(Original Publication Date: July 15, 2016)

The tattooed bare-chested half-orc behind the rough wooden desk continued writing on a piece of parchment as Tim, Julian, Dave, and Cooper entered the shipping container-sized office.

"Excuse me," said Tim. "Is this the Cardinian Trash Dump?"

The half-orc continued writing, not even sparing them a glance. "It is."

Tim wasn't expecting much in the way of pleasantries from a garbage man, but some basic acknowledgment would have been nice. He looked at Julian, who had a better temperament to deal with this sort of bullshit.

"Is that really what it's called?" asked Julian. "Trash Dump?"

"What's wrong with that?" said Tim. "It's a place where the city dumps its trash."

"I don't know. Those words just don't sound good together. I feel like it should be abbreviated, or the words should be combined into something catchier, or –"

"Maybe you can pitch some ideas at the next town hall meeting. For now..." Tim slowly and deliberately moved his gaze toward the city employee behind the desk, who was still ignoring the four of them to the best of his ability.

Julian cleared his throat. "We're here about the job."

"Waste retrieval or perimeter control?"

Julian looked to his friends for guidance on how to answer the question, but they had nothing but shrugs to offer.

"We understood this was a mercenary position."

The half-orc stopped writing. "Oh, that job." He scanned them each in turn. He nodded approvingly at Dave, the only one of them decked out in proper armor, but squinted at his leopard-furred forearm. For Julian, draped in a filthy serape, he gave a small snort. He only looked at Cooper long enough to wince and move on. Though they were both half-orcs, Cooper's severely low Charisma score often made for jarring first impressions. When his eyes fell on Tim, a wide toothy grin spread across his face.

It was always the same wherever he went. Tim thought that in a world where halflings are a common race, people wouldn't treat them like the ten-year-old kids they resembled. He was continuously let down in that regard.

"Yeah, that fucking job," said Tim. "So what is it? You need us to rough up some dudes behind on their payments? Go out and collect protection money? Sabotage a rival agency's trash collection cart?"

"Hold on," said Julian. "I don't want to do anything like that."

The half-orc behind the desk looked confused. "Rival agency? Sanitation is controlled by the Cardinian city government. It's a public service."

"Oh," said Tim. "Then what's the problem?"

"No one knows how it started, but this place has become overrun with wights."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Cooper. "Hell, where we come from, that's a sign of a good neighborhood."

The half-orc squinted at Cooper like he was trying to look directly at the sun. "And where do you come from?"

"Gulfport, Mississippi."

It was too early in the day for this shit. Tim needed a drink. He mustered up what patience he could and looked up at Cooper's stupid face. "He's talking about the undead."

"What, like zombies?"

"Yes, Cooper. Like zombies." Tim turned back to the half-orc behind the desk. "Not a problem, sir. We've dealt with the undead before. We can kill a few wights."

"Whoa!" said Julian. "Wait just a second, Tim, and think about what you're saying. Zombie or not, what sense does it make to discriminate based on race? I mean, would you honestly feel better having your face gnawed off by a Central American or Sub-Saharan African zombie?"

"Goddammit!" said Tim. "Wight. W-I-G-H-T. Okay?"

Cooper hung his big half-orc head and frowned. "Not cool, man. You know I can't spell."

Julian folded his arms. "That's okay. Neither can Tim."

"These are no mindless zombies," said the half-orc. "Wights are far more powerful and dangerous. You would do well to fear and respect them if you wish to survive."

Dave stepped forward. "Sir, I understand that you may have had some unfortunate run-ins with whites in the past. But is it as bad as you're making it out to be? I mean, look at yourself. You don't appear to be missing too many meals, you've got a nice government job, you –"

"For the love of fuck!" cried Tim. "Would all of you please just shut the fuck up for two goddamn minutes?" He turned back to the half-orc. "Please excuse my friends, sir. They're... um... What's the polite word for retarded?"

"Your mother?" suggested Cooper.

Tim ignored him, keeping his attention focused on business. "It's been a while since I looked at the Monster Manual. Can you explain to my friends exactly what a wight is?"

The half-orc nodded solemnly. "In days gone by, the term 'wight' simply meant 'man'."

"Like, before the Civil War?" asked Cooper.

Tim squeezed the handle of his crossbow and glared at Cooper, then turned back to the half-orc behind the desk. "How about just giving us a brief rundown on the differences between zombies and wights?"

"A zombie will simply tear you limb from limb until you die. A wight will turn you into one of their own, which is why we have a problem."

"Cultural assimilation," Julian whispered.

"Okay, that's it." Tim turned around and held up his crossbow, but didn't point it at anyone just yet. "I swear to god. The next person who speaks is getting shot in the face."

"You gentlemen seem well qualified for the task," said the half-orc. "My name's Mung. It's a pleasure to meet you." From behind his desk, he produced a large square of folded burlap cloth. "This is for the heads."

"You want us to put their heads in a bag?" asked Julian.

"Proof of kill. You collect five silver pieces per head upon your return."

Cooper snorted. "We're getting paid loose change for head. Finally we can know what it feels like to be Dave's mom."

Tim and Julian shared a chuckle. Even Mung joined in.

Dave turned red in the face. "Your mother's so –"

The office door swung open, sparing Dave the embarrassment of an almost certain terrible retort.

Two human men stood in the doorway. One wore armor that looked like it was composed of pieces fished out of this very junkyard. His thick brown mustache poked out of both sides of the mask of his cylindrical helmet. He looked like the Tin Man in an underfunded middle school production of The Wizard of Oz, except he wielded a war hammer in one hand and a bargain-basement coaster of a holy symbol in the other.

His companion wore a simple leather tunic, though it was perhaps a size too small. His broad muscly body threatened the stitching at the seams. The only possession he carried on his person was a long wooden spear with a steel head full of barbed serrations.

The armored man took a step into the already crowded office. He smelled like canned meat. "I, Morgan Flynn, Cleric of Dionys, Defender of Truth, Harbinger of Justice, and my companion, Balroth Stonefist, answer the city's call to arms!"

"I'm confused," said Cooper. "Did you just introduce, like, six guys? Or –"

"Silence, cretin!"

Mung cleared his throat. "Will you all be working together, or would you prefer to act as two separate parties?"

"We do the gods' work!" said Morgan. "We did not come here to babysit women and children."

That was all Tim could stand. "Who the fuck are you calling women and –"

"Enough!" said Mung, slamming a fist on his desk. "I have work to do. Common sense dictates that you would be wiser to work together, but –"

When Tim glared over at Morgan, Morgan was making a thumbs-up gesture over his crotch, with his thumb pointed toward Tim. It was a bizarre and unfamiliar gesture to Tim, but one that he could only interpret as disrespectful.

Tim pointed at Morgan. "I will end you, motherfucker! I will piss on your fucking corpse!"

"Ahem," said Mung. His fake throat-clearing was not excessively loud, but he had a certain presence that made him difficult to ignore. "As I was saying. If pride and petty squabbles mean more to you than survival, so be it." He tossed another folded square of burlap to Morgan's silent henchman. "But I suggest you all direct your hostility toward the wights."

Julian shook his head. "That sort of thinking doesn't lead to progress."

Mung slid open a large door opposite the entrance, revealing a five-foot by ten-foot cage of thick steel bars. Beyond the cage was a stadium-sized walled enclosure which Tim found to be cleaner than he'd expected for a place meant to contain all of the garbage of a city the size of Cardinia. There were piles of refuse scattered here and there on the barren ground, but not nearly as much as Tim thought there should be. The air didn't smell too bad either, aside from Cooper's contributions. Maybe Cardinians were big into recycling.

"Do not open the gate on the far side until after I've closed this gate." Mung pulled up the near gate by a horizontal bar attached to it. Smoothly, the gate slid open, revealing the sharp points on the bottom ends of the vertical bars, which would be buried a good six inches when the gate closed. "Everybody in."

Cooper was the first to walk into the cage, followed by Dave, then Julian. Tim took his group's rear, but was followed into the increasingly crowded cage by Morgan Flynn and Balroth Stonefist. Balroth's spear was too long to fit in the cage, so he had to poke the top of it through the bars of the roof.

