Ricven Lioncatch’s POV
Redbrands’ Hideout, Jailroom

While Platick got rushed back into the hallway for Stostine and Glemerr to tend to, I pulled away from the group and slipped into the room our most recent Deadbrand found himself fleeing.

Once inside, I saw there wasn’t just one cell, but two. The room itself was rectangular, with the door I entered through being on the long side. Despite that, the space was split into three sections by way of iron bars to the left and right of me. The bars looked relatively newer, but the doors that went along with them were different enough to stand out.

They must have converted the room into a jail once they tracked it down, I imagined.

Directly ahead of me in the dead center of the whole room was a single chair, now left empty, where the Redbrand likely was set up. Behind it, was a pile of torn apart, discarded clothes and worthless trinkets. Likely what the gang’s victims had on their person when they were brought in.

Above the pile was a small hook sunk into the wall. The kind of hook you’d expect to see a set of keys hanging from. It was very much empty and I had a feeling that the deadman in the other room wouldn’t have it on him. Why would he grab the key when we’re fighting him?

I turned my attention to the two cells on either side of me. The cell to my left had two people in it. The first was a Redbrand. A Dwarven one, specifically. The man was standing and staring back at me in disbelief. And when he heard the others outside, his shock was even more obvious.

Yernal, I recognized. That was the name Stostine overheard during the ambush last night. She said a Dwarf named Yernal refused to shoot her and ran away during the chaos. The fact he was in here and only slightly roughed up was what shocked me more.

“Wait, what?” Story murmured, glancing down at his screen. He wasn’t like that when I put him in there.

His eyes focused a bit longer on the visual, but Story continued on with describing the scene anyway. Only Rarity could hear him now while the others played out helping Platick.

I scoffed, my eyes narrowing at him. “Ya thought ya could run the field, huh?”

He tried to come up with a reply, but I already moved on to his cellmate. And instantly, it was somebody I recognized. Leanne.

The girl looked much worse here than I ever saw her back in Phandalin, and it wasn’t from her fight with Platick. She was set up against the wall, delirious as all heck. A heavy iron collar was clasped around her neck with the other end of it buried into the wall behind her. Any form of a merchant’s getup was replaced with an incredibly thin gray tunic that fell past her knees. It, like the rest of her, was covered in filth.

As if all that wasn’t enough, this Leanne was gaunt. Her body lacked muscle and her face was somewhat tight to her face. She wasn’t starving, per se, but she seemed without proper food or water. Sunlight too.

Giving the lady a cautious glance, I turned towards the other cell whereupon my body went still at the sight. Two more people, a mother, and a daughter, were in the same thin gray tunics and had the same iron collar chaining them to the wall. The daughter, a human teen by the look of it, looked only somewhat better than her mother. But even then, neither of them was in a much better condition than Leanne.

Of the two of them, the daughter was the one who looked u—

“Hold on a minute,” Rarity cut Story off. “Two? There’s...two of them in that cell? Not three?”

Story, who was now holding the side of his head in his hand as if his brain was about to pop out, was shaking his head. “I-I...This doesn’t make sense. They were there. I-I saw them in here. At the mall. At-At the...Earlier today. At lunch.”

All of that was gargled for Rarity, who was still trying to rationalize the part that she could understand, whereas Button and Applebloom perked up at the mention of the mall. They didn’t have a clue what Story was talking about here, but the expressions on Rarity and Story were making them and the rest of the onlookers concerned for them.

“...Ricven approaches the bars,” Rarity narrated. “A-And he tries to open the door.”

Story sighed, shaking his head. “He tries it and it clunks around in its frame. Locked.”

“Why?” Rarity asked, more towards herself than at Story. “They’re chained to the wall by the neck, what need is there for locking the door?”

The fashionista then looked across the others, considering her options before settling on Rainbow Dash. She cleared her throat loudly and gave a stage shout.

“Lady Rava?” I called out the door. I knew she’d hear me, I could hear all of them crowding around Platick. “He’ll be fine. You need ta help me out in here. These folks ain’t lookin’ much better.”

“Ah’m comin’,” Rava tossed back. “Vareén, be a dear and help ‘em, would ya?”

There was some back and forth after that, but the sound of Rava’s clanking armor approaching the room drowned the details out. And a second later, her head poked around the door. “How can Ah help?”

“Ya can start by forcin’ the door,” I told her, pulling the handle for emphasis. “They drained a’ all life in there. Worse still, one’s missin’.”

“What.” Rainbow’s stare buried into Story, who was frantically pouring over his constantly changing notes for an answer. When he found one that started formulating an explanation, he picked it up and read.

