d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  The mermaid screamed. It was like a thousand wind chimes in a hurricane.

  “Jesus, Cooper!” shouted Tim. “What the fuck!”

  “He was attacking us!” said Cooper.

  “No, he wasn’t!” said Tim. “He was – wha!” The three points of the mermaid’s trident, and another fish, blurred past Dave’s face as she swept Tim over the side of the raft.

  Cooper immediately dove headfirst into the water. The mermaid held her arm in a lock around Tim’s throat and swam backward away from Cooper. She held her fish-laden trident, ready to strike, in her other hand. She moved through the water with such effortless speed that Cooper didn’t stand a chance of catching her.

  But as it turned out, he didn’t even look at her as he swam. He was going for the unconscious merman. By the time Tim’s captor realized what was happening, Cooper was dragging his own hostage aboard the raft.

  “You put him back!” the mermaid demanded, swimming back toward the raft. Either she was swimming cautiously slowly, or Tim’s ball-fro was causing a lot of drag.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Sebastian!” said Cooper.

  “Sebastian was the crab,” Julian whispered.

  “My name is Fransesca,” said the mermaid. “That is my fiancé, Riccardo. You let him go, and I’ll give you your friend.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” said Cooper. “You give me back my friend, and I’ll stop eating your fiancé.” He held out one of Riccardo’s limp arms and opened his mouth wide.

  “Cooper!” Tim shouted. “Stop!”

  Fransesca grinned. “Do you know what we do to your kind when they cross us?”

  “Which kind is that?” asked Julian.

  “The kind with legs,” she said. “You’re all the same to us. We drag them alive to the bottom of the ocean and pin them to a sunken ship with our tridents.”

  “She’s bluffing!” said Tim. He spoke in a British accent, probably gambling on her not being able to speak Elven. “Make her think you don’t give a shit about me. If she thinks her currency is tanking, she’ll be eager to spend it.”

  “What should I say?” asked Julian, also with a British accent.

  “Anything,” said Tim. “Use your Bluff skill.”

  “Forget it, loser,” Julian shouted at Tim, speaking in his normal accent again. “The bounty for your petty crimes is nothing compared to what the Duke of… um… York, will pay for an addition to his stuffed merfolk collection to mount on his wall.”

  “But… but…” Tim stammered with a panic that Dave hoped wasn’t too obviously fake. “Think of what York will pay for the location of where his daughter’s bones are buried. I’m the only man alive who knows that information.” His voice cracked at the end. It was a brilliant performance, voluntarily blowing a Bluff skill check in order to make his own position look weaker than it already was.

  “What the fuck are you guys talking about?” said Cooper, who, like Fransesca, had not been privy to the Elven part of the conversation.

  “Silence, beast!” Julian bellowed at Cooper. “Mind the prisoner, or suffer the lash!”

  “Fuck you, dude.”

  Tim smiled and winked at Cooper.

  “Oh… er…” said Cooper. “I mean, a thousand pardons, master.” He lowered his head reverently at Julian.

  “I’ve made up my mind!” said Julian. “The halfling is worthless to us now. Set sail for Cardinia at once!”

  “But he knows where the bones are buried!” cried Fransesca. “The bones! What if it was your daughter?” She lowered her trident and swam closer to the raft. “Please!”

  “The fish-woman has discovered a pearl of compassion in my oysterous heart!” said Julian, getting perhaps a little too caught up in his improvised emperor-of-Rome persona. “Let it not be said that I was an unjust master. You shall have your fiancé back, fish-woman! But as payment for your insolence, I must demand that you surrender your weapons.”

  Tim gave Julian a look that spoke as clearly as any language. “Knock it the fuck off already.”

  “Anything,” Fransesca cried. “Just please don’t hurt him!” She hefted her trident onto the raft and swam to Cooper for the exchange.

  Cooper reached past Tim and grabbed a hold of Fransesca’s left wrist.

  “What are you – what is this?” she demanded. But the damage was done. Cooper had locked her arm in a manacle.

  “Congratulations,” said Cooper, lifting the chain to reveal that the manacle on the other end was connected to Riccardo’s right arm, and that the chain itself was manacled to the frame of the raft. “I unite you in the bonds of holy wedlock.”

  “Cooper,” said Dave. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just get over here and heal the dude.”

  Dave didn’t understand where this was headed, and he certainly didn’t like it, considering the fact that they had all but settled this fiasco. But he couldn’t see how any good would come from refusing to heal the merman. He grabbed hold of the mast, which fell over, nearly taking Dave with it. Of course. Cooper had removed the manacle which had been holding it in place. He crawled on hands and knees to Riccardo and placed a hand on the merman’s head. “I heal thee.”

