The world is a dangerous place. It has always been dangerous. It continues to be dangerous. It will always be dangerous.

Many millions, if not billions, of souls live in the world of Yultiem, the realm of magic, monsters, and more. Most of these souls are your average farmer or peasant, dutifully living their lives quietly with a family they are proud to raise. That is a respectable and quaint style of living, but not that of the adventurer. The adventurer, or as they best and most brave and successful of the lot have been called, heroes.

They say the soul of the hero is a person who is dealt the dice of fate. This dice determines many things: their hate, their love, their very lives, and continues to roll against them every turn of their journey. The hero is born when that person refuses to give in and let fate tell them what they can and cannot do.

In such a powerful and scary realm of life, it can be dangerous.

This is why it is nice to be with someone you trust.

If you can afford it.

Far in the lands north of the capitals of the dense human cities of Reigion, Bealnor, and Wickensdale, a blizzard was blowing heavily. Beyond dense forests and the tackled foothills, somewhere where people of sensible nature tend to avoid, a horrible snow storm billowed and blow.

"Pffft," a shape in the storm blew a raspberry, "this is the worst possible thing. Ever."

"It's not so bad. We just need to find somewhere indoors," another shape slightly ahead of the first assured.

Pushing his way through the tall snow, easily up to his knees, a figure stood up, holding a hand to the unrelenting winds and snow blind landscape around him. He was a young enchanter; a type of wizard who specialized in the arts surrounding the magical properties of things, ranging from weapons to armor, minds to muscle, even the fate and destiny of the universe itself.

His brown hair poked roughly out from underneath a hood over his head, showing his equally brown eyes. Something dotted across his forehead, but without the stillness of his locks of hair, none could hope to make out the strange birthmark. Dark eyelids barely supported the tired gaze of the man as he scouted ahead. It didn't do him much good- the obscuring haze of the storm consumed everything.

"I don't even mind the cold!" the voice behind the young man protested as a hand grabbed forward and pulled herself closer, wiping snow from her eyes. Long brown hair also fell from this person's cloak. Identical brown eyes peered from the woman behind the enchanter, and she stabbed the ground with a staff, leaning on it with a wheeze. "But man this wind is messing my lungs up!"

She was a Druid- a speaker of the wilderness and teller of the kingdom untamed. With her skills she wove the natural elements to guide her actions and safeguard her through life while preserving the balance that the world needed. She was almost perfectly identical in appearance, but wore fur and skins, compared to the enchanter who slapped on softer, daintier cloths.

"Can't you do something about this... this storm?" Dipperthur the enchanter demanded to his sister, the Druid known as Magnanimously Magnificent Masterfully Malleably Mendable Mabel the fourth, esquire.

"Yeah, I'll just let us walk through like five gajillion miles of cold, wet weather, and then when you ask try to do something to stop it," Mabel the Fourth replied snarkily to her brother, who snorted and stepped ahead, "If I could have, I would have!"

"It better be not another thing with the balance of nature," he retorted over his shoulder as he shoved snow up into the air with kicks of his boot covered feet.

"It was vital the bear cub be let over that cold river!" Mabel said. "Otherwise we could have been dealing with a rabid bear mother on the loose."

"As opposed to what I'm dealing with here and now," Dipperthur replied as he stopped, and peered ahead. "Wait. I see something?"

"Is it a gateway?" Mabel demanded, and bowed under his cloak to see past him, "please tell me its a gateway to the town."

"No. It's a building I think," Dipperthur said quietly.

Barely a dark shape ahead of them, the two exchanged glances and moved ahead. The snow was already covering their tracks behind them as they trudged onward, digging a path onward towards what came to look like an inn. An inn surrounded by absolutely nothing.

"Odd place for a building," Dipperthur mentioned as he examined the place.

"You think there are people inside?" Mabel asked hopefully, "we may have magic, but this is cold levels I am not happy with."

"Cold levels?" Dipperthur turned to her, squinting in disapproval, "really. Cold levels," he turned and looked around the side of the building, hoping to get a clue if this was a safe place. The window shutters were closed, but he spotted a basement door on the side of the building. "Maybe we can get in through the backdoor?" he asked and turned for the corner he spotted it by.

