by Robert Bevan
“I –”
“Hang on,” Dave continued. “I still don’t see why I’m the one who has to go. Tim’s sneakier. Cooper’s faster and a better climber.”
“But you’re more expendable,” said Cooper.
“Screw you guys. I’m not –”
“You’re wiser,” said Tim.
Dave rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Leave the flattery to Julian. You suck at it.”
“No flattery,” said Tim. “Just game mechanics. Your Willpower saving throw is modified by your Wisdom bonus. Julian and I failed, and Cooper almost certainly would have as well. You’re the only one of us who stands a chance at resisting Bal’Horzahg’s telepathic commands.”
Dave looked from Tim to Cooper, then Julian, who both nodded their agreement with Tim’s assessment. “Goddammit. Where’s your rope.”
“I don’t know,” said Tim. “They took all my shit.”
Dave rubbed his shitty hands together. “Well I guess we’d better go and find that first. Without a rope, the plan kind of falls apart, right?”
“I’ve got a rope in my bag you can use,” said Julian. “Right outside the pool trap.”
Dave lowered his head. “Goddammit.” He raised a finger to Julian. “Swap me a horse for a heal?”
Julian backed away from Dave’s shit-covered finger. “I’ll be okay. Horse is on the house.” He pointed to the ground next to Dave. “Horse!” A horse appeared, a slightly lighter shade of brown than what Dave was covered in.
Cooper helped Dave’s fat, naked, shit-slathered ass onto the horse, in spite of its protesting whinnies.
“Fuck you, horse,” said Dave. “This is no picnic for me either.”
“Good luck, Dave,” said Tim.
“Godspeed,” said Julian.
“Follow the plot,” said Cooper. “Do his taxes and steal his shoes.”
Dave scooped some shit out of his beard and flung it at Cooper. “I don’t know if you’re being stupid or just an asshole, but I –”
“Go horse!” said Julian.
The horse jolted forward. Dave only barely managed to hang on. Before long, they were both out of sight. A few more minutes and they couldn’t even hear the horse’s hooves, except for Julian, probably.
Cooper, Tim, and Julian sat on the edge of the newly murky pool, idly watching Ravenus, who was still pecking away diligently into the back of the dead skum’s head.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Dave’s voice finally echoed down the tunnel. As he said it, a torrent of shit-water gushed out from the tunnel in which Dave had been imprisoned and flowed into the center pool.
Julian started to stand up, but Tim caught him.
“We can’t help him,” said Tim. “This is pass or fail. If he fails, he’ll be transformed before we ever get there. If he passes, we’re only needlessly risking our own lives by following.”
Thirty minutes or more passed. The shit river stopped flowing again, and Ravenus was making good progress on the skum corpse.
“Do you think this is a good sign or a bad sign?” asked Julian.
“Hard to say,” said Cooper. “Dave’s slow as shit. Whether he’s coming back to rescue us or kill us, he’d take a while.”
“He might not be doing either,” said Tim. “Bal’Horzahg might just be biding his time, keeping Dave there in the hopes that we get desperate enough to investigate.”
Julian frowned. “So the collective evidence is pointing toward ‘Bad Sign’.”
“Not necessarily,” said Tim. “It’s also possible that Dave is just –”
SLURP. BLURP. The sound came from the ceiling.
“The pool trap!” said Julian. “It’s opening!”
The gelatinous circle in the ceiling rippled as the sphincter-like opening at the center puckered, then slowly opened, squeezing out Dave like a bearded newborn babe. His body was pasty white again, having been cleansed of shit. It glistened with a fresh coating of lube. With a wet, slurpy release, he broke free from the ceiling and plummeted toward the water below, stopping just short of crashing into Ravenus.
“Ow!” cried Dave. “Son of a bitch, that hurts!”
One end of a rope was tied around his ankle.
“What took you so goddamn long?” asked Cooper.
“Fuck you!” said Dave.
“And why didn’t you just throw the rope in?” asked Tim.
