“You what?” The ranger was not happy. That much was for sure.

“I got us a quest,” Justin said.

They were standing outside of the inn. Once Justin had finished his beer, he became restless and went out to find Klothar, who was just emerging from the building.

“You’re not making sense, lad,” Klothar said.

“Isn’t this what you do here—go on quests?”

“Verily, but not just any quest, willy-nilly.”

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, I need XP. And the guy in the bar was a quest-giver. So I went for it. What’s wrong with that? It’s like fifteen minutes away. We just find his amulet and bring it back here. Honestly, it seems like a level one quest.”

Klothar rubbed his chin and said, “A quarter hour away? Well, we may have time to get there and back before dark. Let us take the horses.”

They returned to the stables and fetched their horses. As they made their way out of the fort, Justin explained the quest to Klothar.

“South, you say?”

Justin nodded. “That’s what Wreman said.”

“He must have been traveling from Rathenhall. This way.”

From his lore knowledge, Justin knew that Tashon’s Gate was at a junction of three well-traveled roads. He and Klothar had originally come from Holgate to the east, but that road also continued west for fifteen miles or so to the town of Oakford Cross. And the road they were on now traveled roughly southeast to Rathenhall, which was one of the three largest cities in Greystrand.

By the time they reached Wregman’s wagon—or what was left of it, they had ridden for more like a half hour than fifteen minutes. Off to the side of the road was a wreck of a wagon. It had been smashed and burned.

“Careful,” Klothar said.

Justin rode closer. “It looks pretty safe to me. The attack happened this morning. The args probably took everything they wanted and left.”

He dismounted and walked around the wreck. There were no bodies, but there was congealed blood in the dirt. And flies. A lot of flies.

Klothar remained on his horse and notched an arrow in his bow. “You search. I’ll keep watch.”

“Fine.”

He began poking around the wagon with his sword, starting at its front, where Wreman might have been sitting. He moved charred pieces of wood and broken crates and bits of fabric. It looked like the args had taken everything they could carry off—including the corpses of the fallen.

“Is that normal?” Justin asked Klothar. “For the args to take their victims, I mean?”

“Nothing’s normal with args. They’re completely unpredictable. They don’t think the same way we do. You best remember that, lad. It might save your life one day.”

“Got it. Abnormal and unpredictable.” He continued to poke around in the dirt, but didn’t see anything but kind of gross clumps of blood and sand.

Justin decided to spiral out his search area and methodically cover a radius of 30 feet around the wagon. What he should have done was try to get more detail from Wreman. He searched for a half hour at least, but he wasn’t at all sure he was looking in the right places.

Finally Klothar asked, “Any luck, lad?”

“No. Maybe you should come down here and help me search.”

“Someone needs to keep watch. Besides, I’m a ranger, not a scout.”

“Yeah, but don’t you have keen vision for spotting tracks and whatnot?”

“Tracking is not the same as grubbing around in the mud. Perhaps we should have brought a hog or two since—”

Justin tuned out the rest of what Klothar was saying. He caught a glimpse of something shiny peeking out from beneath one of the wagon’s wheels—a wheel that had escaped the fire. Maybe this shiny thing was just part of the wagon, but Justin quickly dug it out of the sand. His heart soared as he unearthed the amulet.

“Found it!” he yelled.

“Keep your voice down, for the maker’s sake!”

Justin held the amulet up for the ranger to see. It looked just like the drawing Wreman had made, but seeing it in person, Justin thought the amulet definitely resembled a broken pentacle.

Klothar squinted at the amulet. “That design looks quite familiar. Let me take a look.”

Justin walked over and handed the amulet to the ranger who turned it over in his hands.

“I feel like I’ve seen this before.”

“Do you remember wh—”

He couldn’t get the last word out because—all of a sudden—a sharp stabbing pain exploded in his throat. Justin lurched forward. His eyes lowered, and he saw, in horror, that the bloody point of an arrow was now protruding from his adam’s apple.

“Down!” Klothar yelled.

But before Justin could move, another arrow punched through his chest and he collapsed face first on to the ground, blood burbling into the sand.

Then everything faded away.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Killed again. This was the second time in two freaking days.

He had no idea of what dying did to his stats, but he already was so wimpy that he couldn’t afford for anything to go down.

Justin shook his head, trying to clear it. He was on a hill at the base of a Life Tree, but the landscape around here looked similar to the terrain around Tashon’s Gate. Hopefully he wasn’t too far away from the fort.

He stood up and examined himself. There were holes in his shirt and cloak where the arrow had impaled him, but his body was fine. No wounds at all. He ran his fingers along his throat and that seemed okay too. What a horrible feeling—getting shot in the neck like that.

