Revived- A LitRPG Adventure: Monsters, Maces and Magic, #7

REVIVED

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Monsters, Maces and Magic Book Seven

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Terry W. Ervin II

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Fueled by Tolkien’s sweat, Willy Wonka’s blood, and Clint Eastwood’s attitude.

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Minutes after being drawn into the Monsters, Maces and Magic world as their characters, the unsuspecting players fell under attack. Kim, having become the warrior monk Byeol, didn’t survive, thanks to a rampaging ogre. But the party’s quest to obtain a Revive the Dead Spell for Kim proved futile. Fortunately, rather than departing, her soul entered the party’s vacant soul gem.

Such enchanted gems are rare and valuable. Somehow word of the party’s treasure has reached Black Venom, leader of the local thieves’ guild. He offers the party a deal they can’t refuse: They get Byeol back, he gets their vacant soul gem.

If only it was that easy.

Nothing of consequence in the Monsters, Maces and Magic world is ever safe. Or easy.

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Praise for Monsters, Maces and Magic

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Ervin’s imagination is fueled by Tolkien's sweat, Willy Wonka's blood, and Clint Eastwood's attitude. A crazy mix to be certain, but a combination that makes for amazing possibilities. LitRPG Audiobook Podcast

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Exciting and hilarious! It feels like a true game with friends. Dueling Ogres Podcast

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I was pulled into the world and could see the rules of the world unfold. This really does feel like a game. A fun game that I am going to have to continue. Casia’s Corner

Revived- Monsters, Maces and Magic Book Seven

Copyright © 2022 Terry W. Ervin II

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All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

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Published by Gryphonwood Press

www.gryphonwoodpress.com

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Cover art by Drazenka Kimpel

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Edited by Melissa Bowersock

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This is a work of fiction. All characters are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Dedication

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This novel is dedicated to my supervisor while I worked in the Government Documents Department at BGSU’s library. Coleen Sam Parmer is, and will almost certainly remain, the best boss I have worked with. Recalling my direct supervisors, bosses, and managers over the years, Sam stands #1 of the 26 and counting. That says something because I’ve been fortunate to have worked under a lot of top-notch individuals.

On the job, Sam was knowledgeable, maintained high expectations, possessed insight and was someone everyone wanted to do the job for and get things right: All of the inventory, labeling, sorting, shelving, cleaning, assisting patrons, professors and administrators, and more. She knew how to connect with the variety of folks she supervised.

Long after I graduated and moved on—decades now—we’ve managed to stay in contact. She reads most of my books so, Sam, this is one of my ways of saying thanks. Thanks not only for hiring me for a job that helped pay rent and for college classes, but for the professional example you set and for the memories (including on the softball field), and becoming a life-long friend.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Epilogue

Treasure Map

Books by Terry W. Ervin II

About the Author

Acknowledgements

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First, I would like to thank Kathy, my wife, and Genevieve and Mira, my daughters, for their patience and understanding. They allowed me the countless hours to imagine, plot, research, write, revise and edit—all things necessary to complete Monsters, Maces and Magic: Revived.

Second, I would like to thank my family, friends, co-workers, and the members of Flankers, all of whom encouraged, questioned, and prodded me along to finish Revived.

Third, I’d like to thank the folks at Gryphonwood Press, especially Melissa Bowersock for her editing skills and David Wood for not only believing enough in Flank Hawk (my first novel) to publish it, but for his continued insight and advice, and providing an avenue for me to reach readers, offering them the tales I want to share.

Fourth, I want to thank Drazenka Kimpel for applying her artistic talent, practiced skill, and attention to detail in creating the cover art.

Fifth, Justin Moon, for naming a character in the novel. It was fun and interesting to work with Justin while discovering the added dimension Duurjootga, the half-ogre NPC, brought to the story. Justin was selected from among the members of Flankers and the readers who receive my newsletter.