“I open the door,” Rainbow Dash told him.

Story paused, lowering his head for a moment. “Like I told Ricven, it’s locked.”

“No.” Rainbow picked up a fistful of dice. “I open. The door.”

Story gave her his full attention for a second. Then, he stared at the screen. “...It’ll be tough. Roll a Strength check.”

Rainbow obliged, only to stare at the number in contempt. “Twelve.”

Story closed his eyes and shook his head in slow motion.

Rava hurried forward, gripping the door that sealed off the mother and her child. “Lemme have a go at it.” She tugged, twisted, and nearly started slamming the thing to force the door open. The door and bars weren’t secured too well together, but even then, the thing didn’t want to budge.

“Gotta be a key,” I muttered, assessing the room one more time. The pile of clothes was underneath the key hook. But even then, they wouldn’t be that stupid. They just stuffed one of their own in here last night. And there’s two heavy-duty cells. The keys and their ring wouldn’t be hard to spot if it just fell off.

I discredited the clothes before looking at the chair, then the slumped-over dead man Vareén shot outside the room. No key on either. Not unless the man had them stuffed down his clothes for whatever reason.

If I were part of an idiotic, pathetic troupe of bargain bin adventurers too scared to walk into a forest but too paradoxical to think that skeletons were fine bunkmates, where would I hide a key?

“Ricven? Rava?” Vareén called out. “Are they stable?”

“We got four folks in here,” I shouted back, still scanning the room. “All four of ‘em roughed up, and one looks like he regrets his life choices.”

“Thanks,” the Dwarf grumbled.

“An’ we can’t find the keys!” Rava included, pulling out her hammer. “There’s a hook on the wall, but it’s empty. We’ll need help pickin’ the locks.”

“It...Th-The keys ain’t here.” Yernal stepped forward, gripping one of the bars.

“No kiddin’,” I spat back at him. “Well, if they ain’t here, where are they?”

“Well, there was this man,” Yernal started. “But he wasn’t one of the Redbrands. Ah’d never seen him before. He just strolled up and started givin’ out orders like he ran the place.”

At that point, Glemerr forced herself inside the room, pulling a half-conscious Platick in from under his arm. The two took a moment to glance around the room, and once the Dwarf laid eyes on Platick, his brow shot up higher than his hairline.

“Him! Him! He’s the one! Told the whole gang ‘bout your group! He’s the one that threw me in ‘ere! The one who took the key! It’s him!”

“Huh. Y’hear that Platick?” I gave the human a grin. “Between all the bandages Miss Glemerr wrapped ya in, you’ve been busy.”

“So I keep hearing,” he replied, looking between the two cells and settling on the one with two-thirds of a family. “Where’s the other one?”

“Not sure.” I turned back towards Yernal. “Hey, turncoat. If Platick did come by before, was he the one who took the other kid? Or was that one a yer Redfriend buddies?”

“You...what?” He leaned back for a second. “No, ye’re not hearin’ me! That’s the guy! He’s the one that fired up everyone into a frenzy! He said that he knew every—”

“Every secret we have? Nah. Dat wasn’t him.” Glemerr shook her head before walking Platick towards the mother’s cell first. “Dat was de doppler. It ran back ‘ere ‘fore we could punch it’s shifty face off.”

“And they read minds,” Platick added as he removed his thieves’ tools, aiming them for the mother and daughter’s lock. “That clear it up for you, or do you want even more convincing?”

“A ‘doppler’?” The Dwarf paused, looking back over the rest of us. “What’s a doppler?”

“d-duh...doppel...ganger,” the woman in Yernal’s cage started to become more aware of the situation as if the name of the monster shocked her awake. “Is...Is it back?”

“Not at all, missie,” Rava assured her softly. “There’s no doppelganger here. Not for now, at least. We’re gettin’ ya outta here.”

tink! “Ah! Shit, that hurts.” Platick pulled back his hand, his palm now turning bright red from the gash one of his now broken tools inflicted on him.

Applejack stared down at her die in contempt. Its lowest digit stared back up at her in an almost mocking sense.

Rarity sighed, getting more antsy with each moment. “Platick, what kinda thief are you?”

“Funny you ask. I’m not,” Applejack returned in Platick’s tone.

Rarity stared down at her character sheet again. She made quick work to mark off a use of something and then looked back at Story. “Alright, fine. I’ll only have one left after this, but...Ricven takes out his violin.”

