“Okay, well, uh, twenty-five, huh?” He squinted at her. “That’s kind of overpowered.”

“She’s cursed,” Masaaki said quickly. “Unable to use her true powers. Only able to shapeshift.”

“Why are you telling him I’m able to shapeshift?!” Freyja demanded.

“Okay, okay, I can go with that,” Dave said, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay, so she’s twenty-five, but basically cursed to just hand-to-hand and no spells?”

“I can’t use blood magic of any sort,” Freyja said, frowning.

“Oooh, a blood magus. Awesome. Haven’t played with one of them.” He winked at her. “So you’re a little evil, huh? Undead?”

“No, I’m alive, just cursed.”

Dave frowned. “I thought blood magi had to be undead. You guys got character sheets?”

“No,” Freyja snarled, “help us find this vampire before I put my claws through your skull!”

“Oooh, I totally believe her!” Dave cried, sounding delighted. “This is great!” He put the car into reverse and started easing them out of the driveway. “Anyone mind if we skip the seatbelts? Seatbelts are so lame in a LARP.”

“Skip the…?”

“Yes!” Masaaki said. “Skip them. Good idea. I hate seatbelts, and this car has no eject button.”

Dave giggled and nodded. “I know, right?” He spun the car in a circle with a spray of gravel, making Thunderbird’s body slump to the other side of the car with another moan.

“Man, he’s good at that,” Dave said, “He’s even making himself sweat!”

“Hospital,” Thunderbird groaned.

“Hey dude, there’s no hospitals in the DnD world. Best we can do is get you to a midwife or something.”

“I think I’m dying,” Thunderbird groaned.

“Does someone have potions?” Dave demanded. “I left my character sheet at home, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have any potions.”

“You know a sorceress?” Freyja demanded. “Can she make an öndkar or are her talents restricted to just potions?”

“Oh, I just bought the potions at the last rest stop,” Dave said. “But then I used them when a lamia attacked me and killed all my companions. Almost a TPK—I barely survived. Used all my potions, though.”

“You were attacked by a lamia?” Freyja gasped. “Here in Alaska?”

“I know, right?!” Dave cried. “We were just level twos. And it was a souped-up one, too! My brother gave it an enchanted blade and artifact armor.”

“I’d say it’s time to kill your brother,” Freyja said.

“Totally,” Dave said, making a face. “But he’s dungeon master, so I just had to take it.”

“Whose dungeon?” Freyja demanded. “Is it in Alaska?”

“No, Washington,” Dave said.

“Maybe we can go there next, after we find this vampire,” Freyja said. “I’d like to have a word with your brother about his loyalties.”

To punctuate her words, Thunderbird moaned again in the back seat. “I think I just shat myself.”

Glancing up at him through the rearview mirror, Dave giggled again. “God, you guys are good. Okay, so I’m an orc and I’m still level three. I mean, unless you want me to wing it and add a few levels?” He glanced at Masaaki hopefully.

“Sounds good,” Masaaki said with a curt nod and a sound of agreement.

“Man, you’re just like a samurai!” Dave cried, sounding delighted. “Okay, so let’s just say I’ll add like, what, four levels, that’s an additional feat and some barbarian skills, another point of strength… Hey, can I have an enchanted battleaxe?”

“You can have anything you want for helping us, mortal,” Freyja intoned. “This matter is worth more to us than all the gold in all the lands. If a battleaxe is what you desire for your reward, then you will receive a battleaxe crafted by Brokkr and Eitri themselves.”

“Oh hell yeah, you even sound like a cursed goddess. Damn, this is awesome!” He leaned forward to look over the road ahead, then accelerated and spun the car out onto the highway. “Okay, so we’re looking for a vampire. Is he like a vampire lord or just a feeder?”

“A lord,” Masaaki said. “Very powerful. Blood magus.”

Dave grimaced. “That puts a wrench in things. Okay.” He glanced in the rearview at Thunderbird. “I take it he’s the wizard?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“He might be considered a magus,” Freyja said, “but not a wizard. Not studious enough for that. Too impulsive.”

“Low wisdom. Gotcha.” Dave cleared his throat. “Okay, so we should try to get him healed up before we fight this vampire. I know I asked if anyone’s got potions…?”

“No potions,” Freyja said. “It’s been eight hundred years since I saw the inside of Guðrhöll.”

He frowned through the mirror at her. “Guar…? Sorry, not familiar with that one.”

“It’s only the most powerful hall in Ásgarðr,” Freyja snapped.

“Asgard, gotcha,” Dave said. “Okay, so you’re going off the Norse mythology thing? Is she Freyja?”

“She can’t speak her name,” Masaaki said. “It brings with it great pain.”

Dave winced, “Oh, ouch, sorry.” Through the mirror, he said to Freyja, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Freyja said. “Someday, I will free myself of this curse, and today’s inconveniences will be but a distant and unpleasant memory.”

“Yeah. Man, think we should stop and gain some XP on the way to the vampire lord? I’m thinking we could get ambushed on the road by hobgoblins or something.”

Freyja frowned. “Why would they do that? It’s the middle of the day. They hate the sun.”

“Oh, I never heard that one,” Dave said, nodding. “Neat. I’ll have to look up the lore next time I’ve got the handbook on me.” He glanced sideways again at Masaaki. “So what’s the plan? We’re gonna rest up, get our magic user all healed up before we try taking on a vampire lord magus, right?”

“We’re going to beseech him to make me an öndkar,” Freyja insisted.

