Glemerr’s POV
Phandalin, Griffonbound Vendors
Late Night, After Redbrand Battle

The store was destroyed in every direction. Shattered plates and lanterns, cards, and paper clutter the floor, stab and deep gashes from blades going across the floors, the furniture, and the walls. And coating it all was this blue blobby gunk and drying crimson blood. Some of it was even mixing into a weird crimson paste.

The worst of it was the front entrance, where I and Ricven were, and then at the base of the store counter. Where both of them lay slumped in a pile.

The whole way here, we were screaming Platick’s name, alerting half the town that ‘Hey! A man named Platick is in trouble!’ If anyone stepped out of their homes, we had no idea. Both of us were only looking towards the shop.

But when we looked in with only a knocked-over candle stand giving off some light while also ready to catch the floor on fire, one of the bodies looked up to greet us.

“He...He’s sleeping,” the bleeding priestess told us. Her voice was dim, and her eyes were distant. “I came to check on Leanne when...When it...I...sav...ed him...”

That was the last thing she told us before she fell against Platick’s chest. The amount of blood on her white blouse and his armor was staggering.

“Miss Glem!” Ricven jumped off my shoulder, ignoring the blood he splashed his shoes against. “I think I remember Leanne showin’ us a case a’ vials. I’ma check fer potions. You—”

I was already bounding forward. I grabbed the side of the table where there was a deep groove against the side and chucked it against the wall as I went. I leaped above the hole in the floor that smelt like vinegar and looked as though it were rotting away. I crashed through anything in my way power power sliding to a stop in front of both of them. I already had my healer's kit ready to go and had torn away the collection of red rags I was using as a mask. The fight was done. I don't need it now.

As I worked, I heard Ricven ransacking the next room over. The candlelight moved with him, so I was left working in the dark for a second. That wasn’t a problem. I had worked in the dark before. And this time, there weren’t any distractions. I wouldn’t screw up.

Thankfully, neither of them was critical in the first place. Sister Garaele said she saved him. I didn’t know much about magic but I knew some priests could heal. I figured that was what happened. Despite all his spilled blood, she and Platick were breathing steadily.

So, I focused on Garaele first. She wasn’t part of the fight. She was a victim. You always help a victim first. As far as I could tell she only had a single wound on her. A deeper stab wound to the stomach. That was what her clothes told me, at least. I saw no wounds where her skin was visible and her clothes were unharmed everywhere else.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Sistah,” I muttered. I got up and in one motion pushed away everything on the table. Even this giant fancy bottle of alcohol. It made me flinch hearing the thing shatter across the floor, but I couldn’t waste time. “But Ah gotta make sure yer safe.”

I scooped the priestess into my arms and gently laid her along the counter to examine her. I pulled her clothes back and took a moment to clean and assess the wound only to find nothing.

“Wha?” I paused, rechecking Garaele’s abdomen. And a third time. I cleaned off most of the drying blood, but even without anything to muddy up her skin, nothing was there. A picture of health.

“Uh, Ricven?” I called out loudly so that he could hear. “Eh, dumb question, but does an elf’s skin seal itself back up? It don't, righ’?”

“No, not us’ly,” he shouted back. “Why, what’s happenin’?”

“She ain’t injured,” I stepped back. “Her wound’s all sealed up!”

The sigh of relief that spread across the girls was almost comical. A few of them fell back in their chairs. Sunset and Applejack especially.

Meanwhile, Ms. Cheerilee watched with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you think describing blood and gore is a little too graphic for a school club?”

Story glanced over at her with an equally blank expression. “You say that, but didn’t you review MacBeth a few months back? After the sub’s movie marathon, people brought up how you recommended the movie version after school.”

Ms. Cheerilee considered responding, noticed the small collection of students watching her, and thought better of it. “Carry on.” The teacher returned to her laptop and the students returned to their game. A stalemate.

After a second, and shattering of glass from the backroom, Ricven spoke casually. “Can’t say I’m too shocked. The lady’s a priest after all. She likely got stabbed, healed it in an instant, then moved ta Platick. Ya heal somethin’ fast an’ strong enough, it don’t scar.”

“Ah’m kinda impressed if Ah’m bein’ honest.” I redressed her blouse and moved to Platick. More stab wounds than I could count, and they were all over. The counter wasn’t long enough for both of them so I found a spot on the ground that didn’t have blood or blue gunk. “How we doin’ on dem potions, Ricven?”

“Unfortunately, no good,” he said before a smaller shatter of glass sounded out. A smaller one this time. “Ah know she had healin’ potions in here. I even see empty spaces where there were vials. Little vixen prolly made off with ‘em.”

What. I froze, fighting the fog while my body examined Platick. That ain’t right. The shop had them up until the Master started us off. Did he take them?

