Chase stared at the fire. It wasn’t a huge blaze, not yet, but three different parts of the roof burned and coughed out black smoke, heavy in the moonlit night. Clearly someone had been busy.

She couldn’t see any defenders, not from this angle. Remembering how the magical blast had fried Greta, she had a suspicion she knew why she couldn’t see any defenders and hoped that nobody had died.

Well, no, that wasn’t completely true. The Necromancer could die, that was fine. But as lucky as she was, she was pretty sure she wasn’t that lucky.

The Necromancer. Hmm...

“Renny,” she said, keeping her voice low as she watched the very unfunny undead clowns pace around the burning inn, battering at doors, and trying to push through windows, “what kind of magic blasts can Necromancers throw?”

“Um… I’m not a Necromancer.”

“I know, but you’re more magical than me, and you’re smart. Maybe you know something about this?”

“I mean, maybe.” Renny tugged on his tail, seemingly nervous. “There weren’t any Necromancers in my graduating class in the Rumpus Room. But I think some of the lower grades had a few. Uh…”

“Moost Necromancers get oonly one attack spell. It’s called drain life,” Gadram recited.

Surprised, the two halvens and the golem turned to look at him.

“Benefits of a dwarven education. Defense against the dark arts and all that.”

“Oh, perfect!” Chase caught herself at the last moment and turned her happy cry into a whisper. A loud one, but still. “What’s the best defense?”

“An axe to the filthy necromancer’s head.” Gadram smiled. “They can’t cast when they’re dead. Well, most of ‘em, anyway.” Gadram shrugged. “Didn’t say it was a very long class. Or a hard one.”

Chase rolled her eyes. Then she shrugged. It was more information than she’d had a minute ago, anyway. Might as well see if he learned anything else useful. “Okay. Drain Life. Do you know anything more about that spell?”

“That’d be more his department,” Gadram jerked a thumb towards Renny.

“Drain life. Um…” Renny tugged on his tail again. “It’s an attack spell. Necromancers aren’t known for attack spells. It probably wouldn’t be more complex than a wizard’s spell. And those are pretty complicated. I guess it’s a basic bolt that… drains life?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Actually, if it has drain in its name, that indicates that the drained life is going somewhere. Maybe to the Necromancer. Maybe to another undead that he chooses.”

“Okay. But listen, would the Necromancer have to see his target?” She didn’t want to say his name. Vaffanculo meant something very rude in the old tongue, and you weren’t supposed to say the names of dark wizards anyway. Some of them had ways to hear you or something like that. Or it was bad luck. She’d never been clear on the why of it, really.

Renny slowly nodded his head. “Yes, he’d probably have to see whoever he was shooting the spell at. Especially if the life was supposed to go somewhere after it got drained. That’s complicated, in magic terms. You wouldn’t want to throw something in there that allowed targeting, sight-unseen.”

“All right. I had a vision of him blasting Greta if I sent her out first,” Chase said.

“What? Was that the whole thumbs up thing?” Greta said. “He blasted me?”

“Keep your voice down. It’s okay. The illusion saved us. But if he needs sight to cast that spell, that means he has to be in a place where he can see this side of the roof. We don’t know where he is, but we know where he isn’t.” Chase looked up to the sloped shingles that they were all bracing against.

“Which means we can rule out half the village,” Gadram said. “Smart.”

“Thanks. Unfortunately, I don’t know how that helps us. Not yet. Give me a second to think.”

“I know how it helps us,” Gadram said, tapping his sheathed dagger. “We find him and do some defense against the dark arts. Got no axe, but this’ll do. With some backup, I hope.” He glanced down to Renny.

“Wait,” Chase said. “We have no idea what we’re heading out into.”

“Didn’t mean you two. Meant him and me.”

“You’d have to leave the illusion to do that.”

“Which is why I only want just him and me.” Gadram looked her up and down. “You did a hell of a job when it was talkin’ time, got us free and out of that room. But now ain’t the time for talkin’. Now’s the time for killing. And that’ll take sneaking and stabbing, and I don’t reckon that’s yer thing.”

“No. No it isn’t. But…”

“Where are you?” A voice like something drowned in a well and left there for a week burbled. “Where are you little morsels?”

Chase froze, and her friends followed suit. From the window that Gadram had originally used as an entry point, something leaned out into the night. Another clown, quite dead, but unlike the other ones this one’s greasepainted skin was drawn and withered against its bones. Its eyes were blazing blue orbs, and as the thing twisted to bring them to bear on the roof, Chase realized that there was no way to hide, no place to go up here.

