MLiS Dorks and Dice

The First Quest Always Has Rats

“Ah! Halloween!” Caleb Hale cried, stretching his meaty, muscled arms into the air. “Only time of the year where I get to really indulge in nerd culture and not be humiliated because I actually have fucking biceps!” For emphasis, he performed a double bicep pose, stretching the fabric of his white shirt decorated with ‘leather’ frills. He then quickly took the poorly crafted lute he had slung over his shoulder and plucked a few strings. The entire group flinched at the sound although Caleb seemed oblivious to the sound.

“Dude, your costume,” Lars McLeod warned. Like Caleb, he was dressed in a costume for Rhiannon’s big Halloween Party. It had been upon the Hound of Destruction’s insistence that everyone dress in a costume under a certain theme. She had insisted on a fantasy setting so while Caleb had donned his best bard outfit, Lars had gone to no expense of get himself some rather convincing armour and even a seemingly authentic hammer. Being a super meant he could trudge around in what was essentially two hundred pounds of metal with ease.

“Ah you know you love it when I burst out of my clothes,” Caleb snickered, winking at his boyfriend. “Besides, looking around, I’m pretty sure I could stand to lose a few garments or two.”

It was true.

In line with the fantasy theme of the party, Mary had opted to go in for the role of a rogue and as such was dressed in little more than a really tight black skirt, black calf-high, high-heeled leather boots and a black, leather shirt that exposed her midriff and arms. Though she wore a set of fingerless gloves with ‘knives’ set across the wrists, she looked more like a black-clad dominatrix than an actual assassin.

Then there was Ben, who went for the ‘berserker’ look. Given that it was Halloween, he was free to wander around in his werewolf form and only hid his cock with a spotted loincloth that looked suspiciously like a tiger-print thong. Sure he carried around a pair of gauntlets with claws attached to them but apart from his blood-red fur and that thong, he wore little else.

Even Ashton as their mage didn’t quite stick to convention and opted for… ‘sexy mage’. In that, all he wore really was a rune-encrusted vest and really short shorts. Sure he had the broad brimmed hat and a nice wooden staff that he got from the props department back at school but really, he looked more like a confused surfer… or perhaps one of those JRPG mages…

Lars gave his boyfriend a rueful smile. “At least the number of people who went slutty is equal to the number of people who went traditional.”

They both turned to the sixth member of their group, Jacob Samuel Reaper. The mysterious dark-furred, blonde wolf had quickly become part of their gang and had adopted the fantasy theme very well. As a priest, he carried a seemingly genuine mace and wore white and gold robes over what appeared to be authentic chainmail. Out of everyone else, he actually seemed to have the most accurate costume.

“Does anyone else find it weird that the Hound of Destruction invited us to a party at ‘her house’ on Halloween? for a Halloween Party at ‘her house’? Also after Halloween?” voiced the Writer of Reality. “I mean, has anyone actually been to her house? How do we not know that she didn’t just murder the occupants and just started squatting there? This sounds like the beginning of a really terrible slasher movie.”

“Come on,” Caleb said, giving Jacob a smile and patting his shoulder. “Rhia’s not going to hurt us. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jacob winced. “Right and ignore the fact that this canonically happens after Issue 5 where you’ve already mention that she did something terrible during Halloween. Is this her idea of a redo? She knows I hate rewrites.”

With a roll of his eyes, Caleb wrapped his arm around his fellow wolf’s shoulder and dragged him to the little, single storey home decorated with jack-o-lanterns, bats and fake spider webs. It didn’t seem at all out of place and for a moment Caleb actually thought that he was just going to walk into the house, drink some obviously spiked punch, dunk for apples and have a good time with his friends.

Oh how wrong he was.

He reached the front door, still with Jacob hooked on his arm and rang the doorbell.

Then the floor gave way and he plummeted into darkness.

Oops.

******

The forests surrounding the town were quiet and deceptively serene despite the turmoils besieging the city. Perhaps it was in this quiet that the ill portents to come truly hid. For not a single bird sang. Woodland creatures dared not poke out of their hiding places. Even the wind was becalmed and not a single leaf was rustled. The only sound came from the soft groan of the bard, Caleb Hale, as he slowly roused from his impromptu slumber, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

The towering, muscular wolf with short brown hair and gentle, green eyes looked up at the bright, blue sky with confusing.

“Uh… Where am I?” he asked.

Soft groans and moans rose around him and he glanced around to find his fellow companions and party members slowly rousing from their own abrupt naps.

“What happened…?” rumbled Lars McLeod, the righteous and well-built Paladin.

“Dude!” cried a stunned Benjamin Connors, the savage and wild werewolf berserker. “What the fuck happened to my thong!?” He pointed at his crotch which was now occupied by what appeared to be a crude loin cloth. “That thing cost me a hundred bucks!”

A soft hum came from the only member of the ground that was now standing, the black-furred priest, Jacob Samuel Reaper. “Better question.” He pointed up to the sky. “Who is narrating us right now?”

A moment of pause and then…

Oh for crying out, Reaper, way to ruin the immersion!

“Rhia?” Caleb asked, staggering to his feet. “What’s going on here? Why are we…? Where are we…?”

“I swear,” snapped Mary. “If this is some sort of elaborate prank or illusion…”

Really guys? Can’t you just go with it? Couldn’t you just go with the whole ‘adventurers sucked into another world trying to get back home gig’ for one measly second?

Jacob slapped his forehead. “Oh fuck me… Really? Really Rhiannon? You’re really doing this?”

Yes, Reaper. Yes I am. And you have no choice but to follow along. And you wanna know why?

“Why?”

Because All Hallows Eve is actually the day when the powers of both the Hounds of Death and Destruction are at their highest. So powerful, in fact, that we can even rival the Gods themselves. You guys have no choice but to work with me here for my entertainment! And don’t bother suggesting that you just wait out the day because this is my world and I dictate how long one minute here is compared to the real world.

“Jake,” Caleb began, “what’s going on? What did Rhiannon do?”

Jacob gave them all a grave look. “Guys… this is our RPG Episode. For some inexpiable reason we’ve been into a realm of fantasy and magic where we are forced to play out the roles given to us by the costumes that we have donned for Halloween and now have to proceed through the damn quest line until either we beat the final boss or Rhiannon gets tired.”

And I tell you, I’ll never get tired of this especially since no one has noticed how sexy Ashton is.

They all turned at once to Ashton. Mary let out a cry and covered his mouth, likely in an attempt to block her suddenly ruptured nasal blood vessels. Standing before them was their friend Ashton but just in the way they had ever envisioned him before. Though a mage, he had not donned the traditional mage’s garb. He wore stark, black leather pants strapped with belts and holders for various potions with a clear, glossy surface around his crotch and rump. His chest remained bare, decorated only by arcane tattoos. A bright blue cloak hung around his shoulders, hood down and draped over his shoulders. Only then did the wind decide to pick up, fluttering his cloak and blowing leaves past his handsome, features while a radiant sheen of arcane energies glimmered around him like a halo.

Ashton hugged himself. “My nipples are so cold…”

Urgh… Amateurs. I go to length to give you a full on description and you can’t even stand for a second in hero-wind? Reaper, show them how it’s done!

The priest shrugged his broad shoulders. “Seeing as I have no choice…” He strode over to a nearby stump and stood atop it. Drawing his mighty mace, he gripped it in both hands and placed it in front of him, face down. Lifting his lupine muzzle, he stood with the sun behind him, sunlight shining off the broad, metal pauldrons on his shoulders decorated with dozens of wax seals that bound parchments of holy scripture and warding spells onto his glistening, silvery chainmail. A robe of blue, white and gold clung over his mail, currently blank and untouched by a god with its hems running down to flank his legs but leaving the front of his body exposed for optimum movement.

“Hang on,” the priest said, “did you just move the sun behind me to make a point? Because astronomically speak that would be disastrous to this planet’s ecology.”

Oh for fucks sake! Can’t you just… Just… come on?

