Chapter 16

The Midnight Witch

"Okay," said Fred, as they entered Merry Plebbingtons. "Was it just me or did the Knights of Cake give off a really creepy vibe?"

"What do you mean?" said Alice. "They were hot."

"Dreamy," said Hugo, dreamily.

"Galahad was a Reaver, level 9," said Fred.

"That's...high...eeek." Joan twisted her face into a guilty grimace.

"You didn't even use Identify on him, did you?" said Fred, amused.

"I did not."

"What's a Reaver?" asked Alice.

"A fighter," said Joan, a small frown on her face. "Someone whose morals are probably a bit looser than your average player... I nearly chose Reaver on my last playthrough but decided the shoes would be too comfortable."

"Shoes?"

"I was a pirate before my life as a redwood. I didn't just want to play a land pirate in a tin can. In the game I mean. I wanted something new. I wanted to try different things."

Alice looked thoughtful.

"That's pretty neat," she said, scratching one armpit. "That you were a pirate I mean, not all the existential crap. Maybe you're not that boring after all."

"I'll tell you what," said Joan, twisting on her heel so she was face to face with Alice. "You can do what you want. If you just want to have fun, fine. Have fun. I don't care. I'm not opposed to the idea of fun. But I want to have fun for a long time to come, not just the next few days, or weeks. I want years and years of fun. I want to live. I want to live again and again. I want to have those experiences more than I want anything else. So you can either get on board and come with me, all of you – we can get to the End together. Or you can leave and do your own thing." Joan's eyes were fierce as she held the younger woman's gaze. "But if you get in my way I will squish you like a bug. Do we understand each other?" She bit off each word as if tasting them through a lemon.

"Yeesh, don't get your panties in a bunch."

Fred squeezed Joan's hand before she could explode. Alice seemed to realize she might have gone too far as Joan's cheek's reddened. "It's fine," she mumbled, scuffing the ground with one foot. She let out a big sigh. "I want another chance as well. It wasn't fair that I died so soon. There were so many things I didn't get to do. So many places I wanted to go."

"Me too," said Hugo.

"Me three," said Fred. "We all died too soon. We all want to get to the End. But seeing those Level 9s and their gear... it's made me realise it's not all going to be sleeping in meadows and eating cake." Joan nodded grimly. Hugo looked worried and Alice chewed on a fingernail. "I mean, I'm sure there will be plenty of eating cake," Fred amended. "But–" Alice made a rude impatient noise.

"Let's get on with it!" she said. She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm taking it seriously, I promise."

"Good," said Joan.

"Alright," said Fred. "Joan and I will go and extract Simon, we'll meet you two back at the meadow camp shortly?"

Alice and Hugo nodded and dashed off to sell the excess things.

"Do we trust Alice with the money?" asked Fred, as he watched the pair disappear into the general goods store.

"We would be stupid if we did," said Joan. "But I think she's a good kid, deep down. Deep, deep down."

"Deep, deep, deep down," said Fred.

They walked along the cobbles, deep in thought.

"How do you feel about the ethics of giving Simon to the Midnight Witch? Nothing like a bit of human sacrifice before breakfast, ey?"

"Well," said Joan. "I was hoping it would be more along the lines of Myrtha sees Simon has been brought to justice, realises her murder has been solved and ... moves on. Her spirit is happy et cetera et cetera, we are rewarded with a giant pile of gold and a million XP."

"Oh, that's better than what I was imagining," said Fred. "Let's hope that's what happens."

"What could possibly go wrong," said Joan. They both laughed nervously.

"Dammit," said Fred. "Now we are doomed for sure."

A short while later they arrived at the Merry Plebbingtons watchtower and stopped outside. It was a squat edifice, maybe three storeys high and built of rough-hewn stone. There was a wooden roof perched at the very top, the room underneath open to the elements. They could see a man in seedy-looking animal hide peering out over the farmland, the smoke from his pipe rising in a grey plume. The whole structure did not look big enough to house more than six or so men and women, let alone a gaol. Fred presumed it must be underground.

"Got the blanket?" asked Joan in a low voice. Fred handed it to her.

"I still don't think this is going to work," he said.

"Trust me," said Joan. She paused. "And be ready to run just in case."

Inside the tower was dark and smelt of leather polish and straw. A bored looking woman sat at a desk with a pile of paperwork in front of her.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a flat voice.

"Well, yes," said Fred, putting on his best performance smile. He leaned on her desk with one elbow. "I was wondering if you could give me your opinion on a weaponsmith? I'm looking to upgrade my equipment and it's a big decision. I thought who better to ask than a member of the watch?"

