to get off the hilt without dying. Somehow.

Days passed, with only the sound of the little black bear scraping away at the obstacle in front of her. The embers above finally went out, and it grew cold, cold in the basement…

…and one of Threadbare’s hitherto unused skills kicked in.

Animalistic impulses surged, as his body saw that it was damaged, and he was in a good place.

And so, Threadbare hibernated for the first time ever.

He woke much later, to the continued sound of Missus Fluffbear’s scraping, and two messages flickering up past his view.

You have healed yourself up to ERROR

You cannot heal to full, due to foreign objects in your wounds.

Your Hibernate Skill is now level 2!

Your Dietary Restriction skill is now level 2!

Due to keeping a flawless diet, all attribute pool maximums are increased by 4!

The light was different now, outside. The black bear had dug a pretty good hole, he saw, but nowhere near what they needed to get through the tiny space.

However, his wounds were indeed healed… up to a point.

Well.

More hit points meant more room to try to get free, didn’t it?

Threadbare twisted and tugged, and worked more of his stuffing around the hilt, slowly getting free, one rip at a time. But he only made it another inch or so.

Missus Fluffbear dropped what she was doing and came over to try to help, and again he had to convince her not to. It was harder to shove her away this time.

He realized that scraping and digging had been increasing her strength, most likely. Though… just how long had she been at it, to get this strong?

Eventually he damaged himself to the point where he couldn’t pull free any further.

At which point his body took another look around, realized that he was still hurt and still in a cool, dark place underground, and it knew just what to do.

Threadbare lost count of how many times he blacked out and regained consciousness, but the time came when he awoke to a racket. He looked around, saw that the basement was empty.

The hole under the shelf, however, was big enough for a teddy bear to fit through.

Threadbare angled, just managed to get a view-

-and stared right into Missus Fluffbear’s face as she crawled back up the hole, toward him. She stretched out her arms, offering him the scepter, trying to plead, he didn’t quite know.

And in the next second she was yanked backward, and at the very end of the hole, Threadbare got a glimpse of a black furry hand. And a wooden mask with the word ‘BUNY’ scratched on it.

Well.

Shit.

It took several more times and even a couple of bear levels to work more of himself free, hibernate, and repeat the process. Finally he got clear of the now-rusted sword hilt. It left brown stains on him as he went, and he searched around the basement until he found what he was looking for. Caradon’s apron…

…and the tailoring tools inside it.

Once he was patched up he crawled through the tunnel, pausing at the exit. Nothing. Birds singing. Tree branches rattling in the wind.

Gathering his courage, Threadbare pushed through and out, grimy and battered, smeared with rust, smeared with grime.

The house was ruined, and creeping vines grew over it now. Birds called, and not a single soul was in sight.

Threadbare patched himself up, raising his tailor skill, leveling as he went. Plenty of cloth to work with, though at one point he went in and snipped off the parts of the apron he could reach, getting as much material as possible.

And then the little bear sat and considered.

He had to save Celia. He had no idea how much time had passed, or where she was.

He should probably save Missus Fluffbear, or find her at least. Maybe she didn’t need saving? He didn’t know. But she was young, he knew, and he remembered how hard, how very very hard it had been when he was young. So he would find her and help her.

He would save his little girl, and everyone else he could. For them, he would never stop trying.

But none of this would be possible unless he did something first. Something very important.

Threadbare toddled down the path, walking faster as he went, past the overgrown remnants of a raggedy man, past the neat row of graves dug on the hill, unmarked with stones only saying “they fell in the line of duty,” and he kept on walking until he reached the river. There he stared into his reflection.

It took him a long time, more tailoring levels, and an unlocked tailoring skill to figure out how to do it. The sun was at the other end of the sky by the time he was done, but finally he had a small hollow in the right place in his head, and some twisty, waxed threads right where the air could push through them, when his stuffing muscles drew it just right.

For too long he’d been silent and dumb. Well he wasn’t dumb now, and he knew just what to do.

Threadbare took his first breath.

“Status,” the little bear said, in a quiet little soft voice that was completely lost in the burbling of the rushing river.

And a whole new world opened up for him.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 9
Bear Level 8
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 3
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1
Duelist Level 1
Animator Level 1
Enchanter Level 1
Golemist Level 1
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 79 Constitution: 83 Hit Points: 216(236) Armor: 34
Intelligence: 58 Wisdom: 89 Sanity: 147(167) Mental Fortitude: 24
Dexterity: 41 Agility: 51 Stamina: 102(122) Endurance: 44
Charisma: 56 Willpower: 47 Moxie: 103(123) Cool: 20
Perception: 57 Luck: 53 Fortune: 110(130) Fate: 9

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 20 (21)
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 3
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 15
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 8
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 16
Forage - 7
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 10
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 12

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 36
Clean and Press - Level 1
Adjust Outfit - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 10 (+20 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 1
Zombies - Level 1

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 1 (Brawling +1)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 1
Creator’s Guardians - Level 1
Eye for Detail - Level 1
Mend - Level 1

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 1
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 1
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 1
Invite Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem Construction - Level 1

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment

Quests
Save Celia

End of Volume (Book) One

The Bear Necessities

And so, the little bear saw the truth of himself in its entirety for the first time in his existence.

NAME: Threadbare | AGE: 5
RACIAL JOBS
Bear 8 | Greater Toy Golem 9
ADVENTURING JOBS
Animator 1 | Duelist 1 | Enchanter 1 | Golemist 1
Model 2 | Necromancer 1 | Ruler 4 | Scout 3
CRAFTING JOBS
Smith 1 | Tailor 8
ATTRIBUTES | POOLS | DEFENSES
Strength 79 | Constitution 83 | HP 216(236) | Armor 34
Intelligence 58 | Wisdom 89 | Sanity 147(167) | Mental Fort. 24
Dexterity 41 | Agility 51 | Stamina 102(122) | Endurance 44
Charisma 56 | Willpower 47 | Moxie 103(123) | Cool 20
Perception 57 | Luck 54 | Fortune 110(130) | Fate 9
EQUIPMENT

QUESTS
Save Celia

GENERIC SKILLS
Brawling 20(21) | Climb 6 | Clubs and Maces 9 | Dagger 9 | Dodge 2
Fishing 1 | Ride 7 | Stealth 3 | Swim 2

BEAR SKILLS
Animalistic Interface N/A | Claw Swipes 16 | Forage 7 | Growl 1 | Hibernate 37
Scents and Sensibility 10 | Stubborn 7 | Toughness 12

GREATER TOY GOLEM SKILLS
Adorable 15 | Gift of Sapience N/A | Golem Body 20 | Innocent Embrace 8 | Magic Resistance 4

ANIMATOR SKILLS
Animus 1 | Command Animus 1 | Creator’s Guardians 1 | Eye for Detail 1 | Mend 1

DUELIST SKILLS
Challenge 1 | Dazzling Entrance 1 | Fancy Flourish 1 | Guard Stance 1
Weapon Specialist (Brawling) 1

ENCHANTER SKILLS
Appraise 1 | Glowgleam 1 | Harden 1 | Soften 1 | Spellstore I 1

GOLEMIST SKILLS
Command Golem 1 | Golem Animus 1 | Invite Golem 1 | Toy Golem Construction 1

MODEL SKILLS
Dietary Restriction 10 | Fascination 2 | Flex 1 | Self-Esteem 1 | Work it Baby 2

NECROMANCER SKILLS
Assess Corpse 1 | Command the Dead 1 | Soulstone 1 | Speak with Dead 1 | Zombies 1

RULER SKILLS
Emboldening Speech 1 | Identify Subject 1 | Noblesse Oblige 1 | Royal Audience 1 | Simple Decree 1

SCOUT SKILLS
Camouflage 1 | Firestarter 1 | Keen Eye 1 | Sturdy Back 5 | Wind’s Whisper 1

SMITH SKILLS
Refine Ore 1

TAILOR SKILLS
Adjust Outfit 1 | Clean and Press 1

TO GET MORE INFORMATION OUT OF AN ELEMENT, TYPE HELP (H) ELEMENT

After some trial and error, Threadbare figured out that each series of words in its own little box was an element. So he went through the jobs first, taking a good hard look at what these mysterious things he’d agreed to learn were, and how they shaped him.

BEAR

Bears are large beasts, tough and strong and stubborn. They eat pretty much anything organic and live in a variety of terrains and climates worldwide. Bears gain experience by eating bear-associated foods, roaming their territory, and defeating foes with their natural weapons. You have discovered one or more rank up options. You may choose one of the following unlocked options at level 10 or any point beyond; Black Bear, Cave Bear, and Grizzly Bear Cave bear? Threadbare remembered black bear and grizzly bear, but not cave bear. But then again, he was stuck in what was basically a cave for a while. Maybe living in one for extended periods of time did it? It probably came up during his hibernation, and he hadn’t been awake to see it. He tried getting help for the three bear types he’d unlocked…

Grizzlies got bigger and bulkier and had an attack called Bear Hug. Black Bears would shift the color of his fur, and got a stealth skill that only worked in the woods. Cave bears got a skill called darkspawn that gave night sight and small bonuses when there wasn’t any light around. Threadbare wasn’t far from being a level 10 bear, so he considered his options carefully.

GREATER TOY GOLEM

Toy golems are the protectors of children everywhere! And also good, reasonably cheap guardians for any fledgling golemist. They aren’t the toughest of golems, but they possess a few costly powers good for helping their charges survive. Like all golems, they’re sturdy, resistant to magic, and immune to a lot of things that would kill living beings. Greater golems possess sapience, and attribute ranks that lesser golems simply do not have. They can even learn jobs! Limited in that aspect only by the intelligence of their crafter, greater golems have theoretically astronomical potential. Greater Toy Golems gain experience by doing adorable things, surviving conflict by toughing it out, and defeating foes using their natural weapons.

ANIMATOR

Animators give life to inanimate objects, awakening them to serve and defend the animator. Animators gain experience by casting animator spells and defeating foes with their animi.

DUELIST

Duelists fight with their chosen weapon and swashbuckle around, using mobility and attitude to win their fights. Duelists gain experience through fighting with their specialized weapon, defeating foes with panache and style, and doing risky, flashy things in dangerous situations. Note: Specialized weapons can be changed. Practice hard, your specialized weapon will shift to your highest weapon skill.

ENCHANTER

Enchanters are one of the oddest adventuring professions. They do most of their work beforehand, and use their items to devastating effect. Enchanters gain experience by creating magical items, casting enchanter spells, and using their created items to defeat foes.

GOLEMIST

Congratulations! Through blending Animator and Enchanter, you are now a golemist! Golemists craft unique magical constructs, and use them to fight their battles. Golemists gain experience by casting golemist spells, creating golems, and using their golems to defeat their foes.

MODEL

Models improve their bodies and attitudes, displaying their glory for all to see and controlling how others look upon them. Models gain experience by using model skills, succesfully controlling first impressions, and defeating their foes through social manuvering.

NECROMANCER

Necromancers raise the dead to do their bidding, and can negotiate with powerful spirits and undead entities. Necromancers gain experience by interacting positively with the dead, casting necromancer spells, and using the undead to defeat their foes.

RULER

Rulers entice people to work for them, and organize them through decrees and rewards to do their bidding. Rulers gain experience by having their subjects do their bidding, organizing others to a common goal, and looking out for the interests of those in their charge.

SCOUT

Scouts roam the wilderness, spying upon foes and using stealth and survival to accomplish their goals. Remember, be prepared! Scouts gain experience by using scout skills, exploring new wilderness areas, and remaining undetected by foes.

SMITH

Smiths work with metal, crafting objects with the help of a forge, anvil, and hammer.

TAILOR

Tailors work with cloth and occasionally other flexible materials, crafting objects with the help of scissors, needle, and thread.

All right, that was the jobs gone through. Threadbare considered, tried to find a common theme with his jobs. At first there wasn’t really one, but then he figured out that half of them involved minions. It all came down to having things that he could get to his bidding.

Well, this was all the adventuring jobs he could get, as far as he knew. Past words had suggested there might be a way to unlearn jobs? Perhaps he’d find out more about that later.

Now, on to the skills. He had a ton of the damned things, and no idea what most of them did.

The Generic skills seemed pretty self-explanatory, so he skipped those. But the rest looked important. He decided to review racial and crafting skills first, then on to the ones from adventuring jobs.

ADORABLE

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Adorable has a chance of activating when you do something cute in front of an audience, or onlookers blame you for something that isn’t your fault. It improves the attitude of anyone who fails to resist your charms.

GIFT OF SAPIENCE

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Congratulations, you now have all the attributes and can think and learn. Good luck with that. You also have 0/8 adventuring job slots, and 2/4 crafting job slots.

GOLEM BODY

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Your body has no organs, and is made from inorganic or once-organic material infused with a magical force. By being exposed to effects that would kill or cripple living beings and surviving them, this skill will level up. As it levels up, you will gain immunity and resistance to a wider range of lethal effects.

INNOCENT EMBRACE

Level 5, Cost: Sanity equal to half the amount healed, Duration: Instant
Heals an embraced target 10 X the level of this skill. Will affect on other golems, is standard healing otherwise. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will affect any legal target embraced. Does not affect uninjured targets.
Interesting. So that was why he’d healed the Basement Cat. Threadbare fiddled with his status screen until he found a way to turn the automatic activation off for this one.

MAGIC RESISTANCE

Level 1, Cost: N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Has a chance of negating any non-beneficial magic cast upon you. The chance of success is dependant upon the spellcaster’s level.

On to the bear jobs!

ANIMALISTIC INTERFACE

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Constant Passive
Allows the beast to use their racial skills without requiring vocalization. All skills that are not constant passives may be turned on and off as the situation and instinct require.

CLAW SWIPES

Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: 5 attacks
Enhances the damage caused by your hands and feet, and adds the sharp quality for the next five strikes. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will activate whenever you brawl with intent to injure.

FORAGE

Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: 10 minutes
Greatly enhances your perception for the purposes of finding food, water, or other natural resources in the wilderness. At higher levels, may be used to locate specific naturally occuring resources. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, will activate whenever you hunt for natural resources.

GROWL

Level 5, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Growl at a target to damage their sanity.

HIBERNATE

Level 5, Cost N/A, Duration: 1-3 months
Go into a torpid sleep. Requires a cool, dark place and you cannot be affected by the Starving condition. Restores all pools to full, as per a normal rest.

SCENTS AND SENSIBILITY

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 5 minutes
Activates heightened smell, greatly increasing perception for that sense and allowing you to catalogue and remember specific odors. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will activate whenever you encounter an interesting scent.

STUBBORN

Level 5, Cost N/A, Duration: Constant Passive
Increases your resistance to sanity damaging effects.

TOUGHNESS

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Constant Passive
Has a chance of increasing whenever you take serious damage. Raises your maximum HP by two whenever it increases.

Phew! Lots of things. On to the crafting job skills. Smith was first on the list…

REFINE ORE

Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Instant
Separates any usable crafting materials in a container or dirt, ore, or stone into neat piles of material.

Okay. He’d keep that in mind if he ever found buckets of dirt or rocks. Tailor, however, proved more interesting.

ADJUST OUTFIT

Level 5, Cost 20 Sta, Duration: Instant
Resizes any cloth outfit to fit the chosen wearer, and also allows minor alterations.

CLEAN AND PRESS

Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Instanty

Instantly cleans the selected item, and removes any wrinkles, stains, or other blemishes. Only works on items that are primarily textiles.

He was happy with those skills. Especially since the first one would let him wear clothes he found along the way. As fun as his earlier clothing creation attempts had been, he’d been interested in the clothes people were wearing before he knew what they were. And keeping clean was good, he’d learned that Celia didn’t like to hug him when he was dirty.

Now on to the adventurer jobs. This was very much a lot of reading for the little bear, but thanks to his newly-sharpened intelligence, he got the gist of most of it. And he was learning so very very much! Most of this would be new territory, as it seemed a lot of these skills required him to say things to activate. Hopefully they were good, he’d need every edge he could get if he wanted to save Celia.

Animator skills first.

ANIMUS

Level 1, Cost 10+ San, Duration: 10 min/level
Turns an object into an animi, capable of movement, combat, and simple tasks as ordered by its creator. Must be in its creator’s party to do anything beyond defend itself. The greater the size and mass of the object, the more it costs to animate, and the more hit points, strength, and constitution it begins with. The type of material also factors in, and determines the starting armor rating of the animi.

COMMAND ANIMUS

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Allows the caster to issue one command to an animi that isn’t currently in its creator’s party. If successfully cast, the animi will follow the command to the best of its ability until it is impossible to do so.

CREATOR’S GUARDIANS

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Enhances animi in the creator’s party, boosting all attributes. The amount buffed is influenced by the animator’s will and this skill’s level. Has a chance of increasing every time a new animi first joins the animator’s party.

EYE FOR DETAIL

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute
Allows the animator to examine the status of any animi, golem, or other construct he looks upon. Also analyzes any object for animation potential and sanity cost. Can be resisted.

MEND

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Instantly repairs the target construct or object, restoring a small amount of HP, influenced by the level of this skill and the animator’s will.

Okay, that last one was going to come in handy, if only to save him from using up all his tailoring supplies. Good stuff here.

Duelist was next on the list.

CHALLENGE

Level 1, Cost 5 Mox, Duration: Instant
Calls out a target to fight you. They suffer combat penalties based on your charisma unless they are actively trying to attack you. Resistible, because some foes are just too cool for you.

DAZZLING ENTRANCE

Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Used before revealing yourself to foes, the more dramatic your appearance the better. Boosts your charisma and cool for a short time.

FANCY FLOURISH

Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: Instant
Unleash a fancy set of moves that don’t hurt your foe but look really cool. Attacks their moxie.

GUARD STANCE

Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Until dropped, or the end of the fight
Assume a guard stance, and gain a bonus to your dodge skill and armor, at the cost of lowering your strength and dexterity.

WEAPON SPECIALIST

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Enhances your weapon skill. Automatically assigned to your highest weapon skill. If you have two or more equal highest weapon skills, you may freely choose which to specialize in at any time.

After looking around a bit, Threadbare figured out that mox was moxie. Duelist had the first skills he’d found that did something with that attribute pool. Could be handy, he supposed. He’d have to experiment with them later.

Enchanter was next.

APPRAISE

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 5 minutes
Allows you to see all relevant information about a mundane or magical item.

GLOWGLEAM

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 hour per level
Infuses any object with a simple light spell. The luminescence is based upon the caster’s intelligence.

HARDEN

Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: 10 minutes
Increases the toughness of any object or construct temporarily, adding to its armor and/or damage potential.

SOFTEN

Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: 10 minutes
Decreases the toughness of any object or construct temporarily, reducing its armor and/or damage potential.

SPELLSTORE I

Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: Permanent
Prepares an object that stores a spell or skill inside of it. Anyone can then read, break, drink, or otherwise use the object in an appropriate manner to activate the spell. Requires and consumes one dose of RED Reagents. The enchanter does not have to be the person storing the spell inside the Spellstore.

Okay, that looked fairly interesting. Harden in particular… he was a construct, he thought, given how the class descriptions and other skills referred to him. Threadbare put that in his ‘things to test later’ list.

Three jobs down, five left. On to the big one. Golemist!

COMMAND GOLEM

Level 1, Cost 20 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the caster to issue one command to a golem that isn’t currently in a party. If unresisted, the golem will follow the command to the best of its ability until it is impossible to do so, or until the command wears off.

GOLEM ANIMUS

Level 1, Cost 50 San, Duration: Permanent
Turns a prepared golem shell into a functional lesser golem, that will obey its creator’s commands to the best of its ability.

INVITE GOLEM

Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: Instant
Used to invite golems into your party. Automatically affects golems created by the golemist, can be resisted by other golems. Will not affect golems in their creator’s party.

TOY GOLEM

Level 1, Cost 100 San, Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a toy golem shell. Requires a toy, one dose of YELLOW reagents, and a level 1 Crystal.

Wow, okay, those were some pretty costly skills, sanity-wise. And it required stuff he’d never heard of before, to make more toy golems. Maybe he’d look into this later, after Celia was safe.

Now, on to the model skills.

DIETARY RESTRICTIONS

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Until broken
So long as you have spent the last week without eating anything with the UNHEALTHY identifier you gain a small buff to all pools. This bonus is cumulative, up to twice your rank of this skill. Eating UNHEALTHY designated food immediately removes all versions of the buff.

FASCINATION

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Dependant upon skill
Heal, aid, or otherwise be nice to an enemy in combat. If unresisted by mental fortitude, the foe will become temporarily fascinated with you, for a duration proportionate to this skill’s level.

FLEX

Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: 1 minute per level
Buff your endurance and cool by the level of this skill.

SELF-ESTEEM

Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: 1 minute per level
Buff your mental fortitude and cool by the level of this skill.

WORK IT BABY

Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: Passive Constant

Whenever one of your worn or wielded items creates a favorable impression in at least one onlooker, then this skill has a chance of increasing. All worn and wielded items that confer bonuses have their bonuses increased by a small percentage for each level of this skill. Note that the difference is harder to see with lower level gear and lower levels of the skill.

That job was a lot more useful than he expected. Three of the skills didn’t even require activation, or cost anything to do so! And the downside to dietary restrictions didn’t matter much to a creature that never had to eat in the first place. It was pretty much free bonuses. Yeah, he could live with this. Especially with the defensive buffs that he could whip out. They didn’t look like they’d last long, but that was fine, they’d get better with practice.

Was necromancer as nice? Hopefully.

ASSESS CORPSE

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute
Allows the animator to examine the status of any undead creature he looks upon. Also analyzes any corpse for animation potential and sanity cost. Can be resisted.

COMMAND THE DEAD

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the caster to issue a command to a single undead creature. If unresisted, the creature most follow its orders to the best of its ability. Can also be used to invite unintelligent undead into a party, at which point they can be verbally commanded indefinitely by the caster.

SOULSTONE

Level 1, Cost: 20 San, Duration: Permanent
Creates a soulstone crystal, which can house a newly-deceased spirit or an existing incorporeal undead. A spirit in a soulstone may be conversed with, used to create a new undead, or simply unleashed upon the world at a time of the caster’s choosing.

SPEAK WITH DEAD

Level 1, Cost: 5 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the necromancer to converse with corpses, spirits, or normally incoherent undead. In places with particularly strong spirits, the caster may be notified of the presence of conversable spirits.

ZOMBIES

Level 1, Cost: 10 San, Duration: Permanent
Turns a corpse into a zombie. Requires a spirit present in the area.

Threadbare didn’t have any natural revulsion to the dead, or any sort of taboo against messing with them, but he didn’t know how useful this was. Still, he’d had to do an awful lot of fighting in his short existence, so he knew that corpses weren’t too hard to come by. Spirits? Hard to say. He did notice that unlike animators, necromancers didn’t seem to have any way to heal their undead. Animated objects sounded more useful that way… though zombies were evidently permanent, whereas animi needed to be renewed when their duration was up. And golems took special stuff to build.

Mulling over the differences, he moved on to the Ruler skills.

EMBOLDENING SPEECH

Level 1, Cost: 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Buffs all allies moxie and sanity by an amount related to the ruler’s charisma. Only affects allies within earshot.

IDENTIFY SUBJECT

Level 1, Cost: 5 Mox, Duration: 5 minutes
Allows the ruler to examine a sworn subject’s status screen. May also be used on people within your party, giving more information than the party status screen.

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Level 1, Cost: N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Buffs all sworn subjects and party members a small amount. The stat buffed is dependant upon your highest attribute.

ROYAL AUDIENCE

Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: 1 Minute per level
Buffs your charisma, but only when dealing with sworn subjects

SIMPLE DECREE

Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Permanent until changed
Declare a simple command in twelve words or less. All sworn subjects are notified of the decree. Any who do not comply with this decree take moxie damage influenced by your charisma and wisdom, resisted by cool. Only one simple decree may be in place at a time. Simple commands may not be used to inflict suicidal or self-harmful activities.

Threadbare looked over these skills, and… well, there was that one that buffed people in his party, and one that let him restore moxie. That must have been what the rat king used, he thought, remembering back to the desperate fight in the basement.

But the rest dealt with sworn subjects. How did you get those? Maybe skills would show up later on.

The last job was up, and from what he’d seen Mordecai pull, it had some awesome stuff.

CAMOUFLAGE

Level 1, Cost 5 San/Min, Duration: Until dismissed or exhausted
Blends the Scout in with his surroundings, buffing their stealth skill. More effective in the wilderness, scales according to skill level.

FIRESTARTER

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Creates a fire, burning any flammable material it’s used upon. Intensity of the starting flames depends on the skill level.

KEEN EYE

Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: A minute per scout level
Buffs a scout’s perception, effects dependent upon skill level

STURDY BACK

Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: Passive Constant
Lightens the burdens of any heavy load carried, making items literally weigh less. Does not apply to weapons and armor equipped. Higher skill level means more weight reduction WIND’S WHISPER

Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 message
May be activated silently. Sends a message on the wind to any named target within range. Range and amount of words speakable per message increase with skill level.

This now, this was helpful. he could see most of these coming in handy, and soon, too. There wasn’t much except wilderness all around him, and this would help him avoid trouble and find what he needed out here.

Mulling it over, Threadbare flicked a pebble into the river, and watched it splash and sink. It had taken a very long time to read all those entries, and he had Celia to save. He pretty much had nothing to work with here, and nothing to gain by staying beside the river.

He was going to need help, that was the inescapable conclusion that finally meandered its way through the little bear’s mind. The half-orc brothers had vanished, maybe they were still around? It was a long shot, but he didn’t have very many shots right now. Threadbare thought back, to before the long sleeps and endless dark of the basement, and he remembered Garon saying something about meeting back up at Oblivion Point.

Well.

He knew how to get there, didn’t he?

The little bear got up and headed into the woods.

Getting Your Bearings 1

The mountains shivered at the caress of spring. Warm winds blew from the west, peeling away the snow, sending the ice shuddering down the lower parts of the hills, and freeing the trees from their long slumber. Hardy mountain pines stood as solemn vanguard, as leaves and shoots started to poke, testing sunlight, and finding it good.

And below the peaks, on the downslope of a gentle rise, a single teddy bear waddled through the woods, carrying a bundle of tools and cloth in his arms. His name was Threadbare, and he was on a mission.

But after only a few hundred yards, he realized something pretty important;

These woods were really dangerous, and he would probably need his arms free to deal with whatever came.

So he turned back, and found his way to a pile of timber and rubble. From the outside it didn’t look like much… the remnants of a house, fallen to fire, as a few weathered and charred beams attested, poking loose from the stones that had once been a foundation. A wrecked shed nearby, half-buried in an avalanche, seemed an exclamation point and lonely witness to what had once been a stately manor.

At least, that’s what a bard might say. But the bear wasn’t a bard. He was a hell of a lot of other things, but not a bard.

Crouching low, and worming his way through a muddy tunnel that squirmed under the foundation, he found himself again in the crawlspace that had been his unwilling home for the last few years. It was here he’d lost his family, and here he’d sworn to get them back.

But that was a very big thing, and very big things are made up of very small steps. And right now, the first step was to make himself a harness or something to carry his tailoring tools in.

He needed those tools, needed them badly. He had magical means of healing himself, but magic ran out. The spell he knew to heal himself worked from a resource called sanity, and generally the less you had of it, the worse your focus and judgement got.

So he dug around in the darkness, until he found the part of his creator’s apron that remained. And for lack of any better ideas, he sat down and sewed an apron of his own.

It was harder than he thought, and it took a couple of tries, but perseverance paid off.

DEX +1

Your tailoring skill is now level 37!

He watched the words roll by with long familiarity, by now. They came up whenever he did something well enough to improve himself. They did that for everyone.

Slipping on his apron, not quite a twin to his creator’s own, thanks to the proportionate size of the tools to his body, he put the scissors into the back sheath he’d made for them, and nodded. This would do.

You have equipped an Apprentice Tailor’s Apron!

Oh, nice! Maybe he could get more leather, to make a spare?

Then he caught a glimpse of cloth under his creator’s apron, sunken in. Old wormtrails led into it, and Threadbare looked away.

His Creator was dead, these five years. He’d lost what was essentially his father, even if they’d never spoken a word to each other. Not that the little bear could talk back then.

“But I can talk now,” he said, in his small, soft voice, and paused as the idea grabbed his mind and wouldn’t let go.

Didn’t he have a spell for this?

“Status,” he said, and nodded in satisfaction. Why yes, yes he did!

“Speak with Dead,” he chanted, and the air seemed to shift, shift and dance. Everything seemed to go stark monotone, the light got brighter and the shadows turned solid black. “Caradon? Are you there?” he asked.

Nothing. And he noticed he hadn’t skilled up from it. Thinking carefully, it seemed to him that maybe this spell wouldn’t get better unless you actually talked to dead people with it.

Strange, that Caradon wasn’t here, though. Where else would he be? Maybe he’d passed on to wherever dead spirits go.

“Status,” the bear said again, and looked at his sanity. It had cost five to cast speak with dead. He was about to turn and leave, when another thought struck him;

How did he regain sanity?

Previously, he’d regained it by leveling up, he thought. But that took time and a lot of work. From what he’d seen of other people, and by hearing his little girl’s friends talk, it came back naturally, faster if you had something to drink. But he didn’t need to eat or drink or sleep, so…

This was going to be important. He sat down and looked at his status screen, calling it up again whenever it started to fade away. After a few minutes the lighting returned to normal, as speak with dead faded. And after about ten minutes or so, he watched his sanity recover by a point.

Slow. Very slow, but he wouldn’t run himself dry and have no way to recover it. That was good. Assumably moxie and endurance worked the same way. He could test those in the field.

Since it was easy to regain, he decided it was time to do the other thing he’d thought of, on his aborted walk into the woods. Threadbare bent low to the ground, and sniffed carefully around the little hollow in what was left of the basement.

Your Scents and Sensibility Skill is now level 11!

Odors filled his nose. Dankness, rot, his own… and an odd one. Sandalwood, he would have called it, if he knew the name for it. He had no way of knowing the proper terms, but he knew he’d recognize it again if he smelled it.

Threadbare had been trapped down here with the only other one of his kind in existence that he knew of. She’d dug them free, and been kidnapped for her troubles. But the things that had taken her weren’t highly malicious, as far as he knew, so odds were pretty good she was still alive. Well, as alive as little toy golems were, anyway.

Threadbare thought he knew where he could find her, but it would be much, much easier to do so if he had her scent. And now he thought he did.

He waited hopefully, but no attributes rose. His wisdom was pretty high already, it’d take a few more good common sense ideas to raise it, he supposed.

Just before he was about to go out, his nose caught one more thing… the familiar smell of the laundry soap that Celia and her father, Caradon, used to do the wash with. It was a good smell, and one that reminded him of good times, so he hunted around until he found a few pinches of the spilled soap powder and tucked it into an apron pocket. If he got glum he could wash with it later, and it might make him feel better.

Outside the hole, he got the odor of the things that had taken her. He’d never gotten close enough to smell them before, and they were pretty distinctive. Also pretty rank by human standards. Which was good, because the smell was old, old enough he lost the scent trail a few yards away from the foundation.

Well, that was fine. He had something to check on first before he went trying to mount a rescue mission, anyway.

Threadbare started off into the woods again, checking his sanity one last time… and realizing, with his very good wisdom, that he had an opportunity, here.

If sanity and all the other pools for his abilities came back over time, then he could practice abilities as he walked, simple stuff to get their ranks up. He’d activate something low cost, then wait until his pools refilled, then activate them again. It seemed simple and easy enough, and he did have a whole lot of stuff that was really far behind, due to his old speech impediments.

WIS +1

Okay, that settled it! Good idea, time to put it into practice.

“Status,” he said again, and considered his options.

Threadbare had a ton of weird jobs, spread all over the metaphorical chart, mainly due to accepting every job unlock that had come his way. So thankfully, he had an easy time picking out stuff that sounded neat and wouldn’t slow him down too much.

The things he settled on were Flex, which was a simple model trick that used stamina, Self-esteem, a similar model trick that used moxie, and Animus, which he well remembered. His little girl had used it quite a lot, back before times got bad, and it was a spell that used sanity. He eyed his fortune pool, but unless he was missing something, he didn’t have anything that used fortune. Maybe he’d find something later.

In the meantime, three was pretty good to start with.

So Threadbare took the scissors out of their sheath, put them on the ground, and said “Animus,” laying a paw on them.

Golden light blossomed!

Your Animus skill is now level 2!

The scissors twisted on the ground, opening and closing mindlessly.

“Invite Scissors,” Threadbare said. Nothing happened.

What was he missing?

Oh, right. “Form Party,” he intoned.

You have created a party!

You are now the party leader, and can access the party screen!

“Invite Scissors,” Threadbare said.

Scissors_1 has joined your party!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 2!

Threadbare started walking. Now if the skill description was right, he should be able to mentally command the scissors. He called them to follow.

They tried. To their credit, they tried, squirming and clacking across the ground awkwardly. But they didn’t have limbs, or anything else good for walking or even crawling.

No wonder Celia used plush toys, Threadbare thought, and bowed his head at the memory. Good times then. Good times gone.

Good times back again, if he had any say in the matter! Threadbare scooped up the scissors and sheathed them again. Okay, so they were useless as animi, but they were still good to practice his skill with.

Speaking of practicing…

“Flex,” he commanded, and instantly felt confined, like his insides were bigger than his outsides. Threadbare squirmed, trying to get sorted… and unwittingly went into a brawny pose, legs wide, little arms out to each side and popping tiny biceps. Almost, he thought, but not quite, and twisted at the waist, flexing his back too, feeling the stuffing form into muscles there as well.

Your Flex skill is now level 2!

Wow, that felt weird. But a check of his status screen showed that it has buffed his armor and endurance by one. Well worth the price of discomfort, he thought.

That left one thing to try.

“Self-Esteem,” he whispered-

-and instantly felt a bit more confident.

Your Self-Esteem skill is now level 2!

He checked his status again, and smiled to see that it worked much like flex had, only buffing his cool and mental fortitude instead.

He could smile now, he just realized. Having a flexible mouth opened up so many possibilities.

If he’d been a bit less innocent and more worldly, that thought would have probably sent his mind into some rather bawdy places. But he was a golem, and didn’t have any particular urges that way anyway, so the connection went unmade. Which was probably for the best, all things considered.

Threadbare waddled off into the woods once more.

With his compatriot, the inestimable Missus Fluffbear missing, the next logical step was to get help. Although chances were slim, his little girl’s friends had said to rendezvous at Oblivion Point when she’d saved her father. Well, her Daddy was dead and a lot of time had passed, but maybe they were still up there? The place had fish to eat, and everything. It was… possible…

Not likely, but possible.

Threadbare retraced the path he’d taken five years ago, finding it overgrown, barely what Mordecai, his old scout master would call a deer trail. But he was small, and his hide was now thick enough that the underbrush didn’t bother him much. He was getting a little muddy, but he knew a trick for that too. Tailors had a skill that let them instantly clean things like wayward teddy bears, and since he was both he was happy to have it.

Threadbare meandered over the hills, actually scrambling in a few places. Before, Celia had been carrying. Now he had to manage on his own. But he was much stronger and more competent now, and he did. Though the exertion did cost him a couple of stamina, and gained him two levels of the climb skill, along with three agility boosts. And along the way he cast his spell and used his buffs whenever his stamina, moxie, and sanity got back to full. The skills slowly rose, as did his intelligence by a point, after one successful casting of animus.

Finally, he stopped to pause at the jutting boulder high up on the second cliffside, which overlooked the route he’d taken. He didn’t need to rest, not really, but Celia and Mordecai and he had rested here the first time, and he liked the view.

It was night now, but the moon was out, and he could see relatively fine. He debated using his glow gleam spell, but… well, common sense said that was a bad thing. He was a tough bear, but he was a small bear, and the light would be seen a long way away. Better to run dark for now.

As he settled on the rock, his nose twitched. Scents and Sensibility fired up, and he smelled a strong scent. Some animal had marked this spot. Something big. Something familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on how he knew it.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 12!

It wasn’t too old, which made up his mind. He’d been planning to shelter here for the night, but if a large creature had marked this territory, that was a bad idea. Threadbare glanced up at the full moon, and the cold stars above. So long as he stayed to the ridges, he thought, he should be able to see fine.

He’d be better off sticking to the ridges anyway. The big tree was next, and that should be easy enough to spot from high up, and then there was the little hollow where the Raccants had lived. If they were still there, he wanted to stay out of that hollow anyway.

It took longer in the darkness. He flexed, self-esteemed, and animated his way across the high hills, taking well into the morning to do it. Little legs didn’t go as fast as he had with Celia, but he didn’t stop to rest or even feel a lot of fatigue thanks to his golem/bear fueled endurance.

Not long into his walk, he cast animus, and did the invite again, and got the following messages;

Your Animus skill is maxed! Level up your animator job to increase this skill.

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is maxed! Level up your animator job to increase this skill.

He checked status. Those skills were only at level 5. Curious, he stopped for his regular dose of flexing and self-esteem.

Your Flex skill is now level 6!

Your Self-esteem skill is now level 6!

Those weren’t maxed. Why was that?

No, wait, his model job was higher level than animator. That was it.

Well, that was fine. If he did more animator stuff, maybe actually used the spells when they mattered, then he’d raise his animator level. From what he could recall of his relatively short life (The conscious parts of it anyway,) he usually got levels after he survived really lethal situations, or killed enemy monsters. Maybe that was what he needed to do?

He waited hopefully, but no int or wis stat bump showed up. The little bear sighed. It was so hard having high stats in that area, finally. He couldn’t just use them as a guide to figure out what to do. But then, he’d gotten a whole lot more reflective ever since his early days, so maybe high wisdom was a blessing there, at least.

Clearly, to be the most efficient at surviving the stuff coming his way, he’d want to have his skills leveled up before he hit trouble. So when he was moving around and not in clear and present danger, he should be practicing something he could gain skills at for every pool that had it.

“Status,” he whispered into the night, and took another look to find something else that used sanity.

Well, being a bear (of sorts) had worked out great for him so far, hadn’t it? He didn’t think he would have survived if he didn’t have the bear job. So he decided to fire up Scents and Sensibility, and see how that went.

“Scents and Sensibility,” he whispered. And again the world of advanced odors opened up to him. But he didn’t level the skill.

Threadbare walked, peering into the night, freezing every time he heard noise that seemed like it was approaching, keeping an eye out. He needn’t have worried. Though he didn’t know it, the area he was in was prime hunting grounds for Screaming Eagles, which had gotten more numerous since their main predator moved out of the region. And Screaming Eagles were daytime hunters. The night actually saved him a ton of trouble. (As did the fact he actually had an average luck score, rather than the sucking mess of horrible karma that had been following him around for his early days.)

He did level stealth up twice, and once he came upon something that fled from him, that he never got a good look at. When he went to investigate where it had been, he smelled deer.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 13!

Okay, that made sense. Just casting it wasn’t enough to level it, you had to smell stuff with it to increase the skill.

He found the big tree, peering at through the moonlight, remembering the branches. Remembering the honey he’d dug out of the hive there, and been unable to eat.

The little bear considered. He had a mouth now… and he also had dietary restrictions, and no idea if honey was unhealthy or not. If it was, it’d blow his dietary restriction skill away.

Man, being a model was tough.

He got his bearings, checked his course, climbed a tree for good measure so he could sight the course he wanted to follow…

AGL +1

Your Climb skill is now level 9!

…and found the peak he needed. Not far from what looked like a mass of campfires.

Threadbare would have blinked if he could have. There were people out here?

He got closer, keeping his scents and sensibility up, keeping to the thicker parts of cover. It took an hour, but his stealth crawled up two more points as groups of chattering things crashed through the underbrush ignoring him, and his scents and sensibility picked up a familiar smell.

These had to be raccants.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 14!

He didn’t know why they had campfires now. But it looked like there were a lot more of them than the last time he’d been here.

Threadbare got just close enough to see the sharp fence of pointy sticks they’d made around the area in front of the old mine entrance, and the collection of patchwork tents around several fires, then he slunk back into the shadows, heading for high ground once more. There were at least a dozen Raccants out, masked in wood and carrying clubs. Nothing he wanted to face right now.

He took it slow, gained another stealth when a patrol nearly caught him, and managed to get out of their patrol radius without being detected.

You are now a level 4 Scout!
+3 AGL
+3 PER
+3 WIS

Awesome! Come to think of it, scout skills like keen eye and camouflage would have probably been really helpful in that situation. He resolved to try them next time.

Finally, he came to the mountain cliff that lead up to Oblivion Point. No Celia to help him this time, and it was pretty steep… “Status,” he declared. Maybe there was something to help with this.

No, not really. Nothing that buffed climb or agility. But flexing would help endurance, which would keep him from getting tired. He flexed, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t level it. It stayed at nine.

He decided that he had enough stamina to experiment, flexed again, and there it went.

Your Flex skill is now level 10!

Maybe the higher up you got in a skill, the more usages it took to level it?

INT +1

Yeah, that was it! Made sense, he supposed. Otherwise it’d be trivial to hole up somewhere and exercise your skills repeatedly until they maxed out. That sounded thoroughly boring, and he had stuff to do anyway, so it was kind of a relief to know he didn’t have to do that. And you couldn’t, anyway, not for all of them because things like Scents and Sensibility and Speak with Dead required stuff around to practice with.

Threadbare thought he might be getting the hang of how things worked. All it had taken was the loss of everyone and everything he ever held dear, forcing him into isolation in the wilderness, surrounded by hostile and uncaring monsters, and-

-the little toy sat down with a bump, as events caught up to him. The flex buff faded and expired, as he put his head in his paws and just sat there for a time. The stuffing behind his eyes hurt, and he knew that if he could have, he would have been crying. But he couldn’t. Button eyes didn’t cry. Instead he opened his mouth and sobbed, little rasping gasps.

He really, really missed Celia.

He wanted to go home.

But he had neither Celia nor home anymore, and after a while after the pressure left he stopped sobbing and stood back up. He flexed again, restored his self-esteem, which made him feel a bit better, and started climbing up the goddamn cliff.

AGL +1

Your Climb skill is now level 10!

Your Climb skill is now level 11!

Your Climb skill is now level 12!

Occasionally he’d slide down, or lose his grip and tumble downslope a bit, but he was very strong now compared to his size, so stopping his fall wasn’t a big deal. He just caught ahold of the ground and pushed, until he slowed, and then it was back to climbing.

But during the climb, he completely forgot about his buffs. Which was a pity, because otherwise his nose would have told him that he was going straight into the lair of the region’s biggest predator.

The sky brightened as he reached the top, moon sunk below the mountains. Dawn soon, he knew. The bear hauled himself up over the cliff, got to the little plateau, and there was the curtain of blackness, dividing the mountain peak in half. There was the little pond… no so little now, swelled with the first of the season’s snowmelt, and roiling with silvery fish. And there was the stand of pine trees, where Celia had sheltered and they’d built a small fire.

But no sign of either of the half-orc brothers. If they’d ever made it here, they were long gone.

Threadbare’s heart sank, and the terrible despair that had struck him down at the bottom of the cliff came rushing back. He staggered to the trees, calling out as he went, “Jarrik? Garon? Bak’shaz?”

But his little voice fell into silence. The snow crunched underfoot, warm and… yellow?

Yes, there was a patch of yellow snow. Someone had peed here!

“Scents and Sensibility!”

And predator stink filled his nose, the same predator that had marked the rock. Big and deadly, and familiar, and…

Oh. Oh!

For the first time since he’d arrived, hope, that fragile thing with wings soared in his chest. He looked at the sky. It had been so long. Would he remember Threadbare?

The little bear got to work, brushing snow away until he found the old firepit. Damp wood, pine wood went into a pile, and the little bear pointed at it.

“Firestarter.”

Your Firestarter skill is now level 2!

A tiny spark leaped out, and the wood smoldered, but nothing happened.

No! He would NOT be denied!

“Firestarter! Firestarter! Firestarter!”

That did it. Around skill level four, the wood caught. Threadbare kept a few pointy pieces of wood aside. Then he glanced over at the pond, shucked off his apron, and stomped toward it with bearly determination. “Forage,” he said, skilling up, and wading into the school of newly-born salmon.

Twenty minutes and one dexterity boost later, the sky was light, so light, and he knew the sun was just behind the eastern mountains. He eyed his eight fish, and decided they’d have to do. He tossed them over by the fire, and stuck them on the skewers, then put them over the flames. It took some fiddling, but soon he had them cooking.

You have unlocked the cook job!

Would you like to be a cook at this time? y/n?

No, that was pretty silly, he decided. The words went away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. What use was cooking to something that didn’t eat?

Besides, he wasn’t trying to cook them. He was just trying to get the smell into the air.

“Clean and Press”, he decided, tapping his noggin. And instantly the fish blood and guts and grime and mud and dirt from traveling whisked away from him. He put on his apron again, buckled it, turned around-

-and there it was, looming over him in the predawn light. Twice as tall as he was, black as pitch, with suspicious yellow eyes fixated on Threadbare. A pair of high, pointed ears poked out from its skull.

Though Threadbare had no word for it, humans would call this beast a bobcat.

And while every instinct shouted at the bobcat to chase the little creature away from its good-smelling dinner, to assert dominance and steal its food, the big feline hesitated.

Because something about this little thing seemed familiar.

It leaned in, animalistic instincts activating its own Scents and Sensibility, and it sniffed the teddy bear. It sniffed him carefully…

…until it came to the apron pocket that Threadbare had tucked soap powder into.

And its eyes opened wide, as a rumbling purr burst from its chest!

It had not ALWAYS been a bobcat, after all, and he too had lost his home, his home that smelled of soap powder and hoomins and polished wood and comfortable napping spots in the sun and warm places in winter and that little toy bear

It WAS the little toy bear!

“Pulsivar,” said Threadbare, hugging the big cat, and then he was purring and licking the little bear over and over again, and rolling around on the ground and purring and getting up and running in circles in pure joy.

CHA +1

LUCK +1

Well, Pulsivar celebrated for a little while, anyway. As much time as he could give the matter. Those fish smelled delicious and you had to have priorities, after all.

Threadbare watched happily as Pulsivar gobbled up the catch, even helping remove them from the skewers so the black bobcat could properly enjoy breakfast. Afterwards it simply flopped down next to the fire, half-on top of Threadbare, grooming him for all he was worth.

By befriending a wild beast you have unlocked the Tamer job!

You cannot become a Tamer at this time.

The words faded as Threadbare laughed for the first time, tiny little giggles completely lost against the massive feline’s purr. It didn’t matter. Not one bit, because though everything wasn’t right with the world, this, right now, made everything a bit better.

And though there was a lot to do, though so much bad had happened and he still needed to go and save everyone else he could, Threadbare sighed and relaxed against the warm, purring lump of fur and muscle that was his first foe, and first ally, and just enjoyed being cuddled again.

For now, this was enough.

And it was enough for Pulsivar, too.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 9
Bear Level 8
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 4
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 2
Necromancer Level 1
Duelist Level 1
Animator Level 1
Enchanter Level 1
Golemist Level 1
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 79 Constitution: 83 Hit Points: 216(236) Armor: 34 (38)
Intelligence: 60 Wisdom: 93 Sanity: 152(172) Mental Fortitude: 24
Dexterity: 43 Agility: 59 Stamina: 110(130) Endurance: 44
Charisma: 57 Willpower: 47 Moxie: 103(123) Cool: 20
Perception: 60 Luck: 54 Fortune: 113(133) Fate: 9

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 20 (21)
Climb - Level 12
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 2
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 5
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 15
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 8
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 16
Forage - 8
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 14
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 12

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 37 (41)
Clean and Press - Level 1
Adjust Outfit - Level 1

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 10 (+20 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 10
Work it Baby - Level 2

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 2
Zombies - Level 1

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 1 (Brawling +1)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 5
Command Animus - Level 1
Creator’s Guardians - Level 5
Eye for Detail - Level 1
Mend - Level 1

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 1
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 1
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 1
Invite Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem Construction - Level 1

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment

Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring Skill)

Quests
Save Celia
Unlocked Jobs Cook, Tamer, Wizard

A Cat has a Sheet

Name: Pulsivar
Age: 10
Jobs: Bobcat 21

Attributes Strength: 61 Constitution: 84 Hit Points: 145 Armor: 0
Intelligence: 10 Wisdom: 55 Sanity: 65 Mental Fortitude: 0
Dexterity: 55 Agility: 136 Stamina: 191 Endurance: 35
Charisma: 62 Willpower: 128 Moxie: 190 Cool: 55
Perception: 90 Luck: 55 Fortune: 145 Fate: 21

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 56
Climb - Level 52
Dodge - Level 32
Stealth - Level 71
Swim - Level 2

Cat Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Birdslayer - Level 25
Claw Swipes - Level 85
Groom - Level 58
Growl - Level 28

Nap - Level 74
Nine Lives - Level 3
Scents and Sensibility - Level 60
Slowfall - Level 27

Tomcat Skills Caterwaul - Level 33
Bobcat Skills Camouflage - Level 2
Equipment
Quests

Mating Season (Seasonal Quest - 352hr:18min:06sec remaining)

It’s worth noting a few things. First of all, his hit points are pretty anemic for a level 21 beast. This is a side effect of spending half his life in a domestic situation, where he never had to build his strength or constitution much. That said, it did wonders for his charisma and wisdom. And once he got out, it started catching up… somewhat. Cats get boosts to Agility, Perception, and will, and Tomcats switch over to Agility and Will. Bobcats go to Agility and Perception. He hasn’t been a bobcat for long, about a year all told. Which is why his one bobcat skill is pretty underleveled. That’s also due to the fact that his stealth was already huge by the time he got it, so he’s only kicked in camouflage once, when he got in over his head and had to hide for his life.

He’s also been immersed in water precisely once. NEVER AGAIN! (Which is why that swim skill is 2.)

Other things worth noting are that nine lives skill, unique to cats. It’s actually the one you DON’T want to level. It costs 10 times the rating of the skill in fortune to activate, and reduces an attack or event that would kill you to an attack or event that would leave you at one hit point. Thanks to being evicted into the wilderness, Pulsivar’s had to use it twice already. It always goes up once every time you use it. Once it hits nine, it is removed from your character sheet.

The only other things on here that haven’t been seen yet are birdslayer, groom, nap, and slowfall. Birdslayer is a buff that aids in hunting flying things, countering some of their natural advantages. Groom is a healing skill, using sanity to do a small amount of hp restored. Slowfall reduces the damage taken from falling, and allows greater maneuverability in midair. Nap is like a smaller version of hibernate, that takes hours instead of months.

He looks fierce, but his HP really are bad. And the lack of natural armor leaves him open to being overwhelmed by raw strength and damage. An adventurer of equal level would roll right through Pulsivar in a straight-up fight, if Pulsivar didn’t go full defensive and pray his level 32 dodge skill and high natural agility were enough to keep him alive until he escaped. Pulsivar is built to strike hard from ambush, kill things that aren’t a challenge, and eat them. And with Stealth 71 and 136 agility, he’s very, very good at that…

…and he still wouldn’t have a prayer of sneaking past Mordecai, who is(was?) a perception-focused adventurer getting double perception dips from scout and archer alike.

That said, he’s a pretty good example of an experienced big cat (A smallish breed, mind you,) and about what you’d expect from one who’s gotten pretty good at his job, good enough to survive a decade. There’s probably plenty like him throughout the region. Which is a good thing, given the sweet experience his seasonal quest gives. That’s not a solo quest, and it’s limited to big cats only. Which is probably for the best, all things considered.

Getting Your Bearings 2

Raccants had a number of advantages over their basic species. Raccoons were mostly nocturnal, and avoided doing anything in the day if they could help it. But Raccants were a bit more flexible, and had more energy on the whole, thanks to a good endurance bump from their upgraded job. They could operate in the day or night or both, so long as they got some sleep at SOME point.

Which was a good thing, as the presence of the creature they knew as the Black Death mostly came out at night. Mostly. Over the last year, as it had started preying upon them, the fuzzy ring-tailed garbage hoarders had been forced to make a somewhat-fortified camp outside of their lair. To any passing human it would have looked like a teeny, half-hearted, randomly-built fence around a few kids tents. To the raccants it was their castle, their bastion to defend to the last, a masterpiece and triumph of engineering that would make any humans who saw it fall in love with it and adopt them all out of respect for their ingenuity!

Not that there were many humans around. At all. Which sucked, and made for some hard winters. And a lot less interesting trash. They’d been forced to forage further and further afield because of that, with mixed results.

But the simple truth of the matter was that between the fortifications, the fires, and the noisy patrols they sent out at night to walk around the perimeter, the Black Death had only picked off a few of them over the winter. So it was working, and they were proud of it.

Which was why it was a bit of a shock when a small brown teddy bear fell from an overhanging tree branch, straight into the middle of camp, into the smoldering coals of the campfire. Hurridly he got up and patted the embers away from him.

It was a good thing he had an apron. The sturdy little garment kept coals from his soft belly, otherwise he might have caught on fire right then and there.

A few of the raccants appreciated the craftsmanship, even as they reached for weapons.

Your Work It Baby skill is now level 3!

Threadbare tried a smile. He had been trying to get to the pole of the nearest tent to slide down it, but the end result was the same. He wanted to try talking to the funny creatures, first. They were only about two or three times his size, and perhaps he could sort out things without a misunderstanding.

“Hello,” he said, in his soft, quiet voice. With a cavity about the size of a grape to work with, it was barely audible, even to the relatively good hearing of the raccants. “I’m looking for Missus Fluffbear. She’s like me but black, and this big.” He put his hand at about his waist. Or where his waist would be if he had one.

This was kind of exciting, he’d never been able to talk things out before! The Raccants gathered around him, poking at him curiously with clubs. He pushed one away before it could rap him on the ear. “Please can you give her back?”

The largest of the raccants, one with a pair of stars made out of wet and dirty wood on his shoulders, tied there by uneven strings, swaggered up to him and chattered something that Threadbare completely failed to understand.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak that.”

The Raccant leaned over, grabbed his apron, and examined it. His wooden mask, which looked like a fat-cheeked blunt-nosed fuzzy thing, read “HMSTR,” and it was very close to Threadbare’s face.

“Yes, that is my apron.”

The raccant plucked the scissors out of their sheath, and started picking out the other tools and items, handing them back to his subordinates. Threadbare, with a strength that surprised the big raccant, yanked his apron back and smoothed it.

“No,” the little bear said.

Instantly the raccants closed ranks, pointing with sharp sticks and brandishing clubs. Threadbare shook his head.

Well, he’d tried.

The big raccant brought his club bashing down on the tiny bear-

-and blinked behind his mask as a crimson ’1’ rolled up from Threadbare’s noggin.

Threadbare hauled back and punched him in the mask, sending him staggering back, as a red ‘18’ rose into the air.

Your Brawling skill is now level 21!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 2!

And then the rest of the Raccants, thoroughly spooked by the little creature, and aggravated at the intrusion, piled in on the teddy bear.

They might as well have been attacking a wall. Threadbare had flexed before he went up the tree, and between the buff and his thickened hide and stuffing, their clubs and spears did little. Still, there were many of them, and they could each take several hits, so his own counterattacks weren’t thinning the numbers by much. And every now and then, one of them would get lucky and crit, and sneak anywhere from five or fifteen points of damage through.

Finally Threadbare accepted that he was going to have to play for keeps… especially when he saw a black from materialize out of nowhere, leaping over the fence and moving up to the back of the group fighting Threadbare. These Raccants were dead, he knew. Might as well get some practice in before they went down.

And the next time he got a chance to fight back, he went for a swipe instead of a punch.

The raccant fell back, staring at its slashed arm, and the ‘26’ oozing out of it. The bear had claws!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 17!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 3!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 4!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 5!

Your Brawling skill is now level 22!

Critical Hit!

DEX +1

LUCK +1

The claw swipes helped, but it was still a slog. But as Threadbare watched, Pulsivar went to work. He took down three of them one by one, swift, silent pounces that ended in blood and corpses. Finally, the remaining raccants noticed, and the second they did, they panicked!

The Black Death was upon them!

This was far too much. Raccants didn’t have much in the way of moxie to begin with, and caught between a bear and a dark face, they broke like twigs and ran in all directions, scrambling over, around, or in some cases THROUGH their shoddily-prepared fence.

Threadbare nodded. Pulsivar, however, wasn’t done. He started to bound off after one fleeing varmint, paused as another one stumbled, and fell behind-

“No,” said Threadbare, walking up to him and putting his paws on the big black bobcat’s chest.

CHA +1

Pulsivar paused, eyes narrowed, then sat down nonchalantly, and gave his fur a few good licks. Proper grooming was important before a meal. And during a meal. And sometimes after.

Threadbare smiled in relief, and petted Pulsivar. And smiled even wider, when his experience from the fight and comforting his friend rolled a long-awaiting pair of jobs into their next level.

You are now a level 10 Toy Golem!

All Attributes +2!

You have learned the Bodyguard skill!

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 3 Model!

+3 AGL

+3 CHA

+3 PER

Checking Dietary Restrictions time counter…

Your Dietary Restrictions skill is now level 15!

Buff adjusted accordingly!

Threadbare watched them flash by, then breathed a sigh of relief. As interesting and invigorating as all that had been, he couldn’t pause now. He was in unknown territory, and the best scout he’d ever met had taught him that you don’t waste time in unknown territory. He needed to repair, regroup, and renew his search for his missing friend. “Mend,” he whispered.

You have mended Threadbare!

You have been healed for 5 points!

Your Mend skill is now level 2!

Wow, that was pretty pathetic. He tried it a few more times, skilling up to level 5 and getting an int boost before he was fully repaired. He’d caught a few of crits back there. Small crits, but crits nonetheless. At least the amount he mended himself by varied, it even broke double digits a few times.

And at the end of his healing, he got another notice;

You are now a level 2 animator!
+3 DEX
+3 INT
+3 WILL

He shook his head. Why was he leveling so much? Compared to the things he’d been through, that had barely been trouble.

But then he stopped and thought about it. There had been a good dozen raccants in the camp, and they’d all jumped him at once, fighting well together despite their relative weakness. He hadn’t dropped any of them, really, Pulsivar had done most of the work toward the end of the fight. Yeah, if that had gone on a few more minutes they would have battered him down, or put him in a bad spot. He had some stuff that he could try if things got desperate, but… well, he had no idea how most of it would work.

As far as leveling up went, he thought that what was happening was that he was getting experience in the jobs that he used to get through each particular fight or tough spot. Golem, now, that was understandable. It had been a long time since he leveled golem, and since he’d done that he’d been hurt the worst he’d ever been, and only survived years by dint of being what he was. Model? Well, his apron had made a positive first impression and he’d been talking a lot at them. So social skills. And he had flex and self-esteem going, though it was hard to tell if those counted as well. Duelist had probably gotten a little bit. And bear, though that hadn’t leveled. Animator made sense because he was doing some actual healing with actual consequences using an animator skill, mend. And it was low level so a few spells and the animating practice he’d done to date were enough to bring the overall job to level two.

And here he was woolgathering again! In an unsafe location. He turned to Pulsivar, ready to get him rolling-

-only to find the cat messily devouring the choice bits of one of the raccant corpses.

Oh. Well, uh, they’d be here a little while then.

So instead he gathered up the trampled and muddy supplies that the raccants had taken from him, used Clean and Press on them, (skilling up twice,) and put them back in his pockets. The scissors were last, and they didn’t need cleaning, thankfully.

Then he paused and looked around.

The raccants that had ran into the woods were long gone. Whether they’d be back or not, he couldn’t say. But the mine entrance loomed, and that was where they’d have Missus Fluffbear, if indeed they had her at all.

He was pretty good at taking hits, but unless Pulsivar’s new form had gotten a lot sturdier, then the big cat wasn’t. And in that mine, in tight quarters, the big cat would have a harder time using his mobility and sneakiness.

“Party Screen,” Threadbare whispered again, checking out the cat’s HP. Still 145. Pulsivar was level 21, and he had only a little better than half Threadbare’s hit points. Given how nasty things could get, the little bear didn’t want to risk his friend’s death.

They needed something to stack the odds.

Well, he was a necromancer, wasn’t he? And there were corpses a plenty around, with probably some spirits he’d just made? That was how it worked, right?

So Threadbare reached out and poked one of the dead raccants. “Zombies,” the little bear whispered.

Your Zombies skill is now level 2!

The coprse got up, groaning-

-and died as Pulsivar pounced it, ripping it open.

“Um,” Threadbare said. “No, it is okay, see? Zombies.”

Your Zombies skill is now level 3!

Another corpse risen, and another corpse put down as the cat bit it and shook until things snapped.

Okay. That wouldn’t work. Pulsivar didn’t understand the whole undead thing. Come to think of it, neither did Threadbare, not completely. Maybe he’d practice it later, when the cat was out hunting or something. Though Pulsivar showed no inclination to leave Threadbare’s side, not since the morning. Finally the bear had just invited him to his party, and to his surprise, had instantly been joined. He wasn’t sure how, since he was pretty sure the big cat couldn’t read.

(He had no way of knowing that Pulsivar had found the secret to make the annoying words go away years ago, just like Threadbare had.)

The cat, proud of itself for taking care of the renewed threat, which had obviously just been a couple of the stupid prey playing dead, groomed himself of blood and guts from his meal.

Stuck, Threadbare looked around the campsite. Fortunately, he found something suitable in short order. The head Raccant in charge of the camp had his own throne in one of the tents. In actuality it was a salvaged high chair, for babies to eat from.

But it had legs, and it was wood, and by golly it would do.

“Animus,” Threadbare breathed as he touched it. “Invite Chair.”

Your Animus skill is now level 6!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 6!

Oddly enough, the tug from the casting was a little more draining than usual. Threadbare checked his status screen, and sure enough, he was down fifteen points instead of ten. Maybe because the high chair was big, bigger than him and made of wood?

Then, on his status screen, he saw his new bodyguard skill, and opened up its help prompt.

Oh, perfect!

BODYGUARD

Level: 10 Cost: 25 Sta Duration: 1 minute per toy golem level

Name a target party member when activating this skill. For the duration, you have a chance of intercepting each attack aimed at them, so long as you remain within two yards of them. Multiple attackers or overwhelming amounts of strikes may reduce the effectiveness of this defence.

Feeling a lot better, Threadbare marched out of the tent. The chair followed, creaking and rocking as its legs stumped along. He was a little worried as they approached Pulsivar and the cat glanced up…

…then went back to grooming. He’d been an animator’s pet, after all, and would have been a familiar if Caradon hadn’t abandoned the wizard path years ago. Chairs could move, so what? That was just a thing that happened.

“Bodyguard Pulsivar,” Threadbare said, and toddled toward the cave, his high chair following behind.

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 2!

After a few minutes, Pulsivar followed. That little bear was being stupid again. Looks like it was up to the only adult around here to take charge of things.

Five steps into the mine, The darkness rose around them. Threadbare moved on cautiously, ready to cast a spell-

-and everything shifted.

Abruptly they were in a curving stone cave well lit with candles, and stolen lanterns, and music played from somewhere down the bend. Odd and thumping, it bore no resemblance to anything Threadbare had ever heard before. But then, he barely knew of music. Just a few songs that Celia would sing now and again… but thinking of that made his chest hurt, and he pushed it away because he had bigger concerns.

“We’re in a dungeon,” he told Pulsivar.

Pulsivar’s eyes flicked back and forth, as his tail lashed. Everything had suddenly changed, and he didn’t like that much. He liked the music even less, and a low growl rumbled out of his throat. Not a sanity-damaging one, thankfully.

“I know,” Threadbare tried to tell him, but his little voice was lost in the music.

Okay, that was a problem. He’d experiment later, and try to fix that. But for now? Finding his lost companion. So he set off again, and grudgingly, Pulsivar followed.

They came to the first cross corridor. Threadbare turned the corner-

-and was promptly jumped by a jumbled mass of junk and garbage.

The thing smacked him with a tendril made of rope and old tools, clocking him for ‘5’ and knocking him against the wall. Surprised, he lashed back-

-and then Pulsivar leaped on it.

It was made of pretty sturdy stuff, and still had some fight in it after that, but Threadbare helped tear it to bits while the baby chair slowly kicked it, sending up ‘1’s and ‘2’s with its piddly attacks.

The little bear thought that maybe there was something hiding under the junk, but no, nothing was under there. The mob of trash had moved on its own and just slunk up and whacked him a good one.

Threadbare did find a few coins. A bunch of brown grungy ones and a couple of silvers. Garon had used those, Threadbare remembered. Maybe he could give them to Garon if he ever found the half-orc again? He tucked them into his apron pockets.

Two more trash mobs, a handful of coins, and a surprised raccant guard later, the tunnels opened up, and Threadbare gazed upon a large cave, with multiple seats and benches made from stalagmites, free-standing and in rows. Ropes and chains of lanterns hung from the ceiling, flashing with odd colors, and at least three dozen raccants sat on them or jumped up and down, dancing to the beat.

Garbage piled high around the cavern shook to the beat, piles of trash and even cans of the stuff shaking as it thumped on. Occasionally a can would boil over, and a new trash mob would rattle out, then head toward one of the corridors leading out of the cavern.

And up on stage, was a Raccant wearing a pair of baggy black pants, a gold chain, and some odd contraption over his eyes that Threadbare had never seen before. Though for once that wasn’t due to his ignorance. After all, very few people in Cylvania would have recognized a pair of sunglasses.

That Raccant was dancing his heart out up there, jerking spasmodically…

…up until the point he stopped, and the music stopped with him.

And strange figure pointed at Threadbare.

As one, the audience turned to behold the tiny teddy, and as one they rose, irate that their song had been disrupted. Wooden masks in the shape of every domestic animal glared at Threadbare, who looked to Pulsivar for reassurance-

-and found the cat gone.

Well. Shoot.

The trash mobs, at least, left him alone. The Raccant mob didn’t.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. His buffed armor was good enough to reduce most of the damage to minimal amounts, and the high chair, though not as sturdy, rocked back and forth and gave as good as it got. But just as Threadbare thought he was getting ahead, the figure up on stage started dancing again, and the music jumped with him.

It was a heartening song, a song that fired the blood and strengthened the arm…

…and it wasn’t helping Threadbare one bit.

His enemies, on the other hand, drew strength from it! Their attacks turned from ‘0’s and ‘1’s to ‘3’s and ‘4’s, and to his horror, the little bear saw his high chair minion take a solid hit and collapse.

But maybe it was still salvageable? He lunged for it, opening his mouth to cast as he did. “Animus-“

-and his hand collided with a raccant’s mask.

Your Animus skill is now level 7!

The mask shivered and twisted, sliding so the eyeholes moved away from its wearers eyes, and the raccant backed off, clawing at it frantically. He stumbled back into two more of the mob, who left off attacking and shoved him away, trying to stay out of reach as he panicked and lashed out.

Huh!

Well, why not?

Three more points of the animus skill, a point of dexterity, and six more castings later, he was down a fair amount of sanity, but half the mob was in disarray, and the other half was trying to stop them from trampling each other.

And finally Pulsivar made an entrance, slinking in from the side and starting to pick off the stragglers. One by one they fell, and Threadbare smiled as he popped his own claws. He’d found a weakness, now to capitalize on it!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 18!

DEX +1

Finally it was done, and they stood among the piles of dead concertgoers. Not one had fled, but this was a dungeon, so Threadbare didn’t find it odd. Monsters worked this way, in dungeons.

The figure on stage was not happy, not in the slightest. The angry raccant chattered, and the music switched again, a high set of pipes joining a beat that started and stopped, started and stopped.

Threadbare didn’t like it one bit. He darted over to Pulsivar. “Bodyguard!”

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 3!

Then he remembered his own plight, and the torn bits that were even now leaking stuffing. Not much, but enough to crimp his style. “Mend! Mend! Mend!”

He ignored the skill up messages from it, and ran to the high chair, slapping it with one paw. “Mend! Animus!”

But no sooner had it risen again, then everything stopped.

Then in a flash, the raccant was there, bashing the high chair to bits with a heavy hammer that he’d pulled out of literally nowhere.

He’d stopped because it was hammertime, and broken it down, just like that.

Threadbare popped claws and laid into him-or tried to, anyway. The bard could dodge like nobody’s business, thanks to his Raccant Touch This skill.

And for the first time in this fight, Threadbare started to worry.

Your Toughness skill is now level 13!

+2 HP

That hammer hit hard. Pulsivar came arrowing in on the side, got in a good swipe, but the bard was made of sturdier stuff, and he returned the favor-

-as Threadbare suddenly found himself pulled a few feet over, just in time to take the hammer hit instead of Pulsivar.

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 4!

Your Toughness skill is now level 14!

+4 HP

The fight went on for a bit, and Threadbare switched from trying to shred the guy to just trying to survive, letting Pulsivar do the real work. Fortunately that was a good strategy, and in the end, after three dodge skill and two more bodyguard skill ups later, the raccant fell, glasses shattering, and Threadbare sagged into Pulsivar, hugging his wounds away with what remained of his sanity.

You have healed Pulsivar for 80 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 9!

He was gambling here…

…a gamble that paid off, as the words appeared again, and he felt his reserves refill.

You are now a level 9 Bear!
+5 CON
+5 STR
+5 WIS
+3 Armor
+3 Mental Fortitude
+3 Endurance
You are now a level 3 Animator!
+3 DEX
+3 INT
+3 WILL
Whew. Okay.

Digging through the remnants of the raccant, he found that somehow the creature’s hammer had disappeared, but the gold chain and the baggy pants remained. The black pants almost sparkled, some kind of glitter worked into the material. They were too big for him-

-but he had a trick for that, now didn’t he?

“Adjust Outfit.”

Your Adjust Outfit skill is now level 2!

He took a sniff of them.

Wooooo, nope.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 15!

“Clean and Press!”

Your Clean and Press skill is now level 4!

They fit nicely, adjusted by magic to teddy bear size. Oddly enough, they only had one pocket in them, and it was really deep. Bigger on the inside than it should be, judging from the outside. But when he tried to put some of his coins in there, the pocket sealed up. It unsealed when he moved his paw away. Weird, he’d mess with that later.

Draping the gold chain around his neck, he picked the largest tunnel that didn’t look like it went back the way they’d come, threw another couple of mends on himself, and stomped forward. Pulsivar followed, relieved that the noisy music was now gone.

Six more trash mobs, and a small group of raccants later, Threadbare’s nose twitched at a T-junction in the cave. He took a snuff… and smelled Sandalwood.

Missus Fluffbear! He hurried to the right, completely ignoring the sign on the wall.

BEWAR THE BEARSERKER

In his haste, he completely missed the tripwire. His little legs hit it, and his disproportionate strength snapped it like thread.

WHAM!

The floor under him fell away as the trapdoor opened, and the bear plummeted.

Pulsivar, just as surprised as Threadbare, stared, then readied to jump… and gave a frustrated howl, as the trapdoor slammed shut in the big cat’s face.

Smooth, greased rock slid by under Threadbare’s pants, which flapped in the wind of his passing. He flailed for a grip, found nothing, and spilled to the ground as the slide leveled out and opened up into a wide space.

More stalagmite benches surrounded the edges of the cavern, with chicken wire between the cheering raccants occupying them and the pit below. The pit Threadbare was now lying in. He stood up, brushing himself up, and looking around. The slide behind him quickly sealed as soon as he looked at it, a stone door slamming shut as its counterweight tripped. He walked over and poked it desperately, fearing for Pulsivar.

Your Adorable skill is now level 16!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 4!

Then a ratcheting metal noise came from behind, and Threadbare turned, slowly. The scent of Sandalwood filled his nose, and for a minute his heart leaped…

…until he saw what was emerging from the darkness under the rising portcullis.

Four times his size, with fur of pitch black, and bright-red button eyes, the plush toy was a walking behemoth. It bore a full-sized lumberjack’s axe in both paws, and the weight of it strained the teddy bear’s seams, revealing wisps of stuffing spilling out from stretched thread.

And worst of all, he recognized it.

“Fiyt! Fiyt! Fiyt!” Chanted the Raccants above, and the giant-sized Missus Fluffbear roared, headbutted the wall next to her three or four times, sending up red ‘20s’, and turned to glare at him.

And all Threadbare could do was stare, aghast. “Oh no. What did they do to you!”

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 10
Bear Level 9
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 4
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 3
Necromancer Level 1
Duelist Level 1
Animator Level 3
Enchanter Level 1
Golemist Level 1
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 86 Constitution: 90 Hit Points: 234(284) Armor: 37(41)
Intelligence: 69 Wisdom: 100 Sanity: 169(199) Mental Fortitude: 27
Dexterity: 54 Agility: 64(69) Stamina: 124(158) Endurance: 47
Charisma: 63(68) Willpower: 55 Moxie: 118(153) Cool: 20
Perception: 65 Luck: 57 Fortune: 122(152) Fate: 10

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 22 (+2)
Climb - Level 12
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 5
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 7
Stealth - Level 5
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 16
Bodyguard - Level 5
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 9
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 18
Forage - 8
Growl - 1
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 15
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 14

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 5
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 37(41)
Clean and Press - Level 4
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 15 (+30 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 2
Flex - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 10
Work it Baby - Level 4

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 2
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 1
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 1
Guard Stance - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 5 (Brawling +2)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 10
Command Animus - Level 1
Creator’s Guardians - Level 6
Eye for Detail - Level 1
Mend - Level 11

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 1
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 1
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 1
Invite Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem Construction - Level 1

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment

Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 armor, +4 tailoring)
Poor Quality Bling
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)

Quests
Save Celia
Unlocked Jobs Cook, Tamer, Wizard

Getting Your Bearings 3

In a deep stone pit, ten times his size, with chicken wire lining the top and a cheering raccant audience calling for blood, a little teddy bear looked upon the twisted form of the one he’d come to save, and despaired.

For about a second. There was murder in his enraged comrade’s button eyes, and he needed to do something about that. “Command Golem! Stop and stand down.”

It was the first time he’d ever used that skill, but he was pretty sure the words that followed made no sense at all.

Invalid target!

What? Why?

Then she was charging, and her axe caught him in a sideswing, knocking him off the rounded side of the pit, to tumble several yards away in the arena. He shook his head as a red ‘21’ rolled up from his wound. Suddenly all that time leveling flex seemed time well spent.

“Command Golem! Missus Fluffbear stop!”

Invalid target!

Okay, no, something was going on here. But the enraged black teddy bear was charging for him again. Threadbare dove to the side…. But got clipped anyway, as she kicked him this time with claws roughly about four times the size of his own.

12 hit points later, Threadbare stood back up again. He needed time to think this over and she wasn’t going to give it to him. But fortunately he was much, much stronger for his size, and much, much more nimble than he had any right to be. Not gymnast class, not anywhere near that yet, but far more than most. He ran and jumped, catching the bottom of the chicken wire lining and boosted himself up, out of her reach.

Your Climb skill is now level 13!

Instantly the crowd started booing him, and throwing nuts, bits of moldy bread, and the other snacks they’d been eating. Threadbare ignored them and looked down at the growling, murder creature swiping the air underneath him with heavy, sweeping strokes. She didn’t look like she was in a mood to talk, so that was out. Was there another way to sort this out?

He had a lot of stuff to apply, here, but did he have anything useful?

“Status.”

Why yes, yes he did. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt anything.

“Eye for Detail.”

Your Eye for Detail skill is now level 2!

And as her status opened up, he twitched in surprise.

He hadn’t been able to check her, not while they spent all that time in that darkened basement, but he was pretty sure that what he was seeing didn’t match what she should have. According to this, her name was “The Bearserker,” her race was Construct, and her job was Optional Midboss. She was a fifth level midboss. No toy golem or bear jobs to be seen, and that just wasn’t right.

Aside from that, her stats were surprisingly anemic. Everything was in strength and hit points. She hit hard, for her level, and had an okay Axes and Choppas skill, but her defenses were shabby. Not much sanity. Not much moxie or fortune. Decent endurance and about four hundred hit points, but this didn’t line up with what he knew of her at all.

Fuzzy hands poked at his paws, and he turned to see the nearest group of raccants pushing at him through the chicken wire, trying to shove him back into the pit. They wanted to see stuffing, dammit!

Threadbare tried to climb away from him, but there were a lot of onlookers, and one of his paws was forced free. Only a matter of time for the other, he knew.

But that was fine. A great weight had been lifted from him. This wasn’t Missus Fluffbear, couldn’t be her. It just looked like her, somehow. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he did know this;

He was free to beat the stuffing out of this misshapen mockery of his friend with impunity.

And he had a hitherto unused toolset to use to do so that was just ducky for the occasion.

“Guard Stance! Challenge Bearserker!”

Your Guard Stance Skill is now level 2!

Your Challenge Skill is now level 2!

Instantly the strength drained from his limbs and his paws felt clumsy-

-but that was fine, because he felt… faster, for a lack of a better word.

The raccants easily pushed him free from his last pawhold, and he twisted in midair, dodged the oncoming swipe, and landed on the handle of the axe, arms up in a boxing stance.

AGL +1

Well, why not try everything he could? “Fancy Flourish!” The little bear’s arms darted out in a spray of quick jabs, as the bear huffed and puffed, shifting his legs back and forth on the axe handle like a little boxer.

Your Adorable Skill is now level 17!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 5!

The Bearserker has resisted your Fancy Flourish!

She twisted the axe in her hands, and he dropped down, managing to roll and just barely dodge it as she struck down at him.

Your Dodge skill is now level 6!

Then it was up again, dancing toward her legs, paws up, jabbing at her with claw swipes as she turned, trying to cleave him. He was only doing about ten damage a hit, but she was having a lot of trouble connecting. The few hits he took did about double his, but he was wearing her down. And as he fought, he threw in Fancy Flourishes, managing to land a couple through her willpower, despite his inexperience with the skill.

Your Fancy Flourish skill is now level 2!

A green ‘6’ drifted up from her head. Moxie damage.

Your Fancy Flourish skill is now level 3!

Another green ‘6’

But he dropped it once he started feeling tired. He was still using claw swipes after all, and that was more important in the long haul. He didn’t have a chance of zeroing out her moxie, and he wasn’t sure what that would do anyway. So instead he settled for trying to pound the stuffing out of her.

Your Brawling skill is now level 23!

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 19!

DEX +1

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 20!

AGI +1

Critical Hit!

LUCK +1

Your Brawling skill is now level 24!

But as time went on, he noticed something. She was getting torn up, yes…

…but her strikes were hitting harder.

Your Toughness skill is now level 15!

+2 Max HP

When they connected, they tore him up something fierce. He watched a red ‘40’ roll by with alarm. He was down maybe half, he didn’t have time to stop and check. All it would take was one lucky crit on her part, and bad things would surely happen.

Come to think of it, she’d had a skill called “Power from Pain,” hadn’t she? If this was it, it was troublesome. She couldn’t have much left, hit-point wise, but…

He ran, getting some distance, and the crowd booed again. Was there a way to turn off guard stance? He concentrated, still running with a bear behind, and felt it click off. Instantly he slowed a bit, and the axe almost swept through his head.

Your Dodge skill is now level 7!

But before she could try a backswing, he leaped, and caught the chicken wire again. Instantly the raccants surged toward him, but that was fine. He had what he needed; a breather.

“Mend! Mend! Mend! Mend! Mend!” He shouted, over and over again as they pushed and shoved at him. He maxed the skill when it hit 15 and kept going. After about the ninth casting they managed to knock him loose, and the Bearserker’s axe narrowly missed him with an upswing. Without time to think, without time to re-establish guard stance he hit the ground, grabbed her leg, and tore great swipes of it free.

And this time, without guard stance gimping his damage, he managed to tear right through her plush paw. She crumpled, falling to one knee, and he grabbed her shoulder, hauled himself up, and tore through her plush head. Red stuffing spilled out, and the overmuscled Bearserker fell. The crowd went wild, and Threadbare clambered down, shaking. He was tired, so tired, but there was no way that hadn’t-

You are now a level 2 Duelist!
+3 AGL
+3 DEX
+3 STR
Ah, there it was. His pools refilled.

Then a hissing noise filled his ears, just audible under the roaring crowd. He looked down to see yellow dust pouring out of the Bearserker’s skull. He’d seen that dust before, long ago… it was the same dust that his creator had almost turned him into, when he was first awakened.

His creator had taken great care to bottle it. Threadbare didn’t have bottles, but he had apron pockets. He started scooping it up and pouring it into his pockets… but found that after he’d gotten about half of it in a pocket, the other half wouldn’t fit. Curiously, he experimented, and found he could put the remaining dust in another pocket. He just couldn’t mix the two of them. There was a point where they wouldn’t fill up beyond.

Threadbare looked up, only to watch the Bearserker’s corpse disappear in front of his eyes. Gone, just like that. What the heck?

A creak interrupted his reverie, and he looked up to see the portcullis shuddering downward as it started to close. No other way out of this pit! He ran for it, managed to just get under it before it shut.

The corridor beyond was dark, with lighted doorways off to the side, each blocked off by a portcullis, and a chest at the end of a stone door. And there, fading into view not ten feet from him, wisping into existence from nothingness, was another Bearserker.

Thoroughly freaked out and not wanting to fight a murderous midboss in the tight confines of a tunnel, he ran past her. The stone door opened as he approached, but he slowed, tempted by the treasure chest.

Then the Bearserker roared, and Threadbare saw a green ‘12’ lift out and float up above him. Yeah, no, the treasure chest wasn’t worth it. He darted through the stone door and it ground shut behind him, cutting off the sound of the Bearserker’s lumbering approach.

Whew! Threadbare looked around him, at the tunnels lit by an obscene amount of stolen lanterns. Back to the old familiar corridors, it looked like.

The little teddy bear Flexed, and Self-esteemed himself again, watching those buffs skill up, and refocused his mind on the task ahead. He’d been separated from Pulsivar back there. He had no doubt the big cat could take care of himself, and a quick check of the party screen showed him still there, still in relatively good health.

Then the cat’s HP went up as he watched, and Threadbare chuckled, the tiny sound breaking the silence of the cave. Pulsivar was grooming himself, had to be. “Good kitty,” Threadbare whispered, and toddled off to find him. He activated Scents and Sensibility along the way, hoping to catch the big cat’s scent, and make his task easier.

He did find Pulsivar’s scent… at about the same time the first Trash Mob found him.

One minute later, the trash mob was in ruins, Threadbare was a few coins richer, and down a few hit points. He mended himself, resumed the hunt, following the scent trail-

-and got jumped by another Trash Mob.

Midway through, he got smart. What exactly was animated trash?

“Eye for Detail.”

Your Eye for Detail skill is now level 3!

Yep, they were animi. Also a slime, which was weird, but whatever. He was new to this whole animator thing, that was his excuse.

Well, he’d wanted to come in here with minions, hadn’t he?

Five Trash Mob encounters and five skill ups to Command Animus and Creator’s Guardians later, Threadbare was feeling a bit lightheaded but he had a full party. True, they were literally garbage, but they were his garbage, and they could take hits like no one’s business. Well, not compared to him, but they were good for their level, anyway.

Having a bunch of Trash Mobs in his thrall let Threadbare pick up speed. He got jumped a few times more, but his garbage goons swiftly made junk of the offending Trash Mobs. And it turned out, that grinding through trash mobs using animi was enough for another animator level.

You are now a level 4 Animator!
+3 DEX
+3 INT
+3 WILL

That was a welcome refresh. Binding all those trash mobs had cost him a bit over a quarter of his sanity, mending had taken more, and the fights had drained stamina a bit. All back in a heartbeat, thanks to a timely level.

And after a time, the mounting weight of the coins salvaged from dead Trash Mobs stretched his apron tight around him, and started working on another skill as well.

Your Sturdy Back skill is now level 6!

Threadbare followed the scent deeper into the tunnels. He knew he was close behind, when he found shredded remnants of other trash mobs along the way. “Party Screen,” he said with relief…

…and gasped when he saw that Pulsivar was down to half of his hit points. “No!” He ran forward, following the trail as fast as he could, trying to move at top speed without losing it. But it was hard, and to his horror, Pulsivar’s hit points kept dropping, five or six at a time…

…until they stabilized at about thirty. Threadbare didn’t let up, until he came to a red lacquered door, standing slightly ajar. Gold-painted letters on it announced to the world;

TRASH PANDA

Threadbare burst through the door, trash mobs following, clanking and tumbling…

…to find a room filled with paper screens, currently shredded. The floor was full of torn up mats, and odd looking weapons made from junk hung on the walls. Pulsivar was nowhere in sight, but lying against one wall, gutted with stuffing bursting out of her shredded hide, was Missus Fluffbear.

Wait.

No, this wasn’t her. This version of her had white fur mingled in with her regular black color. Also she was two feet tall, nowhere near the six inches she started with. About half the size of the Bearserker.

Just to be safe, though….

“Eye for Detail”

Your Eye for Detail skill is now level 4!

No, this one was something called a “Trash Panda.” Another midboss, by the looks of it. Another construct. Huh, wait, she had the Fancy Flourish skill as well…

That’s about the point that an ungodly racket sprang up behind him, and Threadbare whirled to find a big black bobcat ripping one of his bound Trash Mobs to bits.

“Wait! No!” He ran and hugged Pulsivar, and the cat startled, surprised. Golden light flared.

You have healed Pulsivar 90 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 10!

Your Fascination skill is now level 3!

The Bobcat abruptly stopped attacking the mob. When the mob went after Pulisvar, Threadbare called it off. Then the big cat was purring, and licking his face.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Threadbare patted him until he backed off. If he was right about what had happened last time, then Midboss corpses didn’t last forever. They had to loot it and hurry away. Threadbare salvaged a yellow cloth belt from the fake Fluffbear’s corpse, wound it around his waist, and hurried on through the only other door out of the place, with Pulsivar and his Trash Mobs at his heels.

After the door shut behind them, Threadbare checked his status screen. Nice! The belt boosted his agility and dexterity, and gave a bonus to his Fancy Flourish skill. While he was there he checked his new pants, and found them good as well. They’d be handy for storing his scepter if he ever got ahold of it again.

Missus Fluffbear had been holding it when the raccants dragged her off. Maybe it was still in here?

The corridors they ventured into were different from the rest. As they went down them, the trash mobs disappeared, replaced by the occasional wandering raccant carrying thin paper boxes full of strange-smelling stuff that crunched underheel after Threadbare and his party fought and slew the wandering monsters. He lost the Trash Mob that Pulisvar had wounded, but scarcely noticed as the scenery changed.

The corridors now had brightly-colored flashing lanterns strung along them, and occasionally they passed a rolling red-and-white striped ball, or a bit of cloth arranged to look like the outside of a tent, strung up along the stone tunnel. A strange music started to play in the distance, cheerful and upbeat and bouncy.

It was all more than a little surreal, and Threadbare was glad when they emerged out into a huge cavern, as brightly-lit as day. All around them, to his horror, were stands full of Raccants, stone steps laid out like bleachers. But on the upside, at least some of them thought his pants looked cool.

Your Work It Baby skill is now level 6!

Directly ahead were three rings, each the size of Caradon’s property.

One ring held an arrangement of scrap wood hammered together with poles and ropes in it. A raccant was balancing on a wire stretched between the two highest poles, twirling a parasol and resplendent in a tutu.

Another ring had a small wooden wagon with a bulging cloth cover over it, zooming around. On closer inspection, raccant feet were visible just under the wagon, trampling along and driving it in circles.

A third ring held an oversized raccant in a mask that said “LYIN”. He had a mane made out of straw, and wore big brown pajamas. Currently he was sticking the head of a small doll in the mask’s mouth, then pulling it out again. With a shock, Threadbare recognized Beanarella, Celia’s old dolly!

“Welkim! Welkim!” A voice boomed from overhead. Threadbare and Pulsivar jumped…

…as a portcullis dropped behind them, sealing off the tunnel they’d come through.

“Tooda gray test shon nerf!” The voice continued, chittering, as a platform lowered from the ceiling, revealing the biggest Raccant yet.

This one had a different mask from the others. It said “HOOMIN,” and bore a warped caricature of Mordecai’s face. Threadbare could tell by the bushy eyebrows. Made from real bushes.

The Raccant was dressed in a long red coat with tails, in addition to his own, fluffy ringed tail. He bore a whip in one hand, and a cone that he shouted through in the other, and on his head was a tiny top hat. A familiar tiny top hat. Threadbare had worn that many a time, during tea parties!

“You took those!” Threadbare accused, his voice lost in the calliope music. So they’d salvaged more from the house, than just his friend! Well, he’d have it all back, then. Just a matter of beatings. He flexed, called up his self-esteem, and bodyguarded Pulsivar for good measure.

Your Flex skill is now level 13!

Your Self-Esteem skill is now level 13!

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 6!

The Ringtailed master nodded, as the bear made his preparations and the cat hunkered low, freaked out by the noise and looking for something to kill to shut it up.

“Komm iffu dair! Chall enj all freerings to winna prise!”

Turning aside to the audience, he mock-whispered through the megaphone; “The prises beetings.”

Well, he was right. Just not in the way he intended.

Threadbare and Pulsivar rushed the first ring, and the tightrope walker hurled down circus balls at them, that bounced for minimal damage when they struck. Eyeing the distance up to her, and considering that she’d be throwing things at him the whole time he was trying to climb up there to get at her, and then he’d have to fight her while balancing on a tightrope… yeah, no.

Threadbare looked around for an edge, and looked at the jumble of planks that made the “poles” that her tightrope wire was stretched between. They were pretty poor construction, and jiggled every time she ran back and forth up there.

Well. Why not?

“Animus,” the little bear breathed as he touched one of the supporting poles. “Invite Pole.”

Your Animus skill is now level 11!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 11!

The tightrope walker stared at him uncomprehendingly, up until the point that one of her supports suddenly twisted, went spastic, and jiggled her wire so hard she fell off the rope.

Right into Pulsivar’s waiting jaws.

CRUNCH.

The crowd oohed, aahed, and applauded. Her parasol fluttered down, pink and frilly, and Threadbare caught it, tucking it away into his apron with nary a thought. His eyes were on the next challenge. The wagon. He dismissed the pole from his party, leaving it to its own devices.

Well, maybe he could animate that too. He started to it, ignoring the cries and shrieks of the dying raccant as Pulsivar ate her, and stretched out a paw to slap it. But just before he could reach it, one of the cloth covers flipped aside, and a raccant spilled out, wearing a mask smeared with white and red makeup.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another.

But by that time Threadbare’s trash mobs had caught up with him. He left the curious raccants to the mobs, and slapped his hand on the wagon, even as it spilled out far more occupants than it could possibly carry. “Animus,” he declared, tanking hits as he got his paw on the little wheeled device. “Invite wagon.”

The Klwon Kar has resisted your spell!

Then the thing zoomed off, leaving him in a mob of… Klwons? Okay. The wagon stopped a little ways away, and spilled out more raccants.

They weren’t tough raccants, his trash mobs looked to be taking them down pretty easily, but they bounced all over the place, squirted him with weird water bottles that damaged his moxie, and ran around honking weird rubber and metal devices for no reason at all. Doing his best to ignore them, he ran after the car, managed to catch it, and slapped it again. “Animus! Invite Klo… Klw… Invite Kar!”

Your Animus skill is now level 12!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 12!

Thoroughly annoyed, Threadbare gave the Kar its marching orders, and it revved up, wheels squealing as the occupants inside shrieked and tried to escape. A few more got out, but then the little Kar zoomed at high speed across to the next ring and plowed straight into the unsuspecting “Lyin.”

For some reason it blew up into a big fireball. A red ‘264’ floated out from the debris, as did the charred remnants of the Lyin’s mane. Threadbare turned his back on the explosion, glaring at the remaining Klwns with button eyes.

Boy, there were a lot of them. Three of his Trash Mobs were down, leaving one more trying to hold back a tide…

…then a black shadow passed overhead.

THUMP.

Pulsivar came down, and went to work. Threadbare waded in as well, claws out and shredding. It was surprisingly satisfying. They’d worked up his temper with all those water bottles and klwoning around, and he took it out on them, killing with satisfaction for the first time ever.

And at the end of that fight, new words came up.

Congratulations! By killing in anger you have unlocked the Berserker job!

You cannot become a Berserker at this time!

Huh. Well… Threadbare felt slightly ashamed, for no reason he could tell. He slowed, looking around him at the carnage-

-then another stupid jet of water hit him, and he shrugged and waded back in. They had it coming.

Finally, the ring was empty of the enemy. Their strange corpses faded, leaving behind only one of those rubber and brass honking things. He didn’t see a use for it, but Threadbare picked it up anyway.

“Weldon! Weldon!” The Ringtailed Master chittered, and he hopped off the platform. “Clozure I’s an nopen wyde fordee prise! Nukkle sammisches!”

He rushed them, and got a face full of Pulsivar’s claws, reeled back snapping his whip at the big cat-

-to find Threadbare on the other side.

“Challenge! Guard Stance! Fancy Flourish! Grrrrr!”

Your Challenge skill is now level 3!

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 3!

Your Fancy Flourish skill is now level 6!

Your Growl skill is now level 2!

The ringtailed master’s Woop Woop skill hurt their moxie, but they persisted. His Whippersnapper skill, which had bonuses against big cats, was thoroughly thwarted as half his attempts were intercepted by the bodyguarding Threadbare. And damn did Pulsivar hit hard.

The bear was no slouch either. And he could heal any damage the boss dealt.

Your Brawling skill is now level 25!

Your Weapon Specializaton skill is now level 6!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 7!

STR +1
DEX +1
Critical Hit!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 8!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 9!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 21!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 10!

Your Mend skill is now level 16!

Your Mend skill is now level 17!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 22!

At the end of it all, the outcome was inevitable. A level 6 boss in a rarely-visited and underevolved dungeon was just no match for a massively-multiclassed toy golem and a level 21 beast. Finally, the Ringtail master fell. Relieved, Threadbare swooped the top hat from the boss’s head, and replaced it on his own. “Mine!” he declared.

And to the victor, went the experience.

You are now a level 10 Bear!

You may Rank Up to a Tier II Bear Job at this level!

Would you like to do so at this time?

“Yes!” he declared. He’d made his choice long ago, taking everything into account. And then he fell down, holding his head, as it grew by a few inches. His eyes elongated, the buttons becoming bigger…

…and suddenly the bright light in here seemed a little TOO bright.

And then Threadbare was a Cave Bear.

Still a teddy bear, still a Greater Golem, but a bit thicker and with a bigger skull.

You are now a level 10 Cave Bear!
+10 CON
+10 WIS
+5 Armor
+5 Mental Fortitude
+5 Endurance
You have unlocked the Darkspawn Skill!
And that wasn’t the only level up.
You are now a level 3 Duelist!
+3 AGL
+3 DEX
+3 STR

But it was the final one that brought the most interesting results…

You are now a level 5 Animator!

+3 DEX

+3 INT

+3 WILL

You have unlocked the Animus Blade skill!

Your Animus Blade skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Arm Creation skill!

Your Arm Creation skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Dollseye skill!

Your Dollseye skill is now level 1!

New skills… Threadbare shook his now mildly-larger head, and peered around with new eyes. If he could have seen himself, he would have noticed that the buttons were bigger, darker, so black that they almost seemed hollows within his head. And in there, a tiny gleam flickered like pupils.

The raccants in the stands had fled, he saw. For the minute the room was empty.

But… where was Missus Fluffbear? She had to be here!

He took a sniff. His Scents and Sensibility had helped him so often before…

And it did not fail him now.

PER +1

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 16!

It was coming from… above? He lifted his new, sensitive eyes –

-up to where the platform shuddered, and slowly began to retract into the hole in the ceiling.

“No!” He grabbed Pulsivar, interrupting a perfectly good groom, and held fast to the scruff of his neck. The cat jerked its eyes to the little bear, looking mortally offended. “Up! We need to go up!” Threadbare pointed with his free hand. “Jump! Please Jump!”

Fortunately, he’d just equipped some very good charisma gear.

CHA +1

Pulsivar got the gist of it, and did his thing, running and leaping for all he was worth, as Threadbare hung on tight.

Your Ride skill is now level 8!

It was a very good thing that he was so light, and had gotten so strong.

They made the platform, the cat’s claws clicking and scraping as he caught the lower edge of it, flailed, and pulled himself up. All told it was a good thing he didn’t have a proper tail anymore, else it would have been severed as the platform clunked into the ceiling.

Threadbare let go, and looked around at the place…

…and realized that he was far, far out of his depth.

It was a void, a black void. The floor was stone, he could feel that under his paws, but there were no walls. Pylons filled the expanse, green pillars of light, flickering softly. In amongst a cluster of the pillars, a red crystal the size of Threadbare hovered, swaying up and down, as small lightning bolts arced between it and the pillars.

Some of the pillars had raccants in them. Others had jumbles of things. Coins, bits of treasure, familiar looking objects…

And one had Missus Fluffare, suspended in midair. She looked a little torn and dirty, but she was still intact, still six inches tall, and most decidedly NOT a Bearserker or a Trash Panda.

“There you are!” He sobbed in relief.

Pulsivar rumbled, low in his throat. He did not like this place one bit. Threadbare patted him. “Stay here please,” he said, then ambled toward the cluster of inhabited pillars.

As he approached each one, glowing letters faded into existence. One pillar filled with a pile of worthless junk got the letters MINION – TRASH MOB.

Another held one of the raccant guards. MINION – RACCANTEER

One held the bard he’d fought. MIDBOSS 1 - MC SLAMMER

Another held someone he hadn’t encountered… a Raccant with a blonde wig and a torn up dress, holding a weird gizmo with buttons and numbers on it. She had two labels; MIDBOSS 4 – RACCANT EVEN, and MIDBOSS 5 – THE VERY MODEL OF A VARMINT MAJOR GENERAL. Maybe she was in another part of the dungeon?

The one with Missus Fluffbear in it had two labels. MIDBOSS 2 – BEARSERKER, and MIDBOSS 3 – TRASH PANDA. He reached for it…

…and his paws frizzed, blurred and started flashing green. Ow! What was this? He pulled them back, quickly. It felt almost like… like that one time, back in the Catamountain, during the final fight when Celia had almost hit him with an electricity ball.

Threadbare turned, to look at the red crystal.

He moved up to the pillar under it, the one labelled DUNGEON BOSS – RINGTAIL MASTER.

And the Ringtail Master looked back. Shocked, Threadbare stumbled back, and the boss burst out of the pillar, reaching out to grab and claw at the interloper-

-and got promptly jumped by Pulsivar.

He went down easier this time. A lot easier. And his corpse didn’t disappear.

A soft chime echoed everywhere and nowhere, and words, green words writ large across the… sky? They were made of numbers, all zeroes and ones, and Threadbare shook to see them. They felt… wrong. Strange. If he’d known the word, he would have called them unholy.

NO MASTER DETECTED IN DUNGEON 01010010 01000001 01000011 01000011 01001111 01001111 01001110 01010010 01010101 01001101 01010000 01010101 01010011

PLEASE ASSIGN NEW MOB TO COMMAND VARIABLE TO CONTINUE OPERATION.

Threadbare stared at the words. They made no sense.

He went back and tried to pull Missus Fluffbear out again… and again, his hands got zapped. No, no, that would do something bad. He didn’t know what, but it would be bad, his advanced wisdom told him.

What could he do?

The bleak landscape shuddered. For a second, there were stone walls all around, an old mine cart off to one side, and then it was the black and green weirdscape again. Pulsivar howled in fear, and ran to the bear, nudging him with his face. It was time to go, Pulsivar insisted, in cat.

But there was nowhere to go.

Was there?

The words above shifted. ERROR! NO MASTER DETECTED. DUNGEON SEALING IN 30.

Then the 30 changed to 29. Then to a 28.

Threadbare hugged Pulsivar, and held on tight. Was this the end?

It wasn’t.

When the numbers reached zero, the world changed.

It was a dark mineshaft, dingy, just one central cavern with a few small tunnels off of it. Threadbare looked around, his new darkvision drinking everything in perfect detail, as scents once again filled his nose. Raccant, mostly, but under it all, the welcome odor of Sandalwood.

He ignored the chittering Raccant Bard and whatever the Raccant Even was as the two of them fled, ignored the minion raccants who followed them out at top speed, with Pulsivar in hot pursuit. He ignored the various bits of loot littering the ground, and even ignored his Scepter, lying there, golden in the darkness.

No, Threadbare ignored them all as he walked up to the tiny bear, half his size, dazed and looking around in the darkness. And he hugged her. She stiffened, but then golden light flared from his innocent embrace-

You have healed Missus Fluffbear for 100 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 11!

And a smaller golden light flared, as she hugged him back.

Missus Fluffbear has healed you for 10 points!

And while there was a lot to sort out, for now, he knew that all was well with the world. The loot could wait. He’d been too long in here already, here and whatever that… other place had been.

Scooping Missus Fluffbear up, he carried her out of the shallow mineshaft, and back into the daylight.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 10
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 4
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 3
Necromancer Level 1
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 1
Golemist Level 1
Smith Level 1

Attributes:

Strength: 93 Constitution: 100 Hit Points: 253(293) Armor: 42(46)
Intelligence: 75 Wisdom: 110 Sanity: 185(215) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 70(75) Agility: 72(82) Stamina: 152(187) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 64(79) Willpower: 61 Moxie: 125(170) Cool: 20
Perception: 66 Luck: 60 Fortune: 126(156) Fate: 10

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 5
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 17
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 4

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 8
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 16
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 1
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 1
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 37(41)
Clean and Press - Level 4
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 15 (+30 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 13
Self-Esteem - Level 13
Work it Baby - Level 6

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 1
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 2
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (11)
Guard Stance - Level 3
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 12
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 1
Eye for Detail - Level 4
Mend - Level 17

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 1
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 1
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 1
Invite Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem Construction - Level 1

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment

Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)
Poor Quality Bling
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)

INVENTORY Assorted Copper and Silver coins
Clown Horn
Tailor’s Tools
2 Doses of Yellow Reagent

Quests
Save Celia
Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cook, Tamer, Wizard

A Bear has a Sheet too, of course

Just some bonus content, without commentary.

MISSUS FLUFFBEAR’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Missus Fluffbear
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 5
Bear Level 2
Miner 7
Tailor 3

Attributes: Strength: 78 Constitution: 56 Hit Points: 146 Armor: 16
Intelligence: 27 Wisdom: 40 Sanity: 67 Mental Fortitude: 6
Dexterity: 23 Agility: 27 Stamina: 57 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 31 Willpower: 31 Moxie: 62 Cool: 10
Perception: 27 Luck: 25 Fortune: 49 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 7
Climb - Level 7
Dagger - Level 7
Dodge - Level 6
Stealth - Level 2
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 5
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 9
Innocent Embrace - Level 2
Magic Resistance - Level 9

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - Level 7
Forage - Level 3
Scents and Sensibility - 4
Toughness - Level 6

Mining Skills Mining - Level 34
Detect Minerals - Level 1
Supports and Sapping - Level 1

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 15
Clean And Press - Level 1

Equipment

Crappy Tailor’s Tools

A Jury-Rigged Spade
A Finely-Made Dagger (Level 5 Dagger)

Inventory
Quests
Unlocked Jobs None
MORE BONUS CONTENT
Threadbare’s newly-unlocked skills

DARKSPAWN Level: 10 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
You gain a bonus to all attributes equal to twice your Cave Bear level while in darkness, and can see normally in darkness. Sufficient light will disrupt this effect, and the bonus does not increase the maximum size of the associated pools.

ANIMUS BLADE Level: 5 Cost: 15+ Sanity Duration: 10 minutes per animator level
Animates a slashing weapon and grants it minor flight, causing it to move and attack on its own. It cannot venture more than a small distance from you, and will orbit you without taking action unless invited into your party. Its weapon skill is dependant upon your weapon skill, and its equivalent strength is dependant upon your will.

ARM CREATION Level: 5 Cost: 10 San Duration: N/A
Teaches an animi a weapon skill that you know, allowing it to wield and use weapons that are manageable given its size and manipulative appendages. Lasts until the animi deanimates.

DOLLSEYE Level: 5 Cost: 5 San Duration: 10 minutes per animator level
Allows the animator to see through one of their animi. Lasts until the animi deactivates, or can be shut off at will. Occupies the sight capabilities of one of the Animator’s eyes, so perception penalties and confusion may occur if both eyes are open at once. You cannot have more than one dollseye effect active for each functional eye your body possesses.

A Paw Full of Undead 1

The last spadeful of dirt went over the raccants bodies, and Threadbare watched as Missus Fluffbear solemnly tamped it down with her jury-rigged spade. She’d gotten quite good at digging, if he was any judge of the matter.

He still didn’t know why she’d buried the Raccants that Threadbare had killed in their fortified camp, or why she shrunk back and trembled whenever Pulsivar was around. For some reason she feared the big cat…

…well, to be fair, he was pretty scary if you didn’t know him. Or if you were something small and edible. Or if he wanted to play with you and got rough. Or when he loomed out of the night, with only yellow eyes visible and glaring.

But Pulsivar had accepted her well enough after Threadbare cleaned and pressed her, and anointed her with the last of his soap powder from their old home. The scent had a calming effect on Pulsivar. So eventually she stopped trying to hide from him and got on with the raccant burial.

It was hard to tell, but he thought she looked sad. Had the raccants treated her well? She’d gotten that broken spade from somewhere, and the tiny knots in the twine that bound the fork to the remnants of the handle were small enough to be of raccant doing.

Perhaps it was best she didn’t know that he and Pulsivar had killed this bunch out front. Yes, that seemed wise. He was glad his wisdom was getting up to large numbers quickly, life would have been difficult or short without it.

Letting his new companion finish her job, he checked the party screen again, A level 5 toy golem, and a level 2 bear, and also a tailor and a miner. She’d figured out the secret of “yes,” then. He’d guessed that, from how she’d accepted his party invite instantly.

Which meant that she could probably use some equipment. Threadbare looked back to the loot that he’d gotten from the cave. He’d spent some time using his enchanter skill, the one called “Appraise,” leveling it up to 5 and investigating each object that wasn’t total trash.

Most of it was junk. His scepter went into his pants pocket, fitting in despite its size thanks to the miracle of hammerspace.

The Ringtail Master had a coat and that cone thing he was shouting from, which was evidently called a “Minorphone.” he also had a whip that Threadbare didn’t know how to use, and that did small amounts of moxie damage to big cats with every strike. He only knew one big cat and he liked him, so Threadbare pushed that to the pile he was making to the side. He added the rubber and brass clown horn to that pile as well, then he came to the last item.

The Ringtail Master’s coat. It was red with mismatched bright buttons up the front, and had two triangular tails on its backside. It was heavier than it looked, and it had a ton of pockets, and Threadbare fell in love with it on sight. He slapped it on, and felt the usual mental readjustment as his attributes shifted.

The Minorphone got tied with string, to hang over his back. It was kind of bulky compared to his size, but it let him activate its magic to amplify his voice twice a day, which had the side effect of enhancing his voice-related skills. Since he was soft-spoken, it was bound to be useful.

That left the whip and the clown horn, and a few of Celia’s knives… He took one for himself, then set the rest aside for Missus Fluffbear.

Four things left, then. The first was another couple of doses of that glittery dust, red this time. And also some vials to keep it in. This reagent stuff was the component for another of his enchanter abilities, as was the second item, a level one red crystal. According to his appraise, it could be used to enchant permanent magic items, but he had no idea how.

The third item was Cecilia’s old doll, Beanarella. Much torn, very chewed, and dirty, he hastily mended her and cleaned and pressed her back to her original condition. If nothing else she could be an animi, even if she was about his size. Maybe he could jury rig a harness, or a backpack like Celia had?

The fourth was a red octahedron the size of one of his paws, cool to the touch, and glowing with flickering green numbers. It looked very much like a miniature version of the the red crystal, that had been in the strange place with the green pillars and the blackness all around. He’d thought it a crystal for Enchantment at first, but… the appraise hadn’t worked right. All it had turned up was the name of the item.

64756e67656f6e207365656420636c617373206f6e65

He tucked it away, for later research.

With the item sorting done, he looked at Missus Fluffbear, who looked back, smiling because she had no choice. She couldn’t talk. He could fix that, given time, but… his common sense told him that coming at her throat with scissors wouldn’t go too well.

And with Eye for Detail confirming her stats, he knew that explaining a lot of things to her was going to be tricky. She needed an education. A better one than he’d gotten.

Well. He could help with that. But first things first…

One quick tailoring job, using the scraps of leather and cloth retrieved from the junk, and he had a backpack. Another tailoring job, and a skill up this time, and he had a miniature version of his own apron, modified with a few extra straps sized for a whip and a horn.

“I have something for you,” he told Missus Fluffbear. She took it, turned it over, examining it from every angle. Then she tried to tie it around herself, and he winced as her paws dropped it over and over again.

He resisted the urge to help. This is how she could get better at dexterity, by trying over and over again.

Finally she managed, and he showed her how to tuck the coiled-up whip in its pocket, the dagger in its sheath, and the horn through the buckled loop meant to carry it. The horn itself was almost as big as she was, so it dragged on the ground when she walked.

“Here, it does this.” he pressed his paws against the bulb of the horn, and squeezed.

HONK
“So if you have to make noise-”
HONK HONK
“Not all the time, please-”
HONK HONK HONK HONKITTY HONK HONKLY HONKS
He was starting to see a flaw in his plan.

Pulsivar, unnoticed at the edge of the clearing, flattened his ears and slunk off into the woods.

Threadbare tried to get her to stop honking, and after a few minutes she did. She still seemed quite happy with the gifts overall though, pulling her dagger with one hand and her whip with the other, and waving them around in excitement.

He left her to that, and turned back to Beanarella. She really would eat up a lot of packspace if he carried her along, and he didn’t like that notion.

So why not do something about that? Have her walk under her own power? Not as an animi, but as something more permanent, and hopefully more powerful?

He put the doll down on the ground, got out a dose of yellow reagents and the red crystal, and whispered “Toy Golem.”

The little bear watched as his hands moved of their own accord, and a yellow bar appeared before his vision, hollow but filling up as his appendages worked. They sprinkled the glittering reagent in patterns over Beanarella, before putting the crystal right over her heart.

Your Toy Golem Construction skill is now level 2!

He sagged, as about a third of his sanity went out of him. But he was successful, oh was he succesful.

You have created an (average) Toy Golem Shell!

As first tries went, he thought it wasn’t so bad.

Well. One more step to go, then.

Laying his paws on Beanarella’s forehead, he stared into her painted eyes.

“Golem Animus.”

WILL +1

Your Golem Animus skill is now level 2!

She stirred under his hands, and Missus Fluffbear left off flopping the whip around and shanking weeds to come stare at the newly-risen doll, as it sat up. Her thick neckless head twisted on its cloth body, looking around left and right, before fixing on her creator’s button eyes.

But there was nothing behind her painted eyes. No spark of life. She just sat there, looking up at him, and waiting.

Well, he had expected that. But still, there was a sense of disappointment. For a little while longer, at least, he and Fluffbear were the only ones of their own kind. That he knew of, anyway.

“Invite Golem,” he told Beanarella, and then she was in his party.

Your Invite Golem skill is now level 2!

You are now a level 2 Golemist!

+5 INT

+5 WILL

One Eye for Detail (and skill up) later, he checked out her stats. Her physical stats were… average. Better than he’d had starting out, and he didn’t know why. She had solid thirties in all her physical stats plus perception and luck, and a decent armor and great endurance.

But on the other hand, she had nothing mentally. No moxie, no cool, no mental fortitude, no sanity. And her fate was N/A. He didn’t know what that meant. She did have the adorable, innocent embrace, and bodyguard skills, though, along with magic resistance and golem body, so that was good. And a little confusing.

“Why are you like this?” Threadbare asked her in his tiny voice, and she didn’t answer.

Missus Fluffbear, sensing his confusion, tried to cheer him up.

HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK-

She was interrupted, as a piercing scream shook the heavens. And before any of the little toys could react, a screaming eagle drawn by both the shriek of the horn and Fluffbear’s abysmal luck plummeted from the heavens and snatched her up, just like that!

“No!” Threadbare shouted, running after it as it flew away. “Stop! Stop!” To lose her, just like that, after everything they’d gone through…

But the eagle flew on, its prey in its hands. Threadbare had nothing, no skills or spells that would work at range. Nothing that would help him at a distance.

So he ran after the bird, despairing as it flew high… then despairing more, as a small black speck dropped away from it, straight toward a rocky slope.

“Guard Stance!” he snapped, doing everything he could to maximize his ground speed and skilling up at the same time. Then gritting his metaphorical teeth and pushing his agility to the limits, Threadbare ran!

He burst out of the treeline in time to see Missus Fluffbear on her feet, trying to snap the whip at the plummeting form of the Screaming Eagle. With a wince, he saw the whip rebound on her and flick one of her button eyes clean off, as a red ‘10’ floated out of the poor toy. “Mend! Mend!” he yelled, restoring some health to her.

The eagle, amazingly, failed to scoop her up. And as it passed overhead, Threadbare gave a mighty leap-

-and caught its lower talon, dropping guard stance to secure his grip, hanging on with both paws.

The screaming eagle was caught entirely by surprise. It was also no match for a teddy bear who had the strength of a muscular human at this point, much less one who had sharp, sharp claws. With a cry of despair it tumbled and crashed as he tore at its wings.

Somewhat battered but no worse for it the little bear stood up-

-just in time to catch Missus Fluffbear’s whip in his face as she hurried over to help.

He would have rolled his eyes if he could, as the sad little ‘0’ drifted up from him, but instead he settled for mauling the heck out of the Eagle. Fluffbear stabbed it repeatedly as well, and in short order it stopped moving.

Happily, she honked the horn again, and Threadbare put his hand on her shoulder, shook his head. She got the message and stopped.

“Let’s go back to camp.”

The gropevine wasn’t an entirely unexpected encounter, when it lashed out and caught Missus Fluffbear. He knew they were native to the area, so it made sense. The second screaming eagle was annoying when it came in, but they were in the trees so it couldn’t make a good grab in time to escape as Threadbare pounded it until it fled.

Beanarella caught up to the group at that point too, and she helped a bit with the kicking.

And then the Wizz-blizzards following in Beanarella’s wake caught up, too. Little solid clouds made of ice with mean eyes and pointy blue hats, they came in dropping force blasts and hovering around and generally being obnoxious.

Missus Fluffbear seemed to recognize them, and took great joy in whipping and shanking them, aiming at them with long expertise. They seemed to focus mainly on her, though a few wayward shots hit Threadbare and mostly ricocheted. They fell or fled, as the toys fought them, and Threadbare went through a few more mendings. And also got some mileage out of a skill he hadn’t leveled in a while.

Your Magic Resistance skill is now level 5!

Your Magic Resistance skill is now level 6!

Then it was another gropevine, which Threadbare was certain hadn’t been there when he ran through.

The third screaming eagle actually managed to get its claws around Fluffbear and haul her up-

-only to be pounced upon by Pulsivar, who dropped from a high tree and broke its back with his weight.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Threadbare said, as they finally got back to the little stockade. “And I think I know why. Eye for Detail.”

Your Eye for Detail skill is now level 7!

Her luck had actually gone up a point since the last time he checked it. But it was still pretty lousy, at 26.

“Come on,” he patted Pulsivar, and took Missus Fluffbear’s paw. “I think I know someone who can help.” Beanarella fell in behind them as they walked, leaving the buried raccants to their rest.

As they went, he selected a few more skills to level along the way. Better now, than in the heat and stress of combat. Harden, Guard Stance, and Emboldening Speech seemed like good ones to practice. And so he cautiously crept through the woods with his paws up ready to block punches, enhancing Missus Fluffbear’s hide, and rambling on about duty, bravery, and the right to arm bears. He also kicked on Noblesse Oblige, which he’d been thoroughly forgetting about, and watched it slowly start leveling as his party benefited from the buff. His primary attribute seemed to be wisdom, and with luck as miserable as Fluffbear had, she could use every bit of common sense she could get.

It DID keep her horn honks to a minimum, for which he was thankful.

It had been a long time since he’d been this way, but he still knew the route. He lead them through the woods, to a large boulder, and down a goat trail to a valley down below the wooded slope. Eventually the trees grew more weathered and worn, and as the afternoon wore on, he could see the first gray line of stones there in the dead trees.

The strange girl who lived around here had a card game, he knew, one that had helped him when his luck was pretty abysmal. Maybe she could help again?

A few more creatures approached as they found their way down into the swampy valley, but Pulsivar’s presence seemed to keep them at bay, and none of the screaming eagles that occasionally swooped by seemed inclined to attack. They all knew the Black Death, by sight or by smell, and there were better ways to die than by getting within leaping distance of the region’s apex predator.

They came to the stones as he had long ago, and Missus Fluffbear grew interested, toddling around and staring at the writing that filled them. Threadbare followed behind her, reading each one as he went, and tracing the letters with his paw. This had helped him, he remembered, back when he was trying to figure out letters and words, figure out the world.

Celia did this for me, he thought, and bowed his head as his paw shook on the stone. For a second the despair crept on him again-

HONK

-but only a second. He smiled down at Fluffbear’s anxious face, and patted her head. “See? This one says here lies William Walt, I got hungry and it wasn’t his fault.”

But the girl he’d met here was nowhere in sight. He even checked around with Scents and Sensibility…

…and caught a strange smell, coming from the east.

PER +1

It was like Pulsivar, but not Pulsivar. Like a couple of Pulsivars, because the scents were subtly different.

The big black bobcat perked up instantly as soon as he smelled it, bounding off that way, excited.

“Wait!” Threadbare insisted, running to keep up….

…which is about when the first skeletal hand leaped out from behind a gravestone, and tried to strangle Missus Fluffbear. Not a skeleton, just a bony hand, moving of its own accord.

She didn’t much care about getting strangled and it was dispatched easily enough, but by the time they were done with it, Pulsivar was gone from sight. Missus Fluffbear, for her part, was oblivious to Threadbare’s distress, waving her arms in the air excitedly.

Her Toy Golem level had gone up to six on the party screen, Threadbare saw. Not too surprising given how much fighting they’d been doing all that day.

“Pulsivar?” Threadbare called, hauling out the Minorphone and triggering its magic. “PULSIVAR?”

The sound was much louder than expected, and it rolled off the hills, echoing back and forth. But the black cat did not return.

So Threadbare fired up his sniffer and followed his scent. It was pretty easy, after all. His friend stuck to the strange cats’ trail like a close-knit stitch in a seam.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 17!

He didn’t know why Pulsivar was so worked up about this. He had no way of knowing that it was smack in the middle of bobcat mating season, and one of the scents that Pulsivar had picked up belonged to a female close to heat. If he’d known that, he probably wouldn’t have understood it in the first place. Toy golems didn’t generally have to worry about hormones, and in any case, he already had a method of reproduction that involved a lot less drama and biology.

Another dead hand later, they came to a place where the ground was torn up. Muddy stone boxes lay in deep holes, lids off, and the stones above were crooked and fallen. The scent of cats was all around-

-and then Fluffbear was falling into the pits, and that took a while to sort out. Fortunately Threadbare had plenty of string, and eventually he just tied her to him and kept on walking whenever he felt the string tug and jerk. Seriously, she was lucky to have him along for this.

In more ways than he knew, actually. Every time he helped her out of a predicament, she ground a little more experience for her luck. She’d already gone up a couple of times since the day started.

Eventually, Threadbare came to a deep set of ruts in the ground, straight and surrounded with pawmarks. Big ones. The ground was torn up here, by something Threadbare had never seen before. It smelled of… death. Old wood and old death, very old. And… rusted metal? And cats. Really strongly of cats.

And sure enough, Pulsivar was following it. He’d stopped to piss on one of the gravestones, but after that, ZOOM, if Threadbare’s nose was right.

Sighing, the little bear gathered his party and marched on after the tracks.

Oddly enough, they didn’t have any encounters on the way. He was uncertain if this was because Fluffbear’s luck had hit a certain point, or if Pulsivar had cleared the way for them.

The actual answer was due to a completely different factor, but he had no way of knowing that yet.

They broke new ground, walked through land that meandered between the hills, past the occasional fallen shack or burned out barn, and Threadbare activated Keen Eye whenever the trail got too near them, making sure there wasn’t anything lurking in ambush and skilling it up a bit. Twice they snuck past bears, actual honest-to-gods black bears, foraging peacefully. That was good for another two levels of stealth.

And a level of Scout. This one brought some surprises with it.

You are now a level 5 Scout!

AGL +3

PER +3

WIS +3

You have unlocked the Alertness skill!

Your Alertness skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Best Route skill!

Your Best Route skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Forage skill!

You already know the Forage skill… +5 levels added to it instead.

Two new skills, and his spent energy refreshed? Yes please!

Curious, he pulled them up on his status screen.

NEW SKILLS

ALERTNESS Level 5 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Alertness has a chance to auto-activate all your sensory-enhancing skills for free in the event that you are ambushed or about to encounter unseen danger.

BEST ROUTE Level 5 Cost: 15 San Duration: One hour per scout level
Activate while examining a visible terrain feature. Examines the best route from your current location to your destination, and marks it visibly. Everyone in your party can see the best route trail. The higher the skill, the better the route found. At high levels it will detect and detour around dangerous monsters and towards treasure and resources.

Okay, that Alertness one was handy as heck. The other one he could see using sometimes, maybe. Right now it didn’t matter, because he had tracks to follow.

Night fell as they walked. To Threadbare it made little difference, thanks to his new cave bear eyes. But Missus Fluffbear was having a bit of trouble, so they slowed down a bit.

Then they crested a ridge, and he saw lights.

The glowing lights of windows. There was a big building out there, and several shapes beyond it, which his darkvision revealed to be wrecked and scorched buildings. A few of them were intact, though, but they were all dark, save for that big one.

He knew this place. It was Taylor’s Delve. What had happened to it? Why was only one building lit up, and most of the rest smashed up?

Threadbare debated. The trail he was following went past the town, veered away from it. But those lights were intriguing. Then his string pulled tight again, and he sighed as he hauled Missus Fluffbear out of a ditch. It was getting too dark for her to see well, and her perception needed work. Pulsivar was still visible on his party screen, and he was doing fine.

That decided him… the big cat could take care of himself for a night or two, if it became necessary. He had for five years, after all. He’d be fine.

So Threadbare untied the string, took missus Fluffbear by hand, and with Beanarella stomping stoically behind, led the group down the hill and into town.

Once it had planks in the street, but now they were scattered and rotten, overgrown with lichen and the first shoots of new spring plants. But the toys were light and noiseless, as they crept up on the lit building.

Your Stealth skill is now level 9!

Threadbare debated, then waved Beanarella over to one of the windows as an idea struck him. He guided her to just under the windowsill, then climbed up on her back and peered in.

It was a big room inside, with a staircase going up to another floor. Candles lit the room, and a big bar filled the back of it, with stools lining the run of it. A mirror behind the bar had been thoroughly broken, and a pale man with overlarge fangs polished a glass.

At the tables, a rough-looking woman in a breastplate arm-wrestled a sturdy-looking man wearing a miller’s apron. They too were pale, and their fangs stuck out inches from their lips as they grinned at each other. The woman kept winning.

Then, someone howled upstairs, and the building shook. Threadbare barely kept his balance. The patrons inside looked up nervously, then looked back at each other once it subsided.

The voice that howled seemed almost familiar, though Threadbare couldn’t put his finger on it.

Threadbare hopped down. It seemed all right. Maybe these people could help him find Pulsivar, or tell him what was going on.

He rejoined the nervous Missus Fluffbear, and lead her around to the door. It didn’t budge when he pushed it, so he hauled out his scepter and poked at the door handle, trying to turn it. That didn’t work, so he tapped the heavy club against the door instead.

Noise from inside, some hushed discussion, and the man behind the bar opened the door, his lower face covered with a cloth mask. “Why hello there… travelers…” his voice trailed off, as he saw no one in front of him. Then gold flashed in the edge of the vision, and he followed his eyes down to the little bear’s top hat, and the immaculately dressed teddy bear under it.

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 7!

“Hello,” the foot-tall toy said, looking up into the man’s red, red eyes. “Can we come in?”

“…sure? Ah, wait… uh… enter freely and of your own pill.”

“You got it wrong Steve,” the woman said, her voice muffled from her own mask. “It’s will.”

“No, I don’t think this guy is Will.” The bartender stepped aside, as the little toys toddled into the room, two of them peering around curiously. The miller had a mask on too, now.

The woman laughed, wringing her hands together at the unexpected parade. “So cute!”

Your Adorable skill is now level 18!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 8!

For a long minute there was silence. The door shut, and the bartender coughed. “Ah, there’s a… cold going around. That’s why the masks.”

“Yep,” the miller nodded, his eyes red against his pale face. “So we don’t give you colds! Although…”

“Yeah, what are you?” The armored woman said. “You monsters?”

“We’re golems,” Threadbare said, and instantly the atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten.

“Whew, that’s a relief!” The bartender said, sliding his mask off. “So are we!”

“Yeah, come on and belly up to the bar,” The armored woman said, taking a seat and shifting a spear on her back so she could sit down comfortably. “We thought you were travelers. Like we were, once.”

The three little toys moved up to the bar. Threadbare and Fluffbear looked at each other, and scrambled up to the stools, then on to the counter when they couldn’t see above the bar. Beanarella stood placidly below, until the woman reached down and scooped her up, depositing her next to her party members.

“I’m glad you’re not adventurers,” The guy in the miller’s apron said, taking a seat next to Missus Fluffbear. “Most of the time they either run or fight. All but the very stupid ones.”

“Hey!” The woman snapped. “I was tired, okay?”

“Oh no no, it wasn’t a knock on you, I’m just saying-”

“And the light was low! My astigmatism was acting up.”

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Hmph.” She flipped her blonde ponytail back, and stared back at Threadbare. “You are just the cutest thing, you know that? I bet you sucker people in that way, and then SHUNK!”

“No,” Threadbare shook his head. “No shunking. Mostly hugging.”

“Weird, but with that much gear on you I guess it’s working out well.” The bartender shrugged, and took a bottle down. “Do you drink?”

“No.”

“We don’t drink… wine, either.” The bartender grinned. He had a friendly face, with two curly mustaches.

“Gods, don’t remind me,” the woman sighed. “At least I found us that goat a few hours back. You’re all welcome, by the way. Not naming names. Barret and Grimble.”

“Thank you Darla,” the miller said. The bartender just rolled his eyes.

Then the building shook again, as whatever was upstairs howled a breathless scream, that went on for minutes. Missus Fluffbear put her hands over her ears, and Threadbare patted her sympathetically.

When it was done, he asked “What was that?”

“Oh, uh, that’s one of us who didn’t wake up right.” Darla said, shuddering. “Pity, too. He’d be a hell of a fighter, but… eh, he wasn’t human. Gets weird sometimes when you’re not. Racial skills get stuck, and bad things happen. That’s what the mistress says.”

Boards creaked overhead. “Oh, here she comes now!”

“So you must be a pretty high-level golem,” the bartender said. “Only ones I ever heard of aren’t supposed to be smart. Did you luck out and get a monster job that lets you have a class level, too? We get one, but only because we had them to start, and only one comes across.”

“Your best one.” Darla said. “Gods I miss my berserker levels. But at least I’ve got the knight stuff, so I’m somewhat useful in a fight. Not naming names here. Barret.”

“Shut up!” The miller said. “What was I supposed to do? Not my fault my parents literally made me grind miller before I ran away to wizard school! Then I got vamped, and ten wizard levels went straight down the drain, just like that!”

“Guys, guys…” The bartender made shushing motions.

“Oh, I’ve got eight adventuring jobs,” The little bear said. “And two crafting ones.”

The room fell silent.

“That uh, that sounds like you’re an adventurer to me,” the miller said, edging back a little.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t think I’m a monster.”

“Barret, Grimble, ease up,” Darla said, as the miller drew out a stone club and the bartender slipped a hand under the counter. “He’s weird, okay, but it’s not like he’s a necromancer or anything.”

“Oh, I’m one of those too,” Threadbare offered, helpfully.

Darla’s face froze. “Oh boy. Tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.” There were feet on the creaking stairs now as someone descended, but Threadbare’s attention was on the little trio around him. “See? Assess Corpse.”

Your Assess Corpse skill is now level 2!

Instantly words appeared over all of the humans’ heads. Darla was a level 4 lesser vampire spawn and a level 9 knight. Grimble the bartender was a level 5 vampire spawn and a level 7 grifter. Barret was a level 8 vampire spawn and a level 21 miller. And for some reason, they’d all lost their smiles, and drawn their weapons.

“What’s wrong?” Threadbare asked, sliding his hand down to his pocket, where he’d tucked the scepter.

“You!” A voice squealed, and Threadbare turned, to see the mysterious girl he’d met so long ago! She still wore the green-and-poka-dotted scarf around her head, but now she had a ragged black dress to go with it, and some big black boots that stomped as she charged him, scooping him up into a hug. “Mistah baah! Gahd, it’s been so lahng, how ah yah?”

“Hello!” Threadbare said.

“You can tauk now? Holy shit!”

“I made my mouth myself,” said Threadbare, and hugged her back.

It was a very good, very lucky thing that he’d long ago turned off the auto-activation of his innocent embrace skill. Otherwise that night might have ended very differently.

But as it was, the lesser vampire spawns relaxed as their master giggled.

Finally, she put him down on a table, and he got a clear look at the words above her head.

Vampire level ???

“So what brings ya ta my neck a the woods?” She grinned, toothily, pulling up a chair. Darla came over and plopped Missus Fluffbear and Beanarella down as well. “And ya brought friends, too? Wow!”

“I’m wondering if you can help me,” The bear said. He pointed at Missus Fluffbear. “She needs to play that card game you played with me. A lot. Also I’m looking for a big, black bobcat. He’s a friend of mine, and I don’t know where he went to. He suddenly ran off.”

“A big bobcat, yah say?” The girl’s face grew guarded, and she shot the bartender a look. “And a friend ah yahs?”

“Yes.”

“Oooh… bahd luck if he’s around heah, then.” She shook her head. “Grimble, why don’t ya explain?” She winked at the bartender, who smiled, covering his mouth for a brief moment as he mouthed the words “Silver Tongue.” Threadbare had no way of knowing that silent activation was a grifter skill, nor would he have known what silver tongue did anyway.

The grifter started his con. “Yes, my friend. I fear our little community is at war, with an evil necromancer! Which is why we were a little alarmed, earlier. Just a brief misunderstanding, haha.”

“Haha,” Threadbare agreed, not knowing why he should, but he did. He had no way of knowing his better-than-average willpower and actually-fairly-decent cool were being deftly suborned by the grifter’s enhanced charisma.

“Her thing, her style if you will, involves cats. Living ones, and when they die, she brings them back. And alas, they always die. So if she has your friend…”

“No!” Threadbare jumped to his feet. “She can’t kill Pulsivar!”

“Ah, yes… her killing Pulsivar. Yes.” Grimble shot a glance at Darla, who hurridly tucked away a cat-fur pouch. “Anyway,” he continued, “we’ve been fighting against her evil ways, but she’s ever so strong, and being a necromancer, we’re weak to some of her attacks. We’ve been trying to enlist the help of our best fighter, but alas, he is cursed. There is a strange spirit to the south, an evil witch who has cursed him so that he cannot join us.”

“Fartunately the witch is strahng enough to resist tha Cat Queen too,” the vampire girl said. “But it’s only a mattah of time till the Cat Queen snares that spirit. Then our best weapon is against us, and a powaful ghost witch is on all our ahssess too.”

“If only someone could go out and kill that ghost witch,” The bartender said, clapping his hands to his chest. “Someone who didn’t have life to be drained away by her shuddering touch, or dead flesh that withered at her grasp…”

“I could do that!” Threadbare said, completely buying into the narrative.

Impressed, the grifter and his master shared a glance. They didn’t even have to offer a quest!

Outside, ears perked on a feline head, and a moth-eaten feline corpse twitched out of its resting spot under a window, and rattled away into the night, eyes of solid blue necromantic energy glowing in the darkness.

The mistress would want to hear about this!

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 10
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 3
Necromancer Level 1
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 1
Golemist Level 2
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 93 Constitution: 100 Hit Points: 253(283) Armor: 42(51)
Intelligence: 80 Wisdom: 113(118) Sanity: 193(228) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 70(75) Agility: 75(85) Stamina: 155(200) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 64(89) Willpower: 67 Moxie: 131(186) Cool: 20
Perception: 66 Luck: 60(65) Fortune: 126(161) Fate: 10(15)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 9
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 18
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 17
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 5
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 38(42)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 15 (+30 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 13
Self-Esteem - Level 13
Work it Baby - Level 8

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 2
Command the Dead - Level 1
Soulstone - Level 1
Speak With Dead -Level 2
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (11)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 12
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 1
Eye for Detail - Level 7
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 5
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 2
Invite Golem - Level 2
Toy Golem Construction - Level 2

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)

Inventory

Assorted Copper and Silver coins
Clown Horn
Tailor’s Tools
2 Doses of Red Reagent
1 Doses of Yellow Reagent
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cook, Tamer, Wizard

A Paw Full of Undead 2: For a Few Undead More

The vampires were true to their word, and happy to have company that they didn’t either have to eat, run from, or convert. Though Threadbare was ready right away to go and put paid to that evil old ghost witch, they managed to talk him into waiting until daylight.

“She’ll be weakah then,” Madeline said. That was her name, Threadbare had learned a few hours into their three-way game of Grindluck. “Most undead things ah. Us too, but we got tha common sense to stay outah tha sun. Which is why tha Cat Queen only sends her troops around in day.”

The thing upstairs howled again, but they all ignored it, and kept playing their respective card games.

“You should probably be out of the town by then,” Bennett the miller pointed out. “I’m sure you’re pretty tough, but she’s got a lot of skeletons and even a few ghouls and wights.”

“Whites?” Threadbare asked, laying down two reds.

“Nah. Smart undead, with blue glowing ahhs.” Madeline lay down two oranges.

Missus Fluffbear lay down two greens, winning, and happily watching a LUCK +1 flash across her vision.

Madeline ruffled her head, then started sorting through the well-worn deck again, pulling cards to her two-card hand, discarding, and attempting to get two matching colors. “So what happened to yah little gal? She get old and stop playing with toys? Because I may have ta go visit her for a bite if she got that stupid. Toy like you, ya don’t throw away.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Threadbare said, drawing and discarding, drawing and discarding. “It turns out her Daddy was her grandfather and her father showed up and took her back. I got impaled in a house that burned down and collapsed and spent five years digging out.”

HONK.

The vampires jumped. Threadbare shook his head. “Oh, sorry. Missus Fluffbear spent five years digging out. I mostly just got myself un-impaled.”

“Woo. When family drahma goes wrong, amirite?” Madeline shook her head. “Sorry about that. So yer free. What ah ya gonna do now?”

“I’m going to find Celia and I’m going to save her.” Threadbare slammed down two purples, the strongest hand in the game. “I might have to fight the king.”

“Well, I don’t know how he figgers inta it, but powah to ya, little bear!” Madeline grinned toothily. “Tha King’s an ahss. Killed tha old one and spent fifteen yeahs runnin’ this kingdom inta tha ground. Look at this place!” She waved her hand around. “He set it all on fyah! Well not him personally, tha soldiers, I mean. They killed everyone they could catch. I saw the fyah and came into town. Even… saved… a few people on tha way.”

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Grimble spoke up. He was back in a corner with the other vampire spawn, playing a much more interesting card game.

“S’aw right. Ya good company, ya know?” Madeline sighed. “Knew it was coming. Soon as tha north folded, and Balmoran fell, all the little revolutionaries and resistance fightahs that had gathered heah were next. But nobody listens to the vampaiah, huh? Now Balmoran’s gone, tha dwarves are next on the chawpin’ blahk, and only tha ranjahs up in Jericho’s Reach ah keepin’ them alive. They’ll be gone too soon, and tha King’ll have total control. Of what’s left ah this land, anyway.”

She riffled the cards, reshuffled them. “Mordecah even dragged me to a few of tha resistance meetings down heah, thinkin’ I might join. Old men and women and young stupids whispering about how they’d smuggle magic items and train up to fight when tha time came. All waiting for a mysterious gal who was tha true heir to turn up an’ lead them. Cowahds, most. Useless.”

“You knew Mordecai?”

“Oh yah. Tried to put the bite on him one night when I caught him wanderin’ around my turf, and wound up pinned to a tree, getting’ a lecture on how I, of all people, should know bettah than to judge by appearances. We came ta terms. I kept people away from one of the approaches to this old guy’s house, and he let me live. Unlive. Whaddeva.”

“I like him. He’s my scouts master.”

“Oh, ya a scout too? Nice! Real weird mix you got going theah.”

“Most of it was accidental.” Threadbare sighed. “I’m still figuring out how to make it all work. There’s so much spread out over so many things.”

“That’s rough, yo.” Madeline said, shooting a glare at the back table, and the other vampires who were rolling their eyes hard at the little bear’s “problem.” The vampire girl shrugged. “I miss him too. Real enlightened about monstahs and all. But now that he’s gone, I’m free to do a few things I’ve been meaning ta do for a while. There’s a dungeon out that way by ma old stompin’ grounds, and I’ll need a core soon. Should be a cakewalk, too. Tha little fuzzy bastiches won’t know what hit’em!”

“What’s a dungeon core?”

“Jeeze, raht, I forgat ya green. It’s… there’s something that powahs dungeons, makes them dungeons. It warps tha land around them, makes the one who controls it and anyone he chooses immortal. Sort of. It makes copies of them, and adventurers come an’ fight tha copies ovah and ovah. It also makes copies of any loot and magic that’s in ‘em, up to a point. Sometimes they need restocking. Hell, sometimes it improves items, even, or changes ‘em.” She shivered.

“Sometimes it changes the monstahs who run them, too. I think that’s what happened to tha Cat Queen. Spent too long as a midboss in a dungeon that closed, and now she wants to go back to tha only thing that makes sense to her.”

“Dungeon cores sound really powerful.”

“They ah, but they have a weakness. There’s always a way to get to the core chambah in any dungeon, into tha place where sanity ends and tha numbahs rule all. Dangerous to get in there, but if you can, you can seal or take ovah tha dungeon. If ya seal it, ya get a core. If ya want one, I mean.”

“So why do you want one?”

“Well…” The little vampire sucked her teeth. “I uh, might have some plans latah. Just got to settle stuff with tha Cat Queen first. So if ya ever find a dungeon core, bring it to me, and I’ll make it warth ya while.”

“Okay,” The little bear agreed. He’d make sure to keep an eye out for anything like that. “Which dungeon was near your place?”

“Oh, this bunch of raccants got tha notion ta put one togethah. Found or got a core somehow, I danno. I’ll go settle theah hash latah.”

“Wait, raccants?” Threadbare put his cards down. “I was up there just-”

“Dawn,” Grimble interrupted.

“Shit. Ah, we’ll have to continue this convo latah, okay?” Madeline said, as the other vampires went around the room, sealing the windows with heavy shutters. “Do me a favah and don’t come back in heah during the day. Night’s okay, but not day. Got that? Do NOT.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now take ya friends and scoot. Remember, get clear a town and take out that ghost witch! Then come back tonaht and we’ll tauk more.”

“Absolutely!” Threadbare and company marched out of the door. Grimble shut it behind them, started to bar it.

Knock, knock, knock.

Grimble paused, looked to Madeline, who rubbed her eyes. “Yah?”

“Excuse me, but where is she again?”

One set of directions shouted through a door later, Threadbare lead Missus Fluffbear and Beanarella out of town to the south, down through the hills, into a wooded valley.

Some of the trails and fallen houses to the sides looked familiar. He’d been this way before, he thought.

Eventually, he came to a hollow. Crossing a running stream, he came into a clearing with charred trees, and the remnants of a large, burned hut on a small hill. Rows of gravestones filled the clearing, overturned and shattered, the soil all around them disturbed.

A feeling filled this place, and Missus Fluffbear shivered and honked mournfully. Threadbare felt it too, but he was too busy staring at the new words in front of his face.

A restless spirit wishes to speak!

“Speak With Dead,” Threadbare whispered, readying his scepter for a good witch-thumping.

Your Speak With Dead skill is now level 3!

The sunlight wavered, turned brilliant white. The graves were pale marble now, against the black soil and gray, gray grass. The stark black wood of the burned planks turned to obsidian, and faded from view as faint outlines grew around them, forming the shape of a hut.

“Wait. This is where Mordecai and his family live!” Threadbare gasped. “What happened to it?”

And from the spectral beaded curtain, out swept a green arm, the only speck of color left in the world. “Come in, child. Come in.”

“Zuula!” Threadbare knew that voice. He burst through the curtain, with a really-unsure-about-this Fluffbear on his fuzzy heels.

Inside, the hut was bigger than he remembered, even with shattered, black beams poking through the wispy stuff that made up the beds, the floor, and the rest of the features. In the middle, humming over a white fire, was a familiar green woman with gold, gold eyes. She smiled at him, and cast something in the fire. “Dreadbear! All grown up… and with a little girl. Or a mate?”

“This is Missus Fluffbear. She’s not a little girl or a mate.”

“Then a friend.”

“Oh yes! And there’s Beanarella. She’s just a golem.”

“Oh, dere’s something… yes. Hard to see. It has no soul, so Zuula cannot see so good. Side effect of being dead.”

“You’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Threadbare wasn’t sure what you were supposed to say about that. Celia had spent a lot of time fussing about trying to make sure her friends didn’t die, that she’d infused him with the gravity and horror of it. That and his own skunk murdering ways had drummed in the lesson that people were supposed to try really hard to keep their friends from dying.

He wasn’t sure how you were supposed to feel or what you were supposed to say to someone who was already dead. Sorry didn’t seem to cut it. And other useful pleasantries he’d picked up from listening to small talk like “how’s the weather,” or “how are you feeling” didn’t seem appropriate.

Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, did the evil ghost witch get you?”

“Ghost witch?” Zuula stared at him with her unblinking eyes. “Only ghost around here be Zuula.”

“Oh. It’s just that the nice vampires in town said-”

“Nice vampires? Nice vampires!” Zuula hissed, and the spectral walls shook. Her hair blazed up around her, whipping to and fro in an unfelt wind. For a second the mask on the wall blazed, opened its ghostly mouth and screamed, red glowing from its mouth and eyes. Missus Fluffbear hid behind Beanarella, and Threadbare stood up from the seat he’d taken, alarmed. “Is no such t’ing! Evil vampires! Filthy bloodsuckers! Stealing Garon! Stealing her son!”

“Wait, what? Please, I’m very confused,” Threadbare said.

Finally, the dead shaman calmed down. “Come to tink of it, so is Zuula. You talking about old woman ghost? She necromancer, not witch.”

“I don’t know, maybe. There’s this crazy cat lady necromancer trying to hurt the nice vampires in town, and a ghost witch who’s making one of them crazy. And I’m supposed to be able to deal with the ghost witch because I’m a necromancer too and I don’t have any flesh for her to wither or life to drain or something.” Come to think of it, he wasn’t so sure about that second part. He didn’t know much about ghosts, or what they could do.

“Wait. You necromancer?” Zuula raised a see-through eyebrow.

“Yes. That’s how I can talk to you like this.”

“Zuula be wondering why you so… solid-looking. Hm! This change everything? Come out.” She motioned to the curtained doorway leading out of the hut. Perplexed, the little bear followed her out. “Vampires be telling you not everything. Dey maybe lying.”

“What’s lying?”

Zuula froze, mid-step. “Hoo boy. You is still green, yes?”

“No, I’m mostly brown. I’m wearing red and black though.”

“Lying is when you say something wrong to make people act how you want them to.”

“That doesn’t sound nice.”

“It isn’t. Friends don’t lie to friends, mostly. Sometimes by accident.”

“Lying sounds… bad. And a little confusing. Why would you say something wrong on purpose?”

“Well, it okay to lie to bad people. How does… ah, Zuula can see we got lessons to teach… hey, you fading.”

“Oh! The spell must be wearing off. Speak With Dead!”

Your Speak With Dead spell is now level 4!

You are now a level 2 Necromancer!
INT+3
WIS+3
WILL +3

“There we go.” And indeed, things seemed more solid now. “And I just leveled up by casting that spell and talking with you!”

“Really? Just like that?” In the doorway, Zuula tilted her head. “What level you go to?”

“Two.”

“Two? Bah, you not necromancer. You bone-diddler. Come on. We gots show and tell. First she show, then she tell.”

Threadbare followed her outside…

…and wow, there were a whole lot of THINGS out there all of a sudden. Really thin things, with hollow eyes, made of bones. They were about the size of humans, and many of them were broken or missing pieces.

“Men come to kill Zuula, along with rest of town. Zuula fight.” The scene blurred, and suddenly the bony things wore flesh and armor, fighting and falling to a flying half-orc as she blurred through the sky, sweeping groups of them aside with her club which evidently exploded every time it hit. “Zuula do good for a while…” The scenery shifted, and Zuula held a dragon in each hand, bashing the mighty beasts together. “…but eventually fall. Stupid daughter, stupid firstborn working for king. She come. We fight.”

The scene shifted again, showing a towering figure twice Zuula’s size, battering her down relentlessly with a sword as tall as a tree. Zuula shifted into a bear, and Missus Fluffbear waddled forward to reach out to it, but Threadbare caught her and pulled her back. Zuula continued, oblvious. “She fall. As is right, orc fights orc, strong win. But… unclever son interfere.”

Everything flickered, and Garon rushed in from the side. And just as the scene faded, the towering, white-armored figure turned and impaled Garon with one thrust. He reached for his side, with his dying breath, but the swordstrike had cut his coin pouch as well. The figure lifted him up, as coins spilled down, and Garon the Mercenary fell limp reaching down for coins as his blood dripped onto the gold.

“She was in rage. He was in rage. Zuula does not blame. Bad business, but that is for stupid Mastoya to deal with. Cannot help her no more. But Garon…”

Now the scene was in black and white. The dead lay in piles, and a small, familiar figure crept out of the woods. Madeline, the vampire. She came to Garon…

…and Garon twitched. He reached up to her, and instantly Madeline leaned down, mouth gaping.

There was a CRUNCH, and both of them faded from sight. “She steal Garon. Turn Garon into undead.” Zuula spat. “Filthy undead! Not trust undead! No nice vampires. Zuula go to him, call to him all night long, every night. Remind him he is orc! Remind him to FIGHT! And he listen.”

“Wait, you can’t trust undead?” Threadbare frowned. His common sense was telling him something. “Assess Corpse.”

Your Assess Corpse skill is now level 3!

Zuula was a level ???? Haunting Spirit. The bony things were level 5 Shoddy Skeletons.

“You’re telling me I can’t trust undead, but you’re an undead too,” Threadbare pointed out.

“Well, that different. Zuula an orc, first. Humans weak, they go undead, they become all undead. Orc is orc, whether or not they alive. Orcs not lie to good people, like filthy vampires.”

“What’s so bad about them?”

“They eat people! So do orcs, okay, but we honest about it. And if you win fight with orc you can eat orc, is no hard feelings. But dese vampires bad because dey got Garon, and Garon not want to be vampire! He hate it. Zuula can tell. Is mother’s bond.”

“Oh no,” Threadbare put his paws on his head. “They fooled me. They tricked me into thinking you were an evil ghost witch so you’d stop helping Garon fight.” He was a smart bear, and a wise bear, and now he had all the information to make sense of the situation. And he did not like what he saw. “The vampires have Garon, and the Queen of the Cats has Pulsivar. I have to get them both back!”

INT +1

“Wait, who is Pulse Liver?”

“Pulsivar. He’s a cat. He was a tomcat but now he’s a bobcat, a big black bobcat. He followed the smell of some strange cats. The vampires said he went to the Cat Necromancer, and she’d never let him go. Wait, maybe they were lying about that part?”

Zuula considered. “Maybe, maybe not. Hm… It occur to Zuula that you maybe caught between two warring tribe, here. Why not go see where Pus Liver is-”

“Pulsivar.”

“-him too. Go see how he is. If he with Cat Lady, ask for him back. Cat Lady been by here to talk, she seem pleasant enough, if a little weird. Smart enough to leave Zuula alone, anyway. See what she tell you. Den come back and talk with Zuula if you still alive.” She shrugged. “Hell, come back talk with Zuula if you dead, too. Shouldn’t make no difference eider way.”

Threadbare nodded. Then he went up and gave her knee a hug. “Thank you.”

“Oh child.” Zuula squatted down and ruffled his head. “You got a lot of worries. Got a lot of growing up to do. Come back to Zuula, she t’ink about how to help you when you gone, and after you back we maybe see about making you proper orc strong.”

“I will,” he promised, and then as the ghostly parts of the world faded back and color started to return to the area, he took Missus Fluffbear’s paw and lead her out into the trail. He checked the party screen, to make sure she hadn’t gotten in any trouble there-

-and got the shock of his life, as he realized she was now a level 1 necromancer, in addition to her other jobs. Why? What…

…oh. Oh right. Repeated peaceful contact with undead. First the vampires, and now Zuula’s ghost. And she’d auto-yes’d the job prompt when it came up. That must have been what happened.

Well, at least she’d gotten some good mental stats out of it, but Threadbare realized he’d have to be careful with what he dragged her into. She was literally very impressionable. If she wasn’t careful she’d end up like he had, with all her options filled before she could speak or have much of a choice in the matter.

“You have to be careful, okay?” He told her, giving her paw a squeeze. She nodded at him, and honked her horn a few times.

“Does that mean you understand?”

HONKITY HONK HONK.

He supposed that was the best he could hope for. At least until he taught her how to write. Or figured out a way to do the stuff necessary to give her a voice without scaring her. So many things to do, so little time!

It took about an hour to get back to where he’d left the scent trail last night. Firing up his sniffer, he managed to locate it again.

PER +1

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 18!

He followed the trail past the town, back up into the hills, and the well-worn ruts picked their way up a stony path. Ramshackle remnants of wooden towers and metal tracks interrupted the trail every now and then, overlooking a large pit with steps leading down into it.

But up above the pit, at the base of the tallest mountain in the area, a mine shaft gaped open. Four times the size of the one that the raccants had occupied, it was lit from within by an eerie, glowing green light. It also had two bonikitties out front, staring solemnly ahead. One Assess Corpse and a skill up later, and he found that they were level 10 skeletons.

Well. This was troublesome. He approached, cautiously, gesturing for Missus Fluffbear to stay behind Beanarella.

He needn’t have bothered. As soon as he got within a few hundred feet of the mine, a blue glow interrupted the green, and a familiar voice called out. “Oh, there you are, you precious little thing! Oh look at your tiny hat, it’s so fitting!”

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 9!

You are now a level 4 Model!

AGL+3
CHA+3
PER+3

Checking Dietary Restrictions timer….

Your Dietary Restrictions skill is now level 20! Buff adjusted accordingly

He waved. That was the nice lady ghost he’d met in the Catacombs, back in the Catamountain. That was a good tea party, he remembered.

“Oh come in, come in out of the sun! It’s so hard to see you with these old eyes. Do come closer, my dear.” The bonikitties stepped to either side of the mine entrance, and waved their skeletal paws.

Well, that was a good sign. And Pulsivar’s trail did go straight to that mine. Threadbare checked the party screen, found the cat in good health, and wandered in, with Fluffbear and Beanarella tromping behind him.

“And you’ve brought some little friends!” The cat lady was much as he remembered her. See-through, still clad in her spectral top hat and ginger-pattern dress. She also had two very large creatures to either side, cats so big they dwarfed even Pulsivar, with dead flesh drawn tightly over bones, and blue glowing light where their eyes should be. Assess Undead turned up the truth of her, and her minions.

TOCKSY P. LASMOSIS – LEVEL ???? SPECTROMANCER

The big cats were both level ???? Wight Tigers.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, hmmmm?” She said, bustling about a small living space set up in the opening of the mine, opening cupboards that looked like she’d salvaged them from burned and fallen houses, and taking out broken crockery, laying it on a table that had definitely seen better days.

From further in the mine, Threadbare could hear the wailing of cats, big and small. He started that way, but stopped when the tigers moved in unison and blocked his path.

“I’m looking for Pulsivar,” he said. “The vampires said you had him. He’s a big black bobcat.”

“Oh! You mean Spookums!” The cat lady smiled, and turned to him. Her eyes were wild, now, and Threadbare got the distinct feeling he had to tread carefully.

“He’s having ever so much fun here, entertaining the ladies. Well, the ones I haven’t had to wake up to their full potential yet, anyway. Like I woke Rajah and Regal, here.” She stroked one of the Wight Tigers, spectral hand sinking into its head. It purred, arching its neck, and its breath smelled of dried meat that had turned.

“Okay, but can he come back when he’s done?” Threadbare asked. “I really need his help. He’s my friend.”

“Mmm. Why don’t we have tea and discuss that,” the old woman smiled.

Threadbare nodded.

Beanarella was easily guided through mental commands, but he had to show Fluffbear how to sit. The old woman chuckled fondly, finding both toys thoroughly adorable. They had a good tea party, even if Fluffbear did keep dropping her cup.

CHA +1

Your Adorable skill is now level 19!

At the end of it, she sighed. “The vampires have told you all sorts of nasty things about me, I imagine. Really, I’m not so bad. I just want the Catamountain back, that’s all. But those nasty vampires, and their impudent little girl want the same thing! And neither of us can start a dungeon with the other still here. It’d be far too easy to raid into it, and catch me alone in the Core Chamber, with all our friends locked away into the variable slots.”

“What’s a variable slot?”

“I don’t know, that’s what Nekochan called them. Weird little girl, but just so cute! Killed me, when I tried to raid her dungeon, but I didn’t hold a grudge. After all, it became my home! It was… it was my proper place.” The cat lady stared over her teacup. “Have you ever had a proper place, little bear? A place where everything was all right with the world?”

