They left the necromancer feeling just a little lighter. Even if they did have a huge amount of shale covered mountains to keep walking over. They walked for the greater part of the day traveling along the mountainsides. The trail ran three horses wide against a sharp cliffside with a steep grade dropping off their right-hand side. The path worn and cut flat by various previous travelers. Overhead, an overhang of rock protected them from seeing the mountaintop. Day had her cart, but everyone else rode their horses. It was Laural who pointed it out, mostly because Sleepnir wouldn’t shut up about it.

  “Do you hear that grunting noise?”

  “I think so?” Day glanced up into the sky. Clouds skittered across a pale blue midday vista ahead of them.

  Now that she mentioned the sound it stood out like a cyclops at the third eye convention.

  “What do you think it is?” They glanced around unsure where the sound was coming from. They noticed no creatures and looking up the step side of the mountain gave them an overhand so they couldn’t see much beyond the outcropping over their head. Below the valley ranged out. Greens the blue of a lake, bushed trees om jeweled hues but nothing to indicate what might be making such a suspicious clatter.

  They heard grunting swear words and then not much else. Just heaving sounds as whatever it was clambered back up the mountainside.

  “Who would be trying to climb a mountain by jumping?”

  Only one option of off worlders. The PC, player characters, always focused on doing never don’t-ing. Had to be.

  It is a universal urge for only PCs to try jumping up improbable paths, overlooks, and towers like lemmings going into the mudswamps. Sometimes a particularly not bright one would even leap to their death usually muttering something about “fall damage”. Sufficed to say, fall damage like any of gravity’s laws worked. But that didn’t stop the instinct to start climbing up whatever tall building or mountain they came across. A few asking for a view and others demanding you find loot at the top for an unexplained reason. Who ever found hidden caves or monsters as the top of a mountain in this region? You had to go to a named mountain for that, not just the biggest mountains around.

  “Should we tell him?” Laural asked.

  “They never listen,” Bodi reassured them all.

  “But still. It seems we should warn them?”

  They broke out from under the cover of the rock ledge and could now look up and see an outlandishly colored character. Wearing head-to-toe bright red armor, sporting a long hooking mohawk and an assured expression they saw what appeared to be an orc with reptilian mix, grunting his way back up the impossible to climb hill. He zigzagged.

  Helpful Nettle said, “I can sometimes lip read just a tad, it comes and goes, but I’m pretty sure he’s saying: ‘This is sure to be faster!’”

  “You’re making things up,” disagreed Spoon, but Kriti confirm. “He’s right. Plus, some ‘why won’t this work’ and ‘a little faster’.”

  As they watched the bright character went higher and higher, faster and faster. He was rapidly turning into a small red dot.

  “Do you think he’d one of those this is an open world sub-types?” Bodi squinted up.

  “Maybe it will be one of the chill ones.” Spoon hoped.

  They all scowled at him. “Have you seen the outfit option? Not even trying to blend in just has a stench of an annoying one.”

  “Let’s let the trash take itself out,” offered Kriti.

  “Harsh, isn’t that?” Laural frowned at the cook.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure that one has the multiple lives option.” Kriti spoke with confidence.

  “Based off? Do you think he could get all that gear in one life and still not realize going up the big straight path accommodating all the horses and a cart is faster?”

  As they watched, suddenly the red blob jumped to an equally rough terrain.

  Bodi visibly winced. “That’s an unclimbable rock if I’ve ever seen any.”

  They all watched dispassionately as the character’s bright red dot rolled and fell sixty feet and hit a few out cropping. They all instinctually turned away from the gruesome sight, but the body didn’t break apart. It just pinwheeled. The circle corpse method.

  “Gear that good?” Kriti asked Day. “You should know about dead bodies.

  “I do, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s just a classic body cling problem. You know how off worlders never disintegrate or anything like a proper death? Gotta be body cling.”

  Nettle disagreed. “It’s just productions. You know how games developers are about making sure kids can play. It’s an important market share.”

  The body, clinged or not, crashed down off rock walls and stone outcroppings, bounding with alarming effectiveness of only indestructible rubber bodies, and finally got enough air to freefall to another outcropping. Behind the body, a miniature avalanche of rocks and dust spit down on them. Even a very small rock at high heights can knock someone dead.

  Great. They all rushed backwards under the trail covering rock before Day asked. “Won’t this rock lip crush us too?”

  They gave an alarmed inspection of the interior cliffside which might indeed simply collapse with pressure. Instantly, they urged agitated horses back out onto the open road. Nettle lifted up his hand making an overhead glowing neon shield. He added power to it, but it was no use. Already the first bits of flying chunks went through the barrier. A chunk hit Sleepnir’s flank and he commenced squealing in a very unhorse-y way.

  “Why isn’t is working?”

  “If it’s cursed soil? I don’t know,” shouted back Nettle.

