4d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  “Nice going, Dave,” said Cooper, who had finished his business with the girallon and joined the rest of them. “Don’t cross the streams, dude. Didn’t you see Ghostbusters?”

  Tim dumped the rocks out of his backpack. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He darted back toward the creek bed.

  It was an awkward wait. Julian didn’t want to start up anymore shit with Dave, but he couldn’t very well make small talk either. Any idle chatter on his part would be interpreted as “I’m deliberately not talking about how you endangered all of our lives by pissing yourself, because I’m a better person than you.” Fortunately, Tim didn’t take too long. He returned wearing a refilled backpack, and holding his seemingly endless flask of stonepiss.

  “Maybe we should tie this thing up,” said Julian. “We could knock him out again and cut him loose on our way back.” He looked at Tim. “You got any rope in there?”

  “Nope.” Tim necked back the last few drops from his flask. It had a finite supply of booze after all. Next, he did something that Julian felt safe in assuming that none of them were expecting. He knelt next to the puddle of girallon piss and submerged his empty flask, holding it there until the bubbles stopped.

  “Dude,” said Cooper. “Who the fuck are you? Chipmunk Grylls? I’m sure there’s a stream or something nearby.”

  Tim smiled up at Cooper. “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  As Tim stoppered his flask, Julian tried to envision a scenario in which one might need a flask full of gorilla urine. None came to mind.

  “Um... Okay,” said Dave, clapping his hands together. “Now that that’s done, shall we continue on our way?” He seemed in better spirits now that someone had taken the pee spotlight off of him.

  Tim put the flask inside his backpack. “Not yet. Girallons track by scent. Before we leave this girallon’s territory, we should mask our own scents as best we can.”

  “Should we all piss ourselves?” asked Cooper.

  “No. That’s like ringing a cowbell. In fact, you and Dave are going to have to work extra hard to mask your scents.”

  “With what?” asked Dave.

  Tim plucked a five-pointed leaf from a vine wrapped around a nearby tree trunk. “Smell this.” He passed it to Dave.

  Dave sniffed. “Smells kind of minty. What is it?”

  “How the fuck should I know?” said Tim. “But it’s the most pungent thing around, it’s native to the area, and there’s a shit-ton of it growing all over the place. It’s our best bet.” He climbed up the tree trunk, using the vine for hand and foot holds, then crawled out onto a branch where a similar vine was hanging down almost to the ground. He slid down the vine like a fire pole, stripping leaves off all the way down. He packed some into his backpack, and stuffed the rest into his tunic and pants.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dave, Julian, and Tim were all stuffed like fat scarecrows, and Cooper looked like Swamp Thing, wrapped up from head to toe in vines.

  “That should do us,” said Tim.

  After thirty minutes of traveling up the creek bed, Tim stopped. He sniffed the air, looked north, then pulled his flask back out.

  Dave cringed. “Please tell me you aren’t going to drink that.”

  “Shh,” whispered Tim. “Don’t worry. It’s empty.”

  “You drank all that gorilla piss already?” asked Cooper. “You should pace yourself, man.”

  “Just stay quiet and keep me covered.” Tim silently crept out of the creek bed and tiptoed northward from tree to tree, keeping his eyes focused on the treetops.

  When Tim was about sixty yards away, Cooper started to get fidgety.

  Julian put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, and has a good reason to –” His words lost their credibility when Tim knelt down and submerged his flask in another puddle.

  “What the fuck?” said Cooper. “Do girallons piss scotch?”

  When Tim was done refilling his flask, he hurried back to the creek bed. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They repeated this bizarre ritual three more times before Julian finally spotted a tree worthy of being called the Great anything. He didn’t really know his trees, but it was probably an elm. Its roots were responsible for diverting the water that once flowed down the bed they’d been traveling. A younger, shallower creek ran from the tree to the northwest.

  “I guess we’re here,” said Dave. “I’m going to go wash my finger.” He waddled off toward the stream.

  Julian looked up into the massive branches of the tree, hoping not to see a giant four-armed gorilla monster. “This is an elm?”

