“But what about all the weapons?” said Devis. “All the high-quality prop weapons?”
“Tossed them in the recycling,” said Mr. Driscoll.
The party groaned.
“Well, I did keep the plastic Tommy gun and the rubber butcher knife that squirts fake blood,” said Mr. Driscoll. “I figured that would suffice for most middle-school dramatic productions.”
“You threw Boneshatter in the trash,” whispered Thromdurr, who looked like he might cry. “It belonged to my father and his father before him.”
“Sorry,” said Mr. Driscoll. “For what it’s worth, I did keep the horse costume.” He shrugged and continued on his way.
“Well, what do we do now?” said Sorrowshade. “Fight Zazirak with pencils and loose-leaf paper?”
“No,” said Vela. “But we still need to figure out what the warlock’s vile plans are, before we decide what must be done.”
The party cautiously made their way toward the school office.
“Ooh, you just missed him,” said Ms. Roland, when they asked if the vice principal was in.
“We did?” said Vela.
“Yep. He went home for the day,” said Ms. Roland. “He said he had something very important to take care of.”
“Did he say what it was?” said Vela.
Ms. Roland shook her head. “Nope, when I asked he just kind of laughed.”
“And would you describe that laugh as maniacal?” said Sorrowshade.
Ms. Roland looked around. Then she discreetly made the “little bit” sign with her fingers. The bell rang.
“Well, at least whatever evil stuff Zazirak’s doing, it’s not happening at school,” said Albiorix as the adventurers made their way toward Ms. Levy’s social studies class.
“He obviously wanted the Malonomicon for something specific,” said Vela. “We must find him before it’s too late.”
“I do know where he lives,” said Albiorix.
“Good,” said Vela. “Then that’s where we’ll start.”
“My. Ancestral. War hammer. Got . . . recycled,” said Thromdurr, still reeling.
“Aw. Don’t worry about it, big guy,” said Devis. “Boneshatter will live on. Maybe as a wok? Or a soda can?”
The barbarian moaned in despair.
In lieu of being driven by their parents—or enduring the humiliation of begging an older sibling for a ride—middle schoolers must rely on bicycles, skateboards, or scooters to get where they want to go. If none of these modes of transportation are available, walking is the only option left. Distances in Suburbia are measured in blocks, and a nonadventuring party, walking at average speed, can travel up to forty-five blocks per hour.
—Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide
BLACK CLOUDS ROILED IN the afternoon sky. From the flower garden, the adventurers peered through the window into the house at 1120 San Antonio Way. The lights were off. Sorrowshade listened intently with her heightened elven senses.
“I can hear the upstairs toilet running,” said Sorrowshade. “But there’s nobody in this house.”
“Hmm. I do also know Flanagan’s favorite pizza place,” said Albiorix.
“Should we check it out?” said Devis. “I could definitely go for a slice with yellow sauce.”
“It feels like a long shot,” said Albiorix. “I’m pretty sure Zazirak is in the driver’s seat now.”
“Where could the foul wight be?” said Thromdurr, gazing out over the town of Hibbettsfield behind them.
“I wish we had Homerooms & Hall Passes sourcebooks to help us figure it out,” said Vela.
“Yep,” said Albiorix. “If only the person who stole them would give them back.” The wizard turned to Devis and crossed his arms.
“This again?” said Devis. “I told you before: I did not steal your books! You know me. Do I strike you as a prolific reader?”
“Devis, you are only belaboring this,” said Vela. “Unburden your soul. Confess and be forgiven.”
“What did I ever do to you people to deserve such suspicion?” said Devis.
“Everything?” said Thromdurr. “You probably already traded the books for magic beans or some such.”
“I didn’t!” said Devis. “Although that does sound like a good offer. Wait, do you know somebody who has magic beans? Because I would potentially be interested in—”
“Devis didn’t take your books,” said Sorrowshade. “I did.”
“Why?” said Albiorix.
“I’m not proud of it,” said Sorrowshade, “but I thought it would impress Nicole. She’s been using them to learn the darkest secrets of everyone in the school and consolidate popular-girl power.”
