I guess she was the first to log in, Peter thought to himself as he faded into the dim station to find Dani sitting in the dust surrounded by a circle of blades. There were daggers, throwing knives, kuris, dirks and a pair of petite short swords. They all had different tints to the metal or an oily sheen indicating a coating or poison. At the centre, sitting cross legged, Dani drew a whetstone over the edge of a shiny steel throwing knife.

“Hey, you feeling better?” Peter asked, taking a seat outside the perimeter. “You’re looking better.”

Dani didn’t answer immediately. She continued to draw the stone over the blade, honing the already razor edge. Blowing the fine metal dust away she laid the weapon on the cold stone floor with a deliberate clink. “I’m alright.”

Peter watched as Dani returned her equipment to their individual positions with care. “You don’t sound alright. Something's bothering you.”

“You don’t say.” She rammed a throwing knife into her bandoleer harder than was strictly needed.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” Peter handed her the next blade in line. She snatched it from him.

“You lot left me here,” she waved the throwing knife around, taking in the rubble, debris and junk that was once an ancient but well preserved underground train station. Peter leaned back to avoid being cut as she continued. “while you went off gallivanting about… wherever you go when you log off. I don’t know. Anyway,” she stuffed the knife in its slot and grabbed up the next one, “do you not know what happens to unoccupied dungeons? Dungeons like this one, perhaps?”

“What do you mean ‘wherever you go’? Where do you go when you log off?” Peter rubbed where his scar would be, the unconscious tic carrying over from the real world.

“Not the point I’m making!” Dani screamed, driving a dagger point into the ground. “Everyone left me here! If you abandon a dungeon it resets! We need this cart to get to the succubus’s lair and if someone didn’t wait here then this whole thing would reset and we’d have to fight the engine again!”

Memories of the fight flashed through Peter’s mind. It hadn’t been so bad for him, he hadn’t been status afflicted through the ordeal, but remembering how everyone else had been gave him pause. “Oh damn, I’m so sorry.” Peter hung his head in shame. “Thank you for staying here. I really appreciate it.”

Extracting the dagger from the ground, Dani examined the tip as she calmed down. She heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry too. It just really sucks sitting in the cold and dark all by yourself for hours while everyone else is off having hot dinners and fun.” She started to polish the nick out of the tip with the whetstone.

“You know Pham isn’t having a hot dinner or fun, yeah?” Peter picked himself up as the air brightened, heralding the imminent arrival of at least one of their teammates. The glow coalesced into Warren, landing with a firm thud. “But that’s her story to tell, so please don’t let on I told you.”

“Ohhh that feels good,” Warren stomped his feet and did some squats. “Hey guys! Ready to kick some demon butt?” He emphasised the question with a kicking motion.

Peter and Dani rolled their eyes. They shared a look that said it all. Jocks.

A second glow announced Pham’s return, and the moment his feet hit the floor he went from upright to horizontal in one graceful arc. No bending at the knees, no outflung limbs to break the fall. A cloud of dust billowed out from the point of impact. Pham raised one arm into the air. “I’m fine!”

“You’re lying.” Dani pointed out.

“No I’m not, I’m telling the truth!” Pham protested, still not moving from where he lay.

Dani facepalmed. “No, I mean you’re lying on the floor. People who are fine geeeeenerally don’t do that.”

Warren offered his oversized hand and Pham gratefully accepted, pulling himself upright. “You didn’t get dinner, did you.” Warren steadied Pham before letting him go. Pham shook his head, but gave a thumbs up.

“I stashed some jerky in here a couple of days ago when Sack started freaking me out.” Pham wrung his hands. “So I’ve had something to eat at least.”

Peter placed a reverential hand on Pham’s shoulder. “Don't worry, I’ve talked to my mum and dad and they’ve talked to our lawyer. We’re not going to get in trouble for today. I know it’s tough now, but it will get better.”

Pham wrapped Peter in a hug, a hug that Warren joined after a moment. “Thanks Petey, I appreciate it. I know there’s not much you can do right now, or maybe not at all.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m just happy to have friends.” He opened the hug to include Dani. “You too. Bring it in.”

Dani joined the huddle and they all held each other for a meaningful moment. “Thank you, everyone. There’s still someone missing though.” The huddle broke apart as they recognised who it was. Peter choked up immediately, everyone else bowed their heads.

“DB,” they all said in unison.

“Let’s get your buddy back.” Dani punched Peter in the shoulder.

Everyone piled onto the handcart and Warren and Peter started pumping the handle. The cart accelerated slowly into the dark tunnel where the only illumination came from the occasional bioluminescent fungus. They only stopped a couple of times for Peter to harvest the glowing shrooms. Then next few times he asked they threatened to leave him behind. The long dark began to press on everyone, the weight of the stone overhead pressed inward, suppressing conversation. The clickety-clack of the rails bored into their ears, the rushing wind blew incessantly. Everyone was consumed by their own thoughts as they drove deeper and deeper into the unknown. The only words anyone exchanged was when the tracks forked and Peter checked his quest marker to confirm which branch to take. The flickering fairy lights stuck to the left hand rail every time. Eventually, the cart was forced to stop. It was that or slam into a barrier placed over the end of the track. A small wooden platform allowed the Travellers to alight from the cart comfortably with a short staircase to the stone floor. The whole place had an abandoned feel.