That leaves you, the reader. You are the primary reason I wrote Monsters, Maces and Magic: Revived. Thank you for choosing my fantasy novel from the hundreds of thousands available. I truly hope you enjoy the tale. With that in mind, don’t hesitate to post a review or send an email to let me know your thoughts. You can learn more about my works at www.ervin-author.com, and consider using the link there to receive my newsletter.

Prologue

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Josiah the barber, and lay healer, and Higslaff, the pawnshop owner, were friends. Well, more like long-time acquaintances who frequently referred business to each other and lunched together on a regular basis. In truth, Josiah’s name was actually Thomas, an RPG player trapped in his player character’s body in the Monsters, Maces and Magic game world. He’d been there, surviving, for eighteen years. It’d been so long since entering the RPG world, he thought of himself as Josiah. To him, Higslaff was a prominent NPC in Three Hills City, the central city in the Secrets of the Dark Heart Swamp, a sanctioned Monsters, Maces and Magic game module.

Josiah now was middle aged. Moderately tall, lean and lanky, Josiah preferred wearing brown. All his trousers and tunics were various shades of it. His work aprons were tan and stained, mostly from blood. Not from battle or knife fights. He wore an apron when cutting hair or pulling teeth. Josiah began as a thief and reached second-rank while in the game world but gave up advancing in that class. Subsequently he’d reached fifth-rank as a lay healer. After the loss of his party members, also trapped in the game world, Josiah tried adventuring with henchmen and other nonplayer characters. He preferred life, even a life in the RPG world, which was why he gave up being a thief, trained as a lay healer and blended in with the game world’s NPCs.

Both Josiah and Higslaff were members of the local thieves’ guild. The shared lunch time allowed them to exchange news and gossip, and ponder their occasional orders from the Guild Master, Black Venom.

On this day a guild operative arrived early, informing Josiah that he was to relay a request from the Guild Master to Higslaff. He was to do it without drawing attention. The fact that the low-level operative travelled the tunnel system beneath the streets of Three Hills stressed the point about not drawing attention. There were advantages and disadvantages to having a trapdoor in his shop that opened into one of the tunnels.

Lunch tomorrow afternoon would be the perfect venue to tell Higslaff of the meeting with the Guild Master. Black Venom requested that it occur in the barber shop tomorrow evening. Really, the request was an order—or demand—since ignoring requests carried harsh consequences. Death, and even suffering beyond death, wasn’t outside the bounds of consequence.

Such was to be expected. The Monsters, Maces and Magic RPG world was harsh, unforgiving, and dangerous. Considering that, Josiah felt Black Venom’s expectations weren’t out of line. The Guild Master was an undead creature, and evil. But he was efficient and effective as the leader of a thieves’ guild. He wasn’t a micro manager, and gave leeway to competent guild members with proven loyalty.

Both Josiah, an important but low-ranking guild operative, and Higslaff, a more prominent and influential member, fell into the proven and loyal category. Incompetent members normally ended up dead or in Duke Huelmer’s dungeon. Disloyal? That was a synonym for deceased—or soon to be—after a healthy dose of pain and suffering.

Josiah couldn’t argue with Black Venom’s methods. They worked. Well enough that the Three Hills City’s thieves’ guild now held the upper hand over the rival guild from Riven Rock. The Riven Rock guild moved to takeover Black Venom’s territory, which initiated a guild war.

Josiah’s instructions were to relay to Higslaff that Black Venom intended to meet tomorrow night with the pawnshop owner. The topic of discussion? What’s known about the adventuring party led by the warrior druid, Lysine.

As Josiah went to his shop’s door to open for business, his mind conjured the image of the abnormally tall, extremely voluptuous and extraordinarily beautiful elf that was a member of Lysine’s party. The barber’s faint smile shifted to a frown, wondering if Black Venom’s interest might lead to Marigold’s death, along with the rest of the party.

Chapter 1

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Dammit, Stephi cursed. These rocks are tearing my blouse to ribbons.

