Nanoc and his friends broke into the vampire's manor house through a window. Rotcel' Loc winced as Nanoc's fist hit the window with a crash, shattering the glass but leaving a border of crystal teeth around the window frame. Rotcel touched the razor-sharp edge of the glass in trepidation.

  "That’s’ pretty sharp,” she warned. “Why don’t you let me—”

  “It’s fine,” Nanoc said, confidently swinging himself through the window. “All you have to do is—ouch! My hand! By the seven heavens, that hurt!”

  As he fell into the manor house his hand caught on a long piece of glass. The pain surprised him, and instead of landing well he fell right onto his head. Nanoc sat up, nursing his hand. A moment's reflection would have allowed him to agree that, perhaps, he should have listened to his rogue friend more closely, but reflection was not on a barbarian’s skill list. Besides, he was in, wasn’t he?

  “Come on,” he said to his friends. “What are you waiting for?”

  Dren looked at Rotcel ‘Loc, who knocked out the worst of the glass shards with her knife before swinging herself in. She turned and helped Dren through. Neither of them were hurt.

  “Is that how you broke in last time?” Dren asked Nanoc.

  “Pretty much.”

  “No wonder you were killed! Don’t you ever think of using stealth? Moving in silence? Not announcing our arrival to every foe within ear range?” Rotcel ‘Loc said reproachfully.

  “No,” Nanoc said honestly. “I solve all my problems by punching them.”

  This approach was typical of a barbarian, and partly explained why very few of this class managed to make it to higher levels, because not every problem can be solved with violence. Taxes, for example. Or romance. Or crosswords. Magic, too, although perhaps not the mages who cast it.

  Who knew what unpunchable dangers the manor held? All of them, or none of them? Dren and Rotcel shared a look of pained patience. They knew that keeping Nanoc alive was going to be hard work.

  “You’ve walked this way before, Nanoc,” Rotcel said.

  “Yeah?”

  “So, is there anything we should be wary of?”

  “Well,” Nanoc said, frowning. “There was something I was going to mention, wasn’t there? What was it now? I think it was important. I—"

  A screaming ghoul fell from a trapdoor in the ceiling onto Dren, pinning the elf to the ground. The ghoul opened its mouth to reveal dirty teeth that dripped saliva over Dren’s face. Nanoc leaned over and punched the ghoul in the head, knocking it clean out. Dren rolled the ghoul off and stood up, eyeing the beast distastefully.

  Rotcel stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t see any more ghouls up there, yet their absence did nothing for her pounding heart.

  “Was the thing you wanted to mention about ghouls falling from above?” she demanded. “Because that would have been good to know five minutes ago.”

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  “It wasn’t that,” Nanoc said. “It was something else entirely.”

  They walked further down the corridor, past tall portraits whose eyes turned to watch them go. Further down the corridor was a door guarded by two sets of metal armor standing like eternal soldiers. Above the door were mounted dozens of monstrous heads from beasts the vampire had hunted for fun, including several enormous wolves. Rotcel stared at the heads for a long while, but they did nothing.

  “I think—” she began.

  The armor burst into life, swinging a mace at Nanoc’s head. The little gnome ducked beneath the blow – he was naturally gifted in this way – and the armor stumbled forward. Rotcel stuck out a foot and tripped a plated leg, sending the armor stumbling onto its visor. It hit the ground with a chorus of clanks, breaking apart. A second suit of armor rushed forward only to be met by Dren’s glowing hand.

  “Ytlas Ria’s spell of greater rust!” he shouted, holding out a hand palm-forward.

  The enchanted armor crumbled, falling into red chunks of iron that became dust, leaving nothing but a nasty mark on the carpet and a helmet that rolled forward and tried to headbutt Dren in the foot. The elf kicked the hollow head down the corridor.

  “Nanoc, can’t you warn us about stuff like that?” Rotcel snapped.

  “No,” Nanoc said, staring at the heads above the door. “They weren’t here last time. And besides, the thing I wanted to say was far more—"

  There was a loud click below their feet as they entered the room. Rotcel ‘Loc leaned over and grabbed Dren by the collar as the room’s floor fell away beneath the elf, revealing a black hole into the abyss. Dren balanced precariously on the edge of the darkness until Rotcel pulled him back. The elf stumbled into Rotcel, sending them both collapsing onto the ground. A wire cage erupted around Rotcel. The lizardling was too fast, rolling out of the way as the cage fell over with a clang.

  “What was it that I was meant to tell you, now?” Nanoc wondered, still looking at the heads on the wall. “Ah, well, I’m sure it will come to me.”

  Dren leaped to his feet at once, peering over the edge of the abyss. He drew the stub of a pencil from a pocket and dropped it, listening carefully to hear it land. There was a long, long wait before the distant sound of lead hitting stone rose up to them.

  Dren made a note of it in his notebook.

  As he turned, his foot caught a loose flagstone and a crossbow bolt fired from a crack in the wall, shooting the notebook out of his hand, spinning through the air, and slapping Rotcel across the head with its shaft. The lizardling fell backward, cursing her companions and their complete ignorance of the dangers around them.

  “Ah!” Nanoc said, suddenly pleased with himself. “I remember! This place is full of traps, so don’t—’

  He turned around and saw Rotcel still on the ground. He walked over and helped her up. He didn’t notice the arrow.

  “This is no time for a nap, Rotcel,” he said reproachfully.

  “Traps,” Rotcel said slowly. “This place is full of traps, Nanoc.”

  “Yes! That’s what I just said. But you’re great with traps. This will be fun for you, right?”

  Rotcel sighed. She wanted to slap the little gnome, but he was right. She was great with traps. Beating each trap brought her almost as much joy as stealing what they protected. If she had been working by herself, she would have been fine. Unfortunately, Dren was a magnet for every trigger, pressure plate, tripwire, and trick lever with the words ‘Pull me’ were written on it. Keeping the curious elf alive was a huge challenge.

  And Nanoc was no better. He acted like the traps couldn’t affect him.

  Rotcel signed. She sometimes missed working with Guild-trained adventurers who avoided traps rather than triggering them out of clumsiness or, far worse, curiosity to see what they would do.

  “Do you know, that arrow broke my notebook,” Dren complained, holding up the damaged pages. “I really liked this notebook, too.”

  “Don’t fret, Dren! I know how important recording everything is for you, and I’ll make sure you get another one,” Nanoc said kindly. “I’ll buy you one at the next village, or maybe we could steal one from the vampire.”

  Dren nodded gratefully.

  Rotcel smiled. That’s why she stuck around. The chance to steal stuff.

  “Follow me,” she said. “And watch where you put your feet. Nanoc, was there anything else in here that we need to worry about?”

  “The ghouls? The bone beast? The vampire?”

  “Other than them?”

  “No?” he ventured.

  Rotcel shook her head in disbelief but led the way down the corridor with Nanoc and Dren following behind her, the little gnome whistling as he walked.

  As they left, the ghost floated down from the ceiling and watched them go.