Fear No Evil

Fearless Foursome

So the petite little waif could defend herself mentally, ruminated Flyz. No matter. The exchange had surprised him, but his iron resolve would be steadfast, his competence grounded in callousness, and his worries dismissed in ignorance. Her stupid group of friends was barely worth a second blink. His mind wandered toward future endeavors.

   The idea that Flyz could invade Vradenburg at any time was ludicrous and out of the question. His partner in crime, (he refused to call him master,) and esoteric miracle worker was playing the long game and would not give him free rein to allow him to storm the city so carelessly. He had a specific date and hour in the works. They were supposed to coordinate together, but his patience was beginning to wane. He knew raising the two skeletons earlier without his permission would undoubtedly grate on his nerves. Too late, the die was cast he would eventually tell him just to rub salt in the wound. He would not be accused of having idle hands!

   One moonless night ere long, they would join forces and conquer the weakling citizens of the Metropolis of Mud. He, from without the walls and the elitist demonologist from within. All it took was an easy enchantment to put the cowardly Vanguard asleep and then he would open the heavy barricaded gates to Flyz's silent marching regiments and the city would be theirs. A total of one hundred relentless skeletons didn't sound like a lot, but the night would disguise those numbers. Inevitably, the Mad Necromancer would set them loose into the homes and businesses of the local populace to destroy or kill anything in their path. When that was finished he would resurrect the dead as terrifying zombies. And he thought with a few more legendary relics in his possession along with the Tome of Neodeth the city would attract more Undead for him to control and command. Wholly ravenous ghouls, haunted wraiths, or a poison-breathing Dracolich perchance! Later, he would betray the sly weasel (an apt name he would never realize) of a man and find a way to banish or assassinate him. Flyz Grimgland rejected the notion of sharing a thriving state with another. He would be master there. No one else.

   As the women approached the overgrown lichen and moldy dock, an old weathered sign read: THE STINKING SWAMP ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. A cavalcade of voices could be heard coming their way. From out of the wetlands came four men-- nay, one man, one boy, one Elf, and one Dwarf. The tall, muscular man covered in leather was saying, "I'm telling you, it's nothing but a myth," while the Dwarf argued, "No, it's not!" His armor clanked with every step he took. An Elf dressed in bright robes, embroidered with a flame motif, and a boy with a handkerchief tied around his neck, covering his face, and soaked in muddy clothing were also at odds with each other.

   "Ah, hello," said Sage the Holy Cleric.

   So involved were the men in their verbal conflict they hardly noticed them. "A trident that can poison rivers? How preposterous!"

   "It's all true. My grandmother's grandmother was there at Slick Vale," claimed the dirty, bug-stung Dwarf.

   Alexondra purposefully bumped into him. "We said, 'Hail!'"

   "What?" he replied, spinning around and gripping his helmet. "What, I say!"

   This time she responded in their ancient Dwarfish language. That seemed to get his attention. He leered at her before attempting to brush dried mud off his shoulders, chest, and brown beard. He looked up at the man, waved him off, and finally greeted her back in Dwarfish, feeling ashamed.

   Now they had stopped their relentless march and acknowledged the women. "We're sorry, ladies. We were in a heated discussion about... Uh, no matter. What can we do for you?" asked the handsome Elf.

   Sage said, addressing the tough guy, "I see you've been in the bayou, and I want to know more about it. Did you discover anything unusual? Like dragon bones? Or Undead..."