Peter’s abdominal muscles clenched, thrusting him into a sitting position and knocking a vial out of Pham’s dead white fingers. “Gah! What is that smell?”

“See, told you he was fine,” Pham scrabbled over the floor to retrieve the item. “Smelling salts, for when you get the vapours,” he added, answering Peter’s query.

Climbing to his feet, Peter felt his stomach rebel and darkness bloom in the corners of his vision. “Vapours? Ergh, I don’t feel so good.” He bent over the pedestal as his vision swam. “How am I not dead? I expected to respawn.”

“Nah, just dead tired.” Warren announced his presence by dropping a bag of coins on the pedestal beside Peter’s hand. “You were out of stamina, not hit points. When’s the last time you ate?”

Tucking the bag into his waistline, Peter gave the big guy a quizzical look. “I just had dinner. What’s that got to do with anything? And what’s this?”

Pham chuckled, opening his inventory and tossing random bits and pieces into it from the floor. “Loot. Dead boss, remember? You were taking forever to log in so me and Woz cleaned up the mess you left.” He examined a glittering dagger before tossing it into the interdimensional space with disgust. “Stupid magical crap. Anyway, we’re talking online, bee tee dubs. Not meatspace.”

“What?”

“He means, when did you last eat in-game,” Warren supplied. “Do you carry jerky or pack rations?”

“Oh,” Peter straightened and counted off the time on his fingers. “A couple of days, I think? Why does that matter? And no, no I don’t have anything to eat in my pockets. Anything I find ends up getting eaten by DB.”

Kicking the last of the junk aside, Warren headed for the door leading towards the entrance to the labyrinth. “O’ course it matters. No wonder ye’re as skinny as a rake, yer starvin’ yerself. Well, I guess that decides what we doing next. You’ve gone past what rations could fix.”

“Again, what?” Peter trundled along behind Warren’s massive frame who led the way back to the heavy steel door in the map room, explaining how stamina regeneration worked on the way. Peter only grasped the basics, food caused stamina and health to regenerate, drinks helped maintain mana and focus. Pham threw around a lot of numbers and equations, but most of it went clean over Peter’s head.

“So, we’re going to stop in at the tavern and put some meat on them bones. Ye ken?” Grunting with the effort needed to open the bulkhead, Warren cracked the opening slightly. Pham slid a slender probe with a mirror on the end through the gap and whistled quietly.

“There’s a whole buncha them, but they’re just wandering about. You take bird-boy here and I’ll carry the lantern. Good to go?” Pham slid the tool back into a loop of leather on his bicep.

Peter protested softly. “Hey, I can walk,” he backed away from the duo, hands raised. “C’mon. Bird-boy? Harsh.”

“We’re going to run past the slimes to the stairs,” Warren rumbled. “In your state I bet you a silver you can’t run the length of this room.” He pulled the door shut again and spun the wheel to seal it.

“Deal,” Peter agreed and took up a sprinter’s stance. “Easy money.” He shoved off with his toes and managed an impressive five steps before the lights went out all of a sudden. Pain blossomed in his cheek and he raised his head from the floor to a round of applause. “What the heck just happened?”

Pham bounced on his toes and pointed. “You got knocked the f...”

“Hey,” Warren interjected. “We’ve talked about that.” He gave Peter a hand up, then turned around and took a knee for Peter to climb on his back. “What happened was a traveller with no stamina exerted themselves. If you’d tried it without friends to watch your back you’d be up a certain well-known creek. Haven’t you been reading your notifications?”

Peter shook his head. “They were super annoying since I can’t get at my Mark to acknowledge them, so I turned them off.” He swung his useless arm around Warren’s neck and gripped the skeletal wrist with his good one. He huffed when Warren hiked him higher to lessen the pressure on his throat as it caused him to grind his own wrist bones together.

“Ohh, that looks painful,” Pham winced. “How’s about we do something about that after the noms?” He pulled a lantern out of his inventory and lit it with just a twist of a knob. “You provide the materials and I’ll do the tinkering pro boner.”

“Pham, you’re such a dick sometimes,” Peter gritted out.

