Chapter 22

Part II

Into the Woods

"Alright," said Joan. "If we are going to crush the Knights of Cake, if we are going to level this dungeon, we need money! Money, skill points, XP!" She turned to them all, her eyes blazing. "We need to grind. We need to grind hard."

Fred fanned himself a little. Joan turned her glare on him. "Stop it, Fred."

"Sorry, my love."

"Most of all," said Joan, pacing backwards and forwards across the meadow, the rest of the party watched her anxiously. "We need to be on our guard! We are at the bottom of the food chain here. Stealth! We need to start being stealthy! We need to be smart!"

"Don't look at me like that," said Alice.

"Don't trust anyone! Did I say be on your guard?"

"Yes, you did," said Fred. "Very inspiring. We are all very inspired."

"Okay," said Hugo, shifting uneasily in his tattered wizard's robe. "But what do we do? How do we grind?"

"Fastest way is to split up," said Joan, scratching her chin. It was amazing how she managed to give off efficient headmistress vibes while poncing up and down in her bra and knickers. Fred tried to concentrate on what she was actually saying before he started daydreaming. "It's more dangerous but we don't all need to watch each other chop wood! It's a waste of our most precious resource!"

[The Fredinator +1 Discipline]

"What the hell, Fred?"

"Sorry, sorry."

"What's that?" asked Epic, the small woman was sat crossed-legged on the ground, a crease between her brows. "I mean what's our most precious resource?"

"Time," said Joan, turning to glare at her.

"How long till the Purge?"

"Eighteen days. Eighteen days to get to the next level. We have time but we need to hustle. And those Knights won't crush themselves."

"Is it a gate or something?" said Alice, "How do we find it?"

"Doesn't matter if we can't find it," said Joan, "if we are not levelled up enough to pass through it."

"First things first," said Fred. "I vote we get Hugo's gear back from the Gift Shop."

"We don't all need to go," said Hugo. "I'll be fine, I'm Lucky."

"Maybe all our gear is still there?" said Alice, brightening at the prospect. "I miss my old clothes. My beautiful belts! Not that your Threadbare Shirt isn't lovely Fred. Thank you and whatever."

"You are welcome," said the shirtless Fred.

"The Knights won't have left anything," said Joan. "They will have sold it, or destroyed it, or thrown it in the river."

They all shuddered at the mention of the nameless black river that spilt from the mouth of Skeleton Gorge, teeming with malevolent undead.

"The fucking Knights of Cake," said Alice.

"We will crush them," said Joan. "Have no fear. Now, does anyone have any active quests?" There was silence. "Alright, I say we split up, gather as many quests as we can, and we meet at the inn tonight to strategize. Do the individual ones if you think you can manage alone but don't do anything dangerous. Keep the big ones for when the party is together. Focus on collecting quests, get some coin–"

"Find some clothes," said Fred, pointedly.

"– get some weapons. And whatever you do, remember we are not in tutorial mode anymore. It was easy before. Now people can and will murder you for XP. NPCS are not going to be so accommodating."

"Ug," said Epic.

"I mean, we can murder people too," said Alice.

"We can but we won't," said Joan. She paused. "Except as a last resort." She paused again. "Probably."

"Depending on how we are feeling," said Fred.

She glared around at them. "We are all vulnerable," she said. "Except for Epic." Epic patted her shimmering chainmail and flail, a little embarrassed. "Don't forget that!"

"I should loan one of you my flail," murmured Epic.

"No!" said Fred, "it's yours!"

"Alice only has 3HP," said Epic. "If she trips up she will die again."

"It's fine," muttered Alice, crossing her arms. "I've done it before."

"Yes, but this time do it with my flail," said Epic. "I can use anything as a weapon because of my bonus. Remember?"

"But it only works when you are angry," said Joan.

"I'm sure I can think of some things to make me angry," said Epic with a smile. "I have a list." She handed the flail to Alice who took it reverently.

"That is really nice of you," Alice said, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Ug now she's got more HP than me and Fred!" said Hugo. "Unfair."

"You are Lucky though," said Joan. "You'll be fine. And Fred well– maybe Fred should come with me–"

"I will be fine," said Fred, drawing himself up with dignity.

