Farewell Old Friend, Hello Old Friend (2/2)

“Yeah I'm baller that way.”

“I don't know what that means,” Threadbare said.

“I think I see why Garon tried to keep him a secret, too,” Buttons said, her soulstone flickering with gravelight. “He might have all that defense, but he's still tiny and has no combat jobs. If we were up against smart opponents they could like stuff him in a jar or something and he'd be boned.”

“Hey! Nobody stuffs me!”

“Yeah, you should try dating more,” Buttons retorted.

“Nah your mom's all I need.”

“That might work better on someone who's actually got a mom.”

“I get plenty of moms! But yours is my favorite! She totally does butt stuff!”

“Do you even know what butt stuff is?”

“Your mom does, and boy howdy she rocks it!”

Threadbare noted that Apollyon was slowly turning red, Dracosnack was taking notes, and Glub was laughing, trying his best to keep his mouse covered.

Buttons wasn't giving up. “You're arguing with a dead chick and losing. It's kinda sad.”

“Not as sad as your mom when I'm not fuckin' her! Oh snap!”

“I'm thinking we should get moving,” Fluffbear decided. “Dracosnack, you're the smartest one here. Is there anything we need to watch out for?”

“Hmmm... not right away,” he decided, after a moment of pondering. “From what I remember about mimics, severed parts of them can eventually become smaller mimics. But it takes time. So some of those long root tendrils may eventually turn into a, mmmm... threat, but for now they're probably dormant.”

“We'll have to get Garon to send hunting squads out this way to get them while they're still relatively small,” Fluffbear decided. “Shamans to fix the land and get the right critters in, Scouts to hide and ambush any mimic spawn, all sorts of things. We don't want them regaining their foothold.”

“If we camp here tonight I can program the castle to defend itself and smash any mimics it sees,” Threadbare offered. Then he wrinkled his muzzle. “Actually given what mimics do, it's probably best not to have it try to find and attack mimics. Never mind. I'll just give it orders to self-defend and we can be on our way shortly.”

That didn't take long at all, and soon the group was picking its way back east. The mimic had cleared out every other threat from the forest long ago, and they made it back to the edge before Apollyon needed a rest. Camp that night was mostly a sombre affair, though Threadbare got some good practice maintaining the speak with dead effect so that Buttons and Spackle could keep insulting each other. They seemed to be having fun with that.

That was one of the things that the RAGs, and indeed Threadbare before that had found out years ago.

Being stuck in a soulstone was rough. You were conscious, but bodiless. You had a mind, but no way to affect the world without assistance. And you couldn't even speak unless there was a cooperative Necromancer around.

This was one reason why Threadbare was secretly relieved they hadn't found any other intact soulstones in the mimic's lair. The odds were very good that after being left to their own devices for months or years, any soulstoned survivors would have been horribly insane. The guild didn't have too many ways to help with that. Insanity wasn't always a condition that could be cured by a Cleric or a quick, muttered skill from a more specialized job. Sometimes it was permanent.

But this time it wasn't as much of a worry. If anyone had ended up a soulstone, then they had gone with the escapees, teleported off to wherever the waystone generator had sent them. The RAGs who were traveling with them would get them to Necromancers, and in the worst case they could be converted into undead so they'd at least have a body until they could get back home.

Though they had permanently lost Mopsy, and that was sad, the little group had accomplished their quest and taken out a major threat to the western expansion. Buttons had lost her body temporarily and been set back several levels, but time and work would amend both of those.

He would call this one a win, Threadbare decided as the fire burned, and Apollyon snored. Not exactly a happy ending, but they had dealt with the problem permanently. And sometimes the best victory you could score in life was not having to worry about something ever again.

That was the end of that quest.

But their troubles were far from over, as they found out three days later.

The second they crested the ridge to the west of Bigstump Outpost and came into view of the walls, Fluffbear stiffened up and looked wildly around to Threadbare. “She's back!”

Then she ran like the wind, little legs pounding the earth as the others stared after her.

For a moment Threadbare thought she'd meant Mopsy. Thought that by some miracle that the cat who'd been her steed, friend, and surrogate child for over three years had found a way to return from wherever the veil of death had taken her.

