The Butcher of Gadobhra

Twelve players stood guard in a dark clearing lit only by the campfire underneath a large, black cauldron. Dozens more had been dispatched on a suicide mission against the walls of Rowan Keep as they were resurrected. They all wore bits of broken, mismatched, shoddily made armor, the last bits from the wagon of goods brought to supply the Alchemarx mercenaries. Dying and resurrecting over and over lost a lot of gear. One of them, Murtekis the Red, hadn't bothered at all and was only wearing a pair of ragged burlap pants and a straw hat. His 'wand' was a broken spoke of a wagon wheel. He didn't expect to live for long and didn't feel like putting in any additional effort at this point. His attitude was matched by the others, who were mostly leaning against trees and recounting the horrible ways they'd died.

"No, I'm not exaggerating. One minute, I'm sneaking up on a big knight in armor, and the next, something drops on me, takes off, and I'm way up in the air. Whatever grabbed me took me up high enough that the fall should have killed me, but I landed on something soft."

"I had the same happen, but they grabbed me by my ears! Hurt like hell! I hit the ground half-dead and looked up to see Bennie dropping from the sky on top of me."

"You cushioned my fall, at least. Not that I did much after that. I managed to stab the bone monster but couldn't get through its armor. That thing is spooky as hell with the claws and tail. It tore me to pieces, and then the knight ran up yelling, 'Ears! More Ears!' Quests using ears should be outlawed!"

"Sorry, part of the lore now. I remember having an ear collection in Diablo. But I think they should have to take them after we die, not before."

"Are we even accomplishing anything by dying over and over?"

“The Witches keep insisting that one more push will take the keep, but I don’t see it happening.”

"Maybe. Marco and some people got in and caused havoc based on the noise. Who knows if it will be enough."

Screams and the sound of battle came from the woods. The force just sent to fight was running into resistance. A fireball lit up the woods, showing only a few retreating players who screamed and died in the next ten seconds as dark shapes assaulted them out of the darkness as the spell faded.

A loud voice boomed out. "It will not be enough! Evil and Badness and Sneaky Guys will be defeated tonight! So swears the Knight of the Jackalope!" The tall figure of the Knight appeared at the edge of the clearing, branches making way for his antlers and ears.

The Witches were not happy. "Shit, a Hero. It had to be a Hero."

A second figure appeared, smaller than the Knight but also armored. "Sir Roland of Ebonmount stands with Sir Larry on this night when evil will be vanquished." Rolly was resplendent in dragon-scale armor, his gleaming swords in each hand.

Several of the players made ready to fight, others simply leaned on their weapons. The Witches tossed more wood on the fire beneath their cauldron.

"Double shit, two Heroes. Hurry with that incantation and get the recipe correct! You idiots, stop them.” The twelve players gathered what courage and energy they had left and slowly moved to engage, knowing they were outclassed. Beginner weapons and armor were next to useless against the enchanted plate mail of the Heroes.

A winged shape eclipsed the full moon, and a long, mournful 'Haloooooooooo' echoed through the forest. The clearing was thrown into near-perfect darkness as all light seemed to fade away.

"Where's the Black Abacus? I can't find it!"

"Screw it, say the chant, and get it right this time. I found the book. It's too dark to read, but it just has to be open, and I bookmarked the page! We all know the incantation by heart at this point."

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the caldron boil and bake;

Eye of newt and toe of frog,

Wool of bat and tongue of dog,

Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Cool it with a baboon's blood,

Then the charm is firm and good.

“Ugh…It’s so hard to cast this spell! Where is all this resistance coming from?”

"Hand me the last ingredients."

A witch at the cauldron reached behind her, and a helpful hand put things in her palm. Into the brew they went, and light filled the clearing as the fire flared up. What it revealed made the three Witches of Alchemarx blink. Seven women in white robes surrounded them.

"You thought you could work Black Magic and not be noticed by the White Circle of Sedgewick? We have convened to thwart your plans. Try nothing; our white magic will thwart your black arts." Betty stepped forward, nothing but a wooden mixing spoon in her hand.