"Okay," said Joan. "That makes three of us with weapons. In theory at least."

"I have a stick," said Hugo. He raised it. "It's a magic stick."

"That," said Alice, "is a glorified twig."

"As I was saying," said Joan, "three of us have weapons, sorry Hugo. Oh, and everyone give them names, to maximize their damage."

"The Sad Stick," said Hugo.

"I Don't Give A Fork," said Alice.

"Crusher of Dreams and People," said Fred.

"That's a bit of a mouthful," said Alice.

"Well yours is very un-ladle-like," said Fred, miffed.

"Meet at the Beer and Loathing tonight?" said Joan. There was an awkward pause where everyone realised they didn't want to split up. They all stared at each other uncertainly. Fred nodded, slapping his thighs as he got up.

"See you then."

"Goodluck."

"Be careful."

"Cheers."

The party went their separate ways.

The Fredinator Level 3

Class: Monk ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

XP: 80

HP:10/10 [+2 Bucket + 1 pair Flimsy Sandals + 1 Boring Boxers + 1 Ratty Trousers + 1 teaspoon + 4 Crusher of Dreams and People.]

Bonus: Condensed Milk lv 2, Identify

Dual Wield

+2 Charisma

+2 Elevation

+ 1 Sneak

+3 Discipline

Joan of Snark Level 4

Class: Druid ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

XP: 80

HP: 24/24 [+1 Mildly Scandalous Knickers +1 Sensible Bra +1 teaspoon] x8

Bonus: x8 HP Bonus, Identify (LVL 2)

+1 Firemaking

+1 Cooking

+1 Herbalism

+2 Sneak

+1 Lockpicking

Epic Failure Level 4

Class: Barbarian ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

XP: 160

HP: 47/47 [+20 Shimmering Chainmail Shirt of Protection + 2 Comfortable Bra + 2 Cotton Knickers + 10 Sturdy Boots + 4 Self Cleansing Cotton Undershirt +3 Practical Skirt + 2 Boring Socks]

Bonus: Berserker Rage, Summon Stinkums

+2 Herbalism

+1 Cooking

Hugo Balls Level 2

Class: Wizard ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥

XP: 70

HP: 4/4 [+ 1 Tatty Wizard's Robes + 1 Tolerable Undies + 2 The Sad Stick (+ 2 Mana)]

Mana: 2/2

Bonus: Luck (LVL 2)

+ 1 Herbalism

+1 Firemaking

+1 Cooking

+1 Discipline

Alice69 Level 2

Class: Rogue ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

XP: 62

HP:13/13 [+2 Sensible Leggings +1 Threadbare Shirt+10 I Don't Give A Fork]

+5 Sneak

+ 4 Lockpicking

+7 Thieving

+1 Cooking

+1 Discipline

Hugo

Hugo struck out across the meadow, following the path down the mountain slopes and across the wide plains to the north of Merry Plebbingtons. No one bothered him and the day was sunny. He caught a lift with a friendly and rather attractive travelling bard who let him ride behind him on horseback. The bard taught Hugo a naughty ballad named "Wizard, Wizard, Wizard, I Love The Way You Spell". This earned Hugo [+1 Music], to his delight. They flirted a bit, and then parted company at Skeleton Gorge.

To his relief the Knights of Cake were long gone, leaving behind them only trampled earth, hoof-prints and the lingering scent of hair-spray. Hugo located the tunnel exit that led to the Gift Shop with some difficulty. Once located he quickly found The Trombone of Orpheus, and his other items, neatly folded in a pile and obscured from view.

"Thank goodness," he muttered to himself. Hugo dressed quickly and immediately felt less vulnerable as his HP returned to 16. But the tunnel was oppressively quiet. He missed his party. He missed Alice's incessant natter. Slinging the Trombone of Orpheus into his bag he consulted the Map, then set off looking for quests.

On his way back towards Merry Plebbingtons, a sparrow pooped on his head. Swearing, he staggered over to a nearby stream to wash the mess out of his hair. Bending low over the water he was obscured in the little hollow that surrounded the pool. Unaware of his danger he grumbled to himself as the Knights of Cake rode past on their chargers looking for victims. As he straightened they disappeared into a neighbouring valley.