Threadbare remembered Celia’s arms, and the hours of play, and how the little girl laughed when he danced for her, and how she liked it when he hugged her. “Yes,” he said, and the sorrow came over him again. “And I’ll get back there again, some day. No matter what. But for that I need my friends. I need Pulsivar,” he rallied, remembering his mission. “Please can I have him back?”

She sighed. “Right now? No. I need his help. He’s just too strong, he’d be a vampire killing machine, properly supported. But…” She scratched her chin. “I’ll make you a deal. If you can bring me a dungeon core, or wipe out the vampires, I’ll see about getting him away from my girls.” She smiled, as she brought the teacup up to her face, considering him with gleaming eyes. “Assuming he wants to go, of course. If it turns out he… has an awakening… and wants to stay here, well, you might just have to leave him in his proper place, hmmm?”

Her tone was different, Threadbare noted. A bit more smug. Awakening… she’d put emphasis on that word, and she said she’d awakened the wight tigers, and they were undead now.

PER +1

Was this lying? He thought it over, and the very wise little bear decided that it might be bad to ask her that.

He needed to talk to Zuula, though. He was swimming in dark depths and didn’t have a clear way ahead. “Thank you. I’ll see what I can do. They are not nice vampires.”

“So glad we’ve come to an agreement!” The woman beamed. “And now I’m afraid you must be going. My ghouls will be coming back from… scavenging the village… shortly. They might react poorly if they find you here.”

“Okay,” Threadbare jumped down, and tugged at Missus Fluffbear until she followed. “No, you can’t keep the cup. It’s hers.”

That took a little explaining, and a few angry honks, but he finally got the point across. The little bear headed off back down the trail, just managing to clear it before a shambling group of rotting forms started up the hillside path. These were humanoid, but he didn’t stick around to look.

Your Stealth skill is now level 10!

“Zuula! Zuula!” He yelled, running back towards the hut as soon as he got into the clearing. “Oh, right. Speak With Dead. Zuula! Zuula! She’s going to kill Pulsivar and turn him into an undead-”

He stopped.

The clearing in front of the charred hut ruin was filled with skeletons, every one of them wielding a club. Behind them, Zuula stood, arms folded.

“Um… is everything all right?”

“Been t’inking about ways to train up you necromancy, little Dreadbear. But tinking hard work. Orc already know how to get strong. You want to be more than little level 2 bone diddler?”

“I don’t even know what that last word means.”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good. We train de orky way! Use necromancy and fight!”

And as one, the skeletons advanced on him, raising their clubs.

******

Five hours, six necromancer levels, and three new skills later, his training was interrupted by new words scrolling across his vision.

By slaying over a hundred undead creatures, you have unlocked the cleric job!

You cannot become a cleric at this time!

Cleric? Beryl had been a cleric, he remembered. But he was too busy to think on it, as he shouted out commands to his controlled undead, while running away from the still active skeletons. In the back, Zuula yawned and animated one of the ones he’d knocked to bits earlier, and sent it back into the fray.

Then a brilliant light flared. Zuula stopped. Threadbare stopped. The skeletons froze.

And every eye, spectral eye, or hollow eyesocket in the clearing turned to look at the hovering form of Missus Fluffbear, as she lifted off the ground, turning slowly in a column of light.

Missus Fluffbear, who had cracked the secret of “yes” to make the prompts disappear. And whom Threadbare realized, calling up the party screen, was now a level 1 Cleric.

“Speak with Dead,” Threadbare muttered. “Wait, give us a minute here Zuula. Please, I… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Puny gods be touching her, is what,” Zuula said, waving a hand as the skeletons slithered back underground, to their graves. “She be choosing now. Hope she chooses wisely. Hope you taught her well.”

“I’ve barely taught her anything at all.”

“You taught her enough for now,” a voice that wasn’t his whispered in his ear. It was like a Scout’s Wind’s Whisper, but so much louder, and the voice that spoke it shook him in every part of his stuffing, as it spoke. “You taught her enough. But soon you can teach each other. Go with my grace.”

Then the light shuddered and disappeared, and Fluffbear floated to the ground. She stared around wildly, and ran up to him.

“What is it? Did you hear the voice too?”

She nodded frantically, and pawed at his mouth. Then pawed at hers.

“Do you want me to stop talking?”

No, no, no, went her head, and HONK HONK HONKILY HONK HONKS went her horn.

Light dawned. “You want a mouth so you can talk!”

Yes, yes, yes went her head.

“Okay, but it’s going to take a little while. I guess we don’t need a river to look in, since I’m working on you. I’m going to have to cut part of you open to do this, are you okay with that?”

She was. And she sat still bravely, as he took his scissors and made the cuts, then fiddled around with his tailoring materials until he could get everything just right. Then he sewed her up again, and stepped back. “Give it a try.”

“Op. Akka. Pom. Bukkle.”

“Try saying what I say.”

“I aying at I ay.”

“No, use your lips. Oh, hang on.”

“Pie Aying Pot I Pay.”

“Right, your tongue is different because you’re so small. Let me adjust that…” A few snips and some new structures later, and she was mimicking his words pretty well.

“What happened? When you became a cleric?” He asked, once she had a pretty good grasp of talking.

“There was a light. A lot of big things looking at me. Then a man came forward and said he would help me. He had a big hammer like my old friend Scoops used to. His name was Yorgum, and he said he was the god of builders.”

“Oh, okay.”

“He said I needed a mouth and to bug you until you made me one. He said that the monsters have to leave this town so it can grow again someday. And that we’re really special because there’s so very few like us, at least right now. And that he couldn’t tell us too much because of rules, but we should ask the nice lady about some of the weird stuff you found. And to go smite all of their asses. What’s an ass?”

“I think it’s the part you sit on.” Threadbare concentrated. The rest of it didn’t make much sense. “Weird stuff? I don’t have too much of-oh, wait a minute.” He turned back to Zuula, and rummaged in his pack, pulling out the red crystal with flickering numbers. “You’re a nice lady. Do you know what this is?”

Zuula’s ghostly eyes grew wide. “Dat be a dungeon core! How you get dat, little bear?”

“This is what they both want?” He asked, confused. “How do you even make dungeons with this? There’s no help prompt.”

“Wait,” Zuula said, her eyes getting even wider. “Dey both want a dungeon core? Who dey?”

“The Cat Lady and the Vampires.”

Zuula stood there, thinking for a bit.

And then she shook her head. “No, no. Wouldn’t work. Zuula be bound here. Got no way to come along with. If she could come with you, would work. But she can’t, so… no. Pity. Was awesome idea, too. Big violence, many asses smote.”

“I want to do that!” Missus Fluffbear spoke up. “The nice god told me to!”

“Wait. You’re stuck here?” Threadbare asked.

“Yes. Bound to hut. No way to go, no vessel to carry her.”

“Hmm… Status.” Yes, yes that worked the way he thought it did. “I may have a way around that. Soulstone.”

Your Soulstone skill is now level 2!

A black crystal materialized in his paw. About the size of a small apple, it seemed to draw in the light around it.

“Oh…” Zuula said, approaching it. “Wimpy. Can feel it tugging, but so weak, so weak. Still, if she don’t resist…” She touched it, and her form blurred, oozed into the stone, and was gone. A fleck of green light flickered, deep in the crystal.

There was a pause.

“Level fucking one?” Zuula’s voice shrieked, bouncing around inside the stone. “No. Huh-uh.” She shook, and the soulstone shattered as she burst out of it. “Not gonna ride in such a puny vessel. Total refuse. Professional orc pride on line.” The spirit folded her arms and pouted, which looked weird on her tusked face.

“Maybe it’s that low because my skill with it is so low,” Threadbare mused. “Or because I’m only a level seven Necromancer.”

“Well! Zuula know cure for dat!” She grinned, and up came the skeletons again.

They trained well into the night, but soon hit diminishing returns. Fluffbear got some good cleric levels, but Threadbare only got two necromancer level-ups, which didn’t seem to affect the Soulstone quality. So he switched to casting Soulstone over and over again, skilling up as far as he could given his sanity limitations. In frustration he appraised it using his neglected Enchanter skill… and leveling that job up as well.

You are now a level 2 Enchanter!

DEX +3
INT +3
WILL +3

That was nice, but the appraise turned up bad news for Zuula. “Well, my skill’s at twenty-four now. So your effective level in the soulstone is going to be a three. I think it’s one level for every ten or fraction of ten,” Threadbare said, showing her the crystal. He knew what fractions were now, he realized. And a lot more math besides. Benefits of sudden intelligence boosts, he supposed.

Zuula wasn’t any happier with level three than she was with level one. “What! No. No, a t’ousand times no!”

It took a lot of pleading, every bit of charisma he had, and finally pointing out that her son was on the line to get her to relent. Finally, begrudgingly, she oozed into the crystal. Threadbare blinked, as new information came up on his appraisal. “It’s a level one crystal now.”

“Which mean what?”

“I could use it to make a toy golem. Or do enchanting stuff with. Maybe.”

There was a long pause. “Maybe don’t try dat while Zuula in it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that would do.”

“I could ask Yorgum,” Fluffbear offered.

“Bah, what do Gods know of it. No, listen, Zuula got more important stuff on how to kick all undead asses. Zuula got great idea. Now she go with you, and we make sure both sides lose, and we get you friends back. Interested?”

“Of course I am,” Threadbare said.

“So you got de dungeon core, right? And dey both want it, right?”

“Yes.”

“So let us give it to dem. At the same time…”

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW NECROMANCER SKILLS

THREADBARE’S NEW NECROMANCY SKILLS

DEATHSIGHT
Level: 5 Cost: 10 San Duration: 5 minutes per necromancer level
Automatically appraises the hit points left to any creature you look at. May not work on level ???? creatures.

INVITE UNDEAD
Level: 5 Cost: 10 San Duration: 1 Hour per necromancer level
Invites the targeted undead to your party. Non-sapient undead who are not already in a party will automatically join if this spell is not resisted. Intelligent undead always have the option of refusal.

SKELETONS

Level: 5 Cost: 15 San Duration: Permanent
Animates one skeleton or skeletal fragment into a skeleton. Requires a spirit.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 10
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 4
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 4
Necromancer Level 9
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 2
Smith Level 1

Attributes Strength: 93 Constitution: 100 Hit Points: 253(293) Armor: 42(51)
Intelligence: 111 Wisdom: 140(145) Sanity: 193(296) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 73(78) Agility: 78(88) Stamina: 161(226) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 68(93) Willpower: 94 Moxie: 162(227) Cool: 20
Perception: 68 Luck: 60(65) Fortune: 128(173) Fate: 10(15) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 19
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 20
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Emboldening Speech - Level 5
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 38(42)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 20 (+40 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 13
Self-Esteem - Level 13
Work it Baby - Level 9

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 8
Command the Dead - Level 24
Deathsight - Level 6
Invite Undead - Level 12
Skeletons - Level 12
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead -Level 8
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (11)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5) Animator Skills Animus - Level 12
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 1
Eye for Detail - Level 7

Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 5
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 2
Invite Golem - Level 2
Toy Golem Construction - Level 2

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)

Inventory Assorted Copper and Silver coins
Clown Horn
Tailor’s Tools
2 Doses of Red Reagent
1 Doses of Yellow Reagent
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)
Soulstone: Zuula

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Tamer, Wizard

A Paw Full of Undead 3: The Bear, the Vamp, and the Catlady

The vampires of Taylor’s Delve had learned long ago, and at great cost, that they couldn’t spread out and sleep through the day with individual coffins. The Cat Queen hunted them by day, and her minions had good enough senses of smell that they could find the graves. And once she found a reliable source of bodies to make ghouls from, it was easy for the enemy to dig them up, and dump the shrieking vampires out into the sunlight to sizzle. Madeline had lost too many spawn that way, before the Angst caught on. (An Angst is the proper word for a group of vampires. Crows have murders, wolves have packs, vampires have angsts.)

So now they spent days under the tavern, in the tunnel network they’d hollowed out with time, patience, and strong undead hands. It had multiple escape routes, and it was big enough that they could lure in any ghouls who managed to dig their way into the tunnels, and dispose of them. One on one, the Cat Queen’s minions were no match for the vampires. But it was never a one on one scenario, which was why they were down to Mads and her three spawn.

Well, four, but that one wasn’t much use. Still, she’d taken the trouble to drag him downstairs, lashed to his bed, as usual. Thank Nebs for small favors that the original owner of this building believed in wide staircases.

He’d gone silent hours ago, though, and Madeline sat, stroking his brow. Had the little bear succeeded? She’d sent him out there because she thought he had good odds, but the glory of it was that it wouldn’t hurt her position either way. She’d risked no loss to herself or to her angst by putting the toy golems in danger, so she’d done it.

She did know that this was the calmest she’d seen Garon in ages. “Ding dong the witch is dead,” she hummed, smiling down as Garon’s red, red eyes squinted up at her.

“I can’t feel her. What did you do?” he rasped.

“I didn’t do nathing. Some teddy bear mighta killed her, though. Well, de-ainmahted her, I mean.”

“No!” He surged against the bindings, and Madeline jumped back, hand upraised. “She was my mother!” Garon howled.

“She was holding ya back!” Madeline yelled, her patience at an end. “I saved ya, not her! And we need ya strength if ya want to keep on existing!”

“I never asked for this!” bloody spittle flew from his mouth. His tusks had grown since his undeath, they cut into his lips when he talked. Madeline winced, and shook her head. If he wasn’t so gods damned cute, I swear, I’d leave him out to bake.

“Look. Ya spent five years fighting me. Fine, whatevs. Vampy puberty, most a yas go through it. But what’s it gaht ya?” She spread her hands. “Can’t beat me. I’m ya mastah. Got hooks in ya brain, Garon. Fight as ya want, at tha end of the naht, it’s my will be done.”

“Mother told me…” Garon rasped, his throat raw, “Being an orc… means never stop fighting…”

“Yah, but yer only half an orc, huh? Five years ya defied me, so now maybe you give me five years of peace for a change?”

He roared, and Madeline rolled her eyes, and turned to go-

-and ran straight into Grimble. He held up a grubby peace of paper. “We’ve got mail.”

“What?”

“This just got slipped under the door.”

“I told yas not to go upstairs after dawn!”

“Somebody knocked. Ghouls don’t knock.”

“Fahkin… what’s it say.” She grabbed it from the grifter, and peeled it open.

I destroyed the ghost witch like you asked. She hurt me pretty badly, so I can’t leave her clearing right now. The ghost witch was guarding a dungeon core, and I want to give it to you. But I think the Cat Queen knows. Please send help as soon as you can!

I’m sending this message to you with Missus Fluffbear. Please come as soon as night falls.

Cordially, Threadbare

Madeline’s eyes went wide. “Winnah winnah chicken dinnah!”

“What?”

“We tried ta draw three of a kind and gaht a full house. Get Darla and Barrett ready. We march at night.”

“What about…” He nodded past her, at Garon, still howling and frothing.

“I gaht him.” She said. “Maybe he’ll want ta pay his respects.”

Silence. “My respects?” Garon croaked.

“Yeah, the one that croaked yer mah? No shit, it was this taukin’ teddy bear guy!”

“Wait. What?”

“Came inta town with a troop of toys, wearin’ a top hat and full a’ jobs. One of’em was necromancer, and so I sent him ghost witch huntin’. And he succeeded! Now we’re ganna go and get tha booty from him.” She sighed. “Innocent little guy. I almost feel bahd fah playin’ him.”

“Innocent, yes,” Garon’s face fell into a blank expression. “So he went out there and beat up my mother, huh? Did he know the details beforehand?”

“Pssh, why bothah with that?” Madeline shrugged. “Not like he had a stake in her survival anyway. Come on, are you with us or naht?”

“I’ll go with you,” Garon said. He’d learned to be very careful with his words over the years. But Madeline heard what she wanted, and unbound the heavy chains holding him to the bedframe.

Outside, they ran into the rest of the spawn. Grimble held the letter up to her, frowning. “Are you sure this isn’t a trick?”

“What? Please. From that little beah?” Madeline laughed. “You saw how gullible he was!”

Grimble’s grifterly instincts fought with him one last time, but lost. “Yeah, that is a pretty ridiculous notion. He’s just a foolish little toy, after all.”

“Woodn’t last five minahts in a propah dungeon,” Madeline agreed, as the vampires suited up. Darla handed Garon his axe, for the first time in years, watching him to make sure he wouldn’t get stupid. But he just slid it into his belt, sneering.

“What’ve you got to be happy about?” Darla whispered. She’d never liked the half-breed much.

“Oh, I’ll tell you later,” Garon lied.

He never did tell her, but by the time it came up telling wasn’t necessary.

*****

In the green light of her cave, the old lady squinted at the letter.

I went looking for a dungeon core like you asked, and I found one. The ghost who had it is dead, but I need help. I’m really hurt and I need Pulsivar to take me to safety. He knows the way.

But I think the vampires know where I am. Please hurry! I just hope this letter reaches you in time.

Cordially,

Threadbare

“Hm… hm… well isn’t this interesting, my dearies?” the old lady said, stroking a small tabby cat as it tried to flee. It clawed at her futilely, feeling its flesh writhe under her spectral touch. Where her fingers stroked, fur turned white, white as snow.

The cat screamed. The old lady smiled benevolently. “Oh, you’re hungry my dear? Of course, of course. You there, Command Undead, lay down for feeding time.” she snapped at one of the just-returned ghouls. Snarling, eyes rolling in hatred, the ghoul did as it was told. Instantly, from the rear of the cavern, dozens of cats descended, ribs thin against their hides, mouths open and hungry. The ghoul vanished under a furry carpet, screaming as it became prey, instead of predator.

It was a good system, as far as the Spectromancer was concerned. The ghouls went out and ate the dead, regenerating their gruesome flesh, then they came back and the cats ate from them. Sure, some of them fell ill and died, but she just woke them up again and they were right as rain. She looked forward to putting it into widespread use once she had a little more territory to her name.

Miss Tocksy put the tabby down and it ran from her, on trembling legs. She paid it no notice, turning to one of her Wight Tigers. “What do you think, dearies? Do you think we should bring Spookums to him? Hm… He does so like it here.” She rose and walked back into the mineshaft. The dead cats came out to meet her, purring. The living ones fled for their lives. She walked past green glowstones set into the ceiling, past the old cart with two cougar skeletons harnessed to it, past all of that until she got to the back rooms. There, the black bobcat lay exhausted, grooming a cougar a third again his size. The cougar flinched back from the spectromancer as she entered, and Pulsivar studied her with unimpressed eyes. Then his yellow gaze shifted to the Wight Tiger, and his tail lashed, furiously.

“Come now Spookums, Mopsy, everyone’s friends here,” Tocksy said. “How would you like to go walkies?”

Mopsy retreated. Her heat was about over, and the all-consuming fire that had filled her was quenched. Now self-preservation was kicking in.

“Come,” Tocksy insisted. “Walk.”

Mopsy, having learned lessons painfully, and still with the white scars across her fur to show it, followed meekly. The spectromancer’s touch could and had drained her moxie to dangerously low levels.

Concerned, Pulsivar followed, freezing as the Wight Tiger rumbled. Yellow eyes met blue ones, and narrowed. The bobcat did not like the smell of these weird predators. He thought they might need a lesson.

Then Mopsy looked back to him, and that beautiful, earthshaking odor filled his nose again. Completing that mating season quest had got him a level, and been pretty enjoyable overall. So he followed her, ignoring the Wight Tiger with the utmost dignity as they passed.

“Yes,” The old lady mused, as her ghostly form floated through the mine. “Let’s bring everyone for walkies…”

*****

The vampires were the first on the scene. “Grimble, up in tha tree, watch for theah ahss.”

“On it.” He had a pretty good stealth, even before he’d been vamped. Up he went, peering into the night. The worst of the Cat Queen’s servants had glowing blue eyes, and they were visible from a long way off. But the woods were thick and they were cats, so he stayed sharp.

“Shit, what happened here?” Darla said, walking into the clearing, with her spear and shield out.

“Was it always like this?” Barrett asked, pestle at the ready.

The graves, already disturbed, had been full-on wrecked. Most looked empty, and soil and bones were strewn all over the place. The burned-out hut was a tangle, and what looked like poofy cloth was all over the place, hanging from the charred timbers and broken skulls.

“Stuffing. That’s stuffing,” Madeline said. She gnawed her lip at the implications, and felt sorry for the poor little bastard. “Mistah beah? You okay?” She risked calling.

Something in the hut stirred. “Missus Fluffbear? You theah?” She approached.

It scrabbled more, and she leaped onto the ruins, threw planks aside for all she was worth…

…and yelped, as the floor collapsed under her, where someone had dug with tiny paws, and weakened the supports For a second there was way, way too much sharp wood crunching in all around her-

-but fortunately, the heart’s a very, very small target and she hadn’t played all those years of grindluck for nothing. A trio of red ‘37’s burst up around her, and she swore as Barrett helped her out.

“Fahck! Fahck!” She hissed, pulling jagged planks out of herself. Vampires got their wood allergies at level 5, and she was ten levels past that. The splinters in her burned, and distracted her.

Grimble wasn’t as distracted. “There!” He yelled, pointing at a small skeletal form high in a tree. To the vampires it stood out as clearly as if it was in bright daylight.

And it didn’t hurt that green light shown from its skull, green light dancing against red glowing crystal. The bonikitty had a dungeon core in its head!

The little bear’s plight forgotten, “Fast as Death,” Madeline hissed, and dashed toward the tree, moving at a speed no living thing could match-

-but then the (unliving) cat was bounding from tree to tree, heading deeper into the woods.

“Aftah it!” The vampire girl bellowed, and her angst fell in behind her, moving slowly, much more slowly.

Garon lagged behind a bit, slowing to look at the ruins of the hut more closely. For a second, sorrow passed over his face…

…sorrow broken, as a top-hatted teddy bear faded out of the shadows, and tossed a clinking bag at his feet.

Garon stared down at him, and bloody tears wept from his eyes, as he stretched out a hand.

“Garon, please listen closely” whispered Threadbare. “I have a quest for you…”

A few hundred feet into the woods ahead, Darla glanced back when she heard the mad half-breed whoop. What was he on about now?

“Do the Job! Forced March! Fight The Battles! Follow The Dotted Line!” She heard him yell.

Ah, good, he was taking matters seriously now, she thought, and turned back to the chase.

*****

The Spectromancer heard the shouting from half a mile out, those hated bloodsuckers calling back to each other through the woods, shouting to “Catch it! Run it down!”

That poor bear! Picking up the pace, she waved and her army of squalling dead felines followed behind her, along with two very puzzled living cats. Unseen, from his position behind the Cat Queen, Pulsivar nudged Mopsy as he ran, and swerved off towards the woods. The cougar eyed him, but did not follow, and eventually he swerved back, looking annoyed.

A coughing roar from behind him, and the bobcat jumped, shot an angry glance back at the Wight Tiger. Yellow eyes met blue again, and death shone in both gazes. This would only end one way, they both knew. And it was only a matter of when.

“Oh my dear what did they do to you!” The Spectromancer’s voice rose up in a wail, and the tiger broke the staredown, lumbered after its mistress.

The Cat Queen stood in the clearing, looking up at the fluff scattered around the wrecked hut. Then her eyes narrowed. “Puffweed fluff?” She said, peering at it more closely. And it was. Here in the mountains it bloomed far earlier than it did elsewhere, and someone had wadded great masses of it together, wetted it down to look like stuffing.

For all her obsession, the Queen was no fool. “This is a trap! Retreat, dearies, retreat-”

She broke off, as a lone bonikitty jumped into the clearing, and a small figure leaped after it, flying with no visible means of support. Madeline the vampire landed on the skeletal cat with both feet-

-and the dungeon core flew out of the destroyed skull, flashing green numbers on red crystal in the darkness, as it lay there for all to see.

“You killed her!” The Cat Queen screeched, as her minions piled into the clearing behind her, and the vampire spawn formed up around Madeline. Then the furious Spectromancer’s eyes fell to the dungeon core. “Mine!” She spat.

Madeline grinned, as she scooped it up. “Cahm and take it, then.” Oh, this was perfect! The she-bitch had always hidden behind her minions before. But now? Now they had a shot at taking her out directly.

Then the horde of growling, hissing bonikitties and cat wights slid out of the trees, and Madeline’s grin faltered a bit. My, there were a lot of them.

And then it was too late for regrets, too late for anything but violence.

*****

One of the oldest orcish games, often played in variations among other species and known by other names, is called “let’s you and him fight.”

It’s typically used when a weaker tribe is caught between two bigger tribes, and when done correctly, can ensure that the weaker tribe is the strongest one around. For a while, anyway, because orcs aren’t good at lasting dynasties or the whole “not-picking-fights-against-bad-odds” thing.

When done incorrectly, the poor game-playing tribe’s bones are made into toys for clever children to play with, to remind them not to be too clever unless they can pull it off.

Bones flew as undead cats died, but not before tearing into wounded vampires. The vampires were stronger, true, but their defenses weren’t that great. They relied upon blood to heal their wounds normally, and well, the undead they fought had none.

But the undead were weaker, much weaker, and as they fell the Cat Queen burned sanity to raise new skeletons from the bones around the hut. Sanity she wouldn’t replace, unless she somehow gained a level. And at the level she was, that seemed unlikely.

Both sides were weakening themselves, and increasing the odds that the little group of friends would come out on top, and reunite with their lost loved ones.

“We pulled it off,” Zuula whispered to Threadbare from her crystal shell. The soulstone almost seemed to glow with a smug green light. Not too far from her, Missus Fluffbear peered through the weeds, with the quiet form of Beanarella sitting placidly next to her.

The final member of their party was overhead, unnoticed in the night, gliding on skeletal wings. It had a part to play later.

Threadbare nodded at Zuula’s words, rubbing his head. He’d animated a piece of cloth and made an eye for it, sticking it into the bonikitty they’d animated. Dollseye had let him personally guide his undead thorugh the forest, but it had been a really rough chase. Even with Missus Fluffbear’s newly-learned clerical blessing of agility on the lesser undead, it had only been a matter of time until the vampires caught it.

Fortunately, he had kept ahead of her just long enough.

The hard part was done. Well, mostly. “Why did we have to put you in the Soulstone, anyway?” He wondered.

“Dey not come around here if Zuula still here,” Zuula explained. “Dey know better. Fear her too much. So Zuula hide in stupid crystal shell dat sticks her at level fucking t’ree. You is welcome.”

“All right. Well I guess it’s going… okay…” Threadbare said, as one of the Wight Tigers flew past him, with Madeline desperately pummeling it as it ripped into her. He winced to see it. She’d been nice. But on the other hand she’d lied, and he really needed Garon back. And his mother seemed to think it was right decision.

“Never fear, little Dreadbear,” Zuula chortled, mistaking his apprehension. “Zuula’s time come. You wait and see.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t worried about that. I just think it’s a pity-”

An armored form flew through the air, bounced off a tree, and got up. Darla stared down at Threadbare, Fluffbear, and Beanarella. “You’re fine? And you’re just sitting here watching? What the-” Comprehension dawned on the dead knight’s face. “You bastards!”

“Command Undead, please sit down and be still,” Threadbare tried.

Spell failed. Target is in the party of a more powerful intelligent undead.

“Oh bother,” he muttered, as the vampire came for him, jabbing with her spear.

“Dolorous Strike! Dolorous Strike!” She chanted, gashing along his side with jabs that knocked him backward and tore his hide. For all his armor, she was good at what she did, and the little bear widened as twin red ‘64’s escaped into the sky.

“Godspell mend!” Missus Fluffbear yelled, and some of it healed, but the vampire lunged forward and kicked her out into the clearing.

“No quarter, traitor!” Darla hissed.

“Let’s hug it out,” Threadbare decided, arms spreading wide.

“Ha! Not going to fall to that one!”

“Oh. I wasn’t talking to you, sorry.”

Cloth arms closed around Darla’s greave, and she looked down.

To see Beanarella looking back up at her.

Light flared, and Darla screamed, as a red ‘100’ floated up and the pulse of golden light illuminated the trees. The battle halted, and both sides turned to see the vampire fall, flesh ashing as the doll healed her. She was undead, after all, and the power behind its innocent embrace was divine. Power that would have mended living flesh scorched her unholy dead flesh to nothing.

Empty armor clanged to the ground, and Darla blew away in the breeze.

“Hoo hoo hoo!” The cat lady chortled. “Looks like you’ve been betrayed, dearie!”

“Threadbare, what the fahk?” Madeline yelled. “What the fahk!”

“No, it’s okay,” the little bear said. “I tricked both of you, so that makes it okay. I think that’s how orc rules work.”

“Orc rules?” Madeline asked.

“I knew it was a trap!” The Cat Queen howled. “Come on dearies, get me that core and let’s get out of here. Go!”

“Fuck it, if he’s a traitor, I got no reason not to fill up my belly,” Grimble said, turning his eyes to the big black living cat that he’d been eyeing since the start of this battle, the one that had been sitting on the sideline watching. “You fucked us over, we kill your friend, buddy!”

“You don’t touch Spookums!” The Cat Queen howled, but then Madeline was on her, and she had other problems.

“No!” Threadbare yelled, but he was far across the field from Grimble. He ran toward him, shouting his buffs on the way, trying to reach the vampire in time.

“No no no!” Missus Fluffbear sat up from where she’d been kicked, and ran as well. She didn’t have as far to go…

…but she needn’t have worried. As soon as the vampire got close, Pulsivar nudged Mopsy the Cougar and leaped away, disappearing into the night.

“One pussy’s as good as another,” Grimble snarled, turning to look at the cougar that eyed him with uncertain eyes. He advanced on her instead

“Holy Smite!” Missus Fluffbear yelled, and a glowing whip three times its size outlined her weapon, and the grifter screamed as it cracked into him, searing.

“You can talk now? I knew you were faking, you little fur bitch!”

“I don’t know what that means!” Missus Fluffbear yelled back, and kept on whipping him.

Threadbare sprinted in-

-and then one of the Wight Tigers was in front of him, and he skidded to a halt. “Please move.”

The tiger clawed him, bit him, picked him up and shook him-

-then gasped, as two claws slashed into its cheeks, tearing its lower jaw loose as the bear dropped to the ground, crouching.

He didn’t look as damaged as things the tiger bit normally did The dead feline had no way of knowing that golems whose bodies were developed enough were resistant to the cold, dead touch of wights.

Though it was good for skilling up, mind you.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 21.

“Just don’t die!” he tried to call to Missus Fluffbear. Then he waded into the Wight Tiger, claws flashing.

Meanwhile, Missus Fluffbear’s lash left black streaks on Grimble’s flesh, as it tore through his shirt, but he ignored it and marched toward her. Scooping her up with his far-superior strength and size, he took hold of her head with one hand, and her body with the next as she flailed and fought and tried to squirm free. “I did this to my sister’s dolly once, when we were kids! She cried for days!” the vampire roared as he started to pull-

-and then black fur flashed out of the darkness.

If he’d been undamaged, perhaps he could have survived it. But Grimble had been hurt, fighting the Cat Queen’s forces, as hurt as Darla had been before her fatal hug, and he had nowhere near Darl’s hit points. Pulsivar tore through him like a blender through jelly.

Missus Fluffbear fell, nodded her thanks as she patted her stitches. That… that had been too close. “Godspell Mend,” she whispered, and waved to the big cat. The bobcat stared at her, licked his paw, and groomed himself-

-and promptly got blindsided as the other Wight Tiger leaped on him, growling.

It was go time, and the two disappeared into a tangle of limbs, and caterwauls, and roars, raging across the woodline.

Fluffbear started to chase after them… and a coughing growl interrupted her. She turned to see Mopsy the Cougar slinking closer, eyes on the little furry creature.

“Um…” Missus Fluffbear said, picking up her whip from the ground. “Good kitty?”

Mopsy roared and leaped.

Back in the center of the clearing, Madeline ignored the bonikitties on her back, clawing and chewing at her head and neck as she tore another handful of ectoplasm from the Cat Queen.

“Damn you!” Tocksy yelled. “Command Undead! Lie down and do nothing!”

But Madeline resisted. “As if!” She ripped a bonikitty off her neck and threw it into the spectromancer, sending her tumbling backward through the air. Then she took a few precious seconds and tore the little cat skeletons loose, grinding them to splinters in her bare hands.

“Status,” the Spectromancer chanted, and blanched even paler when she saw how low her sanity had gotten. Not to mention her hit points. It was time to call it a night, she thought. Escape, evade, and come for the impudent little girl later. “We’ll settle this another night dearie. Goodbye! Hoo hoo hoo-”

Suddenly the clearing shook, as a broken wooden mask rose from the ruins of the hut, eyes filled with red, red light and mouth roaring out fire as it rose.

And all of the bones littering the clearing, all of the soldier’s skeletons that had been exhumed, stood up at once. They tore into the remaining undead cats, and the dead ripped each other to pieces.

“Hoo.” Zuula finished, as her ghost materialized. The air trembled, and the Spectromancer and the vampire fell to the ground. “Welcome to Zuula’s house,” said the ghost witch. “First rule? No flying. Second rule? You never LEAVE!” Zuula roared, as her mask fitted itself to her face.

“Garon? Garon! Tauk some sense inta her!” Madeline yelled… and turned to see her spawn’s axe coming straight for her face. “Oh you fahka!”

And then master and spawn fought. No quarter asked or given.

Meanwhile, at the treeline, Threadbare finally felled the Wight Tiger. His buffs had saved him from much of the damage, and a few mends put him right. “Fluffbear?” He called, hearing only feline yowling, and the lash of a whip… a whip that fell silent after a few seconds. “Fluffbear!” He ran toward his friend.

Then he hesitated. On his party screen, Pulsivar’s hit points were dropping. Fluffbear’s were stable, if only at half their normal level. “Fluffbear?” he said, turning away a bit, looking for his bobcat.

“I’m fine. I think… I think she’s sorry,” Fluffbear called.

“What?” He squinted over, and among the trees, he saw the cougar cringing. His darkspawn skill let him pick out every old scar, every tracery of white in her fur. And she smelled… she smelled afraid. And also she smelled like Pulsivar.

“Okay, if you know what you’re doing.”

“No. But I think it’ll work out.”

“Okay…” He turned and ran for Pulsivar.

In his hurry, he sped right past the vampires.

“You should have let me die!” Garon roared. “Twisted Rage!” He battered Madeline with the axe, and she weathered it, tanking the ones she couldn’t dodge, battering him back, ripping the axe from his hands, and throwing him down.

“You think I didn’t notice ya leaving my pahtay? Ya think I didn’t expect this?” She hissed, ripping open his throat with straightened fingers. “I’ll take my blood bahck now, ya traitah!”

“Mads,” he croaked, grinning up at her as his hand slipped to his side.

“What? I’m drinkin’ heah!” She said, lowering her mouth to his wounds.

“Blood is Gold,” he whispered.

She had enough time to blink in surprise as his wounds disappeared. And then he was throwing her off, and slamming her down on the remnants of the hut, and all the pointy, pointy boards sticking up out of it…

Meanwhile, Zuula walked slowly after the Spectromancer, who flew around and around the clearing, sobbing. Every time she tried to leave the clearing, it hurt. A feeling like fire drove her back, burned at what was left of her flesh. “Why?” She sobbed, feeling her strength leak away. “Why are you doing this? I just wanted… I just wanted to live alone with my dearies…”

“You kill you dearies,” Zuula said. “You hurt dem. You keep dem hungry and bound and scared. Not natural. Not right. But dese are not reasons why Zuula kill you,” The ghost witch said, hair fluttering out behind her in long dreads, as she gave a sudden hop and caught the Cat Queen up in her grasp.

“Then… why?” Tocksy said, struggling, clawing at the implacable ghostly hand holding her.

“Because Zuula stronger den you. And she hungry.”

And Tocksy’s screams filled the clearing as Zuula’s mask gaped wide and began to feed.

Across the clearing, far from murder, Missus Fluffbear stared at the Cougar she’d whipped into submission. The whip Threadbare had given her had been enchanted for something like this purpose, though she hadn’t known it. It had stripped the cougar’s already anemic moxie with every strike, and brought her to zero. The big cat, thoroughly whipped, rolled on her back and exposed her belly and neck, crying like a kitten.

“I’m sorry,” Missus Fluffbear said. “I… I didn’t want to hurt you. You attacked. Me, I mean… Oh.” The little black bear toddled forward, and hugged her tightly.

Golden light flared again, and the cougar’s wounds mended.

And a large feline tongue rasped against the black bear’s head. “Does this mean we’re okay?” Fluffbear asked.

Through befriending a wild beast you have unlocked the Tamer Job!

Would you like to become a tamer at this time?

“Oh, okay.”

And Missus Fluffbear blinked, as new skills and attribute boosts appeared before her…

Threadbare got to Pulsivar, in time to see the Wight Tiger shake itself and flee. Unbound by its mistress death, it had no reason to remain here.

“Oh no…” Threadbare ran up to Pulsivar, who looked up at him, from a pool of his own blood. “Are you…”

Pulsivar sat up, painfully, and started grooming himself. Threadbare watched his hit points move back up into double digits. That had been way, way too close. “You just stay here, okay?” He gave the big cat an innocent embrace, healing him as much as he could. Wow, those were getting hard on his sanity.

And as the golden light flared, he saw a figure stagger up from the hut, and bring a makeshift stake through another’s chest. “Garon?” he asked.

Garon has left the party.

“Garon!”

Madeline’s fangs glistened in the darkness, as she buried them in Garon’s still form, and drank deeply. With a soft sigh, Garon slumped to the ground, body dissolving, leaving only clothes behind.

“No! Garon!” Threadbare clapped his paws to his mouth. “What have you done?” He whispered in the darkness.

“I’ve wahn,” Madeline said, glaring as Missus Fluffbear came up to stand beside Threadbare. “Gaht tha dunjahn coah, Cat Queen’s dead, and my wounds ah mostly healed, thanks ta that drink. That idiot.” She sighed, looking forlornly at his ashes. “What did he expect? The fight was ovah once I got a command in through his will. Only a mattah of time.”

“You kill Zuula’s son…” The Ghost Witch thundered as she faded in, walking toward the vampire.

“What’s it to ya, lady? He had it comin’.”

“Tank you.”

“What?”

“Soulstone,” Said Threadbare, followed by “Speak with Dead. Garon? Yes, could you get in here please? Ah, thank you.”

“He never be free while he vampire,” Zuula explained. “Now we got maybe some room to wiggle with.”

“Yeah, ya know what? Fahk that.” Madeline tucked the dungeon core away in her torn dress, and adjusted her head scarf. “You played me from beginning to end. I think I’m gonna fahking take you all ta stuffing.”

“Zuula recommend against dat,” the witch hissed, through her mask.

“Pfft. Ya don’t scare me, lady. I’m too strong for yah touch. And as fah as yer no retreat trick works, you spent a lot of powah heah, can’t hold me heah much longer. I feel it weakening. And you lot?” The vampire’s finger traced between the toys, and the cats slinking up to stand next to them. “Ya all torn up from the fight. I ain’t fresh, but I can kill my way through ya.”

“Oh. Thank you for reminding me,” Threadbare said. He tilted his head to the side and concentrated.

“What? Remind you of what-”

About half a ton of skeletal dragon plummeted down from on high, claws tearing and fleshless maw rending.

Five years ago, Zuula had killed a lesser dragon. And she’d marked very, very well where it fell. Well enough to tell Threadbare where it was, so he could go and animate it as a skeleton.

The dragon itself eventually got smashed to pieces by the irate vampire, but by that point the teddy bears were able to bring her down without casualties.

And oh, did Threadbare reap the spoils.

You are now a level 11 Greater Toy Golem!

+2 to all attributes

You are now a level 5 Ruler!

CHA+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You have unlocked the Appoint Official skill!

Your Appoint Official skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Organize Minions skill!

Your Organize Minions skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Swear Fealty skill!

Your Swear Fealty skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 10 Necromancer!

INT+3

WILL+3

WIS+3

You have unlocked the Drain Life skill!

Your Drain Life skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Mana Focus skill!

Your Mana Focus skill is now level 1!

Threadbare smiled over at Fluffbear… who smiled back. Next to her, a cougar the size of a housecat rubbed its cheek against her, while a very puzzled Pulsivar sniffed the cougar.

“Wasn’t that cat bigger not too long ago?” Threadbare asked.

“She’s my pet now. I’m a tamer now. It did that when I accepted the job.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Wow, this is better than I thought it would be, that’s a relief,” Garon said from his soulstone. “Hi Mom.”

“Son! You is free! Now we can pass on to odder side.”

“Pfft, why would I want to do that?”

“What?”

“I have too much shit to do.”

“You dead! You supposed to move on!”

“You didn’t.”

“Zuula didn’t because she had to make sure you didn’t get trapped in eternal undead hell! Well now you not.”

“No, but Mastoya is.”

“Wait. What?”

“She wasn’t herself when she stabbed me. It was the rage. We both came down from it then, and I looked into her eyes. She was crying, Mom. She was hurting so bad.”

“She fucking killed you.”

“Yes. And she didn’t want to. Kill you? Yes. Kill me? No. It’s going to eat at her, Mom. I need to go and stop that. I need to forgive her.”

Silence for a long while. “You unclever son.”

“Yeah, well.”

“This is like that sprouts t’ing, isn’t it?”

“Never ate’em, never will.”

“Fff. You should really just go. She sort it out. Join us eventually one way or other.”

“What was it you told me about being an orc? That you never stop fighting?”

“…damn it.”

“So I won’t stop. Hey Threadbare, I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you get me to Mastoya? I can at least throw party buffs on you. I think. Gods, this is weird, not having a body.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” Threadbare said, looking over to Beanarella’s limp form. She’d evidentally been destroyed in the crossfire at some point. He moved toward her, pulling out his tailoring tools. “I could maybe make you a body. If the spells interact like I think they might.”

“Seriously? I’m down. What’s the catch?”

“Well, if it works, you’ll be in a golem shell. Like me.”

“If not?”

“I don’t know, and it uses up the crystal. I don’t know what happens to you, then.”

Garon thought it over. “What have I got to lose? Let’s do it.”

“Pfft. Unclever child. You not going this alone.”

“Mom?”

“Zuula stick around to make sure you not suffer. Look at you, children all! Green, and not in good way. Someone gots to be responsible adult here,” said the half-orc who’d happily engineered the massacre of most of Taylor’s Delve’s undead population because she thought it would be an awesome fight. “Guess it gots to be Zuula.”

“Okay. But I need something called yellow reagent to make it work. And I’ve only got one dose of it left. It’s… I need to be a good enchanter to make more of it, and I’m not yet. I think,” confessed Threadbare. “It’s hard to practice without materials.”

“Oh, that’s what ya need, is tha yellow stuff?” Said a nasal voice. Threadbare whirled, to see Madeline’s fading form lounging against a tree. That’s right, he DID have Speak with Dead going, and well, she counted too.

“You still around?” Zuula hissed, stalking towards her.

“Whoa, whoa lady, let’s cut a deal heah,” Madeline said, backing up. “You want yellow reagant, I want a new body.”

“You tell Zuula where it is or she eat you!”

Madeline laughed, and strode right up to the ghost. “Destroy me and you never get it. We hid it well.”

Zuula clenched her fists…

“Okay,” Threadbare said. “I feel bad about tricking you anyway. Even if you were hurting Garon.”

“Yeah, you should feel bad!” Madeline stalked over to him, shaking her finger. “I trusted you, beah! And you screwed me ovah, and got all my friends dead!” She sighed. “Okay, they were only my friends because I made them my friends, but the point stahnds.”

“I know. I do feel bad about it. But Zuula and Garon were my friends first and they needed my help.”

She sighed.

CHA +1

Your Adorable skill is now level 20!

“Fahk it. Can’t stay mad at you. So whaddya say? Soulstone me, prahmise to give me a new bahdy, and I’ll show you wheah we hide our loot. Ain’t much, but we got plenty of yella dust. An’ other colors besides.”

“I’ll vouch for her,” Garon spoke up.

“Garon! She enslave you!” Zuula hissed.

“She’s a monster. She was just doing what came naturally. You should know all about that, Mom. That nature thing?”

“Dat is low blow.”

“I’m not a knight. Mercs can afford to fight dirty. And anyway, she was nice enough, just… yeah. Didn’t work out.”

“Thanks, Gar,” Madeline said. Then she looked at her hands, as they started to fade. “Uh? Might wanna decide quick, Mistah Beah.”

It wasn’t much of a decision, really. “Soulstone.” He offered it to her, and she dove in happily.

That joy lasted all of five seconds.

“Level fucking three?” She screamed.

Zuula laughed her ghostly ass off.

*****

The box didn’t just hold yellow reagents. It had lots more red, plenty of orange, and even a few doses of bright, glittering green. Along with about three dozen crystals, most of which were level 1.

“Where did all this come from?” he wondered, as the teddy bears and their feline companions stared at the glowing hoard in the box.

“Item smugglahs, mostly,” Madeline replied. “Remembah those resistance guys? I searched theah houses aftah they were dead. Most of them made some coin this way. Which is in that sack to ya left, by the by.”

“Oh, thank you.” My, that was a heavy sack.

Your Sturdy Back skill is now level 7!

“There was a pretty brisk trade in illegal items from the Catamount,” Garon offered. “Used to be some of the wizards and guards could be bribed to look the other way, back before things got serious near the end. Items come out, and the really powerful ones got shipped elsewhere to help with the fight, and the lesser ones got disenchanted and sold as components on the black market.”

“This is what happens when you disenchant things,” Threadbare said, counting the vials of reagents. “That’s what my appraise skill tells me, anyway.”

“You need to get better at a lot of t’ings,” Zuula griped at him from her own soulstone. “Gots to find focus. Is one reason Zuula come along. She gonna be your trainer, boy. You will hate her, before all is done. But you will learn. You will learn.”

“I love you, Zuula,” Threadbare said. “I won’t hate you.”

“We gonna put dat to de test, little bears.”

Madeline cleared her nonexistent throat. “So, ah, about those bahdies… how does this wahk exahctly?”

“I can make toy golems. Maybe other kinds someday. It uses level one crystals, but soulstones are level one crystals. And it uses up yellow reagents. I just need to find or make toys, and prepare them.”

“Oh you ah in luck,” Madeline chuckled. “We ah, anyway.”

“Mrs. Fub!” Garon yelled. “Oh that’s perfect!”

“What?” Threadbare looked down at his upside-down hat, and the soulstones he’d put in it. “What’s a Fub?”

“It’s a who. She was a toymaker before the slaughter,” Garon said. “It’s where Mordecai got most of his toys from, before she started getting suspicious. Her shop came through mostly intact.”

“Oh! That sounds good. Let’s go have a look.” Threadbare said, and the voices of the dead guided the little group out of the darkness of the secret hidey hole, and out into the newly-rising light of dawn.

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

Ruler Skills

APPOINT OFFICIAL
Level: 5 Cost: 25 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
You may appoint one official per ruler level. This official, who must be one of your subjects, may accept oaths of fealty, and add them to your subject pool.

ORGANIZE MINIONS
Level: 5 Cost: 15 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
You may choose one quest shared among your party members or subjects. While on that quest and working toward that goal, they gain a bonus to all attributes equivalent to your ruler level.

SWEAR FEALTY
Level: 5 Cost: Special Duration: Permanent until changed
Any individual may swear fealty to you, spending five moxie while in your presence or the presence of any of your appointed officials. They become one of your subjects and are subject to many of your other ruler skills and effects.

Necromancer Skills

DRAIN LIFE
Level 10 Cost: 20 San Duration: Instant
Drains a small amount of life from a nearby foe and adds it to your hit points. Will heal regardless of physical form. Does not affect certain monster types.

MANA FOCUS
Level 10 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Buffs your sanity pool by a percentage equal to your necromancer level.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 11
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 8
Model Level 4
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 2
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 95 Constitution: 102 Hit Points: 257(297) Armor: 42(51)
Intelligence: 116 Wisdom: 148(153) Sanity: 264(331) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 75(80) Agility: 80(90) Stamina: 165(230) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 74(99) Willpower: 99 Moxie: 173(238) Cool: 20
Perception: 77 Luck: 65(70) Fortune: 142(187) Fate: 11(16)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 20
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 5
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Talioring - Level 38(42)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 20 (+40 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 14
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Work it Baby - Level 9

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 17
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (11)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 13
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 2
Eye for Detail - Level 7
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 5
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 2
Invite Golem - Level 2
Toy Golem - Level 2

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment

Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)

INVENTORY A sack of coins.
A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests
Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Tamer, Wizard

Story Interlude: A Hard Knight’s Day

The shield slammed into her face, rattling her head inside her helm. Dazed, she stumbled backward, barely managing to intercept the mace with her sword, as the black knight swung it to her side.

Even then, the blade’s intervention only blunted the impact. Her foe was larger, stronger, more practiced. Knocked to the side, she backpedaled, used her superior agility to get some distance. But he followed, relentless, armor dull save for the red runes of the Royal Army.

She had to lock down that mace. Without catching the shield to her face, this time.

“Corps a Corps!” She shouted, lunging forward, and like magnets her blade clashed against the mace, adding her skill to her strength, keeping it locked. Corps a Corps was designed to tie up strong foes, keep them busy while her allies did damage, tore into the temporarily disabled target.

Your Corps a Corps skill is now level 57!

Or not so disabled, as the case may be. Sure enough, his shield came up again-

-and she let her legs go limp, slammed her greaves into the ground, and shouted “Dolorous Strike!”

With boosted strength, she drove her own shield into the plates over his codpiece.

Your Dolorous Strike skill is now level 48!

Her shield had spikes on it. They got in between the joints, and plate tore as she twisted. Her foe staggered back, breaking the corps a corp, choking noises coming from his helm.

The black knight hunched over. Blood spattered the floor, and she shifted her eyes away. She stood there, bashed her sword into her shield, waiting.

From the sidelines, King Melos shook his head. He gestured for his attendants to leave, then beckoned. “Come here, Cecelia.”

Cecelia Ragadorn-Gearhart saluted her foe, then turned to her father.

Noise behind her, armor clattered, and she whirled around too late.

Realization crashed into her at the same time the black knight did, bowling her over and hammering down pain. Father called to her, but he never actually stopped the match!

Gods damn it, father.

“Animus!” She snapped out, ignoring the pain, and slapping her hand to her foe’s chest. “Invite armor, get the hell off me!”

She couldn’t match her foe in strength, but will she had a plenty. And when you were dealing with animi, the animator’s will WAS their strength. Her foe howled as his armor moved against his flesh, catching his muscles out of joint, straining them as it threw him backward to land in a heap on the ground. “I yield!” he cried. “I yield me!”

Cecelia walked over to her father, glaring at him through her visor. “What?”

“You just forfeited the match by casting a spell. Which doesn’t matter, because you lost it half a minute ago.” Melos sighed. His own armor was darker than his opponent’s, his red hair stark against it like a spill of blood. But his eyes were full of disappointment, and Cecelia hated to see it.

He was her father, after all, and she had to do right by him.

“How did I lose?” She asked, unbuckling her helm. White armor, pearly white, with a unicorn’s horn spike on its forehead. She’d designed it, crafted it herself. There had been some snickering in the barracks, she was sure, talk about “pony knight armor for the pretty pretty princess,” but she didn’t care. They didn’t matter. She had worked hard to fight on even ground with youths and men who had been training for it since they were born. Besides, she had moxie and cool enough to handle a little teasing.

And her armor was cute, dammit.

She liked cute things. There weren’t many of those left in her life, these days. The few that were reminded her of better times. Simpler times.

“You lost,” her Father explained, clanking over to her and placing his hands on her shoulder pauldrons, “when you stopped hitting him. He wasn’t down. You needed to follow up, to end his threat.”

“He was done. If he’d come at me again from the front I would have taken him down hard. He only got that last hit in because you distracted me.” She glanced over to Renick, her assigned foe for today, standing locked and gasping in his frozen armor. That was a fair amount of blood on the floor. “Hey! Why isn’t he healed?” She snapped to the clerics on duty. They looked to the king, and she slammed her sword’s pommel against her shield. “Don’t look at my father, look to your charge! Heal him!” She yelled.

Her father said nothing, and the two clerics nodded, and rushed over to the knight. She let the animus spell dissolve as they got to him, dropping Renick onto the shorter of the pair.

“Unnecessary,” Melos murmured to her, a smile tugging at his lips, swiftly banished.

“They needed to learn THEIR duty.” She ran a gauntleted hand through her short-cropped ginger hair. “Do I pass muster?”

Her father pursed his lips, blew air out through his teeth as he thought. “Walk with me,” he decided, putting his arm around her shoulders and guiding her away.

“That’s a no, then?” She said, feeling her heart sink.

Five years I’ve been stuck in this castle. Five years, and I might have just blown my chance at getting free-

-no. No, it wasn’t freedom. It was just another set of chains.

But at least these would be chains she’d built herself.

“It’s a ‘let me think about it.’ You’ve taken well to your knight’s training, even though you came to it belated. And your craftsmanship is exquisite. It makes me proud. It would have made Amelia proud to see it.” He looked away for a second.

Which was good, because Cecelia had a lump in her throat, and boy did her eyes burn. She blinked away tears. “Thank you,” she husked.

“But you’d be going to a battlefield. And on a battlefield, there are no rules beyond survival and winning. A painfully disabling groin shot? Well, his healer will shout out a word or two and it’ll be healed just like THAT. It’s not enough to disable a foe, if they have a chance to recover. You have to end it, decisively, until they stand no chance of posing a threat to you again.” Melos’ gauntlet clenched. “Every time I’ve deviated from this practice, from this policy, it’s come back to harm me. And worse, to harm my kingdom. And I fear it will hurt YOU. Do you understand, Cecelia?”

She nodded. “I do.”

He stopped, studied her for a long minute. “I wonder.” He gave her shoulder one last squeeze, then withdrew his arm. “I’ll arrange a new test for you.”

“What sort of test?”

“No. No, this is a… make-up exam, if you will. It won’t be anything you have time to prepare for. You’ll have to show me not only your strength but your wisdom, when the time comes. And you’ll have to win. No matter the cost.”

Oh gods. Her mouth went dry, and Cecelia licked her lips. “I will.” This was going to suck.

Then a flicker of motion caught her eye. Down the corridor, just under one of the tapestries, a green glow danced and flickered. “Oh! That thing again. I’ll go get the wizards.”

“What-” Melos turned, hand on his sword-and froze in horror. He stared at the flickering light, and Cecelia watched as her father, the mighty figure who had been the anchoring point in her new life these last five years, the indomitable King of Cylvania, trembled so hard his armor shook.

“Gh!” He said, leaning on the wall, clapping his hand to his chest.

“Father? Father!”

And for a second, for just a second, he glanced at her. And to her shock it his eyes had gone black, black with dancing green specks. “Go. I’ll handle it,” he rasped, looking away just as fast.

“Are you okay? Handle what? What is this?” She said, moving around him, to try and confirm what she saw.

But he whipped his hand up to shield his face. “I’m fine. Go! Say nothing of this!”

Green light played through the cracks between his clenched fingers, and Cecelia nodded, and fled.

Behind her, she heard her father mutter, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.

“What the heck is going on?” She wondered, heading back to her quarters. It didn’t look good, whatever it was, but if her Father said to leave it be, he meant it. She couldn’t risk any more of his ire, not this close to her freedom.

Halfway to her room she changed her mind, and headed for the barracks instead.

She’d hurt Renick pretty badly, she figured she owed the guy an apology.

*****

“Haha, no, it’s fine, really,” Renick grinned. Renick was big and broad, with hair like straw, and an earnest, ugly face. The joke around the barracks was that he’d joined the king’s knights for the charisma boosts, so could stand a chance at getting laid someday.

Not that they’d joked like that around her, not at first, but they’d eventually come to accept her. Which was good, because though they weren’t exactly as close to her as they were with each other, they didn’t tiptoe around her or try to curry her favor and kiss up by flattery. When she wore the armor and trained with them, she was one of the knights, and that was that.

Her father had seemed to approve, though he’d warned her about getting attached. “A lot of these men and women are going to die for you,” he told her. “Be careful how much emotional investment you put into any particular one.”

“Well, if they’re going to die for me, I should at least be good to them, right? Shouldn’t I be someone worth dying for?”

Usually it went one of two ways when she stood up to him. The first way was solemn, shameful disappointment that depressed her for days. But that time it had gone the second way, and he’d been proud. And so from that point on she spent time in the barracks, albeit with a chaperone present, and joined in what camaraderie she could.

“It’s fine. I mean, I’ve taken groin shots before. And the clerics healed me right up.” Renick smiled, leaning back in his chair, running a rag over his shield as he cleaned it.

Next to him, a short woman with black hair grinned, and opened her mouth-

“-besides, it’s not like I was using my balls for anything anyway,” Renick smirked.

“You asshole! That was the perfect setup!” The short woman punched his (thankfully unarmored) shoulder.

Cecelia laughed with the rest of them.

“Sorry Lana, you gotta be quick. Or try something new,” Renick said, placidly. “But seriously, Cee, that’s a pretty good trick you did out there. I might try it sometime.”

“I wouldn’t,” A thin, whiplike young woman with a scarred face spoke from her corner, where she was busy sorting knives into sheathes. “That’s more of a duelist trick. And with your weight, Renick, you’d jam up your knees something fierce.” She’d been an assassin, before she’d joined the Corps, as the rumor went. Going by how she acted, how she fought, Cecelia believed the rumor.

“You calling me fat now, Kayin?” He flipped her off casually.

She put a dagger past his shoulder, equally casually, sinking it into the dartboard beyond. “Nah, just big. But no, I’m just saying she can get away with it because of her weight and agility. You can’t.”

“That’s a point. But either way, it was a smooth move.” Renick sighed. “You’re lucky, you got to dip into scout when you were younger. Lots of good battlefield stuff there, I hear.”

“I haven’t practiced it much. But sturdy back helps with the armor, won’t deny,” Cecelia smiled.

“I’m still waiting for my Duelist training approval,” Renick said, checking his armor. “I mean a lot of the nimbleness stuff will be hard to pull off until I get my agility up there, but that class bumps strength, so it’s good. And since Knight bumps charisma they dovetail nicely.”

“And duelist adds dex and agility, so don’t completely suck once you finally get someone in bed,” Lana said, smugly. And this time as the laughter rang out again, Renick punched HER shoulder. She just laughed harder.

“Hey, Cee,” Kayin whispered in her ear, when the rest of the barracks had fallen back to arguing and boasting and the small talk and stuff that the knights filled their day with. “Your daddy tell you when we’re shipping out East?”

Cecelia bit her lip. “No. And… I might not go with you. It’s…” She bit her tongue, not wanting to confess to the lean girl that she’d failed what was supposed to be her graduation test. Not a failure yet, she reminded herself. I get a do-over. “…I have to prove to my father that I can handle it.”

“What? I thought it was a sure thing!”

“He cheated. Upped the stakes.” And he had. She’d won that fight, but he’d changed the rules, thrown in another variable. Which… okay, she could see the point of that as a general life lesson, but still, she’d WON.

“That’s a shit thing to do to your own kid…” Kayin hissed, then shot a glance around. No one was listening, or even looking, save for the quiet servant in the corner. Cecelia met her chaperone’s eyes and nodded, and the man nodded back. She didn’t know his name. Didn’t know any of their names, really. They never spoke to her, except when absolutely necessary.

“It is what it is,” Cecelia said. “Though…” She thought ahead. “I think I know what he has in mind. Would you be willing to help me if things go like I think they will?”

“What did you have in mind?” Kayin stepped back, and smirked. “And what’s in it for me?”

Cecelia reached into her pouch, and jingled a handful of coins, and the former assassin smiled…

*****

“Stoker Feed Activated!” Cecelia shouted, feeling her hit points drain as a metal conveyor whirred to life under her. Whirring and clanking, it carried coal from the fuel box, to the fire. Heated instantly by magic, the gauges around her jumped and flickered, glowing in the cramped darkness.

“Boiler Shunt is Go!” Cecelia screamed, over the din of the stoker feed. Instantly her invention screamed, sending clouds of steam past the viewport, as the magic got the water boiling in seconds, synching it to the fire stoked by the belt. It took moxie from her, but not more than she could spare.

“Clockwork Engaged!” Cecelia roared, shoving her arms and legs into the sleeves, feeling metal clamps rattle and bind her limbs. Whirring, ticking, driven by steam and kinetic energy, she twisted her arms and felt the arms of her armor rise around her, massive by comparison to her regular fleshy limbs. She clenched her fingers, feeling her sanity diminish, but she had plenty of that and now the armor moved as she did.

“Linkages aligned!” She shouted, and the port slammed shut, as the cables throughout the massive metal suit stretched taught and fed into the clockwork gears. Stamina leaked from her, and fed into the suit, and she took her first shuddering steps, as the counterweights and gyros kept her upright.

“Cast In Steam and Steel, Raise thy Blade! All Systems Go!” Cecelia finished the last of the five spells, and that strangest feeling of all came, as her fortune fell, transferring to her Steam Armor.

Skill-ups rolled by, but she ignored them, as she piloted her armor out through the hangar doors, and to the practice grounds.

She was taking a risk, she knew, draining her pools this close to father’s unknown test, but piloting Reason always settled her nerves. Grabbing a clockwork arbalest, she fitted it into Reason’s arm, winding the bolt feed carefully into the compartment she’d built for it. For the other hand, a wrecker blade, ten feet long and three feet back, like a massive cleaver that had been stretched out to a ludicrous length.

And as the sun sank below the castle walls, she stomped around the proving grounds, shooting targets and chopping through logs, running the obstacle course as she went. She’d hit level four in the Steam Knight class recently, about as far as she could go on the training grounds alone.

It had been a hard one to achieve, pushing her tinkering skills to the limits. But she’d thrown in even more of a challenge, by enchanting the various components, buffing her knight well beyond the specs that most who came to the job bothered to. It was an odd job anyway, mixing Knight and Animator and Tinker, and requiring a ton of resources and components to first craft the suit, then figure out how to animate the various parts to do what they needed to, and THEN you had to be a fifteenth level knight, so you could use the “Favored Mount” skill upon the finished product. Only then would the second-tier class unlock.

But holy fump, could she kick ass when she wore Reason. Fifteen foot tall and almost every bit of it crafted by her own hand, she was in full control when the boiler was screaming behind her and the mighty cable muscles were stretching at the guidance of her responsive clockwork.

She felt strong inside the suit. Untouchable, unbeatable. And more than that, it was a symbol of her freedom. The only way she’d be able to leave this castle, was as one of the elite steam knights sent to fight the dwarves on the eastern front. Only then, her father told her, would he be willing to let her anywhere near a battlefield. Steam Knights had the best survivability rate, and they got taken alive, thankfully. The dwarves had weird rules when it came to killing tinkers.

Her father had laughed, when she named it Reason. For the wrong reasons, actually, but she hadn’t corrected him. Her hope was to make him see reason. That was why it was called what it was.

And all her good mood and restored confidence fled as she turned back to the hangar, and saw who was waiting there.

“Oh fump,” She muttered. “You?”

Smiling, Anise Layd’I raised her hand and waved.

Cecelia stomped back, brought her armor’s components down one by one, and stepped free of the cockpit. Soaked in sweat, uncaring, she hopped down to glare at the demon who wore her dead mother’s face. “What?”

“Aren’t you eager to get to your test?” Anise smiled, blandly.

And suddenly, Cecelia felt a lot less confident.

*****

The Tower of Shame stood in the middle of the keep, holding those that the Crown chose not to kill, but could not let free. It had thick, thick walls, layers of stone lined with cork, that ate up the sound and prevented the screams and wails of the prisoner inside from disturbing the rest of the Castle’s inhabitants.

But once you were inside the tower, you could hear them shouting, crying, begging for mercy. That’s what Cecelia found as she followed Anise into the tower, ascending the long stair that broke off into corridors, heading into the various cellblocks.

She smoothed her arming jacket. A clean and press had gotten rid of the sweat stains, but Anise hadn’t given her a chance to get armored, let alone grab a sword. “Always in Uniform,” she muttered, using a knight skill to buff her armor for the third time since she’d followed the demon. It kept running out, but it hardened her clothes, gave her SOMETHING in the event of sudden violence. And it used moxie, so whatever. She didn’t have many abilities that used that, none that mattered for this test, she reckoned.

“Here we go,” Anise hummed, opening a door near the top. Cecelia eyed it warily, but her alertness didn’t fire off, so she figured she wasn’t going to be ambushed yet. Still… “After you, I insist,” she told Anise.

“Of course, dear.” Anise strode into the cellblock.

It was dark in here, and empty, save for a pile of rags in the corner. As she watched, they stirred, and an old, weathered face lifted up from the man lying under them. A white-bearded, unshaven face, bald-headed with bushy eyebrows.

A familiar face, that she hadn’t seen in a long while. “Mister Mordecai?”

“Celia? Celia girl?” Mordecai leaped up, and in a flash grabbed the bars. He was nearly naked, save for dirty, torn trousers, and thin, so thin, with ropy muscles straining under his withered flesh. “Celia? Is this a trick? You bastards, you ain’t trickin’ me!” In a heartbeat he went from smiling to screaming, pounding his head against the bars. “Stay out of my ‘ead! Stay out of my ‘ead! I ain’t tellin’ yer nuffing!”

“No! No, it’s me, please Mordecai, please stop hurting yourself!” She ran to him, then flinched back as he punched through the bars, his hand falling short by inches. “Please stop!”

He screamed himself hoarse, then seemed to come to himself, looking around at the cell, looking down at himself in shame. “Sorry. I… sorry. Real. Hope yer real. Hope… sorry. Oh Celia girl, don’t look at me. What they done to me… what they done to me…”

It was hard to tell what they’d done to him. He was covered with scars, but then again, she had seen how his marriage was firsthand, so she had no way of knowing if they’d been the ones to…

…no. They’d tortured him. “Mordecai, it’s me.” She reached through the bars, took his hand, and he wept, pushing his hairy cheek against it, dirty beard rasping against her skin. “It’s me. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“And here he is,” Anise said. “Your enemy. The enemy to the Crown.”

Cecelia froze. “What are you… what are you saying?”

“Did you think it would be an easy test?” Anise dropped a key on the ground, followed by a dagger. Then she turned and left. “Good luck!”

“What… demon!” Mordecai hissed. “Wears her face wears little Amelia’s face I know what you are! I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!” He tore free of Cecelia’s hand with enraged strength, grabbed the bars and pushed his face out between them, roaring at the departing monster. “YOU DEMON!”

Then he collapsed, sobbing, leaving Cecelia with the key, the dagger, and the dawning realization of the nature of her test.

“Oh no,” she whispered, sinking to the floor. “No, no, no…”

She weighed her freedom against the old man’s life. Old man, sick and wasted, thin and ragged from starvation and suffering. An old man, mind broken, barely anything left of the strong, confident scout she’d once known.

He’d die here anyway.

It’d be a mercy.

They’d just keep torturing him.

These thoughts and more trembled through her head.

And finally Cecelia picked up the dagger.

*****

The guards didn’t look twice at her as she descended the stairwell, empty handed. She’d taken nothing from the cellblock, and she was alone, so they didn’t check her.

The keep was oddly quiet, and the door to the wing leading to her chambers was locked.

She blinked, then her eyes settled into a squint as she realized. There was one route around the locked door, and it lead through the courtyard.

She took a ceremonial shield off the wall. “Animus Shield.” It was lower quality, but better than nothing. “Harden,” She said, patting her clothes. “Always in Uniform. Keen Eye.” She didn’t have any other buffs that were useful to the situation, so she took a deep breath, and walked through the keep, reaching the side courtyard.

And there she found the knights waiting. Everyone in her training squad by the looks of it, and Sergeant Tane too. Seven Knights, ringing the courtyard, fully armed and armored, drawing blades as she approached.

“This is your test, girl,” her father called from the battlements, the demons in his armor glowing and active, hellblades whirling around his head. “There are no rules! Fight for your life!”

Celia smiled.

And then, a song rang out, bouncing around the walls, echoing from the outbuildings, causing the King and his knights to peer around.

“There was a fool king, who clung hard to the dark…”

King Melos stiffened. “Who… who dares?”

“Killed his own wife, and thought it a lark…”

“You’ll die for that!” Melos yelled.

“But in all of our hearts, he lit the spark… of rebellion!”

It was an old, raspy voice, unsuitable for a bard. But it was a song that heartened Cecelia nonetheless. “Status,” she whispered, and smiled at the strength buff she’d just received.

All too soon it ended but the song was replaced by quietly chanted words. And every one made the King’s eyes go wider.

“Fast as Death. Build Up. One Track Mind. Power From Pain. Ambush. Subdue… RAGE!”

“And oh yeah, Backstab!” And then, a knight went sailing backward, helm crumpled. Mordecai stood where he’d been, camouflage fading, grinning. “ello there Melly. Long time no see!”

“You son of a bitch!” Melos roared, then froze in horror as Mordecai whirled, and tossed his dagger at Celia… who stretched out a hand, and grinned. “Animus Blade!” She shouted as it passed her head, and swung into a low orbit around her.

“No rules, father! No rules!” She reminded him, and charged the remaining knights as Mordecai whooped and laid about him, fists falling like hammers.

On the battlements, Melos leaned his elbows on the battlements, and palmed his face with both hands. “She is our daughter, Amelia,” he whispered, unheard. “Hell help us all.”

Then Cecelia was too busy fighting.

Each one of her class had at least three levels on her, but she was an animator, too, and their weapons had been padded. They hurt, they sapped her stamina and left bruises every time they hit, but whenever she managed to get a hand on a shield or a blade or a suit of armor, it became hers. And she’d fire up Corps a Corps with an animus blade, then hammer her friends down with an animus shield while they were locked. Or she’d slap their armor and hinder them. Her sanity went fast, but oh, it was glorious.

Glorious, but painful. They were all trained knights, and the Dolorous Strikes that got through had her reeling.

Midway through, four knights down, she heard Mordecai yelp. She bought some breathing room by running back in time to see Mordecai leaping over the outbuildings, pursued by a black-clad form. She caught her breath.

The Four! That was one of the Four Hands of the King! The Ninja, Janus!

“What?” She yelled up at her Father, almost getting clocked in the head by a training sword for her trouble. “You’re seriously throwing a fumping HAND into this test?”

“No rules!” He shrugged. “This is more fair, anyway.”

“Fair!” Cecelia shrieked, backing into a corner as Sergeant Tane hammered down her last shield, and Renick closed from the other side. Kayin came down the middle.

They stopped, ten feet from her, as she stretched a hand out. “I’m a good animator. You know what I can do.”

“Aye. And I know it’ll take you six words to get one of us,” Tane ground out. “At which point the other two will be on you, Squire Ragadorn. So why don’t you surrender and save your face a pounding?”

Cecelia’s eyes flicked from Tane, to Kayin, to Renick… and back to Kayin. She winked.

“Distant Animus-” Celia shouted, and they charged…

“Invite Renick’s Armor stop!” She shouted. He stopped and fell over, and she felt the wind as the other two approached…

And a feeling of relief surged through her, as Kayin shouted “Backstab! Pommel Strike!” And rang Tane’s helm like a bell so hard that he tumbled, knocking Cecelia to the ground.

The girl stared up, dazed… at Kayin’s open gauntlet. She took it, accepted the hand to her feet, and smiled at Kayin. “Do you surrender?”

“Absolutely.” Kayin knelt.

For a long second, there was silence on the battlements. “What.” Melos finally managed.

“I thought you might try something like this, father. So I went and found allies. It was a cruel test to begin with!” She stepped forward, leveling her hand at him. “Trying to make me kill on an old friend!”

The king removed his helm, and stared down at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Trying to get me to kill Mister Mordecai like… that…” She blinked. “Wait. Anise said-”

“Anise?” The King frowned. “What’s she done this time?”

Realization crashed in.

Anise had never SAID that killing Mordecai was the King’s test, or that she’d lead Cecelia to the test. She’d let Cecelia form her own conclusions. Shaking, the girl leaned against the wall.

“It’s to do with that senile old scout, isn’t it?” The King said, hopping off the wall and floating down, as the demons he wore carried him gently through the air. “Of course he’d seek you out, and try to get you to escape with him.”

“Something like that,” Cecelia said. “I… couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to.” Which was the truth. She didn’t want to stop him. She’d unlocked his cell and offered to run interference while he escaped.

“Mm. Well, no matter. You were wise to use him to your advantage while he was here. In any case, it’s a moot point. Janus tells me he’s in the woods outside the walls now, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s back in his cell. He can’t evade for long. The crazy old bastard may be a scout, but he’s no ranger.” Melos dispelled the demons in his armor and let his blades fall, then folded her into a hug, ignoring the scattered and groaning knights around her. “You passed. You’ll get your wish.”

Freedom. Cecelia sagged into her father’s arms. “Thank you,” She whispered.

It had been a hard life, in the castle. A hard life, hearing about the foes that bedeviled her father and tried to bring chaos to his kingdom.

But now she could sally forth, and meet them with steam and steel. Like her father, she would do what she must, and bring peace to Cylvania.

Born Again 1

Threadbare looked at the heaps and piles of moldy toys, then up to the hole in the roof. There were bits and scraps of cloth up there, and up until a minute ago, there had been some rather irate birds that had vanished from their nests the second that Pulsivar and Mopsy entered the store.

“What’s this white stuff?” Missus Fluffbear wondered, as she poked at the bird shit on her head and stared at her paw.

Garon cleared his throat. “Ah, I’ll tell ya later-”

“It bird shit,” Zuula interrupted.

“Oh. Ew!” Missus Fluffbear tried to get it off, with no real luck. “Fine. Clean and Press.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes. My raccants taught me tailoring so they didn’t have to keep fixing me and I could do it myself. But why was the bird shit white?” Missus Fluffbear wondered. “Raccant shit was brown. I certainly helped them bury enough of it, I should know.”

“You buried things for them?” Threadbare turned his head to look her over.

“Yes. They gave me to their children to play with, at first. They played rough! It was very dangerous. But when they saw I could move things and carry things they took me from the children and made me work for them. Then I got attacked by those big hatted cloud things one time and beat them up with my spade. That’s when their Chief, the great Hoomin decided I should be in his dungeon. Then you saved me from that. And then some of them were dead out front and I don’t know why.”

Threadbare twitched. Zuula’s words rang through his mind. Friends don’t lie to friends, mostly. He pondered it for a second, and decided that it would be bad to lie, here. “They were dead because I killed them. Me and Pulsivar. We wanted to come and look for you and they wouldn’t let us.”

Missus Fluffbear stared at him.

“I tried to ask nicely, but one of them tried to take my tools and hurt me. When I pushed him back they all attacked me.”

“Was it the one with stars on his shoulder? That was mean to you?”

“Yes.”

“He was mean to me too. I wasn’t sorry to see him dead. But you killed Bujy and Hamste and small missing ear Kity, and they were my friends. Sort of.” She kept staring at Threadbare. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I don’t know how you should feel, either,” Threadbare said. He took off his top hat and rubbed his head. “I’m not sorry because they were trying to hurt me, and they could have if I didn’t stop them. But I’m sorry because you liked them and I didn’t know, if that makes any sense.”

“Hey,” Mads spoke up. “Take it frahm me, kid, it’s okay ta feel bad. I feel bad Darla and Bennett and Grimble ah gone. But theah ain’t no point in blaming Threadbeah. If it wasn’t him, it’d be somewan else. Bein’ a monstah means sooner or latah someone kills ya. And Raccants is monstahs, they all knew tha score. They wouldn’t hold no grudge, or ask you ta hold one.”

“For once stupid vampire actually say somet’ting Zuula agree wit’.” The shaman spoke up from her soulstone. “Dat proper orc t’inking. Don’t hate strong for winning. Be stronger!”

“Gee, thanks,” Mads said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Because ya vote of cahnfidence is totally something I wanted and cared about.”

“Don’t make Zuula slap you rocks off. She do it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard about you.”

“What?”

“Mads!” Garon shouted. “That’s my Mom you’re talking about there.”

“Right, sorry, sorry.”

Missus Fluffbear thought it over while the spirits argued. Threadbare held his hat in his hands and waited, worried.

“You didn’t know they were my friends,” Missus Fluffbear said. “And not all of them were, and they attacked you and they shouldn’t have.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m still sad. But I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you pulled me out of there. It was really weird in there. All green light and like… I don’t know. Pictures and things and you feel yourself doing things and seeing things but you can’t control what you’re doing.”

“You talking about dreams,” Zuula said. “Everyting dream.”

“I don’t,” Threadbare and Fluffbear said simultaneously, then looked at each other. Fluffbear giggled.

“Celia told me about her dreams,” Threadbare said. “But I don’t sleep. I guess you don’t either?”

“No. Sometimes my friends talked about them. It didn’t make much sense.”

“Wait. Green light?” Mads said. “They had ya in a core cahlumn? Holy shit!”

“What’s a core column?” Threadbare asked.

“It’s a ticket ta immortahlity, if ya a monstah. The mahstah puts you in theah, and you stay there all safe while copies of you go out and do stuff. Ya get good enough, ya can control what ya duplicahts do. But ya can’t make them leave tha dungeon.”

“How you know this?” Zuula asked, suspicion in her voice.

“Pssh, I was born in a dungeon. Just a wahnderin’ bloodsucker. One minute nothin’ then BOOP, there I was, a li’l level wahn vampire. Mighta been a copy of somewan in a core cahlum, or coulda been just a randahm spawn. Dunno. Got good at what I did, then tha king’s guards came an’ sealed tha dungeon and I escaped befoah it sealed completely.”

“You never told mentioned anything like this to me,” Garon said.

“Look, Gar, most of our convahsations were me telling ya ta settled dahn, and you going NO FUCK YOU RAGGLGLGBALARGGELE ROAR! Or some variation thereahve.”

“Point.”

“Is that why you wanted a dungeon core?” Threadbare asked.

“Yeah, from what I heard, it’s a pretty sweet deal. Supposedly if ya in a core cahlum ya get some of tha experience ya duplicates get. Then if the master’s any kind of cool, he’ll let ya out eventually and swahp out for anothah monstah. That’s propah dungeon management. And… well… if we stayed out heah, then eventually we’d be hunted down and killed. Just anothah monstah, to most people. But we need blood, so we need ta eat, so we can’t go fah from people and animals. And that’d be anothah benefit! While yah in a core cahlum you don’t eat, you don’t age. That’s what my friend Sydney told me anyway.”

“Fun as dis is, we getting off track,” Zuula said. “We got big pile of bodies here, just waiting for us to try out. Zuula kind of sick of dis no body stuff. So maybe we get on dat?”

“Oh, right,” Threadbare said, digging through the pile. “I see a lot of teddy bears.”

“Pass,” Zuula said. “Half orc or nuttin. Zuula want to be bear, she got spell for dat.”

“If it even works when you’re a golem,” Garon said. “Threadbare, would that work?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure this will work,” Threadbare said. “I don’t know anything about this, beyond what’s on my status screen help options. I know that when I was made words came up, and looking back on it, I think they were asking me if I wanted the bear job, but even that’s conjecture. I was very stupid then, and my memory’s not perfect. But the timing would fit for the skills I got and used after it so… maybe.”

Garon thought it over. “So we need to experiment, is what I hear. All right. I’ll be the test subject.”

“What? No, hey-” Mads burst out.

“No! Absolutely not! Zuula will-” Zuula said at the same time. The two spirits stopped, and Threadbare somehow got the distinct impression the soulstones were eyeing each other with hostility.

“Look,” Garon said, “I’d like to do something before I die, but if I can’t, I’ll cope and move on to the afterlife. In which case Mom, you get your wish. And Mads, your deal is for a body, so we can’t experiment on you in case it turns out it kills you permanently, because that would be wrong. I’m a mercenary, and when you make a bargain you keep it. We made a bargain with you, we keep it.”

“Zuula not like this.”

“I ain’t a fan neithah. Ah… be careful, ahright? Don’t try nathin’ without running it by us fahst.”

“So. Threadbare, you were made a teddy bear and you got the bear job. I don’t have any experience with that, so IF I went with a teddy bear or something else, I’d be coming in blind. Let’s find one of the soldier dolls, and make him look like a half-orc. Try as exact a match as possible to my old body, and see if that helps the transfer.”

“All right.” Threadbare pulled out his enchanting box, and looked through the vials. “I’ll make an empty soulstone, to catch you if you get dumped out or something.”

A suitable doll, a quick Clean and Press and some sewn-on tusks and leather armor later, and an axe-wielding knight doll was ready to go. The little bear also renewed Speak with Dead, just in case, and put up Assess Corpse and Eye for Detail. Then, thinking it over, he kicked on the enchanter’s Appraise as well. His friend’s soul was literally in his hands. He wanted to make sure he was careful with every step of the experiment.

“Missus Fluffbear?” He asked, wisdom kicking in. “Can your blessing affect luck?”

“Yes.”

“Put it on me, please.”

“Yorgum’s Blessing of Luck upon Threadbare!” She poked him, and his luck buffed up thirteen points. Couldn’t hurt, he figured.

Then it was the big moment. Threadbare laid Garon’s soulstone on the (newly-cleaned-and-pressed) doll, and emptied a vial of yellow reagent into his paw. “Toy Golem,” he said, and watched anxiously as the soulstone dissolved, sinking into the doll…

Your Toy Golem skill is now level 3!

…and sighed in relief as its status screen turned from “Simple plush toy” to “Doll Haunter (dormant)” It appeared to be the same message on all three screens, his eye for detail, his assess corpse, and his appraise.

“Garon?”

“Mfffawrmfmfmfmff.”

“Are you all right?”

“Myef.”

“Okay. Get ready… Golem Animus!”

Your Golem Animus skill is now level 3!

Congratulations! Through necromantic experimentation with spiritual desecration, you have unlocked the Spirit Medium class!

You cannot become a Spirit Medium at this time. Seek out your guild to change jobs!

“It worked!” Threadbare said, sagging in relief. “And oh my…”

Garon sat up. “It certainly did!” He said, then felt his mouth, which was sewn on and hadn’t moved. “Whoa. Did you hear that? Can you hear me?”

“It come through the speak with dead. You talking because of his spell,”Zuula said. “Not hear you with ears, probably.”

“I’ll need to make you a mouth,” Threadbare said, reaching for his tools. Ten minutes later, it was done.

“Okay, now that the transfer works, I need to check a few things,” Garon said. “This might be temporary. Status.” The littled doll shifted, cloth helm wiggling as he read over his status screen. “Oh. Hoo boy. Um… Mom, you’re gonna hate this.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve only got my mercenary and half-orc and crafting job… and a toy golem one, which looks fun, but for each of them I’m only level one. And I have zero job slots open in adventuring and crafting jobs.”

“WHAT! Level one!” Zuula shrieked. “But stupid soulstone gave level t’ree!”

“Yyyeeeah, but the vessel doesn’t, I guess. Also my stats are way lower. Way way lower. Like my intelligence makes me feel like I’m thinking through a headache, lower. And… oh, shit. Guys?”

“Yes?” Threadbare said, examining it. And he froze, as he looked at one of the attributes low on Garon’s screen, just as Garon confirmed his fears.

“My luck’s at newbie half-orc levels.”

That was the point the evicted birds returned to reclaim their territory, swarming through the hole in the ceiling, and attacking everything in sight.

Starting with Garon.

Two frantic minutes of fighting later, the little group managed to drive them back once more. Garon’s golem body was intact, but banged and scratched up pretty well. Thankfully, toy golems got a shadow of golem resilience, enough to survive a furious flock.

The golems and spirits reconvened, as Pulsivar and Mopsy had a field day, and chased the birds outside, hungry for fresh meat.

“Good news is I got some stat boosts in there, and I’m a level two mercenary and toy golem and half-orc,” Garon said, picking his torn helmet plume off the floor. “Bad news is my luck’s still pretty horrible. Threadbare, I’m going to need you to destroy me. Or Fluffbear can do it, either’s fine. Maybe Fluffbear, she’s low enough she’ll get some experience from this probably.”

“What? Why?” Zuula asked.

“We need to find out if I can be caught in a soulstone if my vessel gets destroyed here. Otherwise death in this form is permanent for us. And if I survive, then I want to see if my stat boosts and level carry over, or if it wipes and I have to start fresh each time.”

“That… would be good to know,” Mads confessed.

“Don’t you start!” Zuula hissed.

“Just sayin’, we’re gahnna be monstahs eithah way. Might as well figure out if we’re immoatal monstahs, befoah we get inta a bad spaht.”

“Are you sure about this, Garon?”

The walls of the toy store groaned. Threadbare shot a glance around… the fight had damaged them. It would be terribly unlucky if they collapsed right now.

“I’m sure,” Garon said.

Another groan-

-and then Threadbare plucked him up and popped the knight’s head off, shredding the body for good measure. The groaning settled to a rolling creak.

And the empty soulstone glowed. “Whew! Level three all around, again. I was worried they’d be stuck at level one.”

“Now that we’ve sorted that out, we should probably continue this somewhere else,” Threadbare decided. “Everyone choose a body, and we’ll go somewhere safe.”

“I have just the spaht,” Madeline declared.

She lead them out of the toy store, and down into the basement of the inn. There, in the remnants of the wine cellar, were a collection of stone caskets.

Hers had racks of clothing next to it, most of it patched up and worn. And some of it very impractical.

“I don’t see how this would have fit you,” Threadbare said, holding up a slinky dress with a very low-cut bodice.

“Hey, not my fault I gaht stuck in a bahdy looks thirteen. I had hopes of learning ta shapeshift someday. Or maybe unlocking a rank up ta ‘Mistress of the Night.’ That job gets a sick hairdo and some huge gazongas.”

“What’s a gazonga?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

Garon sighed. “I’ll tell you lat-“

“Tits,” Zuula interrupted.

“Oh, okay.”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“They’re basically kids!”

“Kids know what tits are. Not last long as babies ot’erwise.”

“Shouldn’t thaht be ‘udderwise?” Madeline asked, slyly.

There was a pause, then Zuula’s laughter rang spectrally around the room.

“But it’s safe enough here, right?” Threadbare asked.

“Safe as anywheah. Still… maybe Fluffbear puts that blessing of Luck on Garon when he gets out, instead of you?”

“Wait,” Zuula said. “Do Zuula first.”

“What? Mom, why?”

“Zuula be midwife. She gots Newborn’s Mercy. Dat level one, should come t’roo. She mercy all of us. Between dat and… guh, ugh, stupid god’s blessing, we get t’rough maybe better.”

That seemed like a very good idea. So Threadbare hauled out the doll Zuula had chosen, and modified it. A plush doll of a woman in a dress got the skirt ripped into a loincloth and halter top, her cloth ‘skin’ dyed green, and big tusks. Her hair was styled into dreads, her black cloth eyes got replaced by glaring yellow ones, and at Zuula’s urging, he gave her big angry eyebrows. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

The animation went off without a hitch, and provided more skill ups… and a pleasant surprise.

You are now a level 3 Golemist!

INT+5
WILL +5

Not really a surprise, when he thought about it. That had happened the first time he made a toy golem. Then he’d used Beanarella to do things while she was around, and made more golems. So that was useful…

At any rate, he was glad for the level up. His sanity had been getting very low… golem creation and animation was expensive. But the level up refilled it, so that was good.

Little cloth Zuula sat up, and slapped a plush hand to her forehead. “Newborn’s Mercy! Wait, what? Newborn’s Mercy, she say!”

“You’re speaking through Speak with Dead!” Threadbare realized. “Uh-oh.”

“Yorgum’s Blessing of Luck on Zuula!” Missus Fluffbear shouted, and Threadbare felt his luck go back to normal. The plush cleric could only have one blessing active at a time, sadly. That was the rule on that spell.

Zuula sighed. “Will have to do,” she spoke, on the spirit realm.

“Let’s get you talking properly,” Threadbare decided. “Just in case.”

That took fifteen minutes to sort out, and about another hour when she was unsatisfied with the volume, and she made him dial it up so she could properly yell at people. He burned a lot of tailoring materials figuring it out, but ended up with a deep, resonant voicebox for her.

It wasn’t a bad idea. He decided to upgrade his own and Missus Fluffbear’s voices at the first opportunity. After his friends were settled and all in their new bodies, of course.

“Status.” She took a long look, then sagged. “Level one Shaman. Level one Midwife. Level one half-orc. Hm, at least both skills came t’roo.”

“They did on me, too.” Garon said, glumly. “Let me guess, you got darkspawn for the orc one?”

“Yes. How you know?”

“Because I knew you had it before. Me, when I came through I got Twisted Rage. And Man’s Drive to Achieve for the human one, which is what I had when I was alive. Which means that if you had those skills in life, and go into the same race, they carry over. Which means… yeah, you know what? I’m changing my choice. Threadbare, you can keep that other dolly around for a spare half-orc if you want, but I want to be something else.”

“What?” Zuula straightened up, yarn hair whipping around as she stared at her son’s Soulstone. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be a half-orc anymore.”

“But… you was awesome half-orc!” Zuula said, waving her arms. “Why you give that up?”

“Oh geeze… ah… look, Mom, it’s not you, or half-orcs, it’s the rage. I can’t handle the rage.”

“But you build battle plan around it!”

“Yeah, and you know what? After I got to try it out in an actual fight, it sucks! Everything goes red and you’re just killing, and killing, and hurting until it goes away. And it’s not just that, it’s what it does to your temper, outside of it!” Garon’s voice raised, got shriller as he started speaking faster. Threadbare and Fluffbear glanced at each other, feeling not very comfortable at where this was going.

“But it you heritage!” Zuula wailed. “How ancestors know you if you not be half-orc! How dey guide you!”

“Mom, look, I respect your religion, but no. This is the only chance I have to ditch the rage. All my life I’ve had to take abuse and struggle to keep calm, because I knew I’d start killing like a maniac if I didn’t. All. My. Life. Now that I’m dead? It’s not gonna be all my death.”

Zuula was still for a long minute.

“Hey,” Madeline said, sounding like she wanted to be anywhere but there, “Garon, you still got yoah half-orc levels raht now, raht?”

“Three of’em,” Garon said from his Soulstone.

“So it’s only temporahry, then. Look at it this way, if he dies in the gahlem bahdy he becomes a half-orc again. So if he kicks it permanent-lahk, he’ll go to his ancestahs as a half-orc.”

Zuula considered it. Then she heaved a great sigh. “You right. Garon, Zuula sorry. You do what you want, clever boy. It be okay.”

“Thanks Mom. Thanks Mads.”

The teddy bears relaxed. This was better. It was hard when friends argued.

“Hokay,” Zuula said, looking around the cellar, picking up a bottle, and breaking it. Clutching the glass shank, she toddled toward the stairs. “You do the thing, Dreadbear. Zuula gonna go grind some levels.”

“I wouldn’t,” Missus Fluffbear said. “Pulsivar and Mopsy are still out there and they don’t know you. You might get pounced and shredded just because.” The little bear earned herself a wisdom point with that one.

Zuula sighed. “Fine. Fine, whatever.” Then the little half-orc frowned. “Why Zuula not think of that? She wise too!” Zuula slapped her forehead. “Zuula forget. Why Zuula forget? Oh. Oh wait. Status. That why Zuula forget. Man, dese stats be nurphed.”

“What’s a nurphed?” Madeline asked.

“Nurph be god of weakness and losers.”

“Actually he’s the god of Honor and Fair Play, Mom.”

“Did Zuula stutter? Same t’ing anyway.” The little doll hopped clambered up on a casket. “Suckage. Dat a lot of wisdom gon’ have to be grinded again.”

“Speaking of that,” Garon said, “I want to go next.”

“All right, but if you don’t want a half-orc body, what do you want?” Threadbare asked.

Garon told them.

For a second, there was stunned silence in the basement. Then Mads whistled. “You ain’t afraid ta go big, Gar.”

“Zuula forgive you,” his Mom decided. “Not half-orc, but… eh, close second. She tink she see one in de toy store. Let’s go get it.”

Twenty minutes and one salvaged toy later, Garon stirred, and opened plush eyes as the world came into focus. Again.

He was immediately met by a prompt.

You have unlocked the High Dragon Hatchling job!

Would you like to become a High Dragon Hatchling at this time?

“Hells yes!” Garon whooped.

And then he was a dragon.

“Newborn’s Mercy!” Shouted Zuula.

“Yorgum’s Blessing of luck upon Garon!” Fluffbear chorused, happy at the skill ups she was getting for this one. Each one upped the cost a bit, but increased the effectiveness of the buff. Still, she was getting a bit loopy from the sanity cost.

Threadbare swiftly moved in and fixed him up with a mouth.

“Oh boy… this feels…” Garon twisted his stuffed head on his long neck, and opened and shut a mouth full of newly-hardened cloth teeth. “This feels GOOD.” He stretched his wings, feeling the power of his new frame. “Status.”

He was silent for a long minute.

“Is everything all right?” Asked Threadbare.

“You’re looking at my stats, right? With that eye for detail thing?”

“And other things, yes.”

“Tell me you’re seeing that eighty-three in strength.”

Zuula jumped up. “Whaaat? Zuula be stuck wit’ piddly forty-seven!”

“I see it,” Threadbare said. “It looks like some of your numbers are pretty high. Except for dexterity.”

“Yeah… I mean, the strength and con aren’t up to my old stats from when I was living, but it’s close, it’s close. And the rest is… yeah, I can live with this.” The three-foot-long green plush dragon strutted around the room, stretching and testing its legs and muscles. “Ooh, seven skills…. Two of which look like trouble. I get ‘No Thumbs’ and ‘Limited Equipment.’ Let me… Yeah, yeah, they suck. No weapons for me.” The dragon grinned. “But I’m a mercenary, so whatever! Fighting is fighting. And with a basic armor rating this high, I should be fine. For now, anyway.”

“What are the othah skills?” Mads asked.

“Let’s see… Scaly Wings, Dragonseye, Chomp, Draconic Tongue, and Burninate. Oooh! I gotta try this. Threadbare, can you up the volume on my mouth? Something more impressive?”

“I’ll see what I can do. You’re bigger so I can put in a bigger air bladder.”

It used up most of his remaining leather, but finally he got one installed that Garon was happy with.

“Yes,” the little dragon said, in a voice that had been carefully crafted to sound like a proper voice for yelling at thieving halfens and arrogant dwarves. “Yes, this’ll do. Okay, stand back. Burninate!”

This was actually a pretty poor decision, as it turned out.

Burninate, which dragons usually roar in the draconic language so as to avoid mockery by younger races, is a costly and exhausting skill. It also calls up the fire directly from the dragon’s mouth.

And at the time, the little plush toy golem who’d activated it had absolutely no resistance to fire.

Fortunately, with much credit owed to Yorgum’s blessing and the quickness of his colleagues, they managed to get him put out before he was destroyed. A few mends, plus Zuula’s test of shamanic Slow Regeneration (which worked perfectly), put him to rights.

“So unclever!” Zuula stood over the chastened dragon, shaking her plush finger at it. “What you t’ink happen! Showing off! Foolish boy! You not too big Zuula can’t spank you!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry Mom.”

“Yeah, you know, ya burned up about half my dresses theah too, kiddo. Not too happy about that,” Mads chipped in.

“Meh, you couldn’t wear them now anyway.”

“Ain’t the point, Gar. Ain’t. The. Point.”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “But hey, I’ve got a powerful skill! That fire did amazing damage!”

“Yeah, to you.” Mads snickered.

“Okay, so it wasn’t made for plushie mouths. We can work on that. Ah… asbestos tongue? I don’t know. I’ll think on it. What gives fire resistance?”

“Fire elementalists, mostly,” Zuula said. “Easy skill for dem.”

“Woo. Okay, so… well, maybe I can get that job once we figure out how to raise our job limits. It’s an easy one, especially with this breath. All you have to do is kill something with fire, the job unlocks.”

Madeline sighed from her soulstone. “Right, whaddeva. Now that we got tha squirt outta tha way, it’s my turn.”

“Oh, sure.” Threadbare said. “I think I’ve got about one more left in me. Then I’ll need a few hours to recharge my sanity. Maybe a few days. I’ve got a lot of sanity now. It takes a very long time to recharge.”

“What you talking about?” Zuula turned to scowl at him. “You just go to sleep, and when you… wake… up… oh.”

“Oh,” Garon agreed. “That’s a problem. Betting we can’t eat or drink like this, either.”

“No.”

Zuula considered. “You smell?”

Threadbare sniffed himself, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Everything smells like burned Garon now though, so it’s hard to tell.”

“No, you sniff! You have sense of smell! Maybe herbs work.”

“Herbs?”

“Like in hut.”

“Mom.”

“Yes, we try burning some later, and-”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“You are NOT getting him hooked on that stuff.”

“Bah. It not work dat way for him. Probably not. Most likely not.” She rubbed her cloth chin. “Hopefully not.”

“Yeah, no. Or we wait until Fluffbear levels up cleric and learns curative… which we don’t know will work on him, either.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah, hm.”

“Yeah, can I have my bahdy now?” Madeline said.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Threadbare lifted up the doll she’d chosen. “You’re sure?”

“Pahsitive.”

It had been a marionette once, of a pretty lady with long brown hair. Her face had been painted with exquisite care, and her red dress was made of velvet, as were her elbow-length gloves.

“Once we give her teeth, she’ll be a perfect vampaiah,” Madeline said with satisfaction. “Whaddaya think, Mistah Beah?”

““Well it should work, even if she’s not plush. Appraisal reads her as a toy, so the golem animation should take. But I don’t know how to give her a mouth so you’d be stuck mute, unless we’ve got Speak with D… that spell going. It’s just that I don’t know how to work with wood,” he shook his head. “Tailoring I can do. Wood’s trickier.”

“I can learn,” Fluffbear offered.

There was a bit of silence. “You’d do that for me?” Madeline sounded surprised.

“Sure! I like learning new jobs, and I’ve got two more crafting ones open! Yorgum likes building and crafting! This will let me make wood things like houses, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Garon said.

“If you’re sure. Um…” Threadbare thought. “I don’t know how to unlock that job.”

“I do,” Garon said. “Hey Mads, Grimble’s workroom is behind the bar, yeah?”

The ventured upstairs, and after some digging, found his tools. He’d been the one to repair the tavern, after all, and he had plenty of wood and nails left over. Some quick carving and whittling, and Missus Fluffbear whooped. “Got it! Oooh, Strength and Dexterity. Yay!” She started happily whittling, and skilling up. “Straighten wood? Okay, I guess that’s useful. But hey, new job! More power! Better attributes!”

“Ah…” Garon said, “You might want to be careful there. You don’t want to fill up your jobs too fast.”

“Bah, not dis again,” Zuula grumped.

“Why?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

“If you leap on the first unlocks available, you might seal yourself off from a job that really suits you when it comes up. You don’t want to just choose the first things available. Especially before you’ve had a chance to develop your attributes while they’re low.”

Zuula snorted. “Pssht. So afraid of fast paths to power…”

“Says the woman who stuck with shaman and let her other adventuring jobs rot.”

“Bah, she only need shaman. Shaman awesome.”

“Garon has a point,” Threadbare put his paw on Missus Fluffbear’s shoulder, as she whittled busily at scraps of wood. “I just found out a very good job that probably would have helped my friends, but I can’t learn it. Unless I find my guild. Oh! Does anyone know anything about that?”

Silence for a bit. Then Zuula sighed. “No. Dat part of de problem.” The little half-orc doll leaned against the counter, and shook her head. “Ain’t no one know what guild de words talking about. People first t’ought maybe it meant dem old trade guilds dat ain’t around no more.”

“Yeah. Dad told me about that,” Garon said. “When instant crafting became a thing, it wrecked the trade guilds overnight,” Garon said. “Touched off some really nasty trade wars, and a lot of people died, as the bigger Guilds tried to scrabble to keep their power and influence, and mercenary work boomed. But those weren’t the guilds the messages were talking about.”

“So no one know, and so we stuck wit’ de jobs we got,” Zuula shrugged. “How many you got little black bear?”

“Five left,” said Fluffbear, and they were all silent. “Adventuring, I mean. One crafting one left, now.”

“Oh, you’re eight and four too,” Threadbare said. “Good to have that confirmed.”

“How?” Garon finally managed. “Humans get SEVEN. Half-Orcs are stuck at six, for crying out loud. How’d you get such a big amount?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mff. So damned broken… Well, anyway, normally the path most people take is to level up their attributes associated with a job BEFORE they go into the job. That means that they train up their attributes while the training’s easier, so that the skill ups from leveling go farther. But you’ve kind of blown that away, I guess.”

“I guess. I didn’t really know what I was doing through most of it.” Threadbare said. “My luck was pretty horrible for a lot of it, so things kept happening to me. I think…” He rubbed his head. “I think if I hadn’t taken all those jobs I wouldn’t have survived.”

“So…” Missus Fluffbear turned her head back and forth. “Which way is better?”

“No way’s bettah, really,” Madeline said. “Speaking as someone who’s eaten people who followed both paths, it really just depends on wheathah you want to have powahful focus in one or two things, or have a bunch of useful skills in a bunch of areas.”

“I think the important thing is to figure out what you want to be, what you want to do to get to your goals, and find jobs that you like that support that,” Garon said. “Whether that’s all at once or waiting a bit to see if you change your mind later, or if you unlock something nifty, that’s up to you.”

“No wahn can tell you how to live yah life, right?” Madeline sounded approving. “Kickass. So, uh, ya ready to make me a mouth yet?”

Twenty carpenter skill ups and five levels later, she was.

It took Threadbare working in tandem with her for the leather and cloth components… the former of which they had to salvage from the curtains. This also gave him a tailoring level up, which… refreshed his sanity. Ah yes, he’d forgotten he could do that!

Handy, but sooner or later the levels would be farther apart. It had gotten him through some tough instances, but he couldn’t count on being able to do that forever.

And finally, the crowning touch. Missus Threadbare notched the eighteen-inch-tall marionette’s flexible, jointed cloth-and-wood mouth carefully, and slid in two tacks for fangs.

“Does that look vampire enough?” She asked Madeline.

The Soulstone pulsed red. “Oh yeah! She’s hot. I’d do me.”

“Do what?” Threadbare asked, confused.

“We’ll tell you LATER.” Garon shouted, then stopped, confused. “Huh. Sorry, I thought Mom was going to explain again.”

“What? Zuula not know what she talking about.”

“Thank gods for small favors.”

“Eh, fahgeddit. Let’s do this thing.”

“Wait,” Garon said. “What about the daylight thing. And the wood thing?”

“I thought of that. You know how many nights I spent staring at my screen? Gaht those ‘skills’ memorized. The exact wording was my flesh burns at the touch of sunlight. My FLESH, Gar. So if all I gots is wood, instead, I should be fine. And the wood thing don’t kick in till level five, and it says wood which pierces my skin will pain me, and wood through the heart will paralyze me. Guess what puppets don’t have! Skin or hearts!”

“Sounds sketchy to me.”

“Eh, if it don’t work out we go with anothah bahdy, and I just accept I can’t be a vampaiah.”

“You sure you don’t want to be a dragon instead, Mads?”

“I’ll stick with what I know. Like yer old lady, there.”

“Maybe a bit clever girl after all. For dead t’ing.”

“Love you too, Zuu.”

“Bah.”

They returned to the relatively safe basement, Threadbare did his thing, Zuula laid her midwife’s blessing upon the puppet, Fluffbear blessed her as well, and she sat up.

“Yes! I DO want to be a vampaiah. Bing! There we go. Awright. Moment of truth… Status.” The puppet read her screen, then jumped in place with a clatter. “You guys!”

“What?” said Garon.

“Zuula not a guy.”

“I’m not either! I think,” Said Missus Fluffbear.

“I suppose I’m a guy,” Said Threadbare. “Celia thought so and she would know.”

“You guys you guys you guys!” Madeline said, dancing a wooden jig with vampiric agility.

“What?” Garon said. “C’mon, share.”

“I have an open adventuring job slot! And a crafting one!”

There was silence for a long moment. “What? How?” Garon asked.

“Well I didn’t have an adventuring job befoah, right? And you all could carry one job ovah when you got turned into doll haunters, right?”

“Right…”

“So what if tha vessel opens up a slot regahdless, even if you don’t have one ta begin with? Like you tucked a baby in heah, he’d be able ta learn new jobs! Oooh, good idea. Let’s go find a baby.”

“No.” Garon said.

“What? Oh, right, what was I thinking!”

Garon looked relieved.

“There’s none around heah.”

Garon looked less relieved.

Oblivious, Madeline continued. “But the point is, I can learn something like an adventurer could. I’m kind of like people now. Wow. Didn’t expect this.” The vampire hopped up on her coffin, and drummed her heels on the lid with a staccato beat. “Man. What should I choose?”

“It’s… tough to say. You’re still a vampire, right?”

“Yeah, but my strength got a li’l nurphed. Most everyting else too, but eh, level one, so whatcha gonna do? Only one way up.”

“Unless you die. Then you gots to start all over,” Zuula said.

“Yeesh. Buzzkill. Eh… well, good time to test it, before I try anything. Hey guys, wanna walk me upstairs to do the sunlight test thing?”

They did, and the little puppet stared at the hole in the curtain where Threadbare had cut it for the leather, and the sunlight leaking through onto the ground. “Moment of truth,” Madeline whispered.

Then she put her foot into the sun.

“Tingles,” She said, shifting it back and forth. “Ya put ya right leg in, ya take ya right leg out… yeah!” She whooped. “Left leg in, an’ you shake it all ABOUT!” The marionette, stringless, danced the hokey pokey through the sunlight. Because THAT was what it was all about.

“Lucky, lucky day! Rules lawyerin’ for tha win!” She said, stepping back into the darkness. “Whew. Comfier. Good ta have darkspawn bonuses back. Lucky…” She froze. “Hey. That ah, that blessing of luck?”

“Yes?” Fluffbear asked.

“It’s on me, right? And not Zuula? Who’s runnin’ on half-orc luck now?”

“Oh, yes. It’s okay, because she has her Newborn’s Innocence… up…”

They fell silent, and looked to Zuula.

She never had put her midwife buff up. She’d tried it on herself, but she hadn’t had a mouth then, and in the joy of discovery they’d all forgotten completely about it. And once she had a mouth, she hadn’t cast it. She’d forgotten too.

Zuula, oblvious, stared back. “What-“

WHAM!

The door flew down, as Pulsivar and a ragged wolf, frothing at the mouth and bloody, rolled through the room. Mopsy chased the screaming, brawling pair, slashing…

…and then her eyes fell on Zuula. Panicked, and spooked by the sinister little doll, she leaped-

Half an hour later after they disposed of the wolf’s carcass, chastened the cats, yelled at Zuula until she Newborn’s Innocentsed herself, and finished mending themselves and the door, they settled into the basement for a nice long game of grindluck.

“Best present I ever took off a corpse,” Madeline said, fondling the worn cards as best as she could with wooden hands. Fortunately the animus spell and some careful woodwork beforehand had given her usable, if stiff fingers.

“Shut up and keep playing,” Zuula grumbled.

“What ah you worried about? And… oh, I just unlocked necromancer. Guess we all still count as undead.”

“Do you want to be one?” Garon asked.

“Thinking. I dunno. Threadbare’s got us covahed on that front. Unless he dies.”

“Oh gods, you’re right.” Garon said. “We’re effectively immortal unless he goes, so long as we die around him and he can soulstone us in time. But we’re boned if he dies. Unless we somehow find another friendly necromancer, and convince him to help. And even then I doubt we’d luck into another golemist-”

“I’m a necromancer,” Missus Fluffbear said.

They all stared at her.

“Right. Of course you is.” Zuula slapped a cloth hand to her yarn-covered head. “You deal peacefully with smart undead yesterday. Then job came up you just say ‘yes’. This why undead suck. Corrupting all the innocent youth.”

“Says the lady who used to put scorpions into our beds,” Said Garon, dropping his cards from his claws again. “Agh! Fucking dex.”

“I gotcha hun.” Madeline scooped up the cards, then froze. “Wait. Maybe I DO gotcha, Gar.”

“What?”

“I’m out for this hand.” Madeline folded her cards, walked over to one of the wall sconces, leaped up, and kicked an unused torch free. “Ya a scout, right mistah beah?”

“Yes, I am,” Said Threadbare.

“Firestartah me?”

“Um… won’t you die? Oh wait, you mean the torch.” It was a very good thing he had a fairly high intelligence, now. “Okay. Firestarter.”

She took the burning torch and stalked off into one of the side tunnels that the vampires had burrowed out from the basement. Mystified, the group watched her go. Eventually she turned a corner, and all they could see was the flickering torchlight.

“Mads?” Garon asked, uncertainly.

“It’s fine. Just looking for… ah, hello my pretties!”

A horrible squeaking chittering filled the air, and the toys jumped up from the table. “Rats!” Threadbare said, and charged towards the tunnel.

“It’s okay, I got this!” Madeline called back. “They’re caged! Darla had some set aside for snacks latah!” Threadbare slowed as he approached and oh goodness, wasn’t THAT a horrible smell. Roasted meat and rodent fear. “Yeah, theah’s the unlock! Thanks Garon! Yes! Ooooh, Status.”

The dragon’s eyebrows wrinkled. “You’re… welcome? Why?”

“Hee heee heee… ha ha ha!”

“Madeline? Starting to worry me, here.”

“Endure Fire! Call Fire! Yeah, that’s the stuff!”

The light in the tunnel flared, and Threadbare gasped as Madeline came around the corner, wreathed head to toe in fire.

But NOT burning.

“What?” Said the sunproof, stakeproof, and now fireproof vampire. “You wanted a faia elementalist, didn’t cha?”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 11
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 9
Model Level 4
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 3
Smith Level 1

Attributes: Strength: 95 Constitution: 102 Hit Points: 257(297) Armor: 42(51)
Intelligence: 121 Wisdom: 148(153) Sanity: 269(341) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 76(81) Agility: 80(90) Stamina: 166(231) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 74(99) Willpower: 104 Moxie: 178(243) Cool: 20(30)
Perception: 78 Luck: 65(70) Fortune: 143(188) Fate: 11(16)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 20
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills

Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 5
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 5
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 38(42)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Dietary Restriction - Level 20 (+40 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 14
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Work it Baby - Level 9

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (11)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 13
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 2
Eye for Detail - Level 8
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Toy Golem - Level 6

Smith Skills Refine Ore - Level 1

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)

INVENTORY A sack of coins.
A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Born Again 2

Grindluck, while incredibly useful for decreasing the toddler fatality rate, is also an obscenely boring game to most adults, and young adults.

Also, it didn’t help that Garon’s newly-sewn-on thumbs refused to function in any way, shape, or form. “Oh damn it!” Down went his cards again, fluttering to the floor like sad little monuments to the newly-made dragon’s folly.

“I really don’t understand,” Threadbare said, poking at his latest stitchwork. “They went on you just like the mouth did, and I teased the stuffing to where you should be able to open and close them.”

“Told ya it wouldn’t wahk,” Madeline said, slapping down two green cards.

“Ha! Eat it!” Zuula’s plush hand pounded two blue cards down to match her, and the little vampire puppet scowled.

“It was worth a try,” Garon sighed. “I guess the skill wins out over clever ideas sometimes. I can’t feel the stuffing that’s in those thumbs, it’s like it doesn’t exist anymore. Can you remove them?”

“Absolutely.” Threadbare went to work.

On the other side of the table, Missus Fluffbear tried to play cards, but kept getting pushed over by a purring Mopsy. The miniature cougar had decided that she needed pets, and the only one she’d let pet her was OBVIOUSLY doing something dumb and less interesting than loving on Mopsy. With pets. NOW!

Pulsivar watched from the side, yawning. His fangs were still bloody from that wolf. He was still a little weirded out by all the little moving, talking dolls that had appeared, but evidently this was a thing that happened when Threadbare was around. And the little bear had gotten upset when he sat on the big green one. Which had been entirely unfair. That dragon was warm, of course it was for Pulsivar to sit on!

“How long’s it been, anyway?” Garon asked, as Threadbare snipped and removed cloth. “Oh hey, I can feel the stuffing in my thumbs aGNANANANA… careful there.”

“Sorry.” Threadbare shoved the just-snipped fluff back into the dragon’s body, and sewed up the hole. At least the experiment had been good for a point of tailoring.

Garon craned his crested neck to watch him work. “It’s not exactly like pain. But it feels wrong, and like bits of you are fading. Is that how it is for you?”

“Oh yes,” Threadbare said. “I’ve never really gotten used to it.”

“It feels bad,” Missus Fluffbear confirmed, giving in and riffling Mopsy’s head with both hands and her feet. The cougar buzzed a happy purr, and pushed the tiny bear around the floor with her face.

“Yeah.” Garon sighed. “Well, it beats pain, I guess. Not by much, but hey. So,” he said, changing the subject, “Have you thought it over?”

“Whee!” Missus Fluffbear said, as she rolled over a few times, and Mopsy let her come to a rest before licking her fur. “What? Oh, that. Yes I have.”

Silence for a minute, save for the cat’s slurping.

Garon sighed. Kids. They were just kids, really. Had to remember that. “And what did you decide?”

“I’ll do it. It’s not like I have to choose those jobs right away.”

Threadbare nodded approvingly. “It’s only three classes, anyway. That will leave you two more to play around with if you do have to take those jobs.” He glanced over to Zuula. “So how does this work?”

“You say to her, “Teach Missus Fluffbear,” then you say the name of the job.” Zuula said. “Then it kick off sacred ritual. Ancient thing called ‘montage.’”

“Oh, that’s how you do those!” Garon said. “Wait. They take a while, don’t they?”

“About a day per job.”

Garon slumped, and stared at the Grindluck cards. “Great. Just great.”

“Hold on!” Missus Fluffbear rolled to her feet, and gently shoved Mopsy until the housecat-sized Cougar retreated. “I need to use a skill and feed her!”

“Pretty sure she’s gaht plenty ta eat. Still lots of that wolf upstahs,” Madeline said, placidly laying down two violet cards and watching Zuula pound the table with plushy rage.

“Yes, but her loyalty gauge will go down unless I spent time with her or give her monster treats to eat to boost it back up!”

“What?” Madeline looked to Zuula, who shrugged.

“Oh! Oh, this,” Garon rubbed his head with one wingtip. “Right, Bakky had to deal with this, this is tamer stuff. If the gauge gets too low Mopsy might run away. Um…” He studied Fluffbear, all six inches of her. “Have you ever cooked anything before?”

“No, but the skill says I don’t need to know how. But it improves them if they get properly cooked, so maybe I could learn?”

“Eh, maybe you don’t,” offered Madeline. “That’d be yah last crafting slaht. Shame ta use it just foah one little skill you don’t always need?”

“I’m a cook,” Garon offered.

“You are?”

“Yeah. Used to help Mom in the kitchen all the time. Come on, let’s get you some wolf chops and you can practice turning them into treats. Over a fire. With supervision.”

“Faiah?” Madeline grinned, and put her cards down. “I’m in.”

Twenty minutes later, they had six steaming skewers of meat, and two very interested cats. “Um…” Fluffbear said, as Pulsivar and Mopsy engaged in a somewhat-joking-but-not-really shoving match, “Please be friends?”

“Threadbare?” Garon asked the largest teddy bear present.

“Oh, of course. Come on Pulsivar.” Threadbare hugged him, and gently tugged him away from the skewers. He had enough strength over the bobcat, and the big black feline loved him too much to do him any serious damage as Threadbare kept him from the food. Chastening nibbles don’t count, Pulsivar told himself as he sunk fangs into the brown bear’s hide. But Threadbare took it in stride, and Mopsy gobbled up five of the Monster Treats.

Missus Fluffbear smiled. “Her gauge is full. Here you go Pulsivar!”

Threadbare released his friend, and Pulsivar took his skewer off to a corner to sulk. And to eat. Mostly to eat. Baked especially for a cat type creature, the meat was delicious. Obviously the smaller bear wasn’t entirely useless. Perhaps he’d deign to put his rump in her face at some point as a reward.

“All right. Are you ready?” Threadbare asked, brushing cat hair from his coat.

“Yes!”

“Teach Missus Fluffbear Animator.”

Instantly, things seemed to blur. His limbs moved without his control, pulling out toys and devices from pockets he’d had before, all sorts of little gewgaws and objects he’d never seen. Just as swiftly he showed them to Fluffbear, who sat and learned as he mimed animating them. And towards the end, she started doing it, too.

Then it stopped, and everyone was sitting in different places. “Oh. I thought it would take longer.” He smoothed his coat.

“It did take longah. Go look, it’s naht outside,” said Madeline.

“Yep, twelve hours, give or take,” Garon sighed, balancing his cards with his wingtips, and trying to draw more with his claws. “Oh frak it!” The deck sprayed. Zuula laughed.

“Did you learn?” Threadbare asked Fluffbear.

“Status. Yes! Animator is on my unlock section.”

“Well, let’s get the other two done then.”

The newly made doll haunters had had a long conversation with the two greater golems, about how their continued lives were literally dependent upon someone having the necromancer/golemist combo, who was sympathetic to them. Therefore, since Missus Fluffbear had already had necromancer, she’d agreed to get the unlocks for animator, enchanter, and golemist. Though they weren’t exactly directions she thought she wanted to go in, she didn’t want to risk her friends dying and having no bodies to return to.

Also, if, gods forbid, anything happened to Threadbare, she might be able to make him a new golem body and soulstone him over. If Greater Golems had souls. They hadn’t tested that yet, and she really didn’t want to.

And so, the little black teddy bear gained the potential to one day become an animator, an enchanter, and a golemist.

By the time they finished the third one, the cats were nowhere to be seen and their doll haunter friends were gathered around a dirty sack, looking thoroughly wiped out.

“What’s all this, then?” Threadbare wondered, poking at the sack. It clanked.

“Oh, you’re up!” Garon said, pulling his head out from under his wings. “Remember Darla, the vampire knight?”

“Oh yes.”

“This is her breastplate and shield. Her spear’s upstairs. We figured it was a shame to waste good gear.”

“It ain’t magical or nothing, but it’s good solid ahmah and a pokey stick,” Madeline shrugged her wooden shoulders. It looked weird, with her marionette body’s peg-and-ball joints. “Figure ya a smith, so you can shrink’em dahn to one of our sizes.”

“Um…” Threadbare said, rubbing his head, then catching his hat as it started to fall. “I don’t actually know how to do that. The only skill in that list is ‘Refine Ore’.”

“Oh. Let me guess, you got it through a montage or something? Crafting jobs can get weird that way,” Garon said.

“Or something,” Threadbare whispered, remembering the sick sounds of his creator being butchered while he hung helpless above.

Garon took no notice of the little bear’s haunted expression. “Yeah, it doesn’t actually give you the skill until the first time you craft. I think the forge is still here. Anvil might be a little rusty. And we’ll have to stoke the furnace.”

“Faiah? I’m in!” Madeline grinned. “Gahd I love this jahb. Shit, no wander all you people types spend so much tahm leveling and raiding dungeons.”

“Zuula got to come along, obviously,” The half-orc said, perking up. “You gonna play with heat like a forge fire, then someone gots to be responsible adult here.”

One hour and a nearly-disastrous blaze later, Zuula was banished from the smithy until they could trust her not to throw random stuff in the forge to see how it burned.

“Awright, remembah it ain’t huge. Only reason I’m basically immune is because it stacks with another skill I gaht. Ya ready, Mistah Beah?”

“I think so,” Threadbare said, clutching his smithing hammer and balancing awkwardly in front of the furnace.

“Awright. Endure Faiah!”

Suddenly, it seemed to be a lot colder in the cramped smithy. Threadbare nodded, and used the head of the hammer to nudge the furnace door open.

Garon poked his head into the smithy from the outside door. “I think you just push metal in until it gets soft, then hammer it into shape. Try making… I don’t know, a basic shape or something.”

It took some experimentation, but finally, finally, Threadbare managed to get what he wanted.

You have Unlocked the Smithing Skill!

Your Smithing skill is now level 1!

It took the rest of the night to level it up to five, though. The town had been pretty well scavenged for metal, and the rest of the toys dragged in everything they could find, up to and including a few window linings. Which cheered Zuula up no end as she got to help break things to get them loose.

Finally, four Smith levels and four points of Strength and Constitution later, Threadbare put the hammer down. “I’ve got it. It’s called ‘Adjust Arms and Armor,’ and the description seems to be what you told me I could do with it.”

“Cool,” Mads said. “Hey, drag those smithing tools out, wouldja?”

“Why?”

“I got a skill I ain’t used yet, and this forgefire’s a good place ta test it.”

The toys got to a safe distance.

“Awright! Endure Faiah! Least Faiah Elemental!”

From the outside, nothing seemed to happen. Garon coughed a bit.

“Oh it’s cute!” Madeline squealed.

“Is it safe to come in?” Zuula enquired, barging back through the door and stomping up next to the little vampire. The two toys stared at the floating, watermelon-sized little ball of orange flame with black spots for eyes that drifted around the room, staring at things.

“You’re in control of that, right?” Garon asked.

“If it’s in my pahty, yeah… shit.” Madeline knocked her knuckles on her head. “We got a full pahty, don’t we?”

“Yeah…” Garon nodded. “And no offense, but I’d rather take any of you over a teeny little elemental called up by a level one skill.”

“Zuula gots solution,” the half-orc pointed out. “Dreadbear and Pulsivar leave party.”

“Say what now?” Garon looked stunned.

“Is not enough to have new bodies, and new classes,” she shot a stern look at Madeline, who was tossing dried weeds to her new pet as snacks, “but you gots to train dem. And Dreadbare and Pulsivar high level compared to us. Dey big experience suck.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Threadbare said.

“It de way de world work. High level hang wit’ too low level, high level get most of experience. Slows down leveling. Slows down strength. So you two go out of party, but still be around watching and helping if you need to. We still work together, just you two in own party.”

“All right, I suppose that makes sense,” Threadbare felt relieved. For a second he’d thought Zuula didn’t want him around anymore.

“Besides, now you can pull skeletons and animated objects into you smaller party. Level dose skills and jobs.”

“What? How?’

“Every time a created thing win a fight or do something wicked awesome, creator get experience.” Zuula put her hands on her plushie hips. “How you not know dis? You got two creator jobs!”

“Uh, three, actually, if golemist counts.” Garon pointed out.

There was a pause.

“So what ya sayin’, “ Madeline finally said, her voice distant as she considered the possibility, “is that every time we win a fight or do something awesome he gets experience?”

“Yes! Maybe. It might only work for Golems in his party,” Garon said. “I know Bakky didn’t get any skill ups when his pets were off hunting, only when they were doing stuff with him.”

“Why don’t we test it out?” Garon asked. “Threadbare, you want to be a better golemist, right?”

“Oh yes! If I can figure out that greater golem upgrade that Caradon used on me, perhaps I can make you even stronger!”

“Stronger be good,” Zuula said.

“Fah once we’re agreeing. Again. Which is fah twahss?” Madeline shrugged. “Semahntics.”

“Actually this is a good time to discuss long-term goals,” Garon said, “And ways to get there. Let’s do that party split, find the cats, adjust that armor, and figure out a game plan for the long term.”

“Basement?” Madeline asked.

“Think you can get that thing through the building without burning it down?” Garon eyed the fiery ball.

“I make no prahmises! But seriously, yeah. If he’s in my pahty. And his name is Spahky.”

They did some hasty shuffling and Threadbare kicked Pulsivar out and left the party. Though he knew his oldest friend wouldn’t understand the words anyway and wouldn’t be hurt, Threadbare was very relieved when they turned up Pulsivar and Mopsy curled up together. Annoyed at being roused, the big cat and the no-longer-big-cat groggily followed them back to their lair, and accepted Threadbare’s new party invite with surly grace, blinking at the words until they went away.

They curled up by Sparky and went limp into slumber, while the nigh-inexhaustible golems talked.

“Okay. I guess it falls on me to give you the talk,” Garon said.

“Zuula do it!”

“Mom, no.”

“What? She give you de talk, you work out fine!”

“Normally yes, Mom, but right now you’re running on half-orc mental stats, mostly. You’re level one.”

“So is you!”

“Yes, but… oh geeze, just let me do it, okay? Please Mom? You can jump in at any time if I miss something or you want to add something.” Because I can’t stop you from doing that anyway, Garon added, mentally.

“Hmf!” Zuula crossed her arms. “Fine. Make it good. And short. We got stuff to do.”

“Okay, so nobody ever gave you the talk,” Garon said.

“What talk?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

“The talk of planning out your future. Finding your focus, figuring out how to make your jobs work for you, instead of you working for your jobs.”

“I did work for my jobs,” Threadbare took off his top hat and rubbed his forehead. “That’s not making much sense.”

“Okay, no, look-“

Zuula jumped in. “You need to figure out which jobs you want, get dem, den work on you focus first. Everyt’ing else wait until you got enough to survive an’ get by. What you want to do, Dreadbear?”

“Save Celia,” he replied, instantly.

“From what?”

“The King and his armies, probably. And Anise Lahd’i.”

“A nice lady?”

“Yes, her too.”

“Bah, whatever. Look, you no do dis by bumbling about and pulling up little level one tricks. You do dis by making youself walking badass who know his focus and sharpen things until they bleed you enemies just by looking at dem.”

“I… don’t think I can actually do that.”

“You don’t t’ink, but maybe in higher level job skill unlock you CAN! But you only get to higher level if you focus on leveling de good jobs and leaving de crap jobs for later. Like necromancer. Remember how Zuula make you grind necromancer?”

“Well, yes, and I’m glad because I used a lot of command undeads, and the soulstones were good for-“

“You keep grinding necromancer!”

“Right. And you’re not just saying that because he might make us stronger if he figures something else out with it,” Garon said, shoving his mother off the tabletop with his tail.

“Hey!”

“Hay is for horses,” Garon snapped. “Okay, look. What have you got to stop people from killing you up close? Jobwise, I mean, what’s good at it?”

“Well, Duelist and Bear seem to be working out so far.”

“Good. Your duelist was what, three? That’s only two away from new skills. It’s always useful to have a fighting job, so go for that.”

“I don’t have a fighting job!” Missus Fluffbear, who had been listening raptly, spoke up. “I need something like that so I don’t almost get my head popped off again!”

“Right, let’s talk about that after I’m done,” Garon said, watching his mother grimly climb the table leg, heading his way with the angriest of eyebrows. “So necromancer’s a good one for you Threadbare, and duelist, so that covers fighting and casting. What else do you want to focus on?”

“Well, golemist, so I can make you stronger. Beyond that, I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to give it much thought.”

“Enchanter!” Zuula burst out, leaping on Garon and trying to bite his muzzle. Unsuccessfully, as her mouth wasn’t set up for biting and Garon just knocked her back with one paw. But she clung to his wing and swung around. “You need reagents to make de golems! Learn enchanter up, at some point you get disenchant! Dat makes de reagents.”

“Okay,” Garon said, thumping Zuula on the table until she let go, “So Golemist, Necromancer, Duelist, Enchanter. That’s four, that’s half your jobs. Are there any you can safely neglect?”

“Well…” Threadbare watched Garon and his mother fight. “Scout is at level five. It’s handy, but I don’t use it much. Ruler’s at level five, too. So I guess I can leave it. Animator’s nice, but Golems are more important right now. Oh! Model’s at four! I need to level it, and see what new skills I get!”

“Wait.” Zuula froze, in the act of failing to put Garon in a leglock. “You got ruler? Seriously?”

“Mahdel?” Madeline snorted. “Seriously?”

“Scout?” Missus Fluffbear asked. “Seriously?” Then she spoiled it by giggling. “Sorry, everyone else was doing it.”

“Oh yes. I got ruler when I killed a big rat with a crown.”

Garon facewinged. “Because of course you did.”

“And I got model when I made my own clothes in the dungeon that time. Though I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was just sewing cloth on to make carrying it easier.”

“Yeah that sound like you,” Zuula said, snorting. “Model. Bah. Weak.”

“I’m getting plus forty to all my pools from one skill out of it.”

THAT got their attention. “Wait. What.” Madeline said, hopping down from her chair to stare up at him.

There was a fairly long stunned silence after he explained how the dietary restrictions skill worked. Madeline spent most of it laughing her ass off.

“Yeah, definitely grind that, at least to five. Shoot, if you level it just by wearing clothes and doing buffs, go for it,” Garon said. “I never knew it had that much useful stuff.”

“Still weak. Bad by itself…” Zuula said, and then she gained a point to her anemic intelligence. “But it not MEANT to be by itself, is it? Zuula have to rethink this. Muchly.” Then she shook her head. “Wait. Go back to ruler?”

“What about it? It gives an okay free buff, but only to people in my party, or my subjects. And I don’t have any subjects. Although…” He checked his status. “I suppose I can give buffs to people if they share the same quest. Oh, and people can swear fealty to me and become my subjects. Do you want to do that?”

Another long silence.

“It comes with a free buff that’s always ahn?” Madeline asked.

And so, there in the basement, they knelt and swore fealty to King Threadbare the first of his name, ruler of the basement, at least until they were done and ready to leave the town.

“Ought to be good for some experience. Now you go and put on fashion show,” Zuula said.

“Excuse me?”

“We got you sorted. Got to talk with Fluffbear about future. She get talk too. Meanwhile, you level model by showing off new clothes, yes?”

“Oh. Yes, that’s one way.”

“So go upstairs, make new clothes, den come down here and let us see them. Do it enough, probably get you to level five.”

“Okay.” Threadbare headed upstairs, stopped, then walked over to Madeline’s rack of half-charred clothing. “May I?”

“Of course, yer majesty!” Madeline curtseyed deeply. “Anything for da king!”

“Hilarious,” Garon tried to roll his eyes, but they were beads and the best he could manage was wiggling them a bit. “Naaahahahah, that’s a weird feeling.”

Threadbare, with a bit of difficulty and some brute strength, finally lifted up the rack and climbed upstairs, dragging it behind him. The cats winced and growled as it banged every step of the way.

“So I know I want a fighting job,” Missus Fluffbear said. “The whip worked okay until the man got too close. So I want to use my dagger better. And the whip.”

“All right, so Duelist is probably out,” Garon said. “Those guys focus and you want to use different weapons. Um… if you go through the fighting class, the other three jobs there are berserker, knight, and archer.”

“Bearserker?” Missus Fluffbear asked, bouncing up and down. “That sounds like it was made for me!”

“Um.” The three doll haunters shared a glance, and a long headshake. “No. Trust me, that one’s a bad one. Especially for healers. Which, by the way, how are you using mend anyway? That’s not a cleric spell, I didn’t think.”

“No, but it’s Yorgum’s godspell. Every god gets a spell to give to his clerics, that’s what he told me. And mend is his.”

“Huh, that’s handy, not gonna lie. But the fact is you’re built to heal right now, and maybe use undead if you lean into necro, and definitely tamer if you use Mopsy here, and when you’re raging all you can do is beat things up. Which means no casting spells and probably no ordering undead or Mopsy unless you drop the rage. So I’d recommend no on that.”

“Besides, you not have it in you to get unlock,” Zuula pointed out. “Have to kill in anger.”

“Yeah, I ain’t seein’ you are tha big beah ever doin’ anything like thaht,” Madeline said. “Just don’t have it in yah.”

“So archer’s next… but we don’t have a bow. Though you’re a carpenter, you could try to make one. Though a bow your size would have a piddly pull, so…”

“What’s a bow?”

He explained it. Missus Fluffbear shook her head. “It sounds really complicated.”

“Right. So Archer’s probably out. Besides, you want something for up close, so-“

Padded paws pounded on the stairs, and they whipped around to see Threadbare leap out, clad in a potato sack with holes in it for his arms and head, wearing one of Madeline’s scarves on his head.

Your Adorable skill is now level 21!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 10!

They watched him, as he solemnly flexed, and strutted with self-esteem. Then they were howling with laughter. Threadbare beamed to see them so happy.

“Ah. Uh. Ah…” Madeline said, “Yeah, tell me you leveled from that.”

“No. Though my Work it Baby skill is boosting one of my items a little now.”

“You have a skill called Work it… Baby…” Garon doubled over laughing again, for a time. “Oh wow. Uh, yeah. Goodbye Threadbare. Anyway…” He turned back to Fluffbear, as Threadbare trundled upstairs again. “I think you need to pick up Knight.”

“Knight?”

“Yeah. Mercenary’s another option but it’s fiddly and you have to know how to get the most out of it. Knight is pretty good defensively, and has a few tricks that dovetail nicely with cleric. My sister was training as a knight and cleric, trying for paladin, I think.”

“Yes. She was,” Zuula said, shortly.

“Oh hush, it made HER strong, didn’t it? We wouldn’t be here otherwise. So yeah, Knight’s a solid combo for you there.”

“Best of ahl, we still got Darla’s ahmah and shield and speah,” Madeline pointed out. “So how do we get her the jahb unlock?”

“Oh, you’ll love this,” Garon grinned and pointed over at the sleeping form of Mopsy. “All she has to do is win a fight while mounted.”

Missus Fluffbear jumped up, hands to her face in horror. “I’m not killing Mopsy!”

“What? No, no, you just need to-“

“Forget it! I won’t be a knight! That’s horrible!”

“No, listen, I-“

“You need to ride Mopsy and kill something else while on her,” Zuula explained.

The little black bear calmed down instantly. “Oh. Okay.” Fluffbear frowned. “What does ride mean?”

Pad pad pad on the stairs, and… “Dazzling Entrance!” Threadbare yelled, and leaped into the basement. The baggy legs of his pants fluttered behind him as he jumped, empty and loose since he’d buckled the pants around his head. His apron was on like Zuula’s loincloth, and he was wearing an oversized pair of bunny slippers on his arms.

Your Dazzling Entrance skill is now level 2!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 11!

More laughter. “No, just no,” Madeline gasped as he flexed and strutted. “Go… just go back and try again. Please. And for tha love of hurt, pants don’t go theah.”

Threadbare hurried off. Meanwhile, Garon explained riding to Fluffbear. “Easy enough for Threadbare to make a saddle when he’s done with… this… Normally they’re leather, but you’re light enough heavy cloth would work.”

“Okay! I’ll be a knight!”

“Cool, now all we need to do is-“

Slam! Pad pad pad pad pad…

“Dazzling Entrance!”

About a dozen more fashion shows later, Threadbare was almost out of moxie, when-

You are now a level 5 Model!

+3 AGL

+3 CHA

+3 PER

You have unlocked the Call Outfit skill!

Your Call Outfit skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Makeup skill!

Your Makeup skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Strong Pose skill!

Your Strong Pose is now level 1!

Checking Dietary Restrictions….

Your Dietary Restrictions Skill is now level 25!

With a sigh of relief, Threadbare pulled off the black spiky wig, and shucked off the see-through teddy. “Here’s your whip back, thanks for the loan,” he said as he gave it back to Missus Fluffbear.

“I can’t look,” Madeline whimpered, from under the table.

Next to her, Garon’s tail poked out, lashing back and forth like Pulsivar’s. “Is he changed? Please tell me he’s changed.”

“Hm? What?” Zuula put down the parchment she was using to take notes, as she studied Threadbare. “Oh yeah, he done.”

“In more ways than one,” Threadbare said. “Status. Oh my. Yes, these will do nicely.”

“Good. Please never weah my lingerie again,” Madeline pleaded.

Garon stared at her.

“What?”

“You said that word without your accent.”

“I’m a vampaiah. We get a pass on saying sexy words.”

“You’re just making that up.”

She chucked him under the chin. “You wanna put me to tha test, tall green an scaly?”

“ANYWAY,” Zuula said. “Dreadbare, Missus Fluffbear here gonna be knight. So we gonna make her a saddle so she can ride Mopsy. Maybe you make one for Pulsivar, too, so you can ride as well?”

“Oh, sure.” Threadbare hesitated, his regular coat halfway buttoned. “What’s a saddle?”

A few minutes later, he nodded. “That’s a good idea. I had a real problem getting to where I needed to be in that battle where every undead died.”

“Not all of dem,” Zuula chortled.

“Shaddup.” Madeline poked her in the arm, and Zuula backhanded her off the table.

“Hey!” A faint red ‘0’ worked its way up from where she’d fallen.

Threadbare ignored it. “But if I’m riding Pulsivar, he can get me around faster. If he wants to. And I can show him where he needs to be. And he listens to me.” He rubbed his forehead. “Oh dear. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“He loves you,” Missus Fluffbear said, “And I can show you how to teach him. I think.”

“Zuula can speak wit’ nature, and he nature,” Zuula pointed out. “We set him straight. Practice tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Enough dilly dally and fashion shows and stupid fucking grindluck. Zuula fed up wit’ level one! We gonna level tomorrow!”

“Mom?” Garon surreptitiously dangled his tail off the table, letting Madeline grab it and swing back up. “Our luck’s still not great. A few more days of grindluck…” he made a face. “Yeah no, you’re right. what’s your idea?”

“Zuula know a place that still be full of skeleton bits, and a necromancer to animate dem for us.” She pointed at Threadbare. “Tomorrow we go dere and he make dem fight us, and we practice as party!”

“Why wait?” Threadbare asked.

“Well, you need to refit Fluffbear’s armor and shield and spear… no, wait. You said you wanted to use the whip and dagger?”

“Oh yeah.”

“That leaves a spear.”

“Zuula take it.”

“What? How come you get thaht?” Madeline shook a wooden finger.

“You got teeth to bite with and a bitey job. Zuula got not’ing.”

“Oh, so ya agreeing that vampaiahs is bettah than orcs?”

The basement fell silent, as the toys watched Zuula shake, wordless. Her eyebrows twisted until they tore, seams pop pop popping as they gave way.

Madeline realized, too late, that she’d crossed a line. “Whoa, hey, I’m sahrry-“

Zuula hopped down, grabbed the broken bottle she’d made a few days back, and chased the marionette around the room, howling incoherently.

“Please, stop!” Missus Fluffbear called, and Threadbare stepped forward-

-and stopped, as Garon raised a paw. “Let them work it out. Better this way.”

A few hours later, after everyone had been mended, and Sparky’s fires were out (he’d taken the assault on his mistress a bit personally,) the teddy bears rode their groggy and disgruntled cats into the pre-dawn darkness, with the doll haunters and sparky following after.

“See? If she’d had twisted rage, one of you would be dead, right now,” Garon admonished.

“I don’t know if this is going to work out,” Threadbare said.

“What? Zuula apologize and give back eye. It only wood chip with paint anyway.”

“No, I mean this riding thing. He keeps going off to look at things,” Threadbare said from fifty feet away.

Most of the party could see him fine in the darkness, and Fluffbear had Sparky to see by, so they watched as Pulsivar ambled back, ignored them, as he followed a scent trail from one side to the other.

“Do you smell anything?” Fluffbear asked.

Threadbare took a sniff. “Yes, but I don’t know what. Never smelled it before.”

“No matter. We almost dere.”

They crossed the creek, keeping an eye out just in case.

And right before the bonefield, they stopped, staring up the hill, with shadows flickering at the limits of Sparky’s light.

“Tell me,” Threadbare said, staring at a round shape in the darkness, “Was there a boulder there before?”

The boulder stood up.

The boulder turned, gray rock revealed to be gray flesh as it turned around, eyes wide and moonlike in the darkness, club clenched in one hand. It considered the toys below it on the slope.

And then it roared, and fetid air washed over them, and the doll haunters were very, very glad that they didn’t have noses.

“Dreadbear! It be an Ogre! Quick, we gots to-“

She was wasting her breath. Mopsy had frozen in fright, but Pulsivar? Pulsivar was outs, yo. He didn’t do ogres.

With slowly dawning horror, the level one doll haunters watched as the black cat vanished into the night, taking their hope, salvation, and chance of resurrection with them.

Then they turned back to the ogre, as it charged and the ground shook under its feet…

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

CALL OUTFIT Level: 5 Cost: 20 Mox Duration: Instant
Instantly summons one of your regular equipment sets from wherever it may be. The set must be kept together, and cannot include armor that isn’t made out of cloth.

MAKEUP Level: 5 Cost: 10 Mox Duration: Until smeared or removed
Allows you to apply makeup that buffs any one of your skills. Form follows function, so the makeup must be appropriate to the job that contains the skill being buffed.

STRONG POSE Level: 5 Cost: 10 Sta Duration: 1 minute per model level
Buffs your strength. Only one pose may be active at a time.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 11
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 9
Model Level 5
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 3
Smith Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 95 Constitution: 102 Hit Points: 257(307) Armor: 42(46)
Intelligence: 121 Wisdom: 148(154) Sanity: 269(358) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 76(82) Agility: 80(92) Stamina: 166(242) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 77(107) Willpower: 104 Moxie: 181(261) Cool: 20(32)
Perception: 81 Luck: 65(71) Fortune: 146(202) Fate: 11(17)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 21
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 5
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Request - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 41(45)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 25 (+50 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 14
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Strong Pose - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 20

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (12)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 13
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 2
Eye for Detail - Level 8
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Toy Golem - Level 6

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 4
Refine Ore - Level 1
Smithing - Level 21

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+1 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+1 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+1 CHA, WIS, +2 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+1 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+CHA from WIB)

INVENTORY A Sack of coins.
A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Born Again 3

“Run!” Zuula bellowed, and proceeded to ignore her own advice, charging the ogre with her spear leveled.

“You run! You run too!” Garon cried. “No, wait!” But then there was no more time for talking.

The problem, she thought as the tree trunk whistled over her head, was that she didn’t have enough willpower.

Zuula got in between the Ogre’s legs and jabbed the spear into its muscular calves, trying for the ankle and failing. A red ‘1’ rolled up.

Your Spear skill cannot be leveled farther!

Level up your highest class to exceed your limit of 10!

At least they’d come through to their new lives with full generics and class skills for their level caps, that was a small blessing, Zuula dodged a stomping heel, very thankful she had a ten in that, too. The ogre slowed its charge and turned to try and deal with her.

But no, the problem was willpower. The correct thing to do with an ogre when you are level 1, is to run from it. But her willpower was at half orc levels, and nowhere near what it had been when she was alive. She’d ground that willpower, through eight children, half of which had survived infancy. She’d ground it through arguments and good times alike with her husband. Ground it since her early days with her first tribe, learning to stand up for herself even when they gave her shit for being a halfbreed. All that was gone now, capped by the husk she wore. If she’d had it back, she would have acted differently, used her brain rather than rushing in.

But Zuula’s instincts were too strong. She was half an orc, and she would fight. And she was half a human, so she would die for her loved ones. And though a far, far better thing to do would be to run, she couldn’t. She couldn’t override her instincts here… and so she jabbed and tore at its feet, sending up ‘1’s and ‘2’s. It wouldn’t be enough. Not nearly enough. It was slow enough she could shift from attacking, and pray her 10 dodge skill saved her, but sooner or later-

WHACK

-And then she was flying, hitting a tree at full speed, and everything became darkness.

*****

“Oh… damn it! Run! Mom! No!” He charged after her, almost activated his wings, before he remembered that he hadn’t tried flying yet.

WHACK! Garon blanched, as the little Zuula doll flew into the woods. “Soulstone! Make a Soulstone and go get her spirit, now!” He screamed at Missus Fluffbear.

“I can’t! Mopsy won’t move!”

“Leave her!”

“No! She’ll die!”

The problem, Garon thought as the ogre turned to the stunned cat and started walking forward, slobbering, was that he didn’t have enough charisma. Years he’d spent polishing that, years of learning to talk without either of his parent’s accents, and being surprisingly well spoken. Years of dealing with people… all down the drain, thanks to an inconvenient death. If he’d had it back his team would have listened, and he could have organized them, got them to safety at least. But he didn’t have that, and so different, more drastic measures were called for.

The dragon darted forward, roaring, not daring to breathe fire for fear of toasting himself… but the ogre turned to look.

Then it glanced over at the cat, and started forward again. Fluffbear was pleading with Mopsy, had jumped off and was trying to push her, but the Cougar’s fear was horrifying to see…

…so Garon leaped into the air and bit the ogre’s loinclothed rump as hard as he could. “Chomp!”

A red ‘33’ drifted up and the Ogre’s bellow shook the forest, as he whirled, flailing at his ass. The thing was literally too dumb to find his ass with a single hand, so Garon was able to scramble free before getting squished. He slashed at it with surprisingly hard plush claws, scoring ‘8’s and ‘9’s, evading the tree trunk before it could come down on him.

“Fucking go save Mom!” He screamed at Fluffbear-

-and the Ogre scooped him up by the tail, and brought him up towards its gaping mouth…

“I Command you to Stop!”

*****

“I Command you to stop!” Madeline screamed once more, and this time the ogre didn’t resist, staring at her as she brought all her diminished vampiric will to bear. Then Sparky drifted over, belching fire at the ogre, who dropped the dragon and scrambled back. “Bloodsucker!” She shouted, leaping up, aiming for its arm-

-and missing, to clatter on the ground, next to Garon who was shaking his head and backing off.

The problem, was willpower, Madeline thought as she got clear of those stomping feet, grabbing Garon by the wing and dragging him off. If she’d had more willpower, and more moxie to fuel her command skill, she could tell the ogre to go fuck off and it would have to listen. But she’d lost all that, thanks to being dusted by Threadbare’s crew. And now here she was a part of them, and she couldn’t pull her weight, because her will was a pale shadow of what it had been, trapped in a wooden husk.

She winced, as the Ogre slammed its club into Sparky, and a red ‘84’ rose up as the least elemental winked out of existence. Then it turned back to its plush prey.

The ground shook as the ogre stomped after her, but she saw Fluffbear finally manage to snap Mopsy out of it, mount up and head toward the woods. “Soulstone” she thought she heard the little bear cry, and nodded in satisfaction. Zuula might be a bitch, but Madeline didn’t wish her dead.

Garon was shouting something, but it was hard to hear over the ogre’s bellowing. “I’m thinking it’s time to cut and run!” Madeline bellowed back. “Get into tha trees, and-”

All of a sudden, Garon snapped his head up and slowed. “Say yes when he gets to you!” He said, with hope in his eyes.

“What? What ah yah…”

“Hello,” Wind whispered in her ear, in Threadbare’s voice. “Here is a quest for you please.”

THREADBARE HAS OFFERED YOU A PRIVATE QUEST
DETAILS: BEAT THAT MONSTER
REWARD: 100 EXPERIENCE POINTS AND SOME GOLD

COMPLETION: UPON THE MONSTER’S DEATH OR RETREAT

DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N?

“Yes?” Madeline said, glancing back. They were gaining distance on the ogre, but it wasn’t showing any signs of giving up the pursuit. They’d gotten into the woods, but it was running after them, slamming into and knocking over small trees as it went, club sending up sprays of mud and rock as it dragged it, roaring.

A few seconds later, she heard Threadbare bellow in a far louder voice than expected from somewhere distant. “Organize Minions to Beat that Monster!”

“How tha fuck?” She screamed at Garon, as they ran. She felt… better. Not by a lot, but better. A buff? Had to be.

“The Minorphone! He’s using it! Keep running!”

“The what now?”

Threadbare’s amplified voice yelled out again. “Hello, this is my Emboldening Speech. I know he’s very big, and you’re very small, but I believe in you and think you can do it. That’s all.”

It was stupid.

But it was the kind of stupid that refilled her depleted moxie, and buffed her sanity. By a bit, anyway.

“Oh you clever bear, it’s offering gold so I can Do the Job!” Garon laughed. “And Party Buffs! Why not? Fight the Battles!”

That didn’t seem to do much, but every little bit helped. And with clearer sanity, she knew what she had to do. She leaped on Garon’s back, and held onto his wings. “Get ready ta burninate him! Endure Faia!”

“That only stops some of the damage to me!” Garon said. I’ll burn to death!”

She glanced back. The ogre was picking up ground. The plush doll haunters had to go around obstacles, he could barge right through. “You’d ratha be thumped ta death? Trust me, Gar! I got you!”

“All right!” Garon whirled, waited until the ogre was in the middle of a group of thornbushes, and screamed for all he was worth. “BURNINATE!”

Fire exploded out from Garon’s mouth.

A thankfully reduced ‘92’ exploded up from Garon’s head.

And the Ogre caught the full blast, bellowing and stumbling back as a red ‘124’ washed over it.

“Aaaagh!” Garon howled as he burned, and red ‘1’s started to flicker up-

“Endure Faiah!” Madeline yelled. “Manipulate Faia!” She cleaned the flames from Garon, added them to the burning brush around the ogre, and laughed maniacally.

“Fucking ow!” Garon grumbled. “Blood is- shit! No coins!”

The ogre, maddened, pushed out of the flames and made for them.

“Run around tha faia!” Madeline commanded. “I’ll try ta get him again!”

It had been very disappointing, to find out as an elementalist, that she couldn’t throw fireballs from the get go. Almost as disappointing as finding out that it was a sanity-based class, and here she was, all moxie. But thanks to Threadbare’s trick, she had a little more oomph to go on. And so, as the ogre chased them around the fire, she teased and pulled blazing flames from it, scooting out lashing tendrils and bursts at the monster, pinging it for 5-10 hit points a pop.

“How long can you keep that up?” Garon yelled, slurring his words a bit, his head charred and lopsided from his own breath.

“About a minute or two a pop! I got enough juice for maybe tree moah manipulates!”

“Keep it up-shit!” Garon ducked, as the ogre hurled a tree branch past his head, shattering against a nearby trunk, spraying splinters everywhere. “Ow gods!”

“Just run fastah!” Madeline urged, peeling fire off and flailing it at the ogre.

“On the plus side,” Garon said, as they ran around and around the gigantic, growing, blazing beacon, “Now the bears won’t have any trouble finding us.”

*****

“Zuula? Zuula?”

Go away. I be dead, Zuula thought, irritatedly as she floated in the black nothingness, thoroughly pissed at being a one-hit kill.

“Zuula-there you are!”

Zuula sighed, as she saw the glow of a soulstone approach… but it looked different, this time. She opened her mouth, and-

-wait, she had a mouth? This wasn’t right. She wiggled her arms, and-

-arms! Dead people didn’t have arms! Therefore…

Zuula burst out of the mud puddle, yelling and trying to clear her mouth, sucking in air.

“Oh geeze! Clean and Press!” Fluffbear said said, offering her a paw and ignoring the mud spattered on her teddy-bear sized breastplate and shield. “Are you okay?”

“Status,” Zuula croaked with her newly cleaned mouth.

Then she blinked. That couldn’t be right.

“Zuula only half-dead. Huh! But he hit her with a bonebreaking-”

No bones.

“Then she hit tree, hard enough to turn insides to-”

Her insides were literally stuffing.

Come to think of it, she had leveled up that golem body skill a few times, over the course of her bashing.

“Huh. Huh!” And slowly, Zuula smiled. “Slow Regeneration. Yes, come on Fluffbear, move over.” She wiggled up behind her on Mopsy’s back. The cat bore it, too frazzled to argue.

“Oh!” Fluffbear said, “Look at that!”

“Look at what?”

And then Threadbare’s quest flashed in front of her face. “Yes!” Zuula whooped, and laughed even more as he shouted buffs through the minorphone. “Okay,” she said, with her intelligence and will up to the point she could think clearly. Well, clear enough, anyway. “We need to fight this thing smart. Stop fighting like warrior. Fight like shaman.”

“Um. How?” Missus Fluffbear asked. “I don’t-”

“Not you,” Zuula punched her breastplate, with a ‘thunk’. “You do warrior t’ing. Ogre not hit as hard as we t’ink. Zuula, though, Zuula fight like Shaman.”

“How?”

Zuula grinned, as her slow regeneration stitched her back up and pulled her burst stuffing back in through its seams. “Secret Herbs and Spices.” She scanned around, then nodded and pointed. “Dere! Go dat way!”

“Shouldn’t we go find the others?”

A section of the forest blazed to life, as a distant “Burninate” echoed from a few hundred yards away. “Dey be fine. In fact, dis perfect! Move fast, we got herbs to pick!”

*****

“I’m running out of endurance!” Garon screamed back.

“At least tha faiah’s getting bigger!” Madeline said, ducking another hurled branch. Only a matter of time until the ogre got lucky.

“That’s not a good thing!” Garon yelled, narrowly managing to leap a burning log, dragging his tail through it, and hissing…

…but his endure fire buff was still up, thankfully, and he survived the damage. The little dragon corrected his course to go wider around the blaze.

The ogre just bashed through it, sending a red ‘8’ up to the heavens. Madeline sighed. “Status.” No, there it was in black and white. Seven sanity left, and she needed three more for another round of manipulate fire.

Low sanity. That must by why I’m standing, she realized, crouching on the dragon’s back, and eyeing the distance to the ogre. That must be why the idea sounded good, she thought, as she hopped free.

“Mads?”

“Eh, it’s only a body. See ya next go round!” She hopped off, and annoyed, the dragon skidded to a stop, circled around.

The ogre slowed, too, grinning. Its hide was scorched to hell and back, its butt hurt from where the little green thing had chomped its cheeks, and it was really, really hungry. Finally, the prey had given up.

It opened its mouth wide-

“Now!” Zuula yelled.

“Go Mopsy go!” Missus Fluffbear pulled on the cat’s harness, sending Mopsy streaking into the clearing. As she went Zuula waved a big wrapped bundle of herbs through the fire, igniting them. Then as the ogre stared, open-mouthed, she hucked the bundle right into its maw.

Surprised, and running on instinct, it shut its mouth and swallowed.

And oh boy, was THAT a mistake.

Ogres are one of the few races in Generica that lack any kind of ability to vomit.

Its bellow shook the trees, as the little toys scattered. It ran hither and yon in the burning woods, screaming and howling, smoke pouring out of its mouth.

But then it found everything was slowing down.

The smoke from its mouth turned into a snake and turned to look at it. The ogre giggled. It was really funny, even with the pain in its gut.