Warren groaned and spun the wheel, releasing the door again. He placed his fingers to his lips and pushed the door open slowly, minimising the amount of noise as best he could. He counted down from three with his fingers, on one he pointed at the stairs at the far end of the tunnel. Pham dashed past, holding the lantern high and Warren followed, his thunderous footfalls echoing off the walls and drawing the attention of every mob in the room. They gravitated towards the Travellers like filings to a magnet, but too late. Footsteps receded up the stairs and the slimes went back to their gelatinous lives.

Fortunately the door at the top was only locked from the outside, the three Travellers barrelled through it and out into the last rays of the setting sun. A pall of smoke hung over Averton, and the sun shone through it turning everything blood red. People shuffled about the square, many of them looking a bit crispy and soot stained. The priestesses moved between them administering healing magic where permitted or handing over red vials when refused, which was more often than not. Guardsmen form the city watch stood at attention on each corner of the square, alert and scanning the crowd.

No, not the crowd, Peter slid off Warren’s back and tucked his bony thumb into his waistband. Higher? The rooftops? He approached the nearest guard, waving to attract their attention. “Excuse me, what happened?”

“Peter! Thank the Avatars you’re alive,” the guardsman smiled grimly. “It’s me, Constable Steven. I told Corporal Roberts you weren’t dead, he owes me ten coppers.”

Warren joined them, poking Peter in the ribs. “’Tis an honourable man that pays his debts, isn’t it Peter?”

Peter unhooked the pouch he’d tucked in his belt and held it out to Warren without looking. “You were saying, Constable? About what’s going on?”

“The bakery just sunk into the ground an hour ago.” Steven pointed to where the smoke was the thickest. “We got the fire under control, but everyone’s saying it was the imps. Once the rumour started that someone had seen some in the wreckage the Captain had us stationed at every corner in town. We’re counting on you to stop them.”

“We’re doing our best, but we need a break,” Pham came up behind Peter and grabbed his dead hand, waving it at the shocked Constable. “Some of us are nothing but skin and bone.”

Peter reefed his arm out of Pham’s hand. “Sorry about that. I do need some food and rest though. My companions and I are going to the tavern in case someone wants to talk to us.” He bowed awkwardly and walked away.

Halfway across the square Warren caught up with Peter and handed him back the pouch. “I only took the coin you owe. Honour works both ways. Now, let’s get some meat on those bones.” He guffawed. “Metaphorically, of course.”

Pham came up on his right side and held a sheet of parchment against his arm, humming and ahing. Peter flinched away initially, but realised it was the schematic that Fjor had given him that Pham was messing with. “You two go order us a feast, I need to drop into the workshop for a minute.” He dashed off looking happier than Peter had seen him in a long time.

“Wh-?” Peter half-turned, but Warren wrapped an arm around his shoulder and assisted him in the direction of the tavern.

“Leave him be, he’s got a new toy. He’ll be back once it’s built. Rosie!” Warren greeted the familiar waitress loudly.

Rosie took their orders with a promise to return quickly, Peter handing over the small bag reluctantly. “Easy come, easy go. I guess dinner’s on me.”

Warren eased himself into a chair so as to not crush it. “Defender’s discount. If I’d paid it would have cost twice as much. If we’re ever in Schmaltzburg it’ll be my treat, or Pham’s.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe not Pham’s. You don’t want to get between that guy and food.”

“You and Pham are from the same starter town?” Peter sat gingerly, his leg still smarted from the blast downstairs. “Ow. Ow!” He poked at the seared flesh, and regretted it immediately.

Glancing under the table at what Peter was doing, Warren frowned. “See, this is what I mean. Your regen should have taken care of that by now and normally you’d have a flashing icon in the corner of your vision. You really need to re-enable notifications.”

Eye twitching, Peter slumped over the table. “You really need to pick an accent,” he mumbled, his face mashed into the wood. “You only do it to irritate Pham, don’t you?”

Warren rocked back in his chair, his chest shaking and making his armour jingle. “Damn skippy. I do. And because it’s fun. Like you and your puns, eh?” He slapped the table. “Watch out, grub’s up.”

