The bounty led us across the small port town and into a lodge called the MP Guild. We stepped inside to what looked and felt like an ordinary hunter's lodge. Deer heads on display, old muskets on the walls, antlers and flannel jackets and fishing rods, and there on the end of the main room was a long table that could seat maybe two dozen people. Currently, there were just three.

On the far end sat what looked like a sport fisherman--the kind of guy to catch a fish just to throw it back. He had a utility vest over a long-sleeved shirt and a mesh hat. He was--unsurprisingly--masked. A black and white paper mask with the face of an orca. He was in the middle of another conversation, but he waved us over.

The other two with him were also masked--a badger and a squirrel. Both were dressed as hunters. Long coats, rifles leaning against the wall, camouflaged outfits. Just regular hunters of forest wildlife except for the animal masks. They whispered back and forth with the orca, glanced at Vil and me as we stepped over, and whispered again.

I stood beside them and dropped the bounty paper. "Redrim," I said.

The two hunters chuckled. The orca fisherman shook his head at the paper. "What about her?"

"I want more information on this bounty," I said.

The badger and squirrel leaned back in their seats, getting comfortable for a long tale. The orca winked at them off-handedly--I could see his eyes through his eye-holes--and he gestured at the chairs. "Please, sit."

We sat.

"First of all, we're not a bounty hunter's guild. Okay? We don't do that. We're a missing person's guild. Do you understand? We find people. Okay? We find people, and we bring them back." He thrust his fat finger at the paper to drive the point. "Bring her back alive. We want her alive. Okay?"

"If we find her," I said.

"If you find her, yes."

I stared. They stared back.

"Where the hell is she?"

The squirrel and badger chuckled. The orca fanned out his palms at them in a sort of gesture that said, "this guy's a fucking idiot," and they broke into laughter. The orca turned back to me. "Well, now, son, if I knew that, then she wouldn't be missing, now would she?"

A recently familiar voice cut in. "She's in the Mannequin Forest." It was that screamy guy. He stomped up the far end of the table and leaned on the end chair. "THEY lack the COURAGE to go find her."

I looked back at the orca.

He scoffed and shook his head. "Apparently, she's in Mannequin Forest."

"Where is Mannequin Forest," I asked.

"Fucking ask around, okay? We're busy here, there's maps everywhere, nobody doesn't know where goddamn Mannequin Forest is." He gestured at the squirrel and badger again, and they laughed.

Vil asked, "Who paid for the bounty?"

"It's not a bounty, son," Orca said again. "Okay? I need you to get that through your little brain. Not a bounty. Okay? And besides that--"

Badger answered, "She's an old friend of ours."

Orca pointed at Badger threateningly, then he continued. "Redrim had lost her memories of us. It's unfortunate, but time moves on, okay? Friend or not, I can't just send my guys to Mannequin Forest and hope they come back with her, you get it? I can't risk several lives for the sake of one, okay?"

I asked, "And you won't tell me where this forest is?"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"I could, yes, but a lot of good it'll do since I'm not giving you a map, and you apparently weren't smart enough to buy one."

I scoffed. "This is stupid. I'm wasting my time." I stood up to leave, and Vil followed.

"We'll pay fifty thousand," he said.

Vil and I paused, glanced at one another, then turned back to him. He still sat in his chair, arms crossed, smug confident smile. "You bring her back here alive, and I will pay you 50 grand."

"Deal," I said.

We turned, they watched, and we left in silence.

The white and red masked screamy guy followed us outside. "Here," he said. "Take this." He handed over a small potion. It was a swirling mix of brown foam and black syrup. "Do NOT drink it. It's for HER. If you find her, have her drink it."

I took the mystery potion, already decided to drink the shit. "What is it?"

He nodded and looked around. "It's a memory potion. It's to help jog her MEMORIES. If she remembers who she is, she'll be more likely to return without a fight."

