5d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  “What's going on?” asked Julian.

  “That's a good fucking question,” said Tim. “Why are we all dressed in fucking Snuggies, and why are my hands glued to my balls?”

  Julian joined the count at the door and discovered Cooper sitting atop a large red porcelain jar. He was surrounded by burning candles and several paintings of the same elderly woman. In every picture she was portrayed wearing dresses that would make Puritans look like whores. The creases on her face were well-defined from a lifetime of scowling. Her eyes, however, were not entirely unlike the count's.

  “Would you guys mind giving me a little privacy,” asked Cooper. “I'm almost done in here.”

  “GET OUT OF THIS ROOM AT ONCE!” demanded Count Fabulazzo.

  Cooper let out one last wet ass-spray before standing up. Count Fabulazzo gasped as he hurried into the room and looked into the jar Cooper had just risen from.

  “Mother!” he said, choking back tears.

  Cooper peered into the jar alongside him. “Is that some kind of Horshack test interpretation?”

  “You!” Count Fabulazzo's eyes burned with the reflection of the two fireballs which had just appeared in his hands. “I take you into my home. I clothe and feed you. I share with you my finest Barrier Island rum and give you shelter for the night. And this is how you repay my generosity? You defecate in my mother's urn?”

  Julian gasped.

  “Do you have anymore of that rum left?” asked Tim.

  Cooper backed away from the count. “Sorry, dude. I thought it was a toilet.”

  The count's voice shook as he spoke. “Why would I surround a toilet with portraits of my late mother?”

  “How the fuck was I supposed to know it was your mother?” asked Cooper. “I thought those were just there for something to whack off to while you're on the shitter.”

  “Cooper!” cried Julian. “What the hell are you talking about? Who whacks off on the shitter?”

  “I just did.”

  Julian pulled on his ears. “To a painting of an old woman?”

  “Whoa,” said Cooper. “Take it down a notch. That's this dude's mother you're talking about.”

  The flames in Count Fabulazzo's hands grew more intense as he glared at Cooper. “It's common courtesy to not go snooping around in locked rooms when you're a guest in someone's home. But just to make the matter crystal clear, I gave you explicit instructions not to do that. Your disobedience shall cost you your life.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Cooper. “The door wasn't even locked.”

  “Of course it was! It is always locked. No one but me is allowed into this room EVER!”

  Tim shuffled over and squinted into the door's keyhole. “This lock has been picked.”

  “There, you see!”

  “Cooper can't pick a lock,” said Julian. “He doesn't have the Dexterity or the skill ranks.”

  “That's right,” said Cooper. “I can barely wipe my own ass.” Evidence of Cooper's claim dripped on the floor between his feet.

  Julian could tell that the count was anything but a hothead. Most people, having the means, would have blasted Cooper to hell long before now in similar circumstances. On the other hand, Julian considered that he was wearing evidence that the count was well capable of murder. He might listen to reason if Julian was able to articulate his thoughts quickly enough.

  “When Cooper wants to get through a locked door, he uses...” Julian was about to go on about Cooper's high Strength score, but then he remembered Count Fabulazzo's fixation with Cooper's barbarian upbringing. “He uses the methods passed down by his barbarian ancestors. Zuglar the Mighty would never have reigned over the Tribes of... um...”

  “Picayune,” suggested Cooper.

  “Picayune,” Julian repeated, “if his warriors ever witnessed him trying to pick a lock. Likewise, if Cooper wanted to get through a locked door, it would be torn off the hinges and smashed to splinters.”

  Julian took a deep breath, satisfied with his massive tale of bullshit.

  Count Fabulazzo nodded slowly as the fireballs in his hands dimmed, but didn't go out completely. “If not Cooper, then which one of you picked the lock?” He narrowed his eyes at Tim.

  “Don't look at me,” said Tim. “My hands are still stuck to my nuts.”

  “And if not for the sole purpose of soiling my dear mother's ashes,” the count continued as he peered into the room, “then for what pur–” His eyes grew wide with horror. “Mother!”

