by Robert Bevan
Potty Mouth
By Robert Bevan
Copyright 2017 Robert Bevan
For the ACLU, and all those who piss in the face of tyranny.
“Tim,” said Cooper, nudging Tim with his foot. “Dude, wake up.”
“Fuck off,” Tim groaned without fully waking up. He wasn't the most jovial person in the world even when fully rested. Personality-wise, he was the polar opposite of what the game books said halflings were supposed to be. But they were all in some deep shit, and Tim had a higher Intelligence score than anyone else in the group.
Four dwarves walked alongside the caged wagon Cooper, Julian, and Tim were locked in, and two more dwarves rode the mules which were pulling it. They all wore creepy white masks draped over their faces from the tops of their helmets. Just a square of white fabric with eye-holes cut out, like a shitty Halloween ghost costume. In their current situation, Cooper found the simplicity somehow extra unsettling.
He nudged Tim harder but kept his voice down to avoid calling attention from their dwarven captors. “Wake the fuck up, man!”
Tim grunted something else and turned over.
With no options left, and a bellyful of nervous intestines, Cooper let his Charisma score of 4 do the heavy lifting. His half-orc sphincter relaxed, and he felt like a deflating balloon as the gaseous remnants of last night's beer and sausages flowed out of him.
“Disgusting creatures, the lot of them,” said one of the walking dwarves as all four of them edged closer to their respective sides of the road.
“Sorry, guys.” Cooper wasn't really sorry, as they were presumably the same people who had locked him in a cage. But goddamn was that a big one.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Cooper! I'm awake!” Tim coughed until the fart cloud began to dissipate. He rubbed his eyes with his tiny halfling fists like a child waking up on Christmas morning. “What the fuck do you –” He paused a moment to take in his surroundings. “Where are we?”
Cooper shrugged. “I don't know.”
“How did we get here?”
“I don't know.”
Tim peered past Cooper to the dwarves flanking the right side of the wagon. “Who the fuck are they?”
“I. Don't. Fucking. Know.”
Tim looked at Julian, who was still snoring under his sombrero. “Elves don't sleep, and he doesn't appear to have had the shit beat out of him, so that probably means we all got drunk to the point of passing out.” This was exactly the sort of detective work Cooper needed Tim for. After a brief scan of the rest of the interior of the caged wagon, Tim looked up at Cooper. “Where's Dave?”
Cooper just gave him a look.
“Dave!” cried Tim. “Where are you?”
“Davos, son of Huevos!” said the rear dwarf on Tim and Julian's side of the cart. “Quiet your prisoners!”
The dwarf in front of him slammed his mace, which looked conspicuously like Dave's mace, against the bars next to Tim. “Quiet, peck!” His mask covered his face, but his forearm had a band of leopard fur growing on it. It was Dave all right.
“Ha!” said the dwarf behind him. “Peck. I like that. I'm going to use that from now on.”
Tim leaned in closer to Cooper. “Dave's lost his goddamn mind.”
“How can you tell?”
“Son of Huevos? Huevos is the Spanish word for eggs. And peck was the derogatory term they used for little people in Willow.”
“What's Willow?” asked Julian, peeking out from under his sombrero.
“It's a fantasy movie from the eighties.”
Cooper squinted at Julian. “Dude, you haven't seen Willow? That movie fucking ruled.”
“I was barely alive in the eighties.”
“Guys!” whispered Tim. “Would you shut the fuck up about Willow? We've got more important shit to worry about right now.”
Julian sat up suddenly. “Where's Ravenus?”
Tim frowned. “That wasn't the shit I had in mind.”
Ravenus poked his head out from under Julian's serape and squawked something that appeared to put Julian at ease.
Julian leaned back against the bars. “Oh good. You had me worried there for a second.”
“Tragnar, look at the elf,” said the rear dwarf on Cooper's side. “It thinks it can talk to birds.”
The one walking in front of him looked back, then angrily spat on the ground. “Crazy long-eared freaks.”