"Without a fight," I echoed. This was, of course, another bullshit quest that would result in another bullshit epic fight that would be ultimately unnecessary if everyone just, you know, communicated like adults, but here we are.

White-and-Red-Mask said, "Yeah," and he nodded, turned, and walked away.

Vil sighed. "I need to pick up a few things for the lounge. I assume you'll ask about the forest?"

"Yep."

"I'll be sure to prepare for a fight," he said, bored and uninterested as he was at everything.

"Yep."

Together we went back in town. Here, the rebels and pirates were still milling about, somehow the pirates were already drunk in the streets, and sure enough, the captain was, too, and now they were trying to sing together.

Vil and I split up for the next half hour. He needed things for the ship, and I needed to ask around about this mysterious Redrim woman. I went to the musty taverns with the dirty floors and asked the patrons and the barkeeps--nothing--and then the little restaurant that sold seafood platters that sizzled fresh and somehow smelled off--also nothing--and then to the laundromat--nothing--and the shipwrights--nope--and finally, a fisherman on the pier.

While he was dressed in a dirty long coat and rags, this guy wasn't just some ordinary fisherman. He was--spoken by the most heterosexual man I know (me)--the pinnacle of man.

A strong jaw. A majestic blond beard. Shining blue eyes that spoke compassion and empathy, but with an expression that could alone kill a lesser man. He had, strangely enough, a tan line that ran halfway down his face as if he, too, was a mask wearer. But only, like, on half his face.

"Sit," the majestic fisherman demanded.

I didn't even have time to parse the words before my body did so. What the hell was wrong with me? It might've been a side effect of that masochist spell still lingering. I sat beside the fisherman as he watched his line. The waters were calm, and his cork stared up at him patiently.

"Yes," said the majestic fisherman. "I know of what you seek." His voice was a booming rumble. The bass spoke through me, through the boards of the pier, down the length of the shafts, into the water, and maybe even into the fish he aimed to catch. "What you search for lies there. On Dick Island."

Wait, what?

"Dick Island?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I know for what you seek, and what you seek hides on Dick Island."

"Dick Island."

"Yes. Dick Island." He twisted in his seat and pointed to a tiny little island right off the coast. It was packed with a forest so thick I couldn't see much deeper than a few trees. "There. That old chode-shaped island is home to a mythical land called the Mannequin Forest. I've seen many a young man such as you seek the treasures therein, only to never return from the darkness of that place."

Great. It sounded like a forest-type dungeon, but this time filled with degenerate perversion. Knowing my luck with perverts, this was shaping up to be a bad idea.

The majestic fisherman stared into me. He was... huge. A real big guy. Muscular, mighty, powerful. And even sitting down, I knew that if he stood beside me, he might even be taller--and I was tall as fuck.

"Mannequin Forest--" Jessie had been crossing the pier into the town as she heard it, and she paused. "With the human-shaped trees?"

"Yes," said the strange fisherman, still staring at me. "What you seek lies there. Hidden within the labyrinth of that dark, mysterious Manniquin Forest."

Jessie turned on her heels and back to the ship.

"Hey," I called after. "Wanna come with us to--"

"Nope."

The recycler guards and the trash squire saluted her as she crossed the gangplank. She didn't even acknowledge Vil, who was coming back off the ship.

"Well, Redrim?" he said. "Do you have a lead?"

"The Mannequin Forest." I pointed at the islet that the old man did. From our spot, it looked roughly a kilometer away and right off the shore. If the tide were low enough, we'd likely be able to just walk right over to it.

I pulled out my binoculars--always keep a spare--and looked down. Sure enough, the tree trunks seemed black as night and vaguely human-shaped. To my delight, there was a thin tendril of smoke rising from within the forest. A carelessly made campfire.

Vil spotted it, too. "You sure about this, Redrim? I'm getting bad vibes, and so far, my vibes have always been right."

"It'll be fine," I said. "If worse comes to worst, we'll call the bridge and have the ship level the islet with artillery fire. Easy! What's the worse that could happen?"