The group didn’t stay long in Southton. After they finished gulping down their meal of hard cheese and some vegetables they had scavenged from the ruined gardens, they gathered up their things and went through the burnt out shell of the southern gate. The crows followed, their jeers echoing eerily.

Ellen stepped out into the road and felt her boot sink up to her ankle. It hadn’t rained recently; at least she didn’t think so. There didn’t seem to be clouds in sight, although storms could crop up at a moments notice. Why would it be so swampy? She reached over and touched Katrina’s sleeve, “Did it rain here recently?” The town was totally dry. Dry the way it was a hundred years ago when I passed through at this same time.

Katrina breathed deep through her nose, “No. It’s been a few months since it last rained. Why do you ask?” She could smell rain on the wind, but it was coming as apposed to going.

Ellen raised an eyebrow, “Really? Your boots are caked in mud and you are asking me that question?”

Katrina looked down at her boots in surprise. “Hmm.” She began praying to the storm goddess. Small lightning bolts flickered along her hands like static electricity. Her hair stood on end and Ellen got a metal taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, Katrina’s prayer was like a beacon for the coming storm, attracting it. Not that it wasn’t already headed their way. Something else, something more sinister was drawing it toward them already.

Percival rode up on his horse, “This road is worse than when I came through with my father on our wagons.”

Lizzy, who was riding in the front with Kegar, shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “Kegar, why are those crows still following us? Haven’t they gotten bored yet?”

Kegar glared up at the crows. Köttur had been complaining about Paint since the dwarf had dominated the horse. Recently, he was making noises that the goddess would deny Kegar access to her gifts if he didn’t release the horse. He hadn’t believed Köttur, but now he couldn’t communicate with the crows. He had looked at them with his druidic magic and it had been like he was looking at magical creatures. There was simply nothing there. How dare she take away my power? It was outrageous to him. He didn’t consider the possibility that they were magical in nature, or more precisely demonic in nature. He was too afraid that Köttur’s comment was becoming a reality. He couldn’t tell anyone that he couldn’t see them with his druidic sight. It hadn’t occurred to him that he still saw the horses in his sight so it was likely that the crows weren’t real.

If I tell anyone, they’ll want to know why she’s taking away my powers. I’d have to tell them about Paint… and then they would want me to release the horse… The horse was his and no one else’s.

“They aren’t doing anything. They’ll get bored and fly away. If they start to be a problem I’ll talk to them.” Kegar grumbled fussing with his reins.

Lizzy shook her head, “They are a problem. While we were stopped for lunch they took Stroz’s pack apart.”

Kegar waved a non-committal hand, “All in good fun. Crows are like that. Just don’t be mean to them and they’ll play nice.”

“Stroz didn’t do anything to them.” Lizzy said petulantly.

While the others were shifting nervously, Broden sat silently, carving a new bone handle for Finos. That was a good knife. He thought to himself engrossed in his task. He was accustomed to ignoring the grandstanding bluster of his cousin.

Leave it alone woman! Kegar was reaching for whatever he could so that he wouldn’t have to send the crows away. “Stroz thinks he’s a dargon. They probably looked at his ‘horde’ wrong and he threw rocks at them and now they have a bone to pick with him.”

I could see that happening. “Did they tell you that?” Lizzy asked with genuine curiosity.

Kegar almost lied, but Lizzy was looking at him with that earnest expression she got sometimes. “No…” He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Paint was very tall. Any horse was, he was after all a dwarf and they weren’t particularly suited for horses. He would be better off on a pony, but there was no way he was riding on a pony when Percival was riding a horse next to Lizzy. Kegar believed strongly that leaders should be the most visible member of the group.

“Well, then,” Kegar’s pigheaded insistence was irritating Lizzy, “why can’t you ask them what their problem is?”

Kegar gritted his teeth, “Because it isn’t important.” His teeth creaked and his jaw hurt, “I’ll ask them when it’s important.”

Her face fell. “I… thought me asking kind of made it important.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” He barked, “Just because you want something doesn’t make it worth having. This isn’t Pode anymore and not everyone is catering to your silly whims!”

Lizzy had been sitting her horse like a competent horse woman: back straight and wrists relaxed. His final comment turned her spine to steel and her words fell from her lips like a pick, “Be careful, Kegar of the Frozenpine, don’t overstep your station. I am the heir of Sir Wilbur and stand to inherit Pode and the Northern Wastes. We are not married yet.” The word “yet” hung in the air, declaring to all ears that if his behavior continued, they would never be married. She clucked her horse and rode forward with Percival and Strozazand at her left hand. Neither of them wanted to be left with the broody and moody dwarf.

