Much to Gel’s surprise, they didn’t run into any more trouble on their way to the stables. When the hellhounds and their giant zombie masters didn’t so much as spare them a second glance, even the slime started to calm down.
For his part, Sean found himself growing more and more excited with each step. Unlike down in the basement, out here it was readily apparent that he was in a wholly different world. Sean had obviously known that for a while now, skeletons didn’t walk around back on Earth after all, but that didn’t make his first glance up at the sky any less of a shock.
High above him, three multi-colored moons shone down through patchwork clouds. The smallest was a distant purple, the largest a massive viridian, while a dark orb somehow sparkled between the pair. The trio bathed the estate in a composite sheen of soft moonlight that felt brighter than Sean was used to. It was more than enough to see by, even without his new ability to see in the shadows.
A steady breeze blew from one direction, but without a sun in the sky Sean had no idea if that was east or west. Apart from the occasional rhythmic clattering of bones marking an undead patrol marching by, each of which appeared to just be pairs of those warrior skeletons from before, the night was completely silent.
As he strolled through the courtyard of a deadly necromancer that had already killed him once, surrounded on all sides by minions who only needed a single order to pulverize both he and Gel into little more than dust, Sean couldn’t shake the feeling of pure, soul-affirming comfort that permeated the air. He couldn’t breathe any of it in of course, but he could feel the welcome in the air with every gust that blew through his rattling bones.
Every patch of blackened grass whispered an invitation for him to rest. Every withered, hollow tree emanated a calm reassurance of solidarity. Even the decaying flowers appeared to gift the breeze a welcome scent that beckoned him like a siren call. One that wanted him to stay a while, and listen.
Overall, it was the sort of horror novel setting that would have been decidedly unsettling if not for the fact that the entire place felt… right, somehow. Like it was a part of him.
Or he was a part of it.
Sean made his way around the stable looking for an entrance they could use that wouldn’t announce their presence to the whole courtyard. Luckily, it appeared there was a side door.
“Gel?” Sean asked as he made his way over to the less conspicuous entrance.
“Yah-huh?”
“What’s with this place? It looks like they decorated in nothing but graveyard-chic, and yet I feel like I could sleep better on that lumpy-looking rock over there–” Sean indicated the worn-down lump in question with a gesture, it was half again as large as he was and dark as midnight. “– than I ever would have on my own bed.”
“We’re surrounded by enemies Sean, this is no time for a nap.” Gel said, still keeping a slow revolution around in his stomach as the slime watched for enemies. “You can sleep after we’ve gotten away.”
“You know what I meant.” Sean said, testing the handle on the side door. It was ‘locked’, but the latch itself had been ripped off so the door still swung in easily anyway. “Why does this place feel like home? It’s creepier than Halloween night in a slasher film, and the ambience around here is exactly like what happens right before the main characters get eaten one by one.”
“That raises several questions I want the answers to later.” Gel said as they leaned through the now-open door to peer inside. “But as for yours, it’s probably because you’re a death creature. The flesh pit may not be finished yet, but with all the people Bancroft killed to take this place over there’s still enough ambient death mana lingering around here to choke a priest.”
Sean thought on that as he slipped inside the stable. The feeling up here matched what he had felt next to the army of undead warriors, so it made sense. Peering around the stables, he relaxed a bit when he realized that, apart from the skeletal horses – one of whom lit the entire room up with its burning-blue head – there wasn’t anyone else inside.
“You mentioned death mana before, back in the pit. Is that what I’m feeling, then? Death mana in the air?” Sean tried to give the air an experimental sniff, remembered he didn’t have a nose, and then reconciled himself with the fact that at least he would never have to worry about terrible smells again. “Do you feel it?”
“I feel like I’m one good meal away from drying up and– Oohh, what’s this?” Gel’s attention shifted mid-sentence and Sean’s right arm reached out to snatch something up.
That same arm jerked back towards his face as the slime brought front-and-center for Sean’s inspection. The movement was fast enough that Sean reflexively brought his other arm up to block, but he lowered it once he saw what Gel had found.
A leather bag attached to a sling bounced in the air. It had at least a half dozen side pockets, but appeared to be mostly empty. Flakes of dried manure fell off it as the slime shook it in mock victory.
