"The House" - Chapter 8: Battle of the Rogues

            Cloud opened her eyes. She had just woken up from a great nap in her makeshift camp. After she fled from the mansion, she had set up camp on a nearby hill and staked out the entrance for her fellow adventurers’ return. A few hours later, as the sun was setting, she decided they were probably dead, which was fine with her. She had only gone on this mission for the loot, and had acquired plenty.

In the early morning light, Cloud cast one last glance in the direction of the house. Shivering a little, she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again, this time staring fixedly at the plot where the house once stood. All that remained in the manor’s place was a large hole in the ground where the basement had been. As the rogue gaped in bewilderment, she failed to notice a large, dark ship sailing out of the town’s bay. “Well, I guess where the mansion went isn’t my problem,” Cloud thought to herself as she hastily gathered her belongings.

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The cat person knocked on mayor Bill’s door. After a few minutes, the door swung open to reveal the mayor. “I assume you are here about your reward.” Bill flatly stated.

“Indeed I am. We killed all the ghosts. However, the rest of my party perished in the process. After that, I did the responsible thing and burned the whole house down, just to be safe,” Cloud cheerily lied.

“Very well, then. Follow me to the vault and I will give you your reward,” the mayor directed, waving his hand toward the hallway behind him. Bill led Cloud down a few different hallways before stopping in a library. He casually strode over to a bookshelf and pulled on a book titled “Secret Passages For Dummies,” causing the bookcase to swing open. Behind it was a dark stairwell leading down.

“Right this way. The vault is just down these stairs.” Bill explained. In spite of her better judgment, Cloud pressed on in exited anticipation of her reward. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, the mayor fished a set of keys out of his coat and unlocked a heavy iron door. Upon entering the door, Cloud was greeted with a torchlit stone room. To one side was a cabinet containing bandages, healing potions, and other medical supplies. Across from it was a wardrobe and a few weapon racks covered with assorted armaments. Next to the medical supplies was a door. After the tabaxi entered the room, Bill causally stepped behind her and shut the door.

“What are you doing?!” Cloud shouted. The mayor’s only response was maniacal laughter as two figures stepped out of the shadows at the other end of the room. The one on the left was a jester in a red and black costume with a cyan cape. His face was obscured by a smooth white mask sporting a sharp, unsettling grin. In his hand was a decorative purple, wooden staff crowned with a golden skull wearing a top hat.

Standing opposite him was a plague doctor donning a dark gray robe and a feathered cape of the same hue. A bandolier carrying syringes and vials was draped across his chest, and his head was completely covered by a raven-like mask topped with a wide brimmed hat.

“I may be the jester … but you … are the fool!” Stabby mocked.

“You!” Cloud hissed, drawing her shortswords and furiously swinging them at Bill. Much to the tabaxi’s surprise, the mayor gracefully dodged the attack, despite his rather unathletic physique.

“I am not Bill!” the imposter laughed. After a moment, the changeling began to rapidly change form, shifting its appearance from that of Bill to its typical form. The figure had well-combed black hair, green eyes, and extraordinarily white teeth. He was wearing a stylish black leather jacket with gold buttons that were undone. Underneath his jacket was a white silk shirt over which he wore a pendent painted with a crimson book, a golden dagger lying diagonally across it. His fingers were adorned with numerous fancy rings. On his waist, he wore a black leather belt with a gold buckle. Fastened to his belt were two silver sheaths with gold trim. With a grin, he drew his two ornate shortswords.

They hire shapeshifters now?! Cloud thought, her mind racing. She had no idea what she had possibly done to upset a thieves guild enough to send this much muscle after her. “What does Imperium Cleptarum want from me that they would send one of their top enforcers?” the tabaxi queried nervously.

“Me? An enforcer? Hahaha!… No. That is beneath me.” Ferrum amusedly corrected her.

“Then why are you here?” Cloud squeaked. “I haven’t stolen anything from you guys … probably.”

“Give me the book and nobody has to get hurt,” the changling casually stated.

“What!? How do you know about that?!” Cloud gasped before clapping her hand over her mouth.

“I know much more than you think, kitten,” Ferrum taunted.

“I found it fair and square! If you want it, come and take it!” the feline rogue hissed, crouching into a defensive position.

“Very well, then.” The right-hand man chuckled, an amused grin spreading across his face. As he spoke, his two enforcers began closing in on the duo. “Stand down. I don’t need your help to beat this fuzzball,” Ferrum commanded. The changling leaped into the air swinging his twin blades in a downward arc as he fell. Cloud acrobatically backflipped out of the way before muttering a series of arcane words to herself. After a moment, she began to appear as a shifting wavering blur. Ferrum pressed the attack, but Cloud’s spell allowed her to more easily evade his rapid strikes. Soon the feline found her opportunity and swung both shortswords toward an apparent gap in her foe’s defenses. In the nick of time, Ferrum’s right sword amorphously changed into a shield blocking the dual strike. As Cloud tried to pull away, she found, to her shock, that her swords were stuck to her opponent’s shield, as if by glue.

Multiple tiny, amber eyes appeared on the shield, glaring at the tabaxi. His sword is a mimic?! Cloud thought, to her horror, as she desperately tried to free her blades. Suddenly, the mimic released its adhesive, causing the cat person to stumble back. Before Cloud had time to react, Ferrum kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her sprawling with the wind knocked out of her, her swords spinning across the room. The shapeshifter’s grin widened as he realized the sharp pain had broken the Tabaxi’s concentration on her magic, leaving her vulnerable. As Cloud lay there catching her breath, Ferrum’s shield transformed back into a sword. As she began to stand, the feline thief was stopped by the changeling’s twin blades at her throat.

“OK, OK … you can take the book. It’s in my bag of holding,” the tabaxi frantically relayed.

“Good,” Ferrum remarked with an air of self-satisfaction. He nodded to the plague doctor. Raven strolled over and knelt. He slowly removed the bag of holding from Cloud’s back. Reaching into it, he removed “Wendellor’s Ultimate Guide to Constructs.”

“We have what we came for,” Raven victoriously stated.

“Hohoho, that was fun to watch!” Stabby laughed.

“Now then, either I take you into custody and let my boss decide your fate … or you join Imperium Cleptarum and become a valuable member of the guild. We could use your skills, and it would be a shame for you to languish in the dungeon. The choice is yours,” Ferrum coolly explained, never taking his blade’s from the feline’s throat.

“I would be happy to join you … Just get that mimic away from me … Please.” Cloud acquiesced, seeing the opportunity this provided. In the guild, she could put her skills to good use and make some major coin. Plus, it was a whole lot better than rotting in a dungeon.

