Sly lead us towards the Hellbog, but I could tell he was having second thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s Surewiner,” he said. “She really died. She really died.”

“Yeah,” I replied somberly. “We’re doing this for her.”

“You don’t understand,” said Sly, losing my gaze and looking to the ground. “I know that. My father died. It’s real to me.”

He was moving quickly through the overland and paused. Plur and I stopped along with him. I wasn’t prepared for what he would say.

“My dad was out at the store, buying dinner for my mom and me when I was a kid. He was shot.” He stopped for a moment, his eyes looking away. “He died. It was a robbery. A guy showed up with a gun, and my dad tried to stop him. I barely knew him. And he was gone.”

I had known Sly since I joined Abaddon, we were best friends. We were both terrified of PKers and hid together, killing buffalo and boars together. We had been the best team for years, learning the game together. But he had never told me this.

“After he died, my mom fell away. Started doing painkillers. I was sent to my grandmother’s, but she hated me. I haven't had a real home—except for here.”

Sly’s eyes were sincere, more than I had ever seen, and welled with tears. I loved him like a brother, and I’d support him in any raid, any encounter, or any boss fight. But this was different. I wish I could help him now.

“What happened to Surewinter is awful. It shouldn’t happen to anyone. I understand it. I’m with you man. Nobody should have to deal with that.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could muster. It was the first I heard of it, and all I could say. “We’re going to stop it,” I said. “Here and now. No one should ever have this happen to them.”

I was telling the truth. Sly was still considering the reality of it. We had agreed to always party together, to always raid and grind as a team. He was better than me at it, I knew. But he was there for me as much as I was there for him. The revelation of his home life, the pain and struggles he endured, was a lot for me to handle.

“We’re going to solve this,” I said. “We’re going to find her killer.”

Sly nodded. He supported our mission. I knew it. But it was personal to him. He wanted the justice he could never gain for his own family. I felt overwhelming sadness for him, but I was happy to be his family.

Plur didn’t say a word. We began grouping with her after we leveled up, becoming our trusted ally. Neither Sly, nor I, had ever shared too much of our personal life with her. But we trusted her. And this revelation seemed to affect her.

“I’m so sorry,” began Plur.

Sly shook his head and brushed her off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I was just a kid.” He took a moment to gather himself. “What’s important is that we find out what happened to Surewinter. If it was Luxon, then we need to know. We need to expose him.” Sly looked to me. “We need to make him pay.”

I nodded in agreement.

Sly took us the rest of the way to the mouth of the Hellbog. The trees slumped sorrowfully, and were tinged a deep, sickly purple. Thick, grimy water came up past my ankles, and we moved slowly through the muck.

“What ho, adventurers!” came a shout and a waving hand. Attached to that hand was Comedian, no doubt.

He was a sight to behold, indeed. Wearing all manner of gear cobbled together from different raids. His gloves were cloth, his bracers leather, his waistguard chain, and his chest plate made from banded splint mail. A blue sash was wrapped around his chest, and one arm remained bare, and heavily tattooed. He was twice my size, heavily muscled, and sported a short black beard. He looked like a prototypical adventurer mercenary, adorned in his spoils.

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I could see Plur’s eyes roll in her head. And I shot a glance to Sly. We moved with apprehension.

“You’re Comedian?” I asked.

“That I am! Scourge of the Hellbog. Scourge of the Fungus Mines. Scourge of Icewood Mote. Basically,” he said, “I’m just the scourge of everything.” He stood for a moment, running his hand down his beard. “You got gold for me?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “How much?”

“Well, for a Dracolich run, I’ll need fifty thousand gold.”

Plur jumped between us. “That’s outrageous! Nobody charges that much. Half of that is fair.”

A wry smile crept across Comedian’s face. “If someone’s offering to do it for less, you can take up their offer. I’m a busy guy. Take it or leave it.”

I waved away Plur. We didn’t have a choice. I had to get the wand tonight. I gave him twenty-five thousand gold. It was a sizable chunk, but I could manage to cover it with my rewards from the Drakhold.

“I don’t think you heard me.” Comedian grimaced. “Fifty thousand.”

“I’ll give you half now, and half after. It’s only fair.”

“What’s fair is paying me what I asked! It’s all or nothing, Curio…” his face twisted. “Of The Silver Web, eh? I didn’t know one of you was coming. Where’s the rest of ya?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. "I just joined.”

His crooked smile returned. “Then, of course you can afford it. I know your guild has deep pockets. Cough it up, Curio. And we can start.”

Plur shook her head at me while Sly continued to size up Comedian. He did look capable, and definitely unique among fighters. He was geared more like a ranger than a fighter—lighter armor, mostly chain. He was focused on item benefits more than armor class. Hanzo was right, this guy was specialized for something. Maybe it was anti-magic, but I had other thoughts.

Before I had time to consider it more, Sly handed Comedian another twenty-five thousand. “There,” said Sly. “Let’s go.”

“Perfect!” Comedian checked his bags, and then returned my gaze. “And it’s just you sorry lot? Nobody else?”

I nodded.

“Do you expect anyone else, then? Nobody’s coming?”

I shook my head.

“Alright. We can head out in just a moment. I need to prep a few things.” Comedian opened up a menu only he could see, and began typing.

“Alright, guys. No hazies,” I said. “If you’re low on health tell me, and I’ll jump in. Nobody should die tonight. We have bandages we can use between encounters, so make sure you’re healed up before engaging anything else.”

Plur and Sly shared a nervous nod, and prepared the items in their bags for the fight ahead.

“We’re ready, Comedian.”

“Just one second,” he said.

One second became a few minutes. Comedian kept telling us that he was almost ready, but then delayed again. His boots weren’t right, and he needed to swap them out. Then he said his potions were out of order. A few minutes quickly turned into fifteen.

“You’ve got your money, let’s go,” said Sly.

Comedian looked over from his menu. Glancing back he smiled, and then bowed to Sly. “I’m ready.”

Reaching over to the dreary purple trees he moved some hanging moss aside, revealing a long hidden path. Then he gestured to Plur. “After you, m’lady.”

She audibly scoffed and led us onto the path. Comedian followed after, then Sly and me.

It made sense that people were wary of traveling through the Hellbog. The swamp’s water level seemed to rise and fall, like an invisible tide was pushing the muck in and out from some unknown source. And the trees seemed to creak and sway, like they were sentient.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we managed to get lost, even with our new guide.

Plur was the first to notice, her detection skills dwarfing our own. Bubbles were rising out from the swamp water around us. Then, without warning, large forms emerged. Green skinned and pop-marked, they looked as if they were afflicted with some terrible disease. Sickly, corrupted skin sloughed off them, and they lashed out with enormous clawed hands.

“Swamp trolls,” said Comedian, readying a long one-handed sword. “Time to get your balls out of your purses and go to work!”

He was good. Better than I anticipated. One long slash from his sword sent the arm flailing back into the muck, severing it completely. He then whirled and drove the sword into the closest troll. Sly and Plur attacked the second. I decided to handle the third on my own.

“Hurry up, ladies.” Said Comedian, landing another devastating slash. “There’s more where these came from. Let’s see those weapons put to use.”

Wielding my black dragon rapier and the Daggermortis in my offhand, I began to tear into the troll. I could see its wounds heal as I made them. I would have to wear it down quickly, before it had time to regenerate and recover from the damage.

As I battled the troll, Comedian took notice. He seemed enamored by my speed, my agility, but especially, of my deep black dagger.