Signore Castillo was a hard worker. It wasn't his fault that the guilds undercut his prices, and he was being slowly forced out of business.

Signore Castillo was a good husband. It was definitely not his fault his wife couldn't see that and fled with some idiot minstrel, leaving him to raise a young daughter alone.

Signore Castillo was a good father. Why, he'd been in the middle of saving up to hire a matchmaker, to find her a good husband!

Signore Castillo was a good boss. That his daughter stayed up late at night working while he slept, that was just her devotion to keeping the shop going. Nothing more.

All this and more Chase heard from Signore Castillo as she sat in his shop, with the displays and racks pushed up against the wall.

All this she heard, while both of them did their best to pretend the coffin didn't exist.

It sat there on a low table, lid open, showing white cloth within. Plain cloth, but well made... probably the best a small tradesman could afford. Even then it had to have cost a fair amount of silver.

He loved his daughter, and that was enough now. And he seemed to take comfort into pouring his woes out on Chase, who had barely said more than “yes,” or “go on,” or “I agree,” since she'd gotten through the door.

“I tried, you know? I tried. And this is what we get! What she... got...” Signore Castillo swallowed, hard. He moved to the clutter of junk surrounding the shop's counter, rummaged around in it, and pulled out a bottle. But it was empty, and he groaned in disappointment. Daunted but determined, he dug further into the mess.

Ah, this wouldn't do. The room already stank of alcohol and sweat. Chase needed answers, and the more he drank the less useful those answers would be.

Still, he was wild with grief. She had to tread carefully. Fortunately, her skillset lent itself to that. “Silent Activation, Foresight,” Chase whispered. Time slowed, her ghostly self tested the words she wanted to say, and she nodded to see that the reaction was good.

Your Silent Activation skill is now level 9!

Time resumed, and she said “Signore, I wish to pay my respects. Have they taken your daughter to church already?”

That stopped him. He looked over to the casket, face crumpling. “No. No, they took her bod... they took her. They took my little Friatta.”

“Who took her?”

“The guards. Useless! Two days ago I tell them werewolves killed my daughter.” Signore Castillo threw his hands up and paced the room,, letting his temper slip. But NOT at Chase, which was what she'd been worried about. He went on, moving into a full-blown rant. “They tell me there are no werewolves in Arretzi! They lie to my face! Then the very next day, Giuseppe Morrino calls upon the doge, and says werewolves slew his son!”

“And then what did the guards do?” Chase persisted.

“They took her, is what. They took my little girl.” He leaned against a wall. Then he punched it twice, thrice, hard enough that a red '3' drifted up from his head as Chase winced. “They took her because they say her body might have clues. Bah! She is dead, it was werewolves, that is the end of it! She can't rest. She can't go to church until they're done. She can't...” The big man sagged. “I want my little girl back.”

“What? Why? What could her body tell them?” Chase blinked. “Surely they wouldn't use necromancy...”

“What? No, no. No.” That seemed to shock him out of his angry sorrow. “They told me the doge is entertaining a scholar at court. That he can look at wounds and figure out what made them. I say cazzate! She was killed by a werewolf! A werewolf broke in here and killed her! What more do they need to know?”

“The how of it does seem pretty unimportant,” Chase agreed. She gnawed her lip. “I'm more curious about why a werewolf would go after her.”

“What are you saying?” The man squinted, and brushed his hands down his apron. “She didn't do nothing wrong. It's a werewolf, they don't need a reason.”

“I didn't say she did anything wrong.” Chase held up her hands. “This happened at night, right? You said she worked late?”

“Yeah.” The Signore sagged. “Lots of business. It's the end of the fur season, all the hunters and woodsmen are coming in with their pelts. Gods damn Clothiers guild undercutting my prices, we gotta work bulk and work cheap to make up the difference. That and we ain't far from the gate, so we get lots of work. The lights would be lit. Only lights lit around here at night, so it must have looked in the window, and...” he shuddered.

Chase looked over at the windows. The bars over them seemed intact. “Did it come through the window? Did you have it fixed?”

