Tired Of Death

Veronica sheathed his blade and sniffed. "Better," he said. He nodded at Riot. "Mount up, let's get out of this hole and to the real Real city."

The thief nodded and climbed upon the horse they had acquired for her earlier. The two spurred their steeds on, galloping through the town and out into the fields surrounding it, passing several startled travellers on the way.

"Tell me again about this Harry the Horrible," Veronica asked after a while, apparently unperturbed by the speed of travel.

"Harold the Hedonistic," corrected Riot, shouting to be heard over the wind of their passage. "He came to power in a bloody coup some years ago. "He killed the old king, Vilcent the Very Nice, and has ruled with a bloodied iron fist since, encouraging the dark forces and suppressing good."

"Went on a killing spree did he? Slaughtered all the white wizards and tortured the heroes no doubt," said Veronica, grinning to himself. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

"Well yes, of course he did that too, but mainly he set up Enterprise zones promoting the cause of Darkness. Necromancers can get a year tax free, and the undead license is very reasonable. Very modern thinking Harold is. My father, Havoc the Unholy, said that he's never had so few problems recruiting dark minions to his evil gang, and he gets a yearly paladin butchering allowance. It's a thriving city now, the place to be seen in." Riot paused a moment, and then added: "As long you aren't Good of course."

"Where did he come from, this Harold? I haven't heard of him in the circles of Evil." The Anti-Paladin veered his steed, adjusting his course slightly so the nightmare ran over a small boy playing on the side of the street.

"Hey! Not children," shouted Riot, peering back to where the child's corpse lay bleeding in the gutter.

"He would have grown up to be a champion of Light," said The Violator, unperturbed. "Trust me, I can sense such things. Answer the question."

Riot scowled, but did as he said. "There's nothing to say really. He came from no-where. His background is shrouded in mystery. Some say he's the spawn of a devil who r.a.p.ed a witch, others say he's a demon in human form, cast out for doing unspeakable acts."

"Pah." The Violator sneered. "You can't be cast out of hell for doing unspeakable acts, just promoted. He's likely being sponsored by someone, and I've an idea who."

"What about you? Where did you come from?" Riot ducked under a low tree branch hanging over the road.

"Me? I came from a respectable family, nice parents and a sister who became a nun." He made a face and shook his head. "It's been a constant blight on my character. Which way?" He nodded at a fork in the road, which was getting more crowded again as they closed on the city.

Riot indicated the left one, and they steered their horses that way, slowing to a trot, and then a walk as the street became busier with traffic coming and going into Real.

"A busy place indeed," said Veronica, pushing his steed through the mass, ignoring the occasional complaint. He straightened up and flicked his cloak back, ensuring he cut the most dashing of figures.

The two forced their way through the ever thickening crowd up to the entrance, where several guards were questioning people trying to get into the city.

The Anti-Paladin dismounted smoothly and approached one of the men, who was rummaging through a farmers sack, looking for hidden contraband no doubt.

Veronica barged the farmer aside and plucked the sack out of the guards' hands, throwing it after the owner. "You!" he said to the bewildered sentry. "Tell your captain Veronica the Violator is here to see him."

Riot winced and muttered something about subtlety.

"Who the bloody 'ell are you?" asked the guard, noting the size of the Anti-Paladin and motioning at a nearby comrade to join him.

"I told you once, I am Veronica the Violator." The anti-paladin stood straight, his arms crossed, looking down his nose at the guard.

The sentry's colleague came over. "Everything alright 'ere Bert? S'going on then?"

"This bloke says 'is name is Veronica!" exclaimed Bert, emboldened now he had backup.

"Veronica? That's a farking girl's name in'it?" his friend replied, nudging the first man's elbow and winking. "You some sorta' poofta then?" He laughed.

Riot covered her eyes.

~ * ~

"I tell you what," said Dreth, raising a thin finger in the air. "I'm a fair sort of fellow," he ignored Cuthbert's snort. "How about, in exchange for this rather pathetic half sized wizard…"

"Hey, I can hear you you know," complained Frumble.

"…we offer you a truly magical sacrifice." Dreth continued. "One with real power for you to absorb. How does that sound, hmmm?"

"Mmmuuuur," said Melvin, predictably.

"Who is this worthy?" asked the translator.