“You sure this is the right place?” Warren ignored the stairs and jumped over the side of the cart.

Dani pointed at a set of tiny footprints in the dust with a drawn dagger. “We’re in the right place, mate. Look.” The footprints led to a smooth patch of tunnel wall then stopped abruptly. Dani stepped up to the wall and waved the dagger around, watching it disappear up to the hilt in what was obviously an illusion. “Stupid. If you’re going to hide a doorway, don’t leave a trail right up to it.” Before anyone could protest she walked straight through the fake wall. A half-moment later she rolled back out through the illusion with an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. “Do not go in there!”

Everyone clustered around her supine form, Warren setting himself between them all with his shield braced against the floor. Pham kneeled on Dani’s chest and yanked the arrow out, examining the tarnished metal shaft. “This isn’t imp-made. Looks ancient.”

Peter leaned over Pham’s shoulder for a better look. “It definitely looks old.” He reached over and twisted the shaft in Pham’s grip. “It’s all pitted and stuff.”

“Well, yes,” Pham agreed, “but then again, no. I meant Ancient, like the people.”

“Heloo, bleeding out here,” Dani groaned. “Do either of you jokers have a bandage or potion of health?”

Warren unhooked a vial from his belt and passed it wordlessly behind him, remaining vigilant for threats. Peter passed the vial to Dani who downed it one gulp, grimacing at the taste and the pain.

“You don’t need to stand there, big guy. It was a trap, as soon as I walked through the entrance that thing shot out of a hole in the wall.” Dani rubbed the spot where the arrow had hit her. The only evidence of the wound was some pink skin and a hole in the armour. “There’s plenty of other holes in the walls though, and I don’t know how many are still loaded.”

Warren relaxed and returned his shield to his back. “Good thing we’ve got a couple of experts on hand then, isn’t it?”

“Good thing,” Pham grumbled, seeing where this was leading. “I’m going to get shot, aren’t I?”

“Probably,” Warren allowed, “but at least they’re simple brass arrows. Remember the device in the fey village last month? The one that…”

“I remember!” Pham was up in a flash, cupping his hand over Warren’s mouth. “I remember. Now shut up or I’ll let your tires down next time I see you.”

Dani paused, halfway through getting up, and looked from Pham to Warren to Peter. “Have I mentioned your friend is weird?” she asked Peter.

Peter gave her a hand getting the rest of the way up. “Pfft, there’s no such thing as normal, everybody’s weird.”

The crew made their way through the illusion carefully, Warren first with his shield up. By the time all four were inside the tunnel, three arrows had clattered off its iron bound surface but no-one had been injured. Dani went to work looking for the triggers while Pham gunked the holes with some sort of rapid setting epoxy. Between the two of them they managed to defeat ten devices aimed at the tunnel entrance.

“These are pretty crude by Ancient standards,” Pham noted, pocketing every part he could salvage. “I think it’s all scavenged and repurposed bits rather than deliberately built.”

“What are you thinking? Imp or Traveller?” Warren yanked a tripwire out of the wall to the sound of a dull thud when the arrow buried itself in the goop plugging its hole.

Dani dug the embedded arrow out and measured the height of the hole from the floor with it. “Looks a bit high for Imp made, unless they’re standing on each other’s shoulders.” She pried the hardened substance off the arrow and tossed it out through the illusory wall. “But if it was a Traveller, shouldn’t it have broken down by now?”

Dani rapidly disassembled the defanged device, tilting his head in thought. “The only way a Traveller trap could persist long enough for dust like this is if they’d claimed the place as a residence.” He held up a trigger mechanism to the light. “I don’t know of anyone who could afford a claim ticket big enough to cover a whole dungeon. Even the guilds can only afford to claim the entrance and a little way in.”

Leaning against the shaft of his scythe and keeping out of the way, Peter considered this. He hadn’t had much money in this game, the idea of buying land had been obviated when Fjor had gifted him Bani’s home. Now there's a double edged sword if I ever saw one. “Why does it cost so much to own a dungeon?”

Pham explained as he dismantled another device. “You remember when we talked about how much a regular house costs? Well, when you try to buy a special area like a dungeon or mystical standing stones or a volcano laboratory where you can churn out automatons bent on conquering the world… the upkeep becomes astronomical.”

“That last one sounded suspiciously specific, mate.” Dani looked sidelong at Pham. “Are you feeling alright?”

The shifty look on Pham’s face faded into almost genuine surprise. “Who? Me? Never. I mean, sure, I’m feeling fine, why do you ask?” He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, as I was saying, some enterprising folks have built gates and more over the entrances to dungeons. Costs a bit, but that way you can charge admittance, like Disneyland but with more murder. Extending the claim into the dungeon, well, the upkeep cost doubles for every meter you go in. That way no Traveller can set up shop in the bottom of one and build an unstoppable empire of brass and clockwork.” Pham steepled his fingers and grinned for a moment before remembering himself. “So, uh, yeah. Suuuper expensive to own a dungeon. Not that I’ve ever tried.”