“Don’t go breaking all yer tools,” I taunted him while correcting one of the strings. I was going to need a different tune for this next part. “There’s a full five locks ya gotta get through. Here. Follow the tempo.”

“Tempo?” Platick glanced back at me. “How’s music supposed to help me pick a lo—”

“There’s a man who seeks to find the answer~!
“In every town he stays, he plays freelancer~!
“With every lie they make, another truth he’ll take~
“Odds are you won’t live ta see the mornin’~”

“Platick’s secret life~! Platick’s secret life~!
“He’s taken away yer chances. Though they’ve taken away his name~!”

I let those same lyrics repeat with one of my motes as I had another one form underneath the strings of my violin. While it wasn’t as heavenly a sound as what my violin normally made, the ‘pwang’ fit the tune much better.

Platick rolled his eyes at me but loosened his shoulders and gave the lock another try. By the third twist, a satisfying click joined the symphony for a cool second and the door creaked open. All as the prisoners watched with hope in their eyes.

“It wasn’t the music,” he insisted before moving into the cell and towards the girls with the chains around their necks. The mother was closer, but she quickly ushered Platick to help her daughter first.

The man obliged, and after instructing the girl to sit still and lean her head to the side, he made even quicker work of the lock. When it was done, he and the girl tore the thing away from her neck, and she rolled her head around in relief.

Rava stepped into the cell, holding out a hand for the child. “Come on. We’re here ta get ya out. Yer safe now. Promise on me soul.”

The girl rubbed at her neck a bit more before weakly reaching out and taking Rava’s hand. With the Dwarf’s help, she worked to walk the child out of the room and into the chair in the center of the room.

Unbeknownst to the girls and Story, a ray of hope finally started to shine. Across the city, in one of many hospital rooms, a young girl began to pull her eyes open. Her body ached, her mind was fuzzy, and she had no idea where she was.

“M-Mom?...Aloe?”

The teen slowly tried to sit up. It took her time, maybe a minute or so, but she eventually realized that she wasn’t at her grandfather’s freezing basement anymore. Instead, she was in a hospital bed. A warm, comfortable, welcoming bed. Or at least, it was all of those things compared to the cold, hard, wet floor of the bunker she remembered being trapped in.

By the time she managed to prop herself up on her arms, she heard someone else’s voice among the beeps of the hospital machines and voices in the hallway. In the bed beside her, groaning weakly, was the child’s mother, Cherry Blossom.

“Mom...!” Lotus tried to pull herself out of bed, but the weak feeling across her body convinced her otherwise. “Mom, wake up. Wake up, please. We’re...We’re okay. We’re okay!”

“Ungghh...Lotus?” The older woman took a second to turn her head to the left. And when she saw her daughter’s face wrenched with worry, Cherry tried her best to give her a tired grin. “Hey there...How are you feeling?”

Neither of them would have any idea how they wound up here for now, or why they were suddenly waking up. But there they were. Awake and alive.

But Aloe, on the other hand, had not. She was in a separate room shared with nobody else. And, for the moment, she was thoroughly unconscious with no signs of waking up.

For the mother, it took a little more work. Platick tried being gentle while also shutting out my music, but the act of ignoring it had his work drag out.

“Platick, don’t fight the music,” I told him. “It’s there ta help, not hinder. And it won’t kill ya ta enjoy a tune.”

Once Platick got the lock, he and Rava worked together to help the woman out of the cell. “You sure? Then how come my headache’s getting worse than my breathing?”

I shook my head but kept up my song. “Just hurry and get the last two locks. Leanne’s in a worse spot.”

“Leanne?” Platick paused, standing at attention like a cat with a bell. I swayed along to my music, forcing the song to repeat for probably the fourth time now with new lyrics each time, and stepped aside so that he could get a clear look at her.

“You are alive,” he said, somewhat surprised by the concept.

“And she’ll look alive when we get ‘er out,” Rava told him. “Come on.”

Platick looked back at her. “Right.” He walked up to the other cell door, readying his tools. “Alright then. You.” He looked up at Yernal, who flinched. “Back up. No crowding the bars.”

“Y-Yeah. Whatever ya say, sure.” Yernal obeyed, and Platick got to work on the lock. It was unlocked in seconds and Rava took a moment to step in first, holding up her shield, not her hammer, towards him in defense.

“Not fer nothin’, friend,” Rava told him gently. “But with a doppelganger about, ya can’t be too sure. Matter a fact.” She began speaking in Dwarven to the man, to which he responded in kind. The only words I could catch between them were ‘Ravathyra’ and ‘Yernal.’ Their names.

