by Robert Bevan
“Wha?” Milo's arm stopped. He turned his head. “Morty? You distracted me. Now I'll have to start over.”
Morty shook his head. “You were once a great minotaur, Milo. I was proud to call you my brother and my friend.”
“Come on, Morty. Don't say –”
“You have gone too far this time.”
“Please, Morty. Don't –”
“I'm sorry, Milo. I'm cutting you off.”
Milo whirled around to face Dave, Julian, and Tim. His eyes were full of crazy, and his erect penis pointed at them like a cannon, complete with a furry sack of cannonballs. Dave now knew the face of fear.
Morty reached his hand up over the portcullis and looked at Dave. “I'm sorry, lads.”
“What?” said Dave. “What does this have to do with –” He realized that Milo's crazy-eyes weren't focused on them, but rather the pitcher between Milo and them. “What's happening right now?”
The next couple of seconds seemed to pass in slow motion as Dave's brain processed sensations and stimuli he didn't understand, all happening at the same time.
Milo dove through the air, his arms stretched out in front of him, toward the last remaining full pitcher of well swill. “NOOOOOOOOO!”
Morty pulled some kind of lever which made a loud clicking sound.
Sudden weightlessness.
The bottom of the pitcher rose from the top of the crate while some of the liquid inside sloshed out of the top.
Tim screamed, “FUUUUCK!”
A single tear fled Milo's eye as his hands caught hold of the pitcher.
They were falling. The floor had disappeared from beneath their feet, and they were all being swallowed by a putrid, moist void.
It wasn't a long fall. He landed on his ass with a splash in foul-smelling water that came up to his shoulders.
The light began to fade quickly. Dave looked up just in time to see the floor rematerializing above their heads, like a fog condensing into solid stone, obscuring their only source of light, the enchanted stone suspended from the ceiling.
“Magical floor,” said Julian. “That's so cool.”
Only Julian would find anything cool about being dumped into the sewer.
“What the fubbblllggllbl,” said Cooper, the sewer water having brought him out of his fist-induced slumber.
“Light,” said Julian.
As a dwarf, Dave could see well enough to move around in complete darkness, but his Darkvision was in black-and-white, and limited in range. Julian's enchanted gold coin added rich textures of brown to the spectrum, allowing Dave's eyes to catch up to his nose in their appreciation of his surroundings. He was about to throw up when something shifted under his ass.
“Shit! I landed on Tim!” Dave got to his feet and plunged his hands into the murky water until he had a hold of a body.
“No you didn't.” Tim's voice came from behind Dave. “I'm over here.”
Whatever Dave had his hands on was definitely alive, and much too small to be Milo. “Then who is...” He pulled it out of the water. A muzzle full of sharp, bared teeth hissed sewer mist at him.
“Dire rat!” screamed Tim. “Kill it! Kill it!”
Dave trudged hurriedly through the water, intending to slam the huge rat against the wall, when its arms and legs started growing.
“What the fucking fuck!” said Dave. “What's happening?”
“I don't know!” said Tim. “Kill it more!”
The creature's fur retreated into its pale skin as it continued to expand. It was increasing in weight as well as size, and its limbs and face took on humanlike features. Dave hadn't gotten more than three steps when he found he was no longer carrying a giant rat, but instead hugging a naked man.
“Unhand me at once, you brute!” said the naked man who had just been a rat.
Dave removed his hands. "Who are you?”
“Why are you down here?” asked Julian.
“Why were you a rat?” asked Tim.
“What the fuck are we doing in the sewer?” asked Cooper.
The rat man put his hands on his hips. “I would ask you those very same questions!” He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “Except for the rat one, as that doesn't really apply.”
“We asked you first,” said Julian.
The rat man wagged a finger back and forth between Dave and Julian. “Now you listen here, surface dwellers! This is my home you're invading and my body you're accosting! I'll be asking the questions!”
Dave looked at Julian.
Julian nodded. “Fine.”
The rat man’s eyes focused on the glowing gold coin in Julian’s hand. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“My name is Julian, and all we want is to get out of here.”
“How did you manage to get so far in here?”
“What do you mean?”
“The Cardinian sewer system is a veritable labyrinth of tunnels. Even if you knew the way out – and it's clear you don't – it would take you hours to get to an exit.”
“Hours?”
“But judging by the way you screamed like little girls at the sight of a rat, it's a wonder how you've lasted more than ten minutes down here as it is. What you need is a guide. You're just lucky you ran into me first. Anyone, or anything, else down here might have just killed you outright. Now let's talk compensation. I'm a reasonable wererat. Let's just call it... say... whatever money you've got on you right now. For that I will grant you safe passage through – Rapha's mercy!”
Cooper frowned. “You kind of lost me at the end there.”
“What is that?” asked the wererat, pointing his scrawny finger past the four of them.
Dave turned around. “Milo!” The minotaur's fur was slimy with shit water. He held the pitcher by the bottom in one hand as he rose to his full height, sucking in air so much air that Dave could feel the air around his own head rushing past in Milo's direction.
“Have you been underwater this whole time?” asked Julian.
Milo breathed in and out a few times. “I had to... uh... finish something.”
Dave, Tim, Julian, and Cooper immediately backed up against the sewer walls, scanning the brown water between them for any curious streaks of white.
“It sounds like we’ve got a long walk ahead of us,” said Julian. “Let’s just pay the – Hey, where’s the wererat?”
Dave turned around. Sure enough, the wererat was gone. Not even a ripple remained where he had been standing. “Looks like he fled.”
“Good riddance,” said Milo.
“No no no!” said Tim. “He was going to show us the way out of here!”
“Best not to put your faith in wererats. They are a shiftless bunch.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “I feel much better putting my faith in Drinky the Minotard.”
“Tim!” snapped Julian.
“Fuck this,” said Tim. “I’m done being nice. We’re lost in a sewer thanks to this moron. I am literally swimming in shit.”
“Your words cut deep, little halfling,” said Milo. “But your fears are unsubstantiated. Minotaurs are never lost.”
“Of course!” said Julian, looking more optimistic than anyone stuck in a sewer with a violent, alcoholic minotaur had any right to look. “The Minotaur!”
“Very good, Julian,” said Tim. “It’s nice to see you’ve caught up.”
“No, I mean the real Minotaur, from Greek mythology.”
“Isn’t that kind of a self-contradictory statement?”
“He lived in the Labyrinth.”
Cooper scratched his head. “I thought that was David Bowie.”
“I’ll bet my shit-soaked hat that his description in the Monster Manual includes something about being able to find his way around a maze with no problem.”
Milo nodded. “I know not of this David Bowie of Greek mythology of whom you speak, but otherwise, the elf’s words are true. I am incapable of being lost in any labyrinth. Morty dumps me down here when I’ve had too
much to drink, intending for me to clear my head during the time it takes to reach the surface.”
“That’s nice,” said Julian. “I can tell he really cares about you.”
“To be honest, the stench of raw sewage tends to clear my head right away. ‘Tis fortunate I rescued this last pitcher.”
Dave had met a lot of alcoholics in his day, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever met one so dedicated that he could masturbate underwater, submerged in sewage, while holding his drink above the surface. The last thing they needed right now was Drunk Milo.
“Maybe you should take it easy?”
“There will be time enough for that when we reach the surface, dwarf. The sewer is not without its share of danger.” Milo started walking.
Julian summoned a horse to carry Tim and Dave, whose already slow Movement Speeds were further hampered by having to move through water.
Milo walked briskly, turning left or right at each intersection. Dave felt more hