by Robert Bevan
The End.
Clerical Error
A low level Caverns and Creatures mini-adventure.
(Original Publication Date: March 11, 2014)
The goblins attacked suddenly and with the ferocity of religious fanatics, most wielding morningstars, but Dave estimated that about a quarter of them favored short swords. Some of the latter were even armed with a dagger in their off hand. None of them carried shields. Those who only carried one weapon gripped the handles with both hands, adding to the savagery of their attacks.
“Watch out!” Tim had said when they sprung their ambush, but his warning did the rest of the group little good, as all of the goblins seemed hell-bent on Tim. Cooper had sliced one in half through the abdomen as it attempted to rush past him on its way to Tim, but Tim was still surrounded by six other goblins with a few more impatiently waiting to get into the melee.
Tim was fascinating to watch in close combat; he fought like a breakdancing knife-fighter, ducking and dodging blades and spiky maces while swiping and jabbing with his own little dagger. Give Tim a few more levels, and Dave might have been tempted to just sit back and enjoy the show. But as quickly and deftly as Tim moved, some of the goblins’ attacks connected, and for every goblin Tim dropped, another was ready to take its place.
Dave brought the heavy, steel ball at the end of his mace down on the head of a goblin, introducing its brain to its heart.
Julian didn’t waste any of his magic on goblins. His quarterstaff could drop them as well as a Magic Missile could, and he hadn’t yet learned any offensive area-of-effect spells. Ravenus did his part by scratching and pecking the goblins’ eyes out. Most of the little bastards had so few Hit Points that the combined efforts of a bird and an elf wielding a stick were enough to bring them down.
Cooper, of course, was the most effective at goblin butchery. His greataxe sliced through goblins at nearly twice the rate anyone else was able to manage. He carved a path of carnage toward Tim.
When Tim finally got an opening, he bolted, diving under Cooper’s legs. He had done a miraculous job of avoiding goblin swords and morningstars, but he was still in pretty bad shape. His right eye was swollen shut, his clothes were riddled with shallow puncture wounds, clinging to his body with blood and sweat, and when he stood back up, he strongly favored his left leg.
Their preferred target out of reach, some of the remaining goblins began to hack and club whoever was nearest them. Most, however, tried to work their way around or through the group.
“What the hell have these guys got against Tim?” asked Dave, crushing a goblin’s chest against a tree trunk.
“Julian and I will handle the rest of them,” said Cooper. He kicked one goblin backwards into the air. Its head connected with a low tree branch, sending it into an impressive forward somersault before it landed face first on the ground. “Just go heal Tim!”
Dave stepped back from the fight. He reached his left arm out to Tim, who grabbed it with both of his little hands like it was a life-saving rope.
“I heal thee,” said Dave.
Tim closed his good eye and smiled, waiting for the healing magic to course through his body. Dave watched Tim’s face. It was always satisfying to see the wounds close up, the swelling go down, fractured bones realign. The satisfied sigh would be reward enough for the help he could provide his friend.
No sigh came. No wounds closed up. Tim’s smile faded to a frown. “Um… Dave?”
“Hmm,” said Dave. “That’s weird. Let me try again.” He placed both hands firmly on either side of Tim’s face. “I heal thee!”
Nothing happened.
Dave pressed more firmly on Tim’s face, squishing his cheeks and lips. “I HEAL THEE!”
“Dude,” said Tim through his squished-up, bleeding mouth. “That fucking hurts.”
“What’s the hold up?” asked Cooper. The din of combat had subsided. “You think you guys could stop making out for a minute and help us loot these bodies?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” said Dave. He released his grip on Tim’s face. “This has never happened to me before.”
Tim spat some blood on the ground. “It’s okay, big guy. It happens to all of us every now and again. I won’t judge.” He started limping toward Cooper and Julian. “These guys have any cash?”
“Not a single fucking copper piece between them so far,” said Cooper. “We might be able to sell some of these weapons though.” He shoved three goblin-sized morningstars into his bag. They looked like toys in Cooper’s giant hands.
