Threadbare Volume 2

by Andrew Seiple

  “Yeah, let’s talk about that. My name’s Madeline, by the way. What’s yahs?”

  CHAPTER 4: FOR A FEW UNDEAD MORE

  The vampires were true to their word, and happy to have company that they didn’t have to eat, run from, or convert. Though Threadbare was ready right away to go and put paid to that evil old ghost witch, they managed to talk him into waiting until daylight.

  “She’ll be weakah then,” Madeline said. “Most undead things ah. Us too, but we got the common sense to stay outta the sun. Which is why the Cat Queen only sends her troops around in day.”

  The thing upstairs howled again, but they all ignored it, and kept playing their respective card games.

  “You should probably be out of the town by then,” Barret the miller pointed out. “I’m sure you’re pretty tough, but she’s got a lot of skeletons and even a few ghouls and wights.”

  “Whites?” Threadbare asked, laying down two reds.

  “Nah. Smaht undead, with blue glowing ahhs.” Madeline pointed to her eyes, and laid down two oranges.

  Missus Fluffbear lay down two greens, winning, and happily watching a LUCK +1 flash across her vision.

  Madeline ruffled her head, then started sorting through the well-worn deck again, pulling cards to her two-card hand, discarding, and attempting to get two matching colors. “So what happened to yah little gal? She get old and stop playing with toys? Because I may have ta go visit her foah a bite if she got that stupid. Toy like you, ya don’t throw away.”

  “Oh no, nothing like that,” Threadbare said, drawing and discarding, drawing and discarding. “It turns out her daddy was her grandfather and her father showed up and took her back. I got impaled in a house that burned down and collapsed and spent five years digging out.”

  HONK.

  The vampires jumped. Threadbare shook his head. “Oh, sorry. Missus Fluffbear spent five years digging out. I mostly just got myself un-impaled.”

  “Woo. When family drahma goes wrong, amirite?” Madeline shook her head. “Sorry about that. So yah free. What ah ya gonna do now?”

  “I’m going to find Celia and I’m going to save her.” Threadbare slammed down two purples, the strongest hand in the game. “I might have to fight the king.”

  “Well, I don’t know how he figgahs inta it, but powah to ya, little bear!” Madeline grinned toothily. “Tha King’s an ass. He killed the old king and spent fifteen yeahs runnin’ this kingdom inta tha ground. Look at this place!” She waved her hand around. “He set it all on faia! Well not him personally, tha soldiers, I mean. They killed everyone they could catch. I saw the faia and came into town. Even... saved... a few people on the way.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way,” Grimble spoke up. He was back in a corner with the other vampire spawn, playing a much more interesting card game.

  “S’aw right. Ya good company, ya know?” Madeline sighed. “Knew it was coming. Soon as the north folded, and Balmoran fell, all the little revolutionaries and resistance fightahs that had gathered heah were next. But nobody listens to the vampaiah, huh? Now Balmoran’s gone, the dwarves are next on the chawpin’ blahk, and only the ranjahs up in Jericho’s Reach ah keepin’ them alive. They’ll be gone too soon, and tha King’ll have total control. Of what’s left ah this land, anyway.”

  She riffled the cards, reshuffled them. “Mordecah even dragged me to a few of tha resistance meetings down heah, thinkin’ I might join. Old men and women and young stupids whispering about how they’d smuggle magic items and train up to fight when tha time came. All waiting for a mysterious gal who was tha true heir to tahn up an’ lead them. Cowahds, most. Useless.”

  “You knew Mordecai?”

  “Oh yah. Tried to put the bite on him one night when I caught him wanderin’ around my turf, and wound up pinned to a tree, getting’ a lecture on how I, of all people, should know bettah than to judge by appearances. We came ta terms. I kept people away from one of the approaches to some old guy’s house, and Mordecah let me live. Unlive. Whaddeva.”

  “I like him. He’s my scouts master.”

  “Oh, ya a scout too? Nice! Real weird mix you got going theah.”

  “Most of it was accidental.” Threadbare sighed. “I’m still figuring out how to make it all work. There’s so much spread out over so many things.”

