Two more weeks had passed. In that time Hell Seeker, and his group The Hell Seekers, had taken more territory from rapidly crumbling The Executives. The Wizards Guild were reported to have left Kings Head, and the law abiding people let out a sigh of relief. Gorestrike’s castle was nearing completion, and his band of brothers was steadily growing. Meanwhile, in a LARPing camp twenty miles from the nearest town, some of the smartest, most experienced adventurers history and fate had ever seen were having their minds blown.

“This is money?” the fighter barked, grabbing the paper bill like it would fall apart at the lightest touch, “But it’s not even copper!”

“It’s so flimsy,” the barbarian muttered.

“Well,” Alice explained, “Gold and silver get quite heavy. Paper money was brought about as a replacement for coinage.”

“But we’ve been leaving this junk everywhere!” the cleric said, “We- guys this is loot we left on the ground!”

“Hold on, let’s not panic just yet,” the wizard said, “How much of this- this paper money would we need to buy a bar of gold.”

“Lemme check,” Felicia said, pulling out her smartphone and tapping away at it, “Here.”

“Thousands?” the bard hollered, “We’ve been using gold bars to buy food!”

“You were the ones doing that?” Hank asked, “Well, I’ve got some good investments that could turn around nicely if y’all stop.”

“It can’t be worth that much,” the wizard reasoned, “If it ever rained, paper money would be destroyed. Gold is a much better option.”

“Actually, we’ve moved on to digital currency,” Alice explained, “It’s like- Ugh, imagine a gigantic network of spell circles that tracks lists of numbers. Everybody has a list assigned to them, a bank account, and payment for work goes straight into the account without ever touching their hands.”

“So, people are getting ripped off?” the cleric guessed, “That would just mean the money doesn’t exist.”

“No, it exists,” Alice continued, “If someone wants to withdraw money from their account, they can. It mostly means that people don’t need money on their person to make purchases. Money is withdrawn from the buyer’s account when a transaction takes place, then added to the seller’s account. Do you understand?”

“I understand that we’ve been ripping ourselves off,” the fighter said.

“Why didn’t anyone ever tell us?” the barbarian asked.

“You were making people rich?” Felicia guessed.

“They’re not supposed to be rich!” the barbarian bellowed, “We’re supposed to be rich! That’s why we adventure!”

“Team, listen,” the rogue said, “It’s obvious that what we need to do is earn back all the money we spent. We were literally leaving money on the table and never noticed. You!” the rogue pointed to Alice. “You know about all this paper money stuff, how do we make huge piles of money?”

“Well,” Felicia suggested, “Depends on what you’re willing to do. I have a few ideas that Blake could use, but I don’t really know if-”

“Is it stomping around in some disgusting sewer or bog, hunting even more disgusting sewer or bog creatures?” the bard asked.

“No,” Felicia said, tapping away at her smartphone again, “It’s, well, it’s this.”

Felicia showed the bard one of the ever popular live streams that populated the internet. The kind with a very attractive young woman, wearing a shirt with a very deep neckline, playing the popular game of the month. Well, to say that she was playing a game was being generous. Most of what the girl was doing was smiling for the camera and making sure it was pointed squarely at her cleavage.

“I can do that,” the bard said, “It doesn’t even look hard, why would you think I couldn’t do that?”

“Well, there’s certain stigmas around-” Alice started.

“You’d be taking advantage a’ men who-” Hank said

“What do I need to do that?” the bard demanded.

“Something to record you,” Felicia listed off, “Something to record the game you’re playing, something to play the game, and something to broadcast the recordings. Look, I really don’t know the specifics of this. I might be able to point you to a few people who do, but I don’t know.”

“I think we should talk to artificer,” the bard said.

“Who?” Hank asked.

“Listen,” Alice said, turning to Hank, “I really don’t think we should get wrapped up in whatever this is.”

“Fair,” Hank agreed, “So, uh, Wytch. Zealot. Y’all ready to hit the trail?”

“Sure thing, Gladiator!” Felicia cheered.

Their training complete, or as complete as the adventurers cared, the trio marched off into the woods. Alice had trained with the barbarian and the cleric, Felicia trained with the wizard and the rogue, and Hank trained with the fighter and the bard. According to the fighter and the bard, singing and dancing was mostly the same as high octane physical combat with swords and axes. Hank didn’t ask about that.

“Did it seem weird to you that the cleric was so willing to teach you about other gods?” Felicia asked, “I really thought she was going to induct you into her own religion.”

“She said she couldn’t find the right pamphlet,” Alice answered, “Oh, make sure you say Gods, otherwise they’ll get angry.”

“That’s what I said,” Felicia said.

“Eh, you were close,” Alice said.

“Why would she need a pamphlet?” Hank asked, “The cleric is ‘sposed to be some kinda priest, right? Shouldn’t she know about her own religion?”