To Glenn’s ears it came out as half curse, half whine. The extremely tall and cartoonishly buxom elf was his second-best friend in the Monsters, Maces and Magic RPG world he, and the rest of his party, were trapped in as their characters. As a gnome, Glenn felt right at home in the underground tunnel. Being the adventuring party’s healer, and least effective with a weapon, he was bringing up the procession’s rear.

Kirby, his best friend and the party’s thief, was first in the party’s subterranean procession. Kirby’s Agility and half-goblin eyesight made him the best choice to lead. Ron, a half-elf warrior druid and the party’s leader, crawled behind Kirby through the dry tunnel, supposedly dug by a giant cave toad. Dry and hardened as the dirt walls and floor were, Glenn’s gnomish nose sensed a dampness in the air.

Cinder, Glenn’s one and only date as a gnome, told him and Kirby about her father serving as an animal handler for an adventuring party. She’d said there was supposed to be a giant cave toad in the tunnel, but the adventuring party never came back out. After a day of waiting, her father returned to Three Hills City and found a job in Duke Huelmer’s stables, shoveling horse manure.

Cinder had teased Glenn at the time, saying the giant toad could swallow a dwarf, or a gnome, whole. The tunnel was big enough for him to maneuver through easily but not for Stephi, or the party’s main warrior, Derek.

The big warrior followed Ron, and made it around the hairpin turn, between two rocks imbedded in the solid dirt walls. Derek carried Glenn’s heirloom item, an everlast candle, since his human eyes couldn’t see in the dark at all. Actually, Glenn couldn’t see in absolute darkness, but his gnomish eyes had excellent low-light vision. Better than Stephi’s and Ron’s, but not quite as good as Kirby’s.

At the moment Glenn waited a few feet behind Stephi’s two-inch heeled boots while she complained and maneuvered. The elf maiden was the party’s magic user. She was second-rank, or level, and had memorized a Mystic Missile and a Slumber Spell, based on Ron’s recommendation.

Suck in your boobs and come on, Derek growled. Derek was a powerful warrior, built like a blond-haired NFL middle linebacker. His voice was muffled, but Glenn could hear the angry frustration.

That’s not how boobs work, Kalgore.

The Monsters, Maces and Magic world was based on a tabletop role-playing game along the lines of Dungeons & Dragons. Glenn had played D&D a few times back when he was in junior high. While that gave him some insight, the game systems had numerous differences. Some subtle, others far less than subtle.

Although it’d only been several months in the game world, it seemed like ages ago when Glenn, Stephi and Kim attended the college’s game club meeting to gather information for a Sociology 102 paper. They were supposed to experience a group culture different from what they were used to, and write about it. Attending a game club meeting was supposed to be an easy way to gather content. Stephi’d latched onto Kirby, a junior high kid, and egged him on to gather reaction content for her paper. The nerdy kid helped her roll up her character, Marigold. That was how she ended up with a stunning 19.5 Appearance score—a total lucky roll of the dice—and a figure that would make any silicone-filled porn star jealous. That’s how you get an extremely tall, long-haired elf maiden with a body more top-heavy than Jessica Rabbit. Exactly what one might expect when a college sophomore playfully flirts with a junior high boy, encouraging him, to obtain illustrative content.

The game world had a lot of odd rules, besides magic and mythical creatures such as goblins, manticores and ogres. One weird rule was that it didn’t matter if Glenn thought of the party members by their real-world names. Whenever he, or any of the other party members, spoke their real names, they always came out as their characters’ names. So, Glenn was Jax, Kirby was Gurk, Stephi was Marigold, Ron was Lysine and Derek was Kalgore.

Kirby had confided in Glenn that he’d stopped thinking of everyone by their real names a while ago. Glenn hadn’t yet. Maybe it was weird, or he was just clinging to the hope that they’d get home. That was what they were adventuring for: trying to get treasure. And gain experience points to help them go up ranks, and improve their chances of survival.

The Monsters, Maces and Magic world was a dangerous place. Kim, Stephi’s sorority sister, died within ten minutes after getting sucked into the world by the creepy game moderator. An ogre slew her while the party battled the huge brute.