Around him was a meadow filled with scrubby bushes and a few trees. A narrow footpath led away from the tree. Probably made by all the people who had died around here over the past several months.

He stood there for a few minutes, waiting for the grogginess to pass. There was no one around—which meant that Klothar hadn’t died. Unless there was a different resurrection process for NPCs.

Well, he couldn’t wait forever. Justin followed the path as it wound its way down the hill. At the bottom the path joined a larger road that ran east/west. In the distance, to the east, he could see the tower of Tashon’s Gate, peeking through the trees.

Thank goodness. He wasn’t too far away.

With his head now completely clear, Justin started walking down the road towards Tashon’s Gate. There weren’t any other people around. No wagons. No horses. Everything was still and quiet.

Maybe too quiet.

He reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there.

Crap!

Had it fallen from his hand when he got shot? Ugh. That meant he’d have to go back to the place where they had been ambushed.

Justin started checking his pouches. What else had he lost? The amulet! No, he had given it to Klothar to look at. Hopefully the ranger still had it—wherever he was.

His glowstones were still there, as was his blood clue, his money bag, and his Circle of Reckoning. He also found some other miscellaneous things including a tinderbox, an empty waterskin, a small knife, a coil of thin leather cord, five strips of jerky and a parcel wrapped in an oiled cloth and tied with a cord. The parcel contained two quill pens, a vial of what looked like ink, and a small blank journal.

He packed everything back up and popped one of the jerky strips in his mouth and started to gnaw on it. It was horrible, and he spat it out. Really? They couldn’t have programmed the freakin’ jerky to taste good? How hard was that? Maybe he’d have to buy the good stuff back in Tashon’s Gate. They certainly had decent beer.

And then he got the idea to check his money bag. He popped it open and looked inside.

Crap.

He was down to ten coins: an eel, four shields, and five crowns. Half his money was gone. Oh, man. Dying sucked.

Well, nothing he could do about it. Except maybe not get killed.

Justin started hiking along the road towards Tashon’s Gate. He strode quickly, wanting to get back to the fort as quickly as possible. The wind was starting to pick up and Justin was noticing that the shadows were getting longer. Sunset was not too far off. He kept his head down and squinted his eyes a little to protect them against the wind.

He heard the clomping of a horse before he saw it—but then the rider rode around a bend in the roadway and raced towards him.

It was Klothar!

“There you are, lad. And no worse for the ordeal, I’ll wager.”

“Not physically. But I lost half my gold—and my sword. You didn’t see it, did you?”

“I’m afraid your blade melted into the ether at the same time your corpse did. But I saved your mount and returned her to the stables.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and I did manage to keep this.” He tossed something shiny at him.

Justin snatched it out of the air. The amulet! That was a relief. At least they could still complete the quest.

“Thank goodness. And how about you? I see you survived the args.”

“There were but a half dozen of the foul beasts. I easily dispatched them.”

“So, I guess that was an ambush, eh?”

“It was. As I said, args are cunning foes. And patient. They knew the wreck of the wagon was bound to draw the curious, so they hid themselves and waited. I should have anticipated that.”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up. We found the quest item. That’s the important thing. Let’s hightail it back to town and turn this puppy in.”

Klothar shook his head. “Lad, I have to say, your command of the language is good for a foreigner, but sometimes you mangle our words most horribly.”

Justin grinned. “It’s called slang. I’ll teach it to you some day.”

Klothar turned his horse around and walked it beside Justin, and they made it back to Tashon’s Gate just as the guards were locking the fort up for the night. Klothar quickly stabled his horse and then they made their way to the tavern.

Inside, the tavern was ten times more crowded than when Justin was here earlier. There were all sorts of people laughing and drinking and eating and gambling and telling stories. You could barely hear yourself think over the din.

“Where’s this merchant?” Klothar shouted.

Justin scanned the room. He didn’t see Wreman.

Uh oh.

He pushed his way over to the bar. The same bearded barkeep was there so Justin waved him over.

The man wiped his hands on his apron. “Back for more Catfish 99, are you?”

“No, I’m looking for that man I was talking to earlier. Wreman. Do you know where he is?”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea. I serve them ale and food, not act as their nursemaids. Now, what are you having?”

“What? Nothing. I need to find Wreman.”

The barkeep glowered at him. “You need to order something, lad. And then I might tell you what I know. Either that or depart my fine establishment.”

“Fine. Give me two beers. Normal ones!”

“Coming right up.”

Klothar came over to the bar. “Any luck?”