“Do you honestly think I didn’t try that? I threw the fucking rope in. It didn’t work. I tied it to a log. Still didn’t work. The trap wouldn’t spring until I was in it. I thought I had enough rope to make it to the water, but I was wrong. So can you please hurry the fuck up? I’m in a lot of pain right now.”
Cooper, being the best climber, as well as the only one strong enough to pull anyone else through the hole from the other side, was selected to climb to the surface first. The rope was slippery with a generous coating of lube-water, making for a greater Difficulty Class on Cooper’s Climb checks.
With each failed attempt, Cooper got a little bit higher up the rope, scraping more and more of the slime off. Of course, that meant that he repeatedly landed a little bit harder on Dave with each successive failure. He honestly wasn’t trying to hit Dave in the nuts every time he came down, but what could he do?
On the seventh or eighth try, Cooper finally broke the surface of the upper pool, and was breathing fresh forest air.
Tim climbed through next, followed by Julian and Ravenus.
After giving their arms a rest, and with the help of another of Julian’s summoned magical horses, they successfully pulled Dave’s fat ass to freedom.
The End.
B.Oar Guests
(Original Publication Date: June 24,2016)
“This place gives me the creeps,” said Julian. The living room of this house was at least as big as the dining area of the Whore’s Head Inn, and a great deal cleaner. But there was more to his unease than a fancy sofa and a rug more valuable than him and his friends combined should account for. “There’s something familiar about it, but I’m absolutely positive I’ve never been here before.”
Ravenus dug his talons into Julian’s right shoulder. “I share your concerns, sir.” It was an unnecessary statement. Being Julian’s familiar, he and Julian shared all their feelings, whether they wanted to or not, via their Empathic Link. He was only talking to break the uneasy silence of the room. “Also, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”
Though Julian felt the same way, he hadn’t wanted to bring it up until he was sure that the flutters of motion he kept perceiving just beyond his periphery were more than paranoia.
“It’s just the flicker of the fire playing tricks on your eyes,” said Dave.
It would have been a reasonable explanation in a reasonable world, but Julian had seen a lot of weird shit since entering the world of Caverns and Creatures. Tiny gremlins peeking out from behind vases or mischievous spirits warping light as they darted about the room were perhaps less likely candidates than shadows cast by the firelight, but certainly not outside the realm of possibilities. Dave could dismiss Julian’s feelings all he wanted, but neither he nor Tim had moved more than ten feet away from Cooper, and it certainly wasn’t because of the warmth of the fire.
“I’m sweating my balls off,” said Cooper. Though his half-orc form was mostly silhouetted against the flames, Julian could make out streaks of sweat running through the filth down his bare chest. “Why do I have to stay so close to the –”
A fart ripped out of Cooper’s ass like a god was squeezing a roll of bubble wrap. The fireplace roared as the light in the room grew to near blinding intensity. It only lasted a second, the fire having consumed all but a trace of fart.
“That’s why,” said Tim. “This is a classy place, and we don’t need you fucking this up for us by stinking up the whole goddamn house.”
Dave’s head jerked to the right. His eyes darted back and forth like he was trying to get a lock on something he was sure he’d seen.
&nb
sp; “What’s the matter, Dave?” asked Julian.
“Fine, you’ve got me. I’m starting to sober up now, and there’s definitely something weird about this place. Maybe we should just go.”
“Are you out of your fucking minds?” asked Tim. “The hottest piece of ass in Cardinia just asked us back to her place to meet her friends.”
“And then disappeared for half an hour. Where are all these friends? I don’t see any friends.”
Tim shrugged. “They’re probably all getting ready for us. Rubbing scented oils on each other, having a pillow fight, whatever the fuck girls do to get horned up.”
“I don’t hear any pillow fights,” said Cooper. “What if there are no friends? What if she wants to take all four of us at once, or for us to do things to each other while she plays with her cooch?”
“Plays with her...” Tim unstoppered his flask and gulped back a swig of stonepiss. “Where the hell is that even coming from?”
“Dude, this shit happens. Rich people get bored with normal hookups. They have to keep upping the stakes to get aroused. All I’m saying is that maybe we should talk about some ground rules before she has us all spanking and dick-slapping each other.”