Sure enough, Rosie was approaching with a tray loaded with plates. “Here you go, the roast lamb for Peter, the beef and the rabbit for Warren, drumsticks, lamb, chips, wrap, and steak for Pham. The other tray will be out soon.” She left with a smile.

At Warren’s urging, Peter started without waiting for Pham to return. He could feel strength he hadn’t noticed missing returning to his limbs. The food was, as always, amazing and he made a note to thank the chef later. Peter was just pushing the last of his gravy around the plate when Pham dashed up excitedly.

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“Come on, come on. Hold out your arm,” he wheezed.

Looking at the useless thing attached to his right shoulder then up at the jiggling elf. “Uh. I kinda can’t.”

“Sure you can, here,” Pham hauled him out of his seat and positioned him just so. “Hold your breath, this might sting a little.” He slapped something metallic against Peter’s upper arm.

Bands of metal encircled the flesh and dug in, securing the thing in place. Needles embedded themselves in the living flesh, stinging as promised but surprisingly not as much as Pham had implied. Then the real metamorphosis began. Filaments of a bronze coloured metal pushed themselves down the exposed bones, carrying rings that tightened themselves where ligaments would normally attach. In place of actual ligaments and muscles, pistons and linear actuators extruded and connected to the now bedded-in rings. Peter gasped and exhaled repeatedly as the device unfurled, replacing the parts of his arm previously alive with wires and clockwork, connecting to the nerves as it went. He raised his hand to his face in wonder as the progress reached his fingers, flexing the augmented digits. “Woah.” Then the arm fell to his side, limp again. “Hey, what gives?”

Pham proffered a large key, much like the ones used to wind grandfather clocks, but wider than his hand. “You have to wind the spring every now and again. I wasn’t skilled enough to build the top-tier version of the schematic.” He pointed at a recess on the shoulder that matched the head of the key.

Accepting the key thankfully, Peter wound his arm as far as it would go. The quiet ticking quickly faded into the background and Peter swung his arm around, picked up plates, tried to juggle, remembered he had no idea how to and dropped them. “How strong is this?” he asked rhetorically as he grabbed his cup and squeezed. Water and pieces of pewter burst through his fingers, to the horrified expression of Rosie, who had just arrived with Pham’s second tray.

“You’re paying for that, mister!” She slammed the tray on the table and pointed an accusing finger.

“Ahh! Where’d you come from?” Peter hid the remnants of the cup behind his back, wetting the seat of his pants. “Um, sorry. I will pay for the damage.” He did his best to suppress the rising glee as he used his new fingers to navigate his Mark, pressing the inventory icon reverentially. The sensation was muted as he stroked the skin and the coin he extracted from the hole in space clinked strangely against the metal fingertips.

Rosie took the payment, a ten-silver coin with a large crown on one side with a less than believing expression. “I thought you were a nice boy, Peter. Breaking Dave’s tableware is not what I’d call nice. You could at least have the decency to look ashamed.”

“I am sorry,” Peter repeated, the elation fading. “Pham just helped me fix my arm and I got carried away. See?” He placed the bits of pewter on the table and held out his hand for Rosie to inspect.

She took the hand and turned it this way and that, poking and prodding at the exposed workings. “Not bad workmanship. Could have used better materials here, that piston is going to burst if you put too much pressure on it. This cog is burred, slowing reaction time. These wires are longer than needed and could catch.” With every flaw she pointed out Pham deflated more and more.

“Wait a minute,” he rallied, “you’re just a waitress. What do you know about metalworking?”

Rosie just smiled. “Can’t be married to the village smith without picking up a few things. I really hope our boy follows in his father’s footsteps, but honestly he spends as much time over here getting drunk as he does over there.”

Silence reigned as the three did the mental geometry, trying to fit the idea of the oversize apprentice into Rosie’s much smaller form. “He must have been quite the handful as a baby?” Peter offered tentatively.

“Oh, he was. But adopting him was the best thing we have ever done.” She picked up the destroyed cup and put it on the now empty tray. “But we’re not here to discuss my home life. Was there anything else I can get you before I go?” When everyone deferred she swept off, leaving the three stunned.

