They were headed for the Inn, but Boyd couldn’t get the idea of becoming a swordsman out of his head. He wanted that feeling again, the feeling that he had power. That he had some control of his destiny. He needed a tool to help him not get his ass kicked every time a child-like demon aggressively tried to kill him.

At present, Fleon and Boyd stood at the edge of a street corner overlooking an old and decrepit building. In front of the building stood a large, hooded figure wielding an impressively pointy sword, and surrounded by a mixture of Undead creatures of varying sizes and shapes in addition to a cadre of gargoyles. They remained largely motionless minus a few steps to and fro. Boyd attempted to scan the big thing, but nothing appeared. He was cut off from scanning this creature.

“Wait, what’s his name? I can’t scan him,” Boyd said.

“Who?” Fleon answered.

“That guy.” Boyd pointed. “The glowing skull thing in robes with the big ass sword.”

“He is the Lichian Exarch Demondread the Exiled One. He is Wretchedness Incarnate. His very presence offends me. His acts are so heinous he has been exiled even from the other Liches. He is a disgusting maggot.” Fleon spat on the ground. “But also we should avoid him. I am loathe to admit this, but while I am extremely noble and holy and powerful, I am no match for a Lichian Exarch of his Rank.” Because Sir Boyd wasn’t always cognizant of his surroundings, Fleon added, “Nor are you. No one man could defeat that creature.”

“Why is he on Level 1 of The Maze then? Shouldn’t he be the Boss or something?”

“He is a Quest Giver, but his Quest has obviously been solved already or a large ‘!’ would be above his head. Many Quest Givers are much higher Rank than the rest of the Level.”

“Then why doesn’t he go do the Quest himself.”

Fleon paused, “He’s probably busy or something.”

“He’s got like ten gargoyle things by him too. Why doesn’t he just ask them to do it?”

“Those are Stonesouls. They are bound to him. They are filled with his necromantic hatred and this is what animates them.”

“So they have to stand by him?”

“Sort of. They… they are probably busy too.”

“Doing what?”

“I am not Evilsworn, I do not keep track of their activities or proclivities.”

The Lich was holding a sword full of wicked edges. The metal undulated like something was trying to get out of the sword itself. The hilt was made of golden scales. The scabbard was made of bone. It radiated death. The soft pulses of magic it let off were punctuated by the screams of the souls it had rendered. Boyd whistled, “What’s that sword he’s got? Let’s just get that one.”

“An ancient and terrible thing, a cursed sword of the most unholy…”

“What’s it called though?” Boyd asked.

“It is Souldrinker, Harbinger of Doom...”

“Yeah, that tracks. Hey, I think I just want that one. Let’s go get it.”

“I wasn’t done, Souldrinker, Harbinger of Doom, Drinker of Souls, The Bloodslave…”

“Yea, I get it, it’s awesome. Let’s go take it.”

Fleon was aghast, “I wasn’t done, but the idea of you wielding that sword literally sickens me. It is fueled by the blood and Souls of those it has slain. Its powers are pure necromancy and…”

Boyd interrupted again, “I know. It’s cool as fuck, right?”

“Sir Boyd come to your senses! I cannot allow you to consider this malignancy. Moreover, you’re a Monk. You aren’t even proficient with Greatswords, much less a cursed entity. It would consume your entire being to even touch it!”

Undeterred Boyd said, “Hey, let’s go get Salia and have her blast these things so I can get that big fuck-off sword.”

“No one in our Foray is more capable of handling a Lichian Exarch than myself. I am Ioer’s humble servant and The High Paladin of the Filary. Salia could never handle an unholy brigade such as this. She would succumb to the Aura of Fear and Dread without Divine Intervention. Only I, Fleon, High Paladin of the Filary am capable of withstanding the mental onslaught of a Lichian Exarch.”

“Okay, go get Gmol then. He’s a Cleric or Priest or something right? He does holy stuff. He’ll be fine.”

“Gmol is… that isn’t the point. I am most capable. I have devoted my life to defeating evil. Were it possible for any of us to defeat this foul creature it would be me.”

Boyd gave Fleon a quick side eye, “Yea, I mean, look I’ve seen you all fight. You’re good and all, but we should just go get Gmol to lightning blast these little fuckers into oblivion.”

Fleon extended his neck to its maximum height. “You dare to question the High Paladin of the Filary? By my Oath, I will end this Evil right now.” Fleon unsheated his Blade and began to stomp towards the threat.

