In a previous article I looked into the practicality of building a Mage Tower for yourself. That was received fairly well, so I think I'll move onto my favorite class, the Artificer. Now, an Artificer doesn't necessarily need a tower as a base of operations, and given the somewhat more limited spell selection and 1/2 Caster nature, thought I'd focus more on the innate ability of an Artificer to be a small business owner by merits of Tool Proficiencies! Mundane and Magical Item are simple to make with all the Tool Proficiencies you are able to acquire at a relatively low level.
This guide could also be quite beneficial to Forge Clerics or any Wizard, Bard or Caster that knows Fabricate.
I recommend several resources to look up or familiarize yourself with before you take on this enterprising business opportunity.
1) Chapter 6 of the DMG features the Downtime Activity of Running a Business. It breaks down to 1d100+X, X being a number of downtime days that you spend running your business. If you can get above a 60 on the roll, congrats, your business makes a profit for that month.
2) Eberron: Rising from the Last War. You'll need this book if you want to play an Artificer.
3) Exploring Eberron presents two new Artificer Subclasses as well as a few new infusions I reference here, namely Healing Salve and Quiver of Energy.
4) Acquisition Incorporated is a great source for new rules to allow a business to be run while you continue to adventure, allowing a constant background stream of income to help fund future adventuring opportunities. You can use as many or as few options as you'd like, but the Hireling options to run the business in your absence are a nice touch.
5) If you don't want to use traditional Hirelings, but a more customizable NPC, you could use the Sidekick Options from the Essentials Kit and the upcoming Tasha's Cauldron of Everything. I will be recommending Sidekicks for each of the business models in the examples below.
6) Waterdeep: Dragon Heist gives basic operating costs for running a tavern and One-time and Recurring fees for Guild Memberships. Given the prominence of Guilds in Eberron and other settings, it is a good standard to use for other settings.
7) Xanathar's Guide to Everything has a fantastic breakdown of Artisan Tool uses and Skill Checks that will be immensely useful to Artificers or businessmen looking to practice a trade.
The following examples will be based on the following assumptions:
1) You will be running this business on your own.
2) You have options to get hirelings or other PC help should you want/need it.
3) You are level 6. This is the first level where a lot of this becomes feasible because you gain your Tool Expertise class feature and are now the best on the block at using Artisan Tools. You also gain a nice expansion to your Infusions that you can learn and I would think that knowing the Enhanced Weapon Infusion would count as having a schematic allowing you to enchant a basic +1 weapon.
4) We can use the upcoming Tasha's Rules for Character Creation on the Sidekicks so that you can swap out one Skill Proficiency for a Tool Proficiency. Wouldn't make sense to hire someone to run a weapon smithing shop who couldn't use Blacksmith Tools.
Feel free to submit your own business models using the following format:

• Business Focus
  
• Artificer Subclass or Subclasses best suited.
  
• Tool Proficiencies needed.
  
• Helpful Infusions. I include these here because I believe that having a relevant infusion should count as the required schematics necessary to create a magic item. I also think that they should definitely look different than the standard fare that traditional enchanters sell.
  
• Business location.
  
• Primary focus of business. What you will be selling or offering to customers.
  
• Common or Uncommon Magic Items to supplement mundane sales when you hit level 10 and can make them in 1/4 the normal time and 1/2 the price of anyone else.
  
• Sidekicks you could use in the business.
  
• Other Party members who could help you besides the Forge Cleric, Bards, Rogues or any Spellcaster that knows *Fabricate*. You can Assume that the above classes are inferred good business partners for any of the jobs listed below. This guide will be focusing on those with Tool Proficiencies from Class, as anyone could grab a Guild Member background and be helpful as well.
  

Businesses

Wandsmith/Arcane Focus Maker

• Artillerist. This subclass lends itself well to a Wandslinger and the level 5 class features give a lot of attention to the Wand.
  
• Armor of Tools, Woodcarver's Tools, Jeweler's Kit, Glassblower's Kit. Woodcarving for Wands, Rods and Staves. Jeweler's for Wands, and Crystals. Glassblower's for Orbs.
  
• Enhanced Arcane Focus, Replicate Magic Items (any common wands or staves, Wand of Magic Detection, Wand of Secrets), Homunculus Servant, Replicate Magic Item (Wand Sheath). The Enhanced Arcane Focus should lend you to easily make decent wands and even Infused Wands. Replicating Magic Items for schematics for easy to make Common Magic items to upsell to customers. Homunculus Servant for extra help around the shop.
  
• Cart, Wagon, Boat, Shop. You could have 2-3 wands on hand in a cart, a covered wagon with carving tools set up or even a section of a ship dedicated to making and selling your wares. If applicable, you could even buy a permanent location to sell your wares, this will be your best bet for glassblowing, as your toolkit still requires you to find a suitable heat source to form liquid glass. Work your way up to being your own Gilmore's Glorious Goods, Invulnerable Vagrant, or Fantasy Costco.
  
• At this location, Wands, Rods, Staves, Crystals and Orbs will be your meat and potatoes. Basic Spellcasting Foci for any aspiring Wizard, Sorcerer or Warlock. You could even branch out into Holy Symbols, and Druidic Foci if the demand is there. While a basic Spellcasting Focus only needs to be between 5gp and 20gp. These are easily made in a single day of downtime crafting. You could even customize more expensive version of them for Nobles or highly opinionated casters to distinguish yourself from other magic shops.
  
• Common and Uncommon Wands and Staves. Mostly Imbued Wands or Orbs of Resistance. Wands of Magic Missile, Burning Hands, Ice Knife, Catapult would all fall under these categories. Could even make a Common Wand that requires attunement, and grants the attuned the ability to cast a single Cantrip (always at Level 1) as a Novice Wandslinging item. Scrolls could be re-flavored as single use wands.
  
• For Sidekicks, an Expert would be great to help you churn out mundane items, while a Spellcaster would help you keep a steady stream of lower end Magic Items available.
  
• Eldritch Knights and Tome Warlocks would make great business partners. Eldritch Knights would probably push you to sell Rubies of War Mages also, bringing in a new area of clientele and the ability to advertise through Weaponsmiths for when they have some adventurers come through.
  

PainteSculptoGeneral Artisan

• Any Artificer
  
• Armor of Tools, Painter's Kits, Calligrapher's Kit, Glassblowers Kit, Woodcarver's Kit, Mason's Tools. These cover the gambit of common medium to work with.
  
• Homunculus Servant. Most other Infusions are combat based, but a Homunculus is a nice extra set of hands(tentacles or claws?) to help pass you the right tool and to clean off your brushes.
  
• Can work from Cart, Wagon, Boat or Shop. You might want a combo of Wagon and Shop, with a mobile studio to get different landscapes and to collect different material and a shop for a gallery from which to sell things.
  
• Paintings, Sculptures, Wood Carvings, Reliefs and finer doo-dads will be your main stock. From carvings of monsters that you've fought, self-portraits of people you've met, landscapes of other planes, or just finely made custom Dragonchess sets with pieces that look like real people. You could even specialize in ship figureheads or shop signs for taverns or other businesses. If you can find a way to make a permanent Magical Tinkering effect of the static visual image, that's a nice storefront display right there.
  
• Illusion enchanted paintings for a Harry Potter style feel would be good magical items, or even Dragonchess sets that can move themselves.
  
• Experts will probably get more mileage for the tool proficiencies than the Spellcaster unless your Enchanted portraits become a real hot commodity.
  
• Kensei Monks and Battlemaster Fighters each get proficiency in a set of Artisan's Tools as a Class Feature. Monks get Calligrapher's kit, but Battlemasters get to pick their choice, so could easily be Painter's or Woodcarver's.
  

Crossbow Manufacturer

• Battlesmith, Artillerist
  
• Armor of Tools, Woodcarver's Tools, Tinker's Tools, Smithing Tools, Carpenter's Tools. You will be mostly working with Wood and steel. Woodcarver's Tools lets you make 20 arrows as part of a Long Rest per Xanathar's.
  
• Repeating Shot, Quiver of Energy, Enhanced Weapon, Homunculus Servant. Enhanced Weapon for a reason to be able to make +1 crossbows. Quiver of Energy might be useful for some arrows that add a bit of elemental damage to a shot, even if only +1 fire or lightning.
  
• You can run a smaller shop out of a cart or wagon and be mostly custom orders, or you can have a fixed shot with dozens of different styles ready for sale and enchantment services on request.
  
• Hand, Light and Heavy crossbows as well as arrows and bolts will be your primary trade. You can also Silver arrows and bolts and filigree the crap out of some crossbows if people are interested in flaunting their status that way. Pretty straight forward with these mundane items.
  
• Walloping Ammunition, Unbreakable Arrows, Elemental Burst Arrows and Quivers of Ehlonna will be easy sources of magical flare in your shop.
  
• Experts will be your main shopkeepers and re-stockers. Warriors if you want someone to do demonstrations.
  
• Rangers, Arcane Archer Fighters, Kensei Monks will make excellent business partners. The Ranger especially brings a host of appropriate spells for later game enchanting. The Kensei will probably focus on more "traditional" Bows, which can help expand your clientele.
  

Potion Brewer

• Alchemist
  
• Brewer's Kit, Alchemist Supplies, Herbalism Kit, Poisoner's Kit. It is called out in Xanathar's Guide that an Herbalism Kit is required to make Healing Potions. So that's something you're definitely invest in. Also, in Xanathar's for .5lbs and 25gp of material, you can make one Alchemist Fire as part of a Long Rest with an Alchemist Supply Kit. That's not even counting what you can make during the day as Downtime. Stock up before you leave the city and you can make yourself one firebomb a night!
  
• Healing Salve and Homunculus Servant. Healing Salve is basically a 4 use touch range Healing Word you can make. This would be a great basis for Keoghtom's Ointment. I also feel like at this point I don't need to explain why Homunculus Servant keeps appearing on these lists.
  
• You could run this out of a cart or wagon, but i'd be worried about all those Alchemist Fire supplies rattling around. Same with a boat, unless you're just a Riverboat. A physical Shop would be best for what you need, although a cart/wagon for traveling with already made merchandise is a nice way to spread the brand name and to gather exotic or non-local supplies.
  
• Healing Potions! You are the local healer. You will also probably have on hand a good number of natural remedies for people who can't afford a constant stream of Healing Potions and instead use the Medicine Skill Proficiency to treat wounds. You can also make a single item of either Alchemist Fire, Acid, Antitoxin, perfume or soap as part of a Long Rest with an Alchemist's kit, so you can have a varied catalogue. makes sense to me that Sunrods (fantasy glow sticks) would be something you'd make with Alchemist's Supplies. You could even dip into Poison's, that wouldn't be advertised of course, but would include a bit of a premium on their sale for those in the need of such a thing.
  
• As you level up you can more easily make Potions of: Greater Healing, Fire Breath, Hill Giant Strength, Resistance and Water Breathing. You can also easily make an Alchemy Jug, which can make you day to day operations even cheaper as you can simply have the jug produce some of the more mundane liquids you may sell. The Decanter of Endless Water is also a must have item and too easy of a sale to anyone adventuring near or into a desert. Keoghtom's Ointment is also a nice Emergency Medicine that you could sell to a local Hospital or Militia.
  
• Expert's are your best bet at brewing basic potions for you and keeping the mundane supplies stocked. A Spellcaster would be able to expand your inventory with Climbing Potions, Beads of Nourishment, Beads of Refreshment, Candle's of the Deep, Perfume of Bewitching and Tankard's of Sobriety.
  
• Druids, Eldritch Knights, Monks and Rangers would be good partners as they can easily get Nature and Medicine proficiencies for a good number of the items that you make.
  

Tavern Owner

• Any Artificer, but strong lean to Alchemist due to class flavor.
  
• Brewer's Kit, Carpenter's Kit, Cook's Utensils, Alchemist Supplies, Herbalism Kit, Glassblowing Kit. The Brewer's Supplies should be obvious, but outside of the business, you can Purify1 gallon of Water over a Short Rest and 6 Gallons over a Long rest, a handy skill to have if you aren't near someplace with Fresh Water, like the open ocean. The Cook's Utensils are also a given with a Tavern, but outside of combat they allow a creature to regain 1 extra HP per Hit Dice they spend on a Short Rest. That may not sound like much, but it effectively makes each Hit Dice one higher on average (1d6+1 has the same average as 1d8). The Carpenter's Tools are so that you can fix all the furniture that will break during the inevitable bar fights. The Alchemist Supplies are actually for embalming creatures you encounter so you can have that Mindflayer Taxidermized as a display item in your bar! That's a feature I don't think any other local bar will have. Herbalism Kit is for working with hops, or branching into a bit of Potion Making if you want. Glassblowing is for you to make your own signature glassware that you can serve with the expensive drinks and offer as souvenirs.
  
• Homunculous Servant, Replicate Magic Item (Tankard of Sobriety). Tankard's of Sobriety seem like the perfect item for a bartender or bar owner. You can drink as much as you want but still stay sober. Might not be as much fun as regular drinking, but good for keeping your head about you and one hell of an advantage in a drinking contest.
  
• You could run this out of a Cart or Wagon as a kind of portable bar for just drinks. If you got a decent sized ship you could even expand it to a casino boat. However, a physical shop is the best choice here, specially if you plan to expand it to housing several rooms. Location is also key here, so make sure you spend some downtime doing some Investigation, Insight and History checks to learn all you can about potential locations you might set up.
  
• Beers, Wines, and Spirits of all kinds, with tasty food to boot! This is the stereotypical D&D Player business. There's an entire chapter of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist dedicated to setting up and running a tavern if you want inspiration. Feel free to include specials following your adventures of meat from creatures you've slain! Hydra-Burgers should be tasty.
  
• Mostly Wands of Prestidigitation and Decanter's of Endless Water for cleaning the bar and Alchemy Jugs for an easier way to produce cheap beer and wine with basically no overhead costs. Dust of Dryness might be nice to have on hand for cleaning up spills as well. Oh, and don't forget to keep a Wand of Magic Missiles behind the bar for those rowdy patrons.
  
• Spellcasters might make the best brewmasters of the sidekicks due to their increased Mental Stats. They can also help out with cleaning, and if they get to a point where they can Detect Poison and Disease, that would be a huge help come Health Inspection time. Experts will make good Brewers and can step up behind the bar to help out with their wide range of proficiencies. Warriors are good Bouncers and a way to take care of those pesky Dire Rats in the cellar.
  
• Way of the Drunken Fist Monks will either be a godsend or a curse for you as a business partner. Other Monks and Rangers would make a good partner as their naturally high Wisdom scores would help with Insight and Perception to keep an eye on patrons and employees. And no one is better in a bare knuckle brawl than a Monk, you could even put a fighting pit in your tavern if you want that kind of atmosphere, but I'd be sure to have a place to check weapons at the door so fights don't escalate too much outside of the fighting pit. Barbarians and Fighters have the CON to put down the drinks for Taste Testing and still being able to be a Bouncer. Beastmaster's can use their companion as a novelty server or even tavern mascot. And while I said I wouldn't include them on the list, I just have to say that any Bard would go here wonderfully.
  

Weaponsmith

• Battlesmith (It's in the name)
  
• Smithing Kit, Alchemist Supplies, Leather Working, Jeweler's Kit, Woodcarving Kit. The Smithing Kit and Woodcarving kit should be obvious as 95% of the weapons are made from metal or wood. The Leather Working Kit is for grips and wraps on the handles of weapons. Jeweler's Kit is for making fancy versions of weapons. Alchemist Supplies is for Silvering Weapons or using chemicals to stain the metal other colors.
  
• Homunculus Servant, Armor of Tools, Enhanced Weapon, Returning Weapon, Radiant Weapon, Replicate Magic Item (Moon-Touched Sword), Replicate Magic Item (Armblade). I think both the Radiant Weapon and Moon-Touched Sword Infusions would be good enough to count for the schematics to make Moon-Touched Swords for you. Enhanced Weapon for a basic +1 weapon.
  
• You need a forge for these, and that means that Carts and Wagons are only good for transporting completed merchandise to sell. The sheer weight needed for your forge makes a boat out of the question. Like the tavern, a physical location is the best bet for you.
  