“Oh! Oooh!” Ben exclaimed, waving his paws into the air. “Do me! Do me!”

The barbarian werewolf had blood-red fur and wears a tiger-striped loin cloth.

“What? That’s all I get?”

You’re clearly not going to play along.

“But I love roleplaying games! Just ask Caleb! We used to play them all the time even after he beefed up!”

Caleb felt the looks of the others at him and he shrugged his broad shoulders absently. “So sue me. I’m a big geek on the inside. You’ve seen my room.” He glanced about and then turned to the sky. “Just tell us what the rules are, Rhia. I mean you don’t want to spend the next few hours just explaining what we look like, right? We already know that.

Sigh… I suppose. Okay. The game is simple. Who wants to hold the logbook?”

“I’m the wizard,” said Ashton. “Let me do it. I mean, wizards normally hold books right?”

Riiiight…

“I could actually feel her grin of malevolence there,” Jacob commented.

Without warning, there was a burst of magical, purple energies right above Ashton. Suddenly, a large log about the size of his arm dropped out of the sky and dropped right on his head. His focus entirely on intelligence and magic, the poor mage did not have the dexterity or the agility to dodge or even sense the blow. It stuck him and with a cry, he went down.

“What the hell!?” Mary cried. “Rhiannon, I know you’re getting your rocks off torturing us but why? Ashton has never done anything to you!”

Oh my dear baby girl. I’m the fucking Hound of Destruction. Senseless Destruction is just part of my portfolio. Just be glad that I’m not the Hound of Death. That way, you can’t really die in this world.

“So we can just be stuck perpetually dancing to your entertainment instead?” Jacob asked bitterly.

Pretty much.

“Why is Rhia the villain now?” Lars asked.

“Let’s focus on how Ashton got knocked out by some wood,” Jacob answered, pointing at the unconscious tiger. “Never thought I’d say that sentence out loud…”

You mean you think about it quietly then?

“You’re the narrator. You don’t get to ask snarky questions like that.

Oh goddamnit…

The priest moved to Ashton while Mary rolled over her beloved mage. The lupine holy man grimaced at the look of the piece of wood that had fallen on the tiger.

“Oh very funny, Rhiannon. It’s a logbook. As in a book made out a log.” There was an incision at the centre of the piece of wood that when he pulled open, revealed magical words and runes across it like a book. On the left ‘page’ were the various categories one could query and on the right was the various information it displayed.

“Can we focus on how Ashton is knocked out?” Mary pleaded. “I mean, we’re in some sort of medieval trope, right? Modern medicine is non-existent.”

“Just kick him a couple of times,” Caleb suggested. “I usually wake up after a couple of those from my dad.”

“Oooh! Let’s teabag him!” exclaimed Ben. “I’m already halfway there!”

Mary snarled at him. “You do and I’ll use those shrivelled prunes of yours as Ping-Pong balls!”

Ben covered his genitals in defence.

“I’ll wake him up,” Jacob said, kneeling down next to Ashton.

“You found some spell to heal him?” Mary asked hopefully.

“Nope. Better.” The wolf suddenly seized Ashton’s shoulders. “Mary’s pregnant and you’re the father!” he screamed.

Suddenly Ashton’s eyes sprang open and he screamed. “Oh god no! It could be her dad’s! Our cum could get mixed up! We’re kind of messy!”

WHAM!

And suddenly, the tiger was back on the ground, unconscious. The side of his face was turning bright red through his orange fur from where Mary had punched his cheek.

“Huh…” Jacob murmured. “Mages really are squishy.” He gently slapped Ashton’s cheeks. “Wake up, lover boy. Caleb wants to try a genuine foursome with you, Lars, Ben and him for his birthday. We need to decide who gets to take pictures, Mary or David.”

Ashton’s eyes fluttered open. “David. Mary gets to whip us into doing it. It turns me on.”

All eyes went to Mary next and she grimaced. “It does… I suppose.”

Sighing, Jacob stood up and grabbed the logbook. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of here.” He flicked open the ‘pages’ of the logbook. “Alright, it says here that while we have our classes, we need to choose our specific specialisations. Specialisations will each have their own abilities and we can increase our specialisation’s level by levelling said abilities. At level thirty, we’ll get to choose a second specialisation and the combination of the two will form a hybrid specialisation. At level fifty, we’ll be able to switch between our specialisations but can only ever have two active at the same time.”

Still with the book in his hands, he wandered over to Ben. “Barbarian… Barbarian… Okay… From this, your three specialisations are either Murder, Mayhem or Mania.” He frowned and looked up at the sky. “Seriously straining for ideas there, weren’t you?”

Shut up, that took me a while.

Reaper sighed and turned back to Ben. “Any choices?”

“I gotta know what they’re like first, right?” Ben said and Reaper moved beside Ben to show him the contents of the logbook, his red eyes darting across the words on the wooden frame. “Murder is all about dealing damage but also ‘bathing myself in my enemy’s blood’. Basically, the more I kill, the stronger I get. Even got some light heals there to offset my lack of armour or defences. The Mayhem tree is more geared towards causing chaos in enemy ranks. A crowd controlling specialisation. Mania will make me a little wilder but I get some pretty awesome buffs unique to my class.” He crossed is big, thick arms, pondering. “Tough choice.”

“Dude, go Murder,” Caleb advised. “You know early game you’ve got to focus solely on survivability. We’ve got our glass-cannon.” The brown-haired wolf gestured at Ashton who was rubbing his cheek absently. “Lars will be our tank. Jake’s our healer. Mary will be a damage dealer and I guess I’m the support. We’ll need you to be our DPS.”

Ben nodded in agreement. “Alright then. Murder it is.” He grinned, a demonic glint in his eyes. “Suits me just fine as well.”

A flash of red light erupted around him, startling Jacob into taking a step back. The light coalesced around his clawed gauntlets, turning them into a bright crimson and with the savage claws turning bloodied and serrated. A wild tribal necklace of bloodied fangs appeared around his neck as well as a pair of ragged furry shin guards that looked like they had been torn freshly off the back of a spikey boar.

“This is fricking sweet!” Ben exclaimed, lifting his weapons into the air. “Nerd’s dream come true!”

“If the nerd was an eight-foot tall werewolf with a criminal record,” Lars grunted with a smirk. “What do I get, Jacob?”

Reaper wandered over to him, carrying the logbook. “Your specialisations are either Destiny, Divinity or Decay. With the Destiny branch, it looks more like you’re geared towards defence. Lots of spells and abilities that buff the party and increase their defences. Not much in terms of offensive abilities, though. Divinity is more specialised towards utilising Light. A good balance of healing and offensive abilities. Bonuses against the undead and unholy creatures but otherwise mediocre. The Decay tree is the opposite, more like a ‘fallen paladin’ branch. You’re all about debuffing your enemies, inflicting them with maladies and direct damage.”

Lars glanced quickly at Ashton and then Ben. “I think with so many people in the party, I can’t leave all the healing to you. Plus if I’m the tank, it’d be good for me to be on the front lines and guarding us. I’ll date Destiny.”

Another burst of light and Lars’ bright silvery armour took on a brilliant, golden sheen. The thick plate mail shimmered for a brief moment as the motif of a shield appeared on his pauldrons and chest. The hammer in his hand was accompanied by a powerful tower shield, slotting in perfectly with his armour.

“Me next!” Caleb exclaimed, bounding over to Jacob and reading the tutorial over the shorter wolf’s shoulders. “Okay, as a bard my abilities are either in Performance, Persuasion or Proficiency.” He ran a finger across the words. “Performance is all about my songs that will let me buff the entire party. I can chain songs together to increase their effectiveness. More support role but a few offensive songs there too. Persuasion is all about controlling the tide of the battle. I can confuse bad guys and even turn them towards us. More single-target though instead of AOE. Proficiency focuses on my physical abilities. Front line combat and what not.”

“We’ve already got to front-line fighters,” Ben said, hiking a thumb at his chest. “Two spellcasters at the back and then you and Mary will be midrange. Go for either Performance or Persuasion.”