Hair clean, Hugo set off again, humming "Wizard, Wizard, Wizard" under his breath. He entered a dense patch of woodland and soon found a path to follow. After about twenty minutes he was presented with a fork. There was no signage. Randomly he chose the right-hand fork, unwittingly avoiding a rabid bear and a cleverly concealed pit dug by a rival party of rogues. A pretty butterfly caught his eye. He followed it into the trees, admiring the patterns of its wings and stumbling across a peddler who was stuck in a bog. Hugo rescued him and spent the rest of the day merrily gathering herbs [+1 Herbalism], teaching the peddler how to sing "Wizard, Wizard, Wizard, I Love the Way You Spell" [+1 Music] and learning how to brew basic health potions [+1 Brewing].

Epic

Epic wandered through the woods. Instantly she had regretted the moment of bravado that had made her give up her flail. But she had so much better equipment than everyone else really her conscience couldn't allow her to keep it. Hopefully, it wouldn't be her undoing. In reality, she had no idea if she would be able to activate her Berserker Rage. Epic had never been good at getting angry. Nothing good had ever come expressing her emotions. Goodness knew there was a mile-long list of things that triggered her rage. But they were all shut away in the room of her mind she hadn't dared to open.

The trees were quiet and peaceful, with the sunlight filtering through the leaves. It was a warm day. Beautiful even. Pausing, Epic contemplated lying down for a bit. But no, she would waste the whole day like that, watching the branches dance in the breeze and emptying her head of all unwanted emotion. It was so easy to be numb. To let the world go by as if she was a bystander. She wavered. It was so tempting. But no. That time was past. For good or ill she was playing this game of reincarnation, whatever it was. And she was no longer alone, even now. A smile tugged on her lips.

"Summon Stinkums!" she said softly. Instantly there was a warm weight around her neck. The small and rather pungent baby sabre-toothed draped itself across her shoulders and nuzzled Epic's neck. "Hello to you too," Epic murmured. The answering purr rumbled gently.

They walked deeper into the wood. A wolf howled in the distance and Epic shivered.

"See any quests?" Epic whispered. "Something not too scary? I don't feel like dying today."

The small tiger sneezed and fussed a bit.

"Do you want to get down?" Epic murmured. Stinkums did. The small cat pottered off into the undergrowth to inspect whatever it was that baby sabre-toothed tiger's found interesting. "Don't go too far," Epic said, suddenly worried the ghost cat would get lost. She hurried after her.

An enormous wolf burst out of the undergrowth and snapped its slathering jaws at the baby cat. Stinkums yowled, and fluffed herself up as large as possible, which wasn't very large.

"Oh no, you don't!" Epic yelled as the wolf advanced on her cat. She discovered she had no qualms beating the shit out of angry wolves, and that fallen branches made decent bludgeoning weapons.

It took her awhile to calm down, but once she had she set off through the forest again with renewed confidence. Stinkums caught and ate a rather pretty butterfly, and Epic found a couple of nice quests helping a hive of pixies rebuild their nest. Once she was done she consulted the map and set off in the direction of Merry Plebbingtons, Stinkums gambolling ahead of her.

As she made her way through the trees a twig snapped behind her. The temperature plummeted. The sunlight turned to gloaming and the air went sharp with the scent of frost. Instinctively Epic hunkered down in a bush with Stinkums gathered in her arms. She waited, her breath misting before her. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Peeking between the leaves she watched as a host of stately men and women rode past on fine white horses. They did not look like players. They did not look human. Elves, she realised, they were elves. The tips of their ears were pointed, their faces fair but terrible. They carried assorted shining, silver weapons and the tips were all stained red and dripping.

Epic kept very, very quiet and waited for them to go.

Alice

Alice crept through the forest holding Epic's flail against her chest. She was keenly aware that she only had six respawns left. And that one bloody health point was her default starting position. Without the help of her friends all it would take to die would be a single spider bite. One accident, one misstep, one arsehole knight breathing at her the wrong way and she would die. She'd been insanely lucky to make it this far. It had been easier when she didn't care. And now, creeping through the forest alone she was suddenly terribly afraid to be alone.

