- This is it, hume - from here on you can get to the city by yourselves. I bid you farewell.

- Thanks a bunch for the ride. Sure saved us a long and tedious walk.

We climb down and continue on, Amelia waving the middle-aged treeman goodbye. Took us three days to get to this point, even though the tireless living tree was marching on with wide strides almost without stopping once. I shudder just from thinking how tiresome and boring it would've been if we didn't hitch a ride. Even these three days would've been torture if I didn't have Medrek's research papers, Mary as my trusty board games partner and Amelia the Gullible who readily absorbs both legitimate lessons and mutated tales woven from intertwining plots of completely unrelated fairytales, movies and cartoons.

Ol' barkskin didn't lie: trees got less dense, we found a well-used (but in no way well-maintained) road, and currently have Berg in our sights.

- Alright kid, let's put ourselves in order. Wouldn't want to end in a slammer because we look like penniless vagabonds that are up to no good.

Not the easiest task as there isn't even a spring in the near vicinity.

- Master, shouldn't we change your bandage then?

- Right, forgot about that. Mind helping me out again?

- Sure!

She got really good at it over the course of three days, so might as well.

After taking it off and looking at my face she covers her mouth in shock. Husk extends its snail-like eye tendril, takes a look, then hurriedly returns back in panic and shuts the lid close, entire chest quivering in fear.

- Oi, stop freaking me out. What is it? Don't tell me it started rotting or something.

- No, it's!...it's!...

Unable to finish her sentence Amelia opens Husk's gob, rummages inside and takes out a pocket mirror, then hands it over to me.

Deep breaths. Easy now.

Steeling my heart for something unpleasant, I take a peek.

It's no longer an empty socket, there's a new eye there.

However, unlike the original one with boring brown retina, this one is filled with deep emerald color to the brim and the pupil is reptilian. Almost as if it was ripped straight from a crocodile and shoved right into my skull.

Wait a second, if there's an eye, why didn't my field of vision improve?

I close my right eye, there's nothing but darkness. That can't be right, what's the deal here.

Let's take a closer look at it one more time.

It moves. The bastard moves by itself, independent from the other one.

- I've got no room for squatting parasites, buzz off!

As I try to pierce it with a hunting knife, my left arm intercepts and grabs my wrist.

- Son of a bitch, just let it happen!

- Master!

- Kid, help me out here! Restrain my left arm, you've got permission to break it if you have to!

After a shot scuffle that must've looked positively strange from a passerby's perspective, me manage to pin it down to the ground. This will suck, but time to scoop it out of my skull.

I can feel fear inside of me, but it isn't coming from "me" per se. Is this thing sentient? Something is tugging at my mind, desperately trying to make contact. It seems like it can't grasp how to use speech, instead sending haphazard symbols and concepts.

- ..."useful"? "Help"? How exactly are you going to do that, you damn rat?

Another set of shapes and a sound of panicked slithering. I don't understand you, try harder.

Giving up on its nonsense, I try to figure it out myself. A sudden thought emerges.

- Can it be? Hmmm.

I fish out chained up Medrek.

- Magic Perception. Give it to me.

- What are you talking about? I can't...

- Not talking to you right now, skelly. Anyway, you have a second. One.

I toss captive lich back inside the mimic and open up my status window. Weirdly enough, the skill was stolen successfully.

- Fine, I'll let you stay where you are as long as you keep paying up the rent. But if you try anything even mildly suspicious... I'm going to scoop you out and boil you, got it?

Image of a green upward arrow appears in my mind. I'll take that as a "yes".

It took some time to calm the girl down, such a worryguts.

I took some ten to twenty minutes to cook up an eye patch from leather scraps. As anticipated, it looks like ass and isn't comfortable in the least - might rework it later. Still, far better than the alternative of being mistaken for a skinwalker and skewered by a pitchfork wielding mob.

Road to Berg was short an uneventful, if you don't count a friendly caravan of merchants that allowed us to hitch a ride for the last couple of kilometers.

A strict plan of action was already formulated by me, but that was put on hold by a pleasant surprise brought to me by joint work of two skills.

- Amelia, you have any interest in trinkets?

- Huh? Yes? No? Maybe? Not sure what you mean by that.

- Just thought of giving you a present on a whim.

I take a cheap looking silver ring off a peddlers stand, toss a gold coin to him without asking the price and hand the ring to kid.

She looks awestruck, then her mouth forms an "O"-shape big enough for a battle squadron of flies to crash land into, her ears wiggle cheerfully. The entire process is easily seen and is very amusing to watch.