They were all stuffed in so tightly when Mung pulled the gate back down that it was difficult to move. If wights were to reach through the bars and attack them right now, they'd truly be fucked.

Tim put his small halfling stature and his rogue stealthiness to good use by tying Morgan's boot laces together.

"What are you waiting for?" said Morgan. "Open the gate already!"

"I can't figure out how the latch works," said Cooper.

Dave grunted, and his ass was suddenly in Tim's face. "Let me try. Unnnnngggg... shit. I can't reach it from this angle."

Tim ducked down and squirmed his way through a forest of legs until he reached the gate on the far side. "Do I have to do everything for you guys?"

"What the hell is that?" cried Julian.

Tim poked his head between Julian's legs and looked outside the cage. A monster far more grotesque than his vague recollection of the Monster Manual illustration had prepared him for scuttled toward the cage. The pointy-toothed grinning freakshow appeared to have once been human, judging by the scraps of rotted clothing hanging from its twisted limbs. Yellow-grey skin stretched tight around its face, topped by a filthy crop of Don King-style hair.

"Shit," said Tim. "It's a wight."

"Good luck, gentlemen," said Mung as he slid the office door closed behind the gate.

Dave and Cooper were frantically arguing at the gate on the other side. Tim crawled over to see what the holdup was.

"Pull up on the handle!"

"I'm trying! It's stuck."

"Then try pushing down."

"It won't budge."

Tim squeezed himself upright against the gate bars until his head met something hard and inflexible. "Ow. Fuck, that hurt." He re-positioned himself with the side of his face pressed against Dave's ass, which appeared to be everywhere at once, to get a better look at what he'd hit his head on. It was the gate handle. "You dumb bastards. You're on the side with the hinges!" He reached out and gave the handle a tug, spilling himself, Dave, and Cooper outside of the cage.

Morgan pressed his back against the opposite side of the cage as the wight reached both hands ind its long pointed tongue through the bars. Morgan fumbled with his holy symbol while Balroth struggled to get his spear in fighting position.

"Know the power of Dionys and flee, foul creature!"

Tim didn't know if Morgan had rolled a piss-poor turning check, or if he was just a shitty cleric, but the wight now appeared to be grabbing at the holy symbol, managing to graze it with one finger.

"How dare you defile this... this... bwaaaaahhh!" Morgan grabbed the wight's wrist with one hand, pressed it back against the bars, and smashed the elbow with his hammer.

Balroth, by this time, had maneuvered the base of his spear shaft through the bars on the side of the cage opposite the wight and pulled the head in through the roof bars. He plunged the head deep into the wight's chest. The wight screamed as it stumbled backward, leaving behind what Tim guessed were tendrils of lung hanging from the barbed spearhead.

It's scream turned to a gurgle as brown blood spilled out of its mouth, covering its chin and mingling with the blood flowing out of its chest wound. Showing more intelligence than a zombie, it chose not to re-engage the people in the cage, but rather focused its wild eyes, burning with icy blue hatred, on Tim.

Tim shivered as the creature's gaze met his own. It only had time to take a single step in his direction before Tim pulled the trigger of his crossbow. His hands were shaky, and he barely managed to hit the creature in the upper part of its already-damaged arm.

The wight stopped screaming and snarling, and collapsed like a sack of moldy fruit. It must have been down to its last Hit Point.

Tim grinned at Morgan. "Guess that's a kill for us."

"Back away, halfling!" said Balroth, shifting the gore-coated spearhead two inches in Tim's direction, but he was unable to point it directly at him because of the bars.

"So Fabio can talk after all." Tim pulled his bolt out of the dead creature's arm. It barely even had any blood on it. He doubted he had ever seen so superficial a wound. He looked back up at Balroth. "This is our kill. If you want the head, you can come and take it from us."

Balroth was trembling with anger, which impeded his efforts to remove his spear from between the cage bars. "I shall take all of your heads in the service of Dionys!"

"Calm yourself, Balroth," said Morgan. "Let the fools have their ill-gotten victory. I've a feeling we'll be collecting their heads before long." He sneered at Tim. "You and your friends would do well to stay out of our way."

Tim placed his bolt over his crotch and wiggled it at Morgan and Balroth as they exited the cage and walked away in search of more undead prey.

"What a dick," said Cooper.

Ravenus peeked out from under Julian's serape. "What is that wonderful smell? Has someone prepared breakfast?"

Now that undeath was no longer binding the wight's body together, the poor bastard really started to reek.

"Well well," said Tim. "Look who finally decided to wake up."

Ravenus looked at him blankly.

Tim knew the bird couldn't understand anyone but Julian unless they spoke with a British accent, but Tim was only concerned with Julian understanding him. "He's getting fat."

Julian stroked Ravenus's feathers. "I know."

"If you keep letting him sleep until he smells food, he's going to be too fat to fly."

Ravenus cleared his throat. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. But does anyone else want the eyes?"

Tim shook his head. "They're all yours."

"No," said Julian. "We need its head in-tact." He turned his head away from his familiar. "And you need some exercise."

Even Tim's callous heart was saddened to see Julian denying his familiar its favorite thing in the world. "I'm not saying you have to start starving him right out of the gate. Let him eat the eyes. I think the wight's head will still be plenty recognizable as such."

Julian looked down at the horrifying remains of the dead creature at their feet. "But what if he gets White Disease or whatever? I don't want him turning into a seagull."

"Don't worry," said Tim. "Everything you just said is... I don't even have the words for how stupid it was."

"Okay, Ravenus," said Julian. "Make it quick."

The wight's eyes had shriveled down to raisins by the time Ravenus finally got to eat them. Tim looked away and was relieved that they didn't make that horrible slurping sound. They probably just snapped right off the rapidly decaying optic nerves.

"Not much of a meal," said Ravenus. "But I rather enjoyed the texture. More chewy than usual, but lacking that satisfying juicy burst."

Dave looked back at the wight, winced, and turned away again.

That was good enough for Tim. He didn't look back. "Cooper, can you chop that thing's head off and kick it into the bag?"

"Sure thing."

*THWONG*

That might have been a chop, but it sounded too far away, and more like the release of a large amount of tension than an axe chopping through a neck.

"The fuck was –"

Dave collapsed under a pile of garbage-studded excrement about the size of a small car, which had just fallen straight out of the sky.

"Dave!" cried Tim. "Are you okay?" The shitpile landed with a splatter, so parts of Dave were visible through the top, meaning it wasn't yet necessary for Tim to go digging for him.

Dave struggled to roll himself over and rise to a sitting position. "I think so." He spit some shit out of his mouth. "What just happened?"

Cooper looked up at the sky. "I think God just took a dump on you."

Tim laughed.

Julian cupped his hands over his mouth and lowered his voice. "Do you believe in me now, Dave?"

"Everything's a big joke to you guys," said Dave, wiping shit out of his beard. "Look at me. I almost get killed by a flying ball of shit. Do you wonder how that might have happened? No. Try to think of ways we might avoid getting killed by flying shitballs in the future? Of course not. Your first instinct is always to laugh at Dave. Ha ha ha, Dave's covered in shit again. Ha ha ha, Dave got kicked by a horse again. Ha ha ha, Dave–" His eyes widened as a blob of transparent jelly slopped over his mouth and nose.

"Ha ha ha," said Cooper. "Dave's coughing up splooge again."

Tim's eyes adjusted. The jelly blob was attached to a jelly arm, which was pulling Dave backward into some giant wall of jelly. The splattered shit on the ground dissolved into the slowly-approaching wall.

As Tim stepped back, he got a view of the whole thing. It was at least ten feet tall, and just as wide. A perfect cube of living digestive slime, with Dave's unconscious or dead body suspended in the middle of it.

"Gelatinous cube!" cried Tim. He had no idea these things were so big.

"That's really what it's called?" asked Julian. "Who's in charge of naming stuff in this game?"

