I sat up with a gasp. I was covered in sweat, and shivered in the cool air. Familiar walls surrounded me. Back in my room in St. Paul’s Cathedral. I waited for my heartbeat to slow, recovering from the adrenaline of my death.

What the hell killed me? The merchant had definitely not been human, but wasn’t undead either. Apparently there were more types of enemies out there. The image of its hateful glare and wiggling teeth was burned into my brain. This time my shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

Snapping myself out of it, I pushed myself to my feet. No time for lollygagging, I needed to get back to the abandoned church. The creature, chemicals, and tools were all clues about the Decoction Killer. If I was really lucky, he might have left a bloodtrail to follow.

Before leaving, I checked over my equipment. I wanted to hurry, but going off half-cocked would just get me killed again. My shamshir and backpack seemed fine, but my chainmail was shredded. The entire right arm was gone and broken links hung from the shoulder. My buckler was missing as well. I remember it lying on the floor of the abandoned church. Why hadn’t it come back with me though? Because I wasn’t holding it when I died? I checked my dagger. It seemed fine, even though I had dropped it too.

Ignoring the mystery for now, I equipped my gear and set off. Ignoring a questioning look from curate Ben, I rushed back out onto the wet streets. As I ran, I contemplated the killer.

He had been taller than me, maybe around 6’2”. Chin length dark hair and a scraggly beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few weeks. Leather coat, cloth trousers. It wasn’t much to go on. There were probably hundreds that would fit the description. That made me think of the merchant.

Were all of the killer’s victims the same kind of monster? Or had it just been a coincidence? Surely a creature that could chew through chainmail would have no trouble with a simple gag. I tried to remember if there had been anything special about the restraints, but nothing stood out.

What if the Decoction Killer went back for his tools? I could lose my chance to catch him, and any information the crime scene held. No time to waste, I increased my pace. Despite my brain telling me I would be worn out and exhausted, my body felt healthy as ever.

My musing cut off abruptly at the sight of blazing fire lighting up the night streets. The entire church was engulfed in flame. My heart sank as I watched the building, and the evidence with it, burning away. For a moment I considered running in, but for what? Most of the roof had collapsed already. Any answers the crime scene held had gone up in smoke. The stone walls seemed to be holding up, but the dry timbers and roof had caught readily.

My next thought was that this was a fire, in a city. I started frantically looking for someone to tell. It wasn’t like I could call 911. That’s when I noticed the group of firefighters.

There were six of them, decked out in heavy clothes and leather helmets. They carried an assortment of handheld pumps, shovels, and axes. A woman with glowing face tattoos used magic to direct streams of water out of a series of barrels. The water coiled around her like a snake before spraying from her open palm.

Interestingly, she didn’t direct the water at the fire, but instead was spraying down the surrounding buildings. The other firefighters were watching the blaze critically, but doing nothing to stop it. Lastly, I noticed the seventh firefighter off to one side and talking to Ajax.

I headed in their direction. When he noticed me, Ajax broke off from the fireman and approached.

“Will! Good to see you in one piece,” he said with a forced smile. Seeing his expression, I felt a spike of guilt. Going in without him hadn’t been my best idea. If Ajax had been there we might have prevented the killer from escaping. I forced the thought away, no use wondering.

“What happened,” I asked, gesturing at the fire.

“That’s my line,” he said, incredulous. “When Roach and I got here, the place was already on fire.”

Seeing me look around, Ajax continued, “I paid the kid and sent him off.”

I looked back at the blazing church. “Why aren’t they putting the fire out?” I asked, stalling. I didn’t really know where to start my explanation.

“These guys don’t work for the city. Insurance companies pay for them to protect their investments. Nobody cares about the church, they are just here to make sure the fire doesn’t spread.” Ajax explained. “How did the fire start?”

“It wasn’t on fire when I died.”

“The killer got you?” Ajax asked.

“No, the killer ran off,” I said, shaking my head. “It was the cloth merchant, it wasn’t human. We fought and I….” I trailed off as I remembered. “The bunsen burner. There was a bunsen burner thing on the table. I must have knocked it over in our struggle.” It wasn’t hard to imagine. The old dry timbers wouldn’t have taken much to burn.

The two of us circled the building and checked the alley the killer had used to escape, but couldn’t pick out a blood trail in the mess of trash and street sludge.

After ten minutes of searching, Ajax wiped his face and nodded. “Come on, there is nothing for us here and I could use a beer.”

A half hour later, at the Bitter Flagon, I set my empty glass down just a bit harder than I intended. “So I finally get the damn thing off me, and it took my arm with it.” I rub my bare arm self consciously. “It writhes around, dying, but still chewing, and I bleed out in the corner.”

