The Dark Lord Bert 2 by Chris Fox (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

Kit couldn’t hold it in any longer, and began to laugh.

“What?” White spun to face her, his almond eyes narrowing as they judged her, and found her lacking. Somehow he made the dark elves, a race renowned for their beauty, ugly.

“It’s a play on words,” she explained. “You remember Bert? He had a pet demo dog named Boberton. Bober-town is a play on that.”

“Oh.” White did not appear mollified. “I still can’t believe you conspired against me with that…critter.”

“I didn’t conspire against you. I conspired against the Necromancer White, an entirely different character.” Now it was Kit’s turn to narrow her eyes. “I know you hate roleplaying, but try to remember…your penultimate wizard necromancer is a new character. You’ve never met nor interacted with Bert. And you have no reason to have any sort of grudge against him. Also, penultimate means second best. In case you weren’t aware.”

White’s eyes narrowed even further, but he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t need a grudge to hate a goblin.” Crushstuff gave a snort, then slammed his massive axe into a passing cabbage cart, which shattered into an explosion of wood and produce. “He’s the dark lord, right? He’ll get the same as this cart.”

“My cabbages!” The poor cart owner stared down at the wreckage in horror, then sized up the ogre. He turned on his heel and sprinted off into the city.

Kit was annoyed by the casual cruelty. Brakestuff had been lawful good and would never do something like that. She had to wonder what this new character’s alignment was. Neutral evil, maybe? Either way she didn’t much like the behavior.

“Come on,” White said, starting for the bridge that led into town. “Let’s stop by the magic item shop and see if there are any upgrades before we head into the tomb.”

Kit fell into line behind him, though she didn’t answer. She already had a feeling this adventure would quickly become another quest for world domination, and saw herself at odds with White yet again. That begged the immediate question…what would the rest of the group do?

In the past she’d have been a lone dissenting voice, but more and more Nutpuncher supported her. Perhaps she had a chance. If she could convince Crushstuff…perhaps she could usurp the group from White. Perhaps they could…actually finish an adventure the way they were intended to.

They threaded their way through Bobertown’s wide cobblestone streets, which couldn’t be more different than when she’d last come. The undead guards were still there, but their armor had been painted a sunny yellow, complete with a smiley face on the chests.

Little potted flower plants now lined the street, and there wasn’t a sign of litter anywhere. Particularly noteworthy given how many people flooded the city streets. Carts rumbled past foot traffic, all thronging their way to and from the merchant district.

People looked…well, if not precisely happy, at least not downtrodden. And did anyone ever look happy going about their mindless daily tasks? She could think of someone who did. Bert. He’d hum to himself when he set up a tent, or fixed his cart. She admired that about him.

“There it is.” White plunged through the crowd, which parted before him, the people bedazzled by his scarlet trope.

The dark elf burst through the shop’s familiar oaken door, into a blessedly cool room that smelled of leather and oil, with a hint of parchment. She loved that aroma. The walls were covered with arms and armor primarily, with the occasional cloak or belt sprinkled in.

The very same gnome shopkeeper who’d helped them the last time stood behind the counter, eyeing them appraisingly from under his bushy white eyebrows.

“You’ve got starting gold. I can smell it.” He hopped onto the counter and grinned up at them. “You’re a fresh adventuring party, aren’t you? High level too. What are you, seventh level?”

“Ninth,” White supplied imperiously. “And we are indeed flush with starting gold. The question is…do you have anything worth our time?”

The gnome’s eyes narrowed, and all friendliness vanished. “You know how this works, fungus eater. You want something rare? Ask for it and I’ll make a check to see if I’ve got it in the back. We can’t haggle if I don’t know what you want.”

White’s eyes narrowed, and a condescending smile bloomed. He raised a delicate finger and pointed at the gnome, and then intoned a single word, a word that every powerful mage knew to fear. “Die.”

A bolt of crackling black energy streaked from his outstretched finger, and slammed into the gnome’s chest. The shopkeeper’s eyes bulged for a moment, and then he keeled over, spasming once, then going limp.

“Rise,” White ordered, raising his hand slowly into the air over the corpse.

The gnome’s quite clearly dead body rose slowly to its feet, the rheumy eyes focusing on their new master. Kit stifled the urge to intervene, despite being horrified by the act. What could she do? There was no undoing that spell.

Instead, she glanced at Nutpuncher to see how the gnome was reacting. His features were twisted with disgust, and his attention was on the gnome. That boded well. He didn’t condone White’s cruelty any more than she did.

“Now then,” White purred, grinning at his new creation. “You will not sell any magic items unless it is to me, or to an agent I have appointed. Is that clear?”

“Yes, your douche-ness.” The gnome gave a low respectful bow.

“You will address me as Lord.”

“Yes, Lord Craptacular.” The gnome spun around, dropped his trousers, and mooned White, with a bit of frank and beans directly beneath.

“I hate you so much.” White’s eyes narrowed, but he spun on his heel and stalked from the magic item shop.

Kit followed quietly, as did the others. Even Crushstuff looked surprised by White’s actions, though it could have been simple confusion due to the low intelligence score.

The tomb awaited them on the hill above. Perhaps she could pretend they were a real adventuring party until they reached it.

6

The Thirsty Games

Kit winced as