“So what did you need to wake up Wex for?” Carric asked conversationally. They had stabilized and bandaged the cleric, an action that somehow always took just ten seconds when performed. They were now busy throwing together a carrier for the elf off of the back of Char Man Dar. Wex was done for this particular quest.

Yenrab’s face blushed a little, his natural green mixing with pink.

“I, uh, well, ya know, I just a -”

“It’s alright, my friend, just spit it out.”

The big half-orc held up his axe.

“I needed to find out what this is. I wanted him to cast identify.”

Carric chuckled. Then he looked down at Wex, now sleeping peacefully from his trauma. Then he choked trying to stifle the laugh. Finally he just let it all out, laughing harder than he ever had.

“By all the Gods! Yenrab, you realize that he can’t cast identify, right? As clerics go Wex is pretty useless to be honest,” the bard informed him after his fit was over. His face was smug as he said it. They all heard some muffled protesting from the Gamers but nothing distinct.

“Sweet,” Yenrab brightened. “I wasn’t sure. So, uh, can you identify it for me?”

He looked down at the sleeping Wex. I did him a favor, he thought, refusing to feel guilty. He needed his rest.

Carric nodded. “Yeah. It’s a ritual spell so I’ll have to spend ten minutes doing hokey magic stuff. And it will cost materials worth exactly one-hundred gold pieces to cast. So pile gems or coins or whatever down on the ground here and I’ll get it figured out.

The barbarian looked at Carric with an open mouth. Then he looked at Wex, the bulge of his coin purse easy to see against the fabric of his backpack.

What’s your alignment? The GM, Chief Gamer over the others, asked the First Gamer. There was a loud sigh.

Yenrab cursed himself for having such evil thoughts and pulled out his coin purse, paying out most of its contents to the dirt before him. Carric smiled, and took out his lute, sitting down splay-legged as he tuned its strings.

***

“A great axe +2!” the half-orc exclaimed, the bard smiling at his friend’s fortune.

“What does that even mean?” Yenrab and his Gamer asked simultaneously.

That was odd, Barney. Your voice changed there for a second. It sounded, well, gruffer.

Yeah I didn’t feel like myself for a minute there either, the First Gamer said. I felt kinder, cleaner and more intelligent.

Well, man, this weapon here gives you a plus two to hit and a plus two to damage. Plus it ignores resistances to regular weapon damage types.

“Sweet!” Yenrab said, his voice sounding human and a little higher pitched. The entire party stared.

“Whatever. It’s Gamer stuff. Let it go, and let us go. To the keep!” Yenrab announced, bypassing any sort of questioning on their part.

***

The keep was a bit of a nightmare. Most of the buildings leading up to it were full of the undead, which the party wisely closed the doors on and turned their backs from. They could always come back to them later. But the hall keep, that was something that would have to be entered. It radiated a dark miasma that felt angry and evil. Its facade was overgrown with strange vines, dark and forboding. They certainly weren’t native to the region. To each side of the gate stood two large and armored statues, their broad chest plates and visors covered in chipped black enamel. Small woody plants like the ones from the beach clustered here and there, forming a sort of outward arc around the entrances and bending with menace towards the party as they stood and assessed the scene. Oh, and there were a bunch of zombies ambling about.

“Fricking zombies,” Carric gritted, his teeth becoming worn from the constant frustration of this place. “Everywhere, fricking zombies.”

“And skeletons,” Tracy supplied helpfully. The stress of the place had changed her gender again, but her voice showed them all that she was still well into the fight and far from cracking.

“Yeah,” Yenrab muttered, “ya know we have a map of the place now. That’s all they wanted in the first place. We don’t really have to go through here and smash everything up.”

“Mate, if we don’t do this, I mean really do this, we aren’t fit to be called adventurers,” Bern boldly announced, “Swoll is the goal, size is the prize, man.”

Char Man Dar snorted, spitting something black and sludgy onto the ground. Then he proceeded to pant and heave.

Tracy cocked her head.

“Why do you always do that, Char? Back in the Freemeet huffing and gruffing was just something the kids did when they played Lion Man. Snarl and huff, I’ll eat you up! But you, well, you just do it. Always. Everywhere!”

Char snorted, “It ain’t polite to stare and it ain’t polite to ask, mate.”

Tracy laughed and twirled.

“Well, guys, are we going to go in? Those plants just started moving towards us. I think they caught our scent.”

They all looked over in unison. Sure enough, the twiggish plants, their leaves bristling with thorns, shambled and ambled towards them, though not at any sort of dangerous rate. The party flipped their heads, though, just a second later. From the direction of the beach came the sound of war horns. It was a long and throaty guttural growl that echoed hard through this complex of the dead.

“What is that?” Carric grimaced, starting to jog in its direction. The others were a bit surprised by his initiative but all followed suit.

“That’s a humanoid war party. Probably orcs and hobgoblins,” Wex observed. “Civilized sorts of the splinter kingdoms in the Eastern Reaches. Well-armed, paid in coin, and tactical. This isn’t good, cuz. And the timing is chocka sus.”