“Behold! The mighty satchel!” Gel crowed. “Definitely worth risking our lives for, you were right. Now we can hold all of those things we’re about to steal and we can do it in style.”
Sean rolled his orbs and ignored his friend, looking about the room as he stuck the bag and map he'd been carrying into the satchel. A second later, the slime’s voice sounded once again in his mind, making a sound as if Gel were trying to spit something out.
“Blegh!”
“Did you just try to eat that?” Sean asked incredulously, accepting the satchel his broken arm was now handing him and slipping it over his shoulder. “Why would you try to eat leather?”
“Because I’ve never had it! You have to try new things. How else am I supposed to find the– ” Gel shuddered inside his ribs, and a piece of partially-dissolved leather dropped through Sean’s pelvis. “-- spice?”
Sean did his absolute best to ignore the fact that Gel had just crapped through him, instead choosing to focus on the special emphasis the slime had put onto his last word.
“Since when are you after spices?” Sean asked as he shook more of the manure flakes off the bag to illustrate his own point. “And what makes you think you’re going to find any in a horse pen?”
“I’m always after spices.” Gel asserted promptly. “I just… haven’t found any yet. Bancroft doesn’t exactly season his corpses, you know. It’s incredibly rude.”
“And you thought he seasoned his… satchels?” Sean asked, unwilling to pass up on a chance to rib the slime a bit.
“How am I supposed to know people don’t season their satchels?!” Gel asked defensively. “Why wouldn’t they? It’s perfectly good skin! Not to mention it had all those flakes on it – don’t tell me those flakes didn’t look appealing to you!”
“Those are poop-flakes, Gel.”
“Well, yeah. I know that now.” Gel harrumphed. “But you miss every taste you don’t test, Sean.”
“Uh-huh.” Sean thought back. “Well if that matters that much to you, I’ll keep an eye out for some.”
“How? I have your eyes.” Gel asked, a sudden curiosity in the slime’s mental voice. “How would you–.”
“It’s just an expression.” Sean corrected, quickly realizing his mistake. “I meant I’ll let you know if I find any spices.”
“If you do, I promise to share.” Gel swore. “In fact, as long as it goes down your non-existent throat and lands on me, I’m happy to share up to half of whatever we find!”
“Up to half, huh?”
“I’m generous like that.”
Sean chuckled, turning his attention back to searching the room they were in. They hadn’t been talking long, but the air in here was almost as still as it was outside. There wasn’t so much as a rat.
There were, however, several bales of stale hay stocked up along the gates of each stall. Which Sean found odd as he doubted their undead occupants still ate hay. Another layer of which, mixed with dirt and other dried brown material, covered the entire floor. Dirty riding equipment hung forgotten on the far wall next to a bunch of tools he guessed were for mucking out the stable.
Odd. Sean thought, taking a peek into one of the stalls. There’s no flesh on these things, so what’s with all this… Oh, gross.
Sean wiped his foot off on one of the few clear sections of dirt. The large skeletal beast inside the pen snorted – a sound that sounded like clattering bones – but otherwise ignored him completely. Aside from the hay itself, Sean didn't see anything else in the stall. It was in fact nearly spotless, if you discounted the dirt.
"Does Bancroft keep living horses, too?" Sean asked, continuing his search of the stable. “Because I’m pretty sure the dead don’t defecate. Not without a slime in their stomach, anyway.”
"Not that I know of, but then again I didn't know he had any horses. This lot probably belonged to Barry." Gel answered. “Also, was that a shot at me? Because I feel like it was.”
"Barry?" Sean asked, choosing to ignore the obvious question.
"The merchant who owned this place before Bancroft moved in and killed him. He was delicious."
Sean stopped in front of the table of tools he didn't recognize that he'd been going through. "And you ate him?"
"Most of him." Gel said regretfully. "Missed a leg and most of one arm. Never did find out where those went…"
"How long have you--"
Ba-dump.
Sean stopped talking mid-sentence. He strained whatever counted for his ears, wishing he knew how to stretch his pulse sense out farther than its given range.
"How long have I what?" Gel asked.
"Shhh… I think there's someone here." Sean responded. Gel’s voice may only be projecting into his mind, but the slime didn’t exactly do ‘volume control’. If he shouted, there was a chance Sean might inadvertently react and give away their position.
Thankfully, the slime went silent and Sean was able to focus. It was hard, but–
There!
