Something was wrong. Before she even opened her eyes, Len *knew* something was wrong. This bed was familiar, but it wasn't the right one. Her eyes flew open in a near panic and she realized she was at the Hovel. The run-down camp that was a home for misfit goblins and orcs that the Demon Army couldn't quite justify executing outright so instead opted to force impossible conditions for basic survival on.

Grenus' Hovel was a deathtrap. Like, literally. It was designed to be a mark of exile and shame that ultimately ended in the failure of all sent there. Astrid had sent Len there in part as a test but with the heavy implication that she didn't stand a chance in hell of succeeding in the stated mission of the fort of 'Conquering all of the Kelvachian territory'. Thanks to clever strategies on Len's part, a few lucky breaks, and the final absolute boon of Balar's desperate need for her aid landing her in the perfect position to pull off a minor coup, she'd just barely managed to beat expectations.

She'd also had to abandon the location to set to work managing her new acquisition while trusting that her old allies would keep the place from crumbling to dust in her absence. She'd had reasonable enough expectations that they'd be able to do that, but it had been weighing on her rather heavily that she couldn't be there to supervise. Maybe that concern had led to her somehow dreaming about being there?

"Oy, Pitch," she barked. "What the hell?"

Pitch appeared in his older oily blackness form rather than the more dignified gentleman he'd take to appearing as.

"Whatever could you mean, dearest Lenore?" he asked with a voice that dripped with the old sarcasm.

"How am I here? What did you do?"

"Well, that's a bit complicated. The long version involves feats of thaumaturgy that I doubt you'd be prepared to process but the short version is that I made a copy of you."

"WHAT?!?!"

"Oh no need to panic. This was simply a matter of expedience. You were spending far too much time distracted by the possibility that you were losing control back here, so I decided to give you that control back."

"What the hell does that even mean?!?! Are you insane? How could you do this without my consent?"

"Lenore, relax. It's nothing dangerous. When all of this is done you'll simply join yourself back at your little city-state and have a whole new set of memories. I haven't modified who you are in any way shape or form, I've simply brought a copy of your consciousness here into a shadow puppet. Nothing could be more benign."

Lenore had been through quite a lot lately, had seen pretty terrible things, had done pretty terrible things. She'd suffered indignities that would push a mind to madness. She still had no idea how to cope with what was just foisted upon her."

"I... I can't believe you just did this. I know you're a monster, that has been plain so many times over our acquaintance but this? This is insane."

"I thought you'd be happy," said Pitch, managing to sound a little hurt. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Why on EARTH would I want to have two of me running around. That'insane."

"Technically, there aren't two of you running around. Sorry if I was unclear on that. You're a copy. You're here with all the knowledge, all the experience, all the essence of Lenore Wraithwhisper from the moment your head hit the pillow last night, but you're not exactly her."

"Are you fucking kidding me with that? THAT'S what you choose to drop on me? You make a perfect copy of everything I am and you expect me to just accept things as they are?"

"I really don't see what the difficulty is here. You, as you are, will be able to behave exactly as Lenore would, pass on information, give suggestions, generally learn everything that's needed to have a firm grasp of the particulars before rejoining your core self and giving her some desperately needed peace of mind. There is no downside here."

"Fucking hell, your thought processes are ridiculous. You just drop on me out of nowhere that I'm not exactly real in spite of having *all* of the experiences that made me ME until you decided to pull this stunt and then you tell me that I'll cease to be when my usefulness is at an end? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?"

That had proven to be a bit louder than she'd intended it to be so it wasn't any particular shock when Moe made an appearance in the tent that had, until recently been her home.

"What the hell, boss? When did you get back. More importantly, HOW did you get back?"

The goblin was one of a trio that she'd named, rather unoriginally, after the Three Stooges from a show she'd never actually watched. Goblins didn't traditionally have names and she'd needed something to call them as they went about their days trying to help keep her from absolute ruin in the middle of multiple battles to the near-death. She'd grown to trust each of them in their own way and was relieved to see him in spite of her newfound existence.

"Uh... complicated," she grunted noncommittally. "Eh, fuck it. Lies and subterfuge aren't really my thing. Want to know what's going on? I'm not Len."

"Beg pardon," he asked, confusion playing across his face.

"Did I ever tell you about Pitch? I must have. Sorry, it's been a lot lately and keeping track of the details is a bit tricky. Whatever. So... you know that shadowy thing I made a contract with so that we could survive? Yeah, well, he's been getting pretty fucking direct with his interference in my life lately and this is his latest stunt."

"That's a rather rude way to describe my aid," the shadow whispered in her ear.

"Shut up, Pitch," she snapped. "Anyway. according to him I'm just a copy. Haven't really had a lot of time to look into that but I'm gonna take him at his word for now. I'm basically a photocopy of the Lenore that's currently back in Kelvach trying to figure out everything that needs to be done to keep the city from falling to an army of pretty sadistic assholes, struggling to maintain order with various rival factions, and still manages to have time to worry that not enough is being done on this end to make sure that it doesn't all go to hell. That clear things up enough for you?"

"Umm.... no."

"Yeah, well it doesn't clear things up for me but I don't know how long this trick of his is supposed to last and I'd damn well better dive into learning what the hell is up before any of the existential dread of how I shouldn't actually be a thing and how I'm going to cease to be the very instant he gets bored of me. Really, it's a hell of a lot and I don't know what to do about any of it. Still, shall we get a move on so I don't implode with panic?"

Moe looked at her steadily, weighing his options, trying to determine his loyalties and generally just kind of looking annoyed by the whole situation.

"Well, guess we'd better get to it, then."

Len blinked.

"Just like that?"

"What do you want from me? I was supposed to be dead about ten times over since I met you and while this is certainly strange even by your standards, it's hardly the most bizarre thing that's ever happened under your watch. So, shall we get this inspection under way or did you want to spend a bit more time dealing with that existential dread thing?"

She managed to crack a smile at that. It was nice to see that she wasn't the only one that had learned that sometimes you just had to roll with the crazy instead of wasting time panicking over every little detail.