Charmander nodded at the nonsensical words, hocked goo into the ground, and took to a sprint. The party again followed. Behind them came the horde of zombies and slow-moving plants, suddenly interested in getting to the gate as well.

The adventurers kept well ahead of the mob and slowed near the gates, moving behind one of the sturdy barracks buildings. A click of the dice later and Bern Sandros scurried up the side without a hitch, dropping down rope for the rest of the party, lightest to heaviest so as to have help when Yenrab and Char Man Dar finally took their turn at it. Then, lying flat on the roofed surface, they scanned the shoreline.

“That’s a lot of enemies,” Tracy announced quite loudly. The party shushed him.

A dozen war canoes had beached themselves onto the shore, spilling well armed and disciplined orc warriors, clad in neatly worked hide with leather and sporting axes and blades. Behind them assembled three lines of equally disciplined hobgoblin archers, their angular features and eyes narrowed and they scanned the wall for defenders. A singular orc towered a foot above them all. One eye stared out in scarred ruin, a sacrifice to the gods for even greater power. His great axe arced dark energy, his face an angry grimace as he bellowed orders to his assembled men.

“I bet my fireball would be really useful right about now,” Tracy whispered with enthusiasm.

Yenrab glared.

“Well big guy, you’re the leader,” Bern nudged him. “Mate, lead.”

“Yeah. Ya know, yeah, we can really do this. Missile defense. Bern you pepper them with arrows while staying down as low as you can. It’s a short bow so you can crouch pretty low.”

I’ll allow it sounded the firm tones of the GM. 25% cover.

“Right,” Yenrab agreed. “And, well,” the half-orc looked unsure, wheeling his hands, “Wex, Carric, and Tracy, you’ve got crossbows so maybe you can lay all the way down when you aim and shoot, then crouch when you reload.”

Interesting. Opposed roll every attack for 50% cover, 25% if I win.

Why opposed?

Well, that means they’re smart enough to time for some shots while you aren’t crouching.

“Okay,” Yenrab allowed, letting the words of the Gamers fly through him. “Sounds like we’re doing the smart thing. Then I can throw javelins and my hand axes while crouched. Not for long though. And Char, hey man, what do you have for missile attack?”

Char spat and snarled.

“Only the weak use ranged weapons.”

Yenrab shook a fist at the sky.

“Gods and Gamers alive, who comes up with this stuff!” he moaned. “Alright, I guess you just sit there.”

“Hey Yenrab,” Tracy piped up.

“Yeah?” the barbarian asked, bracing himself for the worst.

“Maybe we should just have Char drink that potion I found in the kitchen.”

All heads turned to stare. The sorcerer pulled out a flask of fantastic liquid the color of blood and steel.

“It’s super rare. It’s called a potion of super-heroism, and for a little while whoever drinks it is, well, just amazing.”

Just amazing? What the heck, man, why didn’t you tell us you found something in there?

You didn’t ask.

Stats, GM, stats! Do we know what this does?

Yes Tracy well made his knowledge roll. Hey Justin wanna read off the stats?

Sure. It adds 5 levels of HP, a plus 5 attack and damage bonus, and two additional attacks for 10 rounds, plus resistance to all non-magical items. If used in a barbarian rage then it confers an additional resistance to magical attacks.

Give it to Char. He’s not a barbarian but he can’t fight from up here. Let’s wreck some stuff.

Yenrab shook his head. “I’m half tempted to just not do what they say but it sounds like a heck of a plan. Also, is it just me or are we getting way better at hearing the gamers?”

“Way better,” Carric muttered, tasting the words for precision. “Much better?”

“Words are words, they mean the same thing,” Char groused, looking at him with a tilted head.

“Now see here,” Carric began.

Sounds clicked behind and beneath them as the horde of undead made its way passed them to fight the undead. Willowy wooden plants followed in their rear.

“Oh yeah, mates, this is going to be fun,” Bern grinned widely, crouching and choosing a target.

***

Another hobgoblin dropped with a bellow, Bern’s tell-tale black feathers protruding from its shaft. The soldier’s arms flailed as it lost motor function, collapsing and simultaneously filling the ground with the contents of its bowels. Orcs grunted and screamed as they smashed again and again at the stubborn forces of the undead. Zombies fell. Some rose again. Skeletons cracked apart and began their slow sink back into the earth, er, gimmok. And through the mess rose and fell the great ax of their leader, scratched and torn in a dozen places, unstoppable in his fury. His scarred eye glowed and pulsed with a dark red and bitter cloud of vengeful energy and it seemed to drive him to impossible feats.

Char Man Dar watched him from a bit of a distance. He was on the ground and hidden around the corner of the barracks. The flask of super-heroic brew hung clutched within his reptilian talons as he waited. If he understood it all correctly he would be empowered for just a minute and a half. Maybe two minutes at most. So, as his companions above sniped their targets, the plan was that he’d wait until this force, whatever it was and wherever it came from, could be torn to bits with minimal difficulty and damage.