“Good choice. Also, don’t worry about Shifty. I feed him regularly. He won’t attack anyone.” Ferrum paused. “Unless I tell him to,” he explained with a chuckle. Stepping away from Cloud, he sheathed his swords. Cloud got to her feet and quickly retrieved her dual shortswords from the floor before placing them back in their sheaths.

            “What do we do now?” the tabaxi asked curiously.

            “Now that I have the book and you have joined the guild, we must return to base at once and report to the boss,” Ferrum nonchalantly explained. Suddenly the safehouse’s door was flung open. Standing in the doorway was a three-foot-tall figure wearing a black hood and cloak. In in his hand was a large metal ring, and trailing from the ring was a long steel chain with a knife at the end. He held this knife in his other hand.

            “Greetings, Cloud… It has been a while… I’d say we have some catching up to do. The rest of you may go,” the figure stated in an ominously cheery tone.

            “Jeff?! How did you get here?!” Cloud stammered.

            “I have been observing you with my spyglass. I watched you enter this house and I followed you. Now I think it’s time we catch up a bit. After all, you did poison me.” Jeff explained cheerfully as ever.

“I take it he’s not on our side?” Ferrum asked Cloud as he put one hand on the hilt of his mimic sword.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Cloud stated with a forced chuckle.

“Cloud, follow me,” Ferrum ordered. “We have more important matters to attend to. Stabby, Raven, don’t let him pursue us.” He strode briskly toward the room’s back wall, and Cloud made haste in following him.

“Leaving so soon? I only just got here,” Jeff laughed, dropping the tethered knife to the floor while maintaining his hold on the ring. As his foes departed, the halfling reached into his cloak with his free hand and pulled out a dagger. With a flick of his wrist, the assassin sent the dagger hurtling through the air toward the tabaxi’s back, but before it could strike its target, the plague doctor leaped in the way. An instant before the knife could strike his chest, Raven deflected it with a backhanded swipe.

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Upon reaching the far wall, Ferrum pulled on a torch. Suddenly, a section of the wall and floor spun around, carrying the changeling and Cloud with it. Ferrum directed the tabaxi to the end of the hallway they found themselves in. At its end was a circle of runes on the floor. Clasping his hand around his guild emblem, the shapeshifter uttered a string of words in an alien tongue. After a moment, the duo disappeared in a flash of light.

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            Stabby reached into his left sleeve while chanting a rhyme to himself and pulled out a pair of small red juggling balls. He stood there a moment juggling before hurling the balls toward Jeff. To the halfling’s surprise, the juggling balls transformed into daggers midair. Jeff just barely managed to dodge the projectiles, one of them scratching his shoulder. As they collided with the wall, the daggers disappeared.

The assassin quickly picked up the chain of his weapon and began twirling it in several small circles. Once he developed the necessary momentum, he released it, sending the blade at the end hurtling toward the jester. In an instant, Stabby grabbed the staff from his back and, with a swish, batted the knife from the air.

Before the halfling could reel the knife back in, Raven sprinted toward it and grabbed the end of the chain. His feathered cape then unfolded into the pair of wings that it truly was. Chain in hand, the owlin flew up to the ceiling, the force of his wingbeats competing against Jeff’s iron grip on the ring. Unable to fly any higher, the plague doctor circled for a few seconds, then gave a great heave on the chain. Lightweight as he was, the halfling assassin was plucked off the ground and sailed across the room before gravity took hold again and slammed him painfully against the floor. Jeff dropped his end of the weapon in the impact.

As the halfling struggled to his feet, the jester threw his staff to the floor and sprinted toward him. Stabby whipped out his cittern. Strumming rapidly and discordantly on the instrument, the entertainer created a blast of thunderous force, which sent Jeff, who had only just gotten to his feet, reeling into the nearest wall with a loud bang.

            “That was a blast!” Stabby shouted with vicious amusement.

            The halfling assassin gingerly gathered himself to his feet and brushed himself off. “Well, entertaining as this was, I have places to be,” he smiled, his merry voice betraying the pain he was in. “And I can’t waste any more time playing with you two clowns!”

            “You cheeriness may get you far, but your legs wont… after I cut them off!” the jester shouted before bursting into hysterical laughter.

            “Good idea,” Raven agreed as he descended to the floor. “Without legs he will never get away from us.” He began twirling the stolen weapon.

With a grin, Jeff reached into his cloak and pulled out a grey sphere. He tossed it onto the ground, where it burst in a cloud of smoke. The owlin’s chest exploded in pain as he was kicked backward by the assassin. Jeff quickly retrieved his knife and chain before heading toward the door. As the smoke cleared, the two enforcers heard footsteps echo up the stairs. And then all was silent.

 THE END

"The House" - Chapter 7: Boss Fight!

            Boomer stumbled to his feet and looked quizzically at Sir Kevin. “What happened?” he groggily muttered, quoting Hamawk right after Dave resurrected him.

“You jumped down the ladder like an idiot and face-planted yourself into unconsciousness and I healed you,” the knight frustratedly replied. Boomer glared at him before turning to look around the room. He was in a cellar, dimly lit by a few torches affixed to the walls. Against one wall was a rack containing several bottles of wine.

Ever on the hunt for valuables to steal, Cloud immediately decided to examine the bottles. She began reading the label out loud:

Totally Not a Mimic™ Wine
Made by real mimics, which this bottle is not (we promise).
Contains genuine neutralized mimic saliva.
Pairs well with pufferfish and last rites.
P.S. Please purchase this so we can afford to buy food instead of eating you.

Cloud nervously put one hand on a dagger as she finished. She recognized this as an expensive wine brand for bored nobles. “The stuff rich people buy,” she muttered under her breath.

“I want a taste!” Hamawk shouted, sprinting toward her. As he reached for a bottle, he felt a sharp pain in his face as Cloud slapped him down.

“This is too valuable for a bozo like you to be drinking.” She admonished.

Hamawk angrily stomped off toward the open, stone archway leading to the next room. He was joined at the entryway by Sir Kevin and Boomer as Cloud was busy shoving bottles of Totally Not a Mimic™ wine into her bag of holding. Through the archway was a large, circular arena with a flat stone floor and rows of seats filled with mannequins. As the three adventures cautiously entered the arena, a portcullis closed behind them with a loud thunk.

“Thank you everyone for coming here today to witness this slaughter! Today our battle will be three rookie adventures, a maimed goblin with anger issues, a birdbrain who only knows how to explode things, and a brash, overconfident knight who thinks his god can save him! They will all be facing the reigning champion!” shouted an unseen announcer.

