“Gods be damned, orc,” Stinky said, ripping one of the furs up from the floor and hurling it at me. “Cover yourself up already!”

The pelt hit me, and I had to double over to grab it before it hit the ground. Then I wrapped it around my waist and secured it snugly.

“Nice!” I exclaimed. “Much obliged, Stinky.”

“...Why does he refer to you as 'Stinky?'”

I looked up from my handiwork to see that the other stranger finally took this opportunity to speak. He regarded the yellow-fleshed matau with something like suspicion in his cool-gray eyes.

“Who’s this chump?” I asked, jabbing my thumb at the man. There was something about his tone I wasn’t really savvy on. It sounded…I dunno, haughty? Is that the word? Like a dick who thought he was better than everyone else.

Stinky shook his head in response to the man.

“That’s ‘cuz even though he jabbers like someone with basic fuckin’ brains, he ain’t got a whiff of any. That’s the best moniker he can cobble together.”

“Uh, no,” I interjected. “We’ve been over this. I call you that because you smell super…”

I paused, realizing that something had changed. While he was a bit beat up and bruised, the matau was no longer covered in the horrible plaster of literally vomit-inducing funky-gunk from when we first met. There wasn’t even a hint of his typical rank stench, either.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “Stinky, did you shower?”

“Fuck off, orc,” he hissed, drawing his dagger and pointing it at me. “It was a blessed respite not having your cloud of orcish calamity hanging over us this long. I should skin your—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I interrupted, pointing at his weapon. “This again!? Just use a fucking spear, douchebag!”

“I am called Derelynd,” Gray-hair said, finally catching up to my question and sounding offended. “And it would suit you well to reme—”

I stopped mid-row with Stinky and wheeled in place, staring at the slate-haired annoyance.

“Wait! Did you say Derelynd?” I asked, letting myself sound shocked.

This threw the man off guard, and his whole demeanor changed.

“Why…yes,” he said, relaxing his posture. “I take it you have heard word of me?”

“No—shut the fuck up.”

He instantly got all hot and bothered again, tightening his fists.

“You dare to...I—I…you think you can speak to me in that way!? I will eject you from this place most violently!”

I’ll take that to mean that he’s the dickwhistle magician that summoned this place into being.

“I can speak to you however I want, Darryl,” I said. “This is my house now. Got that? That means I’m the motherfuckin’ el Presidente of this casa. Lord of the Cottage. I’m Mayor McCheese, and you’re just some guy who has to clean the ball pit.”

“Do you think I could not...just evaporate this whole Spell around you, plunging you into the acidic pool beneath? By Paloma’s visage—this orc is insufferable!”

“Yeah, well, I may be insufferable, chief—but you’re pointless.”

“You will come to regret that more than you know, orc. Repent, and I shall show you mercy. Do you understand?”

I leaned toward his face.

“Plfp!” I’d stuck my tongue out and made a sharp, quick fart sound right at him. Then, just to be a dick, I pivoted away from him, refocusing on Stinky.

That oughta shut him up.

“Did you hear me? I said you’d regret that!” He continued.

Guess I spoke too soon.

“Back to you, Stinkster,” I said, ignoring the gray-haired man altogether. “I know you’ve got some sad backstory as to why you’re refusing to use something you’re good at, but it’s starting to look real stupid at this point.”

“Fuck you, orc!”

“Here et goes,” Frida muttered.

“I asked you a question,” the gray-haired man exclaimed. “I expect you to give dues.”

“So, reckon you two are an item, then?” Garth asked Rua.

“No, fuck you, Stinky. And you know what? Fuck your little knife, too. You think that you’d have learned your lesson after we almost—”

“No, we’re not. But—” Rua started.

“I said you must repent, scoundrel! This will—”

“ —died in the fuckin’ dungeon! Seriously, Stinky! What kind of shithead—”

“ —I’m not really interested in anything like that with Loon. We’re just old frie—”

“ENOUGH!”

At the thunderous bellow, everyone suddenly stopped.

I paused mid-argument to look at Jes, having not moved from his position lying back against the pillows, his splinted arms straight out. It still surprised me that a voice that deep could come from someone so frail-looking. The others also turned to the injured elf, the void of noise suddenly sharp now that there weren't a bunch of people shouting at once.

“This is unhelpful to our current predicament,” Jes said, adopting his usual direct speech---like he was a professor going over the semester syllabus. “Once again, Loon arrives, and everything erupts into abrupt, discordant pandemonium.”

The skinny elf looked at me sternly. No…wait. That was a glare. He was glaring at me! What the hell? Jes looked pissed as fuck, and I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t like it. It wasn’t his usual mild-disappointment, either. This seemed like…hatred.

“What are you doing in the stomach of this beast, Loon?” Jes asked. “Furthermore, why have you come here?”

