The Fellowship of the Thing (2/2)

“Maybe,” Garon sighed. “We first became aware of this region's deadliness two years ago, when one of the R.A.G.S teams exploring that region failed to check in. I checked their Guildmember status and saw that they were mostly alive, so we gave them a week or two to check back in. Then we sent out search parties. We narrowed down the region of wilderness to that lone patch of forest, between the hills. But... anyone we sent in died. With one exception.”

“Madeline?” Threadbare asked.

“Madeline,” Garon confirmed. “Like some of the original lost party, she's still alive. But we can't find her. Not through scrying, not through Oracular visions, nothing. Something's blocking our sight, or she's out of this world. But... I'm getting ahead of myself.” He glanced over at Glub. “It's called the Forest of Final Boss because after we figured out the region, we went searching through old maps and records. And we found a Pre-Oblivion map from an adventurer who had come through twenty two years ago. That name was scrawled on the margins... though it had a question mark at the end of it, so it's hard to say if it's accurate or not.”

The party digested that for a moment. “Hum. Harrum. So why have we left it alone for so long? Or have we?” Dracosnack asked.

“We've mostly left it alone because we estimated that solving it before this point would require a large amount of resources, time, and priorities,” Garon said. “And the fact is we didn't want to just throw people into a potentially fatal situation and hope that we could solve it with a flood of bodies. So instead we hit up our Shamans and Oracles and other cheaty sorts to try and figure out a better solution. This took time. But a few weeks ago, the visions started clicking.” Garon glanced over to Threadbare.

“I seem to be a part of the best solution,” Threadbare said. “We don't know exactly why.”

“Are we then to be Lord— Sir— I...I... sorry,” Apollyon gulped. “Are we then to be Threadbare's honor guard, ser?”

“No, you're going to have to work harder than that, probably,” Garon said. “We don't know what's in there, and whatever it has, it's protected against direct scrying, and invisible to divination magic. Even our attempts to scout it with charmed animals and remote controlled animi were stymied. So we're sending along a strong and balanced party, with the expectation that you'll be able to either manage the threat well enoguh to succeed at your mission, or escape with most of you alive if things go horribly wrong.”

“But we need to make sure Threadbare survives, regardless,” Buttons said, staring at Threadbare with a shine in her painted eyes. “That's about the size of it, sir?”

“The God Squad says they've been going at the visions from an oblique approach, whatever that means,” Garon said. “But yeah, they were pretty clear that whatever's in there the situation won't improve unless Threadbare plays some part in its solution. Congrats buddy, you're the chosen one.” Garon made air quotes with his fingers.

“Lay down our lives for the boss. Got it, sir,” Buttons nodded, and her grin widened. “Wouldn't have it any other way.”

“I don't think I'm your boss,” Threadbare said. “We're all in the same party together. Or we will be, anyway.”

“Now let's be real here... sir,” Buttons said, folding her arms. “You're the father of our species, here. Everything we are we owe to you. There's not a golem in Cylvania who wouldn't take a bullet for you... or if there is, then they're a godsdamned ingrate. You're... special. You're like our father. So you're pretty much the boss even if you don't like the term.”

“I think he's more like a cool uncle than a dad, personally,” Glub offered, still drumming the table. “Or like a grandpa that always gives you gifts and shit.”

Garon coughed. “There's time to fanboy later. Let's focus on the mission.”

Threadbare shifted, feeling more at ease once the others had turned back to their Guildmaster.

“This is the last chance for questions,” Garon said, spreading his hands. “So what've you got?”

Dracosnack had quite a few, mainly concerning the finicky details of the visions and omens and portents that the God Squad had turned up. Buttons was concerned about logistics, supplies, and turntables. Sir Apollyon had a few about mission security, and how much he could tell his family about the mission. Glub mainly just bounced and fidgeted in his chair, eager to be out of the too-long meeting.

Threadbare, for his part, had only one, and he asked that once the briefing was done.

“Do any of you have plans tonight?”

The toys and the lone human looked between each other.

“Mmmm... a few, but they were minor at best,” Dracosnack stated.

“I'd like to get in a barcrawl, but I wouldn't object to some extra company,” Buttons said, tilting her head as she studied Threadbare.

“Well, I... I was going to pray and perform a vigil...” Sir Apollyon began, then trailed off.

“Naw man, whatcha got?” Glub asked.

“I think that we are going to be spending a lot of time together on the road,” Threadbare said, “so why don't we get to know each other better first? Do something fun?”

“That sounds great!” Buttons said, grinning so widely that he could see her hinged tonsils. “I know just the place!”