Hades was getting used to sleeping on the couch. His nightly arguments with Persephone had begun to blur together. The god of death could barely remember what had started the fight, or even how it ended.

The stiffness in his neck did nothing to improve Hades’ mood as he stood in front of the scrying pool. His spies had told him that the main body of refugees were a day’s walk from Brexis.

Ordinarily Hades would have taken the win and called it good. Zeus had lost a city and a significant amount of his followers. Best yet, the dragon had done the dirty work for him.

Things were going pretty alright for Hades. At least, until he made the mistake of scrying on his wife. It wasn't any big deal to him, he did it all the time. But what he saw made him grip the sides of the marble scrying pool until it cracked.

His wife, his darling Persephone, was making love to another man. They grunted and panted, she clawed his back and called out in ecstasy. And as they changed positions, Hades spotted a familiar face.

“Fuck you Francis!” the god of death screamed, putting enough hatred into the words that the scrying pool began to boil. “I’ll kill you for this!”

***

Meanwhile, the real Francis was getting the intricacies of Brexis' tax laws explained to him by a revenant in a black robe. But it was going slowly, because the Marine kept asking questions.

“So, let me get this straight,” Francis said, scratching his head, “The city has been a fucking graveyard for two centuries, and you boys are still down here doing tax audits?”

The revenant reached a skeletal finger out towards him. “Yes…” It gasped, “What is owed… must be paid… the forms… filed… you are the god… of this place… you must… ensure the collections… are made…”

Francis ignored the bony digit pointing at his chest. He had spotted something on the back wall of the room. It was a combination tiki bar and shrine, with a jewel encrusted Soul Jar hiding among the bottles of booze.

“Who might that be?” Francis asked.

The revenant didn't have eyes to roll. But it managed to get the point across. “That's Locke… he's… difficult to work with….”

“Well, I like his style.” The Marine walked over to the Tiki bar and grabbed a blue Hawaiian shirt off a clothes hanger. He rubbed the silk between his fingers. “This is some premium material.”

“Yes…” The revenant turned up its non-existent nose at the gaudy fabric. “And all of it… wasted…”

Francis pulled off his black Robes of Casual Evil and slipped the shirt on. It was a little tight around the chest, so he decided to leave it unbuttoned. “How do I look, babe?”

Willow bit her lower lip, she loved a well built man in a silk shirt. “Fuckable. Very fuckable.”

“God damn!” Francis grinned, he had just found a new favorite shirt to go with his pink shorts.

He patted the front pocket of the shirt. Inside was a silver cigar tube and a pair of sunglasses. “System, what can you tell me about this stuff?”

Congratulations! You have found Locke’s Blue Silk Shirt of Ultra-Casual Evil. The front pocket serves as a miniature Bag of Hoarding.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

+2 to Deflect

+5 to Necromancy

Pocket capacity 10 Kilos

Congratulations! You have found Locke's Stash. This is a consumable item.

Effects may include: Euphoria, Paranoia, Increased Appetite, Dizziness, Ska Music.

Congratulations! You have found Locke’s Sunnies. Return them to him for a reward.

“I'm saving this for later,” Francis said as he tucked the metal tube back in his pocket. The sunglasses were cool too, even if they didn't seem magical.

But his good mood didn't last for long. Because Chuck reached out to him through the link with some very bad news.

“Francis! Creatures from the Dark Forest are attacking the refugees! They almost got one of my crew before they managed to push them back.”

Willow's eyes blazed green, she had gotten the message too. “Evandrel, that little weasel.”

“Pick me up from in front of the palace,” Francis said through the link, wondering why the Dark Forest had picked today of all days to start fucking with him.

He gave his woman a kiss. “Willow, baby. Hold down the fort, I gotta go teach an opossum why you don't mess with Brexis.”

“Take Jack, Shiv, and Julia with you.” The Death Cleric suggested. “You could use the backup and they probably wouldn't mind an excuse to kill something. I’ll send some of my minions to help defend the refugees. And be careful, the Dark Forest doesn't fuck around.”

“Nah, they already fucked around when they fucked with my people. And I'm gonna make damn sure they find out.” Francis replied.

The Marine met the other members of his crew in front of the palace gates. Chuck and the others looked mad enough to kill anything that got in their way.

Francis donned his sunglasses and settled into the saddle. “I’m gonna reach out to Evandrel and ask what the fuck is going on. If he doesn't answer, we'll go to Tiffany's cottage and start looking for him there.”

They began to ride down the black road towards the eastern gate. Francis was waiting to send a message until they were closer to the forest. At the very least, it would decrease the mana cost.

The Marine reached out to Evandrel as they hit the treeline. “This is Francis, would you mind telling me why the fuck I have reports of your people attacking mine?”

“By an amazing coincidence, I was about to ask you the same damn thing.” The old opossum replied. His backwoods twang sounded a lot less friendly than the last time they met. “I'm up to my ass in undead, and and I hope to fuck they aren't yours.”

Francis wasn't sure what to make of that particular mystery. “They aren't. Where are you?”

“I'm east of the cottage. Come prepared and bring friends. There's a fuck-ton of skeltons and only one of me.” Evandrel sounded more pissed off than scared, but there was an edge to his voice.

“We're on our way. Make some noise and we'll come running.” Francis promised.

The Marine turned in the saddle to face his team. “Change of plans! Evandrel says he's under attack too. We're going to go help him out. But, keep your eyes open. He says there's a fuck ton of undead and it might be a trap.”

Jack’s ears perked up at the mention of undead. “Well, what are we waiting for? I've wanted to take a bite out of some skeletons since I got here.”

“Undead are particularly enjoyable to kill.” Julia added. “It's all of the violence, none of the guilt.”

Shiv pulled a massive maul from her Bag of Hoarding. “I like the noises they make when I hit them with my hammer.”

Chuck let out a snort of laughter as he picked up the pace. “Oh, I knew I liked you guys for a reason.”

Francis brought Willow up to speed as they rode through the forest. She was less than pleased at the idea of another necromancer causing trouble in their name.

Off in the distance an incredibly loud “TWANG!” rang out through the woods. Francis watched as something that looked suspiciously like a skull flew over the treetops and smashed into a tree behind them.

“Run faster, Chuck!” Francis shouted, “I hear banjos!”