She puts it on her ring finger, tears forming on the edges of her eyes.

- I thought you'd never...! YES! I accept!

She plunges onto my chest, locking her arms behind my neck like a bloodsucking little tick she is.

- What's gotten into you, woman?! Stop smearing your snot on my shirt, oi!

A small crowd is staring at us as if we are a couple of circus monkeys. Middle-aged women are whispering to each other, an old man goes "ho-ho-ho" like a discount Cola Claus, peddler himself makes suggestive in-out in-out hand gestures with a smirk while kid herself is blabbering something incoherently. What a shitshow, I honestly hate every single one of you.

*...and they lived happily ever after.*

Et tu, Brutus? Et tu?...

I beat a tactical retreat with Amelia on my arms, enduring whistling and cheers hitting me in the back like arrows. Curse you, you no-name NPCs. I'll get back at you for this sooner or later.

Still, the irritating event has borne fruits. Or "fruit" in singular, to be more precise.

Ring of Sacrifice - [item/accessory] - joint creation of god of magic and god of blacksmithing&craft. Will save the wearer from a fatal wound once, then breaks and evaporates. Restriction: can only be used by mortals

I would've never guessed to check it if it wasn't for Intuition and Magic Perception egging me on, as if vaguely stating that there's "something interesting" nearby.

Now I can be more at ease, as I know kid wouldn't suddenly kick the bucket from a surprise attack, ambush or trap. I need her. She dies - my only defense against the corruption of dragon blood is gone and that equals death for me. Being reduced into a vegetable whose body is controlled by insanity is hardly different from death after all.

I'm kind of worried about that mark on my finger though. Ever since I gave the ring to Amelia, it was burning up like hell and light magic isn't helping. It's not infected or anything, right?

Unable to undo her inhumanly strong grip, I choose to rest up on a park bench and wait for the crazy dwelf(?) to recollect her marbles. When she regained her sanity somewhat (as if she had any in the first place) I ask for her assistance with my little pet project to what she readily agrees.

We head to the adventurer guild right away. Strike iron while it's hot and all that jazz.

The place is indistinguishable from the first A-guild I visited way back when in the capital - a noisy unprofessional shithole. Which means there should definitely be some drunk angry imbeciles around here... A-ha! There we are, perfect candidates.

I deliberately walk to the counter in an indirect route to pass right by the four thugs. Like many others, they were already passive aggressive after noticing me enter with Amelia in tow. What can you do, braindead apes are a weird species full of contradictions - they only respect (and fear) power, but they fail to understand that being strong doesn't equal looking like Mr.Universe - juiced up bodybuilder type with useless mass of grotesque muscles that slow you down and make you inflexible.

When their supposed leader - a follically challenged chap - helpfully tries to trip me, I accept the invitation and stomp on his foot. He and his cronies jump right up with livid faces.

- Fucker! What do you think you are doing?!

- Nothing much, just noticed a cockroach and decided to crush it. Oh look, there's a mosquito on your face, let me remove it.

I spit in his face.

- You! YOU!!! I fucking dare to do it ag...

I do it again. Why wouldn't I? The man himself has expressly asked for it.

Onlookers starved for entertainment excitedly look as the man attempts to slug me, but the fist never reaches my face.

A slender twig-like hand catches the man's wrist and squeezes hard, nearly crushing the bone.

As the leader yelps pathetically, his three backup dancers become more frenzied, taking their weapons out.

- You think you can win when we have twice the people?!

- Who told you it's gonna be 2vs4, rodent? I've got no time to play with trashy mobs. Kid will be more than sufficient to deal with you suckers.

I continue towards the counter, the noisiest of the bunch attempts to slash at my back with his short sword. I don't even look back as Amelia intercepts him with a well performed horizontal kick to the gut followed by a leg sweep. Glad to see she's progressing so smoothly that she feels comfortable enough to combine techniques instead of just being a throw-one-punch master.

Looks like leaving it to her was the right choice - someone might've interfered to stop the brawl if I was there, but now people are very reluctant to help the losing side that consists of four adult men who picked a fight and are currently having their assess handed to them by an unarmed child. Wouldn't want THAT to be written on your rap sheet if the guards come, would you? Poor men-children with their frail egos would rather die than report something like that to the fuzz.

Everyone's eyes were locked on the spectacle. Except for two people who played darts (or at least tried to and failed miserably) in the corner - a chubby man with many chins, enough to accommodate a small city under them, and a handsome lanky guy with a soothing aura and a crazy hairdo that gives away his jewish descent.