• Anything that isn't a strictly ranged weapon is your stock and trade here. The most expensive mundane melee weapon is the Greatsword at 50gp. That means it will take you a full day (25gp) to make a single one. All other weapons can be made in a few hours. You'll also want to have some farming supplies and tools on hand in order to maximize your customer base. Hoes, pick axes, crowbars, buckets, barrels, Caltrops, Ball Bearings, metal religious symbols etc. Silvering Weapons and adding gold/silveelectrum/gemstone decorations to mundane items are a great way to offer wares to richer customers. Yes, Lord Grantham ir'Lupiloo has a fine rapier, but he doesn't have a rapier made of Bulette-scale Damascus steel, with a hydra skin wrapped pommel and his name engraved in gold embossed Draconic along the crossguard. That's how you make a name for yourself, because Lord Brendit ir'Flaglap is going to HAVE to have a nicer Longsword than that cur for next week's gala.
  
• Moon-Touched Blades, Weapons of Warning, +1 Weapons and a weapon with a single minor property from the table on page 143 in the DMG will be the easiest and fastest for you to replicate.
  
• The Expert and Warrior will be best for if you want mundane items being churned out of your forge. The Spellcaster would be a better hire if you want to focus on enchanted items. The difference in what you will be able to do will be based on your location. Rural areas will focus on mundane most likely, while cities will have more demand and client base for fancy mundane and enchanted.
  
• Fighters, Barbarians, Monks, Paladins and Blade Pact Warlocks would do great here as partners.
  

ClothieArmorer

• Armorer, Battlesmith
  
• Smithing Kit, Leatherworking, Weaver's Tools, Cobbler's Tools, Alchemist Supplies. SMithing and Leatherworking are straightforward. Weavers is for non-armor clothing if you want to instead open up a clothing boutique. Cobbler's tools for if you want to make shoes. Fun fact, with Cobbler's Tools you can spend a Long Rest to add in a 3" by 1" hidden compartment into a pair of shoes or boots.
  
• Homunculus Servant, Enhanced Armor, Reflecting Shield, Boots of the Winding Path, Armor of Absorption, Armor of Tools.
  
• You could do a clothing store, shoe repair and custom designing, make and sell leather armor, custom tailoring or a dry-cleaning business (Prestidigitation + Mending) out of a cart, wagon or boat, but for the same reasons as with a weaponsmith you need a physical location if you want to make metal armor. Make it work, people!
  
• Congratulations, you are now you party Rogue's favorite person and source of disguises. You'll have to decide the breadth and scope of just what kind of business you want to run first. Focus on just mundane clothing for commoners to nobles, or do a combination of common clothing and simple armors. Metal armors and shields will require a forge. If you are able to build yourself up, you could eventually do everything out of a large building with a little bit of everything like your own fantasy Macy's. One storefront for expensive dresses, gowns and suits. Next door is more common or work wear, and out back is the forge with protective armors, leathers and shields. This would be a nice way to ensure that all your armor pieces match, because nothing is worse than finding a great piece of new armor that just completely clashes with your personal aesthetic. This also to me just seems like a great way to play a Garrak like character. (If you don't know who that is, please see yourself over to Netflix or CBS All Access and watch all of Deep Space 9 as soon as possible.)
  
• Cloaks of Defense, Cloaks of Many Fashions, Cloaks of Billowing, Cloaks of Elvenkind, Cloaks of the Manta Ray, Sentinel Shields, Robes of Useful Items, Brooches of Shielding, Cast off Armor, Boots of Elvenkind, Gleaming Armor, Boots of the Winterlands, Winged Boots....there are so many thematic Common and Uncommon Magic Items for you to make here.
  
• Experts will be your go to for mundane sewing, forging and cobbling. Spellcasters if your enchanting business takes off and can run the Dry-cleaning aspect while you're gone.
  
• Rangers, Monks and Arcane Archers will do well here are they tend to favor DEX and WIS. Also, if you do end up going into a clothing business with a rogue and you don't name it "Cloak and Dagger" then I think you actually lose a Character Level.
  

Shipwright

• Any, but Battlesmiths and Armorers might do best as they would tend to have higher STR.
  
• Armor of Tools, Carpenter's Tools, Woodworking Tools, Smithing Tools, Navigation Tools. You're mostly going to be working with wood here, and a bit of metal also. Navigation Tools just seems like a good choice, unless you want the RP of being a master of building ships, and then being completely unable to use or navigate in them.
  
• Homunculus Servant, Replicate Magic Items (Cap of Water Breathing, Ring of Water Walking, Cloak of the Manta Ray). The Magic Items that you can replicate allow you to fully inspect or repair any ship while it is in the water.
  
• You're going to want a shop. Located next to a large body of water. And depending on the size of the ships you intend to build, it should also be connected to an ocean eventually. You could theoretically have this business from a boat, if you make a large enough ship that you could pull alongside other ships to repair them, but I think you're best off with a permanent location.
  
• As a Shipwright, you make ships! Boats, galleys, rowboats and everything in between. You'll want to start off with smaller boats first to build up your money until you can invest in making a large ship. According to the DMG, a Rowboat costs 50gp to make, a Keelboat costs 3,000gp a Sailing Ship or Longship costs 10,000gp and a Galley costs 30,000gp. Other than Rowboats, which you can make in a single day, these are going to be very long projects. From 120 days for a Keelboat to about 3.3 years for a Galley if you are working by yourself without any magical aid. Even if you do hire multiple sidekicks or just general hirelings, you aren't going to get paid until the entire job is done, but they will all need to be paid while they work on the ship. Instead of making brand new ships, you could also repair existing ones, and as an Artificer, you almost certainly have the Mending cantrip which can help you.
  
• Candle's of the Deep, Heward's Handy Spice Pouch, Orbs of Direction, Ropes of Mending, Alchemy Jugs, Caps of Water Breathing, Decanters of Endless (fresh)water, Eyes of the Eagle, Gloves of Swimming and Climbing and Wind Fans are all magic items that you could sell to shipowners and crews to help them in their travels. Ghosts of Saltmarsh also has a number of Ship Upgrades that you could offer.
  
• Experts are going to help you the most here as they can get the most amount of kit proficiencies to help across a variety of problems. Spellcasters can help if you decide for focus more on maritime magical goods.
  
• If you plan on building ships from scratch, then you are going to need every Forge Cleric and Fabricate Spell you can get your hands on. But be careful, if you are able to start churning out ships in a week for half the cost of the competition, then that is a LOT of people that you are putting out of business and there is sure to be repercussions. For a non-magical approach, just about every party has something that they can contribute to this project. Martial classes will DO WORK on cutting down lumber and getting that ship together. Partial Casters can help speed up certain aspects of building and augment others through buffs.
  

Updated for multiple spelling, grammar and formatting errors

Please Feel Free to Submit your own Business Ideas! I'll add them if they fit the stated format. Punny Shop names encouraged!

The Resurrection of the Flesh [Tr by Roses]

These first two tales published in Secret Weavers: Stories of the Fantastic by Women Writers of Argentina and Chile, edited by Marjorie Agosin (White Pine Press, 1992):

She was thirty-two, her name was Aurelia, and she had been married eleven years. One Saturday afternoon, she looked through the kitchen window at the garden and saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. Men of the world, those four horsemen of the Apocalypse. And good-looking. The first from the left was riding a sorrel horse with a dark mane. He was wearing white breeches, black boots, a crimson jacket, and a yellow fez with black pompoms. The second one had a sleeveless tunic overlaid with gold and violet and was barefoot. He was riding on the back of a plump dolphin. The third one had a respectable, black beard, trimmed at right angles. He had donned a gray Prince of Wales suit, white shirt, blue tie and carried a black leather portfolio. He was seated on a folding chair belted to the back of white-haired dromedary. The fourth one made Aurelia smile and realize that they were smiling at her. He was riding a black and gold Harley-Davidson 1200 and was wearing a white helmet and dark goggles and had long, straight, blond hair flying in the wind behind him. The four were riding in the garden without moving from the spot. They rode and smiled at her and she watched them through the kitchen window.
In that manner, she finished washing the two teacups, took off her apron, arranged her hair and went to the living room.
"I saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden," she told her husband.
"I'll bet," he said without raising his eyes from his paper.
"What are you reading?" Aurelia asked.
"Hmmm?"
"I said they were given a crown and a sword and a balance and power."
"Oh, right," said her husband.
And after that a week went by as all weeks do--very slowly at first and very quickly toward the end--and on Sunday morning, while she made the coffee, she again saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden, but when she went back to the bedroom she didn't say anything to her husband.
The third time she saw them, one Wednesday, alone, in the afternoon, she stood looking at them for a half hour and finally, since she had always wanted to fly in a yellow and red dirigible; and since she had dreamed about being an opera singer, an emperor's lover, a co-pilot to Icarus; since she would have liked to scale black cliffs, laugh at cannibals, traverse the jungles on elephants with purple trappings, seize with her hands the diamonds that lay hidden in mines, preside in the nude over a parade of nocturnal monsters, live under water, domesticate spiders, torture the powerful of the earth, rob trains in the tunnels of the Alps, set palaces on fire, lie in the dark with beggars, climb on the bridges of all the ships in the world; finally--since it was sadly sterile to be a rational and healthy adult--finally, that Wednesday afternoon alone, she put on the long dress she had worn at the last New Year's party given by the company where her husband was assistant sales manager and went out to the garden. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse called her, the blond one on the Harley-Davidson gave her his hand and helped her up onto the seat behind him, and there they went, all five, raging into the storm and singing.
Two days later her husband gave in to family pressure and reported the disappearance of his wife.
"Moral: madness is a flower aflame," said the narrator. Or in other words, it's impossible to inflame the dead, cold, viscous, useless, and sinful ashes of common sense.

The Perfect Married Woman

If you meet her on the street, cross quickly to the other side and quicken your pace. She’s a dangerous lady. She’s about forty or forty-five, has one married daughter and a son working in San Nicolas; her husband’s a sheet-metal worker. She rises very early, sweeps the sidewalk, sees her husband off, cleans, does the wash, shops, cooks. After lunch she watches television, sews or knits, irons twice a week, and at night goes to bed late. On Saturdays she does a general cleaning and washes windows and waxes the floors. On Sunday mornings she washes the clothes her son brings home—his name is Nestor Eduardo—she kneads dough for noodles or ravioli, and in the afternoon either her sister-inlaw comes to visit or she goes to her daughter’s house. It’s been a long time since she’s been to the movies, but she reads TV Guide and the police report in the newspaper. Her eyes are dark and her hands are rough and her hair is starting to go gray. She catches cold frequently and keeps a photo album in a dresser drawer along with a black crepe dress with lace collar and cuffs.
Her mother never hit her. But when she was six, she got a spanking for coloring on a door, and she had to wash it off with a wet rag. While she was doing it, she thought about doors, all doors, and decided that they were very dumb because they always led to the same places. And the one she was cleaning was definitely the dumbest of all, the one that led to her parents’ bedroom. She opened the door and then it didn’t go to her parents’ bedroom but to the Gobi desert. She wasn’t surprised that she knew it was the Gobi desert even though they hadn’t even taught her in school where Mongolia was and neither she nor her mother nor her grandmother had ever heard of Nan Shan or Khangai Nuru.
She stepped through the door, bent over to scratch the yellowish grit and saw that there was no one, nothing, and the hot wind tousled her hair, so she went back through the open door, closed it and kept on cleaning. And when she finished, her mother grumbled a little more and told her to wash the rag and take the broom to sweep up that sand and clean her shoes. That day she modified her hasty judgment about doors, though not completely, at least not until she understood what was going on.
What had been going on all her life and up until today was that from time to time doors behaved satisfactorily, though in general they were still acting dumb and leading to dining rooms, kitchens, laundry rooms, bedrooms and offices even in the best of circumstances. But two months after the desert, for example, the door that every day led to the bath opened onto the workshop of a bearded man dressed in a long uniform, pointed shoes, and a cap that tilted on one side of his head. The old man’s back was turned as he took something out of a highboy with many small drawers behind a very strange, large wooden machine with a giant steering wheel and screw, in the midst of cold air and an acrid smell. When he turned around and saw her he began to shout at her in a language she didn’t understand.
She stuck out her tongue, dashed out the door, closed it, opened it again, went into the bathroom and washed her hands for lunch.
Again, after lunch, many years later, she opened the door of her room and walked into a battlefield. She dipped her hands in the blood of the wounded and dead and pulled from the neck of a cadaver a crucifix that she wore for a long time under high-necked blouses or dresses without plunging necklines. She now keeps it in a tin box underneath the nightgowns with a brooch, a pair of earrings and a broken wristwatch that used to belong to her mother-in-law. In the same way, involuntarily and by chance, she visited three monasteries, seven libraries, and the highest mountains in the world, and who knows how many theaters, cathedrals, jungles, refrigeration plants, dens of vice, universities, brothels, forests, stores, submarines, hotels, trenches, islands, factories, palaces, hovels, towers and hell.
She’s lost count and doesn’t care; any door could lead anywhere and that has the same value as the thickness of the ravioli dough, her mother’s death, and the life crises that she sees on TV and reads about in TV Guide.
Not long ago she took her daughter to the doctor, and seeing the closed door of a bathroom in the clinic, she smiled. She wasn’t sure because she can never be sure, but she got up and went to the bathroom. However, it was a bathroom; at least there was a nude man in a bathtub full of water. It was all very large, with a high ceiling, marble floor and decorations hanging from the closed windows. The man seemed to be asleep in his white bathtub, short but deep, and she saw a razor on a wrought iron table with feet decorated with iron flowers and leaves and ending in lion’s paws, a razor, a mirror, a curling iron, towels, a box of talcum powder and an earthen bowl with water. She approached on tiptoe, retrieved the razor, tiptoed over to the sleeping man in the tub and beheaded him. She threw the razor on the floor and rinsed her hands in the lukewarm bathtub water. She turned around when she reached the clinic corridor and spied a girl going into the bathroom through the other door. Her daughter looked at her.
“That was quick.”
“The toilet was broken,” she answered.
A few days afterward, she beheaded another man in a blue tent at night. That man and a woman were sleeping mostly uncovered by the blankets of a low, king-size bed, and the wind beat around the tent and slanted the flames of the oil lamps. Beyond it there would be another camp, soldiers, animals, sweat, manure, orders and weapons. But inside there was a sword by the leather and metal uniforms, and with it she cut off the head of the bearded man. The woman stirred and opened her eyes as she went out the door on her way back to the patio that she had been mopping.
On Monday and Thursday afternoons, when she irons shirt collars, she thinks of the slit necks and the blood, and she waits. If it’s summer she goes out to sweep a little after putting away the clothing and until her husband arrives. If it’s windy she sits in the kitchen and knits. But she doesn’t always find sleeping men or staring cadavers. One rainy morning, when she was twenty, she was at a prison, and she made fun of the chained prisoners; one night when the kids were kids and were all living at home, she saw in a square a disheveled woman looking at a gun but not daring to take it out of her open purse. She walked up to her, put the gun in the woman’s hand and stayed there until a car parked at the corner, until the woman saw a man in gray get out and look for his keys in his pocket, until the woman aimed and fired. And another night while she was doing her sixth grade geography homework, she went to look for crayons in her room and stood next to a man who was crying on a balcony. The balcony was so high, so far above the street, that she had an urge to push him to hear the thud down below, but she remembered the orographic map of South America and was about to leave. Anyhow, since the man hadn’t seen her, she did push him and saw him disappear and ran to color in the map so she didn’t hear the thud, only the scream. And in an empty theater, she made a fire underneath the velvet curtain; in a riot she opened the cover to a basement hatchway; in a house, sitting on top of a desk, she shredded a two-thousand-page manuscript; in a clearing of a forest she buried the weapons of the sleeping men; in a river she opened the floodgates of a dike.
Her daughter’s name is Laura Inés, her son has a fiancée in San Nicolás and he’s promised to bring her over on Sunday so she and her husband can meet her. She has to remind herself to ask her sister-in-law for the recipe for orange cake, and Friday on TV is the first episode of a new soap opera. Again, she runs the iron over the front of the shirt and remembers the other side of the doors that are always carefully closed in her house, that other side where the things that happen are much less abominable than the ones we experience on this side, as you can easily understand.

