Alice Carroll

[Danny]

Approaching a few shoppers in the fountain square, a pretty (if slightly filthy) young woman with unkempt red hair worms her way into a discussion, as if to gossip. "You've heard about the bandits, yes? The ones based out of that old tomb to the west? Yes, they're gone now, I know, because I was there. You know who killed them? No! No, it wasn't me, though I helped, as I'll explain."

The ruddy cheeked woman pauses for a breath before continuing in a more dramatic tone, "It was a dwarf, Effane the dwarf, you see. I know, I know - dwarves seem so short, so hairy, so unassuming! How could but one of them clear out all of the bandits? Well, he wasn't just a regular dwarf, you see, he was an ENHANCED dwarf! Yes, he was even shorter than that gentleman over there, when he entered the tomb. He was a brave adventurer, to be sure, Effane the dwarf was. He could bully kobolds about, of course, and easily handle a couple of unarmored cooks, but when the time came to face the bandit leader, he didn't mess around. He quaffed a potion of growth - a potion just like this one!"

The young woman pauses and raises one hand holding a phial of muddy green liquid. She continues, "He grew to 10 feet tall! Probably eleven! And he started from a stature less than my own! With the strength, prowess - and confidence - he got from my potion, he burst down the door to the foul brute's room! Without waiting a moment for the bandit king to plead for his life, he smote him a terrible blow! The other adventurers on the expedition burst into the room too, but it was too late - Effane the Dwarf, once a lowly creature scarcely visible behind the mass of his own beard, had all but won the day - and the glory - for himself! All with the help of a few ounces of this liquid!"

"But that's not the end! He turned around, scarcely stopping for breath, and battered down a solid oak door with his bare hands! Inside, an insidious gelatinous cube lurked, deceiving him into being enveloped by its slimy, acidic embrace. But with his newfound puisance, Effane tore himself free of the deceptive slime's grip, and rent it asunder with his axe! All the magical gear brought by the poor men and women that had come before were now his - but of course, none were so powerful as the potion he had quaffed, for none had allowed the other adventurers to triumph over the gelatinous menace."

"Awoken by the raw fighting spirit of the giant dwarf was the restless soul of Elward, the Hero! His dessicated frame did smite Effane to the ground, but with a healing draught - and yes, you too can purchase lesser versions of such a draught - he rose back to his feet and clove the necromantically defiled hero in twain with his blade! Having been bested by such a gargantuan and handsome dwarf, Elward's spirit left this world for peaceful respite in the afterlife, finally satisfied that he had met his match in a battle most worthy."

"Yes, it was a potion just like this one, gentlemen, that made the lowly Effane rise to be a hero of Sweet Grove, and made the western caravans safe again! A potion like the one I'm selling right here, and a bit of courage. You're a courageous man, aren't you? Don't you want this potion?" She shouts as the crowd disperses, less interested in the potion than the wild tale.

[Dustin]

Dear Diary,

Today I encountered the most atrocious crime in alchemy I have ever witnessed! A healing potion that makes you sick, a levitation potion too weak to get you more than a few inches off the ground, and an "experimental" potion that switched my voice with a goose. Admittedly, the last potion that turned me purple was neat. I'd ask him how he made it, but he's dead now. Perhaps I'd better start from the beginning.

Some vigilante mercenary that works for the town watch, a "Fletcher" or something like that, had been kidnapped, and the cute gentlemen at the bar insisted on going after him. McGinty suggested I go too, and it turns out I'm glad I did.

We descended to some kind of "undercity" from a warehouse, and followed a canal up to what apparently passed for a camp for this 'cell' of Iron Ring gangsters. I was startled when Damien (that's his name, the cutie from the bar) used a charm spell on one of the guards, but I followed his lead and we put both of the sentries under our spells. Asking the two people, we discovered they were holding Fletcher until their boss came to interrogate him or beat him or something. Sharing my invisibility potion, Damien went in to take my gaseous form potion to the prisoner while I went to find his things. While I was gone, they killed one of the Iron Ring and the rest of them started going after my bitch! Luckily, Fletcher is a more than competent warrior, and he made pincushions out of them with his bow. Killing the charmed guards seemed like a waste of betwitched manpower, but I wasn't going to argue with the scary prisoner we'd just rescued.

I managed to convince the two men to go further into the undercity to investigate further. We encountered bat guano (Fletcher carried me over it, like a gentleman), spike traps, yellow mold, and a few other peculiarities before arriving suddenly at a door. Damien managed to get it open, and we went through it into some sort of alchemical laboratory. I began testing potions - but none of them did anything worth doing! Except the one that turned me purple.

A wizard burst into the room, and a battle errupted - but after scoring a good hit on the fellow, for some reason Fletcher demanded we stop and speak with him. I convinced him to drink a love elixer, but just as he was about to take me into his confidence, Fletcher and Damien killed him with their arrows. It seems like a bit of a waste of potions, but given his worthless potion skills, I think we got more from him dead than we would have alive. A 3,000 gold bounty and some potent spells, in fact. We cleared his goblin henchmen from his facility and carried his booty and his body out a secret door that led back to the surface, on a hill outside Sweet Grove.

Having slavers in town is kind of a problem. What if they enslave my potential customers.? Underground contacts would be nice and all, but I was thinking more like a thieves' guild or a cult of Wee Jas or something. Slavery is against my witchy ways.

