“Status,” said Rotgoriel, and considered his life as displayed in words and numbers.

Name: Rutger Royal

Age: 3

Jobs:

Cleric (Konol) 9, Cultist (Anjuuta) 12, Young Dragon (Stone) 12

Attributes Pools Defenses

Strength: 400 Constitution: 421 Hit Points: 821 Armor: 240

Intelligence: 83 Wisdom: 164 Sanity:247 Mental Fortitude: 240

Dexterity: 24 Agility: 59 Stamina: 83 Endurance: 75

Charisma: 76 Willpower: 398 Moxie: 474 Cool: 165

Perception: 304 Luck: 96 Fortune: 400 Fate: 31

General Skills

Brawling – Level 23

Climb – Level 4

Dodge – Level 15

Fly – Level 26

Ride – Level 1

Stealth – Level 5

Swim – Level 2

Stone Dragon Skills

Burninate – Level 20

Chomp – Level 20

Draconic Tongue – Level N/A

Dragonseye – Level 20

Earth Resistance – Level N/A

Flameborn – Level N/A

Hoarder – Level 2

Limited Equipment – Level N/A

No Thumbs – Level N/A

Sandblast – Level 5

Scaly Wings – Level N/A

Slow to Age – Level N/A

Tail Slap – Level 5

Cleric Skills

Blessing – Level N/A

Curative – Level N/A

Faith – Level N/A

Godspell:

Holy Smite – Level 10

Lesser Healing – Level 28

Party Heal – Level 1

Pray to Konol – Level 1

Shield of Divinity – Level 12

Cultist Skills

Conceal Status – Level 10

Curses – Level 10

Dark Chant – Level 20

Darkspell: Fool's Gold – Level 35

Enhance Pain – Level 10

Fevered Zeal – Level 1

First Pact – Level 1

Occult Eye – Level N/A

Servant of Darkness – Level N/A

Transfer Wounds – Level 21

Unhinged Mind – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Conjuror, Fire Elementalist, Grifter, Knight

Gear:

Assorted low-level reagents and crystals, and a dozen bits of golden furnishings and random objects

There was no denying it any more. The mirror was gone. Geebo was missing, and the mirror was gone.

It wasn't fair! He'd even marked the thing, used that Hoarder skill, and it was nowhere to be found.

The missing mirror irked him... but he forced his mind to other matters. He'd only noticed it gone when Richard had asked him where it was. His brother had some complicated plans to pass along, and wanted to make sure Rotgoriel had his memories to work with. But neither Geebo nor mirror were anywhere to be found.

Searching had turned up nothing. He wasn't in Bothernot. Livingdeadgrrl hadn't seen him leave. Agnez said that she wasn't in the habit of minding other people's servants, thankyouverymuch, and he believed her. She might be unorthodox as dragons went, but she wouldn't stoop to stealing treasure from another.

There was one upside to it; his searching flights to the south had found the army that Mayhew had promised Rich. A full three thousand troops, most either rugged human infantry or goat-mounted dwarven riders.

Cole had gone out the second he learned that his master's army was here, and Rotgoriel let him. He had more pressing concerns, because the enemy force was on the horizon, and he knew that time was just about up. The full moon would rise tomorrow. His foe would strike before then. There was no alternative.

Rotgoriel landed in the base camp, that little training area they had put up days ago for the exercises. It had turned out to be a pretty good neutral ground for what they wanted, and hidden enough from the enemy's lines that there was little danger of interference.

Wingbeats on the wind, and the tents trembled as Agnezsharron landed across the camp from him. She considered him with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

A howl on the wind, and LivingDeadGrrl flew over the cliffs, coming to ground with the lightest whisper as her furred boots brushed the snow. She looked between Rotgoriel and Agnezsharron. The green dragon scowled, but said nothing.

That scowl turned to a look of utter disgust, as the next person touched down... though perhaps “person” was being kind.

A dried skeleton, clad in finery and dripping with gems and jewelry stood on the southern point of the camp, across from LivingDeadGrrl. It leaned on a staff that was festooned with skulls, glowing flames of all colors dancing in their eye sockets, and the collar of its gold and purple velvet robe rose almost to the height of its skull in the back.