  Julian and Tim exchanged glances. Tim shrugged.

  Count Fabulazzo stood in front of the urn and looked up at a glass display case. “She's gone!”

  Tim looked at Julian and nodded toward the count. Julian took it to mean that he should go in there and say something encouraging.

  Julian did his best. “Her spirit will always live on in your heart and in your memory.”

  “No!” cried the count. “Her spirit lives on inside the amulet. I imprisoned her there before I strangled the life out of her body.”

  “Oh,” said Julian and Tim simultaneously.

  Cooper nodded. “That was thoughtful.”

  “Hey guys,” said Dave as he descended the stairs from the fourth floor. “Where is –”

  “What have you done with my mother?” cried the count. The flames in his hands flickered and grew.

  Dave stopped mid-step. “Nothing! I was just upstairs taking a dump.” After a moment of thought, he added, “alone.”

  “Settle an argument, would you?” Cooper asked Dave. “And be honest. Did you whack it on the shitter?”

  Dave grimaced at Cooper for a second before continuing his thought from earlier. “Where is Butkus going? Weren't we supposed to get a ride back with him?”

  “What are you talking about?” Julian's heart sank as he began to piece together the obvious answer to the question.

  “Butkus!” said the count. “Of course! I knew he couldn't be trusted.” He extinguished the flames in his hands and ran past Dave up the stairs.

  “Where the fuck is he going?” asked Cooper.

  Tim's eyes lit up. “Maybe he's going to Fireball Butkus from the top of the tower!”

  “That would be badass,” said Cooper.

  Tim hopped up and down, the current extent of his mobility options. “Pick me up and follow him!”

  Cooper scooped up Tim and started running up the stairs.

  Count Fabulazzo appeared again, running in the opposite direction and carrying a large bundle of purple cloth. He flicked his wrist, sending Cooper and Tim flying off the staircase and landing on Dave. Without so much as a pause or an 'excuse me', he continued down the stairs with a focus and determination Julian had never witnessed anyone have toward doing laundry. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or something like Lady Macbeth washing her hands.

  “Hey guys,” said Julian. “I think we should get out of here while the count is distracted. I think he's cracking up, and I don't think we'll want to be around when he finally goes whole hog on losing his shit.” He smiled. “Also, I'm looking forward to seeing Butkus's face when we catch up to him.”

  Dave frowned. “He's long gone. I'm sorry guys, but I was on the can for a good fifteen minutes after I saw Butkus go. I think it's got something to do with that necromantically preserved elk meat. It was really running through me.”

  Cooper rubbed his belly. “I know, right?”

  Julian had stopped for a squat or two while walking around outside as well, but he felt no need to share this information. Instead, he started walking down the stairs. “As much as I'd love to stand here and listen to you two talk about your bowel movements, we should probably go get dressed, track down that weasel, and get paid.”

  Cooper picked up Tim and followed.

  “Screw our clothes,” said Dave, taking the rear. “If you think there's a chance we can catch up to Butkus, shouldn't we waste as little time as possible?”

  “We've got all the time in the world. Those horse
s pulling Butkus's wagon were summoned by me.”

  “I know your magical horses have a tendency to die horrible untimely deaths,” said Tim. “But it's kind of creepy that you're banking on it now.”

  Julian stepped behind his serape, warm and dry hanging on the bar around the hearth, and pulled off his purple robe. “I'm not banking on the horses dying. I'm banking on their spell duration timing out.”

  “Oh yeah. They live that long so infrequently that I forgot it was a thing.”

  Cooper held Tim's robe by the hood and shook it until Tim fell out of the bottom. Mercifully, his hands were still stuck to his junk.

  Julian turned around and started pulling on his dry clothes. “He won't have more than two hours before those horses disappear, leaving him stranded in his wagon. Considering that he tried to rip us off, I won't feel bad extorting three times our agreed-upon payment out of him.”

  Once they were all finished getting dressed, Julian led the way through the front door of the tower, which was open a crack. He looked left and right, but saw no sign of Count Fabulazzo.