Boyd raced ahead and placed his hand across Fleon’s chest. “No, seriously, that dude is gonna kick your ass man. His sword’s a lot better than yours. Just look at it. I got a better idea. Ya’ll got stealing here?”

Fleon looked at Boyd quizzically. “First off, The Blade of Light and Majesty is an artifact of unparalleled power wielded exclusively by the High Paladin of the Filary and only when on his most noble quest. It is certainly a better sword than Souldrinker, which is a silly thing with a stupid name. Second, do we have stealing? Do you mean you plan to steal the prized sword of a Lichian Exarch from his hands? You are neither a Rogue, nor a Thief, nor a Pickpocket, nor a Shifter, nor any other Class with the ability to Steal. You would not get within 50 feet of the Exarch before your skin was flayed from your body.”

“Nah, I’ll nick it when he sleeps.”

“He’s a Lich. He doesn’t sleep. He only rests in his coffin. Moreover, when he rests in his domain he’s immensely more powerful. God-like in power. Forget this foolhardy task.”

Boyd thought for a minute. “You know a lot about this guy too then huh?”

“Of course. I am High Paladin. I know of all the most evil creatures in Zenith. Lichian Exarchs are amongst the most evil and vile…”

“Does he move?”

“…their foul and odious…”

“Does he move around or not?”

“…putrefying the very air you breath…”

“Fleon, shut the fuck up. Does that thing move around or not?”

“It moves to and from its lair.”

Boyd thought for a minute. “Where’s his lair?”

“In that house behind him.”

“That’s it? It walks to and from that house?”

“Correct.”

Boyd looked up and formed a plan. It was a stupid plan. This was confirmed as the bottom of his vision lit up with [Agent of Chaos activated].

“I need that Scroll of Flight you told me about on the way here.”

Fleon immediately handed Boyd a Scroll of Flight. Fleon felt it was imperative to share equally with the rest of the Foray. “Of course, and for what may I ask.”

“I need a hacksaw too.”

“The Hacksaw? This would be more appropriate for you than Souldrinker, I agree, but as a Monk you should be honing your Qi and your body. Besides, this item is not available at this point in our Foray. We will have to make it several levels lower to sever The Hacksaw from Killbutcher’s Arm. I am surprised you know of this item Sir Boyd, have you been studying?”

“No…uh… forget about it. I was talking about a tool. You got anything that cuts rocks? Like I need something that can cut through rocks.”

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“What sort of rock? It matters not. The Stonemason’s Guild is hireable or any freelance Geomancer can easily cut any rock you need. Why would we have a tool to perform menial tasks yourself? This line of questioning makes no sense.”

“So there is a spell that cuts rocks? Does that mean there are scrolls? There are scrolls right? I can do a scroll now.”

Fleon lowered his neck. “I am becoming uncomfortable answering these questions and I bid you adieu,” Fleon walked away.

“Fleon, you got that map? Where is the Stonemason’s Guild?”

Fleon didn’t answer.

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Boyd stormed into their room at the Inn.

“Hey team, no time to chat. Just stopping by for a minute. Hey, where’s the supply packs? Just need to borrow a few gold to get a bite to eat.”

The other members of the Foray looked up to see an extremely dirty Boyd Bridges march into the room, rifle through the bags and leave holding a number of items with his pockets clinking with gold. Boyd noticed their Mana total had risen to 39 from 22.

“Found it. See ya. Thanks ya’ll. Everyone’s doing a great job. Rest up, big day tomorrow You’re a Good Boy Jellybean! I’ll be back soon Buddy!” He gently patted Jellybean Jenkin’s head as he walked by. Jellybean growled fiercely in response.

No one had said a word.

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Fleon awoke to a scraping noise. Assuming this was most likely the prying fingers of zombies attempting to invade their base, he grabbed his sword and leapt from his cot ready to strike down the horde of filth. Fortunately for any zombie hordes, they had not attempted to invade Fleon’s base, and instead, the noise arose from Boyd who was currently shaving his beard with a large and dangerous looking sword.

“What are you holding? Oh Goddess, you absolute idiot, what have you done? By the Light of Ioer, you’ve doomed us all!”

“Oh, this? It’s my new sword. I’m practicing with it. It’s hard to use.”

“You are holding Souldrinker, Harbinger of Doom, Drinker of Souls, The Bloodslave, That Which Was Possessed By…”

Boyd interrupted, “No, it isn’t.”

“It most certainly is, I immediately recognize it. We just spoke of it yesterday.”