  The coconut-induced lump on Riccardo’s head immediately receded, and his eyes fluttered open.

  “That feels wonderful!” said Riccardo. He put his unchained hand on Fransesca’s cheek. “Fransesca, my love! What ails thee!”

  Fransesca lifted her left arm to show him the chain that connected them. It was only then that he even began to take in his surroundings.

  “Who are you people?” he demanded. He shook his manacled wrist. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Shut your blowhole, Flipper,” said Cooper. “Start swimming for Cardinia.”

  “By the gods of sea and sand, I shall do no such thing!”

  Cooper picked up one of the tridents, pulled the fish off of the barbed tips, and set the fish carefully on the deck. He held the weapon over his head. “You know what I think looks sexy on a girl?” he asked. Without giving them any time to answer, he continued. “Nipple piercings. Hold still, Love.”

  “Enough!” said Riccardo. “We shall do as you say.”

  The two merfolk ducked under the surface of the water, and the raft started moving. It really started moving. Dave lay on his belly, holding on with white-knuckled fingers to the frame of the raft.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Julian said over the sound of the raft crashing through the waves.

  “It’s cool,” said Tim. “It’s still morning, and we’re headed away from the sun. That’s west.

  “I meant morally,” said Julian. “This kind of feels like slavery.”

  “It’s not slavery,” said Cooper.

  “We’ve got people in chains, and we’re forcing them to move our boat across an ocean. I seem to recall reading about something like that before.”

  “They’re prisoners of war. It’s different.”

  “You started the war.”

  “Look,” said Cooper. “Do you want to get back to Cardinia or not?”

  “I just don’t feel right about it.”

  “I know why you did what you did, Cooper,” said Tim. “But I think Julian’s right. I don’t want to be a slaver.”

  “I can’t believe you guys,” said Dave. “We’re headed back to land. Civilization! We’ve got an actual chance of surviving. It’s not like we’re going to keep them in an aquarium or anything. We’ll let them go once we’re on solid ground.”

  “It’s a matter of principle,” said Tim. “Think about their dignity. We totally emasculated that dude right in front of his fiancé.”

  “So what do you propose we do?” asked Cooper. “If we let them go, they’ll get every fish fucker in the sea to come back here and harpoon us to death.”

  “I’ll reason with them,” said Julian. “Explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding.”

  Cooper frowned, looking d
own at the manacle on the front of the raft.

  “Don’t do it, Cooper,” said Dave. “They’ll get over it. There’ s a big, frosty beer waiting for you at the Whore’s Head.”

  “Fuck,” said Cooper. He reached down and tugged on the chain. The raft slowed to a halt.

  The two merfolk emerged from the water, only up to their chests. They both kept their head down, and Fransesca covered her breasts with her free arm.

  “What would you have us do?” asked Riccardo.

  “My friend Cooper has something he’d like to say to you,” said Julian. “Cooper?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cooper, scratching his armpit. Riccardo and Fransesca looked at one another. Riccardo shrugged.

  “What for?” Julian prompted Cooper to continue.

  “I’m sorry for hitting you with a coconut.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m sorry for chaining you to our raft.”

  “Go on.”

  “And I’m sorry for threatening to stab your girlfriend in the tit.”

  “You see,” said Julian. “My friend here is very stupid.”

  “Borderline retarded,” said Tim. Julian turned and quickly shushed him.

  “He acts on impulse,” Julian continued. “When he saw you raise your trident, he didn’t think twice about defending his friends. That’s just who he is.”

  Riccardo looked at Fransesca. She nodded at the raft, urging him to respond. “We accept you’re apologies,” he said. “So what happens now?”

  “We let you go,” said Julian.

  “Just like that?” asked Riccardo. His voice was wary.

  Tears welled up in Fransesca’s eyes, as if she feared Julian was just building up her hopes in order to crush them again.

  “Just like that,” said Julian. “All we ask is that you seek no retribution.”

  “You have my word,” said Riccardo.

  “I only wish we had something to offer,” said Julian. “A token of our sincerity. An early wedding present.”

  Fransesca began to cry. Dave didn’t know what she was feeling, but she sounded like jingle bells at the bottom of a well.

  Riccardo shuddered as an expression of rage flashed across his face. He looked past Julian. “Those are fine looking bottles you have there,” he said.

  “Really?” said Julian, looking back at the water bottles.

  “Quality glassware is highly valued among our people,” said Riccardo.

  “We’d have to ration our water more carefully,” said Julian. “But I think we could spare one of them.” He looked at Cooper, and then at Tim, each of whom nodded their consent.

  Julian handed the bottle with less water down to Fransesca. She stopped crying as she cradled it in her arms like a newborn child. She looked at Riccardo with eyes as wide as saucers. You’d think Julian had just offered to buy them their first home.