"Or we can knock?" Mabel reminded him as he wandered off. Dipperthur paused, recalling the said action and sighed. With a contemplative nod, he turned back and cupped his arms under his elbows, keeping himself warm. Mabel leant close to the door and rapped her knuckles against the wood. "Hello?" she called sweetly.

No response came.

"Huh. Well, I'm going back door," Dipper turned and stomped through the snow.

"Dude, I just knocked," Mabel told him as he rounded the corner. No sooner had Dipperthur vanished from sight than the door slammed open, smashing into Mabel and tossing her into the snow. Without a chance to react, she disappeared behind almost two feet of accumulated frozen water.

"Yo?" someone asked from far away. Mabel was too stunned to answer, and too cold to reach her hands upwards, and as she began to move again, the doors slammed shut.

"Mabel!?" Dipperthur came running back around, frolicking in the snow to reach her, "are you okay?" he found her imprint, being coated with more insulting snow, and he slowly pulled her out. "C'mon, on your feet, druid."

"Ow," she groaned, massaging her chest and face, leaning on the staff. "Whoever was inside has a heck of a swing."

"Well... I bet you the door is unlocked, because the downstairs door is chained up," Dipperthur mentioned with agitation. "Might as well try this again."

Dipper pulled on the doorknob and pulled it open. A gust billowed past them into the interior as they stepped inside, where sounds of a crackling fire and the smells of soup, stew, and burning fire.

The building was simply furnished: wood of various miss-matched colors assembled the chairs and tables strewn about the room. A huge fireplace blazed nearby a large bar, where a well armored and tall man sat, just beginning to rest himself back onto a stool. Next to him a spear and shield lay against the empty seats.

In fact, as the twins let the door closed behind them, they noticed how empty the tavern was. Only a total of four figures could be counter, including a bartender, who sported two large dog ears atop her head, a robed human by a wall, who smiled happily at them and began to wave, and a cloaked figure in the back, holding a wooden pipe to their hidden face, smoking silently.

"Welcome to the Slab 'n Tab!" the half-dog bartender woman called to them, pulling herself around the large man in armor to speak to them, "would you like anything to eat or drink? We have warm stew and warm... mead. Not that you'd want cold mead on a day like this."

"Stew," the twins replied after a shared glance between them both. The bartended nodded with a grin and left them, turning for a swinging door for what they assumed was the kitchens.

Mabel looked around, using her druidic senses to peer about. They were not the only ones who used magic in this building she quickly gathered. The man closest to them, facing away and digging into a soup had some sort of magical trace about him, possibly a cleric or paladin- someone who worshipped the powers of light and things of holy nature. Then there was the man waving at her from the corner with a smile. He radiated magic, much to the point she knew he was absolutely a caster like Dipper was.

"Greetings!" he called as Mabel briefly made eye contact.

"Who's that?" Dipperthur asked Mabel out of the corner of his mouth.

"I dunno. I'm going to go find out," Mabel told him happily. Before Dipperthur had a chance to hold her, she left, bounding over in her fur armor and taking a chair noisily across the table of the still smiling man. "Hello! I'm Magnanimously Magnificent Masterfully Malleably Mendable Mabel the fourth, esquire! Pleased to meet you!" she declared and shot her hand out across the table.

"Hello Magnanimously Magnificent Masterfully Malleably Mendable Mabel the fourth, esquire," the man replied instantly as he gently shook her hand in their formal greeting. Mabel gaped at him.

"Wow. That's the first time anyone in the universe has, like, ever gotten my name right on the first try!" Mabel told him as she leaned in to congratulate him. This, however, was a mistake. Mabel the Druid gasped and pulled back, clutching her nose.

The man reeked. Sulfur, embalming fluid, possibly raw alcohol, and even worse, possibly rotting flesh seemed to emanate from him. Yet he grinned, and appeared perfectly groomed with his black hair and white teeth. Mabel eyed him as his smile faded, and she spotted something that was bad news. There was a tightly wrapped collection of human bones in his pocket.