Briefly. Them Pham’s stomach rumbled. “Well, that was… a thing. I’m going to get started before this gets any colder.” He spun a seat around and sat on it backwards. Shaken from their stupor, the other two sat down and soon were discussing how to proceed through the sewers.

“First things first, you need to turn your notifications on Peter,” Warren advised, eliciting a spray of half chewed chunks form Pham.

“You did what now?”

“Well, I couldn’t use my Mark, so I used my nose to turn them off,” Peter defended himself. “The itching was driving me crazy.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you left it on the default? I had that changed in the first ten minutes.” Pham collected what pieces he could and put them on the side of his plate. “Tell me you didn’t leave your combat messages on verbose as well. Nobody’s that special.” He looked at Peter’s expression. “Okay, maybe somebody IS that special. Won’t mention any names.”

“Just, finish your food.” Warren removed a morsel from his cheek and added it to the pile. “Peter, show me your arm. We’ll get you sorted.”

A few minutes later they had reconfigured Peter’s interface to something more acceptable. Now skill increments would be signalled by a single short pulse and status effects would show in the bottom left of his vision. “What’s this one here?” Peter asked, pointing to where he could see it.

“You know I can’t see that, right?” Warren sighed.

“Oh,” Peter blinked at his own stupidity. “Heh, yeah. My bad. It’s kinda like the outline of a person, like on a toilet door, but the right arm is flashing red and oh, I just figured it out. It’s because my arm is missing, isn’t it?” He paused and checked again. “But then, why’s there a flashing spot on the left leg? I still have both of them?”

Warren leaned over and poked Peter in the leg, watching him yelp in pain. “Why do you think?”

“Hole in the armour?”

“Hole in your armour. You might want to get that fixed or replaced.” He looked at what was left on Pham’s side of the table. “Quickly too, that lot won’t keep him busy for long.”

“Fnm fr fnoo,” Pham replied around a mouthful, then swallowed hard. “I’m gonna grab some more bits and pieces at the smith’s and the general store before we head out. Don’t rush on my account.”

Peter excused himself and headed for the seamstresses’ store. He hadn’t gotten far when his party ring pulsed, then twice more. He looked around to see Dani ride into the square and leap gracefully from the saddle. The horse puffed into smoke before she hit the ground, swirling in a tight spiral to be sucked into a pouch in the small of her back just above the sheaths she kept there.

“Wotcha mate, how’s tricks?” Dani greeted him like her acrobatic feat was no big thing. “I got your message. Looks like you’ve been busy.” She huffed a bit, then punched him in the shoulder. “I’m guessing you and your trap-buddy made up. Good for you.”

“Thanks, but I couldn’t have done it without you.” Peter resumed his walk. “We’re about to head back down after I get this stitched up,” he twisted around to show the hole in his pants.

“Looks like you’ve already been stitched up, mate.”

“Very funny,” Peter poked at the nearly-healed skin. “Those imps have been seen around town, one of the guards told me they destroyed the bakery.”

Dani looked around and grimaced. “I saw the smoke on the way in. This is bad. Once they start taking out surface targets it means their portal is built and stabilised. SHE’ll be here tonight unless we get a hump on.”

Feeling the urgency, Peter lengthened his stride.

Fifteen minutes and a weirdly polite haranguing from the seamstress later Peter and Dani arrived back at the tavern in time to see Pham wash the last of his meal down with a gulp of juice and an impressive belch. “You know she’s right, Peter. You throw yourself into harm’s way too often to be healthy. If you stopped that you wouldn’t go through a set of armour a week,” Dani had latched onto the seamstress’s theme and wouldn't let it go. “Oh hey big guy. You look familiar without the tin pot on your head, have we met before? And Trappy von Trapface, still starving I see.”

Pham repeated the belch with more gusto, but Warren stood up and greeted Dani warmly. “Aye, wee lass. I feel I should know yer face as weel.” He flinched as Pham kicked him under the table.

“When you’re done roleplaying as William the Wally can we get to business?” Pham groused, stacking the plates in front of him to clear space.