The Unmistakable Smell of Wood Violets [Tr by Womack]

Translated for the first time in Ann and Jeff Vandermeer's Big Book of Science Fiction (Vintage, 2016):

The news spread fast. It would be correct to say that the news moved like a flaming trail of gunpowder, if it weren't for the fact that at this point in our civilization gunpowder was archaeology, ashes in time, the stuff of legend, nothingness. However, it was because of the magic of our new civilization that the news was known all over the world, practically instantaneously.
"Oooh!" the tsarina said.
You have to take into account that Her Gracious and Most Illustrious Virgin Majesty Ekaterina V, Empress of Holy Russia, had been carefully educated in the proper decorum befitting the throne, which meant that she would never have even raised an eyebrow or curved the corner of her lip, far less would she have made an interjection of that rude and vulgar kind. But not only did she say "Oooh!," she also got up and walked through the room until she reached the glass doors of the great balcony. She stopped there. Down below, covered by snow, Saint Leninburg was indifferent and unchanged, the city's eyes squinting under the weight of winter. At the palace, ministers and advisers were excited, on edge.
"And where is this place?" the tsarina asked.
And that is what happened in Russia, which is such a distant and atypical country. In the central states of the continent, there was real commotion. In Bolivia, in Paraguay, in Madagascar, in all the great powers, and in the countries that aspired to be great powers, such as High Peru, Iceland, or Morocco, hasty conversations took place at the highest possible level with knitted brows and hired experts. The strongest currencies became unstable: the guarani rose, the Bolivian peso went down half a point, the crown was discreetly removed from the exchange rates for two long hours, long queues formed in front of the exchanges in front of all the great capitals of the world. President Morillo spoke from the Oruro Palace and used the opportunity to make a concealed warning (some would call it a threat) to the two Peruvian republics and the Minas Gerais secessionist area. Morillo had handed over the presidency of Minas to his nephew, Pepe Morillo, who had proved to be a wet blanket whom everybody could manipulate, and now Morillo bitterly regretted his decision. Morocco and Iceland did little more than give their diplomats a gentle nudge in the ribs, anything to shake them into action, as they imagined them all to be sipping grenadine and mango juice in the deep south while servants in shiny black uniforms stood over them with fans.
The picturesque note came from the Independent States of North America. It could not have been otherwise. Nobody knew that all the states were now once again under the control of a single president, but that's how it was: some guy called Jack Jackson-Franklin, who had been a bit-part actor in videos, and who, aged eighty-seven, had discovered his extremely patriotic vocation of statesman. Aided by his singular and inexplicable charisma, and by his suspect family tree, according to which he was the descendent of two presidents who had ruled over the states during their glory days, he had managed to unify, at least for now, the seventy-nine northern states. Anyway, Mr. Jackson-Franklin said to the world that the Independent States would not permit such a thing to take place. No more, just that they would not permit such a thing to take place. The world laughed uproariously at this.
Over there, in the Saint Leninburg palace, ministers cleared their throats, advisers swallowed saliva, trying to find out if, by bobbing their Adam's apples up and down enough, they might be able to loosen their stiff official shirts.
"Ahem. Ahem. It's in the south. A long way to the south. In the west, Your Majesty."
"It is. Humph. Ahem. It is, Your Majesty, a tiny country in a tiny territory."
"It says that it is in Argentina," the tsarina said, still staring through the window but without paying any attention to the night as it fell over the snow-covered roofs and the frozen shores of the Baltic.
"Ah, yes, that's right, that's right, Your Majesty, a pocket republic."
Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov, some kind of councilor and, what is more, an educated and sensible man, broke into the conversation.
"Several, Your Majesty, it is several."
And at last the tsarina turned around. Who cared a fig for the Baltic night, the snow-covered rooftops, the roofs themselves, and the city of which they were a part? Heavy silk crackled, starched petticoats, lace.
"Several of what, Councilor Kustkarov, several of what? Don't come to me with your ambiguities."
"I must say, Your Majesty, I had not the slightest intention--"
"Several of what?"
The tsarina looked directly at him, her lips held tightly together, her hands moving unceasingly, and Kustkarov panicked, as well he might.
"Rep-rep-republics, Your Majesty," he blurted out. "Several of them. Apparently, a long time ago, a very long time, it used to be a single territory, and now it is several, several republics, but their inhabitants, the people who live in all of them, all of the republics, are called, they call themselves, the people, that is, Argentinians."
The tsarina turned her gaze away. Kustkarov felt so relieved that he was encouraged to carry on speaking:
"There are seven of them, Your Majesty: Rosario, Entre dos Rios, Ladocta, Ona, Riachuelo, Yujujuy, and Labodegga."
The tsarina sat down.
"We must do something," she said.
Silence. Outside it was not snowing, but inside it appeared to be. The tsarina looked at the transport minister.
"This enters into your portfolio," she said.
Kustkarov sat down, magnificently. How lucky he was to be a councilor, a councilor with no specific duties. The transport minister, on the other hand, turned pale.
"I think, Your Majesty...," he dared to say.
"Don't think! Do something!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the minister said, and, bowing, started to make his way to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" the tsarina said, without moving her mouth or twitching an eyelid.
"I'm just, I'm going, I'm just going to see what can be done, Your Majesty."
There's nothing that can be done, Sergei Vasilievich thought in delight, nothing. He realized that he was not upset, but instead he felt happy. And on top of everything else a woman, he thought. Kustkarov was married to Irina Waldoska-Urtiansk, a real beauty, perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of Holy Russia. Perhaps he was being cuckolded; it would have been all too easy for him to find that out, but he did not want to. His thoughts turned in a circle: and on top of everything else a woman. He looked at the tsarina and was struck, not for the first time, by her beauty. She was not so beautiful as Irina, but she was magnificent.
In Rosario it was not snowing, not because it was summer, although it was, but because it never snowed in Rosario. And there weren't any palm trees: the Moroccans would have been extremely disappointed had they known, but their diplomats said nothing about the Rosario flora in their reports, partly because the flora of Rosario was now practically nonexistent, and partly because diplomats are supposed to be above that kind of thing.
Everyone who was not a diplomat, that is to say, everyone, the population of the entire republic that in the last ten years had multiplied vertiginously and had now reached almost two hundred thousand souls, was euphoric, happy, triumphant. They surrounded her house, watched over her as she slept, left expensive imported fruits outside her door, followed her down the street. Some potentate allowed her the use of a Ford 99, which was one of the five cars in the whole country, and a madman who lived in the Espinillos cemetery hauled water all the way up from the Pará lagoon and grew a flower for her which he then gave her.
"How nice," she said, then went on, dreamily, "Will there be flowers where I'm going?"
They assured her that there would be.
She trained every day. As they did not know exactly what it was she had to do to train herself, she got up at dawn, ran around the Independence crater, skipped, did some gymnastic exercises, ate little, learned how to hold her breath, and spent hours and hours sitting or curled into strange positions. She also danced the waltz. She was almost positive that the waltz was not likely to come in handy, but she enjoyed it very much.
Meanwhile, farther away, the trail of gunpowder had become a barrel of dynamite, although dynamite was also a legendary substance and didn't exist. The infoscreens in every country, whether poor or rich, central or peripheral, developed or not, blazed forth with extremely large headlines suggesting dates, inventing biographical details, trying to hide, without much success, their envy and confusion. No one was fooled:
"We have been wretchedly beaten," the citizens of Bolivia said.
"Who would have thought it," pondered the man on the Reykjavík omnibus.
The former transport minister of Holy Russia was off breaking stones in Siberia. Councilor Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov was sleeping with the tsarina, but that was only a piece of low, yet spicy, gossip that has nothing to do with this story.
"We will not allow this to happen!" Mr. Jackson-Franklin blustered, tugging nervously at his hairpiece. "It is our own glorious history that has set aside for us this brilliant destiny! It is we, we and not this despicable banana republic, who are marked for this glory!"
Mr. Jackson-Franklin also did not know that there were no palm trees or bananas in Rosario, but this was due not to a lack of reports from his diplomats but rather a lack of diplomats. Diplomats are a luxury that a poor country cannot afford, and so poor countries often go to great pains to take offense and recall all the knights commanders and lawyers and doctors and even eventually the generals working overseas, in order to save money on rent and electricity and gas and salaries, not to mention the cost of the banquets and all the money in brown paper envelopes.
But the headlines kept on appearing on the infoscreens: "Argentinian Astronaut Claims She Will Reach Edge of Universe," "Sources Claim Ship Is Spaceworthy in Spite of or Because of Centuries-Long Interment," "Science or Catastrophe?," "Astronaut Not a Woman but a Transsexual" (this in the Imperialskaya Gazeta, the most puritan of the infoscreens, even more so than the Papal Piccolo Osservatore Lombardo), "Ship Launches," "First Intergalactic Journey in Centuries," "We Will Not Allow This to Happen!" (Portland Times).
She was dancing the waltz. She woke up with her heart thumping, tried out various practical hairstyles, ran, skipped, drank only filtered water, ate only olives, avoided spies and journalists, went to see the ship every day, just to touch it. The mechanics all adored her.
"It'll work, they'll see, it'll work," the chief engineer said defiantly.
Nobody contradicted him. No one dared say that it wouldn't.
It would make it, of course it would make it. Not without going through many incredible adventures on its lengthy journey. Lengthy? No one knew who Langevin was anymore, so no one was shocked to discover that his theory contradicted itself, ended up biting its own tail, and that however long the journey took, the observers would only perceive it as having lasted minutes. Someone called Cervantes, a very famous personage back in the early years of human civilization--it was still debated whether he had been a physicist, a poet, or a musician--had suggested a similar theory in one of his lost works.
One autumn dawn the ship took off from the Independence crater, the most deserted part of the whole desert republic of Rosario, at five forty-five in the morning. The exact time is recorded because the inhabitants of the country had all pitched in together to buy a clock, which they thought the occasion deserved (there was one other clock, in the Enclosed Convent of the Servants of Santa Rita de Casino, but because the convent was home to an enclosed order nothing ever went in or out of it, no news, no requests, no answers, no nothing). Unfortunately, they had not had enough money. But then someone had had the brilliant idea which had brought in the money they needed, and Rosario had hired out its army for parades in friendly countries: there weren't that many of them and the ones there were weren't very rich, but they managed to get the cash together. Anyone who was inspired by patriotism and by the proximity of glory had to see those dashing officers, those disciplined soldiers dressed in gold and crimson, protected by shining breastplates, capped off with plumed helmets, their catapults and pouches of stones at their waists, goose-stepping through the capital of Entre Dos Rios or the Padrone Giol vineyards in Labodegga, at the foot of the majestic Andes.
The ship blasted off. It got lost against the sky. Before the inhabitants of Rosario, their hearts in their throats and their eyes clouded by emotion, had time to catch their breath, a little dot appeared up there, getting bigger and bigger, and it was the ship coming back down. It landed at 06:11 on the same morning of that same autumn day. The clock that recorded this is preserved in the Rosario Historical Museum. It no longer works, but anyone can go and see it in its display cabinet in Room A of the Museum. In Room B, in another display case, is the so-called Carballensis Indentic Axe, the fatal tool that cut down all the vegetation of Rosario and turned the whole country into a featureless plain. Good and evil, side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Twenty-six minutes on Earth, many years on board the ship. Obviously, she did not have a watch or a calendar with her: the republic of Rosario would not have been able to afford either of them. But it was many years, she knew that much.
Leaving the galaxy was a piece of cake. You can do it in a couple of jumps, everyone knows that, following the instructions that Albert Einsteinstein, the multifaceted violin virtuoso, director of sci-fi movies, and student of space-time, gave us a few hundred years back. But the ship did not set sail to the very center of the universe, as its predecessors had done in the great era of colonization and discovery; no, the ship went right to the edge of the universe.
Everyone also knows that there is nothing in the universe, not even the universe itself, which does not grow weaker as you reach its edge. From pancakes to arteries, via love, rubbers, photographs, revenge, bridal gowns, and power. Everything tends to imperceptible changes at the beginning, rapid change afterward; everything at the edge is softer and more blurred, as the threads start to fray from the center to the outskirts.
In the time it took her to take a couple of breaths, a breath and a half, over the course of many years, she passed through habitable and uninhabitable places, worlds which had once been classified as existent, worlds which did not appear and had never appeared and probably would never appear in any cartographical survey. Planets of exiles, singing sands, minutes and seconds in tatters, whirlpools of nothingness, space junk, and that's without even mentioning those beings and things, all of which stood completely outside any possibility of description, so much so that we tend not to perceive them when we look at them; all of this, and shock, and fear more than anything else, and loneliness. The hair grew gray at her temples, her flesh lost its firmness, wrinkles appeared around her eyes and her mouth, her knees and ankles started to act up, she slept less than before and had to half close her eyes and lean backward in order to make out the numbers on the consoles. And she was so tired that it was almost unbearable. She did not waltz any longer: she put an old tape into an old machine and listened and moved her gray head in time with the orchestra.
She reached the edge of the universe. Here was where everything came to an end, so completely that even her tiredness disappeared and she felt once again as full of enthusiasm as she had when she was younger. There were hints, of course: salt storms, apparitions, little brushstrokes of white against the black of space, large gaps made of sound, echoes of long-dead voices that had died giving sinister orders, ash, drums; but when she reached the edge itself, these indications gave way to space signage: "End," "You Are Reaching the Universe Limits," "The Cosmos General Insurance Company, YOUR Company, Says: GO NO FURTHER," "End of Protected Cosmonaut Space," etc., as well as the scarlet polygon that the OMUU had adopted to use as a sign for that's it, abandon all hope, the end.
All right, so she was here. The next thing to do was go back. But the idea of going back never occurred to her. Women are capricious creatures, just like little boys: as soon as they get what they want, then they want something else. She carried on.
There was a violent judder as she crossed the limit. Then there was silence, peace, calm. All very alarming, to tell the truth. The needles did not move, the lights did not flash, the ventilation system did not hiss, her alveoli did not vibrate, her chair did not swivel, the screens were blank. She got up, went to the portholes, looked out, saw nothing. It was logical enough:
"Of course," she said to herself, "when the universe comes to an end, then there's nothing."
She looked out through the portholes a little more, just in case. She still could see nothing, but she had an idea.
"But I'm here," she said. "Me and the ship."
She put on a space suit and walked out into the nothing.
When the ship landed in the Independence crater in the republic of Rosario, twenty-six minutes after it had taken off, when the hatch opened and she appeared on the ramp, the spirit of Paul Langevin flew over the crater, laughing fit to burst. The only people who heard him were the madman who had grown the flower for her in the Espinillos cemetery and a woman who was to die that day. No one else had ears or fingers or tongue or feet, far less did they have eyes to see him.
It was the same woman who had left, the very same, and this calmed the crowds down at the same time as it disappointed them, all the inhabitants of the country, the diplomats, the spies, and the journalists. It was only when she came down the gangplank and they came closer to her that they saw the network of fine wrinkles around her eyes. All other signs of her old age had vanished, and had she wished, she could have waltzed tirelessly, for days and nights on end, from dusk till dawn till dusk.
The journalists all leaned forward; the diplomats made signals, which they thought were subtle and unseen, to the bearers of their sedan chairs to be ready to take them back to their residences as soon as they had heard what she had to say; the spies took photographs with the little cameras hidden away in their shirt buttons or their wisdom teeth; all the old people put their hands together; the men raised their fists to their heart; the little boys pranced; the young girls smiled.
And then she told them what she had seen:
"I took off my suit and my helmet," she said, "and walked along the invisible avenues that smelled of violets."
She did not know that the whole world was waiting to hear what she said; that Ekaterina V had made Sergei Vasilievich get up at five o'clock in the morning so that he could accompany her to the grand salon and wait there for the news; that one of the seventy-nine Northern States had declared its independence because the president had not stopped anything from happening or obtained any glory, and this had lit the spark of rebellion in the other seventy-eight states, and this had made Mr. Jackson-Franklin leave the White House without his wig, in pajamas, freezing and furious; that Bolivia, Paraguay, and Iceland had allowed the two Peruvian republics to join their new alliance and defense treaty set up against a possible attack from space; that the high command of the Paraguayan aeronautical engineers had promised to build a ship that could travel beyond the limits of the universe, always assuming that they could be granted legal immunity and a higher budget, a declaration that made the guarani fall back the two points that it had recently risen and then another one as well; that Don Schicchino Giol, the new padrone of the Republic of Labodegga at the foot of the majestic Andes had been woken from his most recent drinking bout to be told that he had now to sign a declaration of war against the Republic of Rosario, now that they knew the strength of the enemy's forces.
"Eh? What? Hunh?" Don Schicchino said.
"I saw the nothingness of everything," she said, "and it was all infused with the unmistakable smell of wood violets. The nothingness of the world is like the inside of a stomach throbbing above your head. The nothingness of people is like the back of a painting, black, with glasses and wires that release dreams of order and imperfect destinies. The nothingness of creatures with leathery wings is a crack in the air and the rustle of tiny feet. The nothingness of history is the massacre of the innocents. The nothingness of words, which is a throat and a hand that break whatever they touch on perforated paper; the nothingness of music, which is music. The nothingness of precincts, of crystal glasses, of seams, of hair, of liquids, of lights, of keys, of food."
When she had finished her list, the potentate who owned the Ford 99 said that he would give it to her, and that in the afternoon he would send one of his servants with a liter of naphtha so that she could take the car out for a spin.
"Thank you," she said. "You are very generous."
The madman went away, looking up to the skies; who knows what he was searching for. The woman who was going to die that day asked herself what she should eat on Sunday, when her sons and their wives came to lunch. The president of the Republic of Rosario gave a speech.
And everything in the world carried on the same, apart from the fact that Ekaterina V named Kustkarov her interior minister, which terrified the poor man but which was welcomed with open arms by Irina as an opportunity for her to refresh her wardrobe and her stock of lovers. And Jack Jackson-Franklin sold his memoirs to one of Paraguay's more sophisticated magazines for a stellar amount of money, which allowed him to retire to live in Imerina. And six spaceships from six major world powers set off to the edges of the universe and were never seen again.
She married a good man who had a house with a balcony, a white bicycle, and a radio which, on clear days, could pick up the radio plays that LLL1 Radio Magnum transmitted from Entre Dos Rios, and she waltzed in white satin shoes. The day that her first son was born a very pale green shoot grew out of the ground on the banks of the great lagoon.

