by Robert Bevan
“What now?” said Dave.
“Probably stepped on a pebble and wants to be airlifted to a hospital,” said Cooper.
“You know,” shouted Julian. “I can still hear you guys.”
“Fuck,” said Cooper. “Sorry.”
Cooper stomped through the trees toward him, Dave waddling behind.
“What did you want?” asked Cooper when they had nearly reached him. When Cooper looked down and saw what Julian had found, he had to grab hold of a tree to remain standing. Julian was sure Cooper was going to vomit or shit himself again, but he managed to hold it in at both ends. He blew some snot from his nose to his upper lip.
Julian winced. “Dude, do you have a cold or something?”
“It's not my fault,” said Cooper, wiping the snot away with his forearm. “I'm a half-orc with a Charisma score of 4. I'm nearly as unpleasant to be around as a person can possibly be.”
Dave, who was walking more slowly on his significantly shorter legs, caught up with them. “What are you guys... oh, it's him again.”
The three of them looked down at the severed head lying face up, expressionless, on the ground.
“Do you suppose that's what Tim came back for?” Julian asked.
“Why would he do that?” asked Cooper.
“Mordred spoke to us through it once. Maybe he thought we could communicate with him through this head.”
“He's the CM,” said Cooper. “He can talk to us through whatever he wants to.” He pointed to a tree. “If Mordred wanted to communicate with us through that tree, he could do it.” One of the tree's main branches bent down, and several of its smaller branches curled into a bunch, leaving one in the middle standing straight up. “See?”
“That's unbelievable,” said Julian.
“Fuck you, Mordred,” said Cooper, and shot the tree with his crossbow. The bolt hit the trunk of the tree dead center. The branch remained where it was, as if that had been the way it had grown naturally.
“Okay,” said Julian. “I see your point, but maybe he thought this head would be a better... what's the word I'm looking for? I want to say container...”
“It wouldn't be a good container,” said Dave, looking at the head disapprovingly. Too many holes, and it's already full.”
“No, that's not it. Condition... conductor...”
“Conduit?” asked Dave.
“Conduit!” shouted Julian. “Maybe he thought it would make a good conduit. Like if we needed to ask Mordred something, or he wanted to tell us something, it would be easier to do that through a face than it would be through a tree.”
Dave shrugged and pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “I think he just told us pretty much all he wants to tell us through that tree.”
“Maybe,” said Julian. “But what else would Tim have come back here for?”
Dave stroked his beard and Cooper picked his nose in silent contemplation, but neither of them came up with any answers.
“Well someone should probably carry it then,” said Cooper. Dave and Julian looked at him. “Yeah yeah, fine,” he said. “I cut it off. It's my responsibility.” He picked it up delicately with his thumb and forefinger by the hair, and held it out at arm’s length. “Well how about it, Mordred,” he said. “You in there or what?”
The head’s eyes came alive and looked into Cooper's. It pulled back its lips, bared its teeth, and hissed.
“Bwaauugghhh!” shouted Cooper. He flung the head to the ground. A clump of hair remained in his hand. He shivered and brushed it away on his loincloth.
“Dude,” said Dave. “Be careful with that. It's not going to do us any good if you smash it too pieces.”
“Did you see what it just did to me?” asked Cooper.
The head had landed upside down, still facing Cooper. “You should see what I did to your mom last night,” it said.
Cooper pulled back a leg to kick it, but then stopped, and put his foot firmly back on the ground. “You don't want to play the mom game with me, fucker.”
“Just put it in your bag,” said Dave.
“Fine,” Cooper said. He gave the head a little kick to roll it over, and grabbed it by a different patch of hair. He addressed it one more time. “You'll like it in there,” he said. “It's dark, lonely, and smells like your mother. Just like home.”
“Your mother smells like-” the head began, but whatever it meant to say after that was muffled by it being shoved face first into the bag. Cooper put the bag on the ground and squatted over the opening.
