After a mad dash, we found the lady who'd yelled.

"It's all right." Jenn kneeled next to her, making sure she had collapsed from exhaustion and not injury. "We can help you. Calm down and tell us what happened." Jenn had her hand on the lady's back - was she feeling her breathing? Did Jenn have some medical training?

The lady, who seemed a slightly emaciated early thirties, heaved and wheezed in a frantic attempt to catch her breath. "Take your time," Jenn added, shooting Topher and me a concerned glance.

Kevin had been studying the crowd. "No one else seems willing to help," he said, quietly. "They just gawk for a moment and move on when you look at them." He gave me a pained smirk. "Nice place."

I gave him a derisively amused snort in return. "Guess it's time for 'adventurers' to save the day."

Topher grinned (which was a disturbing sight, him being half-orc). "More XP for us. Besides which, we're definitely the most heavily armed around." It was true - there didn't even seem to be any guards or police force. Was this place so safe that it didn't need them?

The lady's breathing became more controlled, though she still seemed somewhat panicked. "Maybe you should start with your name," Jenn soothed.

Between breaths, she replied, "Marisa."

I kneeled down. "All right, Marisa," I said, "why did you come screaming into… town." I realized I didn't know the name of the village we were in.

Marisa took in a large breath and let it out slowly - she was finally focusing. "I was in my house with my son," her chin quivered as she bit her lip, apparently unable to go on.

Jenn and I shared ominous looks. Gently, but urgently, she asked, "What happened to your son, Marisa?"

Tears cascaded down Marisa's face. "They…." Her eyes seemed focused, but not on anything around.

She was reliving the experience. I snapped my fingers in front of her. "Lady! Eyes on us. Did someone take your son? Is that what happened? Speak." I hoped a bit of harshness would snap her out of her reverie. It did, but I didn't seem to gain any points with Jenn.

Marisa was finally making eye contact. Her eyes had a marvelously clear blue to them, though they were glossed and puffy from tears. "Yes, someone took my son. He's…" her chin started up again, but she kept eye contact with me and managed to continue, "he's only a couple weeks old. These… people in black cloaks came in and… and just took him!"

I was asking who these people were as Jenn stood up and was asking where they'd gone.

"They headed off into the woods. I think… I think off to the old mausoleum."

Yikes. Here I was expecting rats for our first encounter.

"Where's this mausoleum, Marisa?" Jenn's voice had chilled.

Marisa's eyes widened. "You'll help me? I, right, um," she shook her head to clear it, "into the woods about two miles, a trail splits off from the road. It leads right to it."

I tried to ask my question again, but Jenn took off with an abrupt: "Let's go."

Cripes, was she crazy? "Shouldn't we find out as much as we can before—"

She turned around without stopping. "There's a child in danger, Jack. Seconds count." She turned forward again, only to stumble over her own feet. She caught herself before faceplanting, but it was close.

I looked back at Kevin and Topher for support. They seemed sympathetic, but also happy to follow the pretty girl. "Can't argue with women," Kevin smiled.

"Not one with those… stats," agreed Topher.

I turned back to Marisa. "Real quick," I held my face as seriously as possible, "how many were there?"

"Five… maybe six?"

"Were they…." How to phrase this? "Did they seem magically inclined? Wizards or some such?"

"Er… no. Not really."

"Jack!" Topher called back to me. "Let the lady rest!"

I stood up. "The mausoleum, is it known for dark rituals or undead?"

"Gods, I hope not." Pantheon. Predictable, but noted.

"Is there any other detail that might help? Anything unusual?"

"They…" her brow furled. "Their eyes - I think they took too much of the Ware."

My jaw dropped. "What? What's the… like 'were'wolves?" I tried to think if there was a way eyes could show someone to be a lycanthrope, or if there was something you take too much of to make you a lycanthrope.

She just seemed confused, though. "No… just the Ware."

'Just'? Did that mean it was common, or something I didn't have to worry about? Why mention taking too much, then?

"C'mon, man! You're pissing Jenn off!"

Damn it, I'd have to run to catch up. I hate running. Backing away, I said, "Don't worry, Marisa. Rest here, and we'll do all we can."

"Please save him!"

I gave her as reassuring a smile I could muster, and took off after the others. The town gave way to pine trees. I was only slightly out of breath after catching up, which was something of a win for me.

Jenn was marching at a clip. That couldn't have been easy with a shield and heavy armor, but she showed no signs of slowing. Kevin and Topher were right behind her. Kevin saw me join and asked: "Did you press her for clues, gumshoe?"

"She said it was five or six of them, and they 'took too much of the Ware.'"

"The Where? How do you take too much of place?"