“No. The windows were shut. The door was shut. It must have used magic to get inside. That's the only thing I can think of.” But his voice sounded uncertain.

“What did the guards do, exactly? Besides taking her?” Chase rubbed her chin. This didn't sound like a werewolf sort of killing.

“They poked around. They looked at the... the mess. They cleaned it. They looked for clues, didn't find anything. They took her and left. They said they'll bring her back. I asked when, they said 'when the scholar is done.'” Signore Castillo seemed to shrink into himself, voice going hoarse. He turned back to the pile of junk, searching through it again. With a grunt, he hauled out a bottle and this one was still corked. He opened it, sniffed, and took a pull.

Oh damn it, Chase winced. The next part would be tricky, but she had to move quickly. Another silently activated Foresight confirmed that it would be worth the risk. “Signore, what if I told you I had a way to get in touch with your daughter? Without necromancy.”

He didn't sound offended, just sure of himself when he replied. “I'd say you were lying to me. Her body ain't here, she ain't haunting me, and there ain't no soulst-” he coughed, abruptly. “Mf. Nevermind.”

“He knows about Soulstones,” Renny whispered in Chase's ear, and she jumped a bit. She'd forgotten he was here! “That's not usual in a place where necromancy's illegal, right?” The fox continued, barely audible to her.

“You know about soulstones?” Chase said, scrutinizing the leatherworker.

Signore Castillo stirred a bit, then looked up at the wall. Chase followed his gaze to where taxidermied birds sat on perches. “I got some clients. Hunters who work for certain patorns. They bring in animal remains and black gems, and I have to put the gems inside the remains.” He took a slow pull of the bottle, scrutinizing her as he did so. “I don't ask questions, you understand. But I hear things. And I ain't stupid.”

“You're a wise man,” Chase agreed. “My magic is different. All it would take is help from a living relative.”

“And then... what? What would it do?” The man seemed honestly curious, but she could tell by the way his face twitched, that he was trying to keep from being too optimistic.

“It would call up a memory of her. The skill says that the longer it's been, the weaker the memory will be. So...” Chase shrugged. “I don't know what will come of it. But if you're willing to try, I'll do it for free.”

The last part seemed to break through the merchant's distracted, mildly-tipsy state of mind. He stared at her with new suspicion in his gaze. “Why? What do you get out of this?”

“I told you, that a friend of mine is in danger because of this beast. Or these beasts, however many there are.” Technically true. Thomasi was in danger, but he had more to worry about from the don than he did the werewolves. Still, the leatherworker didn't need to know this particular distinction. “If she can help us find them, then that's worth doing my work for free, here.”

Signore Castillo searched her face, eyes narrow and suspicious. But after a minute they eased. He nodded, and put the bottle down. “All right. What have I got to lose?”

That's some major charisma experience, there, Chase thought. If she hadn't leveled just this morning she was sure it would have been a boost.

“We'll need... We'll need this table, a few candles, and... do you have any of her hair? Or a portrait of her?”

He pushed the curtain in the back of the shop aside and went up, coming back down after a minute with a hairbrush.

They stood at opposite ends of the small table. Chase put the hairbrush in the center of it, arranging the candles in a loose circle and lighting them one by one. Then, after some prompting, the large man took her hands.

Chase took a breath, closed her status screen, and whispered “Seance. Friatta Castillo, we call to you. Friatta, your father calls to you from across the veil. Come to us, Friatta Castillo. Show us that you are here.”

Somewhere, a horn sounded, low and deep. Metal rattled around the room as everything shook, just for a second.

Signore Castillo gasped, his eyes going wide. He tried to pull his hands away from Chase, but she held fast, held with all her might. Her recent adventures had granted her better strength, but it was probably the man's surprise more than anything else that let her keep hold. “No!” She commanded. “It's a fragile link! Friatta, come to us!”

And then she was there.

Her father choked a sob as a woman rose from the hairbrush, green and wavery and faint, caught in the act of combing her hair. She looked around, surprised... and then her face fell into sorrow, as she stared into her father's eyes.

