One doesn’t realize the sheer number of people that go missing until they make it their business to chase them down. They kept a watch on the local request board, and snatched up any missing person notice that got posted. Even after clearing the board out the day before, it already had three new requests listed when they checked next.

  The cases ran the full gambit, from kidnapped merchants, eloping lovers, murders, to one strange case were a man accused a cleric of murdering his lifelong best friend.

  In the last situation, the missing ‘person’ had been an imaginary friend turned hallucination at the growth of a tumor on the man’s brain. Then, a memetic being—something Ellen explained as sort of like a spirit, but had never been alive, sort of how a virus was sort of like a never alive bacteria, which led to further explanations… Anyway, long story short, the cleric in question had healed the tumor, the imaginary friend tried to take over the man who imagined him, the cleared exercised the mind monster, and then the man woke up with a missing friend and no memory of the incident save the healing. Of all the cases, no poster was as distraught as this man, who refused to believe that “Cleveland” wasn’t real.

  All week they kept on top of it, until mothers began coming to them directly reporting missing child. Once it became clear these children weren’t “missing” in the same sense as a kidnap or murder victim but more in the manner of young boys out for a day’s adventure in the city, they stopped taking these requests.

  One day as they walked back to the request board via a shortcut through an alley, Bill looked up a moment too late. Alerted by some instinct, he tried to dodge but failed as four crossbow bolts struck him from different sides.

  The warrior looked back at his team with shock before falling to the ground, spasming, and dying.

  Again.

  The rest broke into action, seemingly unfazed by the death of their companion. Grom briefly rolled his eyes and mumbled an irritated complaint that he turned into a prayer.

  “Gods damned idiot… be avenged by the power or Cland!” he shouted, adding “or somebody” at the end for good measure.

  He pointed his mace at the most visible assassin, a man clad in all black who stood out like a sore thumb on the cloudless day.

  Grom felt the power enter him along with the intent behind it.

  “Shit!” he commanded.

  The assassin dropped his crossbow, letting it fall from the roof and disappeared behind the low wall as he dropped his pants and squatted down to comply.

  Linar reacted with a swish of his cloak, disappearing and reappearing behind another assassin which he easily pushed off the roof in surprise.

  Syril cast a spell, whispering a haunting melody, and the face of the assassin in his focus grew wide in terror as he turned to flee.

  The last assassin succeeded in reloading his crossbow, but before he could fire it, a two headed raven appeared beside him, coming out of a black tear in reality. The raven attacked the man’s face, one beak going for each eye.

  After that, the fight was about done. The command to shit only lasted a few seconds, but in that time the assassin had already begun the processes, and his attempts to flee with his pants down and a prairie dogging situation was nothing if not comically doomed. The one that had fled immediately came back with soiled pants to find himself the lone standing assassin—the now-eyeless and pooping men both on their knees with their hands up.

  He was met with a giant ball of webs that exploded on impact, securing him to the roof.

  “Jeff?” Linar asked, squinting across the roofs to the webbed-up assassin.

  “Minar?” the man asked, his words a mumble with the webs over his mouth.

  “Oh gods, did I just kill Richard?”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “No, he’s over there,” the pooper said, gesturing toward the man with no eyes.

  “Ah,” Linar said, squinting at the distant figure. “It’s surprisingly hard to identify a man when their eyes are gone.”

  “Yeah,” the pooper said. “The blood isn’t helping.”

  “You’re Rodger, right?” Linar asked, receiving a sheepish nod.

  Across the roof, Richard began to sob, suddenly over the shock of the whole ordeal.

  “So who did I kill?” Linar asked gesturing down at the ground.

  “Justin,” Rodger provided with a bit of regret in his voice.

  “Ah, really? I liked him,” Linar said.

  “Everyone did,” Rodger agreed.

  Richard’s wails went on in the background as the rest of the group looked up at the rooftop conversation.

  “So…” Grom began, “What’s going on here?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Linar echoed, pointing a dagger at Rodger.

  “We got hired to kill a half-elven bard,” Rodger said.

  “Any half-elf bard? Or this one in particular?” Linar asked.

  “This one,” Rodger said. “If this one is Syril Willowspun.”

  “You hit a target you weren’t certain of?” Linar said, both aghast and disappointed.

  “We were pretty certain…” Rodger said, and then hastily added. “We woulda passed on the job if we’d known you were with him.”

  “So, you took a hit against an adventurer you weren’t certain of and didn’t do any recon to determine his allies and capabilities?”

  “Well… we knew he had a wizard and a cleric with him and two others,” Rodger said.

  “If you knew that, why did you attack the warrior in the front first?!” Linar demanded.

  “We heard he’d come back from the dead,” Rodger said. “Who knows what else he could do.”

  Linar sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead.

  “Who hired you for this?” Linar asked.

  “It was anonymous,” Rodger said. “I swear!”

  “Don’t bother,” Syril said to Linar. “I know who it was. It looks like they finally caught up to us.”

  “Go back and report you succeeded,” Linar commanded.

  Rodger agreed, nodding enthusiastically, and turned to flee. The web spell on the other dissolved, and he fled as well, pulling his pants up behind them as he ran.

  “You need a new identity,” Linar said to Syril, vanishing from the roof mid-sentence and appearing beside him with a flourish.

  “I know,” Syril said, shaking his head. “And I need to leave town as soon as this vampire business is dealt with.”

  “Why wait?” Linar asked.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Syril said.

  The eyeless man on the roof continued to moan, but now his screams were taking on a more manic tone.

  “I’m blind yet I have glimpsed eternity!” he began to say on repeat.

  Newt stood on Ellen’s shoulder, one head grooming himself while the other looked around the alley for potential threats. Syril took a look at the screaming man, and then the bird before taking a cautious step away.

  “And we need to find a new warrior,” Ellen said.

  All eyes turned to Bill’s lifeless body, lying in a pool of his own blood with bolts sticking out of him from all angles.

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  ? Smoll Seriouss Business ?

  by Alexanders

  The people of the good city of New York know what their city is like. The mafia runs rampant everywhere, and worst of all, they are aware that they are only seen as prey or money to further their plans.

  Among the multiple organizations that are vying for control over the city one that stands among the rest is the 'White Concord'. A family who stands in the middle of the underworld, keeping tight control over those who attempt to make a name for themselves, be it upstanding members of society, underworld workers, or even one of the echelons of society as a Mage or Knight.

  Trixie White is the princess of the White Concord and the hidden ace of their family, she alone is the reason they keep their power, the hidden trump card, the reason they manage to stay afloat even when the other families hire two or three circle mages. She also is five years old.

  And she may be... slightly evil. But even so, she only wants to enjoy her Tea time, play with her dolls and maybe get the attention of her Papa!

  Someone stole Papa's money? Remove their head!

  Someone broke her toys? Remove their head!

  Someone bought the last candy? Remove their head!

  Someone gave this series .5 stars? Remove their head!

  Wait, what was that last one? Who cares, either way. We will remove their head ;3

  [LitRPG] [Evil] [Will attempt to be written as a comedy so it ends as Evil] [Mayhaps somewhat slow burn]