I let out a growl before unstrapping Platick’s armor and peeling it aside. “No helpin’ it. Ah’m gonna start wrappin’ ‘im up. Can ya check on da others?”

“Yeah. Ain’t much use here anyhow. Meet us at the tavern when yer done.”

Ricven passed by the front room, set the candle stand where the light helped me and rushed out. I had plenty of cuts and wounds on myself, and the pain was starting to slow me down, but I still had steam. I was trying to channel that as best I could, but I felt my limit coming up. I recognized a few too many rookie mistakes in my bandaging and cleaning.

Focus up, Glem, My mind scolded me as the fog pushed me back. This is nothing. Get him patched and bring him back to the others. They need you standing. Don’t let them down.

Once I got most of Platick’s arms and neck cleaned, I got his shirt off and checked his upper body. His torso had the worst of it. Small to medium slices and nicks, sure, but the worst was a deep puncture on his right pectoral. It, like Sister Garaele’s abdominal wound, would have been life-ending. There was no way to know for sure but, the amount of blood? The wound probably burst a blood vessel.

But the wound had been healed. The skin at least. I didn’t like it, but I had to check. So I brought the candlelight closer, lightly pressing on Platick’s chest. After a few taps, Platick started waking up.

“urghh...guh-glem?...what a...are you doing?”

I reared back, relieved Platick was awake. “Platick! Yer okay!”

I watched his face. It was twisting in pain as he tried to sit up. I just kept my hand on his chest and held him down. He was fighting to stay conscious. He didn’t need to move right now.. “Jus’ stay down fer now. Ya took some bad swipes. Yer gonna be fine, awrite? Try ta stay with me.”

“d-do I...have to?” He seized in pain when I worked on his worst wound. “i don’t. wanna rem...ber this.”

“Ah, get over it.” I rolled my eyes with a grin. “Ah’ve seen full orcs try actin’ tough when Ah wrap ‘em. An’ dey’re da ones who cry da loudest. Ya can pick yer clothes an’ yer pride, err you can pick me. And ya want me.”

Platick didn’t have anything to say. But, after a few seconds, he tried to lift his arm up. I said nothing in return, grabbed his wrist and lightly slammed it back to the floor. Then, he tried again.

I slammed it again. Harder. “Ya gonna try a third time?”

“ruh—ring.”

“...” I paused my work. “Ring?”

“Ring.” He tried louder. I thought so. “Rava’s ring. Where?”

“The ring ain’t da focus.”

“No.” He tried to sit up. I held his shoulder in place and stared at him. Not gonna happen.

He stared back at me. “Glemerr. Where is it?”

I kept the stare going. Probably for a good ten seconds. He and I both knew how this would go. I was above him and he had no strength. Even if he could manage a punch, I’d just let it fail, hold him down, and keep working.

“I-I heard it,” he told me. “It fell out w...fought her. I’m not go. Going back to Rava...without it. Find it.”

I kept staring, not letting any part of my face break at him. He was my patient. You don’t bend to a patient.

“...” But, I thought. This is as much for Rava as it is for him.

I glanced around. The whole room was a mess and finding a tiny Dwarven ring in all of it, while keeping Platick pinned, wasn’t working.

Platick tried craning his neck too. And when he turned it in a way where it nearly reopened one of the scarier stabs, I used my other hand to keep his head still. He complained, but I knew he could breathe fine. If it took a handprint on his face to keep him from spilling his blood, fine.

“...It’s not here,” I ultimately decided, returning to the bandages.

“Check again,” he commanded haggardly.

“It ain’t here,” I told him, carefully sitting him up to finish off the bandage on his torso. “Ah’m sorry Platick. Ah really am, but it ain’t.”

Platick stewed in silence. And once the bandages were finished, I helped him put his shirt back on only for him to insist he do it himself. Prideful oaf, I thought as I stood up and watched as he took a full minute trying to quietly fight through the pain before he finally got his shirt on. He went for his armor next, and I just pulled him to his feet. Ignoring his yelps of pain.

“You try dat and we’ll be ‘ear all night,” I told him.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “...Thanks.”

I snickered, happy to hear it regardless. “Yer welcome, buddy.” Then, my smile faded as I looked at Sister Garaele. “When’d she come by?”

“No idea,” he said distractingly as he looked for the ring himself. Every step was a mile for him. “Last thing I remembered was Lea—it stabbing me in the chest. Then I went dark.”

“She musta heard all da noise from de gang fight,” I decided. “It wasn’t a quiet plan. Still, it worked.”

“No one on our side died?” He asked.

“Nah. Close scare wit’ Thorn, but we’re all standin’. Thanks ta yer cool plan. Had most a’ da Scaredbrands freaking out at de start. Y’know.” I turned and gave him a smile. “Fer someone who don’t like workin’ wit’ folks, yer a pretty good leader.”