"What have you got then?" she asked. Fred pulled out his rolling pin. "Oh. Yes, I can see why you would want to upgrade."

Out of the corner of his eye, Fred saw Joan tip-toe past. She ducked down a flight of stairs, which presumably led to the gaol. He intensified his efforts to be charming. Five minutes later Joan emerged once pushing a blanket-covered figure before her. Fred redoubled his efforts, demonstrating some of his more eye-catching dance moves for the bemused watchwoman.

"Anyway, thanks for the chat Lilian," he said, once he was sure Joan had hustled Simon out of the door. "I'll be sure to check out the blacksmiths. And I hope your husband manages to see a herbalist about those piles. And little Alfred's sleep training goes well. You take care now. Thanks for the chat. Thanks! Bye! Cheers! See you!"

He ran out of the door.

[The Fredinator +2 Charisma]

[Joan of Snark +1 Sneak +1 Lockpicking]

Outside the street was empty.

"Over here!" Joan beckoned to him from around the corner. Simon was standing draped in the blanket as docile as a lamb. Fred and Joan locked eyes, and then burst out laughing, before making haste back to the meadow. Once they were hidden from the sight of the village Fred let himself relax again.

Alice and Hugo arrived shortly afterwards in a merry tumble. Hugo had earned a charisma point bartering and Alice had stolen a rather nice lacy bra from Jo's shop, earning another point for thieving. She showed it to everyone proudly, before looping it around her waist with the rest of her belts.

"Is that him?" she said, pointing to Simon.

"Yup."

"Alright then. Why is he under a blanket."

"He's very quiet," said Epic.

"Maybe he's like a canary," suggested Hugo. "And he's nice and relaxed when he has a blanket over his head."

"I could understand that," said Epic, who had packed up all their possessions in their absence.

"I assume it's an NPC thing. Last time it was buckets," said Joan. "If you put a bucket on a shopkeeper's head you could steal them blind and they just stood there."

"How do you know that," said Fred, "if you were a paladin, playing such a wondrously moral game?"

Joan turned a fetching shade of pink.

"I saw other people do it," she said, primly.

"Remind me to invest in some blankets," said Alice thoughtfully, running her finger over the hem.

"Probably depends how much they can think for themselves though," said Joan. "Don't assume anything. I doubt a blanket would slow an NPC like Rosie down much. Or a boss. I have no idea really."

"I won't assume," said Alice, her eyes bright.

They set off for the ruined farmhouse. The walk up the mountain slope was fairly strenuous. Simon was quiet, so they left him under his blanket, taking it in turns to lead him along on a string. They walked in single file, warmed by the sun as it slid its way across the arc of the sky, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Stopping for a meal by the river, tactics were discussed, should the need for a fight arise. The whole trip felt businesslike. Everyone was nervous. Not scared, exactly, but on edge.

By the time they spied the ruined farmhouse the sun was bleeding into a fiery ball against the edges of the distant mountains. The ruin squatted bleak on the hillside, a rotten husk of a once vibrant home. The wind was laced with frost. A murder of crows was camped on the broken roof, cawing and chattering as they approached.

"Everyone ready?" Fred said, looking around at the strained, and in the case of Alice and Hugo, excited faces. Epic looked like she might throw up at any moment. They all brandished their motley assortment of weapons.

"We're ready," said Joan.

She whipped the rug off Simon's head. The baker stared up at the farmhouse, his eyes growing large, his jaw slack.

"Why are we here?" he asked in a trembling voice. As if he had no memory of the trip. As if he had been teleported here from the gaol. Fred made a mental note to invest in some blankets. "Why have you brought me here?" Simon looked around wildly. "You've met my poor bride-to-be!" He clutched both hands to his heart, a little awkwardly because they were still bound together. "Why– why did you bring me here?"

"We're here to bargain with the Midnight Witch," said Joan. "With Myrtha."

Simon looked positively terrified.

"No!"

"We know you killed her," said Joan, giving him a gentle shove towards the ruined farmhouse. The crows took flight in a jostling, cawing mass. "We want to show her you have been brought to justice."

"No, no, no, nooo," he said, struggling weakly. But he didn't run, letting them prod him along in front of them. Fred popped open the rotting door. The interior was much as Fred remembered it. Although – granted – last time he had not known about the witch's presence. Alice lit a stump of candle and set it on top of the damp bookcase, making it a little easier to see in the gloom. The shadows danced. The wind whistled through the holes in the roof and they all jumped as a lone crow cawed down at them, and then flew off laughing.