The remaining party members looked at each other nervously. “What sorcery beith this?!” Boomer exclaimed. Before his friends had time to respond, the commentator began speaking again.

“Introducing … champion of this arena, slayer of hundreds, Darrak the Butcher!” the announcer bellowed. A portcullis on the opposite end of the arena began to slowly rise with a low, metallic grating sound as a chant of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” echoed from the stands. Out from the darkness walked a spectral warrior clad in bloodstained, black platemail. In his left hand, he held a longsword and, in his right, a battleaxe, both dripping with spectral blood.

“Batten down the hatches!” Boomer shouted in his perfect pirate impression as he backed up.

“Wait, where’s Cloud?” Sir Kevin worriedly asked.

“Your so-called ‘friend’ has wisely abandoned you,” Darrak mocked as he strode toward them. As the party assumed defensive stances, the spectral warlord raised his weapons into the air and shouted, “Arise, my soldiers, and together we will gain glory!” With that, four ghostly warriors rose out of the ground around Darrak.

“Darrak has called forth his warriors. This is not looking good for the newcomers!” the announcer exclaimed.

“I can take him. You guys handle his warriors!” Hamawk confidently shouted while raising his mace above his head. The goblin sprinted toward his foe and leapt into the air. As the barbarian landed, he swung his mace in a deadly arc aimed directly at the spectral knight’s head.

Clang! Hamawk’s mace was intercepted by Darrak’s two weapons.

“You will never defeat me, goblin!” the ghost hissed, pushing his weapons against the barbarian’s mace and shoving him back a few steps.

“I have only ever lost two fights, and I will not allow myself to lose another!” Hamawk spat.

Darrak advanced toward his diminutive adversary, raining blow after blow with sword and axe upon the goblin’s defenses. Although he hated to admit it, Hamawk was losing ground.

“The goblin is being pushed back! It looks like the champ has him on the ropes!” bellowed the commentator.

Sir Kevin leaped out of the way of one ghost’s swinging blade and raised his shield just in time to deflect a swing from another spirit. Hearing a loud boom behind him, he quickly parried yet another specter’s sword just in time to sidestep out of the way as the fourth ghostly swordsman hurtled past him.

            This was it. Hamawk was backed against the wall with nowhere to run. He had to do something quick if he wanted to survive. In a last-ditch effort, Hamawk lunged forward and swung his mace at Darrak. The spectral knight swiftly blocked it with his crossed blades. “Just die already!” the goblin spat though gritted teeth. After a brief shoving match, Darrak leapt backwards, disengaging his weapons from Hamawk’s mace. Having been unprepared for this, Hamawk stumbled forward a few steps. He quickly recovered, however, and began advancing toward his foe, swinging his mace furiously. 

            Sir Kevin’s sword glowed with radiant light as he plunged it into the chest of the ghostly warrior in front of him. Another spirit lunged at him but was intercepted by a bolt of fire and knocked to the floor. “Thanks for the assist!” The knight shouted at Boomer. The bird man winked a beady eye and gestured back with finger guns.

The ghostly warlord easily dodged the first few swings before catching Hamawk’s mace with the hook of his axe. Before the goblin had time to free his weapon, Darrak twisted his axe, wrenching the mace out of the adventurer’s hand and sending it spinning across the room. A split-second later, the champion’s sword flashed through the air and Hamawk’s remaining arm sailed off in an arc. “It seems you have been . . . disarmed,” the ghostly knight mocked. As the goblin beheld his bleeding stump in horror and rage, he was sent flying into the wall by a kick from his spectral assailant. Hamawk slumped to the ground and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, he was decapitated by a single, brutal axe chop. “Who’s next?” Darrak shouted threateningly.

“Aaaand that’s a knockout!” the commentator shouted. “Looks like Darrak has already taken out that foolish goblin and is moving to do the same to his companions!”

The other two adventurers had just finished off the last of their attackers. “This isn’t good. Do you think we can take him?” Sir Kevin worriedly queried as he looked at Boomer.

“Together, we will gain glory!” the birdman shouted, parroting Darrak.

             “I’ll take that as a yes!” Sir Kevin charged at Darrak, and as the two knights began to cross blades, Boomer muttered a series of arcane words, creating a ring-shaped wall of fire that encircled the two fighters. I’m safe now, the birdman thought.

Kevin drove Darrak back with a series of divinely-charged strikes before delivering a powerful shield bash. Caught off guard, the ghost was sent sprawling through the fire wall. The burned and smoking specter quickly stood up and furiously barreled toward the birdman. The terrified kenku hastily fired a bolt of lightning from his outstretched hands. Darrak barely dodged the bolt and was struck by several small arcs of electricity as it went past. The sorcerer almost didn’t have time to summon his invisible barrier. “Mere parlor tricks will not save you,” the ghostly knight mocked as he smashed through Boomer’s barrier with both weapons grazing him. The birdman stumbled back, squawking with pain. He dispelled the fire wall, freeing Kevin, then with a wooden staff pulled from his back, Boomer clumsily swung at Darrak. The spectral murderer easily sidestepped the blow. Before the kenku could swing again, his staff was cleft in twain by his foe’s axe.

            Boomer teleported out of the way of a sword swipe aimed at his neck, but realized too late that his hasty casting had gone awry. Not only had he teleported away from Darrak, but away from the house, and the town. The birdman had no idea where he was.

Looking frantically around for his avian foe, the champion was caught unaware by the furious Sir Kevin. Without hesitation, the vengeful knight plunged his divinely-charged blade into his opponent’s back. Darrak the Butcher sank to his knees and dropped his weapons, which rapidly dissipated into nothing.

            “You…” The champion hissed before he, too, disappeared from this world.

            “Good riddance!” Kevin spat.

            “We have an upset!” the announcer shouted excitedly. “The champion has fallen! And the winner is… me!”

            “What?!” Kevin shouted, confusedly scanning the room for the source of the voice. A deep, menacing laugh echoed all around him. It seemed to be coming from the house itself. After a few moments, the laughing voice was joined by numerous others coming from the stands.

“Thanks for the show, but now it is time for dinner,” the voice mused.

“Who are you?” Kevin angrily asked.

“I am Mimicos … but your delectable kin know me in legends as The Haunted Devourer!” the voice proudly stated.