Julian expected Tim to continue berating Cooper for his wild speculations, but Tim stared off into the distance, biting his lower lip.
Even Julian had to admit that what Cooper was saying made more sense than an extraordinarily good-looking woman randomly inviting the four of them over for some wild sex party with her and her seemingly non-existent friends. “I could use a drink.”
Tim offered his flask.
“No thanks,” said Julian. “I can’t handle straight stonepiss like you can.”
Wheels squeaked as a small trolley rolled out from behind a luxurious blue sofa. On top sat a powder blue porcelain tea set, complete with cups, saucers, a sugar bowl, and a large teapot. It rolled right up to Julian, then a little further as he took a step back.
“Don’t worry,” said Tim, who actually looked relieved. “This is one of those toys that rich people have to impress their guests. Whenever someone says they’re thirsty, the trolley rolls up to them and offers some tea. Simple Contingency and Telekinesis spells. You’ll learn those when you become a less-shitty sorcerer.”
Julian laughed nervously. It was kind of charming. “So what do I do?”
“Guys, stop!” said Dave. “I know what this place is! We have to get out of here right now!”
“First, you ignore Dave.” Tim removed the lid from the teapot and emptied his flask into it. “Next you spike the drink.” He delicately picked up a teacup by the handle. “Then you take a cup.” He frowned, holding the cup close to his eye. “Hmm... there’s a chip in this one.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Finally, you –”
“What’s your name?” said the cup, wide eyes and a happy smile appearing on its side.
“JESUS!” cried Tim, flinging the cup to the floor, where it shattered into a billion porcelain shards.
“Sacré Bleu!” said a voice from behind Julian. “He has killed Crack Baby!”
Julian looked back at Cooper. The candlestick on the fireplace mantel, standing behind a decorative fringe of silk roses and vines, had ignited all three of its wicks... and also sprouted a face.
“You hotheaded fool!” said the clock next to the candlestick. “Do you have wax in your ears? We were specifically told not to reveal ourselves until instructed to do so.”
“Shut up, Monsieur Clockwise, you heartless timepiece! Ze halfling has killed Crack Baby!”
“It was an accident,” said Tim. “I didn’t expect it to... Hang on... Did you say its name was Crack Baby?”
The candlestick raised its candle arms. “It is a... how you say... nick name? He is a child, with a crack on his head.” It frowned. “He was, anyway.”
Mr. Clockwise bowed his head. “His mother suffered a similar accident years ago.”
“Hmph!” said the candlestick, folding his arms indignantly. “Zis time was clearly an accident. Ze case with Madame Potter, I still have my doubts.”
“You can’t prove anything, Waxoff!” the teapot slurred through its mouth-spout. “If you’d kept your filthy wick to yourself *hiccup* she might still be with us today.”
Waxoff raised his chin. “I never touched her.”
“You son of a bitch! I can still taste the wax on her spout!”
The teacups surrounding Mr. Potter rattled in their saucers, but chose not to reveal their faces.
“Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mr. Clockwise. “Did someone spill wine in Mr. Potter?”
“Heh heh heh...” Mr. Potter’s laugh was not at all pleasant. “Not this time, Clockblocker. This was the good stuff.”
Waxoff slapped himself in the forehead. “Little halfling, what have you done?”
The hands on Mr. Clockwise’s face spun in opposite directions. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. This is not good.”
“What’s going on?” asked Tim.
“Monsieur Potter has zis problem, you see,” said Waxoff. “He cannot handle ze alcohol.”
“I’ll show you what I can handle, you limp-wicked son of a *hiccup*. Come over here, and I’ll kick your waxy ass.”
“No,” said Tim. “I mean in a more general sense. What the fuck is going on here?”
“It’s Mordred,” said Dave. “I don’t know how we didn’t catch on as soon as we met her in the tavern. Her tits were threatening to burst out of that yellow dress. She wouldn’t stop rattling on about how much she loves books. Her name is Bella.”
“Shit!” said Cooper. “It all makes sense. Mordred is Bella!” He scratched his ass in thought. “Now I’m conflicted. Does this make it gay?”