I was eighteen when I met Reyna. I'd been at a local bar called Jerry's by myself since my friends had left me hanging. I was using a fake ID, not that I really needed it unless there were cops around. The bartender was the kind of guy who would let you have the booze if you could pay. He did have some rules, though. If you were under sixteen you'd get booted out of the bar real quick and he'd call your parents, and you weren't allowed to cause any problems with the other patrons or the same thing would happen.
I was always a usual since it was the laxest place in town, but I had bar-hopped before. Most of the places just didn't click with me. I needed a good vibe in order to drink. This was a night where not a lot of people were around, but those that were there were the usual old drunks. All aside from one.
I noticed her before she noticed me, and she was absolutely beautiful. Her scarlet hair practically glowed under the dim bar lights, and she was wearing a really expensive-looking dress. There was a small purse with a thin strap over her shoulder and I recognized the Louis Vuitton logo on it. I was curious about her, since the town I was living in was pretty small and not very rich. I guessed she must've been from out of town or something. She looked like she might've been nineteen or twenty, but the way she sat made her look older and more mature.
I didn't realize I'd been staring at her until she looked at me point blank with an eyebrow raised and a curious smile across her face. In the next moment she slipped off of her stool and started walking towards me. Okay, don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Stay cool, I thought nervously. My palms were sweating and I felt a lump develop in my throat. She took the seat beside me and ordered two shots. The bartender placed the shots in front of her, and she pushed one over to me. I just stared at it for a moment before looking at her. She raised her eyebrow again, "Are you going to drink it or just stare at it all night?"
I wasn't really a vodka person, but the fact that this beautiful girl had just bought me a drink rather than it being vice-versa made me feel a sense of obligation. I downed the drink and it left a burning sensation in the back of my throat. The girl smiled and downed her own shot, but it didn't look as though it had fazed her. "So... You aren't much of a vodka person, huh?"
I was slightly shocked by her statement, but I guessed I must've made a face or something. Her voice had been soft like velvet. I nodded, "Yeah, I usually like whiskey or beer or sometimes gin."
She shrugged, but the motion coming from her looked so graceful, "I understand. I don't much care for this brand, either."
I tried to think of something smooth to say but all that came out was, "Do you come here often?"
She laughed, but her smile quickly fell, "Really? That's your opening line? And here I was expecting something a little more interesting from you."
I shook my head, "No, no, no... I was really curious. I haven't seen you in this bar before, and I'm one of the usual customers."
Her smile returned and she nodded, "Well, then my answer is no. I've only been to this place a handful of times and you've never been here when I am. Perhaps fate has brought us together this evening. I'm Reyna."
I smiled, "I'm Todd..." I sighed, "Maybe you're right. I was considering going over to Mary's but changed my mind last minute."
She nodded, "I can understand why. You seem to be quite at ease here... but not completely."
I frowned, "What do you mean?"
She opened her purse and drew a cigarette and lighter, offering one to me, but I declined. She shrugged and lit her cigarette before continuing, "Your demeanor is calm but until I came over you were sitting very stiffly. You're worried about the cops coming in here and catching you, even if you don't realize it yourself. You'd have no cause for any concern if we were at the Crimson Cabaret."
"The Crimson what now?" I asked.
She shook her head, "Just my favorite bar. It's not too far from here and it's a bit of a tourist destination, but I enjoy it. See, police don't typically show up at that bar, but even when they do... Sixteen, eighteen, twenty, it doesn't matter. They don't care. You could even walk in being thirteen years old and you'd get away with drinking. Hell, they'd probably buy a round for you."
I was skeptical with the way she was hyping up this bar. Sure, everyone had their favorite place to hang and drink, and you always wanted to believe your place was better than anyone else's. Still, the fact that I'd never heard of the place being the bar-hopper I was made me feel like this was sort of sketch. "Right... So why bother bringing up this place?"
Reyna smiled and shrugged, "Being such an avid bar-hopper, I'd figure you'd like a place where you can be most at ease. I used to be a lot like you until I found the Cabaret. It's a really nice place, but it's also very expensive unless you go in with a member." She placed her hand on my shoulder, "I could show you."
I felt a shiver run up my spine from the warmth of her hand and smiled, "Ah... Um, no, I don't think so. I... I need to go home and get some sleep. You see, I have work in the morning and--"
Reyna removed her hand from my shoulder and shook her head, "It's alright. I shouldn't have been so forward with you." She frowned, "You remind me a lot of myself, honestly. I... I used to drink because of my boyfriend. You're drinking because of Cecilia, aren't you?"
My heart sank at this comment. Not because she knew my girlfriend by name, but... Because she was right. Cecilia and I had been dating since Freshman year of high school and at first things had been really great, but... Eventually they weren't? I don't know why it happened or how, but it happened. And she started cheating on me. I didn't break up with her, though. Once again I don't know why. I guess it was just because we'd been together for such a long time and I couldn't imagine my life without her.
No... No, that wasn't it. It was because of convenience. I was there to fulfill her needs whenever she wasn't out with other guys and she did the same for me. It wasn't healthy and it certainly wasn't because we cared about each other. We just were with one another. I never cheated on her because I was just a faithful guy. I wasn't above innocently flirting with girls now and again at parties or bars, but that was as far as I took it.
I sighed and nodded, "Yeah. We, uh, we don't exactly see eye to eye with each other anymore. But at least it's a relationship."
Reyna shook her head, "No, Todd, it's not a relationship. Call it a dependency, a multiple-night stand, but it's not a relationship. Not really." She put her hand back on my shoulder, but this time I wasn't so stiff at the motion. "You shouldn't have to live like this." She smiled, "Come to the Cabaret with me. Just as friends. We'll have some drinks and talk for awhile. You'll have so much fun you won't want to leave. What do you say?"
Something about Reyna talking to me in that understanding sweet tone... It made me feel like I could trust her with anything. That going and getting some drinks at this bar of hers didn't sound like a bad idea. I smiled and nodded, "Alright. Let's go."
I don't know why I decided to go with Reyna in her car. I guess... it was because I thought I'd had too much to drink? I don't know, but Reyna had a really nice car and it was pretty cool to be riding in it. We arrived at the bar which was quite a few miles outside of town through a thick blanket of fog, but the place looked really nice on the outside, so I figured the inside would be no different.
Reyna handed off her keys to a valet and we walked up to the doors where a bouncer was waiting. Reyna pulled a strange card out of her purse that had two holographic filigree Cs on it. The bouncer glanced between the two of us for a moment before nodding and opening the doors. And from the moment we stepped inside...
I was in love.
The entire place was decorated in rich reds and golds, and it looked like some sort of lavish casino rather than a bar. It was two stories high and, yeah, there were slot machines and card tables galore. On a big stage were girls dancing on both the stage floor and a trapeze hung from the ceiling in glittery costumes. The place was full of people and bustling workers carrying various cocktails in some crazy colors. I looked at Reyna, who smiled at me, "What? It's a bar first and a casino second. Or do you not like gambling?"
"No, I--"
"Then shush and let's go," she said with a coy smile.
She gently pulled me to the very long bar and we sat down at two of the padded stools. The bar was a transparent fish tank, and it had some pretty cool exotic fish in it. The bartender wasn't like Jerry in looks, being much more cheerful and smiley rather than tired and grumpy. "What can I get you?" he asked. I was about to say something, but Reyna spoke first, "Two galaxy lotuses, Benny." The guy nodded and started expertly mixing alcohols and came back with two tall glasses of alcohol that literally glowed and looked like he'd taken the stars and put them into a glass.
Reyna sipped at her drink and gestured for me to do the same. I picked up my drink and sipped it. It was smooth and warm. Nice to taste, too. Sort of oaky and fruity all at the same time. "It's good, isn't it?" Reyna commented. I nodded and she smiled, "Thought so. It's one of my favorite drinks to order here. After you finish do you want to do some gambling? I play a pretty good poker hand now and again."
I shrugged, "Sure, I guess so."
We finished up our drinks and she took me to a poker table that was about to deal a new hand. At this point I was buzzed and starting to drift into being drunk. I'm not typically the type of guy to go and get drunk drunk a lot of the time. When I'm buzzed, I tap out. I know it's not smart to do but I do have to drive home because I can't afford to call Ubers if I'm bar-hopping all night. It'd be more trouble than it's worth, I guess. When Reyna bought even more drinks I withheld a groan. There was no way I'd be able to drive home once Reyna dropped me off to pick up my car. I'd have to sleep in my back seat until tomorrow morning.
"Hey," Reyna muttered, placing her hand on my shoulder, "what's wrong?" I frowned, slightly confused and muttered, "Huh?" She frowned, "Your forehead is all scrunched up like you're thinking." She smiled and lightly pushed my chest, "Relax a little, Todd. I'm not going to leave you in that parking lot at Jerry's."
I don't know if I felt scared or relieved that Reyna seemed to be able to read my thoughts yet again. I guess she was just so pretty and I was getting drunker and stupider so I decided not to be weirded out. Reyna ordered more drinks and I finished mine yet again. Now, I know I said I was only a drink till' I'm buzzed kind of person, and that's true, but once or twice I'd gotten drunk drunk. When that happened I'd get really tired and typically let one of my friends take me to their houses and I'd crash on their couches. But right now... I didn't have anywhere to sleep.
"If you're tired we can go into one of the member's rooms upstairs. I don't mind you sleeping on my bed," Reyna said with a smile.
I don't know why, but I just nodded and allowed her to lead me upstairs. I was leaning on her for support and she opened one of the doors to one of the rooms. She walked and I stumbled inside. She closed the door with her foot and sat me down on the bed. I immediately fell over and wanted to go to sleep, but in the next moment Reyna sat down in front of me and started taking her heels off. I sat up and through my drunken haze noticed the blisters on her ankles and how she was wincing and rubbing them. "Are you okay?" I asked concernedly. She glanced back at me and smiled reassuringly, "Um, yeah. I'm alright. These shoes are new, so I haven't exactly broken them in yet."
I don't know why I did what I did next, but I pulled Reyna into a hug with her back pressed against my chest, resting my hands on her stomach. "You don't have to put on an act with me, Reyna," I muttered into her hair. "You've been so understanding and sweet all night. I think you can tell me whatever's wrong with you."
Reyna smiled and placed her hands on top of mine, "Todd... I hope you know I don't just bring any man back to the Cabaret with me or let them into my room. I like you. You're thoughtful." She turned around in my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.
Since Cecilia and I had started dating I'd never even thought of any other girls. Even after she started openly cheating on me I refused to do the same. I hadn't put my hands on another girl in a long time... But Reyna... She was so beautiful and understanding... So gentle and sweet... Everything Cecilia wasn't. I kissed her back, and then we just laid there, holding one another. It was nice. "Todd..." Reyna muttered cautiously. I kissed her forehead, "Yeah?" She smiled slightly, "Would you do anything for me?"
I found the question curious, but nodded and squeezed her hand in reassurance, "Yeah. Yeah, I would."
She nodded, "I know you would. I just wanted to ask."
I don't know when or how I fell asleep, but when I woke up I found Reyna's side of the bed empty. I muttered a cuss under my breath and rushed out the door to her room. I caught sight of her crimson hair heading towards the exit and just managed to make it through the throng of people to catch her. She smiled as she looked back at me. Then I noticed... She looked different. She was still beautiful, but... Less so than last night. It made me wonder if my being under the influence had made her appear more gorgeous. She was also wearing some cheap street clothes which shocked me all the more. "Hello, Todd," she said. "Sleep well?"
"Where are you going?" I asked, confused and pretty hurt.
She smiled and gestured for me to come outside with her. I only noticed it was still night when we got out the doors. How long had I been asleep? It had been long enough to sleep off my alcohol, clearly, but... How was it still nighttime? Reyna and I sat on one of the benches outside and she lit a cigarette, taking a puff before finally speaking.
"You know I said I used to bar-hop like you?" she asked. I nodded, and she continued, "That was true. Then one night... One night I met a guy at one of my local hops who was dressed so nicely and was the polar opposite of my boyfriend who I was still with. His name was Rodger. We got to talking and he just seemed to get me and what I was going through. He mentioned the Crimson Cabaret as the best bar to visit and I let him take me to it in his car. I reacted the same way as you. I drank and drank way beyond my tolerance level and he offered to let me sleep in his room. Just like I offered to you. We got in there and I started crying about my boyfriend and then Rodger started kissing me. I wanted him to kiss me. He asked me if I'd do anything for him. I said yes.
"I woke up with his side of the bed being empty and just knew I needed to hurry. I found him about to leave just like you did me. He sat me down at this bench here and explained everything to me."
"Everything about what?" I asked, my mind starting to race with fear.
"The Cabaret." Reyna's voice was wistful and hollow, "How it works. What it does to you. I said you'd love it so much you'd never want to leave, but... You can't leave. Not anymore. At first it's great to be a member. All the free booze you can drink without the threat of a hangover, nice expensive clothing brands, a big room with all the food and entertainment you could ever want, and God if you don't wake up every single morning looking like your best self!"
She sighed, "But eventually it gets mundane. You don't age. It's always nighttime. The acts on stage get repetitive until you can predict what's going to happen that night. The bartenders come off less as cheerful and kind and more so robotic and creepy. You come to hate it."
I frowned and shook my head, "Why can't you leave? What is this place?"
Reyna extinguished her cigarette and shook her head, "See, the thing about the Cabaret is that you have to be a member to leave, but even then you can't leave forever. You have to bring back customers. People who will be easy to manipulate into forgetting themselves and just drinking and gambling forever and ever. The only way you can ever really escape is if you find someone to replace you. A new member. A new bar-hopper to give a home.
"Sometimes it's easy to find someone to replace you, but you can't pick just anyone. You'll know who can help you escape because it'll be obvious. You'll be able to see into their lives and know they want an escape. An escape... I've been looking for years to find someone who can help me. It's been about sixty, maybe seventy years. I looked and looked and looked for someone who could get me out, but I never managed to. Until I met you. I could see into your life and how much you hated it. How much you hated your girlfriend. How much you wanted anything different. And I knew. You were my salvation."
I was shocked as Reyna rose to her feet, pulling something out of her pocket. It was her car keys and her member card from the Cabaret. She handed both of them to me and smiled, "I really do like you, Todd, and I hope you'll find your way out soon." She handed me one more thing. A scrap of paper with a phone number. "Keep track of the time, and call me if you get out within the next ten years."
And then she took off, walking out of the parking lot and down the road. I watched as she began to disappear into the fog, her crimson hair being the last thing I saw.
It's been about thirty years. I still have access to the outside world via my phone, a computer in my room, and a TV that shows all the channels. It's been about thirty years now. I have since received only one text from Reyna. A picture of her in a wedding dress looking rather sad with the words, I waited, but I'm done waiting now, in the message. I don't blame her for moving on. And now as I type this on Reddit I hope that maybe it'll reach my replacement. But if you're not... Still... Come to the Crimson Cabaret.
You'll never want to leave.