  “Do you think it's rude to just leave without saying goodbye?” Julian wondered aloud.

  “No ruder than shitting in his mother's urn,” said Tim. “This guy's unstable. Every interaction we have with him is just one more chance for us to accidentally piss him off. Let's just leave him to his laundry and get the fuck out of here.”

  Tim ran stealthily toward the gate, looked around, then waved the rest of them over.

  Julian wasn't sure why they were sneaking around. He supposed it was natural for Tim, being a rogue, but he found himself running as quietly as he could, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet.

  Dave lagged behind, as usual, his movement barely qualifying as running. And Cooper ran about as stealthily as a charging rhino.

  “No, Cooper! Wait!” cried Tim as Cooper came barreling toward the gate. Miraculously, Cooper seemed to hear him and slowed down.

  Tim sighed with relief. “We need to wait for Dave before we open the –”

  The iron gate's hinges screamed as Cooper leaned against it to catch his breath.

  “Fuck,” said Tim.

  Tim's concerns were justified almost immediately as the three hell hounds barked like a stadium full of crazed wolves. In the early morning darkness, Julian could see the glow of their fiery breath coming from just around the other side of the tower.

  “Hurry up, Dave!” cried Julian.

  Dave pumped his stubby dwarf legs, moving with all the swiftness of an elderly power walker at the mall, while Tim and Cooper stood poised to slam the gate shut as soon as he made it through.

  The dogs were fast as they came around the tower, but Dave was more than halfway there. It was going to be close.

  Julian gripped two bars and pressed his face between them. “He's going to make it.”

  “I don't think he is, sir,” said Ravenus, who had just flapped down to perch atop the fence.

  “I've got to agree with Ravenus on this one,” said Tim. “Dave's fucked.”

  As the painful-to-watch race continued, it became clear that Ravenus and Tim's objective assessments were going to prevail over Julian's wishful thinking.

  “Shit,” said Tim. “Where the hell are our weapons?”

  Julian had seen them less than an hour ago. “In the wagon.”

  Cooper gripped the gate's bars with both hands. “I'm really angry!” With the added Strength bonus from his Barbarian Rage, he ripped the gate off its hinges, held it over his head, and flipped it around so that the pointy tips at the top of the bars were aimed down at the approaching hounds.

  Julian supposed he'd better do something as well. He was thinking about whether a Magic Missile or a Mount spell would be more conducive to keeping him and his friends alive when something strange happened.

  The hell hounds caught up to Dave, but then ran past him. Tim and Cooper watched confusedly as the manically barking hounds ran through the opening in the fence and carried on down the road.

  Having run forty yards, Dave was breathing like he'd just been held underwater for two minutes.

  “Stop!” cried Count Fabulazzo from the other side of the tower where the dogs had just come from. “Come back here! Yippy! Pippy! Skip–” He stopped when he saw them, his eyes burning with angry frustration. “What have you done to my gate?”

  Cooper's Barbarian Rage flowed out through his anus in a long wet fart as his muscles deflated back down to their normal size. He set the gate down. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  The count stomped toward them with his fists full of fire once again. “Have you any idea what you've done?”

  Behind him, an invisible floating disc carried a pile of chains and a bundle of purple cloth.

  “I'm very sorry,” said Julian. “We didn't want to bother you while you were doing laundry, so we thought we'd let ourselves –”

  “Laundry? Why would I be doing laundry when my mother's spirit has just been stolen?”

  Julian was in an awkward spot. His choices boiled down to admitting that his reasoning involved Count Fabulazzo being batshit insane or making himself seem catastrophically stupid. He decided to go with the latter.

  “I saw the cloth, and just assumed...”

  “These are Butkus's bed sheets. I took them so that the hounds could get a good sniff and track down that dirty thieving scoundrel!”

  “Oh,” said Julian. “Well done then. It looks like they're hot on his trail.”

  “And precious little good that does me!” Count Fabulazzo grabbed a fistful of chain from the invisible disc. “I hadn't attached their leashes yet.”