They’d managed to get a Revive the Dead Spell from the Church of Apollo, but Kim failed her System Shock Roll, and her character, Byeol, remained dead. Luckily, during the adventure to retrieve an enchanted item for the Apollo Church—payment for the high-rank Revive the Dead Spell—Stephi found a gem beneath a skull in the subterranean complex. It turned out to be a Soul Gem. Rather than go to wherever souls went in the RPG world, Kim’s soul entered the Soul Gem.

So, Kim technically wasn’t completely dead, although her character’s body was buried by a willow tree along the river located near Three Hills City. A bonus was that the enchanted gem provided Stephi with Kim’s Hit Points, and allowed Stephi to channel Kim’s warrior monk skills. The downside was that when Stephi did, she gained only a fraction of any potential experience points.

And that all just scratched the tip of the weird, and dangerously violent, RPG world.

Come on, Derek growled again.

Stephi grunted and slithered a few inches forward. I don’t want to tear my blouse up any more than it is.

Derek replied, Then take it off.

Oh, Stephi said, you’d love that.

Almost as much as I enjoyed taking off my pauldrons and breastplate.

Derek had removed those parts of his armor and left them in the cave two turns back.

The pauldrons weren’t ornate or fancy. They reminded Glenn of a football player’s shoulder pads. Derek still wore chain mail but, without all of his equipment, his Armor Class Rating had decreased.

Refrain from unnecessary conversation, Ron admonished. It significantly reduces any potential element of surprise we might achieve. He’d already nixed Derek’s suggestion that the gnome should drag the breastplate and pauldrons behind him as being too loud.

It seemed like every adventure, Stephi’s clothing somehow got shredded or destroyed. Ron attributed it to patterns that often formed in adventuring campaigns. Kirby thought it was the influence of the creepy GM that trapped them in what Ron called an aberrant concurrent world. Derek thought Stephi did it so she had something to complain about while being a tease. Glenn thought it was just bad luck. Part of the continuation of the bad luck that followed them into the game world.

Glenn heard Stephi exhale and observed her squirming ahead, around the rocky turn. He also heard another tearing of fabric.

Pick up that button for me, would you, Jax?

Chapter 2

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Derek used Glenn’s everlast candle to light a torch. He then gave the gnome back his heirloom item and handed the torch to the tall elf.

Stephi didn’t complain. Although she carried a rapier for a weapon, she used the same pathetic Combat Table that Glenn did. She could cast spells while holding the torch, and it was important that the party’s best fighter be able to use his sword and shield unhindered.

Stephi’s blouse sported two large vertical tears and was missing three buttons. Glenn had two of them in his pocket. Her bra, however, appeared to have survived the cave crawl intact. Despite the dirt and smudged mud stains on clothes and skin, the elf maiden’s beauty shone through. Mud didn’t even seem to cling to her wavy black hair tied back into a ponytail. Glenn sometimes wondered why her long hair never got caught or tangled. Probably influenced by her abnormally high Appearance Score.

Everyone else in the party looked like kids who’d spent the afternoon playing at a muddy construction site. For some reason Kirby, as a half-goblin, wore it best.

The party emerged in a damp cave with a mud-filled floor. The angled ceiling looked like a wet slab of rock leaning upward at a forty-degree angle. At least they could stand, and walk two abreast, for now. The torch’s flickering light didn’t illuminate more than forty feet ahead. The flame’s brightness ruined Glenn’s low-light vision.

Glenn stepped past Stephi. He reached up and tapped Derek on the bicep.

What now, gnome? the big warrior asked in a hushed voice.

Glenn whispered, Want me to go back and get your armor?

Ron drew his short sword from its scabbard. He’d left his preferred weapon, his spear, back with Derek’s armor.

Ron was sturdy but not as strong as Derek. He’d retained his African American visage, with his hair cut short. His half-elf heritage did show in the slightly pointed tip atop each of his ears. The warrior druid wore ringmail armor, bronze rings sewn into a thick leather shirt. Two of the rings were steel, and magical. They improved the protection, or Armor Class, the ringmail provided.