            Realization flashed across the adventurer’s face. Sir Kevin, like most adventurers, had heard the tale of The Haunted Devourer. It was said to be an ancient mimic of such enormous size that it could disguise itself as whole buildings to attract prey. The stories also claim that it possessed the ability to summon the spirits of those it has eaten to fight on its behalf. Kevin knew that if the house he had entered truly was that legendary creature, he was doomed. The knight raised his shield, assuming a defensive stance, as a massive maw filled with huge, acid-dripping teeth formed out of the wall before him. Several large eyes soon formed above it.

            “Welcome to the team,” the mimic ominously stated. “You’ll make a perfect replacement for Darrak.”

Go to Chapter 8 ⏩

"The House" - Chapter 6: The Book

Cloud slowly opened the next door, revealing a library with several rows of bookshelves. In the center of the room sat a dusty oak desk strewn with tattered tomes, behind which drifted a ghost librarian who was deeply engrossed in a book.

“What do you see?” Sir Kevin whispered from behind Cloud.

“It’s a library with some ghost reading a book. Shouldn’t be a problem,” the feline rogue replied.

“Alright, who’s going in first?” the knight asked.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Hamawk screamed as he barreled through the door, mace held high and ready to wreck some ghosts.

“SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the ghost hissed as she whirled around and hurled the book she was reading at the charging barbarian.

Hamawk reflexively raised the stump of his arm to catch the book with his metal hand, momentarily forgetting its absence. With a loud THUNK!, the book slammed into the goblin’s face, knocking him flat on his back.

As the rest of the party rushed into the fray, Cloud quietly perused the rows of books, searching for any rare and valuable items that may lie within. She quickly scanned shelf after shelf, tome after tome, until something finally caught her eye: “Wendellor’s Ultimate Guide to Constructs”. The cat person recalled that Wendellor was known as the first and greatest artificer, and his works were rare and extremely valuable. Ignoring the clamor of battle behind her, Cloud snatched the book from the shelf and tucked it safely into her bag of holding, which can magically store far more than its exterior dimensions suggest. Little did she know, she was being watched.

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Ferrum was sitting in his chair sorting through mission reports and other such paperwork when his cell stone began to vibrate and, in its usual excited voice, shouted “You have a call from Blex!”. The rogue hastily picked up the call knowing that the guild master would be displeased if made to wait.

“Ferrum, I have a mission for you,” the beholder stated imperiously.

“I’m listening,” the lieutenant replied.

The guild master took in a deep breath before launching into a rant. “I have discovered that the tabaxi has recovered a copy of ‘Wendellor’s Ultimate Guide to Constructs’, which she undoubtedly plans to give to that sniveling coward Mayor Bill as part of his scheme to destroy me! But it will never work! I need you to take whatever forces you think you may need and bring me that book by any means necessary! And whatever you do, don’t let it fall into Bill’s hands . . . or else!” the beholder finished.

“That should not be a problem,” Ferrum affirmed, stifling a chuckle at the latest of Blex’s theoretical plots against himself.

“Also, make sure not to harm that book. I have big plans for it!”, the beholder hinted excitedly.

“Noted. I shall begin the preparations right away. Is there anything else you need to talk to me about?” the second-in-command queried.

“No. That is everything. Just make sure to begin preparations right away . . . C-ya’!” the eye tyrant replied as he ended the call.

At that last comment, Ferrum nearly spit out a sip of his cider. Beholders were known for their eccentric and unpredictable demeanors, and Blex was certainly no exception.

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            Just as Cloud returned from behind a row of bookshelves Sir Kevin vanquished the ghostly librarian with a final swing of his divinely charged blade.

“Where were you?” the knight queried irritably.

“I was checking the rest of the library for additional ghosts so we don’t get ambushed mid fight again,” the cat person lied.

“Well, did you find any?” Kevin asked.

“Nope. We’re all clear,” she answered.

“Hey guys, I found a trap door over in the corner.” Hamawk interrupted.

“Let’s have a look,” replied the knight.

The party gathered around the trap door as Hamawk attempted to open it, but failed miserably due to his missing arm.

Tired of waiting, Boomer reached out his hands from which swept a wave of thunderous force, hurtling the incompetent goblin into the nearest wall. The bird man proceeded to fling open the trap door, and with a cry of “For Sparta!”, leapt down the hole, ready to confront whatever may lie below.

Go to Chapter 7 ⏩

"The House" - Chapter 5: Never Split the Party

            Creeping up to the door, Cloud examined it carefully, checking for poison needles in the keyhole, swinging scythes in the ceiling, and other such traps. After a short time, she declared it safe, and Sir Kevin stepped up and cautiously opened it. Inside was a kitchen with cabinets along the walls, an old stove with two pans lying atop it, a broom propped up in the corner, and an island in the middle, behind which stood a ghostly chef polishing a knife.

            With a furious shout of “Let’s get ‘em!”, Sir Kevin dashed toward the specter, sword in hand. The apparition looked up and, with a smirk, thrust its hand in the knight’s direction. Feeling a magical force push against him, Sir Kevin braced himself and only slid back a few feet. Before the warrior could charge again, the spectral chef threw the knife he had been polishing at Kevin’s forehead. Reacting quickly, the knight raised his shield and the knife bounced off, falling harmlessly to the floor.

As Rusty and Cloud ran to Sir Kevin’s aid, the broom and two pans began levitating in the air. Grinning and drawing her shortswords, the cat person shouted “I’ll handle them! You help Kevin” and sprinted toward the levitating objects.

Pouring a fraction of his life force into his maul, which caused it to glow with radiant energy, the mechanical warrior leaped over the island. With a chuckle and a wave of its hand, the specter telekinetically hurled Rusty to the floor before he could strike. Before the already badly damaged construct could regain his feet, the poltergeist grinned wickedly, and with a casual flick of its wrist, magically hurled the entire contents of a silverware drawer at him.

Cloud nimbly dodged under a swinging pan, and with a swipe of her two short swords, sliced the broom into thirds. However, before she had time to react, the cat person was sent sprawling by a blow to the face from the other pan.

“Rustyyyy!!!”, Sir Kevin shouted as he leaped over the island and swung his blade in an arc of radiant light toward the spectral chef. The apparition telekinetically yanked two knives out of Rusty’s corpse and caught them just in time to block the knight’s blade.

Cloud rolled out of the way of one haunted pan’s downward strike, sending it smashing into the floor. Before it could float back up, the feline rogue stabbed down with both swords, impaling it and sticking it to the floor. Leaving her blades there, Cloud swung open her cloak to reveal rows of daggers, several of which she deftly threw at the remaining pan, a few embedding themselves in the metal.