But it looked over and past them without hesitation, then scanned the ground below. It gave a howl that seemed to come from a distance, then leaped out of the window and rolled as it hit the ground. It was a strange and unnatural sight, baggy clothes flopping, clawed feet shoeless, unlike the rest of its brethren.

The howl didn’t stop, going on for half a minute, and Chase watched as zombies poured out of the broken door. Fourteen in total, after all was said and done, and the halven felt an odd spike of pride that they’d accounted for so many. The pride faded as the blue-eyed undead fell to all fours and bounded off toward the next building over, leaping through a window. The rest of the zombies followed, moving as a pack.

“So that’s how the Necromancer’s controlling so many,” Renny’s voice was barely a whisper. “He’s high enough level to make wights.”

“That was terrifying,” Greta squeaked, and Chase slapped her hand over her sister’s mouth.

In a low whisper, Chase asked, “Your illusion saved us. Can you extend it to the edge of the roof and the window?”

“I’ll have to recast it, but yes. What are you thinking?”

“You go and hunt the Necromancer. Greta and I get back in through the window. Then when it’s safe we’ll run to the church.”

“Why?”

Chase nodded over at the burning inn. The flames were higher now, two of the burning patches combined in the middle and growing. “I know Dad. He’ll withdraw everyone into the cellar once it’s unsafe to fight. We can meet them there, and help.”

“If there’s no undead in the church,” Gadram pointed out. “If there are…”

“We’ll run away. I know the area. Plenty of places to hide. Besides, that thing… wight?”

“Yes, a wight,” Renny was certain.

“It was literally three feet from us and didn’t sense us. That was your illusion, right?”

“Yes. I went for the senses ‘sight and smell’. That seemed to work.”

“Okay. So it needs to see things too, probably. Why smell?”

“Some people think zombies can smell people. I can smell people. It seemed like a good idea.”

“I must smell like something horrible,” Chase said, then frowned. “No time to worry about that. Do the illusion thing, okay?”

“Okay. We’ll meet you at the church later if we can’t take him out safely,” Renny promised. “Phantasmal Picture.”

The air around the roof rippled, just a bit. Chase would have mistaken it for stray smoke from the inn, if she hadn’t been three feet from the edge of it. When it was done, she looked at Greta and offered a hand. “I’ll swing you in. Just like that time in the apple tree!”

“That time when you dropped me, and I broke my collarbone?” Greta squinted. “Only this time you’ll drop me down next to a horde of hungry zombies?”

“No. Nothing like that, I promise,” Chase said.

Greta took her hand and started to swing.

“Besides, that’s barely a mob. Nothing like a horde,” Chase said, when she was sure her sister would get to safety. Greta’s eyes snapped open wide… and then she was through the window, and a soft thump signified her landing.

Chase followed, and Gadram held her hand as she eased through. Then Greta had her leg from inside, and Chase twisted, shielded her head, and choked back a gasp as she felt her forearm bump down onto the windowsill. Then she was through, rubbing her wrist and checking for damage as she sat sprawled on the floor. Greta sat next to her, breathing hard.

Movement on the roof, and a dwarven voice muttered “Stealthy Step,” and then there was only silence. Silence and the sound of glass breaking in the general store.

“Jooli’s going to be really mad when she gets back and finds the store all torn up,” Greta whispered.

“I’m okay with that because it means Jooli will be alive.” Chase pushed herself up. “Come on. Take it slow, take it careful, and follow my lead.”

A use of foresight got her a skill up and prevented them from being surprised by a roaming zombie. Another use ten seconds later got them out the door, and a third one saw them safely across the street.

Chase marked another set of blue glowing dots in the distance, roaming ahead of a band of shuffling silhouettes walking along the treeline closest to the village. He’s making sure no one escapes, Chase realized.

Then they were at the backdoor of the church. It hung open, leading into darkness. “Foresight,” Chase said and saw her ghostly image head into the church.

And then it did something entirely unexpected.

Chase’s future self came back, pointed in through the doorway and shrugged. She held up a hand and wiggled it, turning it up and down.

Something good or something bad? Don’t know?

Well, she didn’t see herself being eaten by zombies, so that was a start. Time snapped back into joint, and Chase gathered her courage. “Wait here,” she told Greta and headed through the doors.