This man was a necromancer; a magic user specializing in the use of death, decay, disease, and the enslavement of the undead to do his bidding.

"Are... you are okay?" the man asked as Mabel pulled herself as far away from him without standing away, almost rocking the chair off its feet.

"Yeah. Just, uh... stretching," she said.

"Stretching? Ah! A lovely idea!" The necromancer followed suit, but unlike Mabel put far too much energy into his leaning back and flew out of the chair, slamming himself onto the floor.

"OH!" Mabel watched him roll onto the ground with a laugh. While her first instinct was to rush over and help him, she still wanted to remain at distance. "Are you... okay?"

"Yes!" he called to her happily, stumbling back up and pulling up the chair with him, "nice and stretched out. I guess there's a reason I let Reginald do my work for me."

"Who?" Mabel asked.

"Reginald. He's a friend," the necromancer waved his hand into the air, and then leaned closer into the table, "so, Magnanimously Magnificent Masterfully Malleably Mendable Mabel the fourth, esquire, I am Ebon, Grave connoisseur and Easer of Spirits."

"Necromancer," Mabel hissed through her teeth forcibly.

"... excuse me?" the necromancer blinked as he stared at Mabel.

"You're a necromancer."

"Ah... no I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You're totally a necromancer, dude," Mabel told him, and pointed to him, "you smell of death and embalming fluids, I detected magic on you the instant I walked into this room rivaling my brother over there who is an enchanter, and I see you carrying a roll of BONES in your pocket!" she declared. The Necromancer gulped and hurriedly pushed the bones deeper into his pocket. "So don't lie to me. I know you're a necromancer."

"Okay, okay," he held his hands before her, trying to calm her and lower her volume, "yes! Okay!" he hissed back in a whisper. "I... I do study necromantic arts. I admit it."

"Great. You people always stir up trouble," Mabel leaned back, crossing her arms.

"I take offense to that!" the necromancer Ebon pushed himself forward, pointing to her, "just because of my studies I am labeled as a monster! I have aided more towns that I can count with their problems relating to the undead, curses, and various other ailments past their expiration date!"

"...yeah?" Mabel asked, checking behind her to Dipperthur, who was glancing at her and the man named Ebon and then back into the kitchen.

"Yes! Reginald and I are contributors to the regional well-being, and it is biased, uneducated fools like you who quickly label people like me!" Ebon called out on her, and she grumbled.

"Okay, fine. Sorry," she mumbled back, her arms still tightly crossed.

"I mean, honestly, what do you have against Necromancers anyway? Can't be worse than what I've got against other necromancers," Ebon asked her.

"Well, I'm sort of a Druid, for starters," Mabel informed him.

"...A what?"

"Druid."

"You're a druid."

"Yes."

"Keepers of nature and... natures distaste for... necromancy?" he asked with a clear frown.

"I admit it," Mabel shrugged.

"Ah," Ebon swallowed and pushed his chair slightly backwards, not being half as sly as Mabel was about it, "that's... good for you," he congratulated her with a stiff nod before reaching over to the wall behind him and rapping loudly.

"What's that about?" Mabel asked him, one of her eyes popping up as she studied him.

"Absolutely nothing," he assured her poorly.

The front door then swung open with a loud bang. All heads turned to face the newcomer. Wind whipped past it as it took a step inside. No eyes were present in its eye socket. Nor flesh or muscle or even cartilage. Only a few sparse pieces of armor and a simple leather cap tied around the base of its neck.

A skeleton, a hand on its sheithed sword, took a step into the room.

"BY THE POWERS! AN UNDEAD!"

The outcry came from the bartender, who had just returned with the stew and mead. She dropped all contents on her held tray as she, within a single moment drew her sword, tossed it into the air, caught it again, and then threw it into the forehead of the skeleton.

The skeleton stumbled back and fell over, a sword jutting out of its snow-buried skull.

"NO!" Ebon shouted as he stood up, "REGINALD!"

Mabel was shoved out of the way by him.

Dipperthur and the larger, armored man approached the skeleton, who seemed dazed and confused. The armored man lifted his spear past the skeletal ribcage and poked the chin.

