by Robert Bevan
“All we need to do is get out of a hole,” said Dave. “How hard could this be?”
Tim looked annoyed. “If you've got any ideas, spit them out.”
“We could get on each other's shoulders.”
“That could get me out. Maybe Julian. Cooper, could you throw us that high?”
Cooper looked up at the edge of the pit. “I could get you up there with no problem. If I used my Barbarian Rage, I might be able to get Julian as well. No way I can hurl Dave's fat ass that high. So that's about the same as the shoulder idea.”
“You've got a bunch of ranks in the Climb skill,” said Tim. “Couldn't you climb out with a good enough roll?”
“I'm not fucking Spiderman. The wall is perfectly smooth. There's nothing to grab a hold of.”
Dave began to feel uncomfortable that everyone was discussing a plan in which the best-case scenario left him here, alone, to be raped by giants. “There's still the matter of –”
“I've got it!” said Julian. He looked very excited. “Cooper throws me and Tim out of the pit. I'll summon a horse. We tie one end of a rope to the horse, and throw the other end down to you guys.”
Tim narrowed his eyes at Julian. “Your plan involves a rope?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not make up a plan involving a helicopter? It would be a lot more awesome, and no less impossible, considering we don't have either of those things.”
“We could tie all our clothes together,” suggested Dave.
Tim shook his head. “That wouldn't be nearly long enough, and standing around naked will send the wrong message to our rapists.”
“Guys,” said Julian. “I was thinking we might just try to find some rope. This is somebody's house, after all. How far-fetched does it seem that they'd have some rope lying around.”
Dave sucked in air through his teeth. “That's pretty risky. If Furgal comes back and one of us is missing, we're not going to be unsupervised again. I think we should keep brainstorming.”
“Ravenus!” said Julian in another revelatory exclamation.
Dave and Tim rolled their eyes.
“Right here, sir,” said Ravenus, peeking over the edge of the pit. “What can I do for you?”
Julian looked up. “There you are. Are you okay?”
“A little bloated, perhaps. But my hangover seems to have gone.” Ravenus looked at Julian, Dave, Cooper, and Tim. “You lot have looked better, if you don't mind me saying so. Smelled better, too.”
“We were carried here in a bag of shit.”
“That is unfortunate, sir.”
“Listen, buddy. We need a really big favor.”
“Anything, sir. It is my pleasure to serve you.”
“We need you to find us a rope.”
“A rope, sir?”
“Yes. Or a chain, or a cord, or anything rope-like. Even a vine might do in a pinch.”
Ravenus scratched at the ground with one talon. “I'll do my best, but –” He stopped scratching and his jet black bird eyes seemed to light up. “I know just the thing! I'll be right back!” He stretched out his big black wings and flew off before anyone could react.
“Excellent,” said Julian. “Now we just hope he comes back before –”
A familiarly thunderous crash of rocks came from behind them. Dave turned around just in time to see Furgal's giant dick hurtling down toward him like a Tomahawk missile. He shielded his face with both arms until he felt the ground shake under the giant's feet. Thankfully, he didn't feel a big cock-slap to the head as well.
Behind Furgal sat his extremely durable leather sack, bulging again with what sounded like rocks when he'd tossed it in before he jumped in himself. Was that to be taken as a warning?
“Have you made yourselves comfortable?”
“Quite, thank you,” said Julian before Tim or Cooper could answer honestly.
“Excellent.” Furgal sat on his sack of stones. “I saw my sons approaching from the east horizon. They should be here momentarily.”
Dave held in a whimper and hoped Julian could work some Diplomacy or horse-based miracle.
“Have they been out working?” asked Julian. “Or perhaps in school?”
Now who's hoping they're eight-year-olds?
Furgal scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “My sons and I do not see eye to eye on many things. They lead a queer lifestyle of which I do not approve.”
“And you shouldn't!” Dave blurted out.
“Dave!” Julian whispered harshly. “Don't –”
“No!” Dave cut him off. Do you not realize that I'm only trying to save our asses? In the most literal sense of the phrase? “You are right to disapprove. That goes against the will of the gods.”
Furgal's face scrunched up in confusion like rippled lava rock. “Against the will of the gods? I don't see how –”
“With all due respect, sir. I am a cleric.”
“Do you have children, dwarven cleric?”
Dave shook his head and muttered, “No.” He heard the distinct sound of a facepalm coming from Julian's direction and realized he'd just missed out on an opportunity to foster empathy between them. “I mean –”
“John and John are identical twins, you see.”
“Both named John?” Tim asked.
“That is correct.”
“Then how do you tell them apart?”
“I do not have to, for they are both named John.” Furgal tapped his temple as if showing off his own cleverness.
Tim shrugged. “That's as far as I give a shit.”
“They were named for their mother,” Furgal continued. “She died while giving birth to them. Stone giant twins are a rarity, as they are quite large individually. Passing just one through the... orifice... can be a traumatic experience.”
“You don't fucking say,” Tim muttered under his breath.
“Would you shut up!” whispered Julian. “You're going to get us all killed.”
“That's kinda what I'm going for at this point.”