Since Ravenus only spoke in the Elven language, Cooper couldn't understand him either. Everyone else insisted the bird was just speaking in a British accent, but to Cooper it sounded like bird squawks. He had also thought Julian was crazy at first. But then, he was only newly immersed in the game at the time. These dwarves, presumably NPCs, had lived their whole lives in this world. The interaction between a sorcerer and his familiar shouldn't have been such a foreign concept to them.
“Julian,” Tim whispered. “I don't know what's going on here, but we're in some serious shit. Start preparing your spells. Keep yourself faced away from Dave, because he's coo-coo bananas right now, but the rest of these guys don't seem very bright. Use your Bluff skill to make it seem like your spellbook is just a regular book you're reading to pass the time.”
“I'll do my best.” Julian pulled his large leather-bound spellbook out of his bag.
“You there!” cried the right rear dwarf. “What's that?”
“Stop the wagon!” said the dwarf on the other side. “It's got a book!”
Julian held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Take it easy guys. I was only passing the time. Just a regular book here. Nothing –”
“Nothing regular about it!” said Tragnar. “Giplin, take it away.”
The right rear dwarf, Giplin, suddenly looked horrified. “I don't want to touch it!”
Tragnar stroked his beard. “Good thinking. Can't be too careful. Lord Trumble warned us about the dangerous power of the written word.”
“Yes!” said Dave. “After all, the pen is mightier than the sword.”
The other dwarves stared at him.
“No it isn't,” said the one next to him. “A sword is longer, stronger and sharper. No match for an axe, of course, but a far superior weapon to a pen in every conceivable way.”
Dave nodded. “Of course. My mind... I didn't sleep well.”
Cooper was impressed. Dave's new friends already thought he was an asshole.
“Slide the book through the bars, elf,” demanded Tragnar, putting his hand on the pommel of his short sword. “Else you may not make it as far as the tower.”
“Okay,” said Julian. “I'm sliding it out, nice and easy.”
The book slid through the bars, hit the ground and opened. The two dwarves at the rear of the cart shielded their eyes.
“Aaaaaarrrrrggghhhh!” cried Gilpin. “I saw words!” He clawed at his eyelids.
Tragnar started walking to him, but stopped just before he would be risking eye contact with the spellbook. “Come here, brother. Be purified.”
Gilpin waddled over, dropped to his knees before Tragnar, and lifted his mask. Tragnar unbuckled his belt and pulled out his dick.
“The fuck?” whispered Cooper. He knew that dwarves weren't always keen on magic, but were they so afraid of it that the punishment for even glancing at arcane symbols was to suck another dwarf's meatstick?
Tragnar closed his eyes in concentration. He held his dick out, but didn't stroke. The situation veered further away from Cooper's expectations when a stream of piss shot out and splattered all over Giplin's face.
“The fuck?” whispered Tim.
His flow established, Tragnar exhaled and opened his eyes. He adjusted his stream so that he was squirting right into Gilpi
n's eyes. “You won't be purified if your eyes are closed.”
“Yeeeeooooooowwwwww!” cried Gilpin as his now open eyes were hosed point blank with a jet of steamy dwarf piss.
Ravenus peeked out from Julian's serape, took in the scene, and let out a low whistle. Cooper couldn't understand what he said, but he imagined “The fuck?” was a distinct possibility.
The dwarf behind Dave banged on the bars with the flat of his axe. “Hey! What are you all gawking at? This isn't a show!”
“Calm down, Grimly,” said Tragnar. “It's the same as if a pack of dogs were watching me urinate.” He shook off the last few drops and reached down to Giplin. “Arise, my brother. For you are again one with the Lord.”
Cooper started to get to his feet so that he could piss on Tragnar, but Tim and Julian caught him by the arms and pulled him back down.
When the wagon started moving again, Cooper, Tim, and Julian watched Julian's spellbook get farther and farther away.
“You only had one level in Wizard anyway,” Tim whispered. “Stick to your sorcerer spells.”