  “That’s rough, yo.” Madeline said, shooting a glare at the back table, and the other vampires who were rolling their eyes hard at the little bear’s “problem.” The vampire girl shrugged. “I miss him too. Real enlightened about monstahs and all. But now that he’s gone, I’m free to do a few things I’ve been meaning ta do for a while. Theah’s a dungeon out that way by my old stompin’ grounds, and I’ll need a dungeon coah soon. Should be a cakewalk, too. The little fuzzy bastahds won’t know what hit’em!”

  “What’s a dungeon core?”

  “Jeeze, I forgot ya green. It’s... there’s something that powahs dungeons, makes them dungeons. It warps tha land around them, makes the one who controls it and anyone he chooses immortal. Sort of. It makes copies of them, and adventurers come an’ fight tha copies ovah and ovah. It also makes copies of any loot and magic that’s in ’em, up to a point. Sometimes they need restocking. Hell, sometimes it improves items, even, or changes ’em.” She shivered. “Sometimes it changes the monstahs who run them, too. I think that’s what happened to the Cat Queen. Spent too long as a midboss in a dungeon that closed, and now she wants to go back to the only thing that makes sense to her.”

  “Dungeon cores sound really powerful.”

  “They ah, but they have a weakness. Theah’s always a way to get to the coah chambah in any dungeon, into the place where sanity ends and the numbahs rule all. Dangerous to get in there, but if you can, you can seal or take ovah tha dungeon. If ya seal it, ya get a coah. If ya want one, I mean.”

  “So why do you want one?”

  “Well...” The little vampire sucked her teeth. “I uh, might have some plans latah. Just got to settle stuff with tha Cat Queen first. So if ya ever find a dungeon coah, bring it to me, and I’ll make it warth ya while.”

  “Okay,” The little bear agreed. He’d make sure to keep an eye out for anything like that. “Which dungeon was near your place?”

  “Oh, this bunch of raccants got the notion ta put one togethah. Found or got a coah somehow, I danno. I’ll go settle theah hash latah.”

  “Wait, raccants?” Threadbare put his cards down. “I was up there just—”

  “Dawn,” Grimble interrupted.

  “Shit. Ah, we’ll have to continue this convo latah, okay?” Madeline said, as the other vampires went around the room, sealing the windows with heavy shutters. “Do me a favah and don’t come back in heah during the day. Night’s okay, but not day. Got that? Do NOT.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good. Now take ya friends and scoot. Remember, get clear of town and take out that ghost witch! Then come back tonaht and we’ll talk more.”

  “Absolutely!” Threadbare and company marched out of the door. Grimble shut it behind them, started to bar it.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Grimble paused, looked to Madeline, who rubbed her eyes. “Yah?”

  “Excuse me, but where is she again?”

  One set of directions shouted through a door later, Threadbare led Missus Fluffbear and Beanarella out of town to the south, down through the hills, into a wooded valley.

  Some of the trails and fallen houses to the sides looked familiar. He’d been this way before, he thought.

  Eventually, he came to a hollow. Crossing a running stream, he came into a clearing with charred trees, and the remnants of a large, burned hut on a small hill. Rows of gravestones filled the clearing, overturned and shattered, the soil all around them disturbed.

  A feeling filled this place, and Missus Fluffbear shivered and honked mournfully. Threadbare felt it too, but he was too busy staring at the new words in front of his face.

  A restless spirit wishes to sp
eak!

  “Speak With Dead,” Threadbare whispered, readying his scepter for a good witch-thumping.

  Your Speak With Dead skill is now level 3!

  The sunlight wavered, turned brilliant white. The graves were pale marble now, against the black soil and gray, gray grass. The stark black wood of the burned planks turned to obsidian, and faded from view as faint outlines grew around them, forming the shape of a hut.

  “Wait. This is where Mordecai and his family live!” Threadbare gasped. “What happened to it?”

  And from the spectral beaded curtain, out swept a green arm, the only speck of color left in the world. “Come in, child. Come in.”

  “Zuula!” Threadbare knew that voice. He burst through the curtain, with a really-unsure-about-this Fluffbear on his fuzzy heels.

  Inside, the hut was bigger than he remembered, even with shattered, black beams poking through the wispy stuff that made up the beds, the floor, and the rest of the features. In the middle, humming over a white fire, was a familiar green woman with gold, gold eyes. She smiled at him, and cast something in the fire. “Dreadbear! All grown up... and with a little girl. Or a mate?”