“I’ll do Persuasion,” said Caleb. “Mary can deal the damage and we need a crowd controller.”

A bright, green light swung around Caleb and his already greenish-cape turned a bright, emerald. Instead of a lute across his back, he received a small lyre.

“Let’s get this over with.” Mary sighed, dragging Ashton to Caleb. “Alright… Ash, you’ve got Chaos, Control and Catalytic. Basically attack spells, inhibiting spells or co-operative spells that will devastating with follow-up attacks.”

“We need someone to hit a lot of people, right?” said Ashton with a shrug. “You can pick them off one by one. I’ll soften them up for you.”

Mary smiled at him and gently poked his nose. “That’s my boy.”

Ashton was encased in a bright orange light. His cloak became more orange in colour and the rims of his pants became gilded with the same colour. The staff he held shimmered with a sun-like flame.

“As for me…” Mary murmured, looking at the log. “Stealth, Subterfuge or Secrecy. With Stealth, it’s all about sneaking around and taking opportunities when I can. Subterfuge is more about laying traps tricking people. With Secrecy, I’ll be dodging and countering.” She let out a soft, thoughtful hum and tapped her chin. “I’ll definitely have to go with Stealth here.”

A shadowy burst of light swept through her and her already dark outfit obtained a greyish tinge.

“And that leaves me.” Jacob glanced at the logbook. “Either Aid, Alliance or… Armageddon? Really?”

Hey, if you wanted to be a herald of the end times, go for it.

Jacob sighed and shook his head. “Well, obviously I’ll have to go for Aid here. We need a healer.”

Yes you do, but now you got to pick your god.

“My what now?”

Pick your god, Jacob. Pick the god you would have to worship to get your powers from.

The Writer of Reality’s features soured. “You are enjoying this far too much.”

Yes. Yes I am. To make things easier, you can choose from any of the pantheon of the real world. You can even choose me if you want.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Go ahead, Jacob. Worship me. You know you want to. I will be kind a forgiving goddess.

For a moment, the Writer’s features scrunched up in fury. Then his features lightened and he gave the sky a confident smug. “You know what? I know exactly which god I will worship.”

If you think worshiping Shin-Lazar –

“Pastafarius.”

Everyone stared.

“You’re… You’re going to worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster?” Ben asked lamely.

“Yep. He’s a deity of the real world.” Jacob smirked and regarded the logbook. “Oh look! There’s even a list of spells here. Hey Ashton…” He held out a paw towards the tiger. “Linguini!”

An ethereal, white noodle sprang from Jacob’s hand and squirmed towards Ashton. The tiger’s eyes boggled as it quickly made its way towards him and… gently caressed his injured cheek. Though the awkwardness felt like it was burning through his soul, the bruise actually started to feel better, warmer. As the noodle retreated, he brushed a paw against his cheek.

“Hey… it feels better.”

“Yep,” Jacob said proudly. “That’s my basic healing spell. Oh I can’t wait to call down fiery meatballs of death!”

You’re enjoying this far too much.

“Let’s just say I found a way to make the best out of a bad situation.”

Okay. Well I’m the dungeon master so…

Whilst the party were very slowly trying to coordinate their efforts and abilities, a loud rustling came from the woods around them. The silence of the forest was broken and a loud chittering mixed with a bit of squeaking emerged from the dense shrubbery.

“Oh! Oh!” Ben exclaimed. “I use my perception to find out what the danger is!”

Everyone stared at him, the dungeon master particularly in exasperation.

Okay, I know that this is meant to be your RPG Episode or something but you literally don’t need to go around shouting out what you’re doing. Just do the damn thing. Let’s go for a bit of realism here, people!

“You lured us into your ‘house’ for a Halloween party and then unveiled a trapdoor into your fantasyland the moment we rang your doorbell,” Caleb stated. “Yeah, this is really realistic, Rhia.”

Shut-up Caleb.

In the arguing with the dungeon master, the party left themselves open and undefended. Large, dark shadows burst from the shrubs, letting out high-pitched cries and squeaks. Enormous furry forms, each at least as large as a large-breed dog, surrounded the party. Seven creatures bearing black fur, pointed muzzles and worm-like, scaly tails with ferocious, yellowed teeth sprang up around them.

“It’s rats,” Jacob sighed. “The first quest is always rats.”

“Crap!” Ben cried. “How do I roll for initiative? Is there even initiative in this game!”

The RATs ignored the werewolf berserker’s obvious lack of intelligence from taking too many blows to the head and charged.

Jacob frowned as he brought up his mace. “Anyone else notice that she capitalised the word ‘RAT’?”

His keen observational skills coming into play, the Priest of Pastafarius gleaned that these were not your ordinary, run of the mill giant rat. No. These were RATs. Rodent Adventurer Taunters.

“Say what now?” Lars looked up at the sky in confusion.

One of the RATs stopped in front of him, immediately rearing up onto its hind legs to reveal a rather large, bright red bullseye on its belly. Lars did not have a moment to take in the sight as the creature immediately spun around to unveil its rather brightly coloured rear.

“Hey Paladin! Bet you couldn’t hit this! And my ass is faaaaaaat! Fatter than your ugly mug!”

Lars’ eyes flashed with fury. “Oh now you’ll get it you little son-of-a-bitch!” He swung his hammer at the large rodent but it quickly swept aside, laughing in mockery. It’s tail smacked Lars’ muzzle tauntingly.

“You missed, fat head! Your daddy would be so embarrassed!”

“Fuck you!”

“You mean like you’ve never fucked your boyfriend? Oh wait, that’s right, you’re an exclusive bottom! Even the girls top you!”

Lars’ face twisted in fury. “That’s it you little shit!”

Enraged, the Paladin chased after the rodent as it scurried away, leaving the party with one less tank.

“Lars! Wait!” Caleb cried but the pleas to his lover went unheard as the hot headed Paladin charged after his prey, swinging wildly.

The party quickly pressed their back against one another as the remaining six RATs surrounded them.

“I’ll take care of this!” cried Ashton, sweeping his staff through the air, carrying a trail of fire with the swing. “Ha!”

Searing flames erupted from the tip of his staff in a wide cone. The RATs tried to scurry away but the blast of crimson fire was too wide and too fast for even them. Their tiny squeals filled the air as their flesh was roasted clear off their bones and they toppled to the ground as charred, blackened corpses.

Ashton blinked a couple of times and regarded his fiery staff. “Oh wow… So this is what having actual superpowers is like.”

Caleb smiled at him. “Welcome to the club, Ash. Now remember, with great power comes great –”

An evil glint entered Ashton’s eyes and his grinned maniacally. Flames erupted from behind him, silhouetting him against their crimson folds. “I. AM. GOD!”

“Oh boy…” Ben muttered. “Ash, easy there. You just got knocked out by our quest journal and –”

“Do not deride your GOD!” bellowed Ashton, pointing accusingly at Ben. “I am the master of the elements! I dominate this entire world and I –”

Mary suddenly appeared beside him, her hand around his crotch. His next word was unintelligible save that it was a bit of a high-pitched squeak.

“And you’re my bitch,” she hissed into his ear. “Right?”

He nodded feverishly, his eyes wide in both pain and terror.

“What was that?” she growled, her grip tightening. The men in the party, even some of the surviving RATs, immediately covered their genitals.

“Y – Y – Yes ma’am!” Ashton cried.

“Say it.”

“I’m your bitch!” the tiger wailed.

“Good boy.” Mary pulled away, flicking her blond hair back mockingly.

“Alright then…” Ben murmured. “My turn!” The werewolf barbarian lunged at the nearest RAT. Too consumed with taunting its prey, the rodent reacted too slowly for the incredibly fast werewolf. Ben seized it with his enormous paws, gripping a tail and its skull before yanking it in opposite directions, bifurcating it right down the middle in a shower of blood.

“Fuck yeah!” roared the barbarian. Empowered by the death of a foe and bathed in the blood, the murderous barbarian roared as veins popped up all over his enormous, muscled frame.

