There were still a few squirrels, but they paid us no mind.

“Unless anyone else wants to find some other den, coven or conclave to raid,” said Topher, “I think we’re done for the day.” He stretched as he walked, clasping his hands behind his head. “First round’s on me.”

I groaned. “I’m done, seeing as I almost died.” Then, glaring at Topher, “…Twice.”

“You’re welcome!” He beamed.

“I think I’m good,” said Kevin. “By the book, a party’s first day of adventuring should bring us to level two. So, interesting to see how that all works. I would recommend we all get to level three as quickly as possible to ensure we get whatever class choices we want.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “I completely forgot the theory that there might be other PCs here.” I tried to assess the implications, but wound up shaking my head. “Nope, no good. My brain’s fried, my body’s exhausted, and my magic hurts. That’s right - my magic hurts. There’s no other way to describe it.” It was true; my magical limb still ached. “I’m drinking to forget my troubles tonight. Tomorrow’s problems tomorrow.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Topher.

“Meantime, how are we going to level up?” asked Kevin. “I’m going to stick with rogue, and hopefully go arcane trickster. What about you guys? You going to stick with bard, Jack?”

“Ideally, no,” I said, a bit energized by a familiar topic. “We’d probably benefit more from a sorcerer. I’m fine abandoning bard - I won’t let sunk costs affect my decision. Of course, there’s a good chance I won’t be able to take sorcerer….” My head started to hurt again. “Ah, I’ll jump off that bridge when I get to it.”

“If you can’t? If you end up having to stay as a bard, do you want to go college of lore or valor?”

I thought about it. At level three, bards have to choose one of two archetypes. One, the college of lore, allows for more skills, magic, and an interesting ability to annoy their enemies into making mistakes. The other, the college of valor, allows for better armor, weapons, and more ways to inspire comrades.

“I’m thinking valor,” I said. “I’ve always liked giant swords. That, and my dexterity is in the perfect spot for medium armor. Actually, if I put one more point into it and take the ‘Medium Armor Master’ feat, I might even be a veritably reckonable force, if all goes well, what with stealth, armor, weapons and magic.”

Kevin smiled. “It’s nice to be thinking about D&D abstractly again, isn’t it?” It was. “Topher? What’s your preference?”

“Eldritch Knight. Might and magic in the glorious singularity that is me.”

“So we’d all be magic users in some way, eh?” Kevin scratched his chin. “Makes sense, as it’s usually the most useful. And versatile, really. Oh,” he turned behind, towards Jenn. “Sorry, this conversation’s not really something you can contribute… Jenn? Are you alright?”

We stopped and turned. Her brow was furled, and she had a stiff frown. “…I should tell her about the pixies…” she said.

“Really? Now?” I was a bit perturbed. “We’re like, halfway back to town already!” The thought of trudging back scraped against my sanity like nails on a chalkboard. “I’m freaking exhausted. Call it a day, Farkas.”

Jenn snapped her head at me, glaring. “Sorry, but I was worried the stress would keep her awake.”

“Well, she’s asleep now!” I gesticulated a bit more than I expected. “You just going to wake her up?”

Jenn’s face hardened, and her tone became very calm. “I’m going to leave a letter for her to read when she wakes up.”

I huffed. “Assuming she can read. I thought we were done with this. We’re not going.”

“I’m not asking you to go. I’ll do it by myself.”

“No. We’re not splitting up. We’re not doing anything until we can get a long rest somewhere safe. Understand?”

“Why are you being so dickish? Are you seriously just tired and cranky? Grow the Hell up.”

A beat of rage added to the strings of annoyance. “I’m seriously just cranky because I’m tired of this forest. We’ve already been ambushed once and stalked by an army of devil squirrels. What if—”

“A dray,” said Topher.

“What?”

“A dray of devil squirrels.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. A dray of… of…” What was I saying? I was so tired. My train of thought had completely left me. The realization made me madder. “Grah! Fine! Do whatever you want. I’m going back to town.”

“Both of you, stop it,” spoke Kevin firmly. “Jenn, he’s right in that we shouldn’t split up when we’re tired and low on magic. Jack, Marisa really should know about the pixies. It would suck if we saved the baby only to have him taken again. And Topher, it’s ‘scurry’, not ‘dray’. ‘Dray’ implies it’s a mother squirrel and her babies.”