"Would you shut up and – FUCK!" Tim tumbled out of the way as a pseudopod shot out of the cube at him. He caught it with one hand as it slowly retracted, drew a dagger with his other hand, and sliced off the appendage. Even as it melted into lifeless jelly, Tim felt the pins and needles of numbness in his palm and fingers. At least Dave probably wasn't feeling any pain.

"FUCK YOU, JIZZBOX!" said Cooper, tearing into the cube with his axe.

The gelatinous cube shot four pseudopods at Cooper's face, chest, leg, and crotch.

"Flgbbghffgb!" said Cooper as his whole body was pulled into the cube. Poor Cooper must have made his Saving Throw vs. paralysis, because he continued to struggle once inside.

The cube stopped advancing. It waved pseudopods lazily at Tim and Julian, but didn't lash out like before.

"Cooper!" said Julian, cautiously jabbing at the cube with his quarterstaff. "What do we do?"

"You're a sorcerer, fuckwit!" said Tim. "Use magic!"

Julian held his staff in the air with one hand and thrust his other hand toward the cube. "Magic Missile!"

Two bolts of energy flew out of Julian's palm, causing two sections of the cube to burst like giant zits. The cube reformed into its proper shape almost immediately, but Tim thought it looked smaller than before. And it was definitely slower. Maybe Cooper was too gross to digest... or too big.

"Julian!" said Tim. "Summon a horse!"

"You want to just ditch them?" Julian sounded shocked.

"No. Just summon the biggest goddamn horse you can! Hurry up!"

Julian pointed at the ground. "Horse!" A majestic black steed, clearly bred for the battlefield, appeared next to him. "Now what?"

"Feed it to the cube."

"What?"

A pseudopod wrapped around Tim's leg and started dragging him in. "Do it!" he cried, dodging another blob of slime aimed at his face.

"Horse, go that way!" Julian commanded. The horse followed its master's orders, charging directly into the cube, where it was completely engulfed in a matter of seconds. It had apparently also made its Saving Throw, as it joined Cooper in thrashing around inside the cube.

Tim cut himself free, but he could feel a burning sensation on his leg where his skin had made contact with the slime. Dave and Cooper didn't have much time.

"Great," said Julian. "It ate my horse. Now what?"

"It's using most of its power to digest," said Tim. "Hit it with everything you've got." He hacked at it with his dagger, meeting little resistance.

"Flbbm... rgggbly... ubgggbbly!" said Cooper from within the cube. Tim didn't have to understand him to know he was saying, "I'm really angry!" He had invoked his Barbarian Rage.

The gelatinous cube trembled as Cooper's muscles grew inside it. Large cloudy bubbles formed in the jelly near his ass. He swung his axe around is if through water, and an entire upper corner of the cube slid off, melting into a puddle on the ground.

Cooper vomited slime as his head broke free from the surface. After a deep breath, he shouted, "FREEEEDOOOOOM!"

He tore at what remained of the cube with his claws and axe, not looking in the least bit concerned that he was still being digested from the waist down.

"Get Dave!" shouted Tim.

There was something like understanding in Cooper's wild red eyes. His erratic gaze darted back and forth until it locked onto Dave, still floating helplessly in the clear goo. "GET DAVE!" He raised his axe over his head with both hands.

"No!" said Tim. "Rescue Dave!"

"OH!" Cooper scooped up three pseudopods that had latched onto his chest and ripped them out of the cube. He plunged his other arm into the slime until he reached Dave. "Unnnnnnnnggggggggg!" Dave came out like a newborn calf, only more bloody, slimy, and generally disgusting.

Having done what was asked of him, Cooper got back to the rage-fueled task of beating the shit out of his enemy. He didn't even bother with his axe. He just dove into what was left of the cube headfirst and used his bare hands to tear it apart from the inside.

*SHLOP SHLOP SHLOP*

Julian beat the shrinking cube with his staff until it finally lost its quasi-solid form and melted into a spreading pool of lifeless ooze.

His horse was bald and bleeding in places, but dammit it was still standing. Tim smiled at Julian. Good for – Oh shit, Dave!

Dave lay on his back, covered in slime. His skin was patchy and blistering with second-degree acid burns. The leopard fur on his forearm had completely dissolved, revealing a grey band of arm-skin beneath. He didn't appear to be breathing.

Tim wiped as much slime off Dave's breastplate as he could before putting his ear to it.

"Jesus Christ," said Cooper, having come out of his rage. He, too, was covered from head to toe in slime. "I feel like Dave's mom at the end of a shift."

Julian bonked Cooper on the head with his quarterstaff. "Dude. Not a good time."

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Is he all right?"

Tim pressed his ear harder against the breastplate, straining to hear a heartbeat. "If you two would shut the fuck up for a second, I'll let you –" There it was. It was faint, but it was definitely there. "He's alive! He's going to pull –"

*BLEEGGGGGGHHHHHH*

Tim caught a gushing faceful of Dave's slime vomit.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" cried Dave. "IT HURTS! IT HURTS! OH MY GOD IT HURTS!"

Tim spit out slime and chunks of whatever Dave had last eaten. "Heal yourself, stupid."

Dave slapped both palms on top of his head. "I heal me!" He sighed ecstatically as his burns faded. When it was done he sat up and frowned at the fresh leopard fur which had grown back on his forearm. "Damn. I was hoping I'd finally gotten rid of that."

Cooper pointed a finger at Dave. "I could use some of that too."

Dave touched Cooper's finger. "I heal thee."

Cooper let out a fart of relief as Dave's healing magic coursed through him.

Julian cleared his throat and glanced at his partially digested magical horse.

"Forget about it," said Dave. "We've been through this."

"He saved your life. Look at him. He's suffering."

*THWONG*

There was that sound again. What the hell was that?

"Cooper saved my life," said Dave. "And if your stupid horse is suffering so much, just put it out of its –"

"Look out!" cried Tim, having spotted the flying glob of refuse hurtling out of the sky toward them.

"SHIT!" cried Dave, Julian, and Cooper as they dove out of the way.

When Tim heard the splat, he reasoned it was safe to look. All that was left of Julian's Mount spell was a horse-sized interruption in the new pile of filth splattered on the ground.

Tim looked up at the sky, tracing the trajectory of the shitpile. "They're catapulting the garbage over the walls. Probably so they don't have to deal with the wights."

"This is bullshit," said Julian. "We signed up to fight Whitey."

"Wights."

"Nobody told us anything about having to dodge flying piles of shit or avoid being eaten by gelatinous lubes."

"Cubes."

"Whatever. This sucks."

"It's actually kind of smart when you think about it," said Tim. "The gelatinous cubes eat the garbage. It's a perfect waste disposal system."

Julian kicked a blob of soiled jelly. "They could have at least warned us. Shown us a training video or something."

"That's actually pretty clever too," said Dave. "What kind of person do you think signs up for this kind of high-risk shit-pay job?"

"Violent sociopaths with nothing to lose?" asked Tim.

"Exactly. People who contribute absolutely nothing to society. In other words, –"

"Us," said Cooper.

Dave shrugged. "I was talking about PCs in general, but yeah."

"PCs?" asked Julian. "You mean, as opposed to Macs?"

"Jesus, Julian," said Tim. "How long have you been in this game. Player Characters, like all of us, as opposed to NPCs, like the bakers and farmers and shit who have families here and a vested interest in maintaining an orderly society."

"I thought they didn't realize they were in a game."

"They don't. We're not PCs to them. We're just narcissistic assholes who society would be better off without."

Julian frowned. "I thought we were supposed to be heroes."

Tim gave Julian a sad smile. "When's the last time any of us did anything heroic?"

"So they want us to die?"

"They don't care whether we die or not," said Dave. "It's win-win for them. If we kill more than four wights before we turn into wights ourselves, there's a net decrease in the total number of wights, and the city doesn't have to pay us anything."

"And there's four more fuckwits off the streets," added Tim. "Shit. I hate it when Dave's right about something."

Julian tugged on his long elf ears. "What about Morgan and Balroth? Are they PCs too?"

"I don't think so. They're probably just run-of-the-mill assholes."

