In contrast, Rickard was clad in black wool hose topped by a long-sleeved black tunic. Over that was a sleeveless dark green surcoat. Topping them all was a ruby red mantle fastened at the shoulder with an ornate brooch. After watching tons of YouTube videos, he’d painstakingly sewn the tunic, surcoat, and mantle, and designed the sigil on the mantle. The brooch had been a lucky find at Goodwill. On his feet were black leather slouch boots in a large ladies’ size he’d picked up on sale last summer. Since he had no pockets (they weren’t period), Rickard carried his belongings in a leather pouch slung over the belt around his surcoat.

Now he felt probing fingers. They belonged to the new guy. Physically putting your hands all over a captive was another lawsuit waiting to happen.

One of the other players cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, Blackheart Doombringer, but thou shouldst say, ‘I search you,’ and then Rickard shall yield his items.”

Rickard bit back another groan at the new player’s name. The Noun-Verbers (who gave themselves last names like Giantkiller, Dreamseeker, and Shadowwalker) were always the worst. But Blackheart Doombringer? Way to telegraph what kind of character you were playing!

Blackheart reluctantly withdrew his hands. “I thought he was paralyzed by that Web thingy.”

Lady Katarina sighed. “Nay, not for a search.”

Rickard welcomed the distracting discussion about the rules. Because he knew something the others did not. He’d not come alone to this forest.

With a cry, five people charged from the trees on the other side of the clearing. Well, three people, an elf, and an ogre. Tonight they had all joined Rickard in his quest. An epic battle began to rage around him.

Someone freed Rickard with a Dispel Spell. He reached back, drew his two swords, and threw himself into battle. Each time he swung, he yelled, “Two!” for the number of damage points a single blow from one of his swords would cause.

Blackheart was fighting off the ogre. While normally Rickard wouldn’t gang up on a player, he made an exception for Blackheart. But once he joined the fight, the ogre grunted and chased after a fleeing Lady Katarina.

Rickard circled around Blackheart, who had only a dagger. Unless Blackheart possessed a special spell to increase its powers, a dagger could do just one point of damage.

Rickard feinted with his right hand and then swung with his left. “Two!” he shouted, lightly tapping Blackheart’s shoulder. Even though his sword was basically just PVC pipe wrapped in foam, it was against the rules to use any force. Injuries playing Mysts of Cascadia were rare, mostly just sprained ankles from tripping in the woods.

Blackheart did not grunt. He did not take a step back. He did not act as if anything had happened. He just rushed forward, swinging his dagger at Rickard’s face, a forbidden target. He didn’t even shout, “One.”