5d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  “And that psychopath who murders people who annoy him, that's the guy you want to get into a game of semantics with?” Julian lowered his voice and continued with his best Dave impression. “Sorry we shat in your mom's urn, sir. Here, we also killed your dogs.”

  “None of this matters,” said Tim. “I can't set up a snare without a rope, and all of our shit is in the wagon.”

  They spent close to an hour arguing over how best to subdue the hell hounds without actually killing them, but the fire breathing part nixed most of their proposed plans.

  “I've spotted the wagon, sir,” said Ravenus as he landed on the branch of a nearby tree. “It took a bit of effort as it seems to have rolled off the road, and was difficult to spot from the air.”

  Julian nodded impatiently. “Where is it?”

  “Just around that bend, sir.”

  Tim took the lead, but the benefit of his Stealth was dampened by his insistence that Cooper stay at least forty feet behind him in case any hell hounds jumped out of the woods.

  The wagon was just as Ravenus had reported. The horses were gone, and so was Butkus.

  “Our shit's still here,” said Tim from the back of the wagon. He rummaged through their belongings and grabbed a handful of crossbow bolts. “Except my crossbow is missing.”

  “Here it is under the wagon,” said Julian. He picked up the crossbow and handed it to Tim, who looked very relieved to have it.

  Dave looked nervously around at their surroundings. “Are there any amulets in there?”

  Tim gave the wagon a brief scan as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow. “None that I can see.”

  Julian scanned the ground for hoof prints and thought aloud. “So Butkus hears the hounds approaching, unhitches the horses, and rides off into the woods.”

  “Why would he unhitch both of the horses?” asked Dave.

  Julian glared at him. As long as it made no difference to their situation, Julian wanted to think of a scenario in which the horses might have lived the full duration of the spell. “To create a diversion. Hopefully get one or two of the hell hounds off his ass. Why don't you see if you can find some kind of clue as to which way Butkus went?”

  “There's also the possibility that both horses got mauled to death by hell hounds,” said Cooper, squatting behind some undergrowth on the other side of the road.

  “Of course that's a possibility,” said Julian. “But not necessarily a conclusion we have to jump to without any evidence.”

  “Does a bunch of blood splattered all over the place count as evidence?”

  Julian rushed to the road. “Yes!” He stopped just short of peering into the bushes where Cooper was taking a dump.

  “Dude, could you give me a second?”

  “Why are you shitting in the evidence?” asked Julian.

  “Because of that fucking elk meat.”

  “Guys!” cried Tim from inside the wagon. “I think I found some more evidence.”

  Glowing red eyes peered out from the trees on the other side of the road, accompanied by a low menacing growl. As the single hell hound limped into view, snarling at Tim, Julian spotted a bolt sticking out from the base of its neck.

  “Tim,” Julian whispered as calmly as he could. “Put the crossbow down.”

  “No fucking way,” Tim whispered back considerably less calmly. “Count Fabulazzo can go fuck himself.” He raised his voice, addressing the dog. “You stay back!”

  The hell hound's growls turned into barks as tiny flames spurted out from its nostrils.

  Recognizing the futility of trying to get either one of them to back down, Julian saw no other option than to blow one of his spells.

  “Rock-a-bye, and good night...” That was all it took for such a ferocious beast to curl up on the ground in a peaceful slumber. Poor little pooch must have been exhausted.

  Tim sighed. “Nice job.” He took a coil of rope out of his pack, hopped down from the back of the wagon, and started binding the hound's feet together.

  “Dave,” said Julian. “You should get over here and heal it.”

  “Why?” asked Dave. “It's alive enough. Why would I want to waste a Heal spell on a hell hound when there are two more out there who could still burn and eat us? Count Fabulazzo can't hold us accountable for Butkus shooting his dog.”

  Julian folded his arms and raised his eyebrows at Dave. “Are you sure about that?”

  Dave frowned. “Maybe you're right.” He looked at Tim. “You sure those knots are going to hold him?”

  Tim nodded.

  Dave placed one hand on the hound's shoulder and gripped the bolt with the other. “One, two...” He yanked the bolt out.