As for Platick, he approached Leanne, pausing for a moment as he looked her over. Leanne did the same in return, with the two having this odd tension between them.

“You...the real one?” Leanne asked groggily.

“Eeyup,” he hummed. “And you?”

Leanne released this faint grin. “Would be a...pretty stupid doppelganger if...If I chained myself to a wall."

Applejack gave Story a studied look, paranoia from the former Leanne gripping her sense for a moment. “...Insight check.”

“Go for it.” Story nodded with a serious expression.

Applejack scooped up a die, blew into it and rolled. It wasn’t a natural twenty, but a regular one did just as well.

Another couple of seconds and another round of the song started, and the two suddenly seemed to be at ease with one another.

“Well. The doppelganger is an idiot,” Platick mocked.

“Touche...”

I let out a whistle. “Yo, sarcastic duo! Ya gonna get outta there err not? I’d rather not be playing the same song forever.”

“No one told you to keep playing,” Platick told me. But still, the man flicked out his tools, and Leanne lulled her head to the side so the lock was better exposed. But as Platick got to work, I saw him struggle. He would pull his tools taut, only to abandon the attempt when they were starting to bend a little too much.

So, to help him, I focused my magic into the strings of my violin. Whether Platick wanted to be thankful for it or not, I brought forward one of the musical motes floating around my head and brought it through the bars and towards Platick as he worked.

Except, when it got about halfway there, the mote started to bloat and roll in midair, losing its delicate shape as it struggled to keep from popping.

No, no, come on! Not like this!

I slowed the tempo of my music, trying to use the chords of my violin as a way to patch the mote back together long enough to reach Platick’s mind...

...Only for it to shatter in a massive spray of light and grinding sounds right behind his ears.

Platick flinched down, snapping both of the tools he had in Leanne’s lock cleanly in half as his arms fanned out towards either side of him.

I turned away, wrapping my arms around my violin as the shame of my performance made me now suddenly aware of how many people were here to see this. Simultaneously, Platick began to sit up only to see Leanne giving him a tired expression as one of the tool pieces cluttered out of her neck chain.

“My hero,” she said in a dull tone.

Eventually, I knew that I had to look up. When I did, I saw Platick’s dark gaze leering at me as he unceremoniously dropped the now-broken thieves’ tools on the floor. Then he tossed aside the rest of the set. Whatever tools that had broken, the set was now next to useless.

“Ricven?” he spoke with a steady growl.

I cleared my throat and gingerly returned my violin to my back. “Uh, eheheheh. My bad?”

His expression didn’t change. Instead, he extended his hand towards me. “The Mystery Keys. Give.”

“Huh. Oh! Right, we got Mystery Keys.” Patting down my bag, I tracked them down on my person and brought them out. The three clay-made keys lightly clacked against each other. Each time they did, the teeth on them shifted about.

“Uh. Best a’ luck?” I walked over to the bars and tossed them over. Platick snatched them out of the air and prepared one of them.

“I’ll leave that to Tymora,” he mumbled, turning back to Leanne. To her credit, she watched all of this and lulled her head to the side one more time. But she didn’t look nearly as hopeful this time.

Still, Platick tried the key. When it didn’t work, he tried the second. And then third. None of them worked, and when that was beyond obvious, Leanne weakly reached up and pulled Platick’s hand away from her neck. “It’s...Stop. They’re not helping.”

Platick groaned and took a few seconds to stand back up. He clutched his side, took a few studied breaths, and hooked the keys onto his belt. Then he looked over to Rava, who was still talking to the former Redbrand, but it sounded like it was wrapping up.

“What do you think? He clean?”

Rava looked back at him. “As much as Ah can figure, yeah. Man’s from Cragen. Been ta the Hydra Pits too.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Platick frowned.

“Well if he’s as clean as one a these fools can get, he can start talkin’.” I walked into the doorway of the cell and sized the man up. Rava was lowering her shield at this point, and Platick had a hand on one of the many daggers he still had around his person. But this unarmed, terrified Dwarf wasn’t gonna try anything on us.

“Ya said that the other Platick came in and swiped the key, yeah? What about the other girl? There were two of ‘em, yeah? Where’d she end up?”

From behind me, the mom and sister turned to look at us. I gave them a quick glance, but all they knew was that the girl was taken. Likely, not anything beyond that.

By Yernal’s expression, he knew exactly what happened to her. “They...They probably brought her ta Glasstaff.”

All of us— Platick and Rava, Glemerr, and myself —felt the breath leave our lungs.

“You...Glasstaff?” Rarity asked, her face pale, exceeded in shock only by Pinkie’s quickly deflating hair. “She was brought...to Glasstaff? The necromancer?”

