Ozzy awoke, once again, surrounded by dirt. His grave awakening left him dazed and thoughtless in a stupor. He was partially blinded as his wide hat slid down and surrounded his face in an uneven manner. He was also upside down and trapped mid-slide into a hole in the ground. The ground suddenly shook, hard, and the collapsing soil around him forced him to move. He took a head-first dive from an opening in a wall into the skull-sconce catacombs from whence he came.

He lay on the ground and reflected as he caught his non-existent breath. He freed Sinch, his somewhat ally - a human and a fellow with whom he was set to work for some short future. A man with dreams and hopes, however shallow, and friends he cared about and a passion for his work and a desire to be right and be a leader even if it was undeserved. And then they met Marrowbane. Sinch challenged the impossible monster. Its arm swung down.

Ozzy was already in the secret way under the tree by then. He tried to shout for Sinch to run, but he went unheard under the sound of Marrowbane’s roar. He didn’t dare think of what happened in the unseen conclusion of the fight. He didn’t need to. He knew. He tried to save Sinch from a terrible fate, only to lead him to an unwinnable battle instead. Ozzy tugged his hat down over his face and sighed into it.

Am I crying? I want to. But is it because I’m sad, or because I’m afraid?....

Both. Ozzy tried to be a hero. It got someone killed. That thought stuck with him for a while until a more fearful sensation shook him to his feet. He heard the clatter of boney feet approaching from afar. He wasn’t clear on the rules of engagement for skeletons intruding on skeleton grounds. The few he’d met under the earth without personalities were under Gozzpek’s direct control. And if he knew Ozzy was back, there would be no way out.

Ozzy quickly ran in the opposite direction of the feet. The walls were lined with skulls that burned with embers that shone out of the eyes, and the mounts which held them in place were also bone. Some had whole hands to hold them up, others were mounted using spines. They were less grotesque than Ozzy previously thought. He knew the true origin of his so-called “kin”. Only a few were actually made of previously living people and he had a good guess as to which ones they used to be. Also not entities he wanted to encounter.

It dawned on him just how deeply boned he was. So much so the pun evaded his detection. He was deep in the heart of an enemy fortress, yet he was one of them. The only place he could ever belong without covering his face and the ruler, and therefore the nameless gentry of autonomous soldiers, hated him. The few rare psychos might tolerate him, but if ordered, they would kill him just the same. Their qualms ended where their orders might begin.

Ozzy came to a crossroad. His sense of direction was gone. He just needed to find a staircase that led up and he could sneak out when Marrowbane wasn’t looking. But before that he needed a tool, a rope or chain or some daggers - anything at all to climb over the wall with. Ideally he’d want the long bone arms of his newest unseen nemesis that started all his recent misfortune; just find him and yank them off like toilet paper off the roll until he went empty. Out of spite, for sure. Until then he had to be on guard.

So he drew his sword. It was good he had a thrusting sword, if only because there was little room for anything else. The real danger of the crypts undercroft was how limited the space was. Short spears worked, maybe bows with unbroken sightlines, and anything that could stab was fair as well. Even if Sinch lived to follow him, he’d be crippled with the size of the halls. As would Gunn. As would Stormen.

Am I really the only one who can get down here? All those people, all so much stronger than me in different ways, but no one can get here willingly?

The burden of such a talent felt wasted on Ozzy as he slowly crept forward. He tested each corner with his blade first to see if anything snapped at it. If it did, he could fade back, wait for them to round the corner, and then stab. He’d practiced his maneuvers alone in the night. He even trained by holding his lantern at the tip of his sword to get better at working with an altered balance, and walked with the lantern balanced on his head to achieve perfect posture. He was flawless in terms of his practical execution. In real combat - he hoped not to find out.

The way was clear and quiet. The sound of bones hitting stone floor were far in the distance and grew further. Whatever was patrolling around had no aim or goal. They were just covering the floor as best they could. Ozzy decided to move forward through the junction until the next turn put him at a blind corner. He tested it, nothing happened, and he edged along the wall slowly. The tunnel up ahead was dark. The sconces on the wall went out. He saw one half-shattered on the ground with the everburning resin spilled out and trampled. Someone had a bad day through there.