  “Yeah.” Tim picked up a stick and prodded a conspicuously writhing pile of worms and beetles, some of which scattered to reveal black decomposing flesh. “And this is an arm. I guess this is our dead monk.” He unstoppered his flask and didn’t flinch at all as he sucked down a couple of gulps of the liquid inside.

  “Jesus, Tim,” said Cooper. “There’s a running stream right fucking there.” He pointed at where Dave was squatting.

  Out of instinct, Julian looked in the direction Cooper was pointing, but he saw something out of place in the leaves about halfway between where he stood and the stream. Something rectangular and brown, but a different shade of brown than any of the nearby fallen leaves.

  “Hey guys, check this out.” Julian led Cooper and Tim toward the conspicuous object.

  Dave waddled toward them excitedly, as if he too had just made an unexpected discovery. He held up the soggy leafy part of a carrot. Only a sliver of orange dangled beneath it. “Look what I found!”

  Julian and Tim frowned at Dave. They were all hungry, but Dave’s excitement at about one cubic centimeter of carrot was a little sad.

  Cooper’s stomach rumbled. “You wanna split it?”

  The enthusiasm faded from Dave’s eyes and was replaced with annoyance. “Do you know what this means?”

  Julian, Cooper, and Tim shook their heads.

  “It’s a domesticated plant. Look at the bottom. It’s clearly been cut with a knife.”

  Cooper scratched his ass. “You want to avenge it?”

  “Goddammit, no! This means that somewhere upstream from here there is a farm. Civilization. And they might be cooking.”

  “Excellent,” said Julian. “That will be useful information to know after we rescue Ravenus.”

  Dave looked up at the gem hanging around Cooper’s neck. “Of course.”

  “I found something too.” Julian bent over and picked up the object he’d spotted before.

  It was a book. Or rather, the cover of a book. The pages had all been ripped out. The cover was made from thin, flexible leather, and was smeared with blood, which covered a large portion of the letters on the front.

  T_E J_UR__L OF

  BR_____ _______STER

  “What do you make of this?” Julian held out the journal for the others to see.

  Dave stroked his beard. “Tejurlof? Sounds dwarven, but I don’t recognize it. Maybe gnomish?”

  “Focus, Dave,” said Julian. “This could be a clue. Some of the letters are covered in blood. I’m guessing the first word is THE.”

  “Second word is JOURNAL,” said Tim.

  Julian looked closely, filling in the missing letters with his mind. “I think you’re right. How did you figure that out so fast?”

  “I’m Pat Sajak’s bastard son.”

  Julian bit his lower lip. “THE JOURNAL OF who?”

  Cooper frowned. “If it says CHESTER COPPERPOT, we’re fucked.”

  Julian held the cover in front of Tim’s face. “What can you make out of the rest of it?”

  Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. Brewster?”

  “Too much empty space for that.”

  “Monky Brewster,” said Cooper. “I like it.”

  Julian looked up from the book. “What is it with you and monkeys today?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Cooper
. “I was talking about... Never mind. It was before your time.”

  Dave’s eyes lit up. “Brandon! The dog’s name was Brandon. That starts with BR!”

  “Why the fuck do you remember that?” asked Tim. “And what makes you think that this monk has any relationship to a shitty 80s sitcom?”

  Dave looked at his feet. “I liked it.”

  Tim snatched the leather cover out of Julian’s hands. “I’ll tell you what it says.” He ran his finger along the words as he read them. “THE JOURNAL OF A DEAD MONK TORN TO PIECES BY FUCKING GIRALLONS WHOSE NAME ISN’T GOING TO HELP US FIND ANY GODDAMN AMULETS.”

  Cooper frowned. “I know I’m illiterate and all, but I feel like that’s a lot to fit in to that space.”

  “The amulet’s got to be around here somewhere,” said Tim. “Let’s start poking around in the leaves and see if we can find this dead fucker’s neck.”

