by Robert Bevan
Dave finished up his goodbyes and the four of them were soon out on the street again.
“What’s keeping Tony the Elf?” asked Tim.
Dave frowned. “Maybe he didn’t handle that sausage so well.”
“Or maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing,” said Cooper.
“What’s that?” asked Julian.
“Handling his sausage.” Cooper winked. “He’s probably thinking about Tim.”
They hung out in front of the tavern for another minute or two – just enough time for Julian to call Ravenus back – when Tony the Elf finally sauntered out from around the side of the building, straightening up his pants.
“You fellas ready to roll?”
“What?” said Tim. “You want to go today?”
“Now?” added Cooper.
“That survivor’s still out there telling his story. Frank wants us to hit this place before someone else comes up with the same idea that we did.”
“You wouldn’t rather wait until we’re sober?” asked Dave.
“You’ll have plenty of time to sober up on the way.”
“I don’t want to sober up on the way,” said Tim. “I only just started drinking.”
As Tony the Elf led the way north, Julian noticed Tim sneaking shots from his hip flask every now and again. He might not be stone cold sober when they reached their destination, but hopefully he would be less shitfaced than he was now.
The western bank of the Bluerun River on the north side of Cardinia was like a distorted reflection of the south. Here, too, were large, two story homes built from brick or stone, luxurious by this world’s standards, but most of them looked abandoned, in varying stages of ruin. Tree roots had cracked foundations. Toppled statues were thick with moss. Wild vines ran up walls and into cracked windows.
“What happened here?” asked Julian.
“War happened,” said Tony the Elf like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ever hear of a little thing called The Wars of the Fractured Kingdom?”
“I think I remember hearing something about it in passing.”
Tony the Elf stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at Julian. His grey eyes bored deep into him. It almost felt invasive.
“What?” Julian finally said.
“Hmph,” said Tony the Elf. He turned around and continued walking.
“We almost there?” said Cooper. “I gotta drop the kids off at the pool.”
Tony the Elf stopped again. He seldom had patience for Cooper. “I beg your pardon?”
“I gotta take a shit.”
“Can’t you hold it? We’re nearly there.”
“Maybe it’d be better for him to do that out here,” said Dave. “The house is likely to smell bad enough as it is.”
Tony the Elf looked quizzically at Dave. “Why would you say that?”
Dave shrugged. “Because of all the rotting corpses?”
Tony the Elf smiled. “Oh yes, of course. Now that you mention it, I wish I had thought to bring some mint leaves or something.”
Cooper stomped off what was left of the old dirt road and disappeared into the tall grass. Tim swigged down some stonepiss, not even bothering to hide it anymore, while he urinated on the side of the road.
At least ten minutes passed. Julian was happy he had gone easy on the breakfast.
“What was in those sausages?” asked Dave.
Tim screwed the cap onto his flask and put it in his vest pocket. “That’s a question you almost never want the answer to.”
“I guess I’m lucky to have that +2 Save versus Poison.”
“You have what?” asked Tony the Elf.
“Because I’m a dwarf.”
Tony the Elf looked at him doubtfully. “Oh right.”
“I don’t like this,” said Dave. “Something’s wrong.”
“You worry every time Cooper goes for a shit?” asked Tim. “You’re going to have a heart attack before you’re forty.”
“Yeah, he shits a lot. But he’s usually quick about it. He never takes this long.”
“Relax,” said Tony the Elf. “You said yourself it’s probably just the sausages. You watch. He’ll be back here any second now.”
“Sorry for the holdup!” When Cooper jogged back into view, something was off about him. He looked cleaner somehow. Slimmer too, maybe.
From the look on Tim’s face, he must have shared Julian’s assessment. “How big a shit did you take?”
Cooper stopped jogging and frowned. “I, umm… I don’t know how to answer that. Considerably?”
“So glad to see you again!” said Tony the Elf. If it was meant to sound sarcastic, he failed his Diplomacy check. “Look sharp, gentlemen. The next house up the road is our target.”