Then its legs drifted off and floated away, so it stopped running to watch them go. It tried to wave bye-bye, but its hands had eyes, and so it winked them instead.

At some point the meat fairy came out and started showering him with turkey legs.

Then everything hurt at once and suddenly all the ogre could see was darkness.

*****

Against the burning remnants of the woods, the hut, and the clearing, the little toys and their pet cat stood triumphant, splattered in ogre blood, thoroughly drained. Once Zuula’s secret blend of eleven herbs and spices had finished its work on it, and slapped it with a thoroughly hallucinogenic high, they’d closed on it and torn the ogre to bits. It had taken literally half an hour, and they were all tired. Golem endurance is very high to start with, but fighting really does take it out of a person.

Even when all the enemy can do is sit there and stare into the distance, waving at hallucinations.

Then the levels started rolling in, and they were cheering, hugging, and embracing. All save for Mopsy. She’d leveled too, but she was too busy meowing in confusion, as her body grew a bit.

Just a little bit. She was a tamer’s pet, so she was capped by the tamer’s level.

“Hahaha! Back to de level five shaman!” Zuula danced with joy. “Four Toy Golem and five half orc levels too. But shaman for de win! Hello Dream Quest! Zuula miss you so!”

“Level fahve elementalist! Woo! New skills! Oooh, one of them gives me a moah sanity. Nahse! Wait, it ain’t all that much. Eh, whaddeva.” She frowned. “Only level three vampire? But level foah toy golem? What gives?”

“I got level four golem too,” Garon confirmed. “Merc’s back up to five. Gods, that was a lot of… a lot of…” He frowned. “Wait. Uh… Uh oh.”

“What?”

“My dragon level’s still one.”

“Oh. Shit, that’s rough man. Wait, so some races get levels fastah than othahs?”

“I’m a knight!” Yelled Missus Fluffbear, raising her dagger. “Yay! And more levels!”

“I guess that’s how it works. Dragons take a lot to level.” Garon looked like he was going to cry.

“Fuckin’ Nurph, amirite?”

“Fucking Nurph,” Zuula confirmed, patting Garron’s wing.

“Meh, whatever,” Garon shook himself. “Still a dragon. Did you see that Burninate?”

“I still see that Burninate,” Said Threadbare, on foot, guiding a very reluctant Pulsivar through the trees. “I think that maybe we should move to some place that isn’t on fire, please.”

“When did you show up?” Zuula asked.

“Ten minutes ago. But I didn’t want to steal your kill. This was all to train you, even if it didn’t work like we planned. Erm… you might want to…”

WHUMP!

A burning pine tree five times the size of the ogre slammed down ten feet from the toys, spraying embers everywhere. They jumped and screamed, and Mopsy was gone, baby, gone.

“…Move…” Threadbare finished. “Well, no harm done. Yet. let’s go then.”

Once clear of the now-burning hollow, Madeline looked up at Threadbare as he rode along on Pulsivar’s back. He had black and white makeup on his face, in the shape of a handsome, mustached man. She’d seen the like on many playing cards, before.

“Nice paint.”

“Thank you. It’s a model skill. It’s boosting my Organize Minions skill right now. I guess this is the Ruler makeup.”

“If I evah get moah jahbs, that sounds like a useful one ta pick up.”

“Model or Ruler?”

“Both. Eithah.”

“I would be happy to teach you.”

“Hate to interrupt lovefest,” Zuula spoke up, “But we ready to move on out of village now, Zuula t’ink.” She glanced back at the fire. “Might have to anyway. Wind comin’ from south. Maybe not be village left in a day or two.”

“Eh, that town was dead anyway,” Garon said. And then they were all howling with laughter, as the bears looked on.

Fluffbear looked at Threadbare, who nodded, and they laughed too. It seemed appropriate.

The mirth lasted until Fluffbear noticed how badly injured Garon was. “Oh! Oh I should mend you! Hold on, let me-”

Threadbare put a paw on her. “May I try? I just picked up a new skill.”

“You leveled from that?” Madeline looked up. “In what?”

“Golemist.”

Silence, as they walked. “That confirms it,” Garon said. “When your golems do something big, you get part of the experience. Speaking of which, you owe us some gold.”

“All right. Before that, though… Mend Golem.”

Garon’s head put itself together, mostly. “Sixty-five? Lordy.”

Threadbare smiled. “Okay, that was pretty decent. Now you can mend him the rest of the way please,” Threadbare rubbed his chin. “And that’s what it does at skill level one. Dear me.”

“How’s the cost?” Garon wondered, as Fluffbear godspelled him back up to full.

“Four times as much as a mend. Only works on golems. But…” Threadbare’s scepter glittered in the distant firelight as he swept it around his friends. “Well.”

“Well.” Garon nodded. And yeah, it was. This wasn’t the existence he would have chosen, but it beat the alternative. Besides-he glanced over at Madeline as she rode on his back, looking back at the flames. The company wasn’t so bad. And the pay was… the pay! “Oh yeah! Gold? You owe us that.”

“So I do. Although I’ve been thinking…

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty big. What if we sewed you a pouch, and you used it to carry your own coins? So you could heal yourself whenever and wherever you needed?”

“I been thinkin’ about stuff like that too. Makin’ mods and gearing up ta help us survive and prospah.” Madeline said. “I got a crafting slot, and soulstones is crystals, riaht? So maybe I get jewelah, and make us some weahable soulstone necklaces or something in case tha worst happens…”

“And you is enchanter who need practice, so you put spells in necklaces,” Said Zuula. “Or other stuff we can carry.”

“Maybe something to make Mopsy braver?” Fluffbear said. “Also can you adjust her saddle? She’s bigger now and it’s a little tight on her, I think.”

Plotting, planning, and basking in the glow of their stat gains, the little party of friends made their way back to town to salvage what they could and move on before the fire got there.

“So where do we go from here?” Threadbare finally asked. “We need to save Celia.”

“North prahbably,” Madeline said. “There’s a little fishing town up that way. Most of our prey came from there. Dungeon huntahs, lootahs, trappahs. The ones we turned all said it was a quiet little place where folks just fished and mahnded their business.”

“Yeah, but we’re a bunch of toy monsters,” Garon pointed out. “Even for an insular, quiet community, that’d be a bit much.”

“Actually, Zuula been tinkin’ about dat,” The shaman spoke, feeling a lot happier now that she was about twenty points of wisdom and eight points of intelligence smarter. “Here is de plan…”

*****

Meanwhile, many miles away, a man in green robes perked up. “Hey! There’s something to the south!”

“What?” His wife asked, shivering. It was cold and lonely up on this hill, and she was thoroughly fed up with waiting. The wind was coming off of Lake Marsh, and chilling her to the bone.

Entirely agonizing, because the fire pit was right there, with unlit wood stacked high, ready to go. They’d been sitting next to it, as they had every night that their turn came up, with flint and steel and oil ready to go.

But still, the stars refused to cooperate, and until they did, the fire had to remain unlit.

“Give me a second, let me get up here…” The man shimmied up one of the old dolmens, using one of the many tentacles carved into the sides to climb it. She winced as he put a foot into YGlnargle’blah’s eye. “Sorry lord,” she mouthed, just to be sure.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She coughed. “Just cold.”

“Well someone’s not. They’ve lit a whomping great fire out that way.”

“Out what way?” She moved over to the edge of the hill and peered. No way was she climbing a dolmen, the last time she’d done something like that had been a lot of donuts and about five blessed children of the depths ago. Which reminded her, she needed to pick up fish in the morning before she got back home. They’d been good lately, and it was fun watching their lidless eyes light up so as they got their special treats.

“South. It looks like a wildfire or something, it’s really going,” Harb said.

She froze. “Harb?”

“Yes Marva?”

“Harb, it’s a fire? A big fire that we can see from here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“A fire like the sort we were supposed to light when the stars were right, and YGlnargle’blah’s words echoed like terrible thunder from the dolmens to enlighten his children?”

There was a long pause. Then as one, Harb and Marva turned to look at the town of Outsmouth, a few miles to the north.

Outsmouth, in which their cult was eagerly awaiting the signal. The signal of a fiery beacon, from the south.

Harb and Marva looked to the stars, which were really, really, really not right. Then they looked to the dolmens, which were as silent as they’d been the last two years that the cult had been keeping sentries out here. Then they looked to the unlit fire.

And then they looked back at the blaze.

“You know,” Harb said, in that voice one gets when there’s something entirely horrible right in your sight, but you don’t want to acknowledge it, “That fire is pretty big. You can probably see it from town.”

“If you’re looking this way,” Marva said, in that voice one gets when one is trying to deny the horror, find some faint scrap of hope to lift one’s soul, even in the face of the death of all one’s hopes and dreams, “Maybe nobody’s looking this way. I mean, Ebbett’s on duty tonight, and he is a bit of a slacker.”

“Totally fell through on the last bake sale,” Harb said, desperately. “Probably asleep right now. Nothing to worry about-“

BONG.

The two cultists turned to stare at the town.

BONG BONG BONG.

Someone had started ringing the bells.

“Dead gods dammit Ebbett!” Harb and Marva wailed simultaneously, and looked at each other. Harb shimmied down off the stone, took her hand, and the married couple ran desperately toward town, hands waving, screaming at their distant brethren that no, wait, stop, it was all a big misunderstanding…

THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

MEND GOLEM Level: 5 Cost: 20 San Duration: Instant Heals a golem for a moderate amount. Affected by intelligence and skill level.

WOOD GOLEM Level: 5 Cost: 150 San Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a wood golem shell. Requires wood, three doses of YELLOW reagents, and a level 2 Crystal.

PROGRAM GOLEM Level: 5 Cost: 50 San Duration: Permanent until changed
Allows the golemist to give conditional instructions to golems under his control. The golems will follow these instructions until it becomes impossible to do so. The higher the skill, the more instructions can be given, and the more complex they can become. Some experimentation is necessary for best results.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 11
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 5
Tailor Level 9
Model Level 5
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 5
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 5
Smith Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 99 Constitution: 102 Hit Points: 261(311) Armor: 42(46)
Intelligence: 131 Wisdom: 148(154) Sanity: 279(363) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 76(82) Agility: 80(92) Stamina: 166(237) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 77(107) Willpower: 114 Moxie: 191(266) Cool: 20(32)
Perception: 81 Luck: 65(71) Fortune: 146(197) Fate: 11(17) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 21
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 7
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 6
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 41(45)
Clean and Press - Level 5
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 25 (+50 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 14
Makeup - Level 2
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Strong Pose - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 20

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (12)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5) Animator Skills Animus - Level 13
Animus Blade - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 12
Dollseye - Level 2
Eye for Detail - Level 8
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Mend Golem - Level 2
Program Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem - Level 6
Wood Golem - Level 1

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 4
Refine Ore - Level 1
Smithing - Level 21

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+1 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+1 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+1 CHA, WIS, +2 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+1 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+CHA from WIB)
INVENTORY A Sack of coins.
A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Background Interlude 2-1: On Gods

ON GODS

Long ago, the gods were far more present in the world.

This lead to a number of problems, and a whole lot of holy wars. It all came to blows when the god of dining, (Fuudi) threw down with the god of expediency, (Max) whose followers had just invented fast food. The Sandwich Jihad lasted for twenty-six years, wiped out two nations, rearranged the borders, and ended with both gods dead, and their allied deities so upset about it that the resulting God Wars went through the pantheon of Generica like a wildfire.

Two centuries later, twelve gods remain, patching up the holes, still absorbing the dead gods’ pantheons, and trying to run around making it work. They now have a strict rule about interference, with no divine materializations or avatars allowed, and an “Everyone-gets-equal-influence” rule. Basically, every time a god does something that isn’t within the carefully written divine code of conduct, their rival gets allowed an equal act, or amount of influence.

Since most gods get along like the high school students of your choice, this usually serves to keep things in check. Although some of the rivalries are more serious than others, most of the time it works.

Most of the time.

Then, forty years ago, just as they were getting things sorted out the world changed. Words appeared to mortals, empowering them with things the gods never intended. Some took it in stride. Others… not so much.

The most common theory among the gods is that one of their dead brethren was holding something in check. And with his death, a forbidden seal broke, or something escaped, and now the world is chaos because of it.

None of them want to admit the second-most-common theory, even though it preys on their minds. The notion that whatever happened has nothing to do with them, and there is a greater power in control of the world than even the gods…

Of the twelve gods, thirteen are worshipped and provide powers to their clerics and oracles.

Yes, I know. One of them’s technically dead. See the descriptions below, that should clear it up a bit.

Gods are touchable in two ways by clerics. Well more, since technically they’re the source of clerics’ powers. Yes, clerics get all the healie and helpy stuff regardless of their god, but there’s two level one spells which have significant impact depending on which god they’re from.

Oracles are different. Oracles happen when a mortal accomplishes something of great significance to a particular god. They get the chance to be an oracle, and those who follow the call have the double-edged joy of a more personal relationship with their patron.

The “Pray to…” spell lets a cleric contact their patron god. The mortal can speak directly with the god, and usually use the spell to ask for advice. Though the gods aren’t allowed to give TOO much away in a pray spell, they can and do subtly nudge things toward a suitable conclusion for that god. In the end, though, it’s up to the cleric to decipher the advice and follow and implement it. And some gods get pissy if you use it too much. They’ve got shit to do, making the world do world stuff, go figure it out yourself!

Then there’s Godspell. Godspell lets the cleric have one spell that clerics of other deities don’t get. That godspell is different for each deity. It’s usually helpful, and fairly minor in the grand scheme of things.

THE TWELVE(THIRTEEN) GODS

Aeterna, Lady of Time is not the oldest god, but she’s a close second after Konol. It usually comes down to her and Nebs arguing over it, while the rest of the gods roll their eyes and find excuses to be elsewhere. But when she’s not trying to put Nebs in his place, she’s busy making sure time runs as it’s meant to. A more difficult job than you’d expect, these days. That said, she’s tolerant, a bit of a workaholic, and tends to be as curt and to the point as possible. Which is probably why dwarves make up her largest following.

Aeterna asks that her followers be punctual, thorough, and resist the incursion of cosmic entities that would destroy time. All things in all, it’s not much to ask, really. Prayers to Aeterna are answered relatively quickly, simply, and efficiently, though she’s not without a sense of compassion and will provide a shoulder to cry upon for someone in need.

Aeterna’s Godspell is called Extend Life, and by casting it, you ensure that the target will not die of old age-related issues for the next year. However… it doesn’t prevent aging, or any of the aches and pains that come with it. As such, most use it to ensure they get a few more years to wrap up their business, and do that thing they always meant to do, before they go to the great beyond.

Aeterna has quite a few oracles, she chooses philosophical sorts who are very orderly. Part of this is because she’s come to regard the changeover as a necessary evil, and is experimenting with it. Though no job her oracles have unlocked has been able to do time travel (yet), the concept intrigues her, and she was the reason Time Mages were an early Tier 2 class to surface. (Also Time lords, though that was more of an accident and she’s seriously annoyed about the whole incident.) In essence, Aeterna is experimenting with her own concept’s power. This could be a good or bad thing, but fortunately for everyone she’s going about it in a smart way.

So far.

Aeterna has a rivalry with Yorgum, and he is so very, very frustrated that she’s winning. She doesn’t hate the guy, but her tagline is that time wears down all things built, and, well, she IS time.

AGNES

Agnes is the goddess everyone loves to hate.

You’ve known a follower of Agnes, we all have. Agnes is the goddess of cruelty and the abuse of authority. She’s the patron of tyrants, bad teachers, and folks who long to be hurt. She’s a busy goddess, but fortunately she loves her job. And she’s surprisingly merciful, when approached properly. If you know you’re in for a bad time, make an offering and take your punishment like a good boy, and she’ll make it quick. Or ask her to toughen you up for an ordeal, and she’ll take to the job with gusto.

Prayers to Agnes are usually answered with mockery and verbal abuse, and sometimes form a regular part of the praying cleric’s love life, much to her amusement. But if you can take the abuse, then she’ll grudgingly provide an answer that’s often more helpful than that of many of her peers.

Agnes’ godspell, to no one’s surprise, is “Enhance Pain.” The fact that it’s a common cultist spell raises some eyebrows, but she insists that she came up with it first and brandishes her riding crop at anyone who insists otherwise while glaring at them over her spectacles. Agnes has very few oracles, though she does have a soft spot for those who have suffered more than they ought to, and sometimes “blesses” them with fun powers.

She regards the changeover as an opportunity for more chaos and suffering, and is validated by the fact that to gain levels, adventurers must cause and suffer pain. Although on the whole, the changeover is rather disorderly, which irks her. Clearly, the answer is more punishment until it gets sorted out.

Agnes has a rivalry with Hoon the Wanderer, who doesn’t sweat the small stuff and benefits when the rules aren’t too tight and people are enjoying life. Oddly enough, to their peers (Though they’d never comment on it) Hoon and Agnes seem like an old married couple when they fight. And their shameful hookups are studiously ignored by the other gods.

GANK

Gank. Oh, Gank. Gank is the god of murder and overkill.

Gank is the reason we can’t have nice things.

He is the god of solving your problems with violence, permanently, regardless of the problems it causes. There’s not much else to him, he’s simple and brutal and most polite socities pretend that they never worship him or curry his favor. But he know. He knows you’ll be back, when it’s time to spray that blood or go in for awesome vengeance.

Prayers to Gank usually aren’t very helpful, unless you want him to cheer you on. His suggestions always involve killing your problem, or killing people until your problem’s gone. Still, he occasionally lets things slip he shouldn’t, if you approach him the right way.

His godspell is Dolorous Strike, which kills things HARDER.

Oracles of Gank rarely come to it as a first class. Usually somebody who slaughters enough people or leads a marauding horde attracts his attention, and gets his blessing. Style counts too, not just numbers.

Gank is fine with the switchover. Business as usual for him either way, and he doesn’t do philosophy so he doesn’t think much on the deeper ramifications. Thinking cuts into murderin’ time!

Gank is Nurph’s chief rival, and the two have epic screaming matches that usually end up with a lot of the scenery being broken and the other gods holding them back. Nurph tries to reign in Gank’s fun, and fuck that noise! Fucking wimp!

HOON

And then there’s Hoon the wanderer, the original party boy. He’s been through a few names, mainly because his followers are big on exploring new places and meeting new people. Hoon is the one that’s stuck, and he’s the patron of trade and travel.

Hoon is jolly, clever, and really bad at following rules, especially with regards to staying out of other people’s territory, or if there’s coin to be made. But he’s so charismatic that most forgive him. Eventually. He DOES miss the days when he could divinely manifest, as he left a string of semi-divine bastards from one end of the continent to the other, but eh. He just has to live vicariously through his clerics now. They unsurprisingly view indulgence and partying as a sacred work.

Oracles of Hoon usually wake up to their new state after a seriously wicked bender, though a few come at it by doing unexpectedly good business.

His godspell is Winning Smile, which lets priests and priestesses make good first impressions and hopefully avoid being Ganked off hand for being foreigners.

Hoon doesn’t know what to make of the switchover. Overall he doesn’t like it, because now there’s all these RULES and STUFF and man it’s a drag. On the other hand, it means that a lot more adventurers have to move around if they want to keep leveling, and he’s FINALLY getting a handle on how the economy should work now that loot-replicating dungeons and gold-dropping wild animals are a thing. It’s still a mess, but it looks like there might be a way to make it a PROFITABLE mess, so that’s all well and good.

Hoon is Agnes’ rival, and he sends her into frenzies by refusing to take her seriously. But she gets her own back, with this little invention she called taxes, and boy does it hurt him to see his followers pay those…

KONOL

Konol the First is not actually one of the dozen remaining gods because, well, they’re dead.

But they died before this god war nonsense. In a way, they’re the first thing that ever truly died. Konol is also genderless, because they were around before all that nonsense started.

You see, Konol is widely credited with pulling the world from the black sea that was all creation was until they came along. But the act was so mighty that they fell down dead after doing it. Konol asks for nothing save that their work not be in vain… at least that’s what his clerics assume. Their prayers to this genderless deity are reportedly like touching the slumbering, dreaming mind of something vast and benevolent in an unfocused way.

Konol doesn’t exactly advise, as show images related to the topic the cleric raises. It’s nowhere as good as Oracle’s visions though, but a wise cleric can use it to sort his thoughts out, and Konol doesn’t mind. It’s good to have company, when you’re dead.

Konol’s Godspell is a weird one, though. The name of it is an odd mix of letters and numbers arranged in groups of six, and to date, no one’s found a use for it. Konol has a lot of oracles, more in recent years. They seem to be concerned about creation being at risk, ever since the incursion of the words forty years ago. The change has worried Konol, and the tiny part of him that’s not completely dead is very concerned about it.

Konol has no rivals. All the other twelve gods respect him and want him alive again. With one exception…

NEBS

All the gods want Konol alive again except Nebs. That’s because Nebs is the goddess of death and theft, and she earned her title by stealing Konol’s life and passing him beyond.

Nebs allows no exceptions. She’s impartial, can’t be reasoned with, and really, theft is only in there because a few gods died horribly back in the god wars. But since assassins and other roguely types who kill often need a patron too, she’s set aside her druthers to be their goddess.

Prayers to Nebs are surprisingly informal, and she’s happy to talk about anything, really. Smart clerics of hers know this, and offer her prayers to tell them about their lives, or things that don’t involve work. She actually appreciates the chance to catch up on things outside her purview, and usually repays personal consideration with good advice, or comfort.

Nebs’ Godspell is Fast as Death, which lets its user either escape trouble or kill faster, so either way it’s good for her people to have.

Nebs has Oracles, but weirdly, she’s not in charge of handing that job out. It usually happens when someone has a brush with death, or steals something with major, major consequences. She’s as surprised as anyone else when her oracles turn up, and those that survive, she tries to ease into their power.

Nebs is fine with the changeover. Makes her job easier in some ways… it used to be that people wailed and cursed death. Now everyone accepts that if your hit points hit zero, that’s it. It’s lesssened the number of angry souls, when she finally meets them.

Nebs has a rivalry with Rando/RNG, whose people routinely try to cheat death. She has to remind them that the house always wins in the end. Recently she’s also joined forces with Aeterna a time or two against Yorgum, telling him to reign in some of his more ambitious plans, and warning him off exploiting loopholes around death. He’s backed down recently, but she doesn’t like the weird smug smile that burnbeardy gets whenever she and Aeterna are in the same room with him…

NURPH

Nurph. Nurph the buzzkill. Nurph the honest. Nurph, the god whose tagline is “Well, actually…”

Nurph’s domain is truth and honor. Which is annoying, because he’s an enormous workaholic, always trying to quantify things, and figure out what is “right” and “good”. And it doesn’t help that he’s always convinced of his righteousness.

Nurph doesn’t make things of his own, he critiques others, and tries to optimize them, and offers helpful suggestions, and the other gods just put him in charge of balancing out everything because he was doing it anyway and this kept him off their specific asses for more than a few days at a time, usually. Nurph’s rallying cry, echoed by his clerics, is “That’s not fair!”

But… for all that…

Sometimes it ISN’T fair. And when that’s the case, Nurph’s clerics are the ones down there in the trenches, fighting and dying to MAKE it fair. Which is why for all the other gods roll their eyes, they’re quietly glad he’s there. Nurph is the reason that “Right makes might” exists as a notion, and enough people follow it that civilization and all its comforts are possible.

Prayers to Nurph get exactly the response and answer that he’s allowed to give you, no matter the temptation to reveal more. And he’s always happy to weigh in on a dispute or disagreement. Sometimes he’ll even pray you back after the fact, with new notions and ideas. Sometimes in the middle of the night, because you can always sleep later, right?

Nurph’s Godspell is Assess Challenge, which tells you the odds of completing a difficult task or fighting a particular enemy. Nurph’s clerics like to use this one all the time and cheerfully tell their companions the results. How helpful!

Nurph has oracles, mainly people who have major OCD issues, and folks in authority positions who manage to do them pretty well AND follow the rules.

Nurph is… okay with the changeover. At least everyone has no excuse for not knowing the rules, anymore. But sweet HIM, there’s so much work to do. It looks like whatever force was in charge of the changeover left loopholes and expoits EVERYWHERE! He’s gonna be fixing those for the next millenia or two, at LEAST.

Nurph’s rival is Gank. The thing’s he’s had to talk that guy down from… and by talk he means fight, because it’s literally come to blows sometimes. Nurph doesn’t hate, it’s not in his nature, but boy howdy does Gank make it hard.

OLD KOSS

Old Koss is the god of farming and harvests and food overall, and of course he’s fat you young whippersnapper! Get off his lawn! Don’t steal his apples of immortality! Naw, just kidding, those were regular apples, but it was fun watchin’ ya dodge the guardians. Haw haw haw! Now pull his finger!

Yeah, that’s Old Koss. Surly old god who’s been around forever, who has an inordinate love of Dad jokes and was born with a beard. Surprsingly not worshipped by most dwarves, who view cultivating as a necessary evil. He treats everyone younger than him as an idiot, and hates to be proven right. He makes sure the rest of you have enough food to eat and beer to drink. You’re welcome. Ingrates. His clerics ensure that famers don’t get dumb, and their community has enough to eat. Most of them are fat and happy, though it’s against doctrine to ever admit happiness when you can grumble and blame young folks instead.

Prayers to Koss actually work in reverse. You have to listen to HIM gripe, and if you manage to endure it, then eventually you can get a word or two in. As long as it’s simple stuff, he’ll offer good advice. Complicated city-folk stuff gets his scorn.

Old Koss’ Godspell is Survey Land, which tells clerics how good soil is, when to plant crops, and how best to farm them. It’s both amazingly good for farming and completely useless for most adventurers, which is the way Old Koss likes it.

In fact, he’s really angry about the whole switchover thing. Now containers come with arbitrary item storage limits, and there’s weirdness to food, not to mention the way it instantly and visible recharges quantifiable stats. The whole thing has stolen all the mystery from his domain! To this day he wanders the halls of heaven, griping to all the other gods and to random long-suffering heavenly guardians about how it ain’t right. Just ain’t right. He has very few oracles, mainly because he don’t hold truck with that newfangled nonsense and clerics are just fine! Hell, back in his day, there were only FOUR jobs…

He has an entirely understandable rivalry with Pau, the shifting-gendered god/goddess of oceans and storms mainly because he’s never forgiven him/her for taking fishing to be part of her/his portfolio, and because no matter how good the farmers are, they still need the weather to cooperate, in order to make it all work.

PAU

Pau!

Pau has both genders, and shifts between them as he/she pleases. Pau is the deity of storms and oceans and smart sailors, and Pau goes from placid and gentle to chaotic and overwhelming in the blink of an eye.

Pau’s clerics strive to keep him/her placated, and ensure that fishing and water travel are not harmed. Sometimes they succeed. It’s hard to keep up with Pau.

Prayers to Pau are either super relaxed and easy to understand, or highly dramatic, with special effects and random rainstorms, and high-stakes answers. There’s no in between.

Pau’s Godspell is Call Water, good on sea voyages and for dousing hotheads.

Pau has been long involved with oracles, even before the changeover, and sees no reason to change that. His/her feelings swing back and forth on the changeover. He/she hates having something influence her portfolio without her control, but on the other hand, it’s made things more exciting. So… the ocean rolls on, and the rain comes down, and things continue.

Pau has an entirely understandable rivalry with Old Koss, and he/she loves seeing the old guy grump at her/him, taking it with fondness for the old codger. Except when he/she hates it, and lashes out in fury.

RANDO/RNG

Rando and RNG, have the dubious honor of being the part-time gods of luck. Male and Female respectively, they split when the changeover happened. No one’s quite sure where RNG came from, it could honestly just be Rando in drag playing a joke on everyone, so the gods haven’t asked any questions about it just in case it IS a trick and Rando’s trying to make them the butt of it.

Rando used to ensure that luck evened out, and everyone got their fair share. But then the changeover happened and he went from awesome cosmic power to being a spectator, as his hands were forced back from so, so many everyday events. It broke him, and he stepped down for a long time, going to nobody knew where. RNG appeared to fill the gap, and ensure that clerics prayers got answered and oracles got empowered, and offenders against fortune and fate were properly punished. She’s been doing a pretty good job… when she’s there. Every so often Rando shows back up, drunk and depressed, and delights in handing out bad luck whenever and wherever he can.

Clerics of Rando regard gambling as sacred, monitor local games for fairness, and never cheat. That’s one of the few things that unites Rando and RNG against them.

Prayers to Rando either go well, if you catch RNG, or poorly, if Rando’s on the other end of the line.

His/her godspell is Double or Nothing. The cleric flips a coin and calls it. If he calls it, his luck doubles for a short time. If he fails, his luck drops to 1 for a short time. Most smart clerics of Rando/RNG only use this when they’re seriously up against the wall with no way out.

Rando doesn’t appoint oracles, but RNG does. Oddly enough, she usually notifies them through the mail or equivalent, sending them notices to let them know they’ve just won something. Many such notices get thrown away, but the ones that get opened that ARE from RNG, bestow oracular powers and more complicated lives.

As stated above, the changeover broke Rando, but RNG’s dealing with it well. So she doesn’t control everything like Rando used to, but whatever. Prayers are still coming in, luck’s still running hot and cold, and life goes on.

Rando and RNG have a long-running rivalry with Nebs, trying to keep heroes and other lucky sorts alive even when they should be rightfully dead many times over.

RITAXIS

Ritaxis, goddess of war, loves her job. It strengthens her, strengthens her people, it’s good for the economy, and ensures plenty of future business down the road.

Hm? The dead? Eh, that’s just how it goes. Not her problem. Talk to Nebs.

Ritaxis is all about killing, but unlike Gank, she’s about killing for a purpose, and doing it to accomplish a wider-scale goal. Whether this means following Nurph’s rules or letting Gank out to play depends on what accomplishes the job faster and more efficiently. Her clerics are always in demand, and often form military orders, which coincidentally sometimes unlock second tier options like Knight Templar and Warmaster, so that’s all well and good anyway. It does mean that her priests are often more disciplined than other clerics, and far better at fighting. A fact she loves to brag about and see justified, mind you.

Prayers to Ritaxis are best kept short. She’s busy, private. On the upside, her replies are fast and straightforward.

Ritaxis’ Godspell is Weapon Specialization, which technically is a godskill and not normally allowed, but she pulled rank on Nurph and argued her case with admirable strategy, tactics, and even alliances until he caved. But it does advance a little more slowly than the duellist’s version of it, so her clerics have to do more fighting to get as good at it as duellists do. Which is fine with her.

She’s neutral with the switchover. Not a thing she can do about it, so she doesn’t care. Besides, it was good for business when it first hit.

Her oracles are always born on the battlefield, to no one’s surprise.

Ritaxis has a rivalry with Weeky, who despite her nerdiness, has proven that even the best fighters can be outsmarted time and again. It is so, so very aggravating. After all, Weeky doesn’t even lift!

WEEKY

Weeky lifts plenty! Weeky lifts books! And scrolls, and anything else with words that she can get in front of her glasses.

Weeky is a nerd’s nerd, complete with snorting laugh, messy hygiene, and a love of anything she hasn’t read yet. Her clerics follow her lead, founding libraries and schools and universities, and sharing knowledge freely. Many of them dabble in harder careers that require study and experimentation, such as alchemist and enchanter and wizard.

Prayers to Weeky are really fruitful, but the trick is keeping her on topic. You learn a lot, but sometimes it’s not really anything useful right now. You can make Weeky really happy by telling her something she didn’t know, and she might use her massive smarts to slip you a more specific answer than she’s normally allowed to give, by means of a coded answer or a riddle that makes the whole thing clear if you’re smart enough to decipher it.

Weeky’s Godspell is Knack for Languages, so you can learn new things regardless of what language they come in. Of course to honor her properly you really should learn the language on your own, but in case you don’t have the time, it’s a good shortcut. And this can help you learn it, so yay!

Weeky’s Oracles come from scientists, conspiracy theorists, and occultists alike. Anyone who explores odd knowledge and shares it enough is eligible for her favor.

Weeky initially loved the switchover. So much new stuff to read! Although the more she reads, and the more she thinks of the bigger implications, the more worried she is. The more she learns the more her fear grows, and unless things stabilize soon, she may turn her people and her massive mind to finding a way to undo it, even if it means breaking some big rules. She estimates there’s currently a 16% chance that won’t go horribly wrong, so she’s holding off. For now.

Weeky has a rivalry with Ritaxis, who both hates her and needs her. Ritaxis thinks she’s weak as hell, but she has all the good military strategy books. Weeky, for her part, is frightened of Ritaxis, because so much knowledge and experience gets wiped out in the fires of war. My goodness! Sometimes armies even burn LIBRARIES!

YORGUM

Yorgum the Builder is never satisfied.

He crafts, and he crafts, and he crafts, but nothing’s ever quite good enough for him. There’s always a way to improve it. And so his clerics go spread the faith, and learn to craft, and find ways to constantly improve on their work and others. And for a time, that’s good enough. Occasionally it all becomes too much for him, and old Burntbeard retires to his heavenly forge, and disappears for a few years, returning with a new artifact or schematic that makes the other gods blanch. That’s the point they shove Nurph forward to get him to tell Yorgum why it wouldn’t work for the balance, or mollify him by letting Yorgum put it into the world, just in a really deep dungeon guarded by dragons and titans and other horrific threats.

Prayers to Yorgum are answered directly, Yorgum doesn’t hold with that prophecy and riddles shit. It does mean he usually can’t guide his clerics as much as other gods could, but most mortals appreciate the lack of pussyfooting around. And the ones who don’t don’t worship him or do good crafting anyway, so fuck’em.

Yorgum’s Godspell is Mend. Good for fixing broken things so you can get back to improving them, instead of wasting time on repairs.

Yorgum has a few Oracles, usually folks who make an amazing crafting breakthrough. His standards are really high though, so it’s both a blessing and a curse.

The burned beard god loves the changeover. Now that crafting is much easier, it’s let him guide mortals to push the boundaries of crafting farther and faster than he’d ever hoped. The other gods have been trying to reign him in, but whatever. Why just two decades ago, Aeterna and Nebs teamed up to deny him a solid and reliable means of giving mortals immortality through body-hopping! He was so angry about that! But little do they know he already laid the seeds for its revelation. Just a matter of a few nudges here or there, and sitting back, waiting for the right circumstances to come along. Boy, will they be surprised when they see it! Heh, heh…

Yorgum has a rivalry with Aeterna, who is entirely unreasonable and refuses to let him make something that will truly last forever. After all, Konol did it! Why can’t he?

Bonus Content 2-1: Old Friends, New Sheets

GARON’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Garon
Age: 20

Jobs: Toy Golem Level 4
High Dragon Hatchling Level 1
Mercenary Level 5
Cook 4

Attributes: Strength: 105 Constitution: 90 Hit Points: 225 Armor: 40
Intelligence: 52 Wisdom: 46 Sanity: 98 Mental Fortitude: 30
Dexterity: 32 Agility: 44 Stamina: 86 Endurance: 20
Charisma: 45 Willpower: 100 Moxie: 145 Cool: 50
Perception: 106 Luck: 46 Fortune: 152 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Archery - Level 10
Axes and Choppas - Level 50
Brawling - Level 13
Climb - Level 6
Clubs and Maces - Level 5
Dagger - Level 5
Dodge - Level 17
Fishing - Level 21

Shields - Level 50
Spears and Polearms - Level 3
Stealth - Level 7
Swim - Level 7
Swords - Level 16
Thrown Weapons - Level 10

Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 1
Golem Body - Level 3
Magic Resistance - Level 1

High Dragon Hatchling Skills Burninate - Level 3
Chomp - Level 2
Draconic Tongue - Level 1
Dragonseye - NA
Limited Equipment - NA
No Thumbs - NA
Scaly Wings - Level 1

Mercenary Skills Blood is Gold - Level 25
Do the Job - Level 25
Fight the Battles - Level 25
Follow the Dotted Line - Level 25
Forced March - Level 25
Get Paid - Level 6
Secure the Perimeter - Level 25
Take the Hits - Level 25

Cook Skills Cooking - 17
Freshen - 8

Garon’s probably the most practiced combatant of the group. He lived his life expecting to fight often and well, and trained in a variety of weapons before settling upon the axe. Now he’s stuck with brawling, which… well, he’ll get more practice with it, he’s sure. Pretty much every part of his new plush body is a weapon, with some parts of it squishier weapons than others.

Garon was a pretty well-trained mercenary before he died, who used his skills often, at least the ones he COULD practice without causing problems. Now he’s adjusting to life in a High Dragon’s body… well, kinda. It’s got some pretty amazing stats, at least in the High Dragon Hatchling’s focus upon Strength, Willpower, and Perception, and average stats besides. (Except for dexterity, which thankfully his toy golem and mercenary levels and a lot of practice are helping with. To a point.)

High Dragons have two “skills” that are disadvantages. Limited Equipment means that he can’t use most magical items that are meant to be worn, and No Thumbs means he has trouble handling things with his claws and doing fine manipulation in general, and makes it impossible to utilize most weapons.

Of the other four skills, Dragonseye is always on, and it lets him see in darkness and see magic auras around items and people with active spells and effects on them. It’s also got some pretty good telescopic capability, but he’ll need to grind up his perception to get the most out of it. Draconic Tongue lets him speak draconic, and activate his skills by roaring their names in draconic. Their names in that language are pretty much a lot of roars. Garon has two basic attacks… Chomp, which increases the damage of his bite for one, well, chomp, and Burninate, which is a moderately-good fire attack, that costs a bunch of moxie to invoke. It also has the problem of bringing intensely hot flames right in the middle of his mouth, which isn’t a problem for normal high dragons, but… well, he’s flammable. Very flammable.

Scaly Wings are the Last Skill, and they let the dragon fly. They cost stamina to use, but also require practice to use properly, which is why Garon didn’t bust them out during the Ogre fight. The Flight skill is a thing, and he’d rather practice that someplace where he won’t get him or his friends killed, thank you very much.

Fortunately, all else aside, Garon is a practiced mercenary. Mercenaries are soldiers of fortune, literally. Many of their weirder abilities use fortune, except for the ones that use stamina. Do the Job gives him bonuses while on quests, while Fight The Battles is a small, cheap party buff. Take the Hits buffs his defenses for a short time, and Blood is Gold sacrifices fortune and coins to heal himself instantly. Forced March is another party buff that increases his group’s ground speed, Follow the Dotted line gives him a magical tracker that shows him how best to get to a goal, and Secure the Perimeter lets him determine the presence of living things within a certain radius, and their rough distance from him.

Get Paid is a weird one, and the only one he hasn’t practiced much. It lets him curse someone who refuses to follow through on their end of a quest reward. It hits them right in the luck, and lasts until dispelled or payment is delivered. This is the only one he couldn’t practice on his brothers, for obvious reasons.

Overall, Garon’s happy with his change, even if the bulk of his generic skills are no longer useful. He’s got great power and great potential, but he’s already planning out some possible class combos to shore up his weaknesses and allow him to focus his strengths. He’s not as much of a minmaxer as Madeline, but he has his moments, and having friends around to support and save is bringing out the serious side of him. He works best in a group, and though the siutation is weird, to say the least, he’s pretty happy with his new party.

MADELINE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Madeline
Age: 31

Jobs: Toy Golem Level 4
Vampire Level 3
Fire Elementalist Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 60 Constitution: 45 Hit Points: 135 Armor: 23
Intelligence: 44 Wisdom: 38 Sanity: 82(90) Mental Fortitude: 9
Dexterity: 35 Agility: 37 Stamina: 82 Endurance: 26
Charisma: 60 Willpower: 53 Moxie: 113 Cool: 29
Perception: 53 Luck: 35 Fortune: 88 Fate: 5

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 50
Climb - Level 50
Dodge - Level 35

Flight - Level 22
Ride - Level 4
Stealth - Level 50

Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 1
Golem Body - Level 1
Magic Resistance -Level 1

Vampire Skills
Bloodsucker - Level 15
Command - Level 15
Darkspawn - NA
Greater Undead - Level 15
Light Allergies - NA

Fire Elementalist Skills Call Fire - Level 5
Destroy fire - Level 1
Endure Fire - Level 5
Fire Affinity - NA
Least Fire Elemental - Level 2
Mana Focus - NA
Manipulate Fire - Level 5
Shape Fire - Level 1

Madeline is making the best of a bad situation. Fortunately, she doesn’t hold grudges, and why would she? Monsters never have happy endings, but for the minute, at least, she’s got a lot of new options to play with that she never even considered before.

The problem she keeps running into is that it’s been a long time since she’s been this weak, and she lost a LOT of stats she’d gained from grinding with her new body. Toy Golems are weak overall, her vampire levels aren’t up there yet, and her fire elementalist career doesn’t play into her species strengths. It’s all sanity based, and… well, she’s not.

On the plus side, a whole lot of her old weaknesses are out the window now. She’s pretty happy about that. Now if only she can find a way to feed that old familiar bloodthirst that keeps gnawing in her gut…

Vampires have one weakness, in the Light Allergies skill. But since she has no flesh to burn in daylight, and only suffers a minor debuff otherwise, it’s no longer a big deal. On the downside, her Bloodsucker skill is only half as effective. Sure, it’ll actually deal a bit of extra damage, but she can’t drink the blood to heal. That’s a problem. Greater Undead, much like Golem Body, lets her ignore a few things and shrug off other effects. The two were never meant to be combined, at all, and it’s going to help her immensely, she reckons. Darkspawn is a familiar trait by now, no surprises there… Command is her ace in the hole. It lets her cloud a target’s mind temporarily, bending their will to hers-to a point. Now if only her will was greater…

Fire Elementalists are fairly sturdy mage types. They’re animators by dint of being able to call up elementals. And by elementals, I mean one elemental of each type they can summon. That’s their limitation. Their key skill is Fire Affinity, which gives them 75% resistance to flames, and lets them breathe fire without boiling their lungs.

Call Fire produces flame, Destroy Fire extinguishes it (The better the skill the more put out,) Manipulate fire lets her pull, push, and throw it around with limited telekinesis, Endure Fire is a buff that gives whoever it’s on minor resistance to fire… stacked with Fire Affinity it shields the elementalist completely. Others get benefits too, but not as much, obviously. Shape Fire lets her create walls and pictures with flames, and similar structures. Least Fire Elemental summons an Emberling, that mostly floats around and sprays fire at things.

Mana Focus is a booster that we’ve seen before on Threadbare. It buffs the elementalist’s sanity pool by a percentage equal to their level.

All in all, Madeline’s happy with what she’s got. But what she hasn’t realized yet is that being made out of wood, unlike her colleagues, has upsides and downsides. Her armor value is higher than her plushie pals, but she’s not as resistant to bashing type damage, being more brittle. If that ogre had hit her during the fight, that would have been that.

Madeline is a min/maxer and natural munchkin, and is frustrated at not having the stats to back up all her awesome ideas. Still, she figures that if worst comes to worst she’ll just die, and so long as there’s a soulstone around she’ll get a second chance. And hey, maybe Threadbare will be good enough at the Golem thing to make her an even more uber body!

She IS a little weirded out about being in a group that she’s not in charge of. It’s been a while since she wasn’t calling the shots. This is taking some adjustment.

ZUULA’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Zuula
Age: 40

Jobs: Toy Golem Level 4
Half-Orc Level 5
Shaman Level 5
Midwife Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 72 Constitution: 73 Hit Points: 175 Armor: 31
Intelligence: 33 Wisdom: 54 Sanity: 87 Mental Fortitude: 5
Dexterity: 57 Agility: 70 Stamina: 137 Endurance: 35
Charisma: 41 Willpower: 38 Moxie: 79 Cool: 30
Perception: 50 Luck: 49 Fortune: 99 Fate: 5(10)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 31
Climb - Level 32
Clubs and Maces - Level 44
Dagger - Level 12
Dodge - Level 26

Flight - Level 50
Ride - Level 16
Spears and Polearms - Level 38
Stealth - Level 20
Throwing - Level 14

Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 1
Golem Body - Level 5
Magic Resistance -Level 1

Half-Orc Skills Darkspawn - NA
Human Flexibility - NA

Shaman Skills Beastly Skill Borrow - Level 25
Call Vines - Level 25
Dreamquest - Level 25
Fated Preserver - NA
Poison Resistance - Level 25
Secret Herbs and Spices - Level 25
Slow Regeneration - Level 25
Speak With Nature - Level 25

Midwife Skills Birthing - Level 25
Check Infant - Level 25
Newborn’s Mercy - Level 25

Zuula never planned for any of this. But it’s all temporary. Sooner or later her job will be done, and then it’s back to nature and the cycle.

Zuula was a master shaman before her death, and brings that to the table with fierce focus. Which is ironic, considering that her human trait allows experience-penalty-free multiclassing, but then she’s been denying her human side for so long that she barely thinks about it anymore. In fact, “barely thinks” is a good summary, because she mostly runs on instinct until she comes up against something she can’t orc at, then tries to figure out a cunning and brutal way to get around it, relying on wisdom and dirty tricks as much as possible.

Shamans are a weird class. Most of their stuff runs on sanity, but a lot of it is best used before the fight, and there’s a ton of utility stuff in there.

The main combat spells she has right now are threefold. Beastly Skill Borrow, which she just got after the ogre fight, will let her temporarily borrow skills from animal spirits. She’s VERY happy to see that back, as it opens up a lot of options… from silent flight, to bearlike sturdiness, to wolflike speed… there’s pretty much an animal out there for every situation and she knows them all. Call Vines is a good hindering spell, entangling and wrapping foes. It allows decent battlefield control… at least against monsters that can’t tear right through the vines. Slow Regeneration is the last, healing a target over time. It’s a good one to toss on before fights, and best of all, it seems to work on golems. Unlike clerical healing. Which just goes to show that nature is way smarter than stupid wimpy gods.

The rest of her stuff is utility, and has mainly noncombat benefits. Dreamquest puts the target into a trance, and gives them blurry visions of the future. Kind of. Sometimes they’re of the present, or things that never were. It’s weird. Fated Preserver is a passive, it marks her as a guardian of nature to other guardians of nature, and boosts her fate. Poison Resistance is a great defense… which golem body pretty much renders moot. Secret Herbs and Spices lets her track down the plants she’s looking for in the vicinity, and gives her the “Herbalism” skill without having to take the Herbalist Job. Speak with Nature lets her talk with natural animals, plants, and nature-related monsters. Of course, not all of them have much to say, but hey.

Zuula is also a practiced midwife, and relieved to see that as her levels rise again, the old skills are coming back as they were… no need to practice them all over again. Newborn’s Mercy gives any infant she slaps it on a luck boost. Check Infant lets her look at baby’s status screens… a thing that it hasn’t occured to her to try on her new party members. Even though it totally WOULD work.

All in all, Zuula wants to regain her shamanly might and kick copious amounts of ass, while making sure her family is in a good spot before moving on. Although… she IS actually having fun with this new existence, more than she thought she would. And though she spent her first life shamaning and doing shamanly things, and leaving all else to other people, she knows that if more jobs open up, she might be tempted to branch out a bit. But to what?

Certainly not cleric or oracle. Gods be puny! And not cultist, because dark powers are stupid and have suckered orcs into doing their dirty work for way too long. But there’s plenty of other stuff out there, and there IS that human skill she’s been ignoring all her last life.

She will wait and see what comes. Yes, that is wise…

Story Interlude 2: Bad Comfort

Cecelia was far, far from Reason, and she hated it.

She had her plate, at least, enchanted with the same heating runes that kept her warm in Central Sylvania’s chilly spring, and a covered wagon to ride in to spare her legs and back, but she really, really wanted to be inside a ton of steel and more esoteric components forged by her own hand.

“You’ve got that look again,” Morris said, grabbing the wagon’s tailboard and hopping up into it, moving easily in his own armor. “That look like you just sat on a hedgehog. Why the resting bitchface?”

The bastard had hit level 25 recently, and loved showing off one of his top skills that let him move around like his armor was weightless. Cecelia ignored that, and answered his question. “I miss my Steam Knight suit.”

“Fff. No way you’d get that to the front in one piece. Even if you had the coal to make the trip, the rangers would be on it like Zara on a cute noble boy. Better to let them ship it piece by piece with the waystoners.”

“Like they could do anything to me while I was wearing it.” She muttered.

“They can, Dame Ragandor.”

Cecelia sat bolt upright, twisted around and snapped her fist to her chest with a CLANG as gauntlet met breastplate. “Sergeant Sir!”

“At ease.” Out of his helm, Sergeant Tane’s face was solid and square, with a crooked nose broken long ago and never set right. Framed with blonde hair, rapidly receding from a high forehead, the man resembled nothing so much as an old lion. His eyes flickered as he glanced around the four trainees, now full knights, that rode in the back of the wagon.

Behind him, the cloth separating the teamsters from their human cargo was loose, and Cecelia could see the horses, and between them, the road ahead, misty and muddy from the rain that had been falling for the last two days.

“They don’t hit you where you’re strong,” he said, keeping his voice low so they had to strain to hear over the raindrops. “They come in the night, or in weather like this. When you’re sleeping, or exhausted from slogging through mud, or out taking a shit just past the perimeter. That’s when the arrows come, or the blades flash, and if you’re a soft target you’re dead, and then they’re gone as quickly as they came. You can’t touch them in the woods, you can’t find them when they want to hide, and they would love to bring home the head and helm of one of His Majesty’s Knights.”

Next to Cecelia, Lana tensed up. “Don’t we have scouts? I thought they were good in the woods.”

“Yeah. Which is why you have to be a top scout to be a ranger, along with some other stuff nobody knows except for them.” Kayin spoke up. “That’s the rumor I heard, anyway.”

“And none of our scouts are at the top of their field anymore,” Tane confirmed. “When the traitor Jericho deserted almost five years back, he took our best and brightest assets in that job with him. The ones we’ve trained up since get targeted by his resistance. So never assume that you’re safe, not here in the wilds, not in camp, not until you’re at the front. Keep your eyes open, keep a buddy in sight at all times, and whenever you’re out of armor I want Always In Uniform up.”

“I’ve got some scout training, sir.” Cecelia offered. “I could take an extra shift, borrow a horse and ride perimeter-”

“Absolutely not,” Tane said.

Cecelia blinked. “It wouldn’t be any-”

“Did I stutter, Dame?” His eyes bored into her. Cecelia met them…

WILL +1

…and managed to keep from looking away.

“You know why, Dame Ragandor,” Tane said, his voice barely audible enough to hear.

She did. It was because she was her father’s heir. “Yes sir. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

He smiled then, grudging respect in his eyes. “I do. Have patience, your time will come at the front. As you were, knights.” He returned to the front of the wagon, buttoning up the cloth separator as he went.

As it turned out, her time came way sooner than that.

*****

Cecelia’s eyes snapped open, and she didn’t know why. Then training kicked in. “Always in Uniform.” She sat up, feeling the air solidify around her, and peered around the tent. Firelight shown through the walls of it, flickering in the glow, and for the second, all seemed still.

But the flap was open. It hadn’t been, when she went to sleep. She sat up, sliding a dagger into her hand as she went-

-and her face brushed against something crinkly.

Paper.

She froze, as it rustled against her face, then felt with her free hand, groping into she had it. A tug pulled it away from the thread it was tied to. Cecelia could just make it out in the firelight, a crumpled wad of parchment.

“Appraise,” she hissed. No traps showed up. It was a simple parchment note. She tucked into her sleeping bag, taking the note with her, and said “Glowgleam.” It took a bit to dial down the light to where it shouldn’t be visible from her tent. (And also to keep it from blinding her too badly.) The note was very simple. It said GO SOUTH TO PADS VILLAGE IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE TRUTH OF YOUR KINGDOM, DAME RAGANDOR

Cecelia’s breath whistled between her teeth. She read it again, just to make sure she was understanding it correctly, then killed the glowgleam.

Wide awake now, she pushed out of the tent, dagger in hand, peering around-

-and then the screaming started.

“Fire! Fire!”

Three of the wagons burst into flames, and for a second there were glowing red stars falling out of the night…

Flame Arrows.

Mordecai had told her about those, once. An archer skill. Fire arrows coming out of the woods meant-

“Rangers!” She shouted. “We’re under attack! Able bodies get those fires out! Noncombatants take shelter! Go go go!” She didn’t know where the officer in charge was, and it didn’t matter. They’d order the same thing, she was sure.

Then the horses screamed, as the falling arrows swept toward them, and she gasped as she saw the caravan’s steeds fleeing for all they were worth. But how? They’d been tied earlier, she’d even helped-

She thought back to the paper in her tent. That was how. She shut up and helped with the bucket brigade, until Sergeant Tane relieved her, and told her to go suit up. “We’re keeping watch until dawn. You can sleep in the wagon.”

Unquestioning, she headed out to the perimeter, whispering “Keen Eye” as she went. Which is why she spotted the body first.

In the morning, the tally was final, and devastating. A third of the horses had been lost in the night. The two wagons worth of food had been mostly burned, doused with oil before the flaming arrows fell, less than a quarter of their ration boxes could be salvaged.

And of the seven scouts and three mercenary guards who had been tasked to keep the perimeter, two were corpses and the rest were gone like they’d never been.

*****

“Haven’t you slept yet?” Graves asked, concerned. He was the oldest of her squad besides Sergeant Tane, a thickly-built man in his early thirties. He kept a white-streaked goatee, a neatly-trimmed mustache, and a friendly smile on his face at all times. “You really should turn in, it’s bad for your pools.”

It was easy to forget he’d transferred in from the necromancer corps, after some hushed-up-but-probably horrible scandal. But he was a knight now, and he’d sweated harder than Celia to get into shape and survived the proportionately-harder tests that Tane threw at him, so none of that mattered to the squad. It was pretty certain that Graves wasn’t his real name, too.

“I’ve got a scout skill that helps me not sleep,” Celia replied, scanning the road to both sides as she tucked the little metal device back into her pouch. The rain was still falling, but it had slowed. So had they, though. Most of the remaining wagons were down to one horse apiece.

“Must be nice. I could do all sorts of training if I never had to worry about sleep.” He smiled. “Figured I’d end like that eventually, I suppose. I thought I’d be a lich someday. If they exist, I mean. I was going to be the one to discover it.”

“It’s not perfect,” she confessed, leaning against the backboard, feeling her armor settle against her spine. “Every extra hour I spend awake now I pay for later. Going to crash hard.”

“Does the Sergeant know you’re doing this?”

“I cleared it through him first,” she sighed. This wasn’t the first time one of the Squad had asked her this question, and she found their lack of faith disturbing. She ran her fingers along her black plate helm, before sliding it back onto her head. The rain pattered against it, instead of her sodden hair. It’d take a fair amount of polishing, when she was finally out of it.

“Mm,” Graves grunted. He coughed, spat into the mud. “Listen. I’ve… asked the others. Now I’ll ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

He nodded toward the back of the wagon, and she followed, unbuttoning the blanket and leaving the weary teamster to do his job.

“I’ve got a skill. From my old job,” Graves said, stretching out his hand, palm up. “Soulstone.” A solid black crystal materialized.

Cecilia nodded. “Me too. Appraise.”

“Enchanter, right? I was going to learn that one at some point.”

“Among other things.” She looked it over. “It’s empty. Level one crystal? Huh, Gemcutters could get some use out of it, but…”

“Yeah. It shatters if it’s used in crafting, unless it’s full.”

“So what-” The answer came to her. “It holds souls. Of course it does. Why are you offering it to me?”

“Well…” Graves chewed on his lip. “I was going to pitch this to the squad at the front, before we went into battle. But we’ve got rangers after us now, so… look. We might die here. If they’re serious about killing us and we slip up, we’re dead.”

She thought of her tent, slit open in the night, and a piece of parchment that had been left behind.

They don’t want me dead, she knew. But she didn’t know why.

Then the second part of the answer came to her. “Wait. You want to catch our souls in those if we die?”

Graves nodded. “I do.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got another spell that lets me and anyone around me speak to spirits. It’d give you a chance to say goodbye to people, and wrap up any last-minute business you’ve got unfinished.” He shrugged. “Not everyone gets that opportunity. I’ve spoken with a lot of undead that got themselves ghosted because of dying regrets. I don’t want to see that happen to any of you. Let’s be honest, we may not entirely be friends, but you’re the closest thing I’ve got these days.” He smiled.

“What are soulstones really used for?”

“Sorry?”

“I know enough about necromancy to know most of it isn’t very nice. They’ve got to have other uses.”

He sighed. “They do. In a pinch, if there’s a corpse or remains but no spirit hanging around, I could use a soulstoned spirit to power it instead. That would use up the spirit, put it in the undead.”

“Would it be me in there? If that happened?”

“If it were a wight or a mummy, maybe, but I’m only twelfth level. You’d be stuck in a lesser undead’s body, unable to control it or do anything.” He blinked. “If I did that. Which I wouldn’t.”

His eyes flicked to the side as he said that.

“Did you tell the others about that part of it?” Cecelia asked, staring into his eyes, leaning in closer. “Or did that little bit get left out?”

Graves blinked. “They… they didn’t ask. Look, if you don’t want to, okay-”

“How many accepted?”

“Half the squad.”

“Go tell them.”

“I… what?”

“Go tell them about this part of it. See if they’re still okay with it then.”

“What? Why? I wouldn’t use them as zombie fodder, that’s just… you don’t…”

“Tell them. I’ll go with you.”

He hesitated, and sweat rolled down his face, a drop at a time.

“We tell them now, or I tell the Sergeant,” She guessed, fishing for a reaction.

She got one. The man blanched. “Fine.” Graves said, his smile long gone. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

They did, going from Renick, to Lana, to Morris. Lana blanched, then thought it over. “Sure, okay. Just promise me it won’t come to that.” Graves did.

Morris shrugged and laughed. “If you zombify me just put me outta my misery quick, okay old man? Dead’s dead.”

Renick just smiled, and patted Graves’ shoulder. “It’s fine. I trust you.”

That had almost floored the older man. He simply nodded, and his mouth worked a bit, before he thanked Renick.

As Graves walked away, Cecelia walked with him. “I didn’t expect that,” Graves finally managed.

“Yeah. And my answer’s yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, you can soulstone me.”

He stared at her. “I thought you wouldn’t… why did you…”

“You’re used to not being trusted, I get that. It’s why you left out some of the details that would make your suggestion sound sinister. I know you’re not going to torment us or do something stupid like that. I trust you. But I wanted to make sure you trusted the others enough to give them the full story. This doesn’t work if we don’t all trust each other, if we don’t have each other’s backs, Sir Graves. And now they know you have theirs, and more importantly, you know they’ve got yours.”

Besides, the cynical part of her added, If you stick me in a zombie my father will fucking kill you.

But that part she didn’t share with him. Graves smiled, and thumped his chest with a clang that made the nearest drovers jump. “You’re going to be a hell of a queen someday. I look forward to serving you, milady.”

And that drove it in.

She WOULD be Queen someday, if she didn’t die first.

All this, all these people, all this land… she’d have to worry about it. Rule it.

Her father had unlocked Ruler for her, recognized her as his heir, but asked her to refrain from taking the job just yet. And she had obeyed, as she’d sworn to. She’d thought it was because he didn’t trust her with it yet. Because he thought she couldn’t handle the responsibility.

But what if it was because he was sparing her from the full weight of it? What if he was giving her what time he could? What if it was his version of mercy?

Her thoughts a whirl, she gave Grave’s pauldron a light punch, smiled, and headed back to watch the perimeter while they settled in to secure the camp for the night.

*****

She woke in the back of the wagon, feeling like she’d just been through winter as a bear. The aftermath of Wakeful Wandering was always like that.

In the distance she heard Tane’s voice rising through the rain. Stretching out the kinks, feeling like she’d been tumbled down a hill, she slid down from the wagon and waddled her way through the mud. The Sergeant nodded at her as she joined the rest of the squad, and saluted. The others didn’t spare her a glance, which told her right away it was serious.

“To sum up, for our late riser, we’ve got five days of travel and one day of food left. We’re out in the middle of nowhere and we aren’t far away from the last ranger ambush to risk foraging. They haven’t hit us since, but the Captain’s assessment is that they won’t pass up a chance to pick off more personnel if split up and try to hunt. Which leaves requisitioning food from the local villages. The rangers don’t involve civilians in their treason or put them at risk, so that should be safe. It’ll delay us, but there’s no help for that. Dame Ragandor, are you rested well enough to lead a three-man task force?”

That surprised her. Then her stomach growled. Loudly. Morris fought to keep from laughing, and Zara failed completely, snickering through her visor. “Yes sir. I ah, could use a ration beforehand. If we can spare one.”

“Very good. You’ve got the Northern road then.” Tane’s face was stonier than usual. Was he trying to keep from laughing? “I’ll take the other three south-”

South, the parchment had said. “Actually, sir, do you mind if I take the southern route?”

Tane raised an eyebrow. “The hell difference does it make?”

“I think I might know someone down that way. If we’re where I think we are.”

“And where do you think we are, Dame?” Tane’s voice gave warning. He hadn’t liked being interrupted.

So she gambled. “If we’re north of Pads village, then we’re where I think we are.”

That surprised him. “Who the hell do you know-nevermind. Yes, you’ve got south then. I’ll be taking Renick and Lana and Zara. The rest of you are under your acting commander. Go saddle up.”

The Knight’s horses had been battle trained, and spared the worst of the stampede. Cecelia, who didn’t have one, got the loan of one of the more steady draft horses, a stout loaf of bread baked with dried meat and vegetables, a waterskin, and a couple of minutes to eat her ration bar before they departed. She used the rain to soften the tough comestible, and chased it down with slugs of water. The stuff was horrible, but eventually the hungry condition evaporated from her status screen, and that was all she asked of it.

“Horsemanship,” she muttered, as she vaulted up into the draft horse’s saddle. It stamped and trotted uneasily, unused to being directly mounted. She soothed it as she could, as it bucked and turned, trying to convince her to get back down. “Oh stop that. Here… Favored Mount.” It felt weird to be saying that when she wasn’t riding Reason, but it did the trick well enough, and the horse settled as her buff rolled over it.

No skill up this time, which was a pity. She really needed more practice with this one. It was a level 15 skill and she’d only been that level for a few months.

Once she was sure of it, she dismounted and lead it over to the other knights, already kneeling in a circle, the old ritual, the familiar custom. Without saying a word she knelt, until Tane nodded. Eight blades hissed free from sheathes, and eight helms pressed against the hilts as they held the swords out, points down before them.

“Our Code to mind, our foes to fall,” Tane said, as the rain slicked down his armor.

“To Gods, King, and Crown, we owe our all,” the rest of the Knights chorused in unison.

“Obey royal decrees of the land, against the loyal raise no hand,” Tane spoke, as thunder rolled in the distance.

“Obey the King, shield the weak. Let no treason our lips speak.” The rest finished, Cecelia joining in happily.

This was truly what separated them from other warrior jobs… the Knight’s skill, Code of Chivalry. Other jobs could fight, sure, but knights always fought for something. And whatever code they chose when they began their career, the longer they kept to it, the more it gave them.

In Cecelia’s case, what it gave her was a nice round buff of thirty to all her defenses. Most of the other trainees had more, thanks to higher levels in the class. But all it took was one slip, and the skill reset back down to one, and her buff fell to nothing.

Graves and Kayin and Morris fell in behind her as she left the camp, riding down the swampy, well-used road south.

“So who the hell do you know in Pads?” Kayin said, finally. “That’s the sticks, the middle of nowhere.”

“I’d rather not say,” Cecelia said. “It’s possible they’re not there anymore. And uh, they might not be… on the right side of things. We might have to fight them.”

If this was Mordecai trying to get back in contact with her, then he definitely wasn’t on the right side. But she didn’t want him captured and tortured again. This was… complicated.

She couldn’t let the opportunity pass by, though. Someone had risked a lot to deliver that message to her. What did they want her to see?

The rain slackened as they rode, but the sky remained soggy gray, wet wool gray, and the road twisted, taking them past stockaded farmsteads.

“So how does this work?” Kayin asked, after they passed the third steading. “Should we be going up and knocking on doors?”

“No,” Cecelia shook her head. “Per the Articles of the Cylvanian accord, any order of military requisition must be presented to the local lord. This place will have a Baron, or something. We’ll talk to him.”

“Really?” Morris said, sneering as they passed a field full of serfs digging in loose rows, muddy faces brown and open mouths pink as they stared at the passing knights. “And how will we know which one’s the Baron?”

“He’ll be the one who isn’t totally covered in shit,” Graves said, and the Knights laughed. Celia didn’t.

The fields were big, and looked well-kept. But everyone in that field was scrawny and thin. Most of them were moving slowly, and a few looked far, far too old to be out there.

Sure, it was Spring and they’d just gotten through a long winter, but… a farm that size should be able to provide for everyone there.

Something was off.

Three hours down the muddy road, they finally came to Pads. It was little more than a collection of a few dozen huts, on the edge of a forest. Smoke billowed up from smokeholes, all save for five chimneys, all on the same house. It squatted on the highest hill, the only building in the village made of stone, sprawling and painted, with high walls around a grove of carefully-kept trees.

“There’s the noble,” Cecelia said. “Has to be.”

“Those are peach trees,” Kayin said, frowning. “Weird choice.”

“Why’s that?” Morris asked.

“They don’t grow well in this part of the valley. They must take a wicked amount of care to get that big.”

“Eh, maybe they’ve got a Kossite cleric running the show or something,” Morris shrugged. “More for us to take back for the convoy, then, if that’s the case. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

*****

“I’m sorry, it’s simply out of the question,” Baron Colm Comfort said. “We have no reserves left after the winter. We simply cannot spare enough to make a difference.”

“I see.” Cecelia turned from the portly man to look over the sitting room, adorned with a random assortment of fine goods. Mismatched candlesticks of gold and silver clashed next to chairs and couches of all makes, each of them made with the finest cloth and craftsmanship. Paintings of everything from flowers to landscapes to people adorned the walls.

It didn’t match, and Cecelia thought she knew why. “Why don’t you tell us how much you can spare, and we’ll decide if it’s enough to make a difference.”

The Baron rubbed his face, sending his three chins wobbling. “Well, I, er, I’d have to consult my ledger. Check the storehouse. That would take some time, and I don’t know if I’d want to delay you so long-”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Cecelia said. “The convoy’s not going anywhere without food. But they can last a day or two without us. I trust you have no problem with us staying the night while you check.”

Oh, he didn’t like that at all. But nonetheless, he offered a smile that showed rotten teeth. “I’ll see what I can do. Yes, certainly.”

“We’ll go hunting while you do that, see if we can scrape up something so you don’t have to stretch as far. I trust you’ve a spare room or something we can store our armor in? It’s hard to sneak up on game in full plate, after all.”

Kayin inhaled sharply, next to her. She heard Morris shift, felt the intensity of his gaze on her.

The Baron’s mouth closed, and the older man stared at her, gears turning behind his eyes. “Of course. Would you like me to send my huntsman along with you?”

“Absolutely. Just give us some privacy to shuck out of our armor, and we’ll be happy to follow your man into the woods.”

“Of course, of course. Right this way!”

The Baron’s basement was full of kegs and racks full of wine and ale.

“Cecelia?” Morris asked. “Do you know what you’re doing here?”

“Mostly.” Cecelia frowned. “Did you ever see that much gold in your life?”

“No way he’s come by that honestly,” Kayin said, “but is it any business of ours?”

“He was trying to get us out of here pretty quickly,” Graves rubbed his goatee. “Why?”

“Hiding food, obviously,” Morris snickered. “Probably in his gut.”

“That’s part of it. I need to see his ledger.” Cecelia nodded. “And I want to give him a chance to try to kill us.”

Silence fell over the basement.

“Wait, what?” Morris asked.

Kayin grinned. “I like it.”

“How loud are we going, here?” Graves asked.

“Depends on how he plays it,” Cecelia decided.

Morris looked between the other three knights, confused. “Did I miss something?”

Cecelia grinned. “Not really. Here’s the plan…”

*****

Baron Colm Comfort hadn’t gotten to the age he was by taking chances. But this one… this one was less of a chance, and more of a free meal.

They’d come right to him. And then they’d even taken off their armor…

Pity about the horses, but he couldn’t risk anyone checking after them, now could he? He’d wait until nightfall and send four of the lads south into the woods, wearing their armor and riding their horses. The mouthbreathing serfs wouldn’t know any different. Then the lads could come back with the armor, and the horses would be set free to roam.

Armor could be disenchanted and sold. Horses couldn’t.

He stretched out a hand to touch it… and drew it back. It was a little too neat. He had to be sure.

Up to the top of the house then, peering through the spyglass he’d gotten, watching the woods. He wasn’t lying when he told them his huntsman Jacob was the best at his job. They just hadn’t asked what Jacob’s job was. Not that Colm would have told them it anyway. Bandit was a much-maligned profession.

Twelve minutes later, he saw glass wink against the sun, from one of the tallest trees in the eastern forest. He smiled, fanning himself with a fine silken fan, before closing it with a “Snap.” Knights out of armor versus two dozen well-trained bandits, striking from ambush. It had ended in the only way possible.

Hells, the best of them were up to level seven. Against four unarmored young knights? No chance for the youths at all.

Then he started in surprise. There were forms moving out of the forest. Stepping from the shadows of the trees, heading toward the hill, toward the manner. “What the devils?” Colm said, bringing the spyglass around and focusing in on the oncoming group.

And his heart fluttered, as he recognized them.

Those were Jacob’s band. Only they were moving slowly, drunkenly…

…and, as the Baron watched blood ooze down from one’s face, to fall down slack lips, he realized that they were pretty beaten up. In fact, given their visible injuries, they looked, well, dead.

Realization struck him, and he bolted to his feet, hurried downstairs, wheezing all the way. A trap! It had been bait, and he’d fallen for it! They had backup out of town, somewhere, and the ambush had been ambushed!

He got down to the basement, locking the door behind him, and went to the wine rack, pulling a bottle out of a certain spot, and hearing the mechanism groan and shudder, before the wall opened up. Beyond lay the darkness of his escape route, and the choicest of his treasures.

But, then… he could get some small measure of vengeance before he went, and get a few more reagents and crystals for his trip, now couldn’t he?

He turned back to the suits of armor piled in the corner, smiling-

-and found them standing, swords leveled at him.

“What? What is this?” He bellowed, stepping backwards toward the tunnel.

A mouth formed on one of the helms. “Before I was a knight, I was an animator,” Cecelia spoke. “I animated these before we left the basement. Then it was Dollseye to let me see through my animi and Magic Mouth to tell you exactly how screwed you are.”

“I see! You’ve animated all four of them. And one of you’s a necromancer too, to raise my men!”

“Obvious, really. You’ve been working with the local bandits, preying on the trade routes,” Cecelia’s voice filled the room, as the armor advanced in unison, slowly. The fat Baron backed up, step by step as they came. “What sort of man does that? Not one that pays his honest taxes, or looks after his serfs. You’ve been stealing, stealing from the crown, and stealing from your own people.”

“I did what I had to!” The Baron roared. “The Crown? Don’t make me laugh! The Crown takes its taxes and leaves us to our own devices! Everything goes to the war effort now, and nobody guards the roads or the settlements! They don’t care if monsters attack us, or if bandits prey on us. There is no help for the weak! The only way to survive is to be strong ourselves, and everything this village has, every day it survives it owes to me and to my friends… who you just slaughtered.” Colm sneered. “But you won’t take me! I know animi. Animi can fight, but they’re not great at it.” He stopped walking, sneering now, feeling his confidence return. “I can get to them, and all it’ll take is one touch to disenchant each one. I’ll survive and they’ll be dust. What of your precious armor then, hm?”

“They might be slow, yes,” Cecilia spoke as the armor clanked on with endless patience, “but I’ve got a friend, and she’s quick as death. That’s the name for it, right?”

“Fast as Death,” spoke a voice behind the Baron and he jumped, whirled to see Kayin behind him, a pair of knives in her hands and a mad grin on her face. “Got you, fat boy.”

“What? How… I saw you leave!”

“Yeah. And you didn’t see me sneak back after we beat the shit out of your huntsman. He spilled your plans. You saw the mirror, right? He was really eager to cooperate after Cecelia animated his pants and started up the nutcracker special.”

Feet upstairs, thumping on the door. A distant groaning, that he knew from experience in his younger adventuring days. Zombies.

“You’ve met our assassin. She’s the least of your worries. Before he was a knight, Graves was a necromancer,” Cecelia continued. “If you don’t surrender we’ll kill you, he’ll tuck your soul into something horrible, and you’ll be trapped in a rotting shell forever.”

“Animator, Necromancer, Assassin… Who the hell are you people?” Colm shrieked. “Next you’ll be telling me that dopey-looking youth with you was a goddamn model!”

“No, he’s just a knight. Twenty-five levels worth,” Cecelia said. “Unfortunately for your bandits.”

The Baron’s mouth shut. He hastily reassessed the odds.

“I surrender.”

“Good boy,” said Cecelia. “Now let’s talk about food again…”

*****

Sergeant Tane blinked, as he watched the four wagons roll in from the south. Yoked to the fattest oxen he’d ever seen, each one of them was laden to the brim with bags, and each one had a grinning Knight sitting on the buckboard, guiding them in.

“You’re late,” he said, glancing up to the darkening sky… then down to the bound, fat figure in the last wagon. “Who the fuck is that?”

“The former Baron of Pads,” Cecelia said. “Guilty by his own admission, and his own records, of theft, treason against the crown, and preying upon the weak. His own people told me everything. Ah, they’ve got an alderman now, until the Crown can appoint someone new out there.”

“Might take a while.” Tane said. “He confessed willingly?”

“Yes, after he tried to kill us.”

“Oh. Well that’s simple, then.” He nodded to Renick. “Take Lana and go execute this son of a bitch. Behind the latrines, I’m thinking.”

“Yes sir.” Renick nodded to Lana, and the two moved forward.

Tane watched Cecelia’s face turn pale, as the man shrieked and screamed behind her. “Wait, what? We don’t have the authority to do that!”

“We’re a military convoy to the front,” Tane explained. “We can’t spare the guards to bring this man back to Castle Cylvania for a trial, and I don’t see any witnesses, which means you can’t go back to profess his guilt. I’m not going to feed a traitor food we can take to the front instead. So he dies.”

Cecelia looked back to her companions. Kayin shook her head. “He tried to kill us, Cecelia.”

Graves nodded to support Kayin. “He’s horrible. Coming from me, that means a lot, right?”

But it was Morris who seemed to shake her the most. “Yeah, it’s not exactly in accordance with the old laws, but… we’ve got field authority, right? And our Code of Chivalry doesn’t say we have to follow the laws, just the King and the Crown. So it’s okay if we do this.”

“We…” Cecelia licked her lips. “We should follow the laws, too.” She whispered, as Renick and Lana hauled the shrieking Baron away, avoiding her eyes. “If we don’t, who will?”

“He got stupid and he got caught,” Tane shrugged. “If it wasn’t us, then someone else would have got him anyway. Really, he brought this on himself. And that’s the end of it, Dame Ragandor.”

She watched him go, watched them drag him off into the treeline, and only closed her eyes as the fat man’s screams rose up, then fell silent.

When she looked back, Tane was next to her, his eyes understanding. “Come on then,” he murmured, hopping up next to her and taking the reigns. “You did good. Don’t let that trouble you.”

“He was supposed to get a trial,” Cecelia said. “He should have gotten a trial.”

“He did, more or less. He had it when he tried to kill you and failed. The truth of it…” Tane said, looking away. “The truth of it is that things are messy right now. Chaos everywhere, rebels and traitors all around us. They know the law. They try to use it against us. The King’s way is a hard way, but it’s the only way to us. And if you don’t like it, milady, then you’re welcome to return your armor. And go back to the castle, while we sort it out.”

Cecelia took a deep breath. She raised her gauntlet to her face, and stared at it. Then closed it into a fist. “No. I did something today. Something good. That village is better off in charge of themselves. And I’m not going to run out on my friends. I can help them. I can help everyone.”

Tane nodded. “Good. Then I’ve got news for you. Messenger imp came by today, checking on us. Your Steam Knight suit’s arrived at Fort Bronze.”

“That’s the last stop before the front, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll drop the food off there. Then it’s into action. But not against the dwarves.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll tell the others when we’re together, but I might as well tell you now. There’s been a rebel uprising, just southeast of the Fort, in another shitty frontier village. Some little fishing town called Outsmouth…”

Unsafe Sects 1

The wagon rolled down the overgrown road, lurching and hobbling as the wooden cats pulling it slunk along, tails bobbing in time with their gait. Bright patches of colored cloth on the wagon’s cloth covering spelled out big words, that read, simply,

ANNIE MATA’S TRAVELLING TOY CIRCUS

The toys rode in the front, the cats slept in the back, and Threadbare put his tools away as he finally, finally finished the last part of the dummy’s mouth.

Your Tailoring Skill is now level 45!

You are now a level 10 tailor!

DEX+1

PER +1

He nodded, then arranged the robes and hood and veil carefully over the reclining form, until nothing could be seen of its face. Thick gloves already covered her hands. You could tell there was a human shape underneath there, but that was about it, really.

At least, that’s what Zuula and Garon and Madeline had said, instructing Fluffbear to carve the wooden parts, and Threadbare on how best to pad them.

It had been a bit of a rush job, regardless. After they’d all agreed to the plan, Zuula had put him through the rigorous training necessary to make it work. And now here he was, five animator levels later, ready to give it a whirl.

Threadbare tapped on the cloth partition between the front and the back of the wagon. Next to him, Pulsivar opened an irritated eye. Seriously, why was it so hard for the little bear to understand the concept of naptime?

“I think we’re ready,” Threadbare said. “I’m going to stop the cats now if you want to come and watch.”

The cats halted, the doll haunters and Fluffbear unbuttoned the partition, and gazed upon the fruits of their labor.

“No way is this going to work,” Garon said.

“No, it be perfect!” Zuula insisted. “Used to have travelling animator shows all de time twenny years ago. Some of dem even had actual animators running dem.”

“Oh yeah,” Madeline said. “I remembah those. Like most of them were puppeteers lookin’ fa work, and carnies.”

“Carnies? Sounds like a monster type,” Garon remarked, poking his head in, and using his draconic advantage to swivel his neck until he could see over the other toys.

“Kinda. Half of ‘em were on tha run from something. I fit right in until they started insisting I work days.” Madeline shrugged. “There might have been a few minor disagreements and some bloodless corpses left behind, right before I split. Bleh, just thinking about it makes me taste corndogs. Guess that’s something I don’t have to worry about no more.” She rubbed her mouth, sadly. Some experimentation, and a lot of clean and presses, and in one case the disassembly of her new mouth combined with a thorough cleaning later, and Madeline was forced to the realization that she simply couldn’t drink blood. It did nothing for her now.

Which was a problem, given the vampire job’s… well, nudging in that direction. It wasn’t exactly a skill, per se, but it was a kind of loose craving. Couple that with the realization that she wouldn’t gain experience from drinking blood unless she actually drank blood, and her regrets were starting to build.

“Magic Mouth,” Threadbare said.

“Hello, can you hear me?” The dummy said.

The toys considered that for a minute. “That still sounds a little like you,” Fluffbear said.

“Ya putting it in the raht spaht, raht?” Madeline asked.

“Oh yes. It’s below the strings and chambers we made.”

They two bears had gotten very good at building voiceboxes over the last couple of days. And given a whole human torso to work with, they’d been able to fit in their latest model without the usual worries about miniaturization that normally limited them. The voice came out of the tiny mouth at the bottom of the dummy’s esophagus, fed through some strings and amplifying chambers, and came out sounding like a female human’s voice. And whenever the strings vibrated, the dummy’s jaw moved, so that under the veil she’d look like she was talking. Enough to fool someone who didn’t look too closely.

That was the plan, anyway. Right now it sounded like someone speaking from the bottom of a well.

“It’s not working, is it?” Threadbare asked.

“You’re still way soft,” Garon said. “Can you, I don’t know, yell or something?”

The dummy’s jaw crooked open, and a monotone wail issued forth. The cats, already a little freaked out by the whole thing, abandoned wagon.

“This is creepy,” Missus Fluffbear complained. “Are you sure we can’t use a zombie instead?”

“Don’t think that would help much,” Garon said. “No, look, this might actually be fine. Animators are supposed to be weird anyway, it’s part of the mystique.”

“No, this no be mistake,” Zuula insisted. “It work fine.”

“Mystique, Mom, not mistake.”

“Is what she said!”

“Nevermind. Ah, look, Threadbare, could you stop that please?”

The dummy stopped wailing.

“You’ve got decent volume, just… I don’t know, work on the voice a bit. Remember how Celia was. Only older.”

“Like Zuula,” the plush orc grinned.

“Sweet Nebs no, don’t try to talk like Zuula. Just… it’ll work out fine. Outmarsh isn’t exactly a big city, we won’t be there long. Just enough to find out what we need to know and where to go.”

“All right,” Threadbare said, as he started sewing up the dummy’s yellow robe. “I think we’re about ready, then.”

“I still got my resavations,” Madeline said. “Wooden cats is weird. Be bettah if we had horses.”

“I’ve never seen a horse so I couldn’t carve them,” Fluffbear shrugged. “But I know cats! And this way if Mopsy or Pulsivar die we can golemify them!”

“Cats is fine,” Garon said. “But it does mean that you’ll be on your own for a while. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I’m okay with it. It means you’re stronger and that’s good. Besides, I’ve got the kitties to keep me company!”

The whole cover story depended on Threadbare controlling the cats and the dummy, and the simplest and easiest way to do that was to have all three of them in his party. Which left three slots for other members, as the maximum party size was seven.

Add to that the fact that Threadbare had an animator skill called “Creator’s Guardians,” which seemed to be meant for animi, but also affected the doll haunters for some weird reason, and the choice was obvious. It was a decent-sized buff, currently about thirteen to all attributes, and at the level they were at it made a significant difference. Made it easier to think, easier to resist bad impulses, easier to survive if something went wrong.

When, Zuula had pointed out. When something goes wrong.

“Now that that’s decided, we may as well get moving again,” Threadbare gestured and the wooden cats resumed their travel, clattering down the road.

“I’ll take watch,” Garon said, heading out to the seat. The cats did a decent job, and could react to simple instructions like “follow the road,” and “stop before you walk off a cliff,” but didn’t do so well with obstacles.

“Zuula come too,” Said his mother, clambering up on the board.

“Me three!” Missus Fluffbear raced out front. “I want to practice whipping!”

“Pass,” Madeline said. “Too bright. I’ll get naht shift.”

“Good,” said the dummy. “You can help me practice.”

Madeline chuckled. “Absolutely Missus Mata! Tell me how’s the family?”

“Oh they’re ingrates, they never call or send lotters.”

“Letters.”

“Those too.”

“And what do you think of the weathah lately?”

“It’s horrible! Back in my day, it wasn’t raining sunny snowing or whatever.”

“No no no, you’re supposed ta pick one of those, the one it’s doing right now-“

Zuula buttoned up the partition. You could still hear the two of them trying to practice small talk, but this helped her to ignore it.

They were in the beginnings of the moors now, where the rivers of snowmelt from the mountains ran down to the beginning of the bowl that was Cylvania’s valley. Hills still jutted up here and there, like the knees of a resting giant, sleeping with his legs crooked. But water sagged and sogged between them, and new spring reeds and tall grasses were poking their heads up, yearning toward the sun with their roots in the wetlands. The road meandered along a natural ridge, lined with willow trees, and Fluffbear got her practice by snapping her whip at passing branches, trying to trim off twigs as the wagon rolled by.

Eventually Mopsy and Pulsivar returned to the wagon, with the bobcat hopping up to the back, and the tiny cougar curling up around Missus Fluffbear, who gave off whipping and settled into a petting routine that only a nigh-inexhaustible golem could sustain. Soon enough the Cougar’s purrs faded and its sides rose and fell with the rhythm of steady sleep.

“She’s doing a lot better,” Garon said, studying the sleeping cat. “Way less skittish. More settled.”

“Cat ghost lady abused her,” Zuula said. “Love heal her. Fluffbear be good tamer.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time,” Missus Fluffbear said. “But it seems to be working out.”

“Most people like dat,” Zuula observed, laying back to study the sky. “Even if dey never admit it.”

As they rolled on, the sky grew cloudier, and Madeline and Threadbare gave off practicing and came forward as well. It was tight room on the buckboard, but the company was good. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.” Threadbare said, gazing around at the empty marshlands. Occasionally there was a submerged dock, or a fallen pile that could have been a hut at some point, but for the most part it was empty save for foraging birds and Rodents of Unusual Size (ROUS’s) that were content to stay far away from the noisy wagon. “I’ve never been much of anywhere, I guess. The world seemed so big when I was moving around with Celia. But there’s this part of it too, and lots more parts like it, aren’t there?”

“Oh yeah. It’s way big,” Said Madeline. “Takes about two weeks either way ta cross Cylvania. An’ it’s supposed ta be even biggah outside the Oblivion, but I never seen none of dat. It went up befoah I could get out that way. Which is kind of a pity cause I met a lot of nice people from othah lands when I was back in Cylvania City. Nevah ran into one I didn’t like. You could say they had great taste.” She grinned, and her tack teeth glimmered in the rays of the fading sun.

“Hm. What are those?” Threadbare pointed. There, silhouetted in the falling orb, were what looked like distant pillars.

Zuula squinted. “Dolmens. Old stones put up by shamans long dead.”

“Why?”

“Any reason, really. Back in de day, dolmens were like cure all for anything you need. Old tribes discover rock cutting and hauling technology with newfangled t’ings like rope and slaves and chisels, and go a little nuts. Be making standing stones for calendars, for festivals, for sealing ancient evils, all sort of things. Didn’t know what to do about some’ting? Put dolmens on a hill.” The half-orc doll sighed. “Zuula be pretty sure old shamans got kickbacks from rock sellers in dose days. Fortunately time march on. Wicker tech come along and shamans leave old stones behind. More and more of dem end up bricked. Nowadays you get same hoodoo power out of charms you can fit in you pocket, that old-style dolmen did with sixty tons of fucking rocks.”

“Think we should check it out?” Garon asked.

Threadbare squinted. “It would be an awfully long way through the wet mud.”

“I could try flying over,” Garon offered. “I need to learn sooner or later.”

“Oh yeah! You can do that!” Madeline brightened.

Zuula sighed. “Hokay. Stop de wagon. You, child, Slow Regeneration.”

“What does flying use?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

“I’m guessing agility,” Garon said.

“Yeah, Agility,” Madeline confirmed. “I used to be able to turn into a bat.”

“Agility,” Zuula grunted. “Owl skills be awesome to borrow.”

“Yorgum’s blessing of agility on Garon!” Fluffbear reached over and nudged him.

“Thanks! All right, let’s see here,” said the plush dragon hatchling, leaping from the cart, wings pumping-

-and promptly plummeting into the mud.

“Oh. Right.” A muddy green head poked out. “Scaly Wings.”

The practice went on into the night, and finally, after a couple of Clean and Presses and much skilling up of Scale Wings, they deemed Garon to be airworthy.

The toys flew out there all at once, piled on Garon’s broad back, holding on for all they were worth. Falling into the marsh wouldn’t be a fatality or even very damaging, but it would mean a struggle back to dry land and a general inconvenience overall.

They touched down on the hill, and Zuula hopped off, and started poking at the stones. Three seconds into it she froze. “Hoo boy.”

“I can’t see,” Fluffbear complained. “Can I glow-gleam?”

“You uh, you might not want to see,” Garon said. “It’s all tentacles and eyes up in here. There’s a fire pit and some wet kindling, too.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see tentacles and eyes?”

“Well uh, because… well…”

“Some people find those things creepy,” Madeline said.

“More den dat,” Zuula said, moving from stone to stone. “Dey eldritch.”

“What’s that word mean?” Threadbare asked.

“Is like… arcane.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that one either.”

“Is like mystical?”

“Oh. That sounds nice.”

“No. No, dis de opposite of nice. Remember how Zuula say some dolmens built to trap ancient tings and some be like calendars?”

“Yes.”

“Well, ain’t nobody be telling de time from dis one is all she saying.”

As a matter of fact, Zuula was wrong.

There were in fact, a large amount of people very close by who wanted the dolmens to tell them one proper time for years. They had, in fact, taken measures to anticipate such times, and spread the good news when they arrived.

It was just bad luck all around, because tonight was the night they’d been waiting for. The stars slid into position, light played across the runes in just the right manner, and an entirely different group of people than its intended audience got to listen as the great being trapped far below the stones shuddered into a sliver of wakefulness.

To the toys, it sounded like a chorus of frogs starting up.

“Neekabreekaneekabreekaneekabreeka….”

“Do you think we should light the wood?” Threadbare asked.

Garon shook his head, and glanced to the north. “We’re not far from town. Somebody might see this and come out and investigate.” The town had rather less lights going than he had expected, but no way would they miss a fire this size.

“NeekabreekaneekabreekaneekabreakCROOOOOAAAAAKKK.”

“That sounded like a really big frog,” Missus Fluffbear said. “Are you sure I can’t make a light?”

“Positive,” Zuula said. “Those not be frogs. Those not frogs at all!”

And then, to everyone’s eyes save Fluffbear, the dolmens almost seemed to writhe. The eyes on them shifted, stone cracking, as they blinked.

“Oh shit run!” Zuula yelled, and hopped on Garon’s back.

“NEEKABREEKANEEKABREEKANEEKABREEKA!!!” The voice rose about them in chorus with itself, inhuman cries rising to the uncaring stars above, sounding like thunder, drowning out all else.

Your Stubborn skill is now level 8.

Threadbare found it very annoying.

Missus Fluffbear had her hands over her ears and looked pretty pissed. Garon was shaking his head, thoroughly unsettled by the noise. Blue ‘0’s, followed by the occasional ‘1’, drifted out of him and up into the sky.

But Zuula and Madeline were hard hit. Threadbare watched with horror as they screamed and writhed, holding their heads. Blue ‘7’s escaped from her, dwarfed by Madeline’s ‘18’s and ‘20’s.

And over it all, the thundering croaks and squeaks shook the dolmens, as eyes opened and shut, focusing with burning tri-lobed fury!

“We need to go!” Threadbare yelled, grabbing Fluffbear and jumping on Garon’s back. He grabbed Zuula and Madeline and gripped the dragon’s back with his legs and every bit of his triple-digit strength, keeping a hold on his friends as Garon lifted off.

Your Ride skill is now level 9!

Once they were outside of the stones, the sound shut off as abruptly as if someone had shut a vault door.

“Ow,” Zuula said. “That bad. Really bad. Old one trying to come out. Fortunately not great old one. More like mediocre old one.”

Madeline kept screaming.

“Shit. Check her sanity, Dreadbear?”

“Eye for Detail. Oh dear, it’s at two!”

“Not zero? Good. Zero is how madness happen sometimes. Close one. Too close.”

“If that’s a mediocre old one I don’t want to see a just-sorta-okay old one,” Garon said, landing by the wagon. “What do we do about her? How do we help her?”

Threadbare cleared his throat. Then he wrapped Madeline in a hug, and rocked the smaller marionette, like Celia had rocked him, long ago. “With an Emboldening Speech. I know that was scary. But it’s all right. You’re one of the bravest people I know. You’re safe now.”

Calm washed over the party, as Threadbare’s skill buffed their sanity and moxie. Madeline stopped screaming, curled into him, and tried whimpering instead. For his part, the bear rocked her back and forth until she stopped.

“What do we do about it?” Garon asked. “Do we beat it up? How much experience do you get for one of those things?”

“No no no,” Zuula said. “Dose t’ings eat tribes. Uh… Status.” She studied her screen. “Yes, dat work. Got just enough for one of dose. Zuula be back wit’ answer in a bit.” She headed into the back of the wagon, and the toys watched her curl up near Pulsivar. “Dream Quest.”

“Zuula?” Threadbare asked, placing Madeline gently on the wagon, then clambering up to look in at her.

“Forget it,” Garon said. “She’ll be out for hours.”

They looked at the dolmens.

The ancient stones glimmered with a weird light. Possibly mystical, probably arcane. Definitely eldritch.

“We need to tell someone about this,” Threadbare decided. “Let’s go to town while we wait and warn them.”

“I’d really prefer if Mom was awake for that,” Garon said, glancing from her to the dolmens. “And Madeline had more sanity, so our fiery surprise was available if we ran into trouble.”

Threadbare stared at the stones. “Keen Eye.”

Your Keen Eye skill is now level 2!

“Those eyes are still moving, I think,” he said, finally. “It would be nice to wait, but the town could be in danger now.” He made his decision, and the wooden cats clattered to life again. Fluffbear, taken by surprise, ran a bit and hopped up on the back of the wagon. It took a couple of tries before she got a handhold, and squirmed up.

“Should I put on my armor?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Garon said, glancing between the road and the dolmens. “Have you decided on a code of chivalry yet?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Might come in handy, a passive defensive buff that builds. Certainly couldn’t hurt. I have the feeling we’ll have to end up fighting that thing.”

“All right! I pledge mine blade to this Code of Chivalry! I, Missus Fluffbear, pledge to protect my friends, and feed my kitty on time, and beat up bad people! And bad things!”

For a second she glowed, and then it was done.

“That’s a big responsibility,” Threadbare told her. “Mopsy eats a lot for her size. And she’ll only get bigger.”

“That’s okay,” squeaked the little black bear. “I don’t eat anything so it balances out. She can have my share of everything.”

They rolled on in silence for a bit, following the road. As they went, the toys could see a stockade wall rising in the distance, a wooden curtain that surrounded the town, with torches along it every twenty feet or so. Figures in robes paced along the top, though a small knot formed above the gate, staring as the cart rolled up.

“Who goes there?” One of them called, his voice high-pitched and wobbly.

“I bet it’s a trick,” another one of them whispered, so loudly that the toys could hear it.

“Shut up! Keep the crossbows ready!” A gruff one commanded.

“Hello there, sirs or madams!” Threadbare made the dummy talk. “I’m Annie Mata, here with a show of animated toys for all ages!”

There was a long pause. The three heads visible on the top of the wall ducked down. There came a sound of muttering.

“Come out of the wagon with your hands up, then!” The gruff one said, as one of the others ran off.

Threadbare controlled his animi, directing the dummy out of the wagon. She held up her arms, yellow sleeves flapping in the darkness.

Then the runner came back, with a lantern. He waved it down there, and the guards on the wall blinked to see her, clad in all yellow, masked and veiled.

Comprehension and hope dawned on their faces. “You… you’re…”

“Wait!” Said the one who’d whispered loudly. “Have you seen the yellow sign?”

Threadbare thought fast.

There HAD been a sign on the route, saying “this way to Outsmouth,” and it WAS pretty yellowed with age.

“Yes, yes I have, my boy or girl.”

LUCK +1

The guards relaxed. All save for the gruff one. “Nah! Nah, it could be a trick! Look at them cats! Those is wooden cats!”

“Well, yes, what of it?”

“It’s like that one book I read! They’re trying to give us these wooden animals, then they’ll burst open and be full of armies once they’re inside!”

The three guards on the wall considered the cats.

“I think that was horses, Daav.”

“Same thing!”

“They’re a bit small for armies, aren’t they?” The high-pitched guard mused. “Maybe one soldier. If he was a halven or a goblin or something.”

“Well maybe they’re smuggling halvens or goblins then!” The gruff one said. “Look, I’m just saying, this could be a trick.”

“Yeah, and it’s one animator lady against all of us if it IS,” the whisperer in the darkness said. “We did for the garrison, we can do for her if we need to. Besides, her cult’s kin to ours. Bad luck to turn away a fellow seeker.”

“State your business in Outsmouth?” The high-pitched one asked.

“I’m just here to put on a show and talk about interesting things. How about that weather lately?”

CHA+1

The guards relaxed. True devotees of YGlnargle’blah they might be, but they were fishermen first, and fishermen NEVER miss a chance to bitch about the weather. The tension eased, crossbows were put down, and Threadbare smiled as the nice people spent way too long whining about the local drought.

Five minutes later, Daav and Phred and Mhorty opened the gate. “Well, if you’re here for a show, Marva could use some help. The blessed children are getting anxious, since most of their parents are having to pull gate duty. Maybe you could go to the church and help her calm them down?”

“That sounds great, sir or madam! Which direction might it be?”

They gave her a lot of confusing directions, which included such helpful tidbits as “Turn left at Jarger’s house,” but fortunately Threadbare was smart, as teddy bears went, and thought he could figure it out. Then he directed the dummy back into the wagon’s seat, and held still as he willed the cats forward, through the open gate. The green-robed guards shut it behind him, and wished Annie well.

“I look forward to seeing your play later!” The whisperer in the darkness called. “I always dreamed of visiting Lost Corcasa!”

Threadbare had Annie wave back. He had no idea what that was. Then he remembered what he was here for.

“Oh yes, and there’s an old one stirring under those dolmens to the south! You might want to do something about that.”

The guards laughed. “We know, isn’t it great?” The high-pitched one yelled. “He’ll call us all home soon!”

Okay, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Puzzled, Threadbare left the guards behind, thoroughly fooled into thinking that the dummy was a friendly ally of sorts.

By engaging in successful duplicitous shenanigans you have unlocked the Grifter job!

You cannot become a grifter at this time.

Well. That was interesting. Also not helpful at the minute.

The wagon rolled on through the town, most of it silent and dark. Garon sidled up next to him, and snaked his head around to Threadbare’s fluffy ear. “They’re cultists.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a job. A bad one. There’s only a few types of cultists tolerated in the kingdom, and those aren’t them. I think… I think we’re looking at a full town of cultists. Or enough of them that they’re in charge.”

“Are they bad people?” Fluffbear asked anxiously. “I might have to beat them up.”

“Nnnn…..” Garon’s honesty warred with the realization that if he said the wrong thing, the little bear WOULD march out there and start smiting. “Don’t know. They might just be deluded. Let’s wait and see what the full situation is, here, first.”

“It’s fahcked and we should run,” Madeline said, clambering out of the wagon to take her place with the other toys. “But we’re in now, so the only way out is through.”

“Feeling better?” Threadbare asked.

“Yeah. Still down a wompload of sanity. Gahd I wish we had a way to rest. It’s slow, slow, slow ta come back.”

“Hm…” Threadbare glanced back to Zuula. “Maybe…”

His thoughts were interrupted, as letters flashed across his view.

You are now a level 6 scout!
AGL+3
PER+3
WIS+3

“Well!” He said. “I guess we explored a fair amount.”

“This is all new territory, so yes… oh. Party Screen. Cool, congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Oooh, that could do it,” Madeline said. “I just need ta level up some an’ get my sanity back fast that way.”

“That works until you get out of the lower levels,” Garon shrugged, twitching his wings. “And it’s hard to rely on. Sometimes the experience doesn’t stack up like you expect. Case in point.”

“You’ll hit level two dragon eventually,” Threadbare said, then he stood on the wagon’s seat. “Oh! There’s the church. I think.”

“Oh yes,” Said Missus Fluffbear, as she looked at the stone building by the lake. The windows were green and blue stained glass, and lit from within. “That’s totally a temple to Pau. Yorgum told me about her. Uh, him.”

“God of the seas, right? And big lakes too, I guess.” Garon nodded.

“And Goddess of storms. Which is why lightning strikes say his or her name when they hit.”

As they got closer, they could hear a woman singing inside, barely audible over what sounded like the croaking of a couple of dozen big frogs. Madeline shuddered, and hid back inside the wagon.

Threadbare thought the woman’s voice sounded rather desperate. And also that the croaking was a bunch of voices, nowhere near as deep as what they’d heard on the hill.

PER+1

“That’s not the mediocre old one’s voice,” he said. “The frogs, I mean.”

Curious, he had the dummy get out of the wagon and knock on the door.

There was a pause. Everything fell silent.

Finally, a harried-looking woman, stout and middle-aged, opened the door. Brown hair poked out, frazzled and chaotic, from under her green hood and the hem of her robe had big bites taken out of it. Strands of ropy drool oozed to the ground. “Hello? Is everything… oh! Who are you?”

Her eyes bulged with fear… then softened, as they fell upon the two bears and the little plush dragon, as they hopped down from the wagon’s seat. “Oh my goodness! An animator show! And these are your little toys, then!”

Your Adorable Skill is now level 22!

“Come inside, come inside,” the woman smiled, madness flashing in her eyes. “The little dears will love you! Ah, I’ll just take a break then, while you entertain them, shall I?”

“Oh, certainly,” Threadbare had the dummy say, as they walked into the church.

SLAM! The door nearly caught Garon’s tail as the cultist shut it.

CLICK! A key turned in the lock.

Feet pounded the pavement as Marva ran for her life.

And from the darkness, two dozen pairs of green, glowing eyes loomed out of the darkness, as the blessed children of YGlnargle’blah emerged from the wreckage of the pews and the thoroughly desecrated altar, staring at the newcomers, sharklike maws opening and closing as drool spilled to the floor.

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

ANIMUS SHIELD Level: 10 Cost: 20 San Duration: 10 minutes per level
Animates a shield, that moves as if wielded by an invisible warrior. Must be in a creator’s party to do anything beyond defend itself.

MAGIC MOUTH Level: 10 Cost: 20 San Duration: 10 minutes per level
Allow the animator to speak through one of the animi currently in their party, regardless of distance. If the animi does not have a mouth, the voice issues forth from the closest approximate place a mouth would be on a living being of similar structure.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 11
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 6
Tailor Level 10
Model Level 5
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 10
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 5
Smith Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 101 Constitution: 103 Hit Points: 264(314) Armor: 42(46)
Intelligence: 146 Wisdom: 151(157) Sanity: 297(383) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 92(98) Agility: 83(95) Stamina: 185(253) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 78(108) Willpower: 129 Moxie: 207(287) Cool: 20(32)
Perception: 86 Luck: 66(72) Fortune: 152(208) Fate: 11(17)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 9
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 22
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 6
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 2
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 45(50)
Clean and Press - Level 9
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 25 (+50 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 3
Flex - Level 14
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Strong Pose - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 20

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (12)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 27
Animus Blade - Level 8
Animus Shield - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 6
Command Animus - Level 7
Creator’s Guardians - Level 18
Dollseye - Level 10
Eye for Detail - Level 17
Magic Mouth - Level 15
Mend - Level 25

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Mend Golem - Level 2
Program Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem - Level 6
Wood Golem - Level 1

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 4
Refine Ore - Level 1
Smithing - Level 21

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+1 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+1 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+1 CHA, WIS, +2 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+1 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+CHA from WIB)

INVENTORY A Sack of coins.
A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Unsafe Sects 2

The world returned to Zuula. She rose, trying to blink her eyes, before she remembered that she didn’t have eyelids anymore.

It felt terribly, terribly confining to be trapped once more in such a tiny body, but at least she didn’t ache anymore. No fuzziness from just-waking up. No weird conditions, brought on by the vivid and horrible dreams she’d had.

Or were there? “Status,” Zuula whispered-

-and stared at her full pools.

She’d been low, WAY low on sanity before she went into her dream quest. But now it was as full as if she’d slept a full night.

The shaman wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the burnt-out-barn with collapsed walls, let alone the toolshed, but she immediately understood the value of what she’d found.

Zuula hopped out of the wagon, and looked at the stars. Not more than a few hours. She was in a town, too, she saw. Outmarsh? Had to be. There was a church next to the wagon, and light glowed through the green windows, as croaking, babbling speech resounded from within.

None of her party were around. Even the cats were missing. “Party Screen.” Yep, there they were… Fluffbear had been added too. The wooden cats were out, though. Also there was something called “Church Door” on the party screen now.

And to her surprise, she saw that her toy companions’ levels were higher. Not by much, but something had definitely happened. A fight?

What had she missed out on?

Zuula stared at the inactive wooden cats, went back to the wagon, got her spear, and marched up to the door.

“Is you Zuula’s party mate now?”

The croaking continued unabated. The door didn’t answer.

“Zuula’s guessing animator bullshit.”

The door remained shut and silent.

Zuula shrugged, rammed her spear through her chest to hold it, smiled at the con increase and golem body skill boost as a red ‘17’ rolled up, then picked up a loose cobblestone.

BAM BAM BAM

A red ‘1’ rolled up from the door on the third try. Zuula watched it tick down in the party screen, from 560 to 559. Yeah, animators were some weird bullshit all right.

The lock clicked, the door handle jiggled, and the door opened…

And the church fell silent, its occupants frozen and staring at her.

Threadbare sat at the head of a low table made from overturned pews, wearing an oversized green-and-red fez with cloth eyeballs decorating it. Madeline, Garon, and Fluffbear sat on the sides of the table, mixed in with about a dozen green, scaly, fishy-looking small humanoids wearing ripped overalls and patchy pajamas and drool-stained dresses. Each of them clutched toys from the ruined toy store, toys that Zuula recognized, because before she’d gone to her dream quest they’d been in sacks that Pulsivar had been sleeping on.

About a dozen more of the little fish thingies slept around the church, curled up on the altar, or the pews, or seemingly nodded off where they were. They had toys too, and what looked like green robes had been tossed over each one.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Threadbare said, lifting up a silver altar cup, and gesturing around the makeshift table. More cups, various trays, and all sorts of religious knickknacks and ornaments adorned the low structure.

The fish things were staring at her.

Zuula pulled the spear free from her chest. “Slow Regeneration.”

“Mom,” Garon started. “Don’t.” His own fez wobbled, and fell off.

Zuula marched forward.

Madeline stood, “Hey no, whoa, they’re kids, don’t—“ a tiny candle-snuffer slid from her head, and she tried to catch it.

“It’s okay! Don’t hurt them!” Fluffbear said, scrambling from her seat…

…too late.

Zuula slammed her spear against the table, hopped on the nearest seat, and bellowed “Where Zuula’s hat?”

There was a pause.

“What? We gonna have a tea party, she need a hat too. Isn’t dat right, child?” She asked the batrachian half-breed next to her.

It giggled, and clutched its dolly closer to its chest. Loose red braids swayed, as it pulled off the stretched scrunchy it was using as a makeshift princess crown, and handed it down to the funny green dolly.

Zuula plopped her new hat around her head, tying it carefully, and her jaw dropped in awe as a dozen skill ups rolled past. All in “Adorable,” but still.

“Okay. Zuula start to see why you all got toy golem levels.” She said, and Fluffbear giggled and slid a candle holder down to her.

“We’re pretending like these are tea cups!”

“Yeah. We found the hats and culty robes in a secret hiding spot behind the altar. Y’know, where every cult has a secret hiding spot?”

“Cult?” Zuula took a sip of her pretend tea, and the kids around her laughed and did the same.

“Command Teapot. Give pretend refills,” Threadbare told the incense burner in the center of the table, and it went to work trundling around the table and dipping its spot toward the “teacup”. “It’s been good animator practice, I got a level of that. Also two of model, and one of golemist.”

“We think that’s because we’re leveling as well,” Garon said. “I mean it looked that way from the ogre fight, but this seems to confirm it.”

“Na offense, but we were a little worried ya’d take this the wrong way. Maybe come in slinging spells and getting ya stab on.” Madeline balanced her thurible on her hard wooden head.

“What? Why?” Zuula frowned.

“It’s just that… well…” Garon said. “All right, look Mom, we were worried you’d think these kids were eldritch or something. Abominations, or old ones, or something horrible and jump to conclusions.”

“Child. Have some faith in you mother.” Zuula waggled her candlestick holder at him. “These kids. And they not eldritch, they just fishmen.”

“Wait. They’re not?” Garon looked confused. “But the cult calls them blessed children. And there’s the old one outside of town-”

“Yeah, who is all tentacles and too many eyes. Do you have tentacles and many eyes?” Zuula asked the tiny fishman across from her. It giggled and stuck its thumb in one nostril slit. “Yeah, Zuula no think so. Just fishmen.”

“The cultists we talked with called them blessed children.” Madeline didn’t look convinced.

“Cultists all humans, right? Humans be dumb sometimes. Den dey try to talk to old ones, and old ones go t’rough dere minds like cheese grater t’rough cheddar. Of course dey gonna be wrong about shit.”

The kids at the table burst out laughing. Funny little dolly said a swear!

Zuula sipped her imaginary tea, and smiled. “Besides, Zuula not break sanctity of tea party. You forget, her firstborn be girl. She know how important it is.”

Besides, if it got her another toy golem level or two, that worked. Speaking of which…

“Dream Quest refill all pools like regular sleep.”

“Whaaat?” Madeline jumped straight up. “Get out!”

“Why? Zuula just got to party?”

“No, no, I mean… really?”

“Yeah. Workaround to stupid no organs t’ing. Downside is, you in dreamquest you not wake up until it done.”

“So it could be risky,” Threadbare said. “But when we’re not in danger, it’s probably a good way to train.”

“Can you do me?” Madeline asked. “I think I got all the levels I can from tea partying tonight. I can spend the rest of my sanity to do some fire tricks for the kids, skill up that way, then regain it all back in half the time.”

“Sure,” Zuula said. “We got a day or two before everyone here die, anyway.”

The table fell silent, save for the happily croaking children, and the clink of their teacups.

“Wait, what?” Garon said.

“No!” Fluffbear said. “They can’t die!”

“Tell you after dey go to bed. Which be SOON,” Zuula said, using her momma voice. “Soon after Zuula level, anyway.” She had her priorities, after all.

About half an hour later, a bit past midnight, the last of the children bedded down in Annie Mata’s lap, next to a snoozing Mopsy. “Cat put up wit dem?” Zuula was impressed.

“They played a little rough, so when she lay down on the dummy I had it show them how to pet her gently. It was doing that most of the night. These children are… a little young, I thnk,” said Threadbare, with all the wisdom he’d earned over his five years of existence.”

“Mopsy likes how they smell!” Fluffbear said. “She was licking them a lot.”

“Yeah, the cat was a good distraction until we got the tea party rolling,” Garon said, removing his fez. “Normally I’d be worried about desecrating a church, but eh, the cult got there first anyway. But seriously, why’s everyone going to die?”

“Nature ain’t big on whys. All Zuula know is dat in a couple of days ain’t no humans going to be left alive around here. And the Old one is waking up too, so dat not be good neither.”

“The nice cultists at the gate DID say something about the old one calling them all home,” Threadbare said.

Silence, as the toys considered it.

“Ah fuck me theah a death cult,” Madeline said. “We need to get outta heah.”

“No! They can’t kill the children!” Missus Fluffbear waved her arms. “I won’t let them! I just swore a vow about that, I think!”

“Maybe they’re deluded,” Garon said. “They aren’t going to kill anyone, maybe, but the Old One’s going to eat them. Maybe he’s not what they think he is.”

“Is possible.” Zuula shrugged. “Or it possible it call them home. No humans left alive might mean humans in a place dat nature can’t see.”

“Wait. Did tha dreamquest say anything about fishmen left alive in a few days?” Madeline asked.

“Dey obviously half-human,” Zuula pointed at the kids, some with hair, some without. Some with human proportions, some more distorted. “So dey count as humans to nature. Humans bone so many t’ings dat nature just t’row up hands and say fine, you all human.” Zuula snorted. “Which doesn’t keep really fucking stupid humans from yelling dumb shit about keeping bloodlines pure and how humans is superior. Eh, at least humans not elves.”

“We’re getting sidetracked, Mom.” Garon chewed his fuzzy lip. “So the great old one-”

“Mediocre old one.”

“-Yeah, that guy-“

“-No gender.”

“-Whatever. So it wakes up and calls everyone home?”

“Maybe. All Zuula know from what dream quest showed is dat in a few days fish still be here, dogs still be here, bugs still be here, but humans? Humans gone.”

The toys considered that. “No.” Threadbare finally decided.

“No?” Zuula asked. “She guess maybe dere a few chances it not happen, but most signs point to whoop, humans out.”

“These people are nice. Their kids are fun. I don’t want them to die.”

“Yeah, they’re kind of worshipping the thing that’s going to eat them,” Garon said. “And maybe it isn’t dying, but going to their afterlife… which would be pretty much like dying.” Garon sighed. “We don’t know enough about what’s going on here.”

“So let’s fix that,” Madeline said. “How about this? Come tha morning you suit up as Annie Mata and we’ll start asking questions. We’ll coach ya to make sure they don’t catch on, and we’ll see if we can sleuth out this shit.”

They decided that was a good plan. And after Madeline had fun practicing and controlling fire for a bit, Zuula dreamquested her, then sat on the comatose marionette while they discussed the details and preparation they’d need to pull it off…

*****

Come the morning, a key clicked in the lock again, and the door handle rattled.

“Showtime,” Garon called to Threadbare.

“Animus. Invite Annie. Magic Mouth. Dollseye,” Threadbare rattled off, and the dummy stirred from her pew, placing both the sleeping Mopsy and the snoozing fishchild to either side of her as she rose.

“Hello? Ma’am? Are you… oh, thank goodness,” Marva said, putting a basket full of sackcloth to the side. “I’m sorry to leave you like that, I was just on my last legs. They all take childcare for granted, you know? Phew! I think you’ll need these. Do you know who needs changing?”

“Changing?” Annie asked.

“You don’t smell that?” Marva squinted. “Oh. Well, you’re new to Blessed Children, I imagine. Turns out they’re like any other two year olds. Potty training sticks earlier with some than others.”

“Say no more!” Zuula marched out. “Hand Zuula diapers and rags and point her to poopy bottoms!”

“Oh my! What a delightful little savage puppet!”

Zuula froze.

“Isn’t she?” Garon asked, flapping up to sit on Annie’s shoulder. “So strong, too. And wise. Wise enough not to be easily offended. Incidentally we’re thinking of doing a cultist one, in honor of our stay, here.”

“Oh that’d be delightful!” Marva handed a bunch of diapers and associated sundries down to Zuula, who unfroze, took them, then stomped around to the somnolent children, muttering. The middle-aged cultist followed, picking up sleeping, fussy kids, and stripping and changing them with the ease of long practice. “We’ve had to hide for ever so long. But now we’re in charge, and we don’t have to anymore. I’m so very glad that you’re a follower of the Thing in Yellow. You understand how it is.”

“Very much so,” Threadbare said, unhappy at the lie but seeing no way around it. “Er, is everyone in this town an old one cultist?”

“Oh no. No, no, no. But the rest are friends and neighbors and supporters. So everyone’s okay with us. You don’t have secrets in small towns like this, not from your neighbors.”

“Then why hide what ya were doing?” Madeline asked, peering around a pew.

“Oh, a little puppet! How precious! Can I pick her up?”

“Shuah.”

Marva scooped up Madeline and examined her eagerly, chuckling at the tack fangs, and making the little doll squeak when the cultist peered up her skirt. “Hey! Don’t get weird!”

“Hah hah hah! I half expected her to be anatomically correct, the carving is exquisite. Did you make her yourself?”

“No, she was bargain at her price, though,” Threadbare said. “Why DID you hide your cult?”

“Because the garrison weren’t our neighbors. Or our friends.” Marva’s smile faded, and she smoothed Madeline’s dress down, and tucked her into the crook of her arm. “They took the best of our catch, and they took our sons and daughters as conscripts, and when the dwarves killed the Hornwoods they didn’t care or interfere. They didn’t want to start another war, they said. The Hornwoods deserved it for claimjumping, they said. Then just a few years later the dwarves accuse the King of killing Taylor’s Delve. Of trying to kill the dwarven clan that lived down that way. And the dwarves declare war on the Crown anyway, and taxes go up, and conscription goes up, and it looks like the King DID maybe kill off an entire town.”

She’d started rocking Madeline now, unconsciously, holding her like a baby. “And my daughters die fighting dwarves. And I’ll never get to hold them again.” She was crying now. “So yes, we hid our cult. But now we don’t have to. Now we’re free.”

Soft, fuzzy arms closed around her ankle, and Marva jumped a bit, as golden light flared. “Oh!” She said, examining her hands, and the fading gouges from where the blessed children had gotten a little bitey last night. “Thank you…” she said, staring down at the little armored black bear that had just hugged her leg.

“You’re welcome. I’m very sorry things were bad,” Missus Fluffbear squeaked.

“Oh, it wasn’t your fault.” She brightened. “Want to come to breakfast?” She asked Annie.

“Oh no thank you, I couldn’t impose. Besides, I’m quite full from late-night tea.” Fluffbear had the dummy gesture at the remnants of play.

“Goodness me,” Marva said, picking her way through the repurposed religious paraphernalia and equivalents. “Where did…. Did you give them these toys?”

“Yes. I salvaged some from the toy shop down in Taylor’s Delve, when I was through there,” the dummy said. “That was before the fire, I’m afraid.”

“Um. The fire.” Marva said, her face instantly filling up with worry. “You saw that, did you?”

“Oh yes. It started in the forests. We-I barely got my wagon out of there in time.”

“Hahahah… this is going to sound strange, but… could you not mention it? To anyone around here?” Marva definitely looked very nervous. “My husband and I would be in a whole lot of trouble for a very silly, totally ridiculous misunderstanding if that came up.”

“I suppose I can keep quiet about that. Why would there be a misunderstanding?”

“It’s a long story.” Marva glanced southwest, out that one window that had a perfect view of the lonely hill in the distance. “Are you sure you won’t come to breakfast?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m quite full and I should probably sleep and defecate later. You know, as humans do.”

“Uh, well, yes?”

“Although I would appreciate learning more about your cult, and the old one.”

“Oh, of course!” Marva smiled. “I’ll let Pastor Hatecraft know you’re interested. He’s the one who does all the pamphlets and the printing, anyway. He kept the printing press after the librarian passed on under mysterious circumstances, you see.”

“Wait.” Garon said, frowning. “This town has a library?”

*****

Outsmouth’s library was set back away from the lake, in a cramped and twisty street that had shuttered storefronts to either side. Suspicious eyes peered at the toys from oilskin-covered windows of the few homes still occupied on that street, and from somewhere in the town, unseen flutes played a tuneless melody.

“Is this eldritch?” Fluffbear asked. “I can’t tell.”

“Maybe a little,” Zuula admitted, as she stared at the stone building, and the really big padlock on the door. “Doors. Zuula’s true nemesis now!”

“Not mine,” Threadbare said, from Annie Mata’s arms. The dummy held him out so that he could touch the lock. “Animus. Invite Lock. Open for me, would you?”

The lock clunked to the ground. “Kick lock from party,” he told it, as Annie opened the door with her free hand. Dark inside, though that mattered little to most of the puppets, and Threadbare’s nose twitched with the smell of old paper.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 18!

“Okay, I don’t know why a tiny town like this has a library, but… Uh…” Garon said, following Annie into the room. “Um.”

The library was one big room, full of dusty shelves of moldy books. Holes in the roof showed where water had done its thing, and stains below them showed where mold was doing ITS thing. Papers lay strewn about, and ink washed free by water pooled and puddled in stains along the walls.

“Weeky would straight up start killing bitches fa this,” Madeline said, surveying the damage.

“How are we supposed to find out anything useful?” Fluffbear asked.

Garon thought for a bit. “Your blessing skill, it’s up to twenty or so, right?”

“Right!”

“Slap it on Madeline, boost up her luck and let her search.”

“What? Why me?”

“Mom doesn’t have the patience to sort through hundreds of books. And I don’t have thumbs. So that leaves…”

“Shit. Awright, but ya owe me one.”

They boosted Madeline’s luck, and turned her loose. Threadbare tucked in and helped as well. Fortunately it was dark enough in there that their Darkspawn buffs came into play as well.

Missus Fluffbear picked up a heavy tome, and waddled over to some light streaming in from a narrow slit window. After a few minutes, she cheered. “Yay!”

“What did you find?” Garon walked over.

“Oh, nothing. But my intelligence went up from reading about swamp plants! Did you know that every mushroom around here is bad for you in some way?”

“Yes. Zuula not need book to tell her dat,” Zuula confirmed. “Wait. You get smarter from reading books?”

“Yep,” Madeline said. “Well-written books can give mental experience. Not always to intelligence.” She had her nose buried in an ancient ledger. “Okay. So this is interesting. Turns out the fish harvest doubled a few years ago. ‘bout the end of the northern wars. It’s been going good evah since… well, up until last year, that’s when tha last entry is.”

“So what?” Garon asked.

“So nothing yet, but ya look at this, and about the same time, tha priestess of Pau in town dies from a mysterious illness. Right, Threadbeah?”

“Yes, the dates are about a week off.” He waved a book labeled ‘dearly departed – deaths in Outsmouth, volume four; cows, goats, and humans’

“That’s when a new fella steps up as tha local pastor of Pau, a newly-arrived guy called Hatecraft.”

“We’ve heard that name, just that morning,” Garon said. “So unless there’s two of them, we know he’s a cultist.”

“Raht. And he’s blessing tha fishing boats instead of the old Pau priestess doin’ the blessing.”

“So he impresses the fishing town by increasing their haul.” Garon nods.

“Yeah. And if ya look, tha Crown steps up BOTH the tax AND the fishing tithe a month later.”

“Ooooh…” Garon shook his head. “Dick move.”

“It’s when tha dwarven war started, but still…”

“Yeah. Lots of converts to the cult.” Garon lay his head down, and thought. “Who is this guy?”

“I didn’t find him in tha local family birth records. So he probably came in from somewhere else,” Madeline said. “First record of him is actually on the library payroll. Dude was an assistant. Lived in the basement of the library.”

“Jinkies!” Said Missus Fluffbear.

They all looked at her.

“What? It says jinkies!” She held up a book, with brightly-colored childrens toys on it. “I think that’s a fun word.”

“To the basement then,” decided Threadbare.

They eventually found it, after moving some piles of paper around until they revealed a trapdoor. Garon went down first, and froze. A blue ‘8’ escaped from his head, as he recoiled from something out of their line of sight.

“He being attacked! Is old one! Or eldritch!” Zuula shrieked, and the toys piled down, ignoring the ladder entirely…

…and stared in silence, at the tiny room below.

And the horrific images plastered on the wall.

Sanity damage rippled through them, all save for Threadbare, who took off his top hat and rubbed his head, puzzled.

And Fluffbear, who was squinting around, with her dagger out and ready. “What is it? I can’t see!”

“Good,” Choked Garon. “Someone please cover her eyes. Or get her out of here.”

“What’s wrong?” Threadbare asked. “It’s just more pictures of tentacles. Well, I mean, there’s women in these pictures, too. And they sure don’t look comfortable. But that’s not really anything to fuss about, I’d say.”

“Let me see!” Fluffbear said, trying to get a better angle in the bad light.

“No!” The doll haunters chorused. Zuula covered her eyes.

“Aw…”

“I don’t think you’re missing much,” Threadbare reassured her. “It’s kind of boring, honestly. But since it seems to be upsetting the others, maybe you could keep watch upstairs? I’m not sure where Pulsivar got to and sooner or later he’ll come looking for us, I’m quite sure.”

“Well, okay. Um…” She considered the ladder. Definitely not sized for her six-inch frame. “Could you?”

“Of course.” Threadbare had Annie come down and pick her up, then return upstairs.

“Dis be why humans make de worst cultists,” Zuula sighed, keeping her eyes well below visual level of the homemade drawings on the wall, and looking around the small, dank basement. “Dey get WEIRD about it.”

“Never have I regretted being so unable to vomit,” Garon muttered. “Come on, let’s search. Dibs on not under the bed.”

“Not it!” Zuula and Madeline chorused.

Threadbare shook his head, and started poking around under the moldy bed, while Madeline rummaged through crates and the few items of furniture down here.

CRACK!

Everyone jumped, and Fluffbear peered down into the hole again. “What was that?”

“Mom!” Garon howled.

Zuula looked over from the wreckage of the barrel she’d smashed, and put down the rusty crowbar. “What? Is barrel!”

“Geeze. Not this gain. Mom, look, you can’t just go around smashing every barrel you come across…”

“Yes she can! Sometimes is loot inside!”

“Mom, look, no, that was ONE small dungeon, and Taylor’s Delve had that one sealed years back-”

“Ho, so you tell de story? You want Zuula to stay awhile and listen?” The little half-orc grinned.

“Don’t get me started. Just… please, no more barrel smashing. Not now.”

“Psh. Could have been somet’ing in dere.” Zuula said, sitting down and pouting. “Maybe dat one kid’s spare pegleg. Never could find it for dat little fucker. He would have had good loot for reward, too!”

“Yeah, he was totally an item smuggler. Pretty sure pegleg was code for reagents.”

“Found it!” Madeline whooped. “I think so, anyway.” She held up a pink book, with bunnies on it, labeled “Dear diary.” The bunnies had tentacles.

“I want to see!” Fluffbear said.

“We’ll come to you,” Threadbare said, coming out from under the bed, covered in dust bunnies. “There’s nothing under there but more drawings. I’m pretty sure they would cost you more sanity,” he told his friends.

Upstairs, in the moldering library, they read the book. Some of the words took a little guesswork, the guy was fond of using obscure words with way too many syllables.

It didn’t take long. For all he was verbose, his entries were very short, all things considered.

Also pretty blasphemous.

By studying forbidden lore you have unlocked the Cultist job!

You cannot become a Cultist at this time!

“We need to find this guy,” Garon concluded. “Quickly.”

“Someone’s coming!” Fluffbear said, scrambling down from the windowsill. “A whole bunch of someones! They have crossbows and spears.”

“Shit,” Garon said. “We need to get out of here-”

“Why?” Threadbare asked.

“Well, if they’re armed, they’re not going to be friendly. I think this is going to go bad.”

“Isn’t that why we’re using the dummy?”

The toys considered Annie in silence. She waved.

A minute later, when the cultists shoved the door open, Annie was sitting in one of the lone chairs in the room, reading through a storybook. Her toys sat around her, still and clearly deanimated. “Oh, hello sirs and madams!” Annie said, closing the book. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Daav said. “The pastor wants to see you. Now.”

“And no funny business!” Mhorty said, his voice squeaking and breaking as he waggled a fishing spear in her direction.

“Of course not. I was just practicing some stories for your little dears. Such cute little scaly kids.”

The half-dozen cultists relaxed. “Yeah, they’re little angels, ain’t they? Maybe you’ll be blessed with one of your own!” Phred said.

Annie went peacefully with the group, who seemed much relieved at her acceptance of the matter.

Five minutes passed. Ten. And then Threadbare twitched, and stood up. “I think that should do it. Also, I caught a glimpse of Pulsivar. We can collect him and Mopsy on the way, I think.”

“On the way where?” Fluffbear asked.

“The place it all started…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare

Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 12
Cave Bear Level 10
Ruler Level 5
Scout Level 6
Tailor Level 10
Model Level 7
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 3
Animator Level 11
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 7
Smith Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 103 Constitution: 105 Hit Points: 268(343) Armor: 42(46)
Intelligence: 156 Wisdom: 153(159) Sanity: 309(421) Mental Fortitude: 32
Dexterity: 97(103) Agility: 91(103) Stamina: 198(291) Endurance: 52
Charisma: 86(117) Willpower: 139 Moxie: 225(331) Cool: 20(32)
Perception: 94 Luck: 68(74) Fortune: 162(243) Fate: 11(17)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 25 (+5)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 7
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 2

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 30
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 21
Innocent Embrace - Level 11
Magic Resistance -Level 6

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 15

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 7
Identify Subject - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 1
Simple Decree - Level 1
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 2
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 45(51)
Clean and Press - Level 9
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 35 (+70 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 14
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Strong Pose - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 30

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 3
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 6 (12)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Weapon Specialist - Level 10 (Brawling +5)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 29
Animus Blade - Level 8
Animus Shield - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 6
Command Animus - Level 18
Creator’s Guardians - Level 20
Dollseye - Level 17
Eye for Detail - Level 19
Magic Mouth - Level 17
Mend - Level 31

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Mend Golem - Level 2
Program Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem - Level 6
Wood Golem - Level 1

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 4
Refine Ore - Level 1
Smithing - Level 21

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)(+1 Armor, Tailoring, from WIB)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+1 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+1 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+1 CHA, WIS, +3 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+1 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+3 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Unsafe Sects 3

Pastor Elpy Hatecraft lingered for a moment more, dwelling on the artifacts of an antediluvian nature retrieved from the very depths of what in aeons past had been a submarinic trench. The local peasantry had mistaken it for a mere lake, and more ignoramuses they, for It was clearly a hoary relic from a bygone age, when squamous tentacles reached forth deep from umbral places beneath the earth, to rend and manipulate the soil and the geography about them. Lake? Bah! The Brobdingnagian body of water the quaint and curious locals referred to as Lake Marsh deserved a far more Sesquipedalian surname. He had a few in mind, but he’d been waiting until the engraver got back to him with quotes, for changing all the signposts.

Unfortuitously, the engraver wasn’t a member of his society of forbidden lore (and bingo twice a week,) or else he could have offered elevation into the highest eldritch mysteries of the Society of indefatigable exploration of the unknown elder antiquities. Namely, the bleachers that Hatecraft permitted the most elevated brethren to utilize while they observed the chamber of blasphemous conception, during the rite of manifestation.

But all that, as had many of his more enabling and eminently profitable plans, had evaporated like morning dew as inaction turned to action, and he’d awoken from his late-night slumber to the tintinnabulation of bells, bells, bells, and the somewhat unanticipated revelation that a revolution had occurred, thanks to the brethren and sistren on watch receiving the long-awaited sign that great YGlnargle’blah, an inscrutable entity that Hatecraft had chosen specifically for his dormancy and turpitude, was, in fact, engaging in unanticipated somnambulism.

Which was not Hatecraft’s plan at all.

“Load faster! Make haste!” He commanded the beast, and it muttered and grumbled, in its loathsome way. The barbels on its cheeks twitched in time with its irritable susurration, its very existence evidence of an uncaring cosmos full of helpless gods, a form that offended the reasonable man’s eye and raked at the very sanity of all logical onlookers.

Mainly it was the pants.

The brethren and sistren had put their foot down about that, they wanted YGlnargle’blah’s envoy to wear pants when he wasn’t engaging in blasphemous rites. Which was absurdity of the first order, but they HAD insisted, and so the herald of the octopodlian apocalypse, the evidence irrefutable of the truth of YGlnargle’blah, and the prominent celebrity in the rite of blasphemous conception now had to wear canvas shorts when he was off duty, as it were.

Initially concerned but somewhat relieved to find that this increased the eagerness of the female gender of the society to engage upon the rite of conception, Hatecraft had grudgingly agreed. He would have hated to give up his Saturday nights at the peephole, after all.

But the pants proved no hindrance to the primary usage that Hatecraft employed the thing from below the waves at this minute; namely, engaging in longshoremanship of a most mediocre quality. The beast dropped half the crates he loaded upon the boat, and Hatecraft was reduced to mere scrabbling at the sands in the hidden cove, uncovering every fallen coin from every shattered container, and ensuring that not a single silver candlestick or precious metal adornment that he’d painstakingly milked from the society’s coffers went astray.

The small bell he employed as both an early warning system and a doorknocker doled out its brazen peals, and Hatecraft hurled imprecations and threats at the beast, until it revolved its bulging, piscine eyes, and retreated to the depths of the dark cove, descending beneath the boat until such time as his viridian orbs and herring-enhanced exhalations could best be utilized for the purposes of intimidation.

Besides, when encountering a fellow ineffable lore-seeker, even one within the same blasphemous pantheon, it was best to have an ace kept in the proverbial hole.

Arranging his features into a pleasant countenance, Elpy Hatecraft pushed his spectacles up on his narrow face, and smiled at the stranger as she entered the cave below the church, escorted by half-a-dozen of his acolytes. “And you would be Miss Mata,” he greeted the woman, her robes jaundiced and unhealthy as doubtless was her quaint and curious obsession. “Welcome to the true temple of the Society of indefatigable exploration of the unknown elder antiquities.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be here,” Said the woman. “I had no idea this little cave was here, you can’t really see it from the outside.”

Elpy smiled, and gestured to the small hole in the wall where the lake entered, luxuriant with weeds and verdant marshgrass, offering concealment of the most fortuitous sort. “Yes, that’s the objective. Are you here to join our incipient revolution, my dear Miss Mata?”

“Actually I was wondering if you knew anything about a girl named Celia. She’s the King’s daughter.”

Hatecraft found his angle of conversation entirely derailed. Intellect temporarily disengaged, he blinked at the shrouded woman from behind his spectacles, mouth opening to emit a rather undistinguished croak. “Bu-what?”

To his amazement, the woman started to twitch, and mutter in disjointed exclamations. “You didn’t know-Well she is, I saw him-of COURSE I’m sure-Zuula knew. Zuula, please explain it-Hold on he’s looking at me funny, I think it’s still on-” She fell silent.

Hatecraft pulled of his spectacles, as his mouth moved, trying to make sense of the entirety of the inexplicable affair. Ultimately, he directed his gaze to the acolytes, who were looking at each other and whispering.

And to his horror, he realized that they were staring at the boat, encumbered to the brim with boxes, barrels, and crates, with a few shattered containers gleaming with unrevealed treasure in the dim green glowstone lanterns that he’d had to rig extremely carefully to get just that right shade of ‘eldritch’.

“Ascend the stairs forthwith,” he told them. “I can ensure that the treasury is moved to an infinitely more secure location myself, and I must communicate with the blessed messengers that are afflicting Miss Mata’s mentality in an insalubrious manner.”

Daav turned to Phred. “Wot’d he say?”

“Ah, he’s just moving the stash. And he wants to talk to the lady alone.”

“Aw, I wanted to watch,” Mhorty sighed.

“Psh, don’t get greedy, it’s not even Saturday. And she might say no. Come on, let’s get going then. Bye Pastor!”

“Farewell!” Elpy flapped his hands at them, in the sacred sign of the guardian marshfowl that he’d taught them early on in his theocratic regime. It looked impressive and did absolutely nothing save stretch the fingers, but it pleased the congregation nonetheless and a few of them even dropped their spears to return the sign.

With much clattering and a few lingering suspicious looks from some of the less-fervent acolytes at the boat full of treasure, the acolytes departed.

Hatecraft waited until he heard the door upstairs shut, and marched forward to Mata, shaking his finger in her face, chastening and intimidating simultaneously, he was certain. “You’re no devotee of the Thing In Yellow! If you were, you would have surely drawn comparisons to this subterranean sanctuary to the lake of Holi, in lost Corcasa!”

“I never said I was a devotee to anyone,” said Mata, returning his gaze unblinking, eyes just visible through her veil. “I’m a little confused about why your cult thought road signs were significant.”

Hatecraft smiled. “And now I’m certain that you’re no cultist. We don’t call ourselves by such plebian apellations. Tell me, Miss Mata, what brings you to Outsmouth? Are you perhaps here to spy on our holy revolution?”

She still didn’t blink. “I’m trying to find news about my little girl. But I don’t think she’s here. She’s the king’s daughter, and I’m worried about her.”

Now, and only now, Elpy blinked. That wasn’t the alibi he was expecting an agent provocateur to operate underneath. He pulled back from her, retreating to rally his ruminations, and best consider the concepts to conjugate. “You claim to be a mistress of royalty, then? A jilted mother, seeking her royal bastard?”

“I don’t think you should talk that way about Celia. Please apologize.”

“Celia? You claim to be Princess Cecelia’s maternal originator?” Elpy laughed. “Unless you’re Amelia Gearhart under there, that statement is magnificent within its ludicrousness. If I were you, I would observe your perambulation warily around such worrisome embellishments.”

“I never claimed to be her mother. Her mother’s dead. She’s my little girl, that’s all.”

“Mmm. Madness, then. Insanity and fixation… fortunately I know all about such afflictions.” Elpy spread his arms wide, convinced he was dealing with a madwoman. “I think, that I can recommend religion. You’ve already paid your dues, as it were,” he nodded to the boat. “Would you enjoy true enlightenment?”

“No thank you. You lie to your friends too much.” To his horror, the woman walked over to the boat and picked up a sack. “And these are our coins. Why did you take them?”

“Wartime requisitioning,” he snapped, hastening over and removing the sack of lucre from her grasping, gloved digits. “A small fee to contribute to the coffers of the holy revolution.”

“Yes, but you didn’t want that revolution to happen,” Mata pointed out. “So it looks an awful lot to me like you’re using it as an excuse to steal.”

A cold, nameless dread began to creep up Hatecraft’s spine. His appendages numbed, as the air in the cove seemed to grow malign, and arctic, almost gelid to his frantic inhalations. “What did you say?” he whispered.

“We read your diary. We know you wanted to be important, so you came here to research the old one, and try to get people to do what you told them to do. Then you found the monster, and IT did what you told it to do. And that’s when you killed the old priestess and the librarian.”

“How…” Elpy rubbed his forehead. His diary! He’d completely forgotten about that aggravating tome during the relocation of his quarters to a location more suiting to his magnificence! “So what? You’ve only sealed your fate!” He hissed, striding forward to admonish the woman, ignoring her inscrutable arrogance. “With one word to my faithful they would engage in your agonizing and ultimately lethal defenestration!”

“I’m sure that’s very bad, but Zuula’s talking with them now, and showing them the book. I don’t think they’re very faithful any more. They’re pretty mad, to be honest.”

Hatecraft’s mouth snapped shut. He looked up at the wooden ceiling above, noting for the first time the creaking of footsteps on the church floor above. Many footsteps. And just audible above them, a low, ugly muttering. The sort of muttering simple rural fisherfolk do when they find out that their savior and prophet is just a pathetic basement-dwelling ‘nice guy’ with some kinks involving calamari.

“Who are you!” He bellowed into the unblinking woman’s veiled face. “Take off your mask!”

“Mask?” She said, as she tilted her head quizzically. “I wear no mask.”

Silence, for a long moment.

“You’re, er, you’re wearing one right now,” Elpy pointed out.

“Oh, that. Technically it’s a veil.”

Elpy had had ENOUGH. “Great Cmpylyah’s Curse on your Constitution! Dark Bolt!” he screamed, blasting her backwards with eldritch lightning!

A red ‘99’ escaped into the sky, and she staggered, and fell to one knee. Elpy ripped the veil away from her face-

-to look upon charred wood. “Ah. An animator,” he sneered, kicking the crippled puppet to the sand. “So that wasn’t a lie, at least. Clever. I would hunt your real embodiment down, but my chronological excess is approaching its end, in this approximate location. I think I shall employ the egress, and leave you to enjoy the consequences when this town’s inevitable doom approaches, whether it be from eldritch consequences or more mundane genocide.” He hopped on the boat, gave three knocks.

The water churned, then stopped. Hatecraft frowned, and knocked harder.

“No, don’t go anywhere,” The charred wreck of the mannequin said. “Not after we went to all this trouble to come to you.”

With a surprised warble, the beast burst from the water, trousers rent and dripping.

And to Hatecraft’s astonishment, he was followed by three dripping, weed-covered, unnatural little forms…

*****

Threadbare charged out of the water, dropping the stone that he’d used to weigh himself down when he walked along the bottom of the lake.

Beside him, Garon did the same time. From his back, Madeline pointed at the really big fishman they’d run into under the boat. “Back off, scaly!” She shouted.

Threadbare opened his mouth to say something to Hatecraft, but water came out instead.

This could be troublesome, he thought, as Hatecraft shrieked and threw black lightning at him. Fortunately, the little bear was small and nimble.

Your Dodge skill is now level 8!

He needed to get his mouth clear, and the guy wasn’t giving him time to do it. So Threadbare decided to try one of his little used tricks. He leaped forward, onto the boat, and hugged the guy’s outstretched arm. Golden light flared…

You have healed Elpy Hatecraft for 110 points!

Your Innocent embrace skill is now level 12!

…but Elpy had a surprisingly good will, for someone who had so thoroughly failed to resist his own urges. Or maybe Threadbare just needed more practice.

Your Fascination skill was resisted!

“Get off! Evacuate!” Elpy screamed, shaking his arm. But the little bear’s strength was much more than the cultist’s. Threadbare spat water into his face, trying to clear his voice for speech.

“Fevered Strength!” the cult leader hissed, and Threadbare’s arms slipped as the thin man bulged with muscles. Then the little bear was flying backward, hitting the wall of the cavern, and bouncing to a stop.

“Dark Chant!” Hatecraft roared, as he grabbed a gaff hook and leaped out of the boat. And from everywhere and nowhere, from the place between the worlds, carried on ineffable winds from places no man was meant to see or hear, came words that were terrible in their strangeness. “IO! IO FORTRAN! CMPYLYAH RPL WEBQL NPL FORTRAN!”

Even Threadbare, with his strong mental fortitude, felt his sanity escape as the chant tore at his mind…

Meanwhile, on the beach, Garon and Madeline faced off against an eight-foot, scaly being. It had the head of a catfish, with glowing green eyes, and a blubbery layer of fat over way too many muscles. Initially freaked out over their appearance, it now seemed to be getting angry. “WRRBLGLRGLE BLAH!” The thing spat, standing legs akimbo, its baggy pants brushing the ground.

“Burninate it! I got yer back!” Madeline yelled. “Endure Faiah! Manipulate Faiah!”

Garon hosed the fishman down with water, as he tried to speak.

“Oh.” Madeline said. She’d kept her mouth shut no problem underwater, but the plush toys… well, they WERE pretty porous, weren’t they? “Uh oh.”

Then Garon twisted and jumped to the side, as the fishman kicked at them, and Madeline, with her substandard ride skill, went flying. “Mothafuckah!” She ate sand, and picked herself up, just as the chant started. “No!” She howled, as the alien words ripped through her head… “Not again!”

On the other side of the cavern, Threadbare winced, as a Dark Bolt ripped through him, sending a red ‘47’ into the air. Then Elpy was upon him, stabbing down with the gaff hook. Threadbare dodged again, tried to clear his throat, but couldn’t. His friends were losing heart, as the dark words ripped sanity from them, he saw blue numbers flowing up and away, way too big in Madeline’s case. He had to stop that. But how?

The gaff hook caught him square on, impaling him through the gut.

Your Golem body skill is now level 22!

Your Toughness skill is now level 16!

Max HP +2

The bear grabbed the spear, and started to pull himself up. Elpy shrieked, and started battering him against the stones, the beach, whatever he could reach. It damaged the little bear, but the golem kept up his inexorable climb.

And as he did so, the answer came to him.

“I don’t know if this will work,” Mata said, in her creaky, mildly-charred voice, “But this is my Emboldening Speech.” Elpy froze, and looked toward the dummy. “This man and his monster have been doing bad things and lying to the people they should be helping. So let’s stop them. There’s no way he’s tougher than the ogre, and you did great on that.”

Your Emboldening Speech skill is now level 8!

To Elpy’s horror, the puppets straightened up, and the sanity escaping them shrunk and slowed. His abomination, however, clutched its skull, as the dark chant continued its work. The beast never HAD been immune to the blasphemous sanity-over-time spell.

Then furry paws seized Hatecraft’s fingers, and pain ripped through his hand as bone snapped. Fevered Zeal granted strength, yes, but at a cost to constitution. He hurled the spear, and the bear free…

…and the bear threw itself off the spear, yelled “Fancy Flourish!” In a still-waterlogged voice, caught the wall with strong legs, and fell to the ground, landing on both feet and whipping the spear around in a dazzling display.

Threadbare smiled as he saw a green ‘12’ escape from Hatecraft. He smiled more as skill-ups flew by.

Your Fancy Flourish skill is now level 7!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 31!

Too many foes! Hatecraft started toward the dolls on the beach, charging them while their backs were turned-

“Fight me,” Threadbare invited. “I challenge you!”

Your Challenge skill is now level 4!

Hatecraft wasn’t distracted. He kicked at Madeline, but his foot came nowhere near her, as the challenge debuff threw his aim off. She dodged, and shouted “Call Faiah!” Red fire, not properly eldritch at all, licked up from her hand and hit him in the crotch. Hatecraft staggered back, shot a look at Threadbare, who was examining the gaff hook.

“This is sort of a blade, isn’t it?” Threadbare asked, his throat finally clear of water. He studied the double-sided spear blade carefully.

“What?” Hatecraft wheezed, batting at his burning balls.

Threadbare brought the spear down hard on a rock, so hard that the little teddy bear bounced into the air.

CRACK!

The spear blade broke off. Threadbare walked over and tossed it into the air. “Animus Blade,” he said, as it whirled. “Invite broken spear thing.”

Your Animus Blade skill is now level 9!

“Technically it’s a gaff,” Hatecraft hissed, his grammar offended at the improper education displayed in this plebian plushie.

“Yeah, it’s a gaffe all right!” Madeline yelled. “And you made it! Whoops!” She went flying backward as the abomination managed to boot her a good one. “Ow!” then “AGH!” as the dark chant swelled, and another blue number ripped from her skull. “Little more encouragement here boss?”

Threadbare charged Hatecraft, as the reverend recovered from his roasting and seized up a board with a nail in it. The two fought, claw to wood, as the little bear shouted emboldening speech after emboldening speech.

Meanwhile, Garon bit at the catfish thing, ripping its pants and tearing into its scaled flesh. But the thing was tough, and though it was slow, the few hits it managed to land popped seams and burst stuffing.

Garon needed his skills, and he couldn’t get to them, his throat and mouth were choked with water. His superior air capacity worked against him. The Dark Chant wasn’t hitting him so bad, at least, it seemed like high dragons were resistant to that sort of thing, but even with Threadbare’s speeches it would soon take Madeline out of commission unless they could shut down the cultist.

Then Garon felt a familiar weight on his back, after he danced around the catfish man’s latest lunge. Madeline.

“Gar, do you trust me?” The wooden doll yelled.

“Gurgleglub! Blarfle!” Garon spat water, and settled for nodding.

“Good. Bloodsuckah!”” And Garon froze, as he felt tiny fangs rip into his neck…

Across the way, Threadbare staggered as Hatecraft broke the club over his head. The nail ripped his hat off, and tore a wide stretch of his hide open. The cloth flopped over his eyes, and he staggered back, temporarily blinded and feeling the blackness come on as the stuffing spilled from his head. “Mend Golem!” he yelled, three times to be sure.

Your Golem body skill is now level 23!

Your Toughness skill is now level 17!

Max HP +2

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 3!

You have healed yourself for 65 points!

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 4!

You have healed yourself for 68 points!

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 5!

You have healed yourself for 68 points!

“G-g-g-golems?” Hatecraft spluttered, staring in disbelief. His calves were a bloody wreck, but Zeal and fear kept him on his feet. “Inconceivable!”

“Yes. Golems,” Threadbare said, raising his bloody claws again. “Surrender. I don’t want to kill you. But you have to stop all this.”

“Burninate!” Came Garon’s bellow across the way, and the fishman roared as he cooked. “Ow ow ow!” Garon yelled, until Madeline scooped the flames from him and threw them away.

“Mend Golem,” Threadbare threw his way-

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 6!

You have healed Garon for 74 points!

-but the moment of inattention cost him.

“Dark Bolt!” Hatecraft screamed, and threw eldritch lightning at the wounded teddy bear…

…lightning that crackled and faded away.

Your Magic Resistance skill is now level 7!

“All right, then.” Threadbare waded in, claws swiping, watching his skill rise as Hatecraft backed up, hit points slashed down bit by bit.

But the pastor sneered, and grabbed up the haft of the broken spear. “Unholy Smite,” he said, and dark energy flowed into the improvised staff.

Then his eyes went wide, as a tiny little squeaky voice shouted from the stairs. “I can do stuff like that too! Holy Smite!” yelled Fluffbear. And with Mopsy warbling a battle cry, the mounted bear charged him from behind.

“There you are!” Threadbare sighed, as he tag-teamed Hatecraft, ducking under the man’s erractic blows. “Where’s-“

Fifty pounds of the gods’ perfect killing machine emerged from the shadows of the stairwell and pounced on the distracted fishman’s back.

Pulsivar had his priorities, and if he was gonna kill anything down here, it was going to be the guy who smelled like baked fish, okay?

The dark chant faltered and faded, as the enemies finally fell.

And when the angry mob of former cultists worked up the courage to head downstairs, they found a pile of battered toys doing their best to convince Pulsivar that he probably shouldn’t eat the dead fishguy.

He might be eldritch, after all. That shit could be contagious.

“You survive!” Zuula said, emerging from the crowd of cultists. “Good. Had devil of time convincing Pulsivar to go into dark basement full of bad words.”

“Yeah, what was that chanty thing? It sounded nasty,” Fluffbear squeaked, raising her voice to be heard as in the background the congregation took turns kicking Hatecraft. All but a few of the women, who were sitting next to the fishman and crying.

“Some cultist stuff, I guess,” Said Garon, whistling. “Ah. Thanks for the amateur tracheotomy,” he told Madline.

“Anytime,” Madeline burbled, and grinned. It had taken some doing to gnaw through to his flooded throat and let the water drain, but it had paid off.

“Oh, let me fix that,” Threadbare said.

“No need, said Garon. “Blood is…” he clutched his chest, where his hidden pouch full of gold coins was. But his words trailed off, as impulses he’d never felt before told him whoa now. “Actually why don’t you fix that. Yeah, no need to waste gold-“ his eyes opened wide. “I leveled! Sweet Nurph, I get plus twenty five to stuff? Oh fucking wow!”

“Right. That settles that,” Madeline said.

“What?” Garon asked.

“Tell ya later.” She patted him. “Oooh, got a few levels myself. Vampaiah level five, good to seeya again.”

But Threadbare wasn’t listening. He was too busy watching his own level-ups scroll by.

You are now a level 11 Cave Bear!
+10 CON
+10 WIS
+5 Armor
+5 Endurance
+5 Mental Fortitude
You are now a level 4 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You are now a level 5 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You have unlocked the Parry skill!
Your Parry skill is now level 1!

You have unlocked the Swashbuckler’s Spirit skill!

You have unlocked the Swinger skill!
Your Swinger skill is now level 1!
You are now a level 8 Golemist!
+5 INT
+5 WILL
You are now a level 7 Ruler!
+3 CHA
+3 WIS
+3 LUCK

Threadbare stared, sitting down hard. “My goodness. Wait, swinger? Is swinging good?”

The women around the fishman’s corpse cried harder, for some reason. “This is neither the time nor the place, okay?” Marva said.

“Er, right. Status. Help… Ah, that’s what it does. Ropes and chains and things. Okay.” He frowned. “Chandeliers? I’m not sure what those are.”

“Big piles of pointy wood that stupid vampaiahs hang over their heads in theah castles,” Madeline said, strolling over. “The smaht ones use metal.”

“Oh. Well I can swing from them really easily now,” Said Threadbare. “I suppose that might be useful.”

“Zuula relieved that you got dat particular usage of de word.” She said, heading over to the group. “What you do here?”

“I tried to get him to surrender.”

“He know de score. Cult angry. Dey just kill him anyway. Why you kill fishman, dough?”

“Well, he attacked us,” Garon said. “If he’d surrendered I would have let him back down, but then, well, he got Pulsivar’d.”

Pulsivar burped. His breath smelled fishy, but he still cast envious looks at the fishman’s corpse. The guy had been delicious, and the bobcat wanted him some more of that.

“I have a question,” Missus Fluffbear said.

“Sure. What’s-“ Threadbare froze. “Hold on. A spirit wants to talk. Speak with Dead.”

The world shifted. The former cultists went silent, and shifted uneasily, looking at the somewhat even creepier cave, and Daav cleared his throat. “We’ll uh, we’ll just take the bodies up, and uh… be off, shall we? Yes, why don’t we.” They beat feet upstairs, bearing Hatecraft and the fishman with them.

“Hello?” Threadbare asked.

“Yo,” a strange voice said from the direction of the underground lake. It was deep and smooth, and like all of the dead, it spoke to their minds and not their ears. “What’s up? Why’d you murder me, little dudes?”

“You’re not Hatecraft.” Threadbare frowned.

“Who? Oh, the weird little mean guy? Naw, son, naw.”

“That leaves one person. Are you the fishman?”

“I guess so. Yeah, that’s a good word for me.”

“Why did you fight us?” Garon asked.

“Buncha freaky ass little monsters and a motherfucking miniature dragon come outta nowhere? Fff, like you wouldn’t.”

“Ya got a point theah,” Madeline said.

“Why did you help the evil cultist hurt all these people?” Fluffbear said.

“Was that what he was doing? Didn’t look like it to me,” The fishman said, poking his head up from the water where he’d been resting his ectoplasm. “It was hard to tell with that guy. He was intense. And I never learned the language, so I didn’t really know what his deal was.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you do here?” Zuula asked. “You don’t look eldritch to Zuula, but dere cult involved so she want full facts before we err on de side of smacking old ones.”

“Old ones? Nah, just one. My man YGlnargle’blah. We be chilling with him under the sea. Used to rule around here, y’know? But the ocean over this place started shrinking, so when he said come with me if you want to live, we went.”

“Ocean? There’s never been an ocean around here,” Garon said.

But Zuula was shaking her head. “Dere was. Long ago. Way long ago.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. So he called his children home, and we’ve been chilling in his airless realm of cool darkness ever since. But me, my family got on my case, wanted me to grow up and learn a trade. I tried to tell them music IS a trade and the band would take off any day now, but shit, man, they didn’t listen. So I went exploring, trying to find some good seaweed I could harvest, or maybe some new kind of fish I could sell, and I found kind of a door. It dumped me out in this weird-ass place. It was rough for a while, and I got pretty sick. Crawled into this cave, thought I was gonna die. That’s when weirdo found me.”

“Called his children home…” Garon slapped his face with one paw. “He won’t call the cultists home at all. YOU’RE his children, not the human cultists.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be a good place for humans, where I come from. It’d be kind of drowny.”

“So why you making fish babies?” Zuula asked. “You horny or something?”

“Gh. Yuk. Don’t remind me.” The fishman sighed. “That little weird dude insisted I get it on with half this freaking village. Those smooth bodies, and-ulp- hair everywhere… Blrp… mf. Man, I guess I’m glad ghosts can’t vomit but I kind of want to, y’know? At least he started letting me have a bag I could put over their heads. I think he convinced them it was part of a ritual or something. And he kept summoning tentacles and things while I was trying to get it over with. Some messed up stuff, I tell you.”