Damien is sweet, but he doesn't really respond to my advances. Not like he pushes me away exactly, but when i suggested we get an inn room together, he just shrugged and said 'okay'. No throat clearing, no leering, no surprised eyebrow, just "okay". Well, I'm just using him to help me get more spells, I definitely don't care if he likes me or anything!

Fletcher is a fearsome man, with some very considerable archery skills. He's gentlemanly, but not exactly chivalrous, and he's dutiful but not kind. Better to stay on his good side.

Note: It seems this undercity has passages that can be used to get in and out of the city while bypassing the gates.

Note: Yellow mold is a highly irritant fungus that can make both your eyes and your lungs sting. Disturbing it causes spores to fly into the air near it. Fire can burn it, but hitting it with a torch is dangerous. It can kill apparently kill goblins, and probably could have killed me, if Damnien hadn't rescued me.

[Dustin]

"I bet you'll never guess where I've been," the young witch said to her dog, as it sniffed her. "Actually, with smell like yours, you probably can guess, since you've been pretty close to it before." Licking her hand once or twice, the dog settled back down in a corner, and after pacing her circle enough times to really feel comfortable, lay down to sleep.

Alice continued chattering cheerfully to her slumbering hound as she stoked a fire for her cauldron. "It started out at McGinty's, as usual, where I was listening to some dwarf recount his battle with the spider queen. I suspect he's exaggerating his tale - I think he only fought a spider princess - but that's not the point. Fletcher came into the bar and began asking me questions about dead bodies and murder. He said I was suspect number one in his search for a serial murderer! I haven't murdered anyone since... Well, since that Lord Blackwell fellow. That was at least a few days ago! And technically, it was Fletcher that did that. Or, was it Damien that struck the killing blow..."

She shook her head, and paused a moment, kneeling to blow into the glowing embers. "Anyhow, Fletcher and this dwarf, Dantalis, took me off to help them chase down some kind of serial murderer. He said there had been incisions made near their bums, as if something had been taken out, so of course I assumed it was otyughs after their offal. Or someone stealing their spines to make a necrophidian. Turns out it was neither, and when the dwarf smith confessed to having had dreams of committing exactly our murders, we knew we had our culprit. Classic dream possession, and I would know, mom did the same thing to my boyfriend, way back when." She sighed, caught between melancholy and fond nostalgia. "That was before she ate him."

After pouring an extra couple of buckets into the cauldron, the woman began to hum, picking up random bottles and dried herbs, sprinkling bits of plants and preserved beast bits into the pot. She knocked a wooden ladle on the side of the cauldron and continued to talk to her sleeping mutt. "Something in the smith's dream rang a bell for Dantalis and Fletcher, so they brought me back here - here! - and showed me the trapdoor in the cellar that leads to the Under City. They'd been down that way before, clearly, since they knew exactly how to get there in the tunnels, and even through some secret doors."

"We came to an ominous pyramid, something old and better left forgotten, and pressed our way inside, despite the warning of danger. We found one of the murder victims, walking dead, praying to some dark god. He attacked us, and his master, some sort of mummy, rose from some mystic vortex. The mummified creature swore he would calling his army back to the world of the living soon to conquer us all, and I suppose that was when we decided we couldn't go back. The thing swung some sort of magic sword at Dantalis that passed through his armor and skin, striking at his soul, but with my craft and one of those healing potions, I managed to save his life. With his skill and a fearsome barrage of arrows and axe swings from Fletcher, we turned that blowhard mummy thing to dust. Dantalis probably had less than half of his life force sucked out of him!"

"We found a good deal of gold and jewels, so I can probably keep up rent on the apothecary for a few more months now, even if we don't sell anything. Better yet, we found a magic statue! It had something in it, I knew it, but Dantalis didn't think so." She grinned at the dog, and said excitedly, "So, I took my mist-form potion, and I told him it was a potion of magic detection. I held the statue up, sipped the potion, and CRASH!" The dog's ears perked up at the girl's sudden yell, but it declined to stir from its rest. "It fell from my misty grasp, and was dashed open upon the stone floor! And Dantalis couldn't do anything about it! The magic inside shot straight into Fletcher. I don't know if it was some kind of blessing, or a curse, or what, but I'm glad it missed me! Anyway, it's enough to make me wonder if I should try smashing more statues. Next to Fletcher, especially."

"So that's what I did today instead of getting any spells copied. It was good to meet a new person. This Dantalis guy is probably the strongest dwarf I've met, and that's saying something. Well, strongest unenhanced dwarf." She winked at the oblivious dog. "He's also the loudest dwarf I've met, which is also no mean feat. Dwarves are amazing, Pansy. It's a lucky thing they all love ale too much, or they'd conquer us all. Anyhow, this Dantalis, he bought us some healing potions and some holy water before we went down there. He forgot to ask for his holy water back, so I'm hanging on to it," she grinned at her dog, as she placed a pair of clear glass flasks with crudely painted sunburst symbols onto a nearby shelf.

"That reminds me, on the subject of holy water... It turns out I am no longer welcome into the Church of Pelor. I guess those demonic rites and eaten men and everything finally came back to haunt me. Luckily enough, though, I also heard their healing potion supplies are running low. And if some people aren't allowed in the church, maybe they'll come to our shop for healing draughts. We'd better get working, Pansy!"