  “Or I could use a Detect Magic spell,” said Julian, failing to give credit to the annis for that idea.

  Tim raised his flask. “Now you’re thinking. Get on it.” He proceeded to imbibe a healthy dose of girallon pee.

  Julian cringed, then regained his composure. “Detect Magic!” His vision turned grey and hazy. He scanned left and right. The gem Cooper wore around his neck glowed bright blue, but everything else was grey as far as he could see in any direction... until he looked up.

  A green aura radiated out from a clump of leafy branches high in the Great Elm.

  Julian pointed and whispered, “Up there.”

  A blurry white stream spouted out from the magical aura, hitting Julian before he had a chance to react. It was wet, and smelled like –

  “Get out of the way,” said Tim. He shoved Julian away from the stream, sucked down what was left in his flask, and held it under the stream.

  “Goddamn,” said Cooper. “I guess if that’s what you’re into, it doesn’t get any fresher than this.”

  Julian’s vision returned to normal, his concentration on maintaining his spell broken by Tim’s sudden insatiable thirst for animal piss.

  “What the hell are you –”

  Tim shut him up with a severe look. “Keep your voice down or we’re all going to die.” His look and tone suggested that he had a far better idea of their situation than Julian did.

  “What are you thinking?” Julian whispered.

  Tim waved Dave and Cooper over into a close huddle before responding. “How tough would a monk have to be to go walking in these woods alone?”

  Dave shrugged. “Pretty tough.”

  “Give it a number. Let’s say the girallon we faced earlier today was a six.”

  “I don’t know,” said Dave. “He’d be a ten maybe?”

  “With or without the Amulet of Mighty Fists?”

  Dave sighed. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s just for illustrative purposes. Make a guess.”

  “Fine. Ten without. Twelve with.”

  “Okay. Now let’s say there’s a bigger girallon around here. One that claimed the Great Elm as his territory. And let’s say that it kicked this monk’s ass, even while he wore the amulet. How tough would you say that girallon had to be?”

  “Fourteen.” Dave’s tone was bored. He was just spouting numbers at this point to get Tim to his point.

  “And if that same girallon were then to adorn itself with the Amulet of Mighty Fists?” Tim now had Dave’s full attention.

  Dave squinted up into the branches. “Fuck.”

  Tim nodded. “I’d say that’s an accurate assessment of our current situation.”

  “I’m with you so far,” said Julian. “So how do we get the amulet away from the girallon?”

  “We don’t,” said Tim. “We’re probably a collective four in this situation. The only reason that first girallon didn’t rip us apart was because we surprised it.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Dave.

  Tim shrugged. “We go with Plan B.”

  “Shit,” said Cooper. “We have to go fuck the hags again?”

  “That was Option B, in a different set of circumstances.”

  “So what’s Plan B?” asked Julian.

  “First, we retreat very slowly and quietly back to the creek bed.”

  They stepped as quietly as they could. Dave and Cooper made a little noise, but it was covered by the stream of girallon pee still flowing down out from the branches of the Great Elm.

  “How many Level 1 spells do you have left?” Tim asked Julian once they were about thirty yards down the creek bed.

  “Three.”

  “That’ll do. We need three fast horses, and I need your boot.”

  Walking around on one boot was something Julian was more than ready to discontinue. He started to take off his boot, then hesitated.

  “Come on, Julian,” said Tim. “You can have it back when we’re done.”

  “It’s not that. I just wanted to make sure... I mean, you’re not going to use the horses as bait, are you?”

  “No more than I’m going to use the rest of us.”

  Julian frowned. “I guess that’s fair.” He removed his boot and handed it to Tim. “Three horses coming up.”

  “Wait,” said Dave. He looked at Cooper, then turned away from him. “Cooper, you need to give that necklace to Julian.”

  “Fine with me. It hasn’t done shit to protect me anyway.”

  “That’s because it’s got nothing to do with protection. Don’t take it off just yet.”

  “What do you know, Dave?” asked Tim.