Sir Kevin and the poltergeist were locked in a deadly contest of strength until, with a final grunt of effort, the knight clove his foe’s knives in twain and relieved the specter of its ghastly head. With a look of shock and disgust on its severed head, the spectral cook vanished from this world.

As Cloud was picking up her daggers and Sir Kevin was searching Rusty’s corpse for anything useful, the two of them heard panicked footsteps behind them. Suddenly, Boomer sprinted through the door and slammed it behind him. The bird man looked disheveled, exhausted from fighting and running, and his feathers were singed in a few places. Cloud and Kevin stood staring at him, wondering what the matter was.

After catching his breath, Boomer made the sounds of a metallic clang followed by an explosion, a scream, and finally “Abandon ship! Abandon ship!”. Although they weren’t exactly sure what he meant, the bird man’s friends were able to gather that something had gone horribly awry. It was at that moment that they heard another set of hurried footsteps, and then Boomer leaped out of the way as Hamawk flung open the door.

He was in much worse shape than Boomer, bloody and bruised, and seemed barely able to stand. “Hamawk, what happened to your arm?!” Cloud gasped. The badly injured goblin managed, between breaths, to say “I… could probably use a… heal about now… Kevin”.  The knight hastily ran

over to the barbarian, placed his hand on him, and uttered a short prayer, causing many of Hamawk’s wounds to be magically healed.

“OK, so what the heck happened to you guys?” Kevin asked, exasperated.

After taking a moment to collect himself, the goblin recounted what had happened. “Well… after the party split up, me, Boomer, and Dave headed upstairs to the armory where we were attacked by several pathetic warrior ghosts and one quite skilled, grizzled veteran ghost. Then that bonehead cleric picked up some weird magic katana and thought it would be a good idea to try dueling the ghost veteran. He almost got himself killed before I stepped in and saved him.

“With its last words, the spirit said something about us being doomed because Dave picked up the sword. Well, after that, a window suddenly opened and enlarged itself, and a gigantic eyeball drifted in. We fought it for a while and things were going fine until the front of the eye opened up into a giant mouth full of dagger-sized teeth. After a hard fight, Boomer bailed on us for some reason and when it seemed like I finally had the thing, it bit my whole gosh dang arm off and I had to tactically retreat.” He paused. “Oh, and it ate Dave, too, I guess.”

Upon hearing this, Boomer shrugged and parroted, “Alas, poor Yorick”.

“Where is this eye now?” Sir Kevin asked with a hint of worry.

“I’m not entirely sure, but it definitely isn’t chasing us and I think it may have left the house,” the goblin answered.

“Well, while you guys were fighting the giant eye monster or whatever, a poltergeist impaled Rusty with a bunch of silverware,” Cloud sighed exasperatedly.

“I wanted to be the one to kill him,” the diminutive barbarian pouted.

“Never split the party,” Boomer sagely stated, quoting a popular piece of advice among adventurers’ guild members.

Cloud shook her head in disappointment. “You’re right, Boomer. We never should have split up, but these to idiots just HAD to start a fight and stomp off.”

“Don’t lecture us,” said idiots shouted in unison before stomping off deeper into the house.

With a sigh, the feline warrior followed them with the bird man not far behind.

Go to Chapter 6 ⏩

"The House" - Chapter 4: So THAT'S What It Does

As Dave slowly trudged up the stairs, he lamented the absence of the intrepid (and forever-merry) halfling rogue, Jeff, who had been the only party member able to keep the peace between the squabbling adventurers. But sadly, Jeff came down with dysentery a week prior. If it hadn’t been for Cloud turning up at the last minute, all too eager to the join the party on their adventure, they would’ve been a body short.

Halfway up the stairs, he heard a piratey shout, “All hands on deck! We’re being boarded!” Boomer. Dave bounded up the stairs two at a time, following the clamor of battle. As he reached the top of the stairs, there was a flash of light and a loud explosion. Wasting no time, the minotaur healer rushed through the wide-open double doors in front of him and took in the scene. He was in an armory. To his left and right were armor stands and weapon racks full of assorted gear. On the opposite wall were several large stained-glass windows and an ornate display case containing a flintlock pistol, several throwing stars, and a katana with a shiny black blade and a gold hilt with a ruby set in the pommel. The katana’s blade was etched with several glowing, green runes. Directly above the display case hung a large tapestry depicting a knight in black armor wielding that very sword as he cleaved through numerous foes with ease.

In the center of the room stood Hamawk, cackling in delight as he dueled with another pair of ghosts. Striding confidently toward him was a bearded, grizzled, veteran ghost clad in armor that had obviously seen many battles. He was holding a well-worn shield and wielding a chipped sword.

Cowering in a corner, Boomer was struggling to fend off a pair of ghostly warriors with a spear he had snatched from a weapon rack. A few feet away was a blackened, slightly smoking blotch on the floor, no doubt the birdman’s handiwork.

Dave eyed the enchanted katana again. He had never wanted to be a healer. Orphaned at a young age when his entire village was slaughtered by a band of adventurers, he was taken in by a kind family of human clerics. However, they would never be able to instill the knowledge, traditions, and training of the monstrous minotaur race. Dave was born to be a warrior, and now was his chance to become one, no longer standing invisibly on the sidelines waiting to thanklessly patch up everyone’s boo boos. Lowering his head and drawing in a deep breath, the minotaur roared as he charged horns-first into the display case. The cabinet exploded into a shower of splinters and sparkling glass needles. Reaching into the heap of debris, Dave snatched the magical katana and raised it over his head.

The ghostly veteran slowly turned around to face him, assumed a defensive stance, and grinned. With a barbaric roar, the minotaur barreled toward the ghost, not noticing the symbol of an eyeball engraved in the ruby set into the hilt of the raised katana, and the faint crimson glow beginning to emanate from it.

“Ha!” shouted Hamawk as he thrust out his metal hand and grabbed hold of the ghostly sword swinging down at him. Before the ghostly warrior had time to react, the goblin struck the end of its sword with his enchanted mace, hammering the pommel right through the apparition’s chest. Its mouth agape, the ghost uttered a final “Wut?” before it, and its weapon, faded into nothing. With a cocky laugh, Hamawk quipped, “Nailed it!”

The second ghost, who had been patiently waiting behind the arrogant goblin, finally saw its chance and swung its battle axe downward with both hands. Hamawk, who seemed to have a sixth sense, swiftly somersaulted backward and shattered the spirit’s kneecaps with a swing of his mace. As the ghost collapsed onto its mangled knees, Hamawk finished it off with a brutal, metal-fisted uppercut to the jaw.