“Well, that certainly sounds terrifying,” said Albiorix. “Can you get them back?”
“Of course,” said Sorrowshade. “Nicole is my friend. I’ll just ask her.”
Though as the gloom elf said it, Albiorix thought he heard a slight hitch in her voice.
Soon after, the party arrived at a beautiful gabled house on Kenmare Street. The other Bríandalörians waited down the block as Sorrowshade approached the door. The gloom elf steeled herself and rang the bell. Nicole answered.
“Nicole, hiiiii-eee,” said Sorrowshade in perfect popular girl dialect.
“Melissa, hiiiii-eee,” said Nicole.
The girls exchanged air kisses as Sorrowshade stepped inside.
“This is going to sound crazy,” said Sorrowshade, “but you know all those books I gave you? I kind of need them back. Please don’t hate me!”
“Mmm,” said Nicole. “Wish I could. But I’m still, like, mining them for juicy stuff. Did you know Dave Pittman sometimes just eats a whole stick of butter right out of the fridge?”
“Dis-gust-ing,” said Sorrowshade. “Still, I . . . I actually really need the books back.”
Nicole’s expression hardened. “Um, yeah, no. Not going to happen, Melissa.”
“It’s an emergency,” said Sorrowshade, her popular-girl voice dropping a little. “We are besties, right?”
Nicole snickered. “Look, it was funny to have a spooky weird girl around for a while, but, like, right now we’re all getting super tired of it.”
“Funny?” said Sorrowshade. “Weird girl? Are you talking about me?”
“Duh,” said Nicole. “Madison and Sophie thought it would be hilarious if we all acted like we were your friends. But let’s face it: you dress weird. You talk weird. And even though you do that thing with your hair, we’ve all seen your weird ears. They are dis-gust-ing.”
Sorrowshade’s hand instinctively moved toward the side of her head. The assassin blinked at something she hadn’t felt in years: tears starting to well in her eyes.
“Face it,” said Nicole. “You can’t be something you’re not. And you’re, like, not one of us.”
“But—but I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” Nicole raised her phone and snapped a picture of Sorrowshade’s face with her phone. “Perfect. Just need to caption this with ‘Hate . . . fake . . . people.’ And . . . posted. Yay!”
Sorrowshade swallowed and wiped the tears away with the back of her sleeve. “I guess—I guess you’re right. I am not one of you. I never will be. It was stupid for me to think that I could be.”
“Wow. You’re finally catching on. Kudos or whatever,” said Nicole. “Now it’s really time for you to go—”
“I am a gloom elf assassin of Bríandalör, doomed to tread alone, followed only by darkness and misery,” said Sorrowshade. “Now give me what I came for.” Her voice rose in an unearthly whisper, as the shadows of the foyer seemed to grow and to gather around her.
Nicole laughed. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? I’m the most popular girl in J. A. Dew—”
“I am talking to a petty, spoiled brat who is terrified no one actually likes her,” said Sorrowshade. “Now give me the books or I will reveal to everyone what you did at the Hibbettsfield Fall Festival last year.”
Nico
le blinked, and the color drained from her face. She stared at Sorrowshade for a long moment, then swallowed. “You know about that?”
Sorrowshade gave a joyless grin. “Of course. Haven’t you read your own entry in the The Cyclopedia of Students? Very, very juicy stuff.”
“Look, about what happened at the festival,” said Nicole, panic rising in her voice. “I—I honestly thought it was a candy bar, okay?”
The Bríandalörians turned as Sorrowshade stepped out from a mailbox behind them.
“Ha! Very surprising!” said Thromdurr. “I have truly missed your dramatic entrances, elf.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I missed something about you too,” said Sorrowshade. “Don’t worry. It will come to me.”
The gloom elf held out her arms, now full of Homerooms & Hall Passes sourcebooks. Albiorix took them.
“Great,” said the wizard. “So Nicole gave them up without any trouble?”
“Perhaps she’s not so bad after all,” said Vela.
“No,” said Sorrowshade. “She is.”
Devis squinted at Sorrowshade’s face. “Hang on,” he said. “Have you been . . . crying?”
