3d6 (Caverns and Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  “Fine, Cooper. If that’s how you want to think about it.”

  “That explains so much.”

  “Did you think about the other thing we talked about back on the beach? The important thing?”

  “What?” Cooper’s face scrunched up, like it was painful to try to think. “Oh, you mean that shit about MP3s?”

  “When the hell did I even mention… Jesus, Cooper! I said EMPATHY! Did you even hear a single word I said?”

  “Sorry, man!” said Cooper defensively. “I thought you were gonna start going on about some shitty band you were into, so I was tuning you out.”

  “Could you just not talk to me for, like, a week?” Julian stomped ahead at a faster pace.

  “I said I was sorry,” Cooper called after him. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  “Give him some time,” Tim said, taking Julian’s place next to Cooper. “He’s been through a lot today. We all have.”

  “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d died for real.” Cooper sniffed, but Tim couldn’t tell if there was anything emotional about it, or if it was just part of the ever-present mucous that came with having a Charisma Score of 4.

  Tim looked up at Cooper, searching for some betrayal of whatever he was feeling. “You okay, man?”

  Cooper hung his head. “My dick hurts.”

  The End.

  A Fistful of Gold Pieces

  (Original Publication Date: March 22, 2015)

  Julian squinted from beneath the brim of his sombrero and peered into the bartender’s eyes. He bit his lower lip and nodded shrewdly. It was important to seem casually interested, but not too eager. A puff of cigar smoke would have rounded out the effect he was going for, but he was all out of smokes. “Please allow me a moment to discuss the matter with my companions.”

  The bartender was human, but as brawny as any orc. His long, greasy dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Most of his chest and arms, exposed by a brown-and-yellow-stained wife beater, was covered in poorly rendered tattoos. He turned his head to spit on the floor, then faced Julian again. Something behind the bar shuffled excitedly as it lapped up the treat. Julian sometimes wished his elven ears weren’t quite so keen.Ravenus, sensing his unease, dug his talons into Julian’s shoulder.

  Gripping the edge of his serape tightly, Julian resisted the urge to reach over the bar and wipe away beads of brown spittle still remaining on the man’s beard.He concealed a shudder in the motion of a polite bow. “Excuse us.”

  Julian turned around to find Dave twirling the end of his beard around his finger, Tim impatiently toying with the hip flask in his pocket, and Cooper clawing at some grey gunk in his armpit. “Okay, guys. Huddle up.”

  When everyone leaned in, Cooper’s breath hit Julian’s nostrils like a garbage truck fart. Their vast differences in size meant that everyone had to bend or kneel down to Tim’s height, which earned them odd looks from the bar’s other patrons. Huddling wasn’t going to be conducive to a productive conversation. “Second thought. Let’s step outside.” He turned back to the bartender. “We’ll be right back”

  The bartender spat on the floor again and continued looking down at it as a second creature contested the first for the prize. After a bit of hissing, scraping, and a thud which shook the stonepiss bottle on top of the bar, the victor commenced licking. The bartender grinned down at whatever it was.

  Julian smiled politely before escorting his friends out the door.

  “Fucking hell!” said Tim, shielding his eyes like the sun was trying to physically punch him in the face. It was easy to forget how nice a day it was outside, or even that nice days were a thing, when inside a place like the Rock Bottom pub. It had that old familiar bar musk, like centuries old wood steeped in blood, smoke, and ass.

  The sight of Tim taking a swig from his flask was one that, no matter how often Julian saw it, he couldn’t get used to. He looked like a stocky, alcoholic twelve-year-old.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” said Tim. “It’s bound to be afternoon by now.”

  “I guess I should thank you for not actually drinking that inside the establishment.” He looked up at Cooper. “And thank you all for not talking while I was conducting business.”

  “What’s the job?” asked Dave, already sounding suspicious.

  “It sounds absolutely perfect for us,” said Julian, trying to sound chipper. “He’ll pay us fifty gold pieces to bring him this guy named…” He cleared his throat before mumbling,“Barlow the Butcher.”