“Are you Friatta Castillo?” Chase asked.

One of the candles flickered, guttering out, and Friatta seemed to go a bit mistier. Chase blinked. So quickly? There were five candles left burning, and she had the feeling that once the last was out, Friatta would be gone. Silently she thanked her massive wisdom for the insight, and focused her mind on the matter at hand. “Friatta, we have questions. Can you answer them?"

Friatta turned, and tried to speak.

But her lips moved silently, and Chase shook her head. “I'm sorry. We can't hear you.”

“Friatta!” Her father could take no more, and tried to embrace the spirit. To Chase's horror, his hands passed right through her, and tore out wispy strands of goop. Friatta jerked back in shock, and stared down at the holes in her form.

Her father wept into his hands, as his daughter's substance dripped off them, oozing into nothing. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry Fritta! I was drunk! I could have saved you! I was drunk and didn't wake!”

Another candle went out, and Chase shook her head. She was close, so CLOSE... “Stop that, sir! Friatta, was it a werewolf that killed you?”

She had to repeat the question three times, but Friatta nodded her head vigorously when she finally looked up from her ectoplasmic wounds.

“Of course it was a werewolf!” Signore Castillo roared.

“Shush!” Chase commanded. “Friatta! Did you know the werewolf?”

More nodding, and a puff of smoke, as a third candle puffed out. Three more to go.

Chase made a grab for the leatherworker's hands, but he wasn't cooperating now. He was frozen in shock, and his hands were out of reach. Chase didn't know if it would help anyway. She was trying to figure out how to salvage this, and coming up with a fair amount of nothing.

Fortunately, she wasn't alone.

“Ask her for clues!” Renny said. “See if she's got anything that can help!”

“Friatta! Can you give us any clues?” Chase asked. “Anything that would help us figure out who the werewolf is?”

Friatta nodded, and headed over to the pile of junk. Once there she put her hands on her hips, and shot her father a matronly glare.

“I'm sorry. I should have cleaned up,” he said, in a small voice, still sobbing.

Chase pushed back a laugh at the absurdity of it. Another candle went out, and the halven dove into the stuff, throwing it around with abandon... almost hitting the spirit, before she caught herself.

And every time Chase held up something from the pile that might be of use, the spirit shook her head.

Seconds crawled by, precious and finite, but finally, finally Friatta nodded and pointed, lips moving frantically.

Chase blinked, and stopped her arm in mid-throw.

It was a knife. A tiny knife.

“This? This is...” This was a familiar knife.

But how was it familiar?

The answer came to her, just as the last candle guttered out, and Friatta started to fade. “This is a knife made for a halven!”

INT+1

Friatta's smile illuminated the room with green glow... and then it was gone with the candlelight.

Her father's despairing wail filled the darkness, and Chase studied it. Well-worn, obviously used and sharpened many times over. It wasn't a fighting knife, of course. Halvens didn't do that sort of thing if they could help it. This one was thin-bladed, with a sharp edge.

“Hey. Did you...” she looked at the sobbing wreck that was Signore Castillo. “Nevermind. Sorry. I'll just...” Chase searched around in the pile where she'd found the knife, and after a minute, she came up with a sheath that fit the blade.

But as she was putting the dagger away, she realized that the sheath didn't quite match the blade. The blade was old. The sheath was new. So new it was still creaking and stiff. But it fit the knife snugly, and it was definitely made for the blade.

“Sir,” she said, but Signore Castillo didn't stop sobbing. “Sir, I'm sorry, but-”

“Get the werewolf!” Someone shouted, right outside the window.

There came the muffled sound of wood hitting flesh, and Cagna yelped.

“Sir! Please, this is...” Chase looked from him to the door.

“Kill her!” A woman howled.

“...this is not gonna work.” He was too far gone to his grief. Chase ran for the door, shoving the sheathed knife into her pocket as she went. It took a few tries to get the human-height door handle opened, but she managed.

She opened the door onto chaos.