The situation appears intent on disallowing that opportunity, Ron said. Listen.

Everyone went silent. Glenn held his breath.

Plop-splash. Plop-splash.

Jax, Kirby said. His croaky, half-goblin voice held an edge of excitement. Water’s ahead. Open your candle and stick it on a rock near the exit in case the torch gets doused. Kirby’s yellow eyes caught the light. Like all half-goblins, his nose was long and pointed and his skin held a muddy complexion. His hair always appeared to be a messy mop, even after he combed it.

Do it, gnome, Derek said. Ain’t nobody down here gonna steal it.

Glenn hesitated, biting his lip. Combat was coming. Being a gnome, he had a bulbus nose, skin the tone of weak tea, muttonchop side burns, and a stocky build. The sideburns were sort of his choice. The fact that he was barely over four feet tall wasn’t his choice—technically. When rolling up characters, he opted for a gnome, to boost the low wisdom score he’d rolled. At least he’d listed the top end of gnome height. Still, he was about a foot shorter than Kirby, a foot and a half shorter than Ron, about two feet shorter than Derek, and two and a half feet shorter than Stephi. In combat, size made a difference. Derek might be less belligerent if he lacked a third of his height.

Not unless we all get killed, Kirby said. He quickly added, ’Course, then it wouldn’t be stealing.

It’ll serve us right, Stephi said, for listening to Jax’s stupid girlfriend.

Cinder’s not my girlfriend, Glenn protested. They’d only been on one date in the Monsters, Maces and Magic world, and that was because Kirby needed someone to double date with him and Patti. That date ended in all four getting jumped while walking home. Like everywhere else, even the nighttime streets of Three Hills City held danger.

He stretched his arm up, standing on his booted toes to reach a ledge to place his everlast candle. This world sucks.

Oh yeah, dude, Kirby said. More than you know.

A cascade of plop-splashes approached. Glenn spun around to face the darkness beyond the torch’s reach. Whatever creatures were making the watery noise were getting close.

Glenn moved back and stood next to the towering elf as she held the torch high, within inches of the sloped ceiling. He unslung his shield and hefted his cudgel. Ahead of him, Derek stood with long sword ready, and spiked shield held before him. Ron gripped his short sword in his right hand, a silver dagger with his left. Kirby slipped to the right until he reached where the angled ceiling merged into the muddy floor. He crouched, ready, cutlass held low and a dart from his bandoleer cocked back, ready to throw. Torchlight glinted off the half-goblin’s yellow eyes.

The plop-splashes became splats, like car tires being tossed into shallow mudpuddles. And then the source of the noise emerged from the darkness. At least a dozen giant cave toads.

Chapter 3

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They came in an array of sizes. The two smallest were no bigger than cocker spaniels while the largest was the size of a full-grown steer. Their skin was mottled gray and looked tough as leather. Their bulbous black eyes reflected no light. And they had teeth that resembled shards of flint.

Glenn gulped. What kind of amphibian had jagged, flesh-rending teeth? He crouched behind his shield and repositioned himself in front of Stephi. Of course, giant cave toads in the Monsters, Maces and Magic RPG world were, like, fifty-percent mouth, and had teeth. Why was he surprised?

Looks like Papa Toad’s been ruttin’ busy, Derek said.

Marigold, Ron began, but it wasn’t necessary. She’d already begun the words to cast her Slumber Spell.

When the nearest toad was twenty feet away Stephi’s spell went off. Glenn couldn’t recall the first-rank spell’s parameters. His mind was too focused on what was coming at him and his party. He remembered it was an area of effect spell, and that it involved her level and a die roll for the number, and that four hit-die creatures might not be affected. He maintained hope of success. He’d seen her spell drop a charging war horse.

Five of the toads simply stopped. Their eyes closed, Stephi’s spell sending them into a deep, enchanted sleep. To Glenn’s quick count, that left seven—seven of the biggest ones.

