Robin stared at the bloody words writ large on the wall. The shadows? That wasn’t ominous at all. But did he mean literal shadows or illusions?

‘Wounds?’ Lantha was asking Ora-Jean.

‘None. I can’t see what killed him. Might be poison. Might be magic. He certainly didn’t starve to death.’ She nodded toward a satchel full of desiccated mushrooms.

‘Fiamah, Grathilde, grab the packs. Robin, grab anything else you can find in this room that looks useful. Ora-Jean and I will take a closer look at the body.’

‘And whatever loot those bones have left on ‘em,’ Grathilde pointed out.

‘You’ll get your fair share, never you fear,’ Ora-Jean said with a little heat.

‘Focus!’ Lantha snapped. ‘I want this done and us out of here as soon as possible. We need to find a secure place to camp.’

Robin noticed she didn’t say a safe place to camp. He shoved the thought to one side and set to his job. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could hole up someplace to eat and rest. He found a moderate pile of dried mushrooms, possibly used to fuel a cookfire, but not much else.

He wished he had a jacket. It wasn’t cold, per se, but the ever-present chill of the caverns was wearing. A bit of protection for all his exposed skin wouldn’t be unwelcome either.

No sooner had he had the thought than he felt a cool tingle around his eyes. The next thing he knew he was wearing a full-length black trench coat. Full-on Matrix realness.

‘Woah.’

‘What’s that, Robin?’ Grathilde asked, glancing over. ‘Where did you find that?’

‘You can see it too?’ Robin twisted into a half-spin, feeling the hem of the coat flare out around him. It was a lot lighter than he expected. He shivered. And not quite as warm.

‘Of course we can see it,’ Grathilde said. ‘At least you’ve covered up.’ She was squinting at the coat with an appraising look in her eye.

‘Robin found it, he should keep it,’ Fiamah said firmly. ‘He needs it more than any of us do.’

‘Agreed,’ Lantha said absently.

Ora-Jean waved absent assent. She was carefully prodding a ring still resting around the skeleton’s finger.

‘Fine,’ Grathilde grumbled. ‘Fiamah and I have the packs, Robin found some fuel. Are you two ready? I want a hot meal and some sleep. I, like the sorcerous energies at my command, am exhausted.’

‘Got it!’ Ora-Jean crowed triumphantly. ‘We’re good to go. I think I’ve got everything of use that it’s smart to take with us.’

Robin glanced over. They’d stripped the skeleton bare, leaving only the bones. He suddenly realised that if Ora-Jean had thought it safe, she would have looted those as well.

‘Right. let’s move out. We still need to find a defensible position.’ Lantha stood, gesturing for Grathilde and Fiamah to shoulder the packs they had scavenged. Robin was left to carry the mushrooms, fresh and dried. Deep joy.

After about an hour of searching, Lantha pronounced herself satisfied with a medium-sized room they found. It was rounded, as most of the architecture here was, but it had two ways in and out, each with a door they could close for defence.

‘No fire,’ the elf said. ‘The ventilation is too poor and I don’t want the smoke drawing something down on us.’

Robin was suddenly very glad for his mystery coat. Hopefully it wasn’t eating his soul in exchange for the small bit of insulation it provided. He carefully prodded the mask around his eyes with a cautious finger. No one had commented on it, but he could feel it was still there. Odd.

‘Ora-Jean, scout down the tunnel opposite the way we arrived,’ Lantha ordered. ‘Grathilde, get things ready for dinner. Fiamah and Robin are going to watch the doors. I’ll start sharpening the knives.’

Everyone got to work, though no one moved quickly. They needed a meal and some sleep. It had not been a restful few days for any of them.

Robin sat with his back to the door. He cocked his head in an attentive pose, as if he was listening, but instead he brought up his interface. He had free ranks to assign and he didn’t want to put it off any longer.

Or did he? It clearly cost more experience the higher he raised his proficiencies, and he’d bet the same held true for properties. These free ranks could save him a lot of experience, if he banked them until he had bought up the lower ranks. He pulled up his current ‘character sheet’ as he pondered.

ROBIN PARKER Heritage: Shadeling, Juvenile Profession: None Tier: 0 (Progress to Tier 1: 64%) Properties

Free Ranks Available: 1 Physical Mental Social Strength: 11 Intelligence: 17 Charisma: 15 Dexterity: 14 Cunning: 18 Manipulation: 13 Fortitude: 11 Resilience: 14 Poise: 15 Proficiencies

Free Ranks Available: 3 Physical (6/9) Mental (7/9) Social (6/9) Athletics: 0 Arcane Lore: 1 ??? ??? ??? Deception: 4 Dodge: 0 Concentration: 1 Empathy: 1 ??? Crafting: 0 Expression: 4 ??? ??? ??? Ranged Combat: 0 Insight: 3 Intimidation: 0 Sleight of Hand: 1 Learning: 1 Persuasion: 1 Stealth: 1 Natural Wisdom: 0 Socialise: 1 Survival: 1 Perception: 1 ??? Peculiarities Blessing of Rhyth Tongue of the Fallen Tower Mark of the Trickster

He was getting close to a new level, if his theory on how progression worked was correct. There were still eight proficiencies, at least, that he hadn’t yet unlocked. Several that he did have still didn’t have a single rank.

After a moment’s thought, Robin raised Athletics, Dodge, and Crafts to 1 with experience. He’d used all of those, recently. They would likely come in handy again before they made their way out of these caverns. He left his free ranks alone for now.