"I don't think that's what she meant. And it's not werewolves, apparently."

Topher scratched his cheek. "Then that leaves 'ware' as in… like, a merchant's wares? Goods for sale?"

"Sounds like drugs, if that's the case," Jenn turned her head to say.

"I doubt it's hardware or software," shrugged Kevin.

"We'll find out when we get there." I patted Kevin on the shoulder. "Or rather, you will, and can tell us, mister scout."

He smiled. "Sounds fair."

"So, five or six… what, drug addled cultists? I wouldn't be too worried if this was regular old D&D." Topher strutted faster to get in pace with Jenn. "Not with an awesome fighter like me around."

I laughed. "Sounds like I won't even need to use my inspiration ability on you, huh?" As I said it, I took mental inventory - and yes, I could inspire a colleague. It seemed rather easy, actually. All I had to do was speak supportively, and with sincerity. In D&D, as the rules are written, I could only do it four times before having to rest for eight hours. It didn't feel like it would be terribly taxing, though. If my charisma score went up, I could do it more often. Maybe it had to do with how much sincerity I could muster?

Kevin interrupted my thoughts. "I wonder where the father is. Do you suppose he's dead?"

"The father's missing," said Jenn. "For months, probably. He was the bread-winner, too. Did you see how malnourished she looked?" Her pace had begun to slow slightly, but picked back up. "She's still hoping he'll come back."

"How're you guessing that?" Topher eyed her.

She turned her head to him. "She didn't tell us the baby's name. I'm pretty sure it's because he doesn't have a name. She's waiting until the father - or whoever is supposed to be helping her raise the child, I should say - comes back so they can name him together."

There was something depressingly sweet about that.

"Making good use of the insight skill, aren't you?" Topher flashed her a smirk, but there was a bite to his words - maybe one he didn't even realize, himself.

Time to change the subject. "You know, if this was my campaign, I'd probably have the child's father be one of the cultists. Maybe even the leader."

Jenn turned, aghast, and punched me in the arm. Hard. "Don't say that! That's horrible!"

I grabbed my surely bruising arm, but couldn't suppress a grin. "Don't know what to tell you - I'm a horrible person."

My arm was tender for another mile or so, during which time we talked strategy. Kevin would scout and determine if we could get to the baby without confrontation. If that was impossible, Jenn, Topher and I would try negotiating with whoever was in charge, and make sure Kevin was in a position to either sneak attack the leader or steal the baby if talks didn't go well. If Kevin thought the baby was in any certain danger, we'd go in guns blazing and stop the immediate threat. If further threats remained, it'd be my job to flee from combat and get the baby to safety. Their reasoning behind that was because I had, by the character sheets, the lowest armor class and hit points. Or rather because I was, in their words, the "squishiest" (a term of endearment, they assured me).

A little while after the discussion, Kevin asked: "So, what's up with all the ruins?"

We'd been spotting them for a while, now; large white stones, hewn into blocks, then weathered and swallowed by foliage. They sporadically dotted the forest on either side of the road. Every so often they'd be in the shape of a dilapidated wall or building corner, but mostly they were singular. Each one went up to my waist, and was about twice that in length.

"You're the one with the history skill," Topher pointed out. "You tell us."

"I have no idea. Guess I rolled a failure, huh? —Wait." Kevin's head twitched a bit, and he blinked a couple times at the stones. He shook it off. "Umm, that was weird," he said.

We all turned to look at him.

"What I'm getting…" he began, "is that the stones are thousands of years old, and haven't been maintained for about two hundred." He looked at each of us. "I don't know how I happen to know that, but I'm pretty sure it's accurate."

"You said you were 'getting' it?" I asked. "As in, it just came to you?"

Kevin shrugged, turning toward the nearest stone. "Kind of. It just burst into my mind, but it felt like… I always knew it. I don't know what to say." He shook his head.

More testing was needed, and I had a hunch. "Topher…." He looked at me. "You took the nature skill. How old would you say these trees are?"

He made a quick, confused frown at the request, but started to look around. "Umm… probably… something like…" he was rocking his head back and forth, squinting in what looked like focused thought. He drew his words out, unsure of what should be happening. Then, with complete confidence: "Six hundred years old." He looked over at Kevin, face in pleasant surprise. "You're right. That was weird."

"And are they supposed to just be trunk for twenty feet before the cone of branches and needles start?" I didn't think there were any trees like that back where we came from - usually the conical pines started branching out around knee level.

Topher took a second. "Yes. When they're very old."

Jenn tapped her shield to her chainmail. "Boys, we need to get moving."

In the excitement, I hadn't realized we'd stopped. We took off again. "So," I said after a few steps, "anyone find it odd that a six-hundred-year-old forest sprouted up where buildings have been abandoned for only two hundred years?"