“Shouldn’t we get our talismans ready?” asked Julian.
“Oh right!” said Tony the Elf. “Good thinking!” He handed out talismans to each member of the party who, in turn, looped the chords over their heads and around their necks.
“What about Ravenus?” asked Julian. “Do you think he needs a talisman?”
Tony the Elf frowned. “I shouldn’t think so. He’s your familiar, right? Surely, your talisman will provide protection for the both of you.”
“You don’t sound very sure of yourself, and I don’t want to take any chances.” Julian whistled for Ravenus.
“Anything amiss, sir?” asked Ravenus, flapping down to perch atop Julian’s quarterstaff.
“Why don’t you sit this one out. We shouldn’t be in there too long. Go see if you can’t scrounge up a dead rat or something.”
“As you wish, sir,” said Ravenus. He pushed off from the quarterstaff and took flight.
Tony the Elf led the way up the footpath. Cooper walked at his side, trailing slightly behind. A few minutes later they stood before an ancient wrought iron gateway thickly overgrown with sickly, brownish-green vines. They wrapped around the bars like old people’s fingers. The gate itself had been removed from the hinges, leaving just a curtain of vines for them to pass through. At the top of the gateway, the iron had been bent to form letters. Hildegarde Manor.
“Well,” said Cooper. “This is the place, all right.” He stepped through the vine curtain. Tony the Elf held the vines aside to allow everyone else to pass through, and he took the rear.
The house was much the same as the others they had passed. Two stories, brick and mortar, crawling with vines. Broken windows seemed to stare at Julian like dead eyes. It was everything a haunted house should be. Julian knew that his imagination was largely to blame, but this place truly gave him the willies.
“I don’t like this,” said Dave, digging in his bag. He had obviously caught a similar case of the willies. He pulled out one of the expensive bottles of stonepiss, uncorked it, and took a generous swig. A look of calm came over him. “That barman wasn’t kidding. This is some good stuff.”
Tim held his open flask to Dave. “Fill me up, would you?” Dave poured. Stonepiss spilled onto the ground, because both of their hands were trembling slightly.
“Come on, man,” Julian said to Tim. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“Liquid courage,” said Tim. “I’ll need a bit more before stepping into that creepy ass house.” He took a small sip from his flask. “Hot damn, that is good!”
“You know,” said Julian. “We don’t actually have to go through with this. We can turn back right now.”
“You guys are letting your imaginations get carried away,” said Tony the Elf. “There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.” He grasped the talisman hanging from his neck. “We’ve got these, remember?”
Julian frowned. “Of course. What could be safer than walking into a cursed and/or haunted house with some trinkets you bought off a blind stranger?”
Tony the Elf grinned. “That’s the spirit! Now come on.” He and Cooper confidently strolled up to the door. Tony the Elf reached for the handle.
“Stop!” cried Tim, running up behind t
hem.
Tony the Elf jerked his hand away from the door like he’d just noticed it was crawling with angry bees. “What?”
Tim shoved him aside. “What’s the point of bringing me along if you’re not going to let me use my rogue abilities?”
“What?” Tony the Elf repeated.
“Let me check the door for traps,” said Tim. “Fucking noob.”
“Noob?”
Tim pulled out his dagger, stood clear of the doorway, and tentatively poked at the handle. Nothing happened. He leaned in closer, running the dagger blade up the narrow gap between door and frame.
Tim stood back and nodded. “It looks clear to me. Cooper, kick it down.”
“Are you daft?” said Tony the Elf. “Why wouldn’t you just try –”
“Stay back, Tony the Elf,” said Tim. “This is how you gain the element of surprise. Kick that bitch down, Cooper.”
“Umm… Okay,” said Cooper. He paused for a moment, looking doubtfully at the door. Finally, he lifted his right leg. “Ya-ha!”
Ya-ha? Julian mouthed to Dave. Dave shrugged.”
Cooper slammed his heel into the door, knocking himself on his ass. The door didn’t budge.