“I don't know, man. They freaked out pretty bad about me having a spellbook. What if they suspect I'm actually preparing spells?”
“I didn't get that vibe. I don't think they were freaked out that it was a spellbook.”
“Fuck your vibe,” said Cooper. “We just watched a dude piss in another dude's eyes for looking at it. If that isn't freaked out, then –”
“Keep your voice down.” Tim leaned in close. “It was more than just...” He turned his head away. “Dude, can you stop breathing for a second. I'm sorry, but your breath is as bad as your ass.”
“I've got a better idea. Fuck you.”
Tim nodded, took a deep breath, turned back to Cooper and Julian, and said what he had to say in one exhalation. “It was more than just a vibe. It was a Sense Motive skill check.” He turned to breathe again. “They never once mentioned magic. They said Lord Trumble warned them against the dangers of the written word.” Breathe. “They weren't freaked out by a magical book. They were freaked out by any book. This Lord Trumble guy has them pants-shittingly scared of...” Breathe. “... literacy.”
Cooper thought of Mississippi. “I miss Walmart.”
“You make a good point,” said Julian. “Tim, I mean.”
Tim looked back at Dave, then at Julian again. “Nobody's going to know shit. Just look bored and meditate or whatever the fuck it is you do to get your spells. The goal is to bust out of this cage, grab Dave, take over the cart and haul ass out of here. So if you've got any spells that might help with that, all the better. Cooper and I will work on thinking up an escape plan. And let's be quick about it. Under no circumstances do we want this wagon to reach its destination.”
Julian offered no response. He didn't even blink.
“I guess he started already,” said Cooper.
Tim nodded. “How much of that do you think he heard?”
Cooper shrugged.
“Behold, new friend!” Grimly had walked up next to Dave. “Trumble Tower. We have arrived!”
Tim closed his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Wow,” said Dave. “It looks so...”
“It is modeled after our Lord's own majestic penis.”
Cooper leaned over to get a look, wondering how much effort had to go into making a tower, a traditionally penis-shaped construction in its own right, look even more like a penis enough such that one would take notice.
It was certainly a spectacle to behold. An unfinished stone wall stood high above the cypress trees in the surrounding swampland. A construction team of dwarves worked on closing the three-hundred-foot gap remaining, while a small army of soldier dwarves stood in rows, armed with shining plate armor and spears twice their own height, ready to defend the gap from intruders.
From the center of the area surrounded by wall stood a tower that no man could mistake for not being modeled after a penis.
The shaft was adorned by veiny patterns of purple stones. The stones being square, it was kind of a pixelated effect, but Cooper appreciated the attention to detail just the same.
The mushroom head of the structure, two hundred feet off the ground, was made of what appeared to be solid gold. From there, a fountain shot fifty feet farther into the sky.
“I'd bet anything that's a Decanter of Endless Water mounted up there,” said Tim. His curiosity had evidently overcome his despair.
“I hope we get a look at this guy's dong,” whispered Cooper. “Not in a gay way, I mean. But if it inspired this tower –”
“No, man. I hear you,” said Tim. He was whispering as well, but almost in a reverent way. “A very small part of me dreams of living in a place like this.”
Cooper snorted. “It looks like a very small part of you.”
Grimly glared at them, then narrowed his eyes at Julian, who was still meditating.
“So what happens once we're inside the tower?” asked Dave.
Grimly looked ahead again. “Hmm? Oh, you'll be brought before Lord Trumble to kiss his holy ass.”
“Oh?” said Dave. “Is that like... Are you talking about flattery?”
“No, lad. The flattery comes next. The prisoners will be given the opportunity to gaze upon his magnificent member, and tell him how big it is. He will judge their sincerity by the taste of their urine. If he –”
“Wait, what?”
“Which part did you not understand?”
“Did you say he's going to taste their urine?”
“Of course,” said Grimly. “Lord Trumble insists that everyone urinates on his face daily. He can taste the dark motives of those who would seek to bring down our great empire.”