"I'd call it odd," said Kevin, "but you were the one who took arcana as a skill. Is there some sort of magical way to speed up tree growth?"

I thought about it. Was there?

Suddenly, like a wave erupting from the back of my mind, the word -Yes- came crashing into consciousness. "Yes," I parroted.

The sensation did seem odd. I decided to try another test. How could magic speed up tree growth?

-Oh, a variety of ways! Firstly, one could try using arcane magic to speed up the plant's life relative to the rest of the world. Generally, plants don't care for this method, and trees doubly so - something about it gives them a terrible odor, which quizzically smells like gnome farts. It should also be noted that, unless the dirt in which the tree rests in is tremendously saturated with the correct nutrients, one would need to use magic to fuel its increase in mass - a doubly taxing arrangement, if one'salready hastening the plant's life. The main benefit to this method would behow nigh-instantaneous the transformation could be. Becauseof this, the trunk of the tree would show ringsin accordance withits actual age, just with alarge gapbetween ringsdenoting when theincreaseofmasshappened. Now, ifoneattemptedtousedivinemagic,manyotherpossibilitiesbecomeavaila-

I screamed in blinding pain, the whole of this knowledge erupting into my mind in the span of a nanosecond. When my eyes opened, it was to the others' concerned faces, framed by the purple sky.

"You were out for a few seconds," said Jenn.

"What happened?" asked Kevin.

The pain had mostly subsided, and I massaged the bridge of my nose to ease the rest of it. "I think…" the pain throbbed quickly again, but died down. "I think I rolled a natural 20 on my skill check."

Topher and Kevin gave a quick chuckle of understanding at that, and Jenn seemed to defer to their insouciance. "You don't seem too hurt," she said.

"Let's get you up," said Topher, offering me his hand.

We continued on. At what we assumed was the two-mile mark, a trail sprouted left through some bushes and grass. Taking it, we soon saw the mausoleum.

The building itself didn't seem very big - maybe about ten feet wide and twenty feet long. The stone used to build it was a dull gray, made into much smaller blocks than the white ones we'd seen on the main road - Kevin said it was built within the last fifty years, and stopped being maintained for a good twenty. On one of the smaller sides was an archway, with no other means of entry. There were no windows or hints at personality to the mass of stone, other than two pillars on either side of the archway.

We all looked at Kevin, expectantly. Without moving his gaze from the mausoleum, he nodded and walked toward it slowly. He made it to the entrance without any difficulty. Peering inside, he soon waved the rest of us over.

The building seemed to only house a stairwell down. I'd have guessed the stairs went for about forty feet, leading to room with flickering orange light. Kevin made sure he had his thin sword in one hand, the copper wire in the other. He descended in silence. While we waited, I noted that I couldn't hear a baby crying, but didn't want to think about whether that was a good sign or not.

Three quarters of the way down, he stopped and bit down on the wire. "Open portcullis at bottom."

Right, the Message cantrip. I whispered back, "Roger, creeper."

He turned back toward me, giving me a look I couldn't discern in the darkness. I smiled and passed the information on to the rest, quietly.

"Why would it be open?" Topher asked in a whisper. "They let Marisa go, couldn't they have guessed someone might follow?"

Jenn looked grave. "It could be a trap."

I nodded, but added: "Or it could just be stuck."

Kevin hugged the wall, peaking through the threshold of the room. I could barely see him bite down on the wire.

"Hallway. Torches and sarcophagi."

"Roger. Signs of trap?"

Kevin took a few seconds, then disappeared into the room. Had he not heard me?

"No traps. No portcullis mechanism."

"Roger."

I relayed the information. 'Sarcophagi' worried us, but we shrugged it off. Seconds ticked by.

"Hallway splits. Left side collapsed."

"Roger."

Immediately after, "Voices from right side."

He's getting close. "Alright. I mean, 'Roger'." I told Jenn and Topher he could hear them. We all held our collective breath….

"Religious service. Six plus leader."

I didn't like the sound of either of those things. "Roger. Baby?"

A couple seconds passed. "No sign. Moving closer."

All of my muscles were tense. "Roger." I told the others: "Six and a leader holding some sort of religious ceremony. No sign of the baby." They nodded, solemnly.

I could hear my heart pounding. My friend, who I'd known since childhood, was one wrong step away from discovery and probable harm. A vision of half a dozen faceless men in black robes descending on him and… and just stabbing him repeatedly to his silent cries for help dominated my imagination. I shook my head - I had to have faith in him. He was smart. He was quiet. We'd be able to hear if there was any commoti—

"Get. Here. Right. Now."