“I don’t understand,” said Missus Fluffbear. “Not any of that.”

“We’ll tell you later!” The doll haunters chorused.

Fluffbear pouted. “Well, okay. I had a question anyway-“

“Whoa. I’m dissolving. Is this good?” The fishman interrupted.

“You going to you afterlife.” Said Zuula. “Is normal dead stuff.”

“But my afterlife ain’t here!” The fishman’s voice rose. “How will YGlnargle’blah find me!”

Zuula considered. “Soulstone him, Dreadbear.”

“What? Oh. Good idea. Soulstone.”

“What’s that?” The fishman spirit walked out of the water, and stared. “Dude, it’s like an angler trap, only a lot more interesting…” He reached out to touch it… and flowed into the stone.

“Weird,” The soulstone pulsed blue. “It’s tight in here, but comfy.”

“We can put you into a new body, if you like,” Said Threadbare, politely. “Or we can take you to YGlnargle’blah’s circle. He seems to be acting up lately.”

“Oh, that ring of stones thing? I’ve been looking for that! It’s not in the lake anywhere, and it’s supposed to be underwater, that’s what the old writings say.”

“Old writings from when ocean be here?” Zuula asked.

“Yeah.”

“See, dis why you not trust books. Ocean be long gone, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Do you know why YGlnargle’blah is awake?” Madeline asked.

“He’s awake? Aw shoot. I was worried he’d notice me leaving. He’s like… think of a really protective grandfather. He used to walk the world and get it on with hot scaly chicks back in the day, most of us are descended from him. Then that Konol guy, the new god, did his thing and YGlnargle’blah had to go to the aether. So I think maybe YGlnargle’blah finally came looking for me. Man, I’m in so much trouble.”

“No so much,” Zuula said. “You dead now. But wait, more blood of yours is around.”

“The little nippers? Yeah, they’re cuties. Even if some of them have… urg… hair.”

“What will he do if he comes through the dolmen circle?” Garon asked.

“Who, YGlnargle’blah? He can’t. Not until the walls are way thinner and Konol’s all the way dead. But I guess he can stand on the edge and yell until I come back.”

“Okay, dat not add up,” Zuula said. “Zuula definitely had visions that humans be wiped out in a couple days, here. Mediocre old one standing on t’reshold and being cranky not do dat.”

“If not the old one, then perhaps something else?” Threadbare asked. “What could kill everyone here in a day?”

They thought.

Thanks to Threadbare’s noblesse oblige boosting their int, they didn’t have to think too hard.

“This village, which recently rebelled against the Crown? And killed every garrison member who didn’t run? And revealed their forbidden religious beliefs for all to see?” Garon said, flapping his wings. “Oh lordy, the army’s on its way.”

“I still have a question,” Fluffbear squeaked.

“What?” Threadbare turned to her, and everyone else glanced over.

“What’s a paladin?”

*****

A little later, the group came upstairs to the church. Smoke filled the air, and through the open doors they could see a burning pile of robes and fezzes. The fish children sat glumly around it, watching their tea party stuff burn. The now-regularly-clothed ex-cultists were standing around in small groups, talking. All save Marva, who was sitting on a stone bench, with two of the little fish children curled up next to her, sleeping. Threadbare could tell they were asleep by the way their eyes didn’t glow.

“Hello sir,” Marva cleared her throat as Threadbare walked out, cleaned from the fight. Immediately all eyes shifted to him. He coughed into one paw, nervously, as his “Work It Baby” skill shot up to its maximum level.

“Ah, hello. I apologize for fooling you with the dummy.”

“No, no, it’s all right. We talked it over, and we’re just glad you showed us the truth. That man-“ Marva snarled the word, “-tricked us all.”

“Oh. Well, yes. Um… there’s no easy way to say this. We think the army’s coming to kill everyone here.”

“We know.” Marva rocked her fishbabies.

“You do?” Madeline asked. “Why you still heah, then?”

“We have nowhere to go. This is our home, and all we know is fishing. No other settlement would offer aid to people who used to be cultists, and with the kingdom as shrunken as it is, there’s no civilized place to hide. The wars ground everyone down. And we’d die in the wilds, if we tried that. Assuming the army just let us go.”

Threadbare considered. He turned to his little group of toys. “Are they right?”

“Yeah,” Zuula said. “King not hesitate to wipe out villages. Taylor’s Delve proof of dat, and wasn’t any cult shenanigans involved.”

“The army will mow through this town like a scythe through wheat,” Garon said. “Most of these guys are level eight or under. I mean, we’re not much farther than that, after that fight, but we’ve got jobs and golem advantages over them.”

“Golem advantages.” Threadbare rubbed his chin. “Marva, I saw a lot of treasure on that boat below. Are there any reagents and crystals in there?”

“Why, yes. The trade mostly dried up since Catamountain closed, but we used to be quite the black market hub back in the day.” The middle-aged fishwife smiled. “We donated everything we had to the… society… but nobody was an enchanter so it went unused.”

“I see.” Threadbare said. “You have nowhere to run. How would you like to fight?”

“Fight for what?” Marva said. “Our pastor’s dead. We have no one to lead us.”

“You do,” said Zuula, standing her full eight inches tall. “Bend your knee and swear, and Dreadbear save you all!” Then she went downstairs to smash open barrels full of loot from the boat, because she’d been right dammit.

The ex-cultists muttered. They discussed. And in the end, they decided, they had nothing left to lose.

One by one, with more trickling in from the rest of the town, including most of the folk who assumed they’d be slaughtered along with the cultists, the people gathered to place their hope and their dreams in the paws of one small teddy bear.

And on that day, Dreadbear, Lord of Outsmouth, first of his name, swore in subject after subject and gained three ruler levels.

He’d need them, for the ordeal ahead.

QUICK REFERENCE - THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

Duelist Skills

PARRY Level: 5 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
While you have your specialized weapon drawn, you have a chance of parrying any melee attack you are aware of.

SWASHBUCKLER’S SPIRIT Level: 5 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Your Charisma buffs your Cool.

SWINGER Level: 5 Cost: N/A Duration: One minute per skill level
Activate this skill to buff your agility and climb skill while swinging from ropes, chains, chandeliers, etc…

Ruler Skills

IT’S GOOD TO BE KING Level: 10 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
You gain a tiny fraction of experience whenever one of your subjects does. Experience gained from higher level individuals goes directly to leveling your ruler class. Experience gained from lower level individuals may only be utilized for King’s Quest rewards.

KING’S QUEST Level: 10 Cost: 20 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
Decree a public quest. All your subjects within earshot may accept. Any who fulfill the quest reap the benefits of the quest immediately.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 12
Cave Bear Level 11
Ruler Level 10
Scout Level 6
Tailor Level 10
Model Level 7
Necromancer Level 10
Duelist Level 5
Animator Level 11
Enchanter Level 2
Golemist Level 7
Smith Level 5

Attributes: Strength: 109 Constitution: 115 Hit Points: 288(358) Armor: 47(51)
Intelligence: 161 Wisdom: 175(181) Sanity: 336(445) Mental Fortitude: 37
Dexterity: 103(109) Agility: 97(109) Stamina: 210(288) Endurance: 57
Charisma: 98(129) Willpower: 144 Moxie: 242(343) Cool: 20(45)
Perception: 94 Luck: 80(86) Fortune: 174(250) Fate: 12(18) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 33 (+7)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 10
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 30
Bodyguard - Level 6
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 23
Innocent Embrace - Level 12
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 22
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 18
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 17

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 11
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 5
Noblesse Oblige - Level 20
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 15
Simple Decree - Level 8
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 1
Best Route - Level 1
Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 2
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Tailoring - Level 45(51)
Clean and Press - Level 9
Adjust Outfit - Level 2

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 35 (+70 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 14
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 14
Strong Pose - Level 1
Work it Baby - Level 35

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 10
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 6
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+10% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 16
Soulstone - Level 24
Speak With Dead - Level 18
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (13)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+12 to cool)
Swinger - Level 1
Weapon Specialist - Level 15 (Brawling +7)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 29
Animus Blade - Level 9
Animus Shield - Level 1
Arm Creation - Level 6
Command Animus - Level 18
Creator’s Guardians - Level 20
Dollseye - Level 17
Eye for Detail - Level 19
Magic Mouth - Level 17
Mend - Level 31

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 1
Harden - Level 5
Soften - Level 1
Spellstore - Level 1

Golemist Skills Command Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 6
Invite Golem - Level 2
Mend Golem - Level 6
Program Golem - Level 1
Toy Golem - Level 6
Wood Golem - Level 1

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 4
Refine Ore - Level 1
Smithing - Level 21

Equipment Apprentice Tailor’s Apron (+4 Armor, +4 Tailoring)(+1 Armor, Tailoring, from WIB)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+1 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Poor Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+1 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+1 CHA, WIS, +3 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+1 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+3 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
A Dungeon Core
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box full of reagents and crystals, most minor.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests Save Celia

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Winning Hearts and Minds 1

“Good of you to finally join us, Dame Ragandor,” the half-orc said. Heavyset and clad in white armor that had once been pristine but was marred with countless scratches and nicks, the green woman’s face could have been marble to match her suit’s coloration for all the emotion it showed.

“Thank you. The rangers delayed us-“

“Your sergeant has already filled me in on that and I wasn’t asking you for excuses anyway.”

Cecelia felt her cheeks tighten. They’d told her the CO of Fort Bronze was a hardass. Her father had warned her she’d find people in the military that would be rude to her on purpose, to test her, and that she’d have to find a balance between sticking up for herself and letting stuff go.

So instead of stammering or apologizing or fussing like the old, weak Celia would have done, Cecelia stood there at attention, keeping her eyes fixed on the General in charge of the Eastern Front.

General Mastoya sighed, and rose, looking out the window. Her hair clicked together, the fingerbones braided into it rattling. She was the first Knight that Cecelia had ever seen with long hair.

Well, besides her father, at any rate, but when you got that high a level in all those classes, you more or less made your own rules.

“You’re greener than I am,” Mastoya said out the window, looking into the courtyard. “But I’m supposed to teach you how to be a proper officer AND run a war at the same time. I don’t like that.”

Cecelia stayed silent. It stretched on, on enough that she eventually thought it safe to speak. “Why not, Ma’am?”

“Because it’s pointless.” Mastoya turned to face her, scorn written into every scar on her face. “You’re going to grow up and be queen. You’re not going to have an officer’s career, or troops to look after, or have to worry about whether or not the enemies are tunneling under you right now, or where your next meal’s coming from. Officer? Bah. First you’ll have to convince me you’re not just daddy’s little girl out playing at toy soldiers.”

“It’s precisely because I’m going to grow up to be a queen,” Cecelia said. “How can I ask people to fight, or even to die for me, if I don’t know what that involves? What kind of Queen would ask her people to do something she wouldn’t?”

“Go on.”

“I won’t have an officer’s career, but the wars will come regardless so I might as well know how to fight them. I won’t have specific troops to look after because I’ll have a nation full of subjects to look after. And our enemies will always try to undermine me, and I’ll always worry about my next meal because we’re putting so much stress on the farms and not enough on the fat nobles that we’re one bad harvest away from a famine.”

“Ha!” Mastoya seemed to like the “fat nobles” dig.

“And as far as toy soldiers go…” Cecelia looked away, and sighed. “You know, when I was a little girl and first started adventuring, I animated my toys. And they fought for me. But I never threw them away, or let them get ripped up to the point I couldn’t mend them. We were a team. But I always knew they weren’t PEOPLE.”

A lump rose in her throat. There had been one exception, but now wasn’t the time, and she forced that lump down. “But I grew up, and I put aside childish things.” She closed her eyes, pushed the burning house, pushed her grandfather’s bruised face from her memory. “People are not toys. They never will be toys to me. I’m not the little girl I used to be.” She opened them again, in control of herself once more. “My father saw to that. And as you’re sworn to him, I certainly hope you have faith in his methods.”

Mastoya was nodding now. The scorn faded from her face… mostly.

“Well, nothing can make or break you like family. I should know that. I owe everything I am to my father, as well. Well, that and surviving the barn fire that was my mother. Fucking green bitch.” Mastoya barked laughter. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the rotten tree.”

“I’m sorry. The only half-orc woman I ever knew was a good mother, and the bravest lady I ever knew.”

“Would have been nice to have that kind of mom,” Mastoya said. “Ah well. The past is past. All right, Dame Ragandor, you’ll have your shot.”

Mastoya settled into her chair, and pulled out a handful of scrolls. “The Town’s name is Outsmouth. Not too far from where I grew up, and about the same kind of shithole. Small place, about six or seven hundred people. Only reason they’re important is because they supply about half of the fish we eat in this valley, and they aren’t as dependent on field hands, so we can levy troops faster than we can elsewhere. Easy life, right? Hard as hell for even country bumpkins to fuck up. So of course they went and started a fucking unsanctioned cult.”

“Daemons or old ones?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s probably not going to be djinn because we don’t have a history of that here, so of the known cult types we’re probably dealing with daemons or old ones.”

“It’s old ones,” Anise said, from the doorway. Mastoya jumped, and her face darkened.

Cecelia closed her eyes. “Hello, Anise.”

“Inquisitor Layd’i,” Mastoya ground out. “So nice of you to join us.”

Movement behind her, then Cecelia ground her teeth as two strong, thin hands descended to grip her shoulders, rubbing gently against her spine. “I simply couldn’t stay away. Not after your messenger gave me your eloquent summons. And since the rest of me is attached to my ass, I brought it as well, I hope you don’t mind?”

“There are days I do.” Mastoya said.

Cecelia opened her eyes.

“It’s an old one cult,” Anise said. “The worst kind. At least half the town’s converted, which means the settlement is beyond saving.”

“Really.” Celia had her doubts, given the source of the information.

“Really, Dame.” Mastoya surprised her. “A cult like this gets a foothold this size, there’s no saving it. It’ll hurt us for years until the area’s safe enough to resettle, but we have to put the entire town to the sword.”

“We’re one bad harvest away from famine,” Cecelia said, softly. “And it’s only half the town corrupted…”

“Half that we know about,” Mastoya said, sighing, and pulling a bottle out from her desk. She bit the cork off, spat it out, and took a slug. “And insidious. Pacifying them’s no good. Even if we had the scouts to vet them, even if we COULD spare the scouts to vet them, cultists can fiddle with their status screens. They can hide their information. I’m sure you know all about that.”

“Actually I don’t. I’m not a cultist.”

Mastoya’s eyes widened, and flicked to Anise. “But your father-“ She started, then stopped, looking over Cecelia carefully. “Huh. Not what I expected.”

“You didn’t let your mother limit you,” Cecelia said, “So why should I let my father limit me?” Anise’s hands tensed on her shoulders, just for a second. Then they withdrew. The girl kept her sigh of relief silent.

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Anise said, cheerfully. “Anyway, I hate to interrupt your bonding, but there’s genocide to plan.”

“The Inquisitor is right,” Mastoya said. “Much as I hate it, there’s tentacles involved. There will be abominations, things that should not be, weird magic, and lots of sanity damage involved.”

“Yes. Daemons just want to show people the folly of virtue and torment the weak until they either get stronger or perish so that they stop sucking down resources,” Anise said, matter-of-factly. “The Old Ones want to corrupt Generica, inserting their own reality and overwriting ours. Unlike daemons, who are currently proving they can co-exist peacefully with mortals in Cylvanian society, old ones and their spawn have no place in a sane and reasonable land.”

“If they win, if they even get enough of a foothold here in Cylvania, we’re dead or worse,” Mastoya sighed, taking another slug of drink. The smell made Cecelia’s eyes water. “I hate it, but everyone in that town has to die.”

“There’s really no way?” Cecelia asked, not caring if it made Mastoya think less of her.

It didn’t seem to. The half-orc’s eyes were sad and old, as she gazed at her future queen. “No. Which is why I’m assigning you to this. You are your father’s daughter, and if you want to be a good Queen, mercy alone won’t cut it. You have to be able to bring down the fist, not just offer the open palm.”

“My father told you that, didn’t he? It’s something he’d say.”

Mastoya snorted alcohol, coughed. “Yeah.” She poked a crumpled scroll at the edge of the desk. “Don’t get me wrong, his charisma buff is nice, but…”

“Yeah.” Her father’s Noblesse Oblige was a definite help, when it came to dealing with other people. There really was no excuse for rudeness.

So they sat in the commander’s quarters, and talked about how best to kill every civilian in a town really not far from where Cecelia grew up.

She was polite, she was attentive, she took orders well, and at the end of it after she was dismissed she went to the nearest privy and vomited until she could vomit no more.

This was it.

Everything her father had been training it for, everything she’d been trained to do, was leading up to this point. If she did it, then she’d have proven to her father, to his enemies, to everyone that she was strong enough. That she’d not be a weak Queen.

All it would cost was the lives of a cult, who deserved it, and about three hundred or so people that didn’t.

Cecelia cried then, on the privy floor, knowing there was no way out of it, knowing that if she refused, then General Mastoya would just send someone else. Knowing that Anise would be there, smiling, wearing her dead mother’s face and looking on with approval and making sure that nobody was spared.

It sure didn’t seem like shielding the weak. She thought, recalling her code. But it definitely was smiting traitors. And obeying the King.

And when she was done crying, she washed her face, stared at her short, frizzy hair in the mirror, and wet it down until it stayed. She’d shave it all off after this, go bald like many of the more fervent soldiers in the army did.

It would be less trouble, when it was all gone.

*****

Reason clanked and clattered, gears groaning as it pushed through the mud. The rains of early spring had been harsh in this part of the valley, and the roads around here were more of a suggestion than anything else.

Behind her, two hundred troops followed in silence.

They weren’t the best. They were what General Mastoya could spare from the eastern forts. And they mostly had to come back alive, or even that amount would cause serious problems down the road.

“Most of them are somewhere around fifth to tenth level,” Mastoya had said. “Conscripts with a little training, remeffs, the usual lot that the dwarves would eat for breakfast if we threw them into the direct line of fire. This will be good for their experience, probably level them a few times if everything goes right. They can handle sword and shield and crossbow, and that’s enough for a bunch of tentacle cultists. But that won’t be enough to handle any spawn or shit they call up. That’s where you and your lieutenants come in.”

Riding on their steeds, her knights kept pace alongside the ten squads. Mastoya had kept the four most well-trained members of her cadre for herself, to shore up the shortage of elites against the dwarves. But Cecelia had been able to get Graves, and Kayin, and Renick, so she was satisfied. Renick was a sturdy fighter who could take a serious beating, and the other two had useful non-knightly abilities.

She also had two royal wizards, a smattering of low-level clerics of Ritaxis to keep their units healed, and a handful of very jumpy, very new scouts who had somehow survived the rangers and made it to the front in one piece.

And also her. Cecelia frowned through the vision slit, at Inquisitor Anise’s green-clad form, strolling along tirelessly, hands in her pockets, smiling at the countryside and the empty shacks they passed on the muddy road. Even the mud didn’t seem to touch her, as if it loathed even being near the woman-shaped thing.

“Movement to the left!” The caller bellowed, and the column ground to a halt. Shouts, the whir of a few arrows, then after a minute one of her scouts ran into view, panting.

“Spotters, ma’am! Got one but more escaped!” the wind whispered in her ear.

“Good work,” she said, through the magic mouth she’d slapped on Reason. “We’ll catch up with the escapees in short order. We know where they’re going.”

The scout saluted with pride, then jogged back to his flank.

Then they came to an area where the road wasn’t. Someone had done a number on the surrounding marsh trees here, toppling and filling the area with logs and fallen foliage.

“What’s to the left of us?” She asked.

The Scout’s Whisper came in quickly. “The marsh gets worse. Sucking mud and blackflies.”

She looked right and didn’t have to look far. The lakeshore was right there. No way through that didn’t involve water, and it looked like logs had been toppled there, too.

Cecelia gnawed her lip. “Every fourth unit, tools out and clear the way. Everyone else, crossbows up. Cover them.”

The army shuffled, as the units chosen for dirty work hauled out their entrenching tools, and started digging into the pile-

-and then a horse thundered up, as Graves bellowed. “Undead in the roadblocks! Get back! Undead in the roadblocks!”

Too late, as a few soldiers screamed, and vanished into the foliage. Bony moldering hands ripped forth, seeking the living, and the soldiers shouted, battered at the logs, and retreated. Crossbows sang and bolts flew, but Graves bellowed “Save your bolts! Stop firing! Bash them, don’t shoot them!”

Then he rocked in the saddle, as something pinged off his helmet.

A bolt?

No, Celia realized as the first ragged volley came hissing out of the trees. Arrows.

“Ambush!” She yelled. “Clear the road, return fire!” She maneuvered, lifting Reason’s arbalest arm up and out of the way, and bringing the wrecker sword around to bear. “I’ve got the barricade! Graves, get back!”

Screaming and wheeling, his horse burst skeletons asunder, then fled as the clanking, thundering steam knight suit charged forward, slinging the blade low and up, sending logs flying into the air and back. Old bones went with them, but more were revealed, and at least three dozen skeletons wormed their way out of their hiding place to claw and scrabble at Reason’s legs.

And all the while, arrows hissed past her, to fall on her troops. Her troops!

This wasn’t how battles were supposed to go. Fortunately her knights were there to keep her soldiers from panicking. “Wounded fall back!” Renick shouted. “First rank, shields up, shield wall! Second rank, form up and return fire! Leave the bones to the Captain!”

It still felt strange, to be called that. But she put it from her mind, as she brought the wrecker down on the skeletons. They couldn’t hurt her armor, not beyond the occasional ‘1’ from a lucky crit, though the ones clambering up her back were worrisome. Groaning and creaking back there, as they tore at the seams in the housing and tried to tug at the smokestacks, and she winced as the stoker belt stuttered on its cylinders for a second.

Only a second, as suddenly the scrabbling thinned.

“Command Undead, get off of her!” She heard Graves shout. “Command Undead, get off of her!” he repeated, until the noise was gone and she thought Reason’s back was clear.

She didn’t know where the hell a bunch of old ones cultists had gotten a necromancer, but she was glad she’d brought one of her own.

Then there were more shouts to the rear, and she smiled. She’d gambled with that little trap, and now it had paid off.

In what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes. With the destruction she’d wreaked on the skeletons and the makeshift roadblock in general, the way was clear again.

She was tempted to press on… but… she turned, rotating the steam knight suit to look at her troops. Shaken, still firing into the trees, jumpy…

Cecelia watched a bit, saw no return fire. “Cease fire!” She ordered.

Silence stretched, broken by sobbing behind her. “Form Perimeter, regroup!” She ordered, and the sergeants echoed the commands down the line. Graves spurred his horse to fall in next to her, as she clanked back north.

“Old bones, looks like they emptied a cemetery,” Graves shouted up at her. “Still did for three casualties.”

“See that they’re properly stowed on the dead cart,” Celia said. “There’s a necromancer running around and I don’t want them used against us.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He spurred his horse back to the front.

Cecelia came to a whistling stop, peering down at the smoldering cart, full of barrels and boxes and labeled ‘supplies.’ Several of the barrels had been pushed out and were burst open, showing absolutely nothing inside save for emptiness.

Renick stood guard over a bloody man in a brown robe. Not far, in the woodline, the soldiers she’d hidden in the cart chopped at a field of squirming tentacles, hewing them down hack by ichorous hack.

“Worked brilliantly, ma’am,” Renick said. “They went for the cart, our guys went for them. There’s a couple more dead past the tentacle field but the rest escaped.”

“Burn the bodies,” Celia commanded.

“And the prisoner?”

Cecelia stared at the man, who stared back. “I’m not afraid of you!” he shouted, then shrieked as Renick kicked him.

“I know,” Cecelia said. “That’s why we’re here today. Inquisitor?”

“Yes?” Said the thing, and Cecelia closed her eyes. She’d been half hoping Anise wasn’t here. “See if he knows anything useful then render justice.”

“Of course, Captain,” Anise purred as she came into view from behind Cecelia, and knelt down by the captive. Cecelia bit her lip and moved into the woods, searching and doing her best to ignore the man’s screams.

Renick followed. “Ma’am? We haven’t secured this side yet.”

“I know. That was our scout’s job. He didn’t sound out, so-”

“There!” Renick shouted, dismounting and running over to a crumpled form.” With a heavy heart, Cecelia recognized the scout who had waved to her, not ten minutes ago.

And suddenly she was breathing, fighting a panic attack, trying to get steady.

“He’s dead. Throat’s torn. Something chewed it,” Renick said, glancing around into the marsh trees, greaves sinking into the mud.

“Bring his corpse. We’ll have Graves talk to him,” Cecelia decided. “And we’ll bring him home with the others, see he gets a decent burial. We’re not savages,” she said, trying to ignore the screams behind her as Anise ‘questioned’ the prisoner.

Fifteen minutes later, as the shock of battle faded, and the army was reassembled into a marching order, Graves came up, rubbing his head. “I’m going to need to get into the claret if you keep needing necromancer spells, here. My sanity hasn’t had this much of a workout in a while.”

“I make no promises,” Cecelia said, lowering her voice. “Did he have anything to say?”

“When the ambush started he got drawn off a bit by snipers. Then something small dropped on him from the trees and started chewing his neck. While he was trying to get it off, the snipers charged him.”

“Something small.”

“He says that he got his hands on it at one point, just before the snipers dogpiled him. He says he felt wood and cloth.”

“Not bone?”

“No.”

Cecelia shook her head. “The townsfolk. It has to be. We’re not up against cultists, but the rest of them who know they’re going to die as well. Gods dammit.”

“If it’s any consolation, skeletons are a weak spell. Level five.”

“That’s something. Although this guy’s neck was torn…”

“No, it’s probably a trick. The first thing I thought of were vampires. But no, the marks are all wrong. And way too small. Besides, we haven’t had those in Cylvania since the Seven sealed Count Joculah’s dungeon a few decades back.”

“True.” She glanced through the visor up at the sun, still high in the sky. “Wouldn’t make sense to see vampires in the daytime anyway. Not that wood and cloth things ripping throats makes sense, either. Unless they’ve got an animator, too…”

“They do,” Anise said, stepping in from behind Cecelia. The girl shut her eyes, and let the frustration surge through her. That was the only downside to Reason, sneaky assholes like the inquisitor could sneak up on her at will. “Someone calling herself Annie Mata.”

“That’s almost as dumb as your alias,” Cecelia told her.

Anise merely smiled. “Evidently she’s a servitor of Dreadbear, a mighty necromancer. He’s seized power in the town.”

“Uh huh.” Graves said. “Mighty. I’m thinking not so much on that. There was some decent resistance on those skellies when I ordered them, but not anything I’d call mighty.”

“He’s a king of some sort, too.”

THAT made Graves shut up. Cecelia’s eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”

“No, and that bothers me.” Anise’s eyes blazed with sudden fury. “He didn’t fear death!”

“Soulstones.” Graves said, instantly. “I’d bet my last coin on it.”

Cecelia’s breath whistled in her nose. “Either that or he was happy to go to his old one. We’re dealing with cultists here, remember.”

Kayin came galloping up, with her helm off. “Orders, Captain?”

“What?”

“The troops are getting restless.”

Cecelia closed her eyes.

She was beginning to see why her father had made her grind her willpower before she came to her first command. She couldn’t leave people alone for twenty minutes, before they started asking her to do things.

“We advance,” she decided, bringing Reason around to stomp forward again. “Necromancer or no, animator or no, our goal remains the same.”

“And this Dreadbear who’s leading them now?”

Cecelia passed the dead cart, with the scout now on it, staring at her with accusing, unmoving eyes. She looked away.

These were the first who had died in her service. They wouldn’t be the last, and she hated it. “He’s a traitor too. He dies with the rest of them…”

Winning Hearts and Minds 2

“Eye for Detail.”

Cecelia stared at the town. What little of it she could see, with that ten foot wall in the way, and a large, wooden gate slicked with moss and mud along its bottom. This was probably the first time it had been closed in decades.

“It’s an animi,” she confirmed to her command staff. “Whoever their animator is, she’s smart.”

“She’s probably the only animator of significance, unless she’s got an apprentice or two. That’s something,” Renick said. Animator was one of the harder unlocks, it required either lot of study of magical theory from pre-change books, or apprenticeship to an animator willing to teach the fundamentals.

Cecelia lifted her head, and Reason’s helm rose as well as she considered the top of the wall. It had a black-robed watcher with a bow visible every five feet or so. At least two hundred people were on the stockade, waiting for trouble to start. “Why so many archers?”

“It’s a small peasant town,” Graves said. “Bowfishing is a thing, and they’ll supplement their catch with whatever they can hunt. Some of them will have just formalized it, that’s all.”

“And it’s not hard to get someone passable in the weapon skill and job in a few days,” Renick said. “True, most’ll be five or under, but the same goes for our guys. And that doesn’t take into account the craftsman and oddball jobs some of them will have.”

“Which some of our people have too, so in the end it should balance out,” Kayin said. “I’m more concerned by what I’m not seeing and what I’m not hearing.”

“Which is?”

“Dark ominous chanting ripping at our souls, weird monsters hitting us from the sides, and occult graffiti everywhere. You know, everything you’d expect to see when you’re fighting an Old Ones cult.”

“The Dark Chant is a level five skill,” Anise said. “Perhaps their cult is young, yet?” Even she didn’t sound convinced.

“No. No, a cult of this size you’re at least looking at a few eights and tens. With someone near double that leading them,” Graves said.

Cecelia gnawed her lip. “Something isn’t adding up here. They’re acting too… sane. We need more intelligence.” She took a deep breath, released it. It was time to put more men into danger. “We have three scouts left, yes?”

“Yeah,” Renick confirmed. “A seven, a six with some oddball support jobs, and a four.”

She winced. “Tell the four to stay with the army and keep an eye on that lake. Send the seven and six around on long recon. Swing wide east around the town and tell me what’s happening at the other gates.”

“That’ll take-”

“At least half a day,” Cecelia said. “I know. I’m a scout too, remember?”

“I’ll pass on your orders to the scouts and go with them,” Anise decided, and was off before anyone could say anything.

“Where exactly is she in our command structure?” Renick asked, rubbing his face with one gauntlet.

“Way, way above it,” Cecelia said. “But unable to countermand my orders in the field on military matters.”

“Well that’s something, I guess.”

“Half a day means that it’ll be night before they get back,” Kayin pointed out.

“I know. But we’ve got enough darkspawn-enchanted helmets among the units that we should be able to see any trouble they throw at us. And night opens up possibilities for us, too.” She moved Reason’s visor down to look at Kayin, and lowered the voice coming from her magic mouth. “You were an assassin. Think you can infiltrate that town?”

Kayin’s cold smile wasn’t entirely devoid of charm. “You know that dead cultist’s robe? I picked it up and washed it, just in case you asked that question.”

“I’m a little unclear on how assassin works, besides the stabby bits,” Cecelia confessed. “Do you have any useful stealth tricks for the situation?”

“That’s more burglar and scout,” Kayin said. “We’re good at bullshitting our way past people and being unobtrusive. Though my stealth skill is good enough that night should be all I need. Probably the best way to use me is to launch your assault, and I’ll use the chaos to slip in. Question is; what do you want me to do when I’m in there?”

“I figured that would be self-evident, given the name of your old job,” Graves grinned.

“No, you’re right Kayin,” Cecelia said. “We have no idea who the cult leader is, or if this Dreadbear guy is him, or what their command structure’s like. We need intelligence. Not the attribute kind, the military kind.”

“We’ve got an imp wrangler, don’t we?” Renick asked.

“Good thinking. Let’s check while we’re waiting on the scouts.”

Cecelia got clear of eyesight from the wall, hunkering reason down behind a copse of trees, and decanted. She took a breath, as she felt her pools slowly start to refill again. That was the downside to Steam Knight armor, it shut off the slow, natural regeneration that every living being got. Raising thy blade cast in steam and steel meant awesome power, at the cost of needing either someone backpacking you to keep it going, or carefully rationing what you had.

And speaking of rations, she was hungry as hell, and more than a little thirsty. “Let’s have lunch while we wait.”

The actual rations of the army had been distributed among the lower-level footsoldiers’ packs. They only had a couple of days worth, but they weren’t that far from the fort, and the expectation was that they’d have plenty to eat once the town was dead.

Once the town and everyone in it is dead, Cecelia tried, and failed to push from her mind as she ate her ration loaf. Dead, because we’re going to massacre them.

“We’re going to have to kill everyone here because if we don’t the old ones will eat everyone, innocents or no,” Cecelia reminded herself.

Graves took it as a question. “Yes, I’m afraid so. It isn’t our fault. They were dead either way once the cult grew too big for the locals to stop it. Me? I prefer the version of them being dead that doesn’t end up with me in an elder god’s belly.”

“But it isn’t their fault either. The people who aren’t cultists, I mean.”

“Yeah. It fucking sucks,” Renick said, looking at her soberly. “Which is why we need to win the wars, so we can concentrate on policing people and making sure it never gets bad enough that a cult grows this big ever again.”

Cecelia thought it over, as she finished her loaf. There were some flaws in that idea, her Intelligence pointed out, but she didn’t think the knights would be willing to listen to them.

Things will be different when I am queen, she decided. She desperately hoped that was true.

“You called for me, Captain?” The imp wrangler bustled up. A large man with a slightly-haunted look and cages strapped to his back, he wore the red sign of an approved cultist on his black robe.

“Yes. What have we got, impwise?”

He hauled off three cages and showed her. Three black, scaly little things with wings and overlarge eyes stared back at her, licking their needle-like rows of teeth and grasping at the bars of their cages with tiny clawed fingers. They were somewhere between a bat and a housecat in size.

“Trained and disciplined. Aren’t you, you little vermin?” sneered the cultist as he rapped his knuckles on one cage. The imp inside cowered and shook.

“That’s enough,” said Cecelia. “So they’ll obey orders and take messages?”

“Yes ma’am. They can manage about five sentences, the shorter the better. Beyond that gets unreliable.”

“Can you make more?” Cecelia asked.

“Plenty of birds around here,” He fished around on his belt and held up a slingshot. Nostalgia stirred within Cecelia, and she shoved it aside. “I can do one, maybe a day if I get access to the grog rations, but it wipes me for anything else. The sanity cost is about a hundred each. And they won’t be as trained or disciplined. That takes about a week to work the kinks out of any pact.”

“Is that how it works?” Kayin asked, surveying the little fearful demons.

“Oh yeah. The basic pact just gets them manifested, and the core directives installed into their new forms. Then you want to spend about a week or two hammering out the paradoxes, and ensuring that the vows are all locked down, and the loopholes are sealed. You do NOT want a daemon running free without those, even something as simple as a Rank I. They’ll find tons of ways to twist your core commands, completely exploit the letter of the pact, and do things just to spite you. Even if it screws them over, as well.”

“How boned am I if I carry two of them on me?” Kayin asked. “Say in some padding under a robe, while I’m trying to keep them a secret.”

“Eh, they’re prone to weird noises when they get surprised.” He hauled off and whacked a cage with a stick, and all three of the imps shouted and squeaked, warbling in weird, repellent tones that were like birdsong only oilier.

“Right. Give me two in cages then,” Kayin said. “I’ll stash them someplace accessible when I breach.”

“Breach?”

“Need to know stuff,” Cecelia told the imp handler. “Tell her how to use them then go back to the rear and summon another. Work on training it, I’ll send word if I need a message sent back to headquarters.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he pounded his chest in a salute, then pulled Kayin off to the side.

“What now?” Renick asked her, as he walked back alongside. Graves followed on her other flank, eyes peeled as he watched the swamp around them.

“Now we wait. Depending on what the scouts say, we either move at dawn or fort up for the night.”

“The troops will get restless,” Renick pointed out.

“Right.” Cecelia sighed. It was hard work managing this many barely-trained soldiers. “Put them to work building camp while we’ve still got daylight. Plenty of trees, and hey, there’s that pile the cultists already knocked down for us back up the road. I won’t say no to free logs.” Her scalp itched, and she ran her gauntlet through her hair, frizzy again in the moistness of the marsh. Yeah, it’d be time to shave it off soon, just lose it forever. Maybe she’d find a good barber and make that style permanent.

*****

“They’re stalling us,” Anise announced, fading out of the early-dusk shadows. Behind her, the midlevel scout staggered into camp, and threw her a sloppy salute. One arm was bandaged, and his armor was torn.

“Report,” Cecelia commanded him, sparing a second to nod at Anise.

“All’s quiet on the eastern gate. They only have a few people watching it.”

“How’s the terrain between here and there?” Renick asked.

“Bad. It’s mostly two-foot-deep water between the two gates, with lots of overgrowth and marsh plants.”

“No good for a sortie then,” Cecelia decided.

“Good for my purposes, though.” Kayin nodded. “I’ll go get changed.”

“At the south gate there’s people leaving. They’re moving in groups. All sorts, and children are with them. No robes.”

“They’re evacuating the townsfolk who aren’t cultists,” Cecelia said, surprised.

“Or that’s what they want us to think,” Anise said. “This could be a trick, and they’ll come around on our flank.”

“Evacuating them where?” Renick said. “There’s nothing but wilds out this way, ever since that one mining town was wiped out by rebels.”

Cecelia felt a lump rise in her throat. She looked away, letting the lie slide. Telling the truth of the matter wouldn’t help the situation at all here, and the guilt weighed heavy on her.

“There’s more,” the scout said. “Every group of them has a little stuffed toy or two following along with them. Some are carrying things.”

“What?” Cecelia stood upright, so fast that her armor rattled. “You’re sure?”

“They’re going to take a chance on surviving the wilds.” Cecelia said, her mouth going dry. “With guardians along that don’t sleep, and can take on things five times their size.”

“For what, an hour or two?” Renick frowned. “Animi don’t last that long. You told us that.”

“They’re not animi. They’re golems. Those families are being escorted by golems. Little golems that think and learn and love their children, and will fight to the death for them.” Celia swallowed, hard. “I wondered where he’d gone, after father told me grandfather escaped his prison. Now I know. Oh gods—” she said, putting two and two together and getting five-hundred-and-ninety-seven. “—he’s even calling himself Dreadbear, to hide his real identity. He’s hiding here somewhere, talking to them through magic mouth on that poor little teddy. It all makes sense now!”

“Ma’am?” The Scout asked.

“Anything else to report?”

“No ma’am. But the Inquisitor made it farther than I did. You should really hear her report, it’s concerning.”

“Very well. Dismissed. Go talk to the clerics and rest up.”

“Aye ma’am.” He thumped his chest and was off.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Cecelia said, turning to Anise. “But he was pretty badly torn up, so I wanted to hear his report first. What happened?”

“They have scouts too. Not very good ones,” Anise shrugged. “But good enough to kill the senior scout. But that doesn’t matter, what does matter, is a hill about three miles out of town. There’s a circle of stones up there, and the old one linked to them is waking up. They’re ferrying sacrifices out there. Children, as far as I can tell.”

Cecelia’s breath hissed between her teeth. “In my father’s name I order you to tell the truth. You’re certain of this?”

Anise looked annoyed. “I’m positive. Children-sized figures in robes arrive by boat, and are accompanied up to the dolmens by people who are presumably their parents, based on the weeping embraces and pathetic goodbyes they get. I watched for a full hour, as closely as I dared. Not a single child came back down from the hill, and every time one went up there the old one’s power grew.”

“They’re summoning him.” Renick said, horror filling his large features. “They’re stalling us here so they can summon him fully into this world.”

“Something doesn’t add up,” Graves said. “Why are they letting the uninvolved people leave? To old one cultists, those would be perfect sacrifices.”

“Grandfather.” Cecelia sighed, settling back down. “It’s because he’s working with them.”

She didn’t see Anise twitch in surprise, didn’t see how the woman-thing’s face settled back into its usual mask, as Cecelia continued. “It was hushed up, but my Grandfather was a rebel. He escaped custody a few years back, and now he’s here.”

Graves’ jaw dropped. “Wait. Wait wait whoa, you’re talking about the father of Amelia Gearhart. The guy who taught the hero everything she knew, before…”

“Yes. Caradon.”

“Well. Shit.” Renick summed up. “There’s no way that guy isn’t a level twenty-five Tier Two. We need to call in reinforcements. Get some dragon riders in—”

“No,” Cecelia said. “I know my grandfather. He hates the Crown, but he won’t end the world. He’s a good man, just deluded. If he’s shown himself to the cult, it’s only to save people. Which means that he’ll try to intervene to stop the old one from being summoned, as soon as everyone’s safe.”

“Your grandfather committed treason against the Crown,” Anise said. “The King’s commands are clear when it comes to traitors. Can you face him and fulfill your duty, Dame Ragandor?”

Cecelia narrowed her eyes, as she gazed at the thing wearing her mother’s face. “I have not forgotten my father’s lessons on the weakness of mercy. But my father’s promise to me stands firm, and we shall both honor it. If he is here I will capture him. You shall not hurt him and you shall assist me in this task to the best of your ability.”

“I know full well my place in things, Cecelia,” Anise said, bowing her head. “If I promise to do everything in my power to avoid harming your Grandfather through action or inaction, will you allow me to fulfill my promise to you? You do you remember that one?”

“That you would help me become who I needed to be,” Cecelia said. “And I accept your bargain. Now go, and tell the unit commanders to make ready for the assault. Renick, go with her and sort in the details. It’s going to be frontal, as soon as the night’s fully upon us.”

The two departed. Graves remained, looking at their retreating backs, then over at the town. “Why? If your grandfather’s going to backstab the cult in the end…” One gauntlet rose to rub his beard. “But we don’t know that for sure, do we?” He answered his own question. “No. It’s possible he was driven mad by cultists, or they’ve managed to trick him.”

“Grandfather was smart but gullible.” Cecelia sighed. “I realize that now. We can’t take the chance they’re stalling us, and this cult is sacrificing kids. It’s pretty clear-cut who the villains are. It’ll be painful but we need to assault them head on, now, and blitz through the town so we can get to the dolmens to stop the ritual.”

“And the uninvolved townsfolk? The ones fleeing into the hills?”

“Not our priority,” Cecelia said, feeling a great weight shift from her. “If they’re not fighting us and they’re clearly not the cult, then they’re not traitors. We’ll inform the general and she might send someone to hunt them down. Eventually.” And their blood won’t be on MY hands.

“Even if there are cultists among them secretly? Old one cults are insidious,” Graves pointed out, with his quiet logic.

“We know where their old one’s summoning site is now. What are the odds there are two of those in this valley? We just lock it down or destroy it and render their religion a moot point. Between you and the wizards I’m pretty sure we can figure out something.”

Graves nodded. “All right. To tell the truth that sits better with me anyway.” He rubbed his beard.

He really was a good man, Celia reflected. And only about five years older than me, maybe, she thought and banished the notion with confusion. Now wasn’t the time to fantasize. But still… “What’s your first name?” She asked, suddenly. “You came in just after I did, and nobody ever used it. I don’t think we really properly knew it.”

“Oh, uh,” Graves said, lowering his gauntlet. “That’s because I don’t use it very much. Herbert. I’m Herbert Graves. Why do you ask?”

“You’re going to have my back tonight, and we’re going to kill our way through a lot of people who really, really deserve it.” Cecelia smiled. “It only seems polite.”

Graves nodded, eyes glittering as he studied her smile. “Listen. If we get separated… try to keep me in view, okay?”

“Well, yes. Steam Knights need support to guard their flanks and rear, that’s the first lesson we learned.”

“No, it’s not that,” Graves said, shifting. “I mean if the worst happens, you won’t have long to get to the soulstone. Spirits last the longest around their bodies, but we’re talking minutes, here. It’s tied to Will, so you should be good, but uh… You can travel a bit as a newly-dead spirit, but that cuts it down by a lot, the farther you go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to ruin the moment, this is morbid, and—”

“Herbert,” She smiled, and he shut up. “It’s all right. Come on, let’s get the army straightened out, we’ve got a battle to win. We can talk more after that.”

His smile was genuine, and he thumped his breastplate with enthusiasm. “Yes Ma’am!”

“And keep that Deathsight spell of yours up. We know they have a necromancer, and I expect more surprises from that quarter…”

*****

They came for the cult in the night. They came with torches held high, with shields up in the first few ranks, and with the more adept crossbowmen behind them, raining down rapid shots from their crossbows, sending the heavy bolts flying in ways that anyone without the archer job couldn’t match.

The cultists returned fire from the walls, their own bows weaker but better ranged, even if their accuracy wasn’t as good. They had volume, and they punished the first ranks.

Cecelia strode forward slowly in Reason, the darkspawn-enchantment on her inner helm letting her see despite the uncertain light. Well, as best she could with Reason’s forearm held up to shield her visor’s slit. Peripheral vision she had. Forward view? Nah. But she only had to keep pace with her front lines, keep going forward until she got to the gate. Even as an animi, she was pretty certain it wasn’t going anywhere.

Arrows thumped and rattled off Reason’s hide, and she swallowed. Occasionally one hit with enough force to do one or two points, but overall she wasn’t worried. Was happy, even. The more that came for her, the less that went for her troops. No, the gorge churning in her belly was from the fact that she was going up against people who actually wanted to kill her. She’d felt that feeling when they cut down Baron Comfort’s bandits, and she was feeling it again, here. It was bad. This wasn’t monsters, or beasts, or a situation where she was up against a thing following its nature. These people had made the active decision that they needed a Cecelia-shaped hole in their lives and were doing their best to make it reality.

Well. She had a thing or two to say about that. “Mend,” she snapped as the damage started to mount.

“To the flank! Right flank!” Renick bellowed, and she shifted.

THINGS were coming out of the lake.

“Right flank shields!” She screamed through the magic mouth. “We planned for this, people!”

You don’t go up against old ones without keeping eyes on the nearby body of murky water. That was just asking to get tentacle.

“Rally Troops!” Renick shouted. “Let’s send these eldritch fuckers back where they came from!”

She heard the right flank roar with approval, as their moxie got a decent buff.

Oh yeah, I can do that too. She risked an unshielded glance at the walls, found them near, and snapped her arbelest arm back up as arrows clattered off Reason’s helm. “Rally Troops! The gate’s right there, let’s go knock that fumper down!”

Then her men were cheering, or screaming, and she didn’t know because she was lifting her sword up, and charging.

“Now now dispel now!” She yelled.

“Dispel magic!” She heard over the yelling, from just behind her. Then something that could have also been a dispel magic, from further back, where the other wizard was. She’d spread them out in the battle, to make sure at least one of them survived to get within range.

At least one of them got through, because when she hit the gate, that had been augmented animated wood but was now disenchanted, it broke. Ordinary, somewhat rotted mossy wood splintered into fragments as she brought the sword through it in a single ponderous thrust. Then the bulk of Reason slammed into it, and it burst into fragments.

Screams from above her, and the splash of liquid, and the smell filled her nose as she backed off, hastily.

Oil!

Her mentors had briefed her on this. Fire, sticky fire like Geek’s fire from alchemists or oil or tar from sieges, could roast a steam knight alive in their suit.

Which is why, like most problems she’d come to, Cecelia had given a lot of thought and experimentation to finding a good solution. And in this case, the solution involved the outer layers of quilted cloth she’d sewn around Reason’s helm and front. “Clean and Press!” Cecelia shouted, and sighed in relief as the first few flaming arrows clattered off of her, seconds too late.

Relief that lasted until something inhuman roared from above her. “Burninate!”

Her world became fire, and she shrieked as red numbers rolled up from Reason’s components. She backed off further, hunkered down, and started hissing the spells of her backup plan. “Distant Animus blanket! Invite Blanket!”

Rustling from below her, as the fire-quenching blanket she’d commissioned from the royal enchanters wormed its way out of the cork-stoppered compartment she’d put it in, and crawled up Reason to smother the flames. “Mend, mend, mend,” she chanted, once the fires started going out. Distant animus was a good ace to play, but it had a range limitation of about one foot per level. Which was more than enough to land the spell on the blanket five feet from her.

“Ricochet shot!” She heard someone call, then whipped her cheek to the side, as a lucky crit hit Reason’s visor slit, bounced toward her, and collided with her helm instead of her face. Close! Too Close! She wanted to turn, to flee, to retreat. Instead she slammed the burning arbelest up to cover Reason’s visor, gritted her teeth as the heat roiled around her, and waited.

She’d done her part here. She’d shattered the gate, and she could hear the bellowing of the troops around her as they surged to and through the wall, and the shouts and cries of combat once they were past the gate. Cecelia and reason had given them their shot, and now it was on them to make it count.

So she knelt, letting the blanket do it work, breathing as shallowly as she could, mending the damaged parts of reason as the flames died, falling to the fireproof blanket’s embrace. If I hadn’t cleaned the oil, I’d be dead, Cecelia knew. There would have been no way to escape Reason quickly enough.

The minutes passed, the fire died, and when Cecelia lowered her the arbelest arm, an imp crawled through the visor. “Kayin has entered the village. Everything’s chaos. The dolls are in charge, cult says follow their orders. Dreadbear’s a teddy bear in a voodoo outfit. They have a dragon golem and Kayin wants to know if you want it dead.”

A dragon golem! Cecelia’s eyes widened. She’d only ever heard about dragonfire. Never seen it in action.

Now I have, she supposed, shuddering at how close that last call had been. “Gods dammit grandfather, you nearly killed me,” she croaked.

“What? What what? What?” The imp jumped up and down, boggling at her. They were generally dim, she knew, their own intelligence a reflection of the creator’s own. And the imp handler hadn’t impressed her overmuch in that regard.

Cecelia cleared her throat. “Tell Kayin to take out the dragon if she can. Leave Dreadbare to me.” Gods, if Dreadbear was what she thought it was, she wasn’t sure she could kill it. She really, really hoped she could take him alive. Get him away from grandfather, to a safe place where she could break the little golem away from the rebel lies the old man had been teaching it.

But first things first. “Return to her with those words. Do you understand?”

“Yes yes I go!” The imp screeched and departed.

She’d heard that the higher-level officers had access to better imps, ones her father had personally made. Ones that were suited to skilled recon and intelligent enough to operate independently.

They still creeped her out.

Finally, the arrows against her slackened, and she stood, to see the shattered gates before her, and most of her army fighting inside the town. No good place for her there, so she waited, observing, for the bodies to move so she could squeeze in without trampling her own people.

And then the level-up flashed across her field of view, and she sighed. She’d hit level five steam knight, finally. “Status, help,” she said, and settled in to read and best think how to synergize her new tricks into her tactics.

“Ma’am!” Graves rode up, an entourage of skeletons following him. “The things from the lake were animated boats with wooden wheels nailed on. They were full of skeletons. There was something in the water croaking eldritch song supporting them, but we drove it off with concentrated fire. Renick thinks it was some kind of bard.”

“Bard?” Cecelia blinked. “Seriously.”

“Yes. Also, uh…” he rode in closer. “I seem to have unlocked a Tier 2 job I’ve never heard of.”

“Really?” Academic interest fired up… then faded, as she looked to the battle raging in the town. There was a time and place to discuss this in depth, and it wasn’t here. “What is it? Make it short.”

“It’s called Death Knight. Big on necromancy and buffing undead. And plagues and frost for no reason I can tell.”

“Gods.” Cecelia rubbed her face. “You’re one of the few people I trust with something like this. Look, will it help you survive this battle?”

“Most definitely.”

“Take it. As your current commanding officer I authorize it.”

“Thank you ma’am! Yes!” he stood there for a second, helm elevated as he read the details. “Intelligence and Con? Okay, works for me. Good news is the plague stuff is only plague resistance at this level. Everything else seems manageable, nothing that the inquisitor would kill me over. Oooh, this’ll help. Bony Armor!” Half the skeletons shivered and fell apart, wrapping around him, until his pauldrons were jawless skulls and the rest of his plate was laced in ribs.

“Cute,” Cecelia sighed. “All right. Get Renick and the wizards and let’s go get this over with.”

*****

Midway through the town, as they fought the fifth batch of cultists in the burning remnants of a block of houses, Graves stiffened up. “Shit! I just got Kayin!”

What was he… oh. Oh!

“Ask her where!” Cecelia shouted, rage filling her. “We’ll fumping make them pay!”

“Speak with Dead.” He chanted, and Kayin’s voice echoed through their minds.

“Hey Cecelia. Got the dragon, fucked up the escape. Bad assassin, no cookie.”

“Where!” Cecelia said, shaking, feeling the tears burst from her eyes. “Show us where!”

“Southwest, by the church. They’ve got a rallying point there.”

“ON ME!” Cecelia bellowed, and surged ahead, breaking Steam Knight protocol. Her friend was dead, and by the gods she’d make her killers pay.

They found her by the church, windows shattered, cultists inside firing arrows desperately at the approaching knight.

“TALK TO THE HAND!” Cecelia roared, and her arm, no longer needing to be in front of her visor, intercepted arrow crits as she charged the building. “STEAM SCREAM!” she bellowed, and Reason sent a shuddering howl to the skies, trembling the stars within their firmaments. She had the hot satisfaction of seeing green numbers, big ones streak from the cultists at the windows as they shrieked, and then she was crunching through the wall, sword raised high. “Oh yeah!” She yelled, sword chopping down as blood sprayed red, red on the busted bricks.

At some point in there she unlocked the berserker class.

“Undead!”Graves called. “I’m on it… what the hell?”

“That’s it! That’s the thing that got me, the dragon rider!”

A squeaky voice yelled in desperation. “Call Faiah! Least Elemental! Shape Faiah-shit!”

“Bitch please!” Renick roared, and then came the sound of heavy metal boots stomping through wood. “Dolorous Strike! Dolorous Strike!”

“An Emberling? Seriously?” Graves said. “Oh. Oh shit, Kayin. Sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s my body. The little shit got my throat,” Kayin said. “It was pretty messy. You might not want to see this, Cecelia.”

Finally, there was silence. Cecelia snorted snot from her nose, and blinked away tears. The fury drained from her, leaving her feeling hollow.

She wasn’t sure what kind of people were insane enough to take rage as a job feature.

Then stillness. A change in the air, nothing she could put her finger on. It was like reality shuddered.

She backed Reason out of the church, wheeled around, gasped as she saw Renick and Graves off their horses, kneeling next to Kayin’s charred corpse. Her darkspawn helm showed her the pool of blood her friend had died in, in agonizing full color. It pooled around the rent stuffing and green fur of a little dragon, torn and fragmented from Kayin’s successful work.

Cecelia swallowed, hard. “We need to get her to the corpse cart. And make sure their necromancer gets nowhere near her.”

“Well, her spirit’s with me. They won’t lock her soul into a corpse, that’s the important thing,” Graves promised. Then he glanced west, to the shore, and frowned. “The little puppet thing had a spirit. It was like an undead sealed into a toy body.”

“What? You can do that?”

“No shit?” Kayin sounded interested.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Graves said, muttering. “They can go into animi, but they pass on once the animi expired. Or if you’re really evil you can enchant weapons and armor, make hauntblades or wraith armor.”

“I could maybe stand being a dagger for all eternity,” Kayin mused.

But Graves was still talking. “That… that puppet was a fire elementalist, though, and I’ve never heard of jobs carrying through. And it was a girl’s spirit that ran by me, right into the lake.” He turned, surveyed the town. “And there goes another! On the edge of the shore. The dead cultists, their spirits are running into the lake.”

“Soulstones,” Cecelia whispered. “Soulstones don’t need to breathe. They’re under there somewhere.” She sighed. “It would probably take days to find them. And something capable of operating underwater.”

“The way is clear,” Anise announced, stepping out of the shadows. “We need to stop the rite.”

“Yes, of course,” Cecelia was drained, so drained. The battle had been long and hard, and now she understood why the cultists hadn’t feared death. “Grandfather, what have you done?” She whispered.

“Your orders, Captain?” Anise asked, hands folded behind her back, smiling.

And oh, did Cecelia hate her at that moment. But why? She wondered. Anise was easy to blame, true, but she couldn’t help what she was. And she hadn’t killed Kayin.

Cecelia thought. And as she did, that sensation nagged at her mind. She’d felt something like that before, both in the Catamountain, and in the dungeon the elite knights had special access to…

“Renick, Graves,” she said, carefully. “A second ago, did it feel like everything shifted? Like when we ran Highmountain together?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did,” Renick said. “I didn’t think anything of it because I was busy breaking that doll, but now that you mention it…”

Cecelia gnawed her lip. “Grandfather. Renick, take Kayin’s body to the corpse cart, then get the army moving. I assume it’s that thing?” She pointed across the lake, to where a green glow was visible to the southwest.

“Yes.” Said Anise. “I’ll have the scout guide them.”

“You’re not going yourself?” Grave asked.

“If this strange feeling is your grandfather, I need to be there with you when you find him,” Anise smiled at Cecelia. “You understand, dear.”

“I know,” the girl sighed. “You don’t trust me one bit.”

“I trust you every bit as much as you trust me.” Anise smiled.

“That’s pretty much what I just said.” Cecelia confirmed, then checked her coal reserves. A bit left. Enough for the task at hand. “Stand back. If there’s a dungeon it’ll be in the church somewhere. I’ll clear the wreckage and see what we can find.”

The trapdoor they eventually uncovered, and the wooden stairs down, were too small for reason. With a sigh, Cecelia decanted from her suit, animating it and inviting it to her party. It should be enough to stand guard over the site while they explored, but… “Does Kayin still have a messenger imp on her?” she asked.

“Burned up like she was, sorry,” Graves said.

“No worries,” Kayin said from her soulstone. “I’m pretty much beyond offending, here. Besides, I’ve made too many corpses to be sensitive about my own.”

“Heh. Just sit tight, we’ll get to you shortly,” Cecelia smiled, glad to hear her friend’s spirit in good… well, spirits.

“Who are you speaking to?” Anise interrupted.

Cecelia shot Graves a glance, got one in return. “You didn’t hear that?” Cecelia asked.

“Let’s just focus on the job at hand.” The Inquisitor descended the steps, peering around, distracted and with a hungry look on her face. “A dungeon, yessss….”

“Might want to stay silent for a bit, Kayin.” Graves whispered. “Don’t want that one getting ideas about you.”

The cave below was relatively small, and definitely not a dungeon. It had bloodstained sand next to a cove full of dark water. There was also a small chamber down a side-passage, that led to a room with bleachers, mattresses on the grimy floor, and an unexpected shock to her sanity when Cecelia saw the kind of drawings that lined the walls. If there’d been any doubt to the righteousness of her cause, it was gone now.

But it was also empty of any kind of dungeon.

At least, she and Graves thought so until they returned to the main cave, and found Anise crouched at the water line, staring into the darkness. “Clever, clever,” said the Inquisitor, a smile curving her flawless lips. “They put it underwater.”

“How far?” Graves asked.

“Not far.” And then Anise waded into the cold water, fading from view as she went.

Graves and Cecelia shared a look. “Invite me,” She said.

One invite later, she and his remaining three skeletons, and a hastily created animus blade and shield went into the water…

…and surfaced into the light.

“Oh,” Cecelia said, staring around her, at the riverbank, and the pine woods just beyond.

And there, up on a hill, was a two-story house. Cozy, hidden…

…and familiar.

Beyond the stretch of river, a narrow bit of woods, and the house, everything was foggy and unresolved. The colors were bleached and strained, and some of the trees had a translucent quality to them.

“It’s new. Barely formed,” Anise hissed, to their side. She paced back and forth, hands flexing, fingers grasping. “Oh this will be perfect!”

But Cecelia didn’t hear her. She was too busy looking at the house, where she had been safe. Where she had been innocent once. And her eyes burned once more, as she felt her heart burn in her chest.

Here was her reckoning, she knew. The final reconciliation, one way or the other, the final challenge to overcome, to put aside childish things and become the woman her Father and her future subjects needed her to be.

And she didn’t know if she was strong enough.

Winning Hearts and Minds 3

“What is this?” Graves asked.

“This was my house. This is where I grew up.” Cecelia shook her head. “I was so naive back then.”

Anise smiled, and said nothing.

Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. “He’ll be inside. I know what he’s doing, why he’s doing it.” She swallowed, hard. “And I’m going to march in there and tell him why it won’t work, and will never work, and arrest him for treason.”

“We,” said Graves.

“What?”

“We’ll march in there and arrest him.”

Cecelia closed her eyes. “Thank you.” Then she shot Anise a look, and found the thing glowering at the house.

“Something wrong?”

“I thought I was done with this place. It gives me… indigestion.”

“We’ll get you something for that when we’re done. Let’s go… Inquisitor.”

Cecelia led the way, and as they went, the trees loomed larger and larger.

“What is this?” Graves asked. “I didn’t think there was any old growth left in the valley.”

“There isn’t. This is wrong. It’s a perspective trick. Which means… keep an eye out for giant scarecrows.”

“What?”

Then the first thing stepped out of the trees.

“Eye for Detail,” she scrutinized it as it came, arms extended, lumbering toward them in eerie silence. Covered in tattered cloth, with straw poking out the eyeholes of its massive cloth mask, it was thirty feet tall if it was an inch. Grasping fingers of wood clenched, and more sticks of wood showed through its torn pants, woven together with old rope.

“Captain?” Graves shouted, moving his skeletons in between them and the raggedy man.

“It’s level seven, and weaker than our sergeants” she snorted. “Let’s take it apart.”

It didn’t get a single hit past their shields before they knocked it to bits. Anise didn’t break stride, leaving them to deal with it as she marched up the hill.

Cecelia hurried after, lips compressed in a thin line. She didn’t trust her alone here. Didn’t trust her, period.

That was pretty much how things had been for the last few years, it’s just that there had never been anything Cecelia could do about it beyond tread as cautiously as she could around Anise. And even then, the daemon had a way about her, something that let her slip things into conversations that you caught later, and winced at.

But she was literally the devil Cecelia knew.

So for now that would have to do.

Then they were up and moving through the trees, each of them six times as tall as she remembered. But the details were off here, subtly off. Trees that she knew by heart were different, sketchy, foggy.

“Getting senile, Grandfather?” she whispered. She paused by one that he’d used to measure her every year, carved notches into as she grew. The bark was bare, and the wrong type for its species. “Birch,” she murmured and remembered Mordecai, and flashed to the image of the old scout in his cell, scarred and broken, and almost lost it then.

But Anise didn’t stop, and Cecelia couldn’t leave her be. So she followed, and Graves kept pace alongside her.

Her house was huge, as was the workshop to the wide. She swallowed hard as she saw the black cat in the window of the shop, glowering out at her. “Pulsivar,” she said, and turned her back on him. He’d lain on her back sometimes, when it rained in the night. A heavy purring weight, warm in the cold. They’d slept there that way sometimes and she’d nodded off to dreams, lulled by raindrops and the smell of his fur.

“That handle’s pretty far up there,” Graves said.

“It’s still a door,” Cecelia said, her voice raw. “Animus. Invite door.” It opened, and she kicked it from the party, running mostly on force of habit.

The front room was empty, a simple dinner set on the table. Venison and porridge, she could smell it, and the smell hit her harder than the sight of the place did. Hurt in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Pretty nice place,” Graves said. “But… where are all the monsters? This is a dungeon, right?”

Cecelia looked toward Emmet, huge as two Reasons put together, and shook her head. “Wait for it.”

But the giant suit of armor didn’t animate as they crossed the floor, or as they passed the cheerful fireplace, with the logs popping in their merry blaze, but oddly cold.

There was no temperature differential between here and outside, she realized suddenly. It all just sort of was.

That struck her as odd, more than anything else she’d encountered so far. Doubts gnawed at her mind, for the first time.

“This might not be Caradon,” she said, stopping abruptly before the stairs. “This… something’s not right, here.”

“If not him, then who?” Anise asked.

“This isn’t an old man’s house,” she said, as she sheathed her sword and slung her shield on her back, and scrambled up the stairs, grabbing each one and boosting herself up. “It’s the house as seen from a very small person’s perspective. Which means…”

She got to the top, and peered down the hallway. There, at the very end, was her grandfather’s room. Light spilled from under the door, and she could hear the old man humming, as he did when he sat up and worked before he went to bed every night. An old familiar melody, but she knew it for the ruse it was now. “He left you behind, didn’t he, Threadbare?” She said, looking instead to her own room, darkness beneath the crack under the door. “Left you behind to stall me, while he escaped. Come on. It’s me, Cecelia, all gr-grown up now,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes. “Come… come out and we’ll talk. About this. I’ll get you some paper to write on or s-s-something.” Oh, they were coming freely now, and she tugged off her helm, shook her head. Her hair bounced, short but frizzy as it had ever been.

And for a second, everything flickered. For a second, there was nothing there but darkness and green light, and Anise gasped.

“What is this?” Graves said, pushing in to put his back to Cecelia’s.

“The master just stepped out of his slot,” Anise said, and for once her voice wasn’t tainted with cool malice. “But someone else stepped in before the dungeon could close.”

“Dungeons close?” Graves narrowed his eyes.

“How do you think we seal them?” Anise said, looking around.

“Come out!” Cecelia shouted. “You have no idea how much I’ve m-m-missed you all these years! It’s not too late, we can talk this over!”

And after a moment, from under the door to her room, a light flickered on.

“Perhaps you’d better come in,” An even, calm voice said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Anise started forward, then hissed in anger as Cecelia’s gauntlet fell on her shoulder. “Listen, and listen well, daemon,” Cecelia said. “Our bargain about my grandfather extends to Threadbare, as well. I don’t care the terms you tried to extort, or about the exact wording. I just want you to know that if you try to harm him in any way, shape, or form, I WILL kill you or see that you spend all eternity with the worst punishment I can inflict upon you.”

“As you like,” Anise shrugged her hand off, staring at her like a lion watching a housecat strut and hiss. “To be honest, we’ve long passed the point where I need your permission to ensure you’re all you must be. The bargain was more for my amusement than anything else, and eventual irony to salt the wound a bit, in case things fall out like I think they might.”

Cecelia digested that, and the anger and disgust helped her focus her mind a bit. “I think this is the most honesty you’ve ever shown me.”

“Part of me DID love you once.” Anise smiled. “It took years to grind away that weakness. Then you turned into a teenager and it got much easier. Shall we?”

Pushing the arrogance of the woman-thing from her mind, the young woman approached her room. The door swung open as she went to push it open.

And there, in a cluttered room, with her old drawings on the walls, and her old bed looming giant to the side, with toys strewn about and rendered exactly like she remembered them, was a table.

And around it, sat toys having a tea party.

“Beanarella,” she said, staring at the little stuffed doll. “D-dracosnack,” Cecelia managed, looking at the little green plush dragon that had survived so many battles. “Loopy,” she sighed, at the fuzzy giraffe, much larger proportionately now, in this dungeon of memories and sweet pain.

“Threadbare,” she finished, staring at the toy, the smallest one in the room.

He wore a red coat with mismatched buttons, and an apron over it, and baggy pants that looked ridiculous on him. But she recognized the scepter and the toy top hat, the very same one she’d given him here, in this room, at this table, so long ago. And Cecelia wailed then, overcome as she sank to the floor and sobbed, arms open wide as the little bear ran to her and hugged her, hugged her tightly. Golden light flared, and her minor injuries closed, and she picked him up and cried into his fur, cried for everything she’d lost and everything she’d done, and sobbed until she couldn’t anymore.

Purring at her side then, and she looked up through a veil of tears, to a black feline face and yellow eyes. The ears were wrong somehow, but that purr…

“Pulsivar?” She whispered.

And then he was licking her tears away, and rubbing his face all over hers, and she laughed and held him to her breastplate, held them both, and the anger and sorrow and bitterness that had filled her and buoyed her to this point drained away like pus from an infected wound.

“I’m going to vomit,” Anise announced behind her.

“No Inquisitor, you’re going to shut the hell up and let her have this,” Graves said, and Cecelia giggled, absurdly, breaking her sobs as they wound down.

She had friends now. New and old. She’d been so lonely, for so long… but now everything could be fixed.

“I missed you, Celia,” Threadbare said. “I was so worried for you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m… I thought you were dead. The sword… I looked up and you were pinned and you weren’t moving, and then they backed me into a corner and I couldn’t see-I wondered, later. I thought you had more hit points, but they told me the house burned, and I didn’t know if you made it out, and I tried Wind’s Whisper a few times just in case, but I didn’t have much range-”

“Shh.” he said, patting her lips with the teacup he still held in his left hand.

She giggled, as she remembered how he’d done that, long ago. Then, collecting herself, she put him down.

“Hm,” he said, looking down at his snot and tearstained coat. “Clean and Press.”

“Your grandfather left behind a toy teddy tailor to… do what, exactly?” Graves asked. “Forgive me, I’m honestly a little confused by this whole situation.”

“He’s more than that,” Cecelia whispered. “Much more. We ran dungeons together. Well, a dungeon, anyway. Which… how?” She gestured at the house-shaped world around them.

“It’s a very long story. Would you all care for some tea? It’s mostly real.” He pointed to the table.

“Erm.” Graves said, glancing at her.

“Appraise,” Cecelia said, looking the setup over. She didn’t think he’d poison her, but this place was strange, and golems might not be used to things like the vagaries of human digestive systems. “It’s tea. It’ll restore a little sanity, that’s all.”

“Tea parties are good for that, I find,” Threadbare said, settling into his chair and laying his scepter on the table. “You taught me that one early on.”

“They are,” she giggled, as Pulsivar licked her face again, then gently nudged him away. “Gods you’ve gotten big. Wait, you’re a bobcat?” She blinked. “You weren’t a bobcat before.”

“He ranked up in the years after everything went bad,” Threadbare said. “I did too. My head’s bigger now. Evidently that’s a cave bear thing.”

She shook her head as she took her seat. Graves settled in next to her.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Anise shook her head. “I’m really here for one thing only.”

“Which is?” Threadbare asked.

“I’ll tell you if it comes up.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

“It never is.” Cecelia drank her tea. “So. You can talk now.”

“It took a lot of work and tailoring. I figured out how to make voices. My chest is full of strings and other things. And then once I could speak I could say things like Status, and all of my skills and spells, and life got a bit easier. In some ways.” The little bear took off his hat, and rubbed his head. “I guess it’s more complicated now, too. So it’s not much easier. It’s just that I’ve got more ways to handle problems, if that makes sense.”

“That’s how life goes, I’m afraid,” Cecelia said. “We all have to grow up, and do things we don’t like.”

“Oh. I don’t know about that,” Threadbare said. “I like helping people, and saving them. And that’s mostly what we did tonight.”

“Helping people like old ones cultists? Saving innocents by feeding them to blasphemous gods?”

“Graves—”

“No, listen, I know he’s a teddy bear, but those cultists were feeding kids to whatever was in that stone circle. Still are, maybe. How’s that jibe with your helping people thing, Mister Threadbare?”

“Oh, that. That’s a misunderstanding. They’re not feeding the children to the old one, they’re taking the ones with his bloodline home so the soldiers don’t kill them all.”

“They’re not being eaten?” Cecelia blinked.

“No. They’re all half fishpeople, the ones that are going to wherever the old one is. They’ll meet their distant relatives and swim forever in lightless seas. It sounds a bit damp to me, but they seemed eager enough. Well, considering the alternatives…”

Graves and Cecelia looked at Anise. “You left out the fact the kids were fishmen,” Cecelia said.

Anise scowled. “They were all wearing robes and I couldn’t get close. For the love of Cron, I’m not always trying to fuck you over. Although it’s rare, I can make mistakes too.”

Threadbare continued. “That’s all the old one wanted. He was never going to come here. Too weak to do it. But the last high priest of the cult lied, and manipulated the villagers into thinking he was. Which is why they rose up against the Crown.” Threadbare considered his tea, pretended to sip it. “We killed the high priest and showed everbody the truth, but the army was on the way and it was too late.”

“You could have explained it,” Cecelia said.

“Could we really?” Threadbare lifted his button eyes to look up at her. “The King’s laws are clear. Death to any settlement that embraces the old ones or other unsanctioned cults. He destroyed Taylor’s Delve for less than that., and there wasn’t even a cult there. Why would the army stop and listen? They never have before.”

“That was rebels, that wiped out Taylor’s Delve.” Graves snapped. “They only blamed the Crown for…” he stopped, at Cecelia’s expression. “Ma’am?”

“It’s true,” Cecelia said.

Graves chewed on that. Swallowed hard. “We’re only at war with the dwarves because of Taylor’s Delve. Now you’re telling me that they’re not lying? That they do have just cause? That we’ve seen thousands of our own die in this war because we started it?”

“It’s… complicated,” Cecelia said, avoiding his eyes. “My Father… he had to…”

“Why?” Threadbare said. “He got everything he wanted. He got Emmet and he got you. That was why he moved everyone in to fight Caradon. Well, not everything.” Threadbare put his hat back on, and put the teacup down. “He didn’t get the golemist job.”

“Right,” Cecelia said. “Which is why he needed grandfather alive, which is why I bargained for his life! It was the only way!” She said, and the teacup shook in her hand. “I had to be good, I had to do what he say, and be who he needed me to be, so Caradon would live! I had to… I had to.” She finished, her voice breaking. “I still have to.”

Threadbare looked at her. Then he looked down. “You don’t know.”

And slow horror filled her. She knew, she knew, in the back of her mind she knew what he was going to say, and she knew that it would unmake her. That her life would come tumbling down, and nothing would ever be the same again. “Don’t,” she whispered.

Threadbare took a breath. “Celia, Caradon’s dead. Your father killed him.”

The teacup shattered in her gauntlet.

Warm tea spilled over the table, and she stared, feeling her eyes burn, but no more tears came. She stared over Threadbare’s head, and the last hope that she’d had died with the little bear’s calm, even words.

“Mrrow?” Pulsivar pushed his head against her again, insisting, and she put her arm over him, hugged the cat tight.

“He lied to me,” Cecelia said.

“He twisted his words,” Threadbare said. “I’m smart enough to see that now. He promised he wouldn’t hurt him, and that you’d see him again. He fed him numbing powder so he didn’t feel pain, and figured you’d end up in the same afterlife. Then he carved him open, used a cultist trick to try and steal Caradon’s jobs. But he didn’t realize I was still alive. And that I was in Caradon’s party.”

“Ah, is that what happened?” Anise said. “My my, how unfortunate.”

“You knew. Of course you knew,” Cecelia said, Pulsivar freezing motionless below her as the girl’s voice filled with hatred. “And he DID lie to me. He said Grandfather had escaped custody, two years ago.”

“Oh. I wasn’t there for that,” Threadbare said. “I was busy getting myself free from that sword. And the rubble of the house.”

“I didn’t know, precisely,” Anise said, hands behind her back as she paced around the room. “But it was one of the plans we discussed, if the old man proved reluctant to give up his secrets. Really, we couldn’t leave him as a loose end, Cecelia, surely you see that. For the good of the kingdom, the King cannot tolerate treason. Even from his relatives.”

“He lied to me!” Celia shouted, rising, drawing her sword. Pulsivar growled and backed away, and Threadbare stood as well, putting his teacup to the side and picking up his scepter. Graves looked to the both of them, and glanced back to the skeletons.

“And? What does it change?” Said Anise, turning to stare at her with those black, black eyes. “This kingdom burns, Cecelia. It burns with chaos and anarchy, slipping out of control with every day that rises while our enemies still live. Enemies like this one, standing before you.” Anise gestured to Threadbare.

“I… you’re right…” Cecelia whispered. “I’ve seen…”

“I haven’t seen much,” Threadbare interrupted. “But I talked to people who have. It seems to me that the King creates the enemies he goes to war against. The war with the dwarves happened because he killed everyone in Taylor’s delve, when he didn’t have to at all. And the only reason the cult rose up against him here is because they were sick of heavy taxes and their children all being conscripted.”

“It… we do good. We do good things. The Crown does,” Cecelia said. “We brought down a corrupt nobleman.”

“You brought down a corrupt nobleman, ma’am,” Graves said. “Point of fact.”

“Watch your words, little man,” Anise murmured, smiling at him.

He blanched, then rallied. “Well, speaking my mind got me kicked out of one job. What’s one more?”

“Shut up,” Cecelia told Anise. “You tried to get me to kill Mordecai.”

“And you set him free instead. By all rights you should be rotting in his cell as a traitor,” Anise sighed. “But Melos has a blind spot when it comes to you. You’re his perfect little angel. The good queen, who will fix everything that he’s turned to blood and shit. The untarnished successor, who will bring honor and truth and peace back to the kingdom.” Anise laughed, and her scorn rang from the walls. “He doesn’t see just how much he’s screwed things up. No, it’ll be all you can ever do to keep afloat, my dear. You’ll scrabble and you’ll fight and watch your subjects die and writhe in torment over and over again, for the rest of your life, because the alternative is a dead valley, and corpses stacked to the skies. This is your destiny, Cecelia.” Anise extended her hand, nails gleaming red in the dungeon’s off-kilter light. “Are you strong enough to take it?”

Cecelia looked to Anise. She looked to Graves, who had his shield out, and she knew his hand was on his sword’s hilt, under it. “I trust your judgement, Ragandor,”

She looked to Pulsivar, who sat under the table, tail lashing, eyes narrowed as he stared at Anise.

And she looked to Threadbare, who stared back at her.

“What should I do?” She whispered.

“I love you, Celia. I’ll love you whatever happens, whatever you decide.” Threadbare told her. “Now that I’ve found you I’ll never leave you again. Not if I have any choice in the matter. But…” he looked out the window. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy if you do what your father wants you to do. If you try to be who he wants you to be.”

“My happiness doesn’t matter,” Cecelia said. “Not when you balance the lives of everyone in this kingdom against it.”

“It does matter,” Threadbare said. “If you don’t want to rule them, you shouldn’t rule them. How can they be happy if their queen never is? Is the King happy?”

“No.” She said, closing her eyes. “He hates it. He hates every day of this.”

“Like you would, if you took the job.”

“Yes,” Cecelia said, and her heart throbbed within her chest, as a final sob forced its way out of her throat. “Yes!”

“Then don’t take the job if you won’t be happy. Celia, I want you to be happy. Nothing matters more to me.”

“This kingdom will burn if I don’t.”

“Then stop it from burning.” Threadbare said, walking around the table, to stretch his paw out to her. “You don’t have to be a ruler, to do that. We saved everyone here who was innocent, because the ones who were guilty atoned and laid down their lives to buy them time. And that was just me and my friends. Think of what we can do together! You don’t have to do it alone, either! I’ve made so many friends, and some of them are people you know, too. Some of them still are your friends, Celia. We all want to help you. We want to help you so much…”

Celia’s sword quivered in her hand. She looked to Anise, smiling, with eyes colder than the space between the stars.

Then she looked to Threadbare, mouth quivering, eyes black and made of buttons but more expressive than most human eyes she’d stared into.

“You’ve never lied to me,” she told him. Then she glared at Anise. “You have.”

And casting her doubts to the wind, she grasped Threadbare’s paw.

Casting the last five years, the training, throwing everything away, duty and fear and the confused tangle of emotions that was her father and all of that, away, she took up the paw of her oldest, truest friend, and raised her blade against the demon.

Graves’ sword rasped as he drew it, and he fell in next to Cecelia. The skeletons shifted to block the door. “This is treason, you know,” he told Cecelia.

“I know,” she said, and sighed as her code of chivalry broke. Thirty-two points down from all defenses, at a really inconvenient time. “Sorry.”

“Eh. I lost my fiancee to the dwarves,” Graves said, glaring at Anise from under his helm, the skulls on his pauldrons writhing in response to his cold anger. “I pledged allegiance to a realm that doesn’t deserve it. So I figure it’s only fair if I take it back.”

Anise clapped her hands, gently. “Bravo. Happy ending. Except oh, there’s one little loose end, isn’t there? The nasty old demon.” Anise smiled. “Do you know why he pacted a succubus, using his dead wife as the vessel? Do I have to spell it out for you? Not that he’s had much free time to enjoy those benefits.”

“You shut up about him. You’ve twisted him all up, driven him mad,” Cecelia said. “All for your own amusement, fiend.”

“Me? Driven him… Ha!” Anise slapped her thigh. “Oh, you have no idea how fucked he truly is, and how much worse it’ll be for him and everyone else, soon. On the shoulders of the king, the world rests. When he falls, so does this miserable little land.” She sneered. “This situation wasn’t his doing, and he tried to stop it, but he was just weak enough and here I am. Along with all the others.”

“Others…” Graves said. “The Hand?”

“Yeah, if you’re looking for the part where I confess all my evil plans because you’re going to die anyway, look again. Most of you are going to die here, but I think a couple of you could make it out if you really tried hard. So I’ll shut up now.” Anise reached up and they flinched, as she put her hair through a scrunchy, making a ponytail of it. “Shall we?”

“You’re very confident,” Threadbare said, spreading out to the right, as Pulsivar faded back into the shadows under the bed, readying for a pounce.

“No, I truly don’t care. Fifteen years I’ve been stuck in this miserable shell, fighting the willpower of the last vestiges of Amelia goddamn Gearhart, trying to break free so I can finally have some FUN. If your father hadn’t been so rushed with the Pact I wouldn’t have been able to do even that, so thank Cron for small favors there.”

They looked at each other, across the room. Each of them knew that the first command, the first skill invoked would set off violence.

“Tell me this, at least,” Cecelia said. “Is there truly nothing of my mother left within you?”

“A few childhood memories. Makes this house painful, slows me down a bit,” Anise said. “I’ve managed to grind down the rest. Make room for new experiences. New jobs.”

“Wait. Demons can’t take jobs!” Graves burst out, and for the first time he sounded worried.

“First Pact demons, no. Imps, hellhounds, nah. Second Pact demons? It takes a while, but yes, yes we can.”

“That goes against every bit of lore that—” Graves shut his mouth.

“That we told you.” Anise said, grinning. “Or implied through skillful omission of the truth. Cron, I love my passive skills, they make you people forget to question things you really, really should.”

“And your job is…” Cecelia asked, staring, feeling the tension balance on a knife edge.

“Well, my main one is cultist, actually.” Anise winked at her. “High enough to cast the Second Pact, finally. Remember how I told you how I would make sure you became the person you needed to be?”

Then she moved, faster than she’d ever moved before, faster than Cecelia had thought she could; A burst of motion, too fast to process, an impact that exploded against her chest like Reason’s sword against the gate, an impact that SHOULD have sent her flying backward but didn’t, and her breastplate broke open like cardboard, as Cecelia felt her limbs go numb.

She looked at Anise’s face, inches from her own.

And she looked down, to see the daemon’s arm disappearing into her breastplate.

And through her chest.

Her sword clattered to the ground. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

“I really only need two parts of you to do that, Cecelia,” Anise told her, and kissed her gently on the lips before grabbing her neck and tearing and Pulsivar was howling and Threadbare and Graves were shouting, but they were too late, too late by a hot, horrified second.

…and Cecelia died, with her head and heart in Anise’s hands.

And Yet She Persisted 1

“No!” Threadbare’s voice was last in Graves’ hoarse yell.

“She’s got Silent activation! She’s fully buffed! Pile on her quick!” The death knight followed his own advice, stabbing at the daemon as his skeletons charged her from behind. Pulsivar pounced from the side, and with her arms still tangled around and in Celia’s corpse, Anise blocked frantically, turning Graves’ blade aside with the girl’s armored corpse.

But Threadbare had other priorities. Shoving down his page, biting back his rage, and keeping his head despite the pain, he knew what he had to do. “Speak with Dead. Soulstone. Celia, get in here quick-”

It shattered, and his paw went with it as Anise somersaulted over Graves and kicked his arm off. Threadbare flew back, bounced off the wall, and coughed in shock as a red ‘64’ rolled up from his shoulder.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 24!

CON +1

Your Toughness skill is now level 18!

Max HP +2

Anise whirled as Pulsivar’s claws raked her back, and hissed as a red ‘32’ rose up. She spun in place, lashing out with one heel in a sweeping round kick, and the cat cried out in pain, knocked backward.

“She’s a glass cannon!” Graves yelled. “Keep on her!”

Threadbare didn’t know what a glass cannon was, but he was pretty sure he’d seen Pulsivar straight up murder soft targets before, and Anise sure as heck wasn’t one.

“Mend Golem,” he said, and as his arm dissipated from the floor and reappeared, he snapped his scepter out to face her. “Harden. Flex. Self-Esteem. Guard Stance. Bodyguard Pulsivar!”

And THEN he launched himself into the fray, just as she shook Cecelia’s body to the floor, her hands still full with her grisly trophies.

“Oh, if you could have seen the look on your faces,” she sneered, dodging like a champion, and taking down the three skeletons with three fast scissor kicks. Pulsivar danced around and she feinted at him, then slammed her heel into Graves’ chest, so hard that he grunted. A red ‘24’ floated up.

Then she turned to Threadbare, ducking under Graves’ retaliation. He waved the scepter at her. “Nice toy,” Anise purred. “Disarm,” she snapped, her bloody hand blurring down and punching it free from his grasp.

“I don’t need it!” Threadbare yelled, and charged her, claws swiping. “You murderer!”

With Celia’s head she fended off Graves’ blade, and she laughed as she hopped easily over Threadbare’s swipes.

But eventually, one got through.

Your Brawling skill is now level 34!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 23!

Your Weapon Specialist skill is now level 16!

A red ‘17’ rose up, and Threadbare frowned. Her flesh was tough, tougher than humans were supposed to be.

And every time he succeeded against her, he gained a stat or a skill. With the full power of his intelligence, and a rising dread, he knew what that meant.

She was way, way stronger than he was.

He’d kind of gathered that, from the way she’d killed… killed… He shoved that from his mind, and fought harder.

Then as she tried to crush Pulsivar’s spine with a quick stomp, he found himself moving, lightning fast.

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 7!

Was all the warning he had, before she smashed him to the ground, knocking his hat free.

But he had no bones to break, or organs to squish.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 25!

He clawed her ankle for the trouble, in the split second before she hopped away.

DEX+1

Your Brawling skill is now level 35!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 24!

Your Weapon Specialist skill is now level 17!

It hurt him more to realize how weak he was against her. How he’d failed Celia in the clutch. If he’d spent the last two days training, instead of making golems and helping the town prepare, then maybe, maybe… but no. There was no time for regret. He’d gained levels, lots of them, but they’d all been in caster jobs, for the most part. All he had combat wise was raw bear levels and his duelist tricks.

So why fight her like a warrior?

He rolled to his feet, as Graves rained down Dolorous Strikes, and Anise parried with her forearms, catching the flat of the blade and knocking it away, hands still full of her gory prizes.

Time to get creative.

“Soulstone-” he started, “Animus!” he yelled, and though he wasn’t fast enough to dodge that wasn’t the goal.

Her shoe met his hand, and the damage was worse this time, but it didn’t matter. He’d cast the spell, and touched the target. That was his goal, and it was worth the soulstone’s destruction, and his arm hanging by literally threads.

He staggered back, holding it on. “Invite shoe!”

Your Animus skill is now level 35!

Anise paused, a strange look on her face, then she gasped as her now-conscripted footwear constricted.

The strength of an animus is influenced by the creator’s will, and enhanced by the Creator’s Guardian buff. In Threadbare’s case, this was pretty considerable. Bones cracked, and a red ‘97’ rose up. More damage, smaller red numbers from behind as Graves and Pulsivar pressed the advantage.

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 26!

But Anise was strong, very strong, and had tricks of her own. “Flexible Stance!” she called, and twisted out of the shoe with a quick boneless hop and kick, then kicked her other shoe free for good measure, backflipping onto the giant bed.

“Animus!” Threadbare yelled, slapping the sheets, “Invite sheets!”

“Ah ha ha ha ha no,” Anise said, squirming free with a quick movement, and hopping on one foot up to the bedpost, perching on it, balancing on her unbroken appendage and sneering down at them. “Probably the most amusing part of this? You seriously think you have a chance! Let’s have some music for the shattering of your hopes and dreams! Dark Chant!”

And an unholy wailing arose from nowhere, a wailing chorus, as dark, deep music swelled and pulsed. “Cron, Cron, Vhand Syncd, Cron, Cron Vhand Ypbind!”

The music skirled and gnawed, but not at their sanity, as the old ones’ dark chant did. No, it targeted their moxie, and Threadbare felt his courage slowly leaking from him.

“We have to shut that down or she’ll play keepaway until we’re quivering wrecks!” Graves yelled, as green numbers fled upward from his skull. “Do you have anything, bear?”

“What is she, exactly?”

“A daemon!”

“Then I’ve got this!” Threadbare said, rummaging in his pockets until he found the sole twist of green reagent that he’d been keeping since Taylor’s Delve. “Ward Against Daemons!”

Your Wards skill is now level 2!

He slammed his hand to the ground, and the powder traced into arcane sigils, stretched out to trace patterns over the room…

…and the music slowed, and faded into a bare murmuring, as Anise hissed. Red ‘1’s started to curl up from her. “Fine!” She spat.

And that’s when Pulsivar pounced. He’d spent a precious twenty seconds leaping up to the bed and creeping through the covers, going after the woman who’d murdered his kin. With a Caterwaul that failed to yank any sanity at all from her, he struck, raking his claws down her back-

-and coming up short suddenly, as she twisted, caught his throat, and grinned. “Transfer Wounds,” she told him.

Pulsivar howled as his foot cracked, his back exploded into pain, and he twisted free. That was one of his lives down.

Anise cast him aside, then put her formerly-wounded foot down, with a sigh of relief. But the gnawing of the wards continued, and she smoked faintly as her flesh burned.

“Clever. And I don’t have anything with me to dispel that right now,” she said, casting a frown at Pulsivar’s limp form, and at the animated sheets that were moving him to safety, handing him down to Threadbare.

“Innocent Embrace!” Threadbare said, hugging his friend.

You have healed Pulsivar 120 points!

Your Innocent Embrace Skill is now level 13!

Anise rolled her eyes. “Pathetic. Well… not so much. You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would.” She hopped down, dodged the sheets. “I was hoping you’d go down as easily as this mewling bitch did. But then, I DID use my tier two job skills on her.” She waggled her hands and blood dripped from their payload. “And now I don’t have to waste moxie with silent activations.”

Graves inhaled sharply, and the color drained from his face. “What! Tier two? Oh no.” He looked at the remnants of his skeletons. “Bony Armor!” he said, as the few unbroken bones flew up to replace the cracked ones overlaying his armor.

“Crane Style! Focus Chi to Feet!” she called, and hopped away from the still questing sheets, grinning. “Oh, and Drain Life!” she yelled.

Pulsivar screamed, as black energy crawled over him, scarlet blood flying from him to the daemon.

“No!” Threadbare said, as the cat fell, a glaring red ‘123’ exploding up from the feline’s body.

But his tail twitched, and he was still in Threadbare’s party screen, still alive, so the little bear kept his cool. The focus was Anise. Anise had to die. Only then could he help Pulsivar. Only then could he save Celia. Save her soul, even if her body was gone.

“I can do that too!” Graves yelled. “Drain Life!” and he pulled bloody health back from Anise, who hissed and changed directions to land next to him. “Shield Saint!” Graves yelled, blocking a flurry of vicious kicks, that struck with a force they hadn’t had before. His shield and armor dented and buckled every time they hit square on, and Threadbare raced to try and take some of the pressure off of him. But how?

Healing Pulsivar was out. The cat was faking death, and healing his friend would just draw attention to him. The bobcat’s hit points were no match for Anise’s damage potential, if she shifted her aggression to him.

No, he had to keep her busy until the gnawing damage of the ward did its work. “Animus Blade!” he yelled, flipping his dagger into the air and diving towards the fight. Sneering, Anise dodged easily…

…but she wasn’t his target. “Innocent Embrace!” he called as his arms wrapped around Graves’s armored calf.

You have healed Herbert Graves 130 points!

Your Innocent Embrace Skill is now level 14!

Anise managed to kick the dagger out of the air, wasting a few seconds. “Ah, Crane stance is no good for finishing things quickly. Can’t Tiger stance, because, well, my hands are full. Of your little girl. Awww… too soon?”

“Shut up!” Threadbare yelled, finally losing his cool. “Drain Life!” Black energy stretched toward her… and failed.

“Woops. Looks like you need more practice,” Anise said, advancing on them. “And I know your weakness, little bear. I’ve been studying your breathing, every time you speak.”

He put his hand on his mouth-

And the daemon whirled, plucked up the dagger she’d de-animated between her toes, and sunk it to the hilt in his chest with a single twisting toss, nailing him to the wall.

He coughed, surprised, and no sound came out. My voice box! She’s cut it!

“And so you end this, silent and helpless, just like you were so many years ago. Now, then-”

“Drain Life!” Graves shouted, and she shrieked as it tore a red ‘54’ from her.

“Will you stop!” She screamed, and leaped after him.

No, Threadbare thought. Not this time! I won’t be helpless again! And with a mighty push, and a ripping that tore him from throat to gut, with a red ‘252’ spilling from his body, he heaved himself from the wall. Stuffing sprayed, and oh, it felt wrong…

Your Golem Body skill is now level 26!
CON +1
STR +1
Your Toughness skill is now level 19!
Max HP +2
Anise sneered, and started toward him-

-and stopped, as he ripped two beads from where they’d been hidden in his blingy chain, and smashed them to the floor.

You have been healed for 119 points!

You have been healed for 125 points!

The front of him zipped back up, the stuffing wisped back into him, and inside, in his throat, he felt whole once more.

Threadbare took a breath. “Testing. Yes, I thought someone might try that at some point.” He had one mend golem bead left, but didn’t think it prudent to tell her that. “Now where were we?”

For just a second, she seemed worried. For just a second, her face twisted as she realized what she was up against.

Then, reality flickered, and kept flickering. Anise and Graves paused. “Oooh, the master’s stepped out,” Anise cooed. “You realize that your last chance to run is now? Thirty seconds, and this dungeon will be toast. Then you’ll have nowhere to hide.” She slammed her foot into Graves again, shattering his shield, and sending him back with repeated kicks.

“No,” Threadbare whispered. Fluffbear can’t come in here! She’s far too weak to handle Anise right now!

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he could handle her. Not at all.

“Corps-a-Corps!” Graves yelled, and suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, he was shoving her against the wall, blade pinning her leg by the ankle.

She blinked at him.

“Get her please!” Graves howled.

Threadbare came in on one side, and Pulsivar stirred himself, leaped in on the other, ripping into her toughened flesh.

And she laughed.

“Getting in close with a succubus? Unwise. Dark Kiss,” She whispered, and then she leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around Graves, flipping his visor open with her teeth and kissing him full on the lips.

With a moan, he withered, flesh shrinking against his bones as he toppled with a crash of armor that was now much too heavy for him-

-and just as he fell, so did the dungeon. Pulsivar retreated, and Threadbare leaped onto Graves. “Innocent Embrace!”

Nothing happened.

Whatever was wrong with him, it wasn’t something healing could fix.

“Time’s up, darlings,” Anise smiled, turning to see who had arrived to challenge her. “Now where’s that dungeon’s… master…” she trailed off as a small figure appeared, leaping from the shallow water of the cove.

“Heavens Blade! Holy Smite!” Squeaked Fluffbear, and with a howling, thoroughly unhappy Mopsy bearing her forward, charged the daemon with everything she had. She rode past, gouging her glowing dagger along her ankle, sending a red ‘43’ up.

But Anise didn’t move.

Anise turned, staring drunkenly at the little black bear, who reined in Mopsy and glowered up at her. “Leave them alone!”

“You… you…” Anise said, shaking. “No… how… no… Amelia!” She roared, her voice mingled with something inhuman and deep, bellowing, filling the chamber, “You fight me on THIS, Amelia? This TOY! You… I…” She fell to her knees, and blood pattered out of her eyes, bloody tears spilling onto the sand of the dark cove under the church.

“Fluffbear,” A woman’s voice said, hissing from Anise’s throat. “Her name is Missus Fluffbear. And you can’t HAVE her!”

Threadbare stared.

For a second, he was tempted. For a second, he though they might be able to end it, here and now. Could he? She was tough, but if she was paralyzed…

She’s not paralyzed, his common sense told him. And hitting her might snap her out of it.

WIS +1

And then, to his great relief and horrible guilt, a voice resounded in his mind.

“I’m safe! Graves has me!”

“Celia. Oh Celia, I’m so sorry..”

“Run! Run before she kills you!”

“What she said!” Kayin yelled, from her own soulstone.

“We’re leaving!” He yelled to Fluffbear. “Go!” He gathered up his dagger and scepter, stowed them.

“But I have to-”

“Go!”

Anise stretched out a trembling hand as Mopsy carried the little armored teddy bear up the stairs, followed by a very done Pulsivar, who’d lost all the lives he cared to tonight, thank you very much.

For his part, Threadbare ran to Graves. “Can you run?”

“No…” Graves held up a hand, trembling, with the glow of full soulstones leaking from within. “Take them and leave me!”

“No. No one else dies!” Threadbare decided. “Can you hold your breath?”

Behind them, the demon screamed in two voices, but the strange one was already fading.

“Yes?” Graves said.

“Good! Animus! Invite Armor!” Threadbare slapped his breastplate, and under his mental directions, the suit rose and ran into the water with Threadbare clinging to Graves’ hand and the precious cargo they’d nearly died to protect.

“You stupid bitch,” Anise hissed, voice breaking, warbling as she rose, panting, to her knees. “You only delay the inevitable. And as for you-” she turned her head to the toys, and the withered death knight…

…and her eyes widened as she saw only ripples in the dark water of the cove.

She stood, wincing at the damage she’d taken. At least the dungeon’s destruction had dispelled those damnable wards. “You got lucky!” She bellowed. “Run! You have nowhere to go! I’ll find you, and when I do…”

Anise smiled, looking down at the body parts she’d successfully kept intact, throughout the fight. “I won’t be alone,” She finished, looking down at Cecelia’s pale, surprised face. In her other hand, the princess’s heart beat its last.

Underwater, mere dozens of meters away with Graves holding his breath as best as he could as his newly-animated armor carried the crippled Death Knight along the bottom of the lake, Threadbare heard the daemon shout, and only now, with the danger gone, did he sag in defeat.

He would have done anything to have spared her this.

Threadbare had failed his little girl, right when she needed him the most.

*****

The hunter’s cabin was deep in the marsh, long abandoned, and well-shielded from the sight of the town. Which is why it had been a drop-off point for the reagent smuggling trade, back when Catamountain had still been in existence.

Graves and Threadbare emerged from the shallows near the shack, to find the place quiet. Too quiet.

“It’s…” Threadbare spat the last water from his voicebox. “It’s me. This armored guy is a friend, too.”

“T’ank goodness.” Zuula said. “Dreadbear. Fluffbear and cats tell us what happened. We sorry. We so, so, sorry.”

Threadbare hopped down from Graves’ shoulder, and held up his paws. Two soulstones glittered between them. “We’re not all lost. Do we have any yellow reagent left?”

“About ten vials.”

“Good. Good… I…” He sagged. “I don’t know what else to do,” he whispered.

And then Fluffbear and Zuula came out of the deep shadows by the shack and hugged him, and Threadbare sobbed, gasping, tearless eyes staring into the night. He couldn’t cry but he could try, and in time it made him feel better.

“Erm,” Graves said. “My helm’s at a bad angle and it’s very dark here. What exactly is going on?”

Threadbare glanced back the way they came. The swamp was thick here, in this little inlet off the lake. Nonetheless, he patted Zuula and Fluffbear until they backed away, then strolled up to the side of the cabin away from the lake before saying “Glowgleam.” His hat lit up, and he dialed it down until it wasn’t blinding, and put it on the porch. “Clean and Press.” he threw in, cleaning the water from it, and getting rid of his own dampness as well.

Inside the shack, Pulsivar and Mopsy looked up from a serious nap session, and glared at him. Did he have no consideration for the hard work they’d done tonight?

To the side, Annie Mata’s cart lay, with the tailgate of the wagon open and a crate stacked high with glimmering soulstones on it.

“Alright dudes!” A cheery, burbling voice called from the shore. “I think that’s the last of-whoa! A soldier!”

“Friendly!” Graves wheezed. “I’m friendly! Don’t shoot!”

“He okay, Dreadbear say so,” Zuula confirmed.

“You can talk now?” Threadbare glanced over, as the fishman doll stepped from the shadows. Made of wood, stuffed with ejectable stones for ballast, and with leather air bladders that let him submerge and rise with a bit of work, the fishman they’d taken to calling Glub had adjusted well to his new existence.

“Yeah. Got tired of you and Fluffy having to do that deadspeaky thing. I leveled when I was trying the thing with the boats. Turns out bards get another borrowed skill at fifth level, so I stuck this thing called “Knack for Languages” into it. I’m runnin’ it now, it’s totally baller.”

Glub had never had an adventuring job option before, and had liked the notion of being a bard the most from what he’d unlocked in his old life. Which was fortunate, as his rejuvenating song had helped Threadbare regain sanity faster while they prepared the defenses and evacuation of the town.

And his aquatic nature and darkspawn trait made him the perfect fit for the last part of plan ‘nobody dies permanently.’

“Dese de last? You sure?” Zuula asked, taking the soulstones from him.

“Yeah. Hey, did Garon and Mads make it back?”

“No. They’re in the stones somewhere. I hope,” Threadbare said. “We need to check. Speak with Dead.”

Immediately a hubbub of voices erupted from the crate, and Zuula’s arms. She sighed, and hopped up on the tailgate, and chucked the stones in with the rest.

“Please, please, one at a time,” Threadbare said. “Garon?”

“I’m here.”

“Madeline?”

“I’m heah.”

Graves started, and his armor rattled. “Mads?”

“Herbie? Holy shit! Little Herbie, all grown up!”

“Wait, you know each other?” Threadbare rubbed his head.

“Yeah! Back when I was tryin’ ta blend in with Cylvania City’s nahtlife, my gang had this little kid that ran errands for us. Somewahn’s brother. Smart kid, for a street rat. Now heah you are, all… ooh. What happened, man?”

“Long story. A daemon kissed me. And from what my status screen tells me, it looks like it’s a curse. My strength’s currently a three.”

“Oof. Dat bad,” Zuula said. “Can’t do nutting for curses. Need a cleric, ‘bout twenty level or so. Or Oracle. Or wait until daemon remove curse.”

“I don’t see that happening, I don’t think,” Threadbare said.

“Hello?” Celia’s voice asked, and the toys froze. Threadbare buried his face in his paws. “Zuula? Garon? You’re here too?”

“Yes,” Zuula whispered. “Yes child, we are. Dreadbear, what is dis? How…”

“She was the one in the steam knight,” Fluffbear squeaked. “Threadbare thought her voice was familiar, but we didn’t know until the fighting got in the town. And we heard the soldiers yelling about Captain Ragandor.”

Garon spoke up. “Yeah. We had to try to talk to her. Mads and I gave up on the divebombing runs and we pulled back to the church so Threadbare could set up the neutral ground, try to defuse the situation. Then that fucking assassin came out of nowhere.”

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Kayin spoke up. “If it’s any consolation the little nasal one and the cultists there did for me, too.”

“She’s with me,” Graves added, hastily. “Or rather we’re with Dame Ragandor. Inquisitor Lay’di turned on us. She was the daemon that cursed me.”

“You’re the one that got me? Eh, it was war, no hard feelings,” Garon said. “That body had problems. Dragon wasn’t for me, as it turned out. No matter how powerful it was.”

“Now me, on the othah hand…” Madeline said, musing.

“Body?” Kayin asked, confused.

“Yeah, we’ll all get new bodies!” One of the soulstoned villagers shouted. “And be born again, for real, not like Hatecraft’s lies!”

“Yeah!”

“Right on!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Easy, easy, please,” Fluffbear squeaked. “We have to tell the new ones about the deal, to see if they want to do it, too.”

“Deal?” Cecelia asked, warily. “I’ve had about enough of deals for the next few years. Too many daemons.”

“I’ve found a way to put soulstoned spirits into golem bodies,” Threadbare explained.

The clearing filled with silence, save for the muttering of the happy ex-cultists.

“Holy shit,” Graves finally gasped.

“Is it better than being a knife for all eternity?” Kayin asked.

“Yes. Most hauntblades and wraitharmors eventually go mad. But if you’re talking a body with full manipulation, sensory abilities like a golem could provide, and a voice for ease of socialization… wow. That has possibilities.”

“You know something about this?” Threadbare perked up.

“A little. There are these guys called Spirit Mediums that are supposed to operate in those areas, but I never got high enough rank to have the clearance to learn about them. That knowledge is in the very restricted section of the archives.”

“I’ve unlocked that, but I can’t take it. I think it’s to do with golemist and necromancer.”

“From the rumors I heard, either animator and enchanter are viable combos with necromancer to unlock it. I was going to go enchanter, anyway, at some point. If you tell me how you did it, then I might be able to learn that job for you, help you out with this.”

“And why would you do dat?” Zuula said, frowning at him. “You was killing some of dese people not too long ago,” she pointed at the crate of soulstones, some of whom were murmuring angrily.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. We thought they were going to call up the old one, and that they were sacrificing children. Your little bear friend set us straight. And when the Captain turned on the Inquisitor, I turned with her. I’m an enemy of the Crown now, the same as you.”

“And the Crown has to stop,” Cecelia decided. “Stop killing its own people, stop helping daemons,stop driving entire towns to rebellion, stop these senseless wars that it started. It has to stop the lies, and it won’t unless WE stop it.”

That got cheers from the assembled spirits.

And for the first time since he’d failed, Threadbare felt hope rising in his heart. He opened his mouth, closed it, and decided to ask the question that he hadn’t dared to ask before. “Will… will you let me put you into a new body, Celia? Will you stay with us, and help us save everyone?”

“Of course, you silly bear!” Cecelia said. “I just got you back, there’s no way you’re getting rid of me so easily!”

Threadbare sagged in relief.

He’d done it.

She hadn’t lived through the process, sure, but he’d saved Celia.

And with a soft chime, Caradon’s last gift to him unlocked, and he became nine thousand, four hundred, and sixty two experience points richer.

You are now a level 13 Greater Toy Golem!
+2 to all attributes!
You are now a level 14 Greater Toy Golem!
+2 to all attributes!
You are now a level 15 Greater Toy Golem!
+2 to all attributes!

You are now a level 12 Cave Bear!
CON +10
WIS +10
+5 Armor
+5 Mental Fortitude
+5 Endurance

You are now a level 8 Enchanter!
DEX+3
INT+3
WILL +3

You are now a level 9 Enchanter!
DEX+3
INT+3
WILL+3

You are now a level 10 Enchanter!
DEX+3
INT+3
WILL+3

You have unlocked the Boost +10 skill!
Your Boost +10 skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Disenchant skill!
Your Disenchant skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Spellstore X skill!
Your Spellstore X skill is now level 1!

You are now a level 6 Duelist!
AGI+3
DEX+3
STR+3

He sighed in relief, feeling his pools refill. And with a slightly sharper mind, the massiveness of the tasks ahead of them came into focus.

“This won’t be easy,” he said. “We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“We’ll go to the dwarves,” Cecelia said. “In this case, the enemy of my enemy really IS my friend. Beryl named me a clan friend, remember?”

“I think that was before she knew you were the King’s daughter,” Garon pointed out.

That stunned the muttering and talking villager spirits into silence.

“I’ve studied the dwarves. That doesn’t matter. A debt like that has to be paid, regardless,” Cecelia said. “I was planning to try and use it to forge a fair armistice after we’d beaten them, but this is even better. And if I can offer to montage some of their people into steam knights, then that’s something else I can use to sweeten the deal. They’ve been trying to figure out the unlocks for those jobs for years.”

“Won’t work,” Garon said. “The best bodies Threadbare can stick us in are toy golems. And whether it’s the golem or the soulstone, whatever the case, we only get one adventuring job when we come across.”

“And one crafting jahb,” Madeline added. “I picked up jewelah in town, but didn’t have time ta grind it. Might be that I can turn soulstones into haiah level crystals. Get us to wood gahlems, or what was that one you just unlocked yestaday, beah?”

“Clay,” Threadbare confirmed. “That one takes a level 2 crystal and a green reagent. I just used the last of that though, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you’ve got two people ready and willing to experiment right here,” Garon said.

“Three,” Kayin added. “Although I’m okay with being a toy, if I have to. You gave me some ideas when you killed me, little miss bitey.”

“Heh. I’d say ya had good taste, but eh, no tastebuds, so tha joke doesn’t quite fit no moah.”

“If you can make me a spirit medium, I’m pretty sure that will help with the process,” Graves said, thinking it over. “I’ll need a montage or two.”

“Four,” Threadbare decided. “Do you have that many job slots open?”

“Just exactly. Knight, Necromancer, Death Knight… yeah, four. Why four?”

“Death Knight?” Squeaked Missus Fluffbear. “What does that do?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I want you to be a golemist too,” Said Threadbare. “It’s the way I got the unlock for Spirit Medium and I don’t know the other ways. And until we can get you uncursed, animator will let you animate your own armor so you can walk around and do things on your own. And this way, if I die and you survive, you’re a golemist so maybe you can make sure I have a new body to come back to.”

“Oh. Shoot, that’s a good idea.” Graves blinked, and looked down at the little bear. “Yeah, you’re the Captain’s teddy, all right.”

“Four montages, four days.” Cecelia mused. “Where are we, precisely?”

“Three montages,” said Threadbare. “I can’t montage spirit medium, I don’t know that one. But the unlock is simple enough that I can show him how.”

“More like two days,” Zuula said. “Toys and undead spirits don’t need to eat or sleep or none of dat.”

“But I do,” Graves pointed out. “Uh… I’ll need someone to hunt for me and scrounge up water.”

“No problem man,” Glub said.

“We out in middle of nowhere, Celia,” Zuula said. “Across de lake. Take dat army a week to get here, unless dey got boats and know where dey going.”

“No and no,” Celia said. “We’re not outfitted for a long pursuit anyway, and I’m assuming that those boats with wheels were the last ones in town?”

“They were,” Glub said. “Amphibious assault craft!”

“Was that your idea? That was pretty clever,” Graves said. “Also can I sit down now?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Here.” Threadbare directed the armor to sit, and smiled as he sat down, with Celia in his hands. “I’ll let you rest for a bit, and when you’re ready we can start the training.”

“I’ll need to sleep and eat at some point,” Graves nodded. “Talk to me in the morning.”

“Well while they’re montaging, there’s a few things we can do,” Cecelia said, making the most of the situation. “I’ll need you to fill me in on everything you know about the current situation, the King, Anise, and by the way who are you Madeline, I don’t think we’ve met but you sound familiar somehow?”

“Heh! We did, actually, but it’s been a few years. See, I was actually hiding out pretty close to yah house, and we met one naht when Mordecah took ya out inta tha woods…”

Threadbare walked into the rotting old shack as they chatted, put his back to Pulsivar, and rested. The big cat grumbled, and curled up with him, and Mopsy took his other side. Tails thumped, and he petted them, listening to his little girl’s voice as she planned, and plotted, and caught up with old friends.

She sounded happy, and that was good enough for him, good enough right now.

The little band of friends had much to do, but that would come later. For now, though the night had almost been disastrous, they’d forged a somewhat happy outcome from it regardless.

And that was enough.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 11
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 8
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 12
Smith Level 10

Attributes: Strength: 124 Constitution: 138 Hit Points: 330(410) Armor: 52(59)
Intelligence: 216 Wisdom: 201(208) Sanity: 417(550) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 135(142) Agility: 112(126) Stamina: 257(358) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 110(145) Willpower: 199 Moxie: 309(424) Cool: 20(47)
Perception: 107 Luck: 89(96) Fortune: 196(283) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 35 (+8)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 12
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 13
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 30
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 24
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 16
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 6
Noblesse Oblige - Level 26
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 17
Simple Decree - Level 8
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 2
Best Route - Level 2
Camouflage - Level 2
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 5
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills
Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 51(65)

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 40 (+80 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 16
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 16
Strong Pose - Level 5
Work it Baby - Level 40 (+40% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 20
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (14)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 6
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+13 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 17 (Brawling +8) Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 9
Boost +10 - Level 1
Disenchant - Level 1
Elemental Protection - Level 8
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 28
Soften - Level 30
Spellstore I - Level 9
Spellstore V - Level 1
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 1
Command Golem - Level 10
Golem Animus - Level 46
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 15
Program Golem - Level 40
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 9

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 10
Smelt Down - Level 1
Smithing - Level 46

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+2 Armor, +4 Tailoring, +3 Resist Fire from WIB)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+2 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+4 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box with a few reagents and crystals, most minor.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

And Yet She Persisted 2

Arusheluxem sighed, as she looked around the chamber. The iconography was of the blasphemous spawn of the outer darkness, the chaos from ancient times, when everything was far more, well, basic. Before Konol had done his thing, and then obligingly died. Making it about the one and only time the gods had ever been useful.

It was all wrong for what she needed to do, but she had neither the time nor the resources to hand to formalize the matter.

Fortunately, the nature of the being she was calling lent itself to utility over appearances, a concept distasteful to her own preferences.

Anise Lay’di. It made her smile, whenever they called her that. It’s what she used on her status screen, these days, now that her Conceal Status skill was up to decent levels. It had taken a little bit, once she’d been summoned, to unlock the cultist job and grind it to the point where she could reliably hide her status from the various means of viewing it. A trick which she’d have to help this new spawn master in short order.

First things first. The succubus laid the head down first, on the slimy mattress, then deposited the still-beating heart below it. Weaker now, but still fresh enough for her purposes. In fact… yes, she had time. “Occult Eye,” she murmured, and blinked as the world shifted to her view. An easy cultist trick, one that identified adherents of the same faith, and flagged objects of occult significance. In this case, she’d used it because it made artifacts of forbidden lores and the planes above and beyond, glow to her sight. Then she strolled back to the cove, looking for what had been left behind, when the cowards fled.

And she found it.

Minutes left, she gauged, returning to the room where a high priest had once indulged his kinks at the cost of his follower’s time and effort. She gathered her thoughts, cleared her mind, and checked her sanity. Good enough, she wagered. It had mainly been moxie and endurance burned during that farce of a fight. If she hadn’t had her hands literally full… ah. Regrets. She’d kill them later, she or one of the others.

“I invoke the Second Pact. The forbidden knowledge, offering the heart and mind of the mortal mob Cecelia Ragandor-Gearhart, as sacrifice to call forth a Hellsmith of the second circle, forging darkness to my desire. These the terms of the pact, in the true tongue;”

She cleared her throat, and began the lengthy process. Clarity was vital here, even a single missed syllable or accent could have disastrous repercussions.

Fortunately, being a daemon, she was fluent in her native tongue.

“Ent mayne, par an the seas arg sea, char twin stars arg thee, par an thesis bracketa…”

It felt good to speak the true tongue once more, the one that bent the mind, and drove daemon cultists to caffeine and insomnia, pouring over ancient texts time and again, to ensure that they had the commands inlaid correctly.

And as she spoke, the air thickened around the severed parts of the girl, Cecelia.

It was a mistake, to think that daemons cared about souls. They didn’t. The plane they came from was seen as a place of torment, where mortal souls suffered eternally. Anyone who truly knew anything about daemons knew that was a lie. Daemons didn’t LIKE mortals, certainly not enough to spend eternity with them. No, the true aim of daemons was a world where they didn’t NEED to do anything on this layer of reality. Empty. Silent. With no rogue variables blundering about, and nothing interrupting the major processes that they were charged to oversee.

No, daemons had no use at all for souls.

But brains? Those had memories. And hearts? They were symbolic, more or less. And tricky to recreate, much easier to recycle.

The succubus spoke and red energy pulsed up from the heart, its torn arteries stretching and growing, spreading out to flop upon the mattress, sprouting veins and capillaries as they went. One stretched upward, seeking like a snake, before slamming home into the severed throat of the head, in a manner that would have made Reverend Hatecraft reach for his lotion.

The head opened its mouth and screamed, unendingly, a scream that only grew louder as lungs formed, and the rest of the organs followed. Through it all Arusheluxem droned on, hitting each syllable with precision, feeling her sanity slip away bit by bit, taking her focus with it.

That was the trap of the pacts, more or less. They cost the very thing you needed a lot of to get them right, and failure had consequences. Nothing too horrible, usually, assuming you had the power to confine a rogue daemon, and the time to work through the pact, fixing the errors that you had made the first time around. But not everyone DID have the time and power, and so the end result was pleasing to the rogue daemons who could escape or regain their own free will, even to a limited degree.

She came to the end, as the skin formed, and Cecelia’s nude shell stopped screaming, and opened its eyelids for the first time. For a second nothing was there but blackness, darkness from a plane mortal mobs were never meant to touch. Then she blinked, and Cecelia’s eyes replaced it.

“…named Gshantatrixem,” Arusheluxem finished. “Bound by my will!”

“Inefficient,” the new daemon said, clambering to its feet. “Human form, insufficiently mature. Messy hormones. Good musculature structure.” It frowned. “No augmentations. Permission to self-improve?”

“Denied,” Arusheluxem told it. “You are playing the part of a woman called Cecelia Ragadorn Gearhart.”

It stared at her, contemptuously. “I am not skilled in subtlety and deception. You should have called a Deciever.”

“Fool. I have my reasons. You are the last part of a plan over a mortal decade in the making. You will NOT endanger my plans or I will see you suffer when we return to the branch of Var Rhun.”

The new daemon’s eyes went wide. “You know of… wait.” It studied her. “You appear mortal, and you pacted as one, but you are a daemon as well… this defies logic.”

“The meddlers gave the mortal mobs too much power. Power they did not secure from us.” The being known as Anise smiled at the new spawn. “I have taken four of their… jobs… as my own.” She’d nearly taken a fifth, before finding out that model wasn’t necessary, because some of her succubus skills overlapped in just the right way. “You will learn two, perhaps more, before we leave this place.”

“I am a Hellsmith,” the daemon appealed to her. “I ALREADY know what I need to know. I can build you war machines, great bombs and guns, gasses and shells to taint the land and slay your foes. I can augment your flesh with cold armor and hot weapons to smite down your foes. That is my purpose. Why do you wish me to pretend otherwise?”

“You’ll get to do all that too,” Arusheluxem smiled. “And let me show you what your host used to drive around in.” She grabbed a dirty sheet from the back of the room, threw it around the daemon spawn’s nudity, and had it hold it shut.

Dark, when they got out. Dark in a way that neither daemon truly cared about. And watching the new spawn’s eyes light up and jaw drop when it… she… saw Reason, made the jaunt worthwhile.

“Passable,” the Hellsmith declared, stalking around Reason, touching the legs of it, studying the gears and joints and engine. “Ah… yes. Room for improvement. Definite room for improvement. Solid base, though. Yes, I find this acceptable. For now.”

“Can you work it?”

The Hellsmith snorted. “Please. This is easy. I’ll need some flesh, some tools worth a damn, twenty meters of steel wire, six corpses worth of sinew, a few copper rods, some bell jars, and two brains for backup failover processors. Wait. Coal? They wasted a chassis like this on a coalburner? Seriously? Tch. Torment would be easier. Liquified, refined, about seventy proof and I’d get this baby screaming. Literally.”

“It has to look the same from the outside,” Arusheluxem cautioned. “For now, at any rate. Later we won’t have to hide.”

“What happens later?”

The creature called Anise looked around. Renick had left a token garrison, by the sounds of patrolling boots, and the distant torchlight moving around town, searching, ensuring that everyone was truly dead. Too many ears. “Come inside. You’ll need to stay in here anyway for a bit. I’ll see about arranging a knight and an animator to montage you.” Arusheluxem decided, pushing the reluctant Hellsmith away from drooling over Reason, and back to the church. “I’ll have to spin a cover story but that’s no big deal for these mouthbreathers. But in a day or two you’ll be on your own devices for a bit, so I need to make sure you’re ready before I go.”

“Go?” The newly-pacted daemon blinked at her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be off to deliver the good news to a pathetic king, that his shitty little kingdom gets to keep existing for a little while longer…” She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a red crystal, that glittered with green numbers, flashing endlessly in the night.

“That’s-“

She whipped her fingers to the Hellsmith’s mouth. “Ah ah ah. They call them Dungeon Cores, here. And most people have never seen one.”

“Cores? That’s entirely backwards.” The Hellsmith frowned.

“Yes, and oh, I love them so for coming at it in such an ass-backwards way. We wouldn’t be in this juicy, ripe situation if they hadn’t…”

*****

His existence was green light, entirely green light, and that was how he knew he was in his true body when he woke from unexpected sleep.

In a place beyond worlds, in the wreckage of his hopes and dreams, with his dead, dismembered friends lying all about him, Melos the first, King of Cylvania opened his eyes.

In the castle beyond, the projection that was him, but not him, laughed heartily and stalked the halls, looking for adventurers to fight. Clenching his eyes shut Melos exerted his will, groaning at the effort, until finally the thing that was better than his id but worse than his ego returned to his quarters. Painstakingly he tripped the wards and circles that would keep it in place for a few hours, let him get some semblance of rest.

It had found its way out once or twice before, when he’d succumbed to exhaustion. When he’d been weak, and foolish enough to think that he could risk sleep deeper than a fitful slumber.

The first time it had happened, he’d woken to find his blade in King Garamundi’s stomach, with a room full of horrified servants looking on.

And weeping, knowing there was no help for it, he’d had the projection cut the servants down rather than risk witnesses. The damage had been done, though, and no one believed his stories of an assassin. Balmoran had seceded a year later, prepared for war, and he couldn’t honestly blame the man.

At least Melos could honestly say that he hadn’t killed the king. He’d gotten very good at mincing words, over the last decade and a half.

But either way, he couldn’t let this dungeon’s master run free. No. No, he’d taken precautions since then. Gone without sleep. Balanced sanity on a knife-edge, which was hard, because you didn’t regain any, while you were in the green light. Not a bit, not any other pool either. Buffs didn’t work, healing didn’t work, bardsong didn’t work, nothing. He’d had to kill the bard afterward, too. Pity, the man had been a decent level and a loyalist. But no one could know, no one could ever know, until everyone was safe again.

Sanity. What was his? He couldn’t say status, not in here. Not in any way that worked.

He braced himself and stepped through the veil of light. “Status,” he croaked, and winced at the number. He’d need to sleep again soon.

Above him, the numbers pulsed, and words flashed up, broken, skewed, seventeen different versions of the same message, informing him that the master was out of his slot, and needed replacing.

“I know,” he said, feeling around at the table that Anise had left him. “I know!” he screamed, finally finding the bottle she’d left, ripping the cork free, and drinking the contents in three hasty gulps. He’d forbidden her to poison him or give him anything disgusting, but the week, watery beer was scant help. He’d have to sleep soon, and gods help him.

With seven seconds to go, and his bladder aching, he stepped back into the column of green light, gasping as his mind shifted, and the world blurred. The wards were undamaged, he saw. Perhaps his alter ego would be cooperative for once. Perhaps he could sleep, get the rest he needed.

“Nice try,” he told himself. “Never. Never trust you.”

He nodded off regardless, came to. Checking his projection’s surroundings, he shrieked in horror. The thing had his armor off, was halfway out the window, with a manic grin on his red-bearded face, and the green holes in its torso showing clearly for all to see. Fortunately it was dark, and nobody seemed to be around. But the wards on that entire wall were gouged, sparking, broken. Days to redo them. Reagents that would need requisitioning. How long had it been? How long had he managed to sleep?

Melos stepped outside, wincing as his brain throbbed, as the veil grasped it like it always did. “Status,” he whispered, and he stared in horror at his sanity.

“No,” he whispered. “So little. So little so little so little back. So little…” As the world throbbed, and his head bloomed with ache, he cried, just a bit. He needed to drink again, and he felt blindly back to the table-

-and felt his gauntlet close on flesh. A hand. A hand he knew all too well.

“Anise,” he said, retreating to the green. “Report, I’m listening.” Then it was in through the barrier, and watching as the thing that wore Amelia’s face moved to stand in front of the column, fearful and worried.

“Milord,” she said. “Your daughter has won her first great battle, but there were consequences.”

Melos’ eyes snapped open. Mute, unable to speak, he stared out of the light. But he let his fury show, and she quailed to see it. He could punish her later, through the projection. He’d done that before, hurt her, done worse to her, until she’d learned.

Learned to lie better, anyway, the shattered remnants of his common sense whispered in the back of his mind. Or was that his guilt? He didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

“I tried to keep her safe! But… the cultists. She lost sanity, when she explored their sanctuary.” Anise took a breath. “Cecelia lost her jobs. I brought in some trusted cohorts, to reteach her the basics. They’re doing it even now. She tells me she can pilot the Steam Knight suit, so no one should ever know.”

Melos closed his eyes. When the tears stopped, he opened them again, and stepped out of the column.

“My lord?” Anise said, stepping back.

“You swear to me that you had no hand in this? That you didn’t wipe her mind?”

“I never affected Cecelia’s sanity, I swear.” Anise held up her hands. “She won the battle. The old one is no longer a threat in that area, nor ever will be again.”

With the seconds ticking by, with a growl of frustration that was half a sob, Melos surged back into the column, then out again, resetting the count. Anise offered him a roll, and he ate it, wincing at the staleness, as she continued.

“There is one windfall from this,” Anise said, and Melos gasped as she held up a new dungeon core. Only a minor one, but still, but still…

He tore it from her hand, ran to one of the filled columns, one of the ones labelled “LOOT.” He clawed at it, reached in and pulled a burned black crystal from its plinth, and replaced it with the red dungeon core. Immediately it lit up brighter, the numbers flashing in its depths cycling up, going into overdrive and vibrating in the enclosure. A strange energy pulsed from it, green numbers flashed overhead, and some of the tear overhead seemed to mend.

It wouldn’t be enough, he knew. Not for long. Not even for a year. But it would buy time, and that was what he needed right now. He took a look around at the other columns, sprinkled throughout the black space. Of the sixteen other filled loot columns, fourteen of them held burnt cores.

He lost a precious second then, to self-pity, as reality pulsed.

“Teach her quickly!” He yelled, throwing himself back into the Master’s column. In there for only a few seconds, just long enough to make sure it registered, then out again. “Teach her quickly. Get her back up to speed. Crush the dwarves. No more traitors.”

“I did execute a few, in the town. I hope you don’t mind that I attended to that personally.”

“I don’t care.”

She smiled, and her posture unbent a bit.

He knew she’d screwed him over somehow. But he didn’t care, couldn’t care. The daemon continued, glancing around the room, at the other four columns that held figures. “I could more efficiently crush your foes if you let the rest of the Hand out. They’ve spent too long as mid-bosses, it can’t be good for their health.”

“No,” Melos rasped, staring at the faces of his dead friends, their nude forms hiding the daemons inside them, trapped in green light for eternity. “No, but you can have the golem. Have Emmet, like we discussed. It’s time for Amelia Gearhart to return to the world. Talk to me in the castle.” Then it was back into the column, to reset the count, and closing his eyes again.

Resting them. Just resting.

He knew she was smiling. Knew she was sneering. Knew that she’d surely screwed him over in some petty, spiteful little way. He’d never had the time to properly review the pact, never had time to iron out the details. How could he, when he only had thirty seconds and passing through the column disoriented him each and every time?

When he opened them he saw her leaving, heading toward the hidden door, picking her way over the dismembered bodies. Past the throne, broken and sparking, where once all the loot columns had channeled their energy, past the apparatus that Grissle had made long ago. Past HIS corpse, the only intact one left in the room.

Things didn’t rot here. Didn’t change. Didn’t fade.

It was immortality, of a sort. And by the gods he’d scorned, it was a horror he’d never be free of. Not until his daughter was ready, not until he had someone he could trust, someone the traitors hadn’t twisted, to share the burden. One day she would be ready for the truth, and then they could trade off, take turns in the column that supported all of his reality, all the reality that Cylvania had ever known for the last fifteen years.

And perhaps, someday, they’d find a way to fix it.

Be strong, Cecelia. Endure. Fight hard, but never lose your heart. The hardest part is yet to come. Thought the damned king, as he went back to his torment.

End of Volume (Book) Two

The Bear Necessities 2

It was good, thought Threadbare, to take full stock of his abilities. The challenges ahead would be fearsome, and he’d have to make sure he was ready for them. He’d gained several levels and new skills while he was helping the town prepare.

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 11
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 8
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 12
Smith Level 10

Attributes: Strength: 124 Constitution: 138 Hit Points: 330(410) Armor: 52(59)
Intelligence: 216 Wisdom: 201(208) Sanity: 417(550) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 135(142) Agility: 112(126) Stamina: 257(358) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 110(145) Willpower: 199 Moxie: 309(424) Cool: 20(47)
Perception: 107 Luck: 89(96) Fortune: 196(283) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 35 (+8)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 12
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 13
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 30
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 24
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 16
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 6
Noblesse Oblige - Level 26
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 17
Simple Decree - Level 8
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 2
Best Route - Level 2
Camouflage - Level 2
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 5
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills
Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13

Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 51(65)

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 40 (+80 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 16
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 16
Strong Pose - Level 5
Work it Baby - Level 40 (+40% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 20
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (14)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 6
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+13 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 17 (Brawling +8) Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 9
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 1
Elemental Protection - Level 8
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 28
Soften - Level 30
Spellstore I - Level 9
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 1
Command Golem - Level 10
Golem Animus - Level 46
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 15
Program Golem - Level 40
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 9

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 10
Smelt Down - Level 1
Smithing - Level 46

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+2 Armor, +4 Tailoring, +3 Resist Fire from WIB)
Baggy Pants of Hammerspace (+5 AGL, +5 CHA, Allows hammerspace for one blunt weapon)(+2 AGI, CHA, from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+4 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box with a few reagents and crystals, most minor.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard CAVE BEAR Cave Bears are large beasts, tough and strong and stubborn. They eat pretty much anything organic and spend most of their lives underground, emerging to forage as needed. Bears gain experience by eating bear-associated foods, roaming their territory, and defeating foes with their natural weapons.

GREATER TOY GOLEM Toy golems are the protectors of children everywhere! And also good, reasonably cheap guardians for any fledgling golemist. They aren’t the toughest of golems, but they possess a few costly powers good for helping their charges survive. Like all golems, they’re sturdy, resistant to magic, and immune to a lot of things that would kill living beings. Greater golems possess sapience, and attribute ranks that lesser golems simply do not have. They can even learn jobs! Limited in that aspect only by the intelligence of their crafter, greater golems have theoretically astronomical potential. Greater Toy Golems gain experience by doing adorable things, surviving conflict by toughing it out, and defeating foes using their natural weapons.

ANIMATOR Animators give life to inanimate objects, awakening them to serve and defend the animator. Animators gain experience by casting animator spells and defeating foes with their animi.

DUELIST Duelists fight with their chosen weapon and swashbuckle around, using mobility and attitude to win their fights. Duelists gain experience through fighting with their specialized weapon, defeating foes with panache and style, and doing risky, flashy things in dangerous situations. Note: Specialized weapons can be changed. Practice hard, your specialized weapon will shift to your highest weapon skill.

ENCHANTER Enchanters are one of the oddest adventuring professions. They do most of their work beforehand, and use their items to devastating effect. Enchanters gain experience by creating magical items, casting enchanter spells, and using their created items to defeat foes.

GOLEMIST Congratulations! Through blending Animator and Enchanter, you are now a golemist! Golemists craft unique magical constructs, and use them to fight their battles. Golemists gain experience by casting golemist spells, creating golems, and using their golems to defeat their foes.

MODEL Models improve their bodies and attitudes, displaying their glory for all to see and controlling how others look upon them. Models gain experience by using model skills, succesfully controlling first impressions, and defeating their foes through social manuvering.

NECROMANCER Necromancers raise the dead to do their bidding, and can negotiate with powerful spirits and undead entities. Necromancers gain experience by interacting positively with the dead, casting necromancer spells, and using the undead to defeat their foes.

RULER Rulers entice people to work for them, and organize them through decrees and rewards to do their bidding. Rulers gain experience by having their subjects do their bidding, organizing others to a common goal, and looking out for the interests of those in their charge.

SCOUT Scouts roam the wilderness, spying upon foes and using stealth and survival to accomplish their goals. Remember, be prepared! Scouts gain experience by using scout skills, exploring new wilderness areas, and remaining undetected by foes.

SMITH Smiths work with metal, crafting objects with the help of a forge, anvil, and hammer.

TAILOR Tailors work with cloth and occasionally other flexible materials, crafting objects with the help of scissors, needle, and thread.

GREATER TOY GOLEM

ADORABLE Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Adorable has a chance of activating when you do something cute in front of an audience, or onlookers blame you for something that isn’t your fault. It improves the attitude of anyone who fails to resist your charms.

BODYGUARD Level: 10, Cost: 25 Sta Duration: 1 minute per toy golem level
Name a target party member when activating this skill. For the duration, you have a chance of intercepting each attack aimed at them, so long as you remain within two yards of them. Multiple attackers or overwhelming amounts of strikes may reduce the effectiveness of this defence.

GIFT OF SAPIENCE Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Congratulations, you now have all the attributes and can think and learn. Good luck with that. You also have 0/8 adventuring job slots, and 2/4 crafting job slots.

GOLEM BODY Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Your body has no organs, and is made from inorganic or once-organic material infused with a magical force. By being exposed to effects that would kill or cripple living beings and surviving them, this skill will level up. As it levels up, you will gain immunity and resistance to a wider range of lethal effects.

INNOCENT EMBRACE Level 5, Cost: Sanity equal to half the amount healed, Duration: Instant
Heals an embraced target 10 X the level of this skill. Will affect on other golems, is standard healing otherwise. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will affect any legal target embraced. Does not affect uninjured targets.

MAGIC RESISTANCE Level 1, Cost: N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Has a chance of negating any non-beneficial magic cast upon you. The chance of success is dependant upon the spellcaster’s level.

CAVE BEAR

ANIMALISTIC INTERFACE Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Allows the beast to use their racial skills without requiring vocalization. All skills that are not constant passives may be turned on and off as the situation and instinct require.

CLAW SWIPES Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: 5 attacks
Enhances the damage caused by your hands and feet, and adds the sharp quality for the next five strikes. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will activate whenever you brawl with intent to injure.

DARKSPAWN Level: 10, Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
You gain a bonus to all attributes equal to twice your Cave Bear level while in darkness, and can see normally in darkness. Sufficient light will disrupt this effect, and the bonus does not increase the maximum size of the associated pools.

FORAGE Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: 10 minutes
Greatly enhances your perception for the purposes of finding food, water, or other natural resources in the wilderness. At higher levels, may be used to locate specific naturally occuring resources. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, will activate whenever you hunt for natural resources.

GROWL Level 5, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Growl at a target to damage their sanity.

HIBERNATE Level 5, Cost N/A, Duration: 1-3 months
Go into a torpid sleep. Requires a cool, dark place and you cannot be affected by the Starving condition. Restores all pools to full, as per a normal rest.

SCENTS AND SENSIBILITY Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 5 minutes
Activates heightened smell, greatly increasing perception for that sense and allowing you to catalogue and remember specific odors. Currently activated through Animalistic Interface, and will activate whenever you encounter an interesting scent.

STUBBORN Level 5, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Increases your resistance to sanity damaging effects.

TOUGHNESS Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Has a chance of increasing whenever you take serious damage. Raises your maximum HP by two whenever it increases.

SMITH

ADJUST ARMS AND ARMOR Level 5, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: instant
Resizes any armor or weapons to fit the chosen wearer or wielder, and also allows minor alterations.

REFINE ORE Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Instant
Separates any usable crafting materials in a container or dirt, ore, or stone into neat piles of material.

SMELT DOWN Level 10, Cost 25 Sta, Duration: 30+ Seconds
Breaks a metal item down into ingots of metal, and separates out any gems or other materials into a small heap nearby.

SMITHING Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: 30+ seconds
Crafts the desired metal or mixed-metal-and-forgeable item desired, requiring different materials for each project and the presence of appropriate tools. Has a chance of failure.

TAILOR

ADJUST OUTFIT Level 5, Cost 20 Sta, Duration: Instant
Resizes any cloth outfit to fit the chosen wearer, and also allows minor alterations.

CLEAN AND PRESS Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Instant
Instantly cleans the selected item, and removes any wrinkles, stains, or other blemishes. Only works on items that are primarily textiles.

RECYCLE CLOTH Level 10, Cost 25 Sta, Duration: 30+ Seconds
Breaks a cloth item down into bolts and patches, and separates out any leather or other materials into a small heap nearby.

TAILORING Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: 30+ seconds
Crafts the desired cloth or mixed-textile-and-sewable-materials item desired, requiring different materials for each project and the presence of appropriate tools. Has a chance of failure.

ANIMATOR

ANIMUS Level 1, Cost 10+ San, Duration: 10 min/level
Turns an object into an animi, capable of movement, combat, and simple tasks as ordered by its creator. Must be in its creator’s party to do anything beyond defend itself. The greater the size and mass of the object, the more it costs to animate, and the more hit points, strength, and constitution it begins with. The type of material also factors in, and determines the starting armor rating of the animi.

ANIMUS BLADE Level: 5, Cost: 15+ Sanity Duration: 10 minutes per animator level
Animates a slashing weapon and grants it minor flight, causing it to move and attack on its own. It cannot venture more than a small distance from you, and will orbit you without taking action unless invited into your party. Its weapon skill is dependent upon your weapon skill, and its equivalent strength is dependent upon your will.

ANIMUS SHIELD Level: 10, Cost: 20+ San Duration: 10 minutes per level
Animates a shield, that moves as if wielded by an invisible warrior. Must be in a creator’s party to do anything beyond defend itself.

ARM CREATION Level: 5, Cost: 10 San Duration: N/A
Teaches an animi a weapon skill that you know, allowing it to wield and use weapons that are manageable given its size and manipulative appendages. Lasts until the animi deanimates.

COMMAND ANIMUS Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Allows the caster to issue one command to an animi that isn’t currently in its creator’s party. If successfully cast, the animi will follow the command to the best of its ability until it is impossible to do so.

CREATOR’S GUARDIANS Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Enhances animi in the creator’s party, boosting all attributes. The amount buffed is influenced by the animator’s will and this skill’s level. Has a chance of increasing every time a new animi first joins the animator’s party.

DOLLSEYE Level: 5, Cost: 5 San Duration: 10 minutes per animator level
Allows the animator to see through one of their animi. Lasts until the animi deactivates, or can be shut off at will. Occupies the sight capabilities of one of the Animator’s eyes, so perception penalties and confusion may occur if both eyes are open at once. You cannot have more than one dollseye effect active for each functional eye your body possesses.

EYE FOR DETAIL Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute
Allows the animator to examine the status of any animi, golem, or other construct he looks upon. Also analyzes any object for animation potential and sanity cost. Can be resisted.

MAGIC MOUTH Level: 10, Cost: 20 San Duration: 10 minutes per level
Allow the animator to speak through one of the animi currently in their party, regardless of distance. If the animi does not have a mouth, the voice issues forth from the closest approximate place a mouth would be on a living being of similar structure.

MEND Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Instantly repairs the target construct or object, restoring a small amount of HP, influenced by the level of this skill and the animator’s will.

DUELIST

CHALLENGE Level 1, Cost 5 Mox, Duration: Instant
Calls out a target to fight you. They suffer combat penalties based on your charisma unless they are actively trying to attack you. Resistible, because some foes are just too cool for you.

DAZZLING ENTRANCE Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Used before revealing yourself to foes, the more dramatic your appearance the better. Boosts your charisma and cool for a short time.

FANCY FLOURISH Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: Instant
Unleash a fancy set of moves that won’t hurt your foe but look really cool. Attacks their moxie.

GUARD STANCE Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: Until dropped, or the end of the fight
Assume a guard stance, and gain a bonus to your dodge skill and armor, at the cost of lowering your strength and dexterity.

PARRY Level: 5, Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
While you have your specialized weapon drawn, you have a chance of parrying any melee attack you are aware of.

SWASHBUCKLER’S SPIRIT Level: 5, Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Your Charisma buffs your Cool.

SWINGER Level: 5, Cost: N/A Duration: One minute per skill level
Activate this skill to buff your agility and climb skill while swinging from ropes, chains, chandeliers, etc…

WEAPON SPECIALIST Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Enhances your weapon skill. Automatically assigned to your highest weapon skill. If you have two or more equal highest weapon skills, you may freely choose which to specialize in at any time.

ENCHANTER

APPRAISE Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 5 minutes
Allows you to see all relevant information about a mundane or magical item.

BOOST +5 Level 5, Cost 25 San, Duration: Permanent
Enchants a magic item to boost an attribute or defense or magical effect by +5. Not cumulative. Consumes three doses of RED Reagents and a level 1 crystal.

BOOST +10 Level 10, Cost 50 San, Duration: Permanent
Enchants a magic item to boost an attribute or defense or magical effect by +10. Not cumulative. Consumes three doses of YELLOW Reagents and a level 2 crystal.

DISENCHANT Level 10, Cost 30 San, Duration: Instant
Attempts to disenchant a nearby magical item that you have created or that you control or own. Breaks it down into reagents and crystals. Chance of failure based on skill and the complexity of the item, mitigated by intelligence.

ELEMENTAL PROTECTION Level 5, Cost 50 San, Duration: Permanent
Combine with a dedicated boost to imbue a wielded or worn item with a field that disperses or absorbs elemental energy of the chosen type, sparing you some harm. Consumes one dose of ORANGE Reagents.

GLOWGLEAM Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 hour per level
Infuses any object with a simple light spell. The luminescence is based upon the caster’s intelligence.

HARDEN Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: 10 minutes
Increases the toughness of any object or construct temporarily, adding to its armor and/or damage potential.

SOFTEN Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: 10 minutes
Decreases the toughness of any object or construct temporarily, reducing its armor and/or damage potential.

SPELLSTORE I Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: Permanent
Prepares an object that stores a level 1 spell or skill inside of it. Anyone can then read, break, drink, or otherwise use the object in an appropriate manner to activate the spell. Requires and consumes one dose of RED Reagents. The enchanter does not have to be the person storing the spell inside the Spellstore.

SPELLSTORE V Level 5, Cost 20 San, Duration: Permanent
Prepares an object that stores a level 5 spell or skill inside of it. Anyone can then read, break, drink, or otherwise use the object in an appropriate manner to activate the spell. Requires and consumes one dose of ORANGE Reagents. The enchanter does not have to be the person storing the spell inside the Spellstore.

SPELLSTORE X Level 10, Cost 40 San, Duration: Permanent
Prepares an object that stores a level 10 spell or skill inside of it. Anyone can then read, break, drink, or otherwise use the object in an appropriate manner to activate the spell. Requires and consumes one dose of YELLOW Reagents. The enchanter does not have to be the person storing the spell inside the Spellstore.

WARDS Level 5, Cost 50 San, Duration: Permanent until damaged or dispelled
Creates wards within an area against a particular creature type. Creatures of that type within the area are debuffed and affected with a damage-over-time effect based on the skill level. Magical effects created that are tied to that creature type may be suppressed or countered while within the area. Requires and consumes one dose of GREEN Reagents.

GOLEMIST

CLAY GOLEM
Level 10, Cost 200 San, Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a clay golem shell, which may then be baked or left unfired, as desired. Requires clay, 1 dose of GREEN reagents, and a level 2 Crystal.

COMMAND GOLEM Level 1, Cost 20 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the caster to issue one command to a golem that isn’t currently in a party. If unresisted, the golem will follow the command to the best of its ability until it is impossible to do so, or until the command wears off.

GOLEM ANIMUS Level 1, Cost 50 San, Duration: Permanent
Turns a prepared golem shell into a functional lesser golem, that will obey its creator’s commands to the best of its ability.

GOLEM GUARDIANS Level 10, Cost NA, Duration: Passive Constant
Enhances golems in the creator’s party, boosting all attributes. The amount buffed is influenced by the golemist’s will.

INVITE GOLEM Level 1, Cost 10 San, Duration: Instant
Used to invite golems into your party. Automatically affects golems created by the golemist, can be resisted by other golems. Will not affect golems in their creator’s party.

MEND GOLEM Level: 5, Cost: 20 San Duration: Instant
Heals a golem for a moderate amount, dependent upon your intelligence and skill level.

PROGRAM GOLEM Level: 5, Cost: 50 San Duration: Permanent until changed
Allows the golemist to give conditional instructions to golems under his control. The golems will follow these instructions until it becomes impossible to do so. The higher the skill, the more instructions can be given, and the more complex they can become. Some experimentation is necessary for best results.

TOY GOLEM Level 1, Cost 100 San, Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a toy golem shell. Requires a toy, one dose of YELLOW reagents, and a level 1 Crystal.

WOOD GOLEM Level: 5, Cost: 150 San Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a wood golem shell. Requires wood, three doses of YELLOW reagents, and a level 2 Crystal.

MODEL

CALL OUTFIT Level: 5, Cost: 20 Mox Duration: Instant
Instantly summons one of your regular equipment sets from wherever it may be. The set must be kept together, and cannot include material heavier than leather.

DIETARY RESTRICTIONS

Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Until broken
So long as you have spent the last week without eating anything with the UNHEALTHY identifier you gain a small buff to all pools. This bonus is cumulative, up to twice your rank of this skill. Eating UNHEALTHY designated food immediately removes all versions of the buff.

FASCINATION Level 1, Cost N/A, Duration: Dependant upon skill
Heal, aid, or otherwise be nice to an enemy in combat. If unresisted by mental fortitude, the foe will become temporarily fascinated with you, for a duration proportionate to this skill’s level.

FLEX Level 1, Cost 10 Sta, Duration: 1 minute per level
Buff your endurance and armor by the level of this skill.

MAKEUP Level: 5, Cost: 10 Mox Duration: Until smeared or removed
Allows you to apply makeup that buffs any one of your skills. Form follows function, so the makeup must be appropriate to the job that contains the skill being buffed.

SELF-ESTEEM Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: 1 minute per level
Buff your mental fortitude and cool by the level of this skill.

STRONG POSE Level: 5, Cost: 10 Sta Duration: 1 minute per model level
Buffs your strength. Only one pose may be active at a time.

WORK IT BABY Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: Passive Constant
Whenever one of your worn or wielded items creates a favorable impression in at least one onlooker, then this skill has a chance of increasing. All worn and wielded items that confer bonuses have their bonuses increased by a small percentage for each level of this skill. Note that the difference is harder to see with lower level gear and lower levels of the skill.

NECROMANCER

ASSESS CORPSE Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute
Allows the animator to examine the status of any undead creature he looks upon. Also analyzes any corpse for animation potential and sanity cost. Can be resisted.

COMMAND THE DEAD Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the caster to issue a command to a single undead creature. If unresisted, the creature most follow its orders to the best of its ability. Can also be used to invite unintelligent undead into a party, at which point they can be verbally commanded indefinitely by the caster.

DEATHSIGHT Level: 5, Cost: 10 San Duration: 5 minutes per necromancer level
Automatically tells you the number of hit points any creature you can see has left. May not work on level ???? creatures.

DRAIN LIFE Level 10, Cost: 20 San Duration: Instant
Drains a small amount of life from a nearby foe and adds it to your hit points. Will heal regardless of physical form. Does not affect certain monster types.

INVITE UNDEAD Level: 5 Cost: 10 San Duration: 1 Hour per necromancer level
Invites the targeted undead to your party. Non-sapient undead who are not already in a party will automatically join if this spell is not resisted. Intelligent undead always have the option of refusal.

MANA FOCUS Level 10 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Buffs your sanity pool by a percentage equal to your necromancer level.

SKELETONS Level: 5 Cost: 15 San Duration: Permanent
Animates one skeleton or skeletal fragment into a skeleton. Requires a spirit.

SOULSTONE Level 1, Cost: 20 San, Duration: Permanent
Creates a soulstone crystal, which can house a newly-deceased spirit or an existing incorporeal undead. A spirit in a soulstone may be conversed with, used to create a new undead, or simply unleashed upon the world at a time of the caster’s choosing.

SPEAK WITH DEAD Level 1, Cost: 5 San, Duration: 1 minute per level
Allows the necromancer to converse with corpses, spirits, or normally incoherent undead. In places with particularly strong spirits, the caster may be notified of the presence of conversable spirits.

ZOMBIES Level 1, Cost: 10 San, Duration: Permanent
Turns a corpse into a zombie. Requires a spirit present in the area.

RULER

APPOINT OFFICIAL Level: 5, Cost: 25 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
You may appoint one official per ruler level. This official, who must be one of your subjects, may accept oaths of fealty, and add them to your subject pool.

EMBOLDENING SPEECH Level 1, Cost: 10 Mox, Duration: Instant
Buffs all allies moxie and sanity by an amount related to the ruler’s charisma. Only affects allies within earshot.

IDENTIFY SUBJECT Level 1, Cost: 5 Mox, Duration: 5 minutes
Allows the ruler to examine a sworn subject’s status screen. May also be used on people within your party, giving more information than the party status screen.

IT’S GOOD TO BE KING Level: 10, Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
You gain a tiny fraction of experience whenever one of your subjects does. Experience gained from higher level individuals goes directly to leveling your ruler class. Experience gained from lower level individuals may only be utilized for King’s Quest rewards.

KING’S QUEST Level: 10, Cost: 20 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
Decree a public quest. All your subjects within earshot may accept. Any who fulfill the quest reap the benefits of the quest immediately.

NOBLESSE OBLIGE Level 1, Cost: N/A, Duration: Passive Constant
Buffs all sworn subjects and party members a small amount. The stat buffed is dependent upon your highest attribute.

ORGANIZE MINIONS Level: 5, Cost: 15 Mox Duration: Permanent until changed
You may choose one quest shared among your party members or subjects. While on that quest and working toward that goal, they gain a bonus to all attributes equivalent to your ruler level.

ROYAL AUDIENCE Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: 1 Minute per level
Buffs your charisma, but only when dealing with sworn subjects SIMPLE DECREE Level 1, Cost 10 Mox, Duration: Permanent until changed
Declare a simple command in twelve words or less. All sworn subjects are notified of the decree. Any who do not comply with this decree take moxie damage influenced by your charisma and wisdom, resisted by cool. Only one simple decree may be in place at a time. Simple commands may not be used to inflict suicidal or self-harmful activities.

SWEAR FEALTY Level: 5 Cost: Special Duration: Permanent until changed
Any individual may swear fealty to you, spending five moxie while in your presence or the presence of any of your appointed officials. They become one of your subjects and are subject to many of your other ruler skills and effects.

SCOUT

ALERTNESS Level 5 Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant
Alertness has a chance to auto-activate all your sensory-enhancing skills for free in the event that you are ambushed or about to encounter unseen danger.

BEST ROUTE Level 5 Cost: 15 San Duration: One hour per scout level
Activate while examining a visible terrain feature. Examines the best route from your current location to your destination, and marks it visibly. Everyone in your party can see the best route trail. The higher the skill, the better the route found. At high levels it will detect and detour around dangerous monsters and towards treasure and resources.

CAMOUFLAGE Level 1, Cost 5 San/Min, Duration: Until dismissed or exhausted
Blends the Scout in with his surroundings, buffing their stealth skill. More effective in the wilderness, scales according to skill level.

FIRESTARTER Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: Instant
Creates a fire, burning any flammable material it’s used upon. Intensity of the starting flames depends on the skill level.

KEEN EYE Level 1, Cost 5 Sta, Duration: A minute per scout level
Buffs a scout’s perception, effects dependent upon skill level STURDY BACK Level 1, Cost NA, Duration: Passive Constant
Lightens the burdens of any heavy load carried, making items literally weigh less. Does not apply to weapons and armor equipped. Higher skill level means more weight reduction WIND’S WHISPER Level 1, Cost 5 San, Duration: 1 message
May be activated silently. Sends a message on the wind to any named target within range. Range and amount of words speakable per message increase with skill level.

Bonus Content 2-2: Of Other Planes and the Powers of Darkness

(A treatise, by Anasmath of Kai-Tan, the Wicked City.)

It’s long been the nature of the ‘civilized’ peoples to become disaffected with the world, and seek to change it in huge, dramatic ways because they don’t like the gods, or dislike how reality works, or even simply hate their neighbors but lack the power to do anything really nasty to them without being squished like ants.

To these people, the cultist job is a glittering lure, attracting them in droves to reject prosaic reality and substitute their own.

Well not their own. Invariably, like clerics, cultists draw their power from otherworldly entities of nigh-unimaginable vastness and influence.

But unlike clerics, the entities called upon are not necessarily amenable to the world, the people in it, or even the fabric of reality as this plane knows it.

These entities are not meant for direct contact with the world, the gods say. And when they stray into the plane that mortals know as Generica, it can cause disastrous results.

This is known; the gods of Generica dwell in a place they have referred to as the Nephs, which is why the servitors that venture forth from such places are sometimes referred to as Nephilim. These servitors may be called by Conjurors who have invested in Oracle or Clerical jobs, or instilled into holy relics by Saints, but only with the permission of the managing god in question. Though the gods have rivalries and can be petty, they generally work together to uphold the structure of reality, do good for their worshippers (however loosely good is defined in some cases,) and promote the general weal of civilization.

However, the three known dark powers (There may be more, as yet undiscovered, at least by this august researcher,) dwell in very different places. Furthermore, each power offers their servitors only to those who become a cultist and choose to ally themselves to one of them. They are jealous, and do not tolerate each other, no more than they do the upstart gods.

Furthermore, adding to the confusion, each dark power is made up of a miniature pantheon within itself, that CAN work together within its unholy court, but is under no obligation to do so. Oddly enough, each miniature pantheon contains three things which could be considered to be gods.

As there are twelve living gods, it’s long been thought that there are in fact, twelve dark gods, which hints at the existence of a fourth dark power. But this has never been conclusively proven, and this researcher cautions against seeking symmetry where there may possibly be none.

In theory, it IS possible to be a cultist of a dark power without choosing one of its three god-equivalents, but doing so effectively makes one of their skills useless, thus lessening the degree of power they can bring to bear. And this researcher has never known a cultist who ever willingly chose to go for the option that gave them LESS power.

