I did not have to wait at the edge of town long; I was grilling our night watchman Dave Sims on if he'd seen or heard anything. He hadn't, but his dog Jonesy had barked twice last night, once a sort of desultery warning. Once fast and furiously, standing stiffly in front of his master and facing the woods in loud slobbering madness. Neither time did Dave see what set Jonesy off so.

I listened, petting jonesy, who was half asleep and leaning into my touch. Soon he was set to be relieved by Phil, of all people. I remembered the cowardly shepards well; hopefully they would do better this time.

"Yo! Mornin."

"Good morning Matt. Seems all was mostly quiet last night."

He shook his head and yawned.

"Mostly isnt even close, Hal's dogs kept barking last night, really loudly. Kept me awake most of the night, and likely a few other people too."

Hal Smith had a bloodhound. Didn't bloodhounds have a vastly superior sense of smell, or am I remembering wrong? Either way the village wasn't attacked last night, so maybe I was just overthinking it. The watch had done it's job, the dogs had done theirs.

Time for us to do ours.

I took a closer look at Matt; he had a large hammer strapped to his back (the thing had to weigh 20 pounds, at least to less than expert eye), a gladius strapped to his side and a small shield strapped to his arm. He also had a backpack that was about my size strapped to his back, under the hammer. He was wearing a chainmail shirt that stopped just shy of his knees. He didn't seem too burdened by it all, the jerk.

"Did you bring everything?"

He shot me a dazzling smile, not understanding the true thrust of my question and therefore taking it seriously.

"I think so, I've got food, water, weapons, flint and steel, a good whetstone, rope...."

"And a partridge in a pear tree?"

"Heh, well what about you? You look to be traveling light. Though I must admit the leather is a great look for you."

I held up my magic bag.

"This holds a bit more than it looks to."

He caught sight of the runes and started; I caught sight of our other party members walking up together behind him but still some distance away.

"Is that a 'bag of plenty'?"

"Sure is, seems to be the biggest size too. Found it in a trunk with the clothes and sword. I assume the mail shirt and sword were in a similar place?"

I inspected my other party members just entering hearing range and caught his nod out of the corner of my eye.

"In a trunk in my closet. The hammer though, that was hung up on hooks above the mantle."

Pastor Collins was in a grey robe and cassock like a monk, no doubt with his comfy looking spun cotton underneath. He had a rather large silver necklace on a crude silver chain. both looked to be pure; the necklace was of two small hands clasped together in prayer. thankfully for my mental health his backpack was less massive and rather jauntily hanging from one shoulder. I could see a small bedroll and some pots tied to strategic places on it. He wore only one thing that could be considered a weapon; a small bat or cudgel, made from a large oak stick capped on both ends with iron. He seemed to be in good
spirits this morning, a smile breaking easily over his features as if to mimic the dawn itself.

Karl was right beside him, dressed in clanky scale mail and sporting a long sword that I could tell at a glance was not quite as... elegant as mine. He also had large metal shod boots, iron greaves and bracers. His backpack was the smallest yet, but had all sorts of seemingly random items hanging from it by crude twine (like a waxed blanket, a jar of something I couldn't make out, and a hooded lantern, to name a few). He was also carrying one of those steel viking style helmets, with the nose and cheek pieces, and a spike set on top of it.

Randolf Wills was dressed as a hunter. His thick cloak was brown with grey and green patches sewn into it, his clothes were the same. He had a bow as tall as I was and a quiver that I'd be willing to guess carried some long broadhead arrows. He also wore a knife and shortsword at his belt, and he had no pack. Judging by the way his cloak moved, I'd be willing to bet it was all pockets, and filled to the brim. His long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and his green eyes flicked from point of interest to point of interest, never staying in one place long. A slightly too pretty playboy the day before, he was obviously all business now.

Thomas Caine was almost his polar opposite in looks. He looked like someone had taken a hammer to his face multiple times, then used a meat grinder on what was left. He had no hair, only one eye, the planes of his face were out of alignment... and he had some of the nastiest scars I'd ever seen on anyone or anything. Yesterday he'd looked like a normal human being; a bit on the ugly side, a barroom brawler tough with a bit too much testosterone for his own good. But normal. Now he looked like something had to tried to hammer then chew his face off. He was built much like everyone else I'd seen so far; slabs of muscle packed on a large frame.