“Don’t,” he said. “I’m no one’s leader.”

“Ehhh. Ah’d say yer my leader. Ah’d follow ya.”

He shook his head slowly. “You pulled off one plan. One. And I’m shocked you all even did that. So stop saying we’re a team. We’re not.”

“Ah didn’t say we were dat time,” I told him. “Why? Is that what you think we are?”

Platick stood at full height, taking in as deep a breath as his tight bandages let him. And then, just as slowly, he exhaled.

“We aren’t a team,” he said again. “We aren’t.”

“...”

Pinkie looked at Applejack, who was trying her best to stay in character despite the two siblings watching and, likely plotting, to find the best way to tease her about being a sourpuss later.

“Hmmmmm...Oh! Am I allowed to make an Insight check on Platick?”

“Go for it.” Story smiled. Then, he looked at Applejack. “Meanwhile, Platick. This feels weird so weird to say to you, but if you’re lying—” “Ah know, Ah know, roll deception or persuasion.”

“Mah sister?” Applebloom let out a fake gasp. “Deceivin’ people?! Oh, AJ, how could ya?!” Behind her, Big Mac was chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Applejack muttered, rolling her dice as Pinkie did the same. Regardless of which she did, a ‘-2’ appeared beside the die to further mock her.

Meanwhile, Pinkie was getting more excited. “Nineteen total!”

The worst part was, had Applejack had any positive number, she might’ve beat that. “Sixteen.”

“Eeyup.” One last deep chuckle from her brother made AJ sink lower into her chair.

So, this is how Platick feels all the time, Applejack lamented. Eeyup. I hate it.

To his credit, Platick was probably used to saying that. He held it together well. But while I kept watching him reviewing that line in his head like a mantra, I started to grin. And he just frowned more.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he pleaded boredly.

“Say it,” I told him.

“No.”

“Say it~” I sang.

“No.”

“...” I thought about it for a second. “Platick. Why do you not want to be a team with us?”

“We’re not a—” “Ah know, Ah know. ‘We’re not a team.’ Ah got dat part. But why are you not a team with us? What’s wrong?”

“..." He tried to ignore me, looking around the store with as little movement as he could.

“Ah mean, look what yer doin’ righ’ now,” I pressed. “Yer ‘bout ready ta keel over, covered in yer own blood and mah bandages. But yer first move is ta find Rava’s ring. On top a’ that, Ah see dat look in yer eyes. You ain’t walkin’ away from dis fight. You wanna stay in.”

Platick stopped. He didn’t dare look at me again. “What makes you say that?”

“‘Cause dat look in yer eyes is da same as mine. Vengeance. Dem Redbrands are ruinin’ the nice folk here. And worse then dat, they hurt mah friends.”

“I’m not yer friend,” he said tiredly.

At that, I smiled. “Oh? Was Ah talkin’ about you? Ah more meant Thorn an’ Sistah Garaele over dere.” His head started slumping between his shoulders. “But if yer assumin’ yer on dat list too—”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “This isn’t about vengeance. That reason’s righteous. I just have to clean up a loose end before it gets too far. That’s it.”

“That,” I acknowledged. “And get Rava’s ring back ‘fore she finds out.”

“...Don’t tell her,” he said to me. “She doesn’t need to know.”

I smiled. “Yes sir, leader-sir.”

He sighed. “...Alright fine, whatever.” He took a few steps towards me before seizing in pain.

I rushed to catch him before he hit the floor. His breathing was tense and he was clutching at his side. I pulled his shirt up and saw my bandages getting a little more red. Even a few slow steps reopened one of his worst wounds. The pain might have put him into shock.

“Ah gotcha, Platick.” I picked him up in my arms and started to carry him out the door. “Sleep if ya want. Ah’ll make sure we find ya a bed.”

He tried to complain as his pride kicked in again. But he didn’t fight me. Whether that was because he was already passing out or didn’t want to bother didn’t matter. I brought him out of the store and back over to our friends.

Ravathyra Dagarkin’s POV
Outside the Sleeping Giant

“So, he’s alive? That’s such a relief.”

“No kiddin’.” Ricven sat down behind me. Over the last few minutes, he kept tabs on Thorn Wielder’s body while I brought Stostine and Vareén beside us. Stostine chose to stand. She was bent over the side of the porch with her hands planted firmly on the railing. Vareén was inside the Sleeping Giant on the bar counter. She was still unconscious and her skin was a bit clammy. But at least inside it was warm.

Thorn Wielder we couldn’t move far. She was well anchored into place thanks to her freaky vine burrowing into the ground. Based on the story Platick told us, Ricven assumed it was some sort of Druidic magic working to keep her alive.

