Heather the Necromancer

Heather tapped through the panel as the skeletons carried them aloft, marching through the darkness without a care. She was bound and determined to read every skill and subskill in the list to know the full range of what she could become. Nearly all of them could be taken multiple times and grant additional features, making a maze of possibilities.

“That’s silly,” she declared. “I can’t dodge arrows unless I put five skill points into dodge.”

“Some of the martial arts classes can dodge or even catch them as a class ability,” Frank said.

“So why does a skill do something a class can do? Doesn’t that make the class less unique?”

He shook his head and smiled slightly, his gruesome teeth making the whole experience horrid. “There are skills that do virtually everything a class can do, but the class will always do it better. Like a Warrior class has fighting styles from the start, everybody else has to buy them with skills. It allows people to tweak their characters and make them more flexible. You get a new skill point every couple of levels of your primary class. Because you're chosen, you have two primaries and twice the number of skill points.”

“There are a thousand classes, surely there is something that has the skills they want already,” Heather insisted.

Frank shook his head. “Every class is missing things people wish they had. With skills, you can tweak your character to get some access to those missing things. If you keep spending points on them, you can be as good as a class who mains in them, but you can't do much else. This allows you to build a unique character like a necromancer who specializes in two-hand weapon fighting.”

Heather smiled as she saw his point and went back to the listings. There were magical skills that would allow a player to select spells from other classes, mostly the low-level abilities focusing on something called cantrips. These turned out to be little spells that did mostly harmless things. To her surprise, she had a small selection of them already. For some reason, her cantrips weren't listed with her main spells because they didn't count as progression spells; thus, she never realized she had them. She could make a ghostly glow that shed light in a small area, cause a sound, smell, or gentle breeze to blow. Raise or lower the temperature in a room slightly. Create a tiny annoying insect to buzz around an area, and even light or snuff out a candle just by commanding it.

Again she was annoyed at herself for not spending more time learning, but what time did she have? Something was always happening, and there was hardly time to sit around and poke through endless tabs on her panel.

One cantrip kind of caught her eye, it was silly and pointless, but it made her interested. It caused wisps of black smoke to curl around her feet, leaving a trail of smoke as she walked. It showed a picture of a man in dark robes covered in skulls and strange symbols standing in his dark cloud. Harmless as it was, it looked impressive, and she noted that one to try later.

Of particular interest was the skills that allowed access to other spells. It started with two cantrips from a class, but taken again would give one cantrip and a level one spell provided she took it from the same class. A third pick would allow a level two spell. Picking it additional times wouldn't progress up the spell list until six talents were spent. This would allow her to choose a level three spell, but the cost was extreme. To get to level four spells would take another four points and five more after that for level five. It was a significant investment, and she was already two spellcasting classes, but magic could be so versatile in the right hands. She tucked that option away for now, as she pondered how to get the most from her remaining points.

When she finally felt tired, she curled up at the back of the cart and closed her eyes. Umtha also slept but not before telling Frank where to turn ahead so he could steer the skeletons until morning. When morning came, they were in a whole new landscape. The road was gravel cutting straight through a series of low hills along the edge of a dark forest. Quinny remarked that it looked a lot like her haunted forest, and they even saw glowing eyes peek out.

As they wound their way down the road, it took on a gloomy feel, eventually turning into mossy paving stones. The forest crossed the road growing on both sides as the skeletons pushed on into the shadows of the trees.

“This looks a lot like a player forest,” Quinny said.

“I agree,” Breanne added. “Maybe a Forest guardian who took a gloomy theme.”

“Some natural forests spawn like this,” Frank pointed out as they searched the trees for danger.

“Why is the road stone instead of mud?” Heather asked as they marched along. “Shouldn’t this belong to a city?”

“It belong to Grendalvehr,” Umtha said in a dry tone.

Heather looked up and blinked in confusion. “Is that a person or a place?”

“Grendalvehr, city in hills.”

“It’s a city?” Heather said in alarm. “That puts it just two days from the graveyard! Why didn’t you know about this?”