A RAT quickly danced between Mary and Ashton, rearing up on its hind legs once more.

“So are you afraid of having kids or just getting fat?”

She lifted an eyebrow at it. “Did you just taunt the woman who basically castrated the fire-crazy mage?” Mary sighed with a roll of her eyes, flashing her daggers. “The best part about being an empath is that I know what people are feeling. Makes me amazingly good at manipulating the underdeveloped minds of children.” She placed a hand on her hip. “You’ll get an hour of playing videogames if you can recite all the states in alphabetical order. Did you break the vase? If you lie, and I know when you are, I’ll break a finger each. You want dinner? Mow the lawn.”

Ashton gave her a horrified look. “You’re evil.”

“I know.”

She suddenly lashed out, without even looking, and tossed her dagger at the RAT, skewering it immediately right on the bullseye on its chest. “Let’s just say that come what may, if our kids are cute little tiger cubs or doe-eyed human babies, they’ll grow up well balanced, mature and incredibly afraid of their mother.”

Caleb drew a longsword from his hip while he still held the harp in his other hand. Standing beside Jacob they engaged the two remaining RATs.

“Hey, did you want to catch up with Lars so he doesn’t get lost?” Jacob asked. “I can take care of these two.”

“You sure? I mean we’re just starting out and if there’s anything I’ve learned about RPGs is that if you’re thrown into a party early on, there’s a good reason you don’t go in alone.”

“Trust me,” said the blonde-haired wolf with a smile. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He glanced at the RATs. “Come on, guys. Give me the best you’ve got.”

The rodents scurried over to him, once again rearing back and exposing their bellies.

“You ever show anyone your chest fur, fuzzy?” taunted one of the RATs. “How will everyone react to the big bad Legion having chest hair shaped like a golden heart all over his chest?”

“Yeah! You’re just a big fluffy Care Bear!”

Jacob just smirked at them and sheathed his mace. “Uh-huh. High praise whose species’ name is entirely an acronym. Let’s also not forget that despite being bigger than an average rat, you guys are essentially the cannon fodder of this game. I mean, you’re not even the mid-level boss at the very start. You’re the tutorial monsters. You’re designed to roll over and die while we sharpen our skills and our blades on your sorry carcasses. We seriously can’t lose because as of this moment, we have plot armour.”

“Yeah but –”

“Think about your attacks, fellas. You taunt people. It’s in your name. You’re designed entirely to just aggravate people into sticking pointy things into you. If it weren’t for Rhia making you guys out of nothing you as a species would have gone extinct ages ago and everything you were would have just been summed up in a footnote of a college textbook.

“Think of it, guys. You’re not even one-dimensional characters. You’re just monsters. Monsters that are designed with no offensive abilities apart from being offensive. You’re half­-_dimensional characters. Hell, not even that. You’re zero-point-zero-zero-zero-one_-dimensional characters.” He bent down towards them with a devious smirk on his face. “But I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourselves. Do the math, kiddies. Exactly what fraction is that? What is zero-point-zero-zero-zero-one as a fraction?”

The RATs just blinked at him, stunned.

Then they began bawling.

The two RATs held each other, withered against the priest’s superior bullying skills and humiliated beyond belief.

“Wow…” Ben muttered. “I’m the renowned supervillain and wanted criminal and even I have to say, that was stone-cold.”

Jacob shrugged and straightened. “You learn a couple of things after being the Writer of Reality for countless years.” He waved a paw over his shoulder. “Now run along, kiddies. Perhaps you’ll find someone else to give literal meaning to the term ‘fuck you’.”

Suddenly, the wolf stopped as the RATs clung onto his legs.

“We bow to your astounding skills of abuse!” cried on.

“Please teach us, sensei! We will do whatever you want!”

Jacob frowned at them. “Wait… What now?”

Mary grinned broadly and pointed at Jacob. “Oh my god! You insulted the RATs so much that they’re impressed by your skills! Now they’re your followers!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He shot a foul look into the sky. “That can’t be legal!”

Despite his protests to the heavens, the priest knew the truth. His skills at hurling insults and degrading poor, defenceless animals to their barebones and was something he did very often. To reduce a being to nothing, stripping away the very core of their identity, causing them to psychoanalyse themselves and see themselves in another light before admitting their faults before building them up again to become the very model of their epitome of their very existences is his very function in this universe.

Jacob lifted an eyebrow at the sky. “Wait, is that a jab at the role religion plays as a whole or me?”

Just go with it. You’ve charmed the RATs. Now they’re yours to command as you see fit.

“Uh-huh. While we’re ‘just going with it’ can I point out the continuity errors here? I mean, I didn’t come in until after the Halloween episode and you’re playing this all off as a Halloween thing?”

Think about it Jake. You’re smart.

Jacob frowned for a brief moment… then his features soured. “Oh… We were already under your power from the get-go weren’t we? The whole going to your house and trapdoor thing… that was already part of your plot. Chronologically, this is probably taking place after Halloween and after we all met but you somehow twisted our memories to make it seem like it’s before…” He looked mournfully at the rest of the team. “Guys… I’m not sure if we’ll ever get out of here…”

Oh I’m sure you will. I’m just going to have my fun before you do!

“Urgh…” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Rhia, when this is over, you and I are going to have some very heated words.”

I look forward to it.

Ben approached Jacob and gently rested a paw on his shoulder. “Hey… does that mean we’ll forget you? Why? Why is that fair, Rhia? Just because Jake has shown you up on occasion?”

“Don’t worry about it, Ben,” Jacob said, lifted a paw and shaking his head. “Something tells me there was a reason this even was mentioned in passing in the main story instead of actually being delved into.” He shrugged absently. “But I can also see some benefits from it. For now, let’s focus on getting out of this place.” He glanced back up to the sky. “Okay Rhia, we’ll play along for now. Can I at least get one of those ridiculous backpacks that can infinitely hold anything of shape and size but for some reason has a weight limit based on our physical strength.”

Sure. Head up!

Jacob immediately sidestepped as a big, brown backpack fell from the sky and landed beside him.

“Ha! You missed!”

Thwack!

Another backpack immediately landed on top of him, flattening the wolf against the ground. It was quickly followed by another, and another until a total of five backpacks had buried the black wolf beneath their folds.

Hey, everyone in the party is going to need one too, right?

“I suppose I deserved that…” Jacob rumbled.

Caleb and Lars returned a moment later, Lars covered in RAT blood and panting heavily. Caleb looked like he was trying to prod Lars forward with a ten-foot pole, keeping his distance from the hot-headed Paladin.

“What did we miss?” asked the lupine bard.

“Jake ‘dealt’ with the other RATs,” answered Mary. “He insulted them to the point that they’re now undyingly loyal to him.” As she spoke, Ben pulled Jacob from beneath the pile of backpacks. “Good news is we now have bottomless backpacks.”

“Oh sweet!” Caleb bounded to one of the backpacks and pulled it open. He stuck his head inside. “Hey! I can hear an echo!”

“Don’t fall in,” Jacob muttered. “Knowing the rules of RPGs, jumping into the bottomless backpack could very well lead into a bonus level…likely the one populated with evil axe-wielding cows.”

“Mmm…tainted beef…” Ben said with a hungry grin.

Jacob plucked one of the backpacks and pulled it open. “Okay… erm… RATs. Hop in.”

The two Rodent Adventurer Taunters exclaimed in joy and jumped into the darkness of the backpack. For a moment, the pack actually seemed to shuffle a little before going completely still.

Each member of the party slung their backpacks over their shoulders before turning to the logbook. Upon consulting the section indicating ‘Main Quest’, they were enigmatically instructed to head north to the city of Troubletown.

“Troubletown,” Mary muttered sarcastically. “Well if that isn’t a little on the nose, I don’t know what is.”

They followed the dirt path north. Mere moments along their journey, they could already see great walls of Troubletown. The closer they drew to the city the more of its majestic beauty they could take in. Located on a large semicircular bay, Troubletown was a bustling metropolis of almost half a million people spread from its vast farmlands to the east and north to its constantly busy docks to the west. Only the south remained relatively free of inhabitation as the dense forests took hold there and reached all the way up to the enormous city walls.