  Tim choked on his stonepiss. “Are you out of your fucking mind? What about any of what you just said sounds perfect?”

  “He wants the guy alive,” said Julian. “It’s good money, and we don’t have to get our hands dirty.”

  “Barlow the goddamn Butcher?”

  “I asked about that. It turns out he’s an actual butcher. Just a regular guy.There’s four of us –”

  “Ahem,” said Ravenus.

  “Sorry, five of us, and only one of him. Between my Charisma, your Intelligence, Cooper’s Strength, and… um…Dave…We can nab this guy.”

  Cooper scratched his head, like he was digging for something inside his giant half-orc skull. “If it’s that easy, why would he pay us?”

  “You see?” said Dave. “Even Cooper can see the problem here, and he’s borderline retarded.”

  “Hey! Fuck you, Dave!”

  “No offense.”

  Cooper poked out his big bottom lip and crossed his arms. “All right, then.”

  “Cooper’s right,” said Tim. “Dude looks like a prison rapist. Hard as fucking nails. Why would he need our help to chase down some butcher?”

  Julian smiled and shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys can’t see what’s going on here. I’m supposed to be the newbie…nooby? Am I saying that right?”

  Dave narrowed his eyes at Julian. “What are you getting at?”

  Julian cocked a thumb back at the bar. “That guy in there. He’s a quest giver. The gold, the Experience Points, that’s not coming out of his pocket. It’s all just an arbitrary reward doled out by the game.”

  “Hmph,” said Dave. “Game logic. It’s like those old Nintendo RPGs where the guy at the weapon shop had the Sword of Ultimate Power that you needed to defeat the Demon Lord as part of his standard inventory, but the dude wouldn’t sell it to you if you were short by one gold piece even though you were the only person standing in the way of a worldwide cataclysm.”

  “Exactly,” Julian said, only peripherally aware of what Dave was talking about.

  Tim laughed. “My favorites were the quests where some asshole would send you out to collect ten wolf teeth or some shit, and then you kill like six dozen wolves who haven’t got ten fucking teeth between them, like they’d all been gumming you to death.”

  “That’s right,” said Julian, thinking he might have been better off spending less of his youth reading books and more of it playing video games. He was out of his element.

  Cooper snorted. “Or when a big-ass frog the size of a fucking car jumps out onto the road, and assholes don’t even slow down.”

  Julian pursed his lips. “Um… I guess that kinda works.”

  “But this isn’t some 90s-era video game,” said Tim. “Grab your big, goofy ears and you’ll find that they’re just as real as my tiny halfling dick.”

  “We could at least check it out,” said Dave.

  “Are you kidding me?” said Tim. “You were against this idea not two minutes ago. You’re supposed to be wise.”

  “The game logic thing makes sense.We’ve been in enough situations in this world that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense in the real world.”

  Tim balled up his little fist. “Don’t you see? We’re in one right now!” He continued facing Dave, but pointed accusingly at Julian. “He’s using his Diplomacy skill on you to undermine your Wisdom and make you think stupid things.”

  Julian would deny this if asked point blank, but thought it best
to remain silent otherwise.

  “I’m not saying we should go through with the whole thing,” said Dave. “I’m just saying we could get the address and stake the place out. Make an informed decision whether or not to carry on from there.”

  Tim shook his head. “This is bullshit.” He looked up at Cooper. “You’ve been awful quiet. What do you think?”

  Cooper scratched his ass thoughtfully. “Are there dire frogs in the Monster Manual?”

  Tim took a deep swig from his flask. “This is so fucking stupid.”

  Julian offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll just pop back in and get the address then, shall I?”

  *

  Two hours later they were standing at the edge of a district of Cardinia known as Shallow Grave.

  While the Collapsed Sewer District was a dismal, lawless shithole, the actual sewer collapse, and resulting shift in demographics, were relatively recent. Organized crime hadn’t yet had a chance to take much of a foothold in the area. Frank had referred to it as Chaotic Neutral, which he said made it a good place for the likes of them.