“I’m assuming the upkeep you’re referring to is paid for in gold, yeah?” Peter asked, “not something weird and unusual like, um, the souls of the dead or something?”

“Just gold, you weirdo.” Pham rolled his eyes. “Pfft, souls of the damned.”

“All this is well and good, but does it really matter?” Dani pointed out. “The traps are here, so are we. What’s the difference?” She tossed a mangled collection of gears through the illusion with a clank.

“It matters a little,” offered Warren. “If it’s Traveler owned then they already know we’re here since you set off the first trap. It also means that this isn’t the final destination. But if this is a side entrance to the dungeon we’re supposed to be raiding, then we can expect more of the same.Or we can go around and try knocking on the front door. That’s my preferred route.”

“That’s because you always think with your… sword.” Pham stashed the last piece and scuffed at the dust on the floor. “You know, this can’t be the main route the imps are using. There’s both too much and not enough mess. So, more traps?”

“More traps,” Dani agreed.

“Front door?” Warren’s hopeful suggestion earned him flat stares all around. “Fine, but I hate traps. Dibs on first kill.”

The team continued down the tunnel, finding an increasing amount of utilities and mechanisation, and with them an increasing complexity of traps. They never graduated to professionally installed, however. Peter found himself amazed at the enginuity of the trapmaker, whoever they may have been - programmer or player. He was less impressed when he put his foot down on a seemingly innocuous patch of floor to the sound of a click and Pham shoved him out of the way before a spike tried to violate the laws of physics by occupying the same space as his leg.

Warren was less lucky. As he pushed through a thin chain curtain separating the raw tunnel with pipes bolted to the walls from an actual vaulted brick tunnel with electric lights in the roof, he discovered that every third strand was electrified. He lay on the ground cursing and twitching as Pham and Dani disconnected the copper wires from where the chain was bolted to the roof.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Pham gave Warren a most caring kick in the shins as he traced the wire back to the first light fitting. He janked the wire out of the fitting with a spark and popped the little metal staples holding it to the ceiling. Coiling it up he tied the end off and slipped it over his arm like a bangle. “Stylin’ and useful. You still lying around?”

Warren used the wall to help stand up. “I. Hate. Traps.”

“Nah, you hate getting caught in them,” Pham led the way deeper into the tunnel. “You love my traps when it’s someone else getting caught in them.”

“Point.”

Dani was the only one to escape entirely unscathed, the rockfall that triggered when she opened a door to a side tunnel landed at her feet when she hesitated instead of stepping straight through. “I guess we’re not going down there,” she said, wiping away the dust. “Peter?”

A moment’s fiddling with his bracer later and the fairy lights sprang up in Peter’s vision. “Straight down the passage,” he pointed the way they had been going. “Is there any way I can share the quest objective with you guys?”

“If it was a regular quest, it would have already done so when we joined the party,” Pham stepped off again. “Just stay behind me and step where I step. I have a feeling we’re close to the next checkpoint.”

That intuition proved to be spot on as ten meters and three more traps down the tunnel it took a sharp right turn and ended in a metal hatch. There was a knee high gap cut out of the bottom resembling a cartoon mousehole in a skirting board, if the mice were the size of german shepherds. Pham checked the hatch over and stuck his head though the gap before he announced it trap free, so Warren stepped up and applied his best asset to the task. Muscles straining against centuries of neglect, he forced the latch to unhook and pulled the creaking door open. On the other side was a gantry over an enormous depth.

As his eyes adjusted, so did Peter’s perspective and he realised it wasn’t so much a depth as he was very high. The gantry ran the length of a great hall, allowing the long since deceased maintenance crew access to the ventilation and lighting systems that serviced the crowds that once passed below. The hall had clearly been a transport hub, directly below the midpoint of the gantry hung a massive four sided board that still showed the final schedules on a split flap style display. At least, he was fairly sure that’s what it was, he didn’t recognise a single character but the format looked familiar.

Below his feet four sets of railway tracks entered the hall through two tunnels to terminate at three platforms that took up half the length of the hall. Those platforms were a hive of activity, swarming with imps unloading freight cars of what was clearly stolen goods. At the far end of the hall, below a glimmering stained glass window, two ornate marble staircases swept upward giving access to an upper gallery that ran along the two long sides and far end of the hall. On both levels, ground and gallery, the long walls were broken into what might have once been shops but were now repurposed as barracks, storerooms and, for the want of a better term, kitchens. Peter was glad the ventilation system was still working, because otherwise the acrid smoke from the cooking fires would have made the gantry they were on completely inhospitable instead of merely a little hazy as it was.