The quiet street was now a battlefield. Cagna was running for her life, heading for the central plaza, with her shortsword out. A man choked and bled onto the street not too far away, and six other humans were chasing the beastkin with clubs and daggers. More people filtered in from the surrounding streets, drawn by the carnage. But they were either drawing weapons and grinning, heading toward the fight, or they were standing there and gaping.

“I'm not a wolf, you idiots! I'm a dog!” Cagna said, whipping her cloak off and around to tangle someone who got in too close with a gaff hook. “Pommel Strike!” she shouted, and laid him out with a sword hilt to the head while he struggled to escape the cloak.

But a thrown cobblestone clipped her leg while she was doing that, and she yelped.

“Hey! Stop!” Chase shouted, and the five people who were chasing Cagna slowed and spread out into a circle.

One of them, a woman, looked back and grinned maliciously. “She's with the werewolf! Get her!”

A few of the oncoming thugs switched targets, and Chase paled.

She was very, very good at talking things out, but she didn't think she'd have the time for that, here.

“Run for it, girl!” Cagna shouted, moving to put her back against the Muscle Wizaard's wagon.

“Dropping illusions!” Renny said in her ear. “I'll buy us time!”

The world rippled around Chase, and then there were twelve of her all running in different directions. The thugs paused, then split up and tried kicking at oddly-nimble halvens.

Chase paused...

Then Cagna yelped, and Chase saw a crossbow bolt through the woman's sword arm. Her blade clattered to the ground, and the thugs closed in for the kill.

“No! We're not leaving her!” Chase shouted. “Draw them off of her and to me,” she hissed in a quieter tone, as she ran toward the ring. There was a trick she'd used before to great effect, if she could get one of them near enough...

“Phantasm” Renny commanded, and the air rippled again. Cagna vanished, and the group closing in on her slowed. The mass of fleeing halvens followed Chase as she leaped, grabbed the ropes of the ring, and swung herself in. The halven girl reached her destination... the slumbering wrestler.

“Guards!” Chase shouted, as the thugs looked around for their vanquished quarry, and glared at the shouting girl. Another crossbow bolt flew, striking one of the illusionary halvens. The halven gave a convincing shriek and toppled, lying dead on the ground.

Chase looked around, marked the crossbowman at the edge of an alley, and grabbed a hurler stone out of her skirt pocket. Her throw missed him but hit the onlooker next to him, who screamed and fell to her knees.

Okay, I feel a little bad about that, Chase thought. But the woman's scream was inadvertently helpful, as it broke the crowd's shock. People fled in all directions, trampling and hindering the thugs who now pushed through, trying to get to the ring, trying to get to Chase. They were down to eight or nine perhaps, it was hard to tell.

“Where's Cagna?” Chase hissed at Renny.

“Over there!” He shifted the illusion a bit, and Chase saw the dog-woman kneeling, pulling the bolt from her bloody arm.

“Lesser Healing, Lesser Healing,” Chase commanded, unsure of the damage.

You have healed Cagna for 28 points!

Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 30!

You have healed Cagna for 29 points!

But then there was no time for that, as the leading thug grabbed the ropes and hopped them into the ring. Chase reached down...

...and put her hand on the bulging pectoral of the drunk wrestler.

“Absorb Condition!” she yelled, and then without waiting even a fraction of a second, she ran over and slapped the surprised thug. “Transfer Condition!”

You are now deathly drunk!

A wave of distortion, nausea, and pain crashed into her, as her vision instantly went dark...

You are no longer deathly drunk!

And then she could see again. And ow, did that hurt.

Your Transfer Condition skill is now level 4!

The thug stared at her, raised his truncheon, and then promptly collapsed in a heap.

But then five more were vaulting over the ropes, lashing out at halvens.

“Get the stunty!” A man with a lopsided jaw shouted. “The rest have to be illusions!” He clubbed at one, and it popped.

Behind the mob, Chase saw Cagna fade into existence, wrap her hand around one man's mouth, and slide her sword into his back. But then the line on her pressed forward, and Chase fell back, trying to figure out what to do next, hating the fact she had to fight her way out, knowing that a good slash or bash would pop her like a grape.