“Raising two sons alone is no easy task. Perhaps I indulge them too much, but I find it best to let them seek their own path while giving what guidance I can.”
“This goes beyond indulgence,” said Dave. “You are setting those boys up for an eternity of damnation, suffering in the deepest pits of Hell!”
Furgal squinted at him. “What god, exactly, did you say you are a cleric of?”
“I, um...”
“Father?” called a booming voice from inside the house. It did not sound like the voice of an eight-year-old. “Where are you?”
“I'm out back,” Furgal called back to his son. “Come, both of you. I have a gift for you.”
After some heavy and swift footsteps that sounded like garbage trucks falling out of the sky, two massive shadows blocked out the sun, followed by a seismic crash which knocked Dave back down on his ass. When the dust settled, two identical stone-skinned men stood next to their father.
The one on the left, presumably John, wore a yellow toga, whereas the one on the right, presumably also John, wore a pink toga. Each of them had a leather satchel slung over their shoulders. Their faces were identical to each other, but different enough from their father's such that Dave thought he could see some of their mother in them. They gawked down at Dave and his companions with wide-eyed wonder.
“What are they?” said John.
“Can we keep them?” said John.
Furgal smiled kindly and placed his hands on his sons' shoulders. “They're yours as long as they last. Now take off those ridiculous clothes.”
The two Johns hung their heads. “Yes, father.”
As they set their satchels on the ground and pulled off their colorful togas, Dave crab-crawled back to his friends. He noticed that Furgal looked anxious at the sight of his sons' listless obedience.
Furgal's gaze suddenly met Dave's, and Dave was unable to conceal his terror, both at having been directly stared at and by the size of the Johns' now e
xposed Johnsons. If anything, they were even bigger than their father's.
Furgal disengaged with Dave and addressed his sons. “Listen, lads. Our new guests appear to be nervous. Perhaps, before your training begins, you might ease their minds with a song?”
The Johns' eyes lit up.
“Do you mean it, father?”
“Oh, thank you!”
“Yes!” cried Julian. “We'd love to hear a song.” He nudged Dave. “Wouldn't we?”
Dave nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. We love songs.”
John on the left reached down for his satchel, but stopped. He stood straight again and frowned. “We have played much today, and I feel I should clean my pipes before performing.”
“No!” cried Tim. “Just sing us a goddamn song!” Anything to stall for a few minutes and hope that the three of them had simultaneous heart attacks.
“You are right, brother,” said John on the right. “And I must rub my horn with oil.”
Cooper groaned. “At least that's a step in the right direction.”
“Sorry, lads,” said Furgal. “We've no time for that. I must finish preparing supper, and you must begin your training.”
“Oh, come on, man!” said Dave. “Have a heart. At least let him rub his horn with oil.”
Furgal crossed his arms and glared down at Dave. “Was it not you, dwarf, who suggested I was being overindulgent?”
“But surely it doesn't take but a minute to let the boys oil their horns.” If they oiled them well enough, there was always the chance they might clean their pipes prematurely.
“Only John needs to oil his horn,” said John on the left. “I must clean my pipes.”
Dave grimaced. “Yeah. You mentioned that already. I'm just saying, as a matter of courtesy –”
Julian put his hand on Dave's shoulder to shut him up. “May we see your horn?”
“Dude,” said Cooper. “Are you fucking blind?”
“Father?” said John on the right.
Furgal sighed. “Very well. Make it quick.”
John reached into his satchel and pulled out a hollowed animal horn with holes bored into the side. He held it up for Dave and his friends to see. “I made it myself. This is real dragonhorn.”
“And here are my pipes,” said John on the left. “They're made of real... bamboo.”
Furgal shook his head. “Stone giants who wish to be bards. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Playtime is over. Put down your toys and pick up a stone.”
The Johns quickly put their instruments on the ground and grabbed stones from their father's sack.
“So...” Julian spoke up. “What, exactly, is our role in your sons' training?”
“You are to be moving targets, of course.”
Dave exhaled a long sigh of relief. “That's so much better than –”
Julian slapped him in the side of the head.
“FUCK!” said Tim, leaping out of the way of a stone as it whirred past Dave's head.
“Doof!” said Cooper when the stone hit him in the gut, sending him five feet backward and landing him on his back.
“Moving targets!” Furgal scolded John on the right. “If we wanted to practice with stationary targets, there are enough of those lying around all over E'cha. I went to a lot of trouble to acquire these people. It's all for nothing if you kill them before you get any practice.”
“Sorry, father.”
Julian knelt next to Cooper. “Are you okay?”
“Awesome,” said Cooper. He raised his hand with a thumbs up and called out, “Nice shot, John!”
Furgal nodded. “Good. Now help your friend up, and all of you start running.”
Dave and Julian pushed the stone off Cooper's bruised belly and helped him to his feet. Tim was already at the wall farthest from the stone giants.
SMASH!
A stone exploded against the wall where Tim's head had just been a half-second before.
“Jesus Christ!” cried Tim, running along the bottom of the wall as fast as he could.
“The littlest one is quick,” observed John on the right.