"You two spent the night here," said Hugo, his eyes darting here and there, "voluntarily?"

"It was fine," said Fred, checking around the corner a little nervously, rolling pin at the ready. "I didn't even know about the witch till Joan told me the next day."

"She comes up from under the floorboards," said Joan. Everyone looked down. The wooden planks stared up at them – scuffed, dusty and innocent.

"I didn't kill her," said Simon, his voice plaintive. "Why did you bring me here?"

"You didn't kill her when she found out your secret?" demanded Alice. "When she found kids in cages in your basement? They weren't baking themselves into pies."

"No," said Simon. "That's not what happened."

"What did happen?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Fine," said Simon, his countenance changing from terror to guile. "Fine. I did kill her. But it was a blessing. It was for the best. She was just so hungry. She wanted to eat everything...she would have eaten me out of house and home..."

"Oh come on," said Joan, "that just sounds weird. You're a baker. And how much can one woman eat?"

Simon sobbed into his handkerchief. He peeked up at them. Seeing their disgusted expressions he threw it to the ground, straightening.

"Fine!" he repeated. "The truth! It is unpalatable, but I can see you will have nothing else! She was a demon wench! A witch, even before she died! The world was well rid of her!"

"Steady on," said Fred. Simon's face crumbled, going from proud to broken, his eyes staring from his sockets as if he had seen unimaginable horrors. Perhaps he had. Perhaps what he had seen had driven him mad. What he had done. Or he was the world's most confused actor. Simon clasped his head in his hands.

"I fed her a slow poison," he said, through his fingers. His voice cracked. "In a cupcake. I slipped it to her on the eve of our wedding night, with a note telling her I loved her."

"Wow..." said Fred, "that's...brutal."

Simon started giggling. He looked up, the whites of his eyes showing, the laughter hysterical and unnerving.

"And I did love her," he said, gurgling. The gurgles turned to tears, turned into heaving, gut-wrenching sobs. "I did love her until I found out!" He made a weird noise, half-man, half-animal – a mewling of pain laced with madness. "I put them in the pies! I put them in the pies! They're all so delicious delectable delightful pies! Ate by the mother, the father, the bride! Everyone, everywhere, is going to be pies!" He stiffened suddenly. "She's coming! She's coming! You are all going to regret this! You've made a terrible mistake. You see," he lowered his voice to a loud, pained whisper. "I did it for her. To buy everyone time."

"What do you mean?" asked Joan, sharply.

"Everything," said Simon, falling to his knees. "I did it to make her happy. Because she asked me to. To bargain for time. Because she made me, she made me do it–"

The candles shuddered out.

They all froze in the darkness, clutching each other, trying to see, to listen, every sense straining and alert. The ruin turned cold as a tomb.

"Whoa," said Alice, with evident enjoyment, her breath frosting in the air.

"Shit," said Epic.

There was a whoosh and they were bathed in a spectral glow. The Midnight Witch floated in front of them, a young woman – her hair flowed out behind her in lazy ripples. She hung suspended, her bare toes barely touching the floorboards. The light was the colour of moonlight on water, and she appeared as if swimming through an azure sky, her skirts billowing. Her face was fair, and dreamy, as if she was thinking romantic, tortured thoughts. There was a strong smell of cheese. Brie. Or possibly Stilton.

[A Ravenous Midnight Witch, NPC level 10]

Fred swallowed. The Midnight Witch's eyes narrowed as she spotted Simon. Swooping down with preternatural speed, she cupped his chin in her slender hands, yanking his face towards her. Her nails were very long, and very black, digging into the sides of his cheeks. The smell of cheese intensified. This close, it was unpleasant. Fred loved cheese as much as the next red-blooded Englishman, but there was a not so subtle undercurrent of earth and rot, as well as cheddar. Everyone took a step back, leaving the tragic lovers encircled in the mystical glow of light.

"Simon, my love," she crooned. "Simon, you came." Her head snapped up. Without letting go of Simon she locked eyes with Joan. "Why, hello again, girl. You brought me a gift. How sweet."

"Myrtha," said Simon, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Myrtha I –"

She slit his throat with one sharp talon. Joan gasped as blood sprayed and Simon's eye's bulged. He gurgled something and the Midnight Witch held his lolling head, the scarlet of his lifeblood dripping over her hands, squirting onto her face and spilling down onto those dusty floorboards. She watched him with cold eyes for a considered, heavy moment. Fred's grip tightened against his rolling pin, sweat making his grip slick. She bit down on Simon's neck, coming away with a mouth full of raw flesh. She swallowed. Flecks of blood and flesh remained in the corners of her mouth, the ruby of her lips dyed a deeper red than moments before.