It was faint, but Sean couldn't miss the distinctive sound practically calling out for him. It was odd, though. It wasn’t coming from outside the stables. It was–
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Sean cocked his head and looked down at the floor where he could feel the soft heartbeat emanating below.
"It's coming from down there." Sean said. “Somewhere underneath us.”
"A basement, maybe?" Gel guessed.
"In a stable? Who hides a basement below horse shit?” Sean glanced behind them. “I didn't see any stairs on our way in, did you?"
"Nope. Wait… " Gel paused, swirling around in his ribs. Then the slime extended Sean's arm to point at a dried layer of manure covering the floor topped with hay. "Kick some of that hay around under the tool rack. Right next to where you stepped on that turd. I thought I saw something earlier, but it’s hard to see with only that burning horse-thing for light."
Walking over, Sean did just that. He mushed the hay around with his foot, trying not to think about how hard it might be to get some of this off his toes later. At least he didn’t have to smell it.
Sure enough, gross as it might have been, it was easy for Sean to detect the small depression in the floor with his feet. Reaching down, he found a handle for what could only be a trapdoor. A quick jiggle revealed it was unlocked, but also made more noise than Sean would have liked.
The heartbeat below them quickened.
Ba-dump, ba-dump-badump!
"Whoever it is might be waiting to attack, can you lift the door?" Sean asked, slipping the satchel down his shoulder and onto the floor as quietly as he could manage.
"Sure thing, boss." Gel answered, swinging his right arm over to the handle. It took another minute or so for the slime to manipulate his fingers to grab the oddly-placed lock, but he eventually managed it.
"Ready?" Gel asked.
"Ready." Sean said, readying his one good arm to attack just as Gel hefted the trapdoor open and flung it back in a single swing.
A bat no larger than a baseball flew up and out of the trapdoor the second the opening was clear. Sean struck at it, but the winged creature simply darted to the side and dashed for freedom – only to be chomped mid-flight by blue flame-covered teeth. Sean and Gel looked at the large skeletal horse in surprise but it, like the rest of its fellows, paid them no notice. The burning-blue horse simply chewed on its newfound meal, grinding the bat as if it were a clump of fine hay.
“Hey!” Gel protested. “That was mine!”
“Annnd now it’s his. Or possibly hers.” Sean said, shaking his head in amusement as he peered back down the trapdoor. “Whatever it is, you can add ‘angry flaming blue horse of death’ to the top of tonight’s list of creatures I am not picking a fight with.”
“So, what you’re saying is that’s a ‘yes’ on picking a fight with it later. Fair enough, I suppose.” Gel grumbled, shaking Sean’s arm at the creature. “Your days are numbered, Angry Blue. Eat my bat, will you…”
Sean chuckled to himself, his jaw clattering soundlessly as he descended the now-revealed wooden stairs that led into the hidden room below. Gel glared at ‘Angry Blue’ the entire way, and Sean could have sworn he heard the slime muttering about future revenge – though Gel didn’t actually say anything else.
Arriving at the bottom, Sean took a quick look around. Then, because he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, he rubbed both of his empty eye sockets with his left hand and looked again.
It was an honest-to-God wooden treasure chest! Dark metal framework bound thick planks of polished, ocher hardwood. The chest itself was covered in heavy dust, the majority of which had fallen into carved patterns all over the thing that Sean didn't recognize. Brushing it away revealed that the patterns all traced towards six prominent sigils that had been carved deeper than the rest. They sat in the dead center of the chest.
Where the lock should be. Sean realized, before asking.
“Gel, what are these–"
"Press the first one on the left twice, third from it three times, and the one on the far right six times." Gel said, as if reciting from memory. "Then count to three and press the first one again. Should open right up without setting any of the traps off."
"... and how exactly do you know that? Bancroft give you his secret stash codes, too?" Sean asked slowly, not quite ready to reach for a chest with an engraved, magical lock. “Also, traps?”
"This isn't Bancroft's." Gel said simply, and his tone gained a softness Sean hadn’t heard in it before. "It's Barry’s. Barry Aleweather. He kept his old adventuring gear down here. The code will disarm the traps. Just make sure you press them in the right order. If not, just wait a few seconds and start over. It resets pretty quickly, the traps only trigger if you try to open it without the code.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Alright, easy enough then.” Sean said, reaching out to tap the buttons in the order Gel had specified. It’s not like the slime would lie to him, after all. Although... “I thought you said this Barry guy was a merchant?”