"So what do we do now?"

"We do our job, and hope they pay us instead of shoot us when we're done." Tim looked westward at the sun beginning to sink in the sky. "We'd better take out as many as we can before it gets dark." He looked down at their only kill so far. Its head was still connected. "Dammit, Cooper. Would you please chop this thing's head off so we can get moving."

"Screw you, dude," said Cooper. "I got distracted."

Tim turned away and listened for the chop. When it came, it was immediately followed by a loud squawk.

"Ravenus!" said Julian.

When Tim looked at the dead wight again, its head was separated from the body, but the rotted clothes over the torso were convulsing like the creature had just snorted a line of powdered rocket fuel.

Ravenus backed out from under the clothes and glared up at Cooper, insofar as a bird is able to glare. "What the devil do you think you're doing? You scared the willies out of me!"

Cooper didn't understand the Elven language, but he must have been able to glean enough from the context. "I didn't see you, asshole. What the fuck were you hiding under there for?"

Julian put his hands on his hips. "Have you been eating this whole time?"

Ravenus lowered his head. "I'm sorry, sir. The underarm skin was thin and crispy, not unlike those 'nachos' you so enjoy."

"Great. Now I'll never be able to eat nachos again."

*THWONG*

"Shit!" cried Tim. He looked up and quickly spotted a third ball of shit-garbage sailing in their direction. "Run!"

Dave, Cooper, Julian, and Ravenus scattered like cockroaches when the light comes on. Tim, already having an eye on the trajectory, merely jogged backwards a safe distance until the catapult's payload landed squarely on the dead wight. The severed head still lay next to the body, only visible now as a conspicuous lump of shit.

"Fuck," said Tim.

Cooper walked back and frowned down at the head. "This is more shit than head now. I'm not sure it's worth five silver pieces to carry it around all day."

Julian smiled at him. "You're thinking about it wrong. What's it worth to you to be able to hand that guy who sent us in here a big ball of shit and demand that he pay us for it?"

Cooper nodded. "That makes it worth it." He opened the burlap sack and kicked the head inside.

Tim walked over close to Julian. "Now that's how you use the Diplomacy skill."

Over the next couple of hours, they managed to add five more wight heads to their collection. Tim tried to think up ways to slaughter them more safely and efficiently, but nothing he thought of seemed like it would work better than ganging up on them one at a time and straight-up beating the shit out of them until they stopped moving.

When the sun got low on the horizon, Tim looked in the sack and frowned. "Thirty silver pieces isn't much for a day's work."

"It's not so bad," said Julian. "That's the going rate for betraying saviors."

"Aren't you supposed to be Jewish?"

"I read."

Tim looked back at the cage where they'd entered. Still no sign of Morgan and Balroth. "If we want to keep fighting, we'll need to light up a torch. I can't see in the dark like the rest of you."

"There's some light over there," said Dave.

Tim looked in the direction Dave had indicated. In the daylight, it had looked like nothing but more featureless barren ground. But now that it had grown dark enough, Tim could make out the faint glow of firelight coming from what looked like a wide pit. "What the hell is that?"

Dave shrugged. "Maybe it's where they burn the trash."

"They don't burn the trash," said Julian. "They let the slime cubes eat it."

"Then maybe it's where they used to burn the trash before someone thought up the gelatinous cube idea." He stroked his freshly gelled beard. "But then, why would it still be burning?"

"Probably a magic, eternally-burning fire," said Julian. "I don't imagine that's too difficult a spell."

Tim scanned his surroundings, searching for any flicker of torch or lantern light, but finding none. "Those two assholes are probably over there. They're both human, and can't see in the dark any better than I can."

Cooper narrowed his eyes at Tim. "You look like you've got a terrible idea brewing."

Tim nodded and grinned. "Oh, I do."

"Are you thinking of pushing those guys into the fire pit?" asked Julian.

"What? No. Why would you even... Okay, now I'm thinking of that. But that's just harmless fantasy. My original plan is much more practical and much less murdery."

Dave sighed. "Okay. Let's hear it."

"I'm going to lift their sack."

Cooper scratched his armpit thoughtfully. "You want to check out their taint?"

Tim winced. "What? Ew. No. I meant I'm going to pinch their wight heads."

Cooper grimaced. "That's even worse. What are you, a fucking dermatologist?"

"Goddammit, Cooper! I'm going to steal the bag in which they keep the severed heads of the wights they've killed. Is that fucking clear enough for you?"

"Would it have killed you to say that the first time?"

"They're not going to just hand over their sack," said Dave. "If we try to take it, they're definitely going to put up a fight."

"I didn't say we're going to steal it," said Tim. "I said I'm going to steal it. By the time they realize it's missing, I'll be long gone."

"And what are we supposed to do?"

"Just stay conspicuous. Light up four torches so that, from a distance, it looks like we're all together. I'll sneak off alone and snatch the bag while they're fighting a wight."

"That sounds risky," said Julian. "What if you get swallowed by a Jell-O monster? We won't even be able to hear you call for help."

"I'll take Ravenus with me."

Julian bit his lower lip. It was clear that his concern for the bird was far greater than his concern for Tim. "Okay." He pulled back one side of his serape, and Ravenus flew up to perch atop his quarterstaff. "You're going to go with Tim on a little mission, okay?"

"Very good, sir," said Ravenus. "I'm happy to serve however I may."

"You stay in the air. If he gets into trouble, you come back and tell us. Do not try to help him on your own. Do you understand?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Tim folded his arms. "Your concern is touching. Can we go now?"

Julian looked up at Ravenus, then down at Tim. "Be careful."

Ravenus flew down and tried to land on Tim's shoulder, but there wasn't enough room. The goddamn bird seemed almost as big as him up close. He finally gave up and landed on the ground.

Tim spoke in a British accent so the bird could understand him. "I'm going to sneak from trash pile to trash pile." He pointed to a nearby pile. "I'll move in a clockwise pattern around the circumference of the fire pit. You take to the sky. If you see those two guys we met earlier, come and find me."

"Right-O!" said Ravenus. He flapped his way up into the darkening sky.

Tim focused on Stealth as he dashed toward his first objective. It felt good to be doing something rogue-ish. There was a long list of things he and his friends were terrible at, and 'covert operations' was at the top of it. Any situation requiring even a modicum of subtlety would be ruined with a trumpeting fart, or a screaming horse, or Dave's fat ass falling down some stairs.

But this was what Tim's character was built for. High Dexterity. Maxed out ranks in Stealth. He was but a whisper in the breeze. A flickering shadow in—

"Fuck!" he managed to say before his face hit the dirt. Looking back to see what he'd tripped on, he found a giant bone sticking out of the dirt. Who knows what kind of prehistoric monstrosity it had once belonged to. "I'm glad you're dead, asshole."

Fortunately, he had planted his face right next to the garbage pile he'd been heading toward. Mostly scrap metal and smaller animal bones, it looked as though a gelatinous cube had sucked it dry of all organic matter some time ago.

Tim peered into the fading light to find his next objective. The fire from the pit was faintly reflected in metal scraps from two trash piles at the edge of his view. Either one would do. Just to be on the safe side, he squinted, trying to detect any sign of a gelatinous cube in his path, be it a particularly flat path of dirt, a trail of slime, a shimmer in the—

"Looking for me, sir?"

"Jesus!" Tim looked up and found Ravenus perched on a bent iron bar. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be scouting for those two assholes."

"I've found them, sir," said Ravenus. "They're hiding just beyond that rubbish heap over there." He nodded in the direction Tim had been just about to run to.

"Shit. Which one?"

"The one on the right, sir."

Maybe that was a lucky break. If Tim was able to reach the pile on the left without being detected, the close proximity would give him an advantage when it came time to make his move. "Good work, Ravenus."

Tim scanned his intended path one more time for dinosaur bones, or rocks, or holes, or anything else that might trip him up. It looked clear.

After a deep breath, he bolted out from behind his cover, barely touching the ground as he ran on his toes. He slowed down as he reached his target, not completely trusting that Ravenus knew his right from his left.