"Hey, dude, you going to start trouble?" he asked.

"WAIT! STOP!" The Necromancer pushed past them, extending his arms to his side. "Don't hurt him! He's under my protection! He's just my skeleton!"

"Your skeleton!?" The bartender asked, appearing between the wary Dipperthur and the confused soldier-looking man.

"Yes! I watch out for him and he watches out for me!" the necromancer pushed them both away, "now step back! While I make sure you didn't kill him!"

"You can't really kill... undead," Dipper mentioned aloud, and was entirely ignored by the necromancer, who pulled up his skeleton comrade.

"Reginald, are you well?" he asked the skeleton. The head of the body turned, and slapped his master in the face with the handle of the crude iron sword. "Ow. I see you are well despite having a new hole between your eyes," Ebon mentioned and grasped the sword and removed it quickly. Turning with an angered gaze at the three behind him, he spoke, "he didn't even move to attack!"

"He's undead!" the bartender shouted, "undead are the scourge upon these lands! You can't expect me to just let one idly step into my tavern without a little warning!?"

"THOSE... scourge out there," the necromancer pointed out into the wilderness, "are NOT skeletons! They are something else! I intend to discover what, but I assure you, Reginald and I are not part of that... scheme!"

"What makes you think we can trust you?" Dipperthur asked, finally gaining the attention of the necromancer.

"Well Dipper," the man in armor turned and looked at Dipperthur the Wise, "I don't think Stan made Yuki a villain. Otherwise, wouldn't he have helped him with the campaign. Dipper, the bartender, and the necromancer stared at the spoken soldier. "What, dudes?"

"SOOS!"

"What?" Soos asked, looking around the table in the living room.

"You have to talk in character!" Dipper told him from across the table.

"I- wait, so, like the way Yuki talks?" Soos asked, looking to his left, where the plant-headed alien sat.

"I wouldn't advise such conduct," Uki-Dohth, the Xabvi alien, former scientist, assured Soos. "As I seem to speak in such tense to suggest that you all-"

"Dipper, what is the problem? Grunkle Stan groaned, interrupting the alien and putting a hand to his glasses covered eyes.

There were six people sitting in the Gravity Falls Mystery Manor building living room. A large table from the kitchen had been moved into the warmer adjacent room.

Several days ago, Dipper and Mabel had invited Uki-Dohth to live with their uncle as, essentially, an indentured servant. Little to no pay was given to him, but he had a free place to live with Grunkle Stan as long as he worked even half as much as Wendy did. Without customers present, as the building was not quite open for tourism due to finishing construction of the building, they were without anything to do.

No strange things had happened. No monsters needed to be talked down or defeated. So, after several days, The twins re-engaged in a game they introduced to Wendy and Soos- Strongholds and Serpents.

Stan, upon discovering the game, relented from his usual grumpy self. He and his brother had played many a game of 'SnS' as he called it. He opted to be the Stronghold Lord, and let the other five play in his old campaign with his brother, at least before their game was cursed by an angry witch, and they put it away for good.

"People started acting out of character," Dipper huffed.

"Dude," Mabel scoured at her brother, "is it really such a big problem?"

"It's a role-playing game!" Dipper declared, "we play roles! So yes! It is a big problem!"

"Aw man, I didn't want to ruin anything," Soos admitted, crestfallen, and self-consciously adjusting his hat. Dipper sighed and corrected his attitude.

"Look, Soos, I know last time we played this," Dipper turned to his friend, who was nervously playing with his tiny figurine, "we are, you know, meeting for the first time?"

"Ah... oh. Oh. I get it," Soos sunk a little into his chair with shame.

"That, and you can't call us by our actual name in-game," Dipper said, "I mean, I'm Dipperthur. Mabel... well, Mabel is Mabel, and Yuki is Ebon." Wendy cleared her throat, and Dipper nodded. "And Red Phantom over here."

"I'm also Soos," Soos pointed out.

"Okay, just, you know, stay in the world setting?" Dipper asked in frustration of his friend, who nodded.