Frank shrugged helplessly. “I didn't come this far out to look. Players can start new towns and cities wherever they want. There could be a city six hours in the other direction for all we know.”

“Grendalvehr day way,” Umtha interjected. “Edge of lower black swamps.”

“Black swamps?” Heather repeated. “That sounds like something I have heard of before.”

“It's probably named by players,” Frank said. “Every fantasy game and book has a black swamp, or forest, or hills. Players probably borrowed the name and called it that. I bet that's why the goblins are called black goblins because they live in the black swamps.”

“Hmm, not very creative,” she said with a hint of disappointment.

“It’s how players are. I bet every type of creature in the swamp is named after it.”

“Black trolls dangerous,” Umtha added.

“See,” he pointed out. “Players can be very predictable.”

Heather could only nod and decided to spend the day looking through the book. Quinny sat beside her, asking a million questions as she translated the pages so she could read them. Most of what she read was conjecture on the nature of necromancy, but there was a detailed description of how magic could be bent to produce other effects. As an example, the book cited the work of an Alyssia who used necromancy to heal the sick and injured. However, the description of how was contained in Alyssia's guide to necrotic transfers another book Heather would need to find.

As night settled, she ate some food and resigned herself to playing with the panel. The others walked beside the cart bored of riding and talked about what they would do if they found a city. Umtha sat in the front still but looked over her shoulder at Heather now and then as if wanting to say something.

“You are allowed to talk to me,” Heather said as she looked up. “I am still your friend.”

Umtha looked back with a sour face and held her voice a moment. “Why you not wear crown?”

Heather sighed, dismissing her panel and went back to petting Webster. “Because I don't know who that voice is that takes over when I am wearing it. I don't like not having control of my own body.”

“That you, Hathlisora,” Umtha insisted.

“No,” Heather replied with a shake of her head. “Umtha, that's somebody else who is taking over. I have no memory of what they do while they have control. I am not going to let some unknown person run wild in my body unless I know who they are and why.”

“You not you?”

“No, I don’t even know who Hathlisora is.”

Umtha smiled and turned about to look her in the eyes. She seemed uncharacteristically happy as she pointed a finger at Heather's head. “You know, but have forgotten. Voice talks to you because you are one voice knows.”

Heather thought about that, and it did make sense. The voice told Frank and the others she was trying to help, and Heather agreed to help her in return. Still, that didn't explain the warning she got that day at the temple. “Why did the dragon say she had betrayed me once before?”

“Not know,” Umtha admitted. “But Hathlisora make many enemies. She not do what they say she must do. She say she refuse to play their game.”

That did kind of remind her of herself, but it wasn't proof. None of it made any sense, and trying to put it together only made it more confusing. She looked to Umtha and voiced her concerns as the goblin woman's smile faded.

“What if I’m not this Hathlisora? What if I am Heather, and I can’t do what you think I will?”

“You bring stone and help goblins. Hathlisora always helps those who need.”

“Of course I came to help,” Heather said. “But I got that stone by pure luck. Anybody could have gotten it the same way and opened that door. It doesn't mean I am her.”

Heather saw a twinge of pain in the goblin's eyes and suddenly felt terrible. It was like shattering somebody's hopes and dreams with a bulldozer. Now she regretted going on the journey and wished they had stayed home as Umtha turned away.

“Please don’t turn your back on me,” Heather said softly. “Look, I want to help you even if I’m not her. That’s why were going to see these other goblins so I can learn more about this dragon and who Hathlisora is.

“You not believe, or remember you, Umtha's friend,” the goblin woman said with drooping ears. “Umtha misses you.” The goblin went silent and looked down, unwilling to talk anymore as Heather felt terrible inside.

“Heather,” Quinny whispered from beside the cart. “What did you say to her?”

Heather looked down at Quinny and leaned over the side as the others drew closer. She explained what Umtha said and how it pained her that Heather didn’t remember. “She must really miss her,” Heather said quietly to avoid Umtha hearing.