  “It’s a Hag Eye. I remember it from the Monster Manual. They’re using it to spy on us. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want any of you to act weird around it and let on that we know what it is. But if Tim’s plan involves double crossing the annis, –”

  “It does,” said Tim.

  “Then they might kill Ravenus long before we can get to them.”

  Tim gave Dave a thumbs up. “Well done. So what the fuck are we waiting for?”

  “Cooper can’t just hand it over to Julian for no reason. That will arouse suspicion. We need a credible reason to take such an action. Cooper, crouch down in front of me.”

  Cooper crouched down in front of Dave, not looking at all amused.

  Dave put his finger over his lips, pointed away in a random direction, then did some kind of weird gorilla dance. Again, he put his finger over his lips, then pointed at Cooper. He made a show of flexing his muscles, roaring, and beating his chest. Then he pointed at Julian, after which he wrung his fists under his eyes in a crying gesture. Adding more than what Julian deemed necessary, he made twisting motions with his thumbs and index fingers over imaginary nipples on his breastplate. Finally, he pointed at the gem hanging from Cooper’s neck, then at Julian.

  “Are you done?” asked Cooper.

  Dave nodded.

  Cooper pulled the silver chain over his head and handed it to Dave. “What the fuck was any of that supposed to mean?”

  “I was saying that you’re big and strong, and that Julian’s a little titty baby, and so he needs protection more than you do.”

  “I’m not sure you communicated anything of the sort,” said Tim.

  “Titty baby?” said Julian.

  Dave offered the necklace to Julian. “Put this on, but casually slip the gem underneath your shirt.”

  That was the first thing Dave said that made any sense.

  When Julian had donned the necklace, Tim cleared his throat. “Now can we summon some goddamn horses?”

  “Horse. Horse. Horse,” said Julian, pointing at three spots on the dry creek bed, and consequently summoning three horses in rapid succession. They whinnied nervously.

  “Keep them quiet!” snapped Tim.

  Julian stood in front of the horses, rubbing their noses, but keeping his eye on Tim.

  Tim set his backpack on the ground and pulled out a flask.

  Julian shook his head. No point in dying sober.

  To Julian’
s surprise, Tim set the flask on the ground and pulled out another, then another, and still another. When he was done, he had seven flasks in all. He unstoppered the last two and sniffed each, cringing at the first one and drinking deeply from the second. He slipped the flask with his preferred vintage into his vest pocket and handed two flasks each to both Cooper and Dave, keeping the remaining two for himself.

  Tim, Cooper, and Dave huddled around Julian’s boot.

  Tim licked his lips and looked into Dave’s and Cooper’s eyes. “When I say go, we pour.”

  Cooper frowned. “We’re going to cross the streams?”

  “Exactly. You guys ready?”

  Dave and Cooper nodded.

  “Come on, guys,” said Julian. “I need to wear that.”

  “Pour.”

  Tim, Cooper, and Dave emptied their flasks into Julian’s boot. Before the flasks were empty, a roar boomed out from the treetops like an angry god had just finished the series finale of Dexter.

  “Time to move!” said Tim, no longer bothering to keep quiet. “Cooper, help Dave onto his horse. I’m riding with you.” He dropped his empty piss flasks and picked up the boot.

  As soon as they had Dave mounted, the ground shook beneath Julian’s bare feet. He slipped one foot into the stirrup and pulled himself up.

  “GO! GO! GO!” shouted Tim, mounted in front of Cooper and hugging his boot full of urine.

  The horses didn’t move.

  “Julian!”

  “Shit, that’s right,” said Julian. “GO! GO! GO!”

  The horses went full-throttle into a gallop along the creek bed. Julian chanced a peek behind him.

  “Holy fucking shit!”

  It was the biggest, meanest-looking girallon Julian had ever seen. Sure, it was only the second one he’d ever seen, but this one could have been that first one’s daddy fresh out of prison. It crashed through the trees and bounded after the horses in a curious six-limbed gallop, and it was catching up to them, slowly but steadily. Sure enough, Julian could see a green amulet around its meaty neck.