"You got it, dude."

"Okay, now if Dipper is done with his super-nerd rage, "Grunkle Stan rolled his eyes and looked to them, "does anyone else need to check for magic or anything? Maybe cast something random? Or can I continue narrating?"

"I'm in my corner still?" Wendy asked, entirely at ease.

"Ah-yup," Grunkle Stan nodded.

"I'm good," she folded her arms past the back of her head.

"Now... back to Dipper," Grunkle Stan looked to his grand-nephew, "you just said-"

"What makes you think we can trust you?" Dipperthur asked, finally gaining the attention of the necromancer.

"Indeed," Soos added, pointing the spear at the necromancer, who eyed it wearily, "how do we trust you, man?"

"Ah-"

Someone cleared their throat. Stepping from the shadows, the person with a pipe approached, their head masked by a well worn cloak. Green and silver lining was bathed in the dim light of the open door as a ranger, clearly identifiable with long bow and arrows stepped out, and looked at the group. The person did not remove the pip, instead, keeping it aloft in the grip of their teeth. Then they spoke.

"I know of the plague on these lands," the woman under the cloak said, "and I know of the wandering necromancer. He has been known to ease many undead threats with his abilities."

"Who are you?" Dipperthur turned away from Ebon, who equally turned with Soos to gaze upon this mysterious figure. The skeleton, Reginald, also poked his head around his master, staring at the cloaked woman.

"I go by many names. I am known for my recent title as..." the woman lowered her head, displaying a fair, freckled face, bright green eyes, and fiery red hair that fell out of her cloak, "The Red Phantom."

"Who?" Everyone but the barkeep asked.

"Seriously?" The Red Phantom sighed, slapping her hands against her hips, "none of you have heard of me before? Scourge of evil? One-shot wonder? Like, really cool red headed half-elf?"

"Well, I can't disagree with that," Dipperthur coined in with a tiny grin, but then corrected his gaze, "but I don't know the re-"

"I do," the barkeep pushed past Dipper, almost knocking him over, "you're the archer who out-shot the entire local garrison! Won you that cloak!"

"It did," the phantom grinned and pointed to the necromancer, "he is not a threat. If he is here, he is looking for something dangerous to stop."

"Well... thank you, Red Phantom," Ebon bowed his head gently. When he checked behind him, he noticed Reginald the Skeleton had not followed suit. "Bow, you fool," he scolded the skeleton, who jostled and then bowed as well.

"We can trust her?" Dipperthur asked the barkeep.

"Oh yes. A great proponent for banishing all sources of evil," the dog ears perked up as she said this, clearly a great fan of the woman smoking her pipe before them.

"Well, Red Phantom," Dipperthur approached her, "do you have a name we can use?"

"Red will do," the Red Phantom turned and eyed Mabel, who stared at the group from the side, "I've been listening in on you all since you've arrived."

"Really?" Mabel blinked in shock.

"Yes," the phantom looked around to the four others, and then to the barkeep, "I think we'll want some stew and mead, please."

"Oh! Blasted all!" the barkeep turned and ran for the mess on the floor, and began to mop it up hastily. "I'll bring out some more for you all! Just don't break anything else!" she scolded them as she ran into the room behind her, towards the kitchens.

"Easy for her to say," Ebon muttered, rubbing down Reginald's face, scraping off a few loose chunks of bone from his wounded-face. "Didn't have a sword thrown at her friend."

"Well dudes," Soos asked around, "maybe we should get one table?"

"Party time!" Mabel cheered.

"No, discussion time," Dipperthur told his sister, who groaned in disappointment, but followed with the four others as they clamored to a table and pulled over chairs for them all to sit. Once Soos joined them positioning his shield and spear next to him, he excitedly looked to one another.

"So then," Soos said, "I think I'm the only one who hasn't introduced himself. I'm Soos!" he pointed a thumb to himself, "of mission Soos!"

"Soos of-"

"Mission Soos?" Dipper started and Mabel finished.

"Yeah, you got it!" the man in thick armor told them eagerly. "I'm a new paladin, fresh of the training grounds, ready to purge the world of darkness and-"

"Oh great," Ebon groaned and his head fell to the table, putting hands to rest on him, "just kill me now."