"Don't fuck up, don't fuck up, don't fuck up," she repeated to herself. "Carefully, carefully. Watch your step. It's just one day. You can do this."

A little stream crossed her path, pooling in a gentle hollow. The banks were lined with flowers, daffodils and primroses and little pink things she didn't know the name of. It was all very pretty. Very innocent. Alice manoeuvred around it, eyes suspicious, watching for blood-sucking monsters. Or anything that might explode out of the water with a taste for human flesh. The mud squelched softly between her bare toes as she moved. She jumped, thinking that something had grabbed her ankle, but it was just a leaf brushing her leg. The scream died in her throat.

"Get a grip, Alice."

Of course, her whole life had been a fuck up. One giant major steaming pile of fuck up. But this was her chance. A fresh start. Alice gripped the borrowed flail fiercely, tears stinging her eyelids. She turned and beat the pulp out of an innocent daffodil.

Tension relieved she crept on.

Where would she find quests? And unattended clothing? Without the flail, her HP was still abysmally low. The undergrowth slapped and scratched at the bare length of her legs. Perhaps she should strike out and explore a new part of the map? She paused, cocking her head on one side as she surveyed the trees before her.

The woods were full of pleasant insect and small animal activity. Bees buzzed in the trees, crickets hummed in the tall grass, birds sang on high. It was all fucking nice. But which way was the town? Alice thought about calling up the Guide but then changed her mind at the thought of having to talk to the sour old git. She was fairly sure she knew the way. Alice wandered on, leaving a trail of smashed flowers behind her.

An hour later she knew she was lost. The forest had changed. The golden, butterfly strewn nonsense had been replaced by creepy bushes and pale sickly flowers that strained for the light. How bushes could be creepy Alice did not know, but there they were. The trees were crowded close and there were no longer sporadic sunlit glades. The way was dim, the canopy dense. Alice moved between the speckled trunks in a dim, premature twilight, her feet padding on pine needles, crunching in the breathless silence.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance.

"Great," Alice muttered under her breath. "Just fucking fabulous." She looked around for something to destroy but there was nothing.

"Language, my dear."

Alice spun on her heel.

A man was standing behind her. She hadn't heard his approach despite the crunchy needs. He was tall and handsome, in a feral sort of way. Young. His eyes were pale amber and he was standing close. Much too close. His eyes reminded her of the way drug dealers had looked at her in the clubs back home, when she had staggered over to them, drunk, flashing her father's cash and much too much skin. He was wearing torn, brown trousers slashed off at the knee and dirty white shirt that was buttoned just above his navel. It would have been hot if you were into that sort of thing. Which Alice was, although she wished she wasn't.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, painfully aware that she was dressed in an old shirt that didn't cover much, and Epic's leggings.

"What a terrible mouth you have on you." He took a step towards her, just as Alice stepped back, so they moved together as though they were dancing. She could feel the grease of his eyes on her. Was he an NPC? Or a player?

"I said who the fuck are you?"

"Such words to come out of such a perfect, rosebud mouth." Alice's rosebud mouth made a mew of disgust. "Did you stray from the path? Are you lost, little girl?"

"No," she lied. "I know exactly where I am."

"Good," he said, taking another step closer. "Good. I don't meet many people in the woods." He smiled, padding around her in a long, slow, circle so she had to twist to follow him. "So far from anywhere. Such a lonely spot."

His eyes were so intent, the skin on the back of her neck prickled. Then for some reason her eyes slid to his hands – to his fingernails which were filthy – more claws than nails. They were not human. It took some effort to drag her eyes back up to his face. The handsome, wild face that was so close she could see each individual hair on the scruff of his chin. "If you are lost," he said, casually, "there is a house just down that path." Alice resisted the urge to look where he pointed. She was filled with the sudden, instinctive and absolute certainty that turning her back on him was a terrible idea.

"Thanks," she said, tight-lipped.

"I can show you the way."

"No, thanks."

"But you might get more lost, a poor little girl like yourself–"

"Fuck off."

He gasped in mock horror. His smile seemed genuine, his lips curving up. She wrinkled her nose and tried not to look at his mouth. He repelled her as much as he attracted her. Alice tried not to notice his six-pack, clearly visible through the thin linen of his shirt. Her eyes slid again to those claws which were cracked and yellowing. Bits of earth were stuck to them. Remember the claws. Gross.