Cupped by the arc of the staircases sat a destroyed fountain in the style of those Peter had seen in the temple in Averton. The centrepiece had been removed, likely part of the fine gravel that now filled the basin to the brim instead of water. The gold lettering was gone too. Hacked off with some crude tool that left the rim with a saw-tooth effect. Resting atop the gritty surface was a glistening black throne that looked like it had been extruded from the floor. Its occupant lounged with one leg over the arm and poked at a tiny figure in a cage held in their other hand. Arrayed around the edge were the twisted forms of elite imps. They appeared from this distance to have been tainted by a similar corruption to the goblins he and Pham had fought in the mines what felt like a lifetime ago. Three other figures occupied the raised area, yelling conflicting orders, misdirecting the action and generally working at cross purposes.

“There’s gotta be, like, a hundred of ‘em,” whispered Pham in Peter’s ear, nearly sending him tumbling off the gantry in surprise. “This is a raid level dungeon, how the heck are we supposed to clear it by ourselves?”

Peter put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture and waved everyone over to stand above the schedule board. He hoped that the open topped box it formed would muffle any noise they made, but kept his voice down anyway. “I’ve been watching, and this looks like it can be done in stages.” He leaned over and pointed at the top gallery to the left side of the wall they had come through. “See over there, there’s only a couple of bad guys and they’re not paying attention. If we take them down quick they can’t raise the alarm.” He pointed to the patrolling elite imps walking up and down the platforms who were keeping the lesser ones on their toes with threats and the occasional whack with the butt of a spear. “Those guys' paths are super predictable. I reckon a couple of well placed traps,” he raised his eyebrows at Pham, “could really swing things our way.”

All excited, Dani patted Pham on the shoulder and pointed with her dagger. “Like that one over there!” In her excitement she was barely whispering and had set the gantry swinging slightly, dropping clumps of dust and soot to the floor far below. Though the shadow of the schedule board blocked them from being seen, a few of the mobs below looked up, alerted that something was amiss. Realising her mistake, Dani settled down until the gantry had stilled and tried again. “That one over there is all by himself,” she indicated a lone elite who was wandering alone with a large lump of meat in its hand. Every now and again it would stop and gnaw at the hunk, oblivious to its surroundings.

“Perfect,” Peter agreed. “If there’s one, there should be more. How about we can see if we can spot where the patrols stop, split up or go behind something big. The more we can take out before the big fight the better.” He pulled out his ever growing pile of paper and a quill and laid them on the floor. He quickly sketched the layout of the room, grateful for the assist his Cartography skill gave him. One by one the team identified the loners, the distracted and the exposed. Peter concentrated for a moment and the quill floated into the air. It quivered then began to mark down the whispered designations as he joined the others at the rail.

Pham gave Peter a weird frown. “When did you learn magic?”

“That’s not magic,” Peter whispered back as the quill scratched its way over the page. “It’s a skill. Auto-Quill. It just writes what I tell it to.”

“Dumbass. Magic is a skill. You think magic missile just happens by magic? Oh, that one over there. Every ten steps he looks behind him. While he’s looking behind we can hit the other one.”

Peter crossed his arms and slouched against the rail. “I wish it was magic, I’ve been trying to learn real magic since day one.”

“Fine, whatever you say, but if you start flinging fireballs we’re going to have a problem.”

Eventually all the possible victims had been identified and the sketch of the hall divided into zones. Pham, still muttering about moronic magicians and silly sorcerors under his breath, pored over the map and marked the minions in murder order. While everyone else fidgeted nervously he assembled the makeshift devices and passed them out to be dropped, hung or tossed. “Ready?” he asked, bouncing the final one in his palm.

“Hey, I called dibs,” Warren rumbled.

“Fine,” Pham sighed and handed him a length of chain with a loop of wire in a slip knot at the end. “That one down there is number one. When he passes behind that pillar he’s hidden. If you can drop this around his neck and pull him up here we can stash the body in the tunnel.”

“Wouldn’t they just fade out like normal?” Peter asked.

“Pham’s right, this is like those old Japanese games, the one that’s supposed to be about a giant mech, but end up being about a secret agent guy. Metal thingy?” Warren slowly lowered the chain over the side so that it didn’t clink. “Solid Lizard? Something like that.”

“Dude, you are such a Jock. And you missed him.” Pham leaned over the rail for a better view.

“I wasn’t trying to get him this time. And that’s racist. Just because I’m scottish doesn’t mean you can use the J word.”

In the silence that followed, Peter wracked his brain. Solid Lizard? J word? What? “Wait, you mean the Metal Gear games? The bodies aren’t going to despawn because we’re in a stealth part?”

“That’s the one,” Pham agreed, then poked Warren in the ribs. “And you know what I meant. Now get ready, if you miss this they’re going to know we’re up here and we’ll have to fight everybody.”

At that moment the imp in question passed under the gantry. Warren dropped the chain the last few feet and the wire loop settled around the imps’ ears. Everyone held their breath as the creature stopped and touched its new crown. Warren cursed and hauled on the chain as hard as he could before surprise could turn to alarm. Instead of strangling the imp and preventing it from shouting as he dragged it up into the darkness as they had intended, the wire loop at the end of the chain jerked taught and sliced clean through the top of the imps skull, killing it instantly. Warren quickly retrieved the chain as the second imp passed the pillar, oblivious to its companions demise.

