by Robert Bevan
“Well,” said the broker. “I’m afraid it’s going to be up to our little friend here.” He looked down his nose at Tim. “You were here first, after all. Fair is fair.”
Tim looked at the two half-orcs. “Knock yourselves out.”
The speaker for the two half-orcs slapped his partner on the back. Both of them grinned broadly and bowed.
The employment broker ripped off part of a piece of paper and held it out by the corner with the very tips of his thumb and index finger. “Be at this address tomorrow at dawn.”
The half-orc grabbed the paper eagerly. “Thank you so much, sir. We won’t let you down.” He looked down at Tim. “Thank you too, sir. Best of luck with your dreams of becoming the king’s whore tester. I’m sure the position will open up any minute now.”
The other half-orc laughed. “Try not to stretch them out too much with that monster cock of yours.”
The two half-orcs walked away laughing.
“Is everyone in this world a sarcastic prick?”
“What sort of work did you have in mind?” asked the broker.
“I don’t know,” said Tim. “Maybe something a little more unorthodox. High-risk, high-reward. You know?”
“You might try Zorbane’s House of Chance.”
Tim rubbed his hands together. “Okay, now we’re talking. What is that, like some haunted old mansion?”
“It’s a gaming parlor.”
“What, like a casino?”
“If you like.”
Memories of ringing bells, flashing lights, and cigarette smoke flooded Tim’s brain. He had gone through a gambling phase a couple of years ago, and had seen more than one blubbery shell of a human being piss themselves rather than spend two minutes away from their slot machine. Witnessing this – and nearly losing the Chicken Hut – had been a big enough slap in the face to steer him away from casinos for good.
“Dude, are you deliberately wasting my time?”
“I could ask the same of you, sir.” The employment broker’s tone had evolved from impatient to downright snippy. “I match unskilled laborers with reputable employers. My preferred clients are strong, honest, and hardworking. Not whiny, entitled little shits.”
Tim balled up his fists, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The broker folded his arms, raised his eyebrows, and stared down at him. The guy was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t wrong. Tim had been acting like a whiny, entitled little shit.
There was only one thing to do. Without saying a word, Tim turned around and walked briskly away.
He didn’t have to waste much time finding his friends. He only had to look for a crowd of people radiating away from something, and he knew Cooper would be at the epicenter. A guard eyed him suspiciously as he shimmied up a nearby lamp pole. Tim stopped halfway up the pole to make it clear that he was only trying to see over the crowd, and not trying to steal the Light-enchanted stone which lit up the streets at night. The guard kept his eyes on him, but seemed satisfied. Tim only had to scan the crowd for a few second before he found what he was looking for. There was a conspicuous void in the crowd near one of the lesser fountains in the city center, and right in the middle of it sat a dwarf, an elf, a raven, and a half-orc. Tim slid down the pole and scurried off in that direction.
“Any luck?” asked Dave as soon as Tim stepped into the zone of disgust that Cooper’s presence inspired.
“Nothing,” said Tim. “Just manual labor bullshit. You guys find anything?”
“More of the same,” said Dave.
Julian stroked one of his long elf ears. “Maybe there just aren’t any adventures to be had. Can you imagine going to an employment agency back home and asking to be sent on a quest? They’d laugh your dumb ass out the door.”
“But we’re not back home,” said Tim. “This is a Caverns and Creatures world. There are bound to be caves to explore, ruined temples, lost treasures, keeps on borderlands, all that shit. We just haven’t been looking in the right places.”
Cooper pulled a finger out of his ear. It was distinctly browner up to the second knuckle. “We could always just walk around outside the city walls and hope for a random encounter.” He sucked the brown off his finger.
Tim closed his eyes, tried unsuccessfully to un-see that, and suppressed his instinct to vomit. “Too dangerous,” he said. “We’re not high enough level for that. Without a Cavern Master to keep things level-appropriate, we could just as easily run into a gaggle of dragons as we could a single kobold. I want to have some idea of what we’re up against before we –”
“Excuse me, gentle sirs,” said a voice from behind Tim.
Tim turned around and backed up. The man who addressed them was human. He wore plate armor, painted dark blue with a bright yellow sun on the breastplate. He smiled kindly at them.
“He looks like a cleric,” Tim whispered to Dave, who nodded in agreement. “What god is that the symbol of?”
“How should I know?” Dave whispered back.
“Because you’re a fucking cleric, dumbass. Didn’t you take any ranks in Knowledge of Religion?”
“No,” said Dave. “I was going to, but I picked up Elven instead so I could understand Ravenus.”
“Who the fuck are you?” asked Cooper.
Julian bonked Cooper on the head with the tip of his quarterstaff.
“Ow.”
“A thousand apologies,” said Julian. “My friend has a very low Charisma score.”