“We should come away with a bunch of Experience Points from that though,” said Julian. “Right?”
Cooper shrugged. “They were just goblins.”
“But there were like a gazillion of them!”
“Thirty,” said Tim, surveying the carnage. “Forty tops. We’ll get a little something, but don’t expect to level up or anything.”
“Why do you think they were so focused on you?”
“Who knows?” said Tim, kicking a goblin corpse with his right foot. He winced in pain. “It’s a common enough tactic to gang up on the littlest guy first, and work your way up from there.” He put his hand on a tree trunk to keep from falling over.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asked Cooper. “Dave was supposed to patch you up.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “Only his magic didn’t work.”
“Holy shit,” said Cooper. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
“What?” said Julian. “What is it?”
“Dave became more useless.”
Dave just gave Cooper a stubby middle finger, and then bent down to pick up a goblin short sword. The stillness of the late afternoon air was pierced by a wolf’s howl.
Everyone turned westward at once. Two wolves, about halfway between the size of a regular wolf and that of a horse, stood atop a ledge, silhouetted against the grey sky. Mounted on the back of each wolf was a goblin rider. The one on the left was dressed in a loose-fitting gown of roughspun wool. The rider on the right, wearing black plate armor, bore a standard. Dave immediately recognized the symbol on the wind-torn, black banner. He’d seen it in a book he’d recently borrowed from the Cardinian public library. The red skull of OuiJas, the goddess of Death, the favored deity of necromancers.
“Guys,” said Dave. “I’m not so sure this encounter is over.”
“Sure it is,” said Cooper. “Those two just showed up. Julian, make some horses.”
“Bullshit,” said Tim, loading a bolt into his crossbow. “You know they’ve been up there the whole time as well as I do.”
“What difference does any of this make?” said Julian.
“If they were involved in the attack,” said Dave. “then they count as part of the encounter.”
“So what?”
“So if we run away now, we don’t get any Experience Points.”
“Well shit,” said Julian.
“It’s just two more goblins and a couple of dogs,” said Tim. “We can take them.” The words slurred out of his mouth with a helping of bloody drool.
“No way,” said Dave. “It’s too risky, especially with my healing on the fritz.”
“I could Magic Missile them from here,” said Julian. “But then I wouldn’t have enough Level 1 spells to get us out of here if we did have to run.”
“Sorry, Fucko,” said Cooper. “I have to agree with Shithead on this one.”
“Do you always have to be such an asshole?” said Dave.
“What?” said Cooper. “I said I agreed with you.”
The goblin in the roughspun gown raised his arms and began chanting.
“Well you losers can stay here and jerk each other off,” said Tim. “That just leaves more Experience Points for – JESUS!” One of the dead goblins had grabbed him by the ankle.
“I don’t get it,” said Julian. “What does Jesus need with Exper—“
“Julian!” shouted Cooper. “Horses! Now!” He chopped the undead goblin’
s head in half. It released Tim’s leg. But two more goblin zombies attacked Cooper from behind.
"Horse!" said Julian. A sturdy, brown draft horse appeared next to him. One of the goblin zombies shambling toward Julian unwisely passed behind the horse. It received a hoof to the chest and a free ticket to twenty feet away.
Tim fired a bolt point-blank into a zombie's face, dropping it instantly. He scurried up the trunk of a nearby tree like a frightened squirrel.
"Goddamn!" said Cooper. "These little fuckers really pack a punch when they're dead. He had four undead goblins clawing, biting, and punching him.
Dave would have tried to help, but he had three zombies closing in on him to deal with. He remembered the holy symbol he wore on a string around his neck. If he could turn a few of them, he'd be able to help Cooper. He brandished the holy symbol at two of the zombies coming at him. "Go away!"
One zombie grabbed his outstretched arm and bit into his leopard-fur-covered forearm. Yellow, pointed teeth pierced through skin and muscle, all the way to the bone. It seared like a red hot bear trap. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. The other zombie punched his breastplate, probably doing more damage to its hand than it did to Dave. He backhanded the punching zombie and ripped his arm free from the biting zombie. That was at least as painful as the actual bite had been.