- Man, this game sucks!

- Come on big cat, don't be so upset. Want some cocoa?

- Hmpf!

I have a feeling I've seen them somewhere before. Weird.

After approaching a free receptionist girl I ask for her help. She readily agrees but follows up with a worried question if it's okay for me to not help Amelia out. I just parrot her question in a loud voice, then take a look at the poor sods, guffaw and unleash a torrent of deprecating taunts towards them. One of them than looks like a bull seems a little upset with my negative remarks on their martial prowess and erectile dysfunctions and wants to rush towards me to start a heated debate, but quickly gets reminded on who the real opponent is when kid blindsides him and smashes a wooden chair on his back. So opportunistic, your teacher is moved to tears~

From casually interrogating the receptionist I find out all about the local customs, who the top brass are, what monsters menace the surroundings and what points of interest are nearby.

Long story short, these are the following snippets that caught my attention.

1) this city is a rare beast - an independent city-state that preserves neutrality towards everyone as much as possible. The mayor of the city is Gaspar Pacino, and although he's called "mayor" it is a hereditary position that is inherited by either one of the children of current mayor or by one of the Pacino clansmen if there are no heirs to speak of. Sounds like a horrible setup to me. All things considered, this is comparable to a silent fart in an elevator at the convention of conspiracy theorists - invites acute paranoia and wanton murder. But from what I heard from the gal, they seem to be going at it for many generations now, somehow managing to not jump at each other's throats. Good for them? Maybe it has something to do with them being a weird mix of knights and merchants with a strict set of self-imposed rules to follow.

2) adventurers seem to lead a lucrative, but pretty useless existence in here - not much to do apart from part-time guard duty, fetch quests and patrolling the woods to bully weak monsters for their hides and meat. Not many dare to enter the woods where the real deal like ogres and trolls lives.

3) there's an abandoned dwarf fortress not that far from the city, sounds like !!fun!! to me. When I showed my interest, receptionist grew pale and ardently insisted on me to reconsider. When I demanded further explanations, all I got was blabbering of it being a "bad place". Apparently there aren't even any monster nests or anything there, no traps, no curses... You get the idea. Folks around here are simply afraid of it because their parents told them to be afraid. And they heard that from their parents. And so on for who knows how long. This superstition works for me, as I'm currently in need of setting up my own base with enough place to cram dozens or even hundreds of people in there. If nobody wants that piece of real estate, I'm willing to take it off your hands.

As I were subtly observing the fight with my peripheral vision, I got to see how a new guy entered the guild, noticed the scuffle and decided to ambush kid from behind. I wasn't going to do anything as this can also be considered a good experience. Thankfully, she took my lessons to heart and noticed him just as he tried to pounce her from behind with a blackjack. However, she stayed her hand in the middle of the punch and stiffened. Don't tell me you suddenly got cold feet for no reason?!

I make a throwing motion with my empty arm to fool any possible onlookers and make a needle-like earth spike appear from the floor right below the guy's foot. It effortlessly pierces his leather shoe and sprouts more spikes from inside, ruining his leg for good. I approach kid as she dumbly looks at the guy and lightly tap her on the top of the head with my fist.

- Mind explaining yourself? Leather club might not look that imposing, but receiving blunt trauma to the head is never a good thing.

- But... If I punched him then...

I follow her gaze and realize something.

Seriously? I thought you were using just one hand this entire time because I asked you to prolong the fight as long as possible and toy around with them, but in reality you were afraid of damaging the ring? Good grief. It's supposed to protect YOU, not the other way around.

- You can be such a handful sometimes. Fine, I'll buy you a chainlet so you can wear it on your neck before plunging into a fight.

Baldie says something cliché trying to look intimidating in his sorry state, face blue with bruises. I just grab him by the balls with one hand, by the neck with the other, rise him above my head and smash his body back-first into the table. To add further insult to the injury, I publicly wipe my dirty boots on his face, snap their weapons in two or throw them at the ceiling just out of reach even if you stand on one of the tables, strip their clothes and throw them in the fireplace, rob them of all their money and force it upon the receptionist along with my apologies, asking to use them as "us" reimbursing the guild for trashed hall and spoiled mood of their staff and patrons.

- ...kill you...I will...DEFINITELY kill you for this!

Yes, that's exactly the reaction I needed! I would be so disappointed if you didn't get mad after all of our hard work.

I just stack four unconscious guys and broken furniture on top of baldie to mess with him one final time and leave the place.