Dave shook his head. “No, Cooper. Mordred just ripped off another story and dropped it into his fantasy world.” He stroked his beard. “I wonder if Mr. Potter’s alcoholism was his doing, or if it happened after we showed up.”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Mr. Clockwise. “If the master sees this, we’ll all be doomed!”
“Take it easy, Tick Tock,” said Tim. “He should sober up if I pour all the booze out of him. Hell, I was planning to do that anyway.”
“I’d like to see you try it, half-man!” Mr. Potter’s cheeks swelled up as he took a deep, bubbly breath through his spout, then aimed it, tight-lipped, right at Tim.
Tim stopped mid-step. “You wouldn’t.”
The corners of the spout-mouth turned upward in a sinister grin.
A key turned in the lock of the door on the far side of the room.
“She’s come back!” said Waxoff. He looked down at his base, which was obscured by fake vines and roses. “French Tickler! Hurry and hide zis mess!”
A wooden handle poked up wide-eyed from behind the silk greenery, then raised a feather to wipe the side of her mouth.
“Oh dear!” cried French Tickler, revealing herself to be a living feather duster as she hopped over the roses and fluttered to the floor.
Ravenus ruffled his feathers, and Julian felt a stirring in his loins.
“Dude,” whispered Julian. “She’s a cleaning tool.”
“What have you done?” cried French Tickler, scurrying across the floor as fast as her feathers would carry her.
Ravenus hopped down from Julian’s shoulder and met her at the porcelain shards. “Good day, ma’am,” he said with a bow.
“What are you doing, stupid bird!” said French Tickler. “Get out of ze way, or make yourself useful and lift ze rug. If ze master learns of zis, both of our feathers will be plucked for sure!”
Ravenus stared blankly at her, clearly dumbfounded. To a casual observer, it may have been mistaken for love at first sight, but Julian knew better. His familiar could only understand the Elven language, which was English with a terrible British accent, rather than a terrible French one.
Julian cleared his throat, then fake-coughed the words, “Lift the rug.”
“Ah, very good!” Ravenus used his beak to pick
up the side of the rug. French Tickler swept the remains of Crack Baby under it, finishing just as the door swung open.
“Bella!” shouted every piece of animated houseware in unison.
Bella scanned the room sternly, her hands balled in fists on the hips of her now unmistakably recognizable yellow dress, then grinned wide.
“You scamps! You weren’t supposed to introduce yourselves until I got back!”
“What can I say, Mademoiselle?” said Waxoff. “Monsieur Clockwise has a... how you say, fat mouth?”
Mr. Clockwise’s hands shot up to noon. “It’s big mouth, and no I don’t! You spoke before I did.”
Bella rolled her eyes as she glided across the floor. “These two, always bickering.” She took Waxoff down from the mantel and caressed his center candle with one finger. “Don’t get too overheated, Waxoff. I may need you later, in the library.”
Tim looked smugly at Julian, his eyebrows raised.
Julian had had his doubts before, but he now surmised that Tim was correct. The way she said ‘library’ was dripping with innuendo. Though he found it odd that someone rich enough to own all of these magically-animated knickknacks would be using a candle instead of a more conventional living sex toy.
“So,” said Tim. “Please tell us more about your friends.”
Bella beamed down at him. “Of course! Have you met everyone? This is Waxoff, that’s Clockwise, and French Tickler...”
Tim’s expression grew dimmer with each name. These were not the Girls Gone Wild that he had assured them of.
“Um...,” said Cooper. “Do you have any friends who are vacuum cleaners?”
Bella paused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay.” Bella smiled brightly as she stepped toward the trolley. Julian, his friends, and every anthropomorphic utensil in the room winced as the rug crunched under her foot. Fortunately, she was the only one who seemed not to notice. “And these are the teacup kids. Oh my, where is Crack Baby?”
“He’s gone to meet his whore of a moth–”
Tim plugged a finger into Mr. Potter’s spout. “He’s, uh... We’re playing Hide-and-Seek. He’s hiding.”