"Oh, and Pansy..." Alice glanced toward the cellar door. "Remind me to look for a scroll of wizard lock, so I can seal that trapdoor. The only thing scarier than Fletcher's enemies knowing how to get in and out of my shop without using the front door is the idea of Fletcher knowing how." The thought made her shiver beside the heat of her hearth fire.

[Dustin]

Alice test-sipped one too many potions, and in an apparently altered state of consciousness, composed this speech. It was never delivered and lies on crumpled paper at the bottom of the chest in her apothecary:

My good people of Aliceland, I stand before you today to proudly declare myself your new ruler. I have journeyed with a cadre of brave warriors to the Hall of the Ice King, wherein great battles were fought, sacrifices were made, and my crown was won. When we emerged, I was named queen.

You may be wondering how it could be that the great and famous Ice King could have been felled? It is only proper that you, my loyal subjects, learn this tale, for it is now a pivotal moment in your kingdom's history. It was a brave band of heroes that set forth into that tomb. Damien Wright, bard, storyteller, marksman extraordinaire, and the first man ever to resist my considerable feminine charm. Tamli the dwarf, a great heroine, poet, and master of both sword and prose. Charlie, priestess of Pelor, valiant and radiant. These were the heroes that helped me to save you all from eternal winter, and become your new Ice Queen.

Many of you may recall my coronation day, when snow began to fall in the middle of spring and sky vikings ransacked the town. We defeated them and took their boat back to the distant palace of that frozen despot. A pile of frozen skulls welcomed us, but it would not repel us, and without trepidation we entered his hall. Immediately, we encountered a banquet table where a man claiming to be the Ice King sat, beckoning that we should give his scepter to a nearby woman. Charlie saw through this pathetic deception, and Damien quickly imprisoned the woman behind a solid wall of ice. The illusion spell of these imposters faded, to reveal the Ice King pretender to be a mere brigand, and his lovely assistant to be a gnome of some kind. They were easily put down by the might of my personal guard.

The denizens of the castle kindly directed us to the throne room of this wretched Ice King, whose mere touch could freeze a man or dwarf alive, and there we did battle with him for the sake of springtime, Sweetgrove, and all of the Realm that was threatened. His icy touch nearly froze Tamli alive, but Charlie rescued her, and Damien staggered the foul tyrant with a well placed crossbow bolt, and Tamli executed him. The four of us agreed that only I, the most beautiful and puissant maiden Alice, had the wisdom and grace to wear his crown, and so I was named Queen of all the Ice King's lands, which was all the land upon which snow had fallen. Damien journeyed outdoors, where he saw that the land had been cleansed of the snow clouds and the sky was clear and springy once more.

In no time, we had subjugated all the minions in that palace - save one. The Ice King's army stood frozen until he had need to thaw them. The Frozen Dragon Frostonyx threatened to break free from these chill bonds, But Charlie would not stand for the tyranny this dragon promised our fair land, and smote him a lethal blow upon his draconic skull. He fell defeated, but his hoard was still hidden behind a maze of traps, pits, and intricate puzzles. Between Damien's quick fingers and Tamli's quick wits, however, his vast wealth soon became ours. With her divine judiciousness, Charlie picked out the worthy and good hearts among the King's ice-trapped army, and spared them, leaving them to new lives. Thanks to Charlie, you will never meet any of the wicked men that had been frozen in that place.

Triumphant, we returned to this burg - a humble village now, but soon it shall be my capital, Sweet Alicetopia. Under my wise and just hand, I shall bring a new era of peace and prosperity to the land, like a new spring after a snow. I shall protect you from all who would do Aliceland harm! All I ask in return is for your love, and your tax money.

[Dustin]

Dear Rebel Alliance,

   I have hidden this message in a scroll case in a tunnel beneath the town once known as Sweetgrove, anticipating that these warrens will serve as the secret bastion from which the last free-willed beings in the Realm will conspire to one day free their brethren from the vice-like grip of the Iron Ring. If you are not a rebel alliance hoping to somehow overthrow the Ring, you might instead be here to hide from Supereme Emperor Kaine the Kraven. If that's the case, then woe to you, for none can stand against his great scepter of power. This document is here to give you a small inkling of your history, to explain how once, in the distant past, the great sorceress Alice and her band of brave adventurers faced down the Iron Ring, and when it was that Kaine began his meteoric rise to power.

   This past week, a group of McGinty's Elite, the most famous fighting force of our time, journeyed to the mystic Redding Caverns, once a gold mine for the wealthy trade guild of Sweetgrove, now a den of evil and corruption. We were there to head off a potential alliance between the Iron Ring and some monsters or something. The brave Elfmaid Loreleiannawhatsit~- wove a spell of sleep over the watch patrol that the slavers had posted to stop intruders, but alas, it seems that an alarm was raised, for entering the mine, we came upon a room with hastily discarded meals, and no slavers to be found. We set off deeper into the mine, seeking to find either the slaves that the Ring was keeping, or whatever mysterious evil had forced the caves to be abandoned in the first place.

   The cavern was winding and labyrinthine. We passed through a kitchen, wherein Fletcher, Terror of the East, dispatched a suspicious cook out of spite, merely for suggesting that meat be roasted rather than consumed raw, as was the wont of that wild man. We encountered a caved in tunnel, and were forced to turn to a side passage, which had been conspiciously sealed. Rather than using boards to block a door, some mad wizard had instead used Bullywugs to bar passage into a dangerous section of mine. The gentle bard Damien took pity on their wretched plight, and freed them from their bondage.