But something was not right in Troubletown.

Though filled with an immense population, the streets were mysteriously empty. The great wooden gates that would have regulated passage into the city were blasted open from the inside. A stench of faeces and decay was in the air and a miasmic cloud hung in the air.

“It’s smells like butts and dead people in here,” Ashton commented. “Are we screwed?”

Ben, with his sensitive nose, covered his muzzle and spoke in a muffled voice as a result. “If my experience with RPGs has taught me anything, we need to go to whomever is in charge around here. That’s either the local law enforcement agency or the ruling power.” He cupped his large paws over his muzzle. “Hey! Gallant adventurers here! Potential messiahs to all your troubles! Anyone wanna point us to the guy that’ll tell us what we need to do to make your lives a whole lot easier?”

Luckily for Ben, a townswoman pushed open the window of her home at that moment.

“Go to the Captain of the Guard!” she exclaimed, pointing down a particular street. “Just follow that path. You will come across the Celestial Temple. They are housed there for the moment!”

“Thanks!” Ben replied, offering a light salute before turning to the other. “Well, off we go!”

Following the woman’s instructions, the party headed down the cobblestone path to the great Celestial Temple. Adorned with gold and the image of angels, the Temple stood tall amongst the barricaded houses and markets. However, what should have been a glorious place of worship was instead turned into a scene that served as a grim reminder of mortality. Dozens of bodies with grey shawls placed over them were lined up at the temple steps. Sullen looking guardsmen in silvery armour hauled them across to the rear of the temple where they were being thrown into mass graves. Carts of the dead were being brought up even as they approached.

“Way to amp up the ambiance, Rhia…” Caleb muttered, striding forward to one of the guard. “Hello good sir. We’re adventurers seeking erm…” He glanced over his shoulder. “What are we seeking?”

“Fame and glory!” Ben exclaimed.

“A way to save this troubled town,” chimed in Ashton.

“A way to kick the Goddess of Destruction’s ass,” Mary growled.

“Some place I can take a bath,” muttered Lars. “I still stink of RAT.”

“Pies,” Jacob stated. “Particularly pork pies. Oh! And with sesame seeds on top. I love those things.”

Caleb gave them all a sour look and turned back to the guard. “Let’s just say we were led here by destiny and we believe we can help. Can you tell us who’s in charge here?”

The guard nodded grimly and pointed to the Temple’s doors. “Go through there. You’ll find the Captain and he can tell you what you need. Poor bastards.”

Those last two words cast a worried look on Caleb’s features but he nonetheless shrugged and followed the path up the steps, avoiding as many dead bodies as possible. As he approached the temple doors, though, a cold, clammy hand suddenly lashed out and seized his ankle.

“Holy shit!” cried the lupine bard. “This one’s still alive!” As he yanked his foot away, the shawl pulled away from the corpse revealing its white, glassy-eyed stare and terrible, greenish boils all over its face. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!”

Guardsmen came charged towards the corpse, spears jabbing out at the undead creature. Lars in particular swung his might hammer through the air and crushed the monster’s forearm, forcing it to let go of his hubby.

“What the fuck!?” Caleb cried, clutching his heart. “Undead? Really?”

“It’s one of the Troubles that mire Troubletown,” answered a guard grimly. “This miasma will raise any who die back from the dead unless they are sanctified by the Holy Priest of the Light and buried.”

The group then looked towards Jacob who raised his hands defensively.

“Hey, I’m a Pasta Priest remember? Their idea of heaven involves a stripper factory and a beer volcano. I’m pretty sure what I consider ‘Holy’ would only make things worse…or turn this town into one hell of a party. With pirates. Actually, that sounds kind of fun…”

Caleb rolled his eyes and let out a sigh before turning back to the guard.

“One of the troubles?” repeated the bard. “What else is hitting this town?”

The guardsmen winced at him. “The wererats sent by the Matronarch have taken over the sewers and based on rumours have made an alliance with the local thieves guild known as the ‘Missing Hand’. The rats take the underground while the thieves mock us by flitting across the rooftops colloquially known as the ‘Troubled Highway’.”

The man then pointed to the west. “Merpeople driven by the great demonic rift to the west have made landfall. Originally, they were refugees but now they have taken over the docks and merchant district. They have barricaded themselves in and held countless people hostage.”

Lastly, he pointed to the north. “Lastly, the nobles in the noble quarter have taken all their supplies and locked themselves in their mansions and manors. Day in, day out we hear of their revelry and only the Archmage’s magic seems to push back the miasma there, keeping them safe while we rot in here.”

There was a soft scribbling noise and Caleb turned to find Jacob was tapping on the logbook. With every tap, a letter appeared on the opposite side of the logbook akin to a pocket organiser. “So evil undead gas, squatting fish people, thieves and rat people and hedonistic nobles. Got it. Sounds easy enough. If that’s all we have to take care of, we’ll be done with this before bed time!”

“There is more,” mourned the guardsman. “But the captain best tell you.”

“Of course there is,” rumbled Caleb. “Okay. Thanks for your help man.”

They strode up the Temple, pushing open the Temple doors and striding into the vast atrium. What should have been an area filled with the holy voices of choirs and glistening with blessed magic was turned into a makeshift hospital for the sick and ailing. Countless people were lying on the ground attended to by priestesses in white. Priests in gold cast their spells on the dying but to little effect. Amongst them all were the grim-faced guards who watched the proceedings.

One priest stood back from a victim and just shook his head grimly. A guard immediately stepped forward and stabbed his spear through the throat of the man. The man’s wife and child wailed in sorrow as the body was quickly covered in a grey cover and hauled away.

“Fuck that’s messed up…” Caleb muttered.

“They’re euthanizing them…” Lars said grimly. “They can’t do any more for them so they just kill them to prevent their suffering. Shit…”

They made their way to the altar where a single man stood out amongst everyone else.

“Nate Rage?” Caleb asked, stunned. “You’re the guard captain?”

The ebony skinned man regarded the group with a frown. “Do I know you?” His one good eye regarded the party of adventurers. “Adventurers, I see. Come to think you can save us from this plague of troubles, eh? I have no idea how you keep hearing news of us but no matter what, you either end up the demonic abominations to the west, dying and rising again to serve the Lich Queen to the north, becoming slaves to the brutal barbaric tribes to the east or turning into half-men, half-beasts like the werebeasts under the Matronarch’s control to the south.”

He eyed Ben suspiciously. “In fact… you seem to have one of them with you now. I do not see why I should even allow you to live!”

“Hold up!’ Caleb cried, holding up his paws. “Ben’s cool, okay? He’s been with us for a while now and we genuinely want to help here. Besides…” He offered a lopsided grin to the dark-skinned man. “What have you got to lose? If we really want to help, we can do you some good. If we’re here to sabotage your efforts, just throw some impossible quests our way and if we die, no skin off your back.”

“Caleb!” Mary cried.

Nathan Rage rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully, swayed bard’s persuasive argument. “A fair point there. Very well. Do you know the situation?”

Caleb deferred to Jacob who stepped forward with the logbook.

“Kind of,” answered the black wolf. “A guard mentioned that Troubletown had four troubles. Merpeople taking over the docks, this miasma hanging over us, rats and thieves running the streets and the nobles partying all night long while hoarding their treasures and food. But then you also mentioned these other things?”

Rage nodded grimly. “The merpeople were driven to us when a demonic portal opened up on a small island to the west. The island was originally just a little place of no importance. Fishermen used to sail there to rest during their fishing trips. But one day, a great burst of light erupted from there and the island all sunk. Demons came pouring out of them and the merpeople were driven to shore. Then to the north, beyond the Frozen Gates, the Lich Queen has finally stirred from her slumber. I have little doubt it was her that sent this miasma to us in the hopes of turning us all into their undead servants. The Archmage is her greatest rival and the one who originally put her to sleep and locked her behind the Gates. She cannot breach the Gates yet but I think it is her hope that when we all die, so too will the barrier.”