Justin shook his head. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”

A few moments later, the barkeep banged two tankards of ale on the bar. “That’ll be two crowns.”

That price was better than ten crowns for the Catfish 99, but Justin was painfully aware of his dwindling funds. Oh well. That diamond should be worth a pretty penny.

He paid the barkeep. “Ok. Now that we’re settled up, what happened to Wreman?”

“Said he needed somewhere private to think. The noise was getting to him.”

“And where was that private place?”

The barkeep smirked and tapped the bar. “Another crown or two might loosen my tongue further.”

All of a sudden, Klothar’s arm shot out, and he grabbed the barkeep’s tunic, twisted it tight around his neck, and yanked the man half over the bar, spilling their beers.

“Tell the lad what he wants to know,” the ranger growled. “Now.”

The barkeep gulped and croaked. “Private room. Behind the fireplace.”

Klothar released the man, who stumbled back and rubbed his throat.

“That’s better,” Klothar said. “Now get us two more beers to replace the ones you spilled, you oaf. And make sure you serve us the good stuff.”

“Yes… yes, sir.”

So badass! Justin grinned.

While the barkeep was getting their beer, Justin looked around the tavern. There was indeed a large fireplace that jutted out from the back wall of the tavern. The fireplace itself was more than ten feet wide and had the mounted head of a wyvern—which was some kind of small dragon—hanging over it. He hadn’t noticed the head when he was here earlier though.

“Is that a real wyvern?” he asked Klothar.

“Of course it is real.”

“Are they tough?”

“Not as fearsome as dragons, but it probably took a half dozen men to kill that one.”

Klothar motioned to the left side of the fireplace. Around the corner was a narrow door. Klothar pushed it open to reveal a small room lit by wall sconces. There were a few chairs and a round table that was barely more than two feet in diameter. Two of the walls were decorated by tall, narrow tapestries, and there was a window on the outer wall. The only occupant of the room was Wreman the merchant. He had been sketching something on his wax tablet, but he looked up when he saw Justin and Klothar enter the room.

“Sorry to crash your private party,” Justin said. “This is my friend Klothar.”

The ranger didn’t say anything, but he stared at the merchant suspiciously.

Wreman said, “Pleased to meet you, Klothar. I’m hoping that your presence here means that the mission was successful.”

“It was,” Justin said, as he withdrew the amulet.

Wreman jumped to his feet and took the amulet. “Thank you, sonny boy, thank you!”

:::::. Quest complete! +250 Experience .:::::

Wow. That was some decent XP.

Wreman put the amulet around his neck and began to laugh. It wasn’t a very friendly laugh.

Then the merchant began to change.

His flesh began to melt like it was made of wax, revealing glistening sinews draped over bones. His body contorted and began to grow in size.

The creature’s eyes glowed malevolently. It gestured at the door and the bolt slid shut.

They were trapped.

“Get back!” Klothar shouted. In a flash, his long-handled warhammer was out of its sheath.

Justin dove for the door, but his foot caught on the leg of a chair which sent him sprawling.

When he looked back, Klothar and the creature were battling furiously. What the hell had Wreman had become? He stood seven feet tall and what remained of his flesh hung over a misshapen skeleton. But he still wore the amulet.

Klothar slammed his hammer into the creature, knocking it back.

This might be a good time to inspect it.

:::::. Cree’arak the Lich. (Magical Humanoid). Hostile. .:::::

Oh shit.

The lich laughed at Klothar and pointed one boney finger at him. Instantly, the ranger flew through the air and smashed into the back wall.

Then the lich turned to Justin, both arms outstretched. Slowly it floated towards him. Justin could see every detail on its face. The wet shreds of flesh. The rotted mouth. The blood stained bone. So gross!

Fear clawed through him and he was barely able to breathe. He crouched back into the corner of the room, frozen.

“Justin,” it called—in a deep rumbling voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “You must join me. Together we shall find the Iron Veil, and then—”

At that moment, Klothar attacked from behind—with a massive blow from his hammer that landed solidly between the lich’s shoulder-blades.

The monstrosity wailed and turned on Klothar, but the ranger was ready. The hammer jabbed out into the lich’s face, which exploded into shards of bone and viscera.

It looked like game over for the lich. Its body flickered and started to smoke.

“Interloper!” it hissed at Klothar. And then from the folds of its robes, the lich jabbed something up into Klothar’s gut.

The ranger fell back and Justin saw a blood-red crystal dagger jutting from Klothar’s stomach.

“No!” Justin cried, scrambling to his feet.

The lich turned to vapor and was gone.

But Klothar gasped and blood burbled from his mouth.