Stretching out his left hand, Boomer conjured a transparent barrier which deflected a spirit’s sword with a “Ping!” before vanishing. His other opponent opportunistically swung its flail toward his head, but the bird man vanished in a small puff of smoke, reappearing behind the two ghostly warriors. Grasping his spear in both hands, Boomer stabbed the sword-wielding specter in the back, sending it stumbling forward. As the flail-wielding spirit spun around, Boomer took his left hand off the spear and unleashed a narrow blast of fire toward his assailant, sending it stumbling backward. Together, the two ghosts rushed at Boomer. The first one swung its sword at him, but he managed to block it with his spear. The other ghost attacked with a swing of its flail. The chain wound around the shaft of the spear, and with a jerk, the weapon was soon liberated from Boomer’s grasp. With a startled cry of “Stiffen the wombats!” Boomer spun around and made a beeline for the remains of the shattered weapons cabinet.

Dave ferociously slashed downward with the katana as he reached his foe, but the spirit easily sidestepped and slammed his shield into the minotaur’s back as he charged past, sending him sprawling to the floor. Snorting furiously, Dave picked himself up off the ground and ran back toward his opponent. He attacked rapidly, first with his sword, then with his horns, then with a powerful hoof kick, all of which were dodged. Before the ghost had time to dodge a fourth attack, Dave landed a vicious katana strike against its shield, cleaving it in two. Unfazed, the spirit contemptuously sliced Dave’s shoulder on his lumbering follow-through, sending the katana clattering to the floor, its gem glowing a little more brightly than before. The minotaur staggered forward a couple of steps, then dropped to one knee, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“Rookie mistake!” mocked the ghostly solder, striding toward him. Dave frantically began chanting a healing spell to close up his wound. Before he could finish, the grinning ghost slashed down at his neck.

Clang! A metal hand appeared between Dave and the ghostly blade, stopping the weapon in mid air. “Not today, punk,” growled Hamawk, a dangerous smirk on his face.

Snatching the flintlock pistol from what was left of the display cabinet, Boomer spun around and fired right into the head of his closest pursuer, who silently faded out of existence. His beady, black eyes gleaming in triumph, the bird-man pointed his gun at nis other assailant and click! Nothing happened. Boomer stared in horror at the smoking pistol in his hand as he was kicked into the pile of rubble by the remaining ghost.

“Beshrew thee!” crowed Boomer, firing a bolt of lightning from his hands, instantly removing the ghost from this world and flinging an armor stand into the opposite wall, charring its path with a long, black smear.

With a grunt, Hamawk wrenched the sword from the ghostly warrior’s hand and threw it across the room, where it vanished before hitting the wall. “You lose!” Hamawk shouted, slamming the head of his mace into the specter’s midsection. It collapsed to its knees with a howl.

Dave finished the healing spell for his shoulder and hurried to pick up his katana, the ruby glowing brighter than ever. The fallen spirit laughed grimly and explained, “You may have defeated me, but we were all doomed from the moment that foolish minotaur picked up the sword.” Examining the katana more closely, for the first time Dave noticed the eye etched into the ruby and the crimson glow emitting from it.

“What’s that supposed to m--", Hamawk demanded before he was cut off by a small bolt of fire slamming into the back of the ghostly warrior’s head. The spirit slumped forward and disappeared. Boomer crossed his arms, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Hamawk rolled his eyes.

As the three adventurers stood there, glancing nervously around the room and wondering what the fallen spirit had meant, they felt an evil presence watching them. A few moments later, Dave turned to see a massive, levitating eyeball staring at him through the far window.

Suddenly, the window threw itself open and stretched until its dimensions grew just enough to allow the eyeball to drift through the opening. The three adventurers exchanged worried looks as Boomer stepped back and Dave and Hamawk positioned themselves in front of him. From all around the room, motes of dust streamed toward the giant eye, coming together to form into four fist-sized, levitating eyeballs. The smaller eyes paired up, one set charging at the goblin, the other at the minotaur. Hamawk viciously swung his mace at one eye, but it nimbly flew out of the way. Grinning, Hamawk proceeded to snatch it out of the air with his metal hand and squeezed. When he opened his fist, a pile of dust sifted through his fingers. He dodged the second eye’s charge and smote it with his mace as it tried to fly past, returning it to the dust from which it was formed.

Dave swung wildly at the first of his assailants, stumbling forward as it dodged to the side. Pressing their advantage, one eye slammed into his side, the other into his back. Snorting with rage, the furious minotaur wheeled around and kicked the ocular menace behind him into a wall, where it crumbled into nothingness. Before he could swing at the other eye, it retreated to a safe distance.

With a series of frantic hand motions, Boomer sent a bolt of fire hurtling toward the giant, terrifying eye looming before his friends. A blue, glowing rod of energy fired from the eye’s saucer-sized pupil, intercepting the spell in an explosion of sparks.

The monstrous eye swiveled to face Dave, or rather the katana in Dave’s hands. As it darted toward him, the minotaur readied himself to impale the grotesque orb like an olive on a stick. Suddenly, the gem on the hilt of his sword began flashing green and his hands were bathed in tongues of verdant fire. He dropped the sword and stumbled back, staring dumbfoundedly at his charred hands as the eye bore down on him. Dave closed his eyes.

“Haaaahh!” Hamawk yelled as he shoved the minotaur out of the way and outstretched his muscular arms to meet the ocular impact. Dave opened his eyes to find the smirking goblin steadfastly blocking the eye’s path.

The eye’s pupil dilated and issued a blast of green fire, which struck Hamawk in the chest and sent him stumbling backward. The eye seemed to retreat slightly before charging forward and ramming into the unprepared goblin. Hamawk was hurtled several feet in the air, slammed into a weapon cabinet, and slumped to the floor. As he struggled to get up, the case began to tip over with an awful creek before crashing down upon him with a sickening crunch.

Boomer stared disbelievingly at the toppled cabinet that lay atop Hamawk’s crumpled corpse. With a cry of “Man overboard!”, Boomer turned toward the massive eye, which was now staring at him and fired the most powerful lightning blast he could muster. A blinding flash of light emitted from the bird-man’s palms as an ear-splitting crack rang through the air. Almost instantly, the pupil of the giant eye constricted and fired another blue rod of energy which intercepted the lightning, but harmlessly fizzled away. With a tremendous boom, the bolt struck the eye head-on, engulfing it in thick, black smoke. The last remaining minion eye flew toward Boomer, but it was met with a bolt of fire and instantly turned to dust.

