Any system of morals can be twisted to suit whatever you want. So what’s the point? Self justification? Why bother? Your time is better spent wondering why you want stuff anyway.

* Ignatius

1 Hour Later (Darkhome Time) - Copycat - The Echo Chamber

“We strike at dawn.” says Maple. “Actually, 9:30 is probably plenty early. I want to be well rested.”

“Why don’t we just stroll in at noon?”

“Honestly, I never know what time it is in these damn caves.” Maple says. “Do dark elves even sleep? I’m a bit hazy on their biology.”

“Who are we even striking?” I ask.

“Not sure yet. Gotta figure that out. Before dawn. Whenever that is.”

“Should you slow down on the booze?”

“Why? Are we running out?”

“No, but it may be easier to save our friends if you’re not hammered.”

“Oh, we’re past saving people. Now we’re taking the bastards down with us.”

I sigh. “Explain what happened again.”

We’re in a large, tiered, cavern of purple crystal. It’s a busy spot. Full of elves and their shadows and their plans and dreams and echoes. Apparently we’re here for reconnaissance

“Okay, the lot of us set out. Me, the lads, and a dwarf that’s immune to poison. Hither and yon, looking here and there, and don’t find shit but dark elves and fucking Ignatius. He’s got some Wreckworld bastards with him and - lo and behold - so does our dwarf. And every fucking body’s looking for you, and tempers flare, and there’s a bit of an altercation. This is how we figure out the dwarf’s immune to poison. And that the caves aren’t well ventilated. Also, we’re not immune to poison. So that caused a bit of back and forth. But you shouldn’t use a fireball in an enclosed space. Which we also figured out. So it’s smoggy, and smoky, and the shadows descend, and everything gets to rumblin’, rumblin’, and we say fuck this and get going, but when I can see I’m all alone again and we ain’t even found the kiddies.”

“Wait, you were looking for children?”

“Yeah, like I said, but instead I lost Cy and Presto.”

“Wait, you were with Cy and Presto?”

“Yes! What the fuck have I been talking about?”

“I have no idea. Goddamn, Maple. Either you gotta sober up, or I gotta start drinking.”

We run through his story a few more times until I think I get the gist. They got caught between forces from Highgarden, Darkhome, and Wreckworld - who were all looking for me - while simultaneously being hit by some natural or supernatural disaster. Running was probably a good idea. I wonder where the boys ran off to?

I’m pondering that when Ignatius’ voice booms through the cavern.

“They claim to do the most good for the most people! But what is good? How do you measure it? Who decided that trapping us here was the most good? Maybe the most good is to set us free!”

I tense and study the elvish silhouettes. Which one is Iggy? Should I blast them all?

Maple gives me a pat. “Chill. He’s not here. That’s just an echo. They circulate through the tunnels and really boom out in some caverns. Iggy’s old stuff is still loud and clear because they always get quiet to listen. It’s adorable and creepy.”

He’s right, the whole cavern has gone still. “Is this some kind of religious site?”

“No, it’s a bar.”

“What?” A young dark elf flounces up to hand me a beer. “Oh, thank you lassie.”

Maple snags a brew too. “Don’t light this place up. I like it. Don’t want the rumble to clear it out.”

We sit and listen for an indeterminate amount of time. Maple’s plan is to sift through echoes until we know what’s up. Good things come to those who wait and drink.

The echoes are a crash course on Darkhome. There’s a lot of philosophizing, covert coordination, and screaming. I learn the meeting places of secret organizations, but never what they’re meeting about. I could follow screams to an orgy or a battle, but I wouldn’t know which until I got there. I’m privy to the innermost thoughts of disturbed and transcendent strangers.

“You’re right, bud. This is a good bar.”

I never hear Presto, Cy, or gnomish children, but Iggy comes through fairly often. I get his thoughts on a variety of subjects:

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“We are trapped in a cycle of suffering, and opportunities to free ourselves are few and far between.”

“I reject the simple morality that continuation is the greatest good. I reject all morality. It’s rank self delusion.”

“Moralists are also annoying. Acting all better than you. Then changing the rules whenever it suits them. Then still acting better than you? It’s a big part of why I stab people.”

“The greatest good is for us to transcend this cyclical existence. To this I pledge myself.”

“We’ll take the prisoner to the Old Battle Chasm and transfer him to Wreckworld from there.”

“Right.” I polish off my beer. “I’m off to Battle Chasm.”

“Meh. He didn’t mention Cy or Presto. That echo could be from years ago.” Maple rubs his face. “I’ve been running around these caves for months. We need something more specific.”

“Have you been listening to these vague ass echoes? Everyone here knows everyone’s listening. They’re never gonna be specific. We only got that much because he’s leaving and doesn’t care who knows.”

Maple shakes his head. “I’m staying here. This is the best listening spot I’ve found. I’m not going to miss anything because you want to run around in circles.”

“Well that’s perfect, because you’re trashed and I wasn’t taking you anyway. Fucking gnomes, always drinking before battle.”

“You’ve been drinking too.”

“I’ve been pre-drinking. Totally different intensity.” I stand, stretch. “I’ll meet you back here.”

“Doubt it. You’re gonna get lost. Anyway, I’ll be off rescuing everyone with high quality intel.”

“Cool. Tell the barmaid where you’re going and I’ll come rescue you after you fuck it up.”