“What are you doing?” asked Dave.
Cooper looked up and grinned. “I’m going to fart in the bag, and then close it up real quick.”
“Are you, um…” Julian said. “Are you absolutely certain that you’re going to fart?”
Cooper’s lips pursed, and his huge brow furrowed. “No,” he said. “You’re right. It could just as easily be a shit. Let’s go.” He stood up.
“Where are we going?” asked Julian.
“Back to where we left your tent, I guess.” He looked at Dave for confirmation. Dave nodded. “I think Dave is right. We'll need everything we've got to get Tim back, and we'll need the time to come up with some sort of plan.”
The ease with which they found their belongings prompted Dave to suggest that they look for a better place to set up camp. They found a small stream, and laid their belongings on the bank of it. Julian walked in and sank into the cold water. He'd never seen as much blood as he was now covered with, and he wanted to get rid of as much of it as he could. It was enough to taint the color of the water for a few seconds, but some of the blood had set into the fabric. Until he found a place to buy some new clothes, he’d have to be content wearing faded rusty brown.
Cooper got in the water downstream from him. A good five or ten minutes of scrubbing revealed his skin to be smoother than he thought it was. There were shiny hints of pink in the gray, and the scars were more plentiful and much better defined. He probably lost about fifteen pounds of filth.
Dave only cupped some water in his hands and splashed it on his face. His expression was all the grimmer when he rubbed the water out of his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” asked Julian, sitting up in the stream.
“I thought that might wake me up,” said Dave. “I thought that after I opened my eyes, we might be back at the Chicken Hut, shooting the shit and drinking beer.”
They made their camp on the other side of the stream. Dave and Cooper argued about how to build a fire for about twenty minutes, but the ground was damp and neither of them were able to produce so much as a spark with either rocks or sticks. Julian set up his tent, which would accommodate both himself and Dave. Cooper made a crude shelter out of the remains of the canvas wagon cover.
“I'm hungry,” said Julian. “Do either of you have any food?”
Dave rummaged around in his bag. “I think I bought a day's worth of rations.” He produced a small pouch and looked inside. “Ooh, jerky. Want some?”
“Yes, that would be very-”
“I think I bought five days' worth of rations,” said Cooper, looking in his own bag.
Dave retracted his arm, and with it the offer of his food. “Good,” he said to Julian. “Eat some of his.”
“I don't want to eat his. He's got a rotting head in his bag, and it's bound to taste like fart. No offense, Cooper.”
“Fuck you, dude,” said Cooper, happily munching away at his own bag of dried meats and fruits. “Tastes great to me. If you'd rather starve to death, be my guest.”
Julian's stomach rumbled, as if to tell him to quit moaning and put something in it. “Fine,” he said. “I'll eat your fart rations.”
“Don't do me any favors,” said Cooper. “Dave, do you remember the last time you had such good jerky?”
“That would have to be,” Dave paused to think. “Hmm... sometime around...” Another pause. He scratched his head. “Never. Have you tried the dates?”
“Delectable!” said Coope
r, holding one in front of his face to look at it fondly before popping it into his mouth.
“Screw you guys,” said Julian. “Come on, Cooper. Just give me something to eat.”
“You didn't say the magic word.”
“Fuck you.”
Cooper tossed him a bag. “That's actually the magic word I had in mind. I was going to hold out until you said it.”
“What a big surprise,” said Julian, and tore away a chunk of meat with his teeth. The taste of fart was present, but not overpowering.
“So,” said Dave. “What's the plan?”
Cooper shrugged his massive shoulders. “Bust in. Get Tim. Bust out.”
“That isn't a plan.”
“It's the only one that's been proposed so far.”
Julian carefully removed the remaining contents of his bag. “Let's see what we've got to work with.” He had a waterskin, nine flasks of oil, and ten torches. “I wouldn't mind making use of a few of these torches. They're really bulky.”
“We could burn down the outer wall,” suggested Cooper.