An awkward and uncomfortable silence pooled out from the lovers. Any conversations that had been going on had withered as Lizzy and Kegar’s argument had been getting more and more heated. Now, like children attempting to avoid a beating from their father, everyone kept their heads down and tried not to be noticed. The rain that had been coming broke into a drizzle over them, hiding Lizzy’s tears and fueling the fire of Kegar’s ire. “Katrina! Do something about this rain!”

Katrina looked up into the sky. The clouds were hidden by an unpleasant mist, but due to her relationship with her deity, her eyes peered through the gloom. The clouds were pregnant with rain. The winds that had hurried them along so forcefully had dropped off. “I can’t. Something else brought the rain here.” I only helped it come. Ooops.

“What. Something?” Kegar snarled.

With a mental sigh she continued. “I don’t actually know. Something powerful enough to rearrange the weather patterns, but when I look at them it seems to be naturally done. You should be able to see that yourself, actually, you might be able to get more information than I can.” She looked at him expectantly, but at his continued hard glare, she decided to go on. “Uh… It looks like a natural phenomenon, but it clearly isn’t, no weather patterns would act this way if it were truly natural.” She looked around for assistance and found none being offered. “Uh, Shandra, have you noticed anything with your magic?”

Shandra looked up from her book, which sat in a special holder attached to the saddle, surprised to hear her name. “Hmm?” An invisible shield floated above her like an umbrella protecting her book and curly hair. She lifted her hands and a red, flaming ball appeared between them. The flames rotated like they were water being swished around a bowl before turning black and being snuffed out. “Yes.” She returned to her reading.

Kegar’s face was turning purple with rage.

Katrina stepped in, “So… Shandra, what has your magic told you about the situation?”

Shandra looked up from her book again, “Oh, yes, it’s quite simple really. A dargon moved in somewhere nearby, but not that close. If it were closer, it would have been transforming the landscape faster; it’s really more an arcane process than a natural one. Based on the color the flames turned, I am reasonably certain there is either a black or obsidian dargon nearby. So everywhere near it is being teraformed into a swamp.”

Katrina frowned, “Why did it seem natural to me?”

Shandra shrugged, “I’m not certain. Perhaps because your deity has a thing for dargons. Maybe because while their power is arcane, it works by changing the natural order of things, so it’s ‘technically’” she made air quotes, “a natural phenomenon, though it is caused by a magical source.”

Percival leaned over to whisper to Stroz, “Dargons cheat. Your people use magic to change the rules so what they do is natural.”

Stroz nodded, his cloak was pulled over his shoulders and in front of his body, his hands were still working over the puzzle box. He was reasonably confident that the crows couldn’t tell he was doing anything. “Isn’t it great? Wishing you were a dargon now, too?”

Percival snickered. “That’s okay; I’m enjoying being human today.”

With the bad weather closing in, night came quickly. The only person not hampered by the poor weather was Katrina and she wasn’t interested in calling any more attention to herself. Anyway, to her reasoning, there was no point in one person leading a whole group when the rest wouldn’t be able to do anything if trouble arose.

Everyone pitched their tents. Something they had largely not bothered with before, but were now glad that they had brought along. Stroz took his a step further and, with the assistance of Percival, laid traps all around his tent. They were simple things that would make lots of noise if they were disturbed or slap the intruder painfully. The traps weren’t particularly dangerous, just irritating and designed to wake Stroz if he was approached. Especially if irritating birds tried to go through his stuff.

After a long and silent night, Mary woke Faute for the final watch. The warlock tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Mary was tired and unwilling to take a double watch just because Faute was lazy. Mary kept poking Faute until fed up with it, she tore Faute’s blanket off her.

“Get. Up.” She snarled through clenched teeth.

Faute pouted as she sat up, “You’re so mean!”

“It’s your watch. Get up. I’m going to bed.” Mary stalked off toward her tent. She hated the middle watch. Just enough of a nap to be groggy, only to get your second wind before you have to sleep again.

Faute huddled under a blanket, trying to escape the pervasive dampness. Her boots were soaked through their oil coating. Her clothes, designed more for appearance than function, were now failing at both jobs. She looked bedraggled and felt worse.

One of the crows hopped over to her, “Why don’t you use your magic to warm yourself?”

“People said I shouldn’t use it willy nilly.” She said, pulling her blanket closer. How am I going to dry this thing?

“Who told you that?” The crow spoke with such concern, it touched Faute.

No one ever cares about my wellbeing. She thought back to Mary’s selfish display when the freak woke her. “The village cleric and Sir Wilbur. They said that the more I used it, the more I would be bound to the powers that gave it to me. I don’t like the idea of being bound to anyone. I’m my own person.”

“Of course you are! They were just trying to scare you off of it, because they are jealous. You have access to your magic because of your bloodline; you can’t bind yourself any closer than blood. It’s in your veins; it’s already a part of you. Use your power and enjoy it. It was made to be used.” The crow told her exactly what she had always believed, what she wanted to believe. It made it very easy to agree with the imp’s words.