"But what are they doing?" Morgan's voice came from the far side of the right-side garbage pile.

Tim ducked behind the left-side pile and concentrated on their conversation while he scanned for danger.

"It looks like they're just standing there," said Balroth. "Why is the half-orc holding two torches. Can half-orcs not see perfectly well in the dark?"

Morgan laughed like a snarling cat. "He's probably too stupid to realize that. I wonder where the little one's run off to."

Right here, motherfucker.

"His companions likely grew weary of his big mouth and murdered him."

Dude, I'm literally right here, asshole.

"As stupid and impulsive as he is, I would guess he's gotten himself lost," said Morgan. "The others are holding up torches because halflings can't see in the dark. Should we acquire his head, I may keep it in a jar."

That sick twisted fuck. Tim glanced down at his crossbow and toyed with the idea of shooting them each in the junk and running like a motherfucker, but he doubted he'd get very far. Then he spotted what he'd been looking for all along. Near a trash pile at the outer edge of his vision, a wight trudged aimlessly away from the fire pit.

Tim searched the garbage pile next to him for something to throw. He needed something small enough to grip in one hand, but with a bit of weight to it. He settled on the skull of what was either a child or a halfling, feeling a little bad that he couldn't tell the difference. But he couldn't have asked for a better projectile. With a thumb through one of the eye-holes, it was as if it were made to be thrown.

"Alas, poor Yorick," Tim whispered as he hurled the skull halfway between the wight and the two assholes. "Get thee to a nunnery!"

The wight stopped dead in its tracks and looked in the direction of the sound.

"What's that?" said Morgan.

The wight let out a howl like a velociraptor who'd just stepped on a Lego.

"It's one of them!" said Balroth.

"Behold the power of Dionys, wretched creature!"

The wight hissed, its eyes filled with terror. It turned and fled into the darkness.

Balroth sighed. "Must you do that every time?"

"I didn't hear you complaining when the wight dropped dead instantly."

"That happened once."

"Quit your moaning," said Morgan. "We're doing the gods' work. Now hurry up. It's getting away."

As soon as Tim heard their footsteps, he hurried the other way around his garbage pile and darted to the one they had been hiding behind. Just as he'd hoped, their burlap sack-o-heads was just sitting there unattended. He estimated it to have at least twice the number of heads that he and his friends had collected.

"Well done, gentlemen," murmured Tim. "And thank you."

The bag was heavier than he'd expected, forcing Tim to drag it on the ground. Unable to rely upon Stealth, he had to instead rely upon the wight keeping Morgan and Balroth busy for a while.

"Ravenus!" Tim grunted as he dragged.

"Right here, sir." Ravenus was flying in tight circles over Tim's head. He flew down and landed on the bag.

"Go tell Cooper to get over here and help me. And tell the others to put out their torches and start moving counter-clockwise around the fire pit. We'll catch up to them."

"I'm afraid Cooper and I don't communicate very well."

"Then tell Julian to tell Cooper, dipshit. This isn't that complicated."

Ravenus ruffled his feathers. "I don't appreciate being talked to that way."

Tim sighed. "I'm really sorry. Okay?"

"Okay. Apology accepted."

"Great. Now get your fat ass in the air and go."

Ravenus dug his talons deep into the burlap. "I... have... a... cloaca!"

"Jesus Christ, Ravenus. Would you please get your fat-ass cloaca in the air and go?"

"Hmph!" said Ravenus, flapping off into the darkness.

Tim felt sweat running down both sides of his face as he dragged the sack. He was exhausted, but running on spite. "Stupid fucking bird thinks I'm going to apologize for –" A moist glob of something landed on his head. "The fuck?"

"My cloaca sends its regards, sir." Ravenus's voice was headed in the direction of his friends.

"Why you son of a..." Tim dropped the bag and aimed his crossbow at the night sky. He couldn't see Ravenus, but he pulled the trigger anyway.

"OW!" cried Cooper's faint voice a couple of seconds later.

Oops. Natural 1. Tim grabbed the lip of the bag again and started dragging.

A few minutes later, his friends' torches all went out. It was full dark now. If any wights or gelatinous cubes attacked him, he wouldn't know it until they were right on top of him. Knowing this, Tim was more comfortable in the dark than fearful of it. There were only two creatures out there who would actively be seeking him when they discovered their missing bag, and neither of them could see in the dark any better than he could.

"Tim!" Cooper called out.

Tim looked toward the fire pit and found Cooper's silhouette facing him. He dropped the bag and placed a finger over his mouth as severely as he could.

Tiny lights shone from his left. Lamp lights. Shit.

"Goddammit, Cooper!"

Cooper jogged toward Tim, and Tim dragged the bag to close as much of the distance between them as possible.

"Damn," said Cooper when he reached Tim. "They've got a shit-ton of heads."

"They'll have two more if we don't high-tail it out of here. Pick me up and let's go."

Cooper held the sack of heads over his right shoulder and Tim under his left arm. The ride was turbulent and the stench nearly unbearable, not entirely unlike traveling by bus.

"Over here!" said Dave after what seemed like an eternity of nauseous bouncing.

Cooper dropped Tim and the bag.

"Nice haul," said Julian. "They must have a good system worked out. There's half of them as there are of us, and it looks like they have at least twice as many heads. Mung was right. We should have worked together. We might have cleaned this whole place up and learned one or two things about strategy in the meantime."

"Mung can eat my ass," said Tim. He peered back in the direction they had just come from. The lamp lights were farther away than they'd been before, but not as far as they should be at the rate Cooper was running. Morgan and Balroth were slower, but still headed in their direction. "We have to move the heads from their bag to ours, then throw their bag in the fire."

Cooper snorted, looking down at one of the heads which had rolled out of the bag. "Someone drew a dick on that one."

Tim looked at the head. There did indeed appear to be a phallus on its forehead, though it was burned into the taut, decayed skin rather than drawn on. "That's weird. Who would burn a dick into someone's forehead? I mean, besides us?"

"That's the symbol of Dionys," said Dave. "I noticed the same image on Morgan's holy symbol."

"Damn it!" said Tim. "They're marking their bounties in case someone tries to steal them."

Cooper frowned. "What a couple of assholes."

"Can you rub it off?" asked Julian.

"No. It's too deep, probably seared right into the skull." Tim lifted the lip of the bag to peek in at the rest of the heads. "They're all like that."

Julian squinted out at the approaching lamp lights. "What are we going to do? Give them back?"

"Fuck that," said Tim. He kicked the one head back into the bag and looked up at Cooper. "Chuck it into the fire pit and we'll pretend we never saw it."

Julian and Dave both appeared to have objections on the tips of their tongues, but neither of them spoke any aloud.

Cooper grabbed the top of the sack, swung it around his head once, and hurled it deep into the middle of the fire pit.

"OOMF!" cried a voice from the bottom of the pit.

Julian looked at the rest of them. "Did you guys just hear –"

"Yeah, I fucking heard it," said Tim. "Who the hell is down there?"

Dave stood on the edge of the fire pit. "Tim, give me your rope."

Tim's curiosity was piqued enough for him to grant Dave's request without question. He pulled the rope out of his backpack and handed it over.

Dave held the coil in one hand while he fed the rope, one loop at a time, into the pit.

"Are you trying to rescue him?" asked Cooper.

"No," said Dave, continuing to feed the rope down. "I have a theory. I suspect that Julian was right about this being a magical fire, but I think it's all magic and no fire."

"Jesus, Dave," said Tim. "You're managing to make both magic and fire boring as shit. Just get to the point, will you?"

"It's simple. If the rope doesn't burn, then the fire is merely an ill– SHIT!"

Before anyone had time to react, the coil tightened around Dave's hand, and he was pulled into the pit, disappearing into the flames. The sound of his armor crashing into dirt came a second and a half later. His voice rose above the flames. "Ow."

"Holy shit!" said Julian. "Dave's on fire! What do we do?"

"Take it easy," said Tim. "He's fine. People on fire don't say 'Ow' or 'Oomf'. That's what he was just trying to tell us. The fire is an illusion."