  Shallow Grave, on the other hand, was what Frank had described as Lawful Evil. He’d told them it was the one part of town they’d do well to avoid, a point that Tim had brought up several times during the long walk there.

  It was usually difficult to tell exactly the point where one district ended and another began, but when dusk set in unexpectedly early, the buildings were all a uniform shade of grim, the air took on an abandoned hospital scent, and there was a noticeably higher concentration of orcs mulling around (as well as a complete absence of Kingsguard), Julian suspected they had reached their destination.

  Aside from the occasional rat or stray cat digging through rancid garbage, the only sounds to be heard were their own hollow footsteps against the long neglected street.

  “I guess we’re here,” said Julian. If he were in a car, he’d have locked his doors.

  “How the fuck did we get to Detroit?” asked Cooper.

  “The streets aren’t marked,” Tim observed. He hadn’t yet drunk enough to steady the quiver in his voice. “How are we supposed to find the address?”

  Julian had dreaded this moment. “There isn’t, um… I wasn’t actually given an address. He just told me to go to Shallow Grave and ask around.”

  Everyone stopped. Julian felt the pressure of his friends’ stares on top of the yellow-eyed stares of the locals. He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his high-school girlfriend’s father, who had apparently not been informed of his being Jewish, asked him over a family dinner when he’d been ‘saved’. It was a short-lived relationship.

  Dave put his hands on his hips. “That isn’t something you thought you should share with the rest of us before coming here?”

  “I was curious!” said Julian. “I’ve never seen Shallow Grave, and I thought it would be okay in the daytime.”

  Cooper looked up at the overcast sky. “I don’t think this place has daytime.”

  “That’s just great,” said Tim. “A butcher with no butcher shop. I guess he freelances.” He tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide, and poured the last few remaining drops of stonepiss onto his tongue.

  Julian frowned down at Tim. “Have you considered the thought that you might have a drinking problem?”

  Tim jiggled his empty flask upside down. “Well I’ve sure as shit got one now, don’t I?” He scanned the row of buildings up the right side of the street. “I’m going to see if I can get a refill. That looks like a general store next to the… Well fuck me. How did we miss that?”

  Julian had been doing his best to avoid making eye contact with the locals, and had therefore missed out on most of the storefronts as well. He followed Tim’s gaze to a sign above an open doorway. The once-white paint was cracked on the mildewed and rain-warped wood, and there were no words, but the pictures painted on it made clear the purpose of the shop. The heads of a cow, a pig, a goat, several types of fowl, and a few animals that Julian couldn’t make out were painted in rusty brown, likely with the blood of each animal represented.

  Julian started walking, but Tim grabbed him by the serape.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “It’s a butcher shop,” said Julian. “I’m going to ask if they know a guy named Barlow.”

  “When you go into a butcher shop, you order meat. You don’t order butchers. They’re not going to wrap the fucker up in brown paper and hand him to you over the counter.”

  “I wasn’t going to order him,” said Julian. “I was just going in to gather information.”

  “You don’t Gather Information,” said Tim. “I Gather Information.”

  “You’re the one who declared me the ‘face of the party’, remember? I’ve got the highest Charisma score, so I’ve always got to be the one to do all the talking. Ring any bells?”

  Tim slipped his empty flask into his inner vest pocket. “But you don’t have any ranks in the Gather Information skill.”

  “It’s just asking a question,” Julian argued. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know where I might find a Mr. Barlow the Butcher?”

  “Perfect,” said Tim. “Sounds like a great way to get us all murdered while tipping off Barlow the Butcher that someone’s put a price on his head.”

  “So what are you going to do differently?”

  Tim folded his arms and looked smugly up at Julian. “I’m going to be coy, cunning. I’ll make use of innuendo, double entendres, mixed signals, and the like until I know whether or not it’s safe to pry further and ask more direct questions. Anyone can ask a simple question. It takes skill points, however, to Gather Information.”