Love? Give it six months

Warning: this story will contain mentions of unhealthy relationships and adult themes. The main character also has some character traits that may differs from your own, please do keep that in mind.
Review and comments will be appreciated
(Customisation)
There once was a dashing bachelor
(That looked like )(uses the OH male feces)
Face 1
Face 2
Face 3
Face 4
(Hairstyles)
James Bond (black slick backed)
Don Diego Vega (dark brown wavy hair slicked back long neck)
Steve Rogers (Short blonde side swept hair)
Agent J (Short kinky curls)
Is this him?
Yes
No (go back to customisation)
What is his name?
(Default: George)
(Surname)
(Default: Bishop)
There he meets
A beautiful woman
A handsome man
A beautiful woman
Face 1 (Asian; has pale skin, dark almond eyes, straight black mid-back hair with a mid-part)
Face 2 (Hispanic: has tan skin, deep brown eye and over shoulder-length volumes wavy hair with side bangs.)
Face 3 (Afro-American: dark skin, expressive brown eyes with long blackish brown chest-length kinky curly hair.)
Face 4 (Caucassian: pinkish skin with freckles, clear blue round eyes, collarbone length layered dirty blonde hair)
A handsome man
Face 1 (Asian: pale skin, dark almond eyes, straight black hair put up in a pompadour style)
Face 2 (Hispanic: tan skin, with slicked back wavy hair that always looks like it is coming undone.)
Face 3 (Afro-American: dark skin, expressive brown eyes, with a crewcut with tight natural curls.)
Face 4 (Caucasian: pinkish skin with freckles, clear blue eyes, dirty blonde hair in a Taper haircut.)
As the two peoples eyes lock across the room. The sensation of a pull drives them to get closer to one another.
As the dashing bachelor offered his hand his partner gladly accepted it. Leading into a dance that lasted the rest of the night.
The whole world faded away to the sound of the Jazz band, their breathing and their dancing.
As their lips moved to meet...
???: “Oh come now Joanna, you know that is no way that would ever happen.”
​
(Record Scratch)
Joanna: “Oh for craps sake, George I was getting to the best part.”
George: “Forgive me for finding it uncomfortable that you have decide how my love life is going to go.”
Lance: “He does have a point there sis.”
Joanna: “Way to stand up for your sister Lance.”
Lance “Look I’m all for love conquers and all that jazz but it is kind of difficult to make a love life for someone else.”
George: “Thank you.”
Lance: “I mean he isn’t a completely lost cause. I’m sure some desperate soul will take him.”
Lance: “I mean he’s got dads looks, and he managed to get with mom when they were young.”
Lance: “That might make up for his zero tact.”
George: “Your faith in me is awe inspiring.”
Lance: “Oh cheer up. With your upcoming trip to Vegas, maybe you’ll have luck in love and not just on the poker table.”
Joanna: “Maybe you’ll meet someone special!”
You snort, finding the idea silly.
George: “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Chapter 1: One night in Vegas
In an underground speakeasy decked out in old decor from the 20th centuries first half. You sit there nursing your drink. After a long day at the office you love nothing more than when you can enjoy your secret fancy. Dressed up in an old-fashioned pinstripe suit and a fedora. You feel like a king, this little piece of haven in Chicago that seemed to be frozen in time.
You feel your friend beside you stir, he himself having to relax from work as well as dreading an upcoming event.
After his fifth sight you opt to actually talk about it.
You take a swing of your drink and decide to talk about the elephant in the room.
Or more accurately you decide to talk about the issue in pre 1940’s slang
George: “Your bear cat of a sister still giving you a hard time?”
Jeremy: “Noneofya.”
He mumbled.
George: “Look Pally, I known you since we were scrubs and had squat. What's eating you?”
Jeremy: “That dame will chisel me out of every dime I own.”
George: “Stephie acting like a Big cheese cause she is getting hitched?”
Jeremy: “She wants everything spiffy and I’m quite sure her ankle biters will be paying the bills. My folks are on my case regarding my dame.”
You think for a moment. Jeremy and Katie had been together for four years. They got one another, they lived together.
George: “Stephie’s lucky her guy thinks she’s the Cat's meow.”
You said reflecting on everything you ever heard regarding Darren, he was a good guy. Definitely not the smartest but he loved Stephanie like she was the only woman alive. You just wondered why anyone would want to spend time with that woman.
Jeremy: “Alright, real talk.”
Jeremy said as he dropped ‘the act’, we were no longer hot shots in the prohibition era. We were now just George Bishop and Jeremy Jackson a financial advisor and a computer wizard.
George: “In all do honesty I do not see why you need to go there? Aren’t bachelorette parties strictly female?”
Jeremy: “They used to be, but I am quite sure I am not going with them to be pampered like the bridesmaids.”
George: “Then your function is?”
Jeremy: “If I were to guess, fall guy and pack mule.”
Jeremy: “I think she is also doing it to brag, that ‘she did it first.’ To rub it in Katie’s face.”
George: “You never really care what your sister does. Why now?”
Jeremy: “Because they are pressuring me and Katie. Not just my family but next to everyone we know. ‘When is the wedding? What is the venue? How many guests? Are you going to have it this year?’ Look I love my girl, but none of us is in rush to walk down the aisle.”
​
Yeah, you know, you were the first one Jeremy told about his plan to propose. You were happy for him but at the end of the day it was up to Katie and Jeremy. Not you or their families. However the rest of the world seemed to think differently.
Mom: “Oh sweetheart, happy valentine’s day! Are you spending it with someone special?”
George: “Mom, you know I am not looking for someone.”
Mom: “Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find that certain someone sooner or later.”
​
Yeah, it isn’t enough your sister is married and your brother is utterly twitterpated with his boyfriend. You need to ensure your oldest is also with someone.
​
Boss: “Mr. Bishop, I must say. I am impressed with your work ethics, but we have decided to go with Mr. Robinson as the face of the company.”
Never minding the fact that you worked twice as hard as said college.
George: “I understand. May I ask what made you choose him?”
Boss: “We did research and found that your college would be favourable, due to circumstance.”
​
Translation: we wanted a man that was married and not the workaholic bachelor.
​
​
Stranger 1: “You see that guy over there?”
Stranger 2: “You mean the one with the RBF?”
Stranger 1: “Yeah, probably one of those loners, will never find anyone.”
Stranger 2: “I mean who goes to a restaurant like this alone?”
​
Honestly? You can’t have a meal alone?
​
​
George: “Yeah, I know that feeling.”
Jeremy: “Seriously.”
Both of you take a sigh.
Jeremy: “But in all honesty. Thank you for coming along, I really appreciate it. Would probably loose my mind if I went alone.”
George: “Of course.”

1. It would be a shame to lose my partner in crime.
   
2. My boss would be pissed if I didn’t.
   
3. Who would turn down free drinks?
   

Jeremy: “Yeah sounds about right.” *Choice 1*
George: “Remember how we got back at Marcus Thatcher?” *Choice 1*
Jeremy: “Oh, I remember. Too bad he didn’t check the file we sent, it might have saved him some embarrassment.” *Choice 1*
George: “Big tough football star being fooled by ‘two scrawny’ freshmen.” *Choice 1*
Jeremy: “And we were hailed as heroes for a month.” *Choice 1*
Jeremy: “Wait, don’t tell me HR department has been on your case.” *Choice 2*
Geroge: “Yep, too much overtime.” *Choice 2*
Geroge: “Never mind I make sure that everything is quality controlled.” *Choice 2*
Jeremy: “Geesh. Well glad to know I could be of service.” *Choice 2*
Jeremy: “Ah there it is, I knew you had a hidden agenda. *Choice 3*
George: “Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, when have I ever hid something from you?” *Choice 3*
Jeremy: “Alright fair, you are honest to the point of insult.” *Choice 3*
Geroge: “You asked for my opinion, besides those shoes where ugly as sin.” *Choice 3*
Both of you laugh, you had been in each other’s life since kindergarten. You where the odd ducks, most kids and adults always considered you to be cold or judging. Even if neither of you had that intention.
Jeremy raises his glass.
Jeremy: “To intellectual companions.”
George: “To intellectual friends.”
You said as you raised your own drink in a toast.
​
​
The weekend finally arrived for the trip. You arrived at O’Hare airport with a good three hours to spare. You crack open the book you brought with you.
It was a supernatural detective story you received as a gift on last birthday a few months back. While you applaud your sister for trying, it was still jarring to follow all the supernatural deus-ex-machinas that discarded real detective work.
So that is how a 31 year old was reading a supernatural book in broad daylight.
George: ‘ with gun drawn, Duskraven made her way down the basement, the surroundings smelled of blood and muck.’
Geroge: ‘Romano’s empire was now in full display in front of her. Fae, lined the walls, eyes hollow and only the movement of their chest indicating they were still alive.’
George: ‘Duskraven took out her polaroid camera, it was a risky but if this would ever have a chance to justice. Her leads and information would need to be solid if she wanted to take down the vampire cartel. She just hoped the light for the camera would be noticed.’
George: ‘With a blinding light the entire basement lit up temporarily blinding her, when she regained her sight again a new horror met her eyes. Multiple pairs of hungry red eyes.’
Jeremy: “George!”
You tear your eyes away from the book in your hand.
There is Jeremy and Katie, hand in hand. Seeing them together was always a happy occasion.
Katie and Jeremy met at your favourite speakeasy a few years back. You didn’t blame your friend for becoming interested in the ICU nurse. Curly red hair and big blue eyes. Even if the courtship had started out rocky due to both of them being so shy. They overcame that hurdle and found something they wanted.
Sometimes however you wished you didn’t feel like you were interrupting them.
George: “Good morning, is Stephanie and her friends also here?”
Katie: “No they had a sleep over at Daria’s house. So they will be carpooling.”
You look at your clock and it was about two hours before the plane would take off, your bags where checked in and you were ready to leave and get to the section where the gates would be. But there was still no sign of Stephanie.
As you though you heard a rumbling sound.
Both you and Katie looked at Jeremy as a sheepish grim grew on his face.
Katie: “Told you, a ham sandwich wouldn’t hold.”
Jeremy: “It will hold till lunch, which is a few hours away.”
George: “You sure that is a good idea?”
Jeremy: “Tell you what, I’ll go if you come with me and Katie.”
Katie: “So what do you say?”
McDermott's
· Sure, I could have a bite. (💎12)
· Perhaps we shouldn’t
Diamond Choice:
George: “Alright, let us have something to eat.”
Jeremy: “Good! Airplane food leaves much to be desired.”
Katie: “You always think with your stomach.”
Jeremy: “Yet you love me.”
Katie: “Yes, odd isn’t it?”
You make your way inside and stay in line.
You look at the menu and order
· Breakfast burrito
· Bacon and scrambled eggs
· Fruit and oatmeal
You order your food along with a big coffee. You all slide into the booth, Katie had her yogurt in hand both of you looked worryingly at Jeremy’s breakfast.
(Tilting tower of pancakes)
(Holy crap!)
You swore for a moment both you and Katie was reading each other’s mind.
‘He is going to puke.’
George: “Hey Jeremy, think you can get some napkins?”
Jeremy: “Sure.”
As he left you plied a few pancakes away, making sure that you saved the top one so he wouldn’t notice. Katie making sure the tower didn’t fall.
She gave a thumbs up, thanking you.
George: “So Katie, how have you been?”
Katie: “There is always a lot of things to do at the ICU, sometime I wonder where humanity is headed.”
George: “Really, that bad?”
Katie: “How would you explain having a locomotive lodge up your rectum?”
George: “How did that happened?”
Katie: “They claim they fell on it, if I had a dollar every time this happened I wouldn’t have any student debts.”
You shake your head, you have been thinking a bit about what Jeremy said at the Speakeasy. You had also noticed that something was up with Katie, she was on edge.
George: “Katie…”
1. “Did you want to go on this trip?”
2. “Has Mr and Mrs Jackson been pressuring you?”
3. “Do you want to get married?”
Katie: “In all honesty no, but Stephanie has made me a bridesmaid. I need to partake in these things. Even if I wish I didn’t.” *Choice 1\*
George: “Why?” *Choice 1\*
Katie: “I wish I could care as little about protocol as you do, but she is Jeremy’s sister, if I say no it might affect my relationship with Jeremy and his family.” *Choice 1\*
Katie: “Yes, I mean no, I mean… it’s complicated.” *Choice 2\*
George: “How come?” *Choice 2\*
Katie: “I’m 30 years old George, time is ticking. They want grandchildren to spoil.” *Choice 2\*
George: “And you have to be married to do that?” *Choice 2\*
Katie: “Of course I love Jeremy.” *Choice 3\*
George: “That wasn’t the question, do you want to get married?” *Choice 3\*
Katie: “It is just so big, all those expectations. I… it scares the crap out of me.” *Choice 3\*
George: “Listen, I will tell you something.”
You said using your stern voice.
George: “Jeremy loves you, he chose you. You chose him. That is the truth at the end of the day.”
Katie looked at you, a shy smile graced her lips. She mouthed a thank you.
Jeremy made his way back to you with a great pile of napkins. You all begin to take part of the meal. During the entire meal Katie and Jeremy’s shoulders touched and they looked as content as they could be.
(‘Loving it’ you had breakfast at McDermott)
None diamond choice:
George: “Let us just sit down and relax, we should be in Las Vegas at 1 am. Knowing Stephanie we will probably eat something there before heading to the hotel.”
Katie: “Maybe, I’ll get some water at least.”
Jeremy: “Good idea.”
(‘Not hungry’ you didn’t have a McDermott breakfast)
As all of you wait for the supposed ‘bride’ you hear commotion.
Sure enough you see a brunette with a close to permanent scowl on her face. Followed but two very flustered women.
“There you are! WHERE have you been?!”
Her tone is as pleasant as you remember, nails on a chalkboard.
Jeremy: “We have been here waiting for you.”
Stephanie: “You aren’t even going to help me with my bags. What type of brother are you?”
Jeremy: “Well we are here, we have about half an hour before the plane leaves. So let’s get to the gate.”
Stephanie just huffed. Storming away.
George: “Wow she is in a good mood.”
You state sarcastically.
Jeremy: “Yeah she gets like that some time.”
Jeremy: “Just try not to set her of, she can be a handful.”
Katie: “I mean how bad could it possibly be?”
You were never the very superstitious type, but you were quite sure that Katie just opened Pandora’s Box.
​
​
From the time the plane touched ground in Nevada everything that could set of Stephanie did.
Stephanie: “URRGH!!! where is that shuttle! He is LATE!!”
Jeremy: “They told us like five minutes ago there is traffic jam.”
Stephanie: “Then he should have planned it earlier!”
Stephanie: “I will not wait an hour! WE have a schedule to follow!”
George:’ This coming from the woman that almost missed the plane to her own bachelorette party.’
Daria: “They say it is only another 15 minutes.”
​
​
Stephanie: “I DON’T CAREEEEE!”
Stephanie: “What do you mean that our suits where not booked?”
Receptionist: “You never sent in the deposit for your stay.”
Stephanie: “THAT WAS GEMMA’S JOB!”
Gemma: “I told you, the suits needed to be paid for by the same person that booked them.”
​
​
Stephanie: “You are a bridesmaid, you are supposed to make things work!”
George: ‘Honetly…’
George: “Sigh…”
Stephanie: “THIS ISN’T WHAT I ORDERED!”
Waitress: “Yes it is, you wanted a calamari.”
The poor waitress looked exhausted and probably wanted to be anywhere but here, not that one could blame her.
Stephanie: “NO IT ISN’T! I wanted the pasta with bacon and cheese.”
Katie: “A cabonara?”
Jeremy: “Stephie we are at a seafood restaurant.”
​
​
George: ‘IS she ever satisfied?’
All of us where back at the hotel, Stephanie insisting that they ‘needed’ a new set of clothes for the casino and club they were planning on hitting. Jeremy looked ready to just give up.
George: “You know, you could simply say no to her.”
Jeremy threw an exhausted glair at me.
Jeremy: “If it was so simple neither me, you nor Katie would be here right now.”
George: “And you wouldn’t be here doing this Sisyphean task, which obviously brings you missery.”
Jeremy: “Yeah well, I still want my parents in my life, if I didn’t do this, they would never let me live it down.”
What to wear to the casino?
· Tuxedo 007 (💎 15)
· Basic black
Diamond option:
Jeremy: “You look like James Bond.”
George: “I’ll have a martini, shaken not stirred.”
You said and an amused smile spread across Jeremy’s face.
None diamond choice
“I Think I’ll stick with this.”
“Fair enough, I am too exhausted to care anyway.”
​
​
​
Jeremy said with a tired smile. You both left the room, making our way to one of the pulsing centres of the strip.
There in the golden casinos you thought finally your luck would finally turn for the better. That the glamorous atmosphere would rub off on the soon-to-be bride. Causing her to stop doing her impression of a screeching barn owl and let ALL of them enjoy Sin City.
Well it seemed to have worked, for now.
Both you and Jeremy where at the black jack tables, enjoying yourself. While the ladies were back at the slots machines.
Jeremy folded a while ago, it is just you and one more. You looked down at your cards a jack and an ace. You opponent opposite you had this confident smirk on his face. But you saw how the sweat was running down his face. He was bluffing.
George: “Hum…”