“No good,” Renny said, as his illusions started to fray, too many people seeing through them. “Get clear, I'll switch to lightning and elementals!”

Chase backpedaled—

And stopped.

Her back hit something solid.

Very, very solid.

And amazingly, the half-dozen thugs in the ring slowed and stopped, staring over her head. A ways over her head.

“Who dares enter the sanctum of the Muscle Wizaard?” A basso voice boomed above her.

LUCK+1

And despite herself, Chase looked up.

Up into a very large, very bushy gray beard, and a cleft-jawed chin, at a face that had a pair of tiny spectacles practically wedged into the eyesockets. At the conical purple hat studded with frayed golden stars, now on top of a wild-haired head.

It was a bit hard to make that out, because there were some truly impressive pectorals in the way. They grew even larger when he rumbled “Flex and Strong Pose,” and twisted in ways that made his body bulge, almost seeming to put on inches of height and girth.

The woman who had set the thugs on Chase spoke, the slim rapier in her hand angling to point at the giant human. “This isn't your affair. Step off.”

“Step off? Step off? I think not! You've entered The Squared Circle! There is a price to pay, and that price is in blood, sweat, and jeers! OOOOOOoooohhhh yeah!”

Suddenly, the ropes snapped taut. With a whistling noise, the drunken man tangled in them was ejected, flying dozens of feet in the air to crash to the ground with an audible CRUNCH.

One of the thugs at the back tried to slink out under the ropes... but even though there was a clear gap, somehow he got tangled. He yelled and the Wizaard chortled. “Cowards and ruffians all! I have your measure.” Then he whispered, and Chase and Renny were the only ones close enough to hear it. “Theme Song.”

Grandiose music suddenly filled the air, and while the thugs looked around wildly, Chase felt a big hand pick her up and gently deposit her behind the big guy. She could see straight up his loincloth, and quickly looked away, eyes burning. “So I'm not sure what all this is about,” the Muscle Wizaard said, as the brassy strings and horns of the song died down to a lull. “But I've cast my scrying spell, and it tells me that you're going down harder than an ice elemental eating one of my specialized fireball suplexes! You surrender and throw down your weapons now and I'll go easy on you. Otherwise...” He slammed a palm into his chest, and the sound echoed like thunder.

The woman was uncowed. “Get me a shot at his back, boys! I'll end this in one swing! Fight the Battles, Take the Hits, Fast as Death, Backstab!”

Several of the others muttered their own skills, and Chase shrunk back against the ropes of the ring. Beyond them, she could see Cagna trying to climb in and failing, hands slipping from ropes that should have been easy to go over. Whatever magic this wizard had, it cut both ways.

“Get behind me?” The pointy-hatted Wrestler laughed, honestly amused. “Get behind me? Do you know who I am?” He lifted a finger to the sky, and shouted “Signature Move! You shall not pass!”

Silence for a bit.

Nothing happened.

The thugs shrugged, and started to close in. The Muscle Wizaard shook his head. “Well, I warned you. Time to let My Muscles Do the Talking!”

And he did.

What followed was a symphony of brutal destruction, as one man stood against six foes...

...and won.

Chase stared as a screaming man got bounced off the ropes, so hard that he did three flips before ending with a sudden crunch. “Do you think he's got some kind of silent activation?” she asked Renny. “That talking muscles thing?”

“Seems likely,” Renny said, poking his snout further out of the pack. “Ooooh... I didn't know bones could bend that way.”

“They uh, can't,” Chase said, averting her eyes. “Oh! Look out, she's nearly behind... you...” her voice trailed off.

The woman with the rapier had used her friends as a distraction, and tried to dart around the Muscle Wizaard. But she couldn't. It was like she'd just hit a brick wall, and bounced off.

In fact, none of them could get around him. Wherever he turned, they were pushed back, forced into facing him head on.

And, as she watched him pick up a screaming thug and use him to beat the other thugs, she knew that head on was probably the worst place to be.