“I, uh, came to rescue you guys?” I said uncertainly, not convinced that this was the correct answer. Jes had a way of doing that.

“I see,” he continued, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. “So, you—an individual of…”

His eyes went cloudy for a second---the obvious tell of someone looking at a display.

“...Level Ten thought that a judicious—”

“Yoor still only Level Ten?” Frida interrupted. “Why haven’t ye gone up? Ye was on the cusp o’ ‘Leven when we got here!”

I was going to answer, but Jes steamrolled through.

“ —that a judicious use of your time would be to climb inside this foul monstrosity and attempt the liberation of a party whose Levels are all well above your own?" Jes finally got out. "Is that what I am understanding?”

“Well, yeah. But—” I started, but he cut me off, still in his calm, icy tone.

“In doing so, however, you seem to have only succeeded in getting your clothing destroyed, your pride bruised, and yourself and this unfortunately naive elf injured.”

I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it seemed like he wanted a verbal cue, so I nodded.

“Sounds about righ—”

“Furthermore—and I am simply placing the pieces together—you have not managed to stop, wound, or even delay the oomukade queen in a meaningful or advantageous way. Nor, it seems, did you have a plan other than to flounder to the very spot where you now stand. Naked and argumentative.”

I sensed something else beneath the sharp barbs of his rebuke. He was building up to something, and I had a bad feeling about it. What the hell was his deal?

“So, you offer nothing more than ire, imbecility, and an additional two individuals for us to navigate with—spreading our vastly limited resources, skills, and energy even more thinly—so that we might ensure you also do not die inside this creature?”

“Well,” I said, then paused to see if he would interrupt me again. When he didn’t, I continued.

“That’s not exactly—”

"You are once more showing that---"

"Can I fuckin' talk for a second? Goddamn fuck, you're not allowing me to defend myself. Quit being a whiny little skid mark, and I'll explain."

“Shut. Your. Mouth, Loon,” Jes hissed, his eyes suddenly blazing with fury and his broken body trembling with anger.

“Jes…” Frida started, but he ignored her.

“You,” he continued, burrowing his gaze deep into me as if to dig my heart out of my chest with his corneas. “You have brought nothing but misfortune and fatal consequences upon our heads since first you assailed us with your blustering presence—and we are not the better for it.”

“Hey, now,” I started. “I think maybe you’re just crabby on account of your arms being busted into—”

“You were the cause of our broken, injured exodus from the Crypt. You were the catalyst for the unjust slaying of Calden, Merra, Dedyc, and Virgil. You were the one that our last bastion of hope was squandered on—coming back as you would, regardless of our efforts…”

He closed his eyes again as if he couldn’t even bear the thought of looking at me any longer.

“You are a blight,” he said softly but no less severely. “Infecting that which you inhabit, and corrupting all within your berth with your…abrasive existence. Our friends—my friends are gone. And you are to blame. I hope that knowledge festers within you like it has me. I am an elf out of his own time, and now I have few to carry the burden with me. Because of an orc called Loon.”

It was silent afterward, no one saying anything. Not even me.

He was right. I’d brought the ceiling down on everyone and created the mess that had killed the others. I’d been in this situation too often for it to be anything other than a pattern.

I’d been fighting off this line of thinking for days now, knowing my shame and sadness were still there, like a putrefying abscess. A curse had remained hovering over my head since the others’ deaths, and I’d been refusing to give it any strength until now.

But I was tired.

No matter what I did or what my intentions were, it seemed I couldn’t help but fuck everything up royally. I couldn’t keep that pace up—letting my actions spiral into unstoppable carnage and then attempting damage control.

Looking back at that day, Jes’s words were not what I needed to hear, but they were the ones I felt were most justified at that moment. I’d gotten Calden killed. Merra. Dedyc. Even if Virgil would return, his murder was still on my hands. Who knew where he’d end up when he revived or if he’d even be able to find his way back? Right there, I felt like a heavy shackle had been placed on me at that critical moment. I was an inescapable doom of my creation, knowing then that I was spoiled. I was the cause of so much strife to people I’d only just met, so how could those relationships improve?

I didn’t know—even then—that my feelings would change. But, even recalling this instance of my bleak mental state, I’m not a fan of spoilers. So, as rough as it might be, let me return to that state of mind.

Jes was speaking directly into my shattered confidence about what I’d done. I’d killed my friends. And more importantly: I’d killed his friends. I’d probably get everyone killed eventually.

Just like mom. Just like—

I felt an internal tug, as though my soul had a sweater string that could yank it into unraveling and was suddenly cut off from a...piece of existence? A line of comfort had snapped. I looked at Jes and noticed that Frida and Stinky did as well. They’d been notified. I saw the message pop up, and though it stung, I wasn’t surprised. It made sense. This was what I deserved. Less than I deserved, really.

Jesimir Carandalon has removed you from the party.

“You are no longer welcome among us,” Jes said.