“Adventuring is how he got the money to be a merchant. People always need help, and barrels aren’t cheap, Sean.” Again, it sounded like Gel was reciting words he had heard from someone else, but the slime quickly snapped out of it. “Anyway, the memories of what he actually kept in there were a little fuzzy, so I don’t know what he had. But there should be at least a few things in there worth our time.”
“Memories?” Sean asked, his attention sharpening on what that word suggested. “How do you have this guy’s memories?”
“How do you think? I told you I ate him earlier. Got his brain, too.” Gel replied as if he was puzzled to even get the question.
“Right. You mentioned that before, and that gives you his memories… how, exactly?” Sean asked slowly. He had thought Gel had just been joking earlier, but since he now had proof of that claim, it looked like that hadn’t been the case. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not how memory works.”
“That’s exactly how it works. Are you seriously telling me you’ve never gotten the memories of a dead man after consuming him whole?” Gel asked, incredulously. “This is like, one of the fundamental laws of corpse-eating!”
Sean paused for a moment, mostly because the premise of a ‘fundamental law of corpse-eating’ was, itself, ludicrous. But, then again, he had never done that. Not in this world anyway, and certainly not in the last. Jerking himself out of that line of thought the slightly irate skeleton realized he had missed the proper timing for the sigils entirely and now had to start over.
“Of course I haven’t.” Sean replied indignantly as he began inputting the unlock sequence for the chest again. Then, once more, he stopped. “Wait. You mentioned earlier that it took some time to… ‘digest’ when you ate someone, and you ate my brains.”
“Sure did.”
“So…?” Sean stretched the question out, hoping the slime would pick up on his point.
“So…?” Gel echoed, clearly not seeing where he was going here.
“Have any of my memories ‘come up’ yet?” Sean asked, more curious than anything else. He wasn’t upset at this new revelation, though he might be later depending on what memories Gel had managed to siphon out of his grey matter.
“Ehh, not yet. It’s not a perfect transfer and the digestion of someone’s psyche takes time. Not to mention you were dead for however long beforehand and you didn’t want to be eaten right away…” Gel explained, clearly getting his own digs back in at Sean for the satchel thing. “The more the brain decays the less of whoever-it-was is left for me to absorb after I consume it. And no offense Sean, you were delicious, but you were starting to turn.”
It took Sean several minutes to figure out whether or not he was offended by that. So long, in fact, that Gel spoke up again before he did.
“If it makes you feel better, nobody can get your memories out of me.” Gel said reassuringly. “I also promise not to share any of your deepest, darkest secrets for anything but my own personal amusement.”
Sean bent down and stared at the slime in his chest. Without skin or muscles in the way, even his twice-thickened bones didn’t stop him from doing so easily. Bonded companions they may be, but the sheer amount of information about him the slime had just admitted to having – or, at least, potentially digesting and having later – was enough to make any ‘big data’ company back on Earth cream its metaphorical pants… A fact which did not sit well with him in the slightest.
On the one hand, Sean had to admit it wasn’t exactly Gel’s fault that he hadn’t read the fine print or done his own due diligence before letting the slime consume him. But on the other hand, he had literally just died. Either way, this had to be addressed.
If we’re going to work together, we’re going to need to set some healthy boundaries. Even if he is literally living inside me.
“You… are worse than Facetome.” Sean said finally. “But, part of that is on me. So, while I get that you having access to my memories is not technically your fault, I’m going to be straight with you here. If you ever, ever share any of my ‘deepest, darkest’ secrets with anyone – I will feed you to that antlion or whatever other nightmare I can find even if it means I have to jump headfirst into its mouth to do it.”
Sean made sure he had a firm eye-to-orb contact with the slime before adding in a low tone that left no room for argument.
“Are we clear?”
This time, it was Gel’s turn to pause. The slime seemed to tremble ever so slightly in a way that seriously reminded Sean of someone taking a gulp.
“Crystal.”
Sean waited another moment, eyeing the slime until he was satisfied. “Good. Also… If you ever do finish digesting my memories, I want to know more about you in return. That way we can both figure each other out without one side being all lopsided. Deal?”
“On one condition.” Gel countered.