“You did not just tell us that,” Applejack mumbled, slowly finding her rage. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Story?” Rainbow Dash, however, already found it. And the only reason she wasn’t screaming at him, or at the game, or whatever needed to be screamed at, was because of the Squirt behind her. “She. Better. Be okay.”

Story folded one hand over a fist, rested his elbows on the table, and stared straight through the notes and the table beneath him. He tracked down his initial notes of the captives a couple of minutes ago. And what he prepared was there. As well as more.

Unfortunately, he didn’t determine what happened to the captives from the start of the game forward. He knew what would ultimately happen to them as a whole after a couple of days, but he assumed that would be safe. The girls were storming them after a night’s rest.

That meant that the magic, ever ready to help fill in the blanks when he prepared hands-on, ‘helped’ fill in the remaining timeline. Which involved taking a random prisoner and making a new spider.

Glemerr moved forward. And with the rest of us too shocked to react, none of us stopped her from entering the cell and storming straight towards Yernal.

“Wanna run dat by me again?”

“Ah—hey, look.” Yernal backed up as far as he could go. When his back fell against the wall, he scrambled for a new direction.

There was none.

“Wait, please!” He looked to Rava, who was still terrified. “Please, Ah had nothin’ ta do wit’ that! Ah never helped ‘em wit’ any a’ that necro-stuff. Please, believe me, Ah’m sorry! Ah’m so, so sorry, Ah—ggggrrrrrk!”

Glemerr clamped her hand across his throat and pinned him to the wall before she dragged him upwards. The heels of his boots scraped the back wall, finding the tiniest pieces of purchase to keep from hanging by Glemerr’s grip.

“Ya say she’s wit’ Glasstaff?” Glemerr’s voice cut real deep. And like with upstairs, I watched one of her fists start to suck in all the color of the space around it. “With that freak?! Ya better not tell me he’s doin’ what Ah think he’s doin’.”

“Ah...Ah..." His voice leaked from the thin space left in his throat to escape. “Ah’m sorry. Ah’m so sorry! But! B-But, she might be alright! Ah think! Puh-Please...Please, don’t kill me!”

The hand Glemerr held him with slowly spread into more and more darkness as Yernal’s face contorted into absolute terror upon seeing Glemerr’s face from within her mask.

“Might be?” She parroted. “Keep talkin’. What ya mean ‘Might. Be?’”

Glemerr loosened her grip, letting the Dwarf absorb a burst of oxygen. But she didn’t release him. Yernal stayed stamped against the stone wall, now about to hang from his neck if not for those tiny footholds of his.

“Hours...She was taken...hours back,” Yernal panted. “Two...M-Maybe three? Not long.”

I glanced behind me at the family. The daughter was still in the chair, rubbing at her neck, and the mother settled for sitting on her knees beside her daughter. Now that they were out, the mom clung to her kid as if she would vanish if she let her go.

“Ladies?” I spoke to them with gentleness. The mother looked back at me. “Is this true? She was taken a few hours back?”

“Th-Three,” the mother returned with a tense look. “It was closer to three. They unclamped her and dragged her away. She was too weak to even fight them off. All of us were.”

The mother shifted her position. She still never let go of her daughter, and the daughter wrapped her own arms around her mother’s. She just wanted a closer look at us. “Please! Please, save her. I just want to get them far away from this awful place, please!”

“We will,” Platick told her. Not Glemerr, and not Rava. Platick. “You’ll all make it out of this.”

Then, he looked back to Yernal. “Why does the timing matter? What makes that safer for her?”

Yernal locked in on Platick, treating him as his only chance at survival. “Ritual! G-Glasstaff. His demonic rituals take ti—” His heel slipped, and he spent a second or two choking on Glemerr’s hand before he used his limbs to heft himself up just enough for air.

“Ti-Time...It ta-takes time!” He forced his jaw to let go of his words. “Five hours. Always. Five. And he needs ‘em alive.”

“Know a lot fer a’ man who don’t help with the ‘necro-stuff.’ Weird, ain’t it?”

“He puts on a show,” Yernal explained. “Demonstrates it. Almost monthly. Proud—proud guy.”He struggled more as Glemerr tightened her grip again.

“Hmm. What do ya think y’all?” I looked between Platick and Glem. I already had a guess what Rava’s answer was gonna be. “Think we should let him live? Err maybe save him the torment of the Gloomvault?”

“Live...!” His craggily voice cried. “Live, pl-please! Ah wanna live! Sssso bad!”