1. Act as if you have a bad hand
   
2. Act arrogant and self-assured
   
3. Do not react at all and watch the man squirm
   

You decide to let your brows furrow in what would look like frustration. The man opposite you lets the edge of his mouth turn in a smirk. His confidence boosting with every minute. *Choice 1*
You decide to put on the theatrics, giving a smile like the cat that ate the canary you look at your opponent. That is growing more and more agitated by the minute. *Choice 2*
You keep your face natural, a lot of people often comment that you look angry whenever they see you. You could only assume it was true because your opponent was practically squirming in his seat. *Choice 3*
When he reviles his hand, you pause for a moment before reviling yours.
You won.
George: “I’ll be taking these.”
You said as you dragged them back chips and split them evenly between you and Jeremy. You had started with the same amount of tokens. Even if you did work with money daily, this was one of those occasions you allowed yourself to be a bit more relaxed regarding that subject.
Jeremy: “Nice one.”
George: “All in a day’s work.”
Jeremy: “So what next?”
Before you could answer you hear commotion from the opposite side of the casino. The screeching voice meant that Stephanie was somewhere in the middle of it. Both of you sigh, knowing that your happy hour was over.
Sure enough there at the era leading into one of the shows where Stephanie and her entourage, all of them except Stephanie wearing baby pink dresses and Stephanie herself wearing a sash reading ‘all hail the bride’ along with a tacky tiara probably worth a five dollar bill at most.
She was screaming at a bouncer, while all the others tried in vain to calm the soon-to-be bride.
Stephanie: “You are an idiot! What service is this!?”
When we had arrived there was already an audience forming. Yeah this was common whenever Stephanie was involved. ‘Drama Queen’ had been your nickname for her during high school for a reason.
Jeremy: “What happened?”
Bouncer: “Your friend here slapped one of your dancers, something about them stealing from them.”
Stephanie: “I am the BRIDE! I am not supposed to have to pay for anything during my bachelorette party.”
Jeremy: “Stephanie, what about we get some fresh air, okay?”
Jeremy said as he tried to deescalate the situation. He gently grabbed her arm, but Stephanie was having none of it.
It felt like it all happened in slow motion, Stephanie turned around and a closed fist and rage connected it with Jeremy’s face. Your friend flew back and hit his head on the floor pretty hard. Stephanie didn’t even care to check what state her brother was in. Katie flew to her fiancés side and the sight of your friend’s bleeding face was enough to make you see red.
George: “Alright enough.”

1. Scold her
   
2. Embarrass her
   
3. Give her the evil eye
   

George: “Stephanie, you are way out of line.” *Choice 1*
Stephanie: “No I am not!” *Choice 1*
George: “You have taken no responsibility during this trip, you have been rude to every member of the party, you have caused a scene at every place we have been to. Do I need to keep going?” *Choice 1*
Your voice is like ice, you swear the temperature just dropped a few degrees. As you pointed out everything she has done during the less than 24 hours you been together. *Choice 1*
Stephanie looks angrily at her bridesmaids as is she is waiting for them to defend her. *Choice 1*
They do not, they know you are just stating the truth. *Choice 1*
George: “Your own brother did not want to be on this trip, he begged me to come along. Doesn’t that tell you just how vile you have been acting?” *Choice 1*
Stephanie: “You listen here…”*Choice 1*
George: “No you listen for once in your life!” *Choice 1*
You rarely let your emotions out but Stephanie was a special case. *Choice 1*
George: “If this is how you treat people, do not be surprised when Darren leaves you at the altar. He deserve better than this.” *Choice 1*
With that as a closing line you left, Jeremy might need to get to the hospital. He was worth more than Stephanie would ever be in your eyes. *Choice 1*
As you leave you are quite sure you hear someone applauding. *Choice 1*
With determined steps you made your way to one of the waitresses. *Choice 2*
George: “Excuse me.” *Choice 2*
You hand her a 50 dollar bill as you grab a big jug glass filled with beer and briskly walk back to Stephanie that is still screaming profanities. Because of her back being turned to you she didn’t see you. You saw how people began to take out their cameras and phones. No one made a move to stop you. *Choice 2*
With one quick movement you had poured it over her and a shriek of surprise entered your ears. *Choice 2*
Stephanie: “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” *Choice 2*
George: “Are you done with your little temper tantrum?” *Choice 2*
Stephanie: “What!? How dare you!” *Choice 2*
George: “You have been acting like a spoiled five year old since the moment we landed. I am surprised no one has done anything until now.” *Choice 2*
Stephanie: “You are so not coming to my wedding!” *Choice 2*
George: “It isn’t a loss, I was never here for you. Now excuse me I have more important things to deal with.” *Choice 2*
You left Stephanie to deal with the people that had gathered for the ‘show’ and she began to scream at them and calling them all sorts of names. But no one was intimidated, they found it hilarious. *Choice 2*
You grab hold of Stephanie, until she has no choice but to look at you. She is screeching, calling you every slur and bad name in the book. Your hands are firm on her upper arm, you just hold no squeezing, no pushing. You keep your eyes locked on her, you must have stood there quite a while until finally her defiant stare became weaker and weaker. *Choice 3*
You kept hold of her until she burst out into tears. At that point you let her go. Knowing you had knocked her down a peg. *Choice 3*
​
But Stephanie wasn’t your main concern, Jeremy was. You moved to stay with Katie and Jeremy, the crowd parted as the red sea as you walked by. All in stunned silence. *Choice 3*
​
​
George: “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
Jeremy grimaced at the questing, blood still trickling down his face from where he had been punched. Luckily the nose would heal, the only question was what colour it would be in time for Stephanie’s wedding.
Jeremy: “I’ll be fine, Katie is here too. She knows what she is doing.”
Katie: “Having your fiancé being a nurse does have its perks huh?”
Jeremy: “Yeah one of many.”
The two of them smile at one another, before Jeremy turn back to you.
Jeremy: “Think you can manage your own?”
George: “I think I can stay out of trouble for one night.”
Jeremy: “Maybe, see you tomorrow George.”
Katie: “Have a nice night.”
With that the two of them made their way up to the hotel rooms.
You decided to check out the hotel bar. Despite being 10 o’clock it was surprisingly empty. Some people where there, some having already had a few to many.
But what caught your eye was a stranger sitting at the end of the bar.
There sitting in a knee-length ocean blue dress was a woman, leaning over resting her elbows at the counter. She had a faraway look in her face as she absentmindedly stirred her drink. *♀*
There sitting a young man, nursing his drink. His blue vest and slacks combo suited him well with the crisp white shirt. His attention seeming being elsewhere. *♂*
You sit down by the bar and is about to call on the bartender when I noticed a man, clearly intoxicated made a move on the man/woman at the end of the bar.
Drunk Idiot: “Hello there, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
The person in question just rolled hehis eyes. Clearly not in the mood to be the object of drunk admiration.
Drunk Idiot: “How about you and me go up to my hotel room and get to know each other a bit more.”
Haven seen the man/woman in question do every none-verbal que but slapping the idiot you decide enough was enough. He had disturbed you and the rest of the bar enough.
With the smoothest and coolest tone of voice you could muster you cleared your throat to get the drunk man’s attention. It wasn’t appreciated to say the least.
Drunk idiot: “What the hell do you want prick.”
The smell of alcohol radiating off him, one would think he had bathed in vodka. It was surprising no one had tossed him out from being a nuisance earlier.
George: “I do believe that you are bothering him/her. Please stop.”
George: “Look we are old friends, its noneofya business so bug off.”
George: “Oh really, then what is your friends name?”
Drunk Idiot: ”What?”
George: “What. Is. your. friend’s. name? If you are old friends you should surely know it.”
Drunk Idiot: “It’s ummm… Terry.”
???: “That is not even close.”
With both of you staring straight into him, mentally cornering him.
Drunk idiot: ”Screw this.”
The man declared in frustration and with that the idiot stormed off leaving both of you alone.
After making sure the guy was out of sight you turned back to the stranger.
He/She gave you a grateful smile.
???: “Thanks’ I really appreciate that?”
George: “It was nothing.”
You said making yourself ready to go back to your seat.
???: “Wait!”
The stranger called after you, out of sheer politeness you turned back around.
He/she Seemed a bit nervous, what now?
???: “Can I at least buy you a drink?”
You thought for a moment. You were on your own, Jeremy was probably nursing the bruise with some painkillers and you did not want to risk running into Stephanie or any of the bridesmaids. It also felt wrong to not take the opportunity to experience Vegas however.
So you accepted.
???: “Well What’s your poison?”
He/she asked in a joyous tone.

1. Matrini
   
2. Old Fashioned
   
3. Red Wine
   

With a quick wave they called the bartender over.
???: “So what brings you to Vegas?”
George: “Bachelorette party.”
???: “Did it have anything to do with that brunette that slapped one of the dancers and had security physically lift her out?”
George: “Bingo.”
???: “No one got seriously hurt?”
George: “Thankfully no.”
With that the bartender served the drink and the stranger slipped a 50 dollar bill.
You lift the glass in a gesture for a thank you. And let the beverage slip down your throat. It was nice, it was a good year and the taste was strong but not overpowering.
You noticed that his/her eyes were on you, almost as if they were trying to decipher your character.
George: “What are you doing?”
???: “Trying to get a read on you, some say what you order is often an indication of who you are.”
George: “Really? Then what can you say about me?”
You asked, deciding to humour them.
???: “I can say that that you are a man that know what he wants and how you want them.” *Martini*
???: “You are an old soul, you probably know your liquor well. My guess you have a great library at home.” *Old fashioned*
???: “You are quite classy, and you can find a way to get drunk before noon.” *Red wine*
With that you give an amused chuckle.
George: “Well there is some truth to that statement.”
You take a look at the drink they self are nursing.
(Dark n Stormy)
(Humm...)
George: “If I were to do the same to you, I guess you have a sweet tooth and might have wanted to be a pirate at some point.”
At that comment the stranger began to laugh. It was the infectious kind of laugh that made someone warm form the bottom of their stomach.
???: “Alright you got me there.”
He/she then stuck out their hand.
(My name is..)
(Default name: Skyler)
George: “‘Skyler’ it is a pleasure to meet you.”
You said as you shook it.
You take in Skyler’s look. You had to admit that they were an attractive specimen of a man/woman.
George: “The name is George Bishop.”
Skyler: “George Bishop, how professional sounding.”
He/ she said as if they were tasting your name in their mouth.
George: “Well I do hope so, would be difficult to be an advisor if people believed I was a joker.”
Skyler: “Ah, so you are one of those people that look at you and stamp ‘rejected’ on every paper?”
George: “I believe that I am fair in my judgement.”
George: “How about yourself?”
At that their eyes fell.
Skyler: “Right now, I’m a 30 year old trying to figure out my next move.”
George: “How come?”
Skyler: “Lost my job due to relationship issues between my manager and her boyfriend. Apparently, me being friendly was mistaken for flirting.”
Skyler: “What, they want a grumpy Greeter at the door?”
George: “That is unprofessional.”
Skyler: “Yeah, well relationships are messy.”
George: “Agreed.”
Skyler: “I must say the way you handled that woman, it was surprising.”
Skyler said in a genuinely impressed voice.
George: “You were watching?”
Skyler: “Kind of hard not to, I’m surprised half the hotel didn’t hear her.”
George: “Someone had to show her she isn’t the Queen of Sheba.”
Skyler: “What are your thought on marriage?”
You shoot up a bit, a bit startled by the blunt question.
George: “My thoughts?”
Skyler: “You seem like a guy that know what he thinks. I want to pick that brain a bit.”
It had been a while since someone had so blatantly flirted with you. To be fair you were a bit surprised. Dating had often been a minefield for you.
George: “Marrige…”

1. It’s an institution
   
2. It’s a partnership
   
3. It’s indescribable
   

George: “Historically it was a way to ensure land, money and heirlooms where added into a new household.” *Choice 1*
George: “It was also a safety for children back in the day, since basterds often faced quite a few challenges from being born out of wedlock.” *Choice 1*
George: “It is a symbol of trust, that you do have someone that you can count on.” *Choice 2*
George: “But at the end of the day, if you are unfair to that partner hey might not stay.” *Choice 2*
George: “To describe marriage is like trying to describe oceans and water. Even with similarities we can see, gathering it all in an explanation would probably not give a fair judgement.” *Choice 3*
Skyler: “To me it’s a promise. ‘To have and to hold’ it is silly in this day and age were people divorce left and right for trivial things.”
Skylers eyes became dark, falling into deep thoughts. You had never been the poetic kind, but there was a sweet sentiment in Skyler’s view on things. Your parents where still married over 30 years now. Your sister was due some time in December, your brother was off celebrating a two year dating anniversary and your paternal grandmother still loved her deceased husband dearly.
To you it just never happened, perhaps it wasn’t for you.
George: “That we can agree on, people are so afraid they will settle. At the first sign of trouble they leave.”
Skyler: “So that woman form before… how long do you think her marriage will last?”
George: “If she acts like she did tonight, I wonder if her husband will even stay for the ceremony.”
You looked at your new companion and in an unusual turn of events you called the bartender over.
George: “Can I buy you a drink?”
​
​
With that Skyler smiled, deciding to keep you company.
Sometime later you awake to the sound of your alarm clock.
You feel a splitting headache, you drag you hand over your face as you do you feel a cold metal band around your finger. Pulling back as your eyes focus you see that it is a plain sliver coloured band.
(is that?)
· Oh no…
Feeling more sober than ever before you realised just what a mess you got yourself into.
George: ‘I just got married in Vegas.’
Well, you’re screwed.