And the green name above its head read “Invictus.”

This was the name Rotgoriel had been told to watch for. This was Mayhew.

“I didn't know we would be dealing with the undead,” Agnezsharron's glare turned to Rotgoriel.

“Necessary evils,” he replied.

“I think that describes everyone here, yeah?” LivingDeadGrrl grinned, teeth providing a double row behind her skull mask. “But I'm pretty sure we don't have time to screw around.”

“The sensitive parts have been hashed out in the real world,” the skeleton spoke in a hollow voice, blue energy wisping from its mouth. “This is more for last minute questions, or concerns that you may have before we commit to the plan.”

Agnezsharron fidgeted. “You speak of a world I cannot access. I must rely upon Rotgoriel's words for my part. So yes, I do have questions for you.”

Mayhew studied her for a moment. “Impressive.”

LivingDeadGrrl shook her head. “Worrying. You an AI in disguise, Aggy?”

“I am a dragon. What are you, creature? What have you made of yourself, to reek so much of stolen blood and screaming meat?”

“Just good programming, that's all,” Mayhew concluded. “Ask your questions, then.”

“I want to make sure the plan is as we discussed,” Rotgoriel said. “Your best front-line fighters will occupy Fimble. Your cavalry will chew at their flanks. And your mages will stand ready to counter or hinder any surprises.”

The skeleton spread bony hands. “That's it in a nutshell. For my guys, anyway.”

“Just stay off the northern slopes,” LivingDeadGrrl told him. I'll put up the hungry fog there, and hide my Labeouf in and around the rocks. Nothing will make it past them on the ground, and they'll nibble on any forces that get too near. Can't help in the village, sorry, they're a little too... hungry. Feel free to kill any that get too close, they'll just make more.”

“And your job is to keep fliers in check. Maybe help out as you can,” Mayhew said, his voice whispering and rough, overshadowed by the howling wind that pulled snow from the drifts upslope. “Don't get captured. They want dragons. Let's not give them any.”

There were more details and bickering and a few concessions, but ultimately the plan was simple enough that they deemed it good.

Eventually it came to an end, and as Agnezsharron winged back to Fimble, he followed her. She slowed to let him catch up, and studied him as they went.

“I do not think much of your friends,” Agnezsharron said.

“The one with more meat on her is true. The other is troubling.”

“And if we win here, what then?”

“The one called Invictus will supposedly keep pushing forward into Bharstool. He will conquer, and bring up supply trains and reinforcements as he goes. We will help him, or fall back into Upper Derope, if his force is too weakened to get far enough.”

“And you believe that?”

“No. We must leave this place, when the time is right,” Rotgoriel confessed. “That is my brother's plan.”

“I have been set to guard this village—”

“You were set to guard your sibling's egg. The egg is gone. There is no reason to stay,” Rotgoriel said.

Her growl drifted back to him on the wind. But he kept going, regardless of the momentary flicker of fear.

WILL+1

“The council you called lied to you, you know this. They stationed you here because of the city, your sister's egg was incidental. They care not about it. There is no shame in leaving here.”

Fimble approached, but instead of landing, she tilted, let the winds push her around it in a wide arc. Rotgoriel flapped faster to keep up. He was heavier, bulkier, but he managed. She wasn't trying to lose him, and so he took heart in that and kept speaking.

“Their goal is to open the city. Your death will do it. Your heart's blood will unlock the first seal.”

“As would yours.”

“Yes, but they need me for the third seal. If they kill me too early they risk that I might not return.”

“Will you?” She didn't look at him.

“Yes. Unless I have no reason to return,” Rotgoriel said.

“I am nothing to you,” she said. “Not a friend, not a mate. You have no reason to defend my territory. Go. There is nothing for you here.”

“Very well,” Rotgoriel said. “Give me Geebo and my mirror and I will.”

“I told you before, I do not have them. Do not test me, rockling.”

“I believe you. But they are around here somewhere, I think. Find them and I will go. Until then, you cannot command me to do such a thing.”