“Ricven, Glem, enough a’ that,” Rava warned with the tone of a den mother. “The folks in ‘ere have seen enough tragedy. Put him down.”

“Glemerr,” Platick spoke neutrally. “That’s enough.”

Glem looked back towards Platick. Whatever that darkness was around her hands, it spread to her face from within that rag covering too. One eye was a shadowy black, and the other shone like a bright spark.

I heard the mom and daughter gasp and shrink away behind me, while Rava and Platick now put their full attention on Glemerr. When she saw that, the darkness faded from her fist and face as she let go of Yernal. The Dwarf fell to the floor in a slump, groaning in pain.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “Ah’m just really ticked off ‘bout all dis. Ah ain’t never dealt with some necromancer before, and hearin’ all dis gang talkin’ ‘bout it like it’s normal’s just...It’s all wrong. None a’ dis is righ’!”

“Yer right, Glem,” Rava told her. “It’s all gone daffy. An’ it ain’t gettin’ better. But we cannae lose our ‘eads. Stay focused.”

“Ah am focused,” Glemerr argued. “Ah know what we gotta do! Ah jus’ can’t stand lookin’ at all dis. Even da orcs back ‘ome didn’t play with dis bad magic. Fires an’ lightnin’ even, sure, but not skeletons! Not the dead! Even da gangs kept dead dead!”

“These ain’t Alderstone gangs, Miss Glem,” I told her. “And ya gotta stop comparin’ ‘em ta them gangs. This is a whole new catchin’ field. What you know ain’t gonna apply here.”

“He’s right,” Platick told her. “This is new to a lot of us. And we need to play this smart. Look at yourself. Look at me. We’re running off adrenaline.”

The half-orc lowered her head. “Ah know. An’ Stostine ain’t much bettah either. We gotta...yeah. Yeah, we gotta cool down. Take a breather.”

3rd Person POV
Ms. Cheerilee’s Classroom
4:47 PM

“A breather?” Rarity looked across the two of them, incredulous. Then, in an accent unlike her usual affair, “I ain’t not sure we got time, folks. That poor girl’s on a timer. One that’s runnin’ out soon. We gotta keep movin’.”

“I get that it sounds bad,” Applejack replied, her voice level and as clear of her usual accent as she could get it. “But if we use all our magic healing ourselves, you and the others will be out of anything that packs a punch. For the bugbears, for the nothic, and especially for the necromancer at the end.”

“Yernal said tha’ there’s two hours left, yeah?” Rainbow looked to Story. She wasn’t playing as Rava, but the Scottish accent still clung to her. When she heard it, she cleared her throat and focused. “Would Rava or Ricven know anything about the ritual thing?”

On Story’s end of the table, he was thoroughly distracted. Between looking through his notes for any other changes the game was ‘helping’ him with, he was burying his face in his hands. Buckets of grief were pouring over the boy as he couldn’t help but wonder what equated to a necromantic ritual on one of the girls in real life. And the answers he was coming up with simply scared him more.

“Hey! Story?” Rainbow didn’t let it go. She reached over and tapped on the top of the screen, making Story freeze up and then peek over one of his hands. “Like back at the other jail. I tried to roll about the skeletons, yeah? And I rolled bad. But I got to try for it, right?”

Story blinked a few times before slowly nodding. Sunset, Twi, and Fluttershy weren’t able to hear what was going on here since they were having their own conversation, but Rarity, AJ, and Pinkie could. And the question made them pause for a second.

“I mean, yes,” Story spoke faintly. “Necromancy stuff can fall under religion.”

“Awesome.” Rainbow Dash grinned. “In that case, can Rava roll a religion check here? But about the spider skulls? Or just the ritual thing for them?”

“Good idea,” Rarity told her. She then leaned forward as well. “And could I do the same with Ricven? Except with Arcana?”

Story stared back, his mind distracted from his emotions for a moment. Eventually, he glanced back at the screen, watching as scenes all about Ricven or Rava appeared. Dozens of scenarios about why they did or did not know about this kind of thing.

“I mean...Yeah. I guess it’s possible.” He nodded and looked back up at his friends. “Sure. Make your checks.”

The two girls quickly got to work, tracking down dice for a second. Rarity settled for one of her own dice, but Rainbow Dash wanted all the chance she had for this. So, she looked over towards the last person to have the lucky die.

“Hey, Fluttershy?” Rainbow leaned towards her next. The meek girl—although, perhaps not meek in that moment—whipped her head around to Rainbow Dash. “The good die. Can I borrow it?”