“Well, this might still work,” Pham exhaled as the patrolling imp far below noticed that it was now alone. As they watched, it freaked out and ran away screaming and though it raised an alarm, it was only screaming and pointing at shadows at ground level. The mob of elites dispatched to investigate found only the body of the dead patroller sprawled out in the dust. They immediately set about exploring the area, jabbing at dark corners with spears and turning around suddenly in a way that would have severely inconvenienced anyone trying to sneak up behind them. It took nearly five minutes for them to settle down and return to their normal routes and positions. This time the imp whos’ partner they had eliminated patrolled alone, however.

“Right, let’s try this again,” Pham suggested, putting a kink in the wire to hold the loop a little wider. “See if you can, like, not miss this time?”

Warren grumbled, but tried again. This time the loop fell to the imp’s shoulders and it was pulled up into the darkness without a hitch. Warren and Dani took the body to the entrance tunnel to stash, Dani removing anything remotely valuable on the way while Warren did the heavy lifting.

So to speak.

The body fit in his hand.

In the meantime, Peter and Pham re-examined their plan based on how the enemies down below had reacted. “So, basically it’s set up so that Travellers would usually come in through the tunnel over there,” Peter pointed to where the line of freight carriages was slightly shorter. “But we have the high ground, so I guess it’s all over for them.”

Pham stifled a chuckle, then punched Peter in the arm. “You’re more likely to be a Skywalker. You’ve already lost a hand. Now, we good?” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the other two were on their way back. When he was sure their movements wouldn’t give their position away he flicked several devices out into the maze, watching them adhere to walls, blend into the ground or roll into gaps between boxes.

Peter marvelled at the precision with which trap was placed. “So, what now? Can we pick them all off from up here without having to go down there, you think?”

“Probs not,” Pham allowed as he compared the map to the floor below. “The plan seems to be the same, the ones we could take out before still walk the same paths, the traps I chucked are still relevant and we are definitely going to get our hands dirty. Still, if we can clear out the trash mobs from safety it’s going to make this a whole lot faster and safer. Unless someone decides to decapitate every last one. Oh, hi Woz, didn’t see you there.” He turned to smile facetiously at the returning teammates.

“Sure you didn’t. Gimme the chain, I’ve got some trash to clear.” Warren snatched the length from Pham, glared at the map for a moment, then stalked off to go fishing.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on him,” Dani suggested, resting her fist on the rail and her chin on the fist. She dangled her legs off into space as she watched Warren skull-drag a struggling imp up into the darkness. When the wire didn’t do its job fast enough, he pulled the thrashing mob up over the rail and throttled it himself. “He’s clearly got some stuff going on.”

“Woz’s always got some stuff going on. It’s kinda his whole thing.” Pham compared the map to the events below. “Okay, now, see that guy over there? Think you can hit him with your infectious knife? The one who’s about to go join that lot by the fire?”

“Not from here, but let me get closer.” Dani extricated herself and crawled swiftly and silently to the far end of the gantry over the gallery where the imps had set up their makeshift barracks. As Peter watched she drew her arm back and let fly, the blade glinting in the smoky gloom as it tumbled through the air. Even with Dani having moved closer it was still such a long shot that Peter found himself holding his breath in anticipation. That anticipation soured to dismay as the blade swished past its target and plunged into a mattress. At least it hadn’t made much noise, though the imp had yelped as the knife flashed by. The victim was currently casting about, unable to locate its attacker, its distress drawing its companions from their seats and beds by the fire.

Dani crawled back to where Peter and Pham waited, looking strangely happy. “We’re going to have to go get that knife, you know. It’s my favorite knife.”

“Not if we’re going to have to fight that whole crowd,” Peter sighed. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Dani exuded innocence. “Are you sure?”

A cloud of smoke puffed up from the campfire as a body fell into it, sending sparks and coals skittering across the floor and setting fire to the straw filled mattresses. Shouts rang out from further along the room as patrols converged to attempt to put out the flames, but by the time they arrived they’d burned themselves out. All that was left were ashes and some weird stains on the stone floor. The patrollers investigated the area as they had the previous time, poking in dark corners and checking behind boxes, always keeping at least one other of their number in sight. Anyone trying to hide down there would have had a really bad time.

“How did you do that? We were watching, I saw the knife go right past!” Peter hissed as loud as he dared.

“Nicked ‘im on the way past, didn’t it?”

Pham ticked off the area on the map. “Impressive. That’s going to be our insertion point now. I think Woz is about done working out his Daddy issues for now too, so it’s about time to drop down there and start getting our hands dirty. As soon as that lot push off, that is.”

Warren returned from stashing his last body and glared at Pham but said nothing. The group waited in silence until the alarm passed then made their way to the end of the gantry. Pham had already started raiding his pouches for parts to make an improvised ladder when something about the end of the gantry caught Peter’s eye. He reached past everyone and flipped a small lever, causing what looked like a thick guard rail at the end of the gantry to unfold into a ladder that reached down to the gallery level. Peter received a silent nod from Waren, who led the way down the ladder to the ashen floor.