  The hell hound yelped and bit Dave hard on his leopard fur covered forearm. It's neck was more flexible than any of them had anticipated.

  “FUCK!” cried Dave. “It burns!”

  Tim scrambled backward and reached for his crossbow in the wagon. Cooper, having finished his dump, took Tim's place near the furious hell hound and punched it in the head, eliciting a sharper cry from Dave, who still had the dog's teeth in his arm, but knocking the beast out cold.

  The pattern of tooth marks on Dave's arm surrounded a blackened and blistered patch of skin and scorched leopard fur.

  “Son of a bitch,” said Dave through clenched teeth. He touched a fingertip to his arm just below the wound. “I heal me.” He let out a long relieved groan as the burn faded, the punctures closed up, and the fur grew back.

  “Feel better?” asked Julian.

  Dave frowned. “Yeah, but I was hoping that might have gotten rid of the fur.”

  “Good. Now the dog.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” cried Dave. “Did you not just see what that thing did to me?”

  “That doesn't change our situation. We don't want to piss off Count Fabulazzo any more than we already have.”

  Dave's face shook with anger and frustration. “Fine.” He crawled as far back away from the hound as he could and still be within stretching distance from its head. Barely touching the tip of one of the dog's ears, he said his incantation. “I heal thee.”

  The hound groaned happily. It opened its eyes and licked Dave's hand.

  Dave jerked his hand back. “Shit! That still burns.”

  As the hole in the dog's shoulder closed over with fresh skin, a long and gentle fart flowed out from its ass. Gentle, that is, except for the fact that it was on fire. Julian smiled at Dave. “Speaking of shit that still burns.”

  “Whoa,” said Cooper. “I could seriously watch that all day.”

  As if to reward them for healing its wound, the dog followed through with a nice long magma turd. Julian and his friends stared in awe.

  Because the hound's legs were tied and it couldn't stand up, the turd lacked the conical swirl of the first one they'd witnessed, but Julian noticed another, arguably less superficial difference as well. This dog turd had something in it. A glint of gold, it looked like, but too small to be a coin.

  “As much as I hate to admit it,” said Tim. “I could watch this all day as well. But if we don't want to start withering away, we should try to find Butkus before his trail gets too cold.”

  Julian swallowed. “I think I just found him.” Just as he recognized the shape of a tooth, it began to melt into an amorphous golden blob, seeping between the cracks of the dog turd's blackening outer shell. He had little hope left that his horses had reached the end of their spell durations.

  “I've got some bad news and some worse news,” said Julian.

  “What's the worse news?” asked Tim.

  “That way doesn't work. If I tell you the worse news first, it kind of spills the beans on the bad news.”

  “I'm way too sober for this shit. Just say what you've got to say.”

  “Butkus is dead.”

  Tim frowned thoughtfully. “I'm feeling pretty indifferent to that news. Hit us with the worse.”

  “I think one of the hell hounds may have eaten the amulet.�
�

  “Are you kidding?” said Tim. “That's fantastic news!”

  “How do you figure?”

  “The amulet has been destroyed. The hounds fucked Fabulazzo's Geas!”

  Cooper paused in the scratching of his balls. “When did that happen? Why didn't you wake me up?”

  “We still have to get the hounds back to him.” said Dave.

  “You think he's up for Round 2 this soon?” Cooper rubbed his ass cheeks with both hands. “I don't know if I'd be able to even sit down for at least a week.”

  The time it would have taken to explain to Cooper what Geas meant, and more importantly what it didn't mean, was time better spent getting rid of the Geas.

  Julian asked the question he already knew the obviously horrible answer to. “How should we go about rounding up the other two – Wait a second...” He sniffed the air. “Do you guys smell something?”

  Tim and Dave sniffed. “Nothing unusual.”

  Cooper leaned over and put his hands on his knees. “You're about to. I'm never going to look at another goddamn elk again.”