   As it turns out, these bullywugs, this living blockade, had been placed there not to keep people out, but to keep something in. A gorgon! No, not a woman with snake hair, that's a medusa. This was a gorgon, a metal bull whose very breath could petrify a woman! Or an elf! I was a statue for that battle, but as far as I was told, the mighty Greta Boulderbust used her titanic strength to pummel the beast senseless, whereafter its disgusting ichor was lovingly rubbed upon my now less-than-supple stone body, and that of the Elfmaid Lothloraina-~.

   Hours later, after searching through the titanic cavern, we encountered two incredibly well armed men, guarding an absurd hoard of gold. They were the twins, Uruk and Duruk, destined from birth to slay the King of the Giants, but we challenged them without fear. The Elfmaid, Lanamalfrigadelia~- nearly fell to their blades, but my potent curative enchantments saved her life, for which she swore an oath of life debt to me, Queen Alice. We cut short two threads of fate, as we slew each twin in turn, and claimed for ourselves the incredible bounty produced in that mine.

   The unquenchable thirst for freedom set Fletcher's blood boiling, and he demanded that the slaves be found and freed. We set ourselves to the task, and at last tender Damien saw, with his keen eye, a concealed door, behind which we located dozens upon dozens of enslaved men and women. Not finding his abducted wife or child, Fletcher swore a blood oath to destroy the Iron Ring, and indeed all who would use iron for any means whatsoever, and the heavens rumbled in acknowledgement of his oath. His spirit still walks the land to this very day, unable to rest until his family is freed from eternal bondage.

   When we returned to town with enough gold to ransom Sweetgrove back from the slavers, we found only more terrible news waiting for us. The saintly Damien, having kept his share of the money from the mines rather than return it to its rightful owners, decided to go spend it on a wand owned by the town wizard, Kaine. Kaine was a humble man, unmarried and unloved, living in a shack rather than a proper tower. Finding Kaine gone, Damien consumed the most powerful magic item he had ever owned - a scroll of Dispelment of Magic - to break through the mystic wards of the wizard's humble - but highly enchanted - abode. Inside, each of us found something. Damien found incredible treasure, but I found a terrible portent. A note. I have transcribed it here for your benefit:

Dear pathetic ants,
     I am Kaine the Mighty, Ruler of Realms, King of Everyone. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair. Some weeks back, a foolish group of adventurers sold to me a scepter for a paltry six thousand gold coins. This scepter, recovered from the nearby tomb of a great hero, has the power to force others to bend to my will. I am taking it now to the capital, soon to be my capital, where I shall begin my reign as Emperor of All the Light Touches.
    Warm Regards,
    ~Kaine the Konqueror.

   Alas, it was I! I, who sold him that scepter, ignorant of its power. It was I who set us on this path of destruction and tyranny! It was I who doomed us all to slavery! If only I had known, I probably could have gotten way more than 6,000 gold for that rod! Heck, I could have just used it on him and told him to give me all his money! I could be queen right now!

Truly, my regret is profound.

[Dustin]

Dear Diary,

Fletcher has been putting McGinty's kids' through wizarding school with all the ale he's been drinking. I think I saw him drop an entire ESP Potion worth of cash on the tavern counter. If I catch him in the right mood, he might not even notice me slipping him potions instead of ale.

Lots of rumors in town about an old pair of adventurers. They used to campaign against orcs or barbarians or orc barbarians, then they went missing. McGinty had a map to their old house, so we went to see if the Wizard of the pair had any scrolls. If he did, they were eaten by troglodytes, 'cause there sure wasn't much of interest lying around. The place was too big for us to reasonably explore, and honestly they didn't keep much of real use.

The place had the first appearance of an old tomb, with magic mouths warning us away and dead adventurer corpses heaped in the entry way. I was expecting organized kobold resistance, or at least the orc slaves we'd heard about, but it was hours before we even found screaming mushrooms. Once we'd gotten past all the weird foreboding things, though, we did find regular abandoned living quarters.

We went through some bedrooms, mostly just full of moldy clothes and some perfume. The meat-head knight had a weird cave chamber attached to his lady love's chamber through a none-too-subtle secret passage. They had giant tapestries of the two of them together, did they really need to have secret trysts? The wizard's room had his name and picture all over it. Didn't find his underwear, it probably would have had his name embroidered on it too.

Embroidering your name on your underwear is such a great idea, it almost makes me want to wear underwear!

Wizard had a fake wand in his nightstand. I have never seen a fake wand before. Why would you waste the magic to make a fake wand? Did you want to curse it, but you weren't good enough? He's lucky he's Zanzabar the Unkown, because if I knew where he was now, I'd ram that fake wand up his butt. I wonder if that's what it was for, seeing as he kept it locked in his room...

Come to think of it, there was almost no treasure, so I wonder if the two of them and all their followers didn't just move out, instead of dying. They sure seemed prepared for the eventuality of invaders in their rooms, what with the magic mouths and the secret doors everywhere! I'll bet McGinty got set up, with this whole thing! They're probably just trying to trick adventurers into clearing out their fungus and spider infestation by faking their deaths!