Ron stepped forward and hacked with his short sword. It glanced off the hide of the second-largest—Momma Toad. The toad opened its maw and bit at the warrior druid. Ron managed to sidestep the counter attack. Distracted, the warrior druid didn’t see Papa Junior come at him from the side. He suffered a nasty bite to the hip as a result.

Kirby hurled his dart and then dodged left. The dart’s minor wound and thief’s quick maneuver confused Big Sister Toad, allowing him to get behind her. Next round he might get a Stealth Attack.

Derek deflected one of the little kid toads with his shield while slashing Papa with his long sword, scoring a deep cut. The determined creature leapt past the big warrior, right toward his target—the tasty-looking gnome.

The jagged-toothed maw gaped wide open and bit at Glenn. Realizing his shield was too small to make a difference, the gnome healer rolled to his right and came back to his feet, cudgel cocked back and ready. To his surprise he was met by a wet-sticky tongue that smacked into his tunic and tugged him back toward Papa Toad’s open jaws.

Ron was still battling two of the overgrown amphibians while Derek slew one of the smaller ones leaping at him. Kirby must’ve failed in his Stealth Attack because he was standing face to face with Big Sister Toad and trying to get through her thick hide with his cutlass.

Stephi yelled, Jax! as the Papa Toad got initiative and drew her gnome friend into its gaping maw.

Glenn shouted, Help, as he jammed his too small round shield forward, hoping to jam it into the toad’s throat. Just before everything went dark around the gnome healer, a baseball-size, pink Mystic Missile shot into Papa Toad’s cheek while Derek cursed, Dammit, gnome!

Glenn felt the moist sides of the toad’s mouth and throat press close around him as it tried to swallow its struggling prey. The only good thing was that, since it was trying to gulp down the gnome, it didn’t bite into him with its jagged teeth.

Glenn’s extended shield maneuver delayed his demise, at least for one round of combat, but he felt the cave toad’s gullet contracting, trying to press the air and the fight out if its intended meal. Glenn could still kick his booted feet.

In the back of his mind, Glenn wondered if he was making some sort of dice Saving Throw or something, since he wasn’t dead yet. He felt his body bounce and spin, like he was stuck upside down in the padded cart of some cheap, spinning carnival ride.

Glenn held his breath and struggled to extend his right elbow and leverage his cudgel, hoping Derek or Ron managed to kill Papa Toad before it managed to kill him. A dagger or short sword would’ve been far handier at the moment than a blunt club.

Something or someone must’ve latched onto one of his booted feet as he felt a tug that threatened to hyper extend his knee. Just after that, the sensation of a half dozen pocket knives piercing his thighs said Papa Toad had bitten down, unwilling to give up his meal.

At the moment the loss of Hit Points wasn’t Glenn’s concern. He was a third-rank healer with forty Hit Points. But Hit Points didn’t matter if you suffocated. Each round he was out of breath, Glenn thought, he’d have to make a Save vs. Death Struggle—or something like that. And his lungs were bursting to release his breath and suck in fresh air. Unfortunately, there wasn’t likely to be anything breathable inside the cave toad’s gullet.

He heard muffled shouting, like he was a kid in a locked spinning closet under a pile of heavy blankets. Whoever had hold of his boot lost their grip.

Glenn began bouncing, now feeling like a rabbit crammed inside a basketball being dribbled down court.

Then everything came to a jarring halt. The jaws loosened their grip and the throat muscles fell slack. Glenn released his shield and cudgel and began pushing his way out. A firm hand gripped his trousers at the belt and yanked him free.

Glenn saw distant torchlight as he hung upside down in Derek’s grip. Then the big warrior dropped him head first into the muddy water.

Glenn managed to pull his face out of the mud and take in a deep breath, just in time to see Derek skewer a cave toad the size of a German Shepard. Sprawled dead next to the big warrior was Papa Toad, showing several deep sword wounds.

C’mon, gnome. Stop screwing around, Derek growled, turning and stomping back through the ankle-deep water toward the torchlight. Your buddy the thief ain’t doing so good, and I think Marigold got one of her boobs bit or something.