  “This is Missus Fluffbear. She’s not a girl or a mate.”

  “Then a friend.”

  “Oh yes! And there’s Beanarella. She’s just a golem.”

  “Oh, dere’s something... yes. Hard to see. It has no soul, so Zuula cannot see it so good. Side effect of being dead.”

  “You’re dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” Threadbare wasn’t sure what you were supposed to say about that. Celia had spent a lot of time fussing about trying to make sure her friends didn’t die, that she’d infused him with the gravity and horror of it. That and his own skunk murdering ways had drummed in the lesson that people were supposed to try really hard to keep their friends from dying.

  He wasn’t sure how you were supposed to feel or what you were supposed to say to someone who was already dead. Sorry didn’t seem to cut it. And other useful pleasantries he’d picked up from listening to small talk like “how’s the weather,” or “how are you feeling” didn’t seem appropriate.

  Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, did the evil ghost witch get you?”

  “Ghost witch?” Zuula stared at him with her unblinking eyes. “Only ghost around here be Zuula.”

  “Oh. It’s just that the nice vampires in town said—”

  “Nice vampires? Nice vampires!” Zuula hissed, and the spectral walls shook. Her hair blazed up around her, whipping to and fro in an unfelt wind. For a second the mask on the wall blazed, opened its ghostly mouth and screamed, red glowing from its mouth and eyes. Missus Fluffbear hid behind Beanarella, and Threadbare stood up from the seat he’d taken, alarmed as Zuula continued. “Is no such t’ing! Evil vampires! Filthy bloodsuckers! Stealing Garon! Stealing her son!”

  “Wait, what? Please, I’m very confused,” Threadbare said.

  Finally, the dead shaman calmed down. “Come to tink of it, so is Zuula. You talking about old woman ghost? She necromancer, not witch.”

  “I don’t know, maybe. There’s this crazy cat lady necromancer trying to hurt the nice vampires in town, and a ghost witch who’s making one of them crazy. And I’m supposed to be able to deal with the ghost witch because I’m a necromancer too and I don’t have any flesh for her to wither or life to drain or something.” Come to think of it, he wasn’t so sure about that second part. He didn’t know much about ghosts, or what they could do.

  “Wait. You necromancer?” Zuula raised a see-through eyebrow.

  “Yes. That’s how I can talk to you like this.”

  “Zuula be wondering why you so... solid-looking. Hm! Dis change everyt’ing! Come out.” She motioned to the curtained doorway leading out of the hut. Perplexed, the little bear followed her out. “Vampires be telling you not everything. Dey maybe lying.”

  “What’s lying?”

  Zuula froze, mid-step. “Hoo boy. You is still green, yes?”

  “No, I’m mostly brown. I’m wearing red and black though.”

  “Lying is when you say somet’ing wrong to make people act how you want them to.”

  “That doesn’t sound nice.”

  “It isn’t. Friends don’t lie to friends, mostly. Sometimes by accident.”

  “Lying sounds... bad. And a little confusing. Why would you say something wrong on purpose?”

  “Well, it okay to lie to bad people. How does... ah, Zuula can see we got lessons to teach... hey, you fading.”

  “Oh! The spell must be wearing off. Speak With Dead!”

  Your Speak With Dead spell is now level 4!

  You are now a level 2 Necromancer!

  INT+3

  WIS+3

  WILL+3

  “There we go.” And indeed, things seemed more solid now. “And I just leveled up by casting that spell and talking with you!”

  “Really? Just like dat?” In the doorway, Zuula tilted her head. “What level you go to?”

  “Two.”

  “Two? Bah, you not necromancer. You bone-diddler. Come on. We gots show and tell. First she show, den she tell.”

  Threadbare followed her outside...

  ...and wow, there were a whole lot of THINGS out there all of a sudden. Really thin things, with hollow eyes, made of bones. They were about the size of humans, and many of them were broken or missing pieces.

  “Men come to kill Zuula, along with rest of town. Zuula fight.” The scene blurred, and suddenly the bony things wore flesh and armor, fighting and falling to a flying half-orc as she blurred through the sky, sweeping groups of them aside with her club which evidently caused explosions every time it hit. “Zuula do good for a while...” The scenery shifted, and Zuula held a dragon in each hand, bashing the mighty beasts together. “...but eventually fall. Stupid daughter, stupid firstborn working for king. She come. We fight.”

