Back in the city, I make my way to the very center of the inner circle. After being ushered into the comparatively modest abode of Lady Anne, I'm shown to the "backyard" where we are to stay the next couple of nights as guests.

Using a bit of spatial magic blended with some clever architectural tricks, a ramp behind the house curves up and over to a rooftop garden that expands to the size of a city block once inside the open top walls. Over the six foot, ivy covered walls we can still see the city and it feels like we're among the clouds.

I pass by a grove of fruit bearing trees and bushes with berries, all of which we were given permission to enjoy. The smells remind me of the cave. Of the pool. The altar. The lotus plant. I sniff once to find the path of the vardo and find it nestled in a large open space next to a ranch style house.

Rachel, Kona, and Serenity are inside the vardo, probably working with Mika. Our tables sit in rows just outside the vardo so everyone could enjoy the scenery. I find the one with Richter, Dawn, and Victoria and join them. I look around for Lady Anne, but she isn't here. Apparently, she is busy with a meeting down at the docks.

"It's not a meeting," Dawn says, looking over one of the Gorshix scales, "They're fighting fish people. We offered to help, but she told us that they were more than capable and we left it at that." She waves the scale at Victoria sitting next to me, "And that's why she was gearing up in the office, right?"

Victoria laughs, throwing her hands up in defense, "She absolutely loves fighting the Mermadin. Its her way of letting off steam." In the center of the table is a board with some of the fruits from the garden and a loaf of sliced bread.

Vic picks out a strawberry, red as a stop sign, "If she wasn't here or in the office, she was at the docks, protecting the ships." She takes a bite, more than enough left to take a second, and the juice runs down her arm. Her other hand reaches for my thigh and squeezes. I look over at her with a raised eyebrow and I try one as well. It is the pinnacle of strawberry flavor. A scientist, whose sole job is to replicate the flavor of the fruit, couldn't possibly make what I've just eaten and my eyes roll into the back of my head. Then, I take the second bite and it's as if I've tried it for the first time all over again. My hand finds Vic's and they clasp, sharing this blissful moment together.

We don't care about the looks the other two are giving us, we just stare into each other's eyes with dreamy expressions. I push the board over to them. Richter declines, offering the excuse that he didn't like them because of the tiny seeds or whatever. But Dawn accepts the offer. Her hands slam onto the table as she forces her way through her feelings, eyes shut and moaning to herself. We all chuckle knowingly.

"Been a while, Dawn?" I ask. She blushes, but smiles, and tells me to shut up. We laugh harder as someone brings us each a mug of the Frost Dragon Ale. The three of us reach for another piece of fruit.

Except for Mika punching me in the face for not giving her the Sun Seeker Lotuses as soon as I arrived, the rest of the evening is relaxing. We each share the stories of our recent adventures for anyone that desired to hear us. It's a good form of entertainment for the citizens.

All of the children gather around us, wide eyed and enraptured by our every word, especially to Richter who had a way with kids. He even incorporated the Hedge Mage's Ring and his own spells to weave his story with magic and imagery that captured even all of us players' attention.

Don't let his accent trick you, I thought, grinning like a fool, This man is a master story teller.

He mutters "Minor Illusion," before summoning the magical image of a giant octopus creature, wielding a weapon in each tentacle, causing the croud to gasp in delight.

Victoria nudges me with her elbow, almost tickling me, "Good thing he went last. What a tough act to follow!"

We giggle to ourselves as we get up, walking hand-in-hand through the garden and trying to get lost in it. We manage to find a bench for two, overlooking a miniature jungle waterfall that came up to my waist. I'm sure anyone IRL could have something similar in their yard, but what they wouldn't have are the proportionately tiny birds, cawing and flying about the trees and the tiny pond below.

The sun is casting the orange and purple hues as it sets, a blanket of stars chasing close behind it. Tomorrow, at midnight, we'll be leaving this world for a day and a half their time, as if we all will stop existing. For the Travelers, or players, it'll only be twelve hours, a relative drop in the bucket.

Sitting on that bench, holding Vic's hand, and staring at the magical little ecosystem, I wonder what the real world has in store for me. I wonder how Mom is doing. I wonder what clips they're going to splice together for the Ardacen Show, if they're going to use me at all. I feel her hand squeeze firmly and I look into her face. I see contentment, but I also see the worry in her eyes. I'm probably making the same face and it broadens my smile. She echoes my actions and we tilt our heads toward each other, gently bumping them together.

"Silly boy," she whispers. The two of us may have had more than a couple of mugs earlier and we're still feeling the effects, including the unnatural chill and the cooling of the night air. She summons a bedroll, opens it up, and we use it like a blanket in our laps. Her head slides down to my shoulder and she repositions her body to rest on it. My head tilts over on top of hers and she whispers, "I love you, Ardacen…"

Before I can reply, her soft purring of sleep cuts me off. I take a deep breath and sigh just as deeply. I wonder about my time here. I wonder about my life out there. I wonder what it all means if it means anything at all. I close my eyes, smiling and listening to the last of the miniature birds before they also get some rest.

"Love you, too, Vic."

*************************

"You know what I love?" Dez is staring at one of his skeleton soldiers. It's pointing its spear at a woman's throat, her child gripping the back of her legs tightly. She's shaking, trying not to cut herself on the blade, sweat streaming from every pore. He couldn't wait for her reply, "Bones."

He turns away, looking over his squadron of skeleton soldiers, each with a hostage. The fires from the houses cast waving shadows over everything, causing the illusion of movement. No one is moving except for two horrible men. There are bodies strewn about Dez's feet. He stops over one, drawing the white, leather bound book from its holster.