Getting half-eaten by a giant toad wasn’t screwing around. Derek was a jerk, but he’d killed the giant toad and saved Glenn from becoming a gnome snack. Plus, Glenn saw Stephi and Ron were still fighting. She was thrusting with her rapier and Ron hacked with his short sword, tag-teaming the remaining cave toad. Beyond them, and the scattered cave toad corpses, Kirby leaned against the tunnel’s stone wall, clutching his midsection.

Glenn looked back toward the dead Papa Cave Toad that had half-swallowed his cudgel and shield. He shook his head and ran to catch up with Derek. The party needed his healing more than his weapons. After Glenn healed Kirby, Derek could use his magical sword to slice open Papa Toad and retrieve the cudgel and shield.

Glenn had his first opportunity to use his second-rank healing spell, a Lesser Healing Draw Spell. Unlike his first-rank Minor Heal Draw Spell, where it was a one for one Hit Point transfer and healing, he could now heal at one and a quarter Hit Points for every point of damage he drew upon himself. Kirby’d been left with only one Hit Point, which meant Glenn healed thirteen points of damage at the cost of eleven. The game rules apparently always rounded down any fraction. Ron confirmed it, based upon his recollection of the spell’s description in the Monsters, Maces and Magic Player’s Guide. After healing his four points of personal damage, at a two for one rate, the gnome healer had twenty-seven of his forty Hit Points left to heal others. At least until the next sunrise, when all of his spell casting abilities reset. All because his Alignment was Neutral Gray. All Gray and White Alignments—translated as Neutral and Good—reset at sunrise. Black, or Evil, reset at sunset.

What if he was on an airplane, flying toward the sunrise? Would he get his Spells sooner? The gnome healer shook his head, and put the thought aside. Kirby was already up and looking around. The multitude of cave toad bites transferred to Glenn’s body through his spell were closing up.

Thanks, dude, Kirby said, patting his friend on the shoulder. I’ll stand watch and sorta look around. See if there’s gonna be any treasure.

Glenn, sitting against the wall, got to his feet and looked around too, trying to see who needed healing next.

Ron, a warrior druid, had some healing spells through his druid character class. But the Minor Cure Spells weren’t nearly as potent as Glenn’s, healing only 1D4 Hit Points each. As a second-rank druid, with his Wisdom Bonus, Ron had three of those available. He had other spells to choose from each sunrise, like Detect Enchantment or Minor Heat Resistance, but he normally opted for healing spells. It’s what the party most often needed.

Glenn was no longer a total noob. He was caching on to how things worked in the RPG world. Multiple life and death experiences tended to ensure that occurred.

Speaking of multiple RPG experiences, the frustrated look on Stephi’s face suggested something more than a bite to the boob was bothering her. If Derek was even right. Her long-fingered elven hands were fiddling around the shoulder beneath her tattered blouse.

The gnome healer asked, Did one of the giant toads bite you in the... He started to say boob then thought better of it. Chest?

No, she replied sharply, but her ire wasn’t directed at Glenn. She glared at the big warrior cutting open the Papa Toad to retrieve Glenn’s equipment.

Stephi huffed and shook her head, then explained to Glenn, I was trying to pull you out of that big, monster-Muppet frog’s mouth when one of the baby monster-Muppet frogs jumped up and bit my shoulder. The tall elf maiden threw her hands up in frustration, letting her undergarment’s right cup half sag through one of the vertical tears in her mud-stained blouse. The little monster’s teeth went right through my bra’s shoulder strap. She tugged the broken strap back up. Whoever heard of frogs with teeth?

"That’s what I thought, Glenn said, not really knowing what had happened until she explained it. Despite the fact that his friend needed empathy more than his ignorance, Glenn almost corrected her, saying, Toads weren’t the same thing as frogs." But, at that moment, he didn’t want to sound like Ron. That wouldn’t settle his friend’s frustration. Sure, he’d nearly been swallowed whole, but that type of thing seemed par for the course in the RPG world.

Glenn smiled up at Stephi. Thanks.