Slightly early happy fourth of July everyone! And belated Happy Canada day to our northern neighbors! And just happy days all around to everyone else! This is a chapter a loooong time coming. But I just kept kicking the idea around in my head, unhappy with it until things felt like they fell into place.
Without further ado the long awaited next chapter of Spellslinger!
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“So… what exactly are we doing again?” Fenrina asked as she helped Steve fit some parts onto a large contraption he was assembling.
“We’re going to stop Scott, and fight his army of skeletons.” Steve reminded her as he slapped some pieces together and wrapped plenty of his special flexible fabric of aquatic bird binding around the parts to hold them in place.
“No, I mean yeah. I get that. But… like how? And what’s this for?” Fenrina asked as she lifted a giant wheel up so Steve could bolt it to the side of his project.
“This is what will help us break through his army. I call it… Spellslinger’s automatic fossil fuel external combusting self propelled mobile engine! Or the SAFFECSPME for short.” Steve grinned and proudly posed before his machine.
“Steve you are just… terrible at naming things.” Sherry sighed with a slow shake of her head as she looked up at his rather haphazardly slapped together invention.
“I am not! You take that back female with whom I have relations!” He huffed. “I’m so tired of all these stupid artifacts we find that are just like… The orb of wonder! The circlet of insight! The Staff of penetrat- Actually that one is rather self explanatory… Regardless! When I name something people don’t have to be like oh I wonder what that does. No! They know exactly what it does right from the get go! Hah!” He once more set his hands on his hips and struck a proud pose.
“Why not like… take some of the words and stick them together? Like… auto...mobile. That sorta means the same thing right?” Fenrina suggested with a shrug.
“The automobile?” Steve asked as he gave Fenrina as confused look. “Pfft. What’s that even mean? It’ll never catch on. Unlike SAFFECSPME!”
“Safakspm?” Fenrina tried.
“No. SAFFECSPME.” Steve corrected her.
“Safeskspem?” She tried again.
“We’ll deal with that later.” Steve waved a hand dismissively. “What’s important now is waiting on word from the Archon that she’s finished up the spell we’ve been working on. Then we… well we wait for some of the skeletons to get here. I don’t have any more fossils so we need to smash them up and toss them in there.” He pointed to the large scoop at the front of his vehicle full of large spiked grinders. “Then inside I have a reserve of arcane water to mix with the ground up fossils, which then combusts here, which is why I’ve got the pipe to make sure most of the explosion is external. And then it’ll start moving forward.” He explained with a slow nod.
“How do we… steer it? And… where do we sit?” Sherry asked as she eyed the machine with a very nervous expression.
“Uh… I’ve got a wheel like on a ship, and I’ve made… seats.” Steve gave another vague wave at the machine. The seats he had bolted or strapped into place were more of the just fit wherever style over the actually made with purpose style. “Oh also, since this is super dangerous don’t forget safety first. Goggles everyone.” He went around to hand them each goggles.
“These will help us if it explodes?” Fenrina asked as she strapped them onto her face.
“Oh no. Not at all. They’re just to keep sand out of your eyes when we’re going fast.” He explained.
“Well, I do like to go fast.” Fenrina nodded with her usual levels of confidence and complete lack of concern.
“Can I mention that so far you’ve yet to mention how we’re going to defeat Scott. Or how we’re going to assemble the rest of Fenrina’s people. Or! Or how you’re even going to cast your spell!” Sherry reminded them even as she put on her own goggles.
“The Archon is casting that spell I mentioned. It’ll round up all of the people who’ve become…. Were-huskies and drop them near us. Don’t worry about it. Also I still need a better name than werehusky. As for casting the spell? Once we’ve mashed up that many of Scott’s skeletons I should have lots of power to use.” Steve shrugged. “As usual our best plans just sort of… happen. Without planning.”
“That makes them not plans.” Sherry drly remarked. “What about Scott? You heard the Archon she said he had powerful magicks with a K. Even with all four of us I’m not sure we can breach such old spell barriers.” Sherry then reminded him.
“Yeah but that’s why Steve is going to finger bang him.” Fenrina reminded them with a shrug.
“Ugh…” Steve groaned at that. “Just… stop saying that.”
“You guys won’t say what’s wrong with finger banging people! So until you do I’m just going to finger bang bang all day!” Fenrina wagged her fingers at the others.
“The finger that I’ve sabotaged will strip away his shields and then he’s like a basic skeleton. Uh… that is alive and talks and stuff. We can smash him real easy then. Larry could even deal with it… if he hadn’t forgotten all his spells for fighting undead and replaced them with party tricks.” Steve glared at the dwarf then.
“Larry insists it so unfair to shame a cleric for choosing to fight boredom at parties of sexy elves instead of fighting boring unsexy undead.” Both Sherry and Steve rolled their eyes as Larry tried to defend his practice of quick casting more… gimmicky spells. Such as transmute water to wine, and greater mood lighting.
“Regardless we need to hold them from getting past this part of the Hamak desert because if they get down into the casinos around Sinner’s Meadow a whole lot of gamblers, plus all the poor bastards the sunbinders buried with their pharaohs over the centuries, will become zombies. Or… skeletons maybe. Something undead. Although it might be hard to tell the difference compared with their usual behavior…” Steve mused idly as he rubbed his beard. Steve, Sherry, and Larry all looked out across the reddish sands of the desert before them knowing a vast horde of undead should be approaching them quickly from the valley of the dead where Scott and the rest of his Dicks had been buried, and conveniently lost to time until now.
“So, Steve, out of curiosity, what if Scott has some extra warriors buried at different points around the desert as a vanguard with like skeleton chariots and stuff and we start getting attacked before the Archon has her spell ready?” Fenrina asked.
“That sounds like an oddly specific worry Fenrina… but I guess we’d just have to ride around smashing skeletons until she’s ready. Why?” Steve asked and looked over to see the canine looking behind them.
“Because I think that hill is a tomb.” She pointed and the others looked around to see a mass of skeletons rushing up towards them, some on chariots being pulled by skeleton horses as well.
“Oh shit!” Steve hissed out as Sherry and Larry turned to quickly set up to face the oncoming attack. “Get ready and remember the plan!” Steve shouted.
“What plan?!” Sherry hissed back.
“That’s easy!” Fenrina grinned as she got out front with her shield raised. “Stuff the bad skeletons into the mashing bit! Drive around and find Scott! And then-
Spellslinger Fingerbangs-
“Don’t you dare!” Steve interrupted her before she could finish, and began to cast a fireball at the charging chariots. “The plan is-
Spellslinger Slaps a Dick
“They keep splintering into tiny pieces! I can’t even get a decent snack!” Fenrina growled out as another pair of skeletons rushed up at her only for her sword to cleave through both of them as a cloud of dust erupted in their place.
“We’ve got to somehow get them straight into the grinder!” Steve shouted and hurled a vine spear into the spoke of one of the chariots, causing the whole thing to tumble over as the skeletal horses shattered.
“Maybe Sherry’s whip? It doesn’t seem to destroy them as much!” Fenrina called out.
“The problem is when I whip them they just make these moaning sounds!” Sherry called back as she held a contingent of skeletal warriors at bay to the side of the machine.
“So… they’re immune to the whip?” Steve asked with a glance over.
“No, it still works but it’s really creepy and I don’t like it!” Sherry growled back. “And they don’t run from it they just stick around to get whipped more!”
“I’ve got an idea!” Fenrina announced and used her shield to smash apart another skeleton before rushing over to grab Larry. “Fastball special!”
“Larry hates this idea!” The dwarf shouted just before she spun and hurled him into the driver of one of the chariots knocking the skeleton out as Larry tumbled into the chariot. The dwarf quickly grabbed the reins then, but it wasn’t easy as he had to keep hopping to see over the horses.
“Into the machine!” Fenrina yelled at him even as she used her shield to shove several of the warriors in front of Steve’s engine. Realizing what she was doing Steve quickly pulled several reagents from his belt and stuffed them into his mouth before vomiting ice all over them to stick them in place.
“Ugh… I hate the flavor.” He muttered as he spit out a final snowball.
“Stop moaning and get back you creepy shits!” Sherry screamed on the other side of the machine as she kept furiously cracking her whip at the possibly masochistic vanguard of skeletons to try and herd them in front of the engine. Just as they were all in position Larry drove the skeletal horses into the grinder at the front of the machine, shoving the herd of warriors in at the same time as the dwarf hurled himself free of the wreckage at the last moment. For a second nothing seemed to happen as the grinders slowly turned, but then they began to pick up speed and the entire machine started to roll forward slowly.
“Hop on!” Steve called out as everyone jumped onto the nearest seat available. Steve tried to slip into the seat behind the steering wheel but to his surprise Fenrina picked him up before he could fully sit down and tossed him onto the front where he grabbed the nearest set to stop from sliding off. “Fenrina! The hell?!”
“All of you cast magic and stuff! What am I gonna do in here? Ask you to drive closer so I can hit them with my sword?” She snorted and pulled a lever to disengage the brakes. Steve was rather impressed at how much more focused she’d been lately. “Besides this way I can make it go as fast as I want!” She grinned wide as he immediately retracted his thought and sighed.
“Well… aim for the main cluster to get more fossils for fuel!” He hollered and pointed at the group still pouring out of the hill tomb. As they began to roll downhill the machine started to pick up speed both from smashing into more of the now fleeing skeletons, and the downhill course. Steve meant to start casting something to help thin the horde but instead he spent most of his time trying to avoid the sword and spears that were flying past him as the warriors got mulched by the grinder. He’d need to adjust his design a bit for the next one.
Thankfully Fenrina didn’t seem to need any help as his machine plowed through much of the vanguard as they tried to leave the tomb and by now it seemed to be fully charged as a gout of flame erupted from the back pipe making the entire thing shudder a moment. There were several more jerks as explosions rocked the SAFFECSPME forward and Steve desperately clutched the sides of his seat to steady himself. “Steve you asshole slow down!” Sherry screamed to the side.
“I’m not driving!” He yelled back.
“Sorry, force of habit! Fenrina!” The demon looked over but the husky was busy letting out a howl and then letting her tongue dangle in the wind as the machine shot out across the desert, rattling and bouncing over the terrain.
While Steve had planned for the goggles to shield his eyes he’d not given as much thought to his mouth and was coughing as his position at the front of the machine made him a magnet for dirt, sand, and bugs. He quickly pulled a cloth from one of his pouches to wrap around his face. When he looked to one side he saw Sherry had cut part of her shirt to do the same. But when he looked to the other side he saw Larry had in face pulled a rather large pair of panties over his face and then pulled his goggles down over it. “What the-”
“These are not Larry’s panties. For Larry does not wear panties. Except right now. As a mask.” He replied before Steve could even ask. Though that didn’t really answer much of anything. Steve wanted to ask more but then Fenrina spoke up as she glanced back.
“Hey Steve what if the skeletons saw what sort of machine we made and somehow like banded together into similar machines but made out of bones and stuff and came chasing after us to stop us and were covered in spikes and more skeletons and stuff?” She asked in one long breathless sentence.
“Uh… that’s… not really… possible?” Steve tried to think of what sort of magic could do something like that but wasn’t sure if it could be done. Especially not so quickly.
“Okay, then I guess I’m hallucinating.” Fenrina shrugged and Steve leaned out to the side to see several skeletal vehicles suddenly chasing after them.
“Oh what the fuck!” He gasped out. One of the smaller skeletal vehicles raced up ahead as he saw a skeletal trumpeter on it blaring some ear piercing tune. “That’s impossible! You guys are cheating!” He yelled over at them even as every skelton aboard the undead machine flipped him off.
“Doot doot motherfucker!” One of the more well armored skeletons simply screamed back at him as they started to jump across to board their ride. The trio had to quickly try and fend off the attackers from their already precarious seats.
“How can a skeleton even play trumpet! You don’t have lips!” Steve screamed as the skeletal minstrel jumped across and played trumpet in his face even as he chopped the skeleton’s legs off at the knees sending the upper body tumbling off the side. Thankfully with the speed Fenrina was going across the desert all they really had to do was shove them back off the sides and they’d be smashed to bits from the impact.
Yet the reanimated bones didn’t seem to have any issues with suicidally trying to ram their new bone-mobiles into the DOOM engine. Thankfully Steve had made his SAFFECSPM to be sturdy, though he was quickly making notes about what to add for the next version. Like something to strap him into his seat as the impacts from the skeletal riders would nearly knock him off the front and off the side. “Fenrina ram back!” Steve called out to her, but as she swerved to hit one of the bone-mobiles all the skeletons atop it just jumped over onto their ride. “New plan! Don’t do that!”
“Haha! Death to the fleshy bois! Fuck flesh!” One of the skeletons cried out as he tried to decapitate Steve with an old sickle sword. Though Steve got his own sword up to parry the attack.
“Yeah death to the fleshy bois! And… whatever this furry one is! Fuck the furry!” Another skeleton yelled as he tried to stab Fenrina with a spear, but she just grabbed the spear and used it to fling the skeleton off the engine.
“Larry insists you don’t use that term. It doesn’t mean what you think it does!” The dwarf advised even as he smashed apart another skeleton with his hammer as it tried to jump across.
“Why what does it mean?” Fenrina asked with a frown.
“Yeah, fleshy boi! What’s it mean?” The skeleton from earlier asked before Steve quickly conjured a large stone fish to smash him apart.
“Larry does not wish to explain right now. Larry simply… knows things that would suggest you don’t use that term.” The dwarf gave the others an odd look and Steve frowned a moment before narrowly ducking to avoid an arrow shot at them from a nearby bone-mobile.
“Larry do we want to know?” He asked and the dwarf just shook his head. “I swear you’re worse than bards sometimes…” Steve muttered even as he began to fast a fireball to lob back at the skeleton archers.
“Yeah well I’m tired of fighting all these boney bois and getting nothing to eat!” Fenrina growled out and as two of the skeletal vehicles pulled up alongside she yanked on the brake, making Steve let out a startled squeal and nearly roll off the front of the engine and into the grinder, but he caught himself on the edge. The two skeletal vehicles though smashed into each other in a mass eruption of bones which Fenrina then drove through, snagging a wayward femur in her mouth. “Mmhgnrnrng… uch etter…”
“Damnit Fenrina! Can you stop thinking about food for two seconds and focus!” Steve yelled and scrambled to pull himself back into his seat.
“‘Ere ‘e goi’ ‘nywa?” She asked as she kept chewing on the femur, causing little sparks to sizzle around her teeth.
“Uh…” Steve looked forward across the desert as he saw a massive lightning bolt from some cliffs ahead and the clouds began to grow impossibly dark. “Yeah my bet is that way.”
“Also ‘at ‘o I ‘o if ‘I ‘ee’ a ‘ig ‘orado ‘ats s’arkly?” She asked, refusing to give up her snack.
“What do you do if you see a big tornado that’s all sparkly? I don’t know… why do you ask?” Steve was watching Fenrina as he pulled himself back into his seat and then saw her point past him. When he looked back he saw an absolutely massive sand tornado crackling with purple lightning. “Oh for fuck’s sake! Stop asking questions like that Fenrina!”
“Hat? It ‘ot’ ‘I ‘ault!” She huffed.
“I swear it somehow is!” Steve hissed. “Get away from it! Towards the cliffs!” He pointed towards the beam in the sky pulling in more and more dark clouds. But as they got closer to the cliff he saw a tide of skeletons riding an entire fleet of bone-mobiles out towards them. “Never mind! Towards the tornado! Towards the tornado!” He screamed as he waved towards the tornado. Fenrina veered off towards the swirling vortex of sand and lightning as Steven feverishly pulled reagents from his pouches and frantically etched runes into the hood.
Even as they approached the massive storm the skeletons were overtaking them. Sherry had summoned her bone wings and was using them to operate a massive flaming bow to smash apart approaching riders with spear sized flaming bolts, and Larry was tossing holy orbs up into the air before using his hammer like a bat to smack them at the oncoming horde. It was still going to be extremely close as the tornado bore down upon them and the tide of skeletons grew ever closer. “Larry!” Steve screamed to be heard over the howling wind. “Bubble us!”
“Larry would have to use up a lot of energy to shield us all! Plus Larry does not appreciate the divine protection being called a bubble!” The dwarf protested, taking a momentary break from lobbing the holy bombs at the skeletons.
“Larry so help me you will bubble us all right now or I’ll tell the Archon what you did in the faculty lounge!” Steve screamed back. The dwarf went wide eyed a moment and set his hands on the engine before a golden sphere shimmered around them just as several of the bone-mobiles smashed into them. Thankfully with the bubble up they were instead blasted apart instead, and Fenrina was free to drive them straight into the vortex.
As the sand and lightning swept over them the bubble crackled and broke apart quickly, but Steve already had his hands up in the air and was shouting out virtually every protective weather ward he knew to create a break in the wind for them barrel through as the storm overtook Scott’s army and began to tear them apart. Steve could feel the drain of energy from shielding them as they thankfully burst out of the sand into the eye of the storm.