As for me, I was constantly in motion. After helping Stostine and Vareén, I moved all the Redbrand bodies away from Thorn Wielder’s body. Especially the Tiefling’s. Then, once they were in a pile, I moved the bodies from inside the Sleeping Giant into the pile as well. I didn’t want any of them near our friends.

Some of the Redbrands were still alive. A few from the initial Thunderwaves Thorn had cast had broken limbs and they were too injured to fight or move. Others were from Glemerr, who had only knocked out her enemies.

Hopefully we can fit ‘em all in that jail, I thought worriedly while planting the head of my hammer into the ground and standing straight in the direction of the Redbrand corpses. Then, I bowed my head.

“To the Mother of the Mountains,” I spoke softly, in Dwarven. “To the Overseer of the Earth and the One to whom I pledge my hammer as mine true.” I raised my hammer a foot off the ground and then drove it into the dirt before going on. “I beseech thine attention and grace. Please see that the—

“Lady Rava, what’re ya doin’?” Ricven asked, cutting off my focus. “I know ya ain’t prayin’ fer their passage, right? They wanted us dead!”

“Ricven. Shush.” Stostine did it for me. “Never interrupt the final rites of the dead. Their judgment is out of our hands now.”

I heard Ricven sigh. “Very well, I’ll be nice. Go on, Lady Rava.”

I felt my brow twitch. You’re lucky I have to keep my mind clear of emotion, Ricven. I took a few seconds to make sure I was and restarted my prayer.

“—Please see that these souls are well departed from their shells so that their remains may thrive upon thine earth rather than taint it. That the lands that shall consume them be not carved by their sins but painted with their virtues.” Again, I raised my hammer and slammed it against the earth.

The purpose was to prepare the earth for their arrival. The pounding of the hammer against the earth was akin to kneading bread before cooking it. To prepare the land for the bodies’ inclusion when they are ultimately buried and returned to the earth.

There were two prayers for this. Technically four, I suppose. One was for the innocent or the virtuous. That was the prayer I used for the horses when Thorn asked. Then, there was a prayer for an enemy of either Ulaa or her followers.

The third and fourth were less unique prayers to the others and more of an optional second half of the prayer that made it more official in either circumstance. It included a Ceremony spell and would ensure their bodies could not be raised with Necromancy. Maybe that was the better option, given the undead and the confirmed necromancer in the area. But I wasn’t being generous to these folks.

I was, after all, using the second prayer. They’d have to simply rely on us seeing our job through.

“And as their souls proceed unto the next plane, judged for their transgressions,” I closed out my prayers. “May their mortal shells be protected by the shadows of thine mountains and the envelopment of our earth. It is this safety I pray for. Theirs. And ours.”

I raised my hammer, slamming it down twice in rapid succession, lifting my head and looking over the corpses. “…Awrite, Ricven. Ya may speak now.”

“Thank ya kindly.” I could almost imagine the roll of eyes that accompanied that. “So, now that their rites are taken care of, is it too late ta ask that we collect their effects?”

As I turned around, I heard Stostine scoff. “You have no tact.”

“Oh please.” Ricven rolled his eyes. “It ain’t like I’d benefit from any of it. It’s all too big fer me and sellin’ it ain’t exactly a choice with the shopkeeper’s one of ‘em. That in mind, this stuff should go ta the townsfolk. If these fools weren’t demonstration enough, the people’ll need ta have somethin’ ta defend themselves with.”

Stostine looked ready to say something, but I stepped forward. “Ta be fair, lass, Ah agree with ‘em. This town’s a strong community a’ miners. And its Townmaster’s spineless. There’s a big chance that once these Flakebrands are dealt with, another bunch a’ crooks will come ‘round.”

Up until this point, Rainbow Dash had kept her words to a minimum. Even the prayer that Ravathyra did was more just Rainbow telling Story that her character prayed for them. She figured it was something Rava would do.

So, when Rava defended Ricven’s actions, that was the first time Rainbow Dash fell into the accent. And once she said her peace, she remembered who all was here and let her gaze drift over towards Scootaloo.

Oh no. Rainbow cringed, waiting for the kid who admired her so much to start mocking her.

Instead, Scootaloo’s face lit up in a mix of surprise and awe. “Wooooah! Rainbow Dash, what was that?!”

“Uh. I-It, erm.” Rainbow, still unaware of the squirt’s face, tried finding the words. “It was just, uh. I-It—It’s just some stu—” “That was so cool!” “...Yeah?”

“Absolutely!” The desk, and her homework, were the only things keeping Scootaloo from launching out of her seat. “You sounded like a whole different person! I never knew you could do that!”

“Well, I mean, there’s...I mean, of course. There’s plenty of cool stuff I’m good at!” Rainbow flipped the script, leaning back in her chair without a care. “Half my family’s Scottish, y’know? But, I try not to stack awesome on awesome. It just wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”

“Yeah. That’s it exactly,” Applejack commented, still using Platick’s voice.