Even worse, he was dressed head to foot in shining, clanking steel plate, complete with a helmet (I wished idly that he would close his visor - soon). His sword was massive, easily the same weight class as Matt's hammer, and he also carried two small handaxes which also looked to be tools of murder more than simply tools, if their curved blades and swept back handles were any indication. His backpack was about the size of a school bookbag, and was jam packed so that the contents threatened to spill into the dirt. Cloth of some sort was what was on top of that hastily packed mess.

I controlled my reaction well enough to answer Matt. I don't think Tom was fooled though, his face tightened in the most hideous smile I could imagine.

"Must have been some massive hooks, that thing is huge."

Matt turned around, he must have finally heard them. How he missed all that sound I don't know. I felt like a brass band was approaching... or an ironworks. As they got close the smells hit... mold, rancid oil, rust and salt. Definitely an ironworks. I decided to be polite.

"Good morning everyone."

A chorus of "good morning lady Muse." greeted me, and I had a flash of me teaching high school with a set of particularly delinquent students greeting me. I really hoped discipline wouldn't be a problem. Then I realized we were short one. I needed more caffienne in the mornings, where was the other Phil? Phil Keene was our resident small time hood yesterday. Every town has one, no matter how small. He was ours.

A resident since birth, he was into drugs and petty vandalism at first, and the drugs led to his speciality... breaking and entering, sometimes with the residents at home. He never turned violent however, preferring to run if seen and give up if caught. For that reason the book had yet to be thrown his way; the extent of his hard time was a year in juvi. I half knew what he'd be this morning however. I could see the party mechanics as clearly as the bright blue sky above me.

Then I spotted him. Up in a tree, 5 trees down and to my right, leaning against the trunk with large toothpick in his mouth. He was dressed all in greys and greens, like Randolf, and sported four very large daggers strapped to his belt. I could see no armor of any kind, just a burlap tunic (which souded terribly uncomfortable as an idea alone) and loose cotton pants. It took me a bit more to see the two satchels and small bag he had in the tree with him. He was our thief, of course. Every party had to have one, as a secondary scout and trap expert.

The feeling that had dogged me for a day, that I was living in one of my old gamer worlds, came back stronger than ever. I really hoped that this wasn't the case; many many people tended to die in such worlds, a fact rapidly glossed over by the inane ravings of small men wearing thick glasses and hiding their faces behind paper screens.

I shook the feeling off when Phil waved and jumped down, soundlessly while the others were still greeting each other. He would be great at his role, I could already tell that if I tried to pick him out of a crowded street, I'd be unable to. Whether I knew him or not.

"Morning Phil."

He grinned when the others jumped; he'd always liked being stealthy, and he was better than ever.

"Shit man, Phil, where did you come from! We were just discussing who was going to get to wake you up!"

"I've been around. So what's the plan? I kind of expected the mayor to see us off and give us orders, but I think he's still asleep."

Karl answered.

"Well partying till around 3am will likely do that to you. The basic plan was to find where the border for all this is, or failing that, to find out just what is going on. I say we take this very road here to the east, and see what Grummige has to say."

Grummige was the next town over, some 12 miles away. Another hamlet much like ours. Fifteen minutes by car, a good three hours or so away on foot.

"Then let's get started; we're all here, and daylight just started burning."

We stepped on past the town limits and the budding sunlight was immediately cut off by the tangle of old trees. The farm country of my boyhood was completely gone, replaced by a confusing tangle of old growth forest that I could tell at a glance had been here for centuries. It blocked out the sun's heat and light, even on the road, cooling us all off instantly and shrouding us in gloom. It was without a doubt a boundary of sorts to the different world we found ourselves in, and we were trespassers.

Hands went to swords, all jokes and laughter ceased, and we all strived to make as little noise as possible. Randolf, Phil, and I succeeded. The others sounded like a herd of wildebeast stomping through a china shop. They couldn't even breathe quietly. The only good news is that I was upwind of them. Then of course, even that good thing had to end.

"Lady Muse."

I turned to see Karl almost running down the deer trail we had found, clattering like a train with engine trouble.

"Yes?"

"You really should stop taking the lead; let Randy walk it alone, and come back to the main group please."

Ugh. Double ugh. If I insisted, he would no doubt say something to the effect that I wasn't armored, and not as strong as the rest of the group, and should therefore be protected while I focused on causing damage if we were attacked. But I really didn't
feel like dealing with those arguments, as sound as they might be.

I really hoped that was it, and not the whole 'you're a woman now' thing. Cause if he said that, I'd likely kill him... with fire. Lots of fire. Really hot fire.

"Fine, just try to keep it down. You guys make enough noise to wake the dead."