"Horse!" Julian cried a second time, circling around the first horse to avoid the zombie that was chasing him. A white horse appeared, a bit taller and leaner than the first one. It was time to go.
Dave held his mace low and swung it upward, catching the bitey zombie in the chin. The whole lower half of its face was a smashed mess of blood and bone. It wouldn't be biting anyone ever again, but it didn't seem to mind.
"I'm really angry!" Cooper shouted. His Barbarian Rage kicked in, and his fat and flabby skin grew tight, bulging with expanded muscles. He dropped his axe, reached behind his shoulders, and tore two of the clinging zombies off of his back. These he swung around to beat other zombies with.
Fight fire with fire, Dave supposed. But the undead goblins were still getting punches in here and there. Even with his temporary bonus to Strength and Constitution, Cooper wouldn’t be able to take them all down. “Come on, Cooper! Let’s go!” Dave’s concern for Cooper was not entirely unselfish. He needed Cooper’s great strength to help him get his squat, heavy dwarf body onto the back of a horse.
Cooper whirled around with a thunderous roar and bloodshot, red eyes. He threw a zombie at Dave. It wasn’t exactly in the strike zone, but the target was considerably larger than a baseball and Dave already had his mace ready. He swung it as hard as he could with both hands. The head of his mace struck between the flying zombie’s legs. When it hit the ground, it didn’t get back up.
“Foul balls,” said Dave.
Cooper grunted. It almost sounded like a laugh. He gripped the remaining zombie below the chin and above the chest, and strained briefly until its head was separated from its body, a good six inches of spinal cord dangling from it.
“Come on!” shouted Julian. He and Tim were already mounted on each of the horses and ready to ride.
Cooper kicked one more zombie out of his way and made for the horses. He lifted Dave onto the back of Julian’s horse, and hopped onto the back of Tim’s horse.
“Yah!” cried Tim. His horse didn’t respond.
“Go, horses!” said Julian. The horses bolted forward simultaneously. As they retreated, Cooper shrunk down to his natural, still-impressive girth. His rock-solid abs melted back into a pot belly, and his pectoral muscles sagged back into man-tits.
Dwarves weren’t made to ride horses. Their legs were too short to reach down into stirrups, and their thick, dense bodies made the whole galloping unit top-heavy. Maybe they’d do okay in a customized dwarven saddle, but one thing was for sure. Dwarves were certainly never meant to ride bareback on the rear end of a horse while clinging to an elf at top speed through a forest while being chased by goblin zombies. Dave barely lasted a minute.
Julian shouted something that Dave couldn’t quite make out over the rush of the wind and the pounding of hooves on earth. It sounded like “Fuck!”, but he wasn’t sure. It could just as easily have been –
Julian dipped his head down, and Dave caught a low-hanging pine branch right in the face.
*
“Duck,” Dave groaned as consciousness flowed back into his mind. His face felt like a gorilla had slammed it into a brick wall, and he was surprised he could speak at all, or even breathe for that matter. When his vision cleared, he saw Julian and Tim standing over him. Tim’s face was already a bruised and beaten mess. Judging by the expression on Julian’s face, his own face must have looked even worse.
With a bit of effort and a lot of pain, Dave managed to sit up. Cooper was pissing on the tree whose acquaintance Dave had recently made. He recognized it by the low-hanging branch bereft of a section of bark. He could feel bits of the bark swimming around in his bloody mouth. Julian’s horses were gone, which either meant that more than two hours had passed or that Julian had managed to find a way to accidentally kill them before the spell duration ran out. Dave gave each option equal odds.
“Zombies?” Dave forced the question out of his overtaxed lungs.
“Gomblies,” said Julian, grinning stupidly.
“What?” Each syllable that escaped Dave’s lips caused him an excess of pain which he would have preferred not to have had to endure. He would have appreciated more succinct answers to his questions.