Faute smiled. Finally someone who really cares about me for me. “Thank you!” She focused on her hand and a tiny pink flame burst into life. She felt a wonderful thrill of life and heat wash over her.

While she and the lead crow discussed her power and what kind of interesting things she could do with it, the other two crows that had been tormenting Stroz descended on his tent. Goblins could have surrounded the camp and Faute wouldn’t have noticed. Faute was enraptured by the imp’s words. Each time they spoke a silk net was drawn tighter around her soul.

When dawn spilled across the sky, it chased away the worst of the clouds, granting a small reprieve from the soggy weather. Ellen crawled out of her tent and stretched. She had missed the southern dawns. In Pode the weird and warped trees seemed to hold back the dawn with their strange, clawing branches. It’s not the same as it is across the southern river… but it’s nice to be able to see the sun rising.

She glanced over to Stroz’s tent and saw his traps were gone. Did he already get up? His tent was up and seemed undisturbed. Maybe he had to rush off to the bathroom and so hasn’t taken it down?

She took down her tent, went through her morning ritual and then began to make breakfast, since Faute hadn’t started anything. The girl barely kept the fire going through the end of her watch. What was she doing? The smell of cooking meat and vegetables began to rouse the camp. With that awakening came Stroz’s swearing.

He launched himself out of his tent in nothing but a pair of shorts that to the surprise and gratitude of everyone covered him. Red welts covered his chest and legs.

Percival raised his head from his mug of spikbra, it was a stimulant made from ground spiken and cowbra bones. Boiling water was poured through the grounds and allowed to steep, leaching out the stimulant. It was seven times more powerful than what the people of Capita drank and about twenty times more foul. “Hmm. Did you move those traps we set in your sleep?” He peered wearily at Stroz, “None of the traps should have done that kind of damage. Especially not to a humanoid.”

Scales gleamed through his skin; his dargon was perilously close to bursting forth, “It was those damn crows!”

Broden shook his head and staggered off to empty himself. Stroz was pretty fanatical about how wicked the crows were. It didn’t make any sense to him. Birds were birds, generally ignorable.

“Crows couldn’t do that,” Mary said, hearing only part of the conversation. She was tired and groggy, “they’re smart but they don’t have thumbs.”

Faute glanced at the crows that were cawing their laughter. Their imp forms waved at her, wiggling their thumbs. She snickered, unable to repress herself. “Strozazand, they out smarted you. It’s no big deal. Just accept it.”

Stroz ground his teeth. He stalked over to the crows, “I’m tired of this. It ends now.” He took a deep breath and breathed fire on them. The crows cawed their distress and disappeared.

Kegar leapt to his feet, “That was uncalled for!” He, like everyone other than Faute, thought the birds had been charred to ash.

Stroz smiled and rubbed one of the welts on his chest. “That takes care of that. Nothing messes with a dargon and lives.” With those words uttered, he doubled over as something punched him in the crotch.

“Uh, Stroz?” Percival said, “You okay?”

“Grf.” Stroz groaned as his head jerked backward, “No! Something is hitting me!” Tiny, fist-shaped, red bruises blossomed on his skin.

Percival drew six knives and rose to his feet. His mug of spikbra still in his other hand. “I can’t see anything! Where is it coming from?”

Stroz span in a circle breathing a cone of frost. “Everywhere!”

Percival and Finos, who had been coming out of his own tent, leapt back. “Hey, careful where you point that!”

Katrina had an orb of lightning in her hand, “Can anyone see anything?”

Faute crossed her arms over her chest, “They were just playing with him and he attacked them! He gets whatever they give him.”

Kegar whipped around, “What are you talking about?”

She pointed at Strozazand, “The imps. They didn’t do anything deserving of what he did. He deserves this.”

Lizzy gasped, “Imps?” She turned on Kegar, “You didn’t even try!”

Stroz was swinging wildly, “This isn’t really the time for pointing fi— oof –fingers, can we just agree to help me?”

Everyone stood around impotently, weapons drawn and at the ready but no target to attack. Faute just stood there, drinking her spikbra secure in the righteousness of her decision. Katrina tried to appeal to her better nature and Kegar tried to bully her, but Faute knew that Strozazand the Dargonman deserved what was coming to him. After all, the imps were the only people in the entire world who had ever tried to understand her, and they had told her so.

Ellen tried to sense their presence with her psychic powers, but the imps were concealing themselves from her sight. She sent a secure comment to Stroz, They know about my powers… somehow… I can’t sense them. The only person who can see them is Faute.

“Faute!” Stroz cried out, there was a sickening crack as one of his ribs broke, “Please, call them off! Help me! I’m sorry for attacking them… your friends… I didn’t realize they were your friends.” His wings erupted from his back and covered him as he tried to protect his vital organs. Scales pushed their way through his skin, sending rivers of blood down his back, chest and thighs.