Topher snapped his fingers. “Right! That was it. Sorry.”

“Jack, Jenn, follow Topher’s example and apologize,” ordered Kevin.

“…Sorry,” breathed Jenn.

I inhaled, then let it out slowly. I really was tired. Without something to argue against, the anger dissipated, leaving me drained. “Jenn, I’m sorry.” I intended to stop there, but words just flowed out as a giant wave of empathy crashed down on me. “…It’s obviously been a terrible day for all of us, but I can’t imagine how it’s been for you. You’ve got so much less experience with D&D than we have - I doubt I’d be doing as well without all the numbers and rules for my sanity to hold onto. In spite of that, you’ve been nothing but wonderful, and I’ve no right to be shitty to you.” A strange thing was happening. Inside my soul, my kaleidoscope of emotions - the Rainbow in the Dark - was pulsating slowly. I ignored it. “I’m useless when I’m tired, but I shouldn’t make you suffer because of it.” Emotions pounded down the walls of my soul, flowed into my voice. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my crap when you’ve probably got your own.” My eyes met hers, and the space between became charged.

“You deserve better.”

I could almost see the words, glowing with my emotions, glide across the charged space and cling to her. She inhaled slightly, an action which brought her to stand a little taller, a little straighter, a little more assured. With a hint of a smile, she said, “Thank you, Jack. It… really makes me feel better, hearing you say that.” I blushed, finding myself unable to keep eye contact any longer. “And thank you, Kevin. I don’t suppose you’ve had to deal with children before?” She laughed a bit.

Kevin joined her. “No, just friends.” I rolled my eyes. Topher gave me a friendly punch on the shoulder which, by my guess, did about six points of bludgeoning damage. Kevin turned to me. “But Jack, was that inspiration just now?”

It hit me - of course it was. I felt a twinge of excitement invigorate me. “I think so! Jenn! Do you feel a bit more awesome?”

We all looked at her. She gave us a confused look, then cocked an eyebrow up. “I… feel better than when I was arguing a bit ago….”

Kevin and Topher turned back my way. I blankly stared at Jenn, who held my gaze. “Sounds good enough for me!” I rose my arms in triumph. The guys cheered with me, and Jenn just shook her head, pleasantly dismissing our maleness. The burst of energy wore off. I leaned against a tree. “Wow, I’m spent.”

“So,” Jenn began, almost sheepishly, “does anyone mind going back and leaving a note for Marisa?” She was looking directly at me.

A growling sigh crept up my throat, but I suppressed it.

“Hold up,” said Topher. “I’m sorry, Jenn, but I agree with Jack; we should just get back to town now, and worry about Marisa later.” Jenn seemed like she was about to dispute, but Topher stopped her. “Whatever jerkoff is trying to take the baby from Marisa—“

“Or jerkoffs,” she quietly added.

Topher didn’t skip a beat. “The plural of ‘jerkoff’ is ‘circle jerkoff’ - get it right.” I didn’t quite agree with that, but it got a laugh. “Whoever they might be, they’ll most likely need time to plan anything else. I think she’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

“But,” Jenn rebutted, “if there are different people - different circle jerkoffs, or circles jerkoff, that are out to get the baby, any others might try something.”

“I agree with Jenn,” said Kevin. “Marisa should know about it.”

I was on the ground now, trying in vain to relax. “If there really is some sort of mass conspiracy to screw over that family, then there’ll be nothing Marisa can do to stop it, foreknowledge or not.” I rubbed my temples. “So why can’t this wait until tomorrow morning?” I asked.

“Because it doesn’t require much of us, and could be vital to their safety,” replied Jenn.

“…But you just wanted to leave a note,” said Topher. “Implying you thought it could wait, at least a little bit.”

“Well, yeah,” she conceded. “But it’s possible time could be of the essence. Speaking of which, why are we just hanging around discussing this when we could be on our way back to Marisa’s? If we stayed here and hashed out all the angles, we’d probably waste more time than if we simply went back with a note. Heck, I’ll go by myself. Squirrels don’t scare me.” She turned to walk away, but tumbled over a fallen branch. Seemed like she should be more afraid of trees.

Kevin helped her stand. “I’ll go with you. We shouldn’t split up, but better we do it two and two than three and one.”