“She's an NPC, though,” Quinny interjected. “They don't miss anybody.”

“She clearly does,” Breanne said. “I believe she is crying.”

Heather looked up in alarm to see Umtha wipe an eye with the back of her hand.

“NPC's don't cry,” Frank said as she stared at the goblin. “But that could only mean she is a player?”

“She can’t be a player,” Quinny said. “She spawns in a goblin village.”

“How do we know she isn't a monster player with a village building spec?” he asked. “Think about it. She moved her village; only a player could do that.”

All four of them turned to Umtha and watched her sniffle a moment before looking back to one another.

“What do I do with her?” Heather whispered.

“If she is a player, she behaves very strangely,” Breanne said. “She would know our language better than she does, and would break character once in a while.”

“I honestly don't believe she's acting,” Frank said. “You don't feel pain like that when you're pretending.”

Heather sighed and looked at Umtha, sitting alone at the front of the cart. She crawled up behind her and took a deep breath before starting to speak. “Umtha, how did you and Hathlisora become friends?”

The woman sniffed and looked away before slowly answering. “She want go home like goblins. She have chance but stay to save goblins. She say she will break cage, so everyone go home. She give Umtha gifts and protect village from players. Goblins love Hathlisora because she see goblins as friends. She never mean to goblins or eat them.”

“Eat you?” Heather remarked. “I should hope not.”

“Hathlisora make enemy of dragon knights. She free dragon from magic and hide away. Dragon knights angry, go to king. He call to Hathlisora to settle argument and make peace. She go meet king and settle dispute but never come back. Necromancers come years later and say Hathlisora dead, kingdom gone, and necromancers no more. They bring crown and statue, but crown broken. Tell us must protect, Hathlisora will return, bring green stone of crown. She will fix, and reclaim her power then help goblins go home. We hide crown behind door she made. She tell us that once sealed, only she can open.”

“What happened to the necromancers?”

“They know paladins come looking. They lead away, so not find statue. They run east, leave trail, so paladins follow.”

Heather signed and sat back in turmoil. Every path led back to the paladins. This war turned players into monsters and altered the path of the entire world. She wasn't sure if the necromancers were to blame or not, maybe their spell that prevented respawning was an act of desperation. She looked to the back of the cart, where the crown was hidden inside a backpack. She killed a gremlin and claimed it's green stone just in time for the goblins to come and need her. It opened the door and repaired the crown, just as Umtha said would happen. If she didn't know better, she would believe the goblin woman, but Heather knew the truth, didn't she? Hathlisora hadn't come back. Heather was just in the right place at the right time. It was just dumb luck, or was it? She crawled across the cart to the backpack and took out the crown, turning it in her hands as she considered an idea.

“Frank, I want you to paralyze me.”

“What?” he asked as he came to the side of the cart. “Why are you holding that?”

Heather let out a deep sigh. “Because I have too many questions, and I know only one person who can answer them.”

“No, I won’t let you risk putting that back on. We don’t even know who that person is.”

“Look, the moon is going to rise in an hour. If I'm already paralyzed when one of you puts it on my head, she will be powerless right from the start.”

“Then what?” Frank asked.

“Then you ask her some questions. Find out who she is and what she wants. When the moon comes out, you take the crown off and tell me what she said.”

“What if she blinks away?” he asked.

“I don’t think the teleport goes very far, and she couldn’t do it once you had your hands on the crown. Put it on my head and keep hold of it until it’s time to take it off.”

“This sounds risky,” Breanne said. “She might have other powers we haven’t seen yet.”

“Can you think of a better way to get answers?” Heather asked. “I assume you were all listening to what Umtha said.”

“We heard everything,” Quinny said. “I have to say you did exactly what Hathlisora was supposed to do.”

“And we all agree something seems to be guiding our steps,” Heather said. “This voice in the crown might know why, or even be the one responsible.”

“If somebody really is guiding your steps, then you must be Hathlisora,” Breanne said. “And we know that isn't true, so the rest of it could just be a coincidence. Whoever that person is might be trying to trick us into leaving it on. Maybe the crown is some kind of magical trap.”