  Julian shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Give me a couple of silver pieces, would you?”

  “What for?”

  “I may have to grease a few palms. It’s all a delicate balance of knowing who, when, and how much.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Julian. He reached under his serape into his belt pouch and fished out three silver pieces, which he slapped into Tim’s waiting palm. “Be careful in there.”

  Tim nodded, then scampered giddily across the street and into the general store.

  Julian shook his head. “That sneaky little shit.”

  A minute later, Tim reappeared in the doorway of the general store sipping from his freshly topped up flask, then walked into the butcher shop next door. It was probably for the best that he got his drink. He didn’t have as high a Charisma score as Julian’s, and he tended to get mouthy when he was cranky.

  Somewhere in the alley on the other side of the general store, a cat moaned like it was calling out for the sweet release of death. Julian felt Ravenus getting fidgety on his shoulder.

  “Sir,” said Ravenus. “As long as we’re all just standing around, would –”

  “Go do your thing,” said Julian, not wanting to hear the gory details. Ravenus launched off his shoulder like someone had fired the starting pistol. As much as he cared for Ravenus, he sometimes wished he could feed him normal bird snacks, like grapes or crackers or whatever.

  “Don’t fly off too far,” Julian called out as Ravenus disappeared into the alley.

  Julian, Dave, and even Cooper winced as the cat let out its final, disease-ridden, mortal feline cry.

  Julian shrugged. “Bird’s gotta eat.”

  Dave shivered. “I wish Tim would hurry the hell up. I don’t like this neighborhood.”

  “Too many orcs for your liking?” asked Julian.

  “I know where you’re going with this,” said Dave. “Don’t even start on one of your lectures. Every big city has areas that are best avoided. If that happens to correlate with a predominant ethnic demographic, then…” It was fun to watch Dave squirm. “This isn’t even the same thing as…” He tugged on his beard, then looked Julian in the eye. “You should know this better than any of us.”

  “Oh? And how’s that?”

  “You’re the one who got mugge
d at gunpoint in New Orleans last New Year’s Eve.”

  “Not by fucking orcs!” Julian paused to reflect on what he’d just said. If there was an analogy to be made, it was quickly slipping away from him.

  “Would you stupid assholes keep your voices down?” said Tim.

  Dave jumped. “Oh, hey Tim. I didn’t hear you approach.”

  “I’m sneaky. That’s kinda my thing.”

  “How’d it go in there?” asked Julian. “Did you Gather any Information?”

  “I’m not exactly sure what happened in there,” Tim admitted. “I either ordered six pounds of pork chops, or I put out a hit on a prominent family of gnomes.”

  “How does that even –”

  “Keep your panties on. I got an address.”

  Cooper looked skyward, like something caught his eye. “Where the fuck is your bird going?”

  Julian looked up just in time to catch a black mass flying eastward disappear behind a building. “Damn it, Ravenus.” He shook his head. “The one thing I asked him not to do.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” said Tim. “We’re headed that way anyway.” He took a swig from his flask, turned around, and started walking, leading the group deeper into Shallow Grave.

  “That’s the one,” said Tim after they’d walked a few blocks and turned a corner.

  Contrary to Dave, Julian grew more and more uneasy the farther they went specifically because of the lack of people staring at them, orc or otherwise. This part of town looked utterly abandoned. Storefronts were boarded up. No windows were lit. The only sounds came from dark alleys, the scurrying of creatures that Julian hoped were only rats.

  Cooper frowned. “That don’t look like no butcher shop.”

  “It doesn’t even look finished,” said Dave.

  The building Tim had indicated was not hard to pick out. It was easily the tallest structure in this part of town, at least five stories high with a sixth possibly in the works. It was difficult to tell for sure, because the entire exterior of the building was obscured by scaffolding.

  Julian tried to imagine what this place might have looked like in rosier times, presumably before it became known as Shallow Grave. Clean streets, open shops, bustling crowds, an impressive new building in the works.“I wonder what happened here.”