“Jesus,” Ajax mutters sympathetically. I stare at my cup, remembering how the thing had screeched as it died. And all those teeth. Hard enough to break chainmail one moment, but flexible enough to wriggle and squirm the next.

Ajax saw my face and signaled the waiter for another round. “Tell me again about the killer,” he asked, taking out a notebook and pen.

So I did, answering his questions in as much detail as possible. Eventually Jim joined us and we ordered food. I sat back, sipping my drink, and listened to Ajax explain about our adventure in the Old City. It was nice. Sitting there reminded me of drinking with coworkers after work. The atmosphere and alcohol slowly unknotted my tensed up muscles.

Telling my story was easier the second time, and became almost fun with Jim animatedly asking questions. Ajax mentioned that I should have waited for him, but didn’t harp on it. We both knew the score. Jim was even more curious when I explained how the cloth merchant turned into a monster and we killed each other.

He wanted to ask more and more questions, but Ajax changed the subject. I was grateful to him. Whatever that thing was, it bothered me in a way the zombies never could. The way I could feel my arm being ground up, those teeth must have gone all the way down the throat and into the stomach.

I shuddered and ordered another drink. When Jim asked about the alchemy setup, I pulled the chemicals out of my backpack. They were unbroken, thankfully, the green and red liquids sloshing gently.

Jim inspected them for a minute, then called over a skinny guy in a plague doctor mask. Jim introduced us to the man, Scott, and we all shook hands. According to Jim, Scott’s Plague Doctor class allowed him to identify alchemical mixtures as well as diseases.

I bought Scott a drink for his trouble, and passed over the vials. He got to work, pulling bottles and tools out of his doctor bag. As Scott inspected the liquids, Jim filled us in. Apparently Scott was from Sweden, but had moved for work. If Scott was bothered by Jim speaking for him, he showed no sign of it.

When he finally spoke up, I had to lean in to hear. “This one is definitely poison,” Scott explained, tapping the green liquid. “Strong stuff too, much more than a lethal dose. This one is a bit more complex,” he continued, picking up the vial of red liquid. “It seems to increase strength and constitution at the cost of intelligence and willpower. It might have other side effects too, but it’s impossible to tell without testing it.”

“So it’s a rage potion,” I said, relaxing more as the alcohol started to do its work. I fiddled with the vials, but put them back in my pack after almost dropping one.

Scott shrugged noncommittally, then stowed his tools and mask so he could drink his beer. The pale man stayed quiet as Jim and Ajax started discussing what the killer used the chemicals for. He didn’t leave when he finished his first beer though, and ordered another. He just sat and listened seemingly enjoying the company.

Eventually, Sarah showed up. She explained that after sending a message to Ajax, she had studied for a while, but couldn’t concentrate. So finally she had come to the Bitter Flagon looking for answers.

Naturally, I was forced to tell my story a third time. It took longer, as Jim and Ajax had to jump in and help when I forgot parts or skipped ahead. From the expression on Sarah’s face, she didn’t get how creepy the merchant-creature had been. I tried to demonstrate how the teeth wiggled, but accidentally knocked over Jim’s beer.

I felt really bad, but he just laughed it off. Good guy Jim. I cleaned some up with my napkin and the waiter came out with a rag.

I tried to take out the potions to show Sarah, but Scott forced me to put them away. I frowned at the Plague Doctor, but he just insisted solemnly. I looked to Ajax for support, but he just shook his head and told me to leave them in my pack for now. I let it go, I could always show Sarah later.

The topic changed and I let the conversion flow over me. Jim and Sarah started talking about a movie I hadn’t heard of. I checked my pockets for my phone, but found my sword and dagger instead. I gripped my drink, frustrated. I missed the internet. I had been trying to focus on the game instead of the situation. Could we really go back to life like nothing ever happened after this? Lose all the memories of each other and the game?

“God, you two look like somebody pissed in your beer,” Sarah said to Ajax and I. “Cheer up boys, you’ll get him next time!” Her tone was bright and goading. She hadn’t guessed my thoughts correctly, but I forced a smile anyway. Moping wasn’t getting me anywhere.

“Next time,” I said, holding my beer out for a toast. The others clinked glasses gamely and I finished my beer. Ajax signaled the waiter again and I looked around for my backpack. I wanted my journal. For a moment I was scared that my pack was missing, but when I asked the others, Scott said he had it.

I looked at the tall man in confusion. Why would he have my backpack? He passed over my journal when I asked then put the pack by his feet. It was weird, but it was hardly like he was stealing it.