She was silent, as she curved back toward her lair, fair above the village. Rotgoriel let her go. He'd said his piece. She would either cooperate when the time came, or she wouldn't.

He hoped she would. He really, really wanted to have another conversation about mating in two or three centuries.

And beyond that, he'd come to like her. She was the first other dragon he'd ever met, and a breath of fresh air in the stagnant foulness that the ancestors had brought to his dreams. If she'd acted like they insisted a proper dragon should, then she would have taken his hoard and kicked him out long ago.

Rotgoriel found his way to the village, seeing a red blur of color moving among the streets and angling toward it. The figure swirled back as he approached, a column of reddish wind where its legs would be if it were human. Black eyes considered him from out of a red-skinned face, and it pushed its hands together and offered a short bow. “Effendi.”

“Antonic.” This was the creature that Aunarox had made for him, from the head and heart of the tallyman. “How many of the Simurghani remain?”

The little birdlike djinni had served well during the training exercise. But since then they'd run into the small problem of coexisting in the same general area as a horde of hungry wendigos. There had been some attrition.

“Thirteen, oh dragon of destiny. An unfortunate sum, to be sure, but the war shall change that, I am most certain.” His voice was oily and deep, and every time he opened his mouth the air rippled with heat. He was a type of djinnn called an ifrit, which let him exist in the cold of Fimble without constant damage from the cold.

Rotgoriel had found him an agreeably toadying servant, though Richard couldn't stand him for some reason or the other. Still, at this stage of things, they could ill afford to scorn allies.

“We are allied with a lich,” Rotgoriel spoke. “He will move his soldiers into the village soon. Make sure there are no problems from your creatures. Or you, for that matter.”

“It shall be done.” Another bow. Yes, this was appropriate respect. Rotgoriel enjoyed it. It made Geebo's absence a little more tolerable... at least until he remembered that his friend was gone, and then the hurt came back.

“Is aught amiss, oh agreeable autarch?”

“Nothing,” Rotgoriel shook his head. “Are you powerful enough to fight?”

“I have been training long and hard to regain my skills in this new form,” Antonic glanced down at himself, and scowled. “But the body is fresh. I shall strive to slay several when the time comes, perhaps that will serve.”

“I need more strength myself,” Rotgoriel confessed. “I must have one more level, at least, to make our plan work. I must get that before they come for me again.”

“Then maybe you ought to start thinkin' with your brain for a change,” came a familiar voice behind him.

It was annoying to be surprised so, but amusing to watch Antonic hover back and put his hands up defensively. “LivingDeadGrrl,” Rotgoriel rumbled, turning his head to face her. “You need something?”

“Yeah. Something I'm kinda pissed you didn't do earlier. Basic stuff, Rutty. Work with me, here. Literally!”

LivingDeadGrrl has invited you to her party!

Do you wish to join her party at this time? Y/N?

Rotgoriel stared at the words until they faded. “I am a damned fool,” he whispered.

Richard had many reasons to avoid grouping with his peers. But this was LivingDeadGrrl, and now that he thought of it, none of the reasons applied to her.

“You too, evil genie,” she pointed at Antonic. “The more the merrier.”

“Evil genie!” Antonic huffed. “I do not approve of your insults! I have no quests for you.”

“Rutger, tell his ass to join, okay?”

“Do as the flesheater asks,” Rotgoriel told him.

Instantly the djinn turned to him and smiled, losing all of his irritation in a heartbeat. “Effendi, I am sworn to aid you. I will do as you request.”

It was always strange to see how people reacted to the players. Not for the first time he wondered why he didn't cause the same sorts of reactions.

“You know he's gonna stab our asses in the back, right?” LivingDeadGrrl told him as a black mass began to spread through the southern pass. Mayhew's troops were moving into position, and he had no doubt which “he” she was talking about.

“There is no way to stab an ass except from the back,” Rotgoriel spoke. “But yes. I know.”

“So what are we gonna do about it?” LivingDeadGrrl asked, moving up beside him and resting one mittened hand on his flank as she leaned, and watched the army file in.

“I have a few ideas...” Rotgoriel said.