  “That's not what I'm talking about,” said Julian. “I think I smell smoke.” He ran a few steps into the woods, where the rainwater flowing down the mountain had swept fallen leaves into wavy patterns on the ground, leaving them piled high against some of the larger tree trunks. Out of one such pile of leaves, Julian spotted a small ribbon of white smoke rising.

  “Dude, wait up!” called Cooper as he stomped through the woods behind Julian.

  The leaf pile was damp, but glowing orange flickers within it suggested that a big blaze wasn't far off.

  “Those dogs are going to set this whole forest on fire if we don't catch them soon,” said Julian as he scattered the leaves with his quarterstaff. Cooper stomped out the scattered clusters of burning leaves.

  At the bottom of the pile, Julian found exactly what he'd been expecting to find, but not all that he was hoping for. The smoldering dog turd was studded with steel buttons from Butkus's jacket, but there was no sign of the amulet. Julian didn't share Tim's confidence that the amulet had been destroyed. Magic powerful enough to contain a person's soul would not easily succumb to even the strongest of digestive tracts.

  A low growl took Julian's attention away from the dog turd. He turned around.

  Fortunately, the hell hound wasn't growling at him. It was tearing scorching claw marks into the trunk of a tree and barking up at something.

  “Help me!” cried a man's voice from higher up in the tree. A chubby, purple-robed man was hanging from a branch by his arms and legs, neither of which seemed to have enough muscle to hold his fat body up there for long. “I beg you, please help me! Save me from this wretched creature of the Abyss! In the name of Trog'bahar, I implore you to – WHA–!” His situation sorted itself out when he fell out of the tree and flattened the hell hound between the ground and his own girth.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Cooper. “Are you okay, dude?”

  “I am!” cried the fat cultist as he stood up and looked down at the unconscious dog embedded in the ground. “Trog'bahar has heard my prayer and spared my life!”

  Julian frowned. “That's one possible explanation for what just happened.”

  Cooper scooped up the dog and held its chest to his ear. “I think it's still alive.”

  The fat man clapped his hands joyfully. “Trog'bahar is a merciful god!”

  “Who are you?” asked Julian. “What are you doing out here in the woods by yourself?”

  “My name is Sinas. My people roam the wilderness spreading the Good News of Trog'bahar!”

  Cooper scrunched up his nostrils. “Your name is Sinus? Like the snot cavity in your face?”

  “Come on, Cooper,” said Julian. “Let's get back to the others before this dog wakes up.”

  “Others?” said Sinas. “Are you all familiar with the teachings of Trog'bahar?”

  Julian started walking. “We're not interested, thank you.”

  “How does eternal salvation not interest you, wicked sinners?” Sinas was following them.

  “Now you're just being an asshole,” said Cooper, looking grimly ahead as he walked more briskly than usual. He looked like he was considering shaking the dog awake and setting him loose on this guy.

  “I meant no insult to you, friend in unworthiness. I myself aspire to one day be worthy to be a parasite inside of a hookworm in Trog'bahar's stool. And yet you have witnessed with your own eyes the divine mercy he has shown unto me! What say you to that?”

  Cooper belched long and loud. “I don't know. It's good to have goals?”

  “Take heart, new friends, for you too may bask in Trog'bahar's glorious light.”

  “You know who might want to bask in Troglabar's stool?” said Cooper. “Our friend Dave. He's a cleric.”

  Julian smiled to himself. What a dick move to pull on poor unsuspecting Dave.

  “Is that so?” asked Sinas enthusiastically. “Which god does he serve?”

  “I don't think he serves any,” said Julian. He felt a little bad about participating in this, but the real damage had already been done.

  “Excellent! Where is this Dave of whom you speak?”

  “Right up there.” Cooper shifted the hell hound's weight on his shoulder and raised his arm to wave. “Hey Dave!”

  Dave waved back hesitantly, no doubt put off by Cooper's uncharacteristic friendliness toward him.

  Sinas ran ahead and grabbed a very surprised Dave by the shoulders. “Praise be this day, unworthy maggot!”

  “W-W-What?”

  “You got another hound,” said Tim. “Nice work. Who the fuck is this guy?”