  “Who cares about cursed soil?” Laural began doing her best to string out the party. The path did not have enough space to bolt away. Buddy got pushed to the front, because of his natural slow and steadiness. Plus, none of the other horses could run through him.

  “Maybe, it’s because of banished Fae?” Day shrugged.

  “Seems like a stretch to blame them for anything.” Kriti heard a lot of gossip about Fae and banished Fae before. “It’s magic proof rocks. So whatever.”

  The mountain started to rumble. The offending body, having stopped been caught on the very edge of a ledge, then thrown off again when rock piled up behind it and pushed it off like the pile of penny-machine games. The body came out of the rocky disaster it had created by jumping instead of taking the clearly marked path, and flip-flapped on down.

  “What else can we do?” Laural snapped.

  “We can try to get into the caravan!” offered the chiropractor.

  “Why would we all get into a tight small space that’s probably going to get broadsided?” Spoon shook his head. “It’s safer space out.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “What can we do?” Laural snapped again.

  “Who has a useless skill that they’ve been hiding this whole time?” Spoon demanded.

  They glanced around at everyone before Kriti caved. “Get into the cart like chiropractor says. I have an idea. But it won’t work with you around. Laural make the horses close their eyes.”

  Everyone hurried to follow her instructions because clearly this off world body still held the power of slowing down things like flash floods, avalanches, and a lot of other things that you really have no time like this to plan for. Not even if you’re a powerful genius because time doesn’t care about you.

  Since they had the extra time though, they went ahead and used it. Everyone getting in and the horses dutifully closing their eyes with a whinny and a snort. She checked naturally and then threw a blanket over the ones nearest her. If any of the horses did open their eyes, it would be trouble.

  She turned toward the mountainside. Even with her preparation, it amazed her to see the flying rocks about fist size making their way down so much slower than the body had. Even after death, off worlders controlled the magic in a way she barely could grasp.

  Carefully undoing it to not ruin her headscarf’s materials, she removed the blue wave patterns and let loose her hair. The snakes tumbled free, making delighted wriggling movements. Their tongues flickered out as one, scenting the air and looking in every direction. Her ability to see magnified by each set of eyes. In the air she now scented the fears of the Quads, a foreign antiseptic order from beside her, the dust from their passage, and the pungent fresh death of an off worlder that would decay at an insane rate. So much more too.

  Her senses she kept stifled, but it also kept the world from the Stare. Not only living things could be impacted, but inanimate objects in many cases. Especially if she turned all her snakes upon it. Although fairly rarely did she find it useful to turn items into stone. Most often the Stare caused more trouble than help with any allies or areas that shouldn’t be stoned. Now though, in the slow end of the world of rock, she turned all her hair and all herself against the coming fall.

  One would think turning rock back to rock not the most powerful thing for a medusa and perhaps even uninteresting, but it worked quite effectively for her. She now stared at the newly reformed mountains with contentment. It had been awhile since she’d allowed her hair to do its thing. They did so like to get a workout. She used to keep various useful items about bits and bobs her and there for them to enjoy. There had been no time to pack dead mice or little frog. She gave them pats instead. It was a myth that a mirror did anything to her. She often stared into them asking “Mirror, mirror on the wall, why did you work for that hag for so long?”

  The mirror. of course. had finally learned to shut the fuck up and just glowered at her. “Loose lips sink ships” is all it would whisper now, and she had to imagine that Snow White had made the thing go to task for a few generations to make it turn so reluctantly and grumpy. One of the many things she missed back at her home. She could have brough it with her, but she figured having such a storage time to haul about would be a waste. Especially since it never helped her with anything. She hoped one day someone would get the thing to open up again. But this is a complete digression. A dig recession, even though avalanches are really fast.

  The swarm of minor rocks only had been turned into a whole mountain and for her efforts it basically looked like nothing had happened. She returned her hair to its place under the hijab and decided to open up the caravan with a knock.

  Everyone else piled back out. The pathway remained clear. As they lead their stressed horses, walked they took in the new structure above and after only a few loops came upon the half in half out body off the fall damaged death PC, the body still fully together.

  Up close the outfit had even worse appearance, being enchanted material along with its natural armor class.

  “What do you think, Nettle?”

  He appraised the armor. “We should dig him out, if he’s wearing this on the outside there are about to be some good things in his pack.”

  None of them had noticed a pack nor did they know what gear he was most impressed by. Appraisal skills are undervalued.

  “Shouldn’t we leave it so he doesn’t come after us for stealing his stuff?” Laural had truly given up her stealing ways.

  “Nah,” Kriti was already digging, “he’ll think he despawned it.”

  “Even if he finds his way back her to recover his gear, the gamer types always believe their gear is gone with only a basic check.” Spoon noticed them all staring.

  “I know lots of things about off worlders because I get the least world bled that leads to the least brain bleed. Anyone mixed beyond three or four generations does. It’s terribly useful on occasion. You can’t expect me ignore everything I know that everyone else forgets.”

  After her work digging, Kriti yanked with ease and lifted the body dropping it onto the ground.