Oh. Oh, crap... I shouldn't have said that. I'm completely in the wrong trope to say that.

"Something wrong? You're looking a little...."

"No no, everything is fine, nothing wrong at all."

He didn't look convinced. Matt looked amused, the smug jerk. He knew what I was talking about! Knew all about tempting fate. Several moments passed however, and no zombies jumped out at us... so I guess we're safe? We were sort of taking route of the old road (old as in, was there a day ago) as best we could. It was rough considering nothing but game trails existed now.

I was just starting to relax when a low trilling whistle that sounded birdlike but wasn't echoed through the trees. Instantly all stopped, Matt with one foot still in the air. I couldn't resist a slight smirk, even seeing how serious he was... that had to
be uncomfortable. Randy strode out from behind a bush in front of Karl, and almost got skewered.

"Sorry, just me. That signal is mine."

I nodded; I knew that. They should have too - shouldn't they? Karl interrupted my thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

"Just some sort of weird ruin ahead. No signs of life, but it was... well you'll have to see, provided you don't want to just say screw it and go around."

Randy kept his voice low, following Karl's lead. I looked around. We were in the middle of the forest, without so much as a small rise for cover. We did however have plenty of trees for that, and more than a hint of bramble. Most of the forest was gloom ridden
old growth, but without landmarks or any reason to have a ruin placed here to be seen. However, if I was right, the road had once cut through here, right past that fallen log.

Which meant that the old abandoned gas station should be around here.

Half of us were on the same page, creeping up slowly and as quietly as possible. The other half made the rest of us look bad, tromping through the brush like wildebeast in heat. I resolved to speak to them later, and at the same time I could make out Randy
resolving the same - if the muttered curses meant what I think they did.

After all, mine did.

The ruin itself was in a small clearing; more than a few stumps rotting in mute testament to how the clearing was made. It was a crumbling tower made of stone, surrounded by a rotting gated bug ridden palisade. It was not any sort of ruin that belonged in our world, and appeared older than any old building should be around here. Yet here it was.

The top had fallen, so that it was impossible to tell just how tall it had been when erected. Only the first six floors were still winning the battle against nature, The large blocks of what appeared to be sandstone still mortared together. Walking carefully around it, I could see places where the fallen stone had crushed the palisade; even if the log drop gate had been closed and locked, entry would have been simple. The gloomy pall of the forest seemed almost to concentrate past that yawning entrance, hinting at dark mysteries.

It also rather nicely answered the first question this expedition was meant to answer. Phil voiced it for all of us.

"Well guess that answers the question of whether it was just us."

The next question of course, was how far this all extended. The more immediate question and one the expedition wasn't sent to answer was what was on other minds, however.

"Should we check the place out? Could be answers of a sort here."

I couldn't stop the shiver of dread as I replied.

"That's a bad idea. It's not part of what we need to do, and it's obviously unsafe."

"Oh come on lady Muse, where is your sense of adventure?"

"Killed and stuffed into a box, next to the dead hooker."

Laughter did not distract them.

"I still say we check it out; it won't take long, the place isn't that big, and we can be on our way."

They outvoted me quite handily; only Matt voted with me. It was OK, they would learn. Hopefully not until after I was out of the line of fire, but they would learn. We all trooped up in a loud disorganized gaggle, my eyes alert even as I dragged my feet hoping to talk them out of this.

"Come on guys, let's not do this. It could be a dangerous haven for things like that dinosaur or worse. At least let Phil go first to scout it out before we all go in... "

I really wanted to say 'before we all go in like tards, but that would be an insult to retarded people everywhere. They at least had more sense than to go into a place like this.

"Well that's reasonable."

Except Phil objected.

"Why do I have to go first?"

"Because you're the one most likely to detect nasty surprises meant for trespassers before you die to them. We are far less likely. Maybe Randy could, but I'm not all that great with that sort of thing, and I know the foundries aren't."

"Ugh, fine, use reason on me. Alright, all of you stay here, I'll be right back. If I'm going in, I don't want all you tripping something on my head that I could have avoided."

He walked off, only his muttered curses showing he was even here among us at all. It was... well to be honest it was both unnerving and worthy of jealousy. Not even my own steps were as quiet without help. I was fairly sure the boots I was wearing were helping with that. Of course, I wasn't going to tell anyone that. It was purely my own skill, and not magical boots that made my footfalls resound with quietude!

Just like the camoflage cloak didn't really help me blend in at all. That game refered to them as boots and cloaks of 'elvenkind'. All skill if asked though. Wish I could get a view of the sky. Well, without having to climb a tree. Sigh, I hate being idle. To pass the time I chucked walnuts at Matt when he wasn't looking.