“I don’t know what that –”
“What can we do for you today?” Julian’s Charisma score was high enough so that he could cut people off in the middle of asking uncomfortable questions and not sound rude.
The cleric smiled. “My name is Dusty Sheglin. I am a humble cleric at the Temple of Rapha. I have displeased my order, and am on a quest for redemption so that I might once again bask in Rapha’s holy light.”
“What did you do?” asked Cooper. “Did you fuck a kid? Cause I’ll beat your ass down right here and now, Padre.”
The cleric stood aghast. You could have driven a truck through his open mouth.
Julian gave Cooper another knock on his giant half-orc forehead.
“Knock it off, man,” said Cooper. “That hurts.”
“Why in Rapha’s holy name,” asked the cleric, “would that be your first assumption?”
“I’m sorry,” said Cooper. “That’s what priests do where we’re from.” Thonk. “Dude!”
“Just shut your big mouth for a few minutes, will you?” said Julian. He turned to the cleric. “I beg your forgiveness… Mr. Sheglin? Father Sheglin? Brother…?
“Call me Dusty.”
“Okay,” said Julian. “Dusty it is. Please ignore my friend. He’s almost as stupid as he is uncharismatic.”
“Of course.”
“You were saying?”
“Ah yes,” said Dusty. “My offense was that I bought a starving orphan a bowl of broth.”
Tim’s bullshit detector started tingling. He stepped forward. “That’s a very noble crime, Dusty. Why, exactly, did the temple frown on this?”
Dusty lowered his head. “I used unauthorized temple funds. The order is very strict about how they conduct their charities.”
Bureaucracy and hypocrisy. This fell in line with Tim’s view of organized religion. He backed off.
“What does this have to do with us?” asked Dave.
Julian turned around to glare at Dave and Tim. He tended to get prickly when other people interrupted his conversations with strangers. He said it interfered with his Diplomacy Check. He tolerated it from Cooper – insofar as repeatedly clobbering him on the head could be considered tolerance – because Cooper couldn’t help himself, but he wasn’t having it from the rest of the party.
“I overheard you gentlemen are looking for some unconventional work,” said Dusty. “We may be able to help one another.”
Julian eyed him suspiciously. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“My reconcili
ation with the order depends upon my retrieval of a sacred relic thought to be hidden in the catacombs beneath Old Cardinia. They have not been used for centuries, and the fallen heroes of ages past may not be alone. I am but one humble servant of Rapha. I seek a party of brave companions to protect me from whatever foul vermin have taken up residence in the ancient tomb.”
“What’s in it –” Tim started, but Julian gave him a look that sliced right through his question.
“What’s in it for us?” asked Julian.
“There are bound to be treasures beyond that which I seek,” said Dusty. “Whatever else you find is yours to keep.”
Julian pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment. “Guys, huddle.”
The four of them stepped away and formed a square. Julian and Cooper took a knee in order to facilitate private conversation with Dave and Tim. Ravenus perched on Julian’s shoulder to get in on the action.
“Do you trust him?” asked Dave.
“I don’t know,” said Julian.”
“What’s not to trust?” said Tim. “Think about it. He’s asking us to accompany him into a tomb. He was upfront about the danger. It’s not like he’s trying to lure us into a van with candy.”
“That’s what it kind of sounded like to me,” said Cooper. “What if he just wants to lead us into a room full of priests who want to rape us? Or worse… what if they lock us inside and talk to us about their religion?”
“Listen,” said Tim. “As a rogue, it’s in my nature to be distrustful. As a halfling, I’m the closest to resembling an altar boy. Having said that, I trust this guy. I think we should give it a shot.”
After a moment passed with no objections, Julian stood to face Dusty Sheglin. “When do we leave?”
Dusty smiled. “No time like the present.”
“We’ll need provisions,” said Tim. “How much money have we got?”
Julian removed a small leather pouch from his belt and poured some coins into his hand. “Six gold.”
Tim frowned. “We’ll have to stretch it out, but it should suffice.”
It didn’t take them long to find a shop on the edge of the city center. The sign outside read ‘General Gore’s General Store’.
“Rapha provides me with all I need,” said Dusty. “I shall wait here. Be swift.”
“Suit yourself,” said Tim. He led the others into the shop.
“Welcome!” said an aged and particularly stocky dwarf. “Welcome to General Gore’s General Store! I am General Gore. How may I be of assistance today?”
Cooper stepped forward. “I’m looking for a large sack and a ten-foot pole.”
“Of course, sir,” said General Gore. “Right this way.”
“Oh wait,” said Cooper. He looked down at his crotch. “Never mind. I found them.”
Tim shook his head. “Way to keep it classy, Coop.”