The door between the kitchen and the worship hall was open, and peering through it, she made out candles. And moving between them, stooping gingerly to avoid rafters, was a tall man. A familiar tall man. Glass glinted in his hands as he stooped under a pew and came up with the bottle of scumble that Jooger Honeybigger hid there for long sermons.

Feeling that band of pain in her chest tightening, Chase moved back out to the doorway and flapped her hand in the signals she’d seen.

Greta, beautiful Greta, could read Chase almost as well as Chase could read herself. The big girl nodded, and the two sisters moved into the kitchen, using all the stealth they could bring to bear on the task.

But it wasn’t enough.

Chase’s foot crunched on a bit of broken crockery. Immediately the figure straightened up, turning his face into the candlelight, and glaring over his handlebar mustaches. “Your master told you to stay out of here,” he called, voice harsh in the darkness. “Shoo!” Then his gaze fell, and Chase saw his eyes widen in surprise. “You!”

“Silent Activation Foresight,” Chase mouthed and got the answer she was looking for. With exaggerated slowness, she shut the wrecked door behind her, swinging it around on its one remaining twisted hinge, and blocking casual observation from the outside. There was still a big gap that anyone could peer through, but she thought it should do to keep from being spotted by the roaming undead.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Thomasi said, taking a few steps closer. He halted as Greta brought up a knife and raised his hands. “Nobody should be here.”

“This is our home,” Chase said, stepping through the kitchen door. Then she squinted, noticing something odd. “Where’s your hat?”

“He’s got it. Vaffanculo.” The rude word didn’t fit the church at all, and Chase blushed, just a bit.

“Could you call him the Necromancer? Please?”

Thomasi nodded, then he set the candle down and paced along the sides of the hall, peering out the large windows. “Stay towards the altar. You shouldn’t be seen from there.”

He was walking a little unevenly, as he went. “Are you injured?” Chase asked, concerned.

Thomasi chuckled. “Not physically, no. Va… The Necromancer threatened me with torture, but I laughed in his face. Ha!” He returned to the pew and reached out for the bottle.

“Diagnose,” Chase whispered, as a sudden suspicion struck her.

And sure enough, the words confirmed what she’d noticed.

PER +1

Thomasi

Condition: Tipsy

“What are you doing?” she started forward, before remembering his warning.

“I’m drinking,” Thomasi said, before uncorking the bottle and taking a serious pull. He coughed a bit, then went in for a second chug. “This’ll make this whole debacle go faster.”

“That’s scumble,” Chase wrinkled her nose. You’re going to swill yourself unconscious if you keep going.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, here?”

“Wallow in self-pity, is what it looks like,” Chase said, finally putting her finger on that tone in his voice. “Instead of helping to stop what you started!”

“Stop what I started? Stop what I started!” He put the bottle down with solid ‘thump’, and two more empty bottles rolled away across the floor as he surged to his feet. As expected, he’d been doing this a while. “I didn’t start this mess! This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Anger spurred her forward, as her willpower finally gave. She shook off Greta’s grasping hand, and stomped up to Thomasi, shaking her finger in a way that she’d learned very well from her mother over the course of many years of misbehavior. “How is any of this our fault! You summoned the clowns that are out there trying to eat my family right now!”

Thomasi’s mustaches flared, as he pointed right back at her. “You were supposed to go tell people to evacuate! I’d hoped and prayed that you’d do the sensible thing and go back to town and do just that. When we got here and found the village empty, I thought my prayers had been answered! But no. But no! Here you are, and here you’ll die, damn it all.” The anger seeped out of him, and he collapsed down into the pew, folding into the halven-sized seating with clumsy difficulty. He stared down at his hands, then reached toward the bottle again. “Damn it all.”

Chase lowered her shaking hand.

Then she picked her way between the pews. A few of them had been toppled, she noticed. And the rug was bunched up, here and there. The crackling roar of the now-raging fire echoed through the broken windows, and a light was illuminating the northern side of the church. There were far fewer zombies outside the inn now, she noticed. Was that good? Chase didn’t know. Couldn’t stare at it. The fight at the inn wasn’t her problem to solve. Fights weren’t her specialty. Her specialty was people, and right now, she had one in front of her that could maybe be the solution to everyone’s problems.

If she could only find the right words.

That’s what I’m good at, isn’t it? Chase thought. And oh, how many lovely tricks I’ve learned today, to help me with that.

Except…

Except he was a Grifter too, according to his peers. He was probably a very, very good Grifter. He’d probably told lies that made hers look like child’s play.