Highlight of the trip was the room full of fountains. I got to drink magic unicorn water that made me glow yellow. I drank something that made me mute for quite a while, but narrowly avoided drinking the stomach pain or sleep potions, both of which Dantalus drank. I feel kind of bad for pouring his rare special brandy out, but if he'd been awake at the time, he would have agreed that the potential for an entire keg of healing potion was too much to pass up! It's not like it's my fault the potions turned into water once we left the room!

I wonder if Father Thomas liked these two 'dead' adventurers. Could I swindle a Raise Dead scroll out of him if I could reasonably claim to have their corpses? Should I hold off on revealing their secret sacrifices to hideous gods of cruelty, just in case, or should I go to the square right now and defame their legacy?

[Dustin]

Dear Diary,
Today, I turned my dog Pansy into a girl so that I have a shopkeeper to watch things while I'm gone. She's pretty adorable, so I had to introduce her to Fletcher! We went to his inn room to pick him up to go clothes shopping.

It turns out he's lost his memory somehow. Fletcher is now an amnesiac that barely remembers coming to Sweetgrove. I read his mind (with the "ESP" spell!) and he's seriously telling the truth when he says he doesn't remember almost anything that's happened. It kind of ruined the surprise of introducing him to Pansy.

We met Joachim in the streets and he offered to let me borrow his cloak until I could get clothes for both myself and Pansy. They smelled like him. Also, he seemed to already realize Fletcher was an amnesiac. I wonder if he beat me to the memory potion recipe?

I left Pansy with some flirtatious young tailor, and took Fletcher to McGinty's. McGinty is pretty convinced that Fletcher remembers him, but I think Fletcher's just being polite.

McGinty pointed us to Trebbelos the Boy Wizard, who wanted to check out an old reservoir from some ancient empire (I think he said it was the second most recent). The reservoir contained not only two enormous horrible monster leeches, but a terrifying and very well endowed lamia! She weakened Fletcher's mind so she could turn him into a thrall, and I had no idea how to stop her. In desperation, I quaffed my giant strength potion and tossed boulders at her until she died, freeing Fletcher from his enchantment.

Taking advantage of the weakened state of Fletcher's mind, I fed him a love draught. He's now infatuated with me, which is almost as convenient as it is weird. Certainly Fletcher's an attractive enough guy, if you like older men, but... Well, when he was sitting there with his mind all mussed up by Lamia magic, I kinda felt bad taking advantage of him. When he was an old grump who figured I was some half-mad charlatan I certainly wanted to stick it to him and show him how great a witch I am. But, between the amnesia and the weird thing with the Lamia, it kind of doesn't feel like a triumph anymore.

I'm not really sure what to do now. I make plenty of flirtatious overtures, sure, but I haven't ever really had a steady boyfriend. Mama ate my first boyfriend, and since then the only guy I've seriously pursued was Damien, who turned out to be more of a gentleman's gentleman. And I was mostly just after Damien for his impressive spellbook. Fletcher's all polite and smiley and older than me. I'm not really sure how to handle it.

We came away from the pond with a small fortune in ancient coins, a decanter of endless water, plus some startlingly sexy jewelry. I figured wearing the jewelry would kind of freak Fletcher out, since the Lamia had been wearing it when she made him into a loving thrall, and then I killed her. It might give him some bad memories. The jewelry got sold. The decanter is pretty useful, but I don't think I can make much money from water, so for now it's somewhere in between a novelty and a holdout geyser weapon.

The Boy Wizard is pretty impressive for a kid his age - a little too impressive. He was worthless in a fight, but I've got to keep an eye on him. He only tossed a sleep spell at the Leeches, which was too weak to work on them, but he also mentioned dispelling something. He could unravel the magical parts of my plans if he starts slinging the wrong spells around! I know where he lives, though, and that he keeps his spellbook there. Should I wait and see if he becomes a friend or foe, or strike before he can accumulate more power? How defenseless is this little boy?

[Dustin]

(NPCs are supposed to be DM's domain, but I figured this is more like semi-canon fanfic, so I wrote Pansy as well as Alice)

"Welcome to the Apothecary! Would you like to buy any potions?" the girl in yellow shouted as the door to the shop swung open.

"I'm home, Pansy!" Alice replied, rushing over to embrace the former canine, scratching behind her now human ears affectionately. Her fingers went to a small tangle in the girl's hair.
"Have you been taking care of your hair, Pansy?"

"I've tried, but most of my hair is on my head now, and my tongue doesn't reach there!" Pansy whined.

"Well, let's close the shop early and we'll give you a bath. I don't feel like dealing with any more customers, and between the dwarf and the bounty hunters, we're almost out of healing potions anyway." Pansy's response was a whimper, to which Alice giggled. "Don't worry, bathing feels nicer when you're a human, and you'll dry out faster with less hair."

"How come I have to take a bath and you don't?" Pansy complained.

"Do as I say, not as I do, young lady!" Alice put one hand on her hip and waggled a finger in a sarcastic imitation of an old matron. She flipped the sign by the window to 'closed', locked up the door, and ushered her assistant into the back room. Muttering an ancient word, she filled a kettle with water from a mystic decanter, then set it by the fire to warm.

"You see, Pansy, we should drink from the magic decanter for a little while until we find out if there's anything going on with the water supply. I heard the fountain water turned red like blood the other day! Some people are saying it's just kids playing with clothier's dye, but I say it's necromancy!"

