Eventually, the sound of shifting rocks underfoot breaks the silence as one of the packrats hesitantly comes near. Looking around he sees the Raid leader give a tired wave of his arm to the area for a clean-up.

The packrats of the Raid group break into three teams of two each. Four start to strip the fallen Raiders, and two begin harvesting the giant scorpions.

Art is the first of us who are left to stand and stretch, his knees and back cracking over the sounds of the pack rats.

The Raid leader, the four squad commanders, Jack, Awdrie, Art, and my protector Phaenippos are still alive. They begin to discuss if we should consider this a wipe, cut our losses, and leave.

I look around the cavern, two are mourning fallen comrades. Four are cleaning and repairing their equipment. We are all wounded, but not dying, Optata, Jack’s woman, has already seen to that as I watch her approach.

Professional in her demeanor, “How bad?” She asks, “Where should I focus? Are you able to move?” As she passes her hands over me, the thumbs and first fingers of each hand touch each other, similar to what I saw in how the Paladins healed.

“You’re good,” Optata says as she turns and moves on to the next injured.

I sit, rest, and watch the packrats make their way around, gathering and cleaning up as they go. They have to be using spacial items somehow. The backpacks are huge, but still, there’s no way they keep putting more in them.

I think about how I’ve changed, changing. Some of it is just a mindset, I think, it’s just me and my personality not being restrained. Similar to if my personal wealth started growing large enough that I didn’t care what other people thought anymore. I feel the weight of the essence around me and it comforts me like a blanket in its strength.

A packrat glances up at me as he strips my attacker’s body. I’m not sure what race he is and not all of the packrats are the same. He moves quickly, dexterously pulling off the boots. Then working his way up the body, pulling off bits of armor, gloves, and rings from his hands. The body flops around as he struggles to get its arms up, to get the chest piece up and over its head.

“KILL IT!!!” Screaming! Leaping! “KILL IT!!!” Both fists above my head in an epic barbarian leap, landing on the body, driving both of my hammer fists into the skull at the same time. The Packrat himself screaming and jumped to avoid my blind rage assault on the body.

“KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!!” My fists are bloody as I continue to punch the skull into the cavern floor.

Hands pick me up off the body as I continue to try to beat the skull with my fists. “Burn IT!!! Burn IT!!! BURN!!!” I continue rage screaming at the skull.

*****

Optata is looking into my eyes, holding them open one at a time. Jack and the Raid leader are talking with her. They are asking me questions, but I am still too out of it to understand the words.

I feel Phaenippos’s heavy hands on my shoulders holding me steady, holding me down.

I turn to him, “The Skull! It was back!”

Optata has her hand on the side of my face softly turning it to face her. I don’t understand the words she’s saying.

Reaching back, I grab onto Phaenippos wrist and pull it to my chest, now holding it with both hands. “The Skull! On the body! It came back!”

They calm me down more, but like a child, I will not let go of Phaenippos arm.

Optata brings, leads us back to the pummeled body. “See everything is Okay.” I understand her words now that I am calmer.

Looking at the scene and the body before us, I let go of Phaenippos arm and point to the sizable divot he made driving his shield down like a guillotine into the cavern floor, severing the head from the body. “Where’s the head?” I ask the group, Phaenippos specifically.

I watch his eyes trace, then widen as he realizes the head is reattached to the body. He takes an unintentional step back. “Art?” he calls.

*****

Phaenippos has his spear thrust into the chest of the body of my attacker, pinning it to the ground. Shield guard up in his other hand.

Art cast Burning Hands from a scroll and we watch the head and body crisp under the flame.

The body burns and consumes rather quickly, but the head remains and almost seems to regenerate until the body is gone. Then the head crackles and pops like a fresh-cut log burning in a fireplace. By the time it is done roasting, the skull has shriveled, formed, then burned away again. Its final size is about the size of a small monkey's head, with a clear gem in its forehead and its teeth all like tiny spikes or needles.

“Any guesses?” Art asks as he rolls the skull around with the toe of his boot to get a better look at it.

I think the Raid leader might have a guess, but he’s keeping it to himself as we look it over, then over at each other for what’s left of our Raiding Party.