“Great. We got a plan. Or half a plan and half a backup plan. That’s roughly equivalent, or something. Go team.”

I make myself awkward around the bar til I get a couple possible locations for Old Battle Chasm. They’re not particularly good directions, but I’m a fast mover. I should be able to check them out and get back for Maple pretty quickly.

I let go of the future, forget the past, and hammer down crystal tunnels.

Elves flinch and startle as I zoom past, banking up walls to avoid pancaking them. Hmm, it’s hard to judge distances in these tunnels. I approach some silhouettes never to reach them. Others seem far away, only to end up around the next corner.

This is relevant because I’m close to a chasm, that could be considered Battle Chasm, and there’s a crowd coming up. I’d better slow well ahead of them and approach carefully.

I turn one last corner and run into a huge, angular, crack in the crystal. My clattering stop leaves me before a phalanx of heavily armed silhouettes. Dang it. I knew I was closer than I thought, but I guess I was even closer than that.

Even without light these guys are obviously from Wreckworld. The spears, kilts, and crested helmets give them away. Looks like a full cohort of a thousand battle magi. They fill the width of the chasm.

I should be running backwards. A phalanx can’t maneuver through a tunnel, and I doubt they could catch me anyway. I’ll get a few spells shot after me - probably a lot - but how many can bank around corners? Surely just a couple.

I start to back away, when I hear familiar laughter. The center of the phalanx opens to reveal a dark elf and a shadow-bound gnome standing near a crevice in the floor.

“Curses, you got here before our ambush was ready.” Ignatius shakes his head ruefully. “We were supposed to close the tunnel after you. Oh well, I guess you’re gonna get away.”

He grabs the gnome and skitters down the crevice with elvish grace. The phalanx closes again.

“Run! Save yourself!” yells Presto as he’s carried away. “Unless you can save me too, then do that instead…

I stare at the phalanx. They stare at me. It occurs that they’re the payment Iggy got for capturing me the first time. One thousand Weckworld mercenaries. That was my bounty.

A ridiculous amount. A queen’s ransom.

Let’s see if they’re worth me.

I charge them, making all of three steps before they light me up with a thousand crippling spells. The pain is overwhelming. I lose myself. When I tune back in it’s to mere agony and a trio of orcs meatshielding me. One of my girls goes down and I step forward. The pain is slightly less now that it’s spread over three of us, but I immediately duplicate to spread the damage around. My girls duplicate too, and another row of orcs appear before us, instantly duplicating as well.

Maybe we could build our own phalanx, but instead a crushing wave of orcs swamp the enemy’s center. Their phalanx folds, and the whole chasm devolves to an all out brawl.

I’m left standing bemused in the eye of the carnage. We’re not winning - the battle magi quickly switch to lethal spells - but we’re not losing either. I grab a broken spear and plummet down the crevice with orcish grace. Should I stay to deal with the mercs? Meh, I trust myself with small problems. I’ve got a gnome to save.

Landing heavily in a small cave, I spring up to face Iggy and his shadow-bound captive.

“Okay. I did not expect you to get past a thousand guys.” Iggy pulls out his rapier. “I guess we’ll do this the hard way.”

He thrusts and I parry with my broken spear, but his shadow’s blade lungs me. Gah! I pop out another orc who savagely engages Iggy’s shadow. I scramble to make a defense with my quasi-healed chest, but Iggy’s not moving, staring like he’s stunned.

“You duplicate when you’re badly hurt?” He clutches his brow. “This changes everything.”

I snort. “Did you not know why Wrecker wants me?”

“I don’t give a fuck what Wrecker wants. And I don’t give a fuck about you.”

He waves a hoard of shadows towards me. Turns and stabs the other me in the back. She dissolves, and he walks through his shadow to confront Presto. “It’s all coming back, you bastard. You stole from me!”

I struggle to escape the morass of shadows, flashing photons, rumble be damned. Presto shakes his head sadly as Ignatius looms over him. “I didn’t take anything you need.”

“Liar! I’m taking it back! I’m taking it all back!”

He grabs Presto and there’s a horrible pop as the two become one. I burst free of the shadows but I’m too late. Presto is no more. Ignatius has completely absorbed him.

“I remember! I remember everything!!”

Lightning and shadows stream wildly from him. I heft my spear, but to do what? Are Presto and Ignatius the same person now? Were they always? What the fuck is going on?

Ignatius flips the bag of holding from his shoulder, grins, and tears it asunder. A wave of books, food, and bottles slams around the cave. I’m pushed back by the sheer quantity of stuff.

Ignatius is laughing like a madman. “Don’t need this crap anymore!”

My ears pop. “No!”

A massive thunderbolt hits Presto’s library. I’m blown back. Shaking. Why? How do I save the books?

I see Path Of The Longstrider and reach for it, but I’m hit by lightning again. Again. Again. A fifth bolt is blocked by a rusty blade thrust from the fiery wreckage. Duke gets his feet under him, and squares on Ignatius.

“Cute.”

Duke gets blasted but is unbothered. He hurls his rusty blade. Iggy smiles as it flies wide, until it pins his shadow to the crystal wall. He howls as Duke spins to grab me. Frost layers us both.

“No, Duke!” I try to break his grasp. “We have to save the books! We have to save Presto! We…

We’re gone.