“What’s that?” Sean asked, curious to hear what his bonded companion might be angling for. Gel didn’t exactly ‘want’ many things that the slime couldn’t eat, in his experience.
“I want you to answer any questions I have about your memories. Or at least some of them. I don’t ever get any context for these things, and it’s incredibly confusing. Trying to patch together an understanding of something from the memories of fifteen different people is impossible, sometimes. Like figuring out what is and is not a spice. It’s… frustrating.” Gel explained, and the sincerity in the slime’s tone caught Sean off-guard. “So, that’s what I want. In return I can promise to keep answering any questions you have about whatever you want to know. I’m an open slime! Well, not literally because it’d be impossible to keep food in that way, but you get what I mean.”
Hu-uh. Sean hu-uh’d to himself. Alright, didn’t expect that.
It was actually an entirely reasonable request, given Gel’s situation. Brain eater Gel may be, but as far as he knew the slime had never been given any kind of education. Having your only insights into the world come in fragmented pieces that made no sense by themselves had to be difficult. Sean could empathize with that, given how limited his own upbringing had been before the military. It was even worse now, seeing as how the slime was literally the only window Sean had into how things worked. Without Gel, Sean would definitely have died already. Again.
Given all that, who was he to say no?
“I can do that.” Sean agreed. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Gel cheered and whooped in his mind as the skeleton returned his attention back to the magically locked chest they had discovered.
“Now, unless you have any more revelations to share, I say we crack this thing open.” Sean said, pressing the sigils in their proper sequence once more.
“None that I can think of, though I am now very invested in figuring out what a ‘Facetome’ is. It sounds absolutely delicious.”
“I’ll tell you all about it later, once we’re clear of this place.” Sean said, pressing the last of the sigils in with a finger.
“Deal.”
The chest made a series of internal clicking sounds, followed by a rush of air and what sounded like the lighting of a gas grill before it began loudly rocking back and forth in place. Just as Sean was about to jump back from the thing in case Gel had gotten the combination wrong, the chest's lid suddenly flung open.
Inside lay bundles of dark clothing, armor made out of some unrecognizable crimson material, and a few blackened leather bags that looked as if they'd been scorched. With Gel's help, Sean quickly laid the chest's contents out on the dirt floor so that he could get a good look at everything.
Once they had taken everything out, Sean tallied up what they had found: a set of crimson leather armor (far too small to fit) that seemed resistant to stretching, a cloak made out of fine black cloth that did fit, a thickly wrapped bone bow (no arrows), an ornate silver dagger, a rather unassuming hatchet with a dull blade, and a burnished copper… trumpet.
Sean put that last one off to the side.
The first of the leather bags held a small assortment of copper, silver, and even a few gold coins with stamps Sean didn’t recognize. Gel assured him they were valuable though, so that bag went into their satchel. The second bag was filled with neatly folded papers and a single silver ring with an unidentifiable seal resting atop them. And the third…
The third bag Gel ate before Sean could stop him.
“Hey!” Sean protested as his right arm flung the entire charred bag into the omnivorous goopy mass in the center of his chest.
“What? You opened the first two, I wanted that one.” Gel said defensively. “It’s only fair.”
“But if you’re going to just–” Sean sighed, forestalled his complaints, and then just chalked the loss up to the slime’s share of the loot. “Nevermind.”
He earned that one, at least. Wouldn’t have gotten any of this without that code.
Still, not being able to see what exactly had been in the bag had Sean curious.
“What was in it?”
“No idea. Smell was better than the taste. Flavor was sort of like an old liver stretched over a hot stone for too long, you know? Kinda bland.” Gel said after thinking over the question.
“The… bag?” Sean asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling better about the loss if all Gel had eaten were some old travel rations of jerky or something.
“Yeah. Whatever was inside though? Top notch flavors. Was a handful of herbs, I think. Went down real smooth. Dissolved like that.” Gel swished his gelatinous mass around once for emphasis. “Pity there isn’t more.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied.” Sean said, placing the second bag of papers inside the satchel. “Sounds like you finally got to try some spices.”
“People season their food with herbs?” Gel asked, suddenly curious.
“Yes…” Sean responded slowly. “What did you think spices were?”
Gel sent back the mental equivalent of a shrug. “I don’t know, I figured it was just more meat. Like another arm or someone else’s leg.”