"Thank you, Joan," she said, huskily. Behind him, Fred could hear Epic retching. The Witch wiped the back of one hand across her lips and tossed Simon's limp body into a corner. He lay there like a damp rag. Discarded. Very, very dead. The party bunched together.

"This present will grant you one level." Her lips peeled back from long, pointed fangs.

[Ding! Joan of Snark LEVEL UP!]

“What the-” Joan swore under her breath.

The Incomplete Guide popped into being with a musical flourish. Betty sashayed out of the shadows. She seemed to have mastered her high heels but the sight of a goblin with a beehive hair do was still unsettling. Fred wondered briefly if he was racist.

“Congratul-”

“Now’s not really the time-”

“Well I never-”

“What else did you bring me?" The witch's eyes flickered to Fred, her lips tilting upwards. "I remember the scent of this one." She breathed in through delicately flared nostrils, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Oh yes."

"Ew," said Alice.

"No!" said Joan, sharply.

"No?" said the witch, her voice, low. Displeased.

"We thought perhaps...if you knew your murderer had been caught and brought to justice–" Joan was interrupted by sniggers coming from a high corner. They all turned to look, surprise outweighing caution. Lamb-kin grinned down at them, bathed in spectral blue light. He waved one hairy limb.

"You thought wrong," roared the Midnight Witch, "my ex tastes of lard and lies! I care not for justice. I care for my stomach. Feed me! Feed me if you wish to live! Feed me if you wish to bargain. Your hair you sold for days of peace. I was generous. What else do you desire? Power? Equipment? I can give it all to you. For a price. What else have you brought me? These children?" Her gaze turned to Hugo and Alice.

"No," said Joan, sharply.

"Oi," said Hugo.

"Come over here, you old hag," said Alice, "and I'll give you a taste of my fists–"

"Alice!" cried Joan, but she was too late. The witch dived for the young woman, her hair streaming behind her. Alice screamed as she was knocked backwards. She managed to grab the witch's wrists, struggling to hold her claws at bay while the witch snapped at her neck. Fred and Hugo beat the witch across the back, trying to haul her off Alice but she was freakishly strong.

"Help me!" Alice, screamed twisting her face to the side and thrashing against the witch's grasp.

"Let me taste you, succulent child," murmured the witch, her tongue lolling out of her mouth to caress Alice's forehead.

"Fight!" yelled Lamb-kin, bouncing up and down on the little cobweb he had spun for himself on the high-beam. "Fight!"

“If you want your bonus you have to choose now,” said the Guide, looking on in mild irritation.

“Whatever!”

“Fine!” snarled the Guide. “Your Identify is now level 2. Don't expect me to come back later.” He disappeared with a pop. Fred and Hugo strained, pulling at the witch. She didn't budge, merely hissing and swiping lazily at Fred with one claw.

"If you fight me," she said, lazily, "you will lose. You lose the ability to bargain–" Joan brought down the massive wheel of cheese on the witch's head.

[The Midnight Witch -5HP]

Myrtha turned her head. Sniffing. Joan tossed it into a far corner.

"If you want it, the cheese is yours," she yelled.

"Now we're talking," hissed the witch. "They bring me too many cakes– when what I like is cheese and meat–" Myrtha sprang for it, sinking her fangs into the hard red of the wax shell. Growling and snarling as she ripped into the cheddar. Hugo dragged Alice up and away. The young woman was furious, her cheeks striped with blood where the witch had raked her with her claws.

[Alice69 -1HP]

"Are you okay?" asked Joan.

"Fine," growled Alice, "come on! Let's get her!"

"Like we practised," said Joan. "I don't really want to negotiate." Everyone shook their heads. Turning, they pelted the feasting witch with everything they had. The witch snarled. Her mouth still full of cheese, she rose into the air, dribbling yellow crumbs. She sprang forward with an unearthly growl, fingers extended like claws. Joan stepped in front of Hugo. The witch hissed and tried to sidestep her, but Joan sidestepped with her, firm and tall and dependable as a rock.

[Joan of Snark -2HP; -2HP]

A rock with a Knobbly Wizard's Staff, that she brought down on the witches head with a solid thump. The witch flinched.