"Well something just yanked him into the pit."

Tim nodded. "That's true." He looked down into the pit. "Dave? You okay?"

"Stay back, foul beast!" said Dave. "The power of... uh... my holy symbol compels you!"

"I guess probably not then." Tim let himself hang from the edge of the pit and carefully slid down the steep, but not completely vertical wall. Sliding into the fire, he was relieved at the feeling of not being burned alive.

Now that the illusion was successfully challenged, Tim found he could see through the fire just fine. He could still see that it was there, but now it looked more like just a semi-transparent representation of fire. Other things – real things – were plainly visible, such as Dave holding out his holy symbol, and the wight crouched down and cowering before it at the base of the wall.

"You turned the undead," said Tim. "Way to go."

"Thanks," said Dave. "Now what do we do with it?"

Tim called up to Cooper and Julian, who he was surprised he could see almost clearly standing at the edge of the pit. "It's safe, guys. Come on down."

Julian slid down the side, not quite so gracefully as Tim had, with Ravenus flapping down behind him.

"Cannonball!" shouted Cooper, grabbing his knees as he jumped into the pit.

The wight's bones crunched under Cooper's considerable weight. Blood and guts splattered out like a popped meat balloon.

Tim shook his head. "I guess that answers the wight question."

"Are you okay, Cooper?" asked Julian.

Cooper stood up and looked at the dead pile of bones, dust and suddenly rotting meat beneath him. "Lucky he was there to break my fall. In retrospect, that was kind of a dumb thing to do."

"Just chop its head off and put it in the..." Tim looked at Cooper, then at Julian. "Did you guys leave the bag up there?"

Julian looked up at the edge of the pit, then back down at Tim. "We were in a hurry. We thought Dave was –"

"You there!" said a voice like a man's whose balls had just been slammed in a car door.

Tim turned around. He'd been so preoccupied with their immediate situation that he hadn't yet scoped out the rest of this pit. Standing next to an altar in the middle of the pit was a bald man with a black, pointed goatee. On his left arm he wore a small round shield, adorned with a red skeletal hand against a black background.

The shield immediately struck Tim as out of place, as it was the only form of physical armor he wore. His black and red robes appeared to have been hastily designed to match is shield by an inexperienced apprentice tailor. Where the shield's hand was menacing and kind of badass, the hands on the robes looked like they had been painted on the same way a child draws their first Thanksgiving turkey.

"Dude," said Dave. "It's the guy from Manos: The Hands of Fate!"

"Silence, dwarf!" said the mysterious trash pit dweller, spreading the arms of his robes out dramatically, causing pages of the large book on his altar to turn. "Speak not of my hands!"

Tim wouldn't have noticed if the guy hadn't brought it up, but he did have tiny, delicate hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim also noticed Julian whispering something to Ravenus, once again tucked under his serape.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dave. He lifted up his own left arm. "I've got this weird leopard fur thing going on, so don't feel –"

"I said silence!" said the strange man, pounding his little fist on the table. He looked down behind the altar. "No, not you. I'm sorry. Did Daddy scare you? Come on up here." He crouched down behind the altar.

"Go! Now!" whispered Julian. Ravenus sprang out of his chest like a black feathered xenomorph and flew out into the night.

When the man rose from behind the altar, he placed a black cat on top of it. The side of the cat's fur also bore a crudely painted red hand. Tim felt bad for it.

"Now," said the man, gesturing down at the spilled sack of heads by his feet. "Who is responsible for this?"

"Not us!" said Tim. "We found those like that." He wondered if he had to make a Bluff check on telling the truth if the truth sounded like complete horseshit. Better just to move the dialogue along. "So... Who the fuck are you, anyway?"

"I am Grand Wizard Dominus Traldar! Commander of wights!"

Julian cringed. "Grand Wizard? Really?"

"What?" asked the Grand Wizard. "What's wrong with that?"

"It just carries sort of unpleasant connotations where we're from."

"More unpleasant than necromancy?"

Julian looked at Tim, who just shrugged. "I don't know. That's a tough one. Let's just call it different unpleasant."

The Grand Wizard stroked his pet's fur. "Perhaps you will not find it so unpleasant once you have joined my army."

Tim wondered if their best bet wasn't to just jump him right there and then. If he was a powerful spellcaster, then he might be able to disintegrate them all before they got anywhere near him. If, on the other hand, he was more like Julian, whose greatest magical feat was the ability to summon a horse, they could just beat the shit out him and be on their way. Unfortunately, the majority of the grey area between those two extremes would likely see one or all of Tim's group dead.

"That's a cute cat," said Julian. "What's his name?" Was he stalling for time, or was he oblivious to the potential danger they were in and genuinely interested in this guy's pet cat? With Julian, it could go either way.

"His name is Mr. Whiskers." The Grand Wizard scratched under Mr. Whiskers's chin. Tim felt bad that the cat had more to be ashamed of than the shitty red hand painted on his fur.

"How original!" said Julian, unconvincingly. To be fair though, the Difficulty Class on that Bluff check would have been pretty fucking high. "Do you, uh... like music?"

It was now painfully clear that Julian was stalling for time, and failing miserably. Tim picked up the slack.

"What is it you plan to do with us?" Tim demanded, already knowing full well what he intended to do with them. His comment about them joining his wight army didn't leave a lot of room for interpretation.

"Have no fear, tiny halfling. It will only hurt for a second. Once my wights drain your soul from your body, you'll feel no more. But you'll be more powerful than you ever were in life." The Grand Wizard's eyes widened. "You'll have wight power."

"Oh come on," said Julian. "Again, there are so many different ways you could have phrased that."

The Grand Wizard put his non-shield hand on his hip. "I'm not sure you're appreciating the gravity of the situation you're in. Under the circumstances, your constant nitpicking of my choice of vocabulary is –"

*CRASH*

*VWOOOOOOOOOSH*

"HORSE!"

Unmistakably real fire burst out from the book atop the altar like time lapse video of a blossoming flower... which was made out of fire. Also, a horse materialized behind the Grand Wizard.

Mr. Whiskers jumped off the altar.

A look of horror came over the Grand Wizard's face as he started toward his burning spellbook. "NOOO – Oomf!"

Julian's startled horse kicked the Grand Wizard, sending him flying through the air to land in a heap at Tim's feet.

"Hold him!" cried Tim. "Make sure he can't move his –"

A fiercely adorable meow rang out, followed shortly after by Dave's muffled screams. Mr. Whiskers had attached himself to Dave's face.

Tim determined that Dave was competent enough to handle a house cat all by himself. He needed to focus on the shield.

Cooper pounced on the wizard, putting them in a 69 position. He gripped the wizard's ankles with his hands and pinned the arms down with his knees.

Tim grabbed the shield and tried to pull it off the wizards' arm. "And don't let him speak!"

"Get off of me this instant, you filthy –"

The Grand Wizard's words, and Mr. Whiskers's feline screams were overpowered by a thunderous wet fart.

Tim wasn't at an angle from which he could see the wizard's face, but judging by the expression on Julian's, Cooper's fart was more than a fart. "Did he just...?"

"Yeah," said Julian. "He's probably going to want to wash that off before his next Klan meeting." Ravenus landed on Julian's shoulder, and Julian looked relieved for the distraction. "Everything go okay, buddy?"

"Couldn't have gone better, sir," said Ravenus. "They didn't even know I was there."

"You saved our butts. Do you want some eyes?"

Ravenus looked down at the Grand Wizard, who was gagging and weeping. "They've got shit all over them, sir."

"I was talking about the heads in the bag. They have the chewy kind you like."

Tim wasn't having any luck trying to pull the shield loose, so he felt around for the buckles.

Mr. Whiskers's caterwauling came to an abrupt end.

"Dude," said Cooper. "You killed the cat?"

"No," said Dave. "I didn't kill it. I just knocked it out."

"What kind of monster are you?"

"Look at my fucking face?"

Tim finally got the shield loose. He turned around to look at Dave. Dave's face was riddled with parallel sets of bleeding claw marks in every direction. He looked like he'd been attacked by a whole gaggle of cats. Still, they were superficial wounds compared to what a lot of creatures in the C&C world could dish out.