Once everyone was on solid ground, Pham tapped each of them on the shoulder and made a ‘huddle up’ gesture. With their heads all pressed together he outlined the play. “Right, you all know your jobs. This place here is safe...ish. If we get separated and you can lose or kill the pursuers, meet up here. If you can't, a respawn is better than compromising this position. We’ve taken out the normal patrols, isolating the groups from each other unless someone sets the room on fire again.”

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. Was kinda cool though.”

“Cool or not, we need to keep it quiet now. But yes, it was cool.” Pham popped his head out of the huddle for a moment before continuing. “I’ve dropped something fun on the path from where the big guys sit waiting for an alarm to where each of the groups we’re going to fight are. Hopefully it takes one out each time.We’ll have a minute or two before they arrive anyway, so we go blitzkrieg. No shields on this one Woz, it’s big sword time. Dani leads the way with thrown blades, Woz stomps them down and Pete, you get to mow the chaff. If it works we’ll be on the way to the next group before the bastards arrive. Once the group we’re attacking is down, we evacuate and go silent again. There’s no chance we can hide or surprise the big guys, so we keep them hopping. If we can’t take out a whole crew in time, book it. As I said before, lose them, kill them or respawn, but don’t train them back here. We clear?”

“Uh, I have a question.” Peter raised his hand. “What is your role in this?”

“I just did it. Any more stupid questions?”

“I guess not,” Peter mumbled as they split up.

Warren clipped his shield to his back and drew his massive sword. Dani checked the throwing daggers in her bandolier, then remembered her favorite knife and ran over to the pile of as that had once been the mattress it had been embedded in. Picking through the pile she found the blade, wiped it on her pants and placed it reverentially back in the scabbard. Peter pulled out his scythe and practiced some forms with it. Pham placed his finger on his lips in the universal “shh” motion, then waved them forward.

Thanks to their careful mapping of the room they were able to be certain of where each group would be. Guided by Pham they moved to the back of the room, furthest from the throne and the bosses, and took up position at the rail overlooking the first group unloading the train onto the platform below. Directly below them an elite was directing the show, with regular imps swarming around the crates and sacks, stacking them in semi-orderly rows. Dani counted out the regulars, tapping each blade in her bandolier as she did. Warren climbed up on the wide granite bannister rail and nodded at the leader, then motioned Dani up beside him.

He held up three fingers, two fingers, one finger.

Fist. And dropped.

Warren landed with all the subtlety of a freight train, letting momentum drive his blade through the elite’s body to clang on the floor. Dani moved with catlike grace, flipping off the rail, tossing throwing daggers with both hands, landing on the nearest stack of crates and jumping again. Peter spread his wings as wide as they would go and hoped they would slow him enough not to break an ankle and stepped over the rail. The drop was short and the landing painful, but nothing seemed damaged, so he hobbled into the fray swinging his weapon in wide arcs, cleaving through the imps rooted in surprise. It was over in seconds, but they could already hear the shouts in the distance.

“Time to go!” Pham stage whispered, stepping out of a bosun’s chair suspended from a thick rope threaded through a pulley attached to the rail above. “Leave them!”

“You got time to play with ropes, I can get my knives!” Dani stage whispered back, moving from body to body retrieving as many as she could.

“Fine, be quick. We gotta go.” He yanked the rope through the pulley above and led the way to the back of the carriage and down onto the rails, feeding the rope through a set of tackle as he went.

Dani cursed under her breath but followed, abandoning several blades still glittering in the bodies of the fallen.

They were climbing up onto the far platform when a scream of pain from behind them made Peter cringe. Whatever Pham had put in that trap had been nasty. He looked at the trap maker himself, who shook his head grimly.

“Don’t ask,” Pham mouthed silently.

At least he’s not smiling about it, Peter thought. He knows what pain he has caused.

This time they didn’t have the benefit of elevation, so Warren, Dani and Peter stacked up behind a particularly tall crate, SWAT style. Warren gently pushed Peter to the left, Dani to the right and pointed to his eyes with two fingers, then at the elite currently standing in the middle of a crowd of workers, berating and slapping one of them. He started the countdown again, and at zero, charged straight at the elite with his sword held flat in front of him like a shield. He plowed a path through the crowd, throwing their diminutive forms left and right before turning the blade edgewise moments before impact. The elite, caught by surprise, had no chance to get out of the way. The blade was driven through it and into the crate behind, spilling the contents all over the floor with a jangle. Crude bronze daggers went everywhere, some snapping off their handles, some laying edge up like improvised caltrops. Dani was several steps back and managed to avoid stepping on any but Peter had dashed in, making use of Warren’s wake to clean up and protect his back and put a foot down directly on a slithering pile of bronze blades. As soon as Peter put weight on that foot the metal shards shot out from under him and took his balance with them. He landed in a clatter, and when Warren stepped back to see what the noise was he trod on Peter’s chest, driving the air out of Peter’s lungs and tripping over himself.

With the element of surprise lost, along with their balance, the boys found themselves vulnerable. Though leaderless, the imps gathered up weapons from the floor and ran in to try and stab the interlopers. It was only their disorganisation and Dani’s precision throwing that kept Peter and Warren from receiving more than a couple of mild perforations as they struggled to their feet again. Once up, however, they were able to carve through the remainder in short order.