He caught on quick, and soon walnuts were whistling through the trees as we dodged, grins on our faces. It was something to do. Of course it made little noise right up until an errant throw hit Karl in the breatplate with a sound oddly like a bullet ricochet.

If his glare was any indication, he was not appreciative. Brian and I of course gave him our best, most wide eyed innocent looks. I think mine was better.

And of course the moment was ruined by Phil coming back out of the shadow steeped entrance like a dog with his tail on fire... silently. He made no attempt at stealth at all, and yet remained quiet as a muted whisper... however he was still visible, and just did not seem to care. Speed was more important apparently. He hadn't even bothered to brush himself off; he was covered head to toe in dust and cob webs. Hmm.

Judging by the almost anime wide eyes, the slack jaw, and the wild erratic movements, something down there had scared him.

"Yeah epically bad idea to go down there."

His voice was raw and hoarse, and his eyes locked onto the passage he left as the sound hit us, loud enough to startle a few finches overhead into paniced flight. Two of his larger knives just seemed to appear in his hands, which started flipping them in what I would term a nervous gesture. He winced at the amount of noise his voice made and ducked down. He wasn't ducking down in front of anything either; he was still clearly visible.

"Sorry about that. There were a few traps, but nothing really bad. Old cellar down there. Problem was there were people down there. Dead ones."

A snake started to slither in my gut.

"Then what's got you so distressed?" Pastor Collins inquired. He had been so quiet all morning I had (shamefully) forgotten he was there.

"I said they were dead, not that they weren't moving. I expect them up to meet us, at any moment."

I hate when I'm right. I really, really do.I started paying more attention to our surroundings, and lent only an ear to the debate.

"So what should we do?"

There was no door, it had long since rotted away. The blocks were very heavy, and would take too many of us too long to move. If I used the really destructive spells I had in my arsenal (mostly fire based) then I'd no doubt kill us all in the forest fire - along with our home town, depending on winds.

"Couldn't we just outrun them?"

"Sure but what if they follow us? What if they don't and go somewhere else, and hurt someone else? What if other people find this place not knowing they are down there?"

"I get it, I get it!"

Ugh, come on, think! We can't pile logs up in front of the doorway, they would burn too, or just eventually get moved by sheer mindless force. We don't even know what type of undead we are dealing with... wait, undead. We have a cleric.

Why am I so worried?

I turned back to the group.

"Ready to hear a few suggestions?"

Karl replied yes glibly, pale though he was.

"It's simple. Pastor Collins can hold them in the door while we drop a stone in front of them. They won't be able to get to us then. Phil I need to know if there are other exits."

He shook his head.

"Checked before I went down; only the one, unless there is some sort of escape tunnel somewhere. Went all the way down too, that's why the dead are so pissed - I kinda walked in on them."

Pastor Collins turned ashen as I spoke with Phil.

"Lady Muse, I'm a priest, how can I possibly fight off the undead? especially alone as you're suggesting? Surely I misheard you?"

"You won't be alone, and it's precisely because you are a priest that you can. You hold your holy symbol up in front of them and yell whatever comes to mind, and your Goddess does the rest."

Yes, I am blowing smoke here. I had no way of knowing that this would work. However, it was a perfect time to test it, and he really would have armed backup. He just had to be in front of them to try to repel them, first. Even if it didn't work, they probably woudn't have time to grab him, drag him down into the cold dank recesses of the ruined tower, and rend him into bloody gobbets.

I hoped.

Sometimes I really am a despicable human being. Or not anymore. Of course all this hinged on one rather important fact, as my eyes made out some movement in the gloom. Phil tensed and his knives stopped spinning as pastor Collins got into position, trepidation oozing from the man. I walked up beside him; my plan, and if he went, we went together. Besides, not like I could really help carry those stupidly large stones.

"Crap, Karl, can you Matt and Tom even pick up one of the larger stones?"

The first undead burst from the ruins in all it's horrid glory. An adult male, possibly young. The rubbery, waxen face hanging in strips from it's skull made it hard to tell with certainty. I could feel myself detach as I continued to make out details. Something had clearly been at the thing at some point; bits of bleached white showed on the arms and legs, and the entrails were missing. Some other things were clearly still at the corpse, as it seemed to shed bugs of all kinds as it moved, in what I could only call a shamble with deceptive speed. A low dry cracking moan issued from behind it, clearly there were more.