Still well above 50% of the way to Tier 1. Robin bit his lip in thought. He didn’t want to put off the next level too long; he wanted another peculiarity. But leaving his skills—his proficiencies—low to get there didn’t seem like the smartest idea. Especially if gaining a level left him with little experience to invest in improving himself. And he had to survive to that next level.

Split the difference? Yeah. That feels good. Which skills were the most likely to help keep him alive? Deception, certainly, but it was already capped until he levelled. Short list is probably Dodge, Stealth, and Perception. Ora-Jean was a better tracker, so he could probably leave Survival for the moment. And if worse came to worse, he did have those three free ranks in the bank.

Before he could change his mind Robin raised Dodge, Stealth, and Perception each to 4. That brought him down to the low-to-mid 40% range. Good enough for now.

Robin poked around his interface a bit more. He’d already found his spells, and while there wasn’t an inventory that allowed him free storage, he was hoping somewhere…aha! A list of personal equipment. It was almost like it appeared once he needed it. Robin stowed his suspicions as to why that was. There was a magical item to investigate first!

[Mask of Disguise]

Status: Bound to Robin Parker

This rare domino mask is enchanted with shadow and illusion magic and bears a whisper of the Lost God Rhyth’s power. Anyone who wears this mask may use it to garb themselves in the illusory raiment of their choice. This ability may be used at will.

When bound to an individual bearing the [Blessing of Rhyth] or the [Mark of the Trickster] the mask’s abilities are enhanced in the following ways:

-Illusory raiment conjured by the mask’s power gains demi-reality, to a degree equivalent to the wearer’s own power over shadow manifestations.

-The illusion may extend to the body and form of the wearer as well, allowing them to take on the appearance of others. This may be a specific individual, or a generic example of a given people or species. This effect is limited to the same general size category as the wearer of the mask.

Huh. That explained a lot about his new coat. It was really his new mask. Oh, he was going to have fun with this! Robin bit back a smile. Just to test it out he willed the accent threads on his coat to red, then green, then a rich, royal blue.

Out of curiosity, Robin poked at the entries for the other items in his possession, but nothing was available on them. Either the interface only worked on magical items, or it only worked because the mask was somehow bound to Robin. The paranoid tabletopper in his head shrieked at him again.

‘Robin,’ Lantha called. ‘Ora-Jean’s back. Why don’t you and Fiamah get some food with her while Grathilde and I take a turn watching the doors?’

Food? Yes please and thank you! Robin rose to his feet and made his way toward the centre of their little camp. As he went, he tried to conjure himself the illusion of rag-sandals, like he’d made himself, but with a proper sole. It helped, a bit!

Fiamah handed him a bowl full of hearty porridge when he got close enough. He sat cross legged around one of Lantha’s magelights with Ora-Jean and the cleric. They didn’t have utensils, as such. Ora-Jean was using a dried mushroom to scoop her porridge into her mouth. Robin opted to go with his fingers.

It was porridge. Thick and hearty and warm, but completely bland. No berries, no cream, no nuts, no nothing. But very easy to eat. Well, aside from the whole scooping with his fingers thing.

Robin licked his fingers clean. He wanted to try something and didn’t want porridge to fly everywhere when he flicked his fingers. He passed through the motions of [Lesser Phantasm] and focused on what he wanted the porridge to taste like.

Quickly, as the spell would only last about twelve seconds, he scooped up another bite. This time the taste of strawberries and sweet cream filled his mouth. Oh yeah. That was the stuff.

Robin groaned in appreciation. Ora-Jean looked at him askance. Fiamah had the manners not to, but Robin could tell she was similarly curious.

‘Magic,’ he said after swallowing. ‘How do you like your porridge?’ He cleaned his fingers again.

‘With crushed acorns and honey, why?’ Ora-Jean had suspicion written all over her face.

‘When I say, take a quick bite. Not too big. The spell won’t last long.’ Robin moved his hand through a casting of [Lesser Phantasm] again.

Ora-Jean squinted at him, but took a quick bite when he nodded at her. Her eyes went wide and she chewed faster. She made appreciative sounds and actually smiled.

‘Not bad!’ she said when she could speak again.

‘I haven’t had acorns in a long time,’ Robin said by way of explanation and apology. In fact, it’s been so long he could barely remember the taste, but the magic seemed to fill in the blanks to some extent.

‘Fresh cream and honey, if you would.’ Fiamah held out her bowl.

Robin complied. Fiamah likewise smiled at the illusory taste. The meal took a good deal longer than it had any right to, and by the end Robin’s hand was beginning to cramp, but it was worth it.

Shortly thereafter Lantha returned and divided everyone up into watches. Even Robin. He wasn’t sure how welcome the responsibility was, but it certainly beat taking one of Lantha’s daggers to the throat.

‘I’ll take first and third watch,’ the elf said. ‘Robin, you’’ll be on third watch with me. Ora-Jean and Grathilde will take second watch, and Fiamah you’ll be with me for first watch. Grab sleep while you can. We need to be rested up if we’re going to find our way out of here.’

After that, there wasn’t much else to do. Those assigned to watch, began their vigil. The rest chased slumber.

Robin bedded down, the unyielding chill stone beneath him softened somewhat by his illusory clothing. He was bone tired, but even so sleep was elusive. His eyes kept flashing to the shadows cast by Lantha’s magelight, his mind on those ominous words written in blood.

Watch the shadows…