Ozzy went ahead and his eyes magically adjusted to the pitch dark as they’d done before. He saw shapes in shades and hues of dark, and thanks to his training and focusing he could achieve depths as well. He saw the path ahead was clear and proceeded as normal, sword up and half-cocked for a sudden lean-in thrust. Another corner, another test, and another clear. Every yard he covered felt more and more tense. The way ahead was lit again and easier to navigate.

Then he had to stop. A skeleton rounded the corner wielding a staff with a heavy mace end. It hissed softly when it saw Ozzy. Ozzy whipped his hat off to show his face. The skeleton hissed again, curiously, and stood its ground. Ozzy kept his sword down, trying to be peaceful. The skeleton raised its staff up and cautiously approached. It got closer and closer. Its range was further than Ozzy’s. He needed it even closer still. Just a yard or two. Then a few feet. The skeleton got right up close to Ozzy, enough to hear his “K-K-KH-KH-KH-H-H-H” hiss through his chattering teeth.

The skeleton guard moved to shimmy around Ozzy to continue on its path. Ozzy quickly backed against the wall and let it go. The skeleton marched on with its prodding stick angled forward and cleared around the dark corner.

Well that’s nice. I can get around a little easier like this. Until someone who recognizes me shows up.

Ozzy put his guard up again, hat off, and proceeded forward with the same blade-first caution as before. One fluke of ignorance did not make the rest of the unseen stalkers kind or mindless. He still had to believe there were enemies all around him, lying in wait for any opportunity to erupt through the dirt walls and eliminate him for the sake of the lich.

Please let me find a staircase. Or a ladder. Or just another tunnel to slither my way through. I’ll go back naked as long as I can get out. I’ll get dressed again somehow. Just please…whomever. Let me get out of here. Life is its own reward. I don’t need to prove anything. I’ll even stop trying to be…

He couldn’t even think of it. It was forbidden. The voice in his mind pressed its lips together against sharp font teeth threatening blood if the statement went on any longer. He would not stop trying to be a hero. He couldn’t. He fundamentally lacked the drive to dismiss that desire from his heart.

I’ll do better. I have to. The Zandanians know it too. Marrowbane has to die. And then Gozzpek. And then all of the skeletons. Maybe even me…even Hewfarth.

Ozzy sighed. He took a short pause at another three-way crossing and pinched the bridge where his nose would be. He was cursed to think, as many others were not. The few who had the curse of will beyond mere servitude were either destroyed or disposed of in the catacombs. Being himself - being Ozzy the Thinker - was only as gracious as he made it. But Ozzy the Defender barely did any good work, and Ozzy the Skeleton was a coward who ran from obligation. It led to an uncomfortable assessment of his character, one he found to be lacking in the worst way.

What am I even doing?

Ozzy heard the patter of approaching feet and armed himself. These moved faster than the sullen guard from before. There was a purposeful march in the gait which stopped just short of rounding the corner. Ozzy stood near the wall. His sword ran parallel to the wall and was tucked back for a quick dip and upward thrust. The unseen entity also waited. No breath came from the other side of the wall. No movement either. No sound save for the soft flicker of fires in the skull pots on the walls.

Ozzy turned to look at one of the sconces. There was something behind him, A shadow peeled from the very wall of a skeleton stood in his way of the light. It reached out and clutched at him with real, hard hands. Ozzy jumped across the junction and swung his sword. The phantasmal skeleton shadow was out of reach and retreated without moving. It just went back like it was being pulled along on a track, and every quarter-second it left its after image like a sunspot in Ozzy’s eye.

“Kkkkkhhhhh” Ozzy hissed.

“Hey now,” a deep voice said. “You watch that thing.”

Ozzy stood and primed his sword. Another skeleton stepped into the light. It had a moss green scarf draped over it shoulders and threaded through its upper ribs which ended to cover its face from the nose down. Another wrap of a similar deep-green color wrapped around its head, just over the eyes.

“Well, well,” the skeleton rogue said. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Huh?” Ozzy said.

The rogue lifted its arms and shrugged. “You don’t recall? It was a short passing. We went to separate induction rituals. We awoke at nearly the same time. Time enough to watch our brother get his head opened up for speaking up.”

“Ah!” Ozzy exclaimed. Memories of his strange awakening came back. They weren’t fond memories for him, but they were critical to understanding his purpose and unlife. “You’re…we didn’t have names back then, did we?”

“Indeed we did not,” the rogue said. “I’ve been in these halls for quite some time now and never saw nor heard you here. Where have you been?”