Then the smell hit, just as pastor Collin hesitated with his small disk made of silver with a muttered prayer. As soon as he held it up he seemed to become somehow more. More there, slightly larger than life.

"Back into the darkness you unclean things! Back to the graves you once knew in the name of Minerva!"

A soft light that briefly outshone the sun erupted from the disk. The zombie (I was pretty sure that was what it was by now, from the smell if nothing else) stopped so fast that bugs flew and hit us. I couldn't stop my flinch, but Collins didn't waver; his eyes blazed fire and brimstone, his face somehow both cold and kind.

"Back, thing which should not be!"

The undead retreated into the doorway and the down the steps beyond, colliding with more of it's own in the darkness.

"Lady Muse, we can't lift any of these! They are embedded too deep. You got a plan b?"

Crap! crap crap crap. Crap crap crap crap crap crap... wait a minute.

"Can you use that big honking sword to collapse what's left of the doorway here? That would block the exit."

Tom rolled his eyes and mouthed 'big honking sword' back at me, but ran clanking up to the arch, up on a stone and set to work fearlessly, ignoring the occasional nasty arm that would try to sweep past the white light at him. Collins was sweating now but would have none of that. It only took a minute or so before the stones of the arch collapsed in front of the door. Pastor Collins and Tom both backed off warily; we were all still able to see a hint of movement beyond in the now fading but still almost painfully bright light.

"So um, now what? We run like hell?"

I shook my head at Phil, trying to get my nausea under control. A corpse eating beetle had hit me in the face. At least I hadn't swallowed it.

"No, now it's time for my part in the plan."

Aiming very carefully but quickly I shot a golf ball sized wad of fire into one of the cracks where an arm had briefly appeared. The good news was I had angled it correctly, down the staircase. Without further ado I grabbed the good pastor and started running, hauling him behind me. Tom had already gotten the idea, clanking behind me as soon as the fire left my hand. The others were a bit slower.

"Now you might want to run."

A long weighted glance between me and the ruin and we were all going, stumbling over hidden roots and fallen trees.

The big boom was of course, spectacular. Those bastards had hit me with corpse bugs, after all. I steadied Collins then turned back. Tom was picking himself up while shooting me a dark look, The others had taken cover behind trees or folds in the earth. They were already back up, and looking with no small amount of awe at the scene.

The tower itself had fallen much closer to ruin, the blast bulging the heavy stones outward in all directions, just barely missing compromising what was left of the structure. However, the blast had been contained, and directed mostly downward. Only a few small fires burned outside, though there was a glow from inside, just barely spotted when I strained
myself, that I did not like. Sigh, I had been hoping the containment would be enough, but I don't dare chance it.

Once again the elements responded to my concentration, and heeded my call. This time it was earths turn. I stepped out of my focus to find a small man-shape made of dirt and grass staring at me with glowing eyes the color of mud.

"Put out all fires within five hundred feet of me, please. Then you may go."

The dirt man nodded, collapsed into a pile and rolled off, leaving a slight but detectable trail of new growth in it's wake.

"An elemental?"

I nodded a bit wearily, sitting down to catch my breath.

A rough hand drew me around, and Tom's hot breath hit my face.

"If you could do all that, what was the point of all of us playing with stones and putting Collins in danger?"

I blinked into his anger.

"Would you rather have had me drop enough fire to light up 100 feet of forest on top of us without containing it? If the explosion itself didn't kill us, the massive forest fire would. Or maybe summoning the elemental with no idea that it was needed? Those things are draining to play with, and I can't keep it here long. Besides you all need to get used to thinking and acting quickly, as a team, to crap you'd never have dreamed of existed before."

Karl stepped up and gently removed Tom's arm from my shoulder.

"She's right man; she used a minimum of force to get the job done as cleanly as possible, only pulling out the big guns when she had to. Besides, you did well; when you see the mage cast a spell and run, you run too. The rest of us froze up a bit too long."

I wearily shook my head again, watching the dirt smother more flames.

"No, I am not happy with my performance. I froze up too, in the beginning. I meant to have my sword out and covering our priest when he tried to hold back the dead, and I meant not to use the fireball at all. I was originally going to use some oil from our stores and just let gravity carry the fire to them; less messy and worrisome all the way around."

He raised an eyebrow at me, intimidating me to confess with his spocky ways.

"The first threw corpse bugs all over me; I didn't feel too inclined to hold back at that point."

His incredulous snort ticked me off.

"What?!? It was disgusting, that's all!"

(tbc)