"Huh?" Soos asked.

"I'm on my left," one of Ebon's hands pointed over and he directed to Mabel, "I have a druid, worshiper of natural forces, and in front of me," he pointed ahead, still not raising his head to look, "I am joined by a paladin, the hunters of evil."

"Well, are you evil?" Soos asked easily to the necromancer.

"No!" he yelled as his head shot up, "why do I have to keep telling people that!?"

"Well, then as long as you aren't killing people for, uh, bodies," Soos told him, "then we're okay."

"...really?" Ebon asked with a few blinks of his eye.

"Oh yeah dude. Totally cool. Again," Soos held his gauntleted hand up, a finger pointing to the ceiling, "only one rule is- don't kill innocent people."

"Then... I guess we'll get along," Ebon rose up from his perpetual gloomy state. Looking between them all, he cleared his throat, "my only rule is this: waste not."

"Waste not?" Mabel asked.

"Humans bury a lot of useful things to the living to honor the dead. Look," Ebon leaned over to her as she tolled her eyes, "don't get me started on it! Golden rings, pearl necklaces, enchanted shields! All sorts of stuff we, as living human beings and elves and anyone, need to survive! The dead don't care what they are buried with! Unless with specific instruction!"

"So, when you die, you want to be buried naked?" Dipperthur asked pointedly.

"Yes," Ebon nodded instantly.

"Oh. Okay, I guess," Dipperthur looked around, checking in to see if he was the only one feeling gross by that idea.

"Tell me, Necromancer wanderer Ebon," The Red Phantom asked to Ebon, "what brings you to these lands?"

The necromancer looked between them all, and then to Reginald, who stood behind him. The skeleton barely looked down to register the silent communication they had, and then man reached inside his cloak. Within a firm gripped hand he removed a small jar. Black, thick, gory liquid stuck around it like a thick glue.

"This is what brought me here," he told them as he placed it onto the table. Dipperthur reached out to touch it, but Ebon held out his hand, "do not open the jar."

"Okay, I won't," Dipperthur nodded as he lifted it up, and felt his hand long the side. "What... what the heck is this!?"

"You tell me," Ebon told him. The other three stared between the two.

"Yo, Dippin'-sauce," Mabel leaned over to her brother, across the table, "wassit?"

"I can't tell. It's... flesh. Some sort of bile and flesh? But..." Dipperthur looked to Ebon, uncertainty flooding his eyes, "there is some sort of magic imbued into it, isn't there?"

"Yes," Ebon nodded, holding the jar again, retrieving it from Dipper. "I've been all across the world, fighting off undead. I've seen a few nasty things, even encountered a Lich once. This? This isn't like anything I've seen before."

"Why is that?" The Red Phantom asked, "what kind of powers does it contain?"

"This? Nothing," Ebon sloshed the jar around, displaying the horrible contents with motion," but what this came from was the scary bit."

"What do you mean?" Soos asked, "a not normal type of undead?"

"Yeah. You could say that," Ebon nodded as he placed the jar back onto the table. "I have classified approximately sixty seven types of undead in my journeys. Every single one of them was either a class easily identifiable or a subclass of another. These things... I cannot describe so easily. They mold their bodies like weapons, somehow becoming weapon like themselves."

"Wait... they bend their bodies into weapons?" Mabel demanded, repulsed by the idea. Dipperthur pondered across the table, scratching the faint hairs on his chin, "Dipper? You got anything?"

"Dipper-thur, please Mabel," Dipperthur scolded her.

"Fine. Say my entire name, and I'll call you Dipper-thur."

"I... that's not fair," Dipperthur complained.

"Sorry, Dipper? You say something? I thought I was talking to a man named Dipper-thur, but he can't say my name," Mabel craned her head over the table, cupping a hand to her ear. He replied by swatting the top of her head. "Ow," she pulled back, scowling and rubbing her injured scalp.

"Well dudes," Soos shuffled a bit closer, "I think this is a good opportunity for the five of us."