“What kind of pussy kick was that?” asked Tim. “I could have hit the door harder with my little dick.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” said Cooper. “That door’s solid oak.”
“Use your Barbarian Rage,” suggested Dave.
Cooper sat on the front porch looking puzzled. “Barbarian…” He placed the tips of his index fingers on his temples.
“Coop?” said Julian. “You okay?”
“Barbarian Rage,” Cooper said to himself. “I can use it once per day.”
“That’s right,” said Tim. “So let’s get it on. Get angry, my man!”
Cooper removed his fingers from his temples, looked at Tim, and shrugged. “I just remembered. I already used it today.”
“What are you talking about?” Tim demanded. It almost sounded accusatory. “We’ve been with you all morning.”
“I used it when I was relieving myself,” said Cooper. “I was having a little trouble getting it out, if you take my meaning. I needed a little extra push.”
“You did what?”
“Those fucking sausages,” said Dave, shaking his head. “Dammit, Cooper! Barbarian Rage isn’t supposed to be used as a laxative! I can’t believe you’d go and waste your one talent like –”
“This is stupid,” said Tony the Elf, pushing his way past Tim. “It’s a wonder how you four idiots make it through each day without drowning in your own drool.” He pulled the handle. The door opened with ease. “See?” He stepped across the threshold.
Cooper stepped in after him. Tim took a nice, long swig of stonepiss and followed them in.
Dave and Julian stood just outside the open door.
“Are the talismans working?” asked Julian. “How do you feel?”
Tim smiled. “I’ve got a nice buzz going.”
Tony the Elf looked down at him. “Do you feel like you want to stab me?”
“Kinda.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “I guess they’re working.” He stepped into the house.
Fighting every fiber of common sense and self-preservation instinct, Julian stepped across the threshold. He was happy to note that, once inside, he felt no change. No murderous urges or thirsts for blood. The inside of the house, full of dust and cobwebs, was no less creepy than the outside. Dust motes swirled and danced like undead fairies in the few beams of sunlight which managed to penetrate through the cracks in the windows. This wasn’t the sort of place Julian would ever want to visit at night, but the fact that he and his friends weren’t all hacking away at each other was strangely comforting.
“Where are all the dead bodies?” asked Dave.
The air was thick with mildew and water rot, but Julian wasn’t picking up the scent of any decaying bodies. Still, someone had been here. The dusty floor was littered with footprints of varying shapes and sizes.
Tim moved a wooden stool over to a desk next to the wall of what Julian guessed once served as a sort of living room. He climbed onto the stool, then opened the top drawer of the desk.
“Sweet! Candles!” He pulled out two handfuls of long, thin white candles. “Let’s light these bitches up.” He hopped down from the stool and handed everyone a few candles.
Julian, with his Low Light Vision, was able to see just fine with the meager amount of sunlight flowing in through the windows, but he had no objections to adding some more light, if only just to keep the creepiness at bay.
“I can only find this one candle holder,” he said. “What are we supposed to do with the rest of the candles?”
“Think outside the box,” said Tim. He pulled a small pouch out of his bag.
“What’s that?” asked Julian.
“Caltrops,” said Tim. “They have four sharp prongs on them, so be careful not to step on them. They’re actually made to slow down pursuers. But if you poke one prong into the bottom of a candle, the other three prongs should keep it upright.” He demonstrated, and set the shoddily-mounted candle on the floor. “Voila! Instant candle holder.”
“That definitely looks like a fire hazard,” said Dave.
“Explain to me why I’d give a fuck,” said Tim. “All of you assholes can see in the dark. I can’t see shit.”
Before long, the whole room was awash in a warm, cozy glow. Candles stood on every available chair, shelf, and tabletop.
Tim climbed back up onto his stool, and from there onto the table. He wiped a layer of dust off a painting hanging on the wall, revealing the face of an elderly bearded man. Julian guessed he was probably the patriarch of the Hildegardes.
“Hey, Cooper,” said Tim. “What’s this picture of your mom doing here?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a man,” said Cooper.