And then it rose from the fort.

Wings flapping, tail lashing, head turning on a serpentine neck. Small, yes, but with that profile there was only one thing it could be.

“Dragon!” yelled Apollyon. He drew his sword and charged after Fluffbear.

“No, it's all right!” Threadbare shouted, and it was, because he recognized that dragon.

And indeed, it flew closer and they chased after the charging Fluffbear, the details became clearer. The wings were leather, not dragonhide. The body was made of wood, with glass eyes, red-painted wood that had seen a lot of wear and tear.

“Theah you ah!” Madeline shouted with joy, as she descended to tackle Fluffbear to the ground, and the two of them rolled over and over as the others grabbed hold of Apollyon before he made a serious mistake.

They didn't need to explain much, and Apollyon sheathed his sword and apologized profusely. Threadbare didn't pay too much attention because by that point it was his turn to literally have the stuffing hugged out of him.

“So gahd dammed good to see ya again, mistah beah. It's been a lahng, lahng time.”

Eventually they got past the welcomes, and made their way back into the fort. Fluffbear thanked the Scouts on the wall for whispering news of Madeline's arrival at the first opportunity. The group settled down, rested, got their human properly fed and cared for, and talked.

“We've figured out most of it, we think,” Threadbare said. “Where did the waystone take you?”

“Oh I didn't use that thing. Garon had given me a compass tied to one of the membahs who survived. I gaht to the faht and the compass still pointed west, so I flew. It was long ways out theah. Found some new settlements and nations to add to the atlas.”

“But you did find our people?” Fluffbear squeaked.

“Kind of. Sahm of them.” Madeline grimaced, an odd expression on her carved draconic face. “I ended up getting nahticed by the locals and had to bullshit my way into theah caht. I pretended to be an ambassadah from Cylvania. Which I technically kinda was, I got a treaty or two to bring to the cahncil. But yah heah now, so I suppose I can give it to you.”

“Actually I'm not on the Council anymore,” Threadbare said. “How are the survivors doing?”

“The ones I found? Doing okay. Theah's a big whomping mountain range between wheah they ended up and heah, so it's no wondah they haven't made it back yet. Well, except for the crew I was escorting. We were making good tahm, but then they got captured by pirates.”

“Captured by... you're the dragon that attacked their airship!” Glub burst out. “Whoa! Dude, we should have been way more suspicious.”

“You ran into them?”

“We helped them fix their ship,” Threadbare removed his hat and rubbed his head. “We didn't know any of this, and they seemed friendly.”

“Fahtunately they ah, as pirates go,” Madeline shrugged. “Cagna, my current pahty's Scout, was keeping me infahmed on theah plans. They just grabbed my friends because they were boahed, and they were theah. They're gonna drahp 'em off at the edge of a town once theah done with theah current job.” Madeline frowned. “Which is a problem and a half, but we got a day or two to stop them, and you got a waystone heah, so I'm really glahd ya got here right after I did.”

“Your friends must have been the ones who tossed down cards to us,” Threadbare nodded. “They'll whisper to Garon or Cecelia, if things go as planned. Just what is the job that they're planning?”

“It's fahnny you should mention Celia,” Madeline said. “Theah planning to kidnahp her.”

Three minutes later after they'd talked Threadbare down from immediately using the waystone, they questioned Madeline closely for every detail that might help them.

Those were a bit sparing, sadly.

“All that my crew gaht was that somewan's paying them a laht of money to grab Celia and take her East. Theah gonna be using a festival as coveah, and given the timing, theah's only one festival it could be.” Madeline grinned. “And since the Midsummer festival is always on the thard weekend of June, we gaht a full day befoah we gotta worry... wait. Yah frowning. What's wrong?”

“The festival got really big the last few years,” Glub said. “They're starting it on Thursday now. Which is today.”

Madeline stared at them. Then up at the sky, where the sun was sinking fast toward the horizon.

“Well shit,” she said.

This time nobody stopped Threadbare from going for the waystone.

“We'll get the other one and send backup!” Fluffbear squeaked, but Threadbare only caught part of that, as the world flickered around him...