"Opportunity?" The Red Phantom repeated.

"Yeah! Think about it," Soos looked to each of them, staring with Mabel, "you want to balance nature and powers and stuff, and this could totally be upsetting the forces of the wild, right?"

"Hmm... yeah, it looks gross enough to do that," Mabel agreed as she looked to the jar.

"Miss Phantom-"

"Call me Red," the ranger told Soos.

"Red, you're totally about fame and fortune. What if people discovered you were behind stopping these things? They'd call you 'dead-bane' or whatever. Cool, right?"

"Work on a title," The Red Phantom told him, "but you've sold me for now."

"Dipper, you- oh, sorry," Soos corrected himself with a glare from the enchanter, "Dipperthur, you're all about studying magical things, right? Like, I assume that's your thing?"

"I... can't disagree with that," Dipperthur shrugged.

"So if we find out the source of this, it could be a huge breakthrough for magic users against threats like this!" Soos turned to the Necromancer, "and you want this to stop, right?"

"Yes, yes I do," Ebon nodded strongly, "whoever is behind this is causing a bad name for my study and credence. I prefer people know I am the man responsible for cleaning the mess, not starting one."

"Then just by ending this, you totally got a way to solve this," Soos nodded, "and as for me? This is sort of my sign."

"Your sign?" Mabel asked.

"I needed a sign, from my god," Soos pointed up to the ceiling, "that told me it was my time to protect the innocent, uphold good in the world and vanquish evil!"

"Oh," Mabel nodded and grinned, "well-"

Behind them was a loud scream. The five whipped their heads around and saw two people fly out of the kitchens, one after another. The bartender was being throttled by what appeared to be the chef, in appropriate garb and easily two and a half feet taller than her. He slammed her into the first table, where she almost fell limp once her back collided against wood. The chef's beefy hands crushed around the neck, only a twig compared to the massive body of the fat man attacking her. The five shouted, and then the chef opened his mouth.

Thick, viscous ooze poured out, dribbling onto the floor as he choked the life out of the woman before him.

Welcome, friends new and old. I am your Dungeon master- err, the writer of this story, EZB. I come to you as a benevolent and fair Stronghold Lord, to guide you and your imagination through the vestiges of this world of fantasy. Be warned- many a time I will look deep into the game's functions and pursuits of dorkiness and nerddome, but if you have come here for fun and good times, you will enjoy this story.

Now, dropping that silliness, HEY GUYS! So, this story will be based of the other Gravity Falls story I'm writing, called 'Return to Gravity Falls'. There was an 'episode' in the story based off Dungeons and Dragons, and well, here we are with a spin off. This story also includes the recent permanent OC to the gang- Uki-Dohth, or Yuki for short. If you really want to understand him and the background to what is going on, I HIGHLY suggest you go through Return to Gravity Falls and catch up.

Also, for those of you who scratch your head going "Wow, this sounds... really familiar" it probably is. I'm heavily borrowing a campaign I recently played a bit through, but twisting it for my purposes. Sorry out there, to my friend Sam! You're a kick-ass DM!

For my friends who ALREADY came from there, this will be between seasons one and two. So technically, the events happening in here in the 'real world' are canon. Yes, Yuki learned how to play SnS really quickly. Deal with it- he's an alien scientist for Petes sake. He's smart.

Second to last thing to let you guys know- this story will have READER PARTICIPATION! That's right: when the characters have a choice of action, the readers will get to say what they do. All you have to do is review for me (hahahaha clever ploy, no?) and let me know which option you favor. May the majority rule!

And now, a final thank you to my friend theEquestrianIdiot2.0, who is essentially my beta/idea bouncer. Without him, things would be seriously more boring. So give him a thanks and check out his stories! THEY ARE GOOD. SO GOOD.

Okay, that's all for my first chapter! Thank you for reading, and I'll see you guys next- (A huge minotaur falls from the SKY and crushes EZB and his chair under his body. With a little check under his rear, the minotaur confirms that EZB is, in fact, perished. He then gets on the computer and begins to type randomly'gnidbg;sb;gblsudbvuxdb)