I set my Journal on the table carefully, being extra sure not to get any spilled beer on it. The conversation bubbled gently around me as I flipped through the pages. It was hard to read in the lamplight, and I had to squint to focus my eyes, but I found what I wanted. Skill trees!

I had points to spend. I had one new martial skill to pick from.

Multi-Weapon Chain: Every strike you make that uses the Multi-Weapon Fighting skill sets up another use of the skill. This allows you to chain boosted attacks as long as you continue striking with no more than three second between each strike and do not strike with the same weapon twice in a row. This skill is compatible with improvised, ranged, magic, and unarmed attacks. Unlocks Multi-Weapon Chain Acceleration.

I glanced over the other options: Footwork, Measure, Guard blah blah blah, but this was the obvious choice. Relentless hammering for the win. I made the selection and took a long pull from my drink. Next was magic.

Unlocking Create had made a bunch of stuff available. Mental Blueprints, Large Creation 1, Precise Creation 1, and Lasting Creation 1. I groaned looking at the wall of text. I tried skimming through them, but they seemed boring. Instead I flipped ahead to the two I had been interested in and bypassed before. Dispelling Push 1 and Precision Push.

Dispelling Push 1: Your Push spell becomes infused with the ability to pull apart magical effects. When your Push hits a target, it will remove 1 (Intelligence / 5 rounded up) magical effect acting on that target. This effect will not remove effects inflicted by skills from the Inquisitor skill trees. This skill has no effect on inanimate objects. Unlocks Dispelling Push 2.

Precision Push: By exerting your will, you may narrow the focus of your Push. This will reduce the area your push effects. The strength of the Push will be increased proportionally to the area lost. Area and power are determined by Willpower. Minimum area diameter is 48in/5= 9.6in. Maximum force multiplier is 5. Unlocks Remote Push.

I really wanted Dispelling Push before I ran into something that brute force couldn’t overcome, but I really liked the idea of Precision Push. Hit a foot just as they're about to step, a weapon when they are about to swing.

“Hey Will, what are you up to?” Ajax asked.

“I leveled earlier,” I said. I selected Precision Push and looked up at Ajax. He looked concerned.

“Are you sure doing that now is a good idea?” he said, his tone serius.

“Why not?” I said, confused.

“Cus you're drunk,” he explained, exasperated. “Shouldn’t make important choices drunk.”

I considered that. Examining myself, I felt loose, swingy, maybe a bit flush. I was definitely more than just buzzed. I looked back at my Journal. “Well shit,” I said quietly, closed the book, and took another sip of beer. I’m sure it'll be fine.

I rejoined the conversation, and argued over which science fiction show is best. Scott took my journal and put it back in my backpack. The waiter brought out snacks.

Eventually Sarah had to go. I stood, swaying, and offered to walk her home. She declined, but gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek before taking off. She was good people. If I had to be trapped, I was glad that at least I could make friends. Not that I would remember any of them. Not if Axeton Studios got its way. I shook off the melancholy and dug into the snacks.

Later, the snacks were gone, and Ajax was talking. “So she comes in, covered in mud, with the biggest shit eating grin you ever saw,” he was saying. He was grinning himself, but his eyes were watering. “Of course her mother is livid. Starts ranting about how the school could let her compete in an obstacle course while it’s raining. Threatening to sue, talking about how she could get sick. And my little girl,” he broke off, chuckling. “Every time her mom complains my little girl just says ‘but I won though.’”

Jim laughed uproariously. I find myself grinning like a fool. I took a big gulp of my water. The waiter had switched me off beer, but I didn’t mind.

Jim kept questioning Ajax good-naturedly. What’s her favorite color? Favorite food? What did she want to study? Ajax talked and talked, beaming all the while.

I leaned against the table and wall. It was comfortable and cool.

“Come on Will, let’s get you to bed.” Jim said. I looked up at him. Ajax was gone, only Jim, Scott, and I were in the pub.

“Hmm?” I mumbled.

“Finish your water,” Scott said, passing me a full glass. I drank it down and stood shakily.

“You can have a bed upstairs,” Jim said, reaching out to support me. He ended slinging my arm over his shoulder and practically carrying me.

“You must have put a lot of points in strength,” I managed to mutter.

Jim laughed. “Hardly. Non-combat classes don’t have the same stats. I wish I had strength just so I could use it as a dump stat. Most of my points went to Insight.”

We went up the stairs, and Scott followed with my pack. Jim helped me take off my mail and weapons before I flopped into bed. I felt my boots pull off with a couple sharp tugs.

“Thanks,” I mumbled into the blanket before curling up on my side.

“Have a good night.” Jims voice. The door closed.