“Now run we will from hell’s grim specter,

To find some safety, somewhere else,

There must be something he won’t enter,

Where we can hide to save ourselves.”

— The Ballad of Sir Joe, by “Golden-Voiced” Garbeaux.

Aimee shrieked. Jimmy Quick, possessed by the specter of Ignus the Black, made her the main target, “This is gonna be sweet,” he said. No surprise; she was the Hedge Wizard who had been controlling Ignus. Cackling, gathering energy to destroy us utterly, all seemed lost.

Chop! Jimmy was abruptly cleaved in twain! “You … you killed him!” shouted Aimee.

The halves stood, quivering, as McGrue stood, stunned, staring at his ax which had just split Jimmy from dome to groin, “I did it! It was so easy,” he gasped. “But wait…” The halves clutched at each other, clumsily, strangely.

I was the first to recognize it, tugging Aimee towards the stairs that led up and outside, “Did you really think it’d be so easy? You’re stupid, even for an orc,” said Jimmy’s halves in a bizarre chorus. McGrue was caught flat-footed as the left half backhanded him across the crypt, falling with the effort. Staggering to his feet, in a daze, McGrue followed the rest of us as the right half of Jimmy splatted down on top of the left.

Nose gushing blood, he panted, “What in all the hells? How’d he hit me!? He’s in pieces!”

“He’s basically undead, McGrue,” said Aimee, “We’ve got to get Ignus’ fetish away from him.”

“Fuck that!” shouted McGrue, towing the both of us in a chain, “He’s strong as Joe was. We need to get to the carriage!”

Struck dumb in these first moments, I lingered as my companions fled, watching as Jimmy emerged; as his two halves finished zippering together. Horrified, I ran hard to catch up with Aimee and McGrue.

Turning down an alley, we stopped, breathing hard and terrified, “Did we lose him?” asked Aimee.

“I … I’ll check,” I coughed, looking around the corner, there was no one, “Looks clear.”

“Oh, thank all the gods,” said Aimee.

“I need a drink after that,” said McGrue.

“How about a nice goblet of fresh blood?” asked Jimmy.

We whipped around to find Jimmy right there with us, skeleton still glowing through his pallid flesh. We all ran, screaming, again, into the night.

“Hey! Knock off that racket!” shouted a town guard working the night shift, who halted us in our tracks.

“Uh, I, constable!” began Aimee, struggling, “There is a very bad man after us.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s Grainfest. We got all types in town right now,” grumped the guard, clearly unhappy with his situation, “We’re looking for a joyrider that killed some guards. You wouldn’t know anything about that, woul–” and then he poofed into a cloud of fine powder.

“What!?” I shouted, before catching sight of Jimmy. He grinned.

Aimee tried to speak, but choked, having inhaled some guard, and McGrue dashed out, “Damn it, just leave us be!” Swinging wide, he severed Jimmy’s head, then the arm holding the fetish. With grim resolve Jimmy’s dismembered body grabbed McGrue by the throat, “Hurk!”

Our wizard struggled, and it was up to me to assist our fighter. Brushing off Aimee as she gasped and clung, I drew and swung my rapier in one fluid motion, the short length of edged blade near the stabbing point caught between the bones. Jimmy’s body staggered back, its hand severed.

This helped us not at all as the hand was still attached to McGrue, “Gk! What the!?” he gasped, confusedly. With great effort, he ripped it off his throat, its nails leaving bloody gashes, then, “Ah!” Looking down, I saw Jimmy’s head had latched its jaws onto McGrue’s ankle.

Still choking, Aimee managed to speak, “Quick! Separate the parts!” She then screamed as the severed arm started to pinwheel, death blast magic spraying from the fetish, propelling it in an erratic circle.

McGrue caught some in the back, shielding us, then tumbled to the dirt. Thinking quickly, I punted the arm, sending it bouncing off a wall, down an alley, and into a pile of garbage. A fire started immediately, “It’s burning things? But it’s spraying black death magic!”

“The specter of an evil mage named ‘Ignus’ adds fire to death and you’re confused!? Just keep running!” shouted Aimee.

Back blackened, a groaning McGrue wrested Jimmy’s jaws from his ankle, then looked the head dead in the eyes, trying not to cough from having been choked, “Oh, you are the fucking worst!”

Very much alive, eyes darting around, the head spoke, “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? Heh-hehe!” Jimmy’s laughter ceased as McGrue stoppered his mouth with the wrist of his severed hand. The fingers flailed, trying to grab the half-orc again.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Standing, McGrue heaved back and threw Jimmy’s head and hand up and over the top of a tenement building before snatching up his ax again, “Okay, let’s call this round three.”

“No, don’t!” shouted Aimee, gesturing and raising Jimmy’s body, sans head and arm, up into the air. “Nothing you do will matter until he’s separated from Ignus’ specter. It’s better to just let Lord Veineux deal with it,” and, in a shocking bit of desperation, Aimee flung Jimmy’s partial body up and through a window on the third story of a nearby warehouse. Luckily, at this time of night, it was empty, “We need to keep running.” And so we did.

It was clear by now that we could never outpace our enemy, so we took to stealth. As low-wage minions formed into a team just to drive up the price of Sir Joe’s services, we learned early on how to stay out of the way. Now we used those skills to steer clear of the possessed criminal.

“Are you sure this is the way?” I asked McGrue as he led us through the darkness.

“I was, but now I’m not so sure,” he replied, “So many of these alleys look the same. The carriage is fucking massive though, so we’ll know when we see it.”

Though I knew it was pointless I was becoming desperate, “The horse knows his name, right? Just call out to Grizzly and we’ll follow his whinny.”