  “He is dead right? Be awkward if he popped up while we were looting him after drinking three potions.”

  “He’s dead,” Kriti assured them. “Now where is this pack you keep telling us about Nettle?”

  “See that little coin purse looking red baggy?” Nettle pointed without touching anything. “Pretty sure that’s a bag of holding, and feather carry too. The bag itself will be worth our time, but I bet there are loads of good bits inside there.”

  Kriti paused before looting. “Will we have any problems with it?”

  “Maybe. Depends on what he stuffed in there and if it’s infinite carry. Really hope it’s not infinite carry. Those things are notoriously hard to handle if you’re an NPC, Negative Popularity Chode, which is why basically nobody has beyond those ‘special’ ones. Also, it would mess up so much world mechanics to have that available to anyone. Think of the import export businesses, legal and illegal!”

  Spoon raised his hands. “There is also the your stuff owns you curse so a combined weight of whatever wooden bowls and plates this guy carried and the excessive need for apples eventually become you. It turns you into an infinite carry monster. Basically, your stuff begins to become you and you become a bag.”

  Kriti dropped the bag like it was hotter than stolen Fire Brand cattle. “You could have warned me before I picked it up.”

  “For one, I don’t know if it’s an infinite carry.” Nettle clarified. “I’d need more time to check.”

  “The impact doesn’t happen in a day or two. It’s usually a week or three of constantly carrying it. But I think this bag is actually an extra carry anyway. But we should take out whatever we want and discard the rest,” suggested Spoon.

  Kriti helpfully reminded. “Loot splitting always breaks the party up!”

  Day picked up a bag and stuffed her hand in it, feeling around inside. “Why do travelers always have the weirdest foods? A wedge of cheese, potions, potions, and more potions.”

  “Off worlders’ bodies heal differently.” Kriti frowned. “A necromancer should know all this already.”

  Day huffed still up to her shoulder in the three-inch velvety bag. “I don’t care enough too. As long as I spot them, I don’t go anywhere near those guys. Necromancers always end up in the story somewhere and it’s never any good plotlines, even as the anti-hero female lead. That’s a one-way ticket to Sexy-ville or intense PTSD. Or the classic dead sidepiece.”

  “Look are we going to keep gabbing or start grabbing?” Kriti frowned at Day’s lack of revealing anything in the coin purse.

  “I’m surrounded by murder hobos.” Laural rubbed her forehead.

  “Don’t be so unrealistic. We wouldn’t have killed him for his stuff. We’re just looting this body.” Kriti pulled off the gloves. “These look fancy. It’s only practical seeing how they loot us for like nothing all the time.”

  “The loot and let loot principle of economies.”

  “Oh, shut up Nettle. You need to get your head off bookkeeping and back into appraisal work.”

  “Fine, fine,” he explained like a pawnbroker taking Kriti’s offered gloves, “but the best I can do for something like this is three-fifty.”

  “Are we using metric measures? Cause BTC is the important metal type standard.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s off world crap. Closely followed by pounds and yen and the ever original buckeroos. No, this is clearly in Bitcoin appraisal. The ratio of which at today’s trading value is roughly half of a won and three quarters of a semi-stocked fishpond. And we’re not allowed to talk about the New Taiwan dollar ratio.”

  “And how much is a BTC worth. Nothing in a village without food, but a lot in the bigger cities. Maybe nothing at all. It’s like the legal system. It functioned in a way we don’t understand. Irrelevant to facts. Like most fictional monetary systems. Gold weighs nothing but a coin weighs a lot.”

  “How does it convert to us, Nettle?”

  “It can’t do that without knowing the stable exchange rates. That would be helpful though in a pop-up for me. I only use this form of money when I mean big, big money. Saves us from the gold and platinum and gems can be created through alomancy issues because we all know Fae can shit out bricks of the stuff. And who really needs platinum for anything in the real world? Copper maybe. You can make some copper pipes if you’re a determined individual.”

  “So worth three BTC and fifty irrelevant metals of lithium.”

  “Is this a litmus test for global financial literacy?”

  Bodi counted on his fingers. “Three litmuses and 50 Bits for fancy useless gloves.”

  Kriti put them in the bag pushing them along Day’s arm with a slightly challenging expression. The bag helpfully turned two snug arm’s width wide. Both women stared eye-to-eye.

  Laural walked over and grabbed the baggy, yanking it closed.

  “I have an idea instead of waiting for this off worlder to respawn and reset us into thinking and not doing for the next three thousand words, why don’t we get off the dangerous trial that almost killed us. And then we can do loot sorting?”

  She would have had more disagreement, except the horses were still all on her side. They moved along, leading behind them sullen and greedy eyed two legged. Only the cart didn’t get up and running with one half of the Quad, Tyer and Tire, digging but not moving until Day stepped back up into the cart. They trundled along the path, heading opposite from the heights point. It was all downhill from here. A few more bumps in the trail suggested trouble.