  The scene shifted again, showing a towering figure twice Zuula’s size, battering her down relentlessly with a sword as tall as a tree. The image of Zuula shifted into a bear, and Missus Fluffbear waddled forward to reach out to it, but Threadbare caught her and pulled her back. Zuula continued, oblivious. “Zuula fall. As is right, orc fights orc, strong win. But... unclever son interfere.”

  Everything flickered, and Garon rushed in from the side. And just as the scene faded, the towering, white-armored figure turned and impaled Garon with one thrust. He reached for his side, with his dying breath, but the sword stroke had cut his coin pouch as well. The figure lifted him up, as coins spilled down, and Garon the Mercenary fell limp reaching down for coins as his blood dripped onto the gold.

  “She was in rage. He was in rage. Zuula does not blame. Bad business, but dat is for stupid Mastoya to deal with. Cannot help her no more. But Garon...”

  Now the scene was in black and white. The dead lay in piles, and a small, familiar figure crept out of the woods. Madeline, the vampire. She came to Garon...

  ...and Garon twitched. He reached up to her, and instantly Madeline leaned down, mouth gaping.

  There was a CRUNCH, and both of them faded from sight. “She steal Garon. Turn Garon into undead.” Zuula spat. “Filthy undead! Not trust undead! No nice vampires. Zuula go to him, call to him all night long, every night. Remind him he is orc! Remind him to FIGHT! And he listen.”

  “Wait, you can’t trust undead?” Threadbare frowned. His common sense was telling him something. “Assess Corpse.”

  Your Assess Corpse skill is now level 3!

  Zuula was a level ???? Haunting Spirit. The bony things were level five Shoddy Skeletons.

  “You’re telling me I can’t trust undead, but you’re an undead too,” Threadbare pointed out.

  “Well, dat different. Zuula an orc, first. Humans weak, they go undead, they become all undead. Orc is orc, whether or not they alive. Orcs not lie to good people, like filthy vampires.”

  “What’s so bad about them?”

  “They eat peopl
e! So do orcs, okay, but we honest about it. And if you win fight with orc you can eat orc, is no hard feelings. But dese vampires bad because dey got Garon, and Garon not want to be vampire! He hate it. Zuula can tell. Is mother’s bond.”

  “Oh no,” Threadbare put his paws on his head. “They fooled me. They tricked me into thinking you were an evil ghost witch so you’d stop helping Garon fight.” He was a smart bear, and a wise bear, and now he had all the information to make sense of the situation. And he did not like what he saw. “The vampires have Garon, and the Queen of the Cats has Pulsivar. I have to get them both back!”

  INT +1

  “Who is Pulse Liver?”

  “Pulsivar. He’s a cat. He was a tomcat but now he’s a bobcat, a big black bobcat. He followed the smell of some strange cats. The vampires said he went to the Cat Necromancer, and she’d never let him go. Wait, maybe they were lying about that part?”

  Zuula considered. “Maybe, maybe not. Hm... It occur to Zuula that you maybe caught between two warring tribes, here. Why not go see where Pus Liver is—”

  “Pulsivar.”

  “—him too. Go see how he is. If he with Cat Lady, ask for him back. Cat Lady been by here to talk, she seem pleasant enough, if a little weird. Smart enough to leave Zuula alone, anyway. See what she tell you. Den come back and talk with Zuula if you still alive.” She shrugged. “Hell, come back talk with Zuula if you dead, too. Shouldn’t make no difference eider way.”

  Threadbare nodded. Then he went up and gave her knee a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Oh child.” Zuula squatted down and ruffled his head. “You got a lot of worries. Got a lot of growing up to do. Come back to Zuula, she t’ink about how to help you when you gone, and after you back we maybe see about making you proper orc strong.”

  “I will,” he promised, and then as the ghostly parts of the world faded back and color started to return to the area, he took Missus Fluffbear’s paw and led her out into the trail. He checked the party screen, to make sure she hadn’t gotten in any trouble there—

  —and got the shock of his life, as he realized she was now a level one necromancer, in addition to her other jobs. Why? What...