“Not… usually.” Sean hedged. “Usually meat is the biggest part of a dish, and you work in other flavors to complement by adding vegetables, sauces, herbs… whatever you have on hand, really.”
“Ohhhhhh…” Gel sounded like Sean had just shed light on a great universal truth. “That’s why people keep so many things around that they’re not eating. To season their food with! It all makes so much sense now.”
“Mhm.” Sean responded, though he had the distinct impression Gel wasn’t just referring to things people kept in their kitchen. Either way, he decided to let the matter drop.
“Now, I’m thinking we keep the dagger, keep the hatchet, stuff the rest of this armor in the satchel, and leave the bow, cloak, and… trumpet here.” Sean couldn’t have said why, but the trumpet gave him a weird Aztec-Mayan curse-kinda vibe. He also had never actually shot a bow, and without arrows the thing was double-useless to them.
“Your thoughts?”
“Cloak is too good to pass up, look at how fine that stitching is on the collar! I want it.” Gel proclaimed. “Drape it around your shoulders, it’ll keep the sun off me when I want some shade and we’ll look amazing.”
“Fair enough.” Sean said as he set about packing it all up and leaving those two items to the side.
Not sure why he cares about the stitching. Sean thought as he donned the cloak. But if it makes him happy, it’s probably worth it. Does feel kinda nice on my shoulders, too.
When he was almost done, Gel added. “On second thought, let’s take the bow. I want the trumpet too, actually.”
“So… you want everything.” Sean deadpanned.
“Of course I do!”
Looking from the innocuous yet still-creepy feeling instrument to their already bulging satchel, Sean couldn’t help himself.
“Why do you even want a trumpet? You can't play it, you don't have any lips!"
"So? Neither do you!" Gel retorted, using Sean's arm to stuff the trumpet haphazardly inside their satchel. With smug satisfaction in his voice and another hint of recitation, Gel added. "Besides, you never know what will come in handy on an adventure."
Fastening the overfilled satchel around his shoulder a bit tighter, and sticking the bone bow through one of the loops to jury-rig it in place as he tied the other end around his neck with the bowstring, Sean soundlessly sighed his reluctance away and stood up. He suspected those last words had come from Barry, but it was still good advice. Even if having the trumpet so close to his bones made him feel like he was carrying a live snake.
Ah well, not like it can hurt me. Sean figured. Maybe we can sell it somewhere later, or trade it for something useful.
Putting the difficulties he was likely to have getting into any sort of dealings with a merchant while being a walking skeleton aside for the moment, Sean cast a last glance around the room.
And if we’re not coming back… Sean’s orbs settled on a discarded length of wood resting against one side of the wall. A smile slowly split its way across his skull. Might as well make sure nobody comes looking for this stuff.
Grabbing the hefty stick in the same grip he had used for the table leg, Sean made his way back up to the stable. 'Angry Blue' turned its bright, flaming head in their direction just as the pair ascended the stairs. Its powerful bone jaws still grinding away at the body of the unfortunate bat it had caught earlier.
Sean headed right for its stall, his new blunt instrument held out in front of him.
"Oh, yes!" Gel whooped. "Get him, Sean! Get him!"
Sean walked up and held the stick just above Angry Blue's face, making sure to get the end of it inside the flames. The skeletal horse eyed the length of wood first, then him, before nudging the wood to the side a bit with its nose. Seemingly satisfied by whatever that did for the horse, Angry Blue then summarily ignored the both of them.
It didn’t move the stick too far, which Sean was grateful for as he hadn’t been kidding earlier about not wanting to piss the thing off. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for his plan to work. The blue flames caught the edge of the stick he was holding and lit it aflame. Curiously, the flames on the end of his stick were red instead of blue, but that didn’t bother him.
Fire is fire. Sean supposed, turning away from Angry Blue.
"Uh, Sean? What are you doing?" Gel asked.
"Giving Bancroft something else to worry about this evening." Sean answered confidently. "Something that isn't us."
Walking over to the bales of hay, Sean jammed the stick up against the side of one. Orange flames immediately took hold of the first stack, and began to spread rapidly.
"I feel compelled to remind you that we haven't gotten away yet. There's still a powerful necromancer somewhere around here, probably looking for whoever destroyed his cellar earlier, and here we are about to light the world's largest signal fire." Gel commented as Sean moved from one bale to the next.