“I made that up while you were out,” said Julian. He sounded very proud of himself. “It’s a cross between zombie and goblin.”
“It was either that or zoblin,” said Tim.
“You made…” Dave spat out what was either a chunk of bark or a tooth. “…the right call.” The words were flowing easier now, but not so much so that he wanted to use more than he had to. He looked up pleadingly at Julian.
Julian shrugged. “They didn’t follow us. I’ve got Ravenus keeping an eye on them in case they change their minds. Sorry about your face.”
“It wasn’t you,” said Dave. “It was the gods. I’m being punished.” He held out a hand to Julian.
Julian helped Dave to his feet. “For what?”
“I don’t know,” said Dave. “Excessive violence? Maybe they thought I should know what it feels like to get hit in the face with a blunt instrument.” He gestured up to the tree branch.
“Doubtful,” said Cooper, having finished pissing on the gods’ instrument of justice. “I’m way more violent than you. And you’re really slow. The fight’s usually over by the time you show up.”
“Thanks, Cooper.”
“Don’t mention it. Also, you’re kind of a pussy.”
“Hey Cooper,” said Tim. “Lay off, would you? He’s having a rough day.”
Cooper crossed his arms. “I was only trying to help. You know, figure out why the gods are pissed at Dave. Didn’t you say that there aren’t any dumb ideas when you’re brainstorming?”
“I wasn’t talking about yours.”
“Hmph,” said Cooper. “Well you should have made that clearer.”
“There’s an easy enough way to test Dave’s theory,” said Julian. Everyone looked at him. “Heal yourself. If the gods wanted to teach you a lesson by hitting you in the face with a tree, I think they got their message across. If your healing still doesn’t work, it must be something else.”
“I guess there’s some logic to that,” said Tim. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”
Dave touched the tip his finger to the tip of his nose, discovering it was about half a centimeter back from where it was supposed to be. “I heal me.” There was no orgasmic rush of healing magic. No cathartic release of pain. His nose hurt from him touching it.
“Again,” said Julian. “I’m sorry about your face.”
“Let’s head back to town,” said Tim. “We need to find another cleric who can heal us.”
The walk back to Car
dinia was long and agonizing. Dave brought up the idea of camping out for the night so that Julian could cast his Mount spells again, but the suggestion was quickly – and Dave admitted, wisely – shot down. Julian, the elven sorcerer, probably had more Hit Points than the rest of the party combined. If they ran into so much as a dire gnat, they were fucked. With Ravenus scouting ahead of them, they eventually made their way to the relative safety of the city walls early the next morning.
Fortunately, the Temple of Halor appeared to be a twenty-four hour establishment. The exterior of the building was simple brick and mortar. It was larger than any other building in the vicinity, and better constructed, with patterns of bricks poking out just a bit further than the otherwise flat surface in the shape of Halor’s Star. Dave recognized the symbol from the –
“Oh shit,” said Dave, suddenly wide awake. “I know why the gods are pissed at me.”
“Why?” asked Julian.
“A few days ago, I checked out a book from the library.”
“You see?” said Cooper. “This is why I don’t read.”
“Shut up, you dumb shit!” said Dave. The others, Cooper included, stared back at him in surprise. “This is all your fault!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Cooper. “What did I do?”
“Gentlemen!” said a young half-orcish cleric from the now-open front doorway. He was dressed in a gown of golden silk. His head was clean-shaven, adorned only by a thin, gold-threaded headband. His underbite was not so pronounced as Cooper’s. He clearly favored his human parent more, and could almost be considered handsome by human standards. Taking into account the -2 penalty half-orcs get, he must have rolled a hell of a Charisma score. “This is a house of worship. Kindly take your bickering down to the – Oh! It appears you have been injured.”
“We were attacked by goblins,” said Tim.
“Zombies,” said Dave.
“Gomblies,” said Julian.
“Come inside at once,” said the half-orcish cleric, “and bear witness to the healing power of Halor, Father of Gods.” Somewhere from within the temple, a gong sounded.