“Oh. That's a handy skill. Please continue.”
“If he is satisfied with their answers, they may be sent to work in the fields.”
“And if he's unsatisfied?”
Tragnar laughed. “Then we'll cook and eat them like the dogs they are.”
The other dwarves laughed. Dave joined in, though it sounded a little forced.
As the wagon passed through the gap in the wall, the soldier dwarves parted to let it through, raising their right arms in an uncomfortably familiar salute. Tragnar, Giplin, and Grimly returned the salute. Dave did something between a salute and a friendly wave, like he was uncomfortable going full-Nazi. Maybe whatever brain-fucking he'd been through while the rest of them were sleeping hadn't yet taken full control. There may yet be time to save him.
From the point where the finished wall would be to the base of the tower, the path was paved with the same white stone as the tower itself, flanked by murky black swamp water. The only difference between the inside and the outside of the wall was that the fauna on the inside was all withered, nearly to the point of death, probably due to the wall's constant shadow. The only plants which seemed to thrive within the walls were the black thorn-covered vines which grew around the base of the tower. An iron trellis kept them from blocking the tower's entrance, an archway large enough to accommodate the wagon and adorned with a polished T-shaped keystone, but otherwise they grew wild and thick, some over ten feet high.
“That's some serious shrubbery,” whispered Tim, staring at thorns as big as his fingers. “This dude doesn't fuck around with defense.”
Cooper snorted. “I doubt defense even crossed his mind. I'm pretty sure these vines were an aesthetic choice.”
“They're not very pretty.”
“Take in the bigger picture.”
Tim frowned for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Motherfucker grew pubes for his dick tower!”
“I'm sorry,” said Julian, finally awake from his meditation. “What did you say?”
“Never mind that,” said Tim. “What spells did you prepare?”
“One Magic Missile and three Mounts.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Way to think outside the box.”
“I was thinking of making a quick getaway.” Julian frowned at their surroundings. “I didn't re
alize we'd already be here by now.”
After they passed under the archway, they were engulfed in near-complete darkness. Cooper could still see just fine, thanks to his Darkvision, but Tim and Julian wouldn't be able to see shit.
“Cooper,” Tim whispered. “Are we and the dwarves we came in with the only ones down here?”
“Yeah.”
“That archway is still wide open. There wasn't a door or portcullis or anything that I could see. They'll need to transport us from the wagon to wherever this Trumble guy is. That might be the best shot we get at making a break for it. As soon as they open the cage, you use your Barbarian Rage and start stomping dwarf asses.”
“Sweet.”
“Save Dave for last, and make sure you just punch him in the face until he's unconscious. We'll have to carry him back to town and see if we can get some cleric to unfuck his mind.
Cooper nodded. “Punch Dave in the face. Got it.”
“Julian, you fire off your Magic Missile at the first motherfucker you can, and start summoning those horses. If we can take these assholes down and get their weapons, we might have a shot at busting through the line of soldiers outside.”
The plan was not without a high element of risk, but it was better than anything Cooper could think up.
The wagon stopped, and the three dwarves who weren't Dave unhitched the mules that had been pulling it. The mule riding dwarves dismounted and led their animals back outside through the open archway.
“Davos, son of Huevos,” said Tragnar. “You have captured these prisoners. You shall have the honor of presenting them to Lord Trumble.”
Dave gave him a thumbs up. “Great.”
Tim balled up his fists and whispered, “Ready guys? It's go time.” Cooper and Julian nodded.
“You can remove your mask now,” Tragnar said to Dave. “You are among brothers. He led Dave to a specific spot on Cooper's side of the wagon. “Stand here and wait. Are you nervous?”
“A little bit,” Dave admitted.
“Good. Lord Trumble likes the taste of fear. Need you a drink to fill your bladder?”
Dave shook his head. “Oh no. It's plenty full. Thanks.”
“Very well. We'll see you upstairs.”