Sorrowshade leaned in close to the thief. “Ask me that again and see what happens.”
Devis gulped. “Probably just allergies. We did just spend half an hour sitting in a flower bed—”
“That’s right,” said Sorrowshade. “Allergies.”
Evening fell on the town of Hibbettsfield. Black thunderheads still hung in the sky, and there was an eerie charge in the air, as though just before a storm. Still the rain did not come. At the public library, the party pored through every one of Albiorix’s H&H sourcebooks and searched online for any clue as to where their enemy might be hiding. Though they were initially hopeful, their energy waned as the darkness outside deepened.
Thromdurr flipped through The Hibbettsfield Handbook for the ninth time.
“Perhaps Zazirak is hiding in . . . Cedar Point Plumbing Supply?”
Devis shrugged and dialed the number on his phone. “Hello, Cedar Point Plumbing Supply? Yes, hi. I’m just wondering if anything strange has been happening in your store lately? . . . Specifically? Well, are there any, um, evil warlocks hanging around?” The thief put his hand over the phone and whispered, “He’s checking.”
“Really?” said Vela.
“No. He definitely hung up,” said Devis. “That makes forty-three places we’ve called so far. Still no sign of Zazirak.”
“In our world, such a warlock would make his lair in a dungeon or a ruined castle or perhaps an active volcano,” said Vela.
“There are no dungeons or castles or volcanoes here,” said Albiorix, who was lying on the floor with his feet up on a chair. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys.”
“Then by the Great Sky Bear,” cried Thromdurr, leaping to his feet. “ALL THESE HOMEROOMS & HALL PASSES BOOKS ARE USELESS!” The barbarian reared back as though he meant to fling The Hibbettsfield Handbook across the room.
“Ah. That’s what I missed about you,” said Sorrowshade, rubbing her temples. “The yelling for no reason.”
“THE REASON,” cried Thromdurr, “IS THAT I’M ANGRY—”
Three other library patrons loudly shushed him.
“No battle-raging in the library,” whispered Vela.
Thromdurr snorted and plopped back down into his chair.
“Guys, we have to be able to figure this out,” said Albiorix. “Villains back home live in dungeons because they’re dark and grim and creepy.”
“So what, then, is the Homerooms & Hall Passes equivalent?” said Vela.
“A forgotten place,” said Sorrowshade.
“That mortals shun,” said Thromdurr.
“Full of ghosts and sadness,” said Devis
It suddenly became obvious to the five of them.
“The Old Mall,” said Albiorix.
Characters may occasionally wish to obtain a new piece of equipment to aid them in their nonadventures—a pair of stylish sneakers, a faster bicycle, a top-of-the-line three-hole punch. Yet if they lack the necessary money saved from birthdays, holidays, or part-time jobs, they generally must persuade a parent to purchase the item for them. Have the player roll a Likability or Cunning check contested by the parent’s Willpower. Add +2 to the difficulty of the roll for each $50 of the item’s price. . . .
—Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide
FIVE BOLD HEROES STOOD before the West End Shopping Center on Cleveland Street. There, between Ronnie’s Sporting Goods and an Aeon Wireless mobile phone store, was the familiar storefront of Pan-Galactic Comics and Collectibles. Through the window, the adventurers could see Waldo Franks carrying on what appeared to be a very spirited debate with his two pet turtles. The man looked happy.
“Why are we here, Albiorix?” said Sorrowshade. “You need to pick up a few misprinted toys before our big climactic battle?”
“We’re not going to the comic book shop,” said Albiorix. “We’re going to Ronnie’s Sporting Goods.”
“Why?” said Vela. “I’m all for fun and games—”
“No, you’re not,” said Devis,
“—but we must arm ourselves for a clash with evil!”
“Exactly,” said Albiorix.
He pulled The Great Grimoire of Games out of his pack and opened the book to show the others. His companions all smiled, as they understood what the wizard had in mind.