It wasn't entirely one sided. He didn't bother to defend himself, and although his comically large muscles seemed to shrug off blows that would seriously injure Chase, they still had weapons and he didn't. The woman's rapier traced lines of blood and gouged into him, and Chase awoke from her awe long enough to throw healing his way.

“My thanks, fair maiden! Bide a bit longer, almost done taking out the trash. OOOOOOoooohhh yeah!”

The deadly woman screamed as he closed in, bounded to stand on the ropes with long-practiced balance, and shouted, “Off the Top Rope!”

Then he leaped.

Chase looked away, covering her eyes.

There was a crunch.

“Oh wow,” Renny said. “Yeah, she's dead. That's the biggest red number I've seen in a long time.”

“Don't tell me,” Chase said. “Just... let's look this way... um.”

“Ha, relax! All part of the kayfabe,” the Muscle Wizaard said, and Chase dared to look.

To her amazement, the people she thought she'd just watched be brutally murdered were still twitching. A few were groaning quietly.

“It makes the yellow stamina damage I inflict look red,” the Muscle Wizaard said, then winced. “Ah, shoot. Wait, that's a trade secret. Sorry, I mean it's maaaaaaaagiiiic!” he flexed. “For I am a merciful mage!”

A slow clap echoed through the now-quiet plaza, and Chase, Renny, and the Wizaard turned to see Cagna leaning against a wall, applauding. “If you're done, we need to go. The guards will be here soon. We do NOT want to be stuck in cells answering questions for days,” she said, giving Chase a significant look.

“Go? Guards?” the Wizard blanched. “Uh-oh. Um....” he looked over at the wagon. “Oh no, I don't have time to buy my horse back. I'll have to pull it again...”

Renny spoke up, wriggling out of the pack. “I think I can help with that part.”

CHASE'S CHARACTER SHEET

Spoiler: Spoiler

Name: Chase Berrymore

Age: 15 Years

Jobs:

Halven level 9, Cook level 4, Archer level 5, Grifter level 6, Medium level 1, Oracle level 8, Painter level 2, Teacher level 2

Attributes / Pools / Defenses

Strength: 55 Constitution: 33 / Hit Points: 88 / Armor: 0

Intelligence: 56 Wisdom: 90 / Sanity: 146 / Mental Fortitude:45

Dexterity: 99 Agility: 58 / Stamina: 157 / Endurance: 0

Charisma: 128 Willpower: 46 / Moxie: 174 / Cool: 51

Perception: 66 Luck: 135 / Fortune: 201 / Fate: 32

Generic Skills

Archery – Level 1

Brawling – Level 7

Climb – Level 15

Dagger – Level 2

Dodge – Level 12

Fishing – Level 14

Ride – Level 10

Stealth – Level 14

Swim – Level 7

Throwing – Level 24

Halven Skills

Fate's Friend – Level N/A

Small in a Good Way – Level N/A

Cook Skills

Cooking - Level 15

Freshen - Level 10

Archer Skills

Aim – Level 6

Demoralizing Shot – Level 1

Far Shot – Level 1

Missile Mastery – Level N/A

Quickdraw – Level N/A

Rapid Fire – Level N/A

Razor Arrow – Level 1

Ricochet Shot – Level 10

Grifter Skills

Fools Gold – Level 1

Forgery – Level 1

Master of Disguise – Level 3

Pickpocket – Level 1

Silent Activation – Level 9

Silver Tongue – Level 7

Size Up – Level 2

Unflappable – Level N/A

Medium Skills

Bad Fortune – Level 1

Crystal Ball – Level 1

Good Fortune – Level 1

Séance – Level N/A

Stack Deck – 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 22

Lesser Healing – Level 30

Omens and Portents – Level N/A

Transfer Condition – Level 4

Painter Skills

Fast Dry – Level N/A

Painting – Level 5

Teacher Skills

Lecture – Level 4

Smarty Pants – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Farmer, Herbalist

Gear

The Charlatan's Chapeau