“See, babe, this one can be worn by corporeal and incorporeal dudettes both!" the Naga Deathwisp handed her a very nice-looking piece of clothing, made out of chainmail. At least, the Naga called it "underwear", but Shinead wasn''t exactly sure, what that meant. Why should someone wear extra clothing beneath their clothes? Even normal clothes were mostly unnecessary and could be discarded at will.


    The two-piece, she was handed, could be worn even to the most formal occasions. Without any other accessories, like… pants or such.


    “Babe, you wanna have gear, you can use in your incorporeal form too! Wouldn''t be cool, if you turned and left all your stuff on the ground. Few folks would die from just flashing them, ain''t it right, babe?"


    How prude Humans were, they may die from embarrassment, Shinead thought. Or they got aroused and start hooting and throwing poop around, like the monkeys they were. Anyways, keeping her gear with her was probably a good idea.


    “Doll, try these boots on too! Absolutely rad, they even resize! A lost art!” next, she was handed a pair of thigh-high black boots. It even had high heels. Shinead somewhat doubted their utility, but with Agility and Dexterity both at 20, she was confident, she would be able to manage locomotion. It couldn’t be that hard, no?


    “I don’t think, we have any other pieces of clothing, that could become incorporeal.”


    “The cape!”


    “Oh, yeah, the cape! Where is it? Oh yeah, there. Here, babe! It makes you invisible!" the cape in question was a thin black piece with some red highlights, knee length, and came with a hood too. It could be fixed on the wearer by a collar.


    “Hot stuff, babe! You look lush! Now, for weaponry! If you were any good in [Exotic Weapons], I would recommend these whips. But you want knives, babe… That’s a snore.”


    Shinead actually liked the two presented whips – one a short leather, the other a longer, nine-tailed one with nails woven into it. She was certain, she could have a lot of fun with them.


    In the end, she received three new daggers – more precisely, two daggers, a stiletto, one with a broad, leaf-shaped blade, and a throwing knife. The last one could be recalled to her hand, while the daggers were heavily enchanted with sharpness, durability, extra damage, and a few others. The wide one even had a poison enchantment!


    Definitely not some pedestrian plusones!


    She was nevertheless surprised, some ancient undead were only able to cough up so weak gear for a fantastic Elven Avenger, out on a mission. Well, they weren''t Elves, and probably thought, a stone hammer was the culmination of precision engineering.


    Being an undead had some advantages for long-distance travel: she had no need for provisions, camping gear, or tents. Well, the stupid Traveler never managed to get tents in the first place, only in his pants, so there was no difference to her current situation. Minus the pants-parts.


    She was now free of any obligations, so if she ever met someone pitching a tent, there would be heavy punishment involved. Maybe she could get one of those whips, after all?


    The only gear she needed to dig up, were the different tracking devices. Both her own and those of the perverted cur of Little Sister. It was surprising, that those money-hungry cretins left them behind, they were expensive after all. On the other hand, they were intelligent enough to leave them behind – if anyone found out, they had them, it would paint a target on their backs. And heads. And every other body part.


    She officially commandeered the backpack of one of the deceased Humans – a last service for their true masters. Although it wasn''t magical – and not of stunning quality – it was still the best of what remained. The undead group either didn''t have a bag of holding or were unwilling to give her one.


    Plebeians, all of them.


    She was probably fine, either way – as a Level 7, semi-corporeal Elven undead, no simple woodland animal or monster could stand against her! That was even without counting her new gear. As an Elf, she was simply so superior!


    What she didn''t exactly get, was how she retained her Levels and Skills. As far as she knew, turning undead required complicated rituals, and the resulting creature always lost some Levels. On the other hand, she was committed to her revenge and was an Elf – surely, the Heavenly Game Master handed out some free gifts for once. She was absolutely sure, she didn''t get further negative Perks or such either.


    Schizophrenia, Psychopathy, Egoism, and Sexual Sadisms she already had, she was sure.


    ‘No, you hadn’t!’


    Even if voices in her head told her things, she was absolutely sure, she did not have any negative Perks regarding mental health. It was impossible! She was a – little bit undead – Elf and Arkadia''s master race couldn''t have such!


    After a short discussion with herself about mental disorders, she didn’t and couldn’t have, she was ready to chase the depraved Traveler’s harem down. Of course, a little bit of torture was to be included in their demise!


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    Unfortunately, her trusted friend, Mr. Woody was stolen by one of those perverts, so she wasn’t able to have a meeting with him right now.