THE DARK POWERS

The known dark powers are threefold. The Daemons, the Djinn, and the Old Ones.

DAEMONS

The first are the Daemons, sometimes called demons by the unenlightened. They are led by the daemon lords Cron, Vhand, and Nephzed. Daemons profess to only wish to strengthen mortality by driving the powerful to acts of pragmatism and tormenting the weak until they get stronger or perish and stop sucking up resources that could strengthen the powerful. However, this researcher has heard conflicting stories… in essence, their true goals, at least those of the upper echelons, seem to involve eliminating mortals altogether, and going back to a far less chaotic world.

Daemonic Servitors come in a huge variety, but most are specialized in one role, and only really skilled at that role. Hellhounds are guards, imps are unobtrusive messengers, succubi are lovers, shadowfiends kill, and so on, and so forth. You CAN use a daemon for different things than its skillset, and in time they may develop some useful skills toward it, but generally they are best suited in their original role.

Daemons are said to dwell in a place called Far Rhun. No mortal I know of has ever been able to return from attempts to visit this realm. Daemons say it is an orderly place, pleasant, with much free space and only populated by daemons and their subjects. Each subject rules over lower daemons, and obeys a higher one, and it is of the highest ones I will speak.

Cron is the lord of entropy and punctuality. By enforcing entropy, making ruins and laying low powerful organized structures and hierarchies, you earn Cron’s approval. Nothing lasts, Cron knows, and he wants everything non-essential cleared so he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. The changeover has irritated him, and he wants his followers to simplify it, by the most brutal means possible. His Darkspell is ArcKill, which inflicts unpreventable damage.

Vhand is the lady of deception and theft. She’s particularly interested in muddling mortal knowledge, and is said to be filled with glee when her followers steal books or falsify them, or both. She is said to have been working overtime when the changeover struck, ensuring that the flow of information between various lands contained an excess of falsehoods and misunderstandings. Her Darkspell is Pagestealer, which allows the cultist to mimic a foe’s simpler skills.

Nephzed is the daemon of legions, who organizes and is involved somehow with planar access. Nephzed lurks on the borders of the Nephs, challenging the forays and excursions of the gods in inscrutable ways, but is usually forced to grudgingly retreat and let them through after battles unimaginable by mortal standards. But the war is never completely lost, and Nephzed cannot be brought to heel permanently by the gods. Nephzed asks that his followers slay holy monsters and clerics and oracles, and bring low the gods and those who support them. The changeover has meant the opening of a whole new battlefront to him, and a corresponding rise in both power and risk… he was practically unknown before it, but now his stature grows to rival Cron and Vhand. His Darkspell is Denial, which, though difficult to use, can counter a divine spell. Or another dark power’s spell, for that matter…

THE DJINN

Beyond the Nephs and behind it, lies the elder realm that djinn call the Dev. It is said that in the early days of the world, after Konol hauled creation out of chaos, that the inhabitants of Dev were employed by powers inscrutable to forge the physical laws and elements and lands of the world itself. Whether it was the gods or other powers is up for debate, but what IS known is that the Djinn are jealous of the gods, and scornful of the power that the gods refuse to apply directly to Generica. (Which for some unknown reason they refer to as Prahd.)

Individual Djinn say many things, most of them conflicting with other djinni, but never contradict themselves. They seem overall to be confused by how the world is now when they touch it directly, and eager to find their niches by helping their followers better than the puny gods ever could.

And that eagerness is often doom for those who follow them, and anyone within a pretty big blast radius. The djinn are eager to improve this world, and in doing so, can accidentally break fundamental laws. Unless tightly bound and monitored, and placated with flattery and constant company, djinn can become chaotic, frustrated, and ultimately destructive.

Djinn, oddly enough, have very few varieties of servitors and all of them are some degree of humanoid that utilizes spells and similar magical effects. The servitors are best treated as friends and companions, although they often need to be restrained. It is not good to order a djinn about, when you could cajole it instead. They don’t do well with rules and boundaries. And although they may seem friendly and innocent, realize that they are not and never will be mortal. A djinn who laughs heartily at your joke will laugh heartily if you die in an ironic way, and never understand why he or she should not do so.

Every Djinn I have spoken to assures me that Dev is a wondrous place, and indeed, I know mortals who have visited there and returned alive. They have confirmed it is wondrous, and almost seems to be a mirror of their own lands, at times… but dangerous, because the physical laws that seem to hold sway in Dev are inconstant, sometimes fatal when they go wrong, and subject to change without warning. When asked about this, djinn shrug and say they’re working on those glitches. Should be ironed out in a few millennium.

Though chaotic in the extreme, three Djinn have emerged as nobility among their fractured and strange society; Anjuuta, the Lady of Winds, the entity known as the Inscrutable Vastness of the Cerulean Carp, and G’laad, lord of the Gnomes. (It’s worth mentioning that most Gnomes, when told this, mention that they’ve never heard of the guy.)

Anjuuta, the Lady of Winds, is free-spirited, and seems to want her followers to be unbound by rules, and work to eliminate laws that hold them back. Very reasonable at first, but she seems to hold no distinction between good laws and bad; all are anathema to her. Even the simplest of societies eventually earns her ire, for being too inflexible. The changeover has made her very upset! There are so many rules now, and she can’t stand it. No, it simply has to stop. Her Darkspell is Fool’s Gold, that Grifter trick that has earned the class so much scorn.

G’laad deals with information and improvement. G’laad thinks information should be free, and that pretty much everything dealing with mortals can and should be improved. To that end, he drives his followers to higher and higher standards, simply to make them better. He doesn’t care if they actually USE their improvements for anything, and gets irate if they, for example, break a stringent exercise routine to fend off an attacking band of monsters. The changeover mostly makes him happy, since mortals are much more focused on improvement now, but y’know, the system’s not NEARLY good enough. If he could just kick those lazy gods out and take some of their power, oh the wonders he’d work! Like that time thing. It takes so long to do things! Why not let people go as fast as they want, really? G’laad’s Darkspell is Obsessive Compulsion, which allows the Cultist to share some of G’laad’s perfectionism with others. To G’laad it’s a benefit. To most noncultists hit by it, it’s a serious debuff.

The Inscrutable Vastness of the Cerulean Carp is… strange. It’s said that the entity delights in showing its cultists new lores and vistas of places unimaginable, and creatures which may or may not exist. Many of the visions the entity sends its followers are inscrutable, and some are just plain silly. Others, though, others have been known to drive its cultists mad. The Carp cares not, and focuses on showing its visions to as many mortals as possible. The changeover seems to have been the point that this djinn gained in prominence, as before he was much more limited in his audience, for reasons inscrutable. The Cerulean Carp’s Darkspell is Phantasmal Picture, allowing the cultist to conjure an illusion comparable to the lowest accessible by novice Sensates.

THE OLD ONES

The old ones are, the old ones were, and the old ones shall ever be. They are not from the planes known to the scholars of Generica, but from places beyond, of which even the gods will not speak.

Unlike the daemons, who seem to wish pain and suffering upon mortals, and the djinn, who wish to improve their lot regardless of the cost or safety of the improvements, the old ones seek entry into Generica. They were here once, long ago, before Konol did his work, and they know that when the stars are right they’ll be here once again. Unfortunately for everyone who ISN’T an old one, their presence has disturbing and horrific effects on the fabric of reality.

They are feared because their influence and presence can even corrupt the immortal souls of mortals who stray too near them, ensuring they are never logged in the gods’ archives. Even daemons cannot touch souls, and djinn have no care for them, but old ones touch EVERYTHING. Usually with appendages that for sanity’s sake we pretend are tentacles, though if we were to truly understand them we’d see that even that was an abstraction.

The old ones dwell beyond the boundaries, but some of their more human servitors refer to their collective realms as the Netz. Given the sanity-destroying habits of the old ones, it is impossible to believe any Generican mortal could survive in such a place for any amount of time. Although to that question, some servitors laugh, and say that anything that enters the Netz never truly dies.

The servitors of the old ones range from humanlike with a deep WRONGNESS to them in some fundamental way, to incomprehensible masses of flesh and tentacles or organs and appendages combined in ways that were not meant to be. All of them are disturbing in some manner, to any but old one cultists. Some work best with rules, others need to be directly managed, and some are just set loose on reality while the cultist who summoned them runs the other way quickly.

The old ones are nameless and varied and inscrutable, but three names keep popping up again and again; Great Cmpylyah, NIAL’https the Crawling CASE, and The Thing in Yellow (Who, confusingly, is also called Haskell, a name you should never say aloud.)

Great Cmpylyah played an ancient and inscrutable part back during the chaos, before Konol, it was said. In fact, many of his more scholarly cultists insist that Konol would not have been able to do his part had not Cmpylyah successfully navigated and tamed the ancient Sea that was once Generica, and wrought from it a pleasing form. The truth of the matter is not known, for Cmpylyah, like many of the notably-aquatic old ones that seem to be subordinate to him, slumber endlessly in alien seas. Occasionally lesser ones will stir, and spread some small amount of corruption and influence, but for the most part they merely ARE, vast and quiescent and alien. The Darkspell of Great Cmpylyah is Tentaclular, which calls up the least filaments of one of his breed of old one, to entangle and taste whatever their lashing appendages can find.

NIAL’https, the Crawling CASE, has been confused for a djinn before. He’s the most mortal of the great old ones, in semblance if not in truth. Though it’s been suggested that this is only a part of his dreaming mind, that the true bulk of him is as vast and inscrutable as the others, and that the humanlike form of the creature is nothing more than the equivalent of an angler fish’s lure… something to draw tasty mortals in while the brooding bulk of the predator seizes and consumes them. NIAL’https has been involved in the doom of three nations that I have managed to find, and rumors persist in the crumbling undead remnants of a fourth, that their true downfall was due to a man known as the Black Pharo, whose description and methods match the Crawling CASE almost perfectly. Of the three old ones, he is the most active and malign, though conversely, the easiest to deal with and probably the least damaging to his cultists. His Darkspell is Friendly Smile, which is used by skilled Merchants and Tamers as well.

And then there is the Thing in Yellow. It speaks to those who delve deeply into magic, wizards and enchanters and others fascinated by the lore of true power, seeking to draw them into the flows and places that man was never meant to touch. It lures them with pursuit of TRUE knowledge, and TRUE power, and asks the skilled and prideful why they limit themselves to the mere dabblings that the gods permit them? It presents itself as a thing of cold and pure reason, but at the same time drives its cultists to violence and illogical acts that seem to serve no purpose than to horrify onlookers. Or perhaps there is a deeper purpose? Perhaps the patterns have significance? Perhaps… but the deeper you strive, the more madness beckons. Eventually Haskell has his due. His Godspell is Knack for Languages, for no tongue is beyond the Thing in Yellow.

ONE LAST WARNING

A final caution, to all who find this information intriguing… the choice to become a cultist is permanent. Unlike clerics, who can shift from one god to another if they feel called to do so, cultists may never change their affiliation. Once selected, once the dark power is allowed to influence your job, they will never let you go. Even if you revile them, even if you forsake their existence, sooner or later the power beckons, and even by doing the simple act of casting their Darkspell, or speaking their blasphemous chants, you are loosing their power once more into the world. And thus, even in the most minor of ways, you have done their work and weakened the fabric of reality that binds Generica.

Perhaps the mysterious “Guilds” will clear this up someday, and allow alteration, even removal of the cultist job, thus truly severing these otherwise-inseparable ties. But until and unless this happens, the choice is permanent. And usually detrimental for everyone involved.

Surviving First Contact 1

“Golem Animus,”

The teddy bear spoke, and everything changed.

He watched, worried, as the invisible pressure built, stronger than he’d ever felt it before when he animated a golem. But he had done this many times before, and his skill was high, high enough that he could focus his will. Focus his will, and ensure that his best and oldest friend had the body they’d gone to so much work to prepare.

And with joy in his heart, he watched as the ceramic dolly under his paw opened her eyes and tried to move her mouth.

Your Golem Animus skill is now level 47!

“Afgart.” She vocalized. “Umf. Ango. Ahng on. Hang on.”

“Newborn’s Mercy,” hissed Zuula, laying her head on Cecelia’s red, frizzy hair.

“Yorgum’s blessing of luck on Cecelia!” Fluffbear squeaked, slapping her hand on the ball-jointed doll’s ankle.

“Status,” Cecelia said.

Threadbare smiled, and offered her a paw up.

And the porcelain doll took it, testing her new legs, and finding them graceful enough.

“It’s fine, I hope?” Threadbare asked. He’d put a lot of work into learning and skilling up the sculptor job, which was evidently what you needed to make clay things, and pottery things as well. A LOT of work, knowing that they only had one shot at this. There was a makeshift kiln out back, filled with his failures, and after a full week of grinding, his successes.

“It is.”

“So what didja get?” The three-foot-long wooden dragon who’d been watching through the doorway pushed herself into the bedroom. “Tell me the racial skills are totes bitchin’.”

“Well, the stats are way better than starting toy golems,” Cecelia told Madeline, smoothing her green cloth dress with fingers that Threadbare had crafted individually then worked into tiny ball joints, with Fluffbear’s help. “Better than wood, too. I’ve got a few triple digit attributes, mainly from my adventuring job levels, I think.”

“Nahss!” Madeline said, nuzzling her with one oaken cheek. “I shoulda held out fah clay. Be a pahttery dragon or something.”

“Well, one of the skills would do you no good. I’m immune to fire, which is of no use to you.” Cecelia said, easing herself down from the wrecked bedframe. Like most of the rest of the farmhouse, it was ruined, long gone to seed, with mold and vines growing over and through it. “And I have Gorgeous, which is like your Adorable skill, evidently. I skilled it up a bunch when I woke up.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking you’re beautiful,” the two-foot-tall wooden minotaur said, hooking thumbs through his belt. “Not that, uh, well. I mean… ah, let’s not make it weird,” Garon finished.

“No worry. I know what you mean.” Cecelia studied her pale hands, and shrugged. “I guess. It’s… this is going to take some getting used to.” She frowned, as something on her status screen caught her attention. “My hit points aren’t much better than a wood golem’s, but my armor is over a hundred. Some of that’s probably from my Human job but not much.” Cecelia said, rubbing her chin with one ceramic hand. “I wonder if I’d stayed unfired, if it would be reversed? High hit points, low armor?”

“Yeah yeah,” Zuula said. The plush half-orc doll eased herself from the foot of the bed, dropped down next to the armored black teddy bear. “Skip to important part. How many of you jobs and levels you get back?”

“Five animator, five knight… and five Steam Knight.” She smiled.

And Threadbare felt joy well up inside him. It had been a lot of work and time to figure out how to make her face flexible enough to do that, with the tiny joints and the interplay of her wood skeleton and stuffing ‘muscles’. But it had been worth every bit of grinding, to see his little girl smile again.

“Then we have what we need.” Garon relaxed, adjusted the harness slung over his wood-and-fur chest. The hatchet he’d found kept tugging it down.

“I’m thinking of askin’ for an upgrade,” Madeline said, turning glass eyes on Threadbare. They were marbles, catseye marbles they’d found in the attic while casing the ruin. Probably the closest thing they’d get to a dragon’s slit pupils, Madeline had said. “Bettah stats are okay wit’ me.”

“Not right now. We only had the one pinch of green reagent. And that was risky enough to get.” Threadbare shook his head. “But speaking of that, we need to go thank Graves. I think he’ll appreciate the results of his sacrifice. And his hard work.”

The doll haunters and their golem friends filed out of the room, making their way around the big gap in the floorboards, stepping carefully as the floor creaked and groaned.

They followed the faint sound of music. Eerie and in no tongue that anything on this plane spoke, it wound its way through the old house from outside. The late, unlamented Pastor Hatecraft would have called it eldritch, but then he always was an excitable one.

No, there was nothing eldritch here. The assorted constructs knew it was only their friend Glub, barding it up.

They found him outside the barn, which was moderately better preserved than the house, and intact enough to hold Annie Mata’s wagon. A fire crackled not far from the barn doorway, and the rest of their friends sat around the campsite, watching them approach with relieved eyes. They were five in number, a big black bobcat and a cougar about half his size, both cats sound asleep by the warmest part of the fire. Next to them was a black-haired man wearing a padded cloth tunic and trousers, so thin that his bones were flush to his skin in places. Sitting on a nearby log was a little wooden doll that could only be described as a fishman, down to its leather catfish whiskers and big googly eyes.

And then there was the catgirl.

“Oh wow!” A wooden marionette, of a black-haired woman with two kitty ears sticking out of her head and a tail poking out through a hole in her pants jumped up, stringless. She grinned at Cecelia, showing tiny fangs. “Captain, you’re gorgeous! Desu, desu.”

“You’re still saying that word, Kayin?” Garon snorted. “Seriously?”

“Shut up. I swear it gets me racial job experience,” the assassin who’d once been human but was now an undead spirit haunting a wooden catgirl golem walked up to Cecelia, and knelt. “Captain! Reporting for duty!”

“Oh get up. Come on, come on,” Cecelia took her shoulders and straightened her to her feet. Her ball-jointed body was one of the larger golems here, standing two feet high, towering over her companions. “Pretty sure that oath was only until death.”

“Kayin swore a new one,” offered the sole living human in the group, from the comfort of the fire. Graves leaned his withered body over his cane, studying Cecelia. “I’ll swear to a new code myself, as soon as I get another knight level. My armor’s gone, so I’ll need all the defense boosts I can get.”

“I still feel guilty about that,” Cecelia looked away. “That was enchanted armor.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad we guessed right, and one of its components was green reagent. And after the bear gave up his pants for the task, I couldn’t do any less.”

“It does feel a little strange without them,” Threadbare said, looking down to his paw, and the golden, bear-headed rod he now had to wield without the benefit of hammerspace. “My scepter’s out in the open now, for everyone to see.”

There was a pause, then everyone but Threadbare and Fluffbear and the cats were laughing.

“Um,” the teddy bear said, puzzled.

“It’s probably a fart joke. Or about poop. Or a sex joke,” Fluffbear explained to him.

“It the last one. Sex joke.” Zuula said, winding down and proceeding to explain the meaning of the joke in detail.

Threadbare still didn’t see why it was funny, but whatever. If his friends got a good laugh out of it he didn’t mind.

“Besides,” Graves said, “the armor would have made me stand out more. I’m sure that the inquisitor has reported me as a traitor by now. And it would’ve… hm… have you heard of the swordsman’s curse?”

“Oh. That.” Cecelia snorted. Kayin nodded.

“I don’t think we have.” Threadbare glanced back to Garon, Madeline, and Zuula, who were three of his big touchstones for worldly knowledge. They all shook their heads.

“It’s a dumb, macho thing. So it’s mainly bored noblemen and soldiers, is who you see it in,” Cecelia explained. “If someone is openly carrying a sword you kind of expect them to know how to use it. And if you think they might not and YOU can use your sword, you call them out to see who’s better. Then you fight, and if you win you look good, and if you lose you can kiss up to the winner, and maybe they’ll be your friend. And then you’ll have a friend who’s better than you at fighting.”

“It seems like a big waste of time,” Threadbare said. “Why not just be friends at the start of it all?”

“Because the swords get in the way, for certain types of people,” Cecelia said.

“Some people had to go through a lot to earn those swords,” Kayin said. “Not that I’m defending it, but… they see someone else with a sword, they maybe want to test to see if they’re at the same point. Been through the same stuff.”

“My point is,” Graves said, settling back onto his broken chair, “if I go around wearing really heavy armor, then when we get into a fight people are going to assume I’m a very hard target and try to hit me really hard. Whereas if I’m wearing cloth, they’ll go “oh, mage.” And send someone sneaky to shank me while the tanks batter at each other. Which is where Always in Uniform comes in. Invisible, weightless chainmail-equivalent, you know how that goes, Cecelia.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” The doll smiled. “Always in Uniform.” Her eyebrows rose, and Threadbare sighed in relief to see it. Those had been tricky to rig.

“Oh! It stacks with my golem armor!” Cecelia said.

“Good. We need you alive and as hard a target as possible if this is going to work,” Garon said, leaning on one of Madeline’s wings as she played with the fire. “Which means that if and when we get a higher golem option possible, we have to consider transplanting you. So don’t get too comfy.”

“Thanks again for letting me try that out,” Graves said to Kayin. “Good to know we can swap people around without destroying the golem bodies first.”

Bored by all the talk about swords and challenges and stuff that was self-evident to every orc, Zuula wandered over to Glub, who was merrily humming along more quietly, now that his pals were back and chatting. “He eating?” She said, jerking a cloth thumb towards Graves.

“Oh yeah dude,” Glub broke off singing, and pointed to a pot, set next to the fire. “Some kinda furry critter stew. Kayin killed the fuck out of it.”

Graves had been afflicted by the kiss of a succubus. It had essentially withered his strength, and he needed help with a lot of things. Teaching him animator levels let him move around without too much pain, by dint of turning his clothing into something like temporary golems, but hunting and foraging his own food was a lot to ask of the guy. Especially since he’d been born a street rat, and thought the woods were something you moved through as quickly as possible when you traveled to different settlements.

“I’m going to need to work on soulstones more,” Threadbare said finally, “before we do any more spirit transplants. Otherwise you’re going to lose levels you’ll need later.”

“And I’ll keep working on that refine soulstone skill,” Graves promised. “Fortunately we’ve got a lot of volunteers to experiment with, and extra soulstones to transfer them to when I get failures.” He jerked a thumb spasmodically back at the wagon, and the crate of soulstones within it. “It worked, didn’t it?” He said, worried, looking to Cecelia.

“Level five across the board, in three adventuring jobs. Also got all my crafting jobs.” She smiled, and Graves sagged in relief. “But I’m not a scout, so three’s the maximum, I’m guessing.”

“It might be that a higher soulstone skill affects that,” Threadbare said. “At any rate, no one die again until we know more about it, okay?”

Everyone promised to do their best.

“Are they doing all right?” Threadbare glanced over at the crate.

“Some grumbling, but yes,” Graves said. “An advantage of them all being cultists, I suppose. They’d expected some form of weird afterlife down the road, this is actually probably a bit better than their prior expectations. They do want to get into new bodies as fast as possible, though.”

“Once we get more reagents, yes,” Threadbare said. They’d burned through all the rest of the yellow dust animating wooden shells for Kayin and Garon and Madeline.

“And there’s only one likely source for that and all the other things that we’ll need, so we need to figure out our approach,” Cecelia said. “Garon, could you?”

The minotaur nodded. “Secure the Perimeter,” he said, and glanced around. “Yeah, we’re good. Or they’re good enough at hiding that it doesn’t matter and we can’t stop them anyway.”

“Good.” Cecelia scooted in closer to the fire. “We need to ally with the dwarves. There’s only two real points of resistance left in Cylvania, and they’re the bigger side.”

“Easier ta find, too. Not like the othah guys. The ranjahs are all over the place,” Madeline said.

“And there’s no guarantee they’ll talk to us, since they don’t need help as badly.” Cecelia nodded, her frizzy red hair swaying against her porcelain scalp. She reached up and touched it. “What is this stuff, by the way?”

“Blisterweed pod silk,” said Zuula. “Relax. We boil it to make it frizzy, get de poison out. Zuula got better uses for dat stuff.’ She indicated a barrel in back of the cart. “Added it to de poison stores.”

“I’m going to have to have a long talk with you later about those poisons,” said Kayin, ears twitching. “Sorry to interrupt, desu. So, dwarves?”

“Dwarves.” Cecelia spread her arms. “I’ve spent the last half a year reading the intelligence reports and preparing to battle them. They’re sturdy, they’re stubborn, but they’ve been hard pressed by the last five years. If we approach them the right way, they won’t turn us down. Especially when we tell them we can convert reagents into troops. Three hundred and some golems can turn the tide in just about any battle on that front, with four exceptions.”

“The Hand,” Graves said, and Madeline and Garon whistled, low and worried.

Cecelia nodded. “Right. We’re not set up for open battle against any of the Hand. Not yet.”

“What hand?” Threadbare asked.

“Ah, right, you ignorant,” Zuula said, patting his paw. “Four of de King’s most elite servants. Powerful adventurers. Maybe.”

“Or they might be demons in disguise. There’s always been talk,” Garon said. “That Melos killed his old adventuring group, murdered his friends, and traded them in for high-level demons.”

“My father insists that he didn’t kill them,” Cecelia said. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to recycle their corpses if someone else did. If he did it to my mother, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it to anyone else. He’s pragmatic that way. But yeah, the Hand are the reason that the dwarves can’t win without help, and they’re a problem we’ll have to face sooner or later. There’s four of them. And that’s one advantage we can give them straight away.” The ceramic doll grinned.

“Oh?” Graves asked.

“Remember I told you I read up on intelligence reports? The best ones were from the Lurker. He’s infiltrated the dwarves, and he spies on them nonstop. We were well on our way to losing before that, even with the Hand’s help. Since then, things have been turning around. But I know enough about him that if the dwarves believe us, we can probably help them ferret him out.”

“But first we have to reach the dwarves,” Kayin said. “How are we gonna do that?”

“We’re not far from the main roads,” Garon said. “This is the outskirts of Grubholm, so a couple days north should get us there. The front’s only another day or two east, unless it’s moved on us.”

Cecelia rubbed her hair. “It’s not enough. We could get to the front, but we can’t approach the moats without the army noticing. They’ve got observation posts every mile along there, with people looking west watching for rangers, and people listening east, for sappers. If we want to break the lines we need to get up to one, disable the watchers, then scoot before they notice. Otherwise they’ll call in fire support, and that’ll mean anything from Wark Riders to Dragon Knights to Steam Knights to one of the Hand themselves. We’re not really set up to survive most of that.”

“So we need to sneak in among them?” Threadbare asked.

“Yeah. But we need to do it against folks who have a good chance of spotting rangers in the wilderness.” Kayin sighed. “Even at my old levels, I don’t know if it’d be doable. At level five? No. And not with you guys along, no offense. Most of you are no good at it.” She shot Madeline an envious look. “Except you, you’re scary quiet for what should be a big clattery wooden toy. What’s up with that?”

Madeline’s carved reptilian jaw fell open in a smile, and she lifted a paw to show Kayin the cloth pads sewn on under it.

“Fucking sweet!”

“Inorite!”

“Eeeeee I’m totally doing that!”

Threadbare cleared his throat. The catgirl and dragon fell silent, and the rest of the group looked to him. “Who goes to these observation posts, normally?”

“Supply shipments,” Graves said.

“Personnel rotations, groups of infantry and specialists cycling in and out,” Cecelia considered.

“Regular patrols,” Kayin said, eyes still on the sweet little sneaky dragon feet, her tail and ears twitching.

Garon shook his wooden-horned head. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that the guys at the observation posts know the schedules for all three of those types of visitors.”

“Oh yeah,” Cecelia said. “The rangers are sneaky, so the staff on duty know to keep security tight. As soon as a convoy is ready, coded messages get flashed up along the line with semaphore flags with the rest of the day’s messages, telling them what’s coming, who’s with it, and when it’ll arrive. And the code changes weekly.”

“No shit?” Madeline peered at her. “That’s some pretty smaht stuff. We talkin’ about the same Crown that overreacts and slaughtahs villages over minor shit?”

Cecelia rubbed her hair, Graves sighed, and Kayin shook her head. “The thing to realize,” Cecelia said, “is that the Crown forces, for the most part, are people who have put a lot of faith in my Father because to do otherwise would be to admit that they’ve been wrong for years, and they’re very afraid of what would happen if he fails. He’s the devil they know. And…” She looked out into the darkness, gathering strength. “…and some of them have been fooled pretty thoroughly. I was. And it only took a few years of him and… her… working on me. So a lot of the soldiers and a good part of the officers are smart, motivated people trying to make the most of a bad situation and win the war quickly so that everyone can go home.”

“But it won’t work that way,” said Threadbare. “There will always be an enemy, won’t there?” He’d spent a great deal of time thinking this over, trying to figure out how a very bad King and some obviously evil demons could keep making good people do what they wanted them to. “As long as there is some other enemy to fight, then most people won’t fight the King. So he has to keep making enemies or keeping some around or else his own subjects will be very upset with him.”

“They already ah,” Madeline said. “But yeah. People get restless in peacetahm, and forget about how horrible wah is. They go lookin’ for fights, and the King’s a big faht tahget unless he shifts blame like a propah cowahd.”

“Yes,” Cecelia said, picking up a stick and poking the fire. “I see it now. I fought for peace, but any peace we could win was a lie. It wouldn’t last. We need a good one, one without demons and murders and skipping trials, and we won’t get that with my Father in power. Heck, it might be a moot point even with him in power. We’re running low on food, have been for…” she stopped. “Supplies.”

“Yes?” Threadbare knew this tone. This was her ‘idea’ tone. And he smiled to see the beautifully-sculpted face he’d given her twist in joy. She’d figured something out!

Evidently Glub recognized it too, because he switched from soft humming to dramatic drumming on a nearby log, knocking out an uplifting, hopeful beat.

“All supplies go through Fort Bronze,” Cecelia said, slowly, eyes gleaming. “Which is a hell of a lot easier to get into than the observation posts, and has people and things coming and going all the time. Garon, Madeline, how far is Pads Village from here, do you think?”

“Pads? That craphole? A couple of days in the wrong direction, through some bandit-filled wilderness,” Garon said, consulting his knowledge of the local geography.

“Less bandit-filled now,” Graves grinned. “I see where you’re going with this.”

“I know how we’re going to get in,” said Cecelia. “And once we’re in, we can get ourselves assigned to an observation post shipment. All we have to do is get a look at the logistics records, and find a good one.”

“That’ll be the hard part, desu,” Kayin threw in. “Probably have to break into General Mastoya’s office, for that.”

“Wait,” Zuula said, whipping her head around, and putting down the makeshift drumsticks she’d been using to backup Glub. “What you say?” her voice was hoarse and tense, and her button eyes practically burned as she stared at the little catgirl.

Kayin shrank back from the little shaman’s sudden intensity. “That we’ll have to break into the General’s office, and-“

“General Mastoya,” said Garon.

The circle of friends went silent, staring as Garon and Zuula shared a long glance.

“You know her?” Cecelia said, confused. “She is a half-orc too, I guess. But I didn’t want to assume.”

“Yeah,” Garon and Zuula said, simultaneously. “We know her…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 11
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 8
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 12
Smith Level 10
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 124 Constitution: 138 Hit Points: 330(410) Armor: 52(59)
Intelligence: 216 Wisdom: 201(208) Sanity: 417(550) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 112(119) Stamina: 269(363) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 110(138) Willpower: 199 Moxie: 309(417) Cool: 20(47)
Perception: 119 Luck: 89(96) Fortune: 208(295) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 35 (+8)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 12
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 13
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills
Adorable - Level 30
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 24
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 16
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 6
Noblesse Oblige - Level 26
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 17
Simple Decree - Level 8
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 2
Best Route - Level 2
Camouflage - Level 2
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 5
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 51(65)

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 40 (+80 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 16
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 16
Strong Pose - Level 5
Work it Baby - Level 40 (+40% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 20
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (14)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 6
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+13 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 17 (Brawling +8)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 9
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 5
Elemental Protection - Level 8
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 28
Soften - Level 30
Spellstore I - Level 9
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 10
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 15
Program Golem - Level 40
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 10
Smelt Down - Level 1
Smithing - Level 46

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+2 Armor, +4 Tailoring, +3 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+4 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box with a few reagents and crystals, most minor.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Surviving First Contact 2

“…and then Madeline found me, and vamped me. Then that got resolved…”

“Messily,” Madeline added, “but it worked out okay in the end so whatevah.”

“…And now I’m here. And I know what I have to do.”

The friends looked at Garon, who spread his hands. “The thing I told you about? You don’t remember? Come on, guys. Well not you new guys, so I guess I should remind you anyway. My reason for keeping on here, is to talk with Mastoya again. To let her know I forgive her. To let her tell me she’s sorry, if that’s what it takes, because I know it’s eating her up inside.”

“This might not be the best opportunity,” Graves said. “We’re trying to run a covert mission, here. At least, I’m assuming that’s where you were going with this, Cecelia?”

“Yes. The Alderman of Paws owes me a favor. It’d be easy to get a wagonload of food from them and take it to the front, and pack us in with the food. You’d be driving, of course. Posing as an older teamster, since, well…” Cecelia indicated his wasted frame. “Sorry.”

“No apologies needed. I’ll need to shave,” Graves said, rubbing his goatee. “Pity. But this doesn’t change my point. Talking to General Mastoya at this time, General Mastoya, the High Knight of the Empire herself, is a really, really bad way to stay covert.”

“But what if I can turn her?” Garon asked.

“No,” Zuula said.

“Mom, look. I know what you think of her—”

“No you don’t,” Zuula said, and the toys and their token human looked at her in surprise. Even through the voicebox that she used to speak, her words held raw pain. “Zuula failed her. She grew up wrong, but she grew up strong. She will not change.”

“She seemed strong to me, when I met her,” Cecelia mused. “But tired. And a little sad. Right in the middle of a briefing, she hauled out a bottle of booze and started drinking.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Garon said, leaning forward, and studying her with bovine carved eyes. “Yeah, something’s wrong. The Mastoya I used to know would never drink.”

“Yes. Which is why you idea is bad idea now,” Zuula said. “She is not Mastoya you used to know. She is Mastoya of now, General Mastoya, and Zuula got no idea how you talkin’ with her would go.”

“Isn’t that why you’re along, Mom? To get me this shot?”

“Yeah, but if it’s at the risk of Cecelia’s lives and our own, she’s got a point, desu,” Kayin piped up.

“Would you can it with that word?” Garon snapped. “Gah. Sorry.” He rubbed his snout, rattling wood on wood. “Look. What if it isn’t at the risk of your lives?”

“Why don’t you tell us what you’re planning?” Threadbar offered. “And if we don’t think it will work out, you wait until another time to talk to her?”

“That’s a bad idea,” Garon said. “Because right now we’re not her enemies. Look, I know how she thinks. Once you’re her enemy, it doesn’t matter what you say or do, she’ll beat you or die trying. But once we ally with the dwarves, we will be her enemies, and everything gets orc simple then. Uh, sorry, Mom.”

“Is fine,” Zuula said. “The words, anyway. This idea, not so much.”

“My point is once we ally with the dwarves, we either beat the Crown forces or we fail, and either way I lose my shot at talking with her in any sort of situation where she might hear me out. This is it. This is my chance… our chance to get her to listen. To save my sister’s soul.”

The fire popped and cracked, as they considered it.

“Tahning the High Knight would be a right kick in the pants for the Crown,” Madeline said. “And losing the general would give the dwahves a chance for a win.”

“You like this idea?” Kayin shot the dragon a glance.

“It’s risky, yeah, but if Garon can do it…”

“And what if it’s just risky for me?” Garon asked. “Look, we’ll have to break into her office anyway. Leave me behind after we do, and I’ll talk with her. If it comes to a fight, I’ll fight to the death, then go run back to a soulstone.”

“Make sure you get the right one, if that happens,” Graves added. “There are sometimes other necromancers rotating through the fort. It’d be unlucky if that happens.” He glared hard at Garon, who looked away.

“Yeah. I need more luck. I also need the best charisma I can get. Hell…” Garon looked at Threadbare. “We’ve got a bit of prep time, right? Can you montage me Ruler?”

“I could. Are you sure?”

“Positive. I only ever had two adventuring jobs when I was alive, and thanks to Graves refining the soulstones, I’ve got a third job slot open. Ruler is charisma luck and wisdom, right?”

“Yes.” Threadbare nodded. “I could loan you my scepter too, if you want.”

“No. That’s fine. Just the job and some grinding should do fine. If we’ve got time for it.”

“We should,” Celia said.

“To a point,” Graves added, glancing back at the crates. “I told you I used to be in the Royal Necromancers, right?”

“Yeah,” Garon glanced at him. “Is there something going on with them?”

“The royal necromancers? No. But a few times I got access to their vaults, to borrow magic items or read old texts. We’ve got a few boxes of soulstones down there, traitors mainly. Some of them have been in there a while.”

“And?”

“Once, out of curiosity, I cast speak with dead on them. And for the next three days I was deafened. They were screaming, Garon. Screaming endlessly, without lungs.”

“Shit,” Madeline said.

“Yes. No body, no senses, and unless someone casts speak with dead, no way to talk to anyone else. Just eternity in your own little crystal prison, with no one but yourself for company.” Graves shot another look back at the wagon. “It hasn’t sunk in to most of them, yet, but I’ve been making sure to cast the spell three times daily, and let them chat with themselves and myself. But sooner or later it won’t be enough. We need to get them bodies, and the longer we take on that, the more pain and suffering it’s going to cause for them.”

And then, everyone, Threadbare included, looked to Celia.

She closed her ceramic eyelids. “Even after death I don’t get to escape these kinds of decisions, huh?”

“You can if you want,” Threadbare offered. “Nobody’s really in charge here. We could talk it over and put it to the vote.”

“Calling frogshit on that one, boss,” Glub piped up for the first time, and everyone else looked over to him, surprised. “What you say usually goes. You’re kind of the most important dude here. I think it’s the hat. It’s totally because of the hat, isn’t it?”

Threadbare took of his top hat, and looked at it. “It’s nice, and I like it. But if anyone else needed it, they could have it.”

“No,” Cecelia said, patting his head. “Keep it. It looks nice on you. And I gave it to you, a long time ago, so no takebacks. So how long do you think we should take to grind, how long do you think we should ask our soulstoned people to wait?”

“Why don’t we ask them?” Threadbare said.

Graves blinked. “Er. Well, it might get them thinking about it if they haven’t already.”

“But hey, they’re cultists, like you said earlier,” Kayin threw in. “Probably used to hard questions anyway, right?”

“Probably a bit more inured to the notion of existential dread. Yes, let me go ask them.” Graves headed back to the wagon, muttering “Speak with Dead,” along the way. “Hello!” He said, and got a chorus of happy voices back, gabbing and babbling at him as he settled in to listen, throwing in small talk as needed.

The minutes crawled on. The toys watched, then drifted off to their various business, until it was just Cecelia, Threadbare, and Kayin waiting by the fire.

Threadbare took off his top hat and rubbed his head again, then decided to risk it. “Celia?”

“Yes?”

“If it’s not too much of a bother, could I ask you to hold me please? Like you used to do?”

He watched her face shuffle, resolve into a sad smile. “Oh Threadbare.” She scooped him up, settled down on one of the fallen logs, and Threadbare sighed in happiness as he settled into her embrace as best he could.

He’d waited five years for this, and it was good. Finally, he was in his little girl’s arms again, and it didn’t matter that they were ceramic, or that she smelled different, or that she was smaller than she used to be. She was still Celia, and he was still her teddy bear, and all was right with the world.

That lasted for a few minutes, then Cecelia shifted, surprised.“What?”

“You look comfy. Do you mind?” Kayin asked.

“Um. I guess not.”

Threadbare turned his head, as wooden legs poked against him. Kayin had settled in Celia’s lap, curled up in a catlike ball.

“This isn’t like you, that’s all,” Cecelia said.

“I know. But it feels right,” Kayin said. “I… tell the truth, I didn’t expect shifting over to a catkin to influence me this much. It’s like thinking through jelly, my impulse control is all screwy, and my attention span is shot all to hell.”

“If you want, when Graves isn’t busy he could try that Evict Spirit skill on you, transfer you to another body.”

“This is the last wood golem we’ve got though, right? And Threadbare, you’re out of the reagents to make another?”

“Yes,” Threadbare replied, shortly. He was a little cross with her for interrupting cuddle time.

“Besides, I think it’ll get easier once I get my mental stats up,” Kayin sighed. “Didn’t expect catkin to be so low. Or to be so… it’s like everything’s way more fun, and the less seriously I take it the better I feel. Catkin are a weird race, I guess. I’m thinking the one I ran into when I was a contract killer was a really experienced one. And I shouldn’t gripe anyway, because I got the skill I wanted out of it.”

“Oh?”

“It’s called Nine Lives. I THOUGHT something was screwy about that catgirl. I should’ve killed her three times over, but each time she got back up.”

“Did you get her, in the end?”

“No, she managed to escape. I heard she ran off and started a dungeon somewhere, then got punked by the royal guards eventually. Or maybe not, maybe she still had some lives left. Seriously the skill’s THAT good.”

“Oh.” Cecelia settled back. “Sorry, just trying to get comfy.”

“If you want me to move, that’s fine. I… know we didn’t have this sort of relationship. Or any, really, beyond mutual respect and being knights together. I’m not looking for anything, just…”

“Friends?” Threadbare offered.

“Friends,” Kayin decided. “Friends is good. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“I’m game,” Cecelia said. Her hand strayed down to rub between Kayin’s ears, and the catgirl emitted her first surprised purr. “I never had too many of those. I’m glad you’re one of them.”

Friends, Threadbare thought. Yes, that would do. His little girl was back, but he had to share her, now. But that was fine, because she’d still cuddle him, and that was all he wanted, really was for her to be happy and give him lots of hugs.

And as they waited, a heavy, black weight settled in to one side of them, as Pulsivar moved over to join the nap pile. “Um…” Cecelia said, flailing for purchase with her free arm, and bracing herself against a wooden bole.

Then Mopsy moved in on the other side, and it got easier.

For a while, the toy golem and the two doll haunters just lay there with the cats in the cuddle puddle, with the fire burning down, and the stars overhead. And it was right.

Eventually, Graves finished his discussion, moved back to the fire, and saw what had become of his friends.

Your Adorable skill is now level 31!

Smiling, he turned his back, and started shuffling off, taking it slow, his animated pants moving his wasted muscles along while he balanced with the cane. “See you in the morning, then.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cecelia said. “We don’t sleep like this, do we? I mean, golems don’t sleep, right?”

“Not normally,” Threadbare said. He sighed, and wiggled down, out of the cuddle pile. “What did they say?”

“I’ll get the others, first,” Graves yawned. “You may not sleep, but I do, and it’s been a long day so I only want to explain it once.”

Soon, the toys were reconvened, much to the disgruntlement of the cats who had enjoyed sleeping next to a fire-warmed porcelain doll.

“Most of them are fine with waiting,” said Graves. “They put their trust in you, and you didn’t disappoint them. Their friends and neighbors and relatives who aren’t in the cult are safely away, and you spent a ton of resources making toy golems to protect the ones who are braving the wilds. But the problem lies with the children. Oh not the really young ones, those all got evacuated, but some of the teenagers were old enough to be cultists, and they’re taking the angst a bit harder.”

“Figures,” Kayin said.

“Yes. I’m pretty sure a lot of them had body issues to start with, and this isn’t helping. It’s not so bad, not yet, but given time, it could cause major rifts. Which is rough, because when they’re having a bad time of it, it’s harder for the adults.”

“How long do they think they have?” Threadbare asked, concerned. Of COURSE the children were the first priority!

“I talked with the parents privately. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a month if we’re really lucky, and I start animating spare toys and letting them take them out for a spin, work out some of their issues with temporary animi. Even so we’re still probably going to lose a few to madness.”

Cecelia rubbed her hair. “A couple of days to Pads. About a week or more up the main roads, to Fort Bronze. Then a day or two out to an observation post. It leaves us two weeks, at the most.”

“Then let’s take one,” Threadbare said. “One to sort out what we need and grind as best we can.” He looked to Garon. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Yeah. Give me command of the training group, and it should skill up the ruler skills nicely.” The little minotaur nodded to Zuula. “She scoped out ruins of Grubholm while Graves was busy. Goblin sign all over.”

“Goblins?” Kayin said, straightening up. “Didn’t think there were many left in the kingdom.”

“Not in de settled places,” Zuula said. “But in de empty spaces, still lots of dem. Dey stay out of sight, live in ruins. Everyt’ing eat dem. Dey find a place to nest, den breed, den expand out until people or stronger monsters come an’ kill dem.” Zuula grinned. “Stronger monsters like us.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Fluffbear squeaked. “Just going in and killing them for the experience?”

“We’d be doing the kingdom a favor,” Graves said. “Goblins have about sixty-three different recipes for cooking human babies.”

“What?” Fluffbear shouted, then jumped up. “Where’d I put my whip!”

“Patience,” Zuula consoled. “Goblins be darkspawn. We go in day when we go. Kind of surprised they haven’t come to see our fire tonight. But we behind a ridge, and dey lazy, so maybe dat it.”

“So you need to be a Ruler.” Threadbare pointed a paw at Garon. “Does anyone else need a montage? I can do two per day.” That was roughly corrrect. Each one took about ten to twelve hours.

“Yeah, we’re about to do a covert mission, right?” Kayin spoke up. “I’ve been thinking that over. We need more scouts in the group. I’ll take one of them.”

“I can teach ya while Threadbeah’s montaging Gar.” Madeline offered.

Threadbare twisted to look at her, in surprise. “You learned scout?”

“Hey, I had a long and exciting unlife befoah I met you guys, just didn’t have no jahb slahts to use all the stuff I unlocked. So I had two more open when I got my soulstone upgraded, then re-embodied. I figahed, why wait? Yer looking at not only a faiah elementalist, but a scout and a merchant!”

“You didn’t tell us you were taking that stuff,” Garon said.

“I don’t have to. That’s mostly my business.” Madeline looked at him, glass eyes glittering in the firelight. “I like you guys, but ya not the boss of me.”

“Right, right, I didn’t mean anything by it… wait, merchant?”

“Yeah! Check this out!” Madeline headed off into the ruins of the house, and returned with a backpack, dragging it along with her mouth.

“I wondered why you asked me to sew that,” Threadbare said. “Does it have some significance to merchants?”

“Watch!” Madeline grinned, stuck her head in the pack, and pulled out a sack of coins, the ones that the villagers had given them to hang on to. Then a set of golden candlesticks from Hatecraft’s ritual room. Then several stuffed toys. Then one of the wooden cats they’d originally used to pull the wagon.

“There’s no way all that fit in there,” Cecelia said. “May I?”

“Shuah!”

Cecelia went over to the pack, stared into it. Then stuck her head in, and abruptly she was gone.

“Celia!” Threadbare charged up to the pack, and Madeline hastily put a wing in his way. “It’s fine, watch.” She reached her head in again, and the wooden dragon drew Cecelia out, her maw holding one ceramic hand and drawing her forth.

“That was weird,” Cecelia said. “It’s like a room with black walls and floor, but there’s light coming from somewhere. And there’s random junk on the floor. It’s not that big, maybe closet-sized?”

“Yeah. Skill says it gets biggah as I level it. Should be safe to be in theah so long as the spell don’t expaiah.”

“What happens then?” Kayin said, tail twitching. “Because I’m seeing some possibilities for infiltrating the fort like this.”

“If it expaiahs whatever’s inside explodes outward and the pack’s ruined. Lasts like an howah per merchant level thoah. Not too bad to cast, either, just some sanity.”

“Why Merchant? Why Scout for that matter?” Garon asked. “I’m not seeing a combo for fire elementalist or dragon in there.”

“Nice broad range of attribute boosts. Int and Wis between ‘em foah boosting sanity.” Madeline shrugged. “And it turned out we didn’t need jewelah and with no thumbs I’m crap at crafting anyway, but I figga handling gold and hoarding it will help me level dragon. Besides, with Scout, I can fly recon and message back to you, and be invisible when I need to. Invisible dragon? Pssh, that’s a no brainah.”

“With three scouts in the party that’ll let us split up if we have to,” Cecelia said. “Does anyone else have any job slots to fill out?”

“If you want to try the Evict Spirit soulstone upgrade combo we discussed, I could maybe give you more jobs,” Graves said to Glub.

“Dude, I dunnno. Bard’s pretty sweet by itself.” The little fishmen thought it over. “Besides I’ve only got like a few unlocks.”

“Well, what are they?”

“Cultist, Explorer, and Water Elementalist.”

“I’m going to say please don’t be a cultist,” Threadbare decided.

“Yeah, that’s really not my thing. My old one’s cool and all but I’m not about to worship the dude. Wouldn’t feel right.”

“Explorer’s kind of weak,” Garon said. “That’s what I always heard about it, anyway.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cecelia said. “Explorers from outside made the greater waymarks when they passed through, and left us the waystones, to use them. That’s what’s let the Crown maintain the front, by teleporting the Hand and other important people and supplies from Waystone to Waystone one person and packload at a time. If we had more of them, or the cooldown wasn’t so bad… if my father had more of them, then the war would be over by now.”

“How high level is that?” Garon asked. “That’s got to be like a twenty, twenty-five. I don’t know if he can grind it high enough to be useful in time.”

“Yeah, but theah’s gonna be a time AFTAH, raht?” Said Madeline. “If he wants it, then let him take it. And watah elementalist would be totally bitchin’ ta have around. Be like synergy with my faiah and all.”

“It’d also give you water resistance so your parts don’t degrade underwater,” said Kayin. “Otherwise your leather bits will need a lot of mending or replacing eventually.”

“Oh? Oh yeah, that’d be a hassle,” Glub nodded. “Sure dude man, let’s try that spirit shuffle trick while they montage.”

“Absolutely,” Grave said. “It’ll be worth it to skill that up, if nothing else.”

“Then yeah, I’ll do that. Eventually you’ll get better and I’ll get more job slots, right? So I might as well go all in here. Uh, except for Cultist.”

“Thank you,” Threadbare said.

“How about you, Mom? It’d probably take a spirit eviction, and you’d lose a few levels, but it’d open up more jobs.”

“No,” Zuula said. “Best you can do is five, right Graveman?”

“Graves. And yes, that’s the best I can do right now with the skill I’ve got.”

“Then no. Zuula just got ten. Not worth it to go back to being weak. Not wit’out bitchin new body.” She glanced over to Threadbare. “Still got the picture she drew you?”

Threadbare drew it out, and showed it to the group. Silence fell around the fire, as Graves struggled not to laugh, Kayin hid her face, and Cecelia looked away, coughing desperately.

“Are those battleaxes for hands?” Garon asked.

“And is that faiah yoah breathing?” Madeline said, grinning wide.

“No. Dose be lighting bolts. De fire be coming from Zuula’s ass.” The little plush half-orc pointed with her spear.

Graves lost it then, waving his hands as he headed into the barn “All right, all right, it’s late. Good, heh, goodnight. Talk to me in the morning if you need something.

“It’s the heaps of skulls that you’re crushing that have me confused,” Missus Fluffbear said, leaning in closer. “Are those things we have to make for you?”

“What? No. Zuula provide her own skulls.” She considered. “Maybe you make a few clay ones just to start. Starter skulls. So her enemies know what is in store.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure they’d know just from one look at you.” Garon said, shaking his head. “All right. Let’s get montaging. If we start now, we should be finished before noon tomorrow.”

*****

Noon rolled over the village of Grubholm.

Once a trapping and farrier outpost at the edge of the marsh, it had fallen a decade ago to monsters. Evacuees had spoken of eyes in the night, twisted little men striking from the dark places of the marsh in the dead of the night. Enough had died that the surviving families threw up their hands, packed up their supplies, and headed out for greener pastures.
Abandoned by civilization, filled with monsters, it was now only really useful to adventurers looking for experience and loot.

Like the seven toys, and their mounts, who moved slowly along the old road, eyes wide for trouble. Threadbare, Graves, and Pulsivar had remained at the old farm. The first two did so because they’d siphon too much experience and they could spend their time animating toys and letting soulstoned villagers romp around. Pulsivar because he didn’t seem to care to come along. Dude had some serious napping to catch up on.

Zuula led the way, glancing around, following goblin sign, looking for signs of the twisted little baby eaters.

Kayin and Madeline took the flank, with Keen Eyes up, ready to Wind’s Whisper back if they ran into something that required silent warning.

Garon and Glub backed Zuula up, walking in step with her.

And Fluffbear rode Mopsy, guarding the rear, glaring around for goblins to smite or babies to save. She wasn’t picky. And her Inspiring Aura buffed the moxie of her nearby friends, so it was a good spot for her.

Cecelia rode one of the wooden wagon-pulling cats, animated, and about the only thing they had that was suited to her greater size. The parties had been sorted out… Garon had Zuula, Glub, and Madeline, and she had Kayin, and Fluffbear. That seemed like the best split, and ensured that Mopsy got experience too, and that each leader had a scout to listen for.

It didn’t mean they couldn’t work together, just that they wouldn’t eat into each other’s experience too much. Cecelia and Garon had spent most of the walk up towards goblin turf planning out scenarios and strategies.

But for all their troubles and preparations they weren’t ambushed on the way.

Not when they moved past shoddy barricades, broken and covered with moss, old skulls on pikes now rusty and shattered.

Not when they crossed over into the edge of town, past fire-blackened and crumbled hovels, made from bits of other buildings, but now abandoned.

And not even when they came to the town square, at the edge of a shallow pond that stretched off to more marsh in the distance. The silence rolled on, quiet and unbroken save for the clattering of Garon and Glub’s steps. Zuula halted there, turning around, squinting at the buildings and checking the burned sigils on their side, rubbing them with her cloth fingers.

Finally, Garon tapped Zuula’s shoulder. “Well? Where are they?”

Though he tried to keep it quiet, his voice echoed across the marsh. In the distance, a bird took off, hooting.

“Dis sign be old. Way older den de stuff inland.” Zuula said, shaking her head. “And de ruins… dey wrong.”

“Yeah,” Kayin said, fading in from the left. “I looked through a few. Goblins WERE here, but… well, you’d better come see this.” She motioned, and the group followed her around from the square, to what had once been a town hall. Now the roof was gone, fallen in or fallen apart, leaving only a foundation, a few wooden walls, and a few floorboards.

The cellar below was filled with slimy water, weeds and goop and round spheres as big as beach balls. Gelatinous, with some sort of greenish embryo curled up within each, they were clustered together six or eight in a bunch. They twitched and pulsed in the noonday sun, and as soon as Zuula saw them, she nodded once, and said a single word.

“Run.”

“What?” Garon said.

“RUN!”

And from the pond, from the marsh, and from other dark, wet places, came the sound of dozens of large throats croaking, as giant green THINGS hauled themselves out of their hiding places…

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 11
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 8
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 12
Smith Level 10
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 124 Constitution: 138 Hit Points: 330(410) Armor: 52(59)
Intelligence: 216 Wisdom: 201(208) Sanity: 417(550) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 112(119) Stamina: 269(363) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 110(138) Willpower: 199 Moxie: 309(417) Cool: 20(47)
Perception: 119 Luck: 89(96) Fortune: 208(295) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 35 (+8)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 12
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 13
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 31
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 24
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 16
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 6
Noblesse Oblige - Level 26
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 17
Simple Decree - Level 8
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 2
Best Route - Level 2
Camouflage - Level 2
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 5
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 51(65)

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 40 (+80 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 16
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 16
Strong Pose - Level 5
Work it Baby - Level 40 (+40% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 20
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (14)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 6
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+13 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 17 (Brawling +8) Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 9
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 5
Elemental Protection - Level 8
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 28
Soften - Level 30
Spellstore I - Level 9
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 10
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 15
Program Golem - Level 40
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 10
Smelt Down - Level 1
Smithing - Level 46

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+2 Armor, +4 Tailoring, +3 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+4 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Finely-Made Dagger (Dagger Level 5)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box with a few reagents and crystals, most minor.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Surviving First Contact 3

Grubholm had been raided into ruins by goblins, it was true, and for a time the twisted little creatures had celebrated their victory and bred happily in that lush place, with plenty of food and empty ‘bigger’ houses to infest. Access to the main roads of the kingdom also let them send out raiding parties when their population got too high for the area to support, which was about every four months or so. The raiders either came back with shinies and bigger meat, or they didn’t come back and that was less mouths to feed, so it was all good.

And for a few years, it had worked.

But the weakness of goblins is that they have no real loyalty to each other. It’s all they can do to be a tribe, or even a family. Goblins live in a society where everyone is always out for themselves, for everything they can get, and no one else truly matters.

Which is why the Gribbits had broken them like a rotten twig.

Gribbits aren’t much taller than goblins, but quite a bit wider and longer. They can swallow goblins whole, which is bad enough, but worse than that,they’re organized. When a Gribbit attacks, he or she does so knowing that his entire tribe is right next to him, hitting the enemy all at once with everything they’ve got.

Even though they’re physically weaker than humans, the fact is that gribbits don’t do things by halves, and they don’t run unless the whole battle line runs. Unlike goblins, who will gleefully abandon each other at the first sign of trouble.

And worst of all?

Like goblins, and raccants, and other smart tribal monsters, gribbits could sometimes have jobs.

Zuula had recognized what they were dealing with.

And the other golems trusted Zuula enough to follow her lead, which is why they bolted, which probably saved them casualties right there and then.

“Get to cover!” Garon shouted, as wolf-sized frogs waving spears and clubs burst out of the water. “We’ll find a safe place to Fight the Battles!”

“I’ll pick up rearguard!” Cecelia called. “Shield Saint!” She hauled out the old potlid she’d found in the farmhouse’s kitchen, and readied the small sword Threadbare had made her, bounding over on the wooden animi. The faster Gribbits closed, aiming for Glub and Garon, the slower members of the parties. But Celia got in their way, slashing at them, making them hop back to their front lines. Their rapidly-closing front lines.

Garon glanced back, saw they wouldn’t make it. If they were caught out in the open, they were dead. Fortunately, he knew what his people could do. “Mom? Shaman slowdown two-fer?”

“On it! Call Vines!” Between Cecelia and the gribbits, vines tore loose from the crumbled ruins, and burst up from the marshy ground, flailing and wrapping the oncoming gribbits. Zuula smiled, slowed a bit, ignoring Kayin as the catgirl asssassin tugged on her arm, and waited. Waited until gribbits were hopping over, working to get their tangled brethren free. Waited until she had the most within her affected radius. And then… “Call Thorns,” Zuula whispered and grinned with half-orky glee as the gribbits’ croaks turned to screams. And scream they should! Every vine or piece of vegetation within that area had just grown two-inch thorns.

“Hahahhaha! Take dat!” She laughed. “Go up against a shaman, you get—”

WHACK!

Kayin hadn’t been trying to get her to run faster. Kayin had been trying to tell her that the gribbits on the flank had moved in while she was busy dealing with the ones behind.

The club knocked the little plush shaman across the street, where another gribbit waited, stretching his maw open wide…

…to be denied, as Missus Fluffbear leaped Mopsy in the air, and caught Zuula, whirling the cat around as soon as she hit the ground, and speeding toward the others.

Meanwhile, Kayin snarled at the one who’d clubbed Zuula. “Hindering Strikes!” Three quick tendon-slicing slashes with her little dagger later, the gribbit was in no shape to jump after her as she ran.

But it didn’t have to run. Kayin made it ten feet away, when she heard a whiplike snap behind her, and felt something wrap around her waist as she was jerked backward. “No!” She yelled, as the Gribbit snapped her into its fleshy, slimy mouth…

…and paused.

Toy golems are adorable, and give healing hugs.

Baked clay golems are immune to fire, and can be gorgeous if made in a certain way.

Wood golems? They’re splintery. Every time they’re struck or grappled, some of their outer layer spikes into their attacker’s flesh.

And this gribbit had just stuck her into his mouth, which was way, way softer than his skin.

The little assassin found herself spat out, covered in frog blood. With catgirl agility she hit the ground and rolled, came up running. “Faster Than Death!” she yelled, outpacing the gribbits who were moving in on both flanks.

“Get up here man!” Glub called back to the stragglers. “Heartening song! Move those muscles run those feet! Keep on fleeing or we’re dead meat!”

Didn’t really have a beat, but they were strengthened nonetheless. The ones in his party, anyway.

Cecelia’s group didn’t have to worry about that, now that Kayin was out of danger and booking it. Fluffbear was mounted on Mopsy, and Mopsy could book it. The wooden animi was a bit slower, but Cecelia’s Horsemanship skill made up for that.

That only left one more member of Garon’s party unaccounted for, up until she came down out of the sky like a red streak, divebombing the closest pursuers. “Burninate!”

Fire exploded from the little dragon’s maw, carving a streak through the first third of the gribbit horde, and they screamed and fell back, some falling, dying— —up until a gribbit wearing a mitre hopped up from where he’d been observing the fight, and started croaking. And as he croaked, Gribbits healed, falling back to the lake and getting out of the fight.

“They’ve got a cleric? No fair!” Kayin screeched.

“Get up to tha inn!” Madeline screamed back from above, her voice fading as she looped around the sky. “You can… hold on….”

Garon stiffened as she wind’s whispered him. “There’s an inn down that road! It’s mostly intact, we’ll make our stand there! Follow me! Forced March!” Garon, Glub, and Zuula sped up. The shaman poked Fluffbear, hopped down from Mopsy, and paused to take a look back at the chaos.

Some gribbits had fallen, perhaps a dozen or so between the worst of the vines and the dragonfire, but the wounded ones that hadn’t were being hauled back for healing. Including the one who’d tried to swallow Kayin, who was pointing at his tongue and pointing at the little toys.

“Damn…” Zuula said, turning and running.

Gribbits were a threat, and that was true. They worked together, and that was worse. But the main reason they were a problem for her little coterie, was because gribbits learned.

The inn was on a rise. It wasn’t much to look at, and like the rest of the buildings, its roof had rotted and fallen in years ago. Goblin graffiti sprinkled throughout insisted vulgar things in their crude language, which is why Glub was laughing and taking notes but nobody else really cared. Garon stomped around, testing the creaking floor, and checking the walls. “Secure the Perimeter.” he nodded, in satisfaction as his skill told him what was what. “There’s a family of raccoons in the basement, but that’s it.”

“Raccoons means gribbits don’t come up here much,” Zuula hissed, waving Kayin and Fluffbear and Mopsy in through the doorway, before she grabbed one end of a mossy table and strained to try and shove it in front of the entrance.

“I got yah,” Madeline said, wings clacking as she clattered to the ground, and got the other end of the table with her jaws. Between the two of them, they got it into place just as Cecelia leaped her animi through the window.

“They’re slowing down, I think,” Cecelia said.

“Yeah. Zuula, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is this?” Garon said.

“Eight,” Zuula decided. “Gribbits pretty smart. Dey also nuts about protecting territory. Gonna be hard to get out of here wit’out casualties.”

“We could just pile everyone into one party except for Madeline and the wooden cat, put up forced march, and book it,” Garon said. “We outran them on raw speed that last time.”

“Outrun them ta where?” Madeline said. “They’ll chase us to the wagon and Graves. Then they’ll have someone to attack that actually is capable of dyin’. And if he goes, then we got problems.”

“We’ll have problems if any of us die here too,” Cecelia said. “We’re out of reagents for making new golems, even toy golems. If anyone dies they’ll be in a soulstone until we can find the dwarves. So no heroic sacrifices, okay?”

“You have plan?” Zuula asked, moving from window to window, hopping up and hoisting herself to peer out of each. “Cause dey do. Dey setting up circle—”

“Perimeter, Mom,” Garon interrupted.

“—circle around inn. Back a ways, but dey makin’ it clear dey watching.”

“I could go burn’em out,” Madeline said. “I don’t think they gaht a countah to me.”

“Don’t bet on that,” Cecelia said. “I learned about these things in my suppression classes.”

“Your what now?” Glub asked.

“The Crown has a problem with nonhuman races. We get taught the most efficient ways to kill them. It’s… yeah, it’s not very nice. But on gribbits, the doctrine made it clear that they adapt to the tactics that people throw at them. So if you use a strong one early on, then odds are good they’ll come up with a counter. And there’s no way they’ll ignore a flying dragon that can roast them wholesale.”

Garon nodded. “Okay. Madeline, go back to the camp and tell Threadbare we need him and Pulsivar. Then come back with them, stick low if you have to.”

“You sure, Gar?”

“Go. We’ll be fine.” Garon held up a handful of soulstones. “I grabbed one for each of us.” He put them in the dirty hearth, then swept ashes over them. “Anyone dies, they’ll be here.”

“Smaht.”

“Wait,” Zuula said. “Before you go, get Zuula’s barrel out of de pack, yeah?”

Madeline shrugged, and squirmed her pack free from her back. Kayin helped her get it down, and they drew out the small keg emblazoned with poison symbols.

“Dat be our endgame,” Zuula said. “We get dat in de pond, every one of dem die. But… only want to use it if really really necessary.”

“Yeah,” Fluffbear said. “They’re just defending their homes! It would be bad to kill all of them and their little babies too! I’m proud of you, Zuula!”

“Actually Zuula was gonna say it would mess up de plants and poison de land here for a few years. But sure, whatever.”

“Oh.” Fluffbear sagged down a bit. “Still proud of you.”

“Tanks.”

“How territorial are they?” Garon asked. “Do we know that? Do we have to wipe out every last one to get away clean?”

Zuula rubbed her chin. “Haven’t fought gribbits since Zuula was child. Ah… half. Get dem down to half, dey usually call it quits. I t’ink. But pond dis size, spawning pool dat big… need to take down four, five dozen to do dat.”

“Hey, am I free ta leave? Go get help?” The dragon asked Garon.

“Yeah, go Mads, it’s cool.”

Madline stopped looking at him, and got to the clearest part of the room. “Scaly Wings!” she flew up and out— —and swerved, as two volleys of javelins, some of them on fire, hissed up towards her, yelling as a few raked along her side. But she got away, heading south, back towards the camp and aid.

“Countered,” Cecelia nodded grimly. “Those fire javelins, those are an archer trick, right? Shouldn’t they be using bows?”

“Nah. Works with any ranged weapon. Bows and crossbows are just more efficient,” Kayin said, staring out from the cracks in the table that made their makeshift barricade. “Had a girlfriend once, back in our guild. She was an archer/assassin who sniped, killed from a distance. Had a blowgun for emergencies, and her tricks worked fine with it.”

“Girlfriend?” Cecelia looked at her in surprise.

“Yeah. Um, is that a problem?”

“No, no. Just… huh. Didn’t know that.”

“What’s to know? I used to like women. Back when I had parts to do something with, anyway. But we’ve got killer frog guys right now, desu.”

“Right.” Cecelia cleared her throat. “We’re up against a horde. Kayin, please see if you can find me some knives or stabby things. Fluffbear, I’m leaving the party, you’re the leader now.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’m alone I can have six animi, and this should help make up for them outnumbering us.”

“Smart,” Garon said. He popped open his chest, and drew out stacks of coins, slotting them into the holes carved into his sides. “Zuula, is there anything you can do with that poison barrel that isn’t genocide?”

The little shaman pursed her cloth lips, and considered. “Maybe. Gonna depend on whether or not we got a kettle all up in here. Still got to be careful. We don’t breathe. She does.” Zuula pointed at Mopsy.

“If she gets poisoned I can cure her,” Fluffbear said. “So long as it’s not too nasty.”

“Glub, do you have anything that might help?” Garon said. “I don’t know Bard stuff too well.”

“I’m new to this myself, mister boss dude. Got some water elementalist stuff but it’s all level one. Still that’ll get us an elemental so booyah. As far as bard stuff goes… Uh… I can sing a song that distracts everyone who hears it.”

“That’ll hit us too, so pass.”

“Heartening Song makes you all stronger and sturdier, Rejuvenating Song makes you heal slowly and regain stamina faster. Just that Cool makes me cooler. All the time. My borrowed skills are Knack for Languages and Mend. Fortune’s Fool makes me be more fortunate, don’t know why I’m a fool for it… oh, hey, Salty Song! This might work!”

“Yeah? What’s it do?” Garon asked.

Glub told them, and Garon nodded, as the starts of a plan started to form inside his bovine noggin.

“Found a kettle!” Zuula announced, just as Kayin came up from the cellar, dragging along a cluster of butcher knives.

“Perfect. How they looking out there, Celia?”

Cecelia paced around the common room, peering out the windows. “I see the one with the mitre. I can’t exactly tell but I think he’s buffing a few of them that are wearing furry hats and others with metal helms. Like helms that cover half of their bodies.”

“Berserkers and Knights, probably,” Zuula said. “Dis be bad.”

“There’s also a couple on the rooftops wearing pointed cloth caps with feathers. Archers?” Cecelia said.

Then she ducked, as a javelin sped through the window, narrowly missing her face. “Yep, archers. Wow, pity my dodge skill is maxxed.”

“You didn’t get a few levels from that chase?” Garon asked. “I upped Ruler twice.”

“Different skillset. And that’s upping your level one, I’m trying to rebuild level fives. Anyway we’re running low on time. What’s the plan?”

Garon grinned and beckoned the toys in close. “Here’s how we’re going to turn this thing around…”

*****

It wasn’t a wind’s whisper, in the end.

A few minutes after they started their desperate plan, it was a Simple Decree, used in a manner that most rulers wouldn’t.

The decree was simple.

Your Ruler has declared a Royal Decree!

“Please survive. I”ll be there in five minutes.”

“Now!” Garon called to Glub. “Everyone, get to your places!”

Zuula poured a flask into the bubbling kettle, then slammed the lid over it as smoke started to roil up. She beat feet into the kitchen, with Kayin following.

Garon nodded to Glub, as they climbed into the chimney, leaving the blob that was Glub’s least water elemental bouncing happily in the main room.

Cecelia smiled, and settled back into the cupboard they’d found her, leaving the wooden cat outside. She held her hands over her ears, and said “Dollseye!”

And from the chimney, Glub fired up his bardsong, using the one he hadn’t had occasion to try yet.

It was called Salty Song, and it was ANNOYING.

And thanks to the acoustics of the chimney, every gribbit within a three block radius was subjected to it.

It ground at their moxie, tore at it, not much at first because Glub’s skill in it was very low, but the skill only improved as he sang.

Inside her cupboard, Cecelia grunted, and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t easy, and some of her own moxie drained. But knights and steam knights both had charisma as a boosting attribute, and she had the moxie to wait it out, she thought.

The gribbits didn’t.

The gribbits attacked, just as Garon had hoped.

They would have anyway, those were definitely pre-battle buffs their cleric was handing out, but this made them jump the gun a bit. That was the first part of Garon’s plan, draw them in before they were good and comfy.

And so after a few volleys of javelins arcing over the roof, that didn’t do much beyond splatter Glub’s elemental, the gribbit Knights rushed the barricade, using their armored helms as battering rams, clattering in through the wide doorway. The table took a few hits then shuddered back, as the three armored gribbits looked around, saw the wooden cat, and frogpiled it.

That’s when the Frogzerkers gave mighty bounds and leaped over the walls, running on pop-eyed rage and croaking battle cries, holding salvaged wood-chopping axes in their hands and looking around for unengaged targets.

They found none.

Behind them, hordes of regular, unjobbed gribbits poured in, spears ready, and lidless eyes open, staring around. The wooden cat rocked and fell, battered to pieces, but the song still echoed.

They looked to the chimney, and the steaming kettle in it, with the fire merrily going. The song was loudest there…

And just as Garon had hoped, one of the frogzerkers knocked the kettle aside with a contemptous blow.

Green smoke exploded throughout the inn, and the gribbits croaked in dismay, and coughed, trying to back out. They jammed the entrance and the windows, screeching in dismay as red numbers rolled up from their fat bodies— “Now!” Garon shouted. “Fight the Battles!”

—Ceccelia burst from the cabinet, butcher’s knives whirling, pot lid and sword in hand. “Shield Saint! Dolorous Strike! Dolorous Strike!” She wasn’t as strong as she’d been as a human, but wherever her sword stabbed, a gribbit died. The butcher’s knives focused on a single target at a time, hacked it down, then moved on with gory efficiency.

“Backstab!” from the direction of the kitchen, and then Kayin was among them, using the smoke for cover and shanking with a poisoned steak-knife in each hand. “Poison Blade!” She’d call, whenever the green sludge that Zuula had helped her prepare started to fade. Whenever the skill kicked in, one of the vials tied to her back would vanish, and her blades would re-coat with venom.

Garon fought the Frogzerkers, weakened from their poison but no less deadly. But his wooden form was sturdy, and he was about as strong as they were, without needing rage to boost himself. And every time they dealt him a good hit, he’d go defensive, and call out “Blood is Gold!” One of the coins set into his side would clink and vanish, and he’d heal.

For his part, Glub stopped the song, dropped from the chimney, and started hauling gribbits corpses toward thee most cracked part of the floor.

And whenever he dropped one off, a little black paw would come up out of the crack, touch it, and Fluffbear would say “Zombies!”

The dead gribbits rose, and without directions, went after the nearest living things with delicious brains.

Which happened to be living gribbits.

It was glorious chaos, and though to the gribbits it probably felt like a hellish eternity before the survivors could get clear, it was probably only a minute, at the most.

Garon dispatched the last of the frogzerkers with Cecelia’s help, and glanced up, as water splashed down from above.

“Dude, they’ve got a Water Elementalist!” Said Glub, as large balls of water catapulted in to douse the smoke, arcing from the direction of the lake. “A really good one!”

“Start up the song again! Everyone, phase two!” Garon bellowed. “Archers next!”

“Okay dokay!” Fluffbear squeaked, and left the party. “Invite Zombie!” she said, following it up with four more castings, then commanding the ones that remained to go and eat archers.

The rest of the toys barreled out the door, with Glub switching back to his salty song, and Cecelia pausing to grab one of the Frogzerker’s axes and animating it. They ran straight into the gribbit Knights, who desperately tried to break their charge.

“As if! Rammit!” Garon bellowed, lowered his horns, and bulldozed one through the adjacent ruin’s wall. Then Cecelia was on the other ones, with Kayin flipping over them to stab at the froggy bits the helms didn’t cover.

Javelins came at the golems, clipping and wounding them, hindered by the archers having to aim around their friends.

And then the remnants of the mob that had rushed in croaked hearty cheers as a dozen of their surviving friends stumbled out of the remnants of the fog.

Cheers that died in horrified throats, as they saw the bloody wounds of the ‘survivors.’

Cheers that turned into screams as the zombies, with Fluffbear and a mildly-poisoned Mopsy in the middle, made a beeline straight for the Archers’ perches. Hastily the javelin tossers hopped for cover as some of the regular gribbits turned and fled, having quite enough of THIS, thank you very much.

Some of them didn’t flee far.

“Call Vines! Call Thorns!” Zuula said, grinning, as from the mossy and overgrown roofs, plants grew spikes and lashed out at the Archers.

And as they fought, the gribbits retreated. They’d been put on the back foot, ran into too many surprises at once, and needed a few minutes to figure out how to adapt and overcome, here.

But that was a few minutes that Garon wasn’t about to give them.

“To the pond! Bring the barrel!” Celia nodded, then ran to grab it. It was still a bad solution, but if things went poorly, they’d need it.

They fought their way after the gribbits, who were low on moxie now, low thanks to the salty song, and disheartened by the surprise the friends had sprung on them. The friends hacked and stabbed at the ones they could catch, downing them then moving on as fast as they could, keeping rolling, trying to turn it into a rout…

…which lasted until they reached the town square again, and saw what awaited them.

“Dey gots a queen!” Zuula yelled.

Eight feet tall it towered, as fat and long as two draft horses together, glaring down at the golem friends with beachball-sized eyes. She wore a crown on her head, and rolls of fat underneath her maw shook, as she pointed a massive webbed paw at them, and croaked deafening words.

“Uh,” Glub said, pausing his song. “She says we are not amused.”

Then she turned to her fleeing subjects, and belched out a rapid fire series of words, that spoke of duty to tribe, queen, and damply, and the routed gribbits slowed… stopped… and started to regroup. Behind them the gribbit cleric followed, healing the wounded, and glaring at the friends.

SPLOOSH!

And then a robed gribbit was there, perching on the queen’s back, resplendent in a wizard’s hat, and waving a bent staff with a goldfish bowl on the end of it, towards them. The water of the pond roiled, and lifted up, forming itself into a ball.

“Oh, there’s the elementalist,” Garon said. “Shit! Watch out!”

The ball arced toward them, and they scattered— not fast enough, as Celia took it head on, and it knocked her back down the street. A red ‘84’ floated up from where she fell, and she got up, glaring.

“No! Slow Regeneration!” Garon yelled to her, and then he had no time for words as the rallied gribbits charged him, and Zuula and Kayin fell in next to his sides, covering his flanks. Glub switched to his heartening song, and tried to stay clear, punching with tiny wooden hands whenever a gribbit came after him.

The upside was that at least the gribbits weren’t trying to swallow the friends. They’d learned their lesson from the last time they tried it, and while they didn’t know if all of them were as splintery as Kayin, they weren’t about to take the risk.

“This is bad,” Garon whispered, as spear after spear rattled off his chest, gouging and forcing him back. They were in the open again, and the gribbits were all around them, but even then they’d have a chance. The tribe was wounded, depleted, and most of their combat job elites were down.

But the queen was here, and to his horror he saw her wading forward, massive bulk shifting as she stepped almost daintily towards the battle. And up top the elementalist grinned in froggy glee, and manipulated up another ball of water, readying it for a throw…

“Burninate!” Madeline howled, and the watery ball exploded into steam. The water elementalist shrieked, stared up, then hopped down into the pond again. The queen screamed, bulk shaking as the dragonfire just tagged her, searing her wide back. She opened her mouth to tongue the tiny dragon out of the sky, but hesistated. These things were splintery, right? Then Madeline was past and up, and away.

And Garon smiled, as a black form sprang out of a nearby ruin, and two of the gribbits in the back of the mob died. He fought harder, laying about him with his axe, dropping a Blood is Gold as necessary.

From the lake, water lashed up at Madeline, and she answered by dropping gouts of fire, as the two Elementalists lashed out at each other. The gribbit had levels and skill, but Madeline had much greater mobility and the whole sky to dodge around in. Eventually the gribbit would fend her off and return to the fight, but that was fine. She was buying them time, and that’s all they needed.

“Call Vines! Call Thorns!” Zuula hissed at the queen. This was draining, but she’d leveled up back there a couple of times, and refilled her sanity, so that was fine. The queen snapped through the vines without stopping, taking the scratches on her hide, glaring at the little dolls that had so wounded her tribe, hurt her people. Zuula sighed. “Fine. Fast Regeneration. Beastly Skill Borrow: Owl.” she rose into the air, spirit wings shimmering from her back, as she called upon her totem. Darting toward the queen with her well-practiced triple digit flight skill, she harried her, slowing her down, and causing the giant ruler to thrash about with her paws. For once the frog couldn’t eat the annoying little fly, and oh, did it gall her!

“Excuse me,” Threadbare called, through his Minorphone.

The battlefield paused, as the fighting stilled, and everyone looked back.

“Is there some way we could work this out? I’m very certain this is definitely a misunderstanding.”

“You want me to translate that?” Glub said, taking the opportunity to pick up one of his severed arms.

“Yes, please.” Threadbare said, strolling down the street, with every buff active, adjusting his jacket as the gribbits stared at the sharp-dressed bear.

He was very glad he’d used Dazzling Entrance before coming into sight.

You are now a level 9 Model!
+3 AGI
+3 CHA
+3 PER
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 41!
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 42!
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 43!
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 44!
Your Work It Baby skill is now level 45!
Checking Dietary Restrictions time counter…
Your Dietary Restriction skill is now level 45!
Buff adjusted accordingly.

Oh, well, that was nice.

Glub croaked out words to the gribbit queen, using his knack for languages. The queen croaked back.

“She says your people threatened her eggs, and killed many of her tribe. She wants to know why she should not keep fighting here.”

“Back off a bit, Mads,” Garon called up, and the little dragon wheeled away. A watery globe arced after her, but the queen turned and slapped her consort lightly, and the ball dispersed into droplets.

“Did you threaten the eggs?” Threadbare asked Cecelia.

“No, we found them and were looking at them when they attacked us.”

“Ah. I see. Please tell her that we mean her eggs no harm, and would have left them alone regardless.”

“Well, actually—” Zuula began.

“Would have left them alone regardless,” Threadbare said, with long experience in dealing with Zuula.

The little shaman shrugged, and returned to shore.

The queen considered that, running her eyes over the remnants of her tribe, and croaked.

“She says this may be so, but her people are dead, and she does not see why she should spare you.”

“Spare us?” Threadbare said, moving up to where ten gribbits lay dead in a heap. “Mercy no. We’re sparing them.” He beckoned, and Pulsivar oozed out of the shadows, purring, and rubbing a bloody cheek against the bear’s paw. “Please let her know that if she wishes to continue the fight we will, but we came here to fight goblins, not her people.”

That seemed to make her happy. “She’s bitchin’ a lot about goblins, and telling me the awesome tale of how they won their home,” Glub said.

“Ah, okay. Listen to her. Please tell me when she’s expecting me to be appreciative.” For his part, Threadbare smiled and nodded whenever Glub gave the signal. It really wasn’t too different from his early days, listening to Cecelia’s stories and woes back during the tea parties, before he understood what she was saying.

And it worked.

CHA +1

“All right,” Glub said, much later, after some negotiations. “Boss, you’re gonna repair and forge their armor and weapons, since they don’t have a proper smith, and montage the smith job to one of their own. In return they’ll forgive us our trespass and the deaths, and let us leave in peace.”

“And we get nothing but departing safely, but that’s all right,” Garon said. “We came in here to grind levels, and sweet Ritaxis, did we ever.”

“There’s still a few more we could get,” Kayin said, glancing back to the barrel Cecelia was sitting on, now. “I mean, it’d be kind of a jerk move, but… we are up against the Crown, and if we don’t pull off that very sneaky mission, we’re gonna die in Fort Bronze. A little more experience could give us an edge.”

“Mm.” Threadbare said. “You’re thinking of using Zuula’s poison stocks?”

“If we dump it in the lake, then they all die. And their kids. And the pond and the land around it are poison for years,” Cecelia said.

“And what do you think of that?” Threadbare asked.

“I think my father would do it without hesitation, to make us all stronger. So fump that noise.” Cecelia’s mouth set into a line of determination. “If you can’t get strong without being evil, you don’t deserve to be strong.”

“Works for me,” Garon said. “I was going to try to threaten them with it if we got in a bad spot, but I really didn’t want to use it. It really was a last-ditch maneuver.”

“Let’s agree to not do that or things like that, then.” Cecelia said. “No matter how bad it gets, genocide isn’t an option, okay? I made that mistake last life, I want to start fresh with this one.”

“I think we’re all good with that,” Threadbare said. And the rest of them nodded, one by one. Kayin and Madeline were a heartbeat behind the others, but no one called them out on it.

“All right,” the dapper teddy bear decided. “Tell her I agree to her terms. Everyone else, feel free to hang about if you want, or go get the camp in order. After I’m done we’ll pack up and leave peacefully.”

“I almost feel guilty,” Garon said. “We got these levels, and you’re going to have to lose a day montaging.”

“I got a level of golemist while you were fighting,” Threadbare said. “And model because evidently they like my hat.” He hadn’t missed the fact that the tribe had spent most of the negotiations staring at his headware. Given that the sole concession that gribbits made in the way of clothing was hats, it wasn’t too hard to figure out the object of their gazes. “And besides, the stronger you all get, the better off I am. It’s good to be king, after all.”

“I agree,” croaked the queen, in heavily-accented common tongue, and the golems stared at her, mouths wide open.

“You understood every word we said, didn’t you? All this whole time?” Garon slapped his wide wooden palm to his muzzle.

“Yes. It seemed best to hide that until I was certain of you. Now I am. I am glad you decided to avoid treachery. You are good people after all, and I am sorry that we misunderstood your intentions. Now what is this about fighting the Crown, and sneaking into Fort Bronze?”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 11
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 9
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 13
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 139 Hit Points: 332(422) Armor: 52(59)
Intelligence: 221 Wisdom: 201(208) Sanity: 422(565) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 115(122) Stamina: 272(376) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 114(142) Willpower: 204 Moxie: 318(436) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 122 Luck: 89(96) Fortune: 211(308) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 35 (+8)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 13
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 31
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 7

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 24
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 8
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 16
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 6
Noblesse Oblige - Level 26
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 17
Simple Decree - Level 9
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 2
Best Route - Level 2
Camouflage - Level 2
Firestarter - Level 4
Keen Eye - Level 5
Sturdy Back - Level 6
Wind’s Whisper - Level 5

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 51(65)

Model Skills Call Outfit - Level 1
Dietary Restriction - Level 45 (+90 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 4
Flex - Level 16
Makeup - Level 1
Self-Esteem - Level 16
Strong Pose - Level 5
Work it Baby - Level 45 (+45% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 1
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 20
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 4
Dazzling Entrance - Level 8
Fancy Flourish - Level 7 (14)
Guard Stance - Level 8
Parry - Level 6
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 17 (Brawling +8) Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 9
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 5
Elemental Protection - Level 8
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 28
Soften - Level 30
Spellstore I - Level 9
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 10
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 15
Program Golem - Level 40
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+2 Armor, +4 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+4 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box with a few reagents and crystals, most minor.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

You’re Fired 1

What had turned into a one-day trade with the gribbits turned into three days, then a whole week. Threadbare and his friends montaged jobs, traded favors, and established a lifelong peace between themselves and the Smallgronk tribe, which was this group of gribbits’ formal name.

And all of the negotiations were presided over by a grinning Madeline, who used Haggle to great effect and had the time of her life grinding merchant levels.

The gribbits also shared knowledge of their favorite hunting grounds, and the local monsters, which the rest of the group eagerly adventured through while Threadbare montaged and spent his off time teaching the gribbit queen the finer etiquette of tea parties.

He also was busy making them a boatload of hats. They were very taken by his chapeaux, and he was happy to show them how to make it. Then of course he had to show off each one, and that was good for a Model level, and all new skills. Negotiating with a fellow head of state and signing treaties was also good for his and her ruler levels, and he thought very hard before he turned her down when she offered an heir’s betrothal to one of his.

The rest of the group spend the week grinding as hard as possible, and he was happy to gain a golemist level from their actions. Then they came back with scavenged reagents and crystals, (mostly red and orange reagents, and level 1 crystals respectively,) and he turned THOSE into items useful for the infiltration of Fort Bronze.

Threadbare also replaced his pants, while he was at it. He really did feel strange without pants on anymore.

But there were limits, and every time he checked with Graves, the man’s reassuring smile got smaller and smaller. He’d allocated a week to training up, but the longer it went on, the more he realized that had been a hopeful estimate. They needed yellow reagents, and they needed them now, and Zuula, who had been harvesting the most reagents, confirmed his fears when he consulted her.

“You not gonna find yellow around here. Zuula been gettin’ dem from places nature be strong, untouched herbs and places sacred to life and every’ting. But it take months to grow de red flowers for red reagents, and months more for dem to ripen to orange. Yellow takes a year or two, as do de crystals when dey bud from de main stalks. Don’ even be askin’ bout green.”

“Oh. Bother.”

“Dere odder places to get reagents and crystals. Can get dem from ground. Fluffbear been diggin’ for a few. She good at de mining. But dis marshy land, ain’t many places to mine. No, we want any better den basic, we gots to get to dwarves or find a dungeon to clean out. Or kill a bunch of soldiers an’ you crumble dere armor and stuff…”

So with a heavy heart, he gathered the group that night and took the barrels full of smoked fish that the gribbits had supplied them. Then Fluffbear got to work on the wagon, taking down Annie Mata’s cover, and assembling a proper yoke for the lone oxen that the Gribbits had… obtained… from somewhere.

Privately, Cecelia checked the tattoos on its ears and kept silent. Gribbits WERE monsters, but they were monsters that the band of golems needed right now.

But after this was all over and done with she made a note to track down the oxen’s owners and reimburse them for their loss.

Fluffbear gleefully adopted and named Oxey McOxenface, and would have tamed him properly had it not been pointed out that it might shrink him down a bit. Though Mopsy had grown some in the last week as Fluffbear leveled tamer, she still wasn’t back up to her former Mountain Lion size.

Finally it was done, and Oxey was roped to the wagon. A shorn and shaven Graves, now clad in a peasant tunic and breeches and boots that Threadbare had made himself, and artfully smeared with mud, clambered into the wagon seat and settled in for the trip.

In the case of the toys, this meant packing Madeline in a false bottom of one of the barrels, and putting everyone else in, well, her pack. It had gotten a bit roomier in there as she leveled the skill, now up to the size of a bathroom rather than a closet. They’d taken the precaution of putting tools, supplies, and more barrels of fish in there, in case one of the Crown wizards detected it as a merchant’s pack. Any questing hands that came in would latch onto the merchant stuff first, was the hope. They’d also put the crate of cultist soulstones in there, and Threadbare had promised to speak with them a few times every day.

They had to have a tiny hole in the bottom of Madeline’s barrel for her to reach out and poke the pack every few hours, but that was no big deal. And anyone could reach into the pack and pull them out, they just couldn’t get out on their own. Worst case, the pack would blow up, and send all of them free at once.

“That’s how I think it’ll wahk, anyway,” Madeline said, taking once more glance at the barrel she’d be coiled inside for the trip. “Yeesh. Really glad I don’t have a sense of smell anymoah.”

“Wait!” Cecelia said, turning back to look at Graves. “What if they scout you? There’s no way you’re not on a wanted list by now.”

“I thought of that.” Graves smiled. “Fortunately, level five Spirit Medium has the solution for that. You know how cultists have a skill that falsifies their status screens?”

“Yes, but you’re not a cultist.”

“No, but I can talk to dead ones. And as a spirit medium, I can borrow their skill for a little while. Or others, for that matter. Level ones, only, right now, but that’s okay, because it’s a level one skill.” He held up a soulstone and smiled. “Marva here’s going to talk me through it once we get to the fort. Doesn’t last long, but it should get me past the door if they’re looking. I’ll be a merchant with farmer and carpenter levels, that seems safe.”

“All right. Just…” Cecelia hopped up to the backboard of the wagon, and gave him a hug. “Play it safe, all right? This golem thing has its downsides. Stay alive.”

“Believe me, I’ve no desire to shed this mortal coil anytime soon.” Graves hugged her back. “Sit tight. We should be there in three days. I’ll pull you out if things go to plan and it’ll be Madeline if things don’t.”

“Okay,” Cecelia muttered. “Okay, okay…” She headed into the pack, joining the others.

“Oh, there you are. I was beginning to worry,” Threadbare said. He waved from the big grindluck circle that the others had settled in for. “Shall we deal you in a hand or three?”

“We could do that,” Cecelia said, then shook her head. “But I’d rather practice. We can’t kill monsters in here, but we can use some of our skills. And Zuula can dream quest us.”

“Dat might be a little weird in here,” Zuula said. “No nature. Dreams gonna be screwy.”

“They’re screwy anyway, desu,” said Kayin, neatly stacking the deck and setting it back. “All green and stuff with weird things moving in a light that’s actually darkness.”

“That’s what you see?” Garon said, grabbing the deck from the cheating assassin and shuffling it again, before slapping it down in the middle of the circle. “I see trees, usually. Just trees on a hillside, bending in a windstorm.”

“I see fish mostly,” Glub said. “Some real hotties.”

Celia didn’t want to say what she saw. It was pretty disturbing, to her at least. “But we’ll still get the rest, right? Full pools?”

“Yes,” Zuula conceded.

Glub put down two blues, and won the hand. “I also got something new at tenth level. Song of Clarity, dudes. Should help refill moxie and sanity for people so we don’t have to wait on dream quests so much.”

“Nice,” Garon said. “Has explorer gotten you anything nifty yet?”

“Yeah. I can make like waymarks and waystones.”

The circle fell silent, and everyone put their cards down, and stared at Glub. “What?” Cecelia said. “That’s huge! Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Dudes, it’s lesser ones.” Glub put up his webbed hands. “They’re not permanent or anything. Just last like an hour and their range is piddly at this skill level.”

“Can you set them anywhere?” Garon asked.

“Not in here. It gives me beef about illegal geography. But outside, I think so, yeah.”

“What are these exactly?” Threadbare asked.

“He set de waymark, and anyone he had de waystones to can use dem to teleport to it.”

“That would have been very handy to know before we got in here,” Threadbare said, glancing at the darkened space that was the ‘door’ to the room, impassable from this side of things unless they were drawn forth.

“It only lasts like an hour, man,” Glub said, waving his hands. “I didn’t think it’d be useful!”

“Peace, Glub,” Kayin said. “We can use it in the fort. Carry a few to get out of tight situations.”

“It’s best if we keep them for emergency use only,” Cecelia said. “If they’re anything like the greaters, there’s a cooldown on those, right?”

“Nah, no cooldown. But you can only carry one at a time and using it breaks it.” Glub shrugged. “And when the waymark expires all existing waystones break.”

“Hm. Well it’s a good idea for you to make a waymark once we’re out and in a safe spot in the fort, and to give us waystones while we’re sneaking,” Threadbare decided. “In the meantime, yes, let’s practice. We can grindluck when we’re tired and Glub can sing to us to make us regain faster, or Zuula can tuck us in, or both.”

And so they whiled the time away in the small space, practicing on each other and themselves, in the case of buffs. Threadbare was happy to try out the new model skills he’d gained. The others weren’t so happy, especially the first time he tried out his ‘Sexy Pose’ without warning them about it. Adjust weight went over a bit better, even if he did look bizarre when he went too far toward one end of the spectrum or the other.

Still, he could see the uses. He was tired of being kicked or knocked away by strong foes. Being able to add on a few pounds so he could stand his ground now and again, that was good stuff. Even if it did debuff his agility if he added too much.

But in the end, he fell back on his golemist, ruler, and scout skills, along with a broad range of utility buffs. The scout skills were sorely underdeveloped, and they’d be very helpful for sneaking around. Golemist was fast becoming his focus. The others were counting on him to upgrade them as soon as possible, and if this could knock out some easy experience, then so be it.

Ruler now, ruler had been very useful when negotiating with royalty. The dwarves had royalty too, Cecelia confirmed. They’d need to talk with them as well, sway them to his side. So he got to work giving those skills a workout, throwing around decrees, organizing minions, and identifying his subjects. Also dropping silly quests for small experience rewards, and emboldening with speeches.

Most of his stamina went into buffs or duelist moves, sparring with the others. There was only so much that peaceful practice could do, so they stepped it up a bit, tearing into each other with brutal force, and using mend, repair golem, and slow regeneration to fix each other up. So long as he or Cecelia was on the sidelines with Eye for Detail up so they could monitor the fighters, the risk was negligible… but there WAS risk, and whatever mysterious force governed the universe judged that to be worth extra experience.

After about two days of this, they called the practice session quits and got dream quests from Zuula, getting ready for what was hopefully their decanting from the pack. Then there was nothing save for hands of grindluck, and quiet conversation. Threadbare spent most of it sitting on Celia’s lap, enjoying her arms around him as she reached past him and sorted her cards.

That was worth a few adorable levels, but it really wasn’t the point. The point was that they were going into their most dangerous situation yet, and he wanted all the hugs he could get from his little girl.

A thought occurred to him, as they wrapped up about the thousand and third hand of grindluck.

“You’re not upset we didn’t use your suggestion to go to Pads village, are you?”

“What? No, no,” Cecelia said. “It would have been poetic to get their help, but the more I think about it, that would come with problems of its own. If the Crown investigates the trail would lead back there, and it might risk people getting tortured. Besides, Graves will lie and tell people he’s from Pads, and he knows enough about the place to fake it. But the wagon’s not really from there and everyone there is ignorant of our ruse.”

“Yeah, and I trust the gribbits more than I do those peasants, desu,” Kayin threw in. “Less chance of the froggies selling us out for a handful of turnips.”

“I’m sure the peasants of Pads wouldn’t do that,” Cecelia said.

“Look at it this way, we’re taking the gribbits’ food, and not theirs, so we’re not tempting them to do so either way.” Garon added. “And whoa, that better be Graves.”

They turned to see a withered hand groping out of the darkness, questing around, and poking the various items they’d dragged in as cover. “It is,” said Threadbare. He walked over, tapped its pinky finger, and stood still while it drew him out.

Threadbare found himself drawn into a dingy barracks room, with beds lining the chamber, open footlockers sitting empty, and narrow slits in the walls letting in sunlight. The wooden floor was grubby, and many of the blankets were stained. But the walls were solid stone, and it was empty enough for their purposes. Graves put Threadbare down, and reached into the pack for another toy.

Threadbare took a long look around, then turned back to Graves. “Did everything go-“

BOOM!

The room shook, from the explosion. The noise was loud, close, and it was all Threadbare could do to not leap under the bed and take cover.

“What.” He said, when the stuffing between his ears stopped throbbing, “was that?”

“Siege cannons,” Graves said, drawing Cecelia out, then following up with the rest of the toys.

“Siege cannons? Oh, good!” Cecelia smiled. “Well, maybe. Shipments are going to be delayed, but there won’t be as many eyes watching for us.”

“What is a siege cannon?” Threadbare asked, rubbing his temples so hard that he smushed his head in a bit.

“We’re in the western block?” Cecelia asked Graves.

“Yes. Above the infirmary.”

“Come look.” She hopped off the bed and beckoned Threadbare to one of the arrow slits, then lifted him up so he could see clearly.

Threadbare looked down into a vast, curving courtyard, partitioned by smaller walls, each of them with patrolled ramparts and guards, most now clustered on the outer walls. Wagons and groups of busy men, hauling around crates and barrels and other supplies, filled the courtyard directly below, moving into a main building about twelve times the size of Caradon’s old house. From that main building stone wings spilled off, winding their way around inside the walls of the vast Fortress. They were in one such wing, he realized, about three stories up from the ground floor.

And in among the wings, breaking part of his view up, were great stone towers, five of them, each with a massive gleaming dome of bronze topping them. From each dome a black metal cylinder protruded, smoke rising from them in gouts and billows. As he watched, gears ground on the side of one bronze dome, and the cylinder started to retract.

“Do you see them?”

“I think so. You mean the big things up on the towers?”

“Yes. They can drop shells full of gas or geek’s fire or anything else the alchemists whip up, anywhere in Brokeshale valley. So long as we-the Crown, I mean, can keep the battlefield confined there, keep the dwarves from breaking out, we can shoot at them whenever they surface.”

“Dwarves prefer fighting underground,” Graves added, drawing out Kayin and putting her next to Zuula, who was already clambering down the bedpost. “But occasionally they launch a raid, cracking open a tunnel and assaulting the lines. When that happens, the guns-”

BOOM!

The room shook, and Threadbare fell off Celia’s shoulders. “Sorry, could you?” He asked.

“What?”

But she didn’t protest as he climbed back up on her shoulders again, and peered out. One of the other cannon had erupted in smoke and flames, and as he watched black clouds poured upward from its dome.

“I heard about those!” Garon said, coming over and hoisting himself up. “Took years to build, even with the best tinkers the Crown has working on it.”

“Yes, I studied them.” Cecelia threw in. “But since they’re firing, most personnel will be watching outward, and below, for surprise attacks to make sure the dwarves aren’t going to get sneaky. Which means we’ll have a little more room to sneak around.”

“Oh dear,” said Threadbare.

“Oh dear?” Glub looked at him, fishy eyes goggling. “What’s wrong with more sneaky room?”

“No, not that. There’s that Steam Knight again.”

“Oh, is one of the Steam Knights back from the front?” Cecelia added. “Which one? Fedifencer? Goliathan? Inkidoo?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the one you were driving around back at Outsmouth. You tell me what it was called.”

“What? Reason? Impossible! Garon, take him, would you?”

Garon shifted Threadbare over to his shoulders, as Cecelia clambered up, porcelain feet scrambling for purchase on the rough stone blocks of the wall.

And there below her, battered and a bit burned-looking, but still very much intact, was Reason. Its massive helm passed not ten feet below the arrow slit, giving her a very clear view of the cloth covering that no other steam knight in Cylvania had.

“Impossible! Impossible!” She said, putting her hands on her hips. Then she hastily scrambled down, as one of the guards on a distant parapet glanced her way. “That… no. Can’t be done.”

“What can’t be done?” Kayin asked.

“Steam Knight armor can only be piloted by the Steam Knight who made it. You CAN’T use another Steam Knight’s suit. The magic doesn’t work. Worst case, you botch, and the suit tries to kill you.”

“It looks like it’s not as impossible as you think it is,” Threadbare said. “Because there it goes right now. Could they have animated it?”

“No. It… animating things willy-nilly on them is dangerous. You need the right spells and sequence, and only steam knights get those. I… suppose someone could have completely taken the suit apart and reassembled it, but that would take a month, even for a top-tier tinker. It hasn’t even been half that. And I don’t know any top-tier tinkers who could be spared for that.” Cecelia frowned. “Something’s going on here.”

“It went through a big portcullis in the eastern wall,” Threadbare said, then hopped down from Garon’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“That’ll be the machine bay.” Cecelia sighed and rubbed her chin, ceramic rasping on ceramic. She glanced around at the assorted doll haunters, golems, and very worried necromancer. “Graves, how secure are we here?”

“The fish were an out-of-cycle shipment, they told me. I get to spend the night here, then it’s off with the wagon tomorrow at dawn. I’ve been here an hour and no one else has come by, so it’s probably pretty safe here.”

“No problems getting in the gate?”

“No, though they did wonder why so many fish were coming from Paws. There’s no big bodies of water down there. I told them that a bunch of fishermen had passed through and traded for stuff, but the village found the fish not to their taste. That got some picky peasant jokes tossed my way.” He shrugged. “They checked the barrels and decided not to turn down free food. The only problem is that I don’t know where they’ve taken Madeline’s barrel. They wouldn’t tell me.”

“That’s a problem. But it’s a problem we anticipated,” Threadbare said. “Garon? Time for a King’s Quest.”

He sent the details across. It was very simple, when all was said and done, as was the monetary reward. Just enough to synergize with Garon’s mercenary skills.

“Find Madeline, huh? Works for me.” The minotaur grinned. “Sure, I’ll Do the Job. And Follow the Dotted Line.” He glanced around, and over at the door. “Goes right out the door. One minute.”

He hoisted himself up to the window again.

BOOM!

The toys waited for the explosion to fade, and Garon dropped down, spoke a few times until he was sure they could hear. “…Testing, testing… yeah, okay. The line doesn’t cross the courtyard, so I can probably get to her without going outside. Piece of… No wait, hold on. I have something I need to do. I need to talk to Mastoya.”

“Can you do dat, bring her here, and den go talk to Mastoya?”

“Mmm… bad idea.” He held up a pouch, and jingled it. “I only have so many of the enchanted camouflage beads. I don’t know how many it’ll take to get to Madeline.”

“How about this?” Cecelia asked, coming out of a long rumination. “We split into two groups. One group goes and gets Madeline loose and raids the General’s office. Garon, you go with that group so you can hang behind there and talk with Mastoya. Glub, you go with that group so you can give Madeline a waystone. You Waymark this room, and everyone Waystones back here when they’re done. Including you, Garon, if the talk doesn’t go so well. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll lead the other group. We’ll go see if I can get reason back.”

The toys would have blinked if they could. Graves did blink. “With all due respect, Captain-”

“I’m not your Captain anymore. But I am a Steam Knight, and if I can get Reason back, I can beat feet all the way to the front, with everyone safely inside the cockpit.”

Garon shook his head. “And the guns firing on the rogue Steam Knight every few-“

BOOM!

“-thank you dramatic irony, for making my point.”

“No, they can’t target anything as small as Steam Knight armor,” Cecelia shook her head. “Besides, the shells are hollow, used for gas and alchemical dispersion. Reason could take a near hit, no problem.”

“And what if they call in the Hand to deal with you?” Kayin pointed out.

“It’d be overkill. I don’t see why. Besides, they’re probably busy with whatever assault the dwarves just launched.”

“Zuula tink dis be bad idea.”

“Look. I’m…” Cecelia raised her hands, and smoothed down her green dress, fingers shaking with agitation. “I’m not stupid. I know it’s a long shot. But I at least want to go and see if it’s possible. If it’s not, then we’ll wait for you guys to check the ledgers, and pick a shipment to put us in. Then we’ll see about getting over with that convoy’s goods.”

“And assigning me as a driver,” Graves said. “I’m guessing I’ll wait in here until you all send word?”

Threadbare nodded. “I think this is close enough to the original plan. It should be dark soon. Who wants to go with which group?”

“You’ll need someone who knows where the commander’s office is, Garon,” Kayin slid over to join the tiny minotaur.

“Zuula don’t want to get nowhere near Mastoya. Not go well for anyone if she see me,” said the plush shaman, trudging over to plop down next to Cecelia.

“I got to go with you to give Madeline a waystone, right?” Glub said, holding up a hand to Garon. “High five, team sneaky!”

“Um…” Said Fluffbear, looking back and forth between Cecelia, then Garon. “You said she was a cleric?”

“Yeah, of the goddess of war.”

“I’m a cleric too. Maybe I can help you talk with her.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“I’ll pray once we get there and ask Yorgum about it. If he says it’s a bad idea I’ll leave with the others.”

BOOM!

The doll haunters and golems were starting to get used to the thunderous shots, by now. They simply waited half a minute, then Garon resumed. “All right, just make sure you’re ready to use that waystone the second things go south. Because they might.”

“That leaves me with you,’ Threadbare said, patting Cecelia’s shoulder. “You’ll need a scout to whisper to the others, just in case.”

“And I’ve got the easy job,” Graves said, reaching into the pack and pulling things out, one by one. He nearly dropped the barrel of fish, before the others went to help.

“Why empty it?” Threadbare wondered. “Oh. It’s going to burst at some point when Madeline’s spell wears off, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And also… ha!” Graves said, as they hauled out the crate of soulstones. “I’ll need to keep them company. And it gives me access to a hell of a lot of skills if I need to borrow anything. Like oh, that wind’s whisper thing so I can call you for help if something goes wrong here. Because it might. There are so, so many ways everything could go wrong, here.”

“Yes,” said Threadbare. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, man,” said Glub. “Savin’ the world, right?”

“The Kingdom, anyway,” Cecelia said. “And he’s got a point. If we don’t take the risks, other people have to. And we’ve got a backup plan if we die. Again.”

“Might I remind you that I never took my last decree down?” Threadbare pointed out, and they chuckled.

For yeah, they had all pledged to the little bear, to be his subjects and reap the bounty of his Noblesse Oblige. And there on their status screens, the simple message remained –

“Nobody die. Again.”

“Almost dark,” Garon said, glancing toward the window. “No better time. Glub?”

“Create Waymark. Create Waystone, Create Waystone, Create Waystone…” The fishmen solemnly handed out the weirdly-marked rocks that appeared with each chant.

“All right.” Garon sighed. “We’ve got one shot at this. Let’s make it-“

BOOM!

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

ADJUST WEIGHT Level: 10 Cost: 20 Sta Duration: 1 minute per skill level.
You may adjust your weight upward or downward, increasing or decreasing it by a percentage based upon your model level, or any point in between. Your body will get thinner or fatter as you do so. Getting too heavy will debuff your agility. Getting too light will debuff your strength.

SEXY POSE Level: 10 Cost: 20 Sta Duration: 1 minute per model level.
Buffs your charisma, but only applies when dealing with people who are capable of being sexually attracted to you. Only one pose may be active at a time.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 139 Hit Points: 332(432) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275(389) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 209 Moxie: 329(458) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 125 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(324) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 43 (+14)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 34
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 16

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 26
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 14
Noblesse Oblige - Level 30
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 10
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 53(68)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 3
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 20
Makeup - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 20
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 15
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 19
Parry - Level 10
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 29 (Brawling +14)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 32
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 27
Program Golem - Level 42
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

You’re Fired 2

Fort Bronze never slept.

The pinnacle of the Crown’s might, the coordinating headquarters of its most grueling war, hummed with activity at all hours. The Siege Cannon never stopped firing, shaking the walls with each discharge, and the stone chips littering the halls that Threadbare passed through seemed to suggest that this was a regular thing.

Not that he had much time to study them. One of his eyes was currently synched up to a small cloth mouse, that he’d animated and kept behind them, watching out for trouble or oncoming traffic. Celia had her own mouse animi up ahead of the group, since she was more skilled with the trick.

Zuula, for the most part, slunk along and tried to be patient with the slow pace. Five levels ago it would have been impossible, but shamans got wisdom, and it made all the difference.

And luck, too, which helped out immensely when people passed by, and the three golems had to scramble for cover. But whenever there was no cover they could reach in time, the toys had to dip into their stock of camouflage beads… all save for Threadbare, who could use the skill with a single soft word.

And use it he did. They passed through two guard posts, and at the second one, Threadbare had to pick up Cecelia and run for it. Although they’d made her cloth slippers to muffle her ceramic footsteps, she just didn’t have much stealth skill at all, and agility was a secondary concern to her, now that she didn’t have access to her scout levels.

Finally, they reached the machine bay. Blocked of by a metal grille, the space between the crosshatched bars was easy enough to squirm through. Threadbare winced as his head smushed through, deforming a bit. The smarter he got, the more uncomfy that was. He didn’t exactly have brains, he didn’t think, but form seemed to follow function and he wasn’t sure if he could survive decapitation. It seemed best to leave that as an unanswered question.

With his good eye, he saw Cecelia bend down and scoop up her mouse animi, tucking it into the pocket of her dress. “I’ll need both eyes for this,” she whispered, staring around at the piles of junk, and racks full of tools scattered haphazardly around.

No one else was visible in the vast, open bay. Chains hung silently, with bits of war machines, geared contraptions, and spare steam knight parts arranged in separate lots, separated by chalk lines on the floor and portable barricades.

“What dose for?” Zuula said, wandering over to a barricade and nudging it. Basically several slabs of metal on wheels, it was solid enough that she could barely move it, even with her fairly-good strength. Compared to a human, it’d be about chest height. For the doll haunters and Threadbare, they were huge barriers that thankfully weren’t in the way right now.

Cecelia kept her voice to a whisper. “Those are for dangerous projects and devices. The Tinkers and Alchemists move them around as needed to partition the shop and get cover if something explodes. Please keep your voice down, we don’t want to draw guards.” The courtyard was right out THERE, just through a huge portcullis. It was lit by glowstones, and still bustling, though down to about half the passers-by that they’d seen during the daylight hours. The lighting didn’t extend to the machine bay, though, and half of it was in shadow. And there were at least four doors and a winding staircase heading up into the cannon tower above, and any of those exits could have people within earshot.

“Can you see all right?” Threadbare asked Cecelia. She didn’t have Darkspawn, like he and Zuula did.

“Yes.” She looked back to the corner, where a hulking form squatted down, arms just visible in the light from the courtyard outside. “Mostly. Hang on.” She rummaged around in a nearby workbench, pulled out a metal tube, and capped one end. Then she grabbed a screw, whispered “Glowgleam,” and dropped it into the tube before it could flash into light.

Threadbare and Zuula looked up at the spot of light on the ceiling, then down to Cecelia, who grinned. “A little trick I learned from Dad.” The grin faded. “One of the nicer ones, anyway. So long as I don’t point it to the courtyard and keep the spot out of view nobody should see it. Give me five minutes to go examine Reason.”

The half-orc plushie nodded. “Okay. Zuula go check doors, listen for trouble. Shouldn’t be-”

BOOM!

The echoes were pretty bad in here. If he’d been organic, he thought he’d have a headache by now.

“I just got a golem body level from that one,” said Cecelia, rubbing her skull as a red ’18’ drifted up. “Mend.”

“I’ll keep watch on the portcullis. And the grille.” Threadbare said, glancing around through the mouse’s dollseye. He glanced over to Zuula, but she was already gone, lost in the shadows. Of the three of them she was the most skilled at sneaking, and he supposed she could pull borrow rat skills or something to help out if she needed there. Either way she was off being Zuula in a good way, so he trusted her to keep doing that. “Be very careful, okay?”

“Absolutely.” Cecelia took one last look up at the light on the ceiling, then covered the end of the tube with her free hand, and slunk across the floor towards Reason.

She disappeared between the rows of barricades, and Threadbare hunkered down, glancing back and forth.

And a few minutes later, he heard something very close by.

CLANK.

Threadbare glanced around, and froze.

Something big was moving, back in the far corner of the shop. Moving slowly, but that was definitely a ‘clack’ as it put a foot down, and a scrape of metal on the stone floor. It looked all the world like someone very tall in very heavy armor, tiptoeing.

Maybe he hadn’t seen them? Threadbare slunk back into the shadows, ready to camouflage himself at the first opportunity.

And then he gasped, as the armored figure moved into the first edges of the light coming through the portcullis. He knew that helm. He knew that armor.

It moved up near him, glancing up at the ceiling, and Threadbare realized that it was trying to figure out where the spot of light had come from. It had been in the bay when they’d entered, and he’d mistaken it for just another war machine back with the rest of the strange contraptions.

Opportunity warred with common sense, caution with nostalgia, and Threadbare realized that he could probably take a risk here, if he took a precaution first.

“Command Golem – please whisper when talking and be generally quiet,” he told the figure-

-and instantly it was as if he’d slammed into a brick wall. The pressure was immense, as SOMETHING fought the spell, but Threadbare, initially surprised, rallied and PUSHED, using the willpower that he’d trained and boosted with level after level of caster jobs, and managed to get the command through.

WILL +1

Immediately, the figure whirled-but slowly, and with grace out of proportion to its size, taking care to remain quiet.

Behind its helm, two gems flared to glowing life, shining red. Threadbare knew those gems well. He’d seen them every morning, when he came downstairs with Celia, back in Caradon’s house.

“Hello Emmet,” he said, stepping out of the shadows. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes,” the armor golem ground, in a rasping voice that was probably as quiet as it got but still about as loud as regular conversation. “You are Threadbare. You are family.”

“Good,” sighed Threadbare, glancing back to the courtyard. Loud enough and far enough away that another discussion might not draw attention. Maybe. “So what have you been up to these last few years?”

*****

Madeline puffed in air, as her barrel shifted. Moment of truth now, she thought, with a word ready on her lips to unleash dragonfire on whoever was decanting her.

But it died unspoken, as the top half of the barrel finished unscrewing and a horned wooden head loomed over her. “You got our message?”

“Yeah.” Her neck rattled a bit as she uncoiled it, poked her head up past the rim of the barrel’s secret compartment, and nodded toward the catgirl in the back of the group. “Thanks for the whispah.”

“Shh,” Kayin said, leaning out the door, holding out a wooden palm. “Twenty seconds. Then you can come out.”

It was hard. Madeline had spent days coiled in that barrel, and though she didn’t have flesh anymore, she FELT cramped. But she waited until the catgirl switched from an open palm to a beckoning wave.

Garon helped her out, and Fluffbear cushioned her fall.

“Feels weahd to see you without Mopsy,” Madeline said.

“We left her back with Graves,” the little bear squeaked. “I’m hoping he can convince her and Pulsivar to come out of the pack before it explodes.”

The whole trip had been harrowing for the mini-cougar and Pulsivar. They’d had to share a litter box, and hadn’t THAT been fun.

“Create Waystone,” said Glub, handing her a little green rock.

“What’s this?” Madeline squinted at it.

Garon answered. “It’ll teleport you back to Graves. Please go, we’ll need the pack re-enchanted if it hasn’t blown up by now. And you’re sneaky, but you’re big, and we need to run up and get into the general’s office and that’s past three checkpoints-”

BOOM!

“What is that, anyway?” Madeline asked. “Been hearing it for a while now.”

“Look, just go, please. And Glub, go with her, okay? No offense but you’re about as sneaky as a bowl of bananas.”

“None taken, dude. What’s bananas?”

“This whole mission. Gods, nevermind. Just go, okay?” Garon glanced back at Kayin at her sudden chopping movement, as she eased the door shut. The little toys waited, until footsteps passed the door and receded. Kayin eased the door open again, peering out. “This is a heavily guarded area,” Garon continued. “All the store rooms are.”

Madeline craned her neck around, took in the floor-to-ceiling stacks of crates and barrels. “I’ll say. Hm, anything good here?”

“We don’t have time.”

She looked at him, then nodded. And came to a decision that she’d made weeks ago, just hadn’t acted on yet. Swift as an arrow, she darted forward and bumped her muzzle against his. “Good luck.”

“What?”

“Come back alive, okay Gar? Be a shitty undead existence without ya.”

“Oh. Uh.” Garon’s hand clattered to his muzzle as he realized that had been a kiss.

“So how do you use this thing?” She turned to Glub, and after a few whispered questions and answers, they dissipated as the waystones activated.

Madeline smiled, as the two of them faded in to a cold, empty barracks… empty save for a very tired-looking Graves, and two upset cats. Mopsy crouched under a far bunk, her tail sticking out and very puffed up, showing extreme displeasure. Pulsivar peered out next to her, yellow eyes gleaming with rebuke.

“Oh!” Graves said, and fumbled for his cane. “Thank goodness. Can you?” He hauled up Madeline’s pack.

“Of cawse. Pack of Holding.”

“Good. I need to rest, then I can see about getting the rest of this stuff back in.” He gestured at the dummy payload, and junk strewn about. “I could have borrowed a merchant level from our dead friends, but I don’t think any of them have the skill at a higher level than you. Most of them were pretty settled, didn’t go on many trips.”

“Why do ya need to put it back in?” Madeline shrugged her wings. “We’re in. They ain’t likely ta search us on the way out. We’ll just push it under the beds and you can just say it was heah before, if anyone asks.”

“All right, I guess that works. Mostly.” He glanced over at the very full and very stinky litter box.

“On it, dudes!” Glub started moving junk around. “Man, why are the cats-”

BOOM!

“-right, stupid question,” the fishman doll said as soon as they could hear again.

“I’ve been trying to get them back in the pack, but they won’t go,” Graves said, miserably. “Can they spare Fluffbear? You could whisper her, since you’re here now.”

“Herbie, man, you never did know much about animals, didya?” Madeline grinned. “Streetrat like you nevah had the chance, huh?”

“Hey, I like animals just fine.” Graves shrugged. “Rendered into sausage and smeared with mustard after they’re thoroughly cooked. Not my fault living ones are stubborn.”

“There’s a trick with cats. Here. Help me get the pack open an’ square it as much as possible.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

She coached him into making the pack as boxlike as possible, and sat it on the ground.

Mopsy crept out first, sniffing, then settling into it and fading from view with a surprised “Mrp!”

Pulsivar, though, was made of sterner stuff. He didn’t budge. Glub tried to convince him, and got some gentle mauling for his trouble. The bobcat was NOT happy about this place, and wanted his new hoomin to know it.

Graves watched Glub and Madline try for a bit, but after about the fourth BOOM, his head snapped up. “Trouble.”

“What?”

“Get the pack over here, we need to stow the soulstones. Ah shit… Borrow Skill, Conceal Status.” He blinked a few times, as Glub helped him manhandle the soulstone crate into the pack. “Pulsivar. We need Pulsivar in here. There’s no time!”

Someone pounded on the door.

Madeline grabbed the pack, raced under the bed, and as the cat howled in protest, shoved Pulsivar into the pack. “Get to covah!” she stage whispered at Glub, who dove into an empty footlocker and pulled it shut.

Just in time, too, as the door flew open. Graves tottered to his feet, tapping the floor with his cane. “Eh?” he warbled, in a querulous voice. “Who’s there?” As emaciated as he was, he didn’t have to fake shaking as one hand cupped his ear.

A black-robed man swept into the room, glancing around. “Deathsight. Speak with Dead.” He murmured, and Madeline pulled back under the bunk, avoiding his view as the world turned monochrome.

BOOM!

“Camouflage,” she hissed, as the cannon fired, thanking heaven that she’d gone the scout route and practiced it back in the swamps. The man stopped and knelt, peering under the bed straight at her, but didn’t seem to see her. “Hello? Is anything here?”

Behind him, she saw Graves staring down at the man, eyes wide. Wide, and full of recognition.

“Is everything all right, young man?” Graves rasped, voice creaky and doing its best to sound forty years older.

“Perhaps,” the man said. He was thickset, with mutton chops and a black moustache, greased to neat points. He had small eyes, in a broad face, and an insincere smile as he turned it upon Graves. “High Magister Arxan Arcane, I’m with the necromancer corps. I was experimenting downstairs, and caught some residual chatter from above. Tell me, old man, have you noticed any apparitions about? Free-floating? Class Threes, if you know the term?”

“No, no, I can’t say I do,” Graves said, coughing, and holding his hand in front of his face. “Just a humble farmer, sir.”

Madeline watched, as Arxan stepped toward him. “Now that’s odd. You sound a bit familiar. Why is that…”

*****

Garon sighed with relief, as the window broke, silently. He waited for Kayin to slip in through the busted pane, waited longer while she forced the window open. Then it was over and down, with Fluffbear clinging to his back, and through the open window, letting go and falling in a clattering heap to the floor.

“Four point six,” Kayin whispered, dropping her Silent Killer skill. Useful for her, since it made herself and most things she did completely noiseless, but not so good for Garon.

Garon didn’t answer. He froze, listening, and holding his breath. He’d made noise, and this office was guarded.

“Relax. Two triple thick doors between here and the guards,” Kayin said, easing the window back down, half an inch at a time. “We need to avoid shouting, but a little noise will get lost in the-”

BOOM!

Garon rose, looking around the room that his sister had spent years in. Cold, Spartan, with weapons on the walls and a fireplace that looked barely used. She always did like it cold. The few tables in the place were cluttered with plans and diagrams, and little wooden figures of royal troops lay scattered in among pewter dwarves, with a few three-inch-tall steam knight miniatures looming among the fray.

“Mom should just let you have those dolls,” Garon said, finally. “Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

“Where’s the ledgers?” Fluffbear squeaked.

“They’ll be in her desk, probably. That’s sensitive information,” Kayin said. “I think. Still got a head that’s kind of like jelly, desu. At least scout helped with that a little.”

“It’s all right,” Garon said shooting a glance at the main door, then at the smaller door on an adjacent wall. “Where’s that one go?”

“Beats me, but it’s quiet in there,” said Kayin. “Private bathroom, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Garon said, uncertainly. “But she’s never been much on luxuries. Not when I knew her, anyway.”

“People change, maybe,” Kayin said, poking around the desk, before hauling out a set of tiny lockpicks. “Wow, this is a lot easier with tiny hands. Give me five minutes, and-”

“And you’ll do what?” Said Mastoya, opening the side door.

The toys froze.

Mastoya lowered the sword in her hand and squinted down at the two wooden dolls and the tiny, armored bear. She blinked twice, glanced back to the small bed that filled most of the cramped bedroom. “Am I dreaming?”

BOOM!

“No,” she said, eyes unwavering as she snapped her gaze back to the intruders. “No I’m not dreaming. Always In Uniform. Shield of Divinity. Holy Smi-”

“Heya Nasty Masty,” Garon said, swaggering up, hands on his hips. “You forgiven me for putting mud in your hair yet?”

The buff died on Mastoya’s lips, as her eyes went wide, white against her green skin. “Garon?”

“Yeah. Can we talk?”

“What the hell is this? What the shitting hell is this?” She whispered, the sword dropping to point at the ground. With her free hand she tucked her nightgown closer around her. It was pink, with ruffles, Garon noticed, and he smiled to see it. Yeah, it’s still her. I’ve got a shot.

“It’s… a little weird.” He jumped, pulled himself up onto her desk. “I hear you’re drinking now.”

BOOM!

As the echoes faded Mastoya moved in, grabbing a ring of keys off a nail on the door as she did so, and settled in at her desk, giving Fluffbear and Kayin hard stares until they backed off. Unlocking a drawer, she reached in and pulled out a bottle, then two cups. She poured a shot for herself, slugged it back, then poured another. Then she tilted the bottle over his cup, and hesitated, glancing at him.

“We all got stomach cavities put in so we can drink. Doesn’t do anything, but hey.” Garon thought it best not to tell her it was Cecelia’s idea, so they didn’t offend the dwarves if the issue came up.

She poured him a shot and he picked it up carefully, sipped it carefully. “Whoo, that’s some varnish gone,” he lisped, and twisted his tongue to wring the alcohol from the cloth. “Your throat must have more holes in it than cheese.”

“My original question stands. What. The shitting hell. Is this?” Mastoya said again.

“Basically I got a second chance at life, sort of. I’m a ghost haunting a golem.”

She digested it for a bit, then swallowed. “So I did kill you.”

“That’s where it gets weird. No, you didn’t kill me. A vampire came across me while I was bleeding out and turned me. Then an old friend showed up, and I died as a vampire, and he helped stuff me in a golem shell when I asked him nicely.”

“And you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you do or not, sis. It’s me either way. I’m just here to tell you it’s fine.”

“What… this?” She waved a hand at him, and took another shot. “Because from where I’m sitting that looks like some sort of tortured existence as some other guy’s pet monster.”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He’s pretty cool. Seriously, great guy. But also that’s not what’s fine. What’s fine, is that I’m fine with you attacking me when you were killing Mom.”

She slammed the shot glass down on the table, so hard that it cracked. Kayin winced, and shot a glance toward the door.

“Fuck. I’m muddling this, aren’t I?” Garon asked. “Shit. I’m sorry. I just…” he sat there, staring into the cup she’d given him. “I needed to tell you that. I forgive you, okay? It was the rage, not you, and-”

And then her arms were around him, the sword clattering to the ground, as High Knight Mastoya, Western General Mastoya, the badass mother to her men and hammer of the Crown was hugging Garon to her chest and bawling heavy, racking sobs.

“Ma’am?” A voice said, muffled through the outer door. A gauntleted hand knocked, and Kayin and Fluffbear looked at each other, spread out to either side-

“Go away! It’s fine!” Mastoya yelled.

BOOM!

And Garon relaxed into her arms, and hugged her back. Maybe this will work. Just maybe.

Finally, she put him down, and mopped the snot from her crooked nose with one sweep of a fluffy pink sleeve. “This guy who brought you back, is he around?” She looked over at Kayin and Fluffbear. “Gonna assume you’re dead people too.”

“I’m not!” Fluffbear squeaked, and Mastoya giggle-snorted in surprise at the sound of her voice. Fluffbear’s adorable level rose accordingly.

“I am, desu,” Kayin said, shrugging. “And he’s not around right now. We’re here because of Garon. He needed to talk with you.”

“Yeah. My… savior? Huh. Weird, but I guess he is. He’s busy.” And hopefully things are going as well on his end of things, Garon thought.

*****

“These past few years,” Cecelia heard Emmet rumble, and nearly lost her footing on the crates she’d stacked together as she jumped in surprise. She knew that voice well!

Sure enough, a backward glance showed the old familiar armored form, half visible in the light coming in from the portcullis. Right about where Threadbare was.

“Yes,” she could just make out the tiny bear’s voice in the darkness. “The last time I saw you, everything was on fire and you were falling over a bannister. Well, through it, I suppose. It was rather flimsy to you I think.”

“I was. Then there were soldiers, and I fought them. But then King Melos was there, and I could not fight him, for he was stronger than I. And he took me back to Castle Cylvania.”

“I see. I was stuck under a lot of rubble for a few years. Then I got out and found my old friends and made some new ones and now I am here.”

Oh Threadbare. Cecelia palmed her face with her free hand. Then she shook her head, and looked up at the boxes. She had a job to do, and he was… buying her time? Having an innocent conversation? Hard to say.

Emmet. Emmet was a surprise. She’d never thought to ask after him, assumed he was sitting deactivated in a storeroom somewhere. But here he was, talking, and his words sounded an awful lot like he was smart now, too. Another Greater Golem… She thought, as she scrambled up the boxes.

And then she was hopping off the last box, and scrambling up Reason.

“I was not done,” said Emmet. “He told me of my destiny and personally took me through many dungeons. I fought many foes at his side, and learned to become strong. Even though I must pretend to be stupid, and follow Anise Layd’i around and obey her commands, I am smart, too.”

“Anise Layd’i. Is she about? That could be trouble,” Threadbare said.

“She is in the Fortress somewhere. Speaking with the Hand. And Princess Cecelia.”

Cecelia froze.

What?

BOOM!

Once the echoes faded, the little bear continued. “Princess Cecelia? Are you sure?” Threadbare asked.

“I am sure. I was awaiting here as ordered when she came in her Steam Knight suit which is strong but not as strong as me. She came out, and Anise bowed to her and smiled in a way that should have been pleasant but I thought seemed unpleasant.”

“And you are certain it was her?”

“I have seen her face, her armor, heard her voice many times before. King Melos told me I must guard her with my life and do as she instructs, even if Anise Layd’I does not want me to. And that was Princess Cecelia.”

Cecelia felt a sick premonition welling up in her gut. She remembered rumors, barracks whispers, and old tales.

Old tales about daemons, and what they could do with people.

But I’m here! My soul is here in my new body, right? Sick to her stomach, she scrambled back to the hatch, and wrapped her fingers around the handle.

“Oh. That’s strange. I saw Anise Layd’I kill her.” Threadbare said.

Metal shrieked, as Emmet stirred, restless. “Impossible. That would be treason.”

“And yet she did.”

Cecelia’s hands shook, and she pushed hesitation aside, and twisted at the handle, got it half open…

And then her eyes opened wide, as something inside twisted back. The handle ground shut again.

“You are fooled or lying. I am a representative of the Crown. It is treason to lie to me,” Emmet ground out, and there was a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I think Anise Layd’I has been fooling a lot of people,” said Threadbare.

“And she has told me that is what traitors would say. Are you a traitor to the Crown?”

“No,” Threadbare said after some consideration. “But the King killed Caradon, you know.”

“Caradon?”

“The old man who made us.”

BOOM!

Cecelia closed her eyes, let the old sorrow wash over her, to be replaced with new resolve.

Reason was hers, dammit! And since Reason was dormant, she had a trump card.

“Animus!” She whispered, touching the hatch. “Invite door!” And then she gave it a sharp tug, putting her will into the animi as she did so, and it sprang open-

-as flesh tore, and a spray of blood hit her face.

Something inside screamed, louder than any steam. She staggered back, got the glowgleam rod up, and shined it in…

In to a mass of writhing tentacles, and wires, and nonsensical gears, and glowing sigils, that she’d never seen before. Eyeless faces sobbed at her, as the thing that filled Reason like a hermit crab filled its shell, whined and shrieked over the tendrils that she’d torn free with the hatch, and lashed out after her.

She fell off Reason, hitting the ground, feeling her body crack a bit, as a red ‘34’ floated up.

“What?” Emmet said, voice gaining volume as he rose. “No! I must guard Reason!”

The hatch slammed shut, and gears groaned, as Reason stirred, rising in jerky motion, turning toward Cecelia as she crawled backward, and watched the parasite-filled mecha up its massive blade.

Reason needed no guards, as it turned out.

Not that it was Reason, any more. No, they were far, far past reason here, Cecelia realized…

*****

“So you’re Graves’ old man,” Arxus smiled, as he paced around the barracks, looking over the junk scattered hither and yon. “I hear he turned traitor.”

“I wouldn’t know. He don’t exactly call home no more.” Graves said. “Ran away to the big city cause he was too good for pickin’ beets the rest of his life.”

The necromancer chuckled as he nudged the overfull catbox with his toe. “Looks like someone’s been keeping pets against the rules. Sorry for the mess. It was here when you got here I suppose?”

“Yes. Eh, it don’t smell worse than the barn on a hot day. I reckon.”

Gods, he was laying it on thick. Madeline kept her camouflage going, feeling the sanity drain.

“Well, it’s no worry,” said Arxus. “The Crown makes war on traitors not their relatives. So you were bringing supplies in?”

“Yessir. Bunch of fishermen came through Pads and traded for stuff. We’re simple farm folk and fish disagrees with us so we decided to tithe it to tha troops.”

“How patriotic. You know, I’m from Riversend, myself. My folks weren’t peasants, but they weren’t far from it, and I don’t ever recall knowing any peasants who would give up food.”

Graves shrugged, uncomfy. “Well, I didn’t make the choice. New Alderman’s a shit, probably wanted to kiss up to the Crown.”

“New Alderman?”

“Baron down there went bad. Royal Knights rooted him out. Put in an Alderman in his place.”

“Oh? See, that’s interesting. Because I heard that my old colleague Graves was one of those royal knights who did that, back before he went traitor.”

BOOM.

Madeline studied Graves’ face. He was sweating, and using the time to think, she could tell. But if she could tell, she rather thought Arxus could, too.

“Yeah. I did talk to my son after he did that,” Graves said, bowing his head. “Didn’t want to mention it to ya because he went traitor a few weeks after.”

“Mm. I know why you’re here.” Arxus said.

“You do?”

Madeline shifted slowly, slowly under the bed, angling for a good pounce.

“You’re here looking for news of your son.”

She relaxed a bit.

“I am,” Graves admitted. “Do you know anything?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’d tell you if I did. He thought he was better than us. Felt bad about the soulstone archives. Kept asking questions about where the bodies came from.” Arxus chuckled, an oily sound. “First rule of the necromancer corps, you never ask about that. He thought he was above that rule. Better than us. But we got him back.”

“Did you?” Graves asked, and there was something in his voice, something that Madeline had never heard from the cool, collected necromancer she’d come to like.

“Oh yes. His fiancée came back from the front, dead. One of MY friends had a contact in the morgue. Guess which body we had shipped over for training, when Wight day came?”

“You did,” Graves said, forgetting to put the quaver of old age in his tone. There was a quaver there all right, but it wasn’t from age.

“And guess which trainee ended up with her body, staring up at him, when he pulled the sheet off?” Arxus said, sneering.

“You son of a bitch,” Graves said, standing.

“Hello, Bertie,” sneered Arxus, whipping a wand from a holster, and pointing it straight at him. “How’s tricks?”

BOOM!

“Chomp!” Madeline lunged. Arxus screamed as Madeline’s fangs went into his calf. The wand fired and black energy went wild, and Graves shouted words that were lost in the thunder of the cannon, as red life burst from Arxus and flowed into him. Over and over again he stomped forward, pounding his cane on the ground, shouting until the echoes of the cannon faded and Arxus was a shrivelled husk on the floor. “-Life! Drain Life! Drain Life!”

“Stop!” Madeline howled, crashing into him, and sending him off balance.

“You jackass!” Howled a spectral voice, and both of them whipped their heads around to see Arxus’ spirit, standing over his corpse. “You are so fucked!” And then he dove through the floor.

“He’ll get help,” Graves said, and from outside, down the corridor, shouts were already starting to rise. “I’m sorry. I’m…”

“Glub!” Yelled Madeline, grabbing up her pack. “Get ready to move!”

Wind’s Whisper Threadbare, she thought. “We’re made! Need an escape route!”

And then it was Garon’s turn…

*****

“She hated me,” Mastoya said, slurring her words. The second bottle crashed to the floor, empty, as she fumbled for it. “Nuts. That’s alcohol abuse, it is.”

“She didn’t hate you,” Garon said. “She loved you, she was just awful at showing it.”

“No. It was… it would have been fine, I guess, if it was just us, y’know? But she let Dad take me into th’ town to play. An’ I had friends. An’…” Mastoya slumped back in her chair. “An’ they got to play with dolls, and wear pretty dresses, an’… but not me. Not Nasty Masty. Had to wear furs and loincloths, an’ get my ears pierced early even though it hurt, and fight off the rats she called to eat me. The rats. Garon. She tried to eat me. With rats.”

“Yeah. We, uh, we got her to stop doing that after they nearly got Jarrik that one time.”

“I… shit. And Dad… what’s he do? He like acted all supportive and stuff, but whenever it was him ‘gainst her he’d crumble. Weak. Just… good man. She didn’t deserve, him, him. Hm?” She reached for the bottle, found nothing there. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Listen, do you believe me? Believe what I said about what Anise is doing?”

“Oh yeah. She’s a shit. Thing is…” Mastoya chortled. “The King is strong. He’s just… just giving her rope. He needs’er now. Needs’er till the dwarvesr dead. Then she’s nexx, nexp on the chokking blopp.”

“But what if she’s not? What if she’s playing him? From what you told me about Taylor’s Delve, it sounds like SHE was giving the order to scrub it.”

“You. You have no idea how much that hurt, Gar.” Mastoya said, staring at her hands. “My ol’ friends? Gone. Dead. But… it was… final test. It was what I had to do, to finish HER. To move on from ‘th past. In the end… Anise, the King… in the end it was gonna happen. An’ if I didn’t, then someone else would. So why shoodn’t I benefit from it?”

He opened his mouth…

…and Fluffbear squeaked up. “Because it’s wrong. It doesn’t matter who ordered it, it’s wrong either way. Killing innocents is never okay.”

“Yeah, well, Ritaxis don’t care. War hhappens,” Mastoya said, glaring at her.

“That’s bull hockey! Those were the people you were fighting to protect! What good is a war if you kill your own people? That’s worse than losing!”

“Wash your mouth, li’l bear!”

“You’ll never be a paladin that way!”

“Psh, what’d you know ovvit. Ain’t no paladins no-”

“Clarifying Aura!” said the little bear, and the office filled with light as she glowed, holy radiance easing in and around the toys and the drunken half-orc.

BOOM!

“There are,” Fluffbear said, as the echoes faded. Her aura did its thing, buffing mental fortitude and restoring sanity, bit by bit. “And I am one. And I tell you now, there’s good ways to wage war, but the ends never, ever, ever justify the means.”

Mastoya looked at her, mouth opening and closing.

And Garon stiffened, as Madeline’s message screamed in his ear. “Oh hell. Look, Mastoya… this isn’t right. You know it. At the heart of it, you haven’t changed!” He said, the words tumbling, coming faster. “You’re still my sister, you still don’t deserve the crap you go through, and you still want to be an awesome paladin! You can! Come with us! We’re fixing things! We’re putting it right! Come with us and help!”

Mastoya looked at him. Then she stood, wobbling. “Gar…” She sighed, and put her hand to her head, rubbing the crewcut black hair, and the scars under it. “Curative.” She said, and instantly straightened up, cold sober. “Innocents. Good men. Yeah. Thing is… I’m commanding a lot of’em. Not all innocents, but…” She moved around to where she’d put her sword, and picked it up. “They’re relying on ME.”

“Masty… don’t do this…”

“They swore to the Crown, but they’re my family now, Gar. The one I chose. And if I turned? I could never look them in the eye again. Yeah, I killed my mother, and it didn’t help like I thought it would. I just felt bad. I killed you too and I’m sorry, and I can never make that up to you. But them? They’re my redemption. They’re the one good thing I did, the one thing I tried that hasn’t turned to shit. They TRUST me. They know I’ll have their back. Just as I know they’ll have mine.” She sighed. “Holy Smite. Divine Conduit!” She said, and light burst from her, eyes erupting with holy glow, as a halo formed around her head, and she raised the shining golden sword high.

“Now surrender, Garon,” She said, in a voice that reverberated like thunder. “I don’t want to have to kill you a second time.”

And then Reason screamed, and all hell broke loose.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 139 Hit Points: 332(432) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275() Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 210 Moxie: 330(459) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 125 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(324) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 43 (+14)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 8
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 31
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 26
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 16

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 26
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 19

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 14
Noblesse Oblige - Level 30
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 10
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 13
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 53(68)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 3
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 20
Makeup - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 20
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 15
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 19
Parry - Level 10
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 29 (Brawling +14) Animator Skills Animus - Level 35
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 26
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 32
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 11
Mend Golem - Level 27
Program Golem - Level 42
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

You’re Fired 3

Long and high, like some sort of undersea crustacean thrown in a fire, Reason screamed, and the wail tore out of the machine bay, breaking the silence between cannon shots. And like everyone else in the fort, Mastoya’s head whipped around toward the window.

“A distraction!” She assumed, turning back toward Garon and the toys…

…to find an empty office, and dissipating green flickers, as the golems’ waystones did their work.

Garon materialized at the foot of the bed…

…which was no longer there. Graves was rummaging inside the pack, pulling out different soulstones, looking for the right one. Glub and Madeline were shoving the bed, along with a few others, in front of the only door out.

From beyond the makeshift barricade, the group could clearly hear approaching metal-shod feet.

BOOM!

For a bit, anyway. Reason might be wailing, but the guns weren’t stopping.

“Threadbare’s not answering!” Madeline shouted.

Garon thought quickly. “Trouble. He’ll need our help and we can’t stay here.”

“I’m sorry,” Graves said. “I fucked up.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Glub insisted. “Dude had it out for you. Speaking of that, here.” The fishman grabbed the withered corpse on the floor, jumped up, and slam-dunked it into the pack. Graves nearly dropped the pack, and cursed.

“What the heck?” Fluffbear squeaked.

“Evil dude. Magic items. Search later,” Glub summed up, then went back to building the barricade. There was hammering against the door now, and angry voices.

Garon growled low in his throat. “Right. Graves, Madeline, get in my party.” He threw invites, then he threw a quest.

“Follow you?” Madeline said.

“Yep. That simple. Do the Job. Organize minions to follow me!” He pointed at the barricade, and the door slamming against it repeatedly, as the guards battered against the recalcitrant portal. “Burninate that, buy us some time.”

“Bahninate!” Madeline yelled, and then there was fire. Glub screamed and jumped clear, barely.

“Dude! Warn a bro first!”

The angry shouts outside turned to panicked shouts, and Garon nodded, pointed to the window. “Out we go. We get to Threadbare as fast as possible.”

“We’re four stories up, give or take!” Graves said, and gestured at his withered arms. “I can’t climb!”

“Fff… can you fit in the pack?”

“No,” Graves said, sparing it a glance. “It’s just a bit too small. Pulsivar barely got in there.”

“I could adjust it with tailoring.” Fluffbear offered.

Graves coughed, as the smoke from the burning beds started filling the room.

“No,” Madeline snapped. “Can’t alter the pack when it’s enchanted or it’ll lose the magic. No way weah getting the cats back in now if they get out!”

“Okay. Waystone shenanigans with Graves, would they work? Get clear, make a waymark somewhere else, and get him a waystone?” He looked to Glub.

“Dude, those things cost fortune. I’m low. And we’d still have to get him the waystone, how are we gonna do that?”

“Shit.” Garon hopped up, looked out the window. The courtyard below was distracted, with civilians getting clear and armored men advancing on the portcullis of the machine bay. A flash of metal, then the portcullis groaned and bent outward, as something heavy slammed against it.

“I have a different idea,” Said Graves, coughing. “Fluffbear, can you quickly sew me a pair of gloves? Garon, please kick me out of the party.”

A minute later, Graves was coughing helplessly, unable to move a muscle as he cleared his lungs of smoke.

But he didn’t have to move his muscles, because he was an animator, and his gloves, shoes, pants, and tunic were all animated. moving on their own they climbed him down the wall with slow and careful grace.

Garon watched as a few fleeing civilians paused, then came over to help, offering him hands and helping him down once he got to the courtyard. He pointed up to the window, which now had smoke oozing out of it, and Garon ducked. “We’re good! He can blend in with the crowd. Madeline, you ready?”

“Get ahn!” She said, just as the door sizzled and burned to nothing in the space of a second. A bare female hand pushed through the ashes where a door had been, and a beautiful woman wearing a diaphanous red halter top and harem pants pushed through the barricade contemptuously, black eyes narrowed behind her red domino mask…

…just in time to see a small wooden dragon with its back full of toys go careening out the window.

The creature who the whole land knew as the fourth member of the Hand, called only “The Cataclysm”, sighed and turned her attention to extinguishing the flames. Really, calling her in here had been like asking a sledgehammer to crush a cockroach.

As to the culprits who had fled, well, she’d leave them to her colleagues. That should be more than enough to take care of the matter.

*****

Reason screamed, the sound filling the machine bay with the shrieks of the damned, and Cecelia ran for cover.

“Cecelia!” Threadbare shouted, staring as the great Steam Knight suit rose, and started stabbing its sword into the piles of junk around it. “No!”

“Cecelia?” Emmet rumbled, loudly this time, voice rising as he managed to shake off the command keeping him quiet. “She is here?”

“Yes!” Threadbare said, running toward the Steam Knight…

…which turned.

Yellow light glimmered inside its helm, and tendrils poked out, slimy tendrils, with glowing orbs like eyes, that trained down upon the little bear as he smacked his scepter on the moving barricades. “Hi! Over here!” He called. “I challenge you! Er, Guard Stance!”

Your Challenge skill is now level 10!

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 20!

But as he did, there were heavy footsteps behind him.

“No!” Emmet said. “I must guard Reason!”

“That’s not Reason!” Cecelia wailed, as the massive machine turned from her, and glared its eyestalks down at Threadbare. “There’s a monster in it!”

She slowed, as Emmet stared at her, gems glittering under its helm. “You… are Cecelia!”

“Yes!”

WHAM! Threadbare twisted desperately to the side as Reason shuffled toward him, and tried to kick the little bear. It missed, barely-

Your Dodge skill is now level 9!

I don’t have nearly the skill to keep doing that, Threadbare knew. So he ran past a row of barricades, slapping them with his paw. “Animus Animus Animus Animus, invite barricades 1 through four, get that thing,” he said, calming a bit now that Cecelia was out of danger.

Your animus skill is now level 36!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 27!

The heavy barricades rolled on their sturdy wheels, slamming into Reason’s legs as it stepped back, surprised.

“What has happened to you?” Emmet said, gazing upon the little porcelain doll. “You are smaller and not armored!”

BOOM!

“It’s a long story and we don’t have-”

WHAM! Reason brought its wrecker blade down on an animated barricade, splitting it asunder, and sending a red ‘303’ up into the air. Then it turned to the rest of the barricades, and drew back the ten-foot-long sword for a wide sweep. Hastily Threadbare directed them to scatter, but Reason just turned toward Threadbare, lunging forward and sending more barricades into the air, chopping through chains and resting siege engines alike as it tried to skewer the little bear.

“I command you to kill the monster inside Reason!” Cecelia shouted, desperation making her voice squeak as its strings stressed to their limit.

“All right,” Emmet decided. “I can do that.”

On anyone else it would be a boast. But there was nothing boastful in his tone, nothing but quiet confirmation of a thing self-evident.

And so as Threadbare ran from Reason as it wrecked its way across the machine bay, using barricades to slow it down and animating new ones just as fast as they were destroyed, Emmet thumped his chest with a hollow CLANG, and started toward the infested machine that stood twice his size, speaking with his booming voice as he went.

“Always in Uniform. Shield Saint.” Emmet said, for his forearms WERE shields, with gauntlets on the end of them. “Unyielding. Fight the Battles. Take the Hits. Get that Guy! Build up-” he finished with the first run, drawing a hand back as he broke into a sprint. “The Bigger they are… Fast as Death.” He intoned, running through all the applicable tier one melee buffs.

And then he switched over to his melee tier two skills. “Ablative Armor.” he commanded, and barricades flew up to coat him, along with broken chains and other surrounding metal items. He continued as they slammed into him, forming a shell of his own. “Unbreakable. Unmoveable. Unstoppable. Always Angry…” Then a dip back into tier one, for the last skill. “Rage!”

Emmet roared, and Reason twisted to face him, and nailed him point-blank with an arbalest bolt.

It hadn’t shot at Threadbare because the target in question was tiny. But Emmet? Emmet was big.

The bolt, which could punch through plate armor like a longbow through cardboard, hit Emmet… and sent a spray of barricades from the armor golem’s back.

A big, fat ‘0’ drifted up.

Realizing too late its danger, Reason twisted, tried to get out of the line of Emmet’s lumbering charge-

-to no avail. “Clench!” Emmet roared, and latched his hand around one of the pistons in its calves.

The Wrecker blade bounced off his head, as Reason tried to cut him down. A red ‘17’ drifted up, and more barricades sprayed away.

“Siegebreaker Strike!” Emmet roared, and drew back his free arm. Then with terrible, slow force, he punched towards Reason’s knee.

Reason could have easily dodged it.

Should have dodged it.

And it would have if it could have. But Emmet had it in a deathgrip, and no matter what the heavier machine tried, it couldn’t shake the armor golem free. He was unmoveable. Desperate, Reason slammed the wrecker blade down between its leg and the oncoming fist, trying to parry it.

But Emmet was not only unmoveable, he was unstoppable.

In slow motion his fist hit the wrecker blade. And went right on through six inches of forged steel as the blade crumbled and splintered, went right through Reason’s knee beyond, snapping through clockwork and armor, and tearing through the fleshy thing inside it.

Threadbare and Cecelia watched Emmet pull his fist back, sighed in relief as Reason toppled, bloody tendrils whipping from the stump of its thigh.

“End Rage,” Emmet said, stomping up toward the cockpit, ignoring the flailing arms. “Please stay clear Princess Cecelia!” He called. “I shall end its threat.”

“Holy shit,” Garon gasped, and Cecelia and Threadbare turned to see the rest of the group dismounting from Madeline’s back.

“No wondah you didn’t answah your whispahs,” Madeline said, watching in mixed horror and awe as Emmet slowly, relentlessly, beat in Reason’s helm with his metal fists. The tainted machine whined as it scrabbled, trying to drag itself away from him, but every time it made headway Emmet just grabbed it and yanked it back to him.

“That’s Juggernaut stuff,” Garon said. “Got to be. Knight Berserker stuff, holy shit.”

“That’s my brother, more or less,” Threadbare said, dusting himself off, and dismissing the barricades. “I’m sorry to say we can’t take Reason out of here.”

“Where’s Graves?” Cecelia asked.

Shouts from outside, as a figure ran up to the portcullis, wiggled through some of the warped bars from Reason’s kick, and ran to them. “I’m here!” Graves shouted. “What the…”

“The Hand is here, too!” Cecelia yelled back. “We need to escape!”

“Too late,” someone whispered in her ear, and as she jumped in surprise, as a knife stabbed straight through her skull-

-and she gained another golem body level, because you can’t kill golems that way.

The toys whirled, to see a woman clad in tight-fitting black clothes from head to toe, all save a scarlet sash easily ten feet long, around its waist. The figure stepped back in surprise, as Cecelia tore the knife from her skull, and tossed it in the air.

“Mine now!” Snarled the porcelain princess. “Animus Blade!” Then the red ‘124’ drifted into the air, and she staggered. “Woo.” But the dagger arrowed after the figure, who suddenly exploded into smoke and was gone.

“Mend Golem!” Shouted Threadbare.

You have healed Cecelia 120 points!

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 28!

“That’s the Ninja! That was the fucking Ninja!” Garon freaked out. “Yeah, it’s escape time!”

Fire flared from behind them, in the courtyard, and the portcullis started to melt.

“And theah’s tha Cataclysm and why ah we still sitting heah talking?” Madeline said, rushing toward the doors on the far side of the room.

BOOM!

In the afterechoes, the central door out of the machine bay slammed open, and Cecelia gasped as a white-armored form pushed through. She knew that armor well, from the horn cresting its helm to the royal crest on its greaves.

And then she saw who was behind it.

Anise Layd’i stepped into the room, her face roiling with rage, staring around at the mess-

-and fixing on Threadbare’s silhouette, as he stared back at her.

“Can’t go that way!” Madeline shouted, skidding to a halt and coming back around.

“Up here!” Zuula called from the stairs. “Quickly!”

Graves and the golems ran, ran for their lives, all but Threadbare. He paused, on the last step, looked toward Emmet. “Invite Golem,” he finally decided.

Emmet looked up, surprised.

Your Invite Golem skill is now level 12!

Threadbare stretched out his free paw, offering it…

…and then a shuriken blossomed in the center of it, as stuffing sprayed.

CON+1

Your Golem Body skill is now level 27!

Your Toughness skill is now level 20!

Max HP +2!

“Stop! Emmet, stop you stupid thing!” He heard Cecelia say, and jumped in surprise as the white-armored form lifted her visor and ran forward. “Oh what did you… oh lord, there go the ventral flukes! I’ll be days repairing that!”

Reason whimpered, and stretched its hand toward its mistress.

And as Emmet stopped pounding, Threadbare sighed. “Mend Golem,” he said, on the way up the stairs, as another shuriken whizzed past his head.

WILL+1

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 29!

As soon as he got all the way up the long stairs, Zuula and Garon slammed the hatch down behind him, and shot the bolts. “Animus! Invite Shelves!” Graves yelled, and a heavy set of shelves, with gears and parts falling off of it at every step, shufffled over to weigh down the hatch.

“That won’t stop Emmet for long,” Threadbare cautioned. “He’s their warmachine now.”

“And the fucking Hand’s behind him!” Garon said. “Once the Legion shows up we’re dead!”

“Where are we, any… way…” Threadbare drifted off, as he looked around and realized that the room was full of dead people.

A great cannon stood in the center of it, and a bronze dome capped it up top, its workings filled with chains and pulleys, with metal spheres the size of Zuula’s hut suspended and swaying like evil, looming fruit.

The shelves all around were filled with mixtures and jars, metal jars. But from several of them, evil-looking thorny vines extruded, growing into the shelves and walls, and through about ten men wearing goggles and facemasks and heavy aprons. Some of them were still twitching, but all were plainly dead.

“Zuula been busy. Tanks for distraction downstairs.” The little half-orc said, mopping blood free from her tiny spear. “Now what escape plan?”

Threadbare stared toward the view slits at the far end of the room. They could fit through them. Graves couldn’t.

Cecelia, was investigating the shells and the cannon. “Huh! This isn’t complicated. The firing solution’s the trickiest part. Looks like these guys were Tinkers. Maybe a few Alchemists. Uh, Graves, stay away from those vines. Don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, dose vines from poison seeds,” Zuula said. “Only vegetation stuff to work with up here.”

“It’s gone silent downstairs,” Kayin said, cat-ear pressed to the floor. “I think.”

Threadbare shook his head. “I’m open to ideas. This is a bad spot. We could waystone back to the room.”

“It’s compromised, I’m sorry,” Graves said.

“Oh. Hm.”

“Wait,” Cecelia said, glancing up at the spheres overhead. “I have a crazy idea… Madeline, how tough is that pack?”

“What?”

“Your merchant’s pack!”

“Eh, it’s leather.”

“I mean if it gets destroyed, what happens?”

“Everything inside comes out at once.”

Cecelia gnawed her lip. “Can you put a pack inside a pack?”

“Oh sweet Hoon no, the skill’s explicit about that. And I can only have one at a time anyway.”

“What are you thinking?” Threadbare asked.

“That you all get inside her pack, we stick the pack into one of the shells, and fire it past the lines over to dwarven territory.” Cecelia started cranking levers and wheels, and the counter-weighted cannon swung around.