A few of the others giggled along, with Rainbow ignoring them. At this point, the tension was wearing away just enough to pretend like this was still a game. For everyone except Sunset and Twilight.

For Twilight, she couldn’t hear what was being said in-game. The magic made it garbled since Vareén wasn’t aware of what was going on. On top of that, she was distracted by her own thoughts. But for Sunset, she could hear them. But she was too worried about how everything connected to reality.

The money, sure, she figured. That won’t have a bad effect. And the armor too, I guess. No one can hurt somebody by wearing armor. But we can’t let the townsfolk fight anybody. It must be us.

“Perhaps you have a point,” Stostine relented. “Very well. We remove the armor and weapons. But we only turn them in to be safeguarded. Our whole intention was keeping people safe, not setting them up to fight.” When neither of us argued with her, she relaxed a little. “As for money, it should be given to the inn and tavern for repairs.”

“Are ya sure that’s where the money should go?” Ricven pressed. “Not all of it came from there. It likely came from all the extortion. But, since the Townmaster can’t be trusted, and we did these folk a solid—”

“Now stop righ’ there.” I frowned as I returned my hammer. “We ain’t keepin’ a coin a’ stolen money. Whoever we give it to, it belongs ta the town. If ya want a reward, make the Townmaster give ya one.”

“Mmm.” Ricven returned this bored look. “And, uh. Would the same apply ta that magic shield behind ya?”

What? I turned around, looking straight at the shield that tiefling used. While clearing out the bodies inside the tavern, we tossed the shield next to the pile. “That. That’s magic?”

“Pretty sure,” he told me. “I mean, look at it. Not a single scratch despite all the thorns an’ smacks you an’ Miss Thorn threw out. But I suppose it’s only right we get a proper opinion. Stostine?”

The mage glowered towards the gnome. “I take it back. You do have tact. Just for the wrong reasons.”

Ricven said nothing else. He just looked at her, and then at me. Then, he laid on his back and watched as Stostine was stuck holding the bag. “Alright, fine. Rava, let me check it and anything else they might have.”

Stostine, shakily, stepped away from the railing and found a nearby chair on the porch to sit in. Once she was relaxed, she held her hands out in front of her with her palms pointed upward. Ricven and I watched as wisps of magic began to emerge from her palms and fingertips before they solidified into threads of light that weaved into little symbols and circles.

“Ah, ritual cast,” Ricven noticed. “Guess it’ll take some time.”

“Yes,” Stostine told us. “And concentration. Make sure no one bothers me while I do this.”

We agreed and kept watch. According to Ricven, it would take us about ten or so minutes. And about five minutes in, people started to show up.

The first was Glemerr and Platick. Well, Glemerr carrying Platick. The poor girl was starting to trudge herself given her injuries, but otherwise seemed in pretty good spirits. Platick though looked about as bad as Ricven described. He had numerous bandages wrapped around him now and Glemerr wasted no time setting him down on the bar counter near Vareén.

“We’re gonna need ta find ‘em a place ta rest soon enough,” I told the others.

“I mean, Stonehill’s Inn is still open for us,” Ricven reminded us. “We can set ‘em up in there.”

Glemerr agreed. But rather than take them there right away, she wanted to check on Vareén’s condition. So for now, she stayed inside the tavern to wrap her wounds next and the calm of the night followed us for a few more minutes.

But before Stostine’s spell could finish, the townsfolk began to come out. Not all of them, mind you, just about ten or so. Most were miners with a few farmhands that had taken it upon themselves to gather make-shift clubs, picks, and a couple of torches so the humans among them could see. Only about three Dwarven miners seemed ready to fight. Everyone else in the group was cautious or terrified as they moved.

And when they saw us moving from a distance, they went still. To us, it was easy to spot them from a distance. Their light gave them away. To them, they saw multiple figures in front of the ambush site with many bodies on the ground and three figures standing.

One of the miners stepped forward, stepping out of the torchlight and probably halfway towards us. He was too far in the darkness for any of us to see him with our own Darkvision. “You there!” He called out. “Outsiders err Redbrands?!”

“One of us is castin’ magic in a chair,” Ricven shouted back. “Another’s a gnome with an amazin’ talent and bravado unlike any other! What d’ya thank?!”

I shook my head and stepped forward. “The Redbrands’re taken care of fer the momen’! It’s safe fer tonight!”

From our words, the group relaxed. In fact, a few of them cheered, alerting the other nearby houses. Over the next minute or two, maybe about thirty townsfolk spilled outside or began gathering to assess the damages.