In that moment, Fluttershy gripped the die so hard her knuckles were whitening. Since she had used it, it never left her hand. “W-Why?”

“It’s for something important,” Dash excused. “Please?”

Fluttershy withdrew a little bit, giving a hesitant look between her friend and the thing that had helped keep her stable. She hadn’t needed to roll it in some time, so Thorn’s voice had long faded. However, simply holding it brought Fluttershy this...comfort. A comfort that she failed to understand.

“E-Erm...Well.” She gave one last look to the die. And then towards Rainbow’s outstretched hand and pressing expression. Both of these things were important to Fluttershy, but not equally. So after a few seconds, and Rainbow’s eyes blinking in slight confusion, Fluttershy relented. “Okay. Sure. Could I, uh, have it back after?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks.” Rainbow took the die, tossing it around in her hand as the die shifted from a seed pod to a storm cloud.

“Sixteen for Arcana,” Rarity told Story. She had already finished adding by the time Rainbow seized the die.

“Sixteen..." Story paused for a second, looking down at the scenes before him. None of them looked substantial, just minor. “Ricven would never have seen any rituals regarding necromancy. Even the seedier folk of a city’s shadows have standards. Still, stories always pass by. And while these were more conjecture, you would find a pattern in them. One that speaks of necromantic rituals requiring living sacrifices rather than the dead. The conversion of life force rather than a trade.”

At this point, Rainbow started rolling. When the dice hit the ground and clattered to a favorable number, she felt her heart and excitement settle into a calm, attentive demeanor.

It was an odd feeling for Rainbow Dash. Unless a subject in lectures talked about something she expressly was interested in, like her hobbies, she tended to zone out pretty quickly. So the feeling she got felt foreign to her. It felt almost like what she imagined Twilight would feel with lectures.

Interest.

A sea of thoughts flowed into Rainbow’s mind, and she listened to each of them with a studied expression. The results of necromancy. What it does to a person’s mind. What it does to the life it corrupts, and what may need to be done to see it destroyed or prevented.

Hours. Days, possibly, of lectures ran on fast forward, giving Rainbow Dash glimpses of lectures, prayer, and a few sparse lessons on other matters. She couldn’t remember a majority of them or cling onto any details, but the gist of it was there for her. And it left her a want to prevent it at all costs.

She folded her hands on the space in front of her and nodded with a grim determination. “Eighteen.” To the others, Rainbow rolled the dice, blinked once or twice, and locked in.

Story again looked back at his screen, finding similar, if not the same, memories that swept by Rainbow Dash. “Towards you, Dagarkin, spider skulls are not a standard affair of undead. Not many are. Necromancy is not studied and recorded, except for well secured within Stone Tome Archives.”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes for a second. “Guessin’ Ah’ve never been?” Her Scottish accent came back for a moment, but Rainbow didn’t seem to notice it.

“Few beyond the keepers of that Archive ever do,” Story told her. “However, the Carved Cathedral has enough history dealing with necromancers that they know how to teach holy warriors how to combat and prevent them. And specifically, with rituals using living sacrifices, the rituals are quite easy to prevent. Victims of these rituals must remain in as pristine a condition all the way through until the final stage.”

Hearing that, Rarity perked up. “When does this final stage happen? Towards the very end, yes?”

Story started to nod. “Ricven and Rava would both know stories of powerful necromancers and their rituals by word of mouth and lecture appropriately. In the event of these powerful mages, living subjects would be left with lingering necromancy even if they were saved. This Glasstaff, however, seems far from any powerful necromancer. Still dangerous. But not that dangerous.”

Rarity let out a breath of relief. Then, she worked with Rainbow to relay everything to the others with their characters. Once it was all done and the others shared her sentiment, Rarity seemed to settle down further. “So then there likely is time.”

“Ah’d think so,” Applejack nodded along, putting Platick’s voice aside for a second. “We got two hours, and Twi said that a short rest thing takes one hour at least, right? That should be enough time.”

“I always have it be one hour,” Story confirmed, nodding. In the back of his mind, he tried to assure himself that things were still okay. The magic is still helping to run a ‘game.’ This must be its way of helping me set up a short rest.

He swore to himself to deal with that kind of hiccup later. For now, he reveled in the respite they had.

“So, it decided?” Rainbow asked them. “Take a breather, then charge through the rest of this place?”

“And as quickly as possible,” Rarity added, checking her phone. “We have perhaps an hour left.”

“Sounds like a plan, Ric-van the man!” Pinkie tried to put a smile back on her face, but like her hair it had difficulty staying up.