"You left with the decanter, so I've been drinking well water. Is that alright?" Pansy looked a little unsettled.

Alice seemed not to hear, and continued talking as she disrobed her assistant. "I think McGinty knows something, but he's not talking. He's barely even thinking about it! He used to be in some kind of guild that worked in the Undercity. I'd guess a Thieves' Guild, except there's no such thing. Maybe it's a Torturers' Guild."

"Where do people go to learn to be Thieves, then?" Pansy asked.

Alice shrugged, "the Adventurers' Guild, I guess." She took a cloth, soaked it in warm water from the pot, and began tenderly washing the other girl.

"Do you think I could become a thief if I joined the Adventurers' Guild?" Pansy wondered, squeezing her eyes shut as Alice awkwardly scrubbed her face. The witch seemed to be clumsy to bathing others, or perhaps bathing in general.

"Maybe, but then you'd have a hard time being a shopkeeper. After all, thieves take things and give back nothing, while shopkeepers take money in trade for things."

"What about you, Alice? Are you a shopkeeper, or a thief?"

Alice hesitated, washcloth on Pansy's hip, staring at the dog girl's face. A smile broke on her lips as a giggle escaped, bubbling up into laughter, and overflowing into a brief, sharp cackle. "That's a very good question. I steal things from the dead and trade them to the living." She cleared her throat, and with a wink she added, "but if captain Thran asks, tell him I'm a shopkeeper!"

"Oh, I think I understand," Pansy nodded hesitantly. "You're kind of like a vulture."

"Yes, but much prettier, and I usually smell nicer," Alice agreed. She wrung her cloth into a bucket, wetted it again from the kettle, and began washing the girl's legs and feet.

"Is Fletcher a vulture, too?" Pansy asked.

"No, he's more like a stray dog or cat. Killing doesn't make him happy anymore, and he has no master to please. He just hunts because he doesn't know what else to do." Alice cleared her throat, apparently remembering she was talking to a former dog. "But anyway, that's enough animal metaphors. Let me find the brush and then I'll tell you what happened with the giants."

"Oh! I know where it is!" Pansy traipsed, dripping water, over to the mess of blankets that served as a bed for the two (as apparently Alice never thought to get a second bed for the girl, and Pansy never thought to expect her own bed), and reaching under a blanket she withdrew a battered hairbrush. Eagerly, she brought it back and laid it in Alice's outstretched hand.

"Oh, good girl! Now, sit! That's a good girl." Alice pulled up a footstool and bade the girl sit on it. The witch began brushing out her assistant's tresses, babbling on.

"So, you know that Dantalus wanted to kill the giants that keep attacking people who journey out west, through the mountains. Well, we rode out there, and after two days of travel we came upon one of their strongholds. Fletcher scouted it out for us, finding it to be huge by human standards but only pretty large by giant standards. There was a tall balcony where a giant was patrolling at all times. He carried a siege weapon like it was a crossbow."

"Alice..." Pansy tried to interject, but the witch spoke over her without noticing.

"We approached the stronghold by cover of night, with Dantalus in the lead. His dwarf eyes can see in the dark - how else could dwarves live underground? We left the horses in the care of Cassie, Dantalus's adventuring apprentice, and then used invisibility potions to scale the walls undetected. For some reason, Dantalus went up without his armor on, and figured he could put it on once we got up there. It's big, complicated armor that's hard enough to put on when he can see it, much less when he and his things are invisible, so we had to come up with a different plan. I turned the giant into a frog, and Fletcher tossed the frog off the cliff into the canyon. It landed at the bottom and died, turning back into a giant as it hit the ground."

"Alice, I'm cooold," Pansy whined through chattering teeth.

"Aww, poor thing. That's because you're wet and naked." Alice said, as if Pansy couldn't have realized. "Here, you can wear my Winter Crown." Alice patted Pansy's head, ran a few fingers through the girl's now smooth and straight hair before taking the elaborate gold crown from her own head and placing it on that of her ward. "Hells, it's cold in here!" She shuddered as the magic protection faded, leaving her vulnerable to the elements. "Let me throw some wood on the fire. Anyway, where was I?"

"Oh, I remember. We killed the sentry giant. Well, we climbed down from his guard balcony into the hall of the giants, and peeked under their giant doors. They had a few bedrooms, and a big meeting hall, like a northern mead house or something. It was full of giant warriors, giant butlers, giant ladies and gentlemen, and giant children. The children were still taller than I am."

Alice stoked the fire, pausing her story to blow into the flames. She added some more wood and turned to see Pansy settling into the tangle of bedding the two shared, moving sheets with one hand and holding the crown to her brow with the other. The witch crossed the room to join her, and Pansy was all too eager to settle her head into Alice's lap, one hand holding the crown from rolling sideways off her head. Alice began absently stroking the girl's side and belly as she continued, either forgetting or not caring that her form was no longer that of a dog.

"Fletcher and Dantalus figured the best way to fight them would be to draw them out into the hallway we were in, and attack them from far away, so they started catching the doors on fire to get their attention. At first one or two giants came out to look, and Dantalus and Fletcher killed them. Then they wised up and regrouped, preparing to rush into the hallway themselves. Before they could do that, a giant giant came out of the bedroom across the hall, with two giant bears. Fletcher picked off the giant warriors with his arrows while Dantalus and the giant giant threw rocks at each other. Dantalus got pretty good at throwing boulders - thanks to the help of my potion, of course - and got the upper hand in that battle. Once the bears were taken care of, Fletcher got on a horse and rode out across the foothills to chase down the giant elderly and children that had tried to run." Alice shrugged at this. "Even in his kinder amnesiac state, Fletcher's not shy about shooting children. Dantalus and I were forced to flee the hall, because both he and the giant giant had been throwing pieces of the walls at each other, and so the place had started to collapse."