She looked down at her friend, parts of his hair sticking up, slicked with slimy toad saliva.

Guess you and everyone else is gonna get another peep show. She rolled her eyes. At least that leering animal handler didn’t come with us.

You need any healing? Glenn asked. He was pretty sure she didn’t, but it never hurt to ask.

I did a little, she said, but Lysine got me first. She rubbed him on the top of his head playfully. Thanks. Then she pulled back her hand, and looked around for a place to wipe the sticky saliva off.

Glenn proffered his arm so she could use his sleeve, then noticed it was slick with saliva, too. His gnome nose had temporarily gotten used to its salt-tangy odor.

She hadn’t brought a cloak. It was too hot. And in a damp tunnel, it wouldn’t have worked anyway.

You’ve got another one back at the Glade House, Glenn said, watching her wipe her hand on her pantleg. Right?

What, brassier or blouse?

Both.

Stephi nodded. Somehow, I’m going to get a Mending Spell, like Lysine mentioned.

Instead of a Slumber or Mystic Missile Spell?

No, she said. For when we’re in town and it’s safe.

Town’s never safe, Glenn grumbled.

Okay, sort of safe. I can fix my own clothes instead of paying to get them sewn up all the time. She glanced over at the warrior druid standing in ankle deep water, consulting with Kirby. If it saves coins in the long run, he’ll support it.

Derek came splashing back toward Glenn and Stephi. He tossed Glenn’s cudgel and shield on the ground at Glenn’s feet. Quit gossiping with the elf, gnome, and heal her so you can get to work.

Lysine already healed me, Stephi said.

Glenn looked around. Get to work, doing what?

The big warrior shook his head. Helping search for any treasure in this Cave Toad Lair.

Oh, Stephi said. Is there probably, like, a treasure chest?

Not likely in this crap-hole dungeon. He flicked his head toward the water and darkness. There’s a big pile of toad shit on the other side of the pond. Anything of value that came in here probably got ate and crapped out.

"A pile, like in that dinosaur movie, Jurassic Park? Stephi let go of her strap and put her hands on her hips. Her brassiere’s cup sagged again. I’m not digging around in any frog poop pile, looking for copper coins."

For an instant Derek’s eyes dropped to the elven magic user’s partially exposed chest. Marigold, don’t waste your peep show on me. He laughed. Even if we were going to dig through that shit pile by hand, those big puppies’d get in the way.

The big warrior tossed his helmet to Glenn and drew his sword. C’mon, gnome. He signaled for Glenn to follow as he turned. Lysine says me and him are gonna slice up the pile. He slowed and waited for the healer to catch up. You’re going to haul water to soften the shit and help the thief sift for coins and gems.

Over his shoulder, Derek said, You get to stand watch, Marigold. And check with your bird to see if there’s anything going on topside.

Stephi snapped back, His name’s Petie.

As they were sloshing through the water, Derek looked down at Glenn and said, She forgot I can’t see worth a crap in here—like it woulda made a difference.

Glenn looked around. The candle and torchlight were plenty for him. But if he were his real self, he’d see more flickering shadows than anything else.

Then, just above a whisper, Derek said, If you ain’t figured it out yet, Jax, she’s a tease. Don’t let her manipulate you.

Glenn wasn’t sure if Derek was saying that to convince himself because, huge breasts or not, she still had a 19.5 Appearance Score. Or if he was trying to impart advice. Glenn scratched his left sideburn. It wasn’t often Derek called him by name.

You know, Glenn said just loud enough so that the big warrior could hear him, she’s an elf and probably heard what you said. Derek was a veteran Monsters, Maces and Magic player and knew elven hearing was hyper-keen. Or maybe he forgot?

The big warrior rolled his eyes before resting his sword on his shoulder and shaking his head.

Glenn bit his lip, trying to figure what motivated Derek to say what he did.

The gnome healer’s thoughts didn’t remain on that mystery long. As he and Derek made a dogleg turn, the fetid odor of the expansive, three-foot high dung pile assaulted