Justin didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a healer! He tried to stanch the flow of blood from Klothar’s stomach, but it wasn’t working. Worse yet, the ranger’s skin became covered with dark, spiderweb-like markings. As Justin looked closer, he saw that markings were actually Klothar’s veins swelling and turning black. They quickly covered his whole body.

The ranger screamed once more in agony and then his body faded away.

Holy crap! Klothar was supposed to be a legendary character.

Just then he heard banging at the door. “Open up in there—in the name of the Guard!”

This wasn’t good. He was covered in blood and there were two people missing. Justin frantically looked around the room. There was only that one door in or out. But Wreman or Cree’arak or whoever he was left his satchel and the wax tablet—which had some sort of design on it. No time to look at it now. Justin threw the tablet into the satchel and slung it over his shoulder.

“Open this door now or we’ll break it down!”

The window! He might just be able to fit. He worked the shutters open and squeezed through, dumping himself in a narrow alley behind the tavern.

From inside the room he heard cries of alarm. In two seconds they’d be out the window after him and he’d be toast. He had to run.

Justin raced away from the tavern towards the stables. Maybe he could hide out there until it got dark. But then where would he go? The fort was locked up for the day. This was really bad.

He slipped into the stables, keeping his eyes open for the stable master, but luckily he didn’t run into him. He found his horse and snuck into her stall.

“Easy girl. It’s me. Justin. I never caught your name, but you know me, right? Please be calm…” The stall was maybe only eight feel by eight feet and was empty except for a wooden hay rack mounted on the wall. The feeder was stuffed with hay. That was good news. The horse had already been fed. Maybe that meant no one would come by.

Outside, the cries of the guards were clearly audible. They were organizing a search. And they were getting closer.

What was he going to do? He was trapped in here.

His horse gave a quiet nicker and nuzzled him as if to reassure him.

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say, horse.”

A voice called, “I’ll check the stables!”

Oh, crap. With his sword gone, he didn’t even have anything to defend himself with. Maybe Wreman had a dagger…

He crouched down in a corner and fished around Wreman’s satchel. Besides the wax tablet, he found the cloud diamond, a small brass bell, and a ring. The ring was warm to the touch. That was weird.

A guard peeked into the stall and their eyes locked.

“Here he is!” the guard yelled. He brandished his cudgel and opened the half door.

“Don’t move or I’ll thump you!”

Justin felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine.

“What you got in the bag, boy? A knife? You planning on sticking me?” The guard was so close, Justin could smell the man’s breath. It smelled like rotten cabbage.

Justin must have made an inappropriate face, because’s the guard’s face contorted and he lunged forward, brandishing the cudgel. He swung it right at Justin’s head.

But the cudgel missed.

The guard’s eyes widened, and he swung again.

And the cudgel missed again. It was almost like it was passing right through Justin.

“What in damnation?!” The guard jabbed his weapon right at Justin’s gut, but Justin didn’t feel a thing.

As the guard backed away in awe, Justin looked down and saw that his entire body was now translucent and gently undulating—almost like he was made out of smoke.

He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth.

The horse snorted and reared up, her eyes wide with fear.

Justin fell back instinctively, trying to avoid getting trampled, but instead he floated though the back wall of the stable.

What the—?

He was flying now—through dark timbers and then he was on the other side of the stockade wall. This was the freakiest thing ever. It was like he was a ghost, but how?

Then he looked down and saw that he was wearing a ring. It must be the ring that had been in Wreman’s satchel. But how did it get on his finger?

Justin decided to just go with it. He willed himself to fly and quickly discovered it wasn’t really flying as much as hovering just a foot or so above the ground. And he could move fairly quickly—about the same as running. But the coolest thing was his ability to pass through any object. It was like being a ghost.

After five or ten minutes of testing the ring, his head started to hurt really bad; it was a sharp pain right between his eyes at the bridge of his nose. He had never had a migraine before, but this is what he imagined it felt like. Could it have something to do with the ring? Who knew? But better safe than sorry. He pulled the ring off his finger, just in case.

:::::. Survived a cursed relic! +100 Experience .:::::

WTF?! A cursed relic? Really? Ugh. Just his luck.

He rubbed his temples. The pain didn’t go away, but it was starting to fade to a dull ache. Justin peered at the ring. It was kind of hard to see in the light of the setting sun, but the ring appeared to have been forged from a black metal. It had all sorts of scratches on it. When he inspected the ring, all he got was an error message.

:::::. Unknown .:::::

He put it into one of the small pouches on his belt where hopefully it wouldn’t get lost.

Now he had to figure out where he’d spend the night.