“Umtha said the woman was speaking through me because she knew me,” Heather replied. “She knew me as Hathlisora.”

Quinny leaned forward and whispered. “Has anybody considered that Umtha might be lying?”

They were silent a moment as Heather looked to Umtha and shook her head. “I don’t believe that. She is too emotional to be lying, and besides she did rescue me, she has proven she is a friend.”

“But that leaves us with the stone and the perfect timing of the dragon knight attacking the goblins,” Frank said. “You were right when you said somebody was making sure you had exactly what you needed. I don't know how or why, but you must be the one Umtha is waiting for.”

“Frank, I have only been here what a few weeks? I have no previous history. I had a job, an apartment, and a student loan that I fully expect them to try to collect from here. I have know nothing about Hathlisora other than I look like her, and she died.”

“I can't explain it,” Frank said as he scratched at his head then suddenly looked up. “Maybe that's why you were chosen. You look like Hathlisora, and the visitors are trying to make you follow her path.”

Heather sat back and thought about that a moment. That would certainly explain a lot; in fact, it would explain everything, why she was here, why things keep driving her in one direction. Why tools she needed always arrived right in advance of their need. Surely the visitors could make all that happen, but why? Maybe this Hathlisora was supposed to do something important, or maybe they just wanted to keep the story alive.

“I am oddly disappointed by that possibility,” Heather said as she looked away. “It means the only thing special about me is I happen to look like somebody else. What a reason to be chosen.”

“It was only a guess,” Frank said. “It probably isn’t right.”

“It answers every question,” Heather said. “How could it not be right?”

“Lots of things happen that seem right, but turn out to be something else. Even if it was right, just looking like her wouldn't be enough. Your looks didn't defeat that gremlin or recover the crown. You did that with quick thinking and skill.”

Heather smiled and sat back as Quinny nudged Frank. “Somebody knows how to talk to girls,” Quinny laughed.

“It’s just the facts,” he said. “Heather is a very quick thinker sometimes, and she solves problems in ways others wouldn’t think of. Just look at her skeletons and the plants growing in them.”

“Well, thank you, I do feel better,” Heather said as he complimented her ingenuity. “I want to know as much about Hathlisora as I can. Finding out about this dragon will hopefully lead us in the right direction.”

“If that city is where Umtha says, we should be there tomorrow. Maybe we can learn something there, or from the goblins after. There is no reason to rush into putting the crown on until we have checked both places.”

“I agree,” Breanne seconded. “Let’s not use the crown until it’s our only option.”

Heather nodded and curled up in the back of the cart with Webster tucked to her side, snoring in little squeaks. She wasn't sure what to expect ahead but was hopeful it would shed more light on the mystery. The crown sparkled in her hand, the single green stone at the peak almost calling to her as she put it away. They were right, putting it on should be an option of last resort and desperation. She lay back and put an arm around Webster. The night was high, the air was cool, and his little chirping snores were soothing. Before she knew it, her eyes were heavy, and sleep claimed her, carrying her to another place and another mystery.

Heather walked down a sandy path under a cloudy sky that rolled by as if in a high wind. The sun was darkened by the clouds casting the land in a sort of pale yellow shadow. Rising around here were walls of stone towering up twenty meters. They were rutted as if water had run down them for thousands of years, yet now stood bone dry like a desert. A strange hum filled the air as she made her way around a bend and stood at the canyon's mouth. She saw a single pillar of black stone rising from a rock in a sea of sand that went on forever in all directions. There was a path of broken stones that crossed the sand to the small island. Something about the pillar seemed familiar and beckoned her to approach. She took one step out of the canyon, and the hum changed to a loud rolling note. She covered her ears as it droned on until finally fading away, leaving only the sound of the wind. Her second step caused her blood to freeze as a woman's voice cried out.

“Heather, they are coming, run!”