Clasping his badly charred hands together and muttering a short spell, Dave healed his burns and sprinted toward the fallen weapon cabinet. With a roar, he heaved the cabinet upright and tossed some weapons aside to reveal Hamawk’s mangled form. Placing his hands on the fallen goblin, he used the last of his magical energy to infuse Hamawk with lifeforce and heal his most serious wounds.

The freshly-resurrected goblin struggled to his feet in a momentary daze and groggily asked “What happened?” His memory quickly returned once the smoke cleared to reveal a singed, but mostly unharmed, giant eyeball, the front of which was now split open to reveal a gaping maw full of terrifying, sword-like teeth. A guttural roar emanated from the monstrosity a moment before a torrent of green fire slammed into Boomer’s hastily-summoned, magical barrier. The bird-man’s eyes widened as his invisible shield dissolved before him in a matter of seconds. Dave and Hamawk watched in horror as their companion was engulfed in cursed flames. A split second later, Boomer appeared in the entryway, his extremities singed and smoldering. “Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” he shouted as he darted out the door and vaulted over the railing down to the first floor.

Hamawk spotted his mace lying on the floor across the room, a little past where the eye was levitating. Snatching a shield from a nearby weapon rack, he made a break for it. “Hamawk, no!” Dave shouted. The goblin charged single-mindedly at the beast, his head tucked behind the shield strapped to his enchanted metal arm. A cyan glow emanated from within the monster’s cavernous maw and a barrage of neon energy rods began bombarding Hamawk’s shield. As he neared the eye, the heroic barbarian flung the pitted, charred, and bent shield into the jaws of the hovering monstrosity and skillfully slid underneath it to reach his enchanted mace. When he lifted his weapon off the floor, he heard the horrific creak of bending steel as the great eye almost effortlessly crushed the shield between its jaws.

The monster spun to face Hamawk. Grinning viciously, the goblin pulled his metal arm back, then unleashed a powerful uppercut aimed at the huge eye’s mouthful of teeth. But he was too late. The monstrosity opened its mouth and welcomed the flying fist into its cavernous maw, then clamped down on the enchanted arm. Floating upward, the eye thrashed the dangling goblin around like a ragdoll. Hamawk repeatedly swung his mace in desperation, but only a fraction of the blows connected, and they accomplished little besides making the beast angrier.

Dave grabbed a battle axe from a nearby weapon rack, leapt into the air with a ferocious roar, and swung his weapon at the monster’s exposed backside. But before the blow could land, one of the eye’s pink, ropey tendrils wrapped itself around the blade’s haft. As the minotaur hung from his ensnared weapon, the eye spun around and released its grip, sending the healer hurtling into a wall and slumping to the floor in a daze.

With one final effort, the great eye snapped cleanly through Hamawk’s enchanted arm. The dizzied warrior dropped unceremoniously to the floor. The monster turned its attention back toward Dave. As the eye bore down on his friend, the humbled Hamawk stood up, stared at his mangled stump for a moment, and sprinted out the door. Hearing a loud gulp, the goblin dared one final glance over his shoulder. Dave was nowhere to be found, and the monster was lazily drifting toward the enchanted katana that lay on the floor.

Go to Chapter 5 ⏩

"The House" - Chapter 3: Eye Spy

“Good morning!” exclaimed the guild master sarcastically, slapping the disheveled, narcoleptic idiot in front of him with his name plate that said “Ferrum, Imperium Cleptarum Guild Master.”

“Whuuu,” replied said idiot, straightening and using his sleeve to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep during a mission! I promise! It only happens when I’m stressed.”

“Well, this is a stressful job,” retorted Ferrum. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. “And you know what happened to the last narcoleptic rogue I hired? He fell asleep in the middle of trying to steal a rare item and got caught. I had to send someone to the prison to take him out before he could talk.”

“But . . .”

“But nothing!” Ferrum barked as he pounded his fist on the black, marble desk. He abruptly stood up and leaned forward. “You don’t pass Go, you don’t collect 200 gold pieces, you don’t get the job! Steve will show you out.” He contemptuously flicked a ruby-studded lever next to his leg. A five-foot square section of the floor fell away directly below the cowering applicant.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” the applicant screamed, before falling asleep once again as he plummeted into the enclosure where Steve, the trained gelatinous cube, was waiting for his next meal.

Ferrum picked up a smooth, rectangular stone covered in runes and a pair of whimsical googly eyes. After tapping a short sequence of runes, he waited as the stone produced a ringing sound. The stone rang for several seconds before a slightly irritated, baritone voice responded, “Ted speaking.”

“Ted, would you please head to the cube enclosure and collect any valuables that nincompoop might have had on him?”

“Yup.” (Ted the Ooze Whisperer was a man of few words, at least with people.)

Ferrum set the stone back on his desk, leaned back in his chair and put up his feet. Suddenly, the stone began vibrating and an enthusiastic, automated voice exclaimed, “You have a call from Mayor Bill!”

Sighing and resignedly picking up the cell stone, he pressed the “answer” rune and spoke. “Hello, this is Ferrum. Have you solved the haunted house problem yet, Bill?”

“No! Everything has gone horribly!” shouted Bill angrily.

“What has gone wrong now, Bill?” the guild master sighed.

“A group of hooligans who call themselves adventurers violently barged into my office and demanded the quest.” he huffed. “Before they left, one of them smashed my desk, toppling oil and a candle and burning down my office! Oh, and I suspect one of them pocketed my prized dog figurine.” Imperiously, he added “You must send me a healer and repair crew posthaste!”

“Need I remind you that I am the boss here and you will speak to me as such,” warned Ferrum in a calm, dangerous tone. “Now, describe these adventurers.”

The mayor sheepishly cleared his throat, then recounted every detail he could remember.

“And where are they now?” Ferrum inquired.

“They set out for the house a short while ago, and a few minutes ago, a small group of townspeople came to my house with reports of flashes of light and loud booms coming from inside.”

“Good. Now, use your portal pendant to come to HQ and visit the medical wing at once.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do that.” responded Bill stiffly before ending the call.