Peter pulled a chair from a nearby table, letting Dani have his old one. “I thought you needed to do some shopping Pham?”

“That’s sexist and I resent the implication,” Pham pulled a leather tool roll out of his inventory, opening it across the table with a flick. “Besides, been and gone while you were clothes shopping.” He began assembling a device, hands moving in a blur.

“Aaaanyhoo,” Peter drawled as everyone watched, mesmerised, “now that we have a decent team –“

“Party,” Pham interrupted without looking away.

“- Party, fine, what are actually going to do?”

Warren cleared his throat and appropriated some of Pham’s used cutlery. “If this works like any normal dungeon, here’s how it most likely goes.” He began laying out the knives and forks on his side of the table. “There’s the entrance where we come in. We know it’s full of slimes, we can kill them or run past. Full party? I say we kill them and get the XP and loot.” He laid out the bowl that recently held some sort of spaghetti, “this is the maze. This is where Pham shines, that noggin full of sums can find us the shortest route through and save us on battles, which saves us hit points and, by extension, health pots. With me so far?” Glazed looks accompanied nods, but Warren continued undaunted. “Now, after the maze there’s probably a mini-boss, a chest and another puzzle. The puzzle solution should tell us where to go for the next link on the chain.”

“Pssh,” Dani rocked her chair back on two legs, “they’re imps. All their bosses are mini.”

This actually made Pham stop for a moment in the middle of lowering a glowing container into the body of the device, then roll his eyes. “Heh. That’s a terrible joke and I’m totally stealing it. Ow!” He finished placing the container and shook his hand, blowing on the fingertips. “What makes you think it’s a chained quest?”

“It’s gotta be part of Peter’s Geas, how many other quests change a whole town like this?” An armoured arm swept to indicate the destruction wrought on the village. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet this is just the beginning.” He clapped Peter on the shoulder, “you’ll get to our level off one quest if you keep this up.”

Massaging his shoulder and wincing, Peter checked his Mark. “So, what level are you?”

“Twenty.”

“But, how come you took as much damage as I did form that big four legged slime thing?” Peter asked, confused.

Pham lowered a brass dome onto the top of his device and pressed into place with a final click. “Level matching. You were the party leader and it was your quest, so the level cap of the dungeon was set to whatever you were. You’d have seen the notification if you had them turned on.” He whistled in a pitch so high it hurt the ears. “Up Rex. Good boy.” The device unfolded itself, clicking and whirring adorably and eliciting an extended “aww” from Dani.

“He’s so cute,” she gushed over the automaton, “can I pet him?” From the look in her eyes Pham was completely forgiven for any past transgressions and likely any future ones too.

Pham handed her a polishing cloth with a guarded smile. “I take it we’re cool now?”

“Rex is cool, you’re still a dick,” Dani lovingly rubbed the brass dome with the cloth. “But a dick who’s cool with me mate Pete here, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. There’s a good boy,” the last was directed at Rex, who was tapping one leg furiously on the table top in time with the strokes of the cloth.

With a loud squeak, DB ran down Peter’s arm, skidded between the plates and cutlery and delivered a ringing liverpool kiss to Rex’s gleaming dome. He staggered back, paws clutching his little head and fell into Peter’s outstretched hands. “Hey buddy, what’s that all about?”

“Squeak!”

“That’s no excuse. Come on. have a bit of this and chill.” Peter offered a leftover morsel from one of the plates. DB accepted it in poor grace, sitting on his haunches and staring daggers at Pham’s companion over his food. “That’s better, now behave or you won’t get any more.”

“As I was saying,” Warren continued when the dust settled, “we’re going in here, though the maze, kill the boss and solve the puzzle. That should take about an hour, two tops. Everyone can commit to that?” When everyone nodded he continued. “Good. Now I know me, Pham and Peter have the last day of exams tomorrow, sorry Dani I don’t know your schedule, so if it’s a mini-boss at the end of the run are we all good to meet here tomorrow for a run at the main boss?” Nods all round again. “Good. Now, if everyone’s pet is on a leash can we get a move on? I have an early start in the morning.”