The adventuring party entered Ronnie’s Sporting Goods and split up. It did not take long to find what they were looking for. Sorrowshade the assassin returned to the counter holding an archery set. Vela the Valiant carried a regulation fencing épée in one hand and a pentagonal home plate that almost looked like her old shield in the other. Devis had a handful of figure-skating blades, sharp as daggers. And Albiorix, not usually one for weapons or armor, carried a hockey stick and enough goalie pads to make Armando Boort’s fictional Canadian sports career seem plausible.
“Wow, Magic Man,” said Devis. “Usually you hide in the back and zap them with spells. Are you really planning to get in there and mix it up with the rest of us?”
“I want to do my part,” said Albiorix, “but none of the magic at my disposal will be very useful.”
“Good thinking,” said Vela. “In those heavy pads, you can get out front and distract Zazirak as a sort of human punching bag.”
“That’s, uh, not really what I had in—”
“While the warlock is pummeling you,” said Vela, “the rest of us will close in and take him down.”
“Er. Hmm,” said Albiorix.
“Don’t worry,” said Sorrowshade, placing a hand on Albiorix’s shoulder. “Death comes to us all.”
“Great. Thank you. I feel so much better,” said Albiorix.
“Glad to help,” said Sorrowshade. “What’s taking Thromdurr so long?”
“Behold!” said the barbarian. “I have found it at last!” With a huge grin he held up his chosen weapon: a wooden croquet mallet. “I call it . . . Boneshatter II!”
And so the brave heroes placed their pile of Ronnie’s Sporting Goods merchandise on the counter and waited for the cashier to ring them up.
“And your total comes to . . . $670.11,” she said.
The adventurers gasped. They hadn’t reckoned that arming themselves against darkness might carry such a hefty price tag.
“Okay, uh, one moment, please,” said Albiorix.
The wizard whispered an arcane word of power and pulled a coin out of the pocket dimension. He handed it to the cashier. She examined the coin, which was covered in strange Bríandalörian runes and had the bearded profile of King Brammus the Benevolent in bas-relief.
“And there’s more where that came from,” said Albiorix, reaching toward his other ear.
“Yeah, no, I can’t take this,” said the cashier. She handed the coin back.
“Perfect,” said Sorrowshade. “Now what?”
“Allow me,” said Devis. �
��Hey, lady! Look over there!” The thief pointed and the cashier turned. Devis grabbed his ice skates and prepared to bolt out of the store.
“Devis, no!” said Vela, catching him by the arm and holding him fast. “Not like that.”
The thief gave a long sigh. “Okay, fine. I really didn’t want to do this, but . . .”
Ever so slowly, Devis reached down into his sock and rummaged around. At last he pulled out a massive bloodred gemstone.
“The ruby from the Temple of Azathor!” said Vela.
“Yep,” said Devis. “I could’ve used this rock to buy a castle back home. Instead I guess I’ll purchase six hundred and seventy dollars’ worth of sporting goods.” He plunked the ruby down on the counter. “Do you guys take priceless jewels?”
The cashier’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely.”
And so the adventurers exited Ronnie’s Sporting Goods armed for battle, yet still they had one more stop to make.
It was well after dinner when the doorbell rang. June answered it clutching her orange tabby, Cheese, in her arms. Outside in the darkness, she saw the five Bríandalörians, decked out in their new athletic gear. There was purpose in their eyes.
“Hi,” said Albiorix.
“Hi,” said June, “You guys look like you’re ready to . . . play several sports.”
“Just one for me,” said Sorrowshade. “Pin the arrow on the warlock.”
“So you’re off to fight Zazzma—er, Vice Principal Flanagan?” said June.
“That’s right,” said Albiorix. “We think we finally figured out where he’s hiding.”
“And I’m guessing I still can’t come with you?” said June.
“We commend your bravery. Truly,” said Vela. “But it would be best if you did not.”
June started to protest again, but Albiorix stopped her.
“June, you know she’s right,” said Albiorix. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For us.”
June blinked. “That sounds like you think you might not come back.”
“Ha! Not likely, June Westray,” said Thromdurr, thumping his chest. “We shall crush the puny warlock and see you at school bright and early tomorrow, ready for English class!”
Homerooms and Hall Passes Page 18
