Heather the Necromancer

A growl from Heather's stomach greeted the morning light. She stretched and scratched at her sides as she got up from where she slept against a rock. Frank and Quinny were standing not ten feet away, talking about something she couldn’t quite hear. They had their backs to them and hadn’t noticed she was awake yet.

Grettah was awake and poking through her backpack. She looked up at the noise Heather made and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you hungry?”

“How can you tell?” Heather laughed as she rubbed her stomach.

“I don’t recall seeing you eat anything,” Grettah said.

Heather sighed. “I don’t eat much. I have plenty of apples and some food I got from a town we visited once, but I got sick of all that days ago.”

“Is that why you’re risking your life for pizza?”

Heather smiled. “I suppose. To be honest, I just wanted something more to do than sit in the graveyard. Pizza, adventure, maybe some shopping. How could I pass up the chance?”

“Sounds like you were made for this world,” Grettah laughed.

“Hardly, this is an effort to make it seem more normal.”

“Good, you two are awake,” Quinny said when she heard the laugh.

“So, no trolls attacked and ate us in the night?” Heather asked.

Quinny shrugged. “If they did, then you're still dreaming in the buffer.”

Heather yawned and stretched. “Do you dream in the buffer?”

Quinny shrugged. “I don't know. You never remember being in the buffer. From your point of view, you die and instantly wake back up. The only way you can tell anything is different is time has passed.”

` “And your back at your home or spawn point,” Frank added.

Heather tried to imagine how awkward that shift must be. One second your one place, and the next your somewhere else and the sun has moved. The thought eluded her, so she focused on getting ready.

She shook out her dress and brushed it off. She hoped it hadn't wrinkled too much from sleeping in it. What was she going to do when they needed washing? Maybe there was a dry cleaner in town?

“You two stayed up all night?” Grettah asked.

“The undead don't need to sleep,” Frank replied. “We never feel tired unless we're badly wounded. Then we can sleep to heal faster.”

“Thanks to Heather, we didn't need to,” Quinny added.

“I felt exhausted,” Heather said with a yawn. “I still feel a little tired.”

“You probably used most of your magic pool,” Frank said.

“My magic pool?”

Frank nodded. “You have a pool of power you use when you cast spells. When you run out, you can't cast anymore until you rest. It makes you feel tired when you need to rest to recover anything.”

“Really?” Heather asked.

“Look on your character sheet. You should have a power number of some kind. That is how much you have to cast with.”

Heather rubbed open her panel and looked trough the sheet. She saw a blue bar with a number on it.

“So my spells have a cost?” she asked.

“All of them do,” Frank said. “Your power spells have a flat cost. The spells you learn from the world have varying costs. Some of them require ingredients and time to cast. They don't take much of your power because the ingredient is consumed in the casting. The ones that don't have ingredients are often the most costly.”

“Oh, so that’s why my rotting bolt requires I have a bone,” she said.

“Probably,” Frank said.

“But it never consumes the bone,” Heather said.

“I don't know how all your spells work. It might be cheaper or maybe not modified at all. I didn't care for spellcasting classes.”

Heather shrugged as she dismissed the panel and picked up her scythe. They gathered up and headed off in search of the distant road and the cheesy prize at the end.

An hour down the road, and Heather was in her panel again. She showed Grettah how it worked and what her various choices were. Grettah repeated how much people wanted to be chosen so they could have the same choices Heather had.

Frank walked ahead with Quinny carrying the basket since Heather's skeletons were left behind. She wore the sunbonnet just to look silly as they walked across the countryside.

The sun moved to its noon point as they entered a stand of trees. All the land north of them was forest-covered hills with a few rocky outcrops that poked above the green canopy. They saw a few deer and at one point, a giant frog that sat near a stream. They stayed well clear of it, and it paid them no attention as they passed by.

An hour into the trees, they finally found a broad road of crushed rock.

“This must be it,” Frank said as she looked down it to the east. The town must be hidden in the hills.”

“I can almost smell the pizza now,” Heather said excitedly.

“All I can smell is damp earth,” Quinny said.

“That’s just Frank,” Heather teased.