“How do you propose we do that?” asked Dave. “We couldn't even get a campfire going.”
“What do you guys have in your bags?” asked Julian.
“Not much,” said Dave. “I spent most of my gold on weapons and armor. The rest of it I spent on the bag itself, and this food.”
Julian looked at Cooper.
“Same here,” said Cooper. “Barbarians travel light. I've got a dude's head, and some more food.”
“Nobody really has a good idea what we look like, do they?” asked Julian.
“I don't know,” said Dave. “I'd say quite a few people could pick Cooper out of a lineup after seeing him cut that guy's head off.”
“That's right,” said Julian thoughtfully. “They'd know him. In fact, they'd probably just kill any half-orc who turned up. But until we hopped onto that wagon, there was only one person who would have given me or you a second glance, and his head is in that smelly bag.”
“You don't think anyone saw our faces?”
“Not enough to recognize us, I wouldn't think. I mean, they know to be on the lookout for a dwarf, an elf, and a half-orc traveling together, but if you and I went in separately, I don't think we'd run into any trouble. Cooper would have to stay here of course.”
“All right,” said Dave. “I see where you're going with this.”
“To what end?” said Cooper.
“What do you mean?”
“Okay, let's say you get through the gate and into the town. What are you going to do then?”
Dave frowned. “We'll get a layout of the land. Scout out the location of the prison. Look for weaknesses in the security. Inquire about-”
“Fuck all that. Tim doesn't have that kind of time.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Burn that shit down!” said Cooper, who sounded exasperated at having to repeat himself.
“Oh,” said Dave. “You were serious about that?”
“Fuck yeah, I'm serious. Do you see any obvious flaws in the plan so far?”
“Aside from us not being able to start a fire?”
“Yes. Aside from that.”
“Well,” said Dave in mock thoughtfulness, “There's the small point of burning down a fucking city.”
“I'm not talking about lighting up a church full of children. Just part of the outer wall. It's a fucking fence. They can build it back in a day or two.”
“Fine. After we call massive amounts of attention to ourselves, provided we're able to start a fire of course, and we're staring at a burning wall, then what do we do?”
“I'm still working out the details,” admitted Cooper. “Anyway, it's more than you've come up with.”
“I'm working on something,” said Dave defensively. “I just haven't fleshed it all out yet.”
“Let's hear what you've got so far.”
“All right,” said Dave. “How about this? We go up the road leading out of town a bit and hijack a wagon. Cooper and I hide in the back, and Julian drives it into town.”
Cooper nodded silently.
“Why do I have to drive the wagon?” asked Julian. “I'd much rather be hiding in the back.”
“Somebody has to drive the wagon.”
“Well, we're hijacking it. The odds are good that it will already have a driver.”
“Do you want to trust our lives to someone we just stole a wagon from.”
“No.”
“Look,” said Dave patiently. “You've got the highest Charisma score of any of us. And you've got the Diplomacy skill. If anyone is going to get us through the checkpoint, it's you.”
“But I've never played this game before,” said Julian. “I don't know how to use the Diplomacy skill.”
“It's not like setting the timer on a microwave,” said Dave. “It's just a skill you have. Something you're naturally good at. Some people are good at juggling, or knitting, or playing the piano. You are good at talking to people, getting them to do what you want.”
“Right now,” said Julian, “I'm trying to talk you into not making me drive the wagon. How am I doing with that?”
“You’re failing miserably,” said Dave, smiling. “But you make a fantastic argument. The very fact that I nearly considered it is proof that you are indeed a skilled diplomat. Cooper, what do you think?”
“I'm with you, Dave,” said Cooper. “He has me almost entirely convinced that he's going to fuck this whole thing up. That's skillful diplomacy if I ever saw it. I have every faith in him.”
“Why do I feel like I've just been-” Julian's eyes widened. “What was that?”
“What was what?” asked Dave.
“I thought I heard something.”