[The Midnight Witch -1HP]

Fred brought down the rolling pin on the witches' head with a satisfying crack, Alice darted in with her daggers. The witch gave a shriek of rage, twisting in the air, and then crashing to the floor, trying to get around Joan.

[The Midnight Witch -1HP; -2HP; -2HP]

The witch's claws raked down Joan's face, leaving red, trickling lines.

[Joan of Snark -2HP -2HP -2HP -2HP]

"Suck it up, suckers," yelled Lamb-kin from his corner. "Guts for garters! The next group will find lady fingers dipped in chocolate and made from your fingers. Especially yours," he pointed at Hugo.

"That's just rude."

The witch switched left and right leaving Alice and Fred with deep gouges on their arms.

[Alice69 -10HP; The Fredinator -10HP; Hugo Balls -5HP]

"Minus 10!" screamed Alice.

"She'll be grinding your bones into pretzels in no time and they will be so salty there will be a sodium warning on the packet­ for people with heart disea–" Hugo threw his triangle with a grunt of irritation, hitting the spider between the glowing red eyes with a metallic boing. It made a dent in Lamb-kin's face. The spider started to cry. Hugo looked at the dent with satisfaction and then went back to pelting the witch with fireballs.

"I could have given you everything!" screamed the witch. She flew at Fred, wrestling him to the ground.

"Five fat humans, ready for the pot," whispered Lamb-kin.

"Alice! The sweet grenades!" yelled Fred, trying to keep the witch at arm's length. The pong of cheese was unbearable, and her teeth snapping so close to his face was most unpleasant. He didn't want to share Simon's fate. Even if he could respawn. "Quickly!" he screamed as the sharp teeth double-rowed like a sharks - snapped near his neck.

The sweets burst against the Midnight Witches' back, and she twisted, writhing in pain.

[The Midnight Witch, -10HP]

The Midnight Witch fell backwards. Panting, she crouched on the floor, her head low, her hair covering her face. Her rasping breaths filled the room. The blue glow dimmed.

"Did we get her?" asked Hugo, uncertainly.

Joan took a cautious step forward, brandishing her staff. She lifted it– and the Midnight Witch burst into cakes. Her body dissolved into a puddle of animated, horrific confectionary. Her face became a Victoria sponge, her mouth a vicious smear of strawberry jam – strawberry jam with teeth. Giant éclairs filled the space where her legs had once been, her fingers fell into a pile of chocolate fingers and her dress into a swarm of aggressive, fruit-speckled Pavlova. The hair on her head transformed into a sticky tangle of liquorices. Each cake, each grotesque sweet crept forward on animated tendrils, each one with its own pair of eyes, each with its own set of teeth. The Pavlova rolled menacingly along the floorboards trailing raspberry coulis. Or possibly blood.

"What the hell!" yelled Fred, swatting at two croissants that had rolled off the sides of her face. Vaguely ear-like, they bit his ankles and spat obscenities as he kicked them across the room.

[The Fredinator -2HP]

Lamb-Kin's chuckles filled the room.

"Don't worry," said Joan, beating gateaux with her staff, its cherry eyes glaring balefully as she squished them. "We are nearly there – she had a second health bar – watch out!"

Battle was joined on all fronts. The giant éclair legs stomped across the floor, booming. The cream oozed, hissing where it touched the wood, and leaving a trail of sizzling organic matter.

[ Joan of Snark -10HP; Hugo Balls -5HP]

Hugo sprinted across the room, firing fireballs at the Victoria Sponge that rolled after him. Joan stomped and stomped, mashing cakes into a docile mash. She was then besieged by the chocolate fingers which were fast and nasty, scuttling around at floor level. Hugo tried to help her and landed a lucky blow, reducing several of them to crumbs. The last meringue went down fighting. Cream and jam and sticky liquorice coated the ceiling, the walls and each other. They stood panting in the centre of the sugary carnage not really believing it was over. But the orchestral swell came, and with it the swooshing tinkle of chimes:

[Ding! Congratulations! You have vanquished The Midnight Witch! All party members + 20XP]

[Ding! Alice69 LEVEL UP!]

[Ding! Hugo Balls LEVEL UP!]

[Ding! Epic Failure LEVEL UP!]

Battle Menu

Joan of Snark Lvl 3

XP: 54

HP: 34/56

The Fredinator Lvl 2

XP:59

HP: 1/13

Alice69 Lvl 2

XP: 40

HP: 1/12

Hugo Balls Lvl 2

XP: 45

HP: 6/16

Epic Failure Lvl 2

XP: 38

HP: 49/49