"We picked through the rubble and ruins afterward. The giants had all kinds of expensive goods, like horns and furs, but we agreed we should give it back to the Merchant Guild. I could have used the money to - well, to do something with, but we couldn't pass up the opportunity to force Pierre to thank us. Anyway, there's still a second giant fortress out there, but we gave them something to think about before they attack any more caravans. And hey, maybe we can bring the rest of the Guild to raid the next one."

By this time, Pansy had fallen into a contented nap. She shivered slightly in her sleep as cold returned to her, her grip on the magic crown having been lost. Alice pulled the blankets heavily up to cover the girl's shoulders. She scooped up the crown absently and donned it herself.

"Pansy, I fed Fletcher a love potion the other day, and he's starting to get suspicious that I did something to him." Alice's murmured to herself. " I'm not sure if I should play dumb, or apologize like it was something I did out of nervousness and fear, then play dumb." She sighed. "If I could get Fletcher under my thumb, what would I even do with him? Maybe I should have just been a potion merchant and left scheming to the experts." She stroked her assistant's hair absently as she fell into troubled daydreams.

[Dustin]

A Catalogue of Fire Mage Revenants and Other Undeade,
By Alice Carrol

Skeletons
The skeleton is one of the harder parts of human anatomy. It is unfortunate for us that, unlike a turtle or armadillo, we cloak our skeletons in flesh, blood, and skin, rather than the other way around. Many believe that humans were created this way because flesh is much softer and more comforting than hard bone, and skin in particular is far more appealing to stroke or look upon than bones or blood. Necromancers (and for that matter, restless spirits), however, care little for touch or appearance. Thus, using only the hard, boney part of a person and replacing the muscles and mind that normally move the skeleton with magic provides a servant far more resilient than a normal man or woman.

The other day, I happened to be inside an ancient Crypt with a pair of my colleagues, wherein I came upon a small horde of these creatures. Whether the skeletons in this Tomb came to life out of an echo of malice so strong it moved their bodies from beyond the grave, or because the Tomb's keepers had set them there to that task, I am unsure, but I did discover a few small facts about these beings. Foremost is that they are not to be trifled with - as it turns out, their naked skeletal fingers are nearly as sharp as a sword, and by clawing a person they can inflict considerable pain. Furthermore, as they are beings of bone and not flesh, neither arrow nor knife is quite so effective as it would be against a creature of flesh and blood. Nevertheless, both natural and magical fire seemed to be sufficient to harm them.

I have been advised by an anonymous party that skeletons make excellent servants for secretive necromancers because they carry no flesh to rot, and can fit in tight spaces. In fact, one might adorn them with garlands or perfume to give them a sweeter fragrance. They can easily be cowed by the power of the gods.

Chill-Zombie Ghoul Wights
In the same tomb mentioned above, my allies and I also came upon a group of fleshy undead. These beings were not so ragged and rotting as you would normally expect of zombies, so I profess that they may have been far more sinister beings. Their eyes glinted with intelligence, and their very touch was enough to chill my poor friend to the bone - not just to the bone, but to his very soul. Should you ever come upon such a creature - a twisted, still nearly human being, with cold dead eyes - be extremely careful, for its mere touch is extremely dangerous. I have since referred to these creatures as either "Chill Zombies," or more colloquially, "Ghoul Wights."

Ghost Spectre Spirits
This horrific tomb of monsters housed not only the corporeal terrors mentioned above, but also a quartet of transparent, wispy beings that went "Whoosh". I have in the past seen such beings do great harm to dwarves. Much like the chill zombies, these beings can steal the life-fire from a person with a mere touch. Luckily, it is possible to defeat them magic spells or magic weapons, as my ally Damien proved in my most recent foray. In some cases, it may be necessary to pour holy water on the corpse that once housed the ghost's body, but this is not always required to banish a Spectral Ghost.

Mummies
Quite possibly the most fearsome undead creature we encountered in this ancient tomb was a mummified wizard. Its mere sight is enough to horrify and paralyze many victims, and its touch immediately curses its unfortunate foes. It is vulnerable to magical weapons and spells, and can be warded off by the appropriate scrolls.

A few words about Mummy Rot: Mummy Rot appears similar to an infection or disease, but is actually a treated as a curse. The symptoms are as follows:
-Necrotic, festering flesh
-Extremely slowed healing
-Wavery, spectral voice
-Distant, creeped out lovers

Djinni
Not technically undead, Djinni have nevertheless been encountered in every single Firemaster Tomb I have enocuntered. The ancient wizards entombed there have bound these creatures into crystal balls, perhaps to contain or harness their firey energy.

I have recent experience with Djinni, and I can tell you they are cruel creatures that will trick their prey with promises of wishes in exchange for freedom from their prisons. Beware, not only will they often attack once freed, they will also refuse to grant any wishes! They dislike water, but cannot be destroyed by geysers. It is recommended that you bring Fletcher along when confronting these creatures.