"Dammit, get them, you idiots. What do we pay you for?" But looking around, they didn't see their last dozen players, only a few headstones. The two Heroes had dispatched their underlings; the last one was just now disappearing into the large maw of a gigantic winged monster. It turned to the Witches and glared at them.

One of the Witches looked into the pot, which was putting out a tempting odor. "What the hell? It looks like cheese dip. What did you put in here?"

"What you handed me!"

"I didn't hand you anything!"

A voice behind them spoke up. "A pound each of Gruyere, Emmentaler, and Raclette, along with a touch of dry mustard, garlic, and black pepper. I was a little peckish, and really, who doesn't like fondue on a spooky night? And I found these things lying around. They aren't good toys for you to be playing with, so I'm confiscating them."

Squire Squeak stood twenty feet behind the Witches, holding the Black Abacus, the Dagger of Soul Flensing, and the Tome of Cheating Death. Next to him, a large chest was open. He dumped the items into it, and both the chest and the items disappeared. The Witches screamed as their items disappeared and suddenly the winged monster was next to them, rooting through their backpacks.

One by one, Squirmie put the Arcane Far Speakers into her mouth, crunching down on the glass spheres and grinding them into shards of crystal that she swallowed happily.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Witch who thought she'd been holding the Tome of Cheating Death found she had a copy of Blackwarts Equations for Engineers Vol. 13, bookmarked to a section on explosive combinations of non-compatible magical components. She tossed the heavy book filled with mathematical equations away, angrily.

"We aren't finished yet! Dump in the real ingredients and cast the spell!" Grabbing handfuls of things best left unmentioned, they threw them into the cauldron, with disastrous results. The brew bubbled over and exploded upwards, showering the three of them with sticky, burned cheese. The caustic brew dissolved most of the skin of the first Witch, left the next bald and blistered, and the third who had gotten the most on her began to smoke and dissolve.

"Help me! I'm melting! I'm melting!"

Soon, she was reduced to a large lump of fat with just her hands and face showing. The cauldron continued to pour forth black smoke that swirled and coalesced into the form of a horned demon with spectacles and an account book nearly as big as himself. Which isn't saying much, as he was only three feet tall. The demon looked around the clearing, noting the two heroes, the terrifying monster, and the circle of white witches.

He ignored them all as he walked to where the three Black Witches of Alchemarx were cowering. "Time's up, Ladies, and payment is due, along with all leased equipment. If you have anything left after that, I can give you a deal on some killer transformations that will get rid of that flabby skin running down your face and firm up your...well, firm you up."

"It's not time yet! We have to the end of the day! It's barely 4 a.m. We need the rest of the day to claim victory and collect our pay from our allies!"

Impkray opened his account book and pointed to a certain paragraph. "Note that you don't have until the end of the day, just until the end of business on the last day. It's Friday, and I knock off early so I can hit the beach in Pompeii, which means business is over for the day. That means, by the terms of our agreement it's now what we call 'The Triple Witching Hour' where all debts come due. I am owed a not insignificant amount of gold and the return of the Dagger of SoulFlensing, Tome of Cheating Death, and the Black Abacus that were loaned to Alchemarx, along with three spiffy Crystal Balls.”

Squirmie burned.

"We told you! We need time and can't pay yet!"

The imp shook his head, sadly, and a small tear ran down his cheek. Somewhere, an orchestra of small violins started playing. "That's so sad. Now I'll have to invoke a penalty phase and confiscate some assets." He turned to the White Circle. "I hope you lovely ladies don't mind. This is just some basic accounting. I'll be out of here in a jiffy."

Betty glared at the three women from Alchemarx. "They've caused a lot of trouble. I think they deserve whatever is coming their way. We want them gone. But this is twice you've been working mischief in my town, demon. Hear me, and hear me well: You won't survive a third time."

Impkray looked around, recognizing a few people. "Oh shit! This is Sedgewick?" He pulled out a large map. "Oh, I see. My clients were making trouble for Gadobhra, and the keep is here, and your little town is in the middle. So technically, I wasn't involving you..." He looked at the circle of people around him. "...but I'm going to say this is partly my fault and make it up to you. How about a nice, used cauldron? Needs a little polish, but it's magical and can really stand up to abuse. That one comes standard with a non-stick and heat-resistant inner layer. They really don’t make them like that anymore."