“Ha, Douse him with your mace,” Quinny suggested.

Frank glared at Heather with narrow eyes. “The undead don't sweat, so we don't smell.”

“I can still smell you,” Heather said. “You smell like damp soil.”

“And you smell like lemons,” he replied.

Heather's mouth fell open in shock. “That's because the soap I use is lemongrass and mint.”

“Which smells odd together,” he insisted.

“It does not! It’s a very common scent combination.”

“Let’s just find the town,” Quinny insisted to change the topic.

Frank shrugged and led the way as they walked as a group.

“So this Harkinor guy said they put on too much cheese?” Grettah asked.

“As if such a thing were possible,” Heather laughed.

“I wonder what the crust is like,” Quinny said.

“I hope it’s a good thick crust,” Heather said.

“Yuck,” Quinny retorted. “Give me paper thin every time.”

“Knowing dwarves, it's probably a thick hard rye bread,” Frank said.

Heather looked a the two girls who shrugged at the remark, so Heather asked.

“Why do you say that?”

He glanced back at them. “I read about the dwarves online before I came in. They make a variety of dense rye bread from beer. I think it’s called stoggis. Some people call it stone bread.”

“Ha! They do make it out of rocks,” Quinny laughed.

“Maybe that’s what makes it dwarven pizza,” Grettah added.

“A rye bread, though?” Heather asked. “They would be better off making sandwiches.”

“On rye bread?” Quinny asked.

“Haven’t you ever had a Reuben sandwich?”

Quinny shook her head. “I have never heard of one.”

Heather was shocked and shook her head. “You have to get out of this game and go have a Reuben. It's one of the best sandwiches ever.”

“I spent a lot of time in New York,” Grettah added. “They have some of the best places for those there. They pile them so high with pastrami that you can’t even begin to close them.”

“I have no idea what pastrami is either,” Quinny added.

“Where did you grow up?” Heather asked.

Quinny shrugged. “A small town in South Carolina.”

“That explains it,” Heather said. “You need to go into the big cities for food like that.”

“We had a couple of good places to eat,” Quinny protested. “We had a place that made amazing biscuits and gravy, and the catfish was to die for.”

“I miss gyro's,” Frank said.

“Oh, those are good too,” Grettah added. “Again, New York, really good gyros, but you can also get amazing ones in London. They call them kabobs there.”

“Isn’t that where fish and chips come from?” Quinny joked.

Grettah shook her head. “You would be surprised to know that England has a very diverse food culture now. Very heavily influenced by Indian food. Lots of curry and rich spices, but you can find dishes from all over Europe.”

“You really did travel a lot, didn't you,” Heather asked.

“It was my job,” Grettah sighed. “The only good part of it was being able to try foods from the places I went to.”

They spoke about food for a few minutes more as they walked. Quinny was from a small town in South Carolina. She was a little older than Heather and had no desire to be a mother. Grettah was a mother, her children were raised, and her job kept her flying around the world. She was from Pensylvania originally but spent most of her life in New York.

Heather told them about her life. She was from Northern Indiana and was working in a bank while she got a degree in interior design. They chatted merrily about the lives they left behind but slowly became aware that Frank wasn’t participating.

“So what part of the world did Frank call home?” Heather pressed.

“Texas,” he replied with no emotion.

“Ok?” Heather said with a glance. “Is there something wrong with being from Texas?”

“No,” he said and offered nothing more.

They were all quiet a moment, and Heather decided to press him some more.

“So, no stories about how everything is bigger in Texas?”

He glanced back at her and shook his head. “I sure was.”

“You sure were what?”

“Bigger,” he said.

“Alright, I’m confused,” Quinny said.

Frank sighed. “I was overweight. Really overweight. I was practically bedridden, and I spent all my time playing games. I love food, but I couldn't control myself, and it ruined my health.”

“Oh,” Heather said, feeling horrible for pushing him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drag up a painful memory.”

“I came in here because it seemed like a chance at a whole new life. I love games, especially fantasy RPG. This was a chance to live a fantasy game life and be healthy again.”