Any attempt at manipulation, any attempt at lying, would be risky. She didn’t have the leverage or the background knowledge to risk alienating him.

The Knight of Clerics card flashed in her mind’s eye, reminding her of the reading. This was the ally she needed, she was sure of it. An imaginative man. Romantic? Not so much. He was older than she, and a human, to boot. Appealing to that angle was out… and manipulative in its own way, for all that men and women had been dancing that dance forever. No, she wouldn’t try that route.

Without lies, what then?

Honesty, she realized. Honesty and the knowledge that he’s deeper than he looks. He’s a thinker. Shallow people don’t keep journals and read books. Speaking of which…

“I found your journal,” she opened with and watched him hesitate, just as the bottle met his lips. “In Pandora.”

He moved the bottle aside, briefly. “So, you did go there.”

“I did. We did.” Chase glanced over and found Greta next to her, drew reassurance from her sister’s solid presence. “We had to get our Father back. And all the town’s fighters, too.”

“Are they the lot at the inn, then?” Thomasi sighed. “Why the hell did you ever think a last stand would work?”

“It’s our home,” Greta said.

“More than that, we had no time left by the time we got back. It took awhile to sort the other playas out.”

Thomasi put the bottle down, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her.

“Yes, I know that word,” Chase confirmed. “Like griefer. I don’t know exactly what they mean. I don’t know all the details. Your journal is hard to read, and I didn’t have the time to browse through all of it.”

“That’s a dangerous word for people like you,” Thomasi said. “Entire game— entire worlds have been destroyed when people like you got too close to it. Got too contemplative. Started noticing too many differences.” He heaved a sigh. “When the tech got too good, and the ethical questions got too much to ignore.”

“Dijornos told me to think of you and people like you as demigods from another world. He said that you walked among worlds, that this was one of many. He was telling the truth, then?”

Thomasi rubbed his chin, covering his mouth.

“I can do that too!” Chase snapped. “You’re not the only Grifter here.”

He paused, and coughed, eyes shifting away. With exaggerated slowness, he uncovered his mouth.

“I haven’t, though,” Chase said. “I’m new to the job. I just took it today because we needed every edge we could get. But I’m not lying to you now. I haven’t used any of its skills on you.” She looked up at him and saw the sadness in his eyes. “I took it to try and stop the Necromancer. But I don’t think it’s going to be enough, though. Not alone.”

Thomasi blinked. Then he closed his eyes. “I can’t help you. Not against him.”

“Why not?”

“Have you looked outside lately?” He picked up the bottle again and glared at the inn, as he took a drink. A timber collapsed, sending a spray of flames and sparks skyward. “I’m sorry. I’m pretty sure that your Father is dead.”

“No. He’s got a way out of there.”

“Oh?” Thomasi’s mustaches twitched, and he looked back at her with a spark of hope… that faded, as he stared down at the bottle again. “Doesn’t matter. Wherever they escape to, Vaffy… the Necromancer will just hunt him down. He’s got undead. He’s patient. They’re… experience to him. Just experience, and souls, and corpses for spesha… specialized undead.” Thomasi’s words slurred, just a bit. Chase didn’t need to use her diagnose skill, she could tell he had left tipsy behind and started in on getting properly drunk.

“Then let’s stop him,” Chase said, moving closer and grabbing the bottle. Grabbing at the bottle, anyway, as Thomasi displayed superior dexterity and managed to keep it away from her clutching fingers.

“It’s… complicated. He. I can’t. Can’t kill him. Well, I guess… I mean I could. But he’s way better at peavey pee than I am.”

“What was that?” Greta asked, nose wrinkling. “I’m sure I heard it wrong.”

“Imma Arrpee guy. He’s peavey pee. Be like… A chihuahua versus a dire wolf.” He took another shot, despite Chase’s best attempts to grab the bottle. “Well, multiple chihuahuas if you helped. But… more than that…” he gently pushed Chase away and took another pull. “Morven at, if it’s his last deff… last death. That. If it’s that, then… he’s not coming back.” He stared at her.

And something about the horror in his eyes made her step back.

“He might not respawn.” Thomasi said, slowly, struggling to be clear. “And I will be damned if I send him to a fate worse. Than. Death.”

Chase lowered her hands. Thomasi killed the bottle, then upended it, sighing as nothing more came out.

“Please,” Chase said. “Is there nothing you can do? We don’t have to kill him, but he has to stop this. Is there no way to do that?”