    Either way, she was off. All her tracking devices pointed vaguely into a direction, she assumed was West, but she couldn''t get a clear bearing. It was probably due to the Valley''s strange fabric of space. Finding her enemies within the Valley was almost impossible, to begin with, no matter, how good her tracking devices were. And really good, they weren''t. At best, she could hope to accidentally stumble upon them.


    Her plan was easy: She knew, where the perverts were headed, so she would make it directly to Greenskin lands, and wait for them there. Of course, she would check the devices from time to time, even within the Valley, but her main ambush would be outside!


    It was a perfect plan, befitting a highly trained Elven operative.


    ‘Which you are not.’


    Of course, she had to discuss her professionalism with herself. Of course, she won.


    Finally, she was ready to leave the ruin''s clearing, to the teary-eyed waving of the resident undead. It was almost like when she was a little kid, out on her first mission to cause accidents. It was just poisoning a random apple in a garden, but her parents were so proud! Barely six, and already on her first mission! Less, than two decades later, and she was off on a legendary quest, that would ensure her being immortalized in paintings, poems, maybe even a novel. Hopefully, not in one of those trashy, serialized ones. Those were just gross. Or a statue! Or even multiple ones!


    Shinead Sidhe, Elven Avenger extraordinary, checked her gear for the last time at the forest''s border and set out. As she disappeared due to the Valley''s strange geography, she missed a quite important discussion, happening between her benefactors.


    “Finally, that moron is gone. Taking bets, how long she will last.”


    “Five minutes!”


    “Nah, she’s better than that. I say a month!”


    “I have faith in the kid. I say, a year!”


    “Pfff… No way! A week it is!”


    “Shouldn''t we have provided her with better stuff? We still have that hero gear lying around somewhere."


    “Giving a random kid legendary armament just because she showed up? What next? Cheat Powers? The flying ship?”


    “The ship doesn’t work. And we would need to dig it up.”


    “Yeah, I know! It was a rhetorical question!”


    “Besides, why would we give her the good stuff? That idiot didn’t even realize, we were pulling her leg with the slang!”


    “Oh yeah! Yo babe, you dig my threads? HAHAHAHA!”


    “What an idiot.”


    “You think, she will find the tracking spells?”


    “No way. You would need to be a highly qualified Dragonkin mage to find those!”


    “But that naked Human a century ago found them within the hour!”


    “Of course he found them, he was a Traveler, with Cheat Powers up to his gills!”


    “Humans don’t have gills.”


    “Whatever. Would be funny to know, what happened to him. Would have been fun to watch.”


    “Probably died horribly somewhere. Battle maniacs like him usually don’t live that long. ‘Oh, look! Ancient Ruins!’ ‘Evil Necromancers! Let’s kill them!’ ‘An expedition to unknown lands? No one returned from there? Sign me up!’ ‘Kill the Demon Lord!’. They are all the same.”


    “Yeah. Kids these days! In our time, we still had real adventurers!”


    “Oh yeah! Remember the guy, who pissed off the Heavenly Game Master, and tried to get home on his ship? THAT was an adventurer!”


    “EPIC!”


    “That was a classic! I think, I still have the book somewhere.”


    “Really? Can I have it?”


    “Sure, if I can find it. Anyways, should I fire up the viewing array?”


    “Definitely! I will raise a few of the corpses, we will need extras for our next game, anyway.”


    “Oh yeah. We sliced up the last batch. Even undead aren’t as durable these days.”


    “Exactly! Back in the day, even a simple skeleton was good for centuries! Now? Barely a decade! Disgusting! How can these new folks survive with so brittle bones?!?!"


    “They don’t!”


    The undead guardians paused they banter for a short time, laughing about the joke and the kids these days. Of course, not understanding young folks is the prerogative of the elderly – and if you still remember the times, when Elves were barely considered sapient, you definitely have a lot to not-understand. And laugh about it. Not, that many would take offense at millennia-old undead laughing about them. And live long enough to tell the tale.


    “A pity, they took all the booze. No offense, Centeotl, but your brew is shit."


    “Well, I have only grass as an ingredient, you try to make good stuff out of that!"


    “I know, I know. You are right. Maybe we should try planting an orchard.”


    “We already tried that, remember? It didn’t work.”


    “Oh, yeah. Do you think, we could trade something with the Hairy Human With Big Feet?”


    “We tried that already too. He ran away screaming.”


    “Sure, but we played dress-up at that time. I would have run away screaming if it happened to us! We were scary!"


    “Let’s go watch the kid! I made pickled souls!”


    “You are the best!”


    As the immensely bored undead gang retreated for some entertainment, the object of their entertainment faced a serious question not far (and at the same time very far) away.


    Which direction was West?