All right then, (Patreon)

to remind you where we were in the story before Kringlemas interrupted us: Burnside, Rebecca, and I were trapped in the allegedly haunted ruins of Albric-Tor with the Conundrum Crew and their irritating talking house-ant Folly-La. There was a Dullahan roaming the streets, possibly out for everyone’s blood.

"I can't risk pooking everyone to the scrying tower," I explained glumly. "So I guess we’re all stuck together until we sort this mess out. It looks like ... much as I hate to admit it ... I fear it's inevitable ... we will have to suffer through a conundrum investigation. Fuma preserve us.”

The lowolk youths let out a resounding cheer and begin singing their favorite song: “Fa-la-la-la-la, Where Art Thou? We cannot start the show without thee.”

"He's right there," I groaned, gesturing uselessly at the frolicking house-ant as they launched into another chorus.

Rebecca clapped her hands gleefully to the broken rhythm. “How fun! A real-life mystery! With a minstrel group, no less! Their harmonies are pretty good!”

Burnside rubbed her hands together and chuckled in an Unseelie manner. “Oh, now this is gonna be good. Anybody wanna take bets on which horrible ghoul will do these here lowfolk fools in?”

“Should they really be singing so loudly if we’re being hunted by a murderous dullahan?” Rebecca asked me as the meddlesome youths started the third verse.

“If the specter chasing us really is fake, then we’re not in any real danger,” I grumbled as I got up and stalked toward the nearest door. “If we really are going to investigate, then we should make our way back to the city center. That will most likely be where the heart of this ridiculous operation is. GAH!!” I opened the door and jumped back as a huge blob of grotesque necrotic flesh spilled out into the room.

Burnside instantly dove forward with a blade drawn, and stabbed the nightmare blob before it could reach the Imperial Body which she had sworn to protect (meaning mine, of course). There was a loud pop followed by a long, low, extremely contemptuous exhalation as the flesh blob began to deflate.

The Folly-La Gang stopped singing and turned to gawk at the formerly terrifying blob deflating on the floor like a balloon. Then they all exclaimed at once: “It’s fake! This must be a clue!” “Slinkies!” “Joints!” “Zowie!” “Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly!”

I glowered at the pile of rubber lying on the floor and felt my blood pressure start to rise while Burnside poked at it with her foot to make sure it was really down.

“It really IS fake!" Rebecca declared. "Do you think all the rest of the horrors could be fakes too?”

“If it is all fake," I growled through gritted teeth, "then it’s unbelievably disrespectful to the tragedy that took place here! Not to mention very, very tacky.”

Ralph struck a pose in the middle of the room. “Lord Randall said this ne’er-do-well most likely set up his operations in the heart of the city. Let’s split up, gang!”

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