Boyd continued shaving, “Nah, man, this uhh…” Boyd looked around the room. “This is a different one.”

“I can see the insignia bearing the name ‘Souldrinker, Harbinger of Doom, Drinker of Souls, The Bloodslave, That Which Was Possessed By He Who Is Doomed, Unholy Beacon of…”

Boyd held up his hand, motioning Fleon to stop talking. “Where do you see it?”

Fleon pointed at the area where the blade met the hilt. “It’s right there. Oh dear Goddess, you’ve scratched it out. You craven fool. How did you even etch the blade? You know this Blade is made of the Souls of its victims right? You have scratched Souls from existence. Do you really think that makes a difference? Do you think the blade is less evil now? Goddess, I beseech you I had nothing to do with this.” Fleon fell to the floor and began praying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about man.” Boyd cleaved a line of shaving cream from his face and then flung the mess of hair and cream out a nearby open window. “Oh hey, unrelated, I’m Rank 13 now. I got some Ranks while I was out. I’m a Swordsoul now too. I did Multiclassing. I’m now a Rank 9 Monk and a Rank 4 Swordsoul whatever that means. It means I can use swords, I know that much. Fuck yea, right?”

Fleon collapsed against the floor. “A Swordsoul binds himself to a weapon. A Swordsoul can only use a single weapon for his entire life. You impudent, reckless, scoundrel of a man. You have bound yourself to that muck you are holding. You have permanently ingrained that offal into your being. How could you do this? You are Corrupted by The Souldrinker. I am on a Foray with a Corrupted One. My deepest nightmares are true. You have tainted our entire mission. Goddess, I beseech thee again.” Fleon went back to praying.

Boyd flung more shaving cream out the window, then washed his face and sat down in the chair beside him. There was a disgruntled noise from outside that Fleon understood to mean someone had been struck by the expelled cream. He would pray for their well-being tonight.

Boyd seemed unaware. “Nah, man. I’m good. This isn’t Souldrinker, it’s uhh… It’s a different one. I just found it.”

Fleon buried his face in his hands. “You will show me where and how you acquired this. You will tell me where and how you acquired the money to Multi-class. You will give me every detail of your last six hours, and if somehow you can explain to me why I shouldn’t throw that monstrosity into the deepest ravine I can find and then permanently remove you from our Foray, then we can discuss the implications of what you have done.”

Boyd hoisted himself up using Souldrinker as a lever. The blade scratched the wooden floor and let out a tiny scream of writhing pain.

“You betcha bud.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fleon and Boyd stood in front of the spot where the Lichian Exarch Demondread and his cadre of horrors once stood. In their place, the only thing remaining was the broken remnants of a very large marble head. Demonic blood still sizzled and burned in the stones below. Lichian Exarch Demondread was quite dead.

“You single handedly killed a Lichian Exarch as a Rank 7 Monk (Unassigned). Explain yourself.”

“Yea, I did. See, so I looked up there and I seen them big heads. So I flew up there using that Scroll of Fly.” Boyd used Souldrinker to point towards the Great Wall. “Then I used one of these scrolls I bought from the Stonemason’s Guild to turn that big head’s neck into mush.” Boyd held up a Stonecutting scroll. “Then I just sort of did a flying kick and knocked the head off.” Boyd did his best flying kick imitation to provide context.

Boyd shoved Souldrinker underneath the back of his shirt and wriggled = it to scratch an itch on his back. “Ouch! Shit I nicked myself.” Souldrinker pulsed red as the blood was absorbed into the blade. A maddening cackle erupted briefly from Souldrinker.

“And that resulted in this mess?” Fleon motioned towards the mess in front of them. “Do you have any idea the cost of one of these marble heads? If the local constables determine you are responsible for this, you will spend 20 years in the Salt Mines working your debt.”

“60 years.”

Fleon yelled, “Do not question my knowledge of the law! I am High Paladin! The sentence would be 20 years!”

“Well the first two missed, so 60 years. The first one rolled the wrong way and there is another on the other side of the wall that sort of rocked its way over. That was before I figured out to give it a kick.”

Fleon bristled, “As High Paladin of the Filary and leader of this Foray into Zenith I command you to stop single handedly killing beings of untold horror! You are expressly forbidden from doing this! You will turn yourself in to the constabulary and pay for the damages or I will take you there myself. I am still High Paladin. I will not stand for lawlessness. These actions are untenable!”

“Oh, I already paid them back.”

“Come again?”