The Guard Captain then turned to the west. “If that wasn’t bad enough, the barbarian tribes to the west have gathered their forces. Jealous of our rich lands, they come in raiding. They’ve cut us off from our supplies and farms. They have effectively locked us behind our own city walls! And then there’s the Matronarch! Through unholy magics, she’s caused the forest to encroach upon our lands. Her and her army of beastmen sneak into the city and steal away anyone who is too careless.”

“The gates to the city were busted down there,” Jacob observed. “Why don’t any of these forces just come in and attack?”

“We don’t know. Perhaps because they sense the Archmage’s power. He has erected a barrier over the noble quarter to keep the miasma out. They know that he could level their armies easily were he so inclined. But he is too busy being stuffed and fed by the nobles he protects to care for us outside the Golden Gates.”

“Wonderful. Anything else we should know?”

Rage shook his head. “I suppose that should you need help and assistance, the High Priest would be able to give you supplies. We have a rudimentary supply store and a quartermaster manning it. Buy what you need.”

“See, that’s something I don’t get,” Jacob said. “We’re here to help you and we still need to buy our stores? Can’t you just throw us all your +1 weaponry to give us a better fighting chance?”

“I don’t trust you yet,” Rage growled. “Besides, were you to die out there, then our best weaponry that could be better used to defend ourselves in case of an attack will all fall into the hands of the enemy.”

“I suppose.” Jacob tilted his head to the side. “Out of curiosity, why don’t you have a big giant, glowing exclamation mark over your head?”

The guard captain peered at him in confusion before waving a hand over his head. “What?”

“Well because traditionally quest givers have this thing where they have some way of denoting that they’re an important person that you generally can’t kill normally or will somehow be relevant to the plot. I mean, you’ve pretty average sized and don’t tower over everyone else by a foot, you don’t have the exclamation mark over your head. Not even a little shining aura or something.”

Caleb ran a paw down his face. “Jake…”

“Right. Sorry. One last question, though.”

“What?” sneered the guard captain.

“How’s it feel to be the only black guy in this entire campaign?”

Caleb immediately seized Jacob’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Aaaaand with that, we’re done. Thanks captain! We’ll check in on you in a bit!”

The party, headed away from the baffled and slightly infuriated guard captain blissfully unaware that there is such a thing as faction favour in this campaign and they just lost a few points for annoying possibly the only guy trying to genuinely help them.

Lars smacked the back of Jacob’s head. “Smooth move there, Oh Great Writer of Reality. I thought you were meant to be good at these things.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m True Neutral,” answered the wolf with a shrug. “I gotta throw a couple of good with the bad here and there, right?”

“True Neutral?”

“Yeah. You know. My alignment. I kind of dance between the lines of good and evil, chaotic and lawful.” He pointed at Lars. “I mean, you’d undoubtedly the goody-too-shoes of the gang so you’re definitely Lawful Good.” He gestured next to Caleb. “Our strapping leader is Neutral Good.”

“I am?” Caleb asked. “Shouldn’t I be Lawful Good like Lars?”

“Considering how you went behind your dad’s back for years knowing full well his approach to Outsiders and kind of skirted the law here and there while also working for the US Government, no.”

Caleb’s ears folded back in shame. “Oh… right…” He then pointed at their resident werewolf barbarian. “Well, Ben has to be Chaotic Evil, right?”

“And proud of it!” exclaimed Ben with a big grin.

“And Mary is undoubtedly Lawful Evil,” added Jacob.

“Hey!” shouted the assassin. “I am not evil.”

Everyone gave her a pointed look even the ever-present, omnipotent narrator-slash-dungeon-master.

She sighed. “Fine…”

“And Ashton is probably Chaotic Neutral,” summarised Jacob. “Mostly because he’s Mary’s bitch.”

“And proud of it,” Ashton said, sticking out a tongue.

Caleb ran a paw through his brown hair. “Alright. Now that that’s settled. We’ve got our jobs, right? Grab some supplies and either find the source of the miasma, return order to the streets, sort out the shit with the merfolk or try to break down the big rich guy party.”

Ben crossed his arms decisively. “I say we leave the rich snobs to their partying for a little longer. Knowing them, they’ve probably got heavily armed guards, the best money can buy. We haven’t even levelled up yet. Going after them is bad news. Plus they have the Archmage who was supposedly responsible for locking away one of our four main antagonists so…”

“You just don’t want to hit them because you’re a rich bastard too,” Mary muttered. “But I suppose you have a point.” She lifted her hand, signalling a vote. “Honestly, I say we go after the merfolk. They’ve bene upended from their homes so they’re likely not too used to their surroundings. They’ll be relatively weak.”

Ashton grimaced. “Despite fearing for my very life on this one, I’m going to have to disagree. The miasma is everyone. The more people we kill, merfolk, rat people, noble or otherwise, they’ll just rise back up as zombies and come after us. I say we sort out where that thing came from and kill it before we go any further.”

“I’m with Ashton on this one,” agreed Lars. “Besides, for us furs, our sense of smell is way better than yours, Mary. This place makes my eyes water.”

“Now hold on,” Caleb protested, holding up his paws. “We can deal with a few zombies and from all appearances, the merfolk aren’t really killing anyone and neither are the nobles. The rats and thieves are. They’re terrorizing the citizens. Shouldn’t we go help the people who are really suffering from all this mess first?”

“And there’s the ‘Good’ in ‘Chaotic Good’,” Jacob muttered, arms folded. “I’m throwing my lot in with Caleb. The Missing Hand is established enough in this place that they obviously have a reputation. They have resources. Resources we can either take for ourselves or use to defend the city. They’re the wildcard here.” He gestured at the dying around them. “We know where the miasma is. We know where the merfolk are and we know where the nobles are holed up. The thieves, we have the rooftops and the sewers. Not much to go on there.”

Lars rumbled softly and stroked his chin. “Huh… You got a point there. Okay, I’m agreeing with Caleb.”

“Thieves it is, then,” Caleb surmised. “Come on, let’s go see what supplies we can get before we head out. I’m assuming we’ll need some healing potions or something.”

******

After realising they were completely broke and had no way of actually playing for any gear or supplies, the party left the Temple forlornly with an eye to looking for the thieves guild. They questioned the guards and what few citizens they could ask and they were directed to the Death Knell Tavern. A seedy place located in what was commonly known as the Merchants Quarter near the eastern side of the city, the Death Kneel Tavern had a reputation for having more patrons winding up dead than drunk.

They approached its three storey facility with a large sign that depicted a large, black bell and a white skull emblazoned on its front. Sounds of drunken revelry and roughhousing could be heard even through thick doors and equally thick brick walls. An imposing equine bouncer stood in front of the door, arms crossed and glaring at the adventurers as they approached.

“We dun like yer kind in here,” growled the bouncer.

Jacob pushed Caleb forward. “This is where you charm him, oh fearless leader.”

Caleb staggered forward and grinned sheepishly at the towering eight-foot titan with muscles so large that they tore shamelessly through his white tunic. In the hot sun, with the miasma hanging over them, the bouncer’s sweaty form glistened like a perfectly bronzed statue to masculinity. The incredible specimen of equine manliness stood with his legs permanently apart, a wide stance to give room for his sizeable pa –

“Rhia!” Caleb shouted.

Right… sorry. Got carried away there.

The lupine bard shook his head and regarded the bouncer with a smile. “Hey, we’re here to help the town and we heard that this is the best place to find members of the Missing Hand.”

He heard a loud smack behind him and he turned to find Jacob had just performed a cringing facepalm. “What?” he demanded.

“The Missing Hand obviously does not want to be found and you just waltz up right to the guy guarding the place where we were told we could find them and boldly announced we’re looking for them!”

“Oh…” Caleb’s ears folded back and his tail sank between his feet. “Right…”

SMACK!