Appendix: Curses
Tombs have been known, at times, to carry certain magical items that appear valuable, but are in fact cursed. It is assumed that this is a result of the malice of their former users, but in fact it may be that these items are placed to help spread rumors to discourage tomb raiding.
In any case, this author advises you to keep your friends clear of archery targets that are magically enchanted to appear to be shields. Your enemies will know the difference.

[Dustin]

Dear Diary,
Iron Ring again today. We figured they were gone, but I guess they nabbed Damien's husband at some point and held him for ransom, looking for revenge. I knew from Fletcher's journal that it was likely to be bad news as soon as I heard "Iron Ring", but I was a little shocked that they were actually the ones with his wife! Wife! I guess "she" wasn't a daughter, mother, sister, or platonic female friend, but his wife.

We had some new faces that were unfamiliar to the Ring volunteer to help us out, including the fiendling Avarice and a talented elf with a V name. I really should have learned her name better - I'll bet she's got all kinds of exotic spells. The plan was for them to go in ahead of us and scope the place out, get into position to back us up when Damien walked in and the fighting started. The rest of us would wait outside until we heard battle. It was an okay plan, until something unexpected happened: the fighting didn't start. We all started milling around the inn, making our own investigations. I ran to the fighting when it started, just in time to catch a fireball to the face. I looked around to see if there were injured to help, but Dantilus was already dragging them outside. Before I knew it, the room was empty except for myself, the fiendling, and a pair of Iron Ring. Avarice had either betrayed us or decided to infiltrate our enemies undercover - I doubt I'll ever find out which one - and so I was on my own. A hammer blow and a flurry of magic missiles later, I was unconscious.

I woke up outside, where apparently Dantilus was running some kind of field hospital. I guess he really did need to empty out my supply of potions, he sure used a lot of them! By the time I woke up, the fighting was over and apparently half the group was underground talking to slaves.

I'm not sure I whined enough about being left on my own there, but I guess I shouldn't be too hard on the people that also saved my life. I always thought tactics and plans were kind of silly, but I've gained a new appreciation for them after my near death experience.

I had certainly worried that Fletcher would find whoever he was looking for among the slaves, but I had thought the chances of that fear coming true were pretty low. Certainly Beshaba hates someone, because there he was, talking to a woman who claimed to be his wife. I took her aside, and spellbound her to go seek out Joachim, hoping he could erase her memories. I don't know if he's really got a memory potion, but he's the only lead I've got right now. He's also the only one who seems to know more about Fletcher's amnesia.

Was it a good idea to enchant that woman? Probably it was. After all, Fletcher keeps dazing off or rubbing his forehead every time he encounters someone he's supposed to remember. Having her hanging around would probably hurt him physically and her emotionally. Still, I can only assume this squirmy feeling in my chest is what extreme guilt feels like. Bewitching people sure is more complicated than I used to think.

[Dustin]

Remembering the self-serving depictions in Quasqueton, Alice sends this letter to a tapestry weaver.

Dear Talented Sir or Talented Madame,
It has recently come to my attention that something great heroes do when they defeat enormous armies is hang enormous tapestries of themselves in their own rooms. I would therefor like to commission a series of tapestries to immortalize my participation in the routing of a great goblin army and subsequent exploration of a vampire tomb.

For the first tapestry, I should like to show my comrades and myself facing down a tremendous goblin horde. There were two dwarves, the famous Dantilus in black armor with a sword, the other, Zancus, in more moderate armor but armed with a glowing khopesh. There was also a pale mounted man claiming to be a necromancer, though he never performed any necromancy, and a gentleman fighter with a rapier and maine gauche. The Fletcher was also there with his signature hat, and Damien Wright,with his ponytail and scrolls. Velira should be depicted raining fire down upon the goblins. While Velira the Elf destroyed the most goblins, and Fletcher and Dantilus made the most noble stand, the tapestry is still technically about me, so I should be represented most prominently. I was invisible at the time, so be sure to leave a large spot in the tapestry empty where I was standing.

The second tapestry should show Dantilus as a heavy dwarf in sinister armor standing alone. He was alone in a room with a mysterious slab and bas-reliefs of vampires, when he discovered his mighty weight could trigger the opening of a secret door, leading into the vampire tomb. I'm not sure what else you should do with this scene, but I'm sure you can figure something out.

The third should show Zancus the Dwarf, Velira the Elf, Goldmun the Duelist (that earlier dashing figure with the rapier), the mysterious necromancer and his talking moth, The Fletcher, and myself all facing down a hive of giant ants, with a sinister queen ant larger than all of us put together. Damien was absent in this scene, but if you wish to depict him, you could weave him flying above our heads through mysterious stonework passageways.

The last scene should show us all facing down a mysterious, well dressed gentleman in a room full of gold and gems. He was a vampire, so depict him with fangs, please. His necrotic touch sought me out first, so maybe show him putting a beautiful red haired maiden in a classic vampire embrace while a rakishly handsome duelist douses him in holy water.

Ymir the Pholtun, as well as Dewy and Louie, manservants of Velira the Elf, also participated in this escapade, and if the fancy strikes you, you might wish to depict the Pholtun's fiery torch or Dewey's expertise at restringing bows in one of these scenes. It makes little difference to me.

Eagerly awaiting your response,
~Alice Carroll, Queen of Winter