Heather bolted upright, quickly looking about and realizing she was dreaming. Breanne and Quinny were riding again, but Frank walked ahead, peering into the trees.

“Is something wrong?” Breanne asked with a concerned look.

Heather let out a sigh and sat back with an arm over her eyes. “I had a bad dream. I was a gloomy desert with a terribly loud noise, and somebody yelled at me to run.”

“Did you see who?” Breanne asked.

“No, but it was a woman’s voice,” Heather said as she took her arm away to see dark trees looming overhead. “We’re still in a forest?”

“It's been forest all night,” Breanne replied as she looked about nervously. “And there have been strange things happening.”

“What strange things?” Heather asked.

“Odd noises and snapping branches,” Breanne said with a concerned look before Quinny excitedly blurted out.

“There were bodies on the road!”

Heather looked around slowly and then shrugged. “So?”

Breanne smacked Quinny in the back of the head and explained. “They looked like adventurers, but all four were badly mangled. Something tore them apart, and dragged a fifth off into the trees.”

“Why would you think that?”

“There was a blood trail,” Quinny said. “Like something was dragged away.”

“And you didn’t think to wake me?”

“We didn’t see anything other than the bodies,” Breanne replied. “We agreed not to wake you unless we saw an actual threat. Whatever it was, it was big enough to break trees in its passing.”

“You couldn’t have used the bodies to make more undead anyway,” Quinny said. “There wasn’t much left of them to use.”

“Ewww,” Heather groaned. “I’m glad I didn’t see that.”

“You’re a necromancer,” Quinny laughed. “You can’t be disgusted by dead bodies.”

“Skeletons don’t look horrible, and the zombies are just bodies. I don’t need to see organs hanging out and scattered around.” She shook her head and took notice of Frank as he stepped closer to the edge of the forest. “What is he doing?”

“Frank is looking ahead as we march,” Breanne said. “He doesn’t like this forest. He says it’s watching us.”

“It probably is,” Heather replied as she looked into the trees. “Some player in a barrow mound like Quinny, looking through the eyes of a hidden bat or wolf.”

“Maybe,” Quinny said. “But we haven't seen any animals or eyes for hours. So they are either keeping them deeper in or this is a world spawned forest, and the road is semi-safe.”

“You just found a bunch of torn up bodies,” Heather corrected.

“I said semi-safe,” Quinny laughed. “Besides, I think we are a higher level than those guys; some of them only had basic equipment.”

Heather reached down and began to pet Webster for reassurance as the cart moved on. “I suppose we are fairly capable.”

“Don't let that go to your head,” Breanne said. “There are things in this world that could flatten a city of players. The farther out you go, you run the risk of finding epic monsters.”

“And there are things called ‘others’ that are supposed to be like nightmare creatures,” Quinny said.

“Why on earth would they put things like that in the world?” Heather asked.

Breanne shrugged. “Because players like the challenge, I guess.”

Heather thought they sounded more like crazy people, but then what did she know. In a world where nobody ever truly dies, what was crazy, and what wasn't? She thought of some of the risky things she saw people do in the real world. What would those same kinds of people be willing to try in this one? She didn't have time to ponder it because Frank called for them to stop.

“What is it?” Breanne asked.

“I can see the city. It’s about a mile ahead on some hills,” he replied.

“Is it very big?” Quinny asked.

“Not like a full city, but it’s larger than Moon’s town was, and has a stone wall with towers.”

Heather was grateful to know there was a city nearby that wasn’t weeks away and set about digging in her bag. She pulled out a green dress with white sleeves and set it aside.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked as he arrived.

“Getting changed to go into the city,” she said.

“Listen, we have been talking and we think Quinny and I should stay out here,” he said.

Heather looked up and shook her head. “We’re going in together, just use the disguise potion.”

“Quinny and I only have two uses left,” he pointed out. “We might need it for something more important later.”