Tim pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Hey, would you mind grabbing me that book up on the top shelf?” he asked, pointing to a nearby bookcase.
Cooper turned around and looked up at the shelf. “Which one?”
“The Dawn of the Third Age.”
When Cooper reached up to grab the book, Tim pulled a length of rope out of his bag, jumped onto his back, and looped the rope around his neck. Cooper dropped to his knees, his eyes wide as he struggled to breathe. Tim pulled the ends of the rope ends tighter.
Julian gripped his quarterstaff with both hands, not quite sure of what he intended to do with it. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Who are you?” Tim shouted into Cooper’s ear.
“Oh my god!” cried Dave. “The talismans aren’t working! We have to get out of here!” He ran for the door, but it slammed shut against his face. He fell to the floor, covering his face with his hands. “Ow! My fucking nose!”
Tony the Elf drew the twin machetes he carried on his back. “Let him go, Tim!” He took a step toward Tim and Cooper.
“Stop!” said Julian. Tony the Elf stopped, but he didn’t look like he’d hold for very long. “Just give me a minute. I’ve got Diplomacy. Tim, what’s going on, man? Why are you strangling Cooper?”
“This isn’t Cooper!” said Tim.
“He’s… crazy…” Cooper gasped.
“Come on, Tim,” pleaded Julian. “You’ve had a lot to drink today.”
“This is the place, all right,” said Tim. Cooper’s face was turning from grey to blue.
“What?”
“That’s what he said when he read the sign outside,” said Tim. “He read the fucking sign!”
Illiteracy was a barbarian class feature, but Julian hardly thought it was evidence enough to murder a guy. “He might have been just talking out of his ass.”
“He read the spine of that book,” said Tim, jerking his head up toward the top shelf of the bookcase. “He didn’t have the strength to kick open a simple wooden door.”
“Can’t… breathe…” said Cooper.
“
So he made a low roll,” said Julian.
“He didn’t get a ‘your mother’ joke!”
“I’ll admit, that is compelling evidence. But to be fair, it was a piss poor effort at a joke. Just let him go. We’ll talk this through.”
Cooper’s face was now a deep purple.
“Look at this big fucker,” said Tim. “I’m what, like thirty five pounds soaking wet? He should be able to shake me off whenever he wants. I’m telling you man, this isn’t –”
“I’M REALLY ANGRY!” It was Cooper’s voice, but it wasn’t coming from the half-orc Tim was strangling. It sounded like it was coming from outside.
Dave sat up. “What the –”
The door smashed in, flying off the hinges and into Dave’s face.
Cooper stood in the open doorway, completely naked and bulging with muscles. Broken lengths of rope hung from his wrists and ankles. His giant, scabby half-orc dick stood erect like a +5 Staff of Leprosy. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES?” He pointed at the Cooper that Tim was still strangling. “YOU!”
“Shit,” gasped Tim’s Cooper. He shrank so quickly that he slipped right through Tim’s rope.
Tim landed on his feet, length of rope still in hand, seething at a mirror image of himself. Only the mirror image was naked and standing on top of Cooper’s loincloth.
“What the fuck is going on here?” asked Cooper. Confusion had overtaken his rage, and he was back to his normal, filthy, naked self.
“Doppelganger,” said Tim.
Naked Tim kicked real Tim in the nuts. Tim crumpled to the floor like a poorly executed piece of origami, and Naked Tim bolted out of the room.
Tim groaned in a puddle of his own urine. “Don’t just stand there. Go after him.” He opened his eyes and found himself staring at Cooper’s limp dick, hanging like the trunk of a diseased elephant. “Jesus, dude. Put your loincloth on.”
“I heal me,” said Dave, having shoved the door off of himself. His beard was slick with nose blood, but he looked like he’d survive. He was sitting in a puddle bigger than Tim’s.
“Check it out,” said Cooper. “Dave pissed himself too.”
“What?” said Dave. “I didn’t –” He looked down. “Oh no!”
“Dude, take it easy. I do it like five times a day.”