“It was probably just a-” Dave disappeared in a flash of spotted yellow fur baring sharp white teeth. He was just able to get his arm up in time to give the creature something other than his face to bite.
Cooper and Julian jumped to their feet.
“Mother fucker!” shouted Cooper.
“What’s going on?” shouted Julian.
“Random encounter,” said Cooper. “Just a leopard. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Get it off me!” shouted Dave. He lay on the ground with one bleeding arm caught firmly in the leopard's mouth. Its teeth had torn through the metal scales of his gauntlet, through the padding underneath, and through at least enough flesh to bring forth a disturbing amount of blood. Its forepaws raked over his armor on his chest, searching for somewhere to take hold. Dave's other hand groped around on the ground in search of his mace.
Cooper roared as he brought his great axe down, swiping the leopard across the back, knocking it off of Dave entirely. Leopard blood splattered all over Julian. Dave backed away from it on hands and feet, like a crab.
The great cat snarled and growled at the trio. Its face was caked and dripping with Dave’s blood, and it had an axe wound in its back that looked like it should have more than severed the beast’s spine.
“How is it still moving?” asked Julian.
“It’s still got at least one hit point,” said Cooper. “It can keep fighting until it reaches zero.”
Julian drew his sword and held it toward the leopard. The blade shook in front of him. “Now stay back!”
The leopard let out a high feline scream and charged at Julian. Julian dropped to the ground just as the leopard jumped into the air to pounce on him. He thrust his sword upward and caught the cat in the belly. It gave out one last cry of pain as it collapsed. Its eyes glazed over and the last of its life gurgled out into a red puddle around it.
“Dave, are you okay?” asked Cooper.
Dave shivered as he attempted to remove what remained of the gauntlet from his lower arm. He clenched his teeth and pulled it away in one go. “Yeeaaaaooow,” he said, tears suddenly squirting out of both eyes and running down the sides of his face. He tossed the shredded metal glove away. It had done him all the good it was
going to do. “No, I'm not fucking okay! Look at my arm!” The space just below Dave's elbow and above his hand was a bloody, fleshy mess.
“How bad is it?”
“I don't know, Cooper,” he said. “I'm not a doctor, but on a scale of one to ten, I'd rate it pretty fucking bad.”
“Score one kill for the wizard!” said Julian. Having already stood at Death's Door earlier in the day, he wasn't all that worked up about Dave's arm. He pulled his sword out of the leopard’s body.
“No way, dude,” said Cooper. “That kill belongs to me. I dealt a shit ton more damage with my axe than you did with your faggy little sword.”
“He was still fighting after you hit him with your axe,” Julian argued. “This faggy little sword of mine eviscerated that motherfucker.”
“Fuck you guys,” said Dave.
“What do you reckon leopard tastes like?” asked Cooper.
“I wouldn't think it'd be very good,” said Julian. “I read that carnivore meat doesn't taste very good at all.”
“Still, might be worth a try. Who knows when you'll get another chance to eat leopard?”
“Let's get Tim back first,” said Julian. “If this is still here after we come back, and it isn't riddled with maggots or anything, we'll all have a good old-fashioned leopard cookout.”
“Fuck that,” said Cooper. “I'm at least going to take its skin off now.”
“What are you going to do with its skin?”
“I'll make something out of it.”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. A new bag, or a new loincloth. Maybe both if there's enough skin.”
“Do you know how gay you would look with a matching leopard skin bag and loincloth?”
Even Dave's grimace of pain broke into a laugh. He looked really bad. Sweat covered his forehead, and blood dripped rapidly from his wound into a puddle below where he held his arm up.
“I've got an idea,” said Cooper. “Do you have a dagger?”
Julian shook his head. “I couldn't afford one.”
“Dave, you got a dagger?”
Wincing, he jerked his head backwards in the direction of his bag.
“What do you need a dagger for?” asked Julian.
“Leopard skin,” said Cooper.
“F..fff...fffuck you!” said Dave.