“Then we go back to Devlina and get more. She knows what you are and doesn't care. Right now, we need to explore that city and see if we can learn anything.” He protested again, but she rattled off a list of books and items she needed as well. She even suggested they look for another alchemist and buy more of the potion in the city if possible. Frank relented and went to dig out the potions as Breanne asked what she planned to do with her undead army. “I will hide them in the forest here, and we will walk the rest of the way on foot.”

“What about Umtha?” Breanne pressed.

Heather turned to Umtha and smiled. “Umtha, do you want to go into the city with us?”

“Goblins not go in city,” she said.

“But do you want to?” Heather asked again. Umtha nodded vigorously, so Heather had her climb down. She sang to a nearby bush and caused flowers to bloom then quickly plucked a bunch. Carefully they were woven into Umtha's hair as the others watched bemused. Heather then put her yellow sun hat on Umtha's head and stepped back. The goblin woman stood there in bare feet, wearing her white dress with crudely painted flowers. She had a tail of flowers down her back, and a floppy sunhat on her head.

“What is that supposed to accomplish?” Frank asked.

“Umtha is my flower sprite,” Heather said. “As a flower singer, I can summon one a green-skinned woman with flowers for hair. Umtha is going to be my sprite.”

Quinny walked around Umtha and looked her over. “Are you sure people will fall for that?”

Heather studied Umtha's face. Except for the pointed ears, somewhat sharp chin, and wide jaw, she looked rather human. Since the flower sprite had green skin, Umtha's skin made it easier. “The hat will help keep people from getting a good look at her,” Heather said. “And if they do, we tell them she is my sprite.”

She handed her scythe to the bone knight and whispered some instructions to him. He nodded his head and led the whole of her hoard into the trees. She sang again and caused the brush to grow around them, hiding the undead army thirty meters off the road. She changed outfits behind a tree, insisting she had been in the same dress too long. Her last task was to pick up Webster and put him in a backpack with her old dress. She carried him with as they made their way down the road for the city and the adventure beyond.

Frank and Quinny each drank a potion just before they reached the gates, but nobody was on guard anyway. Inside the streets were relatively quiet, with only a couple of people hurrying about their own business.

“This is an empty city,” Quinny said.

“This has to be a player city, or it would be full of NPC's,” Frank said. “People probably don't know it's here, so they don't play here.”

“Or they die on the road getting here,” Breanne said as they walked down the street.

Heather looked over the gray, old stone streets, with moss growing in patches along buildings made from the same tired stone. Nearly all of the buildings were two stories tall with the only wood to be seen used as doors and shutters. All of the windows had a faded yellow glass cut into panels or small diamonds. The roofs were made of dark slate overgrown with more green moss. Lights burned inside the windows of most places, but the few people on the street made the place feel empty. The stopped at a few buildings that resembled shops only to find bare rooms and empty shelves.

As they wound their way deeper in, they found a plaza with a simple round fountain whose water fell from an upper dais. It, too, was made of gray stone as if carved from a single mountain.

“This place is depressing,” Heather said as they arrived at the fountain that contained dark frothy water. “Where are all the players?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said as he turned about. “I think all the people we have seen are NPC villagers.” He stood straight and looked at some empty shops as he turned his chest to her.

Heather admired the muscular build of Frank, the barbarian in his human form. She imagined he could have been the hero of some fantasy action movie and pictured him battling dragons with a giant sword. She let the thought go and went back to focusing on the mission. They needed to find somebody who could give directions, and tell them something about the city. There was a castle way in the back past a second inner wall. Maybe the player who owned this city could tell them something more useful. She suggested they head to the castle, and nobody had any objections, so Heather led the way only getting lost twice in the maze of streets.

The inner gates were twice as high, and this time they were guarded by one man who looked very bored. He wore simple armor of metal rings over leather and held a wooden shield with a single rose and a large prominent thorn painted on the face.

“Who goes there?” he called as Heather approached.

“Excuse us, we were wondering if there was anybody who could tell us about the city,” Heather said.

“Tell you about the city? Why would you want to know that?” he remarked.

Heather threw her hands out and turned to gesture to the empty streets. “Why is this city empty? Where are all the people?”