  “Holy shit!” said Tim. “Were you going to ride the disc while the dogs pulled you?”

  Count Fabulazzo scowled down at Tim. “That was the plan.”

  “That would have been epic.”

  “Now my mother is gone. My sweet pups are gone. I fear I may never get that smell out of my tower. May the gods damn the day I invited you cretins into my home.”

  Julian tried to think of a use for his Diplomacy skill that would allow them to leave as quickly as possible.

  “We don't want to cause you any more trouble,” said Dave. “So I guess we'll be going now.” He hadn't allotted any skill points to Diplomacy, and it showed.

  The flames surrounding Count Fabulazzo's fists intensified. “The only place you're going is to the kennels. Once I acquire some new hell hounds, I'll use you to train them.”

  Cooper frowned. “None of us have any ranks in Animal Handling.”

  Dave frowned harder. “I don't think that's what he has in mind.”

  “I have an alternative suggestion,” said Julian.

  Count Fabulazzo raised his eyebrows, indicating that he was willing to hear it.

  “What if we made this right? What if we agreed to get your amulet back for you?” Cooper, Dave, and Tim nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion.

  “And what assurances do I have that you won't simply flee once I let you go?”

  Julian thought for a moment. “Is there some magical way you could compel us? I seem to remember reading about a higher level spell that –”

  “A Geas!” cried Count Fabulazzo.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Cooper.

  “Is that how it's really pronounced?” asked Dave.

  “Shit,” muttered Tim, no doubt hoping Julian was going to convince the count to trust them, and then immediately betray his trust.

  Count Fabulazzo reached into one of the pockets lining the inside of his robe and said, “Geas.” He pulled out a rolled up piece of paper much bigger than what the pocket should have allowed for. “It's been so long since I've placed a Geas on someone.”

  “That's some very peculiar phrasing.” Cooper belched out some anxiety. “One of those cultists might have been up for it if you'd given them a chance.”

  The count opened the scroll and read an incantation that was above Julian's arcane understanding. After he was
done, he rolled the paper back up and addressed Julian and his friends. “You are hereby compelled to return the amulet containing my mother's spirit to me.”

  “Okay,” said Julian. “I guess we'll get started on –”

  “In addition,” said the count. “You will return my three hell hounds.”

  “Shit,” Tim expressed Julian's thoughts aloud.

  “Upon completing this quest, you will be free.”

  Cooper scratched his ass nervously. “So, is that in addition to you placing your gay ass upon us? Or do we get to choose?”

  Count Fabulazzo considered Cooper's question, but apparently considered it too stupid to address. “Should you voluntarily abandon the quest given to you, your bodies and minds will deteriorate every day until there's nothing left of you but quivering imbecilic mounds of flesh.”

  The count's words were harsh, but Julian appreciated that his description of what they would become was lower than his current assessment of what they were.

  Parting ways with someone who was on the fence about straight up murdering them all was never easy. There were no right words. Simply turning around and walking away, while awkward, was usually the best course of action.

  Julian led his friends through the gate and onto the road, grateful to not be incinerated. When they had walked for about twenty minutes, Julian sent Ravenus ahead to scout for Butkus's wagon and the hell hounds, but instructed him not to interfere.

  “Should we ride?” asked Dave. Julian suspected his reason for asking had more to do with laziness than enthusiasm for the quest.

  “Not unless you know how we're going to capture three hell hounds once we get there. We can rush things along once we have a plan.”

  “I've been thinking about that. He didn't say we had to bring the dogs back alive. How does this sound? Tim sets a snare. Julian summons a horse to use as bait. When one of them gets pulled up into the air, we'll beat it to death before it can breathe fire on the rope. Rinse and repeat.”

  Julian glared at Dave. “Every part of that plan sounds horrible. Those are somebody's pets.”

  “Those are fire breathing monsters,” said Dave. “They've been raised from pups for the sole purpose of murdering innocent people who annoy that psychopath.”