“Sounds like a good reason to join to me,” Grettah said.

“My family didn't think so,” Frank said. “They argued with me about it the whole time I was waiting to go. My parents told me I was running away from my problems, and that I would be no happier here.”

Heather felt awful that this was coming out now. She never thought of who Frank might have been before New Eden. Now that she knew, she felt terrible that she was dragging him off to find food.

“Part of why I picked a ghoul was because they don’t need to eat. I never feel hungry because I feed off the graveyard.”

“To be honest, it sounds like you did the right thing,” Quinny said. “You got up and made a change in your life for the better.”

“I thought so,” Frank said.

“I agree with her,” Heather added. “And I like who you are now, strange yellow eyes and all.”

“Oh god, he looks hideous!” Quinny laughed. “But I like him too.”

Heather laughed with her as they walked down the tree-lined road.

The road started to climb upwards at a gentle slope as it wound its way into the hills. Eventually, it exited the trees into a path between two hills and climbed up to a tunnel on a hillside. Two large brass bowls rested on stone pillars to either side of the tunnel. In each was a burning fire that danced in the wind, embers blowing in a gentle rain.

“Is that the gate?” Heather asked.

“It’s a tunnel into the upper hills,” Frank said.

“I kind of feel at home here,” Grettah joked. “I don’t suffer a movement penalty on steep slopes like other races do.”

“How can you climb better? You have hooves for feet,” Quinny asked.

Grettah shrugged. “It’s just the way it works. I didn’t make the rules.”

“Are you sure you’re not part mountain goat?” Quinny pressed.

“I am sure,” Grettah snapped with a twitch of her long ears.

“So, we just go through the tunnel then?” Heather asked.

“It’s that or go home,” Frank replied. “At least it isn’t guarded.”

They arrived at the tunnel that was made of carefully cut and polished stone blocks. It was easily twelve feet tall and fifteen wide. It had stone columns along the walls every ten feet that held up arches. Where the arches met in the middle, a metal dish hung from chains with a stout candle burning inside. The floor was polished stone, and the tunnel continued to climb upwards into the hill.

“It’s lit,” Grettah said as she stood in the entrance.

“Why do I feel nervous about this?” Heather asked.

“Because this is a choke point,” Frank said. “If anything goes wrong, this is our only way out, and it's easily blocked.”

“I think it's more that the tunnel is dark, and I thought something could be hiding inside it,” she replied.

“It’s a straight tunnel with nowhere to hide,” Frank pointed out. “The real danger will be on the other side.”

Heather nodded as she looked up the long passage and strained to see the exit. She could see daylight through a narrow portal a good hundred paces ahead. Relieved, she set her shoulders and took a deep breath before walking in and taking the lead.

Grettah's hooves clicked on the stone floor as they walked along. The tunnel was remarkably clean and well kept, and the candlelight seemed unusually bright. About halfway to the tunnel exit, they saw a figure stand in the light. They couldn't make out any detail, but the shape quickly dashed to the side out of sight.

“That’s strange,” Heather said.

“I couldn’t see what it was,” Quinny said.

“Probably just a player,” Frank suggested.

“Why did they suddenly run off?” Heather asked.

“They saw an undead army marching on their gates,” Quinny laughed.

Heather didn't like the sound of that, and she tightened the grip on her scythe as they approached the tunnel exit. The road beyond this point was made of cut stones laid out in a smooth, orderly fashion. They exited on a high flat plain in the hills with only a few fur trees growing to one side. The ground to the right was level enough to walk across easily. It stretched out into the hills but vanished around an outcropping of rock. The road itself went left between the hills to what looked like a ledge where it turned right and ran along with it. The ledge had a sturdy wooden rail to mark the edge and keep people from falling.

“Where did that person go?” Heather asked as she looked around.

“Probably ran in fear,” Quinny suggested.

“Let’s hope not,” Frank said. “They could alert any guards that are nearby.”

Heather looked around and decided all they could do was keep going. Pizza was nearby, and she wasn't about to turn back now.

As they made their way to the ledge, a sudden shrill cry made them look up.

“Intruders!” a tiny voice cried.