A worrying tug pulled at John’s chest as he and Monk ran up the incline of the askew cargo bay that led to the village gate of Valorwood. The polished walls were unchanged; the bay looked the same, but as the pair reached the gate, it lay in ruins; the wood charred and blacked from dead fires lay strewn about the platform.

“If the villagers are still alive, we must help them,” John said.

“I agree; we must also find Mama Kreb’s son.”

John felt a slight panic at Bugsy, Rayne, and Keller’s absence as they wound their way across the bridges. He pushed it down and took a deep breath, slowing; he looked around with a confused expression.

“What’s wrong, John?”

“When the attack happened, I didn’t see anyone running from their homes. Later when I asked Keller where everyone was, he told me about the stronghold. So if no one left their homes, it would mean that the access points the stronghold is in the houses.”

“That would make sense,” Monk said, walking towards the nearest building. He kicked down the door with casual ease and squeezed his massive frame through. John followed him inside, looking around for a set of stairs or an opening in the floor. The tiny house was a single room with a bed shoved into a corner and other necessities lining the walls. Everything seemed to be tidy and in its place, aside from the couch. John pointed to the couch and walked over to where it lay tossed over. He stomped on the rug under his feet.

“What are you doing, John? It’s disrespectful to dirty a stranger's rug.”

John glared at Monk skeptically. “This coming from the guy that just kicked their door into fire kindling?”

Monk looked away sheepishly, and John continued to stomp on the floor until the dull thuds changed into a hollow thunk. Smiling, he looked at Monk and pointed down. Squatting, the pair threw the rug back, and a square hatch was revealed. John grabbed the iron rung and pulled open the hatch staring through. The empty darkness below the platform greeted his eyes; the emptiness was unsettling. A short rope hung from the opening and disappeared into the darkness, seeming to be cut. Regardless of what he saw, his mind told him that something was wrong with the sight.

“My mind doesn't like this; it doesn’t make sense to me. What am I looking at?”

Monk peered in and grunted. “Illusion magic,” he said.

“Likely just an extra layer of protection for the stronghold below. I will go first; even if a trap is present, I am far more likely to survive. I also do not want to search the Everdale for you upon your resurrection. Wait a few moments.” He sat on the edge of the trap door’s opening and reached down, taking the visible rope segment in one hand and grabbing the edge with the other. Slowly he lowered himself through the darkness until only his head was visible; he looked down and dropped himself further, completely erasing his presence. John stared at the inky blackness chewing at his lip. Seconds passed, then a full minute, and he began to worry.

“Fuck it,” He said, preparing himself to sit on the edge of the opening. Suddenly Monk’s head reappeared, looking up at him.

“Come on; it’s as safe as we can hope for. Be silent. There are many drow below. I also saw the kobold. We will collect him and plan our next course of action.”

John nodded and copied Monk's earlier descent. As the darkness swallowed his head, he panicked momentarily as all his auditory and visual senses were cut off. Still feeling the rope in his hands, he calmed himself and continued to descend. As he left the illusion, he looked out across the askew cargo bay; in the lowest corner, a stone fortress stood illuminated by torchlight. Guards stood along the parapet watching the amassed drow. Fifty or so of the dark-elven figures stood or sat at small fires in the middle of the cargo bay. Their camp was made on a shoddily erected platform that offered a symbolism of level ground across the massive chamber from the Valorwood fort. He quickly descended the next hundred or so feet down to the floor. Crouching next to Monk, he looked out at the drow encampment; he whispered, “Where did you see the kobold?”

Monk turned and pointed to a darker section of the room. The pair crouched through shadows avoiding the golden light that filtered from the village above. Just as they reached the area Monk had indicated, the kobold leapt from the darkness, knife thrusting forward towards John. Eyes widening, a primal instinct flooded through him; he slapped the knife away and kicked out at the kobold’s leading leg. The kick sent the small creature stumbling harmlessly past him to faceplant in front of Monk, who reached down and picked the kobold up by the head. He stood, bringing the kobold, who hung limply in his grip, up to eye level and spoke softly.

“Your mother sent us to prevent your death.”

The little kobold crossed his arms and mumbled, “I don’t need help. I am a warrior; she needs to keep her nose out of things. I am twenty summers; I am grown.”