  Cooper laid the unconscious dog in front of Tim, who got to work binding its legs together.

  Julian dug through his bag in the back of the wagon looking for his nearly empty waterskin. “Some guy we met in the woods. He's one of those Trog'bahar cultists that Fabulazzo likes to murder and steal clothes from.” He gulped back what remained of his water, hoping that the count would allow him to refill it before they left. This hope, of course, was conditional on the count not deciding to murder them all.

  “And that's when I was saved!” said Sinas, wrapping up a tale which, if Dave's face was a reliable metric, had been as boring as a non-flaming pile of dog shit.

  Dave sighed. “Fascinating.” He caught Julian's slight smile. “Hey, maybe it's about time we lure in that last hell hound.”

  Julian supposed he deserved a bit of retaliatory dickishness from Dave, but an innocent magical horse didn't deserve it. But with only one hell hound left to subdue, and five people to cover it, he wouldn't necessarily be setting this horse up for instantaneous slaughter.

  “Okay,” said Julian. He pointed at the ground. “I'm going to summon a horse here. We don't know which way the hell hound is going to be coming from, so I need everyone to –”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Ravenus called from a branch above Julian's head.

  Julian looked up. “Yes, Ravenus?”

  “If it provides any tactical help, I believe the hound will approach from that direction.” He nodded toward the rising sun.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because it's over there right now.”

  Tim shook his head. “Useless fucking bird.”

  Julian glared down at him. “Watch it!”

  “I'm using American English. He can't understand me.”

  “Something appears to be amiss with it, sir,” said Ravenus.

  “Like what?” said Julian. “Is it injured? Does it have arrows sticking out of it?”

  “I don't believe so, sir. It appears to be dragging its ass.”

  “Metaphorically? Like it's procrastinating or something?”

  “No, sir. Quite literally.”

  Julian looked at Dave and Sinas. “You two stay here and mind the hounds. We'll go check out this last one.”

  “What if they wake up?” asked Dave.

  Sinas slapped Dave
on the back. “Fear not, unbeliever. Stay and pray with me. Trog'bahar's mercy shall keep these soulless hell-beasts in their unholy slumber!”

  Dave's eyes begged not to be left alone with Sinas.

  “If they wake up, hit them with your mace. But remember to specify that you want to administer subdual damage.” Julian started walking east, feeling satisfied.

  “There it is,” said Tim. Ravenus wasn't wrong. The hell hound scooted itself forward with its front legs, dragging its ass along the leaves.

  Julian motioned for them to fan out, then move in on the dog from different directions. Tim and Cooper approached from its flanks, while Julian moved cautiously, but directly, toward it head on.

  It didn't take long for the hound to spot Julian. But instead of a growl, snarl, or bark. It let out a tiny flaming whimper.

  “What's wrong, little guy?” asked Julian, feeling bad about the fact that he was about to clobber it over the head with his quarterstaff.

  “The amulet is stuck in its ass,” said Tim, approaching from the left. “I can see the chain dragging behind it.”

  “Should we...” Julian cringed at what he was about to suggest. “Should we just give it a good yank?”

  Tim flinched like a vampire accidentally pulling up a window shade in the morning. “Fuck no! Not before that dog and I are both properly shitfaced.”

  “I've got a better idea,” said Cooper.

  “Statistically speaking, the chances of that are...” Tim smiled. “You know what? My curiosity is piqued. I really want to hear this great idea of yours.”

  Cooper reached down the front of his loincloth.

  Tim turned around. “But I don't want to see it.”

  Thankfully, when Cooper removed his hand, he wasn't holding his dick. Instead, he had four or five slices of elk meat.

  “Did you steal that?” asked Julian.

  “It's not stealing. He offered it to us. I thought we might get hungry on the ride back home.”

  Tim grimaced. “We? Who the fuck wants to eat elk meat that's been rubbing against your junk all morning?”

  Cooper gave Tim the finger. “There's a pouch sewn into the front of my loincloth.”

  That was only marginally less gross, considering the state of Cooper's loincloth, but Julian didn't see any need to bring that up right now.