  “You can’t know what this means to us,” said Riccardo.

  “Give them the other one, too,” said Dave.

  “Huh?” said Cooper.

  “We need drinking water,” said Tim.

  “I’ll handle the drinking water,” said Dave. He looked down at Riccardo. “Is one more bottle a fair trade for your two tridents?”

  “It’s worth a thousand tridents!” said Riccardo.

  “Two will do,” said Dave. He handed the other bottle down to a bewildered Riccardo. “I hope you have a long and happy life together.”

  “You are most generous!” said Riccardo, accepting the second bottle.

  “If there’s any way we may repay you,” said Fransesca.

  “Can I touch your titties?” said Cooper.

  “Cooper!” snapped Julian.

  “Sorry,” said Cooper. He released the merfolk from their chains. They embraced each other, careful not to let the bottles clink together, and disappeared under the water.

  “That was big of you,” Tim said to Dave. “I’m glad you had a change of heart, but what the hell are we supposed to do about drinking water?”

  “Look up and open your mouths,” said Dave. He demonstrated. The others followed suit.

  “Water,” said Dave, and quickly opened his mouth again. Cool, clear water materialized out of the air above their mouths and poured in faster than they could drink it. It dribbled down their faces and chests as they greedily tried to lap up as much as they could. After about half a minute, it stopped.

  “It’s a zero-level clerical spell,” Dave explained. “I can do that four or five times a day.”

  “Why didn’t you mention that before?” asked Julian.

  “I didn’t want to give you any more reasons to think this stupid raft idea was plausible.”

  Dave took a big bite out of the side of one of the tuna and passed it to Julian. He grabbed the peacock carcass and began to carefully cut away the skin with one of the sharp prongs of a trident.

  “What are you doing?” asked Tim.

  “Art project,” said Dave.

  It was late afternoon when Dave revealed his completed project. Peacock skin wrapped tightly around the business end of one of the tridents. He handed it to Cooper. “Here you go.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Row.”

  It was a surprisingly effective oar, and Cooper proved to be a competent oarsman, switching sides whenever they began to steer away from the setting sun.

  Tim turned out to be a capable fisherman, given a weapon with which he could employ his Sneak Attack ability. Between his use of the other trident and Julian’s Magic Missiles, they pulled in more seafood than they could possibly hope to eat.

  Dave even managed to fashion some crude pants for them out of giant squid carcasses. They were slimy and uncomfortable, and they certainly wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but they covered his junk. That made a world of difference.

  Less than a week later, Ravenus – constantly on scout duty – spotted land.

  That same evening, crowds of gawking Cardinians parted for Tim, Dave, Julian, and Cooper as they walked through the solid, cobblestoned streets with their sunburnt, weather-beaten heads held high, dragging a tangled, twenty-foot long trail of tentacles behind them.

  The End.

  Dungeon Crawl

  A low level Caverns and Creatures mini-adventure.

  (Original Publication Date: July 12, 2013)

  Cardinia’s city center buzzed with the hustle and bustle of commerce, music, and merrymaking, and Tim’s halfling ears seemed to pick up every goddamn sound of it. He could tell you the price of a sack of oranges from five stalls away, or even which of the spice merchants had the most complaints about their scales being improperly balanced. What he couldn’t tell you is where to find some decent fucking work.

  “We’re not interested in shoveling shit or gutting fish,” Tim said to the man standing atop a wooden crate. “We’re looking more for –”

  “Get a load of this,” said one nearby half-orc to another. They were dressed in filthy, threadbare overalls, but their hair was even combed and slicked back with what appeared to be some sort of oil, but could just as easily been snot, if Cooper was an accurate gauge with which to measure standard half-orc hygiene. “The halfling thinks he’s too good to shovel shit.”

  “Beggin’ Your Majesty’s pardon, m’lord,” said the other half-orc, taking a knee. This was, Tim expected, both to mock him as well as to speak to him face-to-face. “But some of us ain’t so fortunate as you, bein’ able to hold out for a job as the queen’s personal tit massager. We’s got families to feed.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Tim. “I just –”

  “What sort of work are you two gentlemen looking for?” the employment broker asked the two half-orcs.

  The half-orc who had been kneeling in front of Tim stood up like his legs were spring-loaded. “We ain’t particular. If the shit-shoveling job is still available, we’d be happy with that.”

  The employment broker raised an eyebrow. “Can you provid
e your own shovels?”

  The half-orc lowered his head. His partner spoke up. “We have very big hands.” He displayed open hands, palms up. They were, indeed, very big.

  “The pay is two coppers per wagonload.”

  “That’s most generous, sir.”