Among them were a couple of familiar faces. One was Toblin Stonehill, the innkeeper. Another was one of the mine directors, Lanar Deepstone. The last recognizable face was this one lady who let out a gasp the second she saw the state of the Sleeping Giant tavern. She was the owner and the surly Dwarf that Ricven convinced to leave for the night.

“What have ya maniacs done?!” She shrieked in this shrill, unappealing tone. She was an aged Dwarven woman who looked like she might have fit in amongst the Redbrands in a former life. But that was a thousand gray hairs and fifty wrinkles ago. Now, she was this muscly grandma of a woman who had a gray bob hairstyle and a permanent scowl on her face.

“Me pub’s drownin’ in blood!” She kept on. “There’s bodies flailed about in ev’ry which direction, an’—Aw nah! Tell me that ain’t mah windows! AND mah furniture! Why are the tables shattered ta pieces?! An’ why’s the floorboards smashed through in the entrance?!”

She stormed forward, nearly crushing Thorn Wielder’s face in the process. I had to move forward and act as a wall for her to go around just so she wouldn’t bring harm to the lass. And around me she went, side-stepping me and marching straight for Ricven. The one who convinced her to leave her tavern in our care.

How he managed, I’ll never understand, I thought with a shake of my head.

“YOU!” She jerked a fat finger in his direction. “You said ya wouldnae let a single board come ta harm here! Now Ah’m seein’ the stark opposite! What board didnae come ta harm in there?!”

The shock and awe Scootaloo had towards Rainbow Dash quickly refocused, along with the other Crusaders, towards Story as he had his full ire pointed towards Rarity, who was woefully unprepared for the shrill old woman’s voice erupting from the young male teenager.

“Woah,” Applebloom remarked. She looked across the girls, who seemed only mildly surprised and then Big Mac, who was simply chuckling along at the scene. “Does he do that all the time?”

“Eeyup.”

“Wait.” Sweetie Belle blinked. “All of you sound like completely different people! Is that what this club is for? Would we get to learn cool voices if we joined?!”

All their eyes settled on Ms. Cheerilee who, like Story and Sunset, instantly started to realize the weight of ‘new club members.’

“E-Erm.” Ms. Cheerilee stumbled for a moment. She was the teacher in charge of the club, after all. She wasn’t allowed to deny entry or have the students deny entry to other students. Not unless the club hits a reasonable maximum. “Let’s, err. We can discuss this after the club. T-Tomorrow!”

It was delaying the inevitable. Still, the Crusaders were content with that and the players all tried ignoring that for now.

“L-Lady Kettlecropp,” Ricven started, curling up in her gaze. “Why, I am so, so sorry fer you ta find the state of yer tavern in such condition. Truly, we did our best ta keep carnage to a—”

“Don’t give me that shiivile, ya daft thistle trailer,” she barked with a Dwarven swear. “Somebody’s payin’ fer mah tavern, an’ Ah’m startin’ wit’ yer hide!”

“Well, now-now hold on, aheheh.” Ricven started looking around. “Uh, girls? Any a’ y’all wanna give me a hand explainin’ this?”

I debated whether to leave the man to his fate. He made a promise that he knew well and good we couldn’t keep in earnest. As for Glemerr, she already retired into the tavern to inspect Vareén’s wounds. She had a legitimate excuse.

Simultaneously, the floating symbols and magic Stostine was focusing on gave off this sudden flicker and audible crackle as her head snapped up. “Oh. Perfect timing. My ritual’s done.”

Stostine then dipped her hands into the floating ritual circle, letting the magic completely coat her hands before she brought them up and wiped the magic against the front of her face. Her eyes became wreathed in magical flame as she stood up. The townsfolk noticed this, as well as Ms. Kettlecopp, and everyone gave her a wide berth while she carried on. She didn’t want to mess with a mage who had fire pouring out of her eyes.

“Oh, Rava, look. The shield really is magic,” Stostine said, giving me the perfect out.

“Ah, interestin’,” I said in mock interest. “Lemme help ya get a closer look.”

“Oh, come on, ladies, I know it ain’t gonna take both of ya ta. Stare at. A shield...” Ricven’s focus fell back on Ms. Kettlecropp who was leering at him with every inch of her ire.

As she let Ricven have it, Stonehill and Director Deepstone approached us, with the director taking point. “Ah take it everythin’s taken care of then? It’s over?”

“No.” Stostine shook her head. “The majority of their force was wiped out, but it was not only Redbrands. We learned that there is a force of goblinoids working for them. And that they are all led by a necromancer.”

“Necroman—” Director Deepstone thought to himself for a second. “So, it was true? There dead really are wanderin’ about.”

“Perhaps,” I said, frowning. “’Parently, this particular necromancer only makes the bones a’ folk come back ta life. The ones yer prospectors were spottin’ don’t seem ta match.”

“Which means there might be two sources of necromancy,” Stonehill determined. His expression was horribly grim.