"Oh, I think he'll be too busy for that." Sean said, dropping the stick atop another of the bales of hay. “I figure he won’t be searching for us for very long.”
"Why's that?" Gel asked as the skeletal horses in the stable all began to step back from the flames.
Even undead horses still had no love of fire. They reacted in fear, raising up and kicking their stalls. Only Angry Blue seemed unfazed, watching the spreading red flames with only mild disinterest. A disinterest that lasted right up until Sean strode over to the creature's stall and tore off the length of rope serving as a lock to keep the gate closed.
Somehow sensing the potential for freedom, Angry Blue began to shove open its stall like a dog trying to push its way through a half-open door. A massive, car-sized dog with hooves the size of dinner plates. Sean rushed through the stables as the roar of fire around them caught on to the walls, tearing the ropes off of all five of the other stalls.
It didn't take long for the other horses to follow Angry Blue's lead. They all began body slamming their gates. By the time the flaming horse had broken itself free of its stall, Sean was back at the door they had originally entered from. The flames he had created were now beginning to lick their way up to the rafters. An immense, rolling heat filled the enclosed space, rushing over them in waves of hot air that even Sean could feel.
Darting out the door, Sean rushed around to the front of the stables and heaved the heavy wooden log locking the doors shut up and off of its locking mechanism. Dropping the log like it was hot, Sean sprinted back where he had come from towards the stone wall ringing the courtyard behind the stable.
They had barely made it a dozen yards when a small herd of frightened and frightening skeletal beasts of burden burst through the fiery stables and began rushing towards the front of the estate. In a brief glance back, Sean noticed that wherever Angry Blue’s feet landed, blue flames sprang up even amongst the deadened grass.
"Because… he'll be busy chasing them." Sean said as he poured on the speed, heading directly towards the closest section of wall he could find that didn’t have a nearby guard patrol. “I’m willing to bet they’ll be a bigger nuisance than we were.”
"Yeah… okay." Gel said as they swiftly approached a lowered section of stones making up the wall, this portion clearly laid more as a boundary marking than for the purpose of keeping anyone in or out. "Well played."
When they made it to the wall Sean put his good arm on the top of a sturdy rock and hopped the whole thing in one clean jump. There was a subtle, almost-electric tingle that ran through his bones as they passed over the stones, but seeing as the feeling didn't slow him down or deal either of them any damage, Sean put it in the back of his mind.
"Wait." Gel said in a tone that made Sean freeze in place. "What about my cousin!?"
"Gel, I don't know if you noticed, but your ‘cousin’ almost ate us not all that long ago!" Sean retorted as he relaxed a bit, though that still did little to keep the exasperation out of his mental voice. “I’m not exactly keen on going back to try and pull her out.”
"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it. I would've tried to eat us if I was that size, too." Gel replied dismissively.
Distant shouts came from the main building behind them, and Sean didn’t need to know the language to understand that someone was raising the alarm. There were precious few other sounds being carried on the breeze tonight. Whoever was back there though, it sounded like Sean's horse distraction plan was working wonders.
Squaring his shoulders, the freshly burdened skeleton adjusted his new leather satchel and treasure spoils before facing away from the estate towards the dark forest with a village smack in the middle of it. Past the village the forest grew even more wild, and beyond that lay an immense desert with a mountain range off near the horizon’s edge so vast that it made the Alps look like foothills.
"Ready to finally get out of here?" Sean asked his best friend in this new world. “‘Cause I’m feeling a little freedom.”
"I was born ready." Gel answered definitively. "And hungry. I vote we kill the first thing we find down there and swallow it whole. Also the second thing, whatever it is, just to be thorough."
Chuckling to himself, Sean took off.
He was only a few minutes into his run when Sean realized that he had waiting prompts. Prompts that he had somehow been unconsciously ignoring ever since the cube slime had crashed its way towards them. Mentally focusing on the first one, Sean was taken so far aback at the text that he almost tripped mid-stride over nothing.
A cacophony of trumpets sounded in both of their minds, shattering the relative silence of the night like a charging bull slamming into a glass wall. The sounds were quickly followed by a swirling, multi-colored prompt springing up in his vision that Sean had never seen before.
Congratulations, you have earned your first evolution!