Scanning the shelves, Tim recognized most of the items for sale were plucked right out of the equipment list in the Caverns and Creatures Player’s Handbook. Fifty-foot lengths of rope, manacles, chains, flasks of oil, candles, sealing wax, pickaxes, shovels, and of course the aforementioned large sacks. Without prior game knowledge, he might have suspected this shop to cater mostly to hosts of debaucherous sex parties or murderers looking to dispose of a body.
“What kind of shop is this?” asked Julian, reminding Tim that he, Julian, had very little in the way of prior game knowledge.
“It’s a general store,” said Tim. “Standard equipment.”
Julian struggled to pick up a five-foot log, capped with iron on both ends and with handles hammered along the length of it. “I can’t remember the last time I generally needed a portable ram.”
“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” said Tim. “What do we need?”
“Food?” suggested Dave.
“Good thinking,” said Tim. “Mr. Gore?”
“General Gore, son,” said the dwarf. “Retired now, but I fought in six wars back before you was a squirt in yer pappy’s small sack.”
Cooper snorted. “Sack references never get old.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tim. “General Gore. Do you carry trail rations here?”
The old dwarf grinned. “Best in Cardinia!” He hobbled around to the other side of the counter and disappeared from view. When he resurfaced, he placed a tin box on the countertop. “The missus prepares these.” He removed the lid, revealing an assortment of dry food that genuinely looked appealing. “Five silver pieces each. That gets you raisins, nuts, dates, horse jerky, hardtack, and even a cat bladder full of goat’s milk to wash it all down with.”
“That’s adorable!” said Julian. “Get me one.”
“Fine,” said Tim. “There’s four of us, plus Dusty if Rapha decides not to show up and hand him a sandwich.” He turned to General Gore. “We’ll take five.”
“What about Ravenus?” said Julian. The big black bird cocked its head, staring down at Tim.
Tim stepped away from the counter. “He’s a carrion eater. We’re spending the night in a tomb. He’ll figure something out. What else do we need?”
“Rope is always useful,” said Dave.
“Okay,” said Tm. “Grab the hemp stuff. We can’t afford silk.” A rough leather bag on a high shelf, about the size of a bowling ball, caught his eye. The tag read ‘Caltrops’. “Cooper, grab me that bag, would you?”
Cooper started to raise his arm, but Julian beat him to it.
“Allow me,” said Julian with a smug and stupid grin on his face. With naught but his mind and a wave of his hand, he telekinetically lifted the bag from the shelf and lowered it into Tim’s waiting arms.
Cooper gave him a polite golf clap. “New spell?”
“Mage Hand,” said Julian. “I’ve been practicing with it lately. For a Zero-Level spell, it’s pretty cool.” He looked down at the bag in Tim’s arms. “What are caltrops anyway?”
“Little spiky things,” said Dave, returning with fifty feet of hemp rope. “They look like those Jacks that little girls play with, you know?”
“That’s kind of gay, isn’t it?” said Julian. “I mean, if you’re planning for some down time, wouldn’t you rather get a deck of cards or something?”
“Weren’t you the one who was just queefing about how adorable that lunchbox was?” asked Cooper.
“I… I…” Julian’s face went pink. His long ears went bright red. “I appreciate the amount of effort the general’s wife put into making it look presentable.”
“They’re not Jacks,” said Tim. “They’re useful if we need to make a quick getaway. We dump the caltrops behind us, and whatever is pursuing us will have to either slow down or risk getting a spike through the foot.”
“Here are the caltrops,” said Dave, picking up a sturdy leather bag about the size of a bowling ball. “Do we need anything else? Or should we just spend the rest on torches and oil?”
“Wait,” said Julian. “Why the hell do we need so much oil?”
“It’s good for setting shit on fire,” said Cooper.
“Can’t you just do that with a torch?”
“Not when it’s attacking you.”
Julian’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”
“There’s one more thing we might need,” said Tim. He looked down at his feet. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this.”
“What?” said Dave.
“If we do happen to come across some treasure, we’d probably do well to have…” He tried to think of a different way to put it.
Cooper grinned like a madman. “Go on, Tim. Say it.”
“Fine,” Tim huffed. “We should buy a large sack.”
Dave laughed so hard that he had to steady himself against one of the building’s support beams. Cooper’s face was slick with tears and snot.
“You guys are like fucking six-year-olds,” said Tim, stomping off to grab the large sack himself.
“What’s so funny?” Ravenus asked Julian.
“Not sure,” said Jul
ian, matching the bird’s British accent. “I’m pretty sure it’s a scrotum joke, but I don’t get why it’s as funny as all that.”
“What’s a scrotum?” asked Ravenus.
If Julian answered, it was drowned out by Cooper and Dave’s idiotic cackling. Only when Tim was safely out of the others’ fields of vision did he allow himself to crack a smile. He grabbed a burlap sack off the top of the pile. Large sack.