I looked at them imploringly. “We shouldn’t separate outside of a town, at least not beyond communication range. Trust me - DMs wait to bring out the hard stuff for when the party splits.” I hoped my words conveyed the vastness of my experience on both sides of the issue.

“So come with us,” shrugged Jenn. She looked me up and down. “You could use the exercise.”

The part of my brain that gauges intentions and would’ve told me if that was innocent or an insult was shut down from overuse. Topher stepped in, though, probably because he’s familiar with how touchy I get when the subject of my weight is broached. “Okay, how about, if we’re up for it, we find a locksmith and pay to send him or her out to Marisa’s cabin with a new lock and a note with whatever we want to put on it. Marisa can get her warning and a bit of safety, and we can get out of the woods and to the bar faster.” He held his palms upwards, pointing a hand at each of us. “Sound good?”

I might’ve raised an objection to spending more money on the family if I wasn’t completely sick of this forest. “In for a penny…” I sighed, which caused Jenn to look down on me, literally and figuratively.

“And you were so generous, earlier,” she observed.

“I was in a much better mood; I thought we’d be done with this whole ordeal.” My voice was betraying my weariness. “Outside of searching for the father, that is.”

Kevin shrugged. “Sending a locksmith sounds fair.” He looked up, searching through the forest canopy. “But only if we can find him before end of day and make sure he takes care of it as soon as possible.”

Topher smiled. “Jenn? Is that alright with you?”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Fine,” she said, eventually.

Topher helped me up and we were off. A few minutes went by in silence.

“So, Jenn, you old enough to drink?” Topher asked, out of the blue (or would it be purple?).

She smirked. “I’m sure I am here.”

“Sounds good,” he laughed. “What’s your drink of preference?”

She gave it a moment’s consideration. “Oh, anything’s fine. I suppose I prefer vodka, though.”

“Liar,” smiled Topher, shaking his head. “No one prefers vodka. No one that knows better, at least.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, beer then. I don’t care.”

“Keep in mind,” said Kevin, “that there probably isn’t any kind of refrigeration, so any beer will most likely be warm.”

Her head fell back, exasperated. “God, this place is just going to suck, isn’t it?”

Topher patted her on the back. “I’m sure I can research an evocation spell to chill drinks, once I become an Eldritch Knight,” he reassured.

“Yeah, what were you guys talking about before? You can learn magic or something?”

“It’s a part of the newest edition of D&D,” said Kevin. “You remember how you chose - or rather, we made you choose - the ‘Life’ domain?” She did. “Every class has a similar choice, just most don’t choose at first level, like you. Topher and I want to choose the option that gives us access to a few spells. We wouldn’t have the same amount of power with them as you or Jack, but just a little that can help here or there.”

“For instance,” I said, “Kevin could turn himself invisible, or Topher could summon a hovering shield to defend himself for a few seconds.”

“I see,” she said, pondering. “Then, what spells will I be able to do, if what they can do is ‘just a little’? I know I can heal and bless people, or create water, or lots of other things….”

“Endgame, assuming you become as powerful as you can be?” She nodded. “Well,” I said, “you can bring a person back from the dead without so much as the body, or cause an earthquake, travel the astral plane….” I trailed off.

Kevin picked up. “…Summon demons, control the weather, ‘shut off’ magic over an area, and other things.”

“I’m sure there’s something about turning water into wine,” offered Topher.

Jenn drew her eyebrows together. “Wow. Clerics really have the opportunity to mess up the world, don’t they?”

“There’s that potential for any adventurer,” shrugged Kevin. “But more so with full spellcasters, yeah.”

“It should also be noted,” I said, “that almost no clerics actually become that powerful. While every deity in a world tends to have several clerics, perhaps hundreds or thousands, even the most powerful of them rarely get to the upper levels in the cleric class.”

“Depending on the world and DM,” pointed out Topher.

“Right, of course.” I nodded.

“…Deities? Like gods, right?” asked Jenn.

“Yeah. Most D&D worlds have pantheons, each god fulfilling a different… well, ‘role’, I guess,” I said.

“Sort of like the Greek gods - a god of war, a god of the sun, a god of love, whatever else,” clarified Topher.

“I see.” Jenn withdrew into her thoughts. The conversation died a bit.