"If you don't want an escort," said the hot, disgusting man, "why don't you take her some flowers?"

"What? Who? What are you on about?"

"She likes flowers. The old woman who lives in the house."

[New Quest! Take Flowers to Granny's Cottage]

"Oh, I see how it is," said Alice.

The werewolf (and Alice was now one hundred percent sure he was a werewolf) leaned in close. He bared his teeth at her in a snarl and she tensed, waiting for him to spring. Instead, he blew her a kiss and then bowed – a mocking, flamboyant bow.

"Goodbye, little girl," he said, and slipped away into the trees.

"Creep," said Alice.

She stood uncertainly in the forest. Her eyes searched the dark space under the trees where he had vanished. The skin on her neck prickled and she whipped around. A bird peeped at her. She waited but the hot disgusting man did not come back.

With a sigh she set off down the path in the direction he had indicated, gathering flowers as she went. The light was dim and the flowers few and far between. Deeper and deeper she went into the forest, making sure not to stray from the path.

After an hour or the air changed. The scent of woodsmoke hung thick about the trunks. She sniffed, her stomach rumbling. Moments later she spied the source –a small cottage, alone in the forest with a single candle burning in a ramshackle window. Carefully Alice approached the door.

"Hello?" she called. There was no answer. "Hello?" she tried again. "Is anyone there? Um. Granny?" From inside the cottage there was a creak, like someone settling in an old sprung bed.

"My dear little girl!" cried an old, wavering voice, tinged with falsetto. "Come in!

With one last glance behind her, Alice ducked through the entrance, grabbing the iron horseshoe that hung over the door as an afterthought.

Half an hour later she emerged, axe over her shoulder and flail tucked into her belt. A freshly severed wolf's head, dripping blobs of blood and brains, was tied likewise. Her newly acquired hooded cloak was stained and blotched red, thrown back to reveal the wild tangle of her black hair. Alice smiled.

"All the better to eat you with," she said. "Try eating now, dipshit."

Alice hefted her new axe and whistled tunelessly, following the narrow path out of the wood.

Fred

Fred danced through the forest glade humming the Satanella Variation under his breath. Ballerinas were in short supply so he used his ladle in lieu of a partner.

[The Fredinator +1 Elevation]

He landed lightly, kicking out his leg and brandishing the silly spoon on high. A flock of birds took flight behind him.

"Thank you dungeon!" he sang. "Oops. I'm supposed to be being quiet, aren't I?" he whispered to a nearby elm. The elm didn't say anything. Which was a pity because Fred wasn't sure what to do next. It was all very well for his lady-love to command him to find quests. He looked tipped up a flat rock and looked under it. "No quest there," he muttered. He sighed. What he really needed was a good fight to burn off some energy. Or a performance. Much the same thing, really.

Fred looked about the forest, trying to get his bearings. The day was so fine, and his heart so light that he had been unable to suppress his need to move. He had hoped the noise he made would attract somebody worth scrapping with but so far no such luck. A little way ahead he saw a path wending its way through the forest. He looked at it a little suspiciously.

"Alright," he said, and leapt across it with a pas de chat. "This way or that? Come at me, villains!" The chirping of birds greeted him. "Damn."

Fred changed tactic and leopard crawled through the undergrowth for a few yards, the ladle between his teeth. Still nothing. Brushing himself off he gave up and went looking for a nice spot to practice in. The weight of his ladle was slightly problematic, tipping him off balance so he laid it carefully to one side, stretching one leg over his head to work out the kinks. Ahead lay an inviting glade flooded with dappled sunlight. A near perfect ring of toadstools made a small, naturally formed stage. Two pirouettes and one flawless double tour landed him inside a ring. He stumbled a little, kicking a redcap over. "Whoops," he apologized to it. "Sorry. Ah yes, where was I? Quests! Plural! Time to concentrate. Oh, hello!" He turned around and nearly crashed into the sleek white mare that had appeared behind him. Fred's eyes travelled up and widened.