"Don't be such a baby. I think a Zero Level Heal spell should take care of that." Tim knew he didn't have to tell a cleric when or how to use his own healing magic. Dave had only neglected to do it so far so that he could show off how much he'd sacrificed for the good of the team. As if they were going to give him a fucking Purple Heart for punching out a cat.

"My shield!" cried the Grand Wizard. His nose must have still been clogged with shit, because he sounded like he had a cold. "You must give it back! I need it to control the wights!"

"I know, asshole. That's why I took it away."

"But you don't understand. I was keeping them at bay until after we'd talked. In retrospect, that seems unwise."

"I hear you, buddy," said Cooper.

"I was lonely." The wizard looked at Tim with pleading shit-caked eyes. "They'll be coming for all of us now. Dozens of them! You must return my shield!"

"Fuck no," said Tim. "If we need it, we'll use it ourselves."

The Grand Wizard shook his head. "The shield will only serve one master per day. I've already used it today. It's powerless in your hands."

"Well you're a Grand Wizard. You can just Fireball them or some shit."

"I've depleted my magical energy for the day."

"You used up all your spells? Doing what?"

The wizard frowned. "Entertaining myself, mostly. It was getting late, and I wasn't expecting visitors."

"Can't you just jerk off like a normal person?" Tim focused on his Sense Motive skill, and judged the wizard to be telling the truth, with regard to the danger they were all in as well as with his lack of spells. "Get off of him, Cooper."

Cooper let one last fart squeak out before standing up.

The Grand Wizard sprang to his feet and rushed to the altar. The fire had died down, leaving behind the broken twisted remains of an oil lamp. The spellbook had been completely consumed.

"My book!" said the Grand Wizard between sobs. "All that time and money, wasted!"

"I'm sorry," said Julian. "You didn't leave me any choice." He placed Mr. Whiskers's still-unconscious body on the altar in front of the wizard.

"How did you do that, anyway?" asked Tim.

"The same way you did. I sent Ravenus to go swipe a lamp from those guys. I figured the guy with the spear would need to put down his lamp while he was fighting. How'd you know about the shield?"

Tim laughed. "That was simple. What the fuck else is this gangly asshole going to use a shield for? He's no necromancer. He's just a shitty illusionist who got in over his head playing with evil power he's too stupid to under–"

"NYEEEEEEGGGGHHHH!" cried Julian's magical horse, which had wandered away from the fire. Undead hands gripped it by the throat. The horse's large brown eyes were wide with terror. The wight's cold blue eyes shone with sadistic glee.

"Shit!" said Tim. "They're here." He passed the shield to Julian. "Keep this away from him, but don't put it on. It might be evil." He fired his crossbow, hitting the horse, which vanished from the wight's grip.

Julian glared at Tim. "Evil, huh?"

"I was aiming for the wight, asshole."

Julian aimed his open palm at the wight.

"Don't," said Tim. "We can handle them as long as they're coming one at a time. Save your spells for when we need them."

The wight ran at them, its slobbering tongue wagging out of its mouth.

Cooper rushed up to meet it first, swinging his greataxe upward into the creature's undead junk. "Fuck you!" The axe tore up into the wights crotch, easily through the pelvic bone, up into its intestinal area.

It didn't seem fazed as it wrapped its dead hands around Cooper's neck.

Cooper croaked, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Dave waddled up and swung his mace as hard as he could into the wight's back. "Hiyah!"

The wight let go of Cooper's neck, slid down his chest, and collapsed into a pile of gore at his feet.

Cooper massaged his neck. "Hiyah? What the fuck was that? Toddler karate?"

"Screw you, Cooper. I just saved your ass. The least you could do is show a little –"

"Hey guys?" said Julian. "Where's the Grand Wizard?"

Tim looked back at the altar. Both the Grand Wizard and Mr. Whiskers had disappeared. He scanned the surrounding area. Nothing but illusionary fire as far as he could see. The fire was transparent, but not completely so. At a distance, it had the same effect as a light fog, and Tim noticed that he couldn't see the edge of the pit. What he could see, however, were wights stepping out of the fire-fog from every direction.

"He probably turned invisible," said Tim. He waved his dagger in wide arcs all around him, but sliced nothing but air. Julian, Cooper, and Dave waved their quarterstaff, axe, and mace around likewise, like blind murderers. Their efforts revealed nothing while a dozen wights closed in.

"We'll give you the shield," Tim called out. "Keep the wights back and we'll work something out."

"No," said Julian. "I have a spell for this."

"If you summon another goddamn horse, I'll –"

"Glitterdust!" Julian threw his hands in the air like a birthday party magician.

The air around them was suddenly thick with sparkling glitter. Tim could feel it in his ears and nose. It stung his eyes, nearly to the point that he couldn't—

"What the fuck?" said Cooper. "I can't see anything!"

Tim blinked until he could see Cooper stumbling around, covered from head to toe in glitter, like a drunk Vegas hooker. "Well don't worry. You look fucking fabulous."

"I forgot about that part of the spell," said Julian, who was tapping the ground in front of him with the bottom of his quarterstaff. "Can anyone see? Where's the Grand Wizard?"

Tim looked around for a human-shaped mass of sparkles, but only saw Dave kneeling next to the altar. "He's not here. He's fucking gone."

"That's impossible," said Julian. "There's nowhere he could have –"

"Look at this!" said Dave, still seemingly mesmerized by the altar. "The stone slab on this side of the altar isn't catching any glitter."

Tim cocked his crossbow and peered through the glitter storm for wights. "What are we doing now? Reinforcing gay stereotypes? Who gives a shit about the interior décor of a goddamn garbage pit? If you haven't noticed, we're outnumbered at least three to one, and two of us are fucking blind."

"I don't think it's real," said Dave. He pushed on the wall, and his leopard-furred forearm disappeared into the stone. "It's a secret door!"

No time to think. Tim would take what he could get. He grabbed Julian by the arm and led him to the altar. "Come this way, Cooper! Follow my voice."

As soon as Dave's last boot disappeared into the stone, Tim guided Juilan's head in, then went back for Cooper.

Cooper banged his head twice on the top of the altar, but managed to duck under the lip on his third try.

Tim didn't like the idea of following Cooper's ass so closely with his own face, but he liked the idea of being mauled by a horde of sparkling wights even less. He slipped into the secret passage and breathed a sigh of relief when the wights didn't follow.

A wooden stairwell led down to an earthen tunnel, supported by rough wooden beams, like an old mine tunnel. At the bottom of the stairs, a glittery Cooper shimmered in the faint glow of a small Light stone hanging from the ceiling by a short length of twine.

"Are you okay?"

Cooper groaned. "I've been better."

"Where's everyone else?"

"How the fuck should I know? I'm blind."

"Keep your voice down. I'm going to go ahead. Follow along at a distance." Tim followed the tunnel, keeping as quiet as he could. If Dave and Julian weren't making any noise there might be a reason for that. Tim briefly considered that the reason could be that they were already dead, but that wasn't a useful line of reasoning.

It didn't take long for him to reach the end of the Light stone's radiance, and once again he found himself groping around in the dark.

With one hand sliding along the tunnel wall, and the other stabbing the air in front of him with his dagger, Tim continued along until he saw a speck of light far off in the distance.

With a goal in sight, he quickened his pace, stopping only once, when his arms got tired, to switch guiding and stabbing hands.

When he finally made it to where the light at the other end of the tunnel was visible, he saw Julian standing at the bottom of a rusty iron ladder. His serape sparkled like a sequined ball gown. He was gazing vaguely in Tim's direction, but obviously still blind.

At the top of the ladder, Dave was poking his head through a hatch, the wooden cover of which was resting atop his helmet.

"Psst," said Tim.

Julian looked suddenly alert, looking more specifically in Tim's direction, but way over his head. He pressed his finger firmly over his lips, then beckoned Tim over. He waited a few seconds, then whispered. "We're under Mung's office. He's in there chatting with the Grand Wizard."