After some asking we manage to find a baller jewelry store nearby. And boy oh boy was I in for a surprise or two in there.

The person who was the cashier, the lead craftsman and the owner of this establishment is quite the character. For one, he's black. Not tanned black, not chocolate colored like Amelia, but full on person of African/Polynesian/Cuban descent. It wouldn't be such a big deal back on Earth, but here 100% (99,9999999% now, I guess) of the population is something from a medieval Europe, thus making the man a unique existence among everyone I've met so far. Another peculiar thing is a sword lodged into his body; and from the looks of it, it was there for quite a while. Human body sure is miraculously resilient sometimes.

What kind of life did this fellow lead?...

Name

Jordan Hoffer

Race

Human

Age

43

Classes

Jeweler lvl.47, Goldsmith lvl.24, Merchant lvl.36

Sensory Skills

Identify⋆

Magic Skills

Ice Magic lvl.4

Recovery Skills

Strong Body lvl.2

Production Skills

Jewellery⋆, Blacksmithing lvl.1

Social Skills

Haggling lvl.4

Resistances

Instant Kill Immunity

Titles

Otherworlder, Founder of a New Race

I see, makes sense. I'll be taking that peculiar ice manipulation of yours good sir, thank you. I'll surely return a copy back to you later. Sometime. Yeah. It's not like I've got any charges left today anyway.

Still, kinda curious about that "new race" thingy, what does it mean? Nope, false alarm, I get it. There's a twelve year old girl playing with a stuffed horse doll in the corner behind the counter. If we discount the whole sword-stuck-in-chest thing, then you've settled down in here quite nicely, good for you.

- Good day to you, sir! Might I distract you for a second?

- Yes, yes, hello. Can I be of help?

- Surely, I came here to buy something for the little lady here. Oh, by the way. I'm Kain, nice to meet you.

- Jordan. Pleasure to meet you.

We shake hands.

- Michael?

- Jordan.

- River?

- Jordan!

- Spice Girls?

- For the last time, it's...!

There's a sudden glint of realization in his eyes, followed by a glint of fear, followed by defiant anger.

- Whoa there Butch, easy. I'm not your enemy, not by a long shot. Use your nifty identification skill on me and you'll get it instantly.

I made sure to keep my warrior template, while adding the Identify skill that I don't have and Otherworlder title that I usually keep hidden.

His glare softens.

- So we are the same, son?

- Yeah, pretty much. I believe we are from the different batches though. How long has it been for you?

- Fourteen years.

He says with a sigh.

- Jesus...

- You can say that again. Anyway, how did you find me?

- Trust me, I wasn't even looking - just a freak coincidence. I mean, even a wooden stick can fire a bullet once in the blue moon, you know?

- Hah. Can you tell me how is it back home?

- You'll need to be a bit more precise. Europe? Asia? US of A? North Pole?

- Alabama.

- Hate to break it to you, but good old 'murica and entirety of Europe are kinda fucked. You know, the usual deal - humans slowly but steadily destroying the rock they are living on, freaking out about their first world problems, being prissy special snowflakes with paper-thin skin and an unhealthy fetish of posing themselves as victims while being proud of dumbest shit that doesn't mean anything and no one in their right mind even cares about. Asians are doing great though - over a billion of smart and hardworking Chinese already. Give it a hundred years and they'll conquer the world without even starting a single war. There are some minor issues like the leader of North Korea being a naughty prankster, but that's nothing new. Oh yeah, apparently there will be a colonization expedition to Mars in not-so-distant future, so maybe at least they'll get to escape the madhouse.

We get a bit too absorbed and heated in our discussion, making Amelia and Jessica (Jordan's daughter) very confused as they had no idea what in the world are we talking about and attracted some unwanted attention from other buyers. Jordan decided to leave everything to his clerks and invited us to dine with him. I was introduced to his wife as his fellow countryman from far, far away - which strictly speaking isn't a lie. Everything's relative, eh?

I got to learn of his experiences, about the country he was summoned to and how he got used as a soldier, then thrown out after the whole chest piercing debacle.

In exchange he got to hear all about the events he missed in the last 14 years and learn how most of his favorite shows ended in great detail. Apparently this was driving him crazy all these years, so now he at least has some closure.

With both of us in high spirits, we managed to strike a deal on a platinum necklace that wards evil away.

- Does it though?

- Nope!

We share a laugh, a handshake and a (manly) hug and carry on our separate ways. It's already getting dark, might as well find a place to grab a good snooze at.