Stars flashed before Caleb’s eyes with each one bursting with a blast of pain. He staggered into Lars’ mighty arms, dazed but not unconscious.

“No one punches out my boyfriend like that!” shouted the paladin. He dropped Caleb unceremoniously on the ground and drew his hammer.

“Shud I punch him a different way then?” sneered the bouncer with a smirk, his knuckles crackling ominously.

“No,” Lars sneered, lifting his enormous shield. Then he charged, shield first. The bouncer seized the edges of the shield as Lars’ heavily armoured body slammed into him, being pushed back a few steps. Lars then immediately pulled away from his shield, releasing his grip on it before throwing a massive armoured first straight into the equine’s face. The horse toppled back, crashing right into the door and shattering it into pieces.

All the patrons of the tavern suddenly turned at the sight, having fallen silent.

“That’s how you punch my boyfriend!” Lars bellowed.

Then he seemed to realise he was now the attention of about fifty shady characters with various weapons in their hands and mostly likely partially inebriated.

“Oh…”

The window next to him suddenly shattered as a huge, blood-red figure ploughed through it and into the tavern. Ben smashed right into a nearby table, knocking all the men crowded around it. The werewolf threw his arms into the air with a howl.

“FREE FOR ALL!”

Immediately the tavern erupted into a primal display of savagery. Blades flashed through the air as patrons charged directly at Ben. The werewolf, grinning maniacally, lunged into them, his claws flashing. Mary was instantly by his side, her own daggers flashing and slicing into unprotected flesh. A blade came singing out from her left and she deftly dodged to the right. The blade barely sliced the hem of her tight-fitting, black, leather shorts.

A block of ice appeared above several patrons and suddenly slammed down into them, making them scream and squeal like gutted pigs.

A short distance away, Ashton, once again drunk with power, cackled maniacally. “Bow before your GOD!” He threw his head back, swinging his staff down over and over again and sending huge shards of ice cascading all around him. “Kneel! Kneel! Praise your all-mighty deity!”

Ben regarded the manic would-be-villain with a sour expression. “You wanna reign him in before he brings down the whole place?”

Mary sighed and rolled her shoulder. “Yeah. I got this.” She strode boldly towards Ashton, picking up a wooden chair as she did so. Just before the mage could turn around, she brought the piece of furniture shattering over his back. The mage dropped to the ground, once again unconscious.

“Squishy mage,” she grunted.

“Mary! Look out!”

Her instincts kicked in and she immediately dodge the potentially fatal blow to her neck. The blade of the patron sliced through the fabric of her tunic. The fragile armour immediately dropped away from her shoulders, revealing her pearly white brazier beneath.

Mary’s eyes widened. “Hey! What the hell!?”

Another patron, taking advantage of her sudden shock, lashed out at her legs, hoping to cripple her from dodging. He was too slow however and she danced away but not before his blade nicked her belt and caused her shorts to fall away immediately. Her curvy hips and rosy pink underwear was left exposed.

“Rhia! You’re doing this on purpose!

You bet I am, answered the aroused dungeon master with a sexuality that she would like to remind all those present is very much a moving target.

“Gross…” Mary grimaced. “This is going to be hell on our armour budget…”

Lars suddenly joined the fray, picking up his shield once more and swing both his hammer and shield. He let out a bellowing cry, taunting many around him to crowd around the muscled Doberman and drawing all attention away from the very exposed and unarmoured Mary. They piled onto him, nearly overwhelming him.

Then came a very strange cry.

“Go for the eyes, Boo! Go for the eyes!”

Two of the men looked up just in time to see two large rodents leap for their faces, clawing and scratching at their eyes. Jacob was instantly by Lars’ side, swinging his mace and shouting…

“Cannelloni!”

An ethereal white blanket wrapped around Lars, forming a cylinder around him and a defensive shield. Those that had collided with the paladin were pushed back by the mystical and frankly ridiculously named barrier. But it was effective, now the paladin had some breathing space and he swung his hammer at the nearest foe, knocking them back.

“We should totally have a battle cry,” Jacob suggested. “Oh! Oh! How about ‘For Ravioli’!”

“Not the time, Jake!” Lars shout.

“How about ‘In His Noodly Name’!”

“Jake!” snapped Ashton.

“Fine. Fine.” He swung his mace through the air. “Pasta Power!”

Caleb shook his head and grimaced. He wiped the blood off his muzzle and staggered to his feet. Seeing his friends in the midst of combat, he drew his longsword. Then he glanced at his lyre. Remembering his role in the party, he cried, “Hang on guys! I’ll give you some support!”

Then he began to pluck the strings of his lyre and –

Aaaargh! Oh dear sweet Jesus, Caleb! Stop! That’s terrible!

Despite the cries of the narrator, the tone-deaf bard sang some horrible sonata that clearly had been concocted for the purposes of aural torture. The notes from the string clashed with one another and his voice constantly broke and twisted like some prepubescent choir boy undergoing rapid puberty during a recital being accompanied by an octogenarian organist with crippling dementia!

Oddly enough, it was effective. All the patrons of the tavern screamed and plugged their ears, blood seeping between their fingers. They dropped to the ground, wailing like the unholy undead that plagued the streets of Troubletown.

Only then did Caleb stop.

“Good God, Caleb…” Jacob grimaced. “Where did you learn how to sing? Or play the lyre for that matter? Because that was really frighteningly effective.”

Caleb glanced at his work, a horrified look on his face. “Uh… I didn’t. I never learned how to play a musical instrument. I thought because we came into these roles we sort of just got our skills… you know? I mean Ashton and you can cast spells… when you can’t do it in the real world.”

“Well I’m the Writer of Reality and Ashton can break the fourth-wall as well so that’s kind of given. Mary was always a kickass martial artist, Lars knows how to swing a bat and Ben…” Jacob made a sour face. “… is currently wearing a guy’s face…” Ben sauntered up to him with the bloodied skin of a man on his face. “Halloween mask?”

“Think I can introduce the tradition to this place?” asked the werewolf with an evil grin.

“I wouldn’t open with that at the pitch meeting.” Jacob glanced back to Caleb. “So you’re telling me that you’re our bard who doesn’t have any musical training whatsoever?”

“Uh…” Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

“But for some reason your horrendous singing and music playing can torture even Rhia who is forced to compensate to make you stop.” Jacob got an evil look on his features. “Interesting.”

Oh for the love of God, Caleb, I’ll let you switch classes if you just please don’t sing again.

The wolf smirked back. “Nah, I’m good.”

Fuck me…

Mary kicked one of the men, the poor soul unconscious from having part of his brain melted and seep through his ears. “Well… none of these guys will be any use to us now. We won’t be able to find the Missing Hand this way.”

“If I know anything about RPGs and taverns,” Ben said, pulling the gruesome mask off his face. “It’s that most taverns like this have secret hiding places or switches that open up and lead into the thieves lair. Look around. We might find something.”

She shrugged and along with the others, began poking through the devastated tavern. Ben began poking around behind the bar while Caleb and the others began looking around various corners, upturning tables and chairs. Mary, with her keen intuition, headed over to the fireplace and immediately spotted a not-so-well-hidden button on the side.

“Huh… Found something,” she announced and pressed the button.

Almost immediately, the fireplace let out a deep rumble, the fire immediately going out. It slid aside with a loud grating noise to reveal a flight of stairs heading down into the depths of the city.

“One guess where this leads,” she announced, a hand on her hip. “You’re not really making this ‘campaign’ very challenging, you know, Rhia. I mean, throw a surprise our way every once in a while otherwise this sounds just like any fantasy setting! Ha!”

Her snarky comment going unanswered… for the moment, Mary let the ground down into the depths of the tavern, heading down deeper and deeper. Thankfully, Caleb had the foresight to bring a lamp from the tavern to help light their way as the darkness was inky, all-consuming and oddly chilling. A hundred steps later, the path levelled out and soft drip-drip-drip of sewerage echoed in the darkness.

“Oh fuck…” muttered Lars, covering his nose. “This place smells worse than topside! Do these people exclusively eat chipotle!?”