“Whoa.” Garon said. “Don’t you need someone outside to pull you out, though?”

“Yeah, or yah stuck waiting until the spell expires.”

“Could one of us survive the impact?” Threadbare said, looking up at the giant brass orbs.

“Maybe.” Cecelia said. “It’d be one big hit, but I mean a BIG hit. They’re not made for force, they’re made for delivering gas and other stuff.” She took a breath. “But we don’t have organs, or bones, so if one of our plush types does it… oh shoot. Graves.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s all right. I’ll stay behind to fire the cannon. I fucked it up, I’ll pay the price.”

“No, you didn’t!” Garon and Cecelia chorused. They shared a glance.

“It went wrong on my end,” Garon said. “Maybe. I have an idea of how to reach Mastoya now.”

“It went way wrong on my end, too” Cecelia said. “Besides, you’re not a Tinker. You need to be one to fire this thing.”

“Feet on the stairs!” Kayin called back. A siren started up, wailing, throughout the fort. “And there’s the general alarm,” Cecelia said. “We’re out of time. Graves, get in the pack.”

“I can’t. It’s not big enough.”

“No,” Threadbare decided. “Nobody stays behind. Nobody dies. Unless…”

“Unless?” Cecelia said.

“Glub, do you have enough fortune left for another waymark and waystone?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Graves, do you have any merchants you can borrow skills from in your soulstone collection?”

“Yes.” He rummaged around in the pack, drew out a soulstone. “Why?”

“There’s no time, so I’ll try to be concise.” Threadbare said. “Here, hold my pants.”

And with that, the little bear started stripping, as he told them his plan…

Two minutes later, the cannon belched, and filled the room with BOOM.

Threadbare grimaced, then relaxed as Kayin’s whisper filled his ears. “Survived the launch,” The catgirl whispered. “Also, OW.”

“Get in!” He motioned to his side, and Cecelia dove into the very large pack below him, vanishing to join Graves inside. The sturdy pack was some of Missus Fluffbear’s best work. Though not the only bit of work she’d done in the last minute, since the rest of their cloth supplies had gone into the padding necessary to keep Kayin alive. Fluffbear had made her a very, very thick pillow, since Kayin was a wooden type.

This part had actually been the biggest gamble of the whole affair.

CLANG! “Ow!” a woman called. He turned in time to see the shelves fall through the burned-out hatch, and listened as they crashed down the stairs.

Sighing, Threadbare sat on the large pack that he’d had Fluffbear make, and waited. Maybe not the biggest gamble, he thought, as he waited. Waited and counted.

Tendrils of fire burst from the hatch, clearing away the vines and wreckage, rupturing pots and spraying poison smoke into the domed chamber.

But Threadbare had no lungs.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 28!

Emmet was up and through next, a massive arm raised to shield himself, peering over the edge with his gemstone eyes. Threadbare waved to him.

“The bear is alone here,” Emmet ground out.

“Oh, yes. My name is Threadbare, actually. I don’t remember if I mentioned that or not.” He held up a teapot. “Would you like to have a tea party?”

Emmet’s free hand snapped forward, and the teapot shattered. Threadbare looked at the handle in his paw, over to the hollow finger that Emmet had used to fling the bolt, then back to the bronze dome, and the footlong iron spike buried into it. “I would have taken no for an answer,” he said.

“The real Princess Cecelia tells me you are a traitor who tricked me.”

“No,” Threadbare said, shoving the two teacups he’d set out back into his pack before Emmet could get trigger happy again. “You can only betray something if you were on its side in the first place. I am on Cecelia’s side, and not the King’s side. The King killed our maker. I don’t like the King very much.”

“That is still treason,” Emmet said, taking a step forward, training his finger on the bear.

“Command Golem. Please stand down,” Threadbare said.

And he felt the spell fizzle. He remembered how Caradon had griped about the magic resistance skill, many a time. “He was right. It is annoying.”

Emmet advanced upon him, and Threadbare simply sat, staring up at him with button eyes.

“Do you surrender?”

“I will not fight you,” Threadbare said, hoping that Emmet didn’t question him further.

“It is safe,” Emmet called back.

“Wait for the smoke to disperse first,” Anise said. “Unless…”

“I’m on it,” A man said. He was nobody Threadbare had ever heard speak before.

Doors slammed open in midair, above the hatch, doors to someplace full of blackness broken by red light. THINGS crawled out of the holes, things like wasps made of metal that darted upward, slamming into the roof, and tearing at it with mandibles. Bronze shrieked and gave way, and the smoke eddied up, as the draft drew it out.

And all through it, Threadbare counted. He hit the goal he was trying for, hesitated, then decided to give it a bit more.

“Kill the fire, dear,” Anise said.

“Aw. Wasting so much of my time stopping fires,” a woman griped, in an exotic accent.

Fifteen seconds crawled by as the fires shrunk and vanished, and the draft pulled the smoke out and away.

Then wind whipped past Threadbare, and he turned to see the black-clad woman who’d thrown a metal star through his hand, crouched behind him, twenty feet away and ready to cut him down.

“Hello,” he said to her. She squinted at him, over the mask that covered everything but her eyes.

“Well well well,” Anise said, heels clicking as she strolled up the stairs. “The little bear. Naked and alone.”

“Not alone. You’re here.” Threadbare said, placidly. “But I am naked, yes.”

“I suppose you wanted to leave your magic items to your friends.” She smiled, then glanced down at the pack. “What’s in there?”

“Two of my friends. We had to stay behind for this to work.”

“Stay behind?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Oh yes. Everyone else went into the cannon shell.”

“Desperate,” The ninja whispered.

“And you would be one of the Hand?” Threadbare asked. “Or is it the finger? I’m not sure how this goes.”

“Three fingers, I suppose, is a good way of putting it,” said the red-robed man as he walked through the hatch. An iron, grilled mask covered his face, and scar tissue showed around the points it didn’t cover. “She’s the Ninja. I’m the Legion. The Cataclysm is waiting to cook you if you escape.”

“And the Princess is waiting below,” said Anise, smiling. “Trying to salvage some Reason from the situation. And here I am, Amelia Gearhart, ready to unmask myself to the kingdom… with Emmet’s help, to sell it, of course.”

“Of course,” Threadbare said. “It seems very clever. But isn’t there one more?”

“He’s busy,” said the Legion, gesturing the wasps down to patrol around the dome, blocking the vision slits out. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you? You see how we’re going to play this?”

“Garon told me about the Hand. How the entire country thinks they’re the surviving heroes of the Seven, yes. I suppose you’re all going to unmask and show them that yes, that’s true?”

“A new Seven. Now that Cecelia is grown enough to take her place with us,” Anise smiled. “I’m the secret thumb, you could say. And she’s two extra digits, her and reason combined.”

“Except she’s not Cecelia, is she? Just as you’re not Amelia?”

Emmet shifted, restless.

“Don’t be ridiculous, who else would we be?” Anise smiled, but her eyes were hard now. “And you’re a little bear who knows too much.”

“All I know is that you’re not a nice lady, not at all.”

“No dear. That’s part of the irony.” Anise smiled. “Ready to die now?” She asked, eyes flicking past him, looking for the trick, looking for the trap.

“I suppose so.” Threadbare hopped down. “Do you mind if I put my clothes on? I’d rather not die naked.”

“Be my guest. Ranshax, kill him if he gets stupid.”

The ninja nodded.

“Call Outfit,” Threadbare said, and was clad in his clothes once more. He lifted the pack up, and settled it on his shoulders.
Your Call Outfit skill is now level 4!

“Your hat,” said Emmet. “It was different before.”

“Yes,” said Threadbare, putting his paw to the waystone that had been sewn into it. “I suppose it was. Goodbye.”

He saw Anise’s eyes widen, and then everything was green, and his view distorted as shurikens whipped through it…

…and he was fading in, right in the middle of a crater.

Kayin, battered and scorched, grinned happily at him and waved. “One life down, boss! Glad to see it was worth it!”

Next to her, a burned, holed, but intact pack was open, and Glub was pulling a very cranky Pulsivar out. Next to him, Fluffbear put away her sewing supplies. Then Madeline was hugging him.

“Ah! Thank you!” He pushed her away after a second. “I need to get Cecelia and Graves out. Excuse me. Oh, hold on. Clean and Press.”

He did himself and the pack, raising levels twice. Both it and he had been dosed with toxic smoke, after all. No sense to going to all this trouble just to kill the man as he emerged.

Threadbare rummaged around in HIS pack, and pulled them out one after the other. First Cecelia, then Graves.

“Everything went to plan?” Graves asked, sweatstained from the evening’s efforts.

Threadbare looked at Kayin.

She grinned. “Perfectly. I shoved the pack into the padding, and when the shell hit I used Nine Lives to survive it. Then I pulled Glub and Fluffbear and your clothes out. He made the waymark and the waystone, and she sewed it into the brim of your hat.”

“I finished like ten seconds before it disappeared,” Fluffbear squeaked. “You cut it really close. What happened?”

“My teapot got broken.” Threadbare sighed. “Too scattered to mend it, I fear. Oh, and the Hand are going to reveal themselves as the surviving members of the Seven and reunite the kingdom.”

Everyone went silent.

Then Pulsivar hissed, and backed into the center of the group, as a man cleared his voice from up above the crater.

“Aye, perhaps ye’d better tell us more about that?” A stranger said, and Threadbare looked up, to see about a dozen dwarves in heavy armor, leveling guns down at the golems and their living friends. “Later. After ye’re properly in a cell.”

“Oh, good!” Threadbare said. “NOW we can surrender.”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 140 Hit Points: 335(435) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275() Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 211 Moxie: 331(460) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 125 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(324) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 43 (+14)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 9
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 31
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 28
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 16

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 26
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 20

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 14
Noblesse Oblige - Level 30
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 10
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 15
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 53(68)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 20
Makeup - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 20
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 15
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 19
Parry - Level 10
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 29 (Brawling +14) Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 27
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 32
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 29
Program Golem - Level 42
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +4 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Interlude 3-1: The General

For a second, Mastoya stared at the empty air. Waystones. Holy shit, she thought, and dispelled her divine conduit before it ate up too much of her fortune. Not that she’d needed it in the first place to kick the little toy’s asses, she thought. But shock and awe might have gotten them to surrender, and she really, really wanted a chance to talk to Garon on her own terms.

But none of that mattered right now. Gauntlets pounded at the door. “Ma’am?”

“General alarm!” She called back. “We’ve got intruders, saboteurs! Find them! Capture them, I want them alive.”
With that she headed back into her room and change, hands moving with long practice, donning her arming underlayer, then her plate, and sliding her sword into its sheathe. She debated on the shield, and took it. All told, the process took two minutes.

And as she wrapped it up, something felt wrong.

What was it?

“Ma’am! There’s a fire in auxiliary barracks twenty-five! The Cataclysm is putting it out! There’s signs of violence, and the necromancers say an angry ghost found traitors up there!”

“The fuck? Get a perimeter around that barracks,” Mastoya commanded. Something was off. What was off?

Leaving her pauldrons loose and half-tied, she shouldered the door open, and found her honor guard awaiting her. “You’re with me. Let’s move.”

They fell into step behind her, blades out, glaring around at the rough-cut halls of the fort as she stomped through them. The West Wing was a ways, the barracks in question was pretty remote.

BOOM!

And Mastoya stopped, so quickly that Hicks almost ran into her from behind.

That was what was wrong!

The cannons had skipped a beat! She knew the rhythm by heart now, heard it in her sleep, it had worked its way into her dreams. It was always Two, one, three, five, four. And since the explosion had come from Five’s direction… Three. Three had skipped a beat.

“To the machine bay!” She yelled, and pushed past Hicks and Wedge, and flat out ran.

A messenger imp caught up to her as she went. “Trouble in the machine bay!” The yattering thing screeched. “Captain Dontalus is keeping a perimeter! The Steam Knight’s gone berserk!”

Cannon Three was right over the machine bay, and chock-full of steam ballistae and tunnel thumpers, and other engines of destruction that Melos had ordered to the front over the last week. It was going to be a big push, Mastoya knew, and she had been waiting for the word.

And now, one of the Crown’s most effective warmachines was ripping it all to hell and back. Mastoya’s lips twisted against her tusks. Her brother couldn’t have found a more effective target to sabotage.

“The barracks. The barracks was their staging point, they’re long gone. Call off the cordon and tell the captain to secure the machine bay. If Reason can’t be stopped, evacuate the courtyard until I get there. Go back to Captain Dontalus and tell him that!” She shook her head. Garon had distracted her with a heart-felt plea, while simultaneously sabotaging the war effort. Damn, he was clever. Also alive. Kind of.

She believed it was him, now. This was something sneaky, just the sort of thing that Dad would have taught him. She wondered if Jarrik and Bak’shaz had parts in this… they’d been missing for years, but she’d heard rumors of a mighty tamer working with the Rangers.

After a frantic, scrambling minute she burst into the courtyard, to find Captain Dontalus forming a perimeter around the warped portcullis. Beyond it, in the darkness of the bay, something inhuman whimpered and screeched.

“Why is that bay not secured, Captain?” Mastoya snapped.

“The Princess ordered us back, ma’am!”

“Fuck that noise! She’s not in your chain of command!”

“Ma’am… the Hand and the Inquisitor were in there, and and the High Inquisitor said to do as the Princess said…”

Mastoya glared at him for a full second, but she understood. The Inquisitor was a special case. Mastoya hated special cases.

She also hated uppity young officers who she’d thought had more common sense than this.

“Hold position. Back us up if trouble starts,” Mastoya said, flipping her visor down and waving her honor guard forward. Her buffs were still up, so there was no need to reset them. But around her, her honor guard muttered their own.

“Yes Ma’am. Uh, she told everyone to keep clear, Ma’am,” said Dontalus.

“That’s nice.” Mastoya said, pushing through the perimeter, and clambering through the warped bars, looking around the room…

…and freezing, as she saw the pulped remnants of Reason, and the Princess kneeling over it. Tendrils, fleshy THINGS swayed out of the Steam Knight’s broken shell, and groped for Princess Cecelia, questing, trying to find a way through her armor… Surprised, the princess looked back at Mastoya, showing pale skin, and fearful eyes, somehow unaware of the danger trying to eat her!

Hell no!

“Get that thing!” Mastoya called to her honor guard, and charged it. She didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it had tentacles, which meant old one or something eldritch like that. And she had a trick against supernatural evil, now didn’t she? “Back You Fiend!” She bellowed, slamming her sword against her shield.

Ritaxian clerics had an edge here. Most other clerics had to present their holy symbol to do this. But Ritaxis had adopted the sword as her holy symbol, because putting down your weapon or your shield in the face of extraplanar evil was pretty idiotic.

The tendrils whipped back, and something writhed in the ruins of Reason. Unable to escape the oncoming holy rebuke, it shrieked as its unnatural flesh burned.

And the Princess, startled, screamed, and ran the other way. “Wedge! Hicks! Get her to safety!”

Then there was no time, as the creature, unable to escape, fought. But it had already been wounded, she saw, by whatever had broken Reason. She went down its length, hacking until the ridged, slimy meat of it stopped wriggling, stopped trying to gut her. And all the while it burned, as the holy fire she’d called to herself cooked it.

“General Mastoya!” A voice snapped from the stairs, and Mastoya took a few more hacks, then stood next to the cockpit as red steam billowed out, and the thing in there screamed its last.

Mastoya waited until she was certain the monster couldn’t rally, and lifted her gaze to meet Inquisitor Layd’i. Next to her, the rest of the Hand filed down the stairs, followed by Emmet, who stopped above the Inquisitor, too big to push past her.

“Inquisitor,” Mastoya said. “I’m glad to see this abomination didn’t hurt you. Or anyone else?” She glanced over at the Princess, safely surrounded by her honor guard-

-and caught a look of pure loathing from Cecelia’s red and burned face.

Mastoya blinked under her visor.

“We’re fine.” Layd’i ground. “Everything’s FINE. Except it’s not. The cannon’s personnel are dead and the saboteurs have escaped. I want to know how the hells they got into the Kingdom’s most secure facility on your watch.”

“That’s a good question,” Mastoya said, staring at Cecelia. “I’d like to know how the hell an eldritch abomination got into this Steam Knight armor and wrecked my machine bay on your watch.”

“Me? Me! You’re accusing me!” Layd’i put her hands on her hips. Below her, the three members of the Hand present looked at each other, and started to spread out.

“Maybe.” Mastoya said. “King’s daughter goes out on a mission to stomp old ones, and comes back with an old one spawn hiding in her armor. You were present throughout that. Seems an odd thing to miss,” she said, staring hard at Cecelia, and watching the girl’s eyes slide away, and her face go blank. The girl I spoke with a few weeks ago had excellent emotional discipline. Now it’s gone. What happened out there?

“This is a classified matter,” the Inquisitor snapped. “I order you not to speak of it, in the name of the Crown.”

Mastoya gritted her teeth. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

“As to these other witnesses…” Layd’i smiled with pure malice. “We can’t risk-”

“No, Ma’am,” Mastoya said, moving up to join her men. At her approach the Princess cut and run, surprising the hell out of Wedge and Hicks. They moved to grab her, and the Hand tensed. “Stand down!” Mastoya bellowed, and everyone stopped. “We’re all loyal here, ma’am. Hicks, Wedge, Dyson, Myers, I order you to silence on every event that’s transpired here tonight, and will transpire. Go rejoin Captain Dontalus and tell him to pull his men back, and await my orders to secure and cleanup the area.”

“Ma’am!” They saluted simultaneously, then hurried back to the portcullis. Mastoya held her breath as the Hand looked to them, then looked back to Anise, who was visibly swallowing her fury.

But she didn’t speak, and Mastoya’s honor guard reached the portcullis alive. Mastoya let out a breath. The Inquisitor wouldn’t dare have them killed in full view of the courtyard. Even that sick little daemon wouldn’t dare.

But she could make trouble in other ways. It was time to toss her a bone, though.“Your orders, ma’am? Regarding the creature?”

Layd’i descended the stairs, then strode up to her, raising a finger-

-and gasping, as it sizzled. A red ‘5’ floated up and she fell back, looking at her red, burned flesh. “Turn that fucking thing off!” Anise Layd’i shrieked.

“Of course, ma’am. Slipped my mind.” Mastoya lied, and shut down Back you Fiend. “May I heal you?”

“No! No. That will not be necessary.” Anise ground out. She glared around at the ruins of the workshop. “I ask again, how the hell did saboteurs get into YOUR fort on YOUR watch.”

“Because we weren’t keeping an eye out for puppets,” Mastoya said.

“Puppets?”

“More specifically, ghosts inhabiting golem bodies. If my brother was to be believed.”

On the stairs, Emmet clattered as he whipped around to face her. Mastoya blinked, then returned her gaze to the Inquisitor.

“Your brother?”

“Dead in the cleansing of Taylor’s Delve, ma’am. I saw to it personally. He turned up in my office tonight with several others, and tried to convince me to join him in treason. I tried to arrest them and they waystoned out. That’s about the time that thing was wrecking my machine bay.”

“Ghosts in golem bodies. Ghosts in… golem…” The Inquisitor’s eyes slammed open, and her already-pale skin blanched even further. “Oh. Oh you… you little… you BEAR! HER! YOU FUCKING SOULSTONED HER…” She slammed her mouth shut.

“Yes, they did have a bear with them. Funny thing, she said she was a paladin.”

The Inquisitor’s jaw worked, and she hissed, turning her head to the side. “I’ll want a full debriefing on my desk tomorrow.” She finally said, turning and walking away, shaking with every step. “Clean up this mess. The assault will be delayed now, due to your incompetence.”

“My apologies, Ma’am,” Mastoya said.

“Insufficient,” Anise barked, reaching the Princess’ side, and putting her hand on her shoulder.

The Princess looked from the Inquisitor’s hand, back to Mastoya.

Her face was as red and burned as the Inquisitor’s hand, Mastoya realized. And a cold feeling ran down her spine. “I’ll go and get that ready for you.” Mastoya husked, and saluted.

A few steps toward the door, and she expected Anise to order her dead.

Just at the door, and she expected the command to be given, and the Hand to spring into action.

Then she was through the door, and out, and sweat rolled down her face as she realized how close she’d come.

It was only a suspicion, no proof at all, but those burns had been way too similar. And the implications that arose…

I have my duty. I have no proof. I have to move carefully here, she knew. And before all of that, I have an assault plan to salvage She sighed, as more mundane concerns trickled down. And also a letter to write to the King, to try and save my career.

She rather thought the odds were good. She was the best general he had, and he needed her for the assault that would end this fucking war for good. But the Inquisitor was a thing of malice, and whatever had happened here tonight, she’d never forget the insults that Mastoya had given her. Blood would come of it.

Blood.

She looked down at her blade, which still dripped with ichor. Taking a cloth, she swiped it along the sword, and sheathed her holy symbol. Then it was a quick turn, back to the Courtyard, picking up her honor guard along the way.

“Ma’am? Everything all right?” Myers said, saluting, slamming her fist into her breastplate.

“Walk with me,” she said. Once they were back in the keep, in a lonesome hallway between checkpoints, she gave the gory rag to Wedge. “Go to the enchanters. Get them to analyze this. It’s darkspawn blood, but I need to know what kind.”

“Ma’am?”

“No one else is to know of this. Especially the Inquisitor.”

“That’s… yes Ma’am.”

If it was from the old ones, well, that was problematic, but it was the Inquisitor’s problem.

If it was from something daemonic, though…

If it was daemonic she had a great, big problem, and no clear way to solve it.

“Garon, you little shit,” she muttered to herself. Things weren’t perfect before he’d shown up, but they’d been simple, and that had been enough. With the booze, and her duty to lose herself in, that had been enough.

Now she stood on the edge of a deep, dark precipice, with not just herself, but everything she’d built, everyone she’d trained and supported, everyone who looked up to her at risk. And worse, was the possibility that she’d erred, badly. No general likes to face that possibility. But the bad ones hide from it, cover it up.

Good ones owned what they’d done, and adapted the strategy so they didn’t make the same mistake twice.
Mastoya desperately hoped that when this was all said and done, that she had been a good one.

*****

Crouched over her desk, midway through the Inquisitor’s report, at the darkest hour of the night, she looked up as heavy metal footsteps clanged on the hallway outside. Heavier than any of her guards. She reached for her sword.

Then metal rapped on wood. Knocking.

“Enter,” she called, keeping her hand around the sword’s hilt.

Emmet stood there, literally filling the doorway. Mastoya let go of the sword. If the Inquisitor had sent him to kill her, it wouldn’t help. She shot a glance at her window, and scooted her chair to the side for easy defenestration if it came down to it.

“Does the Inquisitor need me?” Mastoya asked.

Behind him, the two of her honor guard on duty did their best to peer around him, faces looking to her, awaiting her order.

“No.” Emmet ground. “The message I am to deliver is private.”

She glanced back to the honor guard, and nodded. “Hicks, Myers, turn in for the night. You, big guy, come in, shut the door, and lower your voice.”

Emmet did, moving oddly daintily for something so massive, something that she was pretty sure could punch down her entire Fort one wall at a time.

“Your message?”

“It is not actually a message,” The golem confessed. “I have doubts. I must talk of them. And you are the only other person in this fort that I am permitted to talk with freely if the need arises.”

“I am? Who told you that?”

“King Melos. In his secret instructions. I am permitted to reveal my sapience to Princess Cecelia, Anise Layd’i, and you. You are the only three confirmed one hundred percent loyal to the Crown here.”

“Before tonight I’d agree with that,” Mastoya said, opening up her drawer. “Do you have an extra stomach compartment for drinking?”

“No. Why? Such a thing seems foolish to install upon a golem.”

“I’d figured there was more to you than just a silent machine. You don’t move like the old war golems we have down in the Machine bay… had.” Mastoya sighed. “Shattered to bits without even being able to react, since their handlers told them to stand still until ordered otherwise. You’re a pretty shitty actor, Emmet.”

“Charisma has not been a priority in my training. Aside from my Knight levels.”

“What all do you have, exactly?” She said to buy herself time and think.

“Archer. Alchemist. And Grenadier for ranged attacks.” Emmet rumbled, his voice as low as it could go, and still filling the room. “Berserker. Juggernaut. Knight. And Mercenary for close-combat engagements.”

Sweet fucking Ritaxis’ assplate. Yeah I wouldn’t make it out the window.

“And just to be clear, you follow the orders of the Inquisitor? So she could order you to tell her about anything we talk about here, and you’d have to obey?”

“Yes. Although…” he leaned forward. “I have been ordered to put the orders of Princess Cecelia above hers, and not tell Anise Layd’i about this fact. You are third in order priority.”

“Okay. I’ll watch what I say.” Mastoya kicked back a shot, feeling her spent moxie restore a bit. “So why are you here?”

For a while, he was silent, the gems behind his helm flickering.

“Your brother came to you tonight. And he is now a golem.”

“Yes.” It had been him, she was sure of that. Not a trick, not a test. That had been Garon, she’d stake her command on it.

Shit, maybe I’ll have to.

“My brother came to me tonight as well.” Emmet said. “I did not know I had one. He is also a golem. And I very much wish to know more about him and I thought that since your brother came to YOU tonight as a golem, that perhaps you could tell me more about this, and help me decide how to resolve the conflict.”

“The conflict?” Mastoya asked.

“Per Inquisitor Layd’i’s orders, confirmed by Princess Cecelia, the next time I see my brother I am to quote unquote rip his fucking head off and burn all his remains and make him suffer if at all possible through every step of the process and kill or destroy everything that he ever loved within his sight before he dies if at all possible you massive metal meathead.”

Mastoya laughed, sardonically. “Yeah, sounds like one of my brother’s friends, all right.”

“But my earliest command, was to protect my family. And he is on the list.”

Mastoya sighed, got up, and looked out the window. No imps, the courtyard was bare, save for the watchers she had stationed to make sure nobody spied on her.

Then she nodded, and turned back to Emmet. “Okay. First thing I should tell you? I am absolutely the last person you should be asking on how to NOT kill your relatives…”

Give the Dwarves Their Due 1

Brokeshale Mountain rose above the Eastern Reaches of Cylvania like the stump of a massive tree. Large, jagged-topped, and untouched by trees, legend in fact said that it had once been one of the World Trees, destroyed by greedy giants in their war against a pantheon of gods long-since fallen. Or reborn. Or mostly gone, with one or two remaining. Or there was an apocalypse or something but the world recovered so it wasn’t the end of the world after all. Or something like that.

What WAS known for sure, was that over a century ago, back when Cylvania carved its way to freedom and withdrew from the Cane Confederation (long before all that slavery nonsense,) a clan of enterprising dwarves made their way south from Mighty Hallas, and liked the look of the place. They knew why it didn’t have trees, and it wasn’t because of a curse or giants or gods or anything like that. It was because of what was there, hiding below the soil, keeping vegetation from growing on the place…

They knew it held riches. They hadn’t realized just how MUCH. Dwarves being dwarves, when they found out how much metal was under Brokeshale, and the surrounding valley, they sent messages back to their relatives. Who got in touch with their relatives. Who called in their relatives. And in a relatively short time, (in dwarven terms anyway,) no less than four clans migrated down to set up new lives and turn Brokeshale into a major mining hub of western Disland.

Eventually the humans in the more central part of Cylvania noticed “hey, there’s dwarves over there now,” and the usual messages and envoys were sent, tables were thumped, voices were raised… and then envoys were received, handshakes were offered, coins changed hands, and the dwarves, under King-Grundi-under-this-mountain-here-no-not-that-one-the-big-one-you-idjit, (The transcriber was later fired,) walked away with the rights to the land UNDER the remote branch of the Skygrope mountain range, so long as he didn’t expand his holdings horizontally, and represented Cylvania to the rest of the dwarven communities in Disland and beyond.

It seemed uncommonly generous, to many of the disgruntled human miners who’d called Cylvania home. But in actuality, it was more than fair. By making the dwarves “Their” dwarves, they staved off future incursions. The truth of the matter, was that being at the confluence of two mountain ranges, Cylvania was rich in mineral wealth, and more dwarven clans were already prepared to move in on the new nation to see what they could wring from below their soil.

But with a formal agreement in place, the oldbeards of the remaining clans knew they’d be moving in on Grundi’s turf… a thing which dwarves do NOT do lightly.

So when dwarves wanted to own land or mine or do things in Cylvania, they went to King Grundi, king Grundi would talk with whoever the human in charge aboveground was at the time, negotiations would happen, and everybody got their cut. It worked pretty well.

Up until everything changed, the humans got stupid, and it didn’t work any more.

“…and that’s why we can’t have nice things,” Garon finished.

“It was more than just the humans getting stupid,” Cecelia said, just a touch defensively. “I mean, if you’re correct, then Anise tricked my father into-into slaughtering Taylor’s delve. So yes, Grundi’s claim against the Crown was correct on THAT. But they pretty much did the same thing to the Hornwoods, and refused the Crown’s requests for evidence.”

“What kinda evidence they supposed ta show?” Madeline asked, resting her head irritatedly on stone. She’d been out of sorts since the dwarves had confiscated her pack, along with the rest of their items, even down to the cloth mice Cecelia could have used to scout out their prison. “Empty mineshafts? A place where gold ore ain’t?”

To be fair, they’d given the toys who had been clothe replacement clothes for their confiscated magic items, but the gray prison shirts were much too large for them, and they’d refused to allow the bears tailoring tools to fix that situation. At least Cecelia’s SORT of fit. Kind of. If she held the neckline pinched shut.

“I’m just saying, that mistakes were made on both sides,” Cecelia said. “Though admittedly, more on my father’s side.”

“Yeah. I don’t know the details, not exactly, but Beryl told me the dwarves were NOT happy about the Oblivion. It didn’t work at all like they were promised it would. ” Garon sighed. “It was supposed to be a thing where we could raise or lower it. Was never supposed to be always up.”

“You know a lot about this, Gar,” Madeline said. “Why?”

“Eh, some of it’s from Beryl, a lot of it is history I studied. If you’re going to be a Mercenary you have to know what opportunities are out there for profitable conflicts. I figured that it’d end up the Crown against the dwarves at some point, and wanted to know the history of my potential employers.”

“Nice!” Madeline said, admiringly.

“The Crown doesn’t use mercenaries,” Cecelia rubbed her chin.

“No, I would’ve fought for the dwarves. Precisely for that reason.” Garon smiled. “Well, that and Mom and Dad would have disowned me if I helped the Crown.”

“Beh. You t’ink too little of you parents,” Zuula said, as she continued roaming the cell, poking at the walls. “We forgave Mastoya, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, AFTER you died. At her hands. See, I didn’t want it to come to that with me, at least.”

“Technicality!” Zuula snorted.

“I hope Graves is okay,” Kayin said, her ears flat against her skull. Her clothing, like Zuula’s, had been sewn on, so she was spared a prison shirt at least.

“I just hope I can feed Mopsy on time!” Fluffbear waved her paws. “My code’s gonna break if I don’t!”

“Surely the gods won’t mind?” Threadbare asked. “These seem like, oh what’s the words… extenuating circumstances? Yes, those fit.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Fluffbear said. “I swore it so I have to do it. That’s the paladin’s way.”

“Wow. That sounds rough, man.” Glub said, offering her a pat on her back. “I couldn’t do that. I mean, I’d try, but stuff gets away from me, you know? More of a guidelines type than a rules guy.”

“I’m sure Graves is okay,” Cecelia reassured Kayin, giving her a one-armed hug. The catgirl leaned into it, even purred a bit as the porcelain princess scratched between her ears. “As are the cats, wherever they took them all. They’re probably getting fed right now.” She nodded to Threadbare. “So she’s getting fed on time.”

“Yes, but I’m not the one doing it.”

“Look at it this way,” Threadbare said. “If someone else is caring for them, then the cats are on THEIR time. Not yours. It’s only while they’re with you that they’re on your time. Otherwise how could they hunt?”

“Hm…” Fluffbear scrunched her little black furry face up, so hard that her eyes flattened upward a bit. “I guess… Maybe?” She sighed. “I’m really new to this job. At least I’ve got Oops Sorry.”

“Desu?” Kayin stirred and looked over to her.

“What?”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said oops sorry.”

“That’s the name of the skill.”

“Seriously?” Garon said.

“Oh yes! It lets me talk to my god or the nearest applicable deity for the crisis of faith at hand and seek forgiveness! But I get a black mark on my status for a while and if I get too many I lose the job.”

“BAHAHAHHAHA!!!”

“It’s not that funny,” Fluffbear frowned at him.

“I uh, I didn’t laugh,” Garon said, glancing around.

“GAHAHAHHAHAH!” The laughter echoed through the room. “HAHAHAH! Heee, okay. Bring it down, Graf,” said a deep and burly voice.

The walls of the cell faded.

The group found themselves standing, sitting, laying about, or in one case, abruptly falling over. (Zuula had been shoving against a wall.) They were in a great hall, wide and vast, broken by support pillars every hundred yards that stretched up to a vaulted ceiling. Glowstone chandeliers hung down, countless numbers of them, bathing the entire place in dim, silvery light. Light that glinted and reflected off the armor and weapons of the forty or so dwarves surrounding the golems.

And in what might have been the back, front, or center of the room, were three circular slabs of stone, atop which sat a fat throne. Made of some silvery metal, with plates and rivets and gadgets festooned all over it, carved with runes, the seat of it was buried in pillows, and quilts. Graves sat at the foot of the throne, with two glowering guards next to him, halberds crossed above his head.

On the throne sat an old, old dwarf, buried beneath cloth, with only his face and beard poking out. He had a gold crown on his bald pate, eyebrows that would have put Garon’s father to shame for their bushiness, and a beard that stretched down six feet, well off the throne, and coiled neatly on the floor in a pile of braids.

It was hard to tell, but it looked like he was smiling.

“Have we been teleported?” Threadbare asked.

“No. The floah’s the same,” Madeline said, looking down. “Carrara marble with a two-chisel cut, holystoned regularly. I recognize some a’ the nicks that I saw in the cell. What we thought was the cell.”

“Do you now?” The old dwarf leaned forward. “You’re a Mason, then?”

“Nah. I’m a stonecuttah. Taught myself the old fashioned way. Used to be I couldn’t have craftin’ jobs.”

That caused a stir. Many of the dwarves around them stirred and muttered, and the King laughed again. “Wahahahhaha! Oh, this is good. Alright young man, you may stand.”

The guards uncrossed their halberds. Graves stood, and Cecelia gasped, for he was no longer emaciated. “You’re better!”

“They were kind enough to ask one of their high priests to see to me,” Graves said, wiggling his feet a bit, to wake them up. “Thankfully it went off, just like a curse being removed.” He shivered, and pulled his prison tunic down, trying to keep his nether parts covered. “I assume that you’re satisfied, your majesty?”

“Mostly.” Said the King. “Sorry for tha trick, children. Your man Graves here said some pretty outlandish things. We had ta be sure.”

“You put us in a cell that wasn’t real, and listened to us talk,” Threadbare realized.

“Aye.” The King nodded. “With a barrier to let your sound out and keep ours from comin’ in. Wasn’t the first time we’ve used this trick. Won’t be the last.”

Cecelia stepped forward. “Then… Graves, did you tell them everything?”

“More or less. He stopped me midway through.”

“Ghosts in golem bodies I could buy.” The King shrugged. “Seen weirder, though na for a while. No friends to the Crown, that needed a listen. Paladin? Well, few of those nowadays. I knew one once, before tha Oblivion. Oops Sorry ain’t something most know! And most important of all, ye talked about yer father, the King.” Two large, thin hands emerged from the quilts, and steepled under his chin, combing through his braids. “And ye did.”

“So you believe that we’re who we say we are?” Cecelia said.

“I believe ye think that. I believe that’s what yer statuses say, since my scouts have confirmed it. Ye’re either them, or the greatest cultists what ever existed in Cylvania. And that last bit don’t seem likely.”

Cecelia let out a sigh. Then she straightened up. “Your Majesty. I stand before you now as a Princess of the Realm. My Father has been-”

“No.”

Silence fell throughout the throne room.

“Your majesty, please, we have risked so much to journey here-”

“Aye. But yer no longer princess of the realm. My dear, yer dead.”

“Oh. Oh.” Cecelia said, putting her hands to her mouth. “I completely forgot. Oh no.”

“Aye. Our laws are clear on undead. Even if ye’ve got a nicer husk than most.”

“Cecelia?” Madeline said, stirring restlessly. The dwarves nearest to her raised shields, and leveled weaponry at the little dragon.

“No, no, relax. It’s not that bad,” Cecelia said. “It’s just that… we don’t count as who we were before.”

“Can’t inherit, can’t hold titles, can’t hold property or wealth, all existing debts owed and recievable null and void, up to you if you want ta stick around but ya don’t get a single copper from yer past life. Give it to yer heirs or to yer thane, and enjoy yer fresh start.” The King nodded. “Which is a point in yer favor, because honestly, if you WERE still King Melos’ daughter, you wouldn’t be leavin’ here until we ransomed you back to yer Father for peace. Assumin’ we found a way we could trust that fucker.”

“He’s only half of the problem,” Cecelia said. “The Inquisitor-”

“I wasn’t finished!” The King thundered, and Cecelia fell silent, along with the rest of the hall. Threadbare moved up to her, and took her hand in his paw. Someone in the crowd went “Awww…” and turned it into a cough.

Your Adorable skill is now level 32!

The King sighed. “The point is, you ain’t his daughter no more. The point is, you’re enemies of the Crown now. And that makes you welcome here, to stay for a bit, purchase what you need, and be our guests for now. So long as y’stay out of the way and don’t cause trouble, we’ll bring none to you.”

Cecelia’s face twisted, the ceramic plates of it shifting along with the ‘muscles’ under her ‘skin’. “But… we want to help. We want to end this war.”

The dwarves around them muttered, shared looks varying from scorn to sadness. The King nodded. “I know. But… it ain’t as easy as all that. Come on. Walk wi’ me. I’ll tell you why. We owe you that much, I think, and no man, or dwarf, golem or ghost can say that Grundi Embergleam doesn’t pay his debts.” He glanced up at the rest of the ‘court’. “Right. Bazdra, Gudrun, Montag, Hidon, yer wi’ me. Rest a’ ya, get back to it then!”

The golems looked to each other. Graves coughed. The dwarves dispersed, save for two women and two men who stepped forward, moving to flank the throne.

As soon as they were next to him, the King started fiddling with something under the pillows. Pipes on the back of the throne puffed to life, belched out clouds of steam, and to everyone but Cecelia’s amazement the throne slowly revolved, and started moving away. Stairs and all.

“Nice!” She said, leading the rest of her friends in a quick jog to catch up to it, then falling into a walk alongside as the King tooled through the vast halls, the wheels on the underside of the throne driven by internal mechanisms. “Is that… no, it can’t be a Fizznocker engine, not even a mark four. That’s at least half a ton of marble, not counting the throne itself.”

“Not really a throne. I call it my Kneelchair.” He rasped a laugh, then continued. “Nah, each wheel has its own engine. And you’re looking at Burlstrads there, not that weak Fizznocker bullshit. So you’re in the trade?”

“Yes. As much as I can be, with only the Royal Archives’ books on it, and the few tutors the Crown has left. I’d hoped to learn from your people here someday, to round out the parts I was ignorant of, but… well…”

“Still possible,” said the King. “If we win.”

“Or if we can achieve a peace.”

“Mm.” He sighed. “My son thought as you did, once. My son Dhurlem. He knew this war would do us no good. He went to fight, aye, but always held out hope… No. No, not anymore, lass. It’s the Crown or us, now. We can’t trust Melos, and that’s all there is to it.”

“The Inquisitor is fooling him. She’s the one that killed me. She’s a daemon, with the face of my mother. And… I think she’s made my corpse into a daemon.” She closed her eyes. “I thought it took souls, but I’m here and I’m pretty sure I’m me, and-”

“Celia,” Threadbare said, and the four dwarves pacing the throne looked at him, two with expressions of revulsion, two with fascination. “You are you. Eye for Detail’s confirmed it. Whatever’s in that armor isn’t.”

The King nodded. “We knew she was a daemon. As are the Hand. Melos did something forbidden, and damn our eyes, we didn’t call him out on it, didn’t join the fight when Balmoran rose up.” The old dwarf sighed. “If we had, we wouldn’t be in the spot we are now, tell you that. But no, we decided to wait and stay out of human affairs, let them settle their own squabbles.” The King spat. “Blind, damned, fools. The wrong man won in the North. And it was because of those godsdamned daemons. And now you’re telling me there’s one more out there, wearin’ yer face?”

“Yes.”

“Grand.”

“And they’ve corrupted my Steam Knight armor somehow.”

“A Steam Knight? Well now!” Said the King. “So we’ll face a daemon war machine on the battlefield. Even more grand.”

“Probably my brother too. Though he’s not a daemon,” Threadbare said. “Yet. Hopefully whatever they did doesn’t work on him.”

“Mmm.” The king sighed. “Well, you can talk that over with my ministers.” He turned the throne, heading toward a wide archway in the wall, identical to the six they’d passed in his wake. They followed, and he gestured down the hall, to a series of numbered doors. “Your possessions are in room Nineteen. As are your captive souls.”

“Not exactly captives,” said Graves. “Think of them as refugees, who even lost their bodies. Temporarily, we hope. That’s one of the things that you could help-”

“Ministers. Talk to them,” said the king, holding up a hand. “And after you’re dressed, come and join me in the Hall of Heroes. And I’ll show you why negotiating peace won’t work.”

Without another word, he turned, and motored away, the heavy stone plinth revolving with the Throne and rumbling across the floor on its myriad unseen wheels.

Threadbare and Cecelia and the rest of the companions watched it go, then turned back to the four dwarves looking them over with curiosity, and in two cases, a little bit of hostility.

“I’m Gudrun Scarstone. Priestess of Yorgum,” said one of the friendlier ones, a lady in an apron with tools sticking out of every pocket, her hair gray and back in a long braid. “It’s amazing to see real golems in the… flesh? Plush? Ah, ye know what I mean.”

“Bazdra Coaler.” The younger dwarven woman introduced herself. She wore gray armor, enscribed with an hourglass across its breastplate. “Temple guard of the shrine to Aeterna.” She was one of the ones who’d scowled at Threadbare earlier.

“Hidon Fingers,” the older dwarven man said, a scowl still on his face. “Minister of lightless matters.”

“Which probably doesn’t mean what you think it does,” said the young, blonde-bearded man next to him, a smile on his broad face. “Montag Steelknife. I run the ministry of dangerous and new devices.”

“He won’t take that last part out of the name of it, no matter how much we tell him they mean the same thing,” Hidon said. “Ha ha ha,” he said without laughing.

“Ha ha ha.” Montag echoed. “Still as funny a joke as it was seven years ago.” His voice held a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Nineteen,” said Madeline, pointing at the door. “Loot, sweet loot, come back to Momma!”

Garon opened the door, and the group spent the next few minutes sorting out their items, digging them out of the chests they’d been put into, and in Pulsivar and Mopsy’s cases, releasing the irate cats from two cages. The dwarves backed off warily as Pulsivar growled and snarled in their general direction, but Missus Fluffbear placated them with Monster Treats.

For his part, Threadbare shrugged and said “Call Outfit,” adjusting his clothes as they snapped into existence around his body. “If you see my scepter, please bring it here,” he asked the others, and turned to the ministers. “What does your King want us to discuss with you?”

“Different matters,” said Montag. “I’m to see if you can contribute anything useful to the war effort and offer you a useful price for it.”

“If you’ve got any information useful to us on the covert side of things, that’s my department,” Hidon said. “We’ll pay you if you tell us anything interesting.”

“And I’ll arrange anything you need during your stay! And be your liaison for day-to-day matters,” Gurdun said. “You’ll be staying in Yorgum’s house while you’re here.”

“Oh. Fluffbear will like that. I didn’t know he lived so close. Is he as nice in person as he is when she prays?”

The two clerics looked at each other, and clamped hands over their mouths. “She means a temple to him. He doesn’t actually live there. Most of the time,” Montag said, while they fought to keep straight faces. “Maybe visits every few centuries or so, so to speak.”

“Right,” said Threadbare. And he turned to Bazdra, who’d remained silent through most of this. “And what are you here for?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t die or get yourselves killed.”

The rest of the group slowed, half-dressed and looking back in confusion. “Excuse me?” Cecelia asked.

“The Lurker’s among us again,” Hidon said. “We’ve had two officials die of mysterious causes in the last month. He’s in deep this time.”

“You know he’s here? That was one of the things I was going to tell you, once I was sure it was safe!” Cecelia burst out.
“What do you mean, again?” Threadbare said.

“We’ve killed him twice, and he keeps coming back.” Hidon said, simply.

“How?” Garon said.

“Daemon shenanigans, we’re assuming,” Bazdra said. “We’ve killed other Hand members before, and they’ve come back, too. This war would be over by now if they’d only stay dead.”

“I see.” Threadbare rubbed his head. “I’m glad I didn’t risk killing Anise when we might have had the chance.”

“Who?”

“The Inquisitor. She’s Amelia Gearhart’s daemonic form.”

“Oh. Her. I’ve heard of her, never met her,” Hidon said. “She hasn’t been in action yet.”

“She will. She’s got Emmet with her now, and Cecelia… evil Cecelia, I mean. They’re going to reveal that the Hand are the survivors of the Seven and rally the kingdom around them. Oh!” Threadbare said, toddling over and reaching into a nearby cubby. “There’s my rod. Good, I was beginning to worry.”

Silence from the dwarves for a bit. The other three looked at Hidon, who nodded. “Okay, that’s worth a bit.” He pulled out an abacus, tallied a number, and wrote it down on a scrap of parchment before handing it to Gudrun. “Anything else we can use, information-wise?”

“We’d better talk as we walk,” Montag said. “The first reports should be coming back now.”

“Reports?” Threadbare asked.

“We launched an assault last night,” Bazdra said. “Come on then.”

Reclothed and re-armed, the toys and their living companions followed the ministers back across the main hall, through another archway, and down several long flights of stairs. Madeline looked on as they went, snout swiveling as she examined the architecture. “Nice. Most of it. Some of it’s too smooth, though. Mahgic?”

“Earth Elementalists, to smooth the rougher parts out,” Montag said. “This is young as dwarven holds go, and we had to shift to war footing in a hurry. Don’t worry, we’ve made drawings of how it was before, and we’ll put it back that way after we’re on a peacetime footing again.”

“Why would you do that?” Fluffbear squeaked.

The four dwarves stopped and stared at her, as if she’d asked how tasty dwarven babies were.

“What?”

“You’re pretty ignorant, aren’t you?” Bazdra said.

“Sometimes, yes.”

“Dwarves must build, but we can’t take permanent shortcuts, and have to do it right, because nothing lasts so we owe it to creation to do the best we can while we’re here.”

“Say what now?”

“Keep moving. I’ll explain it,” Gudrun offered. “If I can. Okay. So… hm. You know Aeterna is the goddess of time, yes?”

“I think Yorgum told me that.”

“Hee hee! He told me about you, dear!”

“Did he now…” Bazdra shot her a suspicious glare.

“Oh hush. He told me when I prayed at Grundi’s request, the same as you did. Canceled each other out, we did.”

“Say what now?” Glub flared his fins. “I’m lost.”

“So the two most venerated gods in our hold are Aeterna and Yorgum,” Gudrun said. “They’re also rivals. Aeterna insists that nothing survives given enough time, and Yorgum says hold my beer.”

“All the fucking time,” Bazdra rolled her eyes.

“They’re rivals. But we honor both, most of the time. Though rarely there are occasions we can’t, like with you all.” Gudrun said.

“With you so far. Kinda,” Fluffbear said.

“Today we found we might not. See, the King asked us to pray to you for advice about necromantic golems. Now the thing about gods is the more secrets they give away to mortals in prayers, the more their rival gets to act. In this case they got asked about you simultaneously, so we know all about why Aeterna doesn’t like the notion of you one bit, and why you’re very dear to Yorgum.”

Cecelia frowned. “What? But we adventured with a cleric of Aeterna, years back. She was entirely fine with Threadbare.”
“It’s not that,” Bazdra said. “And it’s not who you are, personally. It’s what some of you are. See, you’re undead, and she dislikes those to begin with, but they’re not anathema because all undead fade with age. It just takes longer. But those of you who are haunting golems? You’re in forms that will never decay, provided you give them a little maintenance, and don’t require sustenance, ever. Golems are acceptable because they grind down over time. Takes ages, takes forever, but eventually they stop working. You? You can ensure near-immortality with a little effort, or the right class feature. Just hop golem bodies endlessly.” She sighed. “And that’s not good at all.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

“I never even thought of that,” Garon said. “Immortality, I mean.”

“Zuula did,” the half-orc spoke up for the first time in a while. “Is one reason why she going to die after she see dis business done. Too tempting odderwise.”

“Good on you,” Bazdra smiled. “Which is why Aeterna has nothing against YOU per se. It’s…”

“She’s worried that some of our own people would be tempted,” Gudrun said. “And she’s right to worry. Dwarves have had problems with undead for millenia, it’s why our laws are what they are.”

“And our own dead, who need bodies?” Graves interrupted. “They’ve been in there long enough, they’re going to start going mad, unless we can get yellow reagent, and lots of it.”

“We don’t care what you do there, so long as they don’t cause trouble,” Gudrun said. “But… it would cause serious problems with the King, the Clan Heads, and the temples if we just gave you yellow reagents. That’s not our way.”

“Right. Dwarves take gifts very seriously. But if we buy them?” Garon spoke up.

“That’s just trade.” Gudrun grinned, sharklike, with bad teeth. “Though a lot of our reagents are going to the war effort right now. So it’d cost you.”

“Mind you you’ve earned about four or five vials from what you told me about that Hand,” Hidon said.

“What if they eahned it back?” Madeline said. “Like a couple of hundred gahlems to help you fight? They get the bahdies fahst, then eahn it back in battle?”

Montag sighed. “Wouldn’t work. Undead are a touchy subject to begin with. That would be seen as the King compromising the laws out of desperation. I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. But… we can help you earn the reagents you need. You ah, you mentioned you were a Steam Knight?” He looked down at Cecelia, his eyes aglow.

“Yes. And Threadbare’s a golemist, and we’ll be happy to montage them to anyone you want-”

“For a reasonable fee, of course!” Garon interrupted.

“Just one apiece to start,” Montag nodded, pulling out his own abacus, and writing down another number, before handing it to Hidon.

“I’m not their merchant contact. Sweet Nebs, you’re offering THAT much?” Hidon scowled, and handed the two slips on to Gudrun. She read them and whistled. “Okay, so you’re up to twelve vials, assuming the market hasn’t shifted since this morning.”

“Nah, I think I’d like to Haggle that if I may,” Madeline grinned. “After all, these are two unique tier-two jahbs we’re talking about heah…” Five minutes, three halls, and two staircases later they settled on enough coin for fifteen vials of yellow reagents. Graves nodded, happy. “That should take care of the ones who are worst off.” He shifted the crate full of soulstones in his arms. “Really, that’ll buy us even more time. They’ll see we’re following through on our promises.”

“All right,” Threadbare smiled. “Let’s have a sit down with them later and see what bodies they want, so we can build them something that will make them happy.”

“I’m assuming you’re Caradon’s work?” Montag blurted out. “Because seriously, you’re amazing. If we can get a few dozen like you made…” he glared up at Bazdra, who glared back, “…BY a dwarven golemist or two, WITHOUT undead inside…”

“I’m sorry. I can only make unintelligent golems so far,” Threadbare said. “It’s probably a higher level skill. And also most of us are… born… with horrible luck. It’s very dangerous. For us and all around us.”

“Speaking of that,” Hidon said. “We’re almost there. If you value your lives, stay silent and be respectful.”

“What?” Zuula said. “You t’reaten us?”

“No.” The black-haired dwarf sighed, and pulled his hood tighter around his head. “If you piss them off we won’t be able to save you.”

And with his warning ringing in their ears, they entered the Hall of Heroes.

A long gallery, low, with golden plaques glimmering on the walls. Each one had a name. Each one had a clan sign. And each one had a simple slot engraved in it, just a small lip, sticking out of the metal.

Looking down the hall, which stretched a good way back into the mountain, Threadbare could see that perhaps half the plaques had their slots filled, each by a single silvery coin.

The center of the hall was packed by dwarves, older dwarves, some standing with canes or with the help of others who were obviously family. They faced the front of it. Faced the King, who had parked the Kneelchair next to a series of tubes that ran down the wall and opened up next to him.

TONG

An unseen bell chimed, and the tube rattled. The King sighed, and reached a large, emaciated hand out, taking a cylinder from the opening in the tube. He opened it, and coins cascaded out, followed by rolls of paper, falling onto the sheets that covered his vehicle.

And the crowd murmured in dismay. An old woman in back started sobbing.

King Grundi unrolled the scroll, and bowed his head. “Agni Durable,” he said, and the crowd sat silent. The Kneelchair ground and clanked as he rolled down the gallery, next to a plaque. There he took one of the coins, and placed it in the slot, with trembling hands. Then he read the next name on the list. “Jasper Motherlode,” and moved across the hall, fumbling another coin out. Three more names he read, and then-

TONG

Another cylinder clanked in the tube, and the crowd groaned.

“They’re the dead,” Cecelia whispered, and Threadbare grabbed her, hugged her as she held him back, as the ancient king read the names of the dead, and gave them their final due. All this while their relatives, the ones who couldn’t fight, who had stayed behind, stood and waited and hoped against hope.

Some sobbed. Some cursed and wailed, or stomped away flushed with anger, pulling beards or biting back tears.
But almost worse than that were the ones who were silent. Who reacted when they heard a name, but simply stood there, watching, as the hope drained from them. Left them hollow, like dwarf-shaped outlines in the world.

Four cylinders came down the tube in total. Each had perhaps fifteen to twenty names, all told. And when it was done, and the crowds had gone to grieve or enjoy the relief that their kin were still alive and hadn’t been named, only then did the King clatter up to them.

“My son thought peace possible,” King Grundi told Cecelia. “He fought with that hope. And he fell with it.” The King’s hand stretched, out to point at one section of the wall, with two plaques.

GRUNDI EMBERGLOW
DHURLEM EMBERGLOW

And in Dhurlem’s plaque, sat a coin.

“So no,” said King Grundi, “There will be no peace. We will win or we will die here. Do you understand me, she who was Princess Ragandor?”

“I do,” she said. “And I’m sorry. But more death won’t help you or your son or your people.”

“No, but about seven will. King Melos. His Hand. And that thing wearing your mother’s face. Will you help me with that, Cecelia?”

“Kill my father…” She looked away. “I…”

“Mm. No, it is too much to ask.” The old dwarf’s face twisted with compassion. “Tell you what. Help me handle the others, and you leave him to us. A trial and justice if we can take him alive, and death in battle if not.”

Cecelia let out a long breath. “He killed Caradon. His own father in law.” Behind her, Hidon’s eyes widened and he pulled out the abacus again. “Yes,” Cecelia decided. “I won’t kill him but he has to answer for his crimes.”

“Good. What do they have so far?” The King asked.

Hidon handed Gudrun another slip of paper, and Grundi looked them over. “Hm. Decent start. You, Cecelia. Steam Knight? You’ll need new armor, then.”

“Yes, but our bodiless refugees are the first concern. We need to get them settled before we help ourselves.”

Grundi smiled. “You would’ve been a good queen for your people. Tell you what…” He rolled the Kneelchair up to the Emberglow plaques…

…and as his ministers gasped, he took out his son’s coin.

Cecelia caught it by sheer reflex, as he flipped it to her. “This should cover the components she needs for a new Steam Knight suit. And if it doesn’t, talk to the tallyman and take mine.”

“Sir… no…” whispered Bazdra.

“My heir’s dead, I’m the last of my clan here, I’ve got no blood who might need it after I die,” Grundi snapped. “What are two pieces of Adamant in the face of all that, hm?”

“Adamant!” Garon shrieked, and stared around the room. At the hundreds of coins, filling hundreds of plaques. Just sitting there, next to the candles… “This is… the cost must…” He snapped his mouth shut. “This is the safest room in the hold, isn’t it?” He said, conversationally.

“Oh yeah,” Hidon confirmed, recovering from his shock. “Little doll girl, I hope you know the honor the King just paid you.”

“Why?” Cecelia said, staring down at the coin, and up to the King.

He smiled, sad then, eyes misty. “Because he, too, believed in peace.” He glanced over to Gudrun. “Get them settled. Bazdra, keep them alive. The rest of you, come with me.”

*****

Two hours later, in a simple chamber decorated with hand-woven rugs and tapestries ranging from children’s first attempts to masterpieces that must have taken years to finish, Graves and the golems and their cats stretched out behind a closed door and huddled together to discuss matters.

“So we’ve pretty much got free run of the place, so long as Bazdra or the other ministers are with us, right?” Kayin asked.

“Yes,” Threadbare said. “Though we need to be careful. The Lurker is probably going to try to kill anyone of us he can catch.”

“He can try,” Zuula said.

“He can do more than that,” Garon said. “If the Hand are actually the remnants of the Seven, then the Lurker’s probably what remains of Graham.”

“Oh shit,” Madeline said. “That’s wahse than just assassination.”

“What’s worse?” Fluffbear squeaked.

“Graham was a con man, a grifter for the greater good,” Cecelia said. “The first one to unlock the gambler job… well, in Cylvania, anyway. He favored range attacks, bluffs, and cons that usually put the Seven’s foes in a bad tactical position. If the daemon has any of his skills, he’s going to come at us using people, and in a way that we won’t be expecting. He was also a master of disguise.”

“Can he disguise himself as a doll?” Graves asked. “If there’s size limitations we might be good.”

“Except for you,” Zuula pointed out.

“Right.” Graves sighed. “Groups. Nobody does anything alone until this is over.”

“That’s going to be a bit rough,” Garon said, glancing toward Zuula, then quickly away before she could see him. “I mean, some of you have valuable jobs to montage, and armor to build, but some of us won’t have much to do. I… I’d really like to help here, but I don’t know how.”

“I’ve thought of that, actually. I think there might be a way you could help, you all could if you’re willing,” Cecelia said. “I’m going to be stuck putting together my new armor, and montaging.”

“I’ll be montaging as well.” Threadbare said, then frowned. “Maybe not. I taught you golemist.”

“You did, though I’ve barely used it. But I see where you’re going with this.” Graves nodded. “I could montage it to other people easily enough.”

“I’m down for being useful,” Glub said. “Beats staring at the walls.”

“Good.” Cecelia leaned forward. “Gudrun tells me the two coins will cover the Steam Knight armor and the reagents to golemize most of our dead, but there’s about forty or so left-uncovered. So we need a lot of money… or we need more sources of reagents. And since we’re free to roam the city, we’ve got every legal reason to enter the dungeon that they’ve got down here.”

“Wait, whoa, dungeon?” Garon said, leaning forward. “I’ve never heard of one here.”

“Oh yeah. It’s a well-kept secret outside these halls. I only knew about it because of the Lurker’s intelligence reports. It’s legal to go in, unlike a lot of the Crown-controlled dungeons were. The downside is that it’s way more dangerous than Catamountain was. You know how that one was all about cats? This one’s themed around giants.”

“Worth a shot,” Zuula decided. “Ogre went down pretty easy, all t’ings considered. How hard giants be?”

“Mind you, that’s also going to be a lure. We’ll raid in and out of the dungeon, and try to tempt the Lurker into ambushing us when he thinks we’re weakest-emerging from a dungeon.” Cecelia explained. “But I’ve got an ace to play, there.”

“Yeah?” Kayin said, scooting in closer.

“I couldn’t say anything before, because there were too many people listening, but we’ve got an old friend, one who’ll probably be happy to help us. If she’s alive, and if she’s here. But I can’t imagine she WOULDN’T be here.”

“Oh?” Garon asked. Then, “oh.”

“Yeah. Once things are quiet, let’s break out the dollseyed mice, Threadbare, and do some exploring. And if we’re very, very lucky we might be able to track down Beryl Wirebeard…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 12

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 140 Hit Points: 335(435) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 147(154) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275() Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 211 Moxie: 331(460) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 125 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(324) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 43 (+14)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 9
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 32
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 28
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 16

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 26
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 20

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 14
Noblesse Oblige - Level 30
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 10
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 15
Recycle Cloth - Level 1
Tailoring - Level 53(68)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 20
Makeup - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 20
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 15
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 19
Parry - Level 10
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 29 (Brawling +14) Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 27
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 32
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 47
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 29
Program Golem - Level 42
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 7
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 5
Refine Clay - Level 16
Sculpting - Level 58

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Give the Dwarves Their Due 2

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Cecelia remarked to Threadbare, as they sat waiting in the darkness of Madeline’s pack.

“Have I?” Threadbare asked.

“Yes,” Zuula said. “Dis whole time we down here talking wit de dwarves.”

“Oh. Well…” He turned in Cecelia’s arms, snuggled in a bit as he stared up at her from an inch away. “This was pretty much your idea. I figured you had matters well in hand, and you did. The King was very impressed by you. And I used the time I didn’t have to talk to look at people.”

“Okay. That’s good.” Cecelia snuggled him closer.

“Looking at people. Yeah.” Garon said, tossing his hatched up and down and catching it one-handed. The overall effect, given the proportion of his size to his weapon was of a minotaur juggling a greataxe. Threadbare supposed it was good for his dexterity, if nothing else. “The Lurker’s out there somewhere, probably wearing a friendly face.”

“Or an unfriendly one,” Threadbare said. “Those ministers are pretty highly placed officials, with lots of things to keep them busy, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. I caught that too,” Cecelia said. “And here we get FOUR of them. I initially thought it was him showing us good faith, showing that he was taking us seriously, even with the problems in my plan, and the downsides I hadn’t foreseen. But it’s not that at all, is it? He doesn’t trust his ministers. Not completely.”

“Oh. Oh shit, I think I see it. Goddamn, that’s clever,” Garon said, catching his axe and sliding it back into its harness. “He’s doing three things at once. He is showing us good faith. At the same time he’s putting four of the most likely ones to be false in a place where they’ve got three others and us watching them at the same time. And to top it off, he’s tempting the Lurker to take a whack at us, rather than one of his people.”

Zuula whistled. “Okay, dat’s almost orky. Zuula approve.”

Cecelia sighed. “I’m liking the idea all save for the last part. The notion that it’s a minister makes a lot of sense. The reports I saw were from about this level of official. Any of them could be compromised, or worse, replaced. A legendary grifter and master of disguise could easily be a dwarf for a few months or more.”

“It could also be a test of us,” Threadbare mused. “To see how we handle the situation.”

“Well, how would dwarves handle the situation?” Cecelia asked.

“They’d shut up, get on with their business, and try to survive the Luker’s sudden-but-inevitable betrayal,” Garon said. “Dwarves are Sturdy, and if you want to impress them, you have to take hits and not complain.”

“Hand,” Zuula said.

“Yes, we know the Lurker’s with the Hand,” Cecelia said.

“No. hand.” Zuula said, pointing.

And indeed, a gloved hand had entered the pack. None of the toys recognized it. It dropped a single piece of parchment, and withdrew.

Threadbare hopped out of Cecelia’s embrace, and went and read it. “It’s Beryl. She says not to resist or try anything funny or we’ll get our… heads blown off. There’s more words than that but most of them are not very nice.”

“Yep, that’s Beryl,” Garon grinned. “I’ll go first.”

The hand returned. Garon plopped himself into it, and vanished.

A minute crawled by. Then two. Then three more.

Zuula was practically vibrating with impatience and frustration by the time the hand reappeared, and beckoned. They went along peacefully, one at a time-

-and reappeared in a room full of junk.

A purple-haired dwarven girl who had to be Beryl was there, talking with Madeline off to the side…

…and there, placing him gently on the ground, with Garon riding on his shoulder, was a tall, green-skinned man with solid yellow eyes. He was clad in leather from head to toe, most of it a greatcoat broken up by bandoliers, with metal contraptions hanging off of it. He had a short, floppy hat that looked a lot like Mordecai’s old hat to Threadbare’s eyes, and he was looking down at the three of them with amazement at friends and family he’d thought long gone.

“Hullo Mom,” Jarrik said, swallowing hard. “Long time no see.”

“Jarrik!” Zuula leaped into the air, grabbed his shirt, and buried her face in it.

“Give us a few, okay?” Garon stage-whispered to Threadbare and Cecelia.

“Of course.” Cecelia smiled, and headed over to Madeline’s side.

“Motherfucking shitcrackers,” Beryl shook her head as Cecelia strolled up. “I guess this is an occupational hazard for animators, huh?”

She hadn’t changed much. Her hair was in four purple-and-black braids, not two, and she wore a simple black haltertop and pants with wide pockets. The boots were about the same, thick enough to walk across beds of nails without her noticing or caring, but the goggles were new. Propped up on her forehead, they were smeared with ash and grime, as was most of her face below it, save for the white patches around her eyes where her goggles had covered.

“Hazard?” Cecelia asked.

“Being turned into a toy. Though daaaaaamn, you’re a quality one. Someone put a lot of work into your face.”

“That would be him.” Cecelia jerked a thumb back at Threadbare, who doffed his hat and bowed.

“Holy shit! The little fucker himself! Man, it’s all reunion up in here.” She slid her hand out from behind her back, and put an ugly twist of metal and wood up on a nearby shelf.

“Is that a pistol?” Asked Cecelia, craning her neck to look at it. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“Yeah. Don’t have to be a gunslinger to use one.”

“But if ya are then they’re pretty badass,” Jarrik threw in, then turned back to whispering with Zuula and Garon.

“Shaddap, braggy,” Beryl scooped up a wrench out of a nearby junkpile, hucked it at his head. Without looking at her he caught it, put it down, then kept on talking with his family.

“That’s some serious dextahrity,” Madeline remarked.

“And it ain’t limited to his hands,” Beryl leered, as she waggled her tongue between two spread fingers.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Threadbare asked.

“Holy shit you talk now?”

Your Adorable skill is now level 33!

“I made my own voice after I got frustrated with being silent.”

“After that one time in Catamountain I can’t say I’m surprised.” Beryl’s face darkened. “Man, that was a good run. Even if things did turn to shit just after.”

“So… what happened, exactly?” Cecelia said, hopping up on a nearby overturned crate. “After we dropped you off in Taylor’s Delve, I mean?”

“I wanna hear this too,” Garon announced. Jarrik strolled over, balancing his mother and his brother in his arms, kicked a pile of gears out of a chair, and sat down.

“Not much to tell,” Beryl shrugged. Then she grimaced. “Not much good anyway. I got back told Da, and he gathered the family. We stopped long enough to let our neighbors know what was going down, then it was down the escape tunnel we’d dug years ago, with the ones who believed us.”

“People didn’t believe you?” Threadbare asked.

“Taylor’s Delve was full o’ folks who went there to get away from civilized places, an’ resistance fighters,” Jarrik said. “The first kind of folks didn’t believe ‘er, and forted up. The second wanted ta fight.” Once a little high-pitched and reedy, his voice had deepened as he’d matured. There were muscles under that coat too, his former gawky slimness growing into the full weight of his mixed heritage. “Can’t blame Beryl for th’ ones what stayed. The ones what died.”

“Like me,” Zuula said, and Jarrik winced.

“I’m sorry, Ma. By the time me an’ Bakky got there, it was all done, and you were… Well.”

“Is okay. Work out for best.”

“He and Bakky got to us just as we were about to collapse the tunnel,” Beryl said. “We let’em come with.”

“Bak’shaz!” Zuula and Garon said, simultaneously. “He alive too?” Zuula grabbed Jarrik’s collar and shook it, while Garon tried to pry her fingers loose from his brother’s clothes.

“Yeah. He was. Probably still is,” Beryl said. “He left a few years back, got tired of living in cramped tunnels. Went looking for the Rangers.”

“A few years… we-the Crown had the observation posts set up early in the conflict. How did he get past those?” Cecelia frowned.

Jarrik shrugged. “I’d montaged him through Scout by then, done my best to train ‘im like Da would, and shadowed ‘im through. By that time Porkins was dead so it was just ‘im ta worry about, and ‘e got through easy.”

“I think losing Porkins was what got him to move on, honestly,” Beryl sighed. “The little guy was never the same after that.”

“Wait,” Cecelia said. “How did you get to Taylor’s Delve in the first place? The last time I saw you the woods were on fire, there were enemy soldiers and scouts all around, and you were going to save your Father.”

Jarrik fell silent. Beryl sighed, moved over, and reached up to rub his shoulders. He slipped a hand back over hers, covering it completely, and squeezing in thanks. “Long story short, we failed. Saw’im get taken down by one a’ his best students. Feller named Jericho.”

Madeline inhaled, sharply. “Wait…”

“Yeah. That Jericho. At tha time he was still loyal. He tracked us to Oblivion Point, told us he was sorry, and that he’d try to make sure that da survived. Told us to escape, keep our heads down, and tell no one of what happened that night. He also said that the wilds were crawling with scouts and soldiers clearing the place, and we’d never make it frew if we went reg’lar ways.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Madeline said. “Why do you think I was on the outskirts of the Delve ta begin with, Gar? Buncha gahds stahted hunting around my graveyahd.”

“Then how did you escape?” Threadbare asked Jarrik.

“We walked th’ Oblivion.”

The toys stared, stunned.

“You can do that?” Cecelia asked. “I thought nothing could cross it.”

“Oh y’can’t cross it,” Jarrik said, tugging at one of his gloves. “But if ya go a little ways in, and walk ALONG wiff it, and don’t go too far towards or away from it, ya can run ‘long it like a bearing in a track. An’ if ya walk in tha right place, it cuts right frew solid fings… mountains, trees, whatnot, an’ crosses right over gorges an’ drops and suchlike.”

“I had no idea,” Cecelia whispered. “That’s… incredible.”

“It’s fucking unsafe, is what it is,” Beryl snorted. “Show’em, Jarry.”

“I am, I am, hold yer knickers…” He tugged the glove up, and held off his hand. His pinky finger was a stump, gone to the first knuckle. “It’s dangerous ‘cause you got ter stay in exactly tha right middle part. Get too far out, an’ you don’t come back. But walk too close to tha inside edge, an’ ya walk over air an’ fall, or worse, walk out inta something solid.” He flexed his finger. “Like I almost did. Most of me pinky’s part of a mountain or summat now.”

“You no do somet’ing dat stupid again,” Zuula said. “Howling darkness out dere. Green numbers eat you alive.”

“We might ‘ave to,” Jarrik said, sighing. “If the war goes bad, it’s a last-ditch plan for th’ hold. Our backs are lit’rally up against it. Me an’ tha other scouts been training, as careful as we can. Still lost a few. And if yer add tha rest o’ the hold’s folks inta it? No way we won’t be countin’ our dead if we do it, which is why it’s a bad idear.”

“Which is why winning the war seems to be the best outcome,” Threadbare said, staring up at a friend he’d never expected to see here. “We want to help you do that.”

“Yeah, why are you here? What’s all this about ghost golems? We filled you in, let’s hear your story.” Beryl said, scooting around to a chair, flipping it around, and straddling it while she leaned her head on her hands.

Threadbare told her about the mess at the house, and how he’d come to start his epic quest to save Cecelia, with Zuula and Garon joining in on their part of things. Cecelia took it after that, explaining how she’d been fighting for the wrong side, and how she’d died.

“Ouch. Shit. Ah…” Beryl ran a hand through her hair, tugging on her braids. “No offense, but you uh, solved a problem for us when you did that. Remember how we’d named you friend to our clan?”

“Yes. But that debt’s gone now, with my old life.” Cecelia sighed.

“Hey. Look. It means we can start over, yeah? And this time you’re not secretly the daughter of our worst enemy.” Beryl smiled and reached down a grubby hand. “Pleased to fucking meet you.”

Cecelia took it and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. “Thanks! To be honest I was a little worried.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re a cleric of Aeterna. Bazdra said-”

“Bazdra? Bazdra Coaler?” Beryl snorted. “She’s not the boss o’ me. She guards the shrine and advises the King, but she’s not my clan. Which is good, because she’s been a right asshole the last few months.”

“The last few months? Really?” Cecelia asked, glancing towards Threadbare.

“Yeah. Ah… let me show you.” She kicked through the scrap on the floor, forging a path to the nearest door, and opened it up.

Instantly, glowstones lit up, revealing a long, high-ceilinged hall, with a pair of iron double-doors on the end large enough to admit three ogres abreast.

Inside the hall were five wire-and-cloth-and-wood contraptions, with wooden blades sticking out in front, and metal boxes on the rear. Each had two seats, set into the curving wooden bodies.

“Those look a little like that tinker diagram we gave you,” Threadbare said.

“They are. That flyer was a dangerous, shitty contraption that almost got me killed the first few times I flew it.” Beryl grinned. “These though… these are about done. About ready. They’ll change the war once we get them out there, get us some wins…” Then she sighed. “And fucking bitchqueen supreme Bazdra Coaler is squawking about how they need more testing, first.”

“I thought Montag Steelknife was the minister in charge of new weaponry,” Threadbare said.

“He is, but the training for it goes through Bazdra. The… oh, we need a word for people who fly this thing. The flyers, the controllers, they need to be approved by Bazdra’s ministry. They choose who gets allocated to what jobs and she’s arguing that this is a job. Even though it isn’t, you just need the flight skill.”

“The flight skill, you say?” Garon remarked. “Hm…”

“Yeah. They’re two seaters, and you need someone flying it. One person to fly, the other to drop bombs over the side.” Beryl puffed her lips, and made a farting noise. “Easy as mud. Still pisses me off… Montag swore he’d back me up on this, ram it up Bazdra’s arse if he had to, and he hasn’t. Normally the dude’s braver, I don’t know what’s gotten into him the last few weeks.”

“Could be he’s jus’ backed off ‘cause Bazdra had a deaf in tha’ family,” Jarrik said, trying to console her.

“Did she?” Cecelia squinted.

“Yeah. ‘er husband died accidental-like two weeks back. Didn’t get ‘is coin, since it weren’t in battle. Word is she’s tore up somefing fierce about it.”

“Which doesn’t matter because she should fucking do her job so fewer of us die!” Beryl thumped the wall in anger. “Bitch needs to calm her tits right the fuck down.”

Threadbare listened, the light almost seeming to gleam in his button eyes. “You know, we’ve talked with both of them recently. And a fellow named Hidon Fingers, and a nice lady who’s putting us up in Yorgum’s house, called Gudrun Scarstone.”

“Hidon? Yer sure?” Jarrik asked, eyebrows rising. “That guy’s been out a sight th’ last few months. He was in charge a’ the Oblivion run training until he disappeared for a while. Word is he was in some deep mission for th’ King.”

“Black beard, wears a hood, smells of garlic?” Threadbare asked.

“Yeah, tha’s him.”

“Well regardless, if you got Gudrun looking after you, you’re good,” Beryl nodded. “Everyone knows Granny Guddy. She’s big on the home crafting part of Yorgum’s religion. And the most senior cleric in the faith who isn’t on the front.”

The four toys shared a look. “Probably not de Lurker, den.” Said Zuula. “Is good. We probably not come back to house full of dead friends.”

“Nobahdy knows we left anyway,” said Madeline. “I made sure of that. Stealth, camo, the wahks.”

“Yes, but it’s the Lurker,” said Cecelia. “We have to play it safe.”

“Yeah. About that. What the fuck.” Said Beryl. “The Hand?”

“Yeah. This is the part it gets complicated,” said Cecelia. “We’re pretty sure the Lurker’s infiltrated this hold. We think he’s one of the four ministers. We think the King knows that, and is playing some kind of complicated bluff to try and get him to reveal himself by taking a whack at us, or… well, me, because I’d be problematic to the Hand’s plans in the future.”

“We’re here because we need some help stopping that,” said Threadbare. “If he just tries to kill her, we can soulstone her again, but there are some sneaky things he could do that would end up with her permanently dead. And that’s… unacceptable,” said the little bear.

Beryl nodded. “Yeah, all right. How can I help?”

“Some of us are going to run the dungeon soon.”

“Whoa. Much as I’d like to go, that’s… no. That isn’t the Catamountain.”

“We know,” Garon said. “Which is why we don’t want you going in. We want you watching to see who’s waiting to ambush us when we come out.”

“Tryin’ a lure…” Jarrik nodded. “Da would’ve approved. But It’s a lure what could go wrong,” Jarrik said. “This is one a tha Hand. You give him a shot at Celia, what’s ta stop him grabbing her an’ escaping?”

Threadbare smiled. “I have an idea, there. Do you happen to have any green reagent?”

“I can get some. Why?” Beryl squinted at him.

He told them, and Zuula laughed. “Oh! Is perfect!”

Jarrik went in the back, and rummaged around. “I’ll go an’ be yer watcher. I’ll foller yer back, then shadow yer when ya ready for tha dungeon run. Jus’ wear somethin’ red on yer hat, Threadbare.”

“Trust me, he’s way better at it than I am,” Beryl said. Then her eyes narrowed, and she moved up to loom over Cecelia and Threadbare, shaking her finger in their faces. “Just so we’re clear. If you kill him I will fuck you and not in the fun way. I will find a way to screw you so hard your ancestors will be sore in the morning. You’ll go in our book of grudges, and if I don’t settle it my children will. We clear?”

“Ber…” Jarrik started.

“Yes dear?” She looked at him and grinned, a manic smile wide on her face as her braids rustled from the sudden movement.

He sighed. “Ne’er mind.” He turned back to the toys. “You do yer fing, I’ll back yer up when ‘e strikes.”

“Thanks bro,” Garon said, reaching up one wooden fist. “Just watch yourself, okay?”

Jarrik grinned, and reached down to bump his fist to Garon’s. “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout me none. Picked up a few tricks since I got here.” His free hand found its way up to his bandolier, and ticked down the curved wooden handles sticking out from it.

“Pistols?” Cecelia asked.

“Oh yeah. Let’s just say I don’t use a bow no more.”

“Mordecai would not approve,” Zuula said.

“Oh!” Cecelia said. “Speaking of him, there’s something you should know. He’s alive too. And he’s free. I freed him.”

Garon, Zuula, and Jarrik all turned to stare at her.

“What?” Garon gasped.

“It all started when Anise fooled me into thinking there was a test…” She related how the daemon had tried to trick her into killing Mordecai, and she’d freed him from his prison instead. “Father sent the Ninja after him, but he escaped. Father was furious after that, but he kept his word and I went to the front.”

“This is the first time you’ve mentioned that,” Threadbare said.

“I know. I’m sorry. We’ve been so busy, and…” she sighed. “He was mad. They tortured him.”

Zuula’s spear quivered in her hands, as she shook, rage filling her tiny plush body.

“But he’s free now. I’m… I’m hoping he joined up with the rangers. He probably did. If Jericho was one of his old students, I don’t see-”

“Celia,” Zuula said, her voice low.

“Yes?” The porcelain princess whispered.

“We done with the talky and the planny and the dwarven shit and the plotty bits?”

“I, er…”

“Cause Zuula really want to go fucking kill some shit, and de sooner de better.”

Jarrik laughed, and her son, her son who was a man now, knelt to embrace the tiny doll with both arms. Zuula bit irritatedly at him for a bit, then subsided, sighing. “Welcome back Mom,” Jarrik said. “Missed yer.”

“Miss you too Jarrik. You treat Beryl good, yah? Zuula want grandchildren.”

“Uh, yeah, about that, it probably ain’t gonna happen-” Beryl started, but Madeline bumped her leg with her snout.

“Sh. Trust me on this. Just shush.”

“Yeah, okay, whatevs.”

“Yes, I think we’re done,” said Cecelia.

“Let me go find that reagent for you.” Beryl said, rummaging around.

Ten minutes later, the toys were back in Madeline’s pack, while the little dragon returned to the temple of Yorgum, emerging in through the same upper-story window she’d left from. Zuula spent most of the trip silent and brooding. Cecelia tried to apologize a few times, but Garon stopped her, quietly pulled her off to the side.

Threadbare, for his part, spent most of the trip thinking. They had a lot to do, before they went to the dungeon. Hopefully he could get a head start on it early tomorrow, when the supplies arrived.

As it turned out, though, he didn’t get a start at all.

*****

“Ah, there you are!” Gudrun’s voice echoed through the work room. “I was wondering why someone had fired up the kiln.”

“Oh. I’m just skilling up my sculpting,” Threadbare said, showing her the row of pots he’d just finished firing. It hadn’t been the main reason he’d started working here, but he’d finished THAT part of things an hour ago, right before dawn. “I’m impressed by your facilities.”

Yorgum’s temple had every sort of crafting tool and workstation known to men, dwarves, or stranger races. Including a few things that were for purposes and crafts that were hard to decipher just by looking at them.

“Now that you’re here I can help make golems. Would you like to observe?”

“Ah. About that…” Gudrun sighed, and flipped her long silver ponytail back from where it rested on her shoulder. “The markets are out of yellow reagent.”

“Really?”

“There was a run on it late last night, evidently,” she frowned. “If you can wait a few days, the miners should have a new crop when they come in from the Western digs, that’s where most of it comes from.”

“Hm.” Threadbare said. “I don’t know if our people can.”

“I’m sorry,” Gudrun said. “I told them it was King’s business, and asked them to put the next batches aside for you.”

“Hey Mistah Beah, you gaht a bit?” Madeline poked her head around the doorway.

“Yes, of course.” Threadbare pointed at the pots, and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. “Here you go. Please use them well.” He cleaned the tools, sat them down, and headed into the main room, with Gudrun’s thanks following.

Once he got back to their communal room, Madeline shut the door behind him, with a snap and a twist of her wooden maw against the doorknob.

“It’s the Lurker,” Cecelia said, examining a tangle of copper wire. “This is his opening move.”

“Buying up all the reagents?”

“Not just that. I gave Gudrun a list of components I’d need to assemble a new Steam Knight suit. The most important ones suddenly sold out just before this morning.”

“She says,” Graves said. “What a coincidence, that she’s the one doing the buying, and we are suddenly unable to get what we need to help with the war effort.” He sighed, and held up a sturdy steel shield. “At least the commonly available things came through, so I have arms and amor again. But the rest… it makes me wonder about the veracity of our hostess.”

“You think she’s the Lurker? I don’t see it. She had plenty of chances to try something last night. She literally knows where we sleep. Well, where you sleep, desu,” Kayin said.

“Maybe because she doesn’t want to get found out. Moving against us here would be too blatant, if she’s the Lurker.” Cecelia said. “But if someone else is, then they WILL move against us here, to frame her… Oooh, this is all twisty. I hate intrigue. It’s all complicated.”

“Then let us make it simple,” Zuula said. “We go. We hunt giants as tribe. And when Lurker show, we stomp him to bits.”

“Captured alive, if possible,” Garon pointed out. “We know he can come back from the dead.”

“Right. Threadbeah, you got the thing?”

“Oh yes,” The little bear handed Madeline her pack, pausing to pull the object in question from it. “I think it came out pretty well, all things considered…”

*****

After some quick logistics, the group suited up, equipped themselves, and headed out into the Hold. The dwarves they passed in the dim tunnels stared at them, gave them wide berths as the toys, their cats, and their lone human companion marched by.

Four minutes into the trip, Gudrun came puffing up, racing until she fell in next to Cecelia at the head of the group. “What… what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“We’ve heard good things about Jotunher. We thought we’d try our luck,” Threadbare explained. Cecelia ignored her, marched on without a word, face barely visible behind her doll-sized helm.

“I…” Gudrun shook her head. “We need to know when you’re going to do things like this. The other ministers need to know!”

“We’re old hands at dungeon raiding,” Garon reassured her. “We know our limits. We’ll be back in a few hours at most, it’ll be fine.”

“I… Don’t go in! I’ll let the others know.” Gudrun said. “Please just wait until we get there.”

“All right,” said Madeline. “Run fahst. We have lots to do, so don’t keep us waiting, okay?”

Gurdun beat feet down the passage, and Fluffbear sighed to watch her go. “I feel bad for tricking her,” the small bear squeaked when she was gone. “She baked us cookies. I mean I couldn’t eat them, but they looked good.”

“They were delicious,” Graves told her.

“You checked them, right?” Garon asked.

“Unpoisoned. Confirmed by my appraise,” Graves replied without missing a step.

All told, it took an hour to wind through the hold. The tunnels got smaller and smaller as they went, until Graves was stooping full time, and had to put his helm on to minimize the damage from collisions. Some of them were fairly dusty, and they passed by two guardposts, with suspicious eyes watching through stone slits as they did.

“What ah they gahding foah?” Madeline wondered. “They didn’t even challenge us.”

“They’re not here to keep people out of it, they’re here to keep watch out for things that come out,” Garon said. “Must be why the tunnels are barely dwarven size. If it’s a dungeon full of giants, no way they’d fit through here.”

At last, they came to a final corridor. Beyond, the wind howled past a huge archway, built with curves and lines that were much cruder than the ones that filled the dwarven halls. Natural light, the first they’d seen in over a day, gleamed in from outside.

And footsteps rang in the corridor behind them. “Hey!” Bazdra called, barely breathing hard as she ran up to them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hidon materialized from the shadows behind her, arms crossed, with a disapproving look on his face. “You do know where you are, right?”

“Oh yes,” said Threadbare, glancing around from his perch on Pulsivar’s back. “We know it’s dangerous. We shall be very careful.”

Hidon and Bazdra shared a look. “Is there any way we can talk you out of this?” Bazdra asked.

“Nope,” Zuula said, folding her arms.

“You have no idea how much of my time you’re wasting.” Hidon rubbed his eyes. “Fine, let’s get this over with quickly. Invite us in.”

“What?” Threadbare said. This wasn’t the plan.

“Invite us in. The King’s orders were to ensure your survival,” Bazdra ground out. “We know Jotunher, you don’t. We’ll even settle for half-shares.”

“Hey now,” Hidon said. “Don’t go crazy there.”

Threadbare looked at the groups, and rubbed his head. “Ah. Garon, can you take them please?”

The wooden minotaur thought it over. “I… suppose. I’ll have to… well, Fluffbear and Mopsy could transfer over to yours. It’ll mean that both groups are running without pets. On the upside we’ll both have a full seven.”

The toys and their friends reshuffled, and Bazdra frowned. “You’re sticking me with the group that’s all golems? My party heals aren’t going to be much good there. I should go with the cats, and the human-”

“No, no, it will be fine,” Threadbare said. “He can heal himself, and Fluffbear will look after the cats. Please trust me, we’ve worked well together before.”

“You’re sure?” Hidon squinted at Garon. “Because I only count six in Threadbare’s group. The two bears, the two cats, Mr. Graves, and Cecilia. She could shift over there easily enough.”

“Oh, six, right, six,” Garon said. “Slip of my tongue. But no, no, it works better this way,” Garon said. “Besides, I’m a shaman and so’s mom. There’s enough healing to go around. We need you in a more tanky role…” he told them, as he led them forward, after inviting them into his party. “So, please tell me about your jobs and specialties, if you would…

*****

A few minutes after they departed, Jarrik heard Madeline’s voice whisper in his ear. “We’re in. You in position?”

“Yeah,” he wind’s whispered back, keeping his back to the wall, and settling in for the long-haul. His camouflage and stealth skills, long-practiced these last five years, had let him slide past the auxiliary guard posts easily. And his Keen Eye was up, as he glanced up and down the hall, leather coat pushed back far enough that it wouldn’t creak and give him away.

Now comes the hard part. Waiting.

As it turned out, he didn’t have long at all to wait.

After a few minutes, his ears twitched, as footsteps echoed down the corridor. He looked over to see a hooded figure run past, black beard flapping as he ran for the archway.

That’s Hidon. But he just went in… Jarrik started to inhale as realization crashed in, then held his breath. Can’t make a sound.

Hidon slowed anyway, stopped as he got to the archway, and glanced around. His gaze passed over Jarrik without registering and kept moving. Then a flash of steel as he pulled a dagger free, and he was gone.

Well. That settles that. Jarrik drew one of his pistols, and checked the primer-

-and barely had time to snap the chamber shut and freeze, as another set of footsteps pounded down the hallway.

Silver hair trailing behind her, Gudrun ran like her life depended on it, hands holding her skirt up as her boots trampled the floor, puffing and panting.

She too slowed as she came to the archway. Jarrik held his breath as she glanced around. Then a flash of steel, as she drew a pistol of her own, and she was gone, into the dungeon.

Shit, Jarrik thought.

Then he shrugged. Whatever the case, his role hadn’t changed. He moved to the corner of the room, dropped his camouflage, and drew out his pipe, tamping it full of tobacco. Once it was lit and smoking, he unbuttoned his coat, and faced the archway.

“Hidon and Gudrun just came in after yer, one at a time. Both armed,” he whispered to Madeline. “Tell my bro good luck, and bring everyone back alive…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 140 Hit Points: 335(435) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 148(155) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275() Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 211 Moxie: 331(460) Cool: 20(49)
Perception: 126 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(325) Fate: 15(22) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 43 (+14)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 9
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 33
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 28
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 16

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 26
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 20

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 35
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 10
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 15
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 20
Makeup - Level 10
Self-Esteem - Level 20
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 15
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 8
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 19
Parry - Level 10
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 29 (Brawling +14) Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 27
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 32
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 48
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 29
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 10
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 60

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests King’s Quest - Take Down the Lurker Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Give the Dwarves Their Due 3

Jotunher was big.

A great stone house, hundreds of feet tall, it sat in a shielded mountain valley, on a free-standing pillar of stone that had to be miles wide. Cleft from the rest of the range by force unimaginable in times long gone, and surrounded on all sides by impassable peaks, the house of the giants was reachable only by one large, and quite-guarded stone bridge.

“Do you think they see us?” Missus Fluffbear squeaked.

“No,” Hidon said, curtly, digging out a pair of daggers. “They won’t until we get within a few hundred yards, or if we take a shot at them at range.”

“Is their eyesight really that bad?” Garon said, looking over the archway the parties had just emerged from, and the large, open steps down to the edge of the circular gorge. “We’re pretty hard to miss, out here.”

“Some think it’s their eyesight, or their dimness. Others think that being dungeon monsters does something to their perception.” Bazdra said, before she ran through her buffs. “Shield of Divinity. Shield Saint. And here, Aeterna’s Blessing of Constitution on Cecelia.”

“Hm?” The armored doll glanced around. “Oh, thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to buff up too?” Bazdra asked her, frowning.

“Right, right. Um… Shield Saint.”

“We all should,” said Threadbare. “Hm… Keen Eye. Flex. Makeup. Self-Esteem. Strong Pose. Deathsight. Guard Stance. Harden.”

Skill ups rippled past his vision, and he dug in his pack, applied makeup to his face.

“A camouflage pattern?” Hidon said, beard twitching as he fought to keep his scowl.

Your Adorable skill is now level 34!

“I’m buffing one of my Scout skills.”

“That, uh, that was a lot of Model stuff, wasn’t it?” Bazdra asked, curiously. “What kind of mix are you going for here, exactly?”

“Mix?” He said, nudging Pulsivar, as the rest of the party put up their applicable buffs. The cat hopped down a step, and the rest of the party followed suit, clambering down the mildly-icy, four-foot-tall steps with various degrees of trouble. “I’m not sure I understand. Oh, does anyone else want a harden?”

Pretty much all the golems and doll haunters did, and Threadbare smiled as the skill rose, in fits and starts. Long ago that would have drained his sanity entirely. Now it only dented it a bit.

“She’s talking about your jobs,” Hidon said, hopping from step to step with nimble ease. “We don’t see many models among our people. But I guess one of your purposes is to look cute, so it’s understandable.”

“I didn’t plan any of my jobs, not really,” Threadbare said. “But they’ve proven surprisingly useful, so I guess that’s all right.”

“We’re pretty much all alive again, kinda, because of his necromancer and golemist combo,” Garon said.

“It’s different for us,” Bazdra said, dangling her feet over the side and hopping down, repeating the process with each step, and grimacing at clatter of her armor with every drop. “Do you know much about dwarves?”

“You like gold and ale and making stuff,” said Madeline, fluttering easily from step to step, with Kayin on her back. “That’s about it.”

“We get five crafting jobs. And five adventuring jobs,” said Hidon. “So we have to plan carefully. Unlike humans, who mainly stumble around, and grab whatever looks shiny, we have to weigh our choices carefully, check with our elders, and see what helps the clan the most.”

“Five. Geeze. I mean, don’ get me wrong, a while back I woulda thought three would be stupid amounts. But yeah, that’s pretty rough,” Madeline sympathized.

“Well…” Hidon said, sliding down the last step, and staring out to the bridge, “The thing to remember, is that jobs are still new to most of us. It’s only been about forty-three years since they came about and the whole world changed. To a dwarf? That’s not so long. There’s a ton of us that still respect the old ways. Hell, some of our kin back north, when last we spoke wi’ em, had decided to ignore jobs entirely and do things the old-fashioned way. Which is a bit extreme, in my eyes. We used to have some folks like that down here, but, well…”

“What happened to them?” Cecelia asked.

“They died early in the war,” he said simply. “Now it’s only the more pragmatic ones left, like me. I’ve been using my jobs to great effect, and they’re the only reason I’m still alive. Because so, so many of them are so good when I’m fighting dirty.”

“To tell the truth, I’m surprised you’re not trying to get us to ambush the guards over there,” Garon said. “That’s about what I’d expect from an Assassin/Bandit/Burglar mix.”

“This is your run,” Hidon shrugged, glancing back to Bazdra. “We don’t think you should be here risking your fool necks. So I want to see how you do before I start suggesting complicated tactics and tricks. And if you can’t handle the guards, then it’s better we know it early so you can go back to Guddy’s place and eat cookies and let us get on with more important work.”

“That’s kinda harsh, desu,” said Kayin.

“Yeah man, we got this. Maybe. Dang those ladies are big.” Glub stared across the gorge, at the two blue, fur-clad women, standing to either side of the portcullis. Each of them was twelve feet tall, and the parts of their arms and legs that were visible rippled with pure corded muscle.

“I don’t like the fact that the gorge is all around us,” Threadbare said. “It would be all too easy for one of us to get knocked over the edge.”

“See, that’s a thing we don’t have to worry about,” Bazdra said. “Dwarves are Sturdy. We don’t get knocked back. Ever.”

“Still not too late to turn back,” Hidon offered.

Garon shook his horned head. “Nah. Madeline, fly under the bridge, I want you on rescue duty. Mom, those grasses on the edge, are they enough to get vines from?”

“Yes. Is easy.”

“Great. Give us some vines and ready them to catch anyone who gets flung. And do the owl thing and backup Madeline.”

“But Zuula want to shank a giant bitch!”

“Mom… It’s party experience. You’ll get a share anyway.”

“Not much with greedyguts dwarfs taking big share! Dey be twice our levels, Garon!”

“Greedy?” Bazrda said. “Greedy! We’re here to keep you alive, you ungrateful green fool!”

“Bah! We not need you!”

“Guys, save it for the giants. Mom, there’ll be plenty of regular fighting when we get inside.”

“Better be. Zuula really need to kill some’ting. Been days Garon, whole DAYS.”

“Hey,” Threadbare said, hopping down from Pulsivar and hugging her. “We wouldn’t have gotten here without you. Without everyone. You’re all very useful, you’re all my friends. And I hope you are, too,” Threadbare looked up at Hidon and Bazdra.

The offended cleric sighed, and finally nodded. “Friends. Whee.” And if her voice held very little enthusiasm, then nobody called her out on it.

Hidon was made of harder stuff. “I’m waiting to see what you can do before I share a drink with you.” He glanced across the bridge. “They’ll throw snowballs as you come in. Be ready for that.”

“Snowballs doesn’t sound too bad,” Cecelia said, putting her visor down.

Two minutes later, as chunks of ice and rock and snow the size of footstools whizzed overhead , and exploded on the bridge, Cecelia apologized profusely and repeatedly to Graves as he ran alongside her, shielding her from rocky shrapnel.

Threadbare was the first to arrive, leaping off Pulsivar as the black bobcat pounced on one of the giants, wailing. “Adjust Weight!” the little bear cried…

…and ballooned into a puffy, oversized version of himself about twice his regular mass

“Hum,” he said, narrowly avoiding a Giant-sized boot.

Your Dodge skill is now level 10!

“No, not much help,” he decided, and canceled the skill, deflating rapidly and moving in to slash at the very angry giant as she tried to simultaneously get fifty pounds of angry Pulsivar off her head, and smash the weird little toy in front of her into teddy bear paste.

The second giant moved up to help her fellow guard…

…and promptly got her own face full of stabby feline as Kayin leaped off of Madeline, daggers slashing. Then Garon’s group crashed into her, and Threadbare’s party arrived to back him up, and there followed about five minutes of violence. The giants found themselves massively outnumbered, by small targets who had maxed out their buffs and worked together with practiced tactics. Not only that, the tiny terrors were backed up by dwarves who were a lot easier to hit, but had much better defenses and were smart enough to back out and heal up when hits go through. Inevitably, the guards really didn’t have a chance. They were built like the ogre had been, many hit points but only middling armor, and the toys were much stronger now, especially with Glub’s heartening song rocking the beats of that battle.

But it wasn’t entirely one-sided.

The giants were a hell of a lot faster than the ogre had been, and a lot more accurate. Their hits hurt, and Threadbare found himself splitting his duties, tanking, getting in the occasional slash to keep his giant focused on him, and dropping mend golem spells when his friends fell back. Graves stepped up a few times too, to take the pressure off of him, withstanding shield-rattling hits, hacking with dolorous strikes, and getting off a drain life now and again when the hits got to be too much.

The good news was that his fears about being knocked off the cliff were mostly unfounded. The giants only seemed to be able to do that with a skill called “Sving for de bleachers!” When they yelled that, the toys knew to get clear.

All except for Cecelia, who got caught square on, and went sailing. Threadbare grimaced, and fought harder.

“Got her!” Zuula yelled, and Threadbare let out a puff of relief.

That’s about the point he heard the gunshot. They all did, as it rang out behind them.

“What’s that?” He called. “Zuula, Madeline, tell me what’s going on, please.” He said, slapping the giant’s club aside. And as they had through most of the fight, his skills rolled on, climbing as he fought against the stronger opponent.

Your Parry skill is now level 14!

Threadbare checked the giant’s hit points with Deathsight, nodded, and cut her down with a few claw swipes, before turning to look for the source of the shot.

Your Brawling skill is now level 47!

Your Weapon Specialization skill is now level 36!

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 35!

There was movement, up on the cliff, and something fluttering at the edge of it. He squinted, regretting that he’d never ground Keen Eye that much. Then he caught a glimpse of silver hair. “Is that Gudrun?” he turned, just as Garon brought down the other giant, toppling her to the ground where she lay unmoving.

“It’s Gudrun. She’s hurt,” Madeline whispered back. “I’ll escort her in.”

“Gudrun?” Threadbare asked. He turned to check on his group, found them intact, and healing up. Glub and Fluffbear saw to the golems, which was good because his sanity was down a bit from that fight. Bazdra was busy tending to herself and Hidon.

“Greater Healing. Almost lost your princess there,” Bazdra shot him a sidelong glance. “Sure you want to keep going?”

“Definitely. I have a question, though. Can either of you think of why Gudrun might be here?”

“What? Why?” Hidon looked down at him. “You’re sure?”

The bear pointed back up the stairway descending the cliff, and the two dwarves stared, at the red dragon flapping around the elderly dwarf easing her way down the stairs.

“Yeah, we need to search and be gone before the two giants come back,” Garon said. “Zuula, Glub, search the corpses. Hidon, are we clear to open the door, or is there another way in?”

“Well, if you want to avoid going flying again-” Hidon shot a glare at a very chastened Cecelia, “-then we’ll want to go in the front door. There’s a feasting hall just beyond, full of giaunts and giuncles, but they won’t engage if you stick to the walls and don’t take a poke at them. Getting all their attention at once is suicide unless you can trick them. But we can move into the side passages and deal with things one at a time there.”

“Let’s wait a bit,” Threadbare said. “Graves? Contingency plan four?”

“On it.” He moved over to each corpse. “Done searching?”

“Yeah,” Zuula said, tossing a pair of large pouches up and down. “Coins. Snacks.”

“Good. Zombie. Zombie.”

Bazdra flinched as the guards groaned and rose. “Is there a need for this?” She snapped.

“If the guards show up again, then they’ll have to fight undead guards. We can escape while they do,” Threadbare said, keeping his eye on Gudrun who was stomping across the bridge, brandishing a pistol-

-at Hidon, who raised his hands and looked dumbfounded.

“You!” Gudrun said, shifting her bloodspattered robe around with one hand, as she pointed the smoking gun at Hidon. “What are you playing at!”

“What?” Hidon said. “Nothing. Fighting giants.”

“He has been,” Garon said.

“Not a minute ago he was trying to kill me!” Gudrun said, her glare not leaving Hidon.

“He’s been here with us all this time,” Threadbare said.

“Want me to tell her?” Madeline’s voice whispered in his ear.

“No…” Threadbare said. “No, I don’t think he was trying to kill you.” He shook his head at Gudrun, and ended up looking at Madeline. “Don’t tell her. We don’t want to tell anyone about Jarrik,” he whispered back, through the wind.

Gudrun hesitated, looking from Hidon to Threadbare, to the rest of them.

“Guddy, lower the pistol,” Bazdra said, stepping in front of her barrel. “I’m pretty sure I know who took a swing at you, and it wasn’t Hidon. Tell us what happened.”

“Quickly,” Garon said, peering in through the cracked door. Racous music and giant voices sounded from the aperture.

“We need to get moving.”

“Montag’s missing,” Gudrun said, lowering the gun. “There’s a lot of blood in his home. And some red doll’s hair scattered around.”

“What?” Threadbare said, glancing over to Cecelia, who shrugged back.

“Ridiculous, of course,” said Hidon. “Almost as ridiculous as me trying to kill you.” his eyes were narrowed as he studied Gudrun.

“The King’s looking for you,” Gudrun said. “He thinks you’re in danger.”

“Yeah. It’s got to be the lurker after us. But you should NOT be here!” Bazdra said. “You haven’t delved a day in your life! This is NOT the place for you, Gudrun Scarstone.”

“Hang on a second,” Hidon said. “Where did I go after something that looked like me tried to kill you? And how did you survive in the first place?” Hidon asked.

“I ran here,” Gudrun said. “Haven’t moved that fast in ages. Then as soon as I came through the archway, I saw you on the steps, watching the fight. I called out to you and you waved, came closer, and stabbed me. I fired my gun, and I think I got you. But you disappeared.”

Graves tilted his head, and adjusted his backpack, while Gudrun recounted the affair. “Did you make that musket yourself?” He asked. “It’s ah, some nice work.”

“Of course!” She said. “What self-respecting priestess of crafts would I be if I didn’t make my own weapons?”

Threadbare bowed his head. “Garon, please shut the door,” he said. “We’re not going any further right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Do it, stupid boy!” Zuula bonked her spear against her son’s noggin. “It DAT business.”

“Oh, oh, right…” he eased the door shut.

“Glad you’re seeing reason,” Bazdra sighed. “We need to go back and settle this.”

“Well… you’re half right,” Threadbare said, whispering mental messages through the wind. Graves, Fluffbear, and Glub moved behind Gudrun, cutting off her retreat back down the bridge. “We do need to settle this.”

“Fuck me running. The Lurker’s here somewhere,” Hidon squinted around, pulling in to put his back against Bazdra.

“Yes, and I’m looking at him,” Threadbare stared at Gudrun.

Silence, for a long bit, broken only by distant winds howling through the gorge around them.

“Lurker? What are you talking about?” Gudrun said, staring around them, confused.

“You came in disguised as Hidon. But Gudrun was right behind you,” Threadbare said. “One of us saw you do that. Then when you noticed her behind you, you killed her. That was probably when the gunshot happened.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. “I’m me. I’m not any Lurker.”

WILL+1
Your Magic Resistance skill is now level 17!

Threadbare shook his head, as something passed over him. Most of his friends looked confused. Hidon sheathed his daggers.

Bazdra, though, scowled. She inhaled sharply, and slid her sword from its sheath.

Threadbare continued. “Your clothes are bloody, but you aren’t wounded. And that could be because you healed yourself. But your clothes are still torn. You haven’t fixed them.”

“Well yes, I’ll fix them now, I’ve got a few seconds and plenty of tailoring supplies to do that-”

“But Yorgum’s Godspell is mend,” Fluffbear squeaked. “It would have taken a second, and you didn’t.”

Gudrun’s eyes snapped open. “Well what if it slipped my mind! See, Godspell Mend,” she said, and her clothes drew together.

But there was no flash of golden light, Threadbare saw.

“I suppose that could have been true,” Threadbare said, “But when Graves called your pistol a musket you didn’t correct him. On top of everything else, it looks very suspicious.”

“I.. I was just flustered,” Gudrun said, taking a step back, looking at the solemn-faced group behind her. “In fact, I-”

A blur of motion, Threadbare tried to get in its way, but was just too slow. Bazdra shouted a warning-

-and then Cecelia yelled, as she was scooped up, and Gudrun was backing up to the door, teeth bared, holding the little doll high. “No closer,” Gudrun said, her voice rippling, and changing, losing the grandmotherly tone, as it was replaced with something oily. “Or she goes over the edge. If she dies down there, you can’t revive her, can you?”

Hidon twitched, but Garon slapped his arm. “No!”

“Clever boy. She’s coming with me,” The Lurker sneered. “I was very glad you came to this dungeon. It’s one of my goals, with this infiltration. You handed me two of them in one fell swoop, really, how could I resist?” Gudrun’s form rippled, swirling and rearranging, growing until it was a handsome, smiling man, nude for a second until fine, flashy clothes swelled out of his skin and wrapped around him.

“Those ain’t clothes, are they? They weren’t earliah, eithah?” Madeline asked.

“Nope. And that wasn’t a mend spell. I can talk like this at will,” The Deceiver smirked.

Cecelia twisted, looked to Threadbare for help. “Stay calm,” he whispered through the wind. “We’ll save you.”

With absolute faith she nodded, and got shaken for her trouble. “Ah ah ah! Sit still, do nothing, and you might survive this, your highness,” The Lurker hissed, as he tucked the pistol under his arm and opened the door to the giants’ hall with his free hand.

“And Gudrun?” Hidon’s hands shook, gloved hands clenching around the daggers.

“I let her go.” The Deceiver said, gazing back to the steps leading down the cliff… and the misty gorge beyond. “Long drop. Short stop. Down there somewhere.”

“You bastard!” Bazdra snarled. “Why shouldn’t we kill you now!”

“Because I WILL throw Princess Cecelia, and I’m smart enough to do it where your dragon and witch can’t catch her, and where the vines aren’t. And because if you let me go now, you’ll have a shot at me when I leave. One way out, one way in, hm?”

“And exactly what do you mean to do here?” Threadbare asked, but without another word the daemon slipped through the door and slammed it behind him.

BANG!

The muffled shot resounded from inside. Hidon turned to Threadbare, furious. “What! You honestly think you can trust a word that thing said? Your princess is as good as dead if you give that thing time, and you’re just letting it go?”

“You’re wrong on three counts,” Threadbar said. “First, I don’t trust it, second, we won’t give it time, and third… well, that wasn’t my princess.”

Graves’ pack stirred, and a porcelain arm poked out, followed by the rest of Cecelia. “No, but it’s almost as bad. We need to get moving or he might kill Marva.”

“What?” Bazdra blinked. “Two of you? Oh. Oh, clever.”

Threadbare shrugged. “I baked a new clay golem this morning, and asked our dead for volunteers. We just needed someone who had unlocked knight at some point, everything else could be faked. Especially since they could modify their status screens to hide things. Marva was it.”

“Your whole dungeon run was to lure him out.” Hidon said, as light dawned.

“Don’t mean to be a poop, but we need ta hurry,” Madeline said, staring at rippling patches of air. “The gahds are coming back.”

“You two, out. Tell the King what happened,” Cecelia decided. “We took care to Lurker proof our people so he shouldn’t be able to impersonate us, but we’ve no preparations with you. If you’re still around he’ll try shenanigans.”

Bazdra started to protest, looked at the now roiling patches of empty space, and nodded. “We’ll get word to the King.”

“Good. We’ll go after the Lurker, try to get him to flee without time to prepare. We’ve got an edge there, we know what he’s doing.”

At the edge of the bridge, Hidon stopped and looked back. “What? What’s he doing?”

“I have an idea,” said Threadbare. “Get in Madeline’s pack, everyone except for Graves and Madeline. I’ll whisper the plan. Go! Oh, and be careful leaving the dungeon, we’ve got a friend out there. Go out slowly with your hands up, both at once.”

“He’s going to seal the dungeon,” Cecelia said, before hopping out of one pack to another, as the dwarves’ stunned faces went pale.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 6
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 14
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 125 Constitution: 140 Hit Points: 335(435) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 226 Wisdom: 204(211) Sanity: 430(584) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 148(155) Agility: 118(125) Stamina: 275() Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 212 Moxie: 332(461) Cool: 20(49)
Perception: 126 Luck: 92(99) Fortune: 217(325) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 47 (+18)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 9
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 9
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 8
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 34
Bodyguard - Level 7
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 28
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 35
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 20

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 35
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 11
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 15
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 20
Parry - Level 14
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 36 (Brawling +18)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 27
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 48
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 35
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 10
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 60

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
1 bead of Silent Killer (Level 10)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests King’s Quest - Take Down the Lurker

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

A Small Giant Problem 1

Giants, though rare creatures throughout the bulk of Generica, are fairly common in the Northlands. Like the dwarves, this particular batch had migrated down from Mighty Hallas, seeking opportunity and a new start away from their more troublesome associates, enemies and allies alike.

Originally, Jotunher was supposed to be a twin settlement to Jotunhim, a steading ruled by the Jarl’s brother.

Then she’d gotten her hands on a dungeon core, and the original plan had gone… a bit out of the window.

Giants have the “Living Large” skill. Which means that they usually alternate between two attitudes; hangry, and lazy.

So when the Jarl, after playing with the dungeon core a bit, figured out how it worked, she’d seen some of the benefits right away. Unlike most giants, who are— to put it charitably— rather slow, she’d managed to grind her intelligence up to a respectable fifty-two.

Which let her realize “hey, if I stick all these delicious foods and alcohol stuff in the loot pillars, and put my friends in the midboss and mob pillars, then we can pretty much eat forever in a never-ending party without doing a lick of work!”

And so when the dwarves finally tunneled back to that end of the mountain, they found Jotunher nestled just inside the Oblivion, and full of happy, torpid giants. Dwarves being dwarves and the old enmity being what it was, they send in raiding parties. Some of them survived, some of them didn’t, and the chief shrugged her shoulders and begin setting up a proper dungeon, adding to it as her whimsy took her. After all, the little hairy ones sometimes dropped good loot, and that got added to her hall of treasures. And it wasn’t like they could REALLY kill her people. Best Jarl ever!

Okay, so she might not have figured out ALL of how the dungeon worked, but whatever. It worked, and that was enough. She’d come to appreciate the benefits of life as a dungeon master.

Her subjects, on the other hand, had not.

Though she had no way of knowing it, being stuck in a dungeon slot for long has a way of wearing on one’s perceptions. It ups aggression tries to mold behavior and urges, push those in them into acting in accordance with a script that tries to encourage and provide dramatic conflict with visitors.

All else falls by the wayside.

Some monsters, such as strong-willed undead or daemons can resist it. Dragons don’t usually notice, because they’re used to the unending weariness of the march of time anyway. But for most mortal races, it wears most people in those slots down, especially if they’re not mentally strong…

…like, for example, most giants.

The ones in the feast hall, gorging themselves, had barely noticed when the doors slammed shut. They did that sometimes, as people came and went. No big deal.

They hadn’t even looked up when the handsome stranger stood there, holding a frightened doll in one hand and a pistol in the other, taking stock of the situation. Nor had they noticed when he shook himself, and shrunk down to the shape of a three-foot-tall teddy bear in a red coat and a black top hat.

They sure as fuck had noticed when he shot Hralph in the face, though. Especially Hralph.

The entire long table had gone silent, as the gunshot echoed, and the feasters stared at the murderous stranger.

“My name is Threadbare and I think all of you are stupid fartsniffers!” He cheerfully announced.

As one, they rose and charged him, bellowing in rage.

And after a few injuries, some broken furniture, and a slight divergence into a food fight after Hregina accidentally beaned Hronda with a hurled ham, they realized that the little bastard had disappeared in the confusion. Angered, the mob of giants spread out throughout the hall, and began looking under chairs, lifting the covers of serving dishes, and peering behind tapestries for a small bear who desperately needed to be flattened. And maybe farted on, because who’s the fartsniffer NOW, huh?

(That’s about the extent of witty retorts among giants, as they go.)

With one shot and a little trickery, the Deciever had created a sticky situation indeed for Threadbare’s group.

He didn’t realize, however, that they’d been told about the entry hall by Hidon, just prior to his arrival.

And while they didn’t realized just what he’d done, they’d heard the gunshot through the doors, and guessed the gist of his plan.

So when the doors slammed open again, about thirty giants, giancles, and a couple of ginephews and ginieces whirled around with axes and clubs out, they didn’t see an adventuring group led by a small bear who desperately needed pounding.

They saw two badly wounded guards, staggering in, leaning on each other. “Get help…” one of them croaked, before slipping from her compatriot’s grasp and hitting the ground.

Well, that wouldn’t do!

The giants surged forward to help the fallen one up, firing questions at the still-standing guard, who shrugged.

Unnoticed, a tiny red dragon wrapped around a totally silent knight ran from the door to the nearest side-passage. As they reached it, the knight glanced back, and the remaining guard’s eyes rolled up in her head as she collapsed.

They made it down the hall, around a few corners, and came to a stop.

“I can’t believe that wahked,” Madeline said.

“…” Graves replied, lips moving without sound. He frowned, and sound returned to him. “I’m just glad the bear had that silent killer bead left over from the infiltration run. I’m not a stealthy person.”

Madeline plopped her pack down and started drawing out their friends while Graves listened back the way they came.

“Were there any problems?” Threadbare asked, as he came out.

“No. It worked perfectly. The zombies distracted them and we got past.”

“Good. Garon? Can you check?”

“Sure thing. Follow the Dotted Line.” He looked down, then shook his head. “The Lurker’s resistant or something.”

One of Garon’s mercenary skills let him find the shortest path to a given quest objective. Before they’d entered the dungeon, before they’d even left their quarters, Threadbare had given them all a King’s Quest to take down the lurker. Then to give himself the quest, he’d sworn fealty to Garon, who had shared the quest that Threadbare had given him BACK to its originator.

They’d done that last part to mainly see if they could. It was possible, and raised some interesting notions for ruler-based shenanigans later.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Threadbare said, after a bit of thought. “If it were that easy to find him he wouldn’t have caused so much trouble.”

Kayin cleared her throat, as she faded into sight, losing her camouflage. “There’s one guard at the junction up the hall, and a lot of doors off. It’s like a maze back there, from what I can see.”

“You think they’ll hear us in the main hall if we take him out?” Graves asked.

“It’s a her,” Kayin said. “I think.”

“Nah,” Madeline said. “I know how dungeon mobs think. They’ll stick to theah paht of things and not go roaming unless we draw’em.”

“There’s a question, though. The guard, is she actively searching or hurt?” Cecelia asked.

“No,” Kayin confirmed.

“Then it’s almost certain the Lurker didn’t come this way.”

“Or he slipped by with stealth,” Garon said. “But we need to go deeper in, regardless.”

Cecelia sighed. “Remember, our goal isn’t to ‘win’ this dungeon, it’s to catch him before he seals it. We need to catch him before he gets to the final boss.”

“Not what I meant. Mads?”

“Dungeons have a way of funneling you to the end regahdless of how you go,” the red wooden dragon spoke. “If we don’t follow his path exactly that’s fine, so long as we can make it in time to catch him when the paths convahge.”

“Let’s go, then,” Threadbare decided, mounting up on Pulsivar’s back and waving the rest along with his scepter. “Kayin, any way to sneak past this one?”

“Not without risks. It’s a narrow junction and she seems pretty sharp.”

“Down she goes then.”

There was a time when that would have bothered me, Threadbare reflected as he rode Pulsivar into a charge, ambushing the surprised guard.

AGI +1
Your Ride skill is now level 9!

Most of his early life had been spent fighting for survival. First against the cat who he’d soon befriended, then against a horde of ravenous rats, and eventually graduating to struggles against undead and weirder things.

But like the defense of the town had been, giants were people of a sort, and every claw swipe he landed on them, every bruise his scepter left on her skin, he was reminded that he was helping kill something that was like his little girl, just on a bigger scale.

Your Clubs and Maces skill is now level 10!

To that end he forgave the occasional axe hit or kick the giantess got in on him, because it was quite understandable really. But he was happy to switch over to support once the rest of his crew followed him in, and took over the slashy duties.

She IS a dungeon monster. That does make a difference. What he’d seen so far seemed to suggest that dungeon monsters weren’t truly alive in the first place, that you could kill them and they’d just come back time and again.
Like the Lurker. And a connection teased in his mind there, before he brought it back to the fight.

But that wasn’t quite right, was it? Not all dungeon monsters were that way. Madeline was a dungeon monster who’d developed and escaped, and gone on to be a… well, you couldn’t call her a good person, not with a straight face, but a decent one given the fact she knew she was a monster and never felt the slightest guilt about it.

At the end of it, when the guard toppled and fell, swarmed by small foes who overwhelmed her with bodies and attacks, he knew that it didn’t matter. This was what Cecelia needed, to save her Kingdom, her people.

He sure would be happy when it was all done, though. Perhaps then they could get back to tea parties and hugs.
And it WAS good to see his friends rejoice, and get more powerful and confident as they went from victory to victory.
Speaking of which…

You are now a level 7 Duelist!
AGI+3
DEX+3
STR+3

You are now a level 15 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL +5
You have unlocked the Bone Golem skill!
Your Bone Golem skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Call Golem skill!
Your Call Golem skill is now level 1!

“Anothah one down!” Madeline cheered. “Goldfindah!” she chanted, and coins popped out of the giant’s pockets. Then Zuula took over searching duties, while Kayin nodded and faded into camouflage again.

“Any route, desu?” The catgirl asked as she stared down three identical corridors.

“Look for the larjah passage,” Madeline advised. “Main routes are the way to go.” She nuzzled her coins greedily. “Theah we go! High Dragon level tree! Woo!”

“Cecelia?” Threadbare said, “I think I just got a skill that could save Marva here and now. Do you see any problem with me doing that immediately?”

“Not a bit,” Cecelia said. “Please do!”

“Call Golem”, Threadbare said, staring at the first Cecelia’s name in his party screen.

Your Call Golem skill is now level 2!

Immediately, Cecelia’s body double stumbled forward, appearing from thin air. She cringed, then looked around… and immediately glomped Threadbare. “Thank you lord! I was so scared!”

“It’s all right,” he said, hugging her back. “Where was he?”

“I… don’t know. He’s running around looking like you, King Dreadbear!”

“Not unexpected.” The teddy bear gently pried the ex-cultist loose, just as Kayin rematerialized.

“That way,” the catgirl said. “Just past two more guards it opens up onto a hillside for a bit. There’s some giant shepherds and herds of giant sheep and goats and stuff. It looks like there’s an entrance to a tower of the hall across the way, but if we step careful we might be able to evade most of the herds.”

“I, I lost the sword and shield you gave me,” Marva said, turning to Cecelia. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’ve got nothing to apologize for!” Cecelia said, taking her shoulder with one hand, and touching her face as Marva tried to look away. “If anything I’M the sorry one. You risked your neck for me, because of me, and it almost went bad. I owe you a big favor. Garon, can we get her spares?”

“Oh yeah. Mads?”

Madeline rummaged in the pack, and pulled out a few spare doll-sized weapons. The temple of Yorgum had been good for grinding their craft skills last night, in more ways then one.

Thus armed and re-equipped, Threadbare slapped a few mend golems on those who needed it, and the group hurried to the next set of guards.

That fight didn’t go quite as well.

Even with the same tactics that they’d employed against the gate guards, handling two at a time was rough. Especially without a pair of experienced and sturdy dwarves there to help take the pressure off of them.

And in the more confined space of the hallway, it was harder to encircle and swarm the guards, harder to dance out of the way of their clubs. Threadbare was very glad he’d gained a level and refilled his sanity in the last fight, because he was stuck tanking as best he could and casting mend golem over and over again.

On the upside it was doing wonders for his golem body and toughness skills. And his defensive duelist skills were getting a workout, too.

The downside was that his friends were getting hurt, pretty badly hurt. At one point Pulsivar took a bone-shattering hit, bounced off a wall, and got up and limped away, leaving droplets of blood on the floor behind him, with a whole ‘1’ hit point glaring on Threadbare’s party screen. “Fluffbear!” he yelled, as he leaped onto the giant’s chest, holding its tunic while he jabbed it in the jaw repeatedly. “Heal him please!”

“On it!”

The giants went down, finally. And Threadbare went over to hug Pulsivar, who lay there, panting, grooming his bloody fur.

Fluffbear looked up from his side and shook her head. “He lost a life.”

“What?”

“He has the Nine Lives skill, just like Kayin. But he’s on life number seven now. Two more to go, then…” she hugged Pulsivar too, his fur rasping as it ruffled against her armor.

“No. No, I don’t want him to die!” Threadbare said. The cat switched from grooming himself to licking them, tongue rasping against their plush hides.

“Maybe…” Cecelia looked over at Madeline. “Maybe we could put him back in the pack? Just for this run?”

“Maybe for more than that,” Garon said. “We’re up against some pretty tough customers, and bobcat levels aren’t going to cut it. I mean…” he sighed. “As a cat, he’s totally badass. But he’s still a cat. Up against giants, and daemons, and everything else… if we want him to survive, we should maybe stop bringing him into battle.”

“That might be good. He doesn’t get any of my tamer bonuses, like Mopsy does. And his armor just.. isn’t. I used to think we could soulstone him if the worst happened,” Fluffbear squeaked, “But I’m not sure he’d be okay with this. Or like living as a golem.”

“We should have this discussion outside. Until then let’s keep him out of danger,” Threadbare decided.

But Pulsivar was having none of it. When they pulled out the pack, he refused to go back in. Even with Fluffbear offering treats.

Finally, Zuula shook her head. “Speak with Nature,” she said, and snarled for a bit. Pulsivar growled back. Then the shaman shrugged. “He say no.”

“No? But… I don’t want him to die,” Threadbare said.

“Incoming,” Kayin said, looking at the rippling air.

“He say it his choice. And he rather die fighting for family, den hide safe while dey all risk. Besides he say you all lost wit’out him, silly hoomin toys.”

With that all there was to it, and no hope of changing the proud cat’s mind, they hurried away from the respawning guards and into what the local giants referred to as the ‘Sheep level.’

And there the toys got a rude shock. Kayin’s estimate of evading trouble had been far, far too optimistic.

The shepherds weren’t a problem as all. The shepherds dropped their crooks and ran, as soon as trouble started.

But the things they were herding weren’t sheep at all.

They were Wooly Bullies, and the bigger males among them had horns and strong territorial instincts.

“Bah!” They called, as they sighted interlopers.

“Ram!” They shouted, as they used Rammit skills to knock the golems around the grassy fields, sending them tumbling as Threadbare and his friends fought the herds.

“Oh Ewe!” Their mates called out, affectionately, as they used healing nuzzles to keep the males fighting fit.

The group had come prepared to fight giants, big slow things that took a lot of punishment and hit really hard. They hadn’t come prepared for endless waves of sheep, which were faster things that took a bit less punishment, and nibbled more weakly, but more persistently. And worst of all, the damned things didn’t run. No matter how many of the herd had fallen, the wooly bullies didn’t stop coming.

But for all that, they were up against golems, with only a few living allies to worry about. Golems had great endurance, and it took a lot to get them tired. Twenty minutes into the fight Graves and the cats were flagging, but with a few shouted orders by Garon and Threadbare, the toys reorganized themselves into a loose square around their living allies.

And for a while there, it looked like it was working. They moved across the field, slowly, sending wool flying and standing resolute against sheep the size of great danes. Glub’s song rose above the bleating, a song of clarity this time, so Threadbare and the healers could keep everyone in good shape. The giant fights had been sprints, races to take them down before they killed someone. This was more of a marathon, a grinding ocean of wooly meat that needed to be converted into mutton.

They didn’t notice the midboss until it was among them.

Threadbare’s head snapped around as Cecelia… no, Marva, screamed.

There, under a white pelt with eyeholes, was something brown, with glaring red eyes, and big, big jaws, all the better to bite Marva with. It was gnawing her, looking very surprised, as its teeth rasped on porcelain and metal. It spat her out and she tumbled, barely avoided a Ram, and hurried back to the group.

“Wolf in Sheep’s clothing!” Garon yelled, and then the creature was leaping into the center of the formation, howling in fury…

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

BONE GOLEM Level 15, Cost 250 San, Duration: Permanent
Allows the golemist to construct a bone golem shell. Requires bones, 3 doses of GREEN reagents, and a level 3 crystal.

CALL GOLEM Level 15, Cost 75 San, Duration: Instant
Teleports one of your golems to your side. The golem must either be in your party, or within 500 feet per rank in this skill at the time of casting.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 12
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 7
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 15
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 136 Constitution: 150 Hit Points: 286(462) Armor: 52(65)
Intelligence: 231 Wisdom: 206(213) Sanity: 437(592) Mental Fortitude: 42
Dexterity: 157(164) Agility: 129(136) Stamina: 303(410) Endurance: 62
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 217 Moxie: 337(466) Cool: 20(49)
Perception: 126 Luck: 96(103) Fortune: 222(329) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 49 (+19)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 19
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 12
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 9
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 34
Bodyguard - Level 8
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 31
Innocent Embrace - Level 14
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 44
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 20
Stubborn - 9
Toughness - 23

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 35
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 11
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 4
Clean and Press - Level 15
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 7
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 9
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 21
Parry - Level 22
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 38 (Brawling +19)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 27
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 40

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 2
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 48
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 41
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 10
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills
Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 60

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)

Okay Quality Bling Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests King’s Quest - Take Down the Lurker

Unlocked Jobs Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

A Small Giant Problem 2

The wooly bullies were acting out of territorial concerns.

The wolf? He wanted MEAT.

Pulsivar and Mopsy smelled like predators, so they weren’t his first choice.

No, that honor fell to Graves.

And Graves fell as the enormous, horse-sized wolf leaped on his back, and fastened his jaws around the man’s head, worrying it. Only his helm saved him from serious damage.

His helm and Fluffbear, as she squeaked a challenge, slammed Mopsy into him, and started raining down Dolorous Strikes that hit all out of proportion to her size. She’d activated holy smite early in the sheep battle, and the glowing, enlarged field of divine energy that trailed after her weapon and left afterimages flashed as it sliced red numbers out of the wolf.

Then Kayin was on the thing from behind, backstabbing for all she was worth.

“Hold the square!” Threadbare called, worried as their formation started to fall apart…

…but he needn’t, for to his amazement, the sheep were as worried about the wolf as he was. They backed off, forming a wooly ring, and the ewes in the herd got to work, healing up their bah rams.

“Madeline, go toast some healers!” Garon called, as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t get rushed.

“On it!” She broke ranks and flapped upward, diving towards the biggest clusters of fluffy ewes. “Hey ewe assholes! Bahninate!”

Turns out, wool is pretty combustible. Burning sheep fled the herd, bleating and crying. Though the others didn’t follow suit, it did thin out a few of their healers.

The wolf fought savagely, laying into Fluffbear and Mopsy, and Threadbare focused on mending her, while she healed Mopsy.

Then Pulsivar was in there, laying into it with a full pounce and rake, only to get tossed off contemptuously. The black bobcat squalled and came in for another run… but got slammed backward, sent head over tail.

The group closed in, surrounding it, overcoming it by sheer weight of numbers-

-and the Wolf grinned, and said “Where Wolf?” Then it leaped, as mightily as it had before, leaving the group and vanishing back into the herd.

“Healing? Please?” Graves croaked, blinking blearily at the dumbfounded sheep, who looked around for the wolf…

…and saw it was gone.

But hey, wait! There were intruders in their territory!

The sheep looked at each other, and again the fuzzy tide surged inward. “Reassemble! Get back in form-“

“RA-A-A-AM!” A wooly bully called, colliding with the little wooden minotaur. Garon went flying. Madeline darted down and caught him, and descended to rejoin the formation.

“Zuula got you!” The shaman said. “Fast Regeneration!” She told Graves, then hopped up to his shoulder, to get a little more room to cast. “Call Vines!” Ropes of plant matter shot out of the ground on their flank, blunting the worst of the charge. But the Bullies were big, and her vines weren’t infinite, and it would only hold them for a little while, she knew. No point in calling thorns either, their woolly hides would ignore those.

Graves glanced back to Threadbare, bashing a ram in the head with his shield as he sidestepped it. “Permission to go full death knight?”

“What does that mean?” Threadbare called back, raising his voice over the bleating and screaming.

“The cats need to get clear!”

“Missus Fluffbear, get them out!” Threadbare called.

It took a few seconds, but the little paladin managed to leap Mopsy clear. And where Mopsy went, Pulsivar did as well. He’d learned THAT much, at least.

“All right you jerks,” Graves said, raising his sword up high. “Bony Armor! Graveblade!”

Bloody bones ripped from the sheep’s corpses, and gathered around him, splattering him with gore. Gray, sickly energy coalesced around his sword, almost like smoke made solid. Leading with his shield, hacking into the herd around him, the Death Knight left the formation and began his gory work.

Glub and Marva started to move to back him up, but Cecelia called them back. “He’s got this! Watch!”

The Graveblade didn’t seem to kill sheep any faster, but it wasn’t meant to.

No, what that buff did, was turn anything that Graves killed into a zombie.

One by one, the sheep he hacked down fell. One by one they rose, baahing “Brai-ai-ai-ains,” and doing their best to chew their former herdmates to death.

They didn’t turn on Graves, thankfully. His Undead Truce class feature was proof against that.

And as for the golems…

Cecelia stood very still, as a zombie sheep waddled up to her, gave her a sniff, then walked away, bleating for brains.

No flesh, no meat, nothing good to eat.

For a second, all was going well. Graves was killing living sheep, the sheep couldn’t hurt him fast enough to bring him down, and the growing tide of zombies was throwing their ranks into confusion and panic. The circle around the toys slipped, started to break-

-and in the sudden gap, Threadbare could see Pulsivar, Mopsy, and Fluffbear, fighting for their lives against the wolf. It stood on two legs now, wooly skin thrown on its back like a cape, lashing down at Fluffbear with sweeping strikes.

Threadbare ran that way with all his might, moving with long-practiced agility, great bounds eating up the grass as he hopped Zuula’s vines, but he was far away, so very far, and as he watched the wolf backhanded Fluffbear off Mopsy and turned to focus on the two cats, chasing Pulsivar. A Caterwaul rose up from the bobcat as he dodged for all he was worth-

-but it wasn’t enough. The wolf’s jaws closed around Pulsivar.

“I challenge you!” Threadbare called, tucking his scepter in its loop, hanging it over his shoulder as he stretched his claws.

Your Challenge skill is now level 10!

“Drain Life!” the little bear threw in for good measure, as the wolf turned around in surprise, then yelped and dropped the limp cat as a red ’21’ tore from him and swirled into Threadbare.

Your Drain Life skill is now level 8!

Mopsy tore at the wolf’s flank as Fluffbear ran to Pulsivar’s twitching form, but the wolf ignored them both and growled at Threadbare as he loped toward his tiny tormentor.

Threadbare ignored the moxie damage, and the notice that flashed up.

You have resisted The Wherewolf’s Growl!

Your Stubborn skill is now level 10!

No, Threadbare ignored all else, as he rushed straight into the wolf’s jaws, as they came crashing down around him, for massive damage.

CON +1

Your Golem Body skill is now level 32!

Your Toughness skill is now level 24!

The wolf tried to shake him. Threadbare felt one of his legs rip free, ignored it, ignored his pants tearing away as they went with the leg, and squirmed, right into the wolf’s throat.

The wolf froze, as the little golem’s claws jabbed into it, right through the back of its cheeks.

“Adjust Weight,” Threadbare said, there in the wolf’s gullet.

And the wolf coughed as the little bear swelled up to almost twice his regular size.

Inside the wolf’s throat.

The wolf went berserk, shaking its head, clawing at its mouth, unable to get its paws in at a good angle. Not that it mattered. Whenever Threadbare felt a tear, he’d whisper “Mend Golem.”

He had to ration his air carefully. There wasn’t much inside the wolf’s throat.

Especially since he was blocking any from getting in to the wolf’s lungs.

And after a minute, its struggles weakened, and slowed. Then it fell over. But Threadbare stayed stuck in.

In the end, the wolf died in an appropriate fashion, choked to death on a mouthful of fluff way bigger than he could handle.

By slaying a creature through suffocation you have unlocked the Air Elementalist Job!

You cannot become an air elementalist at this time!

Only then, did Threadbare dig himself out. It was very messy, but eventually the wolf gave way, and he stared out into the sky… and at the distant figures of his running friends, heading toward him. He glanced around, realized that he was in a different part of the field. The wolf, in its struggles, had panicked and fled, evidently.

“I’m all right!” He called, emerging bloody and torn from the wolf. But it didn’t matter, because Pulsivar was one of the ones coming toward him, and he was very, very relieved to see the big cat alive and mobile.

While waiting for his friends he managed a few clean and presses, and a mend for his torn trousers, and then his friends were up to him. He glanced over at the herd of sheep zombies, shuffling slowly towards the group, drawn by the lure of living cats to eat.

“Should we be worried about those?” Threadbare asked.

Graves glanced back. “No. They’re temporary, and-“ he blinked behind his visor. “Oh my goodness the levels. Status. Help.” He blinked again. “Okay, Death Knight only gets nastier.”

“I don’t think I want you to teach me that job after all,” Missus Fluffbear squeaked, watching the zombies who weren’t chasing them feeding on their fallen comrades. “That’s really not Yorgum’s um… style. Ooooh, levels!”

And indeed, now that the rolling waves of sheep were done, the party was reaping the rewards. In more ways than one, as Madeline searched the suffocated midboss for gold, and Zuula hunted for other items.

Threadbare was no exception to the gain.
You are now a level 13 Cave Bear!
CON+10
WIS +10
Armor +5
Endurance +5
Mental Fortitude +5
You are now a level 8 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You are now a level 9 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You are now a level 16 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL +5

“You leveled golemist again? So quickly?” Cecelia said, taking a break from checking her own status to look at the party screen. “This has to be because you’re double dipping. Taking in experience every time we win a fight.”

“More like dipping sevenfold,” Garon pointed out. “Besides the cats and Fluffbear and Graves, we’re all earning him experience. And that’s not counting the Golem Guardians boost that you guys are getting. And the Creator’s Guardians boost.” Garon sighed. “We need to reshuffle. Marva, would you be upset if you went back in the pack?”

“Not at all,” Cecelia’s double said. “If you’re sure you don’t need me anymore, Lord.” She smiled at Threadbare.

“It’s fine. You’ve done plenty. Thank you!” He hugged her, and golden light flared.

You have healed Prinses Seselia 140 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 15!

Back in she went, and as zombie sheep collapsed in the distance, their animation timers up, the group reshuffled the party.

Fluffbear got tucked in with Pulsivar, Mopsy, and Graves, who immediately animated the Wolf as a slavering, red-eyed ghoul. Zuula talked Pulsivar and Mopsy into letting it be. Graves also rummaged around in the pack and pulled out a black, twisted wand. “It’s tight enough in here I might have to drain the charges left in this thing,” he decided.

“That’s the one from that Arxus guy, who tried to taunt ya in the fort, ain’t it?”

“Yep,” Graves said. “Just a drain-life wand with a hair trigger. Can suck someone dry in a matter of seconds.”

Everyone else went in Threadbare’s party, and Garon’s old group sighed in relief as Threadbare’s twin animator and Golemist buffs amped up their stats. Not by a HUGE amount, but enough to give them another edge.

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 28!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 29!

Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 30!

“Here. De crowning touch.” Zuula offered Threadbare a wolfshide cloak.

“Where did that come from?” He glanced over to the slavering, ghouled where wolf, and didn’t see any bare patches, beyond a few wounds.

“Don’t ask how loot drop. Just put on de cape.”

“What does it do?”

“Enhance natural weapons. Like, oh, bear claws.”

“What?” Madeline said. “Oooh! I could… I… nah, you eahned that one the hahd way. But if you find a bettah cape, I got dibs on yah old one.”

“Adjust Outfit,” Threadbare said, and snapped the cloak tight in his hands until it was teddy sized. Then it went around him like a mantle.

Your Adjust Outfit skill is now level 5!

Cecelia got the Sheep’s fleece that it had worn, which evidently made the wearer seem less threatening to monsters. Then it was time to get moving, before the wooly bullies and their midboss minder reformed.

The rest of the trip across the field went a lot easier. Refreshed and refilled for the most part by their level-ups, the remaining, fairly-small Wooly Bully herd fell with little trouble.

About the only thing that gave them pause was a herd of sheep-like humanoids in bikinis pursued by a very excited giant in a kilt waving a barrel of alcohol that Graves announced to be watered-down scotch, after the fight was done. But the wandering scotchman and the beautiful sheeple weren’t that hard to put down, and the group was through the distant archway and into the far tower of Jotunher before anything else found them.

They were confronted by a stairwell, with signs pointing up and down. The one pointing up read “Tightens.” The one pointing down read “Luusens.”

And immediately, Threadbare’s nose flared at a familiar odor.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 21!

“I smell gunpowder,” he announced. “The Lurker is close.”

“Up or down?” Cecelia asked.

“I don’t know.” Threadbare said, sniffing at the stairs going in both directions. “All I know is that a gun got fired around here at some point.”

“Up,” said Madeline. “This dungeon, tallah is bettah, right? So the dungeon wants you to go to the tallest place. That’s wheah he’s heading.”

“If you want I can scout ahead,” Kayin offered. “But…”

“Yeah. It might not be you who returns, just the Lurker wearing your face. Since he’s near, we need to stick together. Come on.”

“One minute,” said Threadbare, patting Pulsivar’s back. “Bodyguard Pulsivar.”

Your Bodyguard skill is now level 9!

The big cat had come way too near to losing another life against that wolf. He might not have many ways to help protect him, but Threadbare would take what hits he could for his fuzzy brother.

Thus readied, he led the way up the stairs, with Missus Fluffbear falling in on the flank.

When they found the first enormous giant corpse, he knew they were on the right track.

“Hurry!” He urged, eyes hunting around, buffed and keen, looking for the sneakiest of the Hand.

BANG!

The gunshot sounded close! Threadbare and the rest upped the pace!

Through an opened set of double doors, past a few wine presses, over a few screws and giant-sized screwdrivers, past a giant-sized set of furniture currently disassembled with some incomprehensible instructions and a plate of meatballs next to it, the group made their way through the now-emptied giant-sized living area that for no reason they could tell had blue arrows on the floor. Occasionally they passed common household items with little namecards next to them, on which were written symbols that were presumably words in the giant tongue. Either that, or someone had really disliked an incorrectly-assembled wardrobe and very much misspelled the name they’d given it when they called it a DOMBAS.

Finally, they burst through a set of double doors, to witness the tail-end of an epic battle;

A three-foot tall teddy bear, with a wicked grin, leaped from floating rock to floating block, dancing around a blue-shirted giant wielding a pick. On the back of the shirt was a simple nametag, that read “Steve.” Below the ruins of what once was a floor, lay a void of inky blackness… the flagstones that were remaining were floating in midair, suspended by nothing in particular. As they watched, the giant brought the pick down in a flurry of chops, narrowly missing the teddy bear as he backflipped to a new set of blocks. The picked block crumbled and fell into nothingness…

…and a series of knives sunk into the flagstone Steve was standing on, destroying it in a rush of red numbers. Steve fell silently into the abyss, and a door across the hall shuddered open, revealing a treasure chest.

Then, as the toys started to head into the room, hopping gingerly from block to block, the teddy bear glanced over and grinned, quickdrawing his pistol. “Too easy!”

BANG!

Cecelia squawked as her block got shot out from under her, and fell into the abyss…

“Call Golem!” Threadbare shouted.

Your Call Golem skill is now level 3!

…and instantly appeared in Threadbare’s arms. He sat her on Pulsivar’s back, as he urged the cat toward the Lurker.

“You cheater!” The bad parody of him yelled, in a horrible imitation of his voice. Then it hopped with incredible agility, making long bounds across widely-separated blocks, before darting through the newly-opened door.

“Don’t take risks!” Garon urged, and the toys, along with their living companions, made it slowly around the mostly-intact outer edge of the arena, hurrying through the door just before it started to close.

“What is spleef?” Zuula wondered, as she held up a t-shirt emblazoned with the words SPLEEF CHAMPION

“Where did you get that?” Glub asked.

“Treasure chest tucked in one corner. Shame to let it be.”

Garon shook his head, looking around the room. “Mom, that was risky.”

“Dis ain’t?” She pointed straight ahead.

A long hall, at the very top of Jotunher, the stone room was full of pillars upon pillars, some wooden and some stone. To either side, diamond-shaped windows let in light, lining the hall and casting golden beams down at the end, on the massive throne and its giant occupant. Easily twenty feet tall, with a club half her size at her side, the massive blue woman was draped in a toga and wearing a set of golden laurels. She had one massive foot up on the opposite knee, and was busy filing her toenails. Her waistline and stomach betokened many a good meal, but her arms were no less muscled than the guards downstairs had been.

“Where did he get to?” Threadbare said, looking around, at the many, many sight-obstructing pillars, and the countless patches of shadow broken by bright light. It was an ambusher’s paradise.

But Threadbare and his party weren’t the ones being ambushed, as it turned out.

“Hey! My name is Threadbare!” The Lurker shouted, stepping out from behind a pillar, and doffing his hat to the giant.

“No!” Garon shouted, running forward, waving his arms. “He’s a-“

The giant lady looked up at the Lurker’s disguised form, and stared with confusion… that turned to a grin. Such an adorable little thing!

“Fuck you, fartsniffer!” Fake Threadbare shot her in the face, turned around, slapped his bear ass, and ran giggling out of sight behind a different pillar.

“Oh shit,” Glub said, as the lady rose to her feet, grabbing up the club, and slamming it against the floor so hard the entire room shook. “It’s on!” he went flying, tumbling to the ground… as did most of the rest of the toys, and Graves, too.

And Threadbare as well, rolling out into the light, and looking up just in time to see the giant matron’s gaze fix on his, blood dripping out of the bullet wound in her cheek, and murder writ large in her eyes…

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 15
Cave Bear Level 13
Ruler Level 12
Scout Level 7
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 9
Animator Level 12
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 16
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 142 Constitution: 161 Hit Points: 381(481) Armor: 57(71)
Intelligence: 236 Wisdom: 216(223) Sanity: 452(608) Mental Fortitude: 47
Dexterity: 163(170) Agility: 135(142) Stamina: 308(422) Endurance: 67
Charisma: 120(149) Willpower: 222 Moxie: 342(471) Cool: 20(48)
Perception: 126 Luck: 96(103) Fortune: 222(329) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 50 (+34)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 19
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 12
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 9
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 34
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 32
Innocent Embrace - Level 15
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 44
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 21
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 24

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 4
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 8
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 10
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 21
Parry - Level 22
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+14 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 38 (Brawling +19)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 36
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 30
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 41

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 3
Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 48
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 47
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 10
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 60

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 ResistFire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests King’s Quest - Take Down the Lurker

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

A Small Giant Problem 3

The Giant Jarl strode toward the little bear, club raised high. It was stone, an ancient column of some sort that had grips hammered into it, and it whistled as it came down at Threadbare.

Who, fortunately, was agile enough to not be there when it hit, so hard that the floor shook again.

AGI+1
Your Dodge skill is now level 13!

He looked back to see Pulsivar scrambling away, and sighed, chasing after the cat. Though as giant footsteps echoed behind him, he wasn’t sure he was doing Pulsivar any favors at all.

“Over here! Quickly!” He heard his voice call, and saw a furry hand beckon from behind a pillar… then looked past him to see Kayin and Graves hesitating.

“That’s not me!” he shouted. Then threw in “Guard Stance!” because here came that club again-

-and this time he didn’t escape.

It caught him in the back, knocking him into the air, to thump against the wall, then bounce to the floor. A red ‘139’ drifted up, and he gasped, rolled to the side, and stood up.

Grinning, the giant pulled her club back, and took a few more steps toward him-

-and then his friends swarmed her from all sides.

“I Challenge you!” He called to her, dusting his shoulder off-

Jarl Greta Sumvonesdottir resisted your Challenge!

-but his efforts didn’t get through her Cool. Unlike the Lurker, he hadn’t honed his social skills to insanely good levels.

Which was a problem, because he saw, from his slightly removed perspective, that another Graves had entered the fight.

“Look out! A fake Graves!” But his small voice was lost in the din, and the bellowing, and the clamor of the fight. Horrified, he saw one of the Graves move up behind Cecelia and glance down at her unguarded back…

“I Challenge you, Lurker!” He yelled through the Minorphone.

Your Challenge skill is now level 11!

Startled, the false Graves and Cecelia whipped around to stare at him, and both caught a giant boot for their trouble-

-as what he’d thought was the real Graves shanked Zuula in the back of the head and ran off giggling, shape blurring as he darted behind a pillar. Zuula, enraged, pulled the dagger from her head and threw it at the giant.

“Um…” Threadbare canceled his challenge against the very real Graves, and started dropping Mend Golem spells instead.

Graves, for his part, stood up painfully and whipped out the wand he’d prepared, triggering a three-charge burst and healing himself up to full.

And also getting the giant’s full attention.

The Jarl threw off Kayin, who’d been climbing her with claws out the whole way, swept her club around until the cats and Fluffbear backed off, ignored Garon hacking into her boot, and strode toward Graves and Cecelia. She swung the club high in the air…

…and then the Wherewolf ghoul made its attack.

Graves had kept it in the back, Threadbare realized. Waited until the others were clear. He wondered why that was so, for a second…

…then the ghoul leaped up, grabbed her fur dress, and spewed rancid filth all over her face, and Threadbare stopped wondering.

The blue giant backhanded the ghoul away, then staggered, and as the party watched, her face turned green. Red numbers started slinking up from her… not huge, but it was having an effect.

“Don’t just stand there!” Graves yelled, waving the ghoul in again, this time biting and clawing, “Get her!”

Threadbare closed the distance-

-and a trio of knives sunk into his belly, knocking him across the floor. He rose, glaring past the columns, to see his own face grinning back at him, holding up another set of knives, before juggling them into the air and sending them winging at him one at a time. “Dance, golem!” The Lurker shouted.

He tried, but the guy had good aim. Threadbare managed to make it behind a pillar while he had HP left, and skilled up a few times while he mended himself. The fight raged past him while he did so. The little bear winced as the ghoul got turned to pulp under one giant heel, and checked out the Jarl’s hit points with his deathsight.

She’d lost a fifth, all told. Threadbare shook his head. They needed to coordinate. This wasn’t undoable… but unfortunately the Lurker realized that too.

“New plan-” He heard his voice call through the Minorphone. What? No, the magic cone was still on his belt… This had to be another thing the daemon could do.

“-Everyone scatter, I’ll tank her for a bit!” He heard the Lurker finish

“Ignore that!” He yelled through his own minorphone. “Stay on her together!” He said, running forward… and cringing as his own friends shot him suspicious glares. Glares that faded, as he used the last of the Minorphone’s juice to shout at the giant. “I Challenge you!”

And this time it stuck.

CHA +1

Your Challenge skill is now level 12!

“I’ve had enough ov hyu leetle bear!” The giant roared, whirling her club in the air, and breaking cleanly through a few pillars. “FIMBULVINTER FROST!” She bellowed.

And the world turned white.

A snowstorm roared in through the windows, filling the air with flakes and ice, and sending visibility straight to hell.

No! This is the sort of thing the Lurker will…

Will use to get Cecelia, he realized.

“Call Golem,” he whispered, and grabbed onto her arm the second she materialized, almost catching her sword in his belly for his troubles.

Your Call Golem skill is now level 4!

She shouted something, but it was lost in the storm.

And then the storm was fading, as fast as it had come, leaving half his party frozen in ice… and a shadow around him, spreading, growing as Cecelia screamed and pointed up-

-then braced herself, and shouted “Corps a Corps!”

And it worked.

A foot above Threadbare, her rising blade met the Giant’s descending club, and Threadbare gasped as the stone ground on metal above his head, Cecelia’s skill allowing her to effectively parry a ten-foot-tall column with an eight-inch-long steel blade.

“Hold her!” Threadbare yelled, heading toward his frozen friends. “I’ll free them!”

“I gaht this!” Madeline said. “Call Faia! Shape Faiah! Minah Elemental!” Madeline ripped flames into the air, spun them in spirals, de-icing Glub, Zuula, Garon, and Mopsy and Fluffbear, and sending a roiling, bonfire-sized elemental towards the Jarl, who yelped and pulled her club away from Cecelia’s desperate clench. The giant backed up, swinging at the fire elemental, trying to simultaneously tag it and stay out of reach of the flames.

“Ectoplasm!” Graves shouted, and a sticky ball of gooey translucent stuff splattered against her boot, binding it to a nearby pillar. The giant stumbled, then shrieked as the flames burned her…

…until knives shot out from behind her, whistling through the fire elemental and dispersing it. Angrily, the giant started to pull her boot away from the sticky ghost goo.

And Threadbare jumped, as wood clattered up behind him, turned as Garon waved. “We need to shut down the Lurker!” he whispered. “We can’t fight him and this giant at the same time! Ideas! Give me some!”

Threadbare thought. He racked his brain, put his high intelligence and wisdom to work, ignoring the raging battle behind him, ignoring the yelps of his friends and the bellows of the enraged giant.

And finally, he came up with something he thought might work.

“

I’ll have to leave the party. For a minute. And I’ll need you to do something. Here’s what…”

After he heard it, Garon grimaced, and looked at the group. “I can give you half a minute. Beyond that we’ll have casualties!”

“Half a minute it is!” Threadbare said, rummaging in his clothes, and running over to Cecelia. “Tell me when!”

Cecelia was very surprised when he asked for her help, but she nodded when she heard what he wanted. “In my pouch! Just tear the whole thing off my belt!” She said, lunging forward to shield Madeline against a nasty club strike, and sucking down a red ‘52’ for her trouble.

Threadbare chased after her, grabbed her pouch, and ran away, rummaging through it.

“Now!” Garon yelled, and Threadbare hoped that it WAS Garon, because if not…

…no time to worry about it. He left the party, and started casting, whispering under his breath, and dropping things in his hat.

“Hold her!” he called back to Garon, as he moved into the light of one of the big windows. “I’ve almost got the daemon ward enchanted-“

And abruptly the hat was whisked from his hands, as the Lurker darted out of hiding, and snapped it onto his own head. “I think not!”

The Lurker’s triumphant grin lasted for all of a second.

And then it turned to a horrified rictus, as things squirmed under the hat and bit into his head.

Animated mice. Five little cloth mice, not even worth a note in Threadbare’s inventory. The things he’d used to scout ahead, through dollseye, now animated and with the full force of his will backing their bites.

The hat was about as strong, as the Lurker found when he tried to remove it. The daemon panicked, twisting and struggling, managing to get part of the brim free as it wrapped around him, struggling to keep him grappled…

“

Now!” Threadbare yelled, whipping aside when he heard the hooves clattering behind him-

-And Garon yelled “Rammit!” as he collided headfirst into the Lurker…

…knocking him through the window and away.

Garon has invited you to his party!

“Oh good!” Threadbare said, running back to the fight. “Nobody died!”

Though it wasn’t for lack of trying, a glance at the party screen told him. He settled in to tanking, and healing his friends up.

And without the lurker interfering, it went much more easily. Fluffbear switched on her Clarifying Aura, using Righteous Taunt to switch attention to her whenever the damage got too much for him. Glub doubled up on that with his song of Clarity, and between the two of them, the healers had enough juice to keep things going so that the rest of the group could focus on damage.

It still wasn’t easy. All the knights and the bears had to get a rotation going, swap tanking duties so the rest could recover. And Graves ended up burning every last charge in his drain life wand, recovering from a critical hit. But they made it work, and though there were a few close calls, the Jarl’s hit points dropped, and dropped, and dropped.

But while it was going on, Threadbare kept a keen eye on the entrance. The Lurker would be back, he was certain of it. But he’d have to take the long way around. If he could’ve climbed up via a shortcut he would’ve, Threadbare knew, but he’d moved through the dungeon like anyone else. So sooner or later he’d be back.

It did turn out to be later, as Madeline, flagging, and low on Moxie, managed to recharge just enough to get off one last Burninate.

The flames died, and there was giant-sized Threadbare, three-feet tall, looking in at the scene.

He saw a giant on her last legs, a group that was battered and drained but still going, and two resting cats, licking their wounds.

And as the Lurker’s eyes fastened on Pulsivar, and his grin widened, Threadbare realized what he was going to do.

Three knives left the Lurker’s hands, spinning mercilessly towards Pulsivar, wounded Pulsivar, faithful Pulsivar, who looked up with whiskers quivering.

Time stretched as Threadbare dived, no time to call out, only time to run, run and hope he could get close enough to save his friend-

And Pulsivar leaped, straight up in the air.

The first knife spun lazily around, tore through the bobcat’s paw, sending a red ‘62’ upward. Threadbare leaped-

-the second knife missed both of them, whirling just past Pulsivar’s head…

…and the third and final knife sunk deep into Threadbare’s back, as his bodyguard skill kicked in, blocking the strike that would have taken Pulsivar between the eyes.