"The problem with bones…" he begins, finding the passage with frightful efficiency. "They're always trapped in this prison of meat and skin... Conscript the dead."

A terrible ripping sound drowns out the horrified moans and collapsing of burnt lumber. Only five skeletons are standing among the piles of bloody parts. Dez grunts in disapproval, "That only makes forty." He motions to the side for some minions to come forward and several skeletons join their new comrades. They equip the five with pitchforks and hand scythes. "Sorry my friends, this is all they have here."

The stifled weeping explodes into open wailing and shouts of frustration. Dez ignores all of it, smiling up at his newest recruits. He puts his a hand on his hip and traces the subtle curve of a rib with his finger. An out of place crunching sound causes him to wince. Looking over his shoulder, he spies his ragged traveling companion munching on the rind of a squash. Dez smiles, then chuckles lightly, "You have the strongest teeth I have ever seen in a person's head."

He wipes a flake of ash off his shoulder and it smears into his white clothes instead, causing him to frown a bit when he looked at it. A glint catches his eye. In the tightening grip of one of the kneeling citizens is a rusty cleaver. Dez's eyes widen, reflecting more of the fires burning around him. He holsters the book, hands locked in the shape of tense, spread claws. The muscles in his arms are taut, almost ready to snap. If they were guitar strings, they would be too tight to play. Just as suddenly, he is relaxed again. Dez's arms drop limply to his sides, a jovial grin spreading aross his face as he strolls over to the kneeling man holding the large knife.

Being the diminuative Halfling that he is, they stare face to face. The man is not bound and there are no skeletons threatening him. There is nothing stopping this man from swinging the cleaver into the smiling face in front of him. No chains. No curses. Nothing, except for fear. The man's hands shake until his grip becomes too weak. The handle slides out and the metal clinks against a rock. Everyone within earshot flinches except for Dez and Angus.

"Pick it up… Please?" Dez is still smiling. Waiting. The man's eyes are locked with Dez's, but he won't move.

"Pick…" He leans in closer, still smiling. His teeth now threatening to grind themselves into a powder.

"It…" Only an inch of space remain between the Halfling's smile and the man's nose. Their eyes cross, both refusing to blink first.

"Up…" He snaps back into a standing position, one hand resting on the book and the other leaning on the skeleton soldier that joined his side.

The man tries, but pulls his hand back and looks to Dez for approval. He tries again, finally picking up the cleaver with both hands. One hand grasps the handle and the other pinches the spine. He looks as if he's ashamed of his body and is trying to cover it with the knife. Dez sees this and shakes his head, "You know, I was a butcher once. One of the best, actually. Until I happened upon a Rook Chest dropped by a Traveler. It was just lying on the floor and he just up and vanished. Must've died after he got it…"

The grin is all but gone from Dez's lips, but his eyes are still smiling. He's patting the book like a beloved pet, "That's how I came across this book. 'Fate,' I thought, 'Fate and the gods have brought it to me for being so good at what I do.'"

He strolls away from the man, speaking to the night sky, "Clean up the rust, sir. It poisons the meat. Or simply get a new one, can't be that hard." He stops mid stride and stares at an angry, dark elven female.

She's dressed in a mix of dark leather armor and dark robes, topped by a pointy black hat with a wilted tip. Her staff lay a good yard behind her. Three skeletons trained their spears and swords on her. One of them is actually already stabbing her arm. Dez looks just above her head, obviously reading her name as his lips move without making a sound. He walks briskly away from her and two more skeletons take his place. She curses obscenitites at him at such a rate that its a wonder she doesn't pass out from lack of taking in a breath.

Dez whispers into Angus's ear and the shabby bard drops his squash, withdrawing the mithril decorated guitar from who knows where. He mumbles as his fingers find their places on the frets, "Witch… witch…" He belts out a few chords and lyrics to a song in an uncharacteristicly pleasing tenor. The tune is alien to the ears of the people of Arc. But, to the ears of the dark elf, it is all too familiar.

"Is that… is that Sinatra's 'Witchcraft' on a guitar?" She asks, looking around to see if any one else noticed. "How could you--"

The rest of her sentence is cut off by a silent scream. Her face contorts to a hideous mask of pain and she desperately covers her ears. The skeletons surrounding her tighten their security even as she writhes on the ground. Everyone else is unaffected, watching in horror as the Traveler bleeds from her ears and pinched eyes.

Angus utters the second line of the chorus and cuts his performace short. The young woman is trembling, but manages to shout, "Fuck you! Eldritch Nova!"

Nothing happens.

Dez wags a finger at her and shakes his head, "No no no. No more MP, dearie. Not for you, anyway." He nods to the circle of skeletons surrounding her. They hack and pierce and stab and slash and rend. When what little HP she had left was gone, her body evaporated into dust, leaving behind her loot bag and Life Crystal. The skeletons toss the Crystal to Angus, who abandons his guitar to the ground to catch it and absorbs the XP right away. Dez picks up the wooden staff, a small white rock floated at the tip and inside a cage of wood.

Happy with their prizes, the two strolled out of what was remained of the hamlet, leading the army of undead soldiers west. Not another person was so much as pushed aside as they left their scene of devestation. No one knew what to do or say for a long time. When morning came and the fires were but hot ash and embers, they simply found what was left of their belongings and debated on which of the closest cites they should evacuate to. Kes Rentas or Higo?