Dave, Julian, and Cooper ran for the far wall. Cooper and Julian were a lot faster than Dave, making him the easiest target by far. Fortunately, it appeared as though the Johns were trying to impress their father with more difficult targets. Stone shrapnel exploded against the wall at points clearly intended for Julian, Cooper, and Tim, but none of them scored a direct hit.
THUNK!
Just when Dave was about to reach the wall, a force like God's own pool cue hit his backplate, slamming him face first into the meticulously polished wall.
Between that and the hard ass-landing from jumping into the pit before, Dave thought he deserved a Cure Light Wounds spell.
He touched his temple. “I heal thee.” After a brief moment of agony, when his spine restructured itself, Dave was feeling back to not horribly shitty.
“Very good, boys,” said Furgal. “I must finish supper now. Keep practicing until the sack is empty. I'll call you when supper's ready.”
After Furgal retreated into the house, the rocks kept flying. Julian and Tim managed not to get hit very much, due to their smaller body styles and higher Dexterity scores. Cooper got hit enough times for Dave to use up one of his Cure Light Wounds spells on him. And Dave, of course, got knocked around like a tin can being kicked by a group of kids in a schoolyard.
When the last of his spells was gone, Dave kept a wary eye on the sack, hoping it ran out of rocks before he ran out of Hit Points.
Fortunately, for Dave anyway, the Johns focused their last few efforts at Tim, who had proven the hardest to hit, being the tiniest and nimblest. Surprisingly enough, Tim seemed to be enjoying it. He taunted the stone giants, grabbing his crotch and giving them the finger just before tumbling out of the way of a flying stone. There was every chance one of the Johns could roll a Natural 20 and splatter the wall in halfling paste, but it was still so much better than being torn in half by stone giant cock.
Finally, the sack was empty, and they were all still alive. Sweaty, out of breath, covered in stone dust, and unsure whether or not they'd survive another round, but still alive.
“We should try to get these guys on our side,” Dave whispered when he got close enough for the others to hear. “Convince them to let us go.”
Tim threw a chipped piece of rock at Dave's head. “I'm sure that'll go over just as well as that Pat Robertson bullshit you tried to sell on their father.”
“Yeah,” said Cooper. “That was kinda fucked up.”
“I was trying to... Never mind.” Dave didn't have time to explain. “We've got to try something, right?”
The others nodded. Tim looked at Dave. “But Julian does all the talking. He's got the highest Charisma score, and you've already demonstrated that you suck.”
“Fine.”
They walked over to John and John, who were folding their togas and packing them into their satchels.
“You boys did well out there,” said Julian.
“Thank you,” said John. Dave wasn't sure which one. “You made some impressive dodges.”
Julian shrugged. “I did my best. But did you ever stop and think that the reason we're still alive right now is that your hearts just aren't in rock throwing?”
The John's looked at each other, then back down at Julian. “Your words are true. Our real passion is music.”
“That's what I've come to understand. I hope to get to hear you play.”
Dave was getting impatient. Julian had just missed an opportunity to steer the conversation to their asshole of a father. It was wise to let Julian continue to do the talking, but a little nudge in the right direction couldn't hurt anything.
“But your father discourages your musical ambitions, does he?”
Tim and Julian flashed glares at him.
John frowned. “He does not believe there to be a prosperous future in music for two stone giants. He says the world is a cruel and dangerous
place, and we would do better to spend our time learning how to defend ourselves and our people.”
Dave felt a pinprick of cold on his forearm. He looked down and saw a drop of water had landed there.
Shit.
Looking up, he saw that dark clouds were rolling in from the west. It was already starting.
“Your dad sounds like he really cares about you two,” said Julian.
“Bullshit!” Dave blurted out. The clock was ticking and they needed to get out of here pronto. “You can't let that old bastard stomp all over your dreams! A bard from our homeland said that you only get one shot. One opportunity. One... I forget. Something about spaghetti.”
Other John pointed sternly at Dave. “You shall not speak dishonorably about our father.”
“Yeah, Dave,” said Tim. “Why don't you try not speaking at all.”
Dave felt the chill of another raindrop on the back of his neck. “He speaks dishonorably of you! He told me that he thinks you're a couple of queers!”
“DAVE!” shrieked Tim. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“You need to stand up to him,” Dave continued. “Every minute you waste throwing rocks at us is one minute you could have been practicing your art, one more minute between you and your dream.”
John rubbed his chin, causing a rough grinding sound. “There is logic in your words.”
Dave smirked at Julian. You're not the only one who can use Diplomacy, it seems. Then he looked back at one of the Johns. “You need to let him know you mean business. Let him know you really mean it with an act of defiance.”
The two Johns looked at one another, then back at Dave. “What sort of act of defiance would you suggest?”
They were putty in Dave's hands.
“You set us free, of course. Then you go in there and tell him your rock-throwing days are over.”
Both of the Johns took a moment to scratch their heads in thought.
Julian, Tim, and Cooper looked genuinely surprised. Julian especially so. Dave gestured to the Johns, welcoming Julian to take the lead if he had any diplomatic ideas to nudge them over to their side of the fence.
Julian opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he started to say was drowned out by Furgal's voice from inside the house.