Tim nodded. "I knew it. Those two assholes are in cahoots."

"Slow down. We don't even know that there's a conspiracy here. Dave's 'luring PCs to their deaths' theory sounded a little far-fetched to me."

"Maybe it's not that," said Tim. "Maybe those two guys are acting on their own, looting the bodies of fallen mercenaries and selling their shit, you know?"

"No, I don't know. There's absolutely no evidence to support that."

"Did you see any wights carrying weapons?"

"No."

"Did you see any weapons lying around on the ground?"

"No, but that doesn't mean –"

Tim cleared his throat. "I rest my case."

Julian frowned. "Did it ever occur to you that you and Dave are merely projecting your own callous disregard for others onto innocent people?"

Tim balled up his little fists. "We should have killed the wizard while we had the chance."

"Of course, now that option's off the table," said Julian. "I mean, seeing as how we don't know how far up this conspiracy goes."

Tim scratched behind his ear. "Hmm... That's true. We don't want to get mixed up in..." A realization dawned on him. "Goddammit, Julian. You and your fucking Diplomacy skill."

The sides of Julian's sparkly mouth twitched upward slightly. "I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I've got a better idea anyway. We'll hide out here in the tunnel until morning when we can use the shield, then go back out into the garbage pit, climb out over a wall, and sell this thing for a fuckton of money."

Julian nodded. "We're taking away their white power and making some coin on the side. I think I can live with –"

*WRAAAAWROOOOOW*

"FUCK!" cried Dave as he fell off the ladder and landed hard on his back. Four deep parallel cuts oozed blood and glitter from his left cheek. With some effort, he placed a finger on his uninjured cheek and croaked out his incantation. "I... heal... me."

"What'd I miss?" asked Cooper, who had finally caught up to them.

"Mr. Whiskers just kicked Dave's ass again," said Tim.

Cooper snorted. "Awesome."

The hatch opened. "Who's down there?" asked Mung.

Tim frowned. "Also, we're fucked."

To Tim's surprise, the hatch closed again.

Julian pulled back his serape, which had protected Ravenus from the worst of the Glitterdust spell. "Fly back out the way we came in," he whispered. "There's a fake stone or something."

"But sir, I can't leave you to –"

"If we get arrested, I'm going to need you on the outside."

Ravenus hung his head. "Very well, sir." He flew off down the tunnel and vanished into the darkness.

The hatch opened again. "Come on," said Mung. "Get up here right now, and no harm will come to you."

Tim would have felt better if he hadn't brought up harm in the first place. "How do we know we can trust –"

A sound like a phone book being slowly ripped in half, accompanied by a rapidly expanding cloud of sparkles erupted from behind Cooper.

"Fuck it. We're coming up." Tim started up the ladder. When he surfaced at ground level, he found that the hatch opened up under Mung's desk.

"What happened to you?" asked Mung. "Were you involved in some kind of pixie orgy?"

"Sure," said Tim. He didn't want to put up with any bullshit any longer than he had to. "Listen, let's cut to the –" He noticed that Mr. Whiskers and the Grand Wizard weren't there. The room was completely empty but for Mung's desk, and the half-full burlap sack sitting on top of it. "Are you here alone?"

Mung shrugged. "Typical government understaffing. Why pay three men when you can pay one man to do three men's jobs? You know how it is."

"Bullshit!" said Dave, huffing and puffing as he climbed out of the hatch. "I heard you talking to –"

Tim pressed his heel down firmly on Dave's sausage fingers.

"Yaaaaaaah!" cried Dave.

Tim eased up on Dave's fingers. "My friend here thought he heard more than one voice coming from up here."

Mung frowned. "I'm auditioning for a play. I was practicing my lines."

"You see, Dave? He was practicing his lines." Mung wouldn't have told such a bald-faced lie unless he was really dumb, he thought they were really dumb, or he was laying down some heavy subtext that they were supposed to pick up on. Tim suspected a little from column B and a little from column C.

The subtext in this case: Don't start no shit, won't be no shit. If they could make it through the front door without making mention of the Grand Wizard or the little racket he and Mung were running, they would be allowed to live.

"Right!" said Dave, nodding vigorously. "Practicing his lines." He looked at Mung. "Well done, sir. You sure had me convinced."

"Are you guys insane?" Julian was crawling out of the hatch, blinking rapidly. His vision must have been returning. "What about your face, Dave? Mr. Whiskers scratched the shit out of you."

"My face is fine, Julian!" Dave licked his palm and rubbed the dry, glittery blood off his cheek. "See?"

"Oh... um... okay." Julian didn't get the subtext as quickly as Dave, but at least he recognized that he should shut the hell up.

Cooper came out of the hatch like he was riding a volcanic eruption and banged his head on the bottom of the desk. "Ow! Goddammit!"

The bag atop the desk spilled over. Wight heads rolled out. One of the heads was covered in shit and missing its eyeballs.

"Those are our heads!" said Tim.

"I'm afraid not," said Mung. "Those heads were turned in by the two gentlemen who arrived with you."

"Those thieving, lowlife sons of –"

Julian nudged him with the shield. "It's okay. Let's let the man get back to his theater practice."

Tim nodded. "Right. Thanks for everything. Sorry we didn't kill any wights. You win some, you lose some."

"Not so fast," said Mung. "I see you've got a new shield there, elf."

Julian shrugged. "It's a piece of junk. I found it in one of the scrap piles. I thought I might paint a picture on it or something. You know." He gave Mung a wide friendly grin, which Tim thought to be a bit much.

"This wasn't a treasure hunt. That's city property."

Julian looked at Tim. Everyone in the room knew what that goddamn shield was. Mung was spouting that city property bullshit to keep within the subtext. Tim nodded for Julian to hand it over. What a fucking waste of a day.

A noise came from the other side of the door that led out to the trash dump. It was something like a muffled scream or howl, followed by a thud. Tim pretended not to hear it.

"What the fuck was that?" asked Cooper.

"Nothing," said Mung. He started herding them to the front door with his wide half-orc arms. "Thank you for coming. Feel free to come back anytime." He slammed the door shut behind them.

"What a fucking asshole," said Tim.

Julian smiled down at him. "Cheer up. I'll buy you a drink."

"What the fuck are you so giddy about all of a sudden?"

Julian pursed his lips. "That's a good question. I don't actually know."

Tim started walking toward Cardinia's West Gate. "It's your Empathic Link to that stupid bird, isn't it? He's probably off somewhere fucking a goose or something."

Julian called out toward the sky. "Ravenus?"

"Right here, sir!" Ravenus's voice was equally chipper and annoying. He flapped down and landed on top of Julian's quarterstaff.

"What are you in such a good mood about. Just happy to see us alive?"

"Well there is that of course, sir. But there's more."

Julian nodded. "Go on."

"That man in the black and red robes, the one with the cat."

"The Grand Wizard, yes?"

"That's the one, sir. He was in that safety cage, surrounded by wights who looked like they had personal grievances with him."

"They must remember who controlled them," said Dave.

"Well good for him," said Julian. "I hope he's learned a lesson."

"Oh he has indeed, sir," said Ravenus. "You see, I pulled up the latch and opened the gate."

The giddiness of Julian's facial expression vanished like a slaughtered magical horse. "Oh my god. We need to get out of here right now."

"Maybe we should hang out in the woods for a while," suggested Dave. "In case they put out an APB for four glittery idiots and a bird."

Tim was in dire need of a drink, but couldn't argue Dave's reasoning.

While they waited in the forest for the last remnants of the Glitterdust spell to wear off, Tim spotted an adorable, wide-eyed nocturnal monkey climbing up the trunk of a nearby tree. One of those kinds that looked perpetually surprised. Beautiful creature. He aimed his crossbow and pulled the trigger.

With naught but a tiny chirp, the monkey fell out of the tree and hit the ground, dead as a post.

Tim picked up the monkey carcass by the bolt sticking out of its neck and held it up toward the branch Ravenus was perched in. He cleared his throat for a British accent. "Cheers, bloke. Jolly good work today."