A zombie slammed into one warrior with a sharp crack, its supernatural force snapping the orcish neck at an unnatural angle. Another orc slapped off the zombie’s head with a timed and true swing of its double-bladed battle axe, only to have the body tear out its throat. The humanoid force was beginning to wane.

“Savaausan ukaveadausan lat cowarduk. Vicavorausan or deaavh, gruumukh liwo wreck your ukouluk!” the leader cried in berserk rage, foam beginning to drip from his mouth as his magical axe ended two zombies in one blow, and then his steel shod boot ended another.

“Archers, forget the rest of those guys,” Yenrab instructed, overseeing the battle. “They are about done with this fight but, ya know, by those words I’d say they only stay because they are more afraid of him than they are of the enemy. Take him out and the whole thing is done.”

“In the Freemeet, if the Grand Sorcan died we’d all just give him some other body to inhabit,” Tracy informed them.

“He possesses your bodies?!” Bern asked, aghast.

“What? No. We make clay ones that he can go into and then they change to be like ours. It is really convenient to be honest.”

“I bet,” Wex added, struggling to fit a bolt into his crossbow from his crouched and stooped position.

“Well, Tracy,” Yenrab said, “ I don’t think we’re going to have that problem here. Guys, let’s bring this man down.”

On his words bolts and arrows followed, all flying true. The orcish leader screamed in rage, bowling through a gaggle of zombies as if they simply didn’t exist, then dropping his axe and jumping a vertical five feet upward to grab the roof’s ledge.

“Piss of Gharag!” Yenrab flinched, retrieving his great axe from his back.

I guess it’s time Char Man Dar smiled, jagged and carnivorous teeth gleaming as he sucked down the potion of super heroism. In his eyes blazed fire. From his mouth erupted flame, the power of the potion recharging his ability. He could feel might flow through him.

What’s this all mean, mate? I’m new to the game remember.

Lots of hps and killer attacks man. Just go with it.

The leggings of the orcish leader caught fire, and he let go of the roof and swept up his axe, not bothering with the flame as he rounded on the draconic knight before him. Chain armor over red scales, his sword gleaming and sparkling darkly by the flame of his kind, Char Man Dar swing hard over head. His blade came down hard and struck against the orc leader’s own, raised in impressive defense. Then the orc uttered a word and his axe changed. Sickly evil sparks of purple and black sprayed forth from the suddenly clouded and red-veined double-bladed head.

What? How?!

Boss battle dude. Just roll with it.

Char stumbled back as the orc smashed the haft of his weapon into the dragon man’s throat. Such a called attack had deadly consequences as Char gasped and stumbled, but the fiery vigor of the potion kept him to his feet.

“Impreukukive. Buav jiak liwo mubarum lat agh jiak liwo mubarum your frienduk,” the leader mocked, swinging his magical great axe again in a skillful and high level blur.

“Wanav avo beav?” Yenrab called from above, jumping down on the leader’s shoulders and kicking him forward onto Char’s extended blade.

“Do we need to know any of what they just said?” Tracy asked Carric, who waited to see if the Gamers would clear the question up. They didn’t though, and neither could he, so he just shrugged and reloaded.

The orc leader screamed into Char’s face, blood flecking out and over it. Char sneered back. Then the orc kicked itself off of his blade and turned, bashing Yenrab hard with a flurry of attacks. His axe flared harder and stronger with each blow before it exploded outward in a black beam of energy, throwing the barbarian ten feet up and away from him. The hapless half-orc landed with a loud plop into the midst of the orc and zombie melee.

Bern Sandros watched it all with eyes shining. A single tear dripped from his eye.

“That - that was so awesome!” he stuttered, truly impressed.

From below clanged and clattered the anger of combat. Char swung hard and fast, the potion charging up his mental and physical combat prowess to a level that the orc leader could truly appreciate. They swung, batted, and parried, giving and gaining ground as they jockeyed for the right room and angle with which to dispatch the other. Dice clattered and banged, the tone and frequency of their use growing more and more desperate as the time ticked away. And the axe grew in power again as they swung and clanged, though not nearly as quickly as it had with the barbarian. A dozen arrows and bolts stood out from the orc’s back.

Finally, blood ran from the orc’s mouth and he slumped. “Cheaavaumn, Gruumsh,” the warrior said, defeated. Char Man Dar knocked the weapon out of his limp limbs.

“Take him prisoner!” Carric called down from above, his face streaked with sweat from the heavy pace of the battle.

“No,” Char Man Dar replied, taking the orc’s head with one swipe and watching as the devilish axe he had carried faded and wavered back into whichever of the hells it had spawned from.

A cry rose up as their leader fell, and the remaining orcs and hobgoblins were very quick to capitalize on his downfall. They mobbed the gates, tearing away across the sands of the beach to the longships that awaited them. Maybe a third of them had survived the epic confrontation, it wouldn’t have been too hard to count if the party hadn’t immediately switched their focus to the remains of the undead force. There the battle raged a bit longer, but the routed force had taken an enormous toll and the army of the dead was finally whittled to their end. For now at any rate.