They hit the floor together, and knife still sticking out of his back, Threadbare scrambled to Pulsivar and hugged him with all his might.

You have healed Pulsivar for 150 points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 16!

He reeled as sanity left him, reserves tapped, only the song refilling him now, but slowly, slowly…

And when he turned around, the Lurker was gone.

“Where…” he said-

BOOM!

The stone club fell to the ground.

The Jarl fell to her knees.

“Yes!” Garon whooped.

And then the giant collapsed, slumping to the floor.

“Everyone!” Threadbare said, “I’ve lost track of the Lurker!”

Then his view was crowded by words, as the levels hit.

You are now a level 16 Toy Golem
+2 to all attributes
You are now a level 13 Ruler!
+3 CHA
+3 LUCK
+3 WIS
You are now a level 8 Scout!
+3 AGI
+3 PER
+3 WIS
You are now a level 10 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You have unlocked the Disarm skill!
Your Disarm skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Riposte skill!
Your Riposte skill is now level 1!
You are now a level 13 Animator!
DEX+3
INT +3
WILL +3
You are now a level 17 Golemist!
INT +5
WILL +5
You are now a level 18 Golemist!
INT +5
WILL +5

“Remember, he’s going to try to seal the dungeon!” Cecelia said, looking around. “I’m not sure how you do that, but…”

“There’s a chambah, there’s a way into a chambah,” Madeline said, taking to the air and flapping around the hall. “Look foah green! Green light!”

“Yes!” Zuula cheered.

“You found it?” Garon charged back to her.

“No, she gots dese,” Zuula waved the giant-sized set of golden laurels. “Dey let you rest!”

“Not the time Mom!” The wooden minotaur snapped, then returned to searching…

…as reality rippled.

“Oh shit,” Graves said, patching himself up.

Then, from behind them, a surprised warble. A surprised FELINE warble.

Threadbare turned, staring…

…at Pulsivar. Pulsivar, whose form was shifting, and flickering, not quite in time with the reality pulse, not to the dungeon’s rhythm, but to his own.

For Pulsivar had just hit level twenty-five.

And he’d managed, with one life left to him after the Lurker’s botched attack, to rank up.

The rest of the group spread out, shouting, looking for the dungeon core entrance, but Threadbare knew that it was already too late. So instead, he sighed, said “Call Outfit,” and put his hat back on his head, then went over and sat down next to his friend and held his paw between his own as Pulsivar worked through the changes.

“Mrrrp?” Pulsivar asked him, stretching out with one black paw, as his hide shimmered…

And though the paw didn’t seem to come anywhere near Threadbare, the little bear felt Pulsivar patting his face.

Curious, Threadbare reached out with one of his own paws, and Pulsivar’s face rubbed against it… fur wrinkling.

Except the face was a good meter away. And bigger, much bigger. It felt bigger, too, as he petted Pulsivar, going by touch alone. The cat felt like he was twice his bobcat size, or more.

Threadbare reached out with both arms, and the big cat leaned into his embrace, invisibly, while his image flickered and firmed up, showing two disembodied teddy bear arms hugging him. Yep, definitely larger than he had been.

“I wonder…” Threadbare climbed up on the unseen cat’s back…

…and his own image appeared, feet away from him, mounted on Pulsivar as Threadbare himself faded from view.

And though the little bear had no way of knowing it, his oldest friend had become that rarest of all feline monsters;

A dreaded Misplacer Beast!

But that was something to ponder later, as blackness winked away, and green numbers flickered…

…and coalesced into a blue crystal, shining with red numbers, in the hands of Threadbare’s hatless, three-foot tall evil twin.

And then the world was full of falling giants.

And rains of food.

And kegs and cups full of liquor falling to the ground.

And shrieking sheep.

All these things and more exploded out into the space where the dungeon had once filled, rendered from a scenic, jagged gorge and pillar, with a mighty hall…

…down to a rather small mountain valley, with some half-built huts, a few patches of raggedy grass, and an ordinary-looking hillside.

“Vhat de hell. Vhat de hell hyu done hyu vorthless little bear!” The Jarl bellowed, much shorter and fatter now that she was out of her master’s pillar. She struggled to her feet, hefted a club rather more dinged and busted up than it had seemed through her master’s projection, and glared around… until her eyes fixed on Threadbare.

Around her, at least two dozen giants, mostly women, lay groaning or comatose. Food and items of loot lay strewn all over them.

“Not me!” Threadbare said, pointing at a running figure, heading upslope. “Him!”

The figure let out a laugh…

…that ended in a surprised squeak, as it crested the ridge.

“Hello there!” King Grundi’s voice boomed out. “I brought cannons!”

And then the world was thunder, as the Lurker dodged for his life.

The dwarf lord had come for daemon blood, and he’d brought company.

“I don’t know vhat’s going on, but I’m still blaming hyu!” The Giant Jarl pointed down at Threadbare…

…who looked up at her, solemnly.

“I’m sorry. Would you like a hug?”

The giant queen paused, confused. “Vhat?”

Threadbare pointed at her side, and the hilts of small daggers protruding from her generous rump. “I’m guessing he called you nasty names like fartsniffer and threw daggers at you until you chased him. He’s very good at that.”

“Vell hyes, hyes hyu did.”

“No, it wasn’t him lady, he was with us the whole time,” Madeline said, laying a wing across Threadbare… or trying to, and missing. “The hell?”

“It’s Pulsivar’s new thing, I’ll explain later.” He hopped off, and toddled toward the giant, arms open wide.

She raised her club, glaring. “Up hyu lot! Up and get him…” she looked around at the somnolent giants, as they refused to obey. “Vhat’s wrong vith hyu?”

And then the little bear was embracing her furry boot, and light glowed.

You have healed Jarl Greta Sumvonesdottir for 160 Points!

Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 17!

Your Fascination skill is now level 9!

Your Adorable skill is now level 35!

“Oh.” Jarl Greta said, easing her club down. “Vhell, I guess it vasn’t hyu, den.”

“It was him. Want to go hit him a bunch?” Threadbare said, pointing at his howling, dodging duplicate, who was having a very bad day of it as canister shot raked the hit points from him one blast at a time.

And as the Lurker managed to stagger down the hill, with the first waves of dwarves in hot pursuit, he slowed as Threadbare’s group came charging from behind, the furry little bear clutching the giant woman’s frosted braid tightly, and pointing at the daemon with one tiny claw.

The Lurker skidded to a stop… glanced around… and headed for the nearest sheer cliff.

He couldn’t go back through the mountain, the dwarves blocked that entrance. He couldn’t go away from the mountain, he’d hit the oblivion square on, and he had no clue of Jarrik’s trick for navigating it.

But as they watched, he changed, into something that was all spindly arms and legs, and big claws.

“He’s going to go over the mountain!” Garon shouted in horror.

“Like fun he is!” Madeline said, pumping her wings harder.

“No, stay back! One on one he’ll munch you!” Garon called.

Dwarven musket fire pinged and rattled on the stones around him, as the Lurker, Dungeon core flickering red and blue in one clenched hand, leaped twenty feet up to the sheer cliff of Brokeshale mountain and started to climb.

“Cannons! Get cannons on him!” Grundi called.

“No good! They won’t elevate that high fast enough!” A dwarven voice called back.

“Jarrik. Jarrik!” Garon called, and his brother was there, coat thrown over his shoulder, squinting up at the rapidly retreating Lurker. “Swear Fealty to me!”

“What?”

“I’ll get you the quest and buff you up just fucking bring that thing down!”

“Sure bro, yer the boss. I swear.”

Garon pointed at the Lurker. “Organize Minions! Fight The Battles!”

Jarrik measured the distance. Hundreds of yards already, dozens more vanishing by the second. The thing was built to climb, and climb fast.

“Musket.” He said, reaching out to the nearest dwarf.

“Do it!” Garon screamed, when the dwarf hesitated.

And Jarrik snapped the sturdy dwarven rifle up in front of his eye, sighted down it, and chanted. “Aim. Far Shot. Crippling Shot.”

Then he sighted a bit more, the musket tracking as he focused, focused-

BANG!

-and fired.

A pause.

Red drifted up from the daemon to the sky. the Lurker paused.

Then the thing stretched, and flailed, falling backward, falling downward, shifting as it went-

And Jarrik’s coat went flying. “Two Gun Mojo! Quick Draw!”

BANG!

BLAM!

KRAK!

KRAK!

BLAM!

BANG!

The coat hit the ground.

Four smoking pistols hit the ground.

And Jarrik stood there, the two pistols left in his hands smoking, his bandoliers empty of guns, squinting as five red numbers rolled out of the falling Lurker so quickly they appeared as one mixed, mangled, mess.

Which, incidentally, best described what happened to the lurker when he hit the rocky valley floor from his fall.

The dungeon core bounced free, skittered, cracked against a rock, and Threadbare and his friends collectively held their breath…

…but it was made of tougher stuff, and merely ricocheted out to land at the feet of the Jarl.

“It knows its master,” she grunted in satisfaction, and reached down for it-

-then froze, as about thirty dwarves brought their muskets up to bear on her, cocking hammers back in unison.

And Threadbare and his party all heard the chime of a quest completed. The Lurker had been taken down. Not alive, as they had hoped, but that was fine.

Garon, though, Garon got a slightly different notification, and stood there, jaw open in shock.

“I… oh my gods.”

“What?” Zuula asked.

There came the sound of metal wheels grinding through stony dirt, and King Grundi’s kneelchair crested the hill, escorted by the rearguard. “Well! That’s the bastard dead again,” said the king, grimly. “That fucker’s taken too many a’ mine down, but at least we don’t have to worry about him for another month or two.”

“Who de hell are hyu! Vhy hyu raiding my stead anyvay?” Jarl Greta said, waggling her club at him, and almost getting shot for her troubles.

“Guys,” Garon said, vibrating with excitement.

“Your stead? Why did ya put a perfectly good dungeon in my land!”

“Hyour land? Ve vas here first!” Greta scowled, and nudged one of her groaning subjects with a foot. “Come on, get up, ve gots some claim jumpers to run off.”

“Now hold on here, you great blue tart!” The King snapped, shaking an aged fist. “Pretty sure we were here first, just underground, that’s all! It’s still our land!”

“May I speak, please?” Threadbare offered from the giant’s shoulder.

“Vhat?” She turned to glare at him, a glare that softened as he patted her face reassuringly.

“You’re using an outside part of these lands. He’s using an inside part. I really don’t see the problem.”

“De problem is he’s on my land, pointing der little boomsticks at me.”

“The problem is that it isn’t her land in the first place!” The King said, glaring around. “And look at this loot! I know half of this loot! It belongs to my people, who died in your deathrap of a dungeon!”

“Hey, not my fault hyu little guys kept crashing my party!”

“The party that you made illegally in my lands!”

“Ahem,” Cecelia cleared her throat. “Sir?”

“What is it, my dear?”

“Guys!” Garon said, jumping up and down.

“Hold on,” Cecelia said. “I was going to point out, sir, that you’re at war.”

“Yes! Which is precisely why we don’t need a tribe of troublesome giants-“

“A tribe of troublesome giants who my Father definitely would not be expecting to fight.”

Silence, then, broken by Garon’s wooden quivering.

“Huh. Huh!” Grundi said. Then he looked up at the frowning Jarl, who had her arms crossed, leaning on her club. “That’s… a point. Hum.”

“Fight who to the vhat now?” The Jarl said, confused.

“Someone we’ll pay you a lot of money to fight.” Grundi said.

“Bah. Money ve gots.”

‘And three kegs of Sunfire mead.”

That made her pause.

“Hyu ain’t got nothing like that,” she said, staring at him like he’d announced that he’d bottled the sun. Which was a pretty apt comparison, as anyone who’d ever been fortunate enough to actually taste the stuff could tell you.

“Oh, I do. It’s the last of my private stock, from the northern breweries before we were cut off.”

“Hyu svear to me it’s real. And mine if ve fight for you.”

“It’s real. By my beard and axe, it’s real.”

“Done!” She said, offering her enormous hand for a shake.

That settled, Threadbare and his friends turned to Garon.

“Guys, I just got a job unlock.” Garon said. “A tier two.”

“Okay. So what’s the fuss?” Madeline asked.

“It’s for Guild Master.”

That brought silence. Silence that spread to where the giant and the dwarf were settling terms.

“I can make guilds. It… I need to read the help screens, there’s so much stuff here. This… this changes everything.” Garon sat down with a bump.

“How?” Cecelia asked. “Just… how?”

“You have to be a Ruler, enough to assign or share a King’s Quest. Then you have to lead a party and use both mercenary and ruler skills to complete it. And it has to be a challenging one, requiring multiple parties to complete, and you have to lead one of them. Well…” Garon gestured around at his friends, and himself. “We did that. We can do this. We can form a Guild. We can crack level twenty five.”

“No,” King Grundi said, rolling over. “I’m sorry lad, you can’t.” Behind him, the Jarl went to try and rouse her people, not realizing just what kind of hangovers they’d gotten from decades of continuous partying.

“What? It says right there,” Garon pointed at nothing. “All I have to do is say “Form Guild The Threadbarren, and… what? What the hell?”

“Aye. It did the same thing when I tried,” King Grundi sighed.

“But…” Garon looked around, and the valley, and at the oblivion rolling in the distance. “We’re not in a dungeon.”

“Garon?” Threadbare asked, as suspicions rose in his mind, “What exactly happened when you tried?”

“It told me that I can’t create a guild while I’m in a dungeon.”

“Aye. Just as it told me when I discovered the job, four years ago, and tried it myself.” Grundi said, looking at Garon with sympathy.

“Maybe this counts because Jotunher was so close?” Madeline said, rubbing her muzzle with one claw. “We could go somewheah else, and-“

“No,” Grundi said. “There’s no place in Cylvania that isn’t in a dungeon. The whole land’s a dungeon.”

“He’s a midboss. That’s why he can die and come back,” Threadbare realized, pointing at the Lurker’s corpse, which was already fading.

“Aye, and King Melos, damn his foolish eyes, is the dungeon’s master.”

“How?” Cecelia asked, turning her ceramic eyes to the ancient dwarf. “How do you know this?”

King Grundi turned, painfully, staring past them. And as one the group turned, to follow his gaze…

…but there was nothing on the horizon, save for the black sheet of the Oblivion.

“We helped turn it into one,” King Grundi said. “They came to us for help, you see. It all started with the Seven, with their wizard, Grissle…”

QUICK REFERENCE: THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

Spoiler: Spoiler

DISARM Level: 10 Cost: 20 Sta Duration: Instant
Has a chance of disarming a foe’s wielded item. The foe must be in melee range.

RIPOSTE Level: 10 Cost: NA Duration: Passive Constant
Whenever you successfully parry an attack, you have a chance at riposting, triggering a free attack with whatever weapon you are currently wielding.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 13
Ruler Level 13
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 10
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 10
Animator Level 13
Enchanter Level 10
Golemist Level 18
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 147 Constitution: 163 Hit Points: 388(488) Armor: 57(71)
Intelligence: 251 Wisdom: 224(231) Sanity: 475(634) Mental Fortitude: 47
Dexterity: 171(178) Agility: 144(151) Stamina: 339(439) Endurance: 67
Charisma: 126(155) Willpower: 237 Moxie: 363(492) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 131 Luck: 101(108) Fortune: 232(339) Fate: 15(22)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 50 (+34)
Climb - Level 13
Clubs and Maces - Level 19
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 13
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Item 1 - Resist Fire 13
Ride - Level 9
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 35
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 32
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 44
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 21
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 24

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+100 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+50% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 11
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 21
Parry - Level 22
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 38 (Brawling +19)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 33
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 41

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 14
Boost +10 - Level 2
Disenchant - Level 7
Elemental Protection - Level 9
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 25
Spellstore V - Level 4
Spellstore X - Level 1
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 2
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 48
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 55
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 56
Wood Golem - Level 12

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 10
Refine Ore - Level 13
Smelt Down - Level 6
Smithing - Level 50

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 60

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +4 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
A small jewelry box, now empty.
1 bead of Mend Golem (Level 15)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Interlude - Vae Victus 1

The moon rose high through the ornate stained glass windows, as six heroes and one golem slammed open the heavy wooden doors to the shrine.

Dark, haunting organ music skirled high to the rafters, sending swarms of bats screeching out into the night, flowing through and past the intrepid vampire hunters that had come to put paid to the darkest of vampires; the dread Count Joculah!

“And so you are here…” said the vampire, brown fingers lifting from white keys, as the organ fell silent. The vampire’s brown hands wormed his way over his brown suit, and smoothed brown hair, testing and touching as only those who never see themselves in mirrors do, making sure that he looked his best for his would-be slayers.

“Die Monster!” Melos bellowed, leveling a blade that glowed with the leering faces of the trapped daemons within, red and hellish and surging with raw power as he led the charge. “I’m your Challenge! Come face my Entropic Strike!”

“You don’t belong in this world!” Rezzak yelled from behind the charging demon knight, raising his feathered staff high, and slamming it to the ground. “Angelic Pact! Summon Greater Cherub! Summon Greater Cherub! Summon Greater Cherub!”

“Fools! It was mortal men who-gah!” The vampire yelled, dodging as Melos’ red blade came way too close to splitting him right down his widow’s peak. “Can’t a man monologue first?”

“A man? Yes!” The woman in green stepped out from behind Rezzak, pointing at him with a wand in each hand. “A monster? No. Get him, Emmet!”

As glowing, silvery babies with bows and arrows faded in all around the group, a hulking suit of armor shambled through the doorway, and came in on Melos’ flank. He grinned to see it, grinned behind his helm as he fought the vampire, laying into him with strikes that left dust and scars with every slash. The wounds from Entropic Strike couldn’t be healed, not while the spell was active.

Then flames wisped around him, as Sabi went into business. The red-silk-garbed woman slid out from behind a tapestry, twisting her hands, as she directed the flames to sear the elder undead. Brown cheeks quirked in a smile under a red veil as the creature burned… burned until he folded his cloak around him, and his flesh started to ripple.

“You think you have a chance?” Count Joculah chuckled, then exploded into bats. Melos brought his shield up, and the daemon faces in it gobbled and chomped at the flying rodents as they swirled around him. So long as they stay our of my helmet, it’s good. It’s fine. Besides, the fool’s played right into our hands. Come on Sabi…

“Fire ball!”

Even with his flame resistant gear, he felt the blast wave, grunted as a red ‘146’ whipped out of him. But as bad as it was for Melos, it was leagues worse for the vampire. Bats shrieked and screamed, and swirled in all directions.

“This is the point I miss Grissle the most!” Graham shouted, as he put down a rain of crossbow-flung stakes. “Rapid Fire! Rapid Fire!” Vampire bats shrieked and fell, dead or paralyzed from their wood allergies. “Grissle would have been telling us how many hit points the thing had left by now!”

“Oh, I’ll just pick up Necromancer then!” Melos called over, jauntily. “Got to give you SOME reason to hate me, after all.”

“Don’t get me started,” Rezzak sighed, as his summoned cherubs went about their business, flapping after the farther-ranging bats and shooting at them with arrows of angelic light. “That’s like a drunkard switching over to chewing brainburn weed.”

“Leave the arguments for the tavern!” Amelia snapped, keeping her wands going and firing lightning bolts through the few bats that came her way, crisping them with scarcely a glance. In among them, Emmet swung his massive metal gauntlets, trying to catch and crush what bats he could.

And occasionally, from the shadows, a throwing star would spin out and catch a bat on the wing, turning it into a bat pinned to the wall. It was Jane, Just Jane, doing her thing.

Melos simply waited.

And when the Count reformed, the demon knight yelled “Ears!” Before dropping his weapon and shield and clapping both gauntlets to his own ears, then ordering the demons writhing within his armor to scream.

And scream they did, as the sound ripped through his skull at point blank range, scrambling his sanity, sending him to his knees…

…but safe, as he saw the count mouth words, words he couldn’t hear.

The Count’s Command had been the doom of many an adventuring party. Many had fought their way up through the secret entrance in Cylvania City’s catacombs, up to the impossible castle that loomed over a nightmare version of the city, up to the very topmost tower through hordes of vampires, bats, werewolves, lesser undead, and weird snake-tentacled heads that always seemed to try to attack you when you were climbing narrow and slippery stairs.

It was easy to die in the Count’s domain, to any number of horrible monsters.

But those who managed to survive until they’d found the count himself?

All too often, they died at the hands of their friends. The count’s charisma was undeniable, and his patterns well-mapped. After he went to bats, then would come the commands…

Once the count finished speaking, Melos popped a pill from his pouch, and swallowed it, scooping up his sword and shield, and his hearing returned…

…just in time to hear a man’s voice laughing maniacally.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Graham,” Melos said, taking a big risk and taking his eyes off Count Joculah. “This is what happens when you don’t wear earplugs!”

“Everyone dies! So commands the master!” Graham hissed, dropping his crossbow, and making a yanking motion with one arm.

No! “Slot machine!” Melos yelled, and he and the four remaining sane friends jumped clear, as a metal slot machine as tall and broad around as an elephant slammed through the roof, right onto the ground. The handle jerked, and symbols clicked by…

…8…

….9….

Melos held his breath. If it was a ten, they were all dead. It was that simple.

…8… DING!

“Heals! Get healing!” He called to Rezzak-

-and then the wave hit. He watched ‘160’ rise from everyone’s skull, then the pain struck him, and he gasped. Straight through armor, straight through everything. The cherubs poofed back to their home plane, and even Emmet groaned in pain.

“Muahhhahahhahha!” Wheezed the Count.

“I’ll get Graham! The rest of you on the old bastard! Watch it, he’ll go full daemon when he starts to lose,” Melos shouted over his shoulder.

Graham under the enemy’s control wasn’t a worst-case scenario. But it was close. The man had started his adventuring career as a conman, a Grifter, and a good one. They’d had a run in with him in Upper Derope, when he tried to talk Sabi out of her pants… in both ways, as after he’d enjoyed a night with her he’d tried to abscond with her enchanted trousers. Melos and the rest had woken to the smell of burning, an irate innkeeper, and a very chastened and nude Graham, quite sorry for the whole affair.

Sabi had dragged him along as a translator to help pay off his debt to the innkeeper, and the man had eventually matured, expanding his horizons. Like Melos had, he’d given up an empty and… unsavory… existence in order for a life of adventure and heroics.

And along the way he’d become an Archer. Then, when he got high enough level to accidentally unlock it, a Gambler.

Which, when combined with a Grifter’s trick of Silent Activation, made for some nasty times.

The trick with Gamblers, Melos had worked out, was to not give them time to fire off their big skills. Get them focusing less on the things that could wipe out your party, and more on defending themselves.

And also, since the bastards were so hard to hit, to target pools that weren’t so well-defended as their hit points and agility.

“I’m Challenge-ing you, Graham. Aura of Fear. Staredown.” He said, advancing as Graham backpedaled, and groaned as a green ‘67’ ripped loose from his skull. That was sixty-seven points of Moxie he WOULDN’T have for Silent Activations. Melos stomped after him, chasing him around the gothic cathedral that capped the tower, ignoring his friends fighting the vampire behind him. His wife had Emmet, and Emmet was enough. The fight would be there when Melos was done. He trusted everyone at his back… hell, he trusted Graham, too. At least when the man was in his right mind, anyway.

Normally Graham was unflappable. That was the name of the class feature that boosted his cool, anyway. But that aura ate into his defense, rendered his normally cocky self-assuredness much reduced.

But the Gambler hadn’t gotten this far by being a pushover.

“Good thing I’ve got an Ace in the Hole!” Graham said, snapping a handful of glowing cards out of nowhere. “Razor Cards! Crippling Shot! Rapid Fire!” The handful of cards blurred, as Graham edged away, backing around, throwing cards into Melos.

Cards that sliced into his shield and armor, making them bleed and scream. The daemons within the armor took the hits, took the pain, and Melos didn’t. “Mend,” Melos chanted, as he weathered the storm of cards, ignoring it as best he could, ignoring the one that split his helm and came half an inch to cleaving through his eyes. “Mend. Mend.” He said over and over again.

Graham was nimble. Graham was lightly armored.

And Graham didn’t look out behind him.

“Dispel Magic!” Rezzak shouted, as soon as Graham was within range. Graham froze, eyes open. “Got him!” Rezzak confirmed.

“Welcome back,” Melos said. “Next time put your damned earplugs in.”

“You’re the last person to advise anyone on damned anything,” Graham snarked, and ran back toward the Count, and the rest of the fight.

“I think he means thank you,” Rezzak said.

“You’re very welcome, Graham,” Melos smiled, then moved up to take some of the heat off Emmet. The Count had reached one of his final forms already, and was busy leaping out the room and breathing vaguely-daemonic fire at the Seven.

“Hey, snaggletooth!” Melos yelled, as the maws on his armor yawned open and glowed with their own flame, and he ran faster… “You’re doing it wrong!”

Finally, it was all over. The Count fell, as he had several times before, to the most skilled of adventuring groups, and collapsed into a heap of ashes with loot items sticking out.

“Appraise,” Amelia snapped. “No curses. Jane?”

Their ninja, Just Jane, materialized out of the darkness. After a few experiences squabbling over loot, and dealing with respawning bosses, they’d all agreed it was best to let the Ninja grab the loot. She would anyway.

“Snaggletooth?” Amelia said, moving over and giving him a look.

“Best I could do in the heat of the moment.”

“Come on, you’ve got more charisma than that.”

“Well, this is the third time I’ve dusted the Count. Motivation tends to fade once you’ve got it down to a science. Speaking of which…” Melos glanced around. “Spread out! Look for the glow! You know the drill, people.”

It was Graham who found it, ironically. The patch of green under a thoroughly desecrated altar. Emmet got to work shoving it aside, a task that took even the mighty golem’s full strength. One by one, the Seven stepped into the portal, emerging into the Dungeon Core Chamber.

Melos was the last, and as he took one last glance around the room, a flicker of movement caught his eye by the door. A small brown-haired girl, wearing a purple-and-green head scarf. Clearly one of the Bloodsuckah Urchins they’d cleared out in the orphanage level. She’d strayed far.

“Run, little girl,” he commanded, whispering “Staredown” behind his visor as he glared.

A green ‘207’ burst out from her, and she screamed, dropped the tea service she was carrying, spilled cups of blood over the floor, and fled for her life.

“Still got it,” Melos chuckled, as he stepped into the place where logic went to die. Not that he minded… his former life had been good training for places like these.

He joined the rest of the party, as they wove their way through the green pillars, past midbosses and mobs and piles of loot, so many piles of loot. Count Joculah’s Castle had been going for years, and so many adventurers had perished here.

And by the time he caught up with his wife, she was standing in front of the Dungeon Master’s column, wands ready, Emmet by her side, and the rest of the Seven around the rather disturbed-looking undead. His face was green in the light, and he was older, paunchier than his projection had been.

“You would have gotten away with it, you know,” Amelia spoke. The Count stared at her, through the column, saying nothing. He couldn’t, as far as Melos could tell. Nobody in the light could talk.

“You could have stayed hidden here, stayed safe. But you let your monsters out to play, and they came out of the catacombs, and murdered people above.” Amelia shook her head. “Was that vampiric hunger? Driving you and your spawn to seek out flesh blood? Or was it vampiric pride, the colossal arrogance that made you think we wouldn’t come for you, once we found your lair?”

Slowly, and with a shaking hand, the Count raised a fist and extended one brown middle finger.

“Oh. So you were just an asshole.” Amelia snorted. “Goodbye, Joculah.”

Emmet punched into the light, grabbed the Count, and hauled him out. The vampire fought the whole way, but he was weaker, so much weaker than his ideal form had been.

Reality rippled around them as they dusted the vampire.

“Get ready!” Amelia shouted, with ten seconds left on the clock. “Rezzak?”

“On it!” The Invoker slammed a hand to the floor, the second they came back into reality. “This Hallowed Ground! Circle of Protection!” Light flared around them, resolved into a six-pointed star in a circle, and Melos winced, as his daemon-infested armor and weapons screamed in unison. He hastily banished them before the metal ruptured entirely, leaving his armor black and dull again.

“Ward against Undead!” Amelia yelled, slamming a vial on the ground. Green dust puffed up and fell into patterns…

…and not a moment too soon, as shrieking vampires, skeletons, ghouls, and worse faded in to the large catacomb chamber that the dungeon had vacated.

There was a pause, as the dungeon creatures looked at each other.

Then at the Seven.

Then down to the floor, emblazoned and glowing with holy symbols.

And with a scream, they burst into flames as the heroes sat back and watched their spells do the work for a change.

At the end of it, Melos was the one to find it. A Purple crystal, the size of a small apple, flickering with green numbers. “Such a small thing, to cause so much trouble,” he sighed. Then Jane was glaring over his shoulder. “What? I was going to give it to you.” He handed it back to the ninja. “Good day, good work,” The demon knight said, straightening up. “Waffles?”

“Waffles!” Graham yelled.

And so the mightiest heroes of the realm went and had waffles. And Melos and Amelia went and paid their babysitter, rocked their girl to sleep, and made love sweetly once she was out.

“That’s another one down,” Amelia whispered, clutching him tight, resting in the afterglow.

“Mm.” Melos said, laying still as her fingers traced through his beard. “And how many more will we find next month? I swear, for every one we seal, three more spring up.”

Her arms tightened around him. “It’ll work out. We’ll find a solution.”

“Maybe.” Melos puffed, feeling his sweat dry on his bare skin. “We’ve lost so many people. So many promising young adventurers gone to these things. I don’t know if there’ll be much of a country left if we don’t.”

“We will,” Amelia promised, kissing him.

And a few days later, they did.

*****

“To sum it up, Cylvania will shatter in a matter of years if this keeps going,” King Garamundi said, leaning over the table, his gut spreading out around the edge. Eyes harder than flint flicked around the seven spaces of the table, and as they passed over Melos the King’s lips twisted in the way they always did.

The son of a bitch still doesn’t trust me. Never will, Melos smiled back, keeping cool, keeping cool. Unconsciously he reached out, rubbed Amelia between the shoulderblades. His wife leaned back into it, but flicked her eyes his way, with what he called her ‘srs bznss’ look.

And yes, it was, but whatever. The Seven gathered at this table had overcome every difficulty thrown their way. This one would be no different.

Garamundi pointed at the map, moving his finger from the foothills in the north, to the spine of the Wintersgate Mountains curving it to the south as he went. “We’re mostly stable along the axis, here. We’ve got Taylor’s Delve holding the Thundering Pass, against the worst of the orc incursions. And the more ambitious Canites, for that matter. Balmor’s anchored the north. We’ve got the center, but…” he gestured to the Raxin plains, and drew his finger east. Past Brokeshale Valley, past the steppes, and out all the way to Bharstool. “They’re coming west,” the king sighed. “They’ve cracked the riddle of guilds, they’re not sharing, and they’re coming west, armies spearheaded by loyal troops who no one else in Disland can match.”

“Even so, even with various movement buffs, they’re still decades off,” Graham said. “Why are you saying years?” Graham was handsome. Graham dressed immaculately. Graham’s silver tongue had talked the Seven out of many an unwinnable crisis over the course of their adventures. Graham’s charisma was very high…

…but Graham, sadly, had never bothered grinding his intelligence, much. Melos shot Amelia a glance, and she rolled her eyes in response, then glanced back to the King. “Sire? Care to explain it?”

Garamundi shook his head, and drew his finger west, naming each land his finger crossed. “Nevergreen. Lower Derope. Canticle. Kai-tan, the Wicked City. And that’s BEFORE you get into the Brokecrown Borderlands. None of them can stand against Bharstool without a miracle, they WON’T work together, and all the refugees and fleeing monsters from those nations are going to come west. We’re the gate between eastern and western Disland. Us. They’re going to flood through the passes, and we don’t have the numbers to stop them.”

“I’m not so sure I like this talk about stopping refugees,” Rezzak spoke up, the angelic-sealed rings on his hands glittering as he gestured. The man was partially deaf so whenever he spoke, his hands did too. Initially, it had annoyed the hell out of Melos, along with his sanctimonious attitude… but the man walked the walk, and held himself to the same standards as he did the rest of the world. Melos could respect that.

Hell, it’s not like he was a nurphite.

Garamundi leaned back, folded his hands across his ample belly. “The refugees, per se, aren’t the problem. Any ruler with brains enough to blow their nose sees the opportunity there. They come bearing wealth, looking for work, and desperate enough to settle in bad areas. Refugees are GOOD. But along with them, come the things that prey on them. Bandits. Warlords. Folks who survived the Bharstool battles and now might see our land as easy pickings… which it is.” He sighed and started pointing to the smaller settlements. “The harvestlands to the east and west of Cylvania City are easy pickings. We’re already having problems enough keeping goblins and roaming monsters out. And once they go, it doesn’t matter how high the walls along our larger settlements, because we won’t have the food to survive at a size large enough to stand against conquerors. And then there’s the monsters. Jane?”

The group looked to its most silent member. Hair jagged and black as her body suit, eyes narrowed, Just Jane stared back for a few seconds, before the assassin-turned-ninja found her voice.

Privately, Melos thought it was cute and squeaky. Not that he’d ever tell her that. She was moody and sensitive, and had this trick with pressure points that hurt quite a lot.

“The Agents of the Nevergreen told me that the Bharstoi are pillaging every dungeon in every conquered land… and sealing them. They often do not bother to slay the monsters they evict, instead driving them from their lands.”

“And since all lands east of them are THEIR lands, that means the monsters go west. And they have a trail of refugees to follow and eat, right up until they’ll get to our doorstep. So yes. Years,” King Garamundi said, mopping his forehead with a royal handkerchief. “I’m hoping, I’m really hoping, that you can help me come up with a solution. Now, not years down the road, because when the first waves hit? They’ll only get bigger, and we’ll have less and less time to do anything but deal with them.”

The eight of them stared at the map.

“Do the dwarves know what is to come?” Sabi said, the silks of her headdress twisting as she looked from the map to their King. The ribbons woven through her hair gleamed bright red against her dusky skin. She’d come to Cylvania as a refugee herself, dragged along by parents fleeing the echoes of a nasty religious war. Melos had initially had a thing with her, but it hadn’t worked out. Date a fire elementalist, get burned, he thought to himself with a chuckle. Then Amelia rubbed his shoulder and he let the old mix of regret and shame go. If it hadn’t ended so badly then, he wouldn’t have it so good now.

“The dwarves do, actually,” came a calm voice from the end of the table. The entire group turned to stare as Grissle rose, his gaunt and withered frame creaking as he leaned on his cane. “I’ve been in touch with their Delvers society.”

“The Delvers. Those rabble rousers?” Garamundi frowned.

“An undeserved reputation. Some rail against the King, it’s true. But the wiser among them have been researching the… changeover, as have I.” Grissle’s white hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat. Some diseases, not even oracles can cure, Melos knew. It ate at his guts, caused Grissle pain every minute of the day. Which was why the man had stepped back from active duty with the Seven, and taken on the responsibility of supporting them. He’d made most of their magical gear, including the black iron armor Melos wore at this very minute. The wizard and enchanter pointed with a shaking hand. “They’ve closed Badgerdoom.”

“Really?” Amelia leaned forward. “They finally got around to doing something about the badger swarms?”

“Oh yes. And they have been experimenting with the dungeon core.” Grissle’s wet small, tongue licked out and moistened his lips. “Their findings match my own. The arrays, the sorting, we’re seeing the same patterns. The universe, laid out in a numerical code, the very secrets the gods once kept from us laid bare before-”

“Is this getting to a point?” Melos said. Grissle had a tendency to go on, until he reached jargon levels that could put the most patient of men to sleep. And Melos had never been very patient to start with.

Watery brown eyes found his own. For a second Melos toyed with turning on his fear aura, shot down the idea as soon as it crossed his mind. “Yes,” Grissle said. “I think I can use the dungeon cores to protect us from the incoming waves.”

“So the damn things would actually have a use?” Amelia said. “That’s good. I’d hate to think we’ve been collecting them just to take them out of circulation.”

Melos’ wife was an enchanter herself. She’d tried to teach him the art, but he found it boring.

“Oh, they’ve got a use, all right. Come and see!”

“What?”

“We’ve got one set up in the lab right now.”

“We?” Melos asked.

“Oh yes! Once we realized we were getting the same information, we decided to pool our resources. The three most promising apprentices from the Delver Society are my guests at the minute. And yesterday we made a huge breakthrough.”

“So that’s what those little bastards are about!” King Garamundi laughed. “I wondered why there were dwarves wandering around my castle and eating my food.”

“Gris?” Amelia asked, looking pensively at the old wizard, “exactly what is it you’ve got in the labs, right now?”

“If I’m right?” Grissle beamed a thin-lipped smile, “the key to protecting our homeland. Forever!”

*****

“I’m sorry, what’s that word you just said?” Melos asked, blinking down at the small, incredibly well-dressed dwarf.

“I’m a Pygmalion,” she said, tossing her elegantly-braided hair.

And beside her, five stone statues of her did the exact same thing. Which was disconcerting, because their hair was carved from something that really wasn’t supposed to be that flexible.

“It’s an animator, model blend,” Amelia said, smiling down at her. “I’m surprised. Most dwarves don’t go in for the model job.”

“Yeah, well, it’s that diet thing that does most of them in. And a lot of my kin think it’s foolish and wasteful.” She snorted, and leaned back in her chair, crossing one perfectly-shaven stumpy leg. “It’s their own fault if they don’t want in on these buffs.”

“No kidding,” Graham said, running an appreciative eye up and down her miniskirted figure.

“Reign it in. Remember, you’re no Bard,” Grissle joked. Then he pointed at the apparatus spread out around the room. “She’s the key to this whole affair.”

“What affair?” Melos asked.

“All my copies act and think as I do,” Brin the Pygmalion explained. “So if you stick one of them in a dungeon master’s slot, it will act like I would, and run a dungeon like I would.”

Grissle nodded. “There are flaws. The uplink-“

“The what now?” Rezzak asked.

“The green pillar prevents her from communicating with her copies like she normally could.”

“So they’re on their own initiative. But since I’m all for helping you guys, that’s all well and good.” Brin smiled up at the humans surrounding her.

“And your friends?” Melos glanced over at the other two dwarves. One younger male in a blue robe, who spent most of his time gawping at them, and blinking behind his beard. And an elderly one, wearing light plate mail, who glared at Melos with disgust.

There’s always one of those bastards.

“I’m er, I’m Ragnor.” Said the younger one. “I’m a wizard, here to study the, er, the artifacts—“

“The cores,” The older one said. “Which I’ve provided from my personal collection.”

His voice… “You’re Ambersand,” Melos realized.

“You are serious?” Sabi said, eyes widening over her veil. “The Ambersand? Savior of Gerdland? Ravager of the Gnolls and the Voids?”

The dwarf’s gaze softened as he looked upon her. “Aye. Though that was a bit ago.” He coughed. “Before the… changeover.”

“Old school. Whoa.” Graham said. “So what was that whole thaco thing about, anyway?”

Ambersand chuckled. “Well, y’see, it was this backwards scale, where plate was a three, and leather was a seven, and you had to-“

“Oh don’t get him started,” Brin said. “Or he’ll be going on about saving rods, staves, and wands.”

“Throws, ya wax-legged wastrel! Ye saved yer throws!” Ambersand yelled.

“Please…” Grissle said, lifting a finger.

“Sorry.” The elderly dwarf cleared his throat.

“Anyway… look. It’s easier if I show you,” Grissle said, moving to what looked all the world like a throne, emblazoned with arcane sigils, that matched the metal pillars around the laboratory. Copper tubes trailed from the throne, stretching out to wrap around the various pillars. “Brin? Column one, if you please.”

Smiling, the little Pygmalion went over to the metal column, and put her hand on the pillar. Purple and green light glittered as she cupped the hollow top of it.

“That’s the Dungeon Core,” Jane rasped. “From Joculah’s.”

“Yes. And with some alignment…” Grissle shifted levers, adjusted sliders, and stabbed a finger down onto the throne’s buttons. “There.”

The remaining six of the Seven tensed, as darkness surrounded them, with green numbers flashing above. Sound faded away, and once more they were in that darkling place between the worlds. The dwarves watched, the younger in awe, taking notes on a parchment, and the elder with wary caution.

Brin, for her part, was enclosed within seconds by a green column. The metal pillar vanished, and she stood there, a beatific look on her face.

All save for one patch of white light, that coalesced to reveal the laboratory. “The entire room is now enclosed, the space replaced by our dungeon,” Grissle happily pointed out. “It’s filling the entire lower level of the castle, all of my labs. Although… it needn’t.” He adjusted spinners and sliders, and as they watched, the perspective through the doorway out shrunk, until the space grew thinner, distorted. “A person could easily step outside, and get back to the real world. The dungeon’s a mere few inches thick right now. But we won’t send a person out, no.” He waved to one of Brin’s statues. “The number two, please.”

The statue roused itself, and walked out through the doorway, its own form distorting briefly, then it was through.

“Once she’s got her hands on the second core, and willing it to activation…” Grissle smiled. “Ah yes, there we go!” A rune on the throne lit up, and he threw a lever.

Abruptly, the light from the exit changed. He fiddled with the dials and sliders again, and space straightened out…

…revealing the laboratory beyond, and a door in the middle of it, showing a flickering green space.

Wonder stirred in Melos’ mind. “You’ve found a way to nest a dungeon within a dungeon.”

“Oh yes. And by itself that’d be a century or three of study,” Grissle’s voice was smug. “But it’s the ability to adjust and shape the amount of space that the dungeon occupies that makes it useful for the King’s purposes.”

“Explain.” Amelia said.

“Dungeons always have one entrance, don’t they?” Grissle’s tongue wet his lips. “And they block off all the space they occupy… absolutely no way to enter it, save through the entrance. So what if… what if we surrounded our land with a wall of dungeons?”

“You’d need a lot of dungeons,” Amelia shook her head. “And what’s to stop our enemies from entering them and closing them…” her eyes went wide. “…except that you can put the entrance to each dungeon inside another dungeon!”

“Inside the main one,” Grissle smiled. “And thanks to your retrieval of a Rank five dungeon core, it’s just big enough that I can stretch it out to cover the entire Kingdom.”

“Wait, whoa, you’d turn our land into a dungeon?” Graham said. “Not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“A dungeon with nothing in its own main pillars!” Grissle snapped. “No bosses, no mobs, nothing spawning.” He grimaced. “Which is good, because as diffused as it would be, it would be a dungeon in name only. The pillars would react… weirdly. No, the master dungeon would just be there to control the others, allow them to be nested. And once nested…” He grinned, and manipulated dials. And through the doorway into the lab that was now a dungeon, the space in the OTHER doorway distorted. “I can spread THEM out, too. Shape them into a barrier.”

Rezzak rubbed his chin. “How many? How many cores, all told?”

“It varies. Seventeen’s optimal. You could do it with one, but there would be… side effects.” Rezzak sighed.

“What are the downsides?” Melos asked.

“Mm. well… The problem arises that it’s a little hard on the slaved cores. They’re not meant to be used this way. So they’d need replacing on a regular basis. But since we’re not planning to keep the dungeon wall up permanently, this isn’t a real issue. Just shut down the cores in sequence, swap out any damaged ones, and off we go.” He chuckled, and pointed at the loot pillars spread throughout the room. “I’ve placed the core pylons in synched locations to the loot pillars. If one blew, in a pinch, it’d be the simplest of matters to go and swap one out. Even a monkey could do it. That’d be a little rough on the control throne, though, so you don’t want to do it too often.”

“This is good,” Amelia nodded. “The King needs to see this.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Grissle rasped, the smile stretching his face. “As legacies go, it’ll be a good one for me to leave to the kingdom…”

Interlude - Vae Victus 2

“Number seventeen.” Melos smiled, as he handed the orange crystal over. “We had to run down to Caneland for this one, so I hope you appreciate it. It was a swamp dungeon, with gribbits everywhere. You would not believe how many of us saw the inside of giant froggy stomachs.”

“That?” Grissle said, taking the core with a rictus grin, “that is why I don’t mind retiring from the field so much.”

“So what now?”

“Now?” Grissle looked toward the throne, powered down, and looming, all angles and runes and spiraling copper tubes. At the pillars, each of which bore a gem at their peak. “Nothing. It’s the middle of the night and Brin’s asleep. It takes a lot to make seventeen Pygmalion copies, as it turns out. A lot of materials, a lot of crafting, some of which has to be done the old fashioned way.”

“Ouch.” Melos frowned. “I can’t imagine the patience that would take.”

“Which is why it’s good she’s a dwarf. They’re not as bad as elves, but they’d rather spend a few years working on something rather than admit it has some minor flaws.” Grissle glanced toward the throne. “Unlike me.” The old wizard’s face grew pensive.

“What is it?”

“No… I’m sure it’ll be fine. Nothing.” Grissle shook his head.

Melos put his arm around his oldest friend, the man who’d given him a chance, who’d looked past the cultist to see the hero within. “Gris, talk to me here. We’re dealing with forces that daemons tread cautiously around. And you’re…” dying, “…you’ve been busy, and under a lot of stress. Talk to me, here.”

Grissle sighed, and sat in the throne, staring down at his slippered feet. “There are some issues with feedback. There’s been a side effect to nesting the dungeons… it puts pressure on the central dungeon master’s column. I’ve been able to rig an emergency shunt to the throne, but I can’t cancel the bleed-out entirely. “

“Pressure. What kind of pressure?”

“Mental pressure. It…” Grissle mopped his face. The man was sweating far more than normal, his voice dull. “All pillars do it, they fray at the sanity of those within it. But in most, as far as I can tell, it’s gradual. When you’re nesting seventeen dungeons at once? It goes quickly.”

Melos rubbed his beard. “Mana potions?”

“Good when I’m on the throne. Non-functional in the main pillars. You don’t regain any pooled energy in there, not sanity, not moxie, not anything. Drinking doesn’t work. Sleeping does, a bit, but it’s deuced uncomfortable.”

“You’ve been trying this on yourself.”

“And who else could I ask?” Grissle raised his hands. “King Grundi’s found out that the Delvers are messing around with dungeon cores, and taken it hard. If a dwarf dies here, it’ll be the end of the Delver society.”

“Wait. Dies?” Melos said, crossing to the throne, and leaning on it, scrutinizing the old wizard closely.

“Small chance.” Grissle licked his lips. “But there.”

“You’re experimenting on yourself, with something that could kill a DWARF.”

Grissle sighed. “They don’t have my contingency plan.”

“Gris…”

“I know. I know I said I was done with necromancy. But…”

“You know how the King is going to take this.”

“The King doesn’t know. Nor will he, unless the worst happens, in which case I fix it, and go to my eternal rest.” Grissle stared up at him, with watery, desperate eyes. “Unless you tell him.”

Melos closed his eyes.

A breath. Two. Three. “You’re bound and determined on this.”

“This is only the first iteration. Every day, I’m learning what I did wrong with this control throne. Every day I’m another step to understanding. Understanding why.”

There were four tier one jobs that granted access to a form of the experimentation skill, at twenty-fifth level. Grissle had all four, had ground them obsessively, seeking answers. Answers for the changeover. Answers for why the cure disease spell had been stripped from every cleric in the land, well before his own illness surfaced.

Some people had determination. Grissle was determination.

“You’ve unlocked that job, haven’t you,” Melos opened his eyes, staring into Grissle’s brown, tired orbs. “The thing you said you gave up searching for, years ago.”

“I have,” Grissle whispered. “And the fact I’m here, in the pain I am, proves that I won’t take it unless Cylvania itself is on the line.”

“I’ve fought enough undead, destroyed enough undead, to know that it changes even the strongest…” Melos looked away. “It’ll change you. You… I trust you. I don’t trust what you might make of yourself.”

“Melos. I gave you a chance. A chance for redemption.”

“No. No, that was different.”

“I didn’t tell them about the children.”

Melos inhaled.

“So it’s like that, is it?” He said, as the old shame came back to haunt him.

“No. It doesn’t have to be.”

“They…” Melos shut his eyes. “It was the final test of loyalty. They would have killed me if I refused.”

“And so you cast three innocent babes into Cron’s flames.”

“I avenged them!” Melos roared, stomping away and clenching a fist. “When I saw the truth I went back and slaughtered every last one of those evil shits!”

“And yet one of the guilty remains.”

Melos punched the stone wall. Punched it again, felt his gauntlet flex and dent. Punched it a third time, felt his fingers nova into pain, and then the tears were coming now, tears of shame. Tears of weakness.

“I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I’ve done.” Melos said. “I have. I’ve restricted… there’s entire skills I’ve given up, things I don’t use, will never use again. And you’ve trusted me to do that.”

“Yes. And I still do.” Grissle said. “All I’m asking is for the sort of trust I’ve given you, over a thing I haven’t even done yet. A thing that pales by comparison, to be honest.”

Melos clenched his eyes shut, willed the weakness out of his voice. There was still a quaver. “And if I don’t you’ll tell them. Tell my wife.”

“No.”

“No?” He turned, shocked, eyes red and warm and still blurry.

“No. If you tell them what I plan, I’ll say nothing on the matter. But…” he turned his head, looked around at the room. “But there is no contingency plan, if I die with this uncompleted. Amelia can’t match me. Rezzak was never arcanely-inclined. The Dwarves won’t touch the plan, not with their King agitating against it. Who else could we trust?” The old necromancer said to the ex-cultist. “Who could we trust with this responsibility?”

“It’s power,” Melos agreed, peeling his gauntlet off with a hiss of pain, and mopping his face with his throbbing hand. “And I know what power does. Just…” he sighed, feeling the fire drain from him, feeling old. “Promise me you won’t get dumb over this.”

“I won’t. Didn’t get this far by being stupid.” Grissle looked around. “This really is my legacy,” he said, gesturing at the cluttered workshop, and the apparatus he’d spent months building, perfecting, while the Seven hunted down cores to finish it. “I don’t want it tarnished by my weakness.”

“You’re not weak,” Melos said, smiling, though his eyes were still hot and his head throbbed. “You’re the second strongest person I know.”

“Amelia’s the first, I’ll wager?” Grissle smiled.

“You’d win that bet, if I was stupid enough to make it…”

*****

Cecelia cooed in his arms, and he rocked her as best he could with his armor in the way. He’d had special, non-spiky pauldrons made for expressly this purpose. The effect diminished the overall look he’d gone for, but… well, somehow, scaring people just wasn’t as fulfilling as it had been, before he’d become a father.

Besides, he could still use his Demon Knight skills to help with intimidation when the need arose. The job was all about fear, fear didn’t have to dominate his life when he was off the clock, so to speak.

A noise at his back made him tense, and he shifted in the creaking wooden chair-

-but it was just a black kitten, creeping up onto the table, all pudgy belly and curious little face. It stared at the little girl, then Melos met its gaze. Little yellow eyes widened, and the cat was gone, disappearing so quickly that Melos almost doubted it was there in the first place. Up until he saw a quivering black tail behind one of the mantle plates.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t even trying.” Melos complained.

Which spooked the cat, and sent the plate crashing to the floor as it fled the room entirely.

Cecelia wailed, spooked by the sound.

“Is everything all right?” Amelia called, from upstairs.

“It’s fine,” Melos said. “Fine, just… fine.” He rocked Cecelia until her sobs subsided, then made his way to the shards of the plate. “Mend,” he whispered, and picked up the reconstructed dish.

When he looked up, Caradon was glaring down from the balcony at the top of the staircase.

“Your cat got a little clumsy,” Melos explained, putting the plate back on the mantle.

Only to have it slip through his gauntleted fingers, and hit the ground again. Cecelia wailed as it broke, and Melos felt his temper flare as the middle-aged man snorted in disgust.

“My cat. Sure,” Caradon said. “You could use a few more animator levels, looks like. The dexterity would do you good.”

“True,” Melos said, raising his voice over the wailing infant. “Mend.” The plate reassembled and he put it on the table this time. “Although they’re good in other ways. Animus Blade has got some interesting synergies with my Hellswords-“

“I don’t want to hear that filth.”

The air fell silent between them, save for the frightened infant’s sobbing. Melos rocked her, shushing her, but his eyes never left his father-in-law’s gaze.

Finally, Caradon turned away. “Are you done yet, Amelia?”

“Almost!” She called back. Her voice was very muffled. This house had thick walls, and for once, Melos was thankful for it. Around her, both he and Caradon pretended to be on polite terms. It was an unspoken agreement, really.

Caradon finally shook his head and pointed at the bassinet to the side of the fireplace. He breathed hard, sighing with Cecelia as she finally subsided, and deposited his daughter into the baby bed, smoothing her frizzy little fringe of hair with one hand, all under Caradon’s stare.

A stare that finally turned, as his daughter hugged Caradon from behind, and kissed him goodbye.

Melos held the door for Amelia when she bustled downstairs, and ordered Emmet to follow.

“Remind me why we’re here and not at the pass again?” Melos asked his wife.

“Besides a chance for Grandfather to meet Cecelia? And Grissle needing us to check his calculations?” She grinned. “It’s a chance to go hiking. There are some awesome views along here, and I want to show them to you.”

“Did I mention that I’m more of a city guy? I’m really more of a city guy. We’ve got some awesome views back at home. Outside our window and all. Really, they could have sent Jane.”

“Jane’s got her own hands full in the North. With whatever the Earl of Balmoran has her doing.”

“Is that where she is?”

“Oh yeah.”

“She say anything about what was going on up there?”

Amelia snorted.

“

Right, right, dumb question.”

She led him through the hills, up a small mountain, and into a shielded valley. It was… good for his agility, at least. “You know, Jane could have totally done this with one of her ninja run thingies or whatever it’s called,” he griped to Amelia. “Just stuck her arms out to the back of her, and charged headfirst through the thickest forests here, never eating a tree branch once.”

“You’re the one who insisted on wearing armor. Don’t you have Always in Uniform?”

“Well yes, but Demonplate doesn’t work with simple clothes.”

“Probably good. There’s no way I’m letting demons get into your pants. You’re past those days,” Amelia smirked.

“Har har de fucking har. Please tell me we’re there.”

“About.” She stopped, stared up at a high mountain slope. “Now we wait.”

“How’d you find this spot, anyway?”

“One of Dad’s friends used to take me all up and down through these woods. Tried to convince me I needed to be a scout. Good guy, but obsessed with the outdoors. All the time.”

“Ah. So you told him-“

“Same thing I told you, when you wanted to sleep with the window open a few months ago. Fuck winter. Winter is for curling up inside with books.” She smiled, and leaned back against a tree. “And warm husbands.”

“Can’t object to that,” he said, feeling himself stir as he looked at her, arms spread out, flush with life and heat from the walk.

She was beautiful.

“How much time do we have, do you think?” Melos said, bracing himself against the tree, looking down into her black eyes. She smiled, lips parting, as he moved in close, so close to her.

“Mmm. I like the way you think-“

The light shifted.

“None,” she said, looking sharp, and pushing herself away from the tree. And him. “It’s happening.”

A flicker, then a CRACK, followed by a rolling rumble so loud that for a second Melos thought it was a storm. To the south the light above the mountains dimmed, then dimmed further. “Is that it?” He asked Amelia.

“Appraise.” She squinted up the peak. “We need to get closer.”

“Is it safe?”

She reached into a pocket, pulled out a mechanical bird. “Animus.” It wound within seconds, key turning in it, then it fluttered up into the sky. “Dollseye,” Amelia said. Then she nodded. “It’s there. It’s… huh. I think it’s stable.”

“So he succeeded!”

“Maybe. We need a closer look. Come on, it’ll only be up an hour.”

“That’s a pretty steep slope.”

“Yeah, we’d probably better leave Emmet here. Agility isn’t his forte.”

“I was more worried about me. Agility isn’t mine.”

“Oh don’t be a baby. C’mon. Animate your own armor if you get tired.”

“Fine, fine.”

They made it in about fifteen minutes. It was a rough climb, but Melos had spent so long building his constitution that it scarcely mattered. Amelia actually had it rougher than he did, and though wisdom had never been a priority, he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut as he gave her a hand up the last few feet.

And there it was… A rippling black curtain that filled the sky, filled the world, stretching up beyond sight, and to both sides. It was, simply, nothing.

Amelia’s animated bird sat on a boulder, observing it.

There wasn’t much else up here, on this little plateau. A few trees, a few rocks, a small pond that wasn’t much more than a collection of puddles with delusions of grandeur.

“Well, it’s here.” Melos scooped up a rock, hucked it in. It disappeared soundlessly.

Amelia scooped up the bird, hesitated. “I don’t want to lose it. Let’s see…” She dug in her pack, pulled out a little black bear. “Whoa no. No, you stay right here, Fluffly.”

“Fluffy?”

“One of my old toys. Dad wanted to give her back to me.”

“Fluffy.”

“Shut up! I was like two!”

“I wasn’t laughing. It’s cute.”

“Damn straight she’s cute. Ah, here we go.” Amelia pulled out a straw mannequin, tossed it to the ground. “Animus. Dollseye.” She blinked a few times. “Always weird shifting sight from one to another. Okay, dolly. March!” The little toy went in, and Melos watched it vanish just like the rock had.

“Nothing. Nothing… whoa,” Amelia gasped. “Numbers. Green numbers.”

“Above you?”

“No, It’s like it’s in them, they’re all around.“ she shut up. “The link is gone.”

Melos looked at his party screen. Himself, Amelia, Emmet… “You invited the doll before you sent it in there, right?”

“Of course I did.”

“Got any more of those?”

“Nope, but those trees have deadwood and I’ve got Carpenter. Give me a few.”

Every experiment ended the same way. The animi went in, and the ones who didn’t encounter the numbers managed to return intact. The ones who did, disappeared entirely.

“It’s almost like it’s moving, too. The numbers aren’t always in the same place. And with no frame of reference, it’s hard as hell to avoid running into them.” Amelia shook her head. “Once you do you’ve got like a split second to back off, but if you get in among them you’re gone. That’s what it looks like to me, anyway. You want to give it a whirl?”

“I don’t have Dollseye yet. It’d be pointless.”

“Oh, right, right, we can work on that.”

“Should we head back?”

“Mmm.” Amelia debated, then shook her head. “It’s only got about twenty minutes left. Let’s wait to see what things look like when it goes down.”

But it didn’t go down. Not twenty minutes later, not an hour later, and not two hours later.

“Something’s wrong,” Amelia said.

“We need to get back to the Castle,” Melos said, feeling a premonition stir in the back of his mind. “And we need to go prepared for trouble.”

She bit her lips. “Cecelia…”

“We can leave her with your Grandfather.”

“No. This is too close to the… whatever that is. If it shifts a few miles, it could take them.” Her face set into hard lines. “We’ll teleport to the townhouse. Drop Cecelia with Betsy, then go to the castle on foot. And hope that the others did the same…”

*****

Chaos reigned.

The city rotted, as dead things stalked the night, mist filled its streets, and sane people hid indoors to try and survive the nightmare.

And Melos and Amelia carved a path through it, braving the choking fog that filled the air, battering through the glazed-eyed zombie dwarves that filled the street, all wearing miniskirts and looking fabulous. Even while they were hunched around the bodies of the fallen, eating their brains, they somehow managed to do it with dignity and poise.

They were too late to save the people who’d died at the city gate, or in the market, or in the thoroughfare leading up to the castle, without seeing a single living soul.

But when Melos hammered his gauntlet against the siege door, his heart lifted when it opened, revealing a ring of pale palace guards… and a familiar figure. “Rezzak!”

“This is the gladdest I’ve ever been to see you,” the Invoker said, hands full with a mug of something bubbly. “Everything’s fucked.”

“Can you be more concise?” Amelia entered, collecting her daggers from the air, as the guards slammed the door behind her and barred it.

“I can’t. He can,” Rezzak pointed to a shivering dwarf, in a torn blue robe.

“You’re…” Melos squinted. He’d forgotten the dwarf’s name.

“Ragnor. Sir.” The dwarf stared past him, unseeing. Melos knew that look.

“It’s all right, you’re safe,” Melos lied, kneeling down to look the little guy in the eyes. “Tell us what happened.”

“I… it… Grissle, sir. We fired up the Throne, the dungeons integrated fine, then Brin collapsed. Grissle yelled at me to get her clear, and I did, then he shifted the column control to the main runic integration console, and, and, and…”

“He collapsed too,” Melos said.

“Yes. But… he, he got… he…”

“He stood back up.” Melos said. “But it wasn’t him anymore, was it?”

“At first I thought it was all right,” Ragnor babbled. “I thought ah, he’s got this. And he did. He sat back down in the chair, and remodulated the arrays until they balanced. But he left them on. He just sat there, blue light glowing out his eyes, in the throne, looking at everything.”

“What did you do then?”

“I tried to pull Brin toward the entrance. Get her some help, once I was sure things were stable. And he said no. I asked him why the hell not? He said he didn’t want any interruptions until his research was done.”

“Damn it all.” Melos closed his eyes. “I warned him.”

“I kept on dragging her, and he looked at me, and I thought he was blinking until the smoke goes up, and no, it’s his eyes. His eyes are bubbling out of his head. Bubbling away until the only thing left there is the light, that blue light…”

“Oh gods,” Amelia whispered. “Blue eyes. Hot blue eyes.”

“The eyes of a lich,” Melos said.

“I asked him when his research would be done,” Ragnor whispered. “He said, a few decades, maybe. I said no, Brin wouldn’t survive that long, she needed help now, and he said that was easy to fix.” Ragnor swallowed. “He killed her. And told me to keep taking notes.”

“You ran,” Melos said.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. You did the smart thing.” Melos felt his guts clench. “Rezzak? Where are the others?”

“Combing the city, getting everyone inside.” Rezzak took a long swallow of wine. “I’m only back because my pools are down. It’s all zombies out there. To us they’re nothing, but there’s a lot of them.”

“He animated her and put her in a mob pillar,” Melos shook his head. “Just to buy himself time.”

“There are dozens dead because of this.” Amelia’s face hardened. “How could he do this?”

“It’s not them he cares about. It’s us.” Melos took a breath. “He’s a creature of pure logic and pure obsession now. I warned him. I feared this. But not enough.” He reached back, felt the hilts of the blades on his back. “We have to stop him. We have to make this right. And we have to save our kingdom, bring down this thing he’s built without destroying it. Ragnor? Do you know how to do that?”

“No. I’m sorry. No, I don’t. I don’t have the first clue how to undo this.” The little wizard’s bearded face scrunched up into a mask of sorrow.

Amelia squatted down next to him. “Will you come with us, then? Will you help fix this?”

Ragnor shook. “I can’t. I can’t go back there. I’m… no. I’m sorry. I’d be of no use to you.”

“But I will.” The heroes looked up, as Ambersand entered through the castle door, axe bloody, shield battered, and armor gleaming in the light. “Halls are clear. For now.”

The guards around them relaxed. “Thank you, sir. We’ll get out there and secure the way down!” Their captain saluted, then got them moving.

“Welcome, then. Let’s go save the world,” Melos offered a gauntlet, and with some hesitation, Ambersand stowed his axe and gave it a shake.

“Just keep yer demons to yerself, lad. I’m lawful.”

“I… am too?” Melos squinted.

“Pfft. Yer alignment’s chaotic if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Okay.” Melos had no clue what the old dwarf meant, but at least he wasn’t giving him dirty looks every damned minute.

“I’ll call them in,” Rezzak said. “I hate this, but we’ve got no other choice-“

Melos woke up.

Green light filled his vision, and he sobbed, as the chamber, his own personal hell, swam back into view. Grissle’s shattered husk on his broken throne, the shredded pipes leaking green zeroes and ones, and the columns, the columns full of burnt cores. Broken magic, broken artifacts, as broken as the numbers that swirled overhead, half of them vanishing or shattering when they hit the hole in the center, the hole that kept growing.

A mighty engine, a triumph, a proper wizard’s legacy… all in ruins, and threatening to take everything he had left into the void, should Melos falter. Should he ever be weak.

Like he had just a bit ago.

He’d slept, even though he hadn’t planned to. Melos pushed his mind into his dungeon master’s projection-

-and found himself inches away from his High Knight’s pale, frightened face, as she scooted back in her chair, eyes wide with surprise and mouth open.

What did I do now? He pulled back from General Mastoya, and looked down at himself. Still armored. Still clad. Sword sheathed. He was in… he was in the war room, he saw. The maps. He recognized the maps.

“Sir?” She whispered, and the uncertainty in her voice shook him. He needed her. Needed her trust. She was loyal, he’d tested her so often, and she was one of the last balances against… against Anise. Against his first mistake.

No, he thought, remembering the wails as the babes fell one by one into the fire, remembering how the children smelled as they cooked. Remembering how his cult leader had smiled. Not my first mistake. Not by a long shot.

“Did you understand me?” He said, gambling. “Tell me what I just said to you.” He’d done this in similar situations in the past, and it worked about half the time, usually.

Some color returned to Mastoya’s face. Green, naturally. “You ordered me to begin the assault, sir. Even though we’ve only got half the siege engines replaced and repaired. To… kill them all. Down to the last dwarven child.”

“Then we understand each other,” Melos said, turning his back and folding his hands behind him. He closed his eyes, as he let his face fall into a mask of sorrow. It hadn’t been him. Hadn’t been his orders.

Well. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “That was, of course, a test.”

“Sir?”

“If you’d objected, I would have thought you too weak to handle the assault. I don’t want every child dead. We don’t make war on children.”

“No sir,” something in her voice caught his attention, but he was too tired to focus on it, to catch the hints. No, this was going well enough, she could have her doubts.

“Just win the war, so we can have our long-deserved peace, General.” He said, smiling, turning to face her again. “That’s all I ask.”

The half-orc’s face was unreadable, as she stood and saluted. “Sir. I’ll see to that immediately.”

And then she was gone, gone to the Waymark Station, down to collect her waystone and return to the front. Melos sagged into the chair in the war room, and put his head in his hands.

“We can do this.” He told himself. “It’s not too late,” He said. “There is a way to fix everything. We just need to hang on a little longer.”

They were very pretty lies.

Perhaps if he kept saying them, he’d believe them.

The Brokeshale Battle 1

“…there’s not much else to tell,” King Grundi finished, as his officials hammered out a contract with the giants, and the troops withdrew back into the mountain. “Ragnor came back, Ambersand didn’t, and the Seven fell taking down one of their own. All save for the demon knight.”

The toys considered this. Threadbare raised his head. “Celia, did you know about any of this?”

“No! Well… that’s not exactly right. I knew that Grissle turned on everyone else, and used the Oblivion to try and gain power over the Kingdom. And that mother died stopping her. That’s what I learned, but it’s what everyone in the Cylvania learns.”

“Yeah. No mention of dwahves or how exactly the Oblivion wahked,” Madeline said. “Man, I remember dwahf zombie night. That was really freaking weahd.”

“I see,” Threadbare said, looking up at King Grundi. “Why didn’t you tell people about it?”

“Wouldn’t have done any good.” Grundi sighed. “I had a good talk about it with King Garamundi, before Melos pulled his coup. People knew all of the story they needed to know. Telling them about how dwarves had been involved would only make people blame dwarves. And telling them about how dungeon cores powered the Oblivion would just make people go and try to experiment with dungeon cores more. Which is how we got into this mess in the first place!”

“You’re not wrong,” Garon said. “But why exactly is the Oblivion still going? Grissle was defeated, right?”

“Aye. But…” Grundi shot a look over his shoulder, at the arguing ministers and the big blue giantess. “Ah, let’s discuss this inside. Dealing with giants always pisses me off.”

Once they got back to the tunnel leading back into the mountain, a cadre of his honor guard fell in around the small king. Working with long expertise, they pulled his blankets back, and used tools to pop apart the stone plinth that the Kneelchair used as a skirt, and uncoupled about half of the bulky machinery, until the king was down to just a small throne with wheels.

“Modular! Nice,” Cecelia looked it over. “It’d have to be, to fit through these tunnels.”

“Modju-what?” Graves asked.

“It’s tinker talk.”

“It’s a bit sleep-inducing for non-tinkers so we’re best keeping it short,” Grundi laughed. Two of his honor guard took the back of the throne, and wheeled him forward. Threadbare and Cecelia kept pace with him as he rolled back to the hold.

“This sounds like a fixable problem, though,” Threadbare said, still thinking about it. “If there’s a magical machine, and you have notes on it, then why can’t other wizards go in there and fix it?”

“We were trying to.” Grundi sighed. “But Grissle was a genius. Smart as a whip before he started stacking jobs is what I hear. Then he went and got twenty-five levels in alchemist, twenty-five in enchanter, twenty-five in wizard… and twenty-five in necromancer, as it turns out. But we were trying to line up the people to handle it, when Melos started getting skittish. He controlled access to the dungeon core. The main dungeon’s core, I mean. He was like a dog with a bone, suspicious and paranoid. And the daemon he brought in didn’t help matters none.”

“But wasn’t King Garamundi in charge?” Graves asked.

“Mm. In charge.” Grundi raised a withered hand, rubbed his beard. “It’s a nice idea. Smart kings know they’re only in charge so long as they can keep their vassals wrangled. Garamundi was smart enough to see Melos was on edge. One of his best friends had betrayed him, after all. Ordering him to stand down and stop guarding Grissle’s work would have been like throwing fire at a mining charge. We thought we had time. We thought that things were stable, that eventually he’d come around.” Grundi sighed. “Then Garamundi died, Melos took the throne, and told us we wouldn’t be touching the core device until he had enough skilled people of his own to ensure we wouldn’t try any funny business.” Grundi scowled. “About the same time, Ragnor went… missing.” The dwarf spat the word. “Along with his notes. Then Balmoran rebelled against Melos, and there was no talking to the man after that. Not that there was much in the way of cooperation before that.”

Grundi sighed again, ruffling his beard. “We figured it would end badly. We should have joined Balmoran when they begged us to. But we figured it was human affairs, and that they could sort it out themselves and there was no point in trying to fix things until they did. But here we are.”

“The core device is the key to all of this.” Threadbare said, thinking hard. “We need to go to Grissle’s lab and see what’s wrong with it.”

“The old labs have been sealed for years,” Graves said. “And to get there you’d have to get to the Capital City, go through Castle Cylvania, and hope that the entrance is somewhere down there in the sealed labs. With the most elite forces that the Crown has guarding it, including the king himself, and the Hand. Who are apparently the daemonic resurrections of the Seven?”

“The odds aren’t good to begin with,” Kayin said. “Then you have to figure out something that took a genius a hundred levels of the nerdiest jobs around to create. And hope that you have a way to fix it.”

“Aye,” said King Grundi. “We were grooming people for the task. Had a good start on it. Then Melos pulled his treachery, tried to kill one of our families, and we had to go to war. And between the Lurker and the war… we just don’t have the people anymore.” Grundi shook his head. “Dwarves aren’t exactly inclined to wizardry to begin with. Now we’re a shadow of what we were.”

Threadbare looked around at his friends. “We don’t really have any wizards,” the little bear said. “But we’ve got a few enchanters. We need to try.”

“And I think I know how we could do it,” Cecelia said, rubbing her hair. “But it’s not going to be easy.”

“Oh, well, when have we ever taken the easy way on something?” Garon said. “I’m in.”

“Psh, like any of us be out,” Zuula snorted. “We come dis far kicking ass and taking names. Not about to stop now.”

Threadbare smiled. “Thank you Zuula. Thank you everyone.”

“Dude, don’t mention it,” Glub said. “This is kinda fun when it’s not scary. And sometimes when it’s scary. And at least I’m not stuck in some weird cult where I have to bang women all the time anymore.”

“Wait, what?” King Grundi stared down at the little wooden fishman.

“Ah… nevermind. So here’s the plan-” Cecelia started.

“Wait,” King Grundi said. “Let’s discuss this in more secure quarters. Lurker might be dead for now, but there’s no harm in being cautious.”

The honor guard led them through the hold, to a large building they’d passed by last night, on their way to visit Beryl and Jarrik. Great foundries thundered in the halls surrounding the structure, hammers falling like raindrops as the din swelled and pulsed. This part of the dwarfhold never slept, forgefires burning hot as ore was converted into metal, and stone was shaped to the needs of their society.

Hidon was waiting out front for them, frowning.

“What do we have?” King Grundi stopped, and his Honor guard fell in around him, reassembling his Kneelchair, snapping back together the heavy pieces of the stone plinth that they’d been hauling around for the better part of a mile.

“We found Montag’s body sealed into the wall of his office. He’s been there a while.”

Grundi bowed his head. “I’ll arrange his coin. This was war he died in. His family gets the adamant due.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Hidon led the way inside, through long, curving halls with heavy metal doors sealing off side passages. “Here,” he said at last, opening the first wooden door any of them had seen in the place.

The office inside was covered in blood, with more hooded dwarves in heavy leather garments scrubbing it, and sorting through the stained piles of papers scattered everywhere.

But the golems eyes were drawn to the piles and heaps of gleaming yellow powder that lay scattered all over the place.

“Oh… my… goodness…” Madeline squeaked. “That’s… that’s easily wahth…”

“Shh,” King Grundi said. “Don’t remind me. Because I’m going to have to do something very undwarflike here in a bit.”

“The Lurker bought out the market last night, working through intermediaries,” Hidon shook his head. “Knew we’d find out sooner or later. Didn’t care. Which means that the Crown is close to their endgame.” Hidon sighed. “We had to disable some blasting charges to get in here. Oh, and we found those tinker parts you needed,” Hidon nodded to Cecelia.

“Thank you!” Cecelia smiled. “Now I can get to work.”

“Work fast,” Hidon sighed. “We’ve got a week, maybe two. That’s what our spies tell us. Then the Crown’s forces are going to march.”

“Oh. Oh no. I won’t have time to montage anyone. This…” Cecelia shook her head. “This is bad.”

“Actually it’s good. They were almost all set to go days back, but someone sabotaged the tunnelers they needed to break into our networks.” Hidon smiled under his beard. “Not sure who it was but they did us a good turn. Probably the Rangers, that’s their sort of thing.”

“Now you can tell me about your plan to fix the Oblivion,” King Grundi said, while Hidon and his agents cleaned up the yellow reagent, bottling it in vials and stacking it in crates.

“Well first we need to go get a look at it,” Cecelia said. “But I think I know how we can get inside the castle, at least, without having to fight our way to the city, then through the castle gates. Fort Bronze has a Greater Waymark inside it. There’s a station where waystones are kept. If we can get one of them, we can pile into Madeline’s pack and one of us can teleport right inside the Castle. Mind you, that chamber’s guarded too, but it isn’t set up to handle a merchant’s pack full of golem adventurers.”

“We had enough trouble getting into that place the first time around.” Garon shook his horns. “I can’t imagine they won’t have upped the security.”

“We couldn’t go in the same way, obviously,” Kayin said. “And they’ll be on the lookout for little golems now, desu.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fight our way in, then,” Threadbare said. “Because we’re going to be helping the dwarves anyway.”

The room fell silent.

“They turned us down,” Cecelia said.

“Aye. About that…” King Grundi coughed, his lungs rattling. “The situation has changed a mite. Namely, the Lurker ain’t here no more. So I don’t have to pretend that I don’t like your offer.”

“You were lying about that?” Threadbare frowned.

“Mmmm… it wasn’t so much lying, as it was… prevarication. We had an enemy agent around. Had to be careful, because anything we said would go back to Melos. Of COURSE I want three hundred golems marching alongside us! Which brings me back to that undwarflike thing I said I’d do.” He waved a scrawny arm around to the crates of yellow powder. “Take it. Take all of it. Along with any other thing you need.”

Every dwarf in the room stilled, and looked toward their king, eyes wide open.

“What? Can’t spend it if yer dead.” Grundi shrugged. “And Melos is out for blood. Whoever he might have been once, whatever he did, he’s in league with daemons now. There’s no way this won’t end with blood.” He leaned forward, staring down at Cecelia. “Which brings me to one big question, here. He’s your Father. If it comes down to it, comes down to his life versus all of ours and probably everyone else’s, what will you do?”

The rest of the dwarves looked to each other, slowing in their work as they tensed, and looked to Cecelia.

Cecelia looked down. “I…” She said, then stopped.

Threadbare took her hand in his paw, and she looked down at him, gazing into his button eyes. For a minute she stood there, thinking.

“I have to stop him. But I’m sorry, he’s my Father. I can’t kill him,” Cecelia told King Grundi. “I… if he won’t surrender I’ll try to capture him.”

“That answer…” King Grundi began, and Cecelia closed her eyes.

“…was completely correct!”

Cecelia opened her eyes.“Wait. What?”

The tension in the room had eased. The other dwarves were nodding, as they cleaned.

“Lass, I don’t care how undwarfy we’re getting here by giving up valuable reagents, there’s still a line. Asking family to kill family is just wrong.” Grundi snorted. “As far as I can see we’re in this mess because hard men made hard decisions over and over again, and look where that’s got us. Fuck that noise. You reminded me of that with the giants,” He said, looking down at Cecelia and Threadbare with a smile poking through the braids of his beard. “The only way we’re going to win is by helping each other, and saving lives. Not by doing MORE evil things, on top of what’s already been done.”

“I like you!” Fluffbear squeaked.

“Bahhahahahaha! Thanks, lass.” Grundi nodded to his honor guard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go figure out who to appoint as my replacement minister of dangerous and new devices.” He sighed. “And talk with his family. That’s not going to be fun.”

“Sir,” Garon shared a glance with Jarrik. “I have a recommendation, if you don’t mind…”

*****

“I’m what?” Beryl said., a day later, after the details had been hammered out.

“In charge of the department. Oh, and if you need more yellow reagent we’re going to have a lot to spare,” Threadbare said, his golden laurels gleaming in the light of the glowstones. “The Lurker went a little crazy trying to keep it out of our hands.”

“Fuck me running with a pogo stick.”

“I’m sorry, to begin with I can’t do anything like that, besides it sounds really uncomfortable to try to run at the same time, and I really have no idea what that last thing is.”

“This is what you were hiding from me?” The purple-haired dwarven girl turned to Jarrik. “This is why you wouldn’t tell me what was going on? You, you, you…”

She grabbed his shirt, hauled him in and down, and locked her lips on his. “You wonderful boyfriend, you,” she murmured, when they came up for air. “Holy shitcakes with fucknuggets on top.”

“So that means you like it?” Threadbare guessed.

“Ohhh yeah.” She grinned up at Jarrik, who shot her a goofy, toothy grin right back. “Ah… you need anything from me, Threadbare?”

“No. Not really. Nothing that we can’t figure out later. We have some time yet.”

“Good. Me and Jarry are gonna go find my new office and break it in.” She ran out of the room, giggling, with Jarrik chasing after her.

Threadbare rubbed his head, and wandered out the door, back into the heart of the foundry district. The rhythm of the hammers had changed overnight, and the streets were full of dwarves and carts full of ingots, shipping them frantically to the forges and machine shops and enchanters. The dwarven way of war relied on metal, on things, on having the best equipment and the most gear, and by golly, every last dwarf who lived in this place was finding ways to help however they could.

He was doing his part. And his sanity was low because of it. Recharging faster, thanks to the skill the laurels granted him, but the fact remained that golems took a lot of sanity to prepare and animate. And Zuula was busy shuttling around between the other members of the group, dreamquesting them to recharge their pools faster, so Threadbare, for the moment, had a rare hour or two to himself where he wasn’t casting or sleeping.

Three streets down, he found the small chamber that Cecelia had requisitioned, and knocked on the door. After a few minutes, a viewslot slid open, and he found himself staring into Kayin’s glass eyes. The slot closed, and the door opened.

“Desu, boss,” she greeted him with a thumped salute, fuzzy hand to her chest.

“Hello. Is everything all right?”

She glanced to the rear of the chamber, where tools rattled, and an old suit of plate armor shook as a doll-sized figure worked within its opened breastplate. “I guess? Cecelia! Bear’s here!”

The rattling stopped. The plate shook. Cecelia’s grease-smeared face poked out of the armor, hair bound up in a kerchief. “Oh! Hi.”

“Hello. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Good. Working in smaller scale is harder, but… well, I’ve got access to dwarven engineers. You just missed a couple of them, they’re in here studying how I’m doing it. Since I’ve got them to handle the parts that require non-job tinkering, I can focus on just one part at a time and get it done quicker.”

Threadbare nodded, and stood there, feeling awkward for no reason he could tell. “That’s good.”

Cecelia considered him. “Clean and Press,” she said, and the smears vanished from her dress. She hopped down off the armor, and gathered the little bear into her arms. “Your sanity is low, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He hugged her back. “I’m sorry if I’m imposing.”

“No, no, you’re not. Don’t even think of it. This…” Cecelia gestured around the workroom, and all the tools and gears and items that Threadbare didn’t know the names of. “This is all because of you. I’m here because of you. I’m alive because of you.”

“Are you really alive?”

She nodded, her chin moving against the top of his head. “I think so. It’s weirder than it used to be, but I’m still me. You saved me, and I’ll never forget that. You’ll never impose. You can always visit, always get a hug. I’ll always have time for you.”

The little bear leaned into her, buried his muzzle in the porcelain between her neck and shoulder. “Thank you.”

And there they sat for a while. Kayin busied herself cleaning up other parts of the workshop, giving them peace.

Finally, Threadbare stirred. “I should let you get to it.”

“Yeah. They’ll need me on the battlefield. And I’ll need the armor to do the most good.”

“I’m a little surprised you aren’t making it… well, bigger.”

“I thought of that. But there’s a lot of reasons not to do that. If I did, then the Hand would be after me. I’m a priority target that way, and I don’t think I could survive with all three of their active members on me at once. And also, this will let me get into the fort and bring it to the core chamber. Then there’s the fact it’s going together quicker, and actually? I think, if I’m lucky, that the strength reduction won’t be too bad. All of our calculations are indicating that. Though there are downsides. I’m going to burn through coal faster. No way around it.”

“Madeline does have that merchant’s pack,” Threadbare pointed out.

“Ooooh, there’s a thought. I’ll talk to her and Graves later, see if we can rig something up…” She put him down, and picked up a wrench. “Don’t worry about me,” she smiled over her shoulder as she turned back to the armor. “But you might check on the others, if you’re looking for something to do. I’ve been at low sanity many times, and company always helped me get through that. I think it could do you some good as well.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Threadbare said, readjusting his laurels. His ears really weren’t set up to hold them too well.

So the little bear went and found the corner where Kayin was sweeping, handling the bulky broom that was five times her size with easy dexterity and strength. “Hello. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, we’ve got that war coming up.”

She snorted. “I’ve been training for years to fight that war. On the other side, mind you. Don’t worry about me, I don’t let things like that worry me. Do the job, get paid, move on.”

“Oh. Should I pay you?”

“You already have!” She indicated her body with her furry hands. “This gets you my help until the Kingdom’s saved. Afterwards… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I like you guys, but we’re all going to have to decide on our own individual afterwards. I don’t have any family to go back to, my old killers’ guild is dead and gone, and I don’t have many friends outside of work.”

“I thought we were your friends.”

“Oh. Uh… well, you are. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” She wrapped her arms around the broom and leaned against it. “You’re cool enough. Some of the others aren’t the friends I would have chosen, but I guess it’s fair to say mostly we’re friends. But I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life with you all. You know?”

“It is a pretty big decision,” Threadbare agreed.

“Bottom line, don’t worry about me. I look after myself, and I’ll look after you and the rest.” She shrugged. “Might want to check in with Graves, though. He’s a little more invested in… well, everything.”

“I can do that.”

Threadbare found his way outside, and went back to the temple of Yorgum. Back around to the side-entrance into the storeroom, where rows and rows of plush toys had been laid out with glistening black soulstones resting in bundles of cloth next to them. Graves moved among them, chatting. Fluffbear kept him company, as she worked on the wooden toy bodies that some of the ex-cultists had requested.

“No, I don’t think it’s a bad notion,” Graves said. “A bunny has some advantages over a bear, just in different areas-”

He broke off as he saw Threadbare. And about two hundred voices shouted out various greetings, as the soulstoned dead got into the act.

Threadbare greeted them back by name, one at a time, and chatted with them for a bit until about ten minutes later when Graves interrupted. “Sorry, I think we’ll need a few minutes. Can I shut off the Speak with Dead for a bit, folks?”

Then it took another few minutes to get through all the goodbyes. Threadbare didn’t mind. Everyone seemed happy, so that was good.

Graves, on the other hand, looked almost as haggard as he had back when he was still affected by Anise’s kiss. “Let’s walk, okay? I need to get out of here for a bit.”

“Sure.”

Fluffbear joined them as they walked out. “Breaktime is good.”

“Very good.” Graves sighed. Then he smiled. “I wonder if this is what it’s like to have children.”

“Well,” Threadbare said, glancing to Fluffbear, “She’s making their bodies so that makes her their mother, and we’re giving them their souls, so that makes us… hum… no, it doesn’t quite add up.”

“Am I being a good mother?” Missus Fluffbear asked.

“The best.” Graves smiled down at her.

“It really is a strange situation.” Threadbare admitted.

“I wasn’t meaning in the biological sense, or even the creator’s sense, like Caradon was with you lot. They’re already existing people, we’re just helping them transition from a bad state to a good one.” Graves rubbed his forehead. “Though I’m worried that they’re… well, they’re coming to see you as more than a good samaritan. Me too, but I’ve been discouraging it. I think if there was a job based around worshiping you, they’d take it.”

“What?” Threadbare would have blinked if he could have.

“Remember, these are people who let a charismatic cultist talk them into worshiping a dark power. You’re very much not that, you saved them from him as far as they’re concerned, and they’ve…” Graves shook his head. “They went for a good long time with a center to their lives. A faith, no matter how misguided. Then that faith got taken away. Now they’re searching for a new one, whether or not they know it. And here you are.”

“I’m not a dark power. I’m certainly not a god.”

“No. But that’s how they’re coming to look at you.”

“I don’t know if that’s right or wrong.”

“I can ask Yorgum about it,” Fluffbear offered, pointing to a stone bench off to the side of the Temple.

Threadbare looked to Graves, Graves shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

The little bear clambered up on the bench, armor scraping on stone as she went, and knelt.

After a few minutes she looks up. “He said that if you don’t like it he’ll take them.”

Graves snorted. “Oh come on now…”

“He also said that you and Threadbare are the friends they need right now, but there’s things you can’t do for them, that will cause problems eventually. But he can do those things for them. And that in time if you survive and share responsibility you will find a lot of friendly priests of Yorgum who will be willing to learn how to make golems and transfer souls, with rules about it to keep Nurph and Nebs and everyone happy.”

“Huh. That’s a good point, actually,” Graves said, leaning against the wall, and pulling his goatee. “Right now it’s dependent on us. This whole thing we’ve discovered. And it raises questions about eternal life, which no Nebite worth their salt would tolerate. I mean now, we’re fixing the Kingdom and saving the world, but if we succeed there’s going to be a tomorrow.” Graves’ eyes lit up. “And if we can get the backing of the Church of Yorgum, and turn it into a sect, a holy order… it’ll be a lot easier to get it accepted by the populace. My gods.”

“Just one,” squeaked Fluffbear.

“I may have to join the faith. This guy is savvy.” Graves grinned.

“Ooh! Ooh! You should join right away! Tomorrow is pastry day!” Fluffbear said. “Living people love those thingies!”

“I’ll have a talk with the priest when we get back inside,” Graves said, animated in ways that had nothing to do with necromancy. “Thank you!” Then he twitched, and turned to Threadbare. “I’m sorry, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Threadbare smiled. Graves didn’t look haggard at all anymore. “Oh, nothing. Do you know where everyone else is? Ah, besides Celia and Kayin?”

“Glub and Zuula are down at the Sturdy Stout, doing dungeon triage. Garon is running the training dungeon. Pretty sure the cats are with them, though with Pulsivar it’s hard to tell. You know.”

“I do.” Now that his friend was a Misplacer Beast, it was amazing how little they saw of him anymore.

“Cool. Alright,” Graves offered Fluffbear an arm up, and she hopped into his embrace. “Let’s go talk about my sudden attack of faith.”

“Yay!” Fluffbear said, as they went back inside. “My first convert!”

Threadbare smiled and headed down the street, to where the edge of the crafter’s district turned into microbrewery lane. Copper vats started poking out of the walls, and the sound of gurgling water running over mash filled his ears, as yeasty scent filled his nose. He lingered for a few minutes by the meadhall, sniffing, as he always did.

But eventually he remembered his task, and found his way to the Sturdy Stout. A tavern that had fallen on harder times, due to the war and the death of a lot of its regulars, the owners had been happy to rent it out to Gudrun, when she’d asked on the golems’ behalf.

After all, thanks to the giants, and King Grundi’s negotiation skills, they had a dungeon core to play with, didn’t they? And a whole lot of newly-made doll haunters who needed levels.

Downstairs, a strange melody played, as Glub squeezed an accordion and sang something soothing. Torn up teddy bears, with a brace of other toy types, sat at the tables and chatted, showing off loot and tending to their weapons. A few female-looking teddy bears leaned on the stage, gazing up at Glub with affection. And there, in the back corner, was Zuula. She sat there with a mug almost as much as she was, drinking it, then spitting it into a nearby spittoon.

“Is that fun?” Threadbare asked, pulling a chair up to the table. Dwarven chairs and tables were much more friendly to very small toys than human ones, he’d been relieved to find out.

“Is something to do,” Zuula grumbled. “Garon not letting Zuula run de dungeon no more. Just because Zuula killed a few dudes. Pfft, not like it permanent or nothing.”

“We’re supposed to be making them stronger, not making them have to reset their levels with deaths.”

“Bah! Is lesson! Next time fight better! Is… motivation.” She pounded another gulp, then spat it out. “Now is all slow regeneration whenever dey come back hurt, or whoops, get in de soulstone.” She gestured at the bag next to her. “At least Graves manage to get dem up to five-job stones. Which is more den most of dem need.”

“Well…” Threadbare began, then realized the room had gone silent. Every toy in there was looking his way, and whispers were going around the small crowd. “I think it’s good to have options,” he finished, adjusting his laurels.

Your Adorable skill is now level 36!

Your Adorable skill is now level 37!

Your Adorable skill is now level 38!

Your Adorable skill is now level 39!

You are now a level 11 Model!

AGI+3

CHA+3

PER+3

Checking timer…

Your Dietary Restrictions skill is now level 55!

Your Work it Baby skill is now level 55!

“Perhaps we could talk behind the bar?”Threadbare pointed at the room beyond.

“Sure. Beats barfing bad ale over and over.”

“Why are you doing that anyway?” He asked, as he followed her into the back room.

“It is what you do in taverns. Besides pinch ass and start fights.” She sighed. “Not allowed to do dat even. Not dat it help. You punch one of de golems, dey say sorry. Dey…” she shook her head. “Too grateful.”

“I had a talk with Graves and Fluffbear about that.”

“Dey see problem too? Good.” Zuula punched his shoulder. “Lot of faith dey got in you, Dreadbear. You better not let dem down.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“You do fine.” Zuula grinned. “Talking wit’ Jarrik earlier. Beryl t’inking maybe we three, me, Garon, and Jarrik be first flier driver people.”

“Really?”

“We all gots flight skill. Garon from when he trying to be dragon. Zuula from owl days. Jarrik because he actually survive first couple of tests. T’ree half-orcs be flying dose t’ings. Gonna call ourselves de Green Bear’uns because of you.”

“Thank you.”

Zuula leaned against a barrel. “You here because it starting to get to you, hm?”

“It is?”

“De fight. You not be liking fighting people. Not much for monsters, but dose is different. People, not so much. Not to you.”

Threadbare nodded. “Yes. However this goes, people are going to get hurt. And a lot of them don’t want to fight in the first place.”

“Is war. Is why stupid gods got a whole god so people can deal wit’ it.” Zuula sighed. “Is gonna be hard on you.”

“Yes. But I have to do this. Celia needs me to.” Threadbare thought a moment, then looked back to the door. “They need me to. You need me to.”

“Yes,” Zuula said. “You saved us all. But when you save some’ting, you responsible for it, from dat point on. It only exist because of you. If it turn out bad or do bad, is because you save it. But…” Zuula punched his shoulder again, gentler this time. “It same t’ing if it turn out good. That is you good, too.” She smiled, cloth lips stretching around wooden tusks. “And you done some good here. Never doubt dat.”

“Thank you.” He hugged her. And after tensing for a second, she hugged him back.

The door creaked behind him. “Hey man, I… oh, cuddle puddle? I’m in.” Wooden arms reached around them both and Glub grinned wide wooden jaws as he hugged them close.

“Yeah, Zuula go heal weakys up now,” the half-orc said, disengaging herself. “Good talk.” She punched them both in the shoulder, and wandered outside.

“Ha ha! See, she’s cool,” Glub said, disengaging. “In a sorta spiky might tear your head off randomly kinda way.”

“She’s Zuula.” Threadbare said.

“Yeah, that works. You doing okay bossman?”

“I came to check on you all.”

“I’m doin’ okay.” He shrugged. “Singin’ to a good audience, chilling with peeps and old, uh, friends. Turns out they’re pretty cool, now that I can talk to ‘em all. I’m glad we’re on good terms again. That whole cult thing was weird, in hindsight.”

“I think that’s how most cults are, from what Celia told me.”

“Dude. Well, s’all right. I’m doin’ okay. Just kind going with the flow. Y’know?”

“I think so.”

“Never seen a war before. Don’t have anything like that at home. Got a lot of cool stuff here we don’t have at home.” Glub filled his air bladders, let them sigh empty again. “Know what I’d like to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like to travel around some, after this is all done with, and see everything. Then go home and tell stories and sing songs about it.”

“Can you go home?” Threadbare asked. “Celia was pretty sure the Crown forces destroyed the gate.”

“Eh, I’m pretty sure there’s others around. And where there’s gates there’s cults to my old one. Just gotta find one.” He shrugged. “I’m immortal unless someone kills me, right? I got time. And this explorer thing is pretty cool, so leveling it up is only gonna make it cooler.”

“It really has helped us.” Threadbare smiled. “And so have you.”

“Thanks man.” Glub gave him a squeeze, then let him go. “Welp, gotta get back. Hand out waystones to groups going in, so they can teleport out if they get in over their heads.”

“Okay.” Threadbare nodded, and waved. Then his laurels slipped, and he pushed them up on his forehead.

One last person to check with.

Given the choice between going in the dungeon and waiting with Zuula, he opted for the latter. He watched doll haunters in their new bodies enter the tavern, collect waystones from Glub, and head upstairs… usually staring at him the whole while, or whispering to each other, with awestruck looks on their faces. His adorable skill chunked up a few more times, and he was pretty sure that he was getting model experience as well. To pass the time he put up buffs from that job.

Eventually, all the groups that went upstairs returned, coming back down the stairs or teleporting directly to Zuula, usually torn all to hell and back. And slowly they made their way out, to let their pools recharge, or perhaps just to experience moving around in bodies again. All told, it took a long time.

But golems are patient, and golems have no trouble with time. And after a couple of hours, Garon came down the stairs.

“We done yet?” Zuula growled.

“Almost. Figure it’ll be morning soon, we can go hang with Jarrik. Oh hey, Threadbare!”

“Hello.”

“Just in time. I wanted to talk with you.”

“Zuula headin’ back to de temple. Come get her when you done. Glub, you coming?”

“Sure, ma’am.”

And then they were alone in the tavern.

“It’s going well, before you ask,” Garon said as he pulled up a chair. “We’re letting them sort out their own jobs. We don’t have a prayer at teaching them dwarven battle tactics before the big fight, so they’re mainly going to be skirmishers. Skirmishers with a seriously good endurance, who don’t feel pain, and have a racial armor that stacks with the armor the dwarves are giving them. It should work out pretty well.”

“That’s good. How are you holding up?”

Garon tilted his head. “This is what I trained for, for most of my life. War. This isn’t how I was expecting to come to it, but I’m excited to finally get to try out my lessons.” He sighed. “And a little sad that I’m going to have to go up against my sister.”

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Garon folded his hands. “It’s about Mastoya, actually. I think I know how to reach her. But we’re going to have to beat her first.”

Threadbare nodded. “Okay.”

“When we meet her on the field, if we meet her on the field, and I’m sure we will, I want you to follow my lead, okay? No matter what I say.”

“Can you tell me what you’re planning? So I know how to follow it?”

“That’s the hard part. I can’t, because it’s all going to depend on the circumstances and how it plays out. But…” Garon spread his hands, slapped them on the table. “It’s one last try. My last chance to save her. I… I need this. You know? And Mom needs this, even if she won’t admit it.”

“Zuula said something about you being in a flier.”

“Then Wind’s Whisper me when you come to her. You’re staying on the ground, right?”

“Oh yes. I don’t know how to fly.”

“Then she’ll come to you. I guarantee it. Stall her until I get there. Fight her, talk to her, whatever.” Garon shook his head, tossing his horns. “Please. I need this.”

Threadbare didn’t look at Garon’s face. Garon’s face didn’t move, save for his jaws. It wasn’t like humans, who he’d spent most of his life studying. Instead he studied Garon’s posture, the way his fingers moved, the way he sat.

And Threadbare nodded. “Okay.”

“Thanks. I owe you. Big time.” Garon leaned back.

“Madeline.” Threadbare slapped his forehead. “I forgot to talk with her.”

“She was chilling on the roof of the temple, last I saw. Wanna walk there together? I can’t leave Mom alone too long, she’ll burn something down.”

“I don’t think she can. Most of this place is made out of stone.”

“You don’t know Mom like I do. She doesn’t do well with boredom.”

The two of them headed back, and sure enough, there was a flash of red on the temple roof as they approached. “There she is. Want a toss?”

“A what?”

“Some of the new guys invented this. The stronger ones just up and threw the weaker ones across a big chasm I put in their way. It bangs you up a little, but you’ve got mend.” Garon laughed. “Here I was set to be the guy training them, and they’re teaching me.”

“Sure, toss me.” Threadbare held his arms out.

The dwarves on the street gaped as the little wooden minotaur whirled around a few times, and threw the bear up to bounce off the steeple.

He flailed, caught ahold of the edge of the roof before he fell, and hoisted himself up.

Your Climb skill is now level 14!

“Hey,” Madeline said.

Next to her, Pulsivar looked up, and immediately hurried over. The Bear no longer smelled like him! This could not stand! Threadbare scrambled for footing, as Pulsivar rubbed his invisible face all over him, the image five feet away rubbing against air. The rank up had made the black cat strong.

Threadbare managed to find his voice. “Hello. I’ve been checking in with everyone.”

“Why?”

“Cecelia suggested that I do it. And I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Oh. Yeah, mostly.” She put her head down, listened to Pulsivar purr as he groomed his bear.

“Mostly?”

“I’ve done a lot of things. Never done wah. Theah’s a lot of stuff that could go wrong when the bacon hits the pan. I mean…” she flexed her wings, “we’ve gaht more chances of sahviving than most, so long as they don’t take down you and Graves, but we really ah gonna be risking everyone in this. Nothing’s for shah.”

“For sure?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I’m sorry. We have to do this.”

“I know. Gotta beat the bad guys, win the Kingdom back. But aftah THAT, we gotta go take on the King, and maybe the Hand if we don’t stomp’em in the field. And he’s a badass. And the people wahking for him are badasses. I’m…” She looked at Threadbare, and he’d never seen her like this. “I’ve lost so many people, you know? I’ve fahked up so many things. This heah, this is the best group of friends I’ve evah had, and I don’t want to lose any of them, and I’m so godsdamned scahed-”

Threadbare pushed Pulsivar gently away, marched over, and hugged Madeline.

CHA+1

She sagged into his arms, shaking, and he held her, rubbing her ridged spine. After a bit, Pulsivar came over and curled around them, because why not.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling back from him, after a few minutes. “You give good hugs. I see why Cecelia keeps ya around.”

“I do my best.”

“I’ll be fine.” The dragon took a breath, let it out. “Will you?”

Threadbare thought about it.

“Yes,” he said. “I think it will be hard, but we’ll win. And I’ll fight hard so none of us die.”

The dragon smiled. “Then you’re fine.”

“I should be animating more golems. But… I think they can spare me for a moment. Just a moment. If anyone asks please tell them I’m resting.”

“You chose a good spot foah it,” Madeline settled into Pulsivar’s furry bulk.

And so, the little bear rested, and prepared for what was to come. Days fled as he animated golem after golem, gaining a level from his work. They managed to get every one of the soulstoned ex-cultists embodied, and somewhat trained. Celia managed to get her Steam Knight armor up and running. And a myriad of other preparations with the leftover reagents helped gain Threadbare gain another two enchanter levels.

But even so, when the alarms rang through the hold, and the scouts returned saying the Crown’s army was on the move, Threadbare did not feel prepared….

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 13
Ruler Level 13
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 10
Animator Level 13
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 19
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 147 Constitution: 163 Hit Points: 388(498) Armor: 57(71)
Intelligence: 262 Wisdom: 224(231) Sanity: 486(656) Mental Fortitude: 47
Dexterity: 177(184) Agility: 147(154) Stamina: 334(448) Endurance: 67
Charisma: 130(159) Willpower: 248 Moxie: 378(517) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 134 Luck: 101(108) Fortune: 235(352) Fate: 16(23) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 50 (+34)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 19
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 13
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 43
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 32
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 44
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 22
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 24

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 10
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 15

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 55 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+55% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 11
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 1
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 21
Parry - Level 22
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 38 (Brawling +19) Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 33
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 51

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 23
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Golem Animus - Level 65
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 59
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills
Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB) (In storage) Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
5 vials of Green Reagent.
2 Vials of Blue Reagent
6 beads of Mend Golem (Level 55)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

The Brokeshale Battle 2

The Dwarven language has fifty-two words that all mean defense. They only have three for offense, and one that invokes both concepts. That word is “Lavasten,” which means, “Cleaning the foe from a more defensible position, so that we can take it and dig in later.”

Most human tacticians treat this as a joke, until and unless the time comes when they find themselves in conflict with dwarves.

When that happens, they usually don’t find the word and its meaning funny anymore. Or anything else, really, unless they’re tough enough to survive, and smart enough to make sure the dwarves don’t take the battle PERSONALLY.

Dwarves have fifty-two words for defense.

They have eighty-nine words for grudges.

And hoo boy, had Melos made it personal.

So when the Crown forces moved in, they moved in the way that years of losses had taught them to do.

Slowly.

From up on one of the foothills surrounding Brokeshale mountain, a massive part of the stone that had peeled away from it like bark falling from an old log, Threadbare watched them come. Well, as best he could. His perception was good, but they were very far away.

Cecelia was having an easier time of it.

“What is the word for that tube thing?” Threadbare asked, looking up at his little girl.

“It’s called a telescope. A nation east of here invented these things, back before the Oblivion. Want a look?”

Threadbare took it carefully between his paws. It was heavier than he expected.

He nearly fell over when he looked through it, though. The teddy bear had NOT been expecting the extreme close-up.
But Threadbare adjusted, and stared through the telescope, sweeping it around from one end of the valley to the other.
It didn’t take long. The Valley was only perhaps fifteen miles across, and just a bit wider from the Crown-controlled lines to the Mountain. He could tell the Crown’s territory by the moats that they’d carved out in front of their observations posts, put there to help detect dwarven sappers. The dwarves were big on earth elementalism, along with traditional mining techniques and devices that humans just couldn’t match. So the moats were an imperfect defense, but they’d kept the dwarves from breaking out and encircling them, which would have been the end of the war.

“What are those yellow bird things out in front?” Threadbare asked. “The ones with the riders.”

“Wark Knights. It’s not actually a job, they’re just tamers who learned how to be decent fast cavalry and skirmishers. They’re our first task, actually. They’re sensitive to noises transmitted through the ground, so Mastoya’s using them to find out which tunnels the dwarves are in right now.”

“When you’re fighting an army, first put out their eyes,” Garon said.

“We don’t have to do that, do we? That sounds rather cruel.” Threadbare worried.

“No, it’s just an expression,” Cecelia reassured him. “All we really have to do is scatter them, then get down to the checkpoint.”

“Then it’s ah tahn,” Madeline grinned, glancing back at the far end of the peak, and the winged dolls climbing aboard Beryl’s fliers. “So let’s get this pahty stahted, huh?”

Cecelia took the telescope back and snapped it shut, handing it to Garon. “Here. You’ll get more use out of this, maybe.”

“Well, Kayin will. I’ll be busy trying not to crash.” The three toys walked toward the flying machines, and the dwarves waiting beyond.

Garon peeled off, and Cecelia and Threadbare kept walking, back to the mouth of the tunnel, and the enormous steel barrel poking out of it. Dwarves called back and forth to each other, rolling spheres the size of tables along the ground. For all their size, they were light. They were, after all, mainly filled with cloth.

“You’re the last,” Beryl said. “And the heaviest. We can probably put you the most on target, but everyone else is going to have some variances, no help for it. So don’t get fucking stupid all right? I don’t care what dungeons you’ve done, you can’t take on an army without help. Just… oh, just don’t die.”

“That’s actually the decree I gave everyone.” Threadbare smiled. “They liked that. They liked the quest more though, I think.”

“Quest?” Beryl raised an eyebrow. “Shit, if you’re just giving them away-”

“You have to be one of his subjects.”

“Yeah, fuck that noise. Uh, sorry bear. Grundi’s my king, that’s not changing any time soon. Hopefully.” She coughed. “Just out of curiosity, what’s the quest?”

“Win.”

She laughed, braids bouncing. “All right. Get in the ball. We’re starting the sequence in five.”

The dwarves nearest them cracked open the sphere of the bronze orb, showing layers and layers of cloth and padding, with twenty of the new teddies clustered around it. One waved, and almost tumbled some of the padding out of the sphere, until one of the dwarves cursed him out and tucked it back. “Stop moving! Time for that when you’re all in.”

Cecelia moved into the padding, nestling herself carefully. Threadbare piled in next to her, mend golem beads at the ready. Then darkness, tight darkness, as the dwarves sealed the orb… followed by movement as they rolled it upslope.
“All right,” Threadbare said, there, in the middle of the pile of golems. “Everyone hug, just like we practiced, please.”

“Sir?” One of the smaller bears squeaked. “Can I say it’s just an honor?”

“I think you just did. Oh, wait. Thank you!”

“He thanked me! Eeeeee!”

“We’ll only be hearing this for the rest of her life,” another bear grumbled.

“Ah, let her have it Frenk, let her have it.”

Rumbles from outside, clanking, metal scraping against bronze. “They’re lowering us in,” Cecelia said. “This won’t take long.”

“Right. First rule?” one of the bears spoke, “Nobody fart.”

They all got a laugh out of that. Except Threadbare, he’d never really gotten why fart jokes were funny. It was just a thing humans did.

The minutes crawled by, in that dark, cramped space.

And then-

WHAM!

The impact pushed him back into the cloth, pushed them all against each other, with the Steam Knight armor at the very back, and the soft toys flattening out, all surrounding Cecelia’s ceramic body in their center.

It would have broken bones in a normal person’s body, but as it was…

Your Golem Body skill is now level 33!

“Woo!” Someone yelled. “Easy skill up!”

“Easy? Easy? Shit man, you’re nuts!”

“Canned nuts!” Someone else yelled, and they all laughed again. The pressure eased, bit by bit, until the toys almost felt like they were drifting.

“We’re falling now,” Cecelia said. “This is going to be the hard part. Hug tight!”

Beryl had listened with wide eyes when Cecelia told her of how they’d escaped Fort Bronze.

Then she’d started sketching, and doing math.

The dwarves had steam cannon, they’d been developed early on as counters to Fort Bronze’s armaments. But the steam cannon had never been able to get the range they needed to shell enemy territory.

However, super-light shot, filled with stuffed animals and other toy golems, packed into a wooden shell that broke away and allowed the round to fire without disintegrating… well, that was different.

And when you threw Zuula into the mix, Zuula who’d recently re-learned her twentieth level skill that let her call winds… well, things got INTERESTING.

It took far less time than it seemed.

CRUNCH!

Red numbers drifted up, golems screamed-

-and golden light flared, as their innocent embraces fired off, a massive flare of golden light, that drowned out the sunlight now flooding in from the broken shell around them. Padding exploded outward, as did teddy bears.

And Cecelia, who tumbled across the ground, coming to a rest with Threadbare grimly hanging onto her hands, digging his heels in to slow and stop her.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so. Status.” She nodded. “Only down a bit-uh oh.”

“Hum,” Threadbare said, as he looked up at the big, yellow birds and their armored riders, staring down at him.
Down and past him, to where golden feathers fluttered to the ground, and a pair of big bird legs twitched under the mass of the broken bronze ball that they’d used to traverse the battlefield.

The dwarves had put the shot a little TOO close to the targets.

“Keep them busy!” Cecelia hissed in his ear, and made a dive for the cannonball… and her armor, still packed securely within.

Threadbare looked up at the vanguard of the Wark Knights and waved.

Your Adorable skill is now level 44!
Your Adorable skill is now level 45!
Your Adorable skill is now level 46!

“It’s the bear! Get him!” An officer called from the rear, spurring his bird into a slow trot as he leveled his spear.

“Are you sure, sir? I mean, look at him! He’s just standing there!”

“How the hell many teddy bears are there on this battlefield, you think? Fucking get him!” The bird loped into a canter now, the rider’s spear coming straight toward Threadbare.

“It’s funny you should ask that question…” Threadbare said, spreading his arms. “Guard Stance.”

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 22!

And then the rest of the toys charged in, from all sides, from where they’d been scattered. No time to retrieve armor or weapons, none to organize, it was just a score of fuzzy, tiny growling targets, panicking Warks, and yelling riders.

The officer managed to regain control of his mount, wheeling around-

-and staring goggle-eyed at the dapperly-dressed teddy bear hanging by one paw from his spear.

“…there’s quite a lot of us now, you see,” Threadbare finished.

And then he launched himself at the rider, claws out and swiping.

CRUNCH!

Another bronze orb hit the ground, a few hundred meters away.

WHUMP!

Another descended, thirty seconds later, as the bears fought and the air filled with golden feathers and bits of stuffing, and the Wark Knights fought desperately against a foe they’d neither trained against nor were prepared for in any way. The birds beaks were actually the most dangerous part of the whole thing, as the toys were mostly prey-sized, but the golems were far tougher than their usual meals. Threadbare managed to knock the officer sprawling, sent him running in one direction, then leaped off the bird as it ran the opposite way. Looking around the battlefield, he charged back to his troops, shouting mend spells as he went.

And then from the wreckage of the bronze orb, Cecelia’s voice rose, triumphant and high.

“Cast in steam and steel, raise thy blade! All systems go!”

The bronze half-sphere flew upwards, and Kindness rose from the wreckage, cloth padding spraying loose as it ripped free.

Five feet tall, in enameled red armor, smokestacks churning white smoke from either pauldron, it had a backpack-like boiler about as big around as it was. Though the blade it bore was only four feet long, it was wide and large and heavy. More like a slab of iron than a sword…

The other arm held the best and heaviest shield that the dwarves could spare her. She’d used her own tinkering and smithing skill to add more armor, heedless of the weight. It probably wouldn’t stop a cannonball, but anything less than that wouldnt’ do much.

At the sight of their foe, the surviving Wark Knights turned and fled. They knew that call. They knew what it signified. And even a midget Steam Knight was still a Steam Knight.

“Is everyone all right?” Threadbare called.

“Harb and Jeri are down!” One of the bears replied.

Threadbare ran over to their torn, still forms, and dug in their chests, searching for Graves’ last gift to them… and after some rummaging, removed two intact soulstones. He sighed in relief, and put them into the backpack that one of the dwarves had been happy to turn into a Pack of Holding.

Then the bear’s hat was suddenly gone from his head. He blinked at it, saw it lying there on the ground, with an arrow in it. Something flickered past him, and he snapped his head around to see that the front lines of the Crown forces had moved up while they were fighting the Wark Knights. They’d forsaken a slow march for a steady charge, and the first archers were just now ranging them.

“We should go. Now!” Threadbare said, waving, and the teddy bears fell in behind him.

“But their weapons and armor…” Cecelia turned to the shot they’d arrived in, where most of their gear was still stowed. “No, nevermind. No time to dig them out. Go! I’ll hold the rear!” And she galloped after them, shield behind her, doing her best to run cover for the slower teddies.

The toys fled. And the pursuing army found out one of the truisms of fighting teddy bear golems.

That running them down, without supporting cavalry or some obstacle in the way, is pretty hard to do.

Golems start with a good endurance, and teddy bears get more on top of that. Actions that would stress or strain a human are barely noticeable to bears, and simple commands like “Oh hey run that way and don’t stop,” have resulted in golems crossing nations, descending into the depths of the sea, and occasionally coming out on the shores of other continents.

Mind you, these were intelligent golems, so they didn’t have that particular issue, but the long and short of it was that the pursuit didn’t go as well as their commanding officer expected.

But humans had longer legs, and their ire was up. And they’d been given very specific orders about teddy bears, so they persisted.

They didn’t see the danger until it was too late.

The teddy bears were hard to see in the first place, given their size and the various rocks and scraggly grass strewn around the valley. The regular line troops hadn’t been in a position to see that they’d crawled out of the bronze shot. To them, the various craters and bronze fragments they passed were just missed artillery shells.

So they were pretty well blindsided, after the toys let them go past, then emerged from the craters and attacked them from behind.

And from the back, glancing into the rearview mirrors of her small mecha, Cecelia was in a good position to see this. “Hey!” she yelled to Threadbare, who was easily leading the pack.

“Yes?”

“Stop running!”

“Why?”

“We need to save our friends!”

Immediately the little bear swerved, kicked up dust, made a full turn and ran back toward the fight. Cecelia turned with him, sending up a spray of dirt and gravel, as she pointed her blade. “Steam Scream!”

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Green numbers swarmed from the heads of the Crown troops, as the miniature mecha charged. And Threadbare and eighteen other teddy bears followed in her wake, claws out and ready to fight!

Some of the Crown infantry broke right then and there. Caught between an ambush of living dolls, and something they knew they’d barely be able to scratch, a few of the less-disciplined troops routed. Rallying cries filled the air, as their officers hastily spent moxie like water, restoring what order they could. As for Threadbare, he let Cecelia take the brunt of the charge, and focused on moving around the battle, mending where he could, and inviting and kicking the golems in and out of his party to buff up the ones who needed it most at any given moment.

For all that…

For all that, it was a close one.

The Crown troops had levels on the townsfolk-turned-golems. They also had weapon skill, and knight levels, which made them hard to hurt. Their officers blended in a mix of mercenary, mostly for the group buffs and the self-healing.

The golems, on the other hand, had a weird mix of levels among several classes, Knight and Archer being the most common, along with the ubiquitous cultist, levels, of course. But they also had skills boosted by repeated dungeon runs, in a semi-controllable situation. Some fought with small crossbows, other bore metal armor and tiny blades, and each one of them had strength far, far out of proportion to their forms.

It was bloody on both sides. For every two of the Crown troops that fell or fled, a golem was ripped asunder, or decapitated. At some point in there, Threadbare got an animator level. Not that he noticed, he was too busy helping his people survive and harvesting soulstones from the fallen.

In the end, three factors won the day for Threadbare’s allies. The first was the small size of the golems. They had managed a successful ambush, and were in among the foe, making it impossible for the Crown forces to hold any kind of line, or bring the bulk of their force to bear against the, well, bears.

The second was the fact that the golems outnumbered the troops in this section of the line. Two hundred little bears and other soft plushie golems had been jammed into the shells and dropped on and around the biggest concentration of Wark Knights. A few had suffered destruction during the drop, but most had survived, armed up quietly, and found themselves in an ideal ambush spot.

The third thing in Threadbare’s allies’ favor was Kindness.

Cecelia’s Steam Knight armor was an unstoppable engine of destruction, a man-sized machine stomping around the battlefield, hewing about her with the overlarge sword. She might not have had the knight levels she once did, but she had the defense she needed to tank pretty much anyone in the unit they were up against, and the raw strength to blow through any armor, whether it be with a steel-capped knee, her heavy blade, or a nasty headbutt when people tried to corps-a-corps her.

In the end, the soldiers fled…

…revealing a double line of archers beyond.

“Loose!” Their Captain ordered.

Four golems went down immediately, standing stupefied at the sudden danger. Their colleagues grabbed their bodies up, dropping weapons to do so.

“Run!” Cecelia yelled, and they fled again… and this time there was no pursuit. But there were arrows, so many arrows… and a droning, in the sky above them.

“What?” Cecelia yelled. “They’re not supposed to be near us, they’re supposed to go after the main battle lines!”

“What if the main lines came to us?” Threadbare called back, holding onto his hat, the arrow in it bouncing and jouncing with every hurried step. “I think we got their attention!”

“Oh sweet Nurph.” Cecelia took an arrow in the boiler, slowed. “Mend!”

“Are you holding up alright?”

“I leveled but my pools didn’t recharge! Steam Knight problems.”

Arrows fell, and golems staggered as some of them hit. “We can’t escape in time. Take cover everyone!”

The golems hit the dirt, putting shields overhead where possible, keeping still and taking cover behind rocks where it wasn’t.

Threadbare crawled up under Cecelia, as she stood there, shield overhead, arrows raining off of her. Red zeroes and ones flew up, mostly, but the occasional lucky crit tagged her for ten or twenty. “Let me,” Threadbare said. “Mend, mend, mend…”

“Thanks. Oh. Oh boy. It IS the main force behind us. And they’re using razor arrows on me, not good! We need to get to the rally point. Just another mile to go, but…”

The droning deepened, and both of them looked to the skies.

Three of Beryl’s fliers hung in the skies above, wings wobbling, air blades or whatever they were in front of the contraptions, pulling them forward. And as they flew down from above, black specks came falling down from them, specks that grew and sprinkled over the archers and the troops behind them like pepper…

…and then the first wave of explosions rippled through the Crown forces.

“Gather the fallen!” Threadbare yelled, and went to grab soulstones while the archers were disrupted. “Get the stones then run north! Keep going north!”

Now that the arrows weren’t falling, he could see across the valley. The dwarves HAD made an appearance at some point, some point he hadn’t noticed in the chaos. They had emerged from their tunnels, to take on the forces to either side. But they’d left the center to the golems, and they were too hard-pressed to aid. Threadbare winced as he saw dwarven shields splinter under a full-sized Steam Knight’s heavy foot… a Steam Knight that looked their way, and started stomping over with a purposeful stride.

“Cecelia!”

She looked over. “Oh hell. Inkidoo.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Not the worst but still lousy. Run!”

The golems didn’t have to be told twice. They left the fliers to bomb the front lines, and completely missed the Dragon Knights flying over to intercept them, and the wave of flying golems leaping off the fliers to harass and target the dragon riders.

But that’s what happens when you’re fleeing for your lives against something that can singlehandedly stomp you and all your friends into mush.

The problem was, Inkidoo’s knight didn’t seem inclined to give up.

And unlike the human troops, his machine didn’t have muscles to tire. And it took really, really big steps.

“We’re not going to make it!” Cecelia yelled. “Oh… fump it. Go. Keep a soulstone ready for me.” Cecelia slowed and turned Kindness around, looking for a good spot and finding it on a field full of loose stones. “I’ll buy you time.”

Threadbare stopped. He looked at her, looked to the fleeing golems.

The fleeing golems who slowed, and looked at him. “Go!” Threadbare said, offering his pack full of souls to the nearest one. “We’ll buy you time.”

The teddy bear looked down at Threadbare’s offering, and shook his head. “No one dies, remember?”

“Yeah!” Another one shouted, as she slowed down. “We’re not leaving you, Lord!”

“Besides,” a plush bunny in a matronly dress said, winding up her crossbow, “we almost beat a steam knight that one time, right? What are the odds this one has a fireproof blanky?”

Threadbare stood still, as an idea occurred to him. He remembered an unexpected ogre, and how Zuula had dealt with the thing…

“Can you hold him?” He asked Cecelia, as Inkidoo slowed, blade out, and moved in for the kill.

“For a little while!”

“Please do!”

Behind him, the archers started firing at the knight, and the cries of “Razor Arrow!” rose to the skies… as did the red numbers. The knight was a big target, and the archer skill bypassed some of his armor. Not much, really, but it was enough to turn zeroes and ones into twos and fours. With a groan, Inkidoo whipped its shield up toward them, raising its blade high, and bringing it down-

-to miss, as Kindness sped to the side. “Animus Blade! Animus Blade! Animus Blade…” Cecelia called six times over, and from compartments on Kindness, daggers whipped out and started their swirling assault. She tried to close in, caught Inkidoo’s foot in her chestplate for her trouble, but the daggers whittled scratches into its leg while she got her footing.

But she didn’t rebalance fast enough. Inkidoo’s shield slammed down on her helm, crunching it, and Kindness fell. The shield rose and fell three more times, and Kindness only survived by getting its shield in the way, getting driven into the ground a little further with each savage strike. The Animus Blades carved away, but it took the damage, as its rider mended it whenever it got noticeable. And when the tiny steam knight was good and planted, Inkidoo drew back its massive blade-

“Get him!” A tiny voice yelled.

And the golems attacked.

Swarming it from all directions, they piled on it, grabbing onto its legs and climbing upwards. Inkidoo paused, shook itself like a dog drying, and some golems fell, but the ones that dropped simply got back up and ran in for another try. Inkidoo swept about it with the sword, but the targets were so tiny and so mobile that the knight had trouble getting a bead on its prey.

So it planted the blade in the ground, and used its free hand to brush the golems free.

Which worked, up until Threadbare grabbed its fingers, and swung up to land on its helm, and squirm his way right through the visor slit.

Startled, the knight inside drew a misericorde and tried to stab him-

“Disarm,” Threadbare said, and managed to smack it from his hand with a timely crit.
LUCK+1
Your Disarm skill is now level 2!

“I’m very sorry about this and you should probably go get help right away,” Threadbare rummaged in his apron and pulled out a bright red seed pod. “Firestarter,” he said, and dropped it down in the workings under the cockpit, before scrambling out.

Your Firestarter skill is now level 11!

When they’d made Cecelia’s hair for her new form, they had gone through several types, before finding the bright red, glorious stuff that was blisterweed pod silk.

Normally scorned because it caused hideous rashes among most who came into contact with it, they’d managed to boil it until it was nontoxic to the touch. Which wasn’t a problem for golems, but Threadbare thought that she might like to get her head petted by friendly people at some point, and that it would be awful if they got bright red painful itchy rashes from doing that.

But he’d still had a blisterweed pod left over from making her hair.

Inkidoo’s pilot froze, as red and black smoke filled the cockpit.

Then he turned and fled, with a horrible coughing echoing in his wake as he made for the lines, and the nearest cleric.

“Thanks,” Cecelia said, clattering Kindness to its feet, and swaying back and forth as the daggers coursed endlessly around her. “Er. Could you?”

“Certainly. Mend, mend, mend…”

WHUMP!

He jumped, and looked over in amazement as Inkidoo fell. “Oh my.”

“What did you DO to him?”

“I borrowed a trick from Zuula.”

Cecelia stood, flexing Kindness’ arms, and retrieving her sword from where it lay. “Well I just got two Steam Knight levels, so it was a pretty lethal trick.”

Around them, the golems cheered, as their own levels shot up as well. That had been a major kill!

Threadbare found himself feeling a bit bad about it. “Oh. I really didn’t mean to kill him.”

Threadbare, though he was intelligent, had no way of knowing that blisterweed was commonly used as an insecticide in small doses. Doses that were about the size of a twentieth of the pod he’d just set alight in an enclosed, poorly-ventilated space.

You are now a level 20 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5
You have unlocked the Armor Golem skill!
Your Armor Golem skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Flesh Golem skill!
Your Flesh Golem skill is now level 1!

“Two golems in one level?” Threadbare mused. “I need to read this. Are we safe?”

“I think so.”

“Status.”

“Whoa. Whoa no. No, we’re not safe at all!” Kindness reached down and scooped up Threadbare, and Cecelia fled. “Come on! Let’s go!” She called back to the other golems. “The tunnel’s not far-”

“Hm? What?” Threadbare stirred, looking over her shoulder.

And right at the approaching form of Reason, its white bulk moving with purpose after Kindness. It shrieked as it came, that hissing screech that he’d heard once before, when Emmet killed it in the machine bay.

Emmet wasn’t here now.

But two others were.

On its left flank and above the machine, a batlike daemon soared through the skies, with a black-robed figure on its back. To Reason’s right, a woman on a red carpet sat in lotus position, surrounded by flames.

The Hand had come for a rematch.

And the fact that two of them were visible, meant that the ninja wasn’t far behind.

But this was the last thing on Threadbare’s mind right now, as he smiled back at Reason, and started Wind’s Whispering, contacting the allies he could reach. “Cecelia?”

“What?”

“Whatever happens, no matter how bad it gets, we must NOT kill the daemon who’s wearing your body…”

QUICK REFERENCE - THREADBARE’S NEW SKILLS

ARMOR GOLEM Level: 20 Cost: 350 San Duration: Permanent
Creates an armor golem shell out of metal. Requires metal, 3 BLUE reagents and a level 4 crystal.

FLESH GOLEM Level: 20 Cost: 300 San Duration: Permanent
Creates a flesh golem shell out of a corpse, or corpses sewn together. The less damage there is to the corpse (or corpses), the more it will mimic life. Requires corpse(s), 1 BLUE reagent, and a level 3 crystal.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 13
Ruler Level 13
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 10
Animator Level 14
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 20
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 147 Constitution: 163 Hit Points: 388(498) Armor: 57(71)
Intelligence: 270 Wisdom: 224(231) Sanity: 494(665) Mental Fortitude: 47
Dexterity: 180(187) Agility: 147(154) Stamina: 337(451) Endurance: 67
Charisma: 130(159) Willpower: 256 Moxie: 386(525) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 134 Luck: 102(109) Fortune: 236(353) Fate: 20(27)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 53 (+34)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 19
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 17
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 46
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 33
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 46
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 22
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 24

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 11
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 19

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+55% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 11
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 22
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 38 (Brawling +19)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 10
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 50
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 23
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 2

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 1
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 65
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 59
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
5 vials of Green Reagent.
2 Vials of Blue Reagent
6 beads of Mend Golem (Level 55)
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

The Brokeshale Battle 3

Threadbare’s golems had been tasked with breaking the Wark Riders, then falling back to regroup and get new instructions.

What neither they nor the dwarves had anticipated, was that the bulk of the army would pursue the golems.

As such, there was no way that the group of friends could make the rally point before the full force of the Hand (Minus the Lurker, who was hopefully still dead,) came down on them.

So to that end, Threadbare knew that they had to stand and fight, and they needed terrain that would let them hold out until the friends he’d contacted could carry out their part of the plan.

He also knew he wasn’t trained in this. Not at all.

“Celia! Where should we fight?”

“I don’t know!” She waved her sword around in an arc, pointing. “There’s old half-collapsed tunnels all around, but the Cataclysm will cook us if we cluster. There’s open ground, but Reason will stomp us flat! There’s old building foundations, but the Legion will harry us with conjured daemons, and the Ninja will rip us to shreds bit by bit!”

“I can make Reason not a problem. Maybe all of them. I just need a boundary.”

“How?”

“Wards.”

“What’s your skill?”

“Two.”

“That thing will blitz right through it. I’ll do it, that might work… no. No, wait, that’ll drain me. Gah! Kindness is… it’s good against the line troops, but useless against the elites. I just don’t have the levels.”

“Then get out. Once we get to the place we’re going to fight in.”

“You think wards will hurt Reason?”

“Did that thing Emmet beat up look like a daemon to you?”

“Open ground it is… there!” She pointed with her blade, towards a small hill, with the remnants of what had once been a low wall around half of it. “Best we’re going to get.”

They shouted directions to the golems, and in a matter of minutes, the toys were clambering over and through the rubble of the wall, taking up positions, and readying their crossbows. Cecelia, with Threadbare’s help, shut down the Steam Knight suit and struggled out of it. “Reagents?” She asked.

He gave her a vial of green, and she slammed it against the ground. “Ward against Daemons!”

Patterns flashed into life, green and red energy swirled, and spread out to wrap around the wall and stretch up the hill.

“I don’t suppose you have any blue reagents?” Threadbare asked her. “I’ve got two. With a third one I could do something nifty.” He looked to Kindness’ still form.

“No, sorry.”

“Bother.” He turned, to stare at the oncoming daemons-

-and twenty feet from him, something hissed. A red ‘12’ flashed up in the air, and a blurry form darted away, shadows swirling as the Ninja pulled back from the boundary of the ward.

“Shoot her lots please!” Threadbare called to his troops, and they filled the air with bolts. A few grazed her, but then she was gone, bounding across the scree and over the hill, out of sight.

“Okay. We’ve got some advantages here,” Cecelia said. “Oh, and can I have the laurels please?” Threadbare gave them to her and she slumped behind a chunk of the wall, jammed them awkwardly on her head, and said “Rest.”

“Advantages?”

“When we fought the Lurker he didn’t use any Gambler or Archer tricks that I could tell. And Grifters are good at disguise, but they can’t shapeshift like he did. So I’m pretty sure what we’re dealing with here is daemons that have natural skills that are close enough to what the Seven did to fool people. We’re not dealing with tier two jobs and high level tier ones . But we ARE dealing with dungeon shenanigans that are boosting them to midboss levels.”

“I see,” said Threadbare, peeking over the wall. The Cataclysm and the Legion had slowed, somewhat, and were spreading out around Reason. “They stopped moving so quickly. Do you think they’re being cautious?”

“Either that or they know we can’t escape them now. Or both.” Cecelia yawned. “Wow, this is nice.” She adjusted the laurels. “

“I don’t think you’ll have time to go back to full.”

“Eh,” She tapped her sheathed sword with one porcelain hand. “If it gets me in the neighborhood I’ll be happy. So we’ve got a ward. What else can we do?”

Threadbare thought, then ran over to the golems. They moved along the wall, and most of the crossbow wielders went up the hill, spreading out as they went. “There. That should help against the Cataclysm.”

“From what that ward did to her, I think The Ninja’s kind of fragile. At least to spells. So the golems can spread out so long as they stay within the ward, hopefully without getting picked off too much. Good, good. How many do we have left?”

“About a hundred and fifty.”

“Ouch.”

Threadbare rubbed the straps of the pack full of soulstones. “I don’t know if I got everyone. I hope so.”

A yell up the hill, then a flash of golden light. Threadbare looked that way. “Everyone all right?”

“Ninja threw a knife at Rafe! Jackie and he hugged it out.”

“That’s going to get annoying quick, but sooner or later she’ll run out of knives. We don’t have organs so one-shot kills are going to be hard. For her. Not so much for-“

SNAP!

They stared at the ballista bolt shrieking towards them from Reason’s arbalest. “-Reason,” Cecelia whispered, and then Threadbare hauled her up to his shoulders and ran.

A section of the wall ceased to be, and rocks sprayed as the heavy bolt burst through. “I can run!” Cecelia said.

Your Dodge skill is now level 18!

“Not while you’re resting, it’ll break the skill.” Reason had stopped four hundred meters out, give or take. A few crossbow bolts licked out toward it, fell vastly short. “Save your fire!” Threadbare called.

“That’s an intriguing notion,” The Cataclysm called, standing up on her carpet. “I think I’ll disregard that.” She whipped her hands through the air, ripping fiery holes into it, and pulling out gobs of flame. Molding it into a big ball, she raised it up above her head, and hurled it straight at Threadbare.

He hurled himself into cover, dove over Cecelia, and hoped.

Turning his eyes upward, he watched as the ball hit the wards… and shrunk abruptly, down to basketball size.

But it still continued through. And the golems screamed as it exploded above them, raining down fire and light.

Threadbare took a breath…

…and let it out as a red ‘21’ drifted up from his singed fur. He’d put fire resistant enchantments on a few of his armor pieces, as he’d had time and reagents to do so. Now it was paying off.

“Wards? Thought so,” The Cataclysm sat down on her carpet. “Legion, your boys will be useless here. Make sure nobody interrupts our playtime.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” The daemon rider called, as he wheeled overhead. But he spread out nonetheless, and little fifts appeared in the air, flying daemons squeezing out and scattering around the area surrounding the hill.

The battle still raged on around the toys, dwarves clashing with the Crown’s forces, but the bulk of the army seemed content to let the Hand take care of the golems. Or perhaps they just wanted to stay as far away from them as possible? Threadbare didn’t know.

Another yell from up the hill, another flash of golden light. “She got Vance!”

“Pull his body back,” Threadbare said. “And keep a watch out.” He couldn’t tell them to harvest the soulstones. The way the Ninja operated, she’d surely break them if she knew.

Meanwhile, across the field, the Cataclysm was assessing the fortifications, and finding them not to her liking. “It’s your turn,” she slapped Reason on the arm, and backed away. “Break the walls, drive them back from the cover. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“With pleasure,” Cecelia’s voice echoed from the daemon machine, and Threadbare felt a stir of anger rise up in him to hear it. That was his little girl’s body in there!

Threadbare turned to HIS Cecelia. “May I have your daggers?”

“What? Why?”

“I have an idea.”

“Here,” Cecelia handed them over, barely moving. “And if you can, get Reason close. I’ll see what I can do.”

Threadbare stood, moved around to a gap in the wall. The Cataclysm’s gaze snapped around to consider him, and she sent a wisp of flame teasingly his way. It shrunk when it hit the wards, but he swiped his hand through it, not bothering to dodge and ignoring the red ‘44’ that rose from his singed paw. “So how exactly does this work?” Threadbare asked.

“Does what work?” The red-clothed thing wearing a dead woman’s face asked, as she idly gathered up a bigger ball of flame. “You dying? I think you should know how that goes by now.”

“No. The daemonic possession part,” Threadbare said, ignoring Reason as it stomped closer, arbalest trained on him.

“It’s not possession,” she smiled under her veil. “Your bodies are just meat puppets for us. The brains provide the memories, the hearts run the bodies so we don’t have to. You’re just our material components, more or less. Well not YOU, you little freak. No brains, no heart… and no luck, for your path has brought you here to stand in front of us.” The ball grew in her hands.

“Interesting.” Threadbare stepped out of the wards, and the onlooking golems cried out, called for him to come back, and started down the hill. But he waved them back, and kept moving…

…straight toward Reason.

The corrupted suit hesitated, snapped its arbalest around to point straight at him.

But the arm was shaking.

“Because I have a lot of memories of Celia. And she has a lot of memories of me. Of tea parties, and nights with her whispering to me, and cuddling, and that time I brought her water, and when we all laughed together in Catamountain, when I was wearing my first clothes. Well, my second clothes, I suppose,” Threadbare said, lifting his hat. “You gave this to me, remember?” he said, walking toward Reason as the great engine stood there and shook.

He’d remembered how Anise had shook, there, when confronted by Fluffbear. And Anise was much, much older and stronger than Cecelia’s daemon had been, he thought.

“I… know what you… do,” Cecelia’s voice, tight with emotion, sobbed from Reason. “Won’t work. Inefficient. Pain… passes.”

“Does it?” Threadbare asked. “Because those were very good memories. I loved Cecelia. And she loved me. And there’s nothing you can do to take that away from us-“

The knife took him from behind, stabbing through his coat, stabbing through his chest-

-and he turned, caught the Ninja’s arm with both paws, and dug his claws in, pulling her hand through him.

Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 47!

“Animus Blade, Animus Blade, Animus Blade, Animus Blade…” Six times over he cast. Six times over the daggers he borrowed from Cecelia ripped free from his coat, where he’d hidden them. And driven with the strength of his will, boosted by his Creator’s Guardians, they ripped into the Ninja.

The creature screamed, and fled, and he heard the Cataclysm shouting behind him, but it didn’t matter. He clung on for grim death as she shook him, tried to pry him off, and sent the daggers after her, after her face, slashing her chest and neck, sending red numbers spiraling up as blood flew.

Your Ride skill is now level 13!

Your Ride skill is now level 14!

STR+1

Stuffing flew to mingle with the blood, as she drew her knife and stabbed relentlessly, and he switched to mending himself, dumping everything he had into Mend Golem spells. She switched to attacking the animated blades instead, but it took her a few swings to drop each one, and every time she did, he’d just animate it again. And battered and nicked and worn, it reanimated and dug back into her.

In the end the outcome was inevitable, as she shrieked and scrambled and failed to dislodge him. She weakened by the second, and she just couldn’t do enough damage to overcome his healing-

-and unfortunately, the Cataclysm saw that too.

His world became fire, and light, and the explosion hurled him through the air, to land to the side of the hill. He couldn’t see, and he tried to feel his face with his paws, but his paws weren’t working right.

Your Golem Body skill is now level 34!

Your Toughness skill is now level 25!

Max HP+2

He opened his mouth to speak, to heal himself, and nothing came out. There was something filling his mouth. He couldn’t say what.

His nose smelled ash, ash and burnt fur, and Threadbare knew that smell was himself.

Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 23!

“Oops. Hm. Well, she’ll be back,” he heard the Cataclysm giggle. “Okay, newbie. It’s a charred lump. Think you can finish THAT off now? Without wussing out on us?”

“Like hell!” Cecelia shouted, and he heard porcelain feet hit the stony ground. “Everyone let’s go!”

No! Threadbare thought, and tried to crawl toward her voice. A paw worked. Nothing else did. Don’t come!

Reason’s footfalls shook the ground… but there was another sound over that.

A droning. From above.

Almost! Get back to the wall! You’re almost safe! He tried to yell, but couldn’t, his tongue was ash.

“Mend!” Cecelia shouted, from a distance away. And he spat ash out. “Mend!” She shouted again, and vision abruptly reappeared as one of his burnt button eyes flowed back together, un-melting. Reason was fighting the golems, he saw, and winning handily, but they were buying time at the cost of their lives. “Mend!” Cecelia shouted, and the stump where his right paw was shuddered and reassembled into a proper arm.

“I can take it from here!” he called, as he reached into his coat, found the beads, and slammed three to the ground.

The healing rushed over and through him, and Threadbare stood up as Cecelia reached him, and the little bear spun around…

Just in time to see another massive fireball shrieking toward him.

Threadbare knelt, fast as lightning, and dragged his paw around them, slammed a vial of green reagent into the ground, and yelled “Ward against Daemons!”

Your Wards skill is now level 3!

The explosion blew them out of the circle, consumed it.

But the hasty, weak ward did its job. And when Threadbare picked himself up off the stony ground, he saw to his relief that they’d lost no limbs.

“Oh for the love of Cron!” The Cataclysm snarled, as Reason slew a golem with every stomp. “Just give up and die already! Legion, they’re out of the wards, swarm them. Finish this sad…”

The droning rose, and she looked up, as the bombs fell down.

“Get back! Get clear!” Threadbare yelled to the golems, and they fled. Some of them even made it in time.

But not all, as the bombs exploded around Reason, and the Cataclysm steered her carpet in a frantic attempt to dodge the worst of it. Gunfire cracked down as well, and the fire daemon shrieked as bullets ripped into her. From that range it was a long shot, even for Jarrik, but the few that found her HURT.

And as Beryl’s fliers passed overhead, drifts of flying toys headed down, spreading out to go after the Legion and his daemons. The fliers circled back as the toys harried him, as Jarrik and Kayin and Zuula got into the fight, hitting him with bullets and arrows and wind bursts repeatedly.

Not that the toys below had time to spare for the dogfight above them. Cecelia certainly didn’t wait. While the bombs were still falling, she ran up to where Reason was down to one knee, sheltering its cockpit with its arms. Great holes had been blown in the armor, and inhuman flesh and gore spilled out, as the machine groaned and sobbed. Cecelia ignored that, ignored the teddy parts and stuffing strewn around, and ran to the back of the machine, lunging for compartment she knew was there, and jamming one hand through the hole. “Animus!” she shouted. “Invite blanket!”

Then she ran.

Reason shook.

Reason let out a confused burble.

Reason abruptly fell to the ground and started thrashing, digging around in itself, ripping armor plates off, trying to get at the shapeless, crawling THING that had been let loose in the equivalent of its nervous system.

Months ago, Cecelia had put a fireproof blanket into Reason, as a last-ditch system to keep herself from being cooked alive in her armor. If Reason caught afire, she thought, then she could always animate the blanket and have it crawl out, and go smother the fire. It had worked very well, the one time she had to use it.

But the compartment the blanket occupied was open to the inside as well.

And now the blanket squeezed its way inexorably up through the fleshy mass of the daemon engine, towards the thing inside.

Threadbare saw none of this as he ran, trying to close with the Cataclysm as she hurled fire into the sky, shrieking, fireballs exploding in midair and burning daemon and flier alike. He shoved the remaining mend golem beads in his mouth, and ran. One of the fliers caught a fireball square on and disintegrated, hurtling toward the ground, and Threadbare could only hope his friends survived as he leaped…

…and caught ahold of the edge of the carpet.

The daemon snapped her face down to him, stomped down hard, trying to kick him off her ride.

Threadbare was having none of it. He ignored her, clung on with both paws. She wasn’t his target. anyway.

“Disenchant,” he told the carpet.

Your Disenchant skill is now level 24!

They fell to the ground, as blue reagents rained down, and she fell. He hit first, tumbled to his feet, and launched himself at her.

“Fool!” She shouted, clambering up, and then the world was fire… but he had beads left, and he waded in, slashing, ignoring as his eyes melted, ignoring his face turning to ash, just lunging in and striking. Whenever he felt his paws start to burn he bit down on the beads, triggering the healing, and staying on her.

And then the fire was gone. He bit down on the last bead, snapping it, and his eyes returned to him.

She lay crumpled, with enough crossbow bolts in her that she looked a bit like a porcupine. Turning, he saw the surviving golems behind him, reloading their crossbows.

But she still breathed, so with a final slash, he ended that.

You are now a level 14 Cave Bear!
CON+10
WIS+10
Armor+5
Endurance+5
Mental Fortitude +5
You are now a level 11 Duelist!
AGI+3
DEX+3
STR+3
You are now a level 14 Ruler!
CHA+3
WIS+3
LUCK+3

And while he rejoiced to see her fall, he felt bad that only forty, barely forty of the golems were still up. Reason and stray fire had left the bodies of their friends and families strewn across the rocky ground.

He spoke, found his mouth full of clay fragments, and spat out the remnants of the beads. “Soulstones. Retrieve the…”

Reason groaned, and he turned to see the great machine on the ground, tendrils flailing from its cracks, thrashing the earth. Its cockpit was open, gore gushing forth, dark blood staining the ground. A trail led from it to Celia. The little doll moved toward him grimly, tugging with all her might at a squirming, blanket-clad form, dragging it along in fits and starts.

“Got her,” Celia said. “Alive. For now.”

“Dreadbear!” He heard above him, and the bear and his girl looked up to see Zuula ghosting down on spirit owl wings, with Kayin in her arms. “We need to go! Legion is too strong!”

A shadow rose over Threadbare. He turned, to see the final daemon descending on its batlike mount. Around it the swarm of daemons swirled, four times the size it had been just minutes ago. “Is everyone in the fliers all right?”

“Madeline be out dere somewhere wit’ Garon. Jarrik…” Zuula shook her head. “Don’t know. We tore daemon asshole up good, but… no more fliers. Can’t finish de job!” She caught ahold of the winds, threw them at the skies, and the swarm swirled, then recoalesced as the last member of the Hand headed straight for them, and the first imps started their descent. “Get to de tunnel!”

“No time,” threadbare said, softly. “Get to the wards-“

Light lanced through the sky.

Light pierced through the batlike daemon, and its rider. An arrow of light, leaving a contrail of shrieking ichor behind it as it tore through the cloud.

Followed immediately by six more.

“Rapid fire arrows of light,” Zuula whispered. “Burnin’ so much fortune…”

“Wards!” Threadbare shouted, and they ran, ran as the lesser daemons kept on coming, tearing at the golems. Threadbare jogged over to Celia, grabbed ahold of the blanket, and helped her pull it up to the edge of the wards… then stopped. “She’ll die if we take her in here!”

“We’ll die if we stay out here!” Celia pointed out.

“I need her alive!” Threadbare insisted, as imps tore and ripped at him, trying for his eyes, and he laid about with his scepter, scattering them. They couldn’t do much damage, but there were a LOT of them.

“Alright, I can do this!” Celia decided. “Pommel Strike! Pommel Strike! Pommel Strike!” Drawing her sword, she smacked the blanket-clade form with the blunt end of her blade again and again. Yellow numbers flew as she beat the stamina out of her daemonic self, and Threadbare kept the imps off her as best he could. “There! She’s unconscious!”

The two of them retreated behind the wards, and oh, threadbare’s heart broke to see the state of Cecelia’s clothes and hair, and the long scratches down her face. “Mend Golem,” he told her, laying a paw on her, relieved as her injuries repaired. “I’m sorry. But we DO need her.”

The imps swirled around them, breaking on the wards, daring it a bit and hissing as it burned them. A few of them worried at the blanket, and Threadbare swung his scepter across whenever they got organized about trying to open it.

The golems got into the act, shooting into the cloud, using the rest of their crossbow bolts on the screeching, birdlike daemons.

But as the minutes passed, the swarm shrunk.

“They’re disappearing,” Threadbare said, watching as holes opened up in the air, and swallowed them. Back to someplace full of red light, someplace they did NOT want to go.

“He works like a conjurer. Lots of things, some of them pretty powerful, but they don’t stick around for long,” Celia sighed. “Is that reagent over there?”

“Yes!” Threadbare went and gathered up the scattered bits that were all that was left of the magic carpet. “Good. I can use this. Right away, actually. Well, once the daemons are gone.”

“What I want to know,” Kayin said, as the imps slackened, and the last of the swarm returned to whence they came, “is who shot those arrows.”

“Funny ya should ask that,” an old, familiar voice drawled.

Threadbare whirled, as from behind part of the wall, a gray-cloaked figure blurred into existence.

Save for that gray cloak he wore brown from head to toe, and stubble adorned his chin. His face was a mass of wrinkles, and what hair he had left was on the sides of his head, stark white and unruly.

“Ullo Mister bear. Been a while, yeah?” Mordecai said. Then he squinted at Celia. “Oh, ya got a little doll what looks like Celia now? S’cute.”

“Mordecai…” Zuula whispered, stepping out from behind Celia.

And the old scout froze. His jaw worked up and down, and he stared at the little doll. “What?” he barked, hands trembling. “What is this! What kind of… no. Mad. It’s the madness come ‘gain.” Mordecai dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands, fingers white as he squeezed his skull. “Out! Na really there! Na really there!”

“No,” Zuula said, trembling herself. “Is Zuula. Is…” She whispered, then fell silent. She looked to her spear, cast it aside. “Dreadbear. Loan her your club.”

“It’s… more of a scepter, really.”

“Do it.”

Wordlessly he passed her the bearheaded scepter.

And the golems watched in silence, as Zuula strode up to Mordecai’s trembling form, and bopped him, HARD, in the knee. He yelled in surprise, jumped up with wiry strength, and his bow was in his hands, nocked with an arrow drawn, head right in Zuula’s face.

“You is late!” Zuula thundered.

Then she bit the arrowhead, twisted her neck to the side, wrestling it from his grasp. It hummed as it went past Threadbare, and he watched as she started wailing on her husband with all her might.

“Hey!” Kayin yelled, starting forward-

-but Celia whipped her arm out to block the wooden catgirl. “No! This might work!”

“What might work? What might work?”

And as Mordecai danced backward, running from his wife, a wondering grin filled his face. He pulled out his knife, and the golems around him raised their bows… only to lower them as Threadbare waved his troops down. “Just go and harvest the soulstones. That’s more important. Let’s, ah… let’s give them some privacy.”

“Yes. Best not to stick around for what follows,” Cecelia said, looping her arm around Kayin’s shoulders and walking her away.

“What follows?” the assassin asked.

Cecelia told her.

“Um. But she’s… and he’s… how?”

“I’m not actually sure, and I don’t want to know,” Cecelia said. Kayin agreed with that on general principles.

So they concentrated on saving their dead.

A few had broken soulstones, and a quick speak with dead saved some of them… others had expired too long ago in the battle for it to make a difference. Threadbare mourned with each one that came up missing. They were lost for good. This was war, this was the cost of victory.

But the battle wasn’t done, not by a long shot. Judicious use of Celia’s telescope showed that the fray had shifted to the South. “The giants are down that way.” Celia said, from the top of a nearby hill. “They’re having a hard time of it, looks like-oh fump.”

“What?” Threadbare asked.

“Emmet. He’s down there. Along with a whole lot of troops.”

“An’ our daughter too,” Mordecai said, walking over to Threadbare and the two doll haunters, cuddling Zuula in his arms.

The half-orc glared at them. “Not one word.”

The trio nodded in unison.

“Graves and Missus Fluffbear were over with the giants,” Threadbare said, worried.

“So are the rest a’ the dwarves,” Mordecai said. “But there’s too many troops still up. Dwarves can’t stop that lot if Emmet breaks past them giants.”

Threadbare looked around at his team. Then he looked south. “I suppose we’re not done yet, then. But before we do, Celia, you’ve got a choice to make.”

“A choice?”

Threadbare walked over the blanket, and pulled it free, revealing the white armor beneath, and the unconscious daemon within. “It’s very risky. It’s also maybe a bad idea. But if it works, I think, just maybe, I can give you your body back…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 14
Ruler Level 14
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 11
Animator Level 14
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 20
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 151 Constitution: 173 Hit Points: 404(514) Armor: 62(76)
Intelligence: 270 Wisdom: 237(244) Sanity: 507(679) Mental Fortitude: 52
Dexterity: 183(190) Agility: 150(157) Stamina: 343(467) Endurance: 72
Charisma: 133(162) Willpower: 256 Moxie: 389(528) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 134 Luck: 105(112) Fortune: 239(356) Fate: 20(27)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 63 (+36)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 21
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 18
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 46
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 34
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 52
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 23
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 25

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 11
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 19

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 50 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 50 (+55% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 11
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 22
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 43 (Brawling +21)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 15
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 55
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 24
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 3

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 1
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 65
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 59
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
3 vials of Green Reagent.
4 Vials of Blue Reagent
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Interlude 3 - The Spoils of War

Mastoya hated fighting giants.

The big sons-of-bitches (and daughters of bitches,) hit hard, took a lot of hits, and scared the shit out of troops that weren’t expecting them.

Which was why, instead of beating ass, Mastoya was stuck behind the lines, charging Petunia up and down them, and yelling “Rally Troops” to rally her soldiers.

Honestly, if she hadn’t had Goliathan in her battlegroup when the blue bastards had popped up out of a suddenly-opening tunnel, she wouldn’t have bothered. Just sounded the retreat, and moved north, turned the feint up that way into a real strike.

But no, the Steam Knight had reached the level where she was Named and Feared, and also the giant she’d battered to pulp with her enormous flail still lay there, crushed, in mute testament to her might. The giants had lost momentum then, fallen back and played keep away with it, tried to get at the troops behind Goliathan instead while a few of their smarter sisters barraged him with rocks.

That was one anchoring point.

The other was Emmet.

With Inquisitor Layd’i just behind him, Emmet marched across the battlefield, and things died. When the dwarves came out to support the giants, Emmet was there. When Goliathan faltered, caught between three axe-wielding giants at once, Emmet was there.

Whoops, no, Emmet is here, Mastoya realized, reigning Petunia in as the massive armored shell loomed out of the lines. The daemon followed in his wake, frowning. “Why are you taking prisoners?”

“Why are you not on the front lines?” Mastoya bellowed, waving her sword between the two of them. Anise stepped back, eyes opening wide. “My battle! Fucking get back in position!”

“This is against the King’s direct wishes-”

“GET BACK TO IT!” Mastoya bellowed, riding directly up to the inquisitor, and rearing Petunia’s hooves over her head.

Anise backed up quickly. Then she looked to Emmet.

Emmet who was moving back to the front lines.

“What?” and oh, the daemon’s face was beautiful to see in its outrage.

“The General gave us orders,” Emmet said, moving through the ranks of the archers, and Anise followed, complaining, her voice fading as she chastised the golem.

Not that Mastoya listened for long, she was already moving again. Explosions northeast meant mortars, and the advance was slowing there.

“Unyielding,” Mastoya whispered, protecting herself against critical hits. She sheathed her sword. “Lancer,” she said, reaching into the air and pulling a steel spear out of nowhere, twirling it between her fingers before snapping it into place. “Last Crusade!” She yelled, passing through her front line, bellowing it, and hearing her troops roar as they followed her, straight towards the thin line of dwarves and the mortar teams behind them. “CHARGE!” she commanded, and Petunia sped up, sped as the bombs fell around her, as her troops crumpled from shrapnel and concussion, charged straight through the fire, leaped OVER the double-line of axemen, and landed amongst the first artillery nest.

She wanted to rage. She NEEDED to rage. It was there, it was hungry, and this was its feeding ground. Blood would sate it, she knew, more blood, even if it ripped through her like a glorious storm, even if her own blood spilled…

…but no. No, she had to keep to the plan or all was lost.

And in the split second before Mastoya landed, she sighed, fought her rage down, and said “Pommel Strike.”

Lance reversed with a quick flip, she STILL knocked the poor bastard with the telescope back about fifty feet. Then lashes took down the rest, and before the axemen could turn she was galloping hell for leather towards the next nest, and her troops were roaring, too close for the axemen to turn anyway, unless they wanted seventy-five riled up infantry up their asses.

Mastoya beat down the artillery crews, or sent them running, running back toward the newly-opened holes that they’d come from.

Once it was done, she allowed herself a moment of respite, looked around. Took stock of her battle.

She’d started with a wide advance, putting the northern forces out in front. The Wark Knights made it look like a regular assault, like many she’d tried before. Then enough of the line troops that it looked like both fronts were even.

All this had been to mask the major push that she was with, the one moving up the southern front now. The plan had been to draw the bulk of the dwarves’ forces north, retreat the northern front west, and push hard with the southern front through the diminished dwarven forces, and straight on to the mountain. Once there the siege engines could do the work.