As we pass a dark alley, it gets blocked off from both sides. There's about twenty men in total.

Took you long enough, I was starting to think you'd chicken out at the last moment.

- Boss, it's him! That's the guy!

I see a familiar face that got redecorated with bruises and wave at him with a friendly smile.

- Oh, hi baldie! How's your sex life? Enjoyed that naked jenga sausage party I've thrown for you? You sure look like someone who is into that stuff with those puffy cocksucking lips of yours.

He really wants to tear me a new one, but can't proceed as the bossman is holding him in place.

- Boy, you sure you want to continue your bravado? You sure have the skill to back up your moxie, but that's hardly enough to deal with ten times number difference. How about working for me?

I make an expression of deep thought and telepathically tell Husk to use one of his tendrils to open up the vials of poison inside him, dip six throwing knives in them and pass them to Amelia. It is dark and we are standing back-to-back to keep an eye on all of the gentlemen gathered here, so nobody notices.

- ...you know what? Sure, why not. I'm not a cheapo though. You should know that in a one-on-one I'm far superior to any of your mutts AND I come in a package with my lovely pupil that threw them around like toys. You may have the quantity, but with me you'll also have the quality.

- You bastard!

- Enough, Jenkins. Alright boy, I accept.

- But boss!

- Our employer told you to shut your yap, no? Knock it off, you hairless kneecap.

So I say, approaching the dozen men. Everyone's attention is drawn to me and bald bull, which is good. Ten steps. Five.

- Kid, NOW!

A painfully bright magical flash of light illuminates the dark alleyway, blinding everyone but me who had his eyes closed and Amelia with whom we conspired so she knew to not face in my direction and instead immediately started lobbing the poisoned knives at her own batch of tangos, then rushed at them, making them closely acquainted with the business side of her mace.

I finish my half of the work quickly and turn around to see how the kid fared and if she needs help. One, two, three, four... Eight?

- Where are the other two?!

- Don't worry, they escaped. I doubt they'll bothe...

- Oh for fucks sake. Kid, change of plans! See that burnt building with no roof? Quickly pile the bodies there out of sight and stay there unless someone enters. I'll be back!

Clicking my tongue I track the stragglers down to a building that seems to be their hideout.

Now how do I flush you out? Oh. How about playing a slasher villain, should be effective against people who never seen B-movies.

I tear a crooked 2x4 plank with nails sticking out of it from the floor and rattle it across the walls as I explore the house. This place is their hideout-slash-fortress, so all the windows were initially boarded up and the only exit had a solid iron door protecting it, but I destroyed the wood around the hinges and blocked the exit by a wall of thick ice after entering. They could've tried to silently dig through a wall of soil but let's see them try to break through this baby.

- Itsy bitsy spiiiiideeeeer went up the waterspout~ Down came the blood and washed the spider out~ Out came the sun, revealing horrid sight~ A taaaaale of murder brought the people fright~ Laralala...~

One of the men couldn't take it anymore and tried to ambush me by standing around the corner. Too bad he didn't take a mirror into account. A wicked thought enters my mind and I decide to try out the new technique. I wonder if it works. Looking at the mirror I look at the point right behind him and use Blink. Whoa, it worked. I'll call it... Ricochet Teleport(patent pending).

- Looking for me, sweet child?

- AHHH!

I choke him from behind with the plank.

- Hush, sweet child, hush! Mr.Sandman has brought you a dream...

Releasing the tension a bit I allow him let out a final shrill scream of terror before choking him down for good this time. This should make the search for another one much easier - just follow the smell of piss.

- Poor child, he's looking kind of blue today.

*Real world to John, can you read me?*

What now?

*Aren't you getting too carried away with this?*

You know that we all agreed we need fresh bodies. Then we all agreed on how to procure them. What are you crying about at this point?

*I know that, I know! But there's no need for excessive cruelty, just kill them quick and be do with it.*

What are you talking about, what's wrong with my way of doing it? You want an angsty battomein-esque noir story? I've had enough of that, thanks. I'd rather turn this into a joke, because that's what it is.

*They are bad people, that is indeed a fact. But if you act like that, you aren't different from them.*

- Pfffft...hahaha...hihihikhhhhh...

*...*

- Wait. You were serious about this, Mary?... Then let me laugh even harder! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*...moron. I'm worried about you, you know.*

Geez, you busybody. I'm fine, okay? Don't sweat it. Mirth and laughter preserve sanity and drive excess tension away. This is much healthier than going on a silent stabbing spree. Pure science!