Shandra began making a circle of protection around where the fight was happening. She couldn’t see the demons, but if she could trap them inside and was undisturbed long enough, she could banish the demons back to the hells. Maybe in time to save Strozazand. It was a long ritual and he was being beaten to death in front of them.

Katrina gave up on Faute. She looked at Stroz who was now lying in a pool of his own blood. “Heal him!” She shouted at Cole who began praying to his god for healing. Normally, he had to lay hands on the person he was healing, but he couldn’t touch Stroz because he would interfere with the spell Shandra was casting.

If my goddess preserved his body with lightning, maybe he is immune to it? It was all she could do. She began raining electric bolts down on the area inside Shandra’s circle. He wasn’t. She stopped and tried to cast her own healing spells.

Cole placed a hand on her shoulder, “He’s dead. The imps beat him to death.”

The group, except for Shandra who was still performing the ritual, turned on Faute. “How could you do that? You had the power to save him and you didn’t! Why? He was your friend! He trusted you!”

“They wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t deserve it.” Her self righteous stare was fading from her face as she watched her “friends” continue to beat Stroz’s dead body. The sound of bones snapping and organs bursting was making her green in the face. “People who do evil things deserve what they get.”

“Evil!” Ellen yelled, “He defended himself from demons and you call him evil? You let demons murder someone, Faute. Not just someone, but your friend.”

The imps spoke to her from inside the circle, “No, we are your friends! They never cared about you!” One of them sat on Stroz’s back and systematically broke each bone in his wings.

“He never cared about me.” She flipped her hair, “He was too busy being an imaginary dargon.”

“He has wings, Faute.” Kegar said, “I think we’ve moved past it being a figment of his imagination.”

Shandra shouted something from where she was working on the circle. The circle shot fire thirty feet into the air and then disappeared. “Well, that should take care of them.”

Faute’s face twisted with anger and horror, “What did you do?”

“I sent them back to their home.” Shandra stood up and brushed baked mud off her knees “Someone will have to summon them or a greater demon will have to send them before they can come back.”

“How could you?” Faute stood, pink flames wreathed her fingers. She took a menacing step forward.

Kegar shook his head, “Oh no, we aren’t doing this right now.” He waved his hands and the grass grew up and wrapped around Faute, holding her in place and her mouth closed.

Lizzy raised an eyebrow at him.

“I couldn’t see them to hold them in place.” And I didn’t know it would work…

The party turned away from Faute and looked at Stroz’s body. “When we go back to the city… we can pay to have him resurrected… his body won’t keep long enough for us to find more herbs to reincarnate him.”

Kegar shook his head, “I picked extra herbs.” One of Stroz’s broken wings collapsed awkwardly, “There is no way I’m carting that bloody broken mess for weeks. He’ll stink.”

Tears streaked down Mary’s face. “We can’t leave him broken like that.”

No one felt comfortable with Stroz’s crumpled body. Kegar called Paint the Horse, the Horse of Destiny over to Stroz’s body.

“Master” Paint whispered, “I could see the imps. They were quite cruel, don’t you think?”

Kegar glared at the horse, “Just reincarnate him.” I’ll need to talk to you about telling me things. It was one of the side effects of stripping the will from a creature. The creature could no longer take the initiative to inform Kegar, or pull him aside. Paint had seen the imps, but had no way of knowing that Kegar needed or wanted that information. Since the horse’s directive had been to not offer any information in front of the others, Paint couldn’t mention it until they had stepped away. He was essentially mute around the party unless asked a direct question.

Paint nodded and took the offered herbs from Kegar. He placed them around Stroz’s body and began a complicated dance. His hooves flashed around the body, narrowly missing it over and over again, until he reared with a scream and brought his front hooves down on Stroz’s shoulders. There was a flash of green light and in the place of Stroz’s corpse was a living, fluffy white bunny. Appropriately sized blue dargon wings rose up from the rabbits back. It looked equal parts uncomfortable and awkward.

Kegar looked at the bunny. “Damn. I forgot that could happen.”

Bunny Strozazand twitched his adorable nose. Someone murmured, “He’s so fluffy and cute!”

“He’s a dargon bunny!” Someone else laughed. There was an uncomfortable edge that flirted with hysteria. “I wonder if he can still breathe fire like that?”

Paint cocked his head at Kegar, “I reminded you last time what the chances are. Reincarnation is quite chaotic and the chances of an… odd… return increase exponentially each time.”

Kegar blanched.

Mary stepped forward, “We could hardly leave him like that. No one blames you Kegar. You did the right thing.” She knelt down, holding out her hand as if to encourage the bunny to come to her. However, before she could do more than outstretch her hand, a lightning bolt struck him, blinding everyone. Thunder ruptured the morning, like a powerful shout of disapproval, deafening them as well.