A few more minutes and the Packrats are back looking over the body. I can almost imagine hearing the one Packrat exclaiming “Ewwww” as he throws a piece of leather over his hand then picks up the skull and throws it into his backpack. We just watch.

We stand in silence until our Raid leader breaks it with a loud sigh. “Proposals, Questions, Comments? As a party, we are weakened. But now our rewards are greater than ever.”

“The scorpions are not part of this dungeon,” I say and my protector backs me up. “They were being summoned and directed against the party.” Most of us don’t look surprised, but we didn’t all know.

“Whatever this skull thing was, I overheard him threatening the Summoner when he was losing control. That he was “Paid” to do this. Then he was threatening me, that I was going to get him “Choice” before he killed me. It was strong as all hell, holding me down on my back with just a finger in my chest.”

“Jack?” The Raid leader asks.

“I’ve not been in this area before.” Jack answers. “Hopefully, when we hit the main hall it will be the same as previous attempts and I can move us forward from there.”

Looking around, I can see that no one is happy about it, but I also don’t see anyone wanting to back out either. Art is next to me. He looks depressed as any of us, still kicking at the cavern floor with his boot every now and then.

Why the jokester in me comes out when I’m stressed or why I remember the things I do in the times like these. I start trying to get Art’s attention, Softly at first, then louder. “Art?”

“Art!” He looks up at me.

“I didn’t ask you how big the room was!” I tell him. “I Said Cast Fireball!”

Art just looks at me with a blank expression, processing. I guess the joke doesn’t translate well.

Art continues to stare at me for a second, then, “Ha.” A grin growing on his face. “Fuck Yes I Will!” He starts picking up and gathering his things with a renewed purpose. That enthusiasm doesn’t light the fire of everyone, but it’s enough that we’re packing up to move forward.

The Packrats help me out, piecing me together a mismatched set of armor, with a medium shield, and a short spear, I keep the assassin's blade. Two rings and an amulet. I’m not sure what everything does, but I sure can feel it all when I move.

*****

Heading out, it’s much the same as before except we are now two squads of six with the Packrat sticking a little closer than they were following before.

After another two hours, nothing notable has occurred, but Jack seems to know where he is now and our pace quickens to a fast walk.

20-30 minutes and we arrive at a point high up overlooking the main compound. It’s smaller than what I expected, maybe as big as a junior high football field, in total area. Jack points out the crypts where we want to look. They look more like burial mounds scattered about to me.

Guarding the crypts are organized squads of skeletons and skeletal beasts. A small bone dragon or wyvern is coiled up, as if at rest in the center of it all. I continue looking at it all as the raid leaders discuss options.

“Noob. Noob!” Art gets my attention. “Come help me with this.” Art has found himself a nice little protrusion jutting out. “Help me line these bottles up.” He asks.

Art has a couple of the Packrats unloading potion bottles. He’s sorting out the ones he wants, mostly green in color, and giving the rest back.

“Noob!” I’m called back to the main group for assignment. Same as before, stay a step behind and to his side. Watch his back and keep pace.

Tink.

Tink, Tink.

Our Raid leader’s hand goes up in a fist as we all stop and listen.

Tink, Tink, Tink. Like the sounds of little clay pots breaking when dropped.

My eyes are starting to burn like I’m cutting onions.

“EMPOWERED FIREBALL!”

“EMPOWERED FIREBALL!”

“Stop him! Now!” The Raid leader screams orders over the low muffled sound of explosions cascading, reverberating, and growing below us.

“EMPOWERED FIREBALL!” I watch as another scroll burns up in Art’s hands. The Packrats are all throwing the potions as fast as they can down at the compound. The intense light and heat from the blasts are lighting the cavern ceiling and the front half of Art. His back-half is in shadow and casting its flickering self larger than life on the cavern wall behind him.

Phaenippos unintentionally kicks and crushes one of the bottles underfoot as he launched himself in a shield bash to stop Art from casting more scrolls. The green gas cloud expands and is burning my face and eyes like extreme pepper spray.

Art is knocked back, but stays on this level and doesn’t fall to the compound below. Another scroll was burnt up in the half-cast and misfired into nothing.

Flames roar and burn on the dry bones below like kindling with the now-added howls and screams from the burning death below.