“Oooh, interesting,” Dave said. “Plot twist! Okay, so what’s an öndkar?”

“A soul-vessel, not that a meatbrained male human such as yourself has any reason to care.”

“Hey now, I’m an orc, not a human.” He glanced at Masaaki. “She doesn’t remember this stuff well, does she?”

Masaaki, who had been wincing inside the entire time, said, “I believe she’s too embedded in her character.”

“Oh, right,” Dave said, nodding sagely. “Okay. Well, I’m an orc. Krug the Jacob. Level 7 now. If you don’t wanna fight the vampire, at least let me kill something along the way for the experience. My character’s a little ADHD.”

“Fine,” Freyja said. “Pull the car over. There’s a man on a motorcycle. Kill him now and let us be on our way.”

Dave looked him over, then grimaced. “Pretty sure he’s not a LARPer. He looks like Hells Angels or something.”

“What is this LARP you keep speaking of?” Freyja demanded. “I’m confused.”

Dave broke into a huge smile as he looked at her through the rearview. “Yeah, you’re totally right.” He cleared his throat, and in a deep and gravelly voice, he said,” So that guy is too much of a pussy for Krug the Jacob to waste his time beheading. I’d merely dull my battleaxe on his head.”

“It would be his spine,” Freyja said, frowning with obvious confusion. “But you could get Masaaki to do it, if you fear for your weaponry. From what I’ve seen, he has impeccable control with a blade, and his divine sword will not be dulled by mere flesh and bone.”

“Oh hey, that’s not cool,” Dave cried, spinning on Masaaki. “A divine blade? At level 7? I want something like that.”

“You have to earn something like that,” Freyja retorted. “Masaaki is a Champion of Ra. You are a nobody meatsack who happens to be chauffeuring a goddess and her companions to wherever they want to go. Perhaps, if you’re very lucky, a god might notice your deeds and take a liking to you. Until then, stop complaining and drive.” Inwardly, Masaaki curled in on himself, and hunched deeper into the seat, cringing.

“Hospital…other…direction…” Thunderbird managed. He coughed, spraying blood across the seats and spattering the front dash.

“Dude, that’s sweet!” Dave cried, spinning in his seat to look at Thunderbird. “What was that, like a dye tablet or something?”

“Think…aorta…severed,” Thunderbird moaned.

“It didn’t sever your aorta,” Freyja replied firmly. “There wasn’t nearly enough blood for that.” She looked him over critically. “You’d basically be a bag of blood. The fact you’re still breathing says to me you don’t have enough internal bleeding to block your diaphragm. You’re fine.”

Thunderbird, seeing he was getting no sympathy from the goddess, groaned miserably and hung his head.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dave said. Then, conspiratorially to Masaaki, he said, “Man, I hate the magic classes. They’re such wimps. I’d rather have a weapon in my hand than be out there mumbling spellwork and hoping not to get squished by a troll or something.”

Masaaki firmly grunted his agreement. He would take a sword any day. He said as much.

“Too bad we don’t have a bard,” Dave said. “That could be fun. Where we headed? You guys got property up north you LARP on or something?”

“Not…LARPing…” Thunderbird moaned.

“Oh, right!” Dave cleared his throat and added in a gravelly voice. “I mean, does the esteemed lady own property to the north for us to use for our entertainment?” His smile widened. “With, perchance, refreshments?”

“I own property in Ásgarðr,” Freyja snapped. “Guðrhöll. You may have heard of it.”

“Oh Guðrhöll, right,” Dave said, winking at Masaaki. “Sorry, I thought you were cursed.”

“I am cursed, you goat-pounding serf.”

“Well, if you’re cursed, will any of your staff recognize you if you go back there?” Dave asked.

“No,” Freyja bit out. “Pestilence crafted a golem and left it in my place. Not even my Valkyries could tell the difference.”

“Oh that’s rough,” Dave said. “So this Pestilence guy… Is he the main bad guy?”

“Definitely,” Freyja said. “Every day he walks the earth, he corrupts more gods and Champions to his evil designs.”

“That sounds kinda lame,” Dave said, frowning. “Really, guys, whoever this DM of yours is, sounds like you need to replace her. Take it from me—I’ve had plenty of bad DMs. I mean, how’s a weakling like Pestilence corrupting gods? That’s just dumb.”

“He’s using Freyja’s athame,” Masaaki replied. “The sacred object of the völvur of Ásgarðr.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know. Sounds kind of one-dimensional. I like a campaign where you can’t really tell who’s the bad guy. Like, you still gotta kill him in the end, but you totally see where he’s coming from, you get me?”

“Pestilence wasn’t allowed to keep a child with a mortal,” Freyja said, waving a distracted hand. “We felt he was too insidious and under-tier to be propagating, so we voted against him at the council. He had to watch both the wife and child die and get recycled. This is his way of retaliating.”

Masaaki frowned and turned to squint back at her at the same time Thunderbird slurred through a mouthful of blood, “So it was you guys who started this shit?! Figures!” He coughed again, spattering more crimson across the headrests and center console.

“He didn’t ask nicely,” Freyja said, sniffing. “He tried to tell.”

“Sounds like he’s doing an awful lot of telling, the way your mage is all laid out there,” Dave said. “Are we gonna let him heal up, or is he down for the count?”

“Not…LARPing…” Thunderbird choked, spitting blood over his shirt.

“I don’t know, I thought I was doing pretty good,” Dave complained. Sighing, he turned back to the road. “All right, guys, just tell me we’ve got pizza at the end of this trip. I was just about to order pizza when I heard the screaming.”