“These are people who can’t even remember their own names,” Alice said.

“Yeah, that’s got me worried,” Hank said.

“About what?” Felicia asked, “I can cast magic and sneak around, Alice healing miracles and savage power, and you’re a super warrior. They even gave us some of their old gear.”

“Look, Miss Felicia,” Hank said, “We trained day and night with them for a month, and now we’re superhuman warriors. Then, we had to explain to them how money works.”

“Didn’t they say they were from a different dimension or something?” Felicia asked.

“They said a lot of things,” Hank said, “Like if some guy tries to mug you, you should chop his head off because he’s attacking your livelihood, and therefore your life. How much of that do you really think is true?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I mean, the training did work,” Alice said, “Felicia and I have magic powers now.”

“Hold on, do we actually have a plan?” Felicia asked. Because none of us have been home in a month, and the LARPing trip was supposed to end three weeks ago. I’m probably out of a job.”

“After the first week, I called my landlord to get the lease returned so I have a bit of cash to spare,” Alice explained, “I figured by then, I was in this for the long haul.”

“Why does everyone give you good deals?” Felicia asked.

“Because I have a masters degree in chemical engineering,” Alice explained, “That means I have a lot of high paying jobs open to me. People are more willing to give me good deals because the odds are good that I can easily pay them back. You worked as a barista, right?”

“I can also mix drinks,” Felicia said.

“Speakin’ of, how about we have a couple drinks?” Hank suggested.

“I’ve never really been one for drinking,” Alice said.

“I have,” Felicia said, “Besides, you’re supposed to be a barbarian warrior or something. A reaver, a thief and a slayer-”

“That’s Conan,” Alice remarked.

“Wooing women, slaying beasts, and drinking deep of all life’s pleasures,” Felicia said.

“I don’t know if’n she’d be all that at wooing women,” Hank said.

“I wouldn’t be,” Alice said, looking down at Felicia, “And you should know that by now-”

“You said you really liked that blind date,” Felicia said.

“Meaghan was lovely company, and consoled me over missing a blind date with a lovely sounding man,” Alice said, “But right now, that’s not important. What’s important is that yes, I should be drinking as per the barbarian’s advice. Gaining strength through life’s great passions.”

“Hold up, we’re getting close to town,” Hank said, “Felicia, the wizard taught you illusions right? Much as I love dressin’ like a gladiator, we should probably look like normal people for now.”

With a wave of her hand, and a quiet giggle, Felicia covered the new adventurers in a dazzling illusion of mundane, earthly fashion. Alice looked down at the illusory clothes.

“Hold up, I can’t wear this,” Alice said.

“But you always wear suit jackets,” Felicia said, “Are the colors off? I always thought pinstripes looked nice.”

“No, it’s something to do with being a barbarian,” Alice explained, “The barbarian said I have to have, at minimum, a bare midriff. Something about becoming soft and civilized if I wear too much. Just put me in a workout top and leggings.”

“You don’t actually think that’s true, do you?” Felicia asked.

“Normally, I would say everything they say is unscientific nonsense,” Alice said, “But I could actually feel myself growing weaker. The fires of my unrestrained might suffocate under the weight of a blouse.”

“Do ya think they dress like that cause they have to?” Hank asked.

“I think they dress like that because they want to,” Alice said, “Well, I suppose there’s also something to do with personal safety, they kept talking about fighting some really dangerous sounding stuff.”

The bar that the new adventurers walked into was more of a club, complete with a light up dance floor surrounded by leather booths. Hank objected, but Felicia insisted on going somewhere with a proper bartender, and the Last Line club was not only the closest, but also the first and only club they had found. Hank soon relented when the bartender explained they had plenty of hard liquor. Three hours later, and three empty bottles between them, the trio had reached an impasse.

“Not even a light buzz?” Felicia asked.

“No, I still feel perfectly sober,” Alice insisted. She wasn’t even feeling flushed.

“Hank?” Felicia asked.

“Nothing,” Hank said, crossing his arms in frustration, “I’ve always been good at holding my liquor, but this is ridiculous.”

“This stuff tastes like mouthwash,” Alice commented.

“That’s it. I’m the smallest, and I’m getting to the bottom of this now! Hank, come with me,” Felicia insisted, dragging Hank to the bar.

In the end, Felicia drank a jug of vodka in a single, unending chug. When she finished it, she told Hank that the only thing she felt was a need to use the bathroom. When Felicia got out, she found a group of bikers had stormed into the club and were menacing the patrons. Felicia ignored them, walking straight back to Alice and Hank, who were lazily nursing the kind of pink, girly drink Hank explicitly stated nobody was to order.

“Really?” Felicia demanded, glaring down at Hank.