Yet even as the sky above them was clear and blue they suddenly saw several more vehicles ahead of them. Except they weren’t the bone-mobiles. They seemed to be made of rusty metal, and several were completely covered in spikes, plus their wheels were very small and made of some material Steve didn’t recognize at all. Not to mention instead of angry undead skeletons they seemed to be crewed by humans wearing bits of strange spiker armor that Steve also didn’t recognize. It didn’t seem like metal.
“Wha? Where did these guys come from?” Steve frowned in confusion. Before he could even try and call out to them one of the spiked vehicles saw him and a rider lobbed a spear at them which exploded just as it hit the sand. More of the rides howled out as he saw them grab at their crotches for some reason and wiggle their tongues in the air. “Okay they’re not friendly.” He growled and quickly lobbed a fireball right back, igniting the vehicle as it exploded in a shower of metal spikes that Fenrina had to dodge.
Several of the spiked hostile rides began to veer off towards him but a sleek black vehicle at the front dropped back and slammed into one, making it spin out and flip over a dune as the riders were tossed screaming into the storm as it moved. Forcing many of the others to drop back as they chased after them. “Oi you beautiful cunt!” Steve frowned as the rider of the sleek black machine came up next to him. Unlike the strange spiked armor the others wore this one was in black leather armor that was a little odd, but still something he was more familiar with.
“What!” Steve called back, unsure about the insult.
“Yeah! Thanks cunt! These mad mates been on me since a piss up in woop woop last night. Fuckin’ hoons ‘mirite?” The rider called back.
“What?” Was all Steve could respond with.
“Oi! Is that a Sheila dingo with tits drivin yer claptrap? Now that’s a bloody awesome mutant it is!” The black clad driver continued.
“What!?” Steve echoed from before, entirely confused.
“Right cunt! ‘Moff to the bottle-o! Hoo roo!” The driver called out before driving into the wall of sand ahead of them.
“I am so lost.” Steve muttered before raising his hands to chant out more wards as Fenrina took them back through the vortex of sand and lightning. This time as they neared the end his arms were truly getting tired and when they burst back out into the sun he let out a relieved gasp and sagged back down into his seat. Fenrina was taking them straight towards the cliff the shadows were growing out of but he didn’t see any more skeletons just yet so he used the time to catch his breath.
“Sherry… did that guy sound like a Drow to you?” Steve asked as he glanced back at the demon.
“You know more about them then me.” She replied with a shrug. “Also why were those other guys all wearing assless chaps?”
“Were they?” Steve frowned. “I think I was focused on other things.” He shook his head slowly and grabbed a rejuvenation potion off his belt as Sherry entered a narrow crack in the cliffs towards the shadow light on the far end. “Alright… uh… maybe slow it down a bit.” Steve urged Fenrina as they sped through the rocky walls with very little room on either side.
“Sure thing!” Fenrina called out, apparently done with her femur at some point. However right after that Steve heard a snap and Fenrina reached forward to hand him a stick. “Hey, can you hold onto this for me?” She asked.
Steve took the lever and looked at it in his hands a moment before realizing what it was. “Fenrina! This is the brake lever!”
“Yeah. It broke.” She replied and then took her hands off the wheel to give him a big shrug as her tongue dangled from her mouth.
“Damnit Fenrina.” Steve sighed, but before he could do anything else they exited the small canyon and came into a clearing with a rather steep drop off as the SAFFECSPM was launched off it into a pit below. The members of DOOM cried out and tumbled off the machine as it plummeted. Thankfully Sherry was quick to get her bone wings out and grab Steve while Fenrina grabbed onto Larry as the dwarf frantically cast another bubble around them so they’d bounce off the ground and roll to a stop while Sherry brought Steve down in a mostly controlled descent as they all landed around the wreckage of Steve’s machine.
“My my my… you really are a tenacious shit sucker.” Steve looked around as he heard that voice and saw Scott standing above them upon a rather short pyramid.
“Is this your pyramid Scott? It’s… a little small.” Steve called back.
“It’s not about the size of the pyramid but how you use it!” Scott screamed back. Around them Steve saw more skeletal warriors start to rush forward from around the pyramid.
“We’ve just got done destroying entire legions of your shitty warriors! What’s a few more?” Steve called up to Scott only to see larger skeletons start to rush out of the pyramid itself. Their armor and weapons obviously superior to the lesser skeletons they’d been fighting. “Well, fine! The more the merrier!” He continued even as black lightning struck the ground and ten foot tall half jackal half human mummies began to burst out of the ground. “I uh… I still think… we’ve got this.” He muttered at the end.
“Do you? Do you really?” Scott asked as the ground around them began to rumble. Besides the pyramid the ground began to shift as sand fell away to reveal an absolutely massive snake rising up. Then the ground around them shifted as Steve realized much of the ground around them was just the coiled tail of this gargantuan snake.
“That… that is… that is a very very big snake.” Steve muttered as he watched it rise up, clad in a rather dazzling jeweled headpiece that constituted the complete output of at least one gold mine, and the centerpiece was a ruby the size of Larry.
“Your pathetic struggle ends here fool!” Scott called back at the snake’s massive forked tongue flicked out a moment and its maw started to open.
“You’re such a dick Scott.” Steve huffed.
“Yes. I’m the king of the dicks! No one is more dick than I! Scott!” The skeleton replied with a maniacal cackle as shadow lightning struck behind him to create an inverse flash of light to highlight his malevolence.
“But you still haven’t found your actual dick I see.” Steve waved at the skeleton’s crotch. “You… dickless wonder!”
“No… That miserable bastard of mine Eddy… I don’t know what he did with it! Him and that treacherous vizier Sigmund. They had the creepiest ideas about mothers.” The skeleton shuddered for a moment and then waved a hand. “But enough of this mindless prattle! You die now and shall be nothing more than snake shit soon! Strike my servant!” He called as the snake hissed out and rose up.
“Hold on I got this.” Sherry said to Steve’s surprise and pushed him aside to step closer to the snake. Her own forked tongue flicked out and she began to hiss at the massive snake. “Hiisss. Hiss hiss hiiisss. Hiss hissss hisss hiss?”
The snake stopped then and seemed to wriggle a moment as it… blushed? “HISSSS HISS HISSS HISSSSS HIIIISSISISS.”
“What is this?” Scott demanded to know even as the two started to talk.
“Snake tongue.” Steve replied.
“I didn’t mean what language you insufferable turd!” Scott yelled back. Meanwhile the snake and Sherry kept talking.
“Hisss hiss hiss hisss. Hhissisiss? Hiss hiss.” Sherry said with an exaggerated toss of her hair.
“HISSS HISS HIIISS HISSSISIS. HISS.” The massive snake rolled its eyes and gave Scott a look even as Sherry gave Steve a similar look that made him squirm.
“The judgement I feel is somehow worse than being eaten by that giant snake.” He muttered.
“Stop dithering about whelp! I command you to eat them! Eat them right now! Do your fucking job and obey me!” The opulently decorated skeleton began to jump up and down as he screamed. This just made the big snake give Sherry a knowing look.
“HISS. HISSS HISSSS HIIIISS. HIISSISIS.” It said as Sherry then laughed and waved a hand.
“Hiiisss! Hisss hiss hiss.” With that the big snake rose up and started to slither out of the canyon that Fenrina had just drove them down to leave the clearing.
“Stop! I fucking order you to stop! Get back here you insolent upsized worm! I’ll have you made into boots for my entire army! Get back here right fucking now!” He screamed but the snake just slithered off into the desert leaving them in a now emptier clearing with the short pyramid at the center. Though this did help highlight just how many hundreds of regular skeletons were still around them, dozens of the elite guard, and twenty or so of the big jackalpeople mummies.
“I guess dick’s just don’t know how to talk to ladies.” Steve joked as the others chuckled.
“Forget this fucking foreplay!” Scott called out and pointed a jeweled scepter at them. “I’m still king dick here! Even if I have to track down that traitor and skin her later you won’t be more than a fleshy lump once my warriors are done eviscerating you! There’s four against an army! Was this your plan you festering maggot!?”
“Uh… No. My plan… was…” Steve floundered a moment as he tried to think of what to say. But then against the dark sky above them he saw a green light. When he looked up a massive sphere was hurtling through the air towards them. “Hah! That was my plan dickwad! Behold! The Orb of Donelaps! Eh… why is it all fuzzy?” He wondered for a moment, somewhat stealing his own thunder as the now fuzzy green orb smashed into the ground behind much of the skeletal army.
The fuzz became readily apparent however as the sphere poured open to reveal hundreds of cheering werehusky barbarians who came charging out with all manner of weapon at hand. A mighty battlecry rose up from their ranks and echoed out all around them as they descended upon the unprepared skeletons. “Fooooood!”
“Yeah! Food!” Fenrina cried out as she pumped her sword in the air.
“Why am I not surprised?” Steve asked with a roll of his eyes as the barbarians clashed with the skeletons and mostly focused on ripping them apart to chew on their many bones.
“Steve we’ve still got most of an army between them and us.” Sherry reminded him and he looked around as the ten foot tall jackalpeople mummies closed in.
“Oh shit right.” They backed up against the wreckage of his SAFFECSPM and prepared to fend off the attackers as he yelled up at Scott. “Are you not going to face me yourself Scott? Man to man?”
“No!” The skeleton called back immediately.
“What? Why not!” Steve yelled back.
“Because I’m a dick! How do you not get this?!” The skeleton shrugged as he looked back down on them.
“Oh yeah! Well you might change your mind when you realize you can’t do this!” Steve called out and flipped Scott off.
“Yes I can!” Scott quickly extended a hand to flip Steve off in return.
“Uh… let's try that again. You can’t do this!” Steve now extended both hands to give Scott the double bird.
“This is getting tiresome.” The skeletal king sighed and then set his scepter into a stand so he could double bird Steve in return, only to discover his missing finger. “What! How dare you abscond with my second favorite finger!”
“Yeah! I bet you’d like to demonstrate how you feel with your hands! Except you can’t!” Steve taunted as he waved Scott’s finger at him.
“Murder him and retrieve my finger! I’m coming down there!” Scott screamed and began to stomp down the pyramid towards them.
“Alright guys! If we work together we can-” Steve started only to be jostled as Fenrina bounced off him and then leapt at the nearest mummy as she swiped across his chest, landing besides him and driving her blade into his knee before twisting the blade to pop the mummified leg apart and then spinning away to start attacking the next one.
“Sorry Steve already busy!” She called out as he stood there.
“Fuck… I didn’t teach her… any of that.” He muttered and then looked up as one of the ten foot tall mummies approached him. “Right right… I’ve got this…” He muttered and tried to think about not only what he could cast, but what might work. He’d been going through his supplies alarmingly quickly so far.
“I uh…” The mummy stomped closer as it raised a massive sickle above him. “Uhhhh uhh.. I cast rock!” He slapped together some ingredients and then tossed a pebble at the mummy which bounced off its head. The mummy actually stopped and seemed to give him a confused look. “I cast bigger rock!” Steve shouted and rubbed his hands with the remains of the ingredients and pointed at the mummy as a boulder flew out of the sky and smashed mummy’s skull off completely.
“Hah! I got one guys!” Even as he looked over Fenrina was somehow dueling three of the mummies all at the same time, parrying blows with her sword and shield as she deftly kicked, bashed, and stabbed them in return. Sherry was using her bonewing bow once more to impale mummies and Scott’s elite guard. Larry had initiated a holy poetry slam as he hurled divine insults about how ugly the mummies were to crush their spirits, just before he used his hammer to crush their bones for good measure. “Seriously? When did I become the slacker? When did this happen?” Steve asked no one.
“Shitsucker!” Steve looked back and let out a rather unmanly squeal of surprise as he narrowly leaned out of the way of a blast of green energy from the magical staff the skeletal king held. “You die now!” Scott called out and began to wave his hands to no doubt follow up with a spell.
“Hah! Eat disintegration!” Steve yelled back and grabbed the last of his prepared reagent pouches as he cast the words and fired back at Scott with a golden beam of pure energy before the skeleton could react. However the entire beam just seemed to course around the skeleton as shadowy orbs appeared to deflect the magic. “Uh… well… That was the last of the spells I had planned for today… If you could just… wait for my team to finish up…” Steve suggested and to his surprise Scott stopped casting.
“Oh sure.” He nodded.
“Really?” Steve asked in surprise.
“NO!” Scott screamed and raised his hands as a series of shadow bolts began to fly out towards Steve, making him curse and fling himself around to very narrowly avoid getting impaled. Once the cascade of bolts was over Scott began to cast once more but Steve just tossed his finger at him.
“Here! Take it!” He hollered and backed up as Scott grabbed the finger.
“Yes! Now I can properly flip off children with both hands!” Scott cackled a moment but his cackling was cut short as the finger began to sizzle. “Wait… No!” At the last moment the skeleton reached to grab his arm but it was too late as the finger erupted in a pulse of energy that knocked Scott flat. The shadowy bubbles around him shimmered before they vanished with a distinct POP.
“Huh… I don’t know what I expected… but that wasn’t it.” Steve muttered.
“Alright! Steve! You did it! How do you like that Scott? Steve fingerbanged the shit out of you!” Fenrina called out as she cleaved through the last of the mummies.
“Ugh.” Steve groaned.
“Uuugghh… your dog is disgusting.” Scott muttered as he began to get up.
“Yeah she is at times.” Steve nodded.
“Why won’t anyone tell me what it means!? OOoooo I wanna knoooow!” Fenrina wailed with a howl.
“Anyway it’s you and me now Scott! Man against skeleton!” Steve grinned and charged forward as he hauled off and punched Scott in the face, making the skeleton’s head spin around wildly. “How ya like that! No more magic! Just punching!”
“Yeah Steve fist him good!” Fenrina encouraged as she began to bound over.
“Oh for fuck’s sake… Please just… stop.” Steve groaned out and tried to focus on punching Scott’s spinning skull once more. But this time as he tried he gasped in pain as Scott’s teeth clamped around his knuckles. “Aaahhh! Oowww! OW! Stop it!” He tried to pry his hand free of Scott’s mouth but the skeleton growled and chewed harder for a moment until finally letting go. Steve staggered back clutching his now bloody hand.
“What’s wrong Steve? Didn’t know I was a biter?!” Scott asked with a cackle. By now Fenrina had charged over, but to his surprise when she swung to smash Scott apart with her sword the skeleton parried the blow with his arm. Every blow she swun was parried by the one armed skeleton as she even tried to shield bash, and kick only to be countered at every turn. “Fools! I am a warrior king! I’m more than just magic! Even my bones have been enchanted! Nothing you wield can harm me!” Rolling past Fenrina Scott plucked his staff up from the ground and spun it around before smashing it into the werehusky, sending her flying in a burst of magic energy as shs slammed into the side of the SAFFECSPM with a howl.
Steve looked around a moment in desperation and found Scott’s other arm that had been blown free by the fingerbanging earlier. Picking it up he wielded it like a flail and charged at the skeleton who was leveling his staff at Fenrina. Steve lashed out with the arm to slap Scott with it, knocking the skeleton aside and causing his magical bolts to fly wildly into the air. “Quit hitting yourself! Quit hitting yourself!” Steve began to chant then as he slapped Scott with his own arm, knocking the villain back step by step, getting him closer to the front of the engine.
“Motherless-” Scott began to hiss even as Steve slapped him across the face once more. But the king had enough as he slammed his staff into the ground and Steve was sent flying back with an energy pulse. “Enough!” Scott bellowed.
“That’s what you think!” Sherry called out as a fire spear shot through Scott’s ribs. But the skeleton just stood there entirely unimpressed.
“Oh no. Fire. What is it going to do? Burn me to the bone?” He asked and snapped the spear apart to toss it aside.
“Larry! We need divine magic here!” Sherry called out but the air around them flickered and grew… not exactly dark… but not exactly light. It was… moody. Nicely so. Steve slowly picked himself up and looked over as he and Sherry both saw the dwarf sitting on a rock a little ways away with some candles out, drinking from his waterskin. “What… Is he?” Sherry started.
“Larry! Did you just use the last of your magic to have a fucking wine break?!” Steve shouted at the dwarf who just held up a finger and kept upending his entire waterskin having turned it into wine. “Fucking healer’s union and their mandatory breaks!” Steve hissed.
“It doesn’t matter.” Sherry called out and pointed behind Scott as the army of barbarian werehuskies got closer, tearing apart the skeletons with ease. “You’re done Scott.”
“A dick isn’t done until there’s nothing left!” Scott screamed back and drove his staff into the ground. “It might take me a thousand years but I can dig myself out eventually! Can you?!” He asked as the cliffs all around them began to shake and rumble. The shadowlighting from the dark sky coursing out and striking at the rocks as it became clear he planned to bury everyone here with him.
Fenrina slowly pulled herself up besides the machine then and raised a hand. “Steve! Bone me!”
“Ugghh…” Steve groaned.
“Uuuugghhh…” Sherry shuddered.
Larry just kept drinking wine.
“Okay… even I think that was especially crass.” Scott sighed.
“What? Why are you all…” Fenrina looked confused and waved her hand. “Steve! The bone! In your hand! Throw it to me! BONE ME!”
“Oh. OH!” Steve hastily reached back and hurled the arm towards her. Scott tried to reach up and grab it but it just cleared his fingers allowing Fenrina to snatch it out of the sky and shove it into the grinder at the front of the engine. The whole thing crackled as Scott’s extremely potent fossilized remains sent a surge of energy through it and the wreckage of Steve’s machine drove forward.
“Noooo!” Scott screamed out just before the grinder slammed into him, but the wreck was halted against the staff stuck into the ground. The engine shuddered and sparks rose up around it as it was filled with energy.
[Continued in Comments]