A queenly woman with flawless skin and a full grass-green skirt was watching him with ice-blue eyes. A smile hovered on her lips. Her ears were delicately pointed. A velvet cloak hung from her shoulders and the pale mare's bridle was hung about with scores of little silver bells. Snow started to fall about the glade in soft, drifting flakes, giving the forest a hushed, magical quality.

"It's funny I didn't hear you girls coming," said Fred. "Is my wish granted?"

"Your wish, mortal?" said the woman. The bells in the mare's mane jingled. "I know all about wishes." Her voice was low and smooth like honey. Fred's shoulder blades twitched and he glanced around for the ladle. It was lying, gleaming in the grass on the other side of the toadstools.

"Leave it!" said the woman, following his eyes. All honey was forgotten and Fred jumped guiltily.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said, because she reminded him of an old ballet mistress. The hint of steel and suppressed glacial psychosis was the same, if Fred was anyone's judge. A large brown, hairy man-creature popped from behind the mare, startling Fred further. He was quite naked. Fortunately, he was also very hairy. Ram's horns curled from the creature's scalp. He wandered around the mare and leaned over to Fred, sniffing him.

"Lob! Leave the lovely man alone or no milk by the fire for you tonight!"

Grumbling the hairy man backed away.

"Um. Can I help you with something?" Fred asked, blinking the snowflakes from his lashes. He wasn't sure if this woman was a monster or an NPC with a quest. Or maybe both. He blinked again, and when he opened his eyes there were more elves. More riders on snow-white horses, and more snow. All of them were tall, haughty and beautifully dressed, crowding into the glade. Some of them carried silver weapons.

"Join us, lovely mortal," said the woman on the milk pale mare, she patted the saddle behind her.

"Who are you?" asked Fred. "And er ...where are you going?"

"Join us," echoed the others, riding around him and laughing gaily. Little spirits flickered through the air. Tiny pixies in rainbow hues, and little elves no taller than his knees flittered about. Brownies and hobgoblins and hedgehogs with little red toad skull caps scampered out of the forest to run through the riders' legs, merry and laughing.

"Who am I? I am Mab, the Queen of the Fairies," laughed Mab. "And we are going to feast in my halls."

Fred's eyes brightened.

"Lead on, my lady," he said, bowing low.

The elves cheered as he leapt up onto the offered stead. To the sound of silver harps and laughter, Fred rode with the fairy host into the driving snow.

Joan

Joan set off quickly. Without the others to distract her she was able to move efficiently. Wending her way through the forest she paused here and there to listen to the whispers of the world around her. The trees calmed the blood surging through her veins but her head was still full of revenge. The crushing of the Knights of Cake had to be absolute. Her mind turned over various strategies. It was not enough that it just be physical – death was too good for them. It had to be humiliating – and preferably petty.

As she stood in a sunny forest glade she allowed herself the knowledge that she was being a little irrational. Deep down she was scared. They were short on time. The Purge was coming. They were only halfway to level ten and goodness knew how long it would take to level up the whole party. Sending them out individually was a risk. Herding the party was like herding kittens – delightful, cute, enjoyable but they were so easily distracted and oh so easy to kill.

If revenge was what was needed to motivate them then revenge it was. They would level the dungeon, they would all get to live again. So RIP the Knights of Cake, they would rue the day they butchered Joan and her crew just as surely as the sun would come up tomorrow.

But for now, she needed to grind.

Joan breathed in the smell of the forest. In short order she dispatched a rabid bear, defeated a camp of bandits and rescued a hive of rainbow pixies who were being terrorised by a woodtroll. Then she met an old peddler who needed some rare flowers from a remote glade. She found them, earned herself some lunch and some ingredients and more gold and XP. After a sandwich, she meditated, [+1 Discipline] and escorted an elderly NPC to the inn.

Once there she sat in the great room to wait. She ordered a water.

Hugo, Epic and Alice all tumbled in talking nineteen to the dozen. Joan was pleased to see them all alive. They had all had successful days in varying degrees and supper was a rowdy affair. They exchanged stories and laughed at each other's adventures. It was all very jolly but Joan's eyes kept slipping to the door. Fred didn't arrive by the time they had finished eating. To Joan's consternation, he still hadn't arrived by the time they were ready for bed.

He didn't arrive in the night.

And when she awoke the next morning her bed was empty.