“And everyone else in favor?” When everyone at the table, Sunset’s group included as they finished up their talk and rejoined the others earlier, were in agreement, Story sunk back in his seat and smiled.

“And you’re all able to do so,” he told them. “For all the abilities that say short rest, regain those back. And you each have up to two hit dice to get some HP back. Roll high.”

The girls quickly got to work, preparing their characters for what came next as fast as they were able to. As they rolled their dice and tallied their points, a shared sense of determination filled the room.

Story watched them all roll and throw out a few plans—discussing the best line-up, whether to start using their bigger spells or not. It was a relief to see them coming up with ideas and concerns that even veterans considered at times.

But still, a feeling of dread was hitting him. As they kept planning, Story was quickly trying to read up on whatever the game’s magic had prepared without his consent. The tension was building, and stakes were getting stricter. As far as a game like this was concerned, that was great. Given the real-world ramifications, Story didn’t share that thought.

I know where she is, Story told himself. And I know how much time she’s got. How much one of those girls have. Not sure if that makes it easier, but it’s not impossible.

He took a second to look over the rest of the threats within the dungeon. All of them at once were nearly impossible. But split up, the girls could manage.

Behind their table, Ms. Cheerilee glanced at the clock. It was nearly five. Her ride was supposed to be in around six o’clock. The school didn’t like students staying too long beyond that either. And on top of all of that, she figured that they would need to clean up the space for tomorrow morning.

Ms. Cheerilee checked her phone. There was no message from her friend yet. But if there was even a chance that they were going to be early, the least that she could do is prevent it.

She got to work typing away, hoping that her friend would see it before driving over. At the same time, the Crusaders and Button were watching the girls set up for the last part of the game.

“Hey, girls?” Applebloom looked between her two friends and pulled them closer for a small huddle. “Don’t ya think this has all been...sorta weird?”

“I mean, kinda?” Scootaloo nodded side-to-side. “But it’s still kinda cool to watch. Maybe they’re just really into this stuff.”

“Rainbow Dash into a board game?” Applebloom raised an eyebrow. “Ah dunno ‘bout that. And the way mah sister’s playin’? Ah ain’t ever thought Ah’d see her so willin’ ta play somebody with lockpicks n’ hidden’ knives.”

“It is a little weird,” Sweetie admitted. “Not to mention they act like the monsters are real. “But, it is all a game, I guess.”

“Ah guess,” Applebloom copied, her face still a mix of uncertainty. She recalled how Applejack and the others were acting back at the mall. “Well...Long as Ah ain’t alone in thinkin’ that.”

“I mean, I get where you’re coming from.” Scootaloo looked back at the table as Story started to play out one of the other characters. “Do you think there’s something, y’know, extra. Going on?”

“Maybe.” Applebloom frowned. “Apparently, Story knows ‘bout magic. Could be that this is one a them problems.”

“Ya think. Oh, that’d be wild.” Scootaloo thought about it for a second. Then a small grin formed on her face. “You think we’d get to fight off some skull spiders?”

“No,” Sweetie refused. “Please, no skull spiders. They sound so terrible.”

“Agreed.” AB nodded. “Wouldn’t wanna find them hidin’ under mah covers.”

Sweetie Belle gave her a tired look. “Why’d you have to say that? Now I gotta start checking my bed.”

“They’re not actually gonna start showing up.” Scootaloo snickered, but trailed off for a second. “...Right?”

“If they do, I’m making you take care of it.”

“Ya know what? Deal.” Scootaloo gave her friend a brave grin. “I could probably take on a skull spider.”

Her friends didn’t seem so convinced. Nevertheless, they let Scootaloo believe that theory and turned back as their older sisters and friends further cemented themselves in their game.

Author's Note

Well, I made a little spoiler blurb just in case last chapter and glad I did. I'm a little late again. Sorry.

My family came over for a birthday and over the last week I've been working on a few other things, tearing my attention away from the story. So, to try and refocus everything, I'm gonna take a small break.

The next chapter will still be out next weekend, but after that I'm going to take a small hiatus (2-3 weeks). I have the events of the dungeon mapped out, but the chapters aren't written. And for this story, I want to have a surplus in the background so I can keep the schedule going.

After the next chapter, keep an eye out for any kind of blog posts on this site if you're interested. I'm going to try and mark down there when the next chapter will officially be ready. It'll still be on a Saturday I try to post after the break though, so there's that.

That little schedule hiccup aside, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I always look forward to hearing what you guys think in comments, so please let me know! Any and all criticism welcome!

Thank you and cheers,
-Zeke