“Oh, you're new in town,” he replied. “The people don't stay because of the mad wizard in the swamps. He likes to hunt adventurers who travel in the swamps.”

“There is a mad wizard in the swamps?” Heather asked. “So why don’t people play in the forest then?”

“The wizard sends his monsters into the forest. Terrible beasts with skin like steel and claws that can rip a man in two. They are towering fearsome things with hearts of fire.”

“You sound like your rather proud of this,” Heather pointed out.

“I’m just a guard,” the man replied. “I don’t rightly care one way or the other.”

Heather studied him a moment and then thought of the outer walls. “Why aren’t there any guards on the outer wall?”

“There were, but they died, and the queen can't respawn them.”

“What? Why can’t she respawn them?”

“On account that the master of thieves stole her heart and ran off into the swamps with it,” he replied as if the answer was obvious.

“I hate talking to NPC's,” Heather sighed.

“What’s an NPC?” the man asked.

“Never mind,” Heather groaned as she grew tired of fragmented information. She fell back on asking specific, pointed questions, slowly drawing out that the queen's name was Gwen, and she was a city builder who had leveled enough to form a small kingdom. The city once had a lot of players, but a wizard moved into the swamps and started harassing the city. The queen sent adventurers to drive him away, but they all failed. Finally, she sent in a man who was a master thief. He returned a week later and stole the queen's kingdom heart. A magical stone that she used to control and modify the kingdom. The thief took it to the wizard, and the wizard made demands on the queen, or he would destroy the heart and reset her kingdom.

“Talk about rude,” Heather said as she turned to Frank. “Why was her control item so easy to take?”

“When I have enough points, I can build a dungeon heart,” he replied. “I can choose what form it takes from a large room to a small shard. She must have chosen something small and easy to carry and then not taken very good care of it.”

“Not true,” the guard pipped in. “The queen kept it in a magical box that turns invisible and can only be opened by her. The thief Nightrage is very tricky. He fooled the queen into believing the wizard was about to attack and steal the stone. He made the queen believe the wizard had a magical device that would force the box to appear and open. Poor Queen Gwen was terrified the wizard would ruin her kingdom. Nightrage produced a fake stone and told her to switch it with the real one so the wizard would steal the fake. The queen was delighted with the idea and called her box into being and opened it up. That’s when the thief struck, stealing the stone from her hand and vanishing into the night. The fake stone he left turned out to be a magical stone the wizard uses to talk to her and make his demands.

Heather frowned and folded her arms as she dared to ask what the demands were. Of course, the wizard wanted the queen to marry him and make him a king. She refused, but time was on the wizard's side, he could hold her stone indefinitely, and she would be unable to maintain her city. When she started sending adventurers after the stone, the wizard began sending monsters into the countryside. They were to kill and drive away adventurers, so there would be no one to help her. Her kingdom was literally starving out as the queen became a prisoner of her own city.

“What a jerk,” Quinny said.

“What does it matter if he marries her?” Heather asked. “She is still the one who owns the kingdom.”

“That isn’t necessarily true,” Breanne corrected. “There are all sorts of options for players to form marriages. One of them allows you to share your secondary classes benefits with the other. He would have as much power as she did, more since I doubt he would ever let her touch the stone again.”

“So he’s a double a jerk,” Quinny added.

“Now we know why those bodies were on the road,” Frank said. “One of those monsters must have found them.”

“Well, they didn’t bother us,” Heather said confidently. “I think we need to talk to this queen. I bet she could use a little help getting the stone back.”

“You want to help her?” Frank asked.

“She needs help,” Heather replied. “I hate how mean some people can be.”

“Were not adventurers,” he reminded her.

Heather smiled and nodded her head. “That's why we're going to succeed where the others failed.” They were already planning to go into the swamp anyway, so why not help the queen get her kingdom back and put an end to a bad players scheme. The goblins in the swamp might even be able to help and earn them the good graces of a queen and her city. All in all, it seemed like a good plan, what could possibly go wrong?