Chapter 104 - I See Dead People.

"What we need is an edge," Urt said. 

"And how, exactly, are you going to get an edge?"

"I'm tired of dealing with the living, it's time to play to my strengths. Time to speak to those within my realm of influence." 

"Um," Horace thought for a moment. "Dead people?"

"Exactly."

"But you can never raise anyone," the zombie pointed out tactfully.

"Thanks for reminding me." Urt paused to grimace before carrying on. "That's not what I had in mind anyway. I don't need bodies here, though a zombie army would be nice. No, I'm after their minds, and you only need a spirit for that."

"Oh, you mean ghosts!" Horace exclaimed, catching on.

"Exactly." Urt nodded and looked up. It was only mid-day, not the best time to speak with the passed over, who tended to favour the dark of the night to come out, as per the dictates of tradition. "I'll have to wait a while," he said. 

"There's that small hut somewhere round here I think," Horace pointed out. "Remember the one? You took shelter in it when it was raining that time, when you didn't want to get that Marsh dust wet."

"You have a good memory," said Urt. 

"Your other senses tend to improve when you lose touch," Horace replied. 

"I don't think memory is a sense." Urt rotated, trying to get his bearings. 

"I work with what I have."

"I know the feeling." Urt finally recognized the area and set off towards the hut. Knowing his luck it would have collapsed, or have been used as a toilet by the locals, although that was less likely than it could have been. Mudruttians would probably think defecating indoors was bad luck or something. 

"There it is," said Horace. "Over there."

"I see it," said Urt. Approaching the old shack with care, he peered inside. Luck was with them for a change, and it appeared to be rather dirty, but otherwise dry and un-toileted. 

"Right then," said Urt. "I'm going to have a nap. Wake me when it's time to speak to the deceased. Other than you I mean."

"Yes boss," said Horace.

Urt found a slightly cleaner corner of the hut, spread his cloak out and lay down. Within minutes he was asleep.

~ * ~

Tung took a deep breath, composing himself before entering the chamber. He'd never go against the wishes of the Bleeding Man, at least not without a full set of combat spells and a small army, but he'd debated not calling the council together anyway. They were all evil self-serving killers, not that he had anything against evil, self-serving or killing, but when they all came together they spent as much time bickering as actually planning deeds of malevolence. It was all very inefficient. 

"Well, no sense putting it off any longer." Smoothing his robes down, Tung straightened up and put on his sternest expression before striding into the council chambers. 

He may as well have not bothered with the entrance. No one noticed. The Council of the Coalition of Evil was busy shouting at each other. The dark wizard took his place at the table as Murdren the Warlord threw a bread roll at Nigel the necromancer, in response to his argument that his army of the dead would beat Murdren's legion of the damned, and also the warlord was a fat poo.

"We will come to order!" he shouted, slamming his staff down on the floor and causing a minor quake. 

"Bah," Murdren, who had been half standing, sank back down into his seat. 

"Just in time," Nigel sneered. "Two more minutes and you'd have been a rotting corpse."

"Enough!" Tung raised his staff again as the warlord opened his mouth to respond. "We will come to order. Don't make our leader angry." 

That caught their attention as nothing else he could say did. The group, almost as one, glanced at the large, thorny chair at the head of the table, with its occupant slumped in it, and subsided. 

"Very well," Tung carried on. "I, Tung the Mighty, hereby convene this extraordinary meeting of the Coalition of Evil." He pulled a scroll out of thin air and, unrolling it, read out loud. "Present at this meeting are The Bleeding Man (chair), Tung the Mighty (minutes), Old Garl, Grand Mage of the Order of Corruption, Murdren the Dark Warlord, slayer of The Paladin of Greer, Synista from the ȧssassins league, Nigel the Necromancer, Jack, rapist and murderer of innocent women and children and Vork, alleged vampire of the night."

"Objection!" the pale figure dressed in flowing blood-red robes at the end of the table raised a hand.

"Apologies from Leonard the Lich," Tung carried on, ignoring the outburst. "He is currently recovering from dying after a battle with the forces of Good. This council member wishes their fellow evil being condolences, and suggests we send a gift basket."