Ozzy weighed his options. The skeleton before him was reasonable, articulate, yet also dubiously motivated. If he had loyalty to Gozzpek he might be on orders to kill any suspicious skeletons or feed them to Marrowbane up top. If he wasn’t as loyal as he needed to be he might hold some resentment for the lich that made him and be willing to look the other way and shirk his tasks. Any other possibility could exist, but the most likely outcome at the time swayed Ozzy toward lying.

“I was sent,” Ozzy explained, “to the surface. Past the Blackwoods. To bring humans here. As,” he put his hat on, backwards, “as a human, to them.”

“Hmm,” he rogue said. He stroked the part of his muffler that went over his chin. “Had any success yet?”

“Just now,” Ozzy said, as he corrected his hat, “yes. Up above are three…four bodies. Though one met Marrowbane, and most likely cannot be recovered.” As if to answer Ozzy’s reference, the ground above and around them shook. Some dirt gave way, but the holes made quickly closed up and dried into solid rock-like tunnel work.

“And yet he’s the one rumbling the ground,” the rogue said, “in such an angry manner.”

“He’s Marrowbane,” Ozzy shrugged. “The whole reason he’s up there is because he’s too crazy to keep down here.”

“And too big,” the rogue added. If he was able to badmouth his fellow skeletons, particularly one of that much notoriety and worth, he seemed like a fair fellow to hang around. Ozzy relaxed his guard a little. He kept his sword out, but aimed the tip to the ground. “Then, what is your next task?” he asked.

“What?” Ozzy said. “Oh! I, uh…”

This might be my only opportunity to learn more about this place. Enough to keep people from finding a way in. Or I can have the long-arm thief brought to me. Unless it’s this guy…no, his arms look normal. He’s not hiding anything in that muffler big enough to turn into that much arm. But maybe he does know that skeleton and is his friend? Or just ally? I can’t be rash here. I can’t break his trust, either. I need to keep the topic about the same thing, not change it.

“I lured them here,” Ozzy said, “using the promise of treasure. But the treasure I was given to entice them has already been expended. The humans value gold sometimes above life - the fools!”

“Hmm,” the rogue nodded to Ozzy’s grand standing speech.

Ozzy toned himself down a bit more, almost apologetically. “So I came down to get some gold. But preferably not from Gozzpek’s immediate…domain. It works - it’s worked greatly, but if I were refused then he may ask what happened to the gold and then…you know, it’s gone now, I can’t bring it back. And this one, too, if my plan works then the value will be replaced with humans - Zandanian humans at that. They’re up there right now, building a fort at the edge of the forest! Their - their holy mass should be a great tribute to the…Lord.”

The rogue stood and silently listened until Ozzy seemed to be fully done talking. “Did you see that thing?” he asked. “The black shadow?”

“I did,” Ozzy said. “It frightened me…It’s not behind me, is it?” He snapped around and checked the lit walls behind him.

“It’s not normal,” the rogue said. “I’m trying to get rid of it. Help me out and I’ll go grab some gold for you.”

“Oh?” Ozzy said. “Uh…sure.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. The rogue turned and walked the way Ozzy came. Ozzy came up behind him and kept a steady pace a few steps behind. He turned occasionally to watch their backs.

“Will my sword hit it?” Ozzy asked.

“If you swing, and it his, then yes,” he said.

“I mean - you’re hunting it?” Ozzy asked. “To destroy it?”

“To interrogate it,” he said.

“Oh, so I shouldn’t be stabbing first.”

“No,” the rogue explained. “That thing doesn’t belong here. I need to get rid of it. That’s my big job. Once it’s done I might be able to finally see the surface.”

“You haven’t been yet?” Ozzy asked. “Are there no - can you not find an exit?”

“There’s plenty of exits,” he said, “but I’m not allowed out. Not all of us get to be special. Some of us have to work for our privileges.”

“...Sorry,” Ozzy said. “So do you have a plan?”

“...no,” the rogue said. “If you have any ideas, let me know.”

“Okay,” Ozzy said.

And just like that, Ozzy was back to the sidekick role. From a wannabe hero failing to save a much stronger human, to the second-hand of a nameless skeleton sent on a task far stranger than what Ozzy could understand.

If I see some stairs, I’m leaving. Gold or not, this is not the place I belong in.

But still, Ozzy marched behind his new accomplice. He’d lied so much in one day he felt obligated to keep just one promise to the end.