“Yea, that Lich guy had all sorts of shit in his house. I took it all and sold it. I bought this sword with the money. It’s not Souldrinker, it’s a different one.”

“It’s clearly Souldrinker, how stupid do you think I am?”

Boyd flipped Souldrinker over. Where Souldrinker had been scratched out, the other side was now etched, very poorly, with the words “Basturd’s Blade”. “Nah man, check this out. I bought this one. It’s called The Basturd’s Blade. Look here. Says right there. I named it after my Daddy. Whom I obviously do not know.”

“You spelled Bastard wrong.”

“Shit, I did? How do you spell it?”

Fleon looked at him critically.

“Alright, fine, it’s Souldrinker. But now it’s mine and I call it the Basturd’s Blade.”

“Where is the rest of the money?”

“I put everything I took back in the supply pack along with an additional few hundred for the Scroll of Fly. The rest I spent on the Multi-classing cost at a Training Center. That shit’s high as hell. Oh, I also spent a few hundred on getting this thing engraved. I took it to that Blacksmith up the street there.”

Fleon sighed. “First, this blade is demon forged adamantine. I have no idea what he scratched it with, but it will be gone in a week or less. The Blade will repair itself. Second, let’s go get your money back from this charlatan. Third, you have rid of the world of a Greater Evil. As High Paladin of the Filary, I would be remiss if I didn’t note that you performed this task in a loathesome fashion. While your methods are disgusting, I cannot fault you for your actions. As you have already made amends, I have decided your overall actions are Good and Lawful, despite the fact you have committed an atrocity against your own Soul. By most rights and measures, I should still slay you where you stand for bonding with that abomination. Instead, I have decided I will purge the Corruption from both you and your sword. I have added this to my Oath.”

Fleon waved his hand and fiery letters burned in the air in front of them. At the bottom of a list of standard do-gooder nonsense was the sentence “Purge Sir Boyd’s Corruption and liberate him from the grip of Souldrinker.”

“Neat trick!” Boyd said..

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And he believed you?” Salia asked.

“Yea, he’s gotta be the dumbest motherfucker I ever met. How the hell would I know where the constabulary was, or how much to pay them? I don’t even know what a constabulary is. Do I seem like someone who goes around giving his money away? Hell no. So anyway, we march into this shop and he puts this guy through the window and demands our money back. I’m standing there holding this fucking monster,” Boyd motioned towards Souldrinker, “Just grabbing my dick like ‘What? Do something bitch!’ and then the guy just gave us like 240 more gold to leave him alone. I never seen him before. I felt kinda bad at first, but like, fuck it right?”

“So, what are you going to do with it?”

“This?” Boyd asked. “I’m gonna use it. This thing’s fucking awesome. Look at it. It’s a god damn glowing death machine. Punching shit hurts. I’m done with that.”

“What’s it called?”

“Souldrinker.”

Salia scoffed, “That’s a dumb name.”

“It’s actually called Souldrinker, Harbinger of Boom, Drinking the Souls, The Blood Leaves, Which Got Possessed by Something or Another, Unholy Deacon of Something.”

“That’s both wrong and even worse. I meant the money though, I meant what are you going to do with the money? What are you going to do with the money?” Salia asked.

“Soon as I find a decent Blacksmith I’m gonna fix this dumbass etching. I was trying to use a shard of the head that I kicked off the wall and Fleon was right, it looks like shit.”

Boyd was comfortable lying, but it was the first one he had intentionally told to the rest of the Foray. It felt a little odd.

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“Hey man, I’m back.”

Boyd walked into one of the merchants houses he met while trying to find magical equipment earlier that day. He had almost passed it by. He had hoped to find some sort of magical armor, or a new weapon. This shop was one of the only ones that had things he could use. The shop was filled with random trinkets. This was disappointing, but he figured as he had no money at the time it might be for the best.

There was the one item he thought he might have a use for though.

“Ya’ll still got that ring you told me about?”

“The Cosplayer’s Delight? Sure. I don’t know what you want with it though. Seems like you might want to at least buy a new shirt before you invest in this.”

“Nah, Def Leppard’s awesome dude. I’ll keep this one. I want that ring though.”

“It’s 6,000 gold.”

“Deal. How do I use it again?” Boyd threw the money on the counter and put the ring in his inventory.

“It will only work once, but when you are ready just slip it on.”

“Thanks man.”

Boyd inspected the ring again as he walked out the door. He wasn’t sure it would work, but everyone needed a backup plan. He chucked it in the bottom of his pack.