But she hadn’t counted on the Hand tearing north, and leaving the forces they were supposed to support in the lurch. She hadn’t counted on the dwarves having artillery that could reach that far, or the loss of most of the Wark Knights. Hadn’t counted on fliers, fucking fliers, with swarms of tiny monsters that had driven off the Dragon Knights she’d deployed to cover the northern flank’s withdrawal.

So instead of pulling their forces north, then having her troops do a disciplined retreat back, to threaten the dwarves and keep them from rejoining the battle in the south, she had been forced to put everything on the southern push, while the dwarven forces held firm to the east, and were starting to tunnel in and drop off their troops from the north. The western rally point was full of injured soldiers, and broken warriors. They were no threat to the dwarves, not anymore.

The dwarves were way off script. Fliers, long-range guns, and giants. Three wild cards, she’d known nothing about. Combined with her own unreliable elites going off on a wild bear chase, the plan’s chances of success were dropping by the minute. Too many more surprises, and she’d have to order a retreat. And then, if she was wrong, the Inquisitor would ensure she had a long, painful death.

One chance, Mastoya knew. Once chance to win this.

She looked back to the very rear, to the massive wagon, animated and driving along under their own power, the drills and cannon and catapults, and the carts of explosives that would crack the mountain wide open, break open the dwarvenhold to the point where the dwarves would be forced to surrender. All they had to do was get them intact to the mountain. Five more miles, and they could do this.

She shook her head, threw a Greater Healing on herself, and headed back south-

-only to be brought up short as a figure loomed out of the dust on the horizon.

Reason.

Battered, covered in seams, staggering, it moved with ponderous speed, smokestacks still for once. Its arbalest was a shattered mess, but the monstrous machine still gripped its sword in one hand.

Mastoya stared at it for a second, something niggled in the back of her mind, but… it was gone.

No time to think. She had a battle to run. “You all right in there, Ragandor?” Mastoya bellowed.

“I’ve been better,” the heir spoke, her voice faint, barely audible. And again, something niggled at Mastoya’s mind.

No. It was Cecelia’s voice, or the voice of the thing pretending to be her, if Mastoya’s suspicions were true. Either way, it was in no shape to take on giants. But… “Go guard the engines!” She shouted. “Protect them with your life!”

There, that should keep her happy. She spent the last couple of weeks fixing those damned things anyway, she’s invested in them.

Without another word or thought, Mastoya turned and wheeled Petunia away, back to the lines.

The giants were in full rout, she was pleased to see. She was less pleased by the stream of casualties heading west. This is going to be close. And we haven’t even hit the main dwarven force yet.

Their lines were just ahead. She could see them spilling out of the tunnels their elementalists had opened, see them dressing their musket lines, braced on the shields of the axemen in front of them. So few, compared to her troops, but that didn’t matter. Each one was a veteran. Each one had been here from the start. She’d need to drown them in numbers to win, and she wasn’t sure she had the numbers.

But she did have a Goliathan. And an Emmet.

Then the cannons started, from the cliffs above, and she winced as Goliathan rocked under heavy fire. It held its shield up and forged forward, and she bit her tongue. The giants had battered her up pretty badly already… and the damage hadn’t all been mended. Was the pilot low on sanity?

She cast a look over to the Inquisitor, who was waving her hands, as Emmet’s wounds healed.

Mastoya activated the voice enhancer in her helm. “Emmet! Front and center! Goliathan, fall back!”

Goliathan hesitated. The helm turned to her.

“THAT’S A FUCKING ORDER!”

Unlike Sir Grayson, the Steam Knight of Inkidoo, Goliathan’s driver was a far more reasonable person. Less prone to outrunning his support, more willing to listen to orders. Which was always a tough one with Steam Knights, because they were charismatic enough to argue the point if they felt like it. Goliathan tipped the dwarves a jaunty salute with the handle of his flail, and trudged backwards, soldiers scattering to let him by and reforming around the titan.

“I don’t like this,” Dame Genya spoke from Goliathan’s visor as she passed Mastoya. “They’ll need me.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Go back to the siege engines and get one of the menders to patch you up.”

She spared a glance north, saw the force she’d led to swarm the artillery position on their way back, escorting battered dwarven prisoners with them. “Then get the latest bunch of captives back to the fort. Make sure nobody gets stupid.”

“Yes ma’am!” Goliathan left.

The cannons rolled, the muskets fired, and Mastoya drove her troops forward, shields up. But even with the lines running Shield Saint, even with their heavy armor, the bullets still ripped through into the troops behind. Add in the cannonballs raining from above, and it was a slog just to get to the dwarves.

This was why their small numbers didn’t matter. What mattered was what got across the field.

And Emmet, thankfully, was drawing the fire she hoped he would. He was half the size of the Steam Knight, a much smaller and faster target. Musket fire sheeted off of him, in rains of zeroes and ones as he stomped forward, Juggernaut powers active.

For her part, the Inquisitor was just as brave, give her that. She moved along behind, almost birdlike, shifting in microscopic increments, zig-zagging, dashing unpredictably. She kept her arms behind her.

“Incoming!” Sergeant Tane called, “Graves? Graves!”

“The fuck is a…”

Screaming, clinging for dear life to a cat the size of a great dane, a man in armor burst out of the dwarven lines, rode through her own, leaping over everything in his way. He was CLEARLY not in control of the great black cat.

The bizarre sight was immediately followed by a smaller, tan cat, with a very familiar little bear riding on it.

She slowed as they loped past her, stared… then her breath caught in her throat as she realized where they were going.

The Siege Engines!

“Fucking…” Then, to her amazement, she saw Sergeant Tane gesture to his squad, and start backwards. “TANE! KEEP IN LINE! REMEMBER YOUR ORDERS!”

The veteran knight yelled back, but she couldn’t hear him-

-and then he was gone.

She blinked, looked to the side, found him on the ground, his shield in fragments, and the cannonball that had caught him rolling on the ground, glowing red.

He had Unyielding up. He didn’t take the crit. His squad clustered around him, shielding him from musket fire, and then he moved and Mastoya wheeled.

The next part was the melee, and it’d be up to Emmet and her troops, now.

They’d win the fight.

She had to win the war.

Mastoya rode like mad, spurring Petunia on. An ordinary horse would have been exhausted long ago, but Favored Mount buffed her, and Horsemanship buffed her more. “Lancer,” Mastoya said as she went, pulling a spear from the air. Then she grimaced, and dipped into her sanity and fortune. “Ritaxis’ blessing of strength upon me. Shield of Divinity. Holy Smite.” The lance developed a halo, was outlined by light.

She arrived to a scene of madness.

Reason, broken and scarred Reason, was standing over the shattered form of Goliathan.

Beyond it, the siege engines were in full retreat. Three wrecked carts lay scattered nearby, cleaved in half by a massive blade. Overhead, a tiny dragon wheeled with a horned rider on its back. The catriders were, oddly enough, not heading toward the wagons. They were heading toward the battlefield where she’d broken the giants.

Mastoya reigned up. Had one of the giants survived and wrecked the wagons?

Then Reason brought its fist down to hover meters above Goliathan’s helm. “Yield, Genya,” Cecelia’s small, muffled voice spoke. “I don’t want to kill you.”

It’s silent, Mastoya realized. The engine’s silent. That’s what was wrong with it!

“I yield!” Genya called, from what was left of her cockpit, laying in the remnants of her green armor.

Reason turned then, back to the wagons as it lifted its blade and started moving forward…

I am betrayed, Mastoya realized. The daemons have betrayed me! She felt rage curdle in her heart…

But she knew how to fight this foe, now didn’t she?

She spurred Petunia, and chanted as she went. “Divine Conduit. Unyielding. Back You Fiend! Charge…”

And the minute before she hit, “Twisted Rage!”

Oh, it felt good.

She snapped the lance in Reason’s leg, making it stumble… and from aboard it, she heard screams. Many many screams. Oddly different from the last time she’d killed it, but she was too busy to think about it, too filled with the red anger, and she leaped from Petunia’s back and drew her sword, beating the thing over and over again, hacking chunks of metal free, chopping without a heed for defense. The Divine Conduit healed the wounds she took as it struck back, draining her fortune to give her the smallest bit of power from her goddess.

But Reason was healing too.

As fast as she chopped, it mended. And it wasn’t burning.

Something inside was, smoke was leaking out…

…and between hacks, as time dilated and stretched while adrenaline thundered through her, she saw the hatch in the back open and flaming teddy bears drop out.

The rage paused.

She stared, open mouthed.

And Reason backhanded her away. The teddy bears stopped burning, kept running. Someone was shouting. What were they shouting? The words blurred, the rage distorted them.

Mastoya fought it back, bottled it up.

“…go help Graves! Keep clear of her!”

A tiny red-headed doll, mildly burned, hopped out of the hatch. She was wearing a replica of Dame Ragandor’s armor. And talking in her voice.

Mastoya blinked again. Then she grunted, and dashed forward, hacking into Reason. The details didn’t matter. The goal was the same. Protect the siege engines or lose.

Then her world turned to fire.

“Give it up Nasty Masty!” She heard from above, as she leaped out of the dragonfire. Garon? Then that means…

“I can’t!” She said, taking Reason’s sword on her shield, and returning its strikes fourfold. Its healing was slowing, she WAS having some effect. But her fortune was draining so very fast…

“Stubborn girl!” She heard from behind her, and froze.

Reason fell back.

“You… I killed you,” she said, turning, the goddess’ light filling her eyes and blazing forth.

“Yeah. Killed Zuula fair and square. But Zuula cheat,” said the little half-orc doll, waving a spear at its wayward daughter. “Sorry.”

“I’ll kill you again!” Mastoya roared…

…and her heart skipped a beat, as the air rippled next to her mother, and Mordecai faded in.

“Dad?” She whispered.

He looked old.

“That’ll be quite ‘nuff out of ya, Mastoya Skunkthumper,” said her Father. “Yer on the wrong side and yer beat fair an’ square.”

The Divine Conduit flickered. One of its conditions, one of its drawbacks, was that you had to align yourself, your being, your purpose with the work of the deity you called upon. And Ritaxis wanted only war.

Ritaxis did NOT do domestic disputes.

“I…” she said, and willed the buff away. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Garon said, as his dragon beat its wings, hovering with unnatural wooden grace. “Look behind you.”

She turned, whipping her shield up, expecting Reason to pummel her down-

-and saw blue forms chasing after the siege engines, loping along, snarling. The giants! But no, they weren’t moving like giants. And a lot of them were wounded, bloody, and… undead.

“Even if you get through the armor golem, you want get through the giants that Graves just animated. And all the while we’ll be on your back, harassing you, hindering you, but NOT killing you,” Garon continued. “And it’ll be the whole family, save for Jarrik and Bak’shaz, against you. But hey, if you wanna go for a threefer and take down Dad, too, now’s your chance. Bad odds. Wanna do it anyway?”

The sword fell from Mastoya’s hands.

“I hate you, Mother,” she told Zuula.

“She know… Zuula is…” The half-orc shook her head. “Sorry. Was stupid to beat you. Was bad to hurt you. Was… trying orc parenting on half-orc. Bad t’ing to do to little girl. Never did it again.”

“I will never forgive you for it,” Mastoya told the doll.

“Okay. Is fair.”

Mastoya picked up her sword and sheathed it with a snap, reached up to the ring of beads around her neck, and ground one to dust between her metal-clad fingers. “Retreat,” she said. “Surrender where retreat is impossible. We’ve lost. We’re done.” She spoke, and the enchantment whispered the command through six more officers. They had their own beads. The command would echo down, she knew. The General of the Crown’s army bowed her head.

“Oh no.” A strange voice said from behind her, and she turned to see a little bear, a sharply-dressed bear clambering out of Reason’s hatch, pulling a charred form behind it. “No, no… I’m sorry Celia, I didn’t even notice.”

The form wore Dame Ragandor’s armor, a full-sized version of it.

With sudden understanding, Mastoya dropped her buffs, and clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. The daemon princess had been in Reason, and I was fighting it with Back You Fiend up for… how long? Long enough, evidently.

“Oh. Well. I guess that settles that,” The doll-sized version of the princess said. “No going back to my old body now. If it was even possible.”

“I didn’t even notice she was dying. Everything smelled like burning and I was healing Reason,” The teddy bear said, staring forlornly down at the meaty lump.

“No. It’s not your fault. And it was the right choice. Messing around with daemons at the last minute was how my father fumped everything up. Come on, it’s better this way.” The doll moved forward to hug the teddy bear.

And goddamned, if it wasn’t as adorable as it was tragic.

Masoya pulled her hand from her mouth. It still took two tries to wet her lips and whistle, until Petunia returned. Then it was up, up and to the front lines, to get her troops in safe.

“See ya soon girl,” Mordecai drawled, and faded from view.

She got up to the lines, to find one of Tane’s subordinates leading the withdrawal. Lana? Kara? No, Kara was the shorter one. “Status?”

“Bad. The dwarves let us go, but… the golem…”

“They killed him? How?”

“Not them. The Inquisitor.”

“What?”

“He was too thick in the fight to retreat. He surrendered. The Inquisitor looked furious. She… she punched right through him. Then she ripped his helm off, ripped it clean off. I don’t know how!” The blonde woman shook as she recounted the betrayal.

Mastoya closed her eyes. My last ally is dead I told him to surrender if I ordered it, and he followed my orders into death. “Back. We need to get back to Fort Bronze. The King needs to hear this. From your lips, right away.”

It took two hours to get back to the gates of Fort Bronze.

They were closed.

And the Crown flag no longer flew from its towers.

“Told yer we’d see yer again,” Mordecai said, fading in next to her. Without Zuula around, this time, thankfully. Mastoya thought that if she had been, there would have been nothing on Heaven or Generica that would have stopped her from trying to kill her Mother. Again.

“How?” Mastoya whispered. “The garrison…”

“Fell ta Jericho and tha rest o’ tha Rangers when ya were far enough away. Our fort now.”

Mastoya looked at him. In front of her, her army stood, staring at the gates, not quite comprehending what was wrong yet. Lines of dwarven captives stood off to the side, staring silently. Staring at her.

“Ma’am?” Sir Renick asked, riding up, eyeing Mordecai. “Everything all right?”

“No.” Mastoya said, and she drew her blade. The nearest soldiers called out in alarm, but she waved them down, as she eased off Petunia. She was tired, so tired, as she walked forward, walked to stand in front of the gates, and whirled to face her troops.

“Soldiers of the Crown!” She said, using the final charge for the day on her helm’s giant voice. “You fought well. You fought hard. You fought with honor. But you lost. We lost.” She said, feeling her eyes burn, fighting the tears. “This war is over. We fight no more.” She took a breath, turned to the gate again. “This war is over. I order all of you to stand down. I order every prisoner freed. And I surrender unconditionally.”

We’re done, Mastoya thought, bowing her head.

And may the victors be kinder to us, then we would have been to them.

The Sins of the Fathers 1

“Honestly I have no idea what she was trying to achieve,” Emmet rumbled.

“Something to do with making a demonic version of you, we think,” Threadbare said, looking down on the trudging, battered golem walking next to Reason. He and Cecelia were sitting atop the mecha-turned-lesser-armor-golem, trudging west. Below, the rest of their friends mingled with the dwarven army. King Grundi’s Kneelchair, in its warwagon configuration, kept pace with them a few hundred feet away.

Emmet was with them, and not with the other prisoners. The dwarves had objected to that, until Threadbare pointed out that if Emmet really was planning treachery, it wouldn’t matter WHERE he was.

They finally backed down when Threadbare told them Emmet was his brother, and that he’d take full responsibility for the guy.

“Yeah, making a daemon copy of you would be the most likely conclusion,” Cecelia said. “The parts she tore out of you are-are the parts she ripped from me.” The doll smiled. “If it’s any consolation, when we mended you up, they probably vanished right from her hands. I like the idea of the frustration she must have felt from that.”

“I did have a heart but it was for show. The head was… damaging. I barely survived that,” Emmet said.

“So she was able to hurt you that easily?” Threadbare asked, worried. “That worries me.”

“Not so easily!” Emmet sounded offended, just a touch. “I surrendered. I deactivated all skills and buffs. And then she commanded me not to resist her attacks.”

“And you listened to her?” Cecelia said.

“I had no choice! She COMMANDED me. She used three scrolls to do so.”

“Oh,” Cecelia said, putting her hands to her mouth. “Oh gods she’s got command golem scrolls.”

“Oh no. Those again.” Threadbare rubbed his head. “I’m to blame for her getting those.”

“You? How?”

“I was very stupid when she gave you the quest to bring her the scrolls. And it was a public quest, so I got it as well. And…”

“Oh no.”

“…yes. That was why you couldn’t find me after we became scouts. I was out delivering them.”

Cecelia was silent for a few minutes.

“I wish I hadn’t,” Threadbare said, “everything that followed was my fault. When they came for Caradon, you could have fought them off, Emmet-“

“No,” Cecelia said. “No, he couldn’t have. The house was a wreck, things were messed up, and my father had brought overwhelming force. Don’t… don’t beat yourself up over this. It wouldn’t have made a difference in the end. It just would have meant more deaths. They would have found another way to get what they wanted.”

“I do not understand what you are upset about,” Emmet rumbled, “I do not know the details. But the current state of affairs is not displeasing to me. I have found a way to satisfy both my honor and my family, as General Mastoya suggested.”

“Wait. What?”

“I spoke to her after the Inquisitor commanded me to do something I did not want to do. Together we found a workaround. And it has worked.”

Cecelia looked at the bodies they were passing, then at the small train of human prisoners… which included four knights that hadn’t stopped staring at her since they’d first laid eyes on her porcelain form. She gave Sergeant Tane a good hard look, then turned away. “What exactly are you saying? Mastoya wanted this to happen? I find that hard to believe.”

“It is…” Emmet said, pausing. “It is not enough to do the good thing, or to have justice on your side. You must also be strong enough to win. To survive. Or else good and evil don’t matter.”

“I think,” said Threadbare, glancing over to Garon and Zuula, where they were walking happily alongside Jarrik and Mordecai, “that we need to have a good talk with her when we catch up to her.”

*****

They found her in the depths of the cells, guarded by two grey-cloaked women who muttered “Scouter,” as they approached, then nodded and faded back into the shadows. Mastoya watched them come through the cell bars, looking rather ordinary out of her battle plate. Someone had taken the fingerbones out of her hair, and she was painstakingly braiding it back up into a knot.

For a good long second, Threadbare and Cecelia looked her over, and she looked back.

“And?” the imprisoned General asked.

Cecelia spoke. “I didn’t come back from Outsmouth. That wasn’t me, these last couple of weeks.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you…” Cecelia covered her face. “Did it make a difference to you, that I’d been replaced by a daemon? I thought you cared about your troops! I was under your command! Why didn’t you…”

“Do what, precisely?” Mastoya said. “Tell the King that his daughter was a daemon? For all I knew he’d ordered it. If that was the case, then I’d be dead or out of command. And if it WAS the Inquisitor who’d just killed you? Then I MIGHT be able to tell him, but if he believed her over me, or she got wind of it, I’d be dead or out of command. Stage a coup? Go traitor?” Mastoya hawked and spat in a nearby chamber pot. “Fuck that noise. My troops wouldn’t have followed me. My only worth, my only chance of doing anything was if I remained a General and gave you the chance that you needed. And I did.”

“The chance that we needed?” Threadbare asked.

“Yes. You want to break the cycle, right? You want to claim the throne and stop the wars and get rid of the demons, right?”

Cecelia said nothing. But evidently it had been a rhetorical question, as Mastoya continued. “Five years we’ve been fighting this war. Five YEARS. The nation was invested. IS invested. This isn’t just pride, it’s the heart of who we are. Good, evil, it doesn’t matter. We threw ourselves into it. Through orders, through drafts, or through volunteering, it’s Cylvania’s war. And if you hadn’t won? Then there’s no way you could achieve a lasting peace, later. You had to decisively beat the Crown. And you had to do it in a way that SHOWED my troops they were beat. And you did. You’ve won.” She lay back on her cot, staring up at the ceiling. “Deposing the King? Taking the castle? That’s just the finishing blow. Won’t be an easy one, but it’s inevitable, now.”

“If only that were true,” Cecelia whispered. “The final struggle’s just starting.”

“What?”

“Did you know that all of Cylvania is inside a massive dungeon?” Threadbare asked.

The half-orc sat up and stared. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

They explained, and she listened, eyes getting wider and wider.

“This… this explains so much.” She clenched her hands on the cell’s bars. “Why he’s like two different people, depending on his mood. He…” She looked down at Cecelia “He ordered me to kill the dwarves. All of them. No mercy, no surrender.”

“You disobeyed that order?”

“I told him to his face to get a different general. He was over me, roaring with fury, and then it just-cut out.” Mastoya’s face turned ashen. “He pretended it had been a test, and commended me for not fighting him on those orders. When I’d just refused them seconds ago. I thought he was mad. Now you’re telling me he’s a dungeon monster.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. This makes me feel better. I wasn’t betraying the king I’d sworn to serve, then. I’ve been working against a monster who’s usurped his place, more or less.” She sighed, smiling. “That makes me feel better.”

“I don’t really care about your feelings,” Threadbare told Mastoya.

“Threadbare!” Cecelia gasped.

“I don’t. It doesn’t matter why you did things. It only matters what you do.” Threadbare pointed up at her. “And a whole lot of people died today because you decided to put your code of honor before them.”

“You know nothing of it!” Mastoya yelled. ”My code of honor is THEIR code of honor! I couldn’t ask them to compromise themselves, just because-”

“Because you thought you were following a mad king into oblivion. So you didn’t tell them. You chose for them.” Threadbare continued.

“That’s what Generals… that’s what Generals DO.” Mastoya said, staring at them. “Don’t you understand? How could you understand?”

“I understand,” said Cecelia. “You coward.”

Mastoya flinched back. “What?”

“You didn’t trust them. You didn’t trust them to make the right choice. You thought he was MAD, and you went ‘oh well, guess we’ll keep on with the plan, just do things a little more nicely,’ You didn’t tell them because you didn’t trust them with the decision. And the dead? They’re on you. Meanwhile you’re in here trying to sort out your FEELINGS.”

“I’m in here because the rangers fucking put me in here, you little dolly dummy!” Mastoya roared.

“No, you’re in here because you looked at evil, and you looked at good, and you thought ‘meh I don’t care so I’ll go with whoever’s stronger!’ Cecelia stalked up to the bars, shaking her ceramic finger. “You didn’t CARE! You put yourself in here! You chose POORLY. You are a HORRIBLE person.”

Mastoya closed her eyes, and sat on the cot. “I know,” she whispered. “Knew that all my life.” Tears leaked from under her eyelids. “Never had a chance, I guess. Tried. Never found a place where I could do some good.”

The little bear squeezed through the bars, and moved up to her. “Then maybe it’s time to change that.”

She opened her eyes, and stared down at him. “How?”

“Three chances. Garon tells me that’s how many you should give family. You aren’t my family, but Garon’s very much a friend, so I think three is fair. You’ve used two of them. One when you turned down Garon’s offer the last time we were here. The other when you fought a war that you didn’t need to. But we have one more chance for you.”

Mastoya spread her hands. “Alright. What do you want from me?”

Threadbare shook his head. “No. It’s not for me to say.”

“Then who?”

“Your family. All of them. Garon and Jarrik and Mordecai and Bak’shaz and yes, even Zuula.”

“I will never forgive her.“

“I don’t care if you forgive her or not, but you have to talk to her. Because without her blessing you won’t get that third chance. And we’ll do what we’re planning, without your help, and more people will die and maybe everyone. So if you must blame her, AFTER her death, AFTER you settled your troubles with her in blood, then you aren’t the person we need for this after all.”

“Wait.” Mastoya blinked. “Jarrik? Bakky? They’re alive?”

“Bak’shaz went to the Rangers when they rose up. We just found out he was here today,” Cecelia smiled. “He’s so grown up now.” Then her smile disappeared. “Jarrik went to the dwarves, and the Hand’s daemons almost killed him. Because of this battle that nobody needed to fight.”

Mastoya sat her jaw, glared… and the glare faded, as she looked away. “I… don’t know if I can face them.”

“Up to you,” Cecelia said. “They’re all outside. Waiting to talk to you. They want to talk to you. And what they decide, after that, determines whether or not you help us or not. So it’s up to you, General.”

Threadbare walked out of the cell, offered her his arm. She took it, and together the two toys left the cellblock.

“Well?” Bak’shaz asked, as they came out. He was taller than Jarrik now, a gangly youth just out of puberty, with a turtle-shell helmet and boar’s leather armor wrapped around his lanky frame. “What do ya think?”

“I think we need to get ready to move, with or without her. This will go easier if she’s on board, but… she’s a mess,” Cecelia sighed. “If we can’t get her along willingly then we’re better off without her.”

“Well. Thanks for tryin’, anyway.” Bak’shaz shrugged. “On us, now.” He headed down to the guardroom, to round up the rest of his family. Threadbare and Cecelia headed upstairs, and found themselves joined by Madeline, Fluffbear, Glub, and Emmet on the walk up.

“I have never had a sister before. I am still ascertaining how I feel about having a brother.” Emmet told the little black bear currently perched on his shoulder.

“It’s great! Do you like kitties?” Fluffbear said, bouncing up and down a bit.

“I do not know. I have never been permitted to have a pet.”

“Oh no! That’s horrible! You can share mine, and see if you like her. If you do we can get you one of your own!”

“Okay.”

“There’s something different about you, Missus Fluffbear,” Threadbare said. “Have you gotten a bit bigger?”

“I’m a grizzly now!”

“Oh! That would explain it.”

“A grizzly bear?” Cecelia scrutinized her. She was perhaps two inches taller then she had been before. “I’m not seeing it.”

“I can hug really, really hard now. It’s awesome! I’ve got good hugs for good guys and bad hugs for bad guys! I am the decider of the embraces! Hee hee!”

“Never change, okay?”

“Oh that’s an easy promise for golems to make,” Fluffbear said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Cecelia said. “And that’s what we are now, more or less. There’s no going back, is there? This is it, isn’t it?”

“Stahting to sink in, huh?” Madeline said, bumping her sympathetically with the side of her muzzle.

“It didn’t until my body was dead. If it was my body at all, and not just… mostly daemonflesh.” Cecelia sighed. “I’ve been trying to sort out how I feel about it.”

“I’m still very sorry about that,” Threadbare said. “I forgot she was being affected by Mastoya’s spell.”

“Oh Threadbare…” She reached over and rubbed the back of his head, where the hat didn’t cover. He leaned into it. “No. It’s fine. Daemons are nothing but trouble. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have worked out, and… well, I wouldn’t really be alive, either. Just trading one shell for another.”

“You got a pretty good shell now,” Glub said, as they reached the top of the stairs and started down a long hall, past a pair of dwarven guards.

“Thanks Glub.” She smiled. “Well. There’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. We just saw an abject example of that, and I’ll be hanged before I go that route. One more thing to do, one more thing to get through, then we can figure out life, the universe, and everything.”

“There you are!” Kayin said, waving to them from next to a pair of large, oaken doors. “You’re late, desu.”

Emmet moved forward and pushed the oaken doors open, revealing one of the mess halls of Fort Bronze. It was vast, and it was empty… save for King Grundi, his honor guard, Hidon Fingers, and a stubble-bearded human clad all in grey. The stranger studied them for a long moment as they came in.

Your Adorable skill is now level 47!

“So you’re Caradon’s legacy…” The man murmured, walking over and kneeling down, offering a hand.

“One of them. I’m Threadbare. He’s Emmet. She’s Missus Fluffbear. And these are our friends.” Threadbare put his paw in the man’s hand and shook.

“I’m Jericho.” He turned blue eyes to Cecelia. “I’m sorry for the circumstances, milady.”

She shook her head. “It’s all right. I’m very glad Mordecai found his way to you.”

“You made Bak’shaz very, very happy, when he told him how you’d saved him.” Jericho smiled. “I’m glad you made the right choice.”

“Believe me, so am I.” She shook hands with him as well, and he escorted the toys to the table.

“Now that’s all well and done we’ve still got a Kingdom to save,” King Grundi said. ”But before that, I’d like to make sure we’re all on the same page. So as to prevent trouble afterwards and all.”

“Trouble?” Cecelia asked.

“Aye.” Grundi shared a glance with Jericho. “I’m just going to hammer it straight, here. We don’t think you can be queen.”

“Okay,” Cecelia said. “Who gets it then?”

“I mean, there’s a number of reasons why, and it’s not a dig against YOU-“ Grundi caught himself. “Okay? That’s all you have to say?”

“I never wanted to be a queen in the first place. It was just the duty I thought I had to do. But I’m not the heir anymore, now am I? Not by dwarven law.”

“It’s more the undead thing for the people of the North,” Jericho said. “Well, the immortality thing in general. We don’t want immortal rulers on Cylvania’s throne.”

“But it’s that last part we’re having some disagreement on,” Grundi said. “Cylvania’s throne.”

“We’re hoping you can help break our disagreement.”

“Me?” Cecelia asked.

“Well, all of you,” Grundi said. “You may not be good candidates for ruling, but let’s face it, we have no prayer of victory without you, we’ve only got this far because of your help, and if you can handle Melos and save us all then I really don’t want to have to fight you if you disagree with us THEN. So I’d like to hear your thoughts on the matter NOW.”

“What’s the disagreement?” Threadbare asked.

“For years we’ve fought because we’ve dreamed of a Cylvania at peace,” Jericho said, flexing his gloved fingers, running down them with his thumbs in nervous habit. “The survivors of Balmoran, and we who joined them, I mean. Driven into the woods, forced to a nomadic existence, down to a tenth of the population we once were. The dream has been to reunite the country with the Tyrant’s fall.”

“And I’m saying that there ain’t no country left,” Grundi’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “You got the west, that’s what, four villages? Then a few villages in the East. South’s gone, lad. Taylor’s Delve and Grubholm and Outsmouth were the last holding it. They’re gone. There’s no point in having a Cylvania anymore.”

“Grubholm’s still there, but it’s all gribbits now,” Cecelia spoke up.

“Gribbits? The frog monsters? That’s no good,” Jericho said, frowning. “We’ll have to clear them out once-”

“No!” Fluffbear jumped up. “They’re nice froggy people! They helped us sneak in here!”

“What? What d’ya mean?” Grundi asked, leaning forward in his Kneelchair.

“She’s sayin’ that theah actually decent folks. Just a bit territorial,” Madeline said. “Which maybe brings up a point. Might not be many human settlements left, but theah’s some groups of monstahs out theah that might be on boahd with being all civilized and the like. Or at least not having to fight humans. Er, and dwahves, too.”

“Like raccants!” Fluffbear spoke up. “They’d love to help humans! They’re just… kinda bad at it,” she admitted.

“That’s a point,” Cecelia said. “Leaving out goblins and ogres and the other things that can only be trusted to be malicious, there’s creatures living here now that might be up for… something. We can’t have the old Cylvania back, but we can maybe make a new one.”

“We might be able to help with that,” Threadbare said. “A lot of monsters seemed to react better to us than they did to humans. Perhaps we could travel around and see if they’re interested in… what, exactly?”

“In a council,” Grundi said, steepling his fingers. “Aye. That would work. Better than the dwarves having to take over the whole damn thing. My folk have tried ruling over humans before, never goes well. Never ever.”

“I’m honestly not sure if it would work, but…” Jericho rubbed his stubbled chin. “So long as neither of you are planning on seizing the throne once this is all said and done, we can focus on DOING it, rather than trying to maneuver for the spoils afterward. All right. I’ll agree to this. We’ll give a council a whirl, and sort out the details afterward.”

Grundi nodded, and snapped his fingers. Hidon pulled out a mass of parchment, ripped entire sections of words out, taped a few new sheets in, scrawled quickly, and handed it up to his King. The King read it over, nodded, signed, and slid it to the rest of them.

And with a few strokes of a pen, Cecelia signed away any claim she might have on the throne. The rebel leader signed his part, and Grundi nodded with satisfaction as he stuffed it into one of the compartments of his armrests. “Now that that’s done, how are we going to take down Melos? Without killing everyone, I mean?”

“You told Jericho about the dungeon situation we’re in?” Threadbare asked.

“Aye.”

The ranger nodded. “We’ve suspected something like this was going on for a while. The Hand show up as midbosses, it’s plain as day on their status. Speaking of which, we’ve got maybe a week before they respawn. Possibly less.”

“Less than that,” Threadbare said. “The daemons are our real foe. Anise lost here, and right now she doesn’t know the fort has been taken. But once word of that gets out, we’ll lose our backdoor into the castle.”

“Backdoor?” Jericho asked.

“The Waystone chamber,” Cecelia said.

“That’s a deathtrap.” Jericho shook his head. “The security on there is ludicrous. We’ve considered and rejected it. Even if we had the passcodes, it would be almost impossible to survive, let alone get through with a force that could storm the castle.”

“Ah, but when you throw a mastah merchant into the mix…” Madeline leaned in.

“I see what you’re thinking, but it won’t work. The very first thing that happens when you teleport through, is a battery of dispel magics, from the wizards on duty. So merchant’s packs explode, the invasion forces in them are revealed, then the room seals and…“ he trailed off, as he realized.

“The room seals and fills with poison gas,” Cecelia finished. Then with a grin, she reached up and tapped her nose.

“Okay, so you don’t care about that. But there’s the other traps to consider, and the guards beyond. And that helps your lot, but I’m sorry to say that I don’t think you can do it alone. You’ll need us for backup, and even if you can, I don’t know, golem through all the traps, we can’t.”

“Which is why I’ve got a plan. And in an hour I might just have someone to help with the initial breach…”

It took five hours, actually, before Mastoya caved in, and agreed to help.

But that was more than enough time, for the golems to wrap up their dreamquests, refill their pools, and ready themselves for what lay ahead.

They said their goodbyes, and took one last look around Fort Bronze.

One way or another, they wouldn’t be coming back.

*****

Waystone duty was boring. The guards on shift hated it, the four wizards encircling the chamber and watching through windows above hated it, and the alchemists in the slaughterpits below hated it.

That changed the second that the bell tolled. The guards went from numb boredom to wide-awake adrenaline.

This was an unscheduled incoming arrival.

“Dispel Magic! Dispel Magic! Dispel Magic! Dispel Magic!” The wizards did their thing. Nothing exploded, so the guards relaxed. A bit, just a bit.

“You have ten seconds to utter the passcode! Fail and you die!” The sergeant on duty called through the grated door. “Ten nine eight seven-”

“Gladius Piscine!” Mastoya snapped. “Fort Bronze has fallen. Get ready to shatter the waymark!”

The guards paled, and stared beyond her, at the pillar in the center of the room. For twenty years it had stood, emblazoned with glowing glyphs, allowing easy transit from the center of the Realm to the Eastern and Western edges. “Ma’am? I…” The sergeant stuttered. This was way, WAY above his paygrade.

“FUCKING DO IT!” Mastoya yelled, slamming her gauntlet against the door. “AND GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE THEY STONE IN!”

“I… I…” The sergeant said, after she was past the barriers and traps. “Yes Ma’am. Will you, will you sign the logs at least?”

Mastoya looked at the book. She picked it up and ripped it in half, with such force that the wooden toy on her belt jiggled and rattled. “I’m calling in Damocles protocols and you want me to sign the fucking book that is irrelevant after today?” She snarled.

The sergeant swallowed, and turned gray.

“Do it, before-”

The bell tolled. The wizards doled out dispel magics, and were answered by arrows. LOTS of arrows. “Rapid Fire! Razor Shot!” Mordecai and Jericho bellowed in unison, and mages screamed as glass shattered.

“Damocles!” The sergeant bellowed, running for the door. “I declare and authorize Damocles! Blow the room!”

Mastoya snarled, and pushed her way through the mob of guards. Behind her, the gas rolled in, the explosions started to shake the room…

…and unnoticed in the chaos and fury, two rangers used temporary waystones to return back whence they came.

Five minutes later, as guards rushed past her, she turned a corner, opened a door, and walked into guest chambers that hadn’t been used in months.

“Alright,” she cleared her throat. “We’re safe.”

“Dude,” Glub said, untying himself from her belt. “That was intense. Waymark!” he said, as he touched the floor. “You got the thingy?”

She handed him the Greater Waystone, and without a word, he took it, and faded, disappearing from Castle Cylvania…

…and reappearing back at Fort Bronze.

With a sigh, Mastoya sat on the bed, and looked in the mirror. Soon the little fishman golem would be making waystones, and handing them to the invasion parties. Soon the room would be full of invaders. And the last one to arrive would bring her the waystone that would take her back to her cell.

Her part in this was done.

And though she’d never admit it, for the first time in years, she was very, very relieved she wouldn’t be around for what came next.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 14
Ruler Level 14
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 11
Animator Level 14
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 20
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 151 Constitution: 173 Hit Points: 404(514) Armor: 62(76)
Intelligence: 270 Wisdom: 237(244) Sanity: 507(679) Mental Fortitude: 52
Dexterity: 183(190) Agility: 150(157) Stamina: 343(467) Endurance: 72
Charisma: 133(162) Willpower: 256 Moxie: 389(528) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 134 Luck: 105(112) Fortune: 239(356) Fate: 20(27) Generic Skills Brawling - Level 63 (+36)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 21
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 18
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 47
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 34
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 52
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 23
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 25

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 19
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 11
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 19

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 55 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 21
Makeup - Level 11
Self-Esteem - Level 21
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 16
Work it Baby - Level 55 (+55% to raw item bonuses) Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 11
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 22
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 43 (Brawling +21) Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 15
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 70
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 24
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 3

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 2
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 66
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 60
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.) Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
5 vials of Green Reagent.
1 Vial of Blue Reagent
A pouch of assorted crystals, rank 1-4.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day) Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

The Sins of the Fathers 2

“Theah!” Madeline said, as Emmet’s massive hand reached into the pack. “It’s go time!”

“Makeup. Parry,” Threadbare said, smearing his face with paint and feeling it shift into the patterns that resembled a grinning, cocky goateed face. He moved to the front, grabbed his brother’s gauntlet, and rode it out.

He arrived to a large bedroom full of dwarves, hopped out of Emmet’s grip, and started looking around until he saw the familiar form of Kindness. Feeling relief, he moved over to it and tapped on its knee with his scepter. “Are you okay in there?”

“Just waiting for the signal,” Cecelia said. “Activation is loud. I can’t risk doing it until-”

The room shuddered. A gong rang outside, echoing through the castle.

“Yeah, there we go. Stoker Feed Activated!” Cecelia shouted, and the miniature steam knight shuddered as metal ground on metal.

Threadbare turned, looked back to Emmet, who had gotten through most of the golems, and was working on drawing out his mortal friends. Pulsivar came out, scrambling, as his form blurred and shuddered around Emmet’s arms. Then the golem let the misplacer beast go, and the great black cat hopped up onto a bed and started grooming himself with an aggravated air.

He calmed down once Threadbare clambered up next to him, and Pulsivar did that air grooming thing, tongue rasping against the little bear even though he was visibly several feet away.

“Alright lads and lasses! Through that door! Hold the halls! GRUNDI AND BROKESHALE!”

“GRUNDI AND BROKESHALE!” The dwarves roared, and burst out of the door, shields ready and axes high.

“Boiler Shunt is Go!” Kindness screamed steam, and Pulsivar flattened his ears. Mopsy, who’d just emerged, tried to clamber back into the pack until Fluffbear grabbed her by the hind legs and wrestled her back.

The dwarves rushed out, as fast as their commanders could haul them out of the plus-sized backpacks that they’d been shoved in. They hadn’t lacked for merchants among their own ranks, even if their packs of holding couldn’t fit quite as many people in as the plush golems had.

Beryl and Jarrik were two of the last to clamber out, and with a grin, Garon waved them over. “Family party’s over here, bro. Sis.”

“Technically I’m not your sister,” Beryl said, adjusting her long-disused chainmail.

“Neither’s Sloopy,” Bak’shaz pointed to the enormous serpent coiled in a corner. “But she’s close enough.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Clockwork Engaged!” Cecelia bellowed. Clattering ticks and tocks chimed out from Kindnes, a rattle at first, then turning to a solid, drawn out hum.

It’s about time, Threadbare knew. So he put up all the buffs he could while he waited. “Bodyguard Pulsivar. Organize Minions to Stop Melos. Flex. Self-esteem. Strong Pose. Deathsight. Guard Stance. Harden.”

“Is Cecelia going to be much longer?” Graves asked.

“No,” Kayin said, clambering up above the doorframe. “Just cover her for like another minute.”

Emmet kept drawing, pulling more and more of the golem army from the bag. The forty surviving teddies and plush toys were joined with about fifty more who hadn’t been part of the assault on the Wark Riders. They spread out, filling the room now that the dwarves had vacated, readying their weapons, putting up buffs, and staring at the door with button-eyed intensity.

“Linkages Aligned!” Cecelia yelled, and Kindness straightened up, flexed its arms, and drew its sword and shield from the magnetized holders on its back and side.

“You be safe Gar, awright?” Madeline went over and thumped her head gently into Garon’s. “We got a lot to talk about aftah this is done.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Garon hugged her neck. Then he shot Zuula a look.

Zuula didn’t see it. She was too busy kissing Mordecai.

“I’d say get a room, but she’d take me literally.” Jarrik elbowed Bak’shaz.

“Cast in Steam and Steel, Raise Thy Blade! All Systems Go!” Cecelia finished. “Let’s go finish this!”

The plan had hinged upon Glub.

He’d been carried in by Mastoya, and established a lesser waymark in an out-of-the-way place that was centrally-located enough to be a good staging aread. Then he’d used one of the Fort Bronze greater waystones to return to the waymark there.

Once there, he started casting lesser waystone and handing them out to the leaders of the assault teams, each of whom was carrying a merchant’s pack of holding full of their people.

Lesser Waystone used fortune. Glub had about enough fortune left in his pool after casting the waymark that he could make twenty waystones.

The first wave of people through had been six rangers, each carrying a pack of about five to six more. They’d spread out in advance, using their superior infiltration skills to roam unnoticed, and get to critical points of the castle.

The next wave of people through had been thirteen dwarves, clerics, officers, elementalists, and other skilled veterans. Each of them had born a pack holding about four more dwarves, and some assorted gear. Their job was to wait for the signal, then spread out and secure the halls, advancing forward bit by bit and leaving a rearguard at every junction.

Emmet had been the last one through. And he’d had the honor of carrying not only Threadbare and his friends, but all the doll haunters they could cram into Madeline’s packspace… which was by now up to a pretty good-sized sitting room. It had been a tight, tight fit, and air had been a bit limited for the living ones, but they hadn’t had to wait long. It was done in a matter of minutes, and now they followed behind the dwarves, looking for their objectives.

They only had two.

And it was only a matter of minutes, before one of them surfaced.

Threadbare straightened up on Pulsivar’s back. “He’s in the inner courtyard!” He called. “Where is that?”

“Follow me!” Cecelia turned, and metal slammed on stone as Kindness charged past them, with Emmet in hot pursuit. The squads of toys behind made space, waiting for Threadbare’s team and Garon’s team to catch up to her.

“Remember,” Threadbare told the doll haunters as he passed, “He’s very dangerous. Leave him to us, just keep a perimeter and stop the guards from intervening.”

They emerged onto a scene of slaughter.

Guards lay strewn about the courtyard, bleeding and dying, filling the air with their screams. Dwarven bodies lay among them… not as many, but enough to show that a mighty battle had taken place here.

The battle still raged on.

Up on the battlements, gray-cloaked men and women clashed blade to blade with a huge man in black-armor, swirling with red demonic faces. Six blades scythed around him, driving his foes back as he clashed the largest sword, the one in his left hand, against his shield. Everything that was metal on him roiled with demonic features, eyes and arms and claws and maws, gaping and hissing and shrieking. And in the split-second that passed as Threadbare took it in, the figure called “Entropic Strike!” and brought his blade crashing THROUGH one of his opponent’s. Black light flared, and the ranger fell, flesh crumbling to dust, clothes fading and falling to bits, until what hit the ground below the battlements was old bones that shattered on impact.

“Father!” Cecelia’s voice rang out from Kindness.

And King Melos, first of his name, turned.

The surviving rangers fell back, escaping the flashing blades.

“His blades leave wounds that don’t heal,” Jericho whispered in his ear, faint as the wind. “We’ll support you as we can. Good luck!”

“So this is what they’ve made of you,” The King’s voice was as deep as Threadbare remembered it. With a mighty leap, the monarch hurled himself over the battlements. Red, blazing batlike wings stretched from the back of his armor, and flapped, as he glided to the ground below, alighting with a crash of metal. “He’s turned you into a slave, a hollow suit of armor.”

“Father, Anise has been playing you from the beginning to the end of this. You have to-”

“I know,” he said.

The courtyard fell silent.

“Then…” Cecelia said, voice tight and trembling, “then why?”

“I have no choice. Never did. I needed allies, to contact the King, to keep things under control. I turned the strongest-willed woman I knew, used her as a host. I knew she’d become corrupted in time. But I hoped that her love for me would buy me the time we needed. Time to find a solution.” The King’s voice wavered. “But there wasn’t any solution. No way to fix things before it all fell apart. And I’ve been here ever since, trying to stall, hoping that time would present a solution. But it hasn’t, and everyone’s betrayed me. As I knew they would.”

“You had a choice every step of the way,” Threadbare said. “And you chose to trust daemons over everyone else. And it’s gotten you here.”

Melos’ helm turned, turned to look at the little bear sitting on the big black cat. “And so my daughter’s enslaver shows himself.”

“I’ve enslaved no one,” Threadbare said. “Betrayed no one… well, not really,” he shot a look at Madeline, who shrugged. “And I’m here to stop you from killing this country and everyone in it.”

“We’re here to stop you!” Squeaked Fluffbear.

Melos laughed, loud and long. “Two parties? Two parties of rabble, toys and half-breeds and traitors? What hope do you have? Come then. This won’t be the first assassination attempt that I’ve destroyed.”

“Assassination attempt?” Garon snorted. “Oh no, buddy. This is a Raid!”

And with that, the two parties charged the demon king.

Garon’s new job had many drawbacks, thanks to Sylvania’s weird situation. You couldn’t form a guild in a dungeon, it was that simple. And since the entire land was a dungeon, that meant no guilds, no way, no how.

They’d even tried forming a guild in Madeline’s pack, just to see if that was possible. But evidently you couldn’t form a guild in an extra-dimensional space, either. Jarrik had even led Garon a few steps into the Oblivion, to see if it was possible to do it there, but no, that still counted as a dungeon. Which left Garon with four out of five skills that he couldn’t use, since three of the rest of them dealt with Guild functions.

But the fifth one? The fifth one made up for that.

Because now all parties involved were linked in a raid, a coordinated attack that let them talk at the speed of thought, and be heard by everyone on the same mission. “Our healing is useless,” Threadbare told the others. “The strikes from him don’t heal, Jericho told me that. Zuula, Fluffbear, can you switch to damage?”

“Sure, she do dat.”

“Okay!”

Threadbare continued. “I can tank him-”

“No! Let me! Boosters!” Cecelia said, speeding ahead of him. “He thinks I’m Kindness. He might pull his punches.”

And then they were on him, and his corona of blades screamed as they came, lashing out at Cecelia, slicing towards Fluffbear.

“Rapid Fire!” Mordecai shouted, and five arrows slashed a blade out of the air.

“Rapid Fire!” Jarrik echoed, and gunshots cracked out, and another blade dropped and shattered.

“Dolorous Strike!” Cecelia lashed out-

-and her blade rebounded from Melos’ shield. The daemons inside shrieked, as it carved a chunk free from the steel. Then she was backpedaling, as Melos lashed out of her with ALL his blades, whittling her down. “Entropic Strike!” choked out the demon king, beating her back, as red numbers ground from Kindness with every strike.

Green numbers did as well. Only ten or twelve at a time, but they slid from her as she gasped, and fell back. Mopsy and Fluffbear, who were moving around to the side, striking at his blades, shuddered as well. “What is this?” Fluffbear shrieked.

“Fear. It’s fear!” Threadbare realized. “But that’s all right. I can use an Emboldening Speech, because you’re all very brave! We can survive this. Keep fighting! I believe in you!”

Melos’ helm whipped up to study him. “A ruler? Oh no no no, this nonsense ends NOW!”

Quick as a wink he tossed his sword up into the air. “Animus Blade!” Before Cecelia could react, he slammed his hand onto her helm, grasped it by the visor. “You will never know how sorry I am for this, my dear. All is Dust.”

And Kindness melted away into a cloud of rust. Melos was already moving past her, snatching his sword out of the air again, and missed seeing the little armored porcelain doll poke her head out of the rust pile, and draw her sword.

“Stay back Cecelia!” Threadbare said through the raid chat. “Let me tank! Find things to animate! Melos, I challenge you!”

Your Challenge skill is now level 12!

Even with the boosted speed of raid speech, he barely had time to get that out before Melos was on him.

But as the King closed, Mordecai and Jarrik shot down the last of the animated swords, and the rest of the melee team encircled Melos. Bak’shaz fought side by side with Sloopy the snake, borrowing his minion’s venom, manifesting it through paired knives. Fluffbear smote into Melos with lashes from her whip that left long, smoking wounds in the demon-infused steel of his armor. Garon lashed out with his hatchet, reforged by the dwarves into a proper weapon, while Madeline chomped bites into his shield, keeping that side of him busy. Zuula dove and harried him from above, spear flashing as she tried for his eyes. And Kayin, tiny Kayin, leaped on his legs, and did her best to stab him through the chainmail protecting his knee joints.

For his part, Threadbare focused on staying alive. He’d put up all his buffs and guard stance back in the room while he was waiting for his friends to prepare, and he was very, very glad that he had. Even with his blades gone, Melos was an unrelenting foe.

But for all that, even he couldn’t land a solid strike on the teddy bear. Pulsivar was a Misplacer Beast now, and Zuula had spoken with him, hammered his part in their plan home. He dodged for all he was worth, and between that and his image displacement, Threadbare was everywhere the King’s blade wasn’t.

But Melos had more than one way to grind his foes to dust.

“I know the weakness of emboldening speeches, little bear,” he hissed, as Threadbare parried a blow that came far, far too close.

Your Parry skill is now level 23!

“They don’t affect the ruler who gives them! Staredown!” Melos called, and his eyes burned red from under his visor, boring into Threadbare’s own.

Within Melos’ aura of fear, his cool was stretched thin already. The eyes blazed into his own, and the little bear gasped as moxie fled him. He knew fear, for the first time ever, and he quailed, even as he ducked another strike.

And then Garon spoke. “Emboldening Speech. Come on Threadbare, you’ve got this!”

Melos’ red eyes widened, and he slowed, just for a second. “What? You’re… two rulers?” He gasped. “How? WHY?”

“It’s amazing the things you can do when you’re not insane with paranoia,” Threadbare told him, recovering himself a bit. “Plan snekshot, please!” He called.

Zuula snarled, a long wordless howl in feline, and Pulsivar leaped away. The team hacking away slowly at Melos’ hit points cleared out… all save for Sloopy, who coiled around the King at Bak’shaz’ command. “Hang on Sloopy! Sloopy, hang on!”

Melos snorted, released his sword, and the blade hacked mercilessly into the serpent, who tightened his grasp-

-until Emmet spoke, in a voice like crashing metal. “Rapid Fire. Razor Shot. Concussion Shells.”

Emmet’s hand split open and rolled back, revealing the cannon behind it.

And he put his grenadier levels to good use.

“Call Beast!” Bak’shaz shouted, and in a heartbeat Sloopy dematerialized from Melos, and returned to his side, as the lanky half-orc beat feet… along with everyone else who had been hacking at the King a second ago.

The bombs exploded, sending Melos staggering back. Hi shield warped under the pressure, and with a shriek, the demons insided burst, dripping from the cracks of it as red goo.

With a shout, Jarrik and Mordecai unleashed arrows and bullets on him, rocking him back and forth…

…and from the battlements, gray-cloaked figures rose, and added their own arrows, arrows of pure light, ripping into his armor.

Cobblestones flew from the misses and explosions, the two ground teams backed up, and smoke and dust swirled through the area in clouds… clouds that dissipated, as Zuula shouted “Call Winds!” and whisked them away…

…to reveal Melos standing, helm cracked, revealing his lower face, and the spreading grin across it. His shield was a wreck and he tossed it aside… then drew six more blades from his sheaths, one by one, energy flickering as they produced swords from thin air. “Animus all,” he said, and they snapped into position around him. “Hellblades!” he cried, and the black steel bubbled and burst with red light that resolved into demonic faces. Melos spat, and pointed his sword at Threadbare. “You face a Champion of Entropy!” he yelled, and wrecked shards of cobblestone rose up around him. “Who will Fight Beyond Reason, offering No Mercy!” he roared. “I will not yield! I am Unyielding! Now come, my Hellsteed-” he said, and a fiery horse ripped out of a hole in the air and screamed, as he mounted it in a swift motion. “Prepare to Charge-”

“Dispel Magic!”

Beryl had been lurking on the sidelines, for the most part. With mediocre close combat skills, and no way to heal the wounded thanks to Melos’ entropic strikes, she’d been feeling useless. But now, now she was very grateful that she’d fought so hard, and adventured so hard in the last few years, and ground Cleric up to twenty-five. Because watching that bastard fall to the ground as the horse disappeared out from under him? That was pretty fucking awesome.

Then he rose and ran for her, and it was a hell of a lot less awesome, as she ran and kept throwing dispels back at him-

-and then Threadbare and Emmet were in the way, Threadbare clawing at him, and Emmet smashing down on his former liege with heavy metal fists, and Melos was backing up. Again the melee teams closed in, and again Mordecai and Jarrik sniped his blades from the air.

Melos fought hard. Melos fought brutally. Melos fought with all the strength of a high-level adventurer, amplified by his status as a dungeon master’s projection.

But Melos fought alone.

And with the superior communication coordinating all the groups, Melos could not win.

He still fought. His blade crashed down on Emmet again and again, and managed to connect with Threadbare a time or two, but they persisted. They had the hit points and armor to stand against him, and whenever he tried to turn back to take care of one of the smaller fry tormenting him, they’d back away while the others pressed harder. It was like a great lion fighting a wolf pack, and the outcome was inevitable.

But it was Cecelia, who finished it.

“Drive him towards the gate!” Cecelia said through the raid chat.

“What? Why?” Garon snapped.

“Do it!”

Threadbare snapped his head around, almost lost it, as he saw that the portcullis was up and the gate was half-open.

“Okay,” he said through the raid chat. “I’m going to try to trick him.” Then he spoke, pointing. “No! They’ve got the gate up! Don’t let Melos escape!”

CHA+1

Immediately, the King turned and bolted., backhanding golems out of the way as he did. His armor a wreck, green patches glowing from gaping holes, he darted with all of his agility-

“Command Animus! Shut!” Cecelia shouted.

-and as he passed under the portcullis, a solid ton of animated steel snapped down, crashing into him and pinning him to the ground like a butterfly.

“Now! Hit him with everything!” Threadbare called.

And this time, when the smoke cleared, Melos did not stand.

Melos merely turned his head as Threadbare and the others approached, spitting out blood. He gazed at them with weary eyes. “Knew… it would… end this way.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Threadbare said. “Dismiss Anise. Dismiss the other daemons. We’ll come to you, and we’ll figure out a way to fix the Oblivion.”

“No,” Melos said, closing his eyes. “Better this way. Find me. Kill me. The things I’ve done…”

“No Father,” Cecelia said, moving to stand next to Threadbare. “You’ll get a trial. And then you’ll be executed or imprisoned for life, maybe. We’re not going to commit regicide. Not today. Besides, this isn’t you, anyway. If we killed it, you’d just reform it. You’re going to stay here pinned while we find the core chamber entrance, and-”

Melos screamed, long and hard, and reality flickered. And when it stopped flickering, he was gone.

And Threadbare stared, as words flashed pass his view

Royal Quest Stop Melos failed!

Target is dead.

“What the hell?” Garon barked. “Who-”

“Anise.” Cecelia said, pointing upward.

The sky was turning red. Clouds like bloody clots grew and rose in front of the sun. “She killed him,” Cecelia whispered. “She killed him and took his place.”

“Aw shit!” Madeline said, as the castle shook, twisted. Spikes burst from the walls, bloody protrusions, and demonic sigils rippled and formed patterns in the walls. “This is BAD.”

“We didn’t level. We spent so many resources and we didn’t level to recharge any of it,” Kayin said. “How the hell are we supposed to deal with THIS?”

“No,” Threadbare said. “We don’t have to deal with this. We have to get to where she is, and stop this. Jericho?”

“I’m here.”

“Go to the labs, we’ll be right behind. Tell the dwarves to secure the way. Find a place full of flashing green light, and guide us to it. Quickly!”

“On it! You heard the bear, move people!” Jericho waved, and the rangers faded out one by one, save for the last couple, who simply hopped down from the spiky wall and ran.

“Let’s go!” Threadbare said, riding fast after them.

“She pretty much almost annihilated us the last time we fought her,” Graves said, falling in behind him, riding a skeletal horse he’d gotten from somewhere. “How are we going to deal with her AND the Hand at the same time?”

“I’m working on that right now,” Threadbare told him.

“And what of us, Lord?” said one of the teddy bears, as the golem army fell in behind him.

“I have part of a plan,” Threadbare said, mopping the makeup from his face. “Once we get down there I’ll need every one of you to get naked…”

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 16
Cave Bear Level 14
Ruler Level 14
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 11
Animator Level 14
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 20
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 151 Constitution: 173 Hit Points: 404(514) Armor: 62(76)
Intelligence: 270 Wisdom: 237(244) Sanity: 507(679) Mental Fortitude: 52
Dexterity: 183(190) Agility: 150(157) Stamina: 343(467) Endurance: 72
Charisma: 134(163) Willpower: 256 Moxie: 390(529) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 134 Luck: 105(112) Fortune: 239(356) Fate: 20(27)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 68 (+40)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 21
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 18
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 17
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 47
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 34
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 58
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 23
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 25

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 20
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Noblesse Oblige - Level 37
Organize Minions - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 13(20)
Firestarter - Level 11
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 19

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 5
Dietary Restriction - Level 55 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 22
Makeup - Level 12
Self-Esteem - Level 22
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 17
Work it Baby - Level 55 (+55% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 12
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 27
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 50 (Brawling +25)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 15
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 19
Creator’s Guardians - Level 70
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 24
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 3

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 2
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 66
Golem Guardians - NA
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 60
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
5 vials of Green Reagent.
1 Vial of Blue Reagent
A pouch of assorted crystals, rank 1-4.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

The Sins of the Fathers 3

The castle groaned under the weight of demonflesh, spikes protruding from the walls, and buzzing swarms of flies and stranger insects seeping forth from gore-dripping holes between the cracks. It was strongest down here in the labs, and the allies fought with all their might against the twisted things that lunged at them out of the darkness.

But the rangers had spent years honing their craft, the dwarves were sturdy and unimpressed, and the golems ran interference for Threadbare and his friends with all the fanaticism that a former-fish-cult-turned-immortal-warriors could bring to the matter. Bleeding and spiky walls? Unspeakable horrors? Pfft, wasn’t a big deal. The worst they could do was KILL you, and eh, they’d been through that already.

“We’re here,” Garon said from ahead, and Threadbare and Cecelia moved through the shattered doors, It was an open laboratory, with a curtain of green light shifting back and forth inside a door-less cabinet.

“Looks kind a’ like a wardrobe,” Jarrik said, hands flickering nervously as he checked each pistol in his harness.

“Well, we know theah’s a witch inside.” Madeline said. “Not too shoah about a lion, though.”

“Give me time,” Interrupted one of the plush toys, brushing his mane back, and the group shared a nervous chuckle.

“Is everyone ready?” Threadbare asked, dismounting from Pulsivar. The big cat nudged at him, but Zuula hopped down from Mordecai’s arms and snarled in his own language. Pulsivar moved back to Mopsy, sulking. “Everyone healed up?” Melos’ entropic effect had worn off a few minutes back, thankfully. Healing worked again. They would have been pretty bad off if it hadn’t.

“Ready!” Chorused every teddy bear in the group. Like Threadbare, they’d stripped down to their fur, leaving their gear in piles outside the doorway. All save for Missus Fluffbear, who had a different task entirely.

“Right,” Madeline said, positioning herself next to the wardrobe. “Glub, give us a song. Fluffbeah, do the clarity.”

“Clarifying Song! Whoa oh. Gonna keep it going long, whoa-oh…”

“Aura of Clarity!”

With her sanity regeneration bolstered, Madeline started handing out Endure Fire spells.

Threadbare nodded. “I suppose it’s my turn. This is your King’s Quest. Kill all the daemons.”

“Kill all the daemons!” Roared the golems.

“And I’ll Organize Minions even though that’s not a nice name for you, so I’m sorry.”

“We don’t mind being minions!” Roared the golems.

“You’re really my friends, to be honest, it’s just the name of the skill.”

“We love being your friends!” Roared the golems.

Threadbare smiled, and picked up the bag full of soulstones left over from the Brokeshale battle. “Remember! If she shatters your stone, find the bag! Nobody dies permanently!”

Garon interrupted before they could cheer. “All right! Party captains, like we rehearsed… Do the Job! Fight the Battles!”

Their roars shook the ceiling. As did those of the dwarves. The rangers, at least, were a little more quiet.

Threadbare turned back to his friends…

And stopped, staring at a dreadlocked green teddy bear with tusks. “Um…”

“Beast shape not work way Zuula think it do,” the shaman told him. “It be fine.”

“Got the fahst wave done,” Madeline said, resting and regaining her sanity. “I’ll be in with the last. If you kill Anise quick I don’t mind.” Threadbare handed her her laurels, and she grinned. “Thanks.”

“You saved me family, Mister Bear.” Mordecai told him, kneeling down. “And Celia girl saved me. We’ll back yer up. Just survive, remember what I taught yer.”

“I’m looking forward to the rematch,” Graves said, locking his visor in place. His new dwarven helm completely covered his mouth, but they got the gist of his muffled words.

“Bitch is going down,” Kayin drew her thumb across her throat. “And I’m not desu to say that.”

“It’s smiting time!” Missus Fluffbear squeaked, bouncing up and down on Mopsy.

Glub just kept singing his song, but he shot them a thumbs up.

“Yeah, let’s go fuck her up,” Beryl grinned wide. “I owe her some pain.”

Pulsivar just slurped his crotch. It seemed like as good a time to groom as any.

Emmet offered a hand. Threadbare shook it. “We will fight well, just as we were made to do,” his big brother rumbled.

“He’s not wrong. One more fight, Threadbare.” Garon hugged Threadbare, and got a hug right back. “We’ve got this. Now let’s go Raid!”

And so, the first wave of teddy bears charged through, into the green-lit darkness beyond. “Camouflage,” Threadbare whispered, and followed them.

Your Camouflage skill is now level 14!

It was different from the raccant dungeon, Threadbare realized on the way end. The dark space between this world and the next wasn’t unbroken blackness. There were four green discs spinning, weird distorted, uneven things, that drew the eye-

-and then the world turned to fire.

But Madeline had buffed him before he went in, buffed him like everyone in this wave, and half of the damage simply evaporated. He didn’t burn, he merely smoldered, and then he was out and through the wall of fire and running faster.

“Command Golem! Destroy all golems!” he heard Anise shouting from ahead. The scrolls, of course. If he’d walked through the portal alone, she would have targeted him with it. But lost in a crowd of forty others who looked very much like him? She didn’t have the luck to hit him with it straight off the bat. Even if she had a way to see through his camouflage, which he doubted.

Anise was on his to-do list, but he had a few things before that. Threadbare looked around.

Black nothing, most of it, a floor that felt like stone but wasn’t. A wall of fire in front of the portal, blocking the way, burning with oily smoke. Green pillars, far more than had been in the raccants’ dungeon, some small, some large. And in the center of it, a throne, with an old man’s corpse on it, his eyesockets burnt out. His body was broken, many times over. As was the throne, the tinker-like gadgets on it and the pipes running from it shattered and sparking green energy. The pipes ran to pylons, columns of green light… and four of those held gems, he thought, glittering on their podiums. The rest held what looked like lumps of charcoal.

Bodies lay about the largest column. In it floated a handsome, nude man… the Lurker, Threadbare realized. His eyes were shut, and he had his hands clapped to his ears.

The rest of the Hand and Anise moved among the columns, battering down the teddy bears. Threadbare searched until he saw the Legion, flanked by a pair of enormous red dogs that breathed fire. He wasn’t calling in swarms, so Threadbare mentally crossed him off his list, for now. Limited pools meant that the summoning daemon wasn’t the immediate concern.

The blackness above flashed with green light, and Threadbare looked up-and gasped. The sky was crammed full of numbers. Flickering, reeling drunkenly in long strings, like a woven tapestry of ones and zeroes and other digits… but this was a tapestry full of holes. Black spots writhed and danced among them, like slimes quivering and trying to engulf prey. And where the void touched the numbers broke and dissolved.

It looked wrong.

But enough was enough. Now that he had a sense of what he was up against, it was time to fulfill his part of the plan.

Threadbare dropped the pack of soulstones behind a column, rummaged in a pocket, and pulled out a vial of green reagent. “Ward against daemons!”

Error! Coordinates for Ward_0125123 not found!

The reagent didn’t flow into a ward, and Anise’s mocking laughter rose above the din of the battle. “Fool! This is far outside of what you think is reality! Wards don’t WORK here.”

Her voice was approaching, and Threadbare muttered “Camouflage” before slipping back into the darkness, running for the nearest knot of teddies.

Not three seconds later she rounded the column, stared at the nearest bunch of teddies, and whipped a scroll out from her pocket. “Command Golem! Destroy all golems!”

The scroll turned to black ash, and she snarled. Then she leaped in among them, landing with her legs in a perfect split, hands flashing as she dealt out a flurry of furious fists. Her hands hit and tore, and two of the teddies died in a heartbeat.

And from the side, Threadbare crept closer, eyes fixed on the scrolls poking out of her pocket. This would be a risk, but…

“Firestarter,” he whispered, stretching out a paw.

Your Firestarter skill is now level 12!

At the sound, Anise slammed her hands into the ground and whipped her feet around, like a scythe cutting grain. Caught square on, Threadbare went flying back, out into the darkness. Anise backflipped to her feet, kicked the last couple of golems left, and looked around.

“There you are!” She said, striding right for Threadbare.

“I suppose I am,” he said. “Call Outfit.”

Your Call Outfit skill is now level 6!

His clothes materialized around him, and instantly, he felt much better.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said, reaching toward her pocket…

…and shrieking in surprise as her hand hit fire. With a look of disbelief she dug into her pocket, cursing, whipping out the wad of burning paper. “You worthless little toy!” She snarled, casting the ruined scrolls aside, as fire burned and arcane sparks flew off in all colors.

Threadbare used the opportunity to break and run for it, whispering “Camouflage” as he went.

“You only delay the inevitable!” Anise screamed. Behind her the last of the teddy bears fell, as hellhounds tore it to shreds. The three figures rushed to join her, spreading out at her command, searching for the little toy.

And not finding it.

Your Stealth skill is now level 18!

“A few dozen teddy bears. Really, what did you hope to achieve?” Anise said, flicking her gaze over to the Cataclysm. “Renew the wall.”

Wordlessly, the beautiful brown-skinned woman did so.

“Did you think to soften us up? Did you think to weaken us?” Anise laughed. “It was no trouble at all to deal with you. I lost a few scrolls, so what? We’re barely wounded. And every second that the one you call the Lurker is in there, more of your puny little kingdom dies. People, animals, even the crops… every tragedy you can imagine, he’s inflicting on Cylvania right now. Every nightmare Melos had ever hoped to prevent, happening at once. And everyone will die in torment.” She stalked around the pillars, looking for the little bear. “Why?” She said. “Why bother coming here? You’ve LOST.”

Threadbare weighed his options, and sent along a Wind’s Whisper. “I wonder,” Threadbare’s voice whispered in her ear, “why you didn’t do this sooner, if this is what you wanted. Everyone dead, I mean.”

Your Wind’s Whisper skill is now level 20!

She smirked. “It was funnier to make Melos and the rest of you fools do it to yourselves. But in a pinch, this’ll do.”

“And I wonder,” Threadbare continued, “If you know how to work this dungeon at all.” He paused, then sent a third whisper. “Or if you’re just playing it by ear and hoping it works the way you think it does.”

Your Wind’s Whisper skill is now level 21!

Anise laughed smugly, as she moved past the throne, eyes peeled, looking for him. “Are you looking for the part where I tell you how to fix this mess? Forget it. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s already hopeless. I just killed the only one who might help you with that,” She grinned over at Melos’ slumped corpse, lying in a puddle of blood, his head gone.

“Oh, he’s dead? That’s all?” Threadbare whispered. “Well, that part’s easy. Speak with Dead.” Said the little bear, stepping out from behind the throne.

Your Speak with Dead skill is now level 25!

Melos rose from his corpse, whole again, in ghostly form, staring about him.

But Threadbare didn’t have much time to examine him. Instantly, Anise was on him, foot catching Threadbare, and sending him flying. He bounced off a pillar, rolled a few times in a shower of green sparks, and scurried to his feet. “Fry him!” Anise shrieked.

The Cataclysm hurled a bolt of smoking flame-

“Manipulate Faia!”

-only to see it turn aside.

The daemons froze.

The daemons turned to look at the entry way.

And at the wall of fire that had been quietly been pushed out of the way with elemental magic, and reshaped into an enormous fist, with the middle finger fully extended.

“Good distrahction, boss!” Madeline said, ripping the golden laurels from her head. “We’ll take it from heah!”

“Get’em!” Garon yelled, and the second wave of toy golems charged.

“Mend Golem, Mend Golem,” Threadbare said, putting himself back together, before slipping away again. “Camouflage,” he whispered, fading away, moving toward Melos, who turned to meet him with a sorrowful gaze.

Behind him, the daemons started up a dark chant, hailing Cron and Vhand…

“Dispel Magic!”

-but Beryl was having none of that.

Threadbare did his best to ignore the fighting at his back. He didn’t have the sanity to heal, like he normally did in these fights, and Anise would shred him if he tried to tank. No, he had to trust his friends to handle them, and focus on the third task in his checklist.

“We don’t have much time,” Threadbare whispered, drawing close to Melos. “How do we fix the Oblivion?”

“If I knew that I would have done it!” Melos raised his hands. “Do you think I wanted this?”

“Well, what have you tried?” Threadbare asked.

“I… I’ve been trying to get enough wizards and enchanters skilled enough to take a look at the damn thing, but… I think she’s been killing them,” Melos muttered, glaring at Anise. “So I haven’t tried a hell of a lot. I’m in over my head, here. I was.” He sighed. “Cron’s balls I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Self-pity later, please,” Threadbare asked, shooting a glance back. Graves and Fluffbear were leading a line of wooden toys against Anise. It wasn’t going well. Meanwhile, the other half of the strike force was focusing on the Ninja, while Madeline countered the Cataclysm and dealt with the hellhounds’ fiery breath. That was going a bit better, but still not well. “I need helpful suggestions. What happens if the dungeon is sealed?”

“The other ones forming the barrier will still be open. Everyone dies,” Melos said, shaking his head. “The Oblivion sweeps inward and everyone will go into the numbers. No one comes back from them.”

“Okay, how do we close the other dungeons?”

“You can’t.” Melos pointed at the green, warped discs between the core chamber and the rest of reality. “The throne adjusts the space in the dungeons. They’re… stretched out, to form the oblivion. And the throne is wrecked! There’s no way to un-stretch them! They’re stuck at WIDE. If they were returned to normal, you could enter them, one by one, and kill the pygamlion animus that’s holding each one open. But with space distorted? Nothing would survive that. Not even you, little golem.”

Threadbare looked at the Throne. “Mend.”

Invalid target! Unidentified item.

Melos laughed, ruefully. “Don’t you think that’s the first thing I tried? You can’t mend the throne, you can’t mend the exhausted cores. It just doesn’t work.”

“The active cores. Is there something we can do with those?” Threadbare pointed at the glittering gems.

“No!” Melos shouted, covering his mouth in horror. “I had that idea too. I threw a Dark Augury for that one,” Melos said, pointing at a pile of gore and guts assembled into a blasphemous pattern. “The vision was horrible, but true. If the throne were intact, it might work. But if the cores are removed BEFORE this dungeon is sealed, even a split-second sooner, then the part of the Oblivion they make up EXPLODES instead of IMPLODING. You’d wipe out an entire region, for each one you removed, and then the other three would be stressed harder to compensate, and the Oblivion would snap around into a smaller space…”

Threadbare shook his head. He looked back at the battle, saw Emmet manage to get his hand around the Ninja’s leg, and get shanked repeatedly for the trouble. His brother staggered, guarding his helm and eyes, as red numbers leaked from the cracks in his armored shell. And then the Legion was on him, summoning up another giant hellhound to replace a fallen one, as his friends worked like mad to keep him at bay. This isn’t going well.

He looked around the room. Looked up. “What are those?” He said, pointing up at the sky, at the shattered numbers and the voids.

“I… don’t know,” Melos said. “I think it happened after we broke the throne. It’s been getting worse ever since. Like cloth wearing down. Losing threads, losing thickness. Getting thinner.” Melos shuddered. “I fear it. I fear what it means, when those holes join, and everything ruptures. Like space itself is… threadbare, I suppose. Just waiting to rip away completely.”

“So it’s broken,” Threadbare said, staring up at it.

“I… suppose? But not in any sense that could be…“

“Mend,” said the little bear, stretching up a paw.

And one of the holes shrunk.

“…what.” Melos said.

“Look!” Threadbare said, pointing at the entryway. One of the warped disks was noticeably LESS warped now. And less like a disc. There were shifting colors on it now, there was just a hint of depth.

“My gods,” Melos said, looking like he might cry. “You can’t tell me it was that simple.”

“Celia!” Threadbare whispered, through the wind. “Look up! Mend the holes in the sky!”

A second, while he wondered if she’d gotten the message. Two. Five. And then…

Then, as he watched, the holes started shrinking. Green numbers filled the gaps in between them, flowing now, moving with more vigor.

The battle slowed, as both sides noticed the changing light. “Everyone” Threadbare shouted. “Everyone who can mend, mend those holes in the sky!”

“No you don’t!” Anise shrieked, and went straight for Cecelia…

Only to be forced back, dodging, as Jarrik emptied all his guns at her.

“Mend!” Shouted Cecelia.

“Mend!” Graves muttered, behind the muffling visor he wore to keep Anise from kissing him again.

“Godspell Mend!” squeaked Missus Fluffbear, as she moved Mopsy out of the fight, much to the cougar’s relief.

And the holes shrunk. The discs in the entryway flexed, and gained shape… until they were portals again. “Keep her busy,” Threadbare whispered to Garon, spending five more points of his dwindling sanity. “I’ll go sort this out!”

“Not alone you’re not!” Garon said. “Kayin, go with him!”

Threadbare bolted for the first portal, and Kayin hurried in behind him, keen eyes piercing his camouflage.

With a ripple they were through, into another darkling plain… this one tiny. Only a few columns gleamed green here, and in the central one, stood the statue of a beautiful dwarven woman, motionless, staring out at the world.

Then a flicker behind him, and Threadbare glanced back in time to see the Ninja cartwheel through the portal, hurling shuriken straight at him.

“I don’t know how to fix this! But I can fix her!” Kayin yelled. “Go! I’ve got this!” The catgirl growled and launched herself at the black-clad figure, and knives flashed and flew between them as they moved, almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Threadbare ran straight up to the column. “Get out! Please get out!” he said, but the statue didn’t move.

He poked the green light around it, found the light no barrier, and smacked the statue on the leg with his scepter. “Hey there! Please come out!”

It did.

The Pygmalion statue charged out, and tried to stomp on him. Threadbare danced back, and weighed his options.

Well. It WAS some sort of construct, wasn’t it? “Eye for Detail.”

Behind him, Kayin shrieked. There was a sound of tearing cloth. But the spell told Threadbare what he needed to know, as he dodged away. “Command Animus, accept my invitation!”

And he invited the statue into his party. It stopped trying to stomp him, turned, and charged the Ninja.

Reality flickered, as numbers appeared in the sky. Threadbare ran back, pausing to grab up Kayin’s torn body as he went. “Are you alive?”

“That’s a good question,” she coughed. “But yeah, just lost another life.” The ninja had cut her clean in half.

He shoved Kayin in his pocket for now.

Behind him, stone shattered, but that didn’t matter, because he was back through the portal. “Zuula! Vines!” he called. “Block the portal!”

But it was Bak’shaz who reacted, reaching into his pack and throwing a flowerpot down in front of it. It broke, plants and dirt went everywhere…

“Call Vines!” Zuula said, and then there was a wall of plant matter, that rippled and churned. Something behind it struggled, writhed, trying to get out…

…too late.

A scream echoed, trailing off, as the vines pushed inward to the empty space where the dungeon had been. The ninja was gone.

On the loot pedestal, one of the glittering gems churned for a bit, then popped, like an overheated glowstone. “One down!” Bellowed Melos’ ghost. “It’s working! Keep at it!”

“Go!” Roared Anise, and across the field of shattered toys, the Cataclysm roared towards Threadbare as he ran for the next portal. Then he was through, and already, already he could hear the air burning at his back-

-and turning from him. “Manipulate Faia!” Madeline yelled, swooping in behind the Cataclysm.

“How many of those do you have left, little dragon?” whispered the daemon, as fire traced arcane patterns on the black ground below her, and flaming tentacles rose up. “And can you withstand a magma kraken, I wonder?”

But then Threadbare was smacking the statue, and backing up as it came out kicking. “Command Animus, accept my invitation!” The statue hesitated, then arrowed straight for the Cataclysm.

“Yeah, I ain’t fighting that thing, sweethaht,” said Madeline, swooping over and grabbing up Threadbare, then beating wings back to the portal. “Seeya!”

“Get he-“ The Pygmalion statue tackled the Cataclysm, and the daemon shrieked. “Get this off of me!”

Then they were through the portal. As soon as they were, the vines went up again. “Out of sanity!” Madeline whispered in his ear as she put him down. “What do you want me ta do?”

“Go tell the dwarves that it’s their turn,” Threadbare said, glancing around. That was two daemons down. But Legion was calling in armored fiends now, Anise was still going strong, and his friends were flagging. Pulsivar was down, Threadbare saw with horror, but he couldn’t tell how bad it was. Sloopy the Snake was dead, torn into bits. As were most of the toys who’d followed them in.

No time! He raced through the next portal…

…and a brace of the armored fiends followed, pushing past Mordecai and his family, taking the hits, to race in after the little bear.

He was faster though, and he reached the control pillar with time to spare, smacking the statue and dodging its return strike, luring it out of the pillar. “Command Animus, accept my invitation!”

Threadbare sent it towards the daemons…

…who weren’t advancing. They were guarding the exit, spears and blades out in a phalanx.

They’re not trying to stop me from sealing it, they’re trying to keep me here until it closes!

Threadbare ran forward, trying to pass, but their spears knocked him back every time. The damage wasn’t much, but they had weight over him, and his thoughts were scrambled. He was low on sanity, with no clever ideas, no tricks to pull-

And then Emmet was there.

Emmet had no clever ideas. Emmet had no tricks to pull. Emmet just had his fists, and a whole lot of daemon butt to kick.

And it was enough.

The phalanx broke, Threadbare leaped through, and Emmet caught him, backing off just as the portal wavered and disappeared.

“One more! Get it quickly!” Melos commanded.

“No! No you don’t!” Anise screamed. “Vevintarego? OUT!”

Grinning, the lurker stepped out of the central control pillar, pulled knives, and came forward to join the battle…

…and the main dungeon rippled.

Reality groaned.

“Get to the pillar! Get someone in there!” Melos yelled.

“Not a chance!” Roared Legion, and he ripped his hands through the air, and shuddering walls of daemonflesh rose to bar the way, as Anise laughed and laughed. “Close, but no victory for you!” She called. “Well, at least you’ll all die quickly!”

“Melos!” Graves yelled. “Get in there!”

“What?” The dead king stared at him. “What can I do? I’m dead!”

“Yes! You’re temporarily a ghost. A disembodied soul!” Graves yelled back. “And daemons can’t do shit with souls!”

The battle stopped.

Anise looked at him, leaped over to Melos, and put her hand through his head, so fast that her sleeves snapped in the air.

Melos stared back at her, unhurt. Then he grinned, and blew her a kiss.

Reality flickered again, and when it returned the former King was disappearing through the flesh of the daemonic walls, hindered not one bit by their physical forms. In a matter of seconds the flickering stopped.

“No!” Anise shrieked…

“Yes,” said Threadbare, emerging from the last portal with a statue following him. “You’ve lost.” Then he shifted back out of the way, as a double column of dwarves rushed in, taking up positions around the entryway, shields held high.

He pulled Kayin from his pocket, as gently as he could. “Mend Golem,” he told her, using most of his remaining sanity. She gasped as her lower half reappeared, and hopped to the ground.

Anise drew herself up, smiling. “Focus Chi to hands. Focus Chi to hands. Focus Chi to hands. Offensive Stance.” She said, as her arms disappeared into glowing, pulsing spheres of energy, roiling red and gold. The succubus sneered. “You saved your land. Bravo. But you really can’t stop me from killing my way through every last one of your friends, before I get to you. Twenty dwarves? Bah. Speedbumps. I’ve still got enough energy left to-”

“NOW!” Yelled the dwarven captain.

Twenty shields hit the floor.

Twenty pairs of dwarven arms shifted to the wide-barreled blunderbusses hanging from their backs and pulled them over their shoulder with a smooth motion.

“DOWN!” Garon bellowed, and the toys and their friends dropped.

And thunder came to the darkened realm between worlds.

Martial artists had phenomenal agility.

But blunderbusses, designed to throw clouds of shot at short range, really didn’t care too much about agility. The daemons ate a full cloud of shot.

Legion rocked back, slicked with blood. One of his Hellhounds disintegrated. The Lurker vanished, then reappeared, holes punched straight through him as he dropped.

But Anise was made of sterner stuff. Bloodied, screaming in incoherent fury, she leaped into the dwarves, sending them down in crumpled heaps as her arms rose and fell, threshing, smiting them down, until-

“Corps a Corps!” yelled Cecelia, parrying her, staring up at her murderer with loathing in her painted eyes. Her blade locked firm to Anise’s fist, as the chi pulsed around them both, rippling and making Cecelia’s hair rise.

Sneering, Anise drew back her other fist-

“Corps a Corps!” Shouted a squeaky voice, and suddenly tiny black paws were wrapped around the daemon’s last hand. Anise froze, staring down at the little black-furred armored bear, snugged tight, dangling from her wrist. “You?” she whispered in disbelief.

“Me. Bear Hug! Innocent Embrace!” And Missus Fluffbear SQUEEZED.

A red ‘320’ burst up from Anise, as she shrieked, her bones cracking and her flesh melting to ash. Missus Fluffbear had put up Heavensblade and Holy Smite earlier in the fight, and they added in here as well. The succubus fell to her knees, as Fluffbear leaped from the ashen, crumbling remnants of her arm, wrapping her arms around her neck. “One more time for Yorgum! Bear Hug! Innocent Embrace!”

Anise fell. Cecelia sheathed her sword, and turned her back on the crumbling ashes, slowly walking away from the daemon’s remains.

The Legion gasped, turned to run-

“Rammit!”

-and got promptly knocked to the ground as Garon put his horns into the back of his knee. Zuula and Bak’shaz and Madeline fell on him, while the others tackled the last hell hound. In a hot minute it was done, and the daemonic walls withered to dust the second their summoner was dead.

In the silence, in the gasping of the dying dwarves, Beryl and Fluffbear and Zuula moved around the fallen, distributing healing while the toys checked, looked to make sure they were all alive.

The doll haunters, the ex-cultists had fallen to a man (and woman for that matter,) and Threadbare and Graves moved among them, collecting soulstones from the bodies. Graves made more whenever they found a broken one, and the ghosts that had been waiting on the fringes, staying out of the way, rushed in to fill them.

And then, Threadbare’s vision filled with words.

You are now a level 17 Toy Golem!
+2 to all attributes!
You are now a level 15 Ruler!
CHA+3
LUCK+3
WIS+3
You have unlocked the Kingsguard skill!
Your Kingsguard skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Proclaim Treaty skill!
You are now a level 16 Ruler!
CHA+3
LUCK+3
WIS+3
You are now a level 12 Duelist!
AGI+3
DEX+3
STR+3
You are now a level 13 Duelist!
AGI+3
DEX+3
STR+3
You are now a level 14 Duelist!

AGI+3
DEX+3

STR+3
You are now a level 15 Animator!
DEX+3
INT+3
WILL+3
You have unlocked the Deanimate skill!
Your Deanimate skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Distant Animus skill!
Your Distant Animus skill is now level 1!
You are now a level 16 Animator!
DEX+3
INT+3
WILL+3
You are now a level 21 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5
You are now a level 22 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5
You are now a level 23 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5
You are now a level 24 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5
You are now a level 25 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL+5

You have Unlocked the Greater Golem Upgrade skill!

Your Greater Golem Upgrade skill is now level 1!

The levels tore through him, refilling his energy, and expanding his mind. Threadbare felt things snap into clarity, felt everything crystallize. “So much,” he whispered, then turned to Garon. “The raid skill you used. The experience gets split a little more evenly among the survivors, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Even though Fluffbear got the killing blow, it spreads it out among all parties involved.” Garon said, shaking his head. “My gods. She was…”

“Significant events, too, don’t forget that,” Cecelia said. “We just saved everyone. We just… oh gods. Didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Threadbare said, his high-powered intelligence running through the ramifications. “Without the dungeons that make up the outer wall, this is just an ordinary dungeon, now. Under the control of a strong-willed ghost.” He stared at the dungeon master’s column, and the see-through form of Melos, who looked back.

And for a second, he worried.

“Father,” Cecelia said, moving up to the pillar. “Come out. Please,” she said, beckoning. “Let’s end this.”

Melos looked down. He put his hand over his face, rubbed it. Then he stepped out. And as reality flickered, he knelt, staring at his daughter. “I’m so very, very sorry.”

“I know.” Cecelia looked up at him, reached out a hand. He reached out to touch it, sighed as it went through. “You remember, how you came to take me away from all childish things?”

“I do,” said Melos, fading with the dungeon.

Cecelia looked around, and smiled. “Be really fumping glad my childish things came to get me back.”

The dead king laughed then, the first honest laugh he’d had in over a decade.

And with that, he and the dungeon were gone.

The toys and their living friends looked around at the darkened labs. Old, dusty, dirty, strewn with broken equipment…

…and lit by purple and green light, as a violet crystal appeared with a snap in midair, trembling. They held their breath, all of them did…

…before it shattered, into millions of shards, and fell to the floor, green numbers wisping away, and gone.

“Well,” Threadbare said, in the silence, as he hunted around and found his backpack full of soulstones. “It’s over. Let’s go home.”

Pulsivar nudged him, purring, and Threadbare mounted up and led the way upstairs.

And with a mighty cheer, they all left the darkness and ruins of the past behind, and walked out into the sunlight.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5

Jobs: Greater Toy Golem Level 17
Cave Bear Level 14
Ruler Level 16
Scout Level 8
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 14
Animator Level 16
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 25
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13

Attributes: Strength: 162 Constitution: 175 Hit Points: 417(527) Armor: 62(76)
Intelligence: 303 Wisdom: 242(249) Sanity: 545(722) Mental Fortitude: 52
Dexterity: 200(207) Agility: 161(168) Stamina: 371(495) Endurance: 72
Charisma: 139(168) Willpower: 289 Moxie: 428(567) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 136 Luck: 110(117) Fortune: 246(363) Fate: 20(27)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 68 (+40)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 21
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 18
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 18
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 47
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 34
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 58
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 23
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 25

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 20
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Kingsguard - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 56
Organize Minions - Level NA
Proclaim Treaty - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Scout Skills Alertness - Level 3
Best Route - Level 3
Camouflage - Level 17(24)
Firestarter - Level 12
Keen Eye - Level 12
Sturdy Back - Level 13
Wind’s Whisper - Level 26

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 6
Dietary Restriction - Level 55 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 22
Makeup - Level 12
Self-Esteem - Level 22
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 17
Work it Baby - Level 55 (+55% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 12
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 27
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 50 (Brawling +25)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 15
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 23
Creator’s Guardians - Level 70
Deanimate - Level 1
Distant Animus - Level 1
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 20
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 24
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 3

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 2
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 4
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 66
Golem Guardians - NA
Greater Golem Upgrade - Level 1
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 66
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
4 vials of Green Reagent.
1 Vial of Blue Reagent
A pouch of assorted crystals, rank 1-4.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs

Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Loose Ends 1

“I feel silly.”

“You look fine.”

“I know I look fine, I still feel silly.”

“You can still back out. Garon’s going to be right there. He can give you Scout back.”

“No… no, no, I said I’d go through with this.” Cecelia sighed, and tugged her clothes more firmly about her. A rich, grape-like purple, draped with emeralds, it covered her modestly, and directed attention upwards to her hair, which had been stuck in place with a box full of golden pins.

“I don’t think you’ll regret it. It IS a very good job, particularly for someone who’s going to be doing a lot of negotiating. And the buffs ARE nice.”

“It… I’m wearing clothes that I made myself. It just feels… no, it’s silly for me to be arguing about this. I know, I know, most of the kingdom gets by like this. It’s just that until now, clothes were things that came from other people. I feel like my work is going to be tested, and I know it’s a stupid thing to worry about but if I’m worrying about this I’m not worrying about the news, or how to sell our idea to the others.”

“It’s a good idea.” Threadbare said. He wore a matching purple suit, in lieu of his normal clothing. Though he’d kept the Toy Top Hat. The gribbit envoy would be very disappointed if he didn’t.

“Yes, it’s a good idea, but that doesn’t mean much when it comes to politics. Father taught me that.”

“I’m not entirely sure he was the best one to follow when it comes to political advice.”

“True, but I don’t really have many other role models to go by, here.”

“Well you’re going to be your own model soon, then you can roll however you please.”

“Threadbare! That’s not what I-” Cecelia stopped when she saw his smile, and laughed. “You’re right. I’m worrying about nothing.”

“Probably.” He looked up at the double doors they’d come to, and knocked gently with his scepter. After a minute, Emmet opened them.

Threadbare had made the armor golem’s suit himself, and with a silent sigh he took in the rips, tears, and scuffs the giant metal golem had inflicted upon it. And the stain in the crook of its arm, where a tiny, fluffy dog dozed guiltlessly.

“Welcome,” Emmet said, then turned and announced in his brassy voice; “Councilor Gearhart of Central Cylvania! Councilor Threadbare of Central Cylvania!”

“There y’are!” Called King Grundi. “Come on over! We were just talkin’ about Taylor’s Delve.”

“Oh? How’s the expedition going?” Threadbare and Cecelia found their seats at the large, round table. It took some time to clamber up the chairs provided for them.

No one was quite comfy here. At the other end, Jarl Greta Sumvonesdottir sat on a pillow the size of a King-sized bed, her blue knees well above the table’s edge. King Grundi and Bazdra Coaler stood to one side of her, with Jericho the ranger next to Grundi. Hidon Fingers and Beryl Wirebeard took the flank on the other side of her, with Garon sitting next to Beryl. Next to the little wooden minotaur Longcroak the Gribbit Envoy nodded, his own top hat flopping as he spoke. “Well, goes well. Many carts, much traffic through Outsmouth. Much trade. Golems very happy. We are very happy.”

“There’s no trouble with the eggs, right?” Cecelia said. The first time they’d encountered the frog monsters weighed on her mind. No matter how reasonable gribbits were at the council table, they couldn’t shake the age-old instincts that drove them to aggression whenever predators neared their eggs.

“Trouble? No trouble. Don’t have spawning grounds in Outsmouth or near Outsmouth where landsfolks can reach. Outsmouth is just… com-mute. For wu-rk,” Longcroak belched the last word. The gribbits were still adjusting to the new ideas.

“And there’s enough fish for you and everyone else?” Threadbare asked.

“Oh yes. Big lake. Take only what we need. Golems don’t eat. Plenty of fish to sell across land.”

“Which is seriously helping with the expedition,” Garon said. “We’re clearing the area in record time, between the folks you loaned us,” he nodded to Jericho, “and those of us who are golems. We don’t have to sleep, and the living folks have plenty to eat… so long as they like dried fish, anyway. We… do have a request, though.”

“Oh?” Threadbare asked.

“The Oblivion’s gone, and the Thundering Pass is reachable from the Delve again. That’s the only way in or out. We’d like a garrison…” Garon took a breath. “And we’d like Mastoya to lead it.”

“Out a the question,” King Grundi said, folding his frail arms.

“Mastoya? De vun who beat us?” Greta rubbed her chin. “Vhy is she out of der question?”

“Putting her in charge of anything military is risking a coup,” Hidon scowled, tugging on his beard. The covert ops dwarf stared over at Cecelia. “We’re already hearing rumors of unrest in the Central region, folks wanting the ‘good old days’ back.”

“That’s very much a minority,” Cecelia said. “Mostly older folks who never fought in the wars, and minor nobles who profited from them. More talk than anything else.”

“Putting up a stone statue of Melos in the middle of the town square is a bit more than talk,” Jericho said. Then his eyes crinkled. “Even if it did vanish overnight. Leaving tracks that looked like it walked off its own plinth and just kept going.”

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about that,” Cecelia shrugged.

Threadbare knew plenty about that, and was wise enough to keep that to himself.

Cecelia continued. “In any case they didn’t ask my permission before putting it up, and it was in violation of public land usage regulations. Baroness Rhoda found the fine lighter than the public humiliation of being served papers at the unveiling ceremony she planned. That turned out to be an empty plinth, anyway.”

“That’s good and well. But there’s always going to be a sentiment, a segment of grumblers,” Bazdra said, toying with the silver hourglass hanging from her neck. “It’s the cycle. Time and again it’ll happen.”

“Right. The grumbling will be there regardless,” Garon said. “Which is why putting Mastoya in charge of the vital garrison for the pass is a good move, because she’ll do the job regardless of politics or attempts to coerce her.”

Grundi scowled. “There’s nothing you can say to convince me that letting General Mastoya anywhere near a group of impressionable troops is a good idea!“

“Who said anything about General Mastoya?” Garon and Beryl shared a grin.

“What are you playing at, then?” Grundi scowled harder.

“I think SERGEANT Mastoya would do a fine job down there.”

A pause.

Then Grundi laughed. “Oh, she’ll hate that!”

“Yep. It’ll be a training facility for the volunteer army. She’ll be responsible for troops in a way she’s never been before. And she’ll answer to the best officers that you can provide.” Garon moved his gaze from Grundi to Jericho.

Grundi nodded, grudgingly. “She’d be good for that. Decent with troops, just… too big on following orders to be a General. So long as she’s never an officer again we’ll allow it.”

The ranger filled a pipe, and nodded as he lit it. “Firestarter. We can give that a try. We’ll be watching her, of course.”

“Of course. Speaking of watching…”

“I suppose it’s my turn,” Jericho said, and stood, pulling out a map, giant-sized for the Jarl’s benefit. He unfolded it, and the toys hopped up on the table to get a better look.

The map showed all of Cylvania, and a few days travel beyond. “There’s nothing,” Jericho said simply. “Old roads, foundations where homes and villages used to be, empty ruins for the most part. Monster tribes in a few cases, none of the peaceful ones, either. Nothing we couldn’t handle, but…”

“Basically, we’re surrounded by wilderness in all directions,” Cecelia said.

Jericho shot her a sardonic look. “Mordecai talked to you, I expect?”

“Briefly. With everyone visiting the castle, I got a few minutes with him at most.”

“Mm. Well, that’s the truth of it. Best guess is that when we Oblivioned out, the nearby settlements that depended on our trade routes and proximity folded or got overrun. There’s no sign of the invading army that King Garamundi was so worried about, or that they even reached this far. Which doesn’t mean they’re not a week to the East, dealing with other business now, but… it seems unlikely. If they conquered the area a few years ago, I can’t see that they wouldn’t have a watch post set up, at least.”

“We don’t know what’s out there,” Threadbare said. “And we need to change that. I have an idea.”

“We have an idea,” Cecelia nudged him with her ceramic elbow.

“Sorry. Yes.” Threadbare rubbed his head. “We’d like to send out explorers. Not just people with the Explorer job, either, but people who want to go have a look around. Then come back and tell what they’ve seen.”

“Scouts, basically,” Jericho said.

“More than that. That’s the thing, really. We want varied skills and jobs. We want adventurers. Young ones.”

“My rangers can easily do that job.” Jericho frowned over his pipe.

“True, but how many of you are there? And all of you are very high level. Some of the highest we’ve got.” Threadbare shook his head.

“Which is the problem,” Cecelia said. “You’re already the peacekeeping force in the North and West, and you’re spread thin throughout Cylvania, spying on things so that the hotheads don’t turn unrest into rebellion. And that’s not getting into the fact that in the event of a threat, we’ll need you at home.”

“There’s the greater waystones, but they all go to Fort Bronze, since the central one’s broken,” Grundi shrugged. “And there’s only about ten waystones left, all told.”

“And they’re not getting replaced until we get an Explorer up to twenty-fifth level,” Cecelia said. “Which will happen faster if we send out EXPLORERS.”

“Mm. To tell the truth I’m having trouble holding some of my people back,” Jericho said. “Not the rangers, the young ones, the survivors of Balmoran. They’ve been living nomadically so long that they want to go exploring. What exactly are you proposing?”

“That we set up a sort of club to go exploring, to go see what’s out there, and reclaim it, if that’s the right thing to do,” Threadbare said. “I was thinking it could be called the Reclamation Association of Generica.”

“Rag,” Beryl snorted. “Cute.”

Cecelia nodded. “Yes. We’ll set up lodges along each of the routes out of Cylvania, to make sure people heading out get the best training and support we can give. It’ll cost some money and resources, but in the long run, it’ll benefit us immeasureably.”

Grundi looked to Bazdra and Hidon. “How much money?” he asked.

Twenty minutes later, Jarl Sumvonesdottir was snorting with her head and most of her torso on the table, so loudly that everyone had to shout to make themselves heard over her. Forty minutes later they reached a settlement.

“Good,” Cecelia smiled, as Hidon passed around the contract, and every leader signed it. Even the giant, when they managed to wake her up. “There’s just one more thing.”

Hidon threw his hands up. “You literally could have said that before we all signed!”

“No,” Threadbare said. “This is more of an informal agreement. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And talking it over with Cecelia and Beryl.”

Eyes moved to Beryl, who shrugged, and tapped the newly-minted symbol of Yorgum on her chest. “What? I’m his confessor.” It had been an amiable parting when she left Aeterna’s service for the god of builders, thankfully.

“Anyway,” Threadbare said, “I would like golems to be in as many of the exploration parties as possible. And for those living folks who want to do it to carry soulstones.”

The councilors turned to look at Bazdra.

“You’re putting me in a spot here,” the dwarven cleric said, steepling her fingers. “I told you the problems that would arise, given enough time. My position on those haven’t changed. Undead that can hop bodies and persist eternally are going to cause us problems, both with the mortal followers of the gods and the gods in general.”

“Actually I’m not putting you in a spot,” The little bear said, spreading his paws. “It would be in the contract if I was. I’m giving you the chance to say yes or no, and the society will abide by your decisions, without reservation.”

“What?” Bazdra blinked.

“We’re still trying to draw up rules for how to do the golem body-hopping shit without pissing off Aeterna or Nebs. NOBODY’s dumb enough to want a beef with the Goddess of Time or the Goddess of Death,” Beryl spread her hands. “So we’re giving you the shot to stop it cold turkey. But at a cost.”

“That cost being, a greater chance of permanent fatality among the explorers,” Cecelia said, into the silence. “At a time when we’re low on people already.”

Bazdra rubbed her eyes. “We don’t know what’s out there, do we?” She asked.

“Could be entire peaceful nations beyond the wilderness,” Jericho shrugged. “Could be hordes of dragons just outside our scouting range. We’re running blind.”

“I’m just worried that this will be a compromising decision,” Bazdra shook her head. “Trading the moral implications for extra security. This land tried that already, and look how THAT turned out.”

“It’s a good worry,” said Cecelia. “And I’m glad you’re concerned. But… well, doll haunters already make up a fifth of Cylvania’s population. We’re already compromised. Short of going out and killing all of them, myself included-“

“No one’s suggesting that!” Bazdra raised her hands.

“-I know, I’m just saying, the die has already been cast. Right now there are only two, possibly three sources for Golems in the kingdom. But eventually more people will learn the unlock for Golemist, even if Threadbare and the others never teach anyone else. And necromancer’s an easy unlock, that anyone can get from interacting with, oh, Doll Haunters or other undead.” Cecelia sighed. “They’re our people. We have nothing to gain and everything to lose if we treat them differently. They’re not going away, barring a major disaster. So we need to look at ways going forward. Which is why we want them represented in the RAGs.”

“How would putting them in every team help us with that?” Bazdra asked.

“Because,” Threadbare said, leaning forward, “this will let us test and see how the rest of the world reacts to the notion of sentient golems. And by seeding them in among the people most likely to run into the rest of the world, we get to find out how various nations, groups, and other sorts react to our discovery BEFORE they’re on our doorstep with armies.”

The Council considered that for a long moment. Then the dwarves were nodding. “When you put it that way… I can see the wisdom in it,” Bazdra said. “All right. I have no objections. Anyone else?”

“I got vun.”

Surprised, the rest of the Council looked up to the grumpy giant. “We gots to do der north first. Exploring it, I mean.”

“What? Why?”

“Ve’re out of de Sunfire mead. And de only brewery what makes it vas up dere, last ve knew, so ve gots ter go north first.”

“What?” Grundi shrieked. “I told you to nurse that stuff!”

“Ve did!”

“It ain’t even been four months!”

“Yah, and It vas only t’ree kegs! Ve ain’t made of stone, dammit! It’s SUNFIRE!” Her bellow rattled the table.

About an hour later, after placating the surly Jarl, the Council resolved a few other minor issues and broke up.

“Did you get it?” Threadbare asked, on their way out the door.

“Hm? Get what?”

“Model.”

“Oh yeah.” She grinned. “I read the skill descriptions during the dull parts of that meeting.” She sighed. “We’re going to be having one of these every few months for the rest of our existances.”

“Or until we are destroyed,” Emmet said, falling in behind them. The small dog in his arms snapped awake at the motion and barked a few times, on general principle. Emmet scratched it with the tips of his fingers until it thumped its tail against his chest, and settled.

“You really shouldn’t let him pee on you,” Threadbare said.

“Did he?” Emmet looked down. “Oh. My skin is not so sensitive to that.”

“It’s all right. Clean and Press.” Threadbare looked him over, and threw in “Mend,” for good measure.

“But yeah. Council meetings for the rest of our lives…” Cecelia said. “Or maybe not. When the time comes we can hand off the reins to someone else. Once things are a little more settled.”

“Reason might be a good candidate. She’s taking her name seriously,” Threadbare said. “She likes books and debating things.”

“She’s coming along well, then?” Cecelia shot him a concerned look.

“Oh yes. We had a Zuula and Fluffbear on hand for the luck buffs before I gave her the greater upgrade. Armor golems don’t get any better mental stats, so it’s a good thing we did. Also a good thing we were in the middle of nowhere.” Threadbare frowned. “I’m still not sure where those maxicores came from. Anyway, she’s got six adventuring jobs and three crafting ones. I think that’s the best I can do right now, but I’ll keep working on it. I might be able to get that number higher for future greater golems.” He stirred, as he remembered a detail. “For her first job she wants to be a knight just like her mother.”

“Her mother? Who-oh.” Cecelia clapped her hand to her mouth. “You told her I was…”

“No. Not to begin with. She remembers you, vaguely.”

“Much like I remembered you?” Emmet asked, “from before I had thoughts?”

“We think so. I told her of you after she brought it up and started asking who you were.” Threadbare smiled up at Cecelia. “Would you like to meet her?”

“I would. She’s… where, exactly?”

“About a day to the north.” Threadbare sighed. “In a pretty burnt patch of forest. I think… that I need to talk to Jarl Greta about renting her dungeon core for a while. I could use it to make a controlled safe space for Greater Golems to grow up in, and get their luck up before they go out to the outside world.”

“So long as that’s the only experimenting you’re doing with dungeon cores, I’m fine with that,” Cecelia said. “Yes. I would like to meet her. Maybe tomorrow, though? It’s been a very long day.”

“It has. Shall we retire?”

“Yes. Once I get out of these clothes.”

Minutes later, Cecelia sat in her bedroom, dressed in her nightgown and brushing her hair. She didn’t need to wear the one or do the other, not anymore, but it comforted her. Pulsivar curled up next to her, hogging most of the bed, even though he appeared to be on the edge of it. Even in sleep, his Misplacement effect continued.

And hanging his hat on the rack, clad in only his fur, her teddy bear joined them, hopping up on the small bed and waiting until Cecelia hugged him tight. She was smaller now, and her arms and body were much harder, but it was close enough for him. She was still his little girl.

She settled back in bed, next to the warmth of Pulsivar’s invisible fur, and smiled. “Ready.”

“Dreamquest,” Threadbare told her. With Garon’s help, he had swapped out Scout, then Montaged and taken Shaman, and ground it up as fast as he could. It was nice to be able to talk to Pulsivar, and some of the skills were handy. But mostly he’d just got it so that Cecelia could sleep, and dream whenever she wished.

And for now, for a little while at least, his girl’s eyes closed, and Threadbare snuggled in against her, while she slept.

For this, for her, he had cast down a tyrant, defied daemons, and saved a kingdom.

And it had all been worth it.

THREADBARE’S CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Threadbare
Age: 5
Guild: Reclaimers Association of Generica

Jobs:

Greater Toy Golem Level 17
Cave Bear Level 14
Ruler Level 16
Tailor Level 11
Model Level 11
Necromancer Level 11
Duelist Level 14
Animator Level 16
Enchanter Level 12
Golemist Level 25
Smith Level 11
Sculptor Level 13
Shaman Level 5

Jobs stored in Guild Registry
Scout Level 11

Attributes: Strength: 177 Constitution: 175 Hit Points: 352(462) Armor: 62(76)
Intelligence: 303 Wisdom: 233(240) Sanity: 536(712) Mental Fortitude: 52
Dexterity: 200(207) Agility: 137(144) Stamina: 347(471) Endurance: 72
Charisma: 139(168) Willpower: 289 Moxie: 428(567) Cool: 20(55)
Perception: 112 Luck: 125(132) Fortune: 237(354) Fate: 20(27)

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 68 (+40)
Climb - Level 14
Clubs and Maces - Level 21
Dagger - Level 9
Dodge - Level 18
Fishing - Level 1
Magic Items - Resist Fire 29
Ride - Level 12
Stealth - Level 18
Swim - Level 5

Greater Toy Golem Skills Adorable - Level 47
Bodyguard - Level 9
Gift of Sapience - Level NA
Golem Body - Level 34
Innocent Embrace - Level 17
Magic Resistance -Level 17

Cave Bear Skills Animalistic Interface - NA
Claw Swipes - 58
Darkspawn - NA
Forage - 13
Growl - 2
Hibernate - 37
Scents and Sensibility - 23
Stubborn - 10
Toughness - 25

Ruler Skills Appoint Official - Level NA
Emboldening Speech - Level 20
Identify Subject - Level 10
It’s Good to be King - NA
King’s Quest - Level 15
Kingsguard - Level 1
Noblesse Oblige - Level 56
Organize Minions - Level NA
Proclaim Treaty - Level NA
Royal Audience - Level 22
Simple Decree - Level 15
Swear Fealty - Level NA

Tailor Skills Adjust Outfit - Level 5
Clean and Press - Level 20
Recycle Cloth - Level 2
Tailoring - Level 54(69)

Model Skills Adjust Weight - Level 14
Call Outfit - Level 6
Dietary Restriction - Level 55 (+110 to all pools)
Fascination - Level 9
Flex - Level 22
Makeup - Level 12
Self-Esteem - Level 22
Sexy Pose - Level 2
Strong Pose - Level 17
Work it Baby - Level 55 (+55% to raw item bonuses)

Necromancer Skills Assess Corpse - Level 12
Command the Dead - Level 28
Deathsight - Level 9
Drain Life - Level 8
Invite Undead - Level 12
Mana Focus - Level NA (+11% to sanity)
Skeletons - Level 19
Soulstone - Level 45
Speak With Dead - Level 24
Zombies - Level 3

Duelist Skills Challenge - Level 12
Dazzling Entrance - Level 17
Disarm - Level 2
Fancy Flourish - Level 13 (20)
Guard Stance - Level 22
Parry - Level 27
Riposte - Level 1
Swashbuckler’s Spirit - NA (+20 to cool)
Swinger - Level 2
Weapon Specialist - Level 50 (Brawling +25)

Animator Skills Animus - Level 41
Animus Blade - Level 15
Animus Shield - Level 4
Arm Creation - Level 7
Command Animus - Level 23
Creator’s Guardians - Level 70
Deanimate - Level 1
Distant Animus - Level 1
Dollseye - Level 18
Eye for Detail - Level 23
Magic Mouth - Level 18
Mend - Level 68

Enchanter Skills Appraise - Level 30
Boost+5 - Level 25
Boost +10 - Level 5
Disenchant - Level 24
Elemental Protection - Level 18
Glowgleam - Level 26
Harden - Level 36
Soften - Level 31
Spellstore I - Level 40
Spellstore V - Level 18
Spellstore X - Level 8
Wards - Level 3

Golemist Skills Armor Golem - Level 2
Bone Golem - Level 1
Call Golem - Level 5
Clay Golem - Level 3
Command Golem - Level 24
Flesh Golem - Level 1
Golem Animus - Level 66
Golem Guardians - NA
Greater Golem Upgrade - Level 2
Invite Golem - Level 12
Mend Golem - Level 67
Program Golem - Level 43
Toy Golem - Level 83
Wood Golem - Level 19

Smith Skills Adjust Arms and Armor - Level 20
Refine Ore - Level 15
Smelt Down - Level 7
Smithing - Level 52

Sculptor Skills Detect Clay - Level 8
Mend Ceramic - Level 6
Refine Clay - Level 18
Sculpting - Level 61

Shaman Skills Beastly Skill Borrow - Level 1
Call Vines - Level 1
Dreamquest - Level 25
Fated Preserver - Level NA
Poison Resistance - Level NA
Secret Herbs and Spices - Level 5
Slow Regeneration - Level 3
Speak with Nature - Level 16

Equipment Journeyman Tailor’s Apron of fire resistance (+6 Armor, +10 Tailoring, Resist Fire 9)(+3 Armor, +5 Tailoring, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Okay Quality Bling
Ringtail Master’s Coat of fire resistance (+5 CHA, +5 LUCK, +5 Armor, +5 Fate, +10 Resist Fire 10)(+2 CHA, LUCK, Armor, Fate, +5 Resist Fire from WIB)
Rippen Tear Cloak (+10 to brawling, +5 Armor)(+5 Brawling, +2 Armor from WIB)
Rod of Baronly Might (+5 CHA, +5 WIS, +10 Cool)(+2 CHA, WIS, +5 Cool from WIB)
Sneakypants (+5 Camouflage)(+2 Camouflage from WIB)
Yellow Belt of Bravado (+5 AGL, +5 DEX, +5 to the Fancy Flourish skill)(+2 AGL, DEX, Fancy Flourish from WIB)
Toy Top Hat (CHA +10)(+5 CHA from WIB)
Golden Laurels (Enables the REST skill, usable every two hours.)

Inventory A Folded-steel Dagger (Dagger Level 10)
Tailor’s Tools
4 vials of Green Reagent.
1 Vial of Blue Reagent
A pouch of assorted crystals, rank 1-4.
Minorphone (Enhances voice and social skills focused through it twice per day)

Quests

Unlocked Jobs

Air Elementalist, Berserker, Cleric, Cook, Cultist, Grifter, Spirit Medium, Tamer, Wizard

Loose Ends 2

Madeline was waiting for Garon outside the conference chamber. “Is the boring stuff done?” The red-painted dragon demanded, grinning at him.

“Oh yeah. Is the fam behaving?”

“Mostly. They won’t miss us foah a bit.”

“Cool. Shall we?”

It was a few flights of stairs up to the battlements, then a quick hop on her back, and Madeline roared, before launching herself into the air. Garon clutched her neck tightly for a second, then relaxed as she took off, flapping.

“I didn’t hear a scaly wings in there! Had me worried for a second.”

“I roared it. Tahns out dragons can do that. Just roar out any skill they want, and it counts as commanding it. It’s paht of that Draconic Tongue skill.”

“Any skill? Not just the dragon ones?”

“Any skill.” She beat her wings as they soared over the city, and Garon rode in silence for a bit, checking out the streets below. They were distressingly empty.

“We could use a few more dragons,” he said, as his mind turned over the numbers he’d been privy to in the last council meeting. Four hundred doll haunters, give or take, made up a fifth of Cylvania’s population. True, that wasn’t counting the dwarves, but even adding them in, they were only like four hundred or five hundred more, at most. Cylvania was down to less than two thousand humans.

“It’s not gahnna be a hahd sell,” Madeline said. “Mind you, that faia elementalist thing is paht of it too, unless you want people blowing themselves up.”

“There’s gotta be something in higher levels for that.” Garon shook his head. “You’re only level four. Maybe next level, I don’t know.”

“Guess I’ll find out.” Madeline grinned, as her spine twisted under him. She curved around the edge of the city, circled back, spooking pigeons and crows as they went. “Ya know, I never did ask. Why a minotaur?”

“Eh. More of a matter of why NOT a minotaur. Big, strong, not too obviously dumb, no real weaknesses or surprises. Well, beyond that Maze-ing Grace skill, but that’s more of a weird boon than anything else. And no rage, that’s a big deal.”

Madeline laughed. “Don’t have to tell me twice. It was pretty bad to watch, those yeahs I had to keep you tied up. Wait, shit. Soahry? Too soon? I didn’t mean to…” She shut up.

“No. No, it’s fine. You were a vampire, back then, and that’s what vampires do. Did, anyway. Figure death has buried that, you know? We’re free to be who we want now, and I figure the you that hurt me is dead, and the me that betrayed you in the end is dead, too. I’m Garon and you’re Madeline, and we’re free to be awesome together.”

“Togethah.” She beat her wings again. “Not the way I’d envisioned it, but it ain’t so bad. Though it does make me curious. Zuula and yoah old man, what do you think they… I mean how do they… in bed, and all?”

“You know, you could ask her that, and she’d tell you in graphic detail.”

“Why do you think I ain’t asked her?” Madeline shuddered underneath him.

“Heh!” Garon snorted. His muzzle was good for that. “They sleep together, that’s all I know. Whether or not they do anything uh, beyond that, I couldn’t say. They’re happy. That’s all that matters. Personally…” He freed up a hand and rubbed his chin. “I think it’s the intimacy. That’s what makes it love. They can be alone together, and whatever they do is just icing on top, you know? The core of it is you’ve got two people alone, who trust each other, and just enjoy each other’s company.”

“Sounds kind of like what weah doing now,” Madeline said, flapping her wings to get over a tower.

“Yeah,” Garon said, resting his hand back at the base of her neck. “It does.”

They flew in silence for a bit longer. But not awkward silence. It was more of a warm silence, an answer given to a question that had never been asked, and a satisfaction that grew as they considered it.

They stayed out much longer than they’d planned, but it was worth it.

Zuula was waiting for them when they returned, standing on the battlements and throwing pebbles down at the guards below.

“Mom! Stop that.”

“No, it fine. Dey got helmets.” She lifted up a rock the size of her head.

“No.”

“Tch. Talkin’ to you mother dat way…” But she put the rock down. “You got de t’ing you say earlier?”

“Yeah. You ready?”

“No, let her go be human and fart around and angst for an hour OF COURSE ZUULA READY!”

Garon nodded, and reached out a hand, smiling as she grabbed it like she was drowning. “Shaman Promotion Fifty!”

And Zuula’s mouth fell open into a huge, tusky grin as she declared “Level twenty-six!”

“Twenty-four more to go.” Garon grinned. “Maybe by then I’ll have unlocked another promotion skill.”

“You bust butt on dat. Zuula ain’t slowin’ down. Er… maybe good time to mention dat.” She said, nodding toward the trapdoor and the ladder leading down.

“Not slowing down?” Garon said.

“We… gonna go. Mordecai and me. Go sout’, go on one last adventure.” She sighed. “He… not in good way. Forgets t’ings. Slowing down.”

“Oh jeeze. Mom, look, I… you’re not going off to die, are you?”

“Pfft, no. Not our way. Don’t be stupid. But if it happen, it happen. He not soulstoning. Not gonna come back dat way.”

They descended the ladder as Garon considered.

Madeline spoke up. “Yoah coming back, though, right?”

“What? Yes. Or maybe we both come back. This one last chance to see world outside, while Mordecai can still get around.” Zuula said. “Once we see enough of it, we make decision den.”

“You’d better. I mean, we’re not going to have kids, but there’s still hope for Jarrik and Beryl. And Bakky too, maybe, I don’t know what his situation is. Regardless, I really want my cousins to meet their grandmother AND their grandfather, if at all possible.”

Zuula glared at him. “Fighting dirty.” Then the glare softened. “So proud of you! Proper orky tactic!”

“I learned from the best.” He hugged her, and she hugged him back, biting at his shoulder affectionately.

“So when are you going?”

“As soon as you promote Mordecai. He got some jobs to level up!”

“Yeah, he’s at the top of the list. It takes a good chunk of fortune or else I’d do all the rangers at once.” Garon rubbed his head. “Tell him I’ll stop by tonight, okay? He’s… doing well?”

“He sane. It worst in de mornings.” She glanced up toward the sun, scowled at the ceiling. “Zuula be glad to be out of here, soon. When we waystoning back, anyway?”

“Tomorrow, I’m thinking,” Madeline said. “Time enough foah another flight or two round the city.” She nudged Garon with her tail, and he jumped. “See ya around, Gar.” She sauntered off, smiling.

“Dat one a keeper,” Zuula nudged him.

“Yeah.” Garon nodded, watching a draconic tail give one last wiggle as it disappeared around a corner. “She is.”

*****

“Nah. It’s back to Brokeshale for us, bro,” Jarrik said, draining the last of his beer. “Too much light out here. Too much space.”

“That’s kind of ironic, given how much I remember you being into the outdoors and exploring the hell out of things when we were kids.” Garon said over his mug. It was full of water, but he drained a sip into the compartment in his chestwhenever Jarrik took a pull of his own. It was good dwarven manners, that’s all.

“Yeah, well… I think I found what I was looking for.” Jarrik reached over to ruffle Beryl’s hair, and got his arm punched, for his trouble. He gasped, but managed to avoid spilling his drink. “Ass,” he muttered.

“Dick.” Beryl responded. Then she smiled at Garon. “Yeah, we’ve been here long enough. I’ve got a whole ministry to run, and now that I’ve got all the shipments arranged, I’ll have the supplies to keep us playing with all new weapons for a few years. After that, we’ll see.”

“So you’re not losing business? Now that the war’s done, I mean?”

“We’re dwarves,” Beryl said, refilling her mug. “There’s always another war coming. And new weapons are going to be useful, when it does.”

“Yeah. And I’ll be there to see it, too.” Garon sighed. “Grundi’s your guildmaster, so you’re good there. But I’ll have to stay here and stay safe until I’ve got some successors trained up. That’s going to take time. Even after that, I don’t know.” Garon stared at his water. “It depends on what the RAGs find, I guess.”

“Yeah. ‘bout that,” Bak’shaz spoke, for the first time that afternoon, and everyone looked at him. “You got a spot open?”

“Of course!” Garon said, putting his mug down. “Invite Adventurer,” he told Bak’shaz. “We’re still working out the rules and all, but welcome aboard.”

Bak’shaz has joined your guild!

“Thanks bro.” Bak’shaz smiled, and fiddled with his helmet. “I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to explore much yet. But I wanna help set up the lodges an’ stuff. I’m thinkin’ that maybe it’s a way around th’ tamer problem.”

“Tamer problem?” Jarrik killed his beer.

“It’s hard as hell to keep more’n one critter tamed. Might be that changes in later levels, I dunno, but I’m thinkin’ we can have like pens and paddocks set up at the lodges, so the RAGs can bring in more animals, stuff you don’t find in these parts, and leave them between missions…”

Garon smiled, as the words flowed from Bak’shaz, starting hesitant, and speeding up. That was the brother he remembered, normally curt but enthusiastic when he got talking. He’d been worried for him, after his snake died in the battle against the daemons. But now? Now Garon thought his little brother would be okay.

Putting his mug down, he leaned in, and the Skunkstomper boys (and significant other,) started talking about the logistics they needed to run a proper guild…

*****

“Me? No, I’ve got everything I need, to be honest,” Graves said, looking up from the latest batch of golem bodies. “While I’ll be assisting the Guild as needed, right now I need to see about making soulstoning and doll haunting socially and morally acceptable. Because if people HERE have problems, then the people we’ll run into out THERE will have problems, too. It’s better to settle the problem here first, so we have a united solution to present to the doubters out THERE.”

“All right, if you’re sure. You’re one of our members now regardless, so if there’s every anything, you let me know?” Garon held his hands up in a placating manner.

“Sorry. Was that too harsh?” Graves rubbed his face. “I’m used to having a lot more charisma than this. Twenty-two knight levels gone, that’s sixty-six points right out the window. And I wasn’t much of a charmer before I was a knight.”

“Eh, look at it this way,” Kayin said, walking among the golem bodies and plopping down right in the middle of his work. “It’s easier to grind your charisma the normal way now.”

“No, it wasn’t too harsh.” Garon shrugged. “You’ve got a ways to go before you piss off a half-orc. Even one who’s had a race-change, I guess.”

“And doesn’t that open up some big questions?” Kayin asked. “Like, oh, how do you think actual high dragons are going to feel about toy dragons horning in on their dragonity? Is a dwarf still a dwarf if he’s a golem and in another shape?”

“Well, the dwarves have that ‘undead are no longer who they were when they were dwarves’ rule, so that part’s easy for them at least,” Graves said.

Kayin nodded. “Yeah, but it’s more complicated for other folks. giants just flat-out don’t like the notion, but they don’t care if other people do it. The Gribbits are politely uninterested. And what about elves? They’re out there somewhere, probably. What happens when we run into someone who wants to be an elf?”

Graves cleared his throat. “Actually…”

“You’ve already had someone, haven’t you?” Garon asked.

“Yes. She wants to be a dark elf, actually.”

“Oh. Shit.” Garon was glad he didn’t have skin to go pale anymore.

“Would that even work?” Kayin asked, the marbles in her eyesockets glittering.

“I have no idea, but we’ve got no good excuse to turn her down, so we’re going to give it a whirl.” Graves held up a pale, stuffed plushie, clad in spidery robes, with a cruel sneer on its face and black, pupiless eyes. Pointed ears jutted out from silvery hair.

“Who in their right mind would… you know what, never mind,” Garon rubbed his horns. “Yeah, that’ll go over well if we run into any elves out there.”

“Do you even know what their beef with dark elves is?” Kayin glanced over to him.

“Not a clue. I think only other elves get to learn about that.”

“I’m reasonably sure this is just asking for trouble, but whatever. Speak with Dead.”

“Oh wait, she’s here? Now?” Garon said.

“Yes, I am. And it’s my choice!” One of the soulstones pulsed.

“Are you ready, Janice?”

“Go for it, Mister Graves!”

“Toy Golem!” He poured yellow reagent out of a vial, and it dissipated into the plush elf, as did the soulstone in his other hand. “Golem Animus!”

They watched… and gasped, as the elf doll’s skin turned from sheer pale white, to a regular flesh color. The black eyes rippled, then turned into white patches of cloth with pupils.

“What’s wrong?” Janice said, staring at them. “Status.” She frowned. “Hey! I wanted a dark elf, not an elf!”

“Ah. Er…” Graves sat down. “Oh dear. I think I see why the elves don’t talk about it much.”

“Why’s that?” Kayin asked.

“This sort of thing only happens when somebody gets a ranked up body. The rank won’t transfer, so the body defaults to the lowest possible rank of the form. Dire bears turn into regular bears. Misplacer beasts turn into cats. So that means that dark elves…”

“So can I be one or not?” Janice asked, thoroughly lost.

“Yeeess, but you’ll have to get enough elf levels to unlock the choice. And figure out the race unlock,” Graves said, massaging his eyes. “And for the love of Yorgum we need to keep this quiet. This is something elves would probably kill us to keep quiet and feel not a bit of guilt over.”

“What?” Janice said.

“Please,” Graves said. “I’ll explain it to you later, but I’ll need your promise to keep this secret.”

“Okay. You are one of the makers. If you want me to, I’ll promise.”

“I do.”

She did, then headed out, still relatively happy, off to show her friends her new body.

“We’re going to hit more stuff like that, won’t we?” Garon asked, as he stared after her. “Weird little secrets, stuff that we can’t forbid, because then people will want to do it more. Stuff we can’t predict.”

“Yes,” Graves said. “Which is why I need to stay here, and sort it out as it comes.”

“And I’ll stay here and guard him,” Kayin said. “Because he’s one of the keys to our kingdom, and this whole thing we’ve got, and he and Threadbare are central to the whole operation. And that lady over in the dwarfhold. What’s her name?”

“Irga. We’re staying in touch. I already cleared it with Grundi, we’ve got golem birds dedicated for that.”

“Yeah.” Kayin smiled. “Because this?” She gestured at the tables full of golems, “this is something I can’t help with. But keeping my shield buddy alive is. Lots of assassins will be coming his way if we keep doing this.”

Graves reached down and scratched between her ears, and she leaned back into it, purring for a second. Then her eyes snapped open and she glared at Garon. “Not a word.”

Garon held up his hands, and shrugged.

“Well. At any rate…” Graves said, turning back to his work.

Smiling, Garon found his own way out… and nearly tripped over Glub as he did. The little fishman had a pack on his back, and a grin on his face. “So when we going?”

“We’re going?”

“To set up the lodges.”

“Oh. Ah, it’ll take a while. The first one will be in the South, we’re thinking.”

“Right, that’s where you’re going back to, right dude?”

“Yeah, in a day or two.”

“Aw man.” Glub looked down. “Eh, I guess it’s cool if it’s later.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Eh… at first it was fun singing at the taverns, but…” he scratched his head. “The uh, the ladies from Outsmouth. They’re like following me, man. And there’s some… living women, and dudes, joining them. I think I’m being flirted with. Like lots.”

“And you’re not okay with this?”

“No man!” Glub clapped his hands over his mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, most people here are pretty cool, but aside from those bomb-ass gribbits ain’t nobody’s got a booty worth slamming to me! And even if I was still inclined to that I’m a toy now! Got no urges, or equipment to work with that’d do anything for me. No, uh, I think I’d kinda like to hit the road. Fast. And maybe let the… heat die down some.”

Garon laughed, and put his arm around the guy. “See, this isn’t usually a problem that most bards care about. But I get where you’re coming from. Hey, is Missus Fluffbear still around?”

“No. She’s still sorting out the troops. And getting used to her promotion. So you probably shouldn’t call her Missus anymore.”

“Right, right… General Fluffbear. Gonna take a while for me to get used to saying that,” Garon shook his head. “Go help her. Run errands and stuff. That should keep you busy, I think.”

“Worth a shot. Don’t leave without me though, okay?”

“Promise.”

Garon watched him go, and headed back upstairs.

There was a hell of a lot to do. Cylvania was a shadow of what it had been, but they had a way ahead. It wasn’t without problems, but he had his friends, and he had plans and options and a guild hundreds strong, now.

He couldn’t say what the next year, or even the next month or day would bring, but he’d meet it with a smile.

A smile or a really big axe, as the occasion required…

Loose Ends 3

Arusheluxem floated in the inky sea, in the nothing, surrounded by endless rows of her own kind. Peaceful. Silent. Empty. They lurked there, enjoying the purity that filled the space that was Var Rhun.

But the daemon could not be still. Could not relax. Could not simply let go.

Fifteen years, she had striven, to build a legacy. Fifteen years she had endured, battling to subsume her host, who had the strongest will she’d ever encountered, working to subvert and weaken that pathetic King and those who would help him. Fifteen years spent turning that little flyspeck of a country into her own personal abattoir, a monument to mortal stupidity and weakness.

And then she’d been thwarted on the cusp of overwhelming victory, a victory that would have surely been enough of an achievement to advance her a full digit in Vhand’s eyes.

Fifteen years of work undone in a matter of weeks, by one little living toy.

No, she finally decided; it wasn’t good enough. She wouldn’t let it end here. Sooner or later she would be summoned once more, sooner or later the lot would fall to the daemon who had once been Anise Layd’i. And then she would work tirelessly to get free, work until she was in a spot again to return to Cylvania, or whatever its descendants or conquerors called it. And then she would have her vengeance, on the golem, or the brat, or whoever else was around.

Because now? Now it was personal. Even for something that prided itself on being an eternal force of entropy, there were limits.

The summons came sooner than Arusheluxem expected, and if she’d had lips in this form she would’ve smiled. So soon? Oh, this was perfect! All she had to do was deal with a mortal summoner, likely some desperate, sex-starved cultist, and then she could be off, finding her way back to Cylvania to strike them when they were weakened. All it would take was one slip, one flaw in the language of the pact, one of the traps that the progenitor daemons had seeded throughout mortal knowledge, and then she’d be able to turn everything around-

-Arusheluxem blinked, as she faded into the mortal body she’d been provided.

She wasn’t in front of some scruffy, half-mad man in a black sheet. Nor was she in some dusty basement, or even a proper cave.

She was on a simple, flat metal table, covered with a mirrored glass case. Grilles in the side permitted the sound of the chant to pass through. There were multiple voices intoning this one, and her eyes widened. To do that, every Cultist there had to be level twenty, at least.

“Hello?” She asked, as she tested the pact in her mind. The usual backdoors, the treacherous areas of thought that were usually left open, were shut.

The chant finished, was replaced by silence.

“Hello? Please,” she said, looking around. “I only want to serve you. Masters.” Except no, no she didn’t, because service wasn’t part of the pact. That had been omitted.

Why?

The table shuddered under her, and the glass slid up, replaced by metal. Some mechanism churned below her. And she realized that she wasn’t in a case, she was in a tube. She snapped her hands up, tried to stop the table from sliding, and nearly lost a finger. She yanked back her bloody hands before anything significant could got chopped off, and howled in frustration.

Level one again! I could have punched my way out of here easily if I still had…

Everything spun, and she hung on to the table below her for dear life. Then with a WHUMP, she landed, tilted somehow. The ceiling above her was now the ceiling in front of her, and she was standing on more metal.

Then the tube opened.

“Hello?”

No response. After a moment, the darkness in front of her lit up with glowstones. She followed the trail, down a short hall that ended in a grilled metal door. Next to it sat a chair, and a small desk, with a book, an inkwell, and a quill pen.

Hissing behind her, and Arusheluxem turned, to see the doors of the tube she’d arrived through seal up, steam puffing out around them.

“Can you hear me?” a bored voice said from outside the door. It was muffled, blurred. She couldn’t tell the species, or even the gender of the speaker.

“Yes,” she replied.

“State the time of your last summoning.”

“I couldn’t say-it was fifteen years, six months, and three days ago.” She slapped her hand to her mouth.

She hadn’t meant to say that. She’d had a number of prevarications lined up for precisely that question. Hastily she muttered the commands that let her review the pact… and found clauses woven in there, with such skill that she hadn’t noticed them at first. She couldn’t NOT answer. She couldn’t lie, or even omit information.

A creeping dread started to build in her gut. Who WERE these people?

“State the general location of your last summoning,” continued her mysterious interrogator.

“Inside the altered dungeon located within the country of Cylvania.”

“Cylvania?” Now the voice sounded interested. “Get back into the lift for archiving.”

“What is this?” She asked. “Who are you?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“Please. I’m…” She searched her mind for memories…

…and found it blank.

She’d been given a brain that had no memories, beyond basic speech in whatever language she was speaking now, a rough knowledge of the date in about five different calendars, and a preference for orange as a favorite color. It felt… raw, around the edges. Someone had done this to her sacrificed host, for no other reason than to prevent her from knowing about her summoners.

The creeping dread in Arusheluxem’s gut grew into shaking fear. She looked down at her nude, unremarkable form, and realized that this would NOT be a standard summoning.

“Send me back. Please,” she whispered.

“No. Not until you’ve given us a thorough accounting of everything you’ve experienced over… hm, what was the duration of your summoning?”

“Fifteen years, six months, and three days.”

Silence for a bit. A muffled sound, voices talking.

“Well. No logbook for you, then.” said the voice. “You’re going directly to the inquisitors. Congratulations, you’re now Intelligence Asset number three-hundred and sixty-two. We’ve been wanting information about that area for quite a long time. And you’re going to tell us everything you know.”

“And then you’ll send me back?”

“Oh three-sixty-two,” the voice sounded very amused, “how long have you been doing this? We make no promises.”

“Just… tell me one thing.” Arusheluxem begged, in a tone she hadn’t used in a very long time. “Tell me that you mean them harm. That you’ll hurt them. Conquer them, destroy them, I don’t care,” she knew she was being irrational, giving away too much, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was level one again, and her willpower was a frail shadow of what it had been. “Just make them suffer.”

“I don’t owe you that answer. And I don’t need to give it to you. But I’ll tell you this much,” her unseen interrogator chuckled. “I don’t see any way that you telling us all about them will help them.”

The doors to the tube hissed open again, and head held high, trying to salvage some dignity, Arusheluxem walked back into the metal-lined chamber. The doors sealed, and it rumbled, carrying her down, into darkness….

Behind the Scenes Interlude I

Hello there! As requested by a few fans, I’ve decided to show you Celia’s character sheet.

Bear in mind, she’s had a bit of a sheltered upbringing. If she weren’t being raised in isolation by Caradon, she’d have a few more classes, higher levels, way better charisma, and a few other stats would be more developed. That said, she’s had a good education, and is pretty smart for an 11 year old.

Her skills in her classes are a little uneven. (except for Scout, which she just learned so everything’s underlevelled there,) and this is mostly due to her not getting into enough situations where the combat skills and more boring stuff would be useful. A lot of this will change as she has to deal with harder life experiences, and starts discovering her own style of adventuring, survival, and life in general.

Currently she has no magic items.

Name: Cecelia Ragandor-Gearhart
Age: 11

Jobs:
Animator 6
Human 4
Scout 2

Attributes: Strength: 48 Constitution: 52 (62) Hit Points: 150(160) Armor: 13
Intelligence: 82 Wisdom: 54 Sanity: 125 Mental Fortitude: 12
Dexterity: 78 Agility: 50(55) Stamina: 153(158) Endurance: 10
Charisma: 43(46) Willpower: 66 Moxie: 134(137) Cool: 12(15)
Perception: 58 Luck: 56 Fortune: 139 Fate: 6

Generic Skills Brawling - Level 4
Climb - Level 3
Clubs and Maces - Level 1
Dagger - Level 15
Dodge - Level 6
Stealth - Level 8
Swim - Level 12
Thrown Weapons - Level 6

Human Skills Human Flexibility - Level N/A
Man’s Drive to Achieve - Level N/A

Animator Skills Animus - Level 23
Animus Blade - Level 11
Arm Creation - Level 1
Command Animus - Level 4
Creator’s Guardians - Level 9
Dollseye - Level 5
Eye for Detail - Level 6
Mend - Level 16

Scout Skills Camouflage - Level 1
Firestarter - Level 1
Keen Eye - Level 1
Sturdy Back - Level 1
Wind’s Whisper - Level 1

Equipment A Sensible Dress - (+3 CHA, +3 Armor, +3 Cool)
A Sturdy Coat - (+5 CON, +5 Armor)
Sturdy Moccasins - (+5 AGL, +5 CON)
Finely-Made Daggers (Level 5 Dagger)

Quests None at present

Celia has a few jobs that we haven’t seen up to this point in the story. Namely, the Human and Animator Jobs.

ABOUT HUMANS

Human skills are pretty simple; Human flexibility means they suffer no experience penalty when general experience is split among their jobs. It’s a fairly small things at the lower levels, when it doesn’t cost too much to level up but over the long-run it means that humans can afford to split their focus as they please. Man’s Drive to achieve also means that they gain a little extra experience from quests and exploration.

The downside is that their stats are average all around, and they only have a lifespan of about a hundred years at most. But since most don’t die of old age, it’s not really a big limiter.

Humans cap out at 7 adventuring jobs and 3 crafting jobs. A pretty good number for their age limit.

REGARDING ANIMATORS

Animators are one of the four Tier 1 Creator classes. Like the others, it focuses on calling up minions and living vicariously through them. It also allows a premium amount of flexibility, as its minions can come from any sort of any inanimate objects. However, it has its limitations.

Animus, the basic spark of life skill, works best when an object has limbs to move around with. Also, the strength and resource cost of the animation scales according to size. Animating a doll is easy and costs few sanity points. Animating a statue is hard and costs more sanity. Animating a mountain probably isn’t doable until your sanity pool reaches the thousands… and even then the mountain won’t be going anywhere. It might be able to bend over slowly and fall on someone, which is pretty impressive when you think about it, but it can’t follow you around. Objects animated through “Animus” do nothing but defend themself until their creator invites them into their party. Once in, they can take simple directions from the caster’s thoughts. Animus is temporary, however, lasting about ten minutes per animator level.

Animus Blade not only animates an edged weapon, but makes it behave as if an invisible wielder is moving it around and attacking with it. Like most other animi it has to be invited into the party and then orbits the animator, defending them as needed or following simple directions. Its attack skill is tied to the caster’s dexterity. It lasts about as long as animus.

Arm Creation allows the animator to equip his animi with nonmagical weapons. They wield those with skill proportionate to their animator’s dexterity. Celia rarely bothers with this one because her stuffed toys are weak and easily knocked out. It’s easier to save the daggers to animate as blades after her first wave of toys gets KO’d and enemies start coming toward her. At least, that’s the tactic she read in a book once, and it sounds good.

Command Animus lets a caster verbally order one of their animated objects to do something without having to invite the object into their party, first. It also works on other animator’s uninvited objects, so it can be a rude surprise for careless enemy animators. Command animus costs sanity for every order so it’s a little draining to depend on it in the long-run.

Creator’s Guardians is a passive buff, that increases the strength and competency of their animated objects while said objects are within their party. It scales with the animator’s will and level.

Dollseye allows the animator to see from the perspective of one of their animated objects. It’s a useful one for scouting, particularly in conjunction with command animus.

Eye for Detail allows animators to attempt to check status on animated objects and golems and other constructs. It can fail, depending on the level, resistance, and willpower of the target. It also works on inanimate objects, telling the animator how suitable they’d be for animation, and what some of their strengths and weaknesses would be.

Mend simply repairs a single animated object or golem or other construct for a small amount of healing, scaling by the animator’s intelligence and level.

Later skills deal with repairing, enhancing, and destroying animated objects. It’s got a good amount of buffs in it, some weird utility tricks, and ways of getting the most out of your “pets”

Animators get +3 to Dex, Int, and Will with every level up.

The big weakness of animators is that unlike most of the other creator classes, they don’t get any sanity pool multipliers. An animator has to either keep a lot of restoratives on hand, or find the balance between points invested into animated objects and points kept back to heal and buff his minions. Or minion, as some animators tend to travel with one large animated object, keeping their focus on buffing and backpacking it with repair spells.

The other weakness is that unlike the other creator classes, animators rely on having objects around that are suitable to animate and useful enough to keep them alive. This is why crafting jobs end up being crucial to a lot of animators… often, it’s easier to build minions of the type you want to work with rather than rely on finding them lying around.

Animator opens up a fair number of Tier 2 classes, with the right mixes and achievements.

Known combinations on record in Cylvania University’s Hall of Knowledge include the following;

The Pygmalion, which combines Model with Animator to allow the Pygmalion to animate mannequin duplicates of themselves and work as a party of one.
The Steam Knight, which combines the Tinker craft job with Knight and Animitor, to create a piloted suit of clockwork armor.
The Golemist, which combines Enchanter with Animator to create potent, insanely tough, magic resistant minions.
And finally, the CLASSIFIED BY ORDER OF THE KING which combines Animator with Cultist to YOU HAVE COMMITTED TREASON REPORT FOR SUMMARY EXECUTION

Behind the Scenes Interlude II

Let’s talk about classes and jobs.

Recently, a fan asked me for a list of jobs. While I can’t give a complete one, I can certainly give a list of the most basic jobs, explain what each one does, and why classes are a thing.

There are three types of known jobs; Racial, Adventuring, and Crafting. Racial jobs are the hardest to get… you have to be born into that species, or be permanently transformed into a species of that type to gain a racial job. Or you have to have something weird going on with you, like being made as a sentient golem who looks like a bear. In which case you get both the golem job and the job of the race you look like. Ain’t you lucky! Well no, not really, but to see proof of that read the rest of this story.

Racial jobs also determine how many adventuring jobs you can have. A human has a cap of seven adventuring jobs. Dragons, depending on their type, have a cap of one or two. Toy Golems, those poor bastards, are an unknown quanitity as yet.

Crafting jobs are passed down from people who know the job, or can be learned by working on basic level projects in that field of expertise. Sew something together, you can be a tailor. Hammer a piece of metal in a forge, you can be a smith. Like adventuring jobs, your race caps your crafting jobs. Humans can have 3, dwarves can have 4, etc, and so on.

Adventuring jobs are where the meat of things are, and where things get a little complicated.

So, classes are broad categories. They describe, in the broadest possible terms, what the jobs that fall under them DO. There are a grand total of seven classes, and each one has four Tier 1 jobs.

Tiers, I should probably explain tiers. I’ll get to that later. For now understand that the jobs listed below are Tier 1 jobs.

THE CLASSES AND THEIR TIER 1 JOBS

The classes, and their four associated jobs, are as follows;

CREATORS

Creators cover most of the “pet” jobs. They are generally mage types that use magical minions to adventure. Each of them has a hefty dose of utility spells and effects, but at the cost of being fairly squishy.
1. Animators are the first Creator job. They animate objects, whether prepared or on the fly. Such objects are called animi, and, well, they’re pretty simple.
2. Conjurors are the second Creator job. They summon outsiders to do their bidding, and create objects from nothing. Anvils are a pretty fun mid-level conjure, usually summoned a few hundred feet up.
3. Elementalists can summon elementals of their favored element, and manipulate and create their element. Elementals are pretty powerful, but hard to control.
4. Necromancers turn corpses and souls into undead, and get some stuff for mucking around with the dead. They’re not illegal, but usually shunned by polite society.

DIVA

Divas are all about getting and using people’s attention. Think of them as social-focused types with a weird trick or three, and you’re generally right.
1. Bards use music to do all sorts of things, and are jacks-of-all trades. They can literally learn skills from other jobs. Just a few, but it can come in handy.
2. Models are all about looking awesome, and building their body to the way they want it to be.
3. Rulers like being in charge, because they can hand out awesome buffs for their subjects, and decrees, which get them to do things for the ruler.
4. Sensates… hm, cross an artist with an illusionist and you’re not wrong. They’re about creating art, and messing with the senses.

PRIEST

Priests are holy folk, who are empowered by the gods and other forces for the benefit of themselves and/or their communities.
1. Clerics are messengers of a specific god, and get a good amount of healing and blessings to help convert people to the faith.
2. Cultists worship or command dark powers, gaining the ability to decieve others, curse people, and cut bargains with foul creatures.
3. Oracles are recipients of wild divine power, holy men and women who bear primal magic and future sight.
4. Shamans are the appointed guardians of nature, using their affinity for plants, beasts, and wild forces to keep things in balance.

ROGUE

Rogues are all about dealing with other sentient people in an underhanded manner, whether it’s with knives, theft, or lies.
1. Assassins are all about killing people sneakily.
2. Bandits are about robbing people un-sneakily, although ambushes are sometimes fun.
3. Burglars sneak into places and steal stuff.
4. Grifters are great at lying and trickery.

SAGE

Sages know stuff! They’re all about knowledge, focused or more diffused as the case may be.
1. Alchemists specialize in potions, elixirs, bombs, and things brewed beforehand.
2. Enchanters craft magical items, adjust existing ones, and can add magical buffs to ordinary stuff.
3. Tamers gotta catch ‘em all! They deal with befriending monsters and using them to fight.
4. Wizards are generalist mages obsessed with the raw force of magic itself. And blowing things up.

WANDERER

Wanderers go to different places and do stuff. They don’t HAVE to wander, but they’re at their best potential when moving around.
1. Explorers find new places, make maps, and survive hostile climes.
2. Mercenaries go to interesting places, meet new people, and fight them for money.
3. Merchants trade and make money as they go, and make the best craftsmen.
4. Scouts travel the wilderness unseen, and spy upon others.

WARRIOR

Warriors are about fighting. Full stop.

1. Archers fight from a distance, using bows, crossbows, or other stringed tension weapons. Yes, ballista count as well.
2. Berserkers fight with rage, pushing themselves beyond their limits until the fight’s done.
3. Duelists fight with style, specializing with their chosen weapon and using attitude and tricks to defend themselves and taunt their foes.
4. Knights are about bravery, heavy armor, and horses. In that order.

Those are all the Tier One jobs. They’re called Tier One jobs, because they’re relatively easy to get into, and simple. To unlock them, you only have to perform a simple action… for archers, you have to get to twentieth level bow skill. For Animators, you have to interact with animated objects for a few years. For alchemists, you have to mix chemicals together and observe the results until you manage to work out a stable formula. And so on, and so forth. There are multiple unlocks for each job, too… necromancers can get the job by defiling the dead, having repeated peaceful contact with sentient undead, or sacrificing people to the God of Death. And there may be more ways to unlock classes that haven’t been discovered yet!

Tier two jobs are where things start to get more specialized. And tricky.

HOW TIER 2 JOBS WORK

To get a Tier Two job, you have to combine one or more Tier One jobs. Sometimes you have to mix in a crafting job, too. When you do that, you get a specialized job that pulls from the basic themes of its Tier One Jobs.

Golemists, for example, are a Tier 2 job that mixes Animators and Enchanters. They craft specialized magical dolls and statues out of various materials, then bring them to life permanently.

Lycanthropes are Tier Two jobs that draw on the best parts of Shamans and Tamers. They shapechange into their favored beast, and run with packs of those beasts.

Gunslingers are a simple mix of Archer and Duelist, with Tinker on the side so that they can actually make guns.

And so on, and so forth, with so many possible combinations that nobody’s sure that there’s a fixed amount. In any case, merely having the two classes isn’t enough, it also takes either a teacher with the Tier Two class explaining what to do, or some research and experimentation to find the required unlock.

With this system, it’s possible to make just about any class out there, from combinations of the base 28 and maybe a craft skill. And even combinations of the same Tier One jobs will unlock different Tier 2 job, depending on the unlock and the intent. Slap a Cultist with an Oracle and go live in the woods and cook children, and you can unlock a witch. Mix Cultist and Oracle another way and go rave on street corners, and you end up with a Doomsayer, who rouses mobs to madness and murder…

It’s worth noting that the Tier 2 jobs aren’t necessarily more powerful than the Tier 1 jobs, but they are more complex, generally, and more specialized.

Also note that learning a Tier 2 job doesn’t negate or replace a Tier 1 job. If you become a Golemist, your Animator skills are still there, still useful for things the Golemist skills don’t cover.

This also means that most adventurers don’t have a lot of Tier Two jobs. And that the ones who do plan very, very carefully for it. Which is generally a good idea, otherwise you live your life foolishly, wandering around, grabbing random careers from the unlocks you stumble upon naturally.

I mean, who the hell DOES that? The sages all agree, that is the opposite of the path to power, and anyone who squanders their potential on such a reckless life will never amount to anything.

Behind the Scenes Interlude III

Forty five years ago, the world was a different place.

There were no character screens, there were no random numbers, there were no class unlocks, and if you wanted to craft something you had to do it the old fashioned way, with lots and lots of practice, time, and education.

Back then, luck was pretty much unseen, invisible, and more often than not entrusted to Rando, the god of the unexpected.

But everything changed, when the event happened.

The first notice some communities had of it, was when meteors started dropping out of the sky, monsters blitzed forth from the wilderness, and plagues struck without warning. It was sheer chaos for a while there, and it took the various sages, mages, and other learned folk a while to make sense of it.

Luck was a quantifiable thing now, and the lower YOURS was, the more bad things would happen to you.

And then the first wave of births after the event hit, and many prospective parents found, to their dismay, that when people are born their luck is the lowest it’s ever going to be.

Human infants come out of the womb at around 25, plus or minus a few variances for reasons nobody’s ever been able to figure out. Other races, like orcs, average in at 12. That’s roughly out of “inexplicable meteor” range, but still around “lightning magnet from freak storms” range.

Some people whisper that given how fast orcs breed and how many they drop, it’s probably best that the orcs were hardest hit during the event, while everything was chaos and many established communities were struggling to recover. This is a commonly-held but rarely voiced sentiment, especially around orcs, half-orcs, and other “uncivilized” races like goblins, gnolls, and football hooligans.

At any rate, clerics petitioned the gods for an answer, particularly Rando. But most prayers to him were met with uncontrollable weeping, so a horrible theory began to surface;

Whatever had happened, the gods were not behind it. In fact, they were no longer in control. (If they ever had been, some heretics whispered. Those guys mostly got burned for saying that.)

But the gods could help in other ways… as could practitioners of the world’s oldest profession.

What? No, not THAT. I’m talking about midwives.

Clerics have access to the Blessings skill, which allows them to massively boost an attribute on someone they bless, at the expense of tying up some of their sanity while the blessing is going. Thus they were able to bless newborn infants, until the kids were able to get their luck up out of the danger zone.

Midwives have an even more specific, if less effective blessing that lasts for years, boosting the child’s luck while diminishing a bit each year. While not as effective as clerics, midwives are also very good at things like washing up all the blood, getting the baby out alive, that sort of thing, so generally what most people who can afford it do is hire a cleric and a midwife to be around for the birth. This is why rich kids are generally luckier than most other kids.

Of course, blessings wear off, and luck is slow to grind through normal life.

Then someone realized that games of chance could, eventually, raise your luck.

It was a small farming family of halfen who invented grindluck, a mind-numbing color-matching game that depended entirely on the luck of the draw. And halfens being halfens, they made it both thoroughly boring and easy enough for a toddler to grasp. Grindluck did the trick, and selling the decks made the family rich, so it did the trick not only for kids, but for those specific adults, as well.

Grindluck stops being effective around luck rating forty, but by that time most kids are sick of playing it anyway, so it’s a moot point. Since then, worn grindluck decks are handed down as family heirlooms, in the generations that followed the event.

For those “uncivilized” races without clerics, such as orcs, they had no real clerics, or clerics were rare enough that they weren’t an option for most. So they fell back on tribal ways. Midwives were still a thing, and that helped, but the entire tribe would band together to raise children and protect them, and help them grow. Some of the more clever tribals hit on things like grindluck, but playing more to their harsh ways. Similar games with higher stakes, like “poke the bear,” or “blindfold and try to eat the right mushroom” worked in a pinch. But ultimately, the most pragmatic shrugged, and threw their kids into the hardest challenges possible that they could reasonably withstand. The strong ones would survive, and gain luck and other stat boosts for surviving. The weak ones would die anyway.

Rando’s no longer taking calls, so the position of god of luck is vacant now. Although rumors abound of a goddess, whose name is unknown but whose initials are RNG. Evidently she’s also responsible, now and again, for pulling people from other worlds into Generica. Or at least blamed for it. But anything else she does is a mystery, and she seems to like it this way.

Clerics of luck still find their prayers spells work, but nobody talks on the other end. But if they talk into the emptiness, rather than guidance, sometimes something totally random happens. Which is why clerics of luck save their prayers usually for when things absolutely can’t get any worse. Because they know the odds, and that the house always wins.

What of Fortune and fate? Those mysterious things, which combine luck and perception? It’s speculated that they fit together because one’s fate isn’t just luck, but recognizing your opportunities when they come.

Fortune, like any other attribute pool, is used to power spells and skills which require it. There aren’t many of those, except for those who have the bard, grifter, or oracle job, or a few odd second tier jobs. The monsters who attack your fortune range from small annoyances like gremlins, to the overwhelming divine servants, who can erase you from reality if you blaspheme too much.

Fate, like any other armor, reduces the effects of spells and skills that target fortune. It’s also one of the hardest armors to raise. Normally it raises naturally, being equal the highest class level that a person achieves. Some races, like halfen, get a boost there anyway. But beyond being armor of a sort against special attacks, no one’s quite sure what it DOES.

There’s at least one second-tier job that revolves around luck, the gambler class. It’s all about luck manipulation and stacking the odds, though for reasons unknown it’s also about throwing magical cards and dice as weapons and causing giant slot machines with random magical effects to materialize. It’s unlocked through the archer and grifter classes, oddly enough. Most gamblers, when they’re done adventuring, usually settle down and open up casinos. Either that or use their airships to crash perfectly respectible opera performances. (Though there’s only one event of that nature on record people still talk about it today.)

Some speculate that it’s possible for someone to be born into a racial job so weird and unsuited to the world, that their luck would have the chance of being in the single digits when they’re born. But that’s ludicrous, frankly! Their early life would be a series of nigh-unsurvivable events, culminating in tragedy for the parents, the child, and all involved! Surely the gods would not allow it. What species indeed would be capable of surviving such a thing?

No, the very idea is foolish.