*I hope you are right. You are the only person I have contact with - if you or your mind perish, I'll be trapped here alone. You were the one who taught me the concept of boredom, so take responsibility and stick with me.*

Don't sweat it, sweetcheeks. As long as pipsqueak stays by my side I'm in the green. In a way her safety might be a slightly higher priority than my own.

After a quick shakedown of the place I find the room where the last of my recruits is hiding. In the closet, seriously? How old are you, five?

- I know you are here, little one~ Come out and receive the present from Mr.Sandmaaaaan...

*Still keeping up that act?*

As Gomez Addams once said, of course!

Checking everything but the closet - which simply can't be a hiding place, that's just preposterous - I fling a vase at the wall right next to said completely not suspicious shaking closet.

- Little one has escaped... But it's okay, he couldn't have ran far...

Slamming the door shut I make myself comfortable by leaning to the wall. Some minutes later the door magically slooooowly opens and a scared face pokes out that I grab in a headlock.

- Congrats! As a reward for being last man standing I'll answer any of your questions.

He stares at the cold blade of a knife pressed to his neck.

- Why... WHY?! Why are you doing this?!

- Oh, that's an easy one. However, there's always a chance someone might be eavesdropping so I'll narrate it in my head.

- What?!

You see, here's the thing: last time I got to taste bitterness and got chased out from a city because I didn't have an information network...

*Are you sure that's not because you acted like and asshole and were too high profile just like now?*

Shush, I'm narrating here.

- Let's me go!

The guy squirms so I cut his throat a little to let the blood flow and he pipes down.

SO ANYWAY. I thought, "Hey, Johnny boy! My man, let's replace some of the residents with undead sleeper agents and make them constantly gather and feed us info! Better yet, how about gravely offending some small time street thugs that must be a part of a gang, then completely convert said gang? Clean consciousness, established connections and influence that the gang had, all of their assets AND we do some good community work by improving the public order!"; to which I replied "John, you handsome bastard! You are a genius!". And then I kissed myself because that's the guy I am.

- And that's that. Did you catch it all?

- You are mad... Completely crazy!

- Really? That's what you gathered from my extensive internal explanation? You know what, screw you.

The unlucky Ralf the Cutthroat fell like many of his prior victims - trying to close a gaping gash on his throat with his bare hands.

____________________________________________________________________________

Currently making myself comfortable by sitting on the deceased boss' armchair with my legs crossed on the table. Didn't even remove the boots! So decadent, so suave!

Alright, enough dicking around. There's still a bit of work to do.

Me, one girl to my right, six dozen cadavers lined up in front of me - 62 individuals total so the office is a little cramped. Sixteen of them are revenants of different quality. I only raised a bunny (who is still hopping around somewhere in the forest in its zombified state) prior to this, so getting a hang on how to raise revenants wasn't easy. Fucking Medrek never cared about quality - only about quantity - so at first I had no idea how to raise them in such a way that they don't rot, can somewhat coherently speak, don't move with the speed of a drugged sloth and retain all of knowledge and abilities they amassed during their lifetime. Because of that first three revenants can be considered a failure. I'll just let others keep them as emergency rations if they run out of money I left them. Four were raised as ghouls. Not the best choice, but they have their advantages and their bodies were too messed up to pose as humans anyway. Just take this guy who got his skull caved in by Amelia's mace. "What about forty others" you ask? Those are an amalgamation of crows, ravens, magpies and pigeons. I killed them with one of the weakest curses that has very underwhelming effects when used against humans, but could snuff out a small bird's life in the blink of an eye without damaging their bodies which is great as they keep their ability to fly. I gave two undead birds to each of the crooks, as they can be used to safely send letters and messages without arousing suspicion. Gotta watch out for the cats, hawks and whatnot though.

- Alright you assholes. Who knows how to write?

Three people raise their hands, one of the damaged goods is among them.

- Listen up, you three teach all the others how to write. Keep up the facade of your gang running this place to keep the greedy newcomers out, but keep it moderate, you hear? Loosen up the racket business a bit, don't randomly mug people, and no sticking your shriveled man parts in anyone - I'd rather not be held responsible for living stillborns or a new and exciting type of incurable necrotic STDs. Did I make myself clear?

They groan in affirmation.

- And keep practicing speaking, you can't be too obvious or the entirety of this hideout will be torched by the guards. Ghouls aren't allowed to stroll the streets during daytime - use the sewer system to hide and travel. I'm expecting to receive reports at least once a week, no matter how insignificant the amount of gathered info may seem to you. Dismissed!