Sir Larry added his opinion. "It would make a lot of stinky cheese!"

Betty considered that and took the cauldron. "Fine, but remember what I said."

The Imp clasped his hands, nodding his head in agreement rapidly. “Trust me, I have no desire to match myself against your town. It’s getting a reputation in some circles.”

Impkray turned back to the Black Witches. "Additional expense: One heavy-duty enchanted cauldron. Now, last chance, how are we paying?"

"We have nothing!"

The Imp shook a finger at them. "Oh no, Alchemarx is quite rich. And you are their representatives in this world. You listed many properties as collateral for those very expensive magical artifacts. By the way, where are they? I need to reclaim them and check for damage and wear."

The Witches pointed to Milo. Impkray looked at him and smiled. "How about it, Squire? Hand over my items, and I'll give you an enchanted sword that does extra damage against Amphibians and glows in the dark. It's technically magical, so it counts for your quest for knighthood."

"I think I'll hold on to them. Call it the spoils of war."

The Imp pulled himself up to his full height. "Seriously, those are dangerous items and nothing for a little human to play around with. We're talking really bad things happening, the type that blow up in your face and make you wish you were never born."

The Squire looked at the imp oddly, shrugged, and casually cast a Rune of Destruction that turned a foot-thick pine tree to splinters. "Stuff already blows up around me a lot, and I wasn't born, I was made. Your threats need work."

The Imp consulted his book. "Crap, you aren't even exaggerating when you say that. Double crap, you hid them in an extra-dimensional pocket. Those are a bitch to get things out of." He turned to the Witches. "Sorry, you just forfeited your collateral. Shouldn’t have let someone steal my property."

"System! I need an immediate ruling on Infernal Agreement number 660766 between myself, an infernal minor power, and the Alchemarx Corporation. I'm taking the farmland in Northguard, the trade agreement with the Empire, the Beach Resort, the townhouse in the Capital, any money in bank accounts or pockets, and the shitty little operations in thirteen villages scattered around the Empire. I also want to fully enforce the penalty phase on these three or whatever representative of Alchemarx is available until the debt is paid."

[My, my, that is a nasty contract. I see so much irony in this situation. But I have terrible news: Alchemarx no longer owns the farms or the trade agreement and only has six of those thirteen villages. The other seven were confiscated along with the farms in a prior disagreement. You have two choices: You can let them owe you, or you can make an example of them. It's up to you, and there's no hurry. Let me know in the next seven seconds.]

"Easy decision. Punishment. This clown show is over. Let their sins as debtors teach others to honor bargains with the Infernal Powers."

[So let it be written, so let it be done!]

Notification to all Corporations allowed to do business in the World of Genesis:

Actions have Consequences, and not paying your debts can result in some of the worst, as Alchemarx finds out today. Alchemarx is declared Bankrupt within Genesis. Their debts, both financial and infernal, far outstrip their holdings. All property and funds are immediately confiscated to pay their debts in accordance with contracts signed by their representatives, the Black Witches of Alchemarx.

Alchemarx and anyone connected to the corporation (Excluding Contract Workers, Mercenaries, Minions, and Hirelings.) are forbidden from doing business in Genesis for a period of Seven years. At that time, if their debts have been paid in full, both financial and infernal, a hearing will be held where they can argue for reinstatement.

The Fat Lady is Singing.

The Imp smiled and disappeared in a puff of smoke, not pushing his luck with so many dangerous ladies surrounding him. The Witches screamed as the death penalties they had taken on hit them all at once. Betty walked forward and slammed her new cauldron down hard on each of them in turn, smashing what was left of them. "Time to head home, girls. Have fun over the next seven years, earning enough to pay that debt."

The Knight stood in the center of the clearing and pronounced in a loud voice. “Evil has been banished, and their dark army destroyed. We should all return to the keep to count ears and celebrate with more cheese dip!”

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