Monk prodded a finger into the kobold’s chest. “You are no warrior; you are a boy, lost in the depths, head swelled with misplaced pride. How will you rescue these people? Alone with that toy knife. No, you will die at the hands of the Drow.”

John scratched the back of his head nervously. He felt like Monk was speaking to him, not the kobold. The little creature opened and closed its mouth several times, trying to form an argument, but he just sighed and said no more.

“Good,” Monk said. “Now we are going to help you free the elves.” The massive man indicated John and continued. “First, what is your name, what abilities do you have, and what is your class and level?”

The kobold's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Monk put him down as he began to speak.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Skaglin is my name. I am level twenty, and I’m a rogue. I have backstab, piercing lunge, stealth, and cardiac razor.”

Monk nodded along until the last skill was mentioned, and his eyes widened.

“How do you have a cardiac razor? That’s an assassination-specific skill. I've never heard of it being learned as a rogue.”

“It was a skill scroll I found in a towering chest.”

Monk nodded again. “Okay. Let us go speak with the elves.” He turned, looking at John, and tossed his head toward the fortress as if saying lead the way. John ran towards the elven fort with the others following him; they were approaching swiftly when a resounding roar split the silence.

“Shit, we forgot about the monster,” John said over his shoulder as shouts started up in the drow encampment off to his left.

“It is of no consequence,” Monk said, appearing beside him with an arm wrapped around Skaglin’s waist. The kobold looked entirely unenthused with being rattled around under the giant’s arm. Suddenly John found himself in the same position; feeling completely demoralized, he accepted the carry and looked out toward the fast-approaching wall. The guards atop the wall were shouting and pointing; some drew weapons while others turned to run toward the inside of the fortress. John’s attention was torn away from the wall as the rhythmic pounding of metal reached his ears. He jerked his head to the left and caught sight of the monster that had killed him only two days prior. The massive beast left the floor, fully extending its body in a long-range dive toward its prey. Its gaping maw full of razor teeth opened wide, sending a visceral reaction through John’s body, and he shuddered, remembering his innards being eviscerated.

“Monk, from your left!” John yelled, squirming in the big man’s grip.

Monk’s stride elongated; he planted a heavy foot in front of himself, bending the metal underfoot. As he sank into that step, fully allowing his knee to collapse, he put his head down and exploded forward with a grunt. Metal tore and the three sailed across the ground, moving faster than John thought possible. The next plant of Monk’s foot brought a rapid change in direction as once again he grunted and left the ground upward. The force and pressure caused John's stomach to lurch. He saw the monster sliding across the metal floor nearly a hundred feet back from his position. No more than two seconds later, Monk landed on the fort's wall and set John and Skaglin down. They had crossed over two hundred feet and a massive wall in less than four seconds. John’s mind ran; they had to have been moving at close to seventy or eighty miles an hour. He looked up at Monk from where he sat. The man was doubled over with hands on knees breathing hard.

“How?” He muttered, “What level are you?”

Monk laughed and coughed.

“It’s impolite to ask people their levels. But,” He gasped for air. “I’m level one hundred and eighty-four.”

John whistled. “I’m assuming that's pretty high?”

“Mon-Kanger is among the strongest one hundred people on the planet.”

A familiar voice came from behind him. John snapped his head around and stood up quickly. A wide grin crossed his face as he saw Keller walking towards them. The guard captain faltered as his eyes searched John's face.

“John?” He asked tentatively.

“Keller!” John said, still grinning.

“How, how are you here? I watched you die.”

John’s face fell slightly, but he quickly re-adopted his grin. “Eh, that's the thing about me; I'm pretty hard to get rid of. I’ll explain everything later. Where are Bugsy and Rayne?”

“Hm, alright,” he said curtly. “The three of you can come with me. They will both be excited to see you in good health.”

John followed as Keller turned and marched down the stairs to the courtyard below. He looked back to see Monk following behind warily; Skaglin was there as well though he walked in a more carefree manner. Keller led them to the large, stone square building in the courtyard. It towered above the wall, and thick metal armor that had been roughly cut hung on the top half of the building. Two dense metal-plated wooden doors open, only a crack leading into the building. Keller slipped through, followed by John and then Skaglin; all at once, they turned back to Monk, who looked doubtfully through the small opening. His large hand gripped the edge of the door and the muscles of his arm coiled as he began to pull.