“The closer of which we plan to dispatch next,” Stostine assured him. “However, we are all heavily injured after tonight. We need to rest and recover our spells before we assault the lodge on the hill.”

“Say no more,” Stonehill told us. “If you need a place to rest, then I’ll keep the inn open. The taproom might need fixing, but the bedrooms are fine.”

“Aw, rub it in why don’tcha?!” Kettlecropp whipped around, making Stonehill flinch. “Yer place might be able ta run off rooms, but mah pub’s crumbled ta pieces!”

“Like that’s what’s gonna run ya outta town,” Deepstone returned fire, glaring at her. “Even before the Redbrands claimed yer pub fer their own, they walloped plenty a’ me boys right in yer pub! And it weren’t only mah miner either! Ye never kept mind of any a’ the folks here!”

“Don’t start turnin’ this on me!” Kettlecropp returned, now speaking purely in Dwarven. “What’cha expect me ta do against ‘em?! Tell ‘em off?! Brawl ‘em ‘til their teeth scatter the dirt?! Ah cannae fight like Ah used ta! ‘Specially when that feckless Townmaster refuses ta do anythin’!”

“How’s about bring back some of the money ta the common folk?!” Deepstone countered, again in Dwarven. “Ah know ya made good coin off ‘em! Booze was about the only thing they respected enough ta put in coin fer! Ya even started buyin’ up supplies ta fancy the place up!”

“Well excuse me fer runnin’ a business! Not like Ah’d expect a man whose whole life is makin’ honest Dwarves dig in the dirt for ‘em ta understand good business!”

“Watch it!” The Director started stomping forward. “Ah mine right beside mah men! Ask any of ‘em! An’ all tha’ ‘diggin’ in the dirt’ is what gives you an yer entitled ass a town ta peddle yer garbage swill in!”

“Oh, ya wanna draw me fury, boy?!” The Dwarven granny rolled up her sleeves. “’Cause Ah’ll clock yer jaw so bad, the silver miner will be sportin’ gold gum ta gum!”

At this point, Ricven took his chance to excuse himself from the blast radius of Kettlecropp’s rage. I was trying to find a way to intervene, but they were both too angry to hear me. And I wasn’t about to smack an elder or a mining director.

Luckily, I didn’t have to. Glemerr stormed out of the bar, down the steps, and brought her hands together into a powerful—

CLAP!

--boom of noise. From directly beside both their ears. Kettlecropp flinched back, rubbing at her eardrum. At the same time, Director Deepstone took the sound well but understood the message. It wasn’t a smack, but the noise sure sounded like it.

“Ah don’t know what yer sayin’ but Ah don’t care! Stop shoutin’!” Glemerr’s voice brought everything, even the smaller conversations around us, to a halt. “It! Is late. Ah’m tired. Rava, an’ Stostine, an’ Riven are tired! Three of our friends are unconscious. And Sistah Garaele is in da Griffonbound Vendors, also unconscious!”

Murmurs echoed across the crowd. Many of them were now fully worried about Sister Garaele. Others muttered apologies. A couple even broke away from the crowd to rush over to Griffonbound to tend to her or at least make sure she wasn’t alone.

“Dere’s still more Thugbrands,” Glemerr kept going. “An’ dey got gobbos and hairy bug-gobbos wanderin’ around. Now we’re gonna take care of ‘em, but we. Are. Tired.”

The crowd listened in, taking every word Glemerr said seriously. Many of them became worried at the sound of goblins and ‘hairy goblins,’ but they kept quiet. And when Glemerr finished saying her peace, she walked over to scoop up Platick before heading into the Sleeping Giant to collect Vareén as well.

As she did, Stostine cleared her throat and walked back up onto the steps of the porch. “Glemerr is right. Our group is incredibly exhausted, and we need a chance to recover. But rest assured, when we do, we will be tackling the rest of the problem in the morning. And not only that. I was able to utilize some magical paper to quickly inform the Platinum Guard of the Redbrand threat.

“Until then,” she went on. “We would ask that all of you return to your homes for the night. There is no more need for any more bloodshed. And if anyone insists on staying watch, please, please find us and let us handle it. Do not put yourselves at risk tonight. Please understand. We are doing this for everyone’s safety. Not for your sacrifice.”

Story glanced at his screen, watching multiple scenes play out because of Stostine’s speech. Some scenarios had the people agreeing while others had one or two individuals stepping up to show their willingness to play guard duty. Others even had townsfolk getting angry at Stostine commanding them to hide in their homes.

The DM took that as a sign. “Sunset? Persuasion check. And take advantage because Glemerr got them quiet for you.”