“Mmrf.” Thomasi stared for a bit, then shook his head. “He’s… got me hat. Insizted I give it him for this. Izza magic item. Letzem use… some Ringmaster tricks. Can refocus people’s attention on stuff. Super… stealthy, way he usez it.”

“That’s how the zombies got so close to the buildings, isn’t it?” Chase realized.

“No real trickz to use on ‘em.” Thomasi shrugged, with that slow, overcareful motion that heavy drinkers had. “Be a diff’rent story if I had my wagonz.” He sighed again, the Scumble in his breath making Chase wince. “But I couldn’t get in ta get’em. They kept the room too well guarded. Even while I waz… ass scaping…”

“The wagons!” Chase burst out. “I have your wagons right here!” Chase pulled her pack off, then remembered a minor, inconveniencing detail. “No. No I don’t,” she sobbed with frustration. “Speranza’s minions took them!”

“Wait. Wagons?” Greta asked.

“Yeah. Miniature circus wagons. I got into the confiscation room and stole them.” Chase frowned. “I’m not sure why. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But they might as well be on the moon, for all the good they do us now. They’re back in the prison somewhere.”

“No, they’re not,” Greta said.

“What?” Chase turned to her sister.

“Gadram has them.”

“What?” Chase said again, eloquence departing her at this entirely unexpected revelation.

“I saw him take a bunch of toy wagons off a prison guard back when you were having that four way standoff in the pump room. Everyone else was distracted, and he was just looting the bodies. He just popped the wagons in a bag, along with everything else he grabbed.”

“Greta, this is great! All we have to do is wait here! Gadram will either kill the Necromancer, or he’ll show up here with the wagons, and Thomasi can use them to… to, uh… hey Thomasi, what exactly were you going to use those wagons for?”

Thomasi answered with a snore.

Chase turned, ears curling down, knowing what she’d find. And sure enough, the ringmaster was slumped in the pew, head lolling back, in a drunken stupor.

“Oh. Fuzznuts,” Chase swore.

Greta gasped. “You can’t say that in church!”

A heavy thump of wood behind them, and the sisters spun around, expecting the worst.

What they saw was an open hole in the floor, as Millie Wheadle shoved the trapdoor to the side of the altar open and hissed “You shouldn’t be saying anything in church! I can hear you shouting from the cellar!”

Chase and Greta blinked.

Then they looked at each other.

Then they looked at all the broken windows, and the two wights glaring blue-eyed through those windows, and all the zombies behind them that had obviously been drawn by the noise.

CHASE'S CHARACTER SHEET

Spoiler: Spoiler

Name: Chase Berrymore

Age: 15 Years

Jobs:

Halven level 9, Cook level 4, Archer level 4, Grifter level 5, Oracle level 6, Teacher Level 1

Attributes / Pools / Defenses

Strength: 55 Constitution: 31 / Hit Points: 86 / Armor: 0

Intelligence: 53 Wisdom: 81 / Sanity: 134 / Mental Fortitude:30

Dexterity: 88 Agility: 57 / Stamina: 145 / Endurance: 0

Charisma: 108 Willpower: 43 / Moxie: 151 / Cool: 35

Perception: 59 Luck: 106 / Fortune: 165 / Fate: 30

Generic Skills

Archery – Level 1

Brawling – Level 7

Climb – Level 15

Dagger – Level 2

Dodge – Level 11

Fishing – Level 14

Ride – Level 10

Stealth – Level 14

Swim – Level 7

Throwing – Level 23

Halven Skills

Fate's Friend – Level N/A

Small in a Good Way – Level N/A

Cook Skills

Cooking - Level 14

Freshen - Level 10

Archer Skills

Aim – Level 2

Missile Mastery – Level N/A

Quickdraw – Level N/A

Rapid Fire – Level N/A

Ricochet Shot – Level 2

Grifter Skills

Fools Gold – Level 1

Forgery – Level 1

Master of Disguise – Level 3

Pickpocket – Level 1

Silent Activation – Level 5

Silver Tongue – Level 3

Size Up – Level 1

Unflappable – Level N/A

Oracle Skills

Absorb Condition – Level N/A

Afflict Self – Level 1

Diagnose – Level N/A

Divine Pawn – Level N/A

Foresight – Level 20

Lesser Healing – Level 25

Omens and Portents – Level N/A

Transfer Condition – Level 2

Teacher Skills

Lecture – Level 2

Smarty Pants – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Farmer, Herbalist,