“If I’m going to not get drunk,” Hank said, passing one to Felicia, “I’m at least going to drink something that doesn’t taste awful.”

“Fair,” Felicia admitted, turning to Alice who was tapping away at her phone, “Something come up?”

“Those guys have bounties,” Alice said, “We don’t actually have combat experience, so who wants to pick a fight?”

“Dead or alive?” Hank asked.

“Dead,” Alice said, passing her phone to Hank, “They seem to have quite the rap sheet.”

“Sons of Celibacy?” Felicia gawked, looking over Hank’s shoulder, “What kind of a gang name is that?”

“People who think they’re being funny,” Alice said, taking her phone back.

“Do we have a battle plan?” Felicia asked.

“Yeah,” Alice said, “I was thinking ‘get ‘em.’”

“Suits me,” Hank admitted.

“Good,” Alice said, “I’ve been frustrated since we got here.” Alice cracked her knuckles, “I’ve been wanting to blow off some steam, and they’ve noisy. Hey! You!”

The leader, a barrel chested, bearded man, turned his head toward Alice. “Bounty hunter?”

“Something like that,” Alice admitted.

The leader gave a gruff, belly laugh before hip firing a pistol into Alice. The man’s aim was exceptional, the bullet catching Alice in the mouth, smashing through pearly white teeth. Alice’s head snapped back at the impact, and the damage shattered Felicia’s illusion. The leader lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at Alice. Form fitting gym clothes had been replaced by a leather chest wrap, a bone pauldron belted over one shoulder, a knee length skirt made of heavy furs, and a thick pair of boots. Alice was armed with a bardiche, a poleaxe with a blade that ran partway down the shaft.

Alice spat out the bullets and bits of teeth, flashing the leader a full toothed snarl as healing magic restored her.

Felicia spun a spell into the air, amplifying her voice to cover the club. “Excuse me, would everyone not with the-” Felicia choked back a snorting laugh. “With the “Sons of Celibacy” please exit the club immediately? Follow signs to your nearest emergency exit, and do not panic.”

Dropping the illusions on herself and Hank, Felicia looked over the battlefield. There were roughly eight gang members, and Felicia could see them thumbing guns as the air grew tense. The open dance floor was quickly emptying, and the fake leather booths didn’t really give her and Hank much cover from stray bullets.

Did they still need to take cover, Felicia wondered. Alice had gotten shot cleanly in the mouth, and she was fine, but Alice was the only one the cleric taught healing miracles to. Felicia got an illusion ready.

“Don’t shoot!” an illusion of Felicia, dressed in civilian clothes, arms up in surrender, and tears streaming down her face, burst into existence in front of the leader.

It was enough to shock the man as Alice swung her bardiche. The axe took the man's head off as another thug fired a shotgun burst into Alice.

"Ow!" Alice barked as the buckshot dug into her. Alice fished her phone out of its pocket, her face twisting into a snarl when she saw three pellets had torn up her phone and dug into her leg. "My phone!" Alice howled, turning on the gunman with a heavy growl, "You're dead."

Another shotgun blast caught Alice as she leapt through the air, bardiche raised in righteous vengeance. The thug dove to the side, Alice’s bardiche digging deep into the floor. The axe was locked into the floor, forcing Alice to tug and wrench the thing free.

Hank, dressed in manica, interlinking metal plates that ran down one arm, heavy metal greaves, a sleeveless cuirass with carved abs, along with heavy gauntlets and greaves, and carrying a trident and buckler shield, launched his trident at a thug aiming for Alice. The trident speared through the man and pinned him to the wall. Two men charged Hank, brandishing a tire iron and machete. Hank gave a mental command to the trident, and the weapon’s enchantment sent the trident flying back to Hank’s waiting hand. Hank slashed forward with the trident, catching the tire iron and twisting it out of the thug’s hand. Hank then stepped forward, punching upward with his buckler to catch the heavy downward swing of the thug’s machete. The man yelped at the impact, Hank hitting him hard enough to knock the machete from the thug’s hand and crack bone. As the thug cradled a broken wrist, Hank drove a haymaker buckler first into the man’s head, slamming the man against the club wall.

“I surrender!” the other thug yelped.

“I’ve seen what you do to people,” Hank growled, “So, I don’t.”

When the fight was over, Hank, Alice and Felicia rooted through the pockets of the thugs for cash. Outside, the new adventurers found the Harley’s the thugs road in on. They were loud, heavy motorcycles, done up in shiny chrome. Alice loved them. Loading their bounty onto the cycles, the new adventurers took one last look at the club.

“Do we have a plan?” Felicia asked.

“We’re going back to King’s Head,” Alice explained, “That’s my billing address, and I need to pay off my loans. I figure we can find good work there as mercenaries.”

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said.

The sun was high and the sky was clear. It was good weather to go riding in.