“It's no use,” Keller began to say but was quickly cut off by the echoing pop of metal and the deep, slow groan as the door moved ever so slightly. John looked to Keller; his jaw hung open while he watched the door open inch by inch. The groan ceased, and John’s smile quirked as he turned back to see Monk squeezing through the gap sideways.

“John?” A voice quietly asked.

He turned to one of the several stairways that led down into the bowels of the fortress. Rayne stood there looking at him. Her appearance was slightly disheveled, her eyes swollen, and her left arm hung in a sling. John smiled as she cocked her head to the side.

“Hi Rayne, I figured out what the curse does.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. A range of emotions were crossing her face, elation, joy, confusion, and finally settling on anger. She marched up to him, slapped him across the face with a sharp swing of her uninjured arm, then spun on her heel and walked away. He rubbed at his stinging face, mouth hanging open looking from Keller to Monk, who were both staring bemusedly at him.

“What did I do?” He asked them, confused.

“She has been so angry with herself and all of us who witnessed your death. I’m guessing she is now focusing that anger on you because it has been misplaced this whole time.” Keller said with a wry smile. “Regardless, she will come around, and though I don't know you well, John, you seem a good sort. I’m glad to have you with us again.”

“I think he will make a fine warrior. With a bit of time and a lot of training and experience.” Monk said, tugging at his beard. Keller nodded along and motioned for them to follow. He headed the way Rayne had gone; John, Monk, and Skaglin followed him down a long set of stairs and into a large communal room. Many of the village people sat eating meals or in hushed conversation around the many tables that filled the room. Keller seemed to be leading them toward a line of people waiting for food, but that was the last thing on John's mind as he looked around. In the corner of the room, surrounded by a vibrant green glow, Bugsy stood over Adam, the man who had blown off his arm fighting the beast that had just chased them across the cargo bay. John left the group and headed directly toward the pair of familiar faces. He stopped next to Bugsy, realizing he now towered over the man by a full two feet. He poked Adam in the chest; the man's eyes were clenched shut in pain as the fingers of his missing arm began to grow.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, bud. Who punches things so hard their arm explodes? Seems like a waste of a good arm to me.”

John said, smiling down at the man who had opened his eyes and was searching John’s face. Bugsy turned sharply and had already prepared to tear a strip off John by the look on his face. The older elf paused, eyes going wide as his vibrant, glowing eyes landed on John’s forehead.

“What? You thought I was done nagging you with all of my questions about this world, old man?”

Bugsy set his hand on John’s shoulder and the glow in his eyes faded. They were watery and in a choked-up voice but smiling, he said. “John, I thought we had lost you for good. I’m glad to see you. But how?”

“I’ll explain everything soon; I also made a friend I’d like to introduce you to. I have so many new questions I need answered. Then we can go and kick these elves out of your town.”

Adam stood flexing his hand with a grimace. “I’m coming too, I obviously have something to prove to this kid and I can't pretend I'm not curious as to why he is back here and much larger than before he was eaten. Seems a little backward in my mind.”

John nodded at Adam and led the two over to where Keller was sitting with Monk, Skaglin, and Rayne who was glaring at John like he had stolen her lunch. John smiled ruefully and joined Monk at the table where the others were seated, and looked around at some of the most powerful people john had ever known. He opened his mouth to ask Monk and Keller what they were thinking, but he was promptly cut off by Rayne who growled.

“So, John. How about you tell us all why we saw you get chewed up by an enormous monster yet days later you show up a foot or so taller and not in pieces?” She cut her eyes at him from across the table. John looked at Bugsy and Monk. He turned to Keller and then Scaglin, who had stopped mid-bite of a piece of bread that smelled like sourdough and was staring at him. He gazed at Adam and then back at Rayne. Each person around the table looked back at him with curiosity and varying levels of amazement. John looked around the common room uncomfortably with so many ears nearby he was worried someone would overhear his story. Bugsy cleared his throat and said, “Don’t worry about them John, they are all too overwhelmed with their own issues at the moment to eavesdrop on our conversation.” John sighed, took a deep breath, and began to tell them all about what had occurred since he had last seen them.