Mary smiled faintly and turned to him, striding backwards confidently. “Thank god I’m the only non-fur here because I’m not too bothered by the smell!”

A soft whisper brushed against her ear just as a serrated blade slipped out of the darkness and pressed against her neck.

“Perhaps you should be less worried about what you smell than what’s right in front of you.”

A dozen blades and similarly a dozen eyes sprang up from the darkness. Men and women dressed in billowing, brown cloaks armed to the teeth and in black, leather armour sprang up around them. The otter that had appeared behind Mary seized her waist and pulled her against him, keeping her secure against him.

“Who are you?” hissed the thief. “What are you doing here?”

Caleb lifted the lantern so that he could better see the assassins around him. His jaw dropped upon seeing the features of the otter.

“Arthur!? Is that you!?”

Heh… How’s that for a surprise, Mary.

“I hate you,” Mary sneered.

“Hate me?” Arthur the thief chuckled softly. “What? Because I caught the group’s rogue off guard? Don’t you know rogues should either be stealthily scouting ahead or sticking to the middle of the group where her disappearance would not be noticed in the caucus of battle.” His features hardened. “Now tell me, how did you get here. You have ten seconds or I slit her throat.”

“We came here from the Death Knell Tavern!” Ashton blurted immediately. “We heard this was where we can find the Missing Hand. We’re here to help against the city’s troubles and we heard that the Missing Hand had made an alliance with the rat people of the Matronarch. We came to see if that’s true!”

The otter frowned and gently pushed Mary back into the group. “Well, in that case you have your answer. We have allied with the Matronarch’s pet rats. But not all of us like the arrangement.” His eyes narrowed. “I have not seen you before so I will give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“A trusting thief,” Jacob muttered. “How refreshing.”

Arthur glanced around and with a jerk of his chin, the thieves all swept back into the darkness. “Listen to me. The Missing Hand are thieves. We’re not murderers. But under the Rat King, we have turned into marauders and murderers.”

Ben clapped his paws joyfully. “Oooh! Where do I sign up?”

Ignoring him, Arthur continued. “You somehow knew my name so I must assume either someone topside knows as well and sent you or you’re here to kill me by rivals in the guild. Either way, I cannot trust you. Consider your mission here a failure.”

“Hang on,” Caleb said, raising a paw. “You said you’re not too happy about following this Rat King.” He shrugged. “I don’t suppose we can strike a deal? Say we depose the Rat King and restore the Thieves Guild back to what it was before and you help us defend Troubletown?”

Arthur smirked at him. “You catch on quick, kid. Whether or not you’ve been sent to kill me by someone within the Hand or not, it doesn’t matter. You’ve lost this little incursion. But if you want another chance, you’ll have to do what I say.” He lifted three fingers. “I’ve got three tasks for you. Complete them and we’ll see where we go from there.”

Jacob crossed his arms with a smirk. “Huh. Quests within quests. You really thought this through, Rhia.”

He was ignored as Arthur began to explain.

“The Rat King resides within a hidden underground city beneath Troubletown, the Undercity. Many of the Hand have been dragged into there under the pretence of a ‘promotion’ but we never hear from them again. I want you to go down there and figure out what’s happening to them.”

“If we’ve been sent by the King to assassinate you, that won’t be much of an issue,” said Jacob.

“A reason why I’ll be coming with you. To keep an eye on you. I’ll meet you at the entrance to the Undercity.” Arthur lowered his paw. “The second one will test whether or not you are loyal to the authorities topside.” A vicious grin crossed his features. “I want you to steal the Eyes of the Celestial.”

Jacob clapped his paws against his cheeks. “The Eyes of the Celestial!? No! You’ve got to be kidding! Anything but the Eyes of the Celestial!”

Caleb glanced at his fellow wolf. “You know what that thing is?”

Jacob dropped his paws and shrugged. “Not a clue.”

“The Eyes of the Celestial,” Arthur said with infinite patience, “is actually two great jewels found at the Statue of the Celestial in the Grand Cathedral. It’s heavily guarded and worth a hell of a lot. You steal that for me and you prove your worth.” That evil smirk crossed his features as well. “And potentially lose a lot of reputation in the eyes of the city guards.”

“Ouch…” Ben grimaced. “So we help one faction but damage our rep with another. Shit Rhia, you’re not making this easy. I love it!”

“And the last task?” Mary asked, rubbing her neck.

“The Ethereal Mask,” Arthur stated grimly. “A legendary artefact. Supposedly it has the ability to make anyone who wears it completely invisible and able to pass through walls. I don’t know where it is but I have a few leads. Get the Mask for me and I’ll know you’re not working for anyone else. No one in the right mind would just hand such a powerful artefact to the leader of a coup without supporting said coup.”

Caleb nodded. “Okay. So spy on the Rat King, steal giant jewels and get a magic mask. Got it. Jake, got all that?”

Jacob tapped on the logbook. “Yep. Though one more question.” He lifted his gaze to Arthur. “Do you have any side quests for us?”

Arthur tilted his head to the side. “Side quests?”

“Yeah. You know. Quests that aren’t critical to advancing the plot but nonetheless provide either some rich backstory or incredible rewards?”

The otter frowned. “Huh… Well, I do have a few things in mind.” He snapped his fingers. “I got it. The Terrorwing Blade. Said to be a weapon kept by one of the most dangerous serial killers in Troubletown. I don’t know where it is but maybe ask around town. Ask the guard captain if you’re close to them. It’s said to be able to cut through any barrier be it magical or physical.

“Then there’s Buckfang. He’s the currently leader of the Missing Hand. A puppet for the Rat King. I want to find some evidence against him. Get something to topple him. Or better yet, kill him.”

“That sounds more like a main quest to me.”

“Buckfang is just one rat out of many. Killing him will only leave room for someone else to take his place or for the Rat King to appoint someone. It won’t stop the bastard’s grip on the Hand. But it will cause some minor friction between the Hand and the Rat King. Plus a bit of disorder amongst him troops.

“And the last thing is the Nether Ward. Supposedly, it was the way that the Rat King was kept in the Undercity for centuries. His people could leave but he couldn’t. Somehow, it was broken. I want you to find out how it was broken and maybe a way to rebuild it and let’s see if we can make use of it.”

“Again, main quest?”

Arthur shook his head. “Would only work if the King was in the Undercity. He’s not anymore.”

“Fair enough…”

The thief began to step backwards, fading slowly into the shadows. “You have your tasks. Now go.”

And with that, Arthur was gone.

Caleb sighed and turned towards the other, holding up the lamp higher so he can see everyone’s faces. “Well guys? What do we do? Spy on the Rat King, pull of the greatest heist of Troubletown, find a magical mask, search for a serial killer’s blade, depose the leader of the Missing Hand or rebuild a magical lock?”

The team exchanged glances. There were six quests and there were six of them present. Even before any of them spoke up, they all knew that they would be in for a heated debate. Each of them had their opinions on priority and each of them –

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Rhia,” Jacob said, holding up a paw. “I have a way we can solve this with the least amount of bloodshed and impassioned arguments that I’m sure our esteemed dungeon master revels in.”

“How?” asked Caleb. “She’s right. There’s six quests and six of us. I’m going to vote for the finding the Nether Ward. It’d be a good trump card in case the Rat King tracks us down. Lars will probably want to find out more about the Undercity even though that’s clearly suicide. Ben, opting for the chaos and murder, will probably want to kill Buckfang. Mary, sticking to her guns, can probably steal the Eyes of the Celestial fairly easily assuming she can get some decent armour and Ashton, still thinking he’s a god, will opt to find the super-powerful mask to make himself more powerful.” He gestured at Jacob. “And you’ll probably say you want to go and find the Terrorwing Blade just to be different!”

“Probably,” Jacob said with a shrug. “But like I said. I have a solution.”

“Then what is it?”

He pulled out a small, twenty-sided, wooden shape from his pocket.

“The traditional way. We roll dice.”

QUEST COMPLETE

There’s Trouble in Town