I collided with McGrue as he stopped, “Are you crazy? You want him to find us?”

“Of course not!” I growled, “But I don’t have bloody night vision like you two. Being lost in the dark is terrifying for humans.”

“Boys, you have to be quiet.” urged Aimee.

I turned from two pinpoints of reflected light, McGrue’s eyes, to look back at Aimee, where I saw four. “I … wait. Really?”

“Shit!” shouted McGrue, who I heard scuff and scrape as he ran ahead.

“Yes, really,” hissed Jimmy, the obvious second set of eyes behind Aimee.

Aimee pressed forward, dragging me along behind as I struggled to just keep my feet, “He’s toying with us!” I shouted, in shock that we’d been caught again.

We formed up at the end of the alley, back on the main street of the town, weapons at the ready. Aimee had none but, instead, rubbed her hands together, trying to focus, to grasp what magic she had available. Flaring to light, Jimmy’s bones shone dimly in the alley, looking like a burning skeleton. “You guys are making tonight so memorable,” he said, a whisper on the wind.

Again, guards approached us, this time a pair, “What the hell are you three doing out this late? Up to no good, no doubt.” He glowered, reaching for his truncheon, then fell away into a cloud, his pained face expanding before blowing away.

“What was that!?” shrieked the second guard, popping a whistle into his mouth. Fleeing, he blew and blew, the whistle shrieking. Then poof; he, too, was rendered into less than a memory, the tin of his whistle and chain clattering to the cobblestone. For a moment, all was still.

“Two guards. Holy hells. Y’know, before, even yesterday, I would’ve been afraid to make a move on two town guards without bringing a crew,” said Jimmy, emerging from the alley. This, the most well-lit street in all of the walled city of Bagatelle, had bright, heatless, magical torches high overhead. Illuminated, his bones disappeared and, if he weren’t so sickly and pale, you might think Jimmy Quick was just a normal man.

This looked like a standoff, but felt like a death sentence. Maybe five minutes had passed since we cut him apart and scattered the pieces, and Jimmy was completely recovered. Not knowing what else to do, I backed away, Aimee and McGrue following more slowly, keeping their guards up, and grabbed up the whistle. Never taking my eyes off the possessed mobster, I blew as hard as I could. The sound echoed.

Jimmy made a sucking sound as he inhaled, “All the partygoers are out cold, bard. Your barbarian friend here killed a bunch of people on the other side of town, so most of the armed men paid to secure these streets are over there. Who do you think is gonna come running?” The wind hissed like a snake, fading in and out, combining with the whistle.

Running out of air, I gasped. “I ain’t a barbarian, you piece of filth,” growled McGrue.

“Yes, barbarians are a wilderness class. He's urban,” McGrue shot me an enraged look, “An Orc Thug! That’s what the class is called, right?”

“Boys. Run,” said Aimee.

“Are you sure? Running hasn’t worked for us so far,” I muttered, pocketing the whistle.

“Not us. You,” said Aimee, her eyes and hands starting to glow as the street lights dimmed.

“What? Are you crazy?” asked McGrue, horrified.

She set her jaw, “I’m not some level one scrub, Sargon, and I’m the only one of us who can use magic. Of us three, I’m the only one who stands a chance against this monster.”

“A showdown? Really, sugar?” Jimmy cackled, “Shouldn’t we wait for high noon?”

“Wait, Aimee, I can do magic too!” I grunted as I was flung backwards into McGrue. With a gesture she pushed us about ten feet away. We watched from our new position as she quivered, pulling power into her from all over.

With her hands Aimee began swirling energies we’d never seen from her. Bolts of red and yellow arced inward from the resulting spiral, the dreaded backlash, bane of the Hedge Wizard, was trying to get her. “You assume I’m weak, Jimmy, but the fetish was never my weapon. It was a shield.”

“Hah!” Jimmy shouted as he lashed out with the fetish’s death blast, and that dark energy collided head-on with Aimee’s energies, directed as billowing flame from her hands. “You … ngh! You think you can take this? Really?” His laughter turning to screams, Jimmy slammed backwards into the stone of the nearby building, bursting into flame.

“I can help!” I shouted, pulling out my Pick of Air Guitar. It glowed, mightily, and I called out “Air Guitar!” with maximum vibrato! The light of the pick died. “Air Guitar!” I sang again, to no avail. “It’s … it’s not real…”

“Oh, holy crap. You … you are too much, kid.” said Jimmy, still ablaze, as he pulled himself up from the dirt. His head whipped around in shock as a dozen guards rounded the corner, “Oh! Wow. Shouldn’t you guys be on the other side of town?”

“Help us!” I shouted, pointing, “He has an evil artifact and has been killing guards!”

The guards muttered amongst themselves, “Really?” Advancing towards Jimmy, who was laughing again, “And why are you laughing now?”

Jimmy shrugged, the glistening Black Baton of Ignus still in his hand, “Nerves, I guess. I mean … normally, I’d be scared shitless. But this … it’s like my birthday.”

“Right,” said the head guard, incredulously, “So we already knew there was a killer on the loose,” looking Jimmy up and down, his clothing was rent and clinging to him by the black ichor that oozed from the cuts we’d given him, “And you really look the bill. You lot will need to come too,” He gestured towards us and, as he turned, that was the moment he ceased to exist.

Instant bedlam erupted as their commander fell away to nothing and the guards, stunned silent for only a few heartbeats, dove onto Jimmy, who still burned with magic. Sparks flew in every direction as their enchanted truncheons bludgeoned and shocked the cackling maniac. Cloud plumes erupted here and there as he disintegrated them, one at a time, too fast for them to understand what was happening in the chaos.