I should inform Blex of this, Ferrum thought to himself as he stood up and placed the cellstone back on his desk. Opening a desk drawer, he withdrew a sheet of parchment onto which he wrote a long phrase in a strange, alien language. Turning to the bookcase behind his desk, he removed a book titled “The Battle of Dustyville,” revealing a narrow slot in the wall into which he then slid the parchment. A nearby section of wall soundlessly slid open, revealing what seemed to be a pitch-black void beyond. Ferrum boldly stepped into the darkness, knowing that in reality, it was a hallway shrouded in magical darkness that only magical sight could penetrate. Striding confidently into the hallway, so dark that he could not see his hand in front of his face, Ferrum heard a click and felt the floor lower slightly below his foot as he stepped on a pressure plate which caused the wall to close up seamlessly behind him. But he was not the least bit afraid, for he knew this would happen. Carefully counting his steps, the guild master avoided the myriad pressure plates distributed throughout the hallway, that if stepped on, would trigger a barrage of poison arrows to issue from the walls. After walking for a few minutes, Ferrum emerged into a stone room, dimly lit by torches burning with green flames. The floor was piled high with mountains of gold coins and trinkets. In the center of the room lay an ornate, gold sarcophagus encrusted with precious gems. But these things, notwithstanding the sarcophagus, were mere diversions forged from pyrite.

Lazily picking a couple of coins up off the floor, Ferrum waited. After a few seconds, he heard the measured, hollow scraping of the sarcophagus lid, a sound many adventurers know all too well. Raising his rune-carved kopesh into the air, mummy lord Malik Hatayn Alghurfatayn planted the blade into the rim of the sarcophagus and heaved himself up onto his rotting, bandaged feet. He boomed mightily, “WHOOOO DARES DISTURB-- . . . Oh, hey Ferrum.”

“How’s it goin’, Malik?” greeted Ferrum cheerily.

“Pretty good. Mittens just beat me at another game of senet.” he sighed.

“Cats do be like that,” laughed Ferrum. “Are you sure the priests removed his brain when they mummified him?”

Shrugging, Malik descended back into his sarcophagus. As he pulled the lid back into place, Ferrum could just make out a muffled request: “Mittens, let me have a look under those bandages.”

Ferrum chuckled and shook his head, then casually slipped one of the pyrite coins into his pocket and flipped the other one into the green flame of a nearby torch. A stream of verdant embers reached out of the torchlight and engulfed him where he stood.

He was instantly transported to a small, black, marble room with a single green torch burning on one wall and a solid gold door towering in front of him. To the right of the door stood an ornate suit of platemail armor gripping an iron sword in its gleaming gauntlets. From the armor emitted a faint buzzing sound. After a moment, the helmet swiveled in Ferrum’s direction and nodded once in recognition. The suit then raised an arm and lightly rapped on the door.

“Enter!” an imperious voice commanded from the other side as the door soundlessly swung open to reveal a larger black, marble room. In its center sat a ring-shaped counter strewn with maps, books, and contracts. Four chairs were pulled up to the counter, three of them unoccupied. In the remaining chair sat Mabel, the guild’s chief enforcer. A squat woman of advanced age with a friendly face and neat, white curls in her hair, Mabel was dressed in her signature pastel, blue pantsuit with pressed-lace collar and matching house slippers. She pushed a plate of cookies across the counter with one hand as she sipped coffee from her mug made from a human skull and etched with the phrase “#1 Grandma”.

“Don’t’ mind if I do!” Blex, the true guild master, exclaimed eagerly as he fixed his large, golden, central eye with the curious keyhole-shaped pupil on the mound of confections before him. A moment later, one smooth, opalescent, red eye stalk reached out and fired a levitating ray, which carried one of Mabel’s famous, gooey, chocolate chip cookies directly to his wide, terrifying mouth. He lazily reclined in his purple, lambskin beanbag chair and savored every bite.

Another eye stalk lazily swiveled in his lieutenant’s direction. “Ferrum, what brings you here?” A broad, welcoming grin spread across his face, exposing two rows of massive, pointed teeth. They were currently flecked with smears of chocolate and cookie crumbs, a fact that Ferrum was absolutely not going to mention.

“Bill just contacted me about the haunted house situation.”

“Ah! Has that fool finally sorted things out?” Blex absentmindedly adjusted the tilt of his black fedora with one of his ten eye stalks. The exquisite fedora had a red hat band fastened on one side by a small, mithril disk embossed and painted with the Imperium Cleptarum emblem: a crimson book with a golden dagger lying diagonally across it.

Ferrum gave an affectionate nod to Mabel, pulled out one of the chairs by the counter, sat down, and with a deep sigh, recounted the events of his conversation with Bill.

“Remind me again why I should not have Bill executed and replaced with someone more competent?” seethed Blex. His central eye glinted dangerously.

Mabel took one cookie off the pile and shot the plate down the counter toward Ferrum.

“It can be quite challenging to replace a mayor, Sir. Especially one with his connections,” Ferrum pointed out.

“Once I have assumed my rightful position as king, I will have that pathetic town taken over by force and appoint my own mayor, no questions asked!” boomed Blex, the jeweled rings adorning his eye stalks glinting like a crown in the light of the huge, crystal chandelier overhead. “But until then, he’ll have to stay,” the guild master affirmed, lowering his voice.

“About those adventurers –” Ferrum started.

“I’ll keep an eye or two on them from my study,” quipped Blex as he levitated another cookie toward his mouth.

“Very well. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Ferrum stood up, grabbed a cookie off the plate, and took one bite as he ambled toward the door. “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” he gushed. “Mabel, you have truly outdone yourself!” Then, with a gleam in his eye, asked, “How about sharing that recipe?”

Mabel slowly scooted her chair away from the counter, sauntered up to Ferrum, and with a grandmotherly smile and gentle pat on his cheek, warned, “I’d tell you, dear, but you’re too young to die.”

Ferrum chuckled and turned to see Blex drifting up from his comfy beanbag chair and floating toward his study. One eyestalk reached back to summon his jewel-encrusted, golden mug of infinite tea to follow him.

As Ferrum crossed through the threshold into the foyer, a voice cheerfully announced in his ear, “Hi, Ferrum!” Leaping back in surprise, he registered a grinning skeleton leaning against the wall. It was wearing a camo suit, night vision goggles, and a camo-patterned t-shirt with the words “Hide and Seek Champion” embroidered on it. It had seemingly materialized from thin air.

Ferrum shook his head. “Smitty, one of these days . . .”

Smitty burst out laughing. This never got old. When he finally regained his composure, the skeleton remarked, “If you need any of those pesky adventurers taken out, you know where to find me!”

“No. No I do not. Nobody does.” Ferrum retorted in exasperation.

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out then,” Smitty teased, pointing a friendly finger-gun in the lieutenant’s direction.

Muttering under his breath, Ferrum pulled the pyrite coin from his pocket and tossed it through the doorway into the green torch mounted on the foyer wall. He disappeared in a cloud of embers.

Go to Chapter 4 ⏩