Pham had taken advantage of the noise and confusion to dash past the scene entirely to throw a grappling hook with a rope and tackle attached over the rail above. “Move! We need to get out of here, like, now.” He pulled the rope taught, which revealed he already had one foot in the bosun’s chair from before. As everyone approached he pointed at his foot. “Stick your feet here, hold here.” He pointed at the rope. The other end he gave to Warren. “We’re counting on you, Woz.”

Warren slid his sword in behind his shield and took the rope. His muscles bulged as he strained to pull all four of them up, assisted by the mechanical advantage of the tackle but still struggling. They were barely half way up when the scream of pain came again, this one cut off suddenly. As their heads crested the rail Dani and Peter pulled themselves up to take the load off the chair. Dani slid gracefully over the bannister, Peter clambered ungainly over the rim favouring several little stab wounds he’d received. Sliding down with his back against the rail, Peter breathed through the pain. Once Warren and Pham joined him Peter risked looking over the rail to where they had just been fighting. There were only four imps hunting around there now and one seemed to be missing an arm. It was still waving its spear around quite competently though and didn’t seem to be exhibiting any weakness.

Peter elbowed Pham and pointed. Pham gave him the close-eyed nod. “I didn’t think anything short of an outright kill would stop them,” he breathed.

Dani pulled a roll of material out of a pouch. “Speaking of which, you’re making a mess on the floor there mate. You might want to do something about that.” She handed the roll to Peter and pulled one out for Warren too. “You as well.”

“Thanks,” Warren rumbled. “That stings like a bugger.” He bandaged the slices on his arm, the white material immediately turning pink, but at least it was no longer dripping down his arm.

Peter lifted his armour and shirt and wrapped the soft material around his chest, binding the slashes down his ribs. The bandage must have had some sort of healing infusion because as soon as it touched his skin the pain subsided. Breathing easier he looked over the edge again. The search team had called it off, having found nothing but bodies. “Hallrighty then. Who’s up for another round?”

“Sure, but this time how about we don’t get stabbed?” Dani suggested.

“You didn’t even get stabbed,” Peter complained.

Dani poked her tongue out at him. “No, but I have to listen to your whining when you do, mate.”

“Children, please,” Pham waved the map at them. “Last barracks. If we approach this one silently there will be no stabbing. Peter and Dani, this is your forte, Woz will come along for support for when you balls it up.”

Both Peter and Dani poked their tongues out at him in response, then smothered their laughs when he rolled his eyes at them. They picked themselves up off the floor and tiptoed towards the barracks, wending their way through the stacks of crates the imps had used to create pseudo-rooms and hallways. Peter marvelled at the strength it must take for the tiny imps to move these crates. Even if they were just programmed there, the ones down on the platform hadn’t been light. These little beings must have a comparable strength to weight ratio to an ant. No wonder they’re not afraid to take up arms against humans. We must look like children to them.

Peter almost stepped right into the ‘room’ when a tug on his pinion feather pulled him up short. Stepping back to relieve the pressure he looked at Dani who pointed at a lone sentry poking the fire with a stick. When the stick caught fire, the imp would blow it out and trace shapes in the air with the smoke. Around him slept quite a few worker sized imps and, propped up on a sack formed into the semblance of an armchair, was an elite - snoring like someone trying to chop wood with an angle grinder. How its underlings could sleep in that environment was anybody’s guess, but it made sneaking up on the sentry much easier since the noise covered their approaching footsteps. As Dani drove a dagger into either side of its neck, the resulting gurgle was entirely drowned out.

Peter tapped Dani on the shoulder and motioned her back to the entrance. Once there he pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Can you use your infectious dagger in here? He wrote.

Once a day, sorry. Dani’s scribbled reply read.

Peter drew a sad face in response. He shrugged and put the writing implements away. I guess we do this the hard way then. He pointed at the elite, then his scythe, then the blades Dani had sheathed in her lower back. She nodded her assent.

They snuck across the room, walking only when the elite was breathing in. Stepping carefully so as not to disturb any of the sleepers, the approached their victim from either side. Peter placed the blade of his scythe on one side of the creature’s neck, Dani placed her daggers on the other. When she gave the signal, they raked their blades across the elite’s neck, ceasing the cacophony permanently but also removing their covering noise.

with the cessation of the snoring, one or two of the sleeping imps stirred and Peter held his breath, fearing the worst, but none of them woke. Releasing the breath slowly, he flashed a grin at Dani who shook her head and set to work eliminating the sleepers. A few minutes grisly work and there were no threats left. Peter fetched Warren and Pham while Dani looted the bodies and moved them to a corner.

When they had all gathered once more Pham laid out the map beside the fire. “Right, here’s where we stand.” His normal speaking voice sounded weird after so long whispering. “There’s one group left on the central platform. Unfortunately, they’re right next to where the nasty buggers are waiting for the alarms to sound. Now we’re here, and there’s traps here, and here.” He pointed at two gaps in the crates. “Now, we could go down there and have a knock-down drag-out and hope for the best. Or, we could make a big ass noise up here, go over the rail while they’re on their way up, take out the crew down there and then have to fight them when they come back. Either way we’re going to have to take them down. One’s faster but riskier, one’s slower but might take out one of the buggers along the way. What say you?”