Dreth beamed, making Tybalt and Emerald wince. "Why, none other than this perfectly formed red chap here!" He pointed at the devil, whose eyes went wide.

"Hey! Don't drag me into your earthly arguments!" it complained. "I'm not from this plain, and technically not even alive here." It crossed its arms and looked smug.

"Muururr murrr."

"Our glorious leader says what does not live, cannot be killed," the translator translated.

Dreth's eyes narrowed. "You're not alive," he said tapping his sword meaningfully. "Yet I'm betting I can kill you."

"Muur murrr muurr!" Melvin answered, a slightly frantic tone to his mumbles.

"Thank you for your gift, it's most suitable. The Halfling can go." The translator waved his hand, and the guards surrounding Frumble backed off.

"It won't do you any good you know," the devil sniffed, crossing his arms. "You can't kill me. Go ahead, try it."

The translator nodded at the guards, and as one they plunged their weapons forward… through the devil, who remained untouched.

"Told you," it said.

"In that case, the original…" the translator began to say, but stopped suddenly as Darkblood was hovering under his nose. Or at least where his nose would have been, had he had one.

"No. Now it's my turn," hissed Dreth.

"Wh… what are you going to do?" asked the skeleton.

"I want to negotiate with your boss here," said Dreth, pointing to Melvin.

"Very well, that will be no problem. Speak and I will…"

"No," said Dreth again. "I want to negotiate with him directly." So saying he turned, faster than the eye could follow, bringing his sword around in a neat horizontal sweep.

The assembled undead stepped forward, raising their own weapons, thinking their leader was under attack, but stopped short as another voice spoke.

"Hold! I command you!"

Everyone stopped and looked around in puzzlement.

Melvin stepped forward. The bandages around his head, specifically his mouth, flapped loose from the neat cut Dreth's sword had made. "Thank you Dreth, for freeing me from my curse. For more years than I can remember I've been gagged, unable to speak."

"Sire!" His translator stepped forward. "It's a miracle!"

"It bloody well is," said Melvin. "Guards! Take this traitor into custody! I'm fed up with him putting words in my mouth, or more specifically taking words from me."

The skeleton guard stalked forward, towards the now unemployed translator, who backed away.

"I can explain!" he said. "It's all just an unfortunate misunderstanding." He looked left and right at the approaching skeletons. "Oh bugger this!" So saying, he turned around and ran for it. Melvin's guards rattled after him in hot pursuit.

The Mummy turned to Dreth again. "Thank-you. For years now he has been 'translating' what he wishes. No one understood me when I tried to tell them."

"Why didn't you just un-gag yourself?" asked Emerald.

Melvin held his bandaged hands up. "Part of the mummy's curse it that we cannot remove our own wrappings," he said.

"Good. So I take it I'm free to go then?" Frumble said.

Melvin nodded. "Free and more. In recognition for the service done to me today, I now proclaim you honorary undead!"

The few zombies that were nearby cheered, or wheezed loudly depending upon their condition.

"Wonderful," said Frumble dryly.

"I've never been undead before," said Emerald, looking down at herself. "I don't feel any different."

"Let me try," said Tybalt, moving close and holding her. "No, feels the same to me. Perhaps we should have a more thorough examination though."

Emerald giggled.

Dreth rolled his eyes. "Make the most of it," he said to Tybalt. "In the morning you're going to take the wizard into Real, to get those supplies. The rest of us will stay here."

"I want to go too," said Emerald.

"I know, but if you do then you may get ideas about not coming back, and I've been diverted from my goal enough as it is. Plus if you stay here then I know Tybalt return."

"It's true honey bunny," said Tybalt, kissing Emeralds cheek.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said the devil, and it made gagging noises.

"Throw up all you wish," said Dreth, pleased with himself for once. "Soon I'm going to be rid of you for good."

The devil leaped up onto his shoulder and put its arms around his head. "Come now my dear Dreth, is that anyway to talk to your best buddy?" He kissed Dreth on the cheek, emulating Tybalt.

Dreth waved his hands at the thing, ineffectually. "Get off me!"

The devil, having had the last laugh, jumped to the ground again, chuckling to himself. "You won't be rid of me so easily, you'll see! You'll see!"

So saying he bounced off, to disappear into the gloom of the village formally known as Light Haven, leaving Dreth behind, scowling.