Sunset took a short breath. Right. Words aren’t enough here. But still, her hand glossed over her dice as she felt around for a D20 and scooped it up. Followed by a second one to juggle around. What she didn’t realize was that one of them was the ‘lucky’ die the group had kept passing around.

But after rolling and finding the ‘lucky die,’ now the familiar brass material heavily clunking on the table, the total came out to a very favorable number. Sunset was grateful for the number, but in that thankfulness, her mind lingered for a second. She reminisced on lessons of etiquette and public speaking made to prepare a teenager for a bureaucratic lifestyle.

The thoughts faded as soon as they appeared, although a few of those lessons stuck to the back of Sunset’s mind. “Twenty-three.”

The people of Phandalin listened in, more understanding of Stostine’s desperation than their drive for revenge on the criminals. They looked down at the collection of bodies off to the side; a gruesome reminder of just what we all went through tonight.

Then, they saw the wounds across us. The only ones who looked well off to still be standing were myself and Ricven, and even then, I had some near third-degree burns on me. Everyone else was either ready to fall over or had already done so.

“They’re right.” Stonehill turned towards the others. “Look. It’s the middle of the night. If any other Redbrands are coming, it’ll be by torchlight. They’ll see their fallen, and they’ll be idiots for trying anything else. We can watch the bodies, but let’s stay back.”

“Somebody get Eglath,” Glemerr told them as she reemerged from the pub with both Vareén and Platick in her arms. “After we get da ones dat’re still alive inta da cells, he can help keep watch.”

The town agreed to that and started to move. Stostine, Glemerr, and our fallen friends made their way to Stonehill Inn for the night to rest and recover while Ricven and I stayed behind. None of us could get Thorn Wielder detached from the ground, so I volunteered both of us to stay and camp out here for the night.

But Ricven wasn’t done getting bullied by Ms. Kettlecropp yet. She dragged him into the Sleeping Giant by the ear and after a few minutes, she went home and Ricven stayed inside for the rest of the night. He was on cleaning duty.

During all of this, the townsfolk escorted the still-breathing Redbrands to the cells below. The remaining bodies were stripped of supplies for the townsfolk and Leanne’s weapon shop was converted to a temporary armory. The only thing that wasn’t scooped up by the townsfolk was the magical shield that was now resting in my hands.

Like Ricven said, it was clean of any faults. No scuffs or damage anywhere. That is, save for the paint job on the front that I could tell came after the shield’s construction.

“Huh.” I used my gauntlet, scraping at the shield’s face to clear off more of it. There was a different design in the center of the shield that Stalwart had seemingly painted over with red paint. It made the brass shield look more like an archery target than anything else.

But once I had enough of it cleared off, it became pretty apparent what he covered. It was a Cortássian shield. There was Elvish written in a circle around the main symbol, which appeared to be a tree layered on top of the shield with a silvery-white metal that gleamed more beautifully than any other.

“Mithril,” I breathed. I took off my gauntlet for a moment and glided my fingers across it. The ridges in the mithril were inlaid in such a way that it felt like the bark of a tree.

For the next hour or two, I kept scrubbing. I went inside and found Ricven, already passed out in a chair with only the bigger rubble gathered up in a corner in terms of ‘cleaning.’ I chuckled, grabbed some water and rags, and went back outside to keep up the cleaning.

When I finished, my eyes felt heavy and I was having trouble holding back yawns. But it was done. All of the paint was gone and revealed to the world was the design of an ancient tree of mithril whose branches and roots spanned out in large fans. The leaves were made of silver and the roots of gold. And then, as I rotated the shield around in my hands, I noticed something else.

The tree flipped. When I looked at the shield from upside down, the silver leaves molded themselves into roots and the golden roots into branches. Now the leaves were gold and the roots silver. It was like the metal was one of those optical illusion pictures that changed images from different angles. But this wasn't an illusion, The metal physically morphed itself.

That tiefling hated Cortás so much that he went and hid the most beautiful shield from the world. I took a second to stare at the Tiefling’s body in frustration. What made you hate Cortássians this badly?

I didn’t let the thought blemish my mind, or this shield, anymore. I simply continued to admire the shield until sleep eventually took me.

Author's Note

Woo! On time! Maybe I shouldn't be so happy I have a chapter posted on a day I said I would, but here we are.

This originally had a couple of other scenes, but like I mentioned before I wanted to cut back on the word count. So, I'm going to save those scenes for either the cutting room floor or the next chapter over. I want to try keeping the word count of these chapters under 10k. That way I can keep up staying consistent with these chapters.

With that in mind, expect the next chapter to come in two weeks from now.

As always, please let me know what you think of the chapter. Any and all criticism is welcome or if there's something that doesn't make sense from the story you want to ask about, I'll do my best to answer. Assuming it isn't to be revealed in-story.

Thank you guys for reading and I'll see you next chapter!
Cheers,
-Zeke