“How about we do both?” Peter suggested. “I mean, you’re not a combat-oriented build, so how about we make a mess up here, go over the rail, you watch which path they take and when we’re making all the noise with the last crew you make a bigger noise on the path with the other trap? I’m sure you’ve got something in your bag that’ll make a bang.”

“Maybe,” Pham allowed, “but that’ll give the bosses a heads-up that we’re here.”

Warren wandered off to look over the balcony towards the throne. “We were never going to try to stealth that part anyway. Do you think it’ll matter?”

“Point. Okay, let’s make some noise. Woz, grab that sack of flour. Dani, that weapon rack, the metal one. Peter, see if you can slide those crates this way.” Pham clearly had a plan in his head and doled out jobs accordingly.

Like a full size game of mousetrap, the device came together. The sack of flour was put on top of the crates, perched on the edge so that when it fell it would hit the weapon rack set over the fire and tear it open. Pham tied a length of string to the top of the sack and tossed it over the rail near where he had moved the block and tackle to. “Ok, anyone who wants to ride down with me, climb aboard, anyone who wants to be a hero, jump.” He set his foot in the bosun’s chair and pulled at a complicated knot. “No muscles needed this time, only friction.”

Needless to say, everyone elected to ride the chair down.

“Give us a hundred count before you pull that string,” Warren asked. “As soon as it goes bang we attack. You go hide somewhere and see where the bastards go. I believe in you.” He clapped Pham on the shoulder, causing Pham to stumble a bit.

“For that I’m only giving you a ninety count, you know that, right?” Pham rubbed his shoulder.

“Don’t be a whiner.”

“Eighty-six. Eighty-five. Eighty-four.”

“How’s about we don’t antagonise the guy with a bomb on a rope?” Dani led the way towards the final group unloading.

About fifty seconds later, by Peter’s counting anyway, they were set up behind crates waiting for the signal. Warren was further away, behind two stacked high, Peter and Dani had crept in and were hidden behind smaller crates closer to. I wonder what the whole fire-flour thing is going to to? Peter mused as he waited for the signal.

Suddenly, with a WHUMPH and the smell of burnt toast, a massive fireball rolled across the hall, engulfing the gantry they had entered by. The sign they’d hidden behind rocked, then snapped, falling to the platform in pieces with a crash. Every eye, Traveller and NPC alike, turned and watched. Warren, knowing Pham’s penchant for exothermic reactions, recovered first. He charged pell-mell into the midst of the crowd, swinging his sword like a threshing machine.

Seeing Warren dive into the melee, Peter shook off the surprise and followed him in, careful to stay clear of Warren’s flashing blade. Together they bulldozed through the workers as they stood agape, watching the burning pieces rain down. Flickering between the two came the flashing blades of Dani’s throwing knives, peppering the mob and keeping them from organising. The elite raised its whip to lash at Warren, but the armoured traveller booted it firmly in the chest, sending it tumbling onto Peter’s scythe. “Teamwork makes the dream work!” He shouted, clearly enjoying this part.

A piercing, gurgling scream echoed out over the sound of flames and battle. Another one down, Peter hoped. “So, what do we do now?” he asked Warren as the last imp fell.

“We wait here. Pham’s flashbang should draw those buggers through the last trap, and then we face them here.”

“Might want to toss these out of the way then,” Dani poked a body with her toe. “Don’t want to be facing those nightmares with them underfoot.”

“No need,” Warren replied. “Stealth part is over, they’ll fade out soon. Watch.”

Sure enough, even before the sound of Pham’s device reached their ears, the bodies around them turned transparent then disappeared entirely.

“I’m coming in, nobody stab me!” Pham’s call preceded him. “It’s quiet so I’m assuming it’s safe.”

“You’re safe, no stabbing here,” Peter called back. “Are they coming?”

Pham walked around a crate with his hands up. “They sure are, in fact they should be passing under the arch where I left the last one right about…” A scream echoed through the hall. “Now. There were two left, hopefully there’s only one now.” He lowered his hands and moved to the back. “No idea if it’s coming this way or back to its default position though, so be ready.”

The three combatants readied themselves and sure enough, after a short but anxious wait the final imp appeared. Instead of charging in to attack, however, it turned and ran screaming towards the throne. It smashed through the makeshift gate separating the ‘throne room’ from the rest of the hall, barely slowing as it did so. The four twisted chieftains on the raised dias roused themselves from their adulation of the occupant of the throne to address the intruder. The occupant themselves barely moved as the twisted elite ran up and threw itself at its feet.

As the Travellers entered the room the occupant lazily swung a foot at the prostrate imp, sending it flying across the room to crunch against the wall before sliding down and fading out. The occupant of the throne was much larger than the imp chiefs, taller than Warren even, though less bulky.

“Welcome to my parlour,” it greeted them.