"Seconded," Old Garl said, raising a hand.

"Thank you Garl." Tung nodded in reply and carried on. "The minutes from last meeting are…" He looked at the masses of tiny script and made a face. "…long and boring. Move to skip."

"Seconded," several of the council said at the same time.

"Good." Tung rolled the scroll up and looked up. "That brings us to the first, and only, order of business for today." He paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "The upcoming end of the world." 

The announcement didn't get the reaction he expected.

"Okay."

"Didn't we talk about this last time?"

"I thought this happened a few years ago."

"This is the Four thing yes?" Jack said. "I heard that had been postponed."

"Not so. That the Four are coming is not to be denied," Tung said. "The question for this Council is: What is our stance on this event?"

"Bloody nuisance," said Garl. "I'm just about to release a deadly plague upon the town of Randomheart. It's taken ages to get ready, and this will mess it all up. We can't allow them to interfere."

"I don't know." Jack tapped a gloved finger on the desk. "The Four will no doubt bring chaos and anarchy to the lands, surely this can only be to our advantage."

"Only for a disorganized thug like yourself," Nigel replied. "Widespread war, which I'm naturally in favour of, should be on our terms, working to further our causes. This group is overstepping its bounds. They're not even human, or similar."

"Humanity is overrated," Vork said. 

"I agree," Synista hissed, ignoring the alleged vampire. "Such an event would interfere with my guild's business."

"I don't see why we can't make an alliance with them," Murdren said. "Our forces would surely fit well with their objectives, mainly: World domination."

"They aren't interested in domination," Tung pointed out. "Only the complete destruction of all mortals."

"Ha, doesn't sound too bad to me." Vork laughed. 

"Vampires, if they still existed, would also be on their list," Garl said. 

"They do still exist! I exist!" The alleged vampire leaned forward and slapped the table.

"Says you! I saw you eating a melon the other day," Garl replied. 

"That was a human head! Your eyesight is going old man."

"I'll blast you into a hundred pieces you little upstart!" Garl stood up, staff in one hand.

"Enough!" The voice cut through the hall, making everyone jump. "Sit."

The other members of the council glanced at their chairman, whilst Garl and Vork subsided. 

"Ahem," Tung said again, clearing his throat. "As I understand it, the proposals here are…" He squinted at his hastily scrawled notes. "A formal alliance with the Four, Opposition to the end of the world at this time, or we simply sit and see how things go."

"I suggest a vote," Nigel said. 

"Seconded." Synista nodded in agreement.

"Very well," Tung replied. "All those in favour of an alliance with the Four, raise your hands." He paused for a moment and wrote down the result. "Those who say we should oppose them." Another pause. "Finally, those who say we should sit this one out until we see who's winning." Tung counted, and then sighed. "Vork, you can only vote once." 

"Bah."

"Very well then. By a clear majority, the Council opposes the end of the world by the Four."

"Excellent," Nigel said. "I request a toilet break."

"Wait, we have to decide how to oppose them," Tung said.

"Isn't there supposed to be a great hero destined to stop them?" Synista asked. "I'm sure I read a prophecy somewhere…"

"That hero disappeared nearly twenty years ago," Murdren said. 

"Even so, he's bound to turn up at the last moment, out of nowhere, just to save the day. It's practically a given," Garl said. "He's probably some innocent but strangely burly farmhand, who's just found a mystical sword that tells him he has a great quest or something. Seen it a hundred times." He shrugged.

"In this case," a voice from the head of the table made them start. "Not a farmhand."

"You know of this hero?" Nigel asked. "Sir," he added, remembering who he was talking to.

"He is on the Path even now," the chairman said. "He will be travel towards Groan soon, near the Dark Marshes."

"Then perhaps we can… guide him." Synista smiled. "I have an agent near Groan." She looked around at the others, who nodded.

"Very well," Tung said. "Send your agent. Now, any other business? Except from you Vork." The council member lowered his hand. "No one? In that case this meeting is adjourned."