A few minutes later we came in sight of the town. Things were quieter at this point in the early evening. Only a few people mingled about, and the kids seemed to have moved to a game of hide and seek. Most outdoor merchant stalls were packed up, though the actual stores we still open. The shadows of the buildings were starting to get long, and I noted that, if the sun set in the west here, then we were presently facing south.

“There we go - ‘Meadow’s Fray Inn and Tavern’,” read Topher. “Looks good enough for our purposes.”

As signs go, this one was minimalistic - just the words, with ‘Meadow’s Fray’ in only a slightly larger font than the rest. The building stood three stories tall, the first made of stone and the rest wood. The doors were welcomingly open.

“Okay,” said Kevin. “We’ll meet you there once we square away the whole locksmith deal.”

“Awesome. Don’t keep us waiting too long.” Topher held out his hand, expectantly.

Kevin understood, and gently shook out some gold from the bag. “Here’s… ten of your gold. I’m guessing we’ll split the rest after taking out the cost of the lock?”

“Umm,” I’d been thinking on something since Topher first presented the idea. “How about we just pay for a door chain? I mean, it’s not like she’s going to need to lock up the baby in the house alone….”

Jenn nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. We’ll check prices.”

Topher and I bid goodbye to Kevin and Jenn and headed to the tavern. The place was large. On the right side was a long bar, stools and a wall of liquor. Four large casks sat tapped against the wall. The left side had booths, and several tables and chairs populated the rest of the space. A staircase in the back corner lead upwards. Suspended by a chain, a chandelier gave off a surprising amount of light, though the dark finish on all the wood kept the atmosphere from achieving the same family friendly feel of modern chain restaurants. That, and most of those places don’t have giant fire-burning stone hearths.

A man behind the bar eyed us. He lingered on Topher, or perhaps more accurately Topher’s weapons. Topher gave him a friendly, tusked smile, and he gave a curt nod in response.

“Not many people in here,” I observed.

“It’s not quite dinner time. I wouldn’t worry,” said Topher.

We headed to a booth. I set my lute and sword against the wall and sat on a hard wooden bench, but Topher stayed standing. “First round’s on me. Think everyone’s good with ale?”

“I know I am.”

“Cool. I’ll be back.” Topher punctuated his statement with a knuckle drum roll on the table, and stepped lively towards the bar. God, he still had energy. That armor had to weigh a ton, and I was sure those weapons took a lot of effort to swing. He usually hefted heavy packages all day, of course. Adventuring must be a breeze compared to his job.

My eyes shifted down toward the table. He was in great shape, smart, and seemingly handling this well. I looked over the past several years of my life. All I saw was disappointment.

I shook my head in hopes it would send bad thoughts flying out of my ears. No reason to feel sad or inferior now - I actually helped save a baby. I mean, I did a fair share of the work, at least. Well, for the first part with the cultists, not the pixies. Still, somewhat… I shook my head again.

“Trying to stay awake?” It was Topher. He set down four wooden mugs and a pitcher made of… was that leather? Interesting.

“Pfeh, more like trying to stay positive.”

“By violently shaking your head ‘no’? I think you’re going about it the wrong way.” He sat opposite me and started pouring the light brown drink. He waited for me to respond, but didn’t press when I stayed silent. “So I was talking to the bartender - his name’s Geoff, by the way. How is it?” he asked in response to my first swig.

“It’s… passable. Try some.”

He did. “Huh. That’s… basically bread.”

“Liquid bread.”

“Guess we know where that comes from.” He took another sip and shrugged. “It’ll grow on me. Only two silver for the pitcher, so one gold should let us drink all night.”

I raised my mug. “Here’s to drinking all night.” He gently tapped his mug to mine and dove in. “So you were talking to Geoff?”

“We talked about a couple things,” he responded after coming up for air. “Let’s see… do you remember talking about the Ware?”

My interest was piqued. “Yes.”

“And do you remember how the cultists had purple glowing stuff around their eyes and hands and whatnot?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you remember how the sky is also purple?”

“…Yeah.”

“And do you remember how you said DMs like to make seemingly minor setting details actually be the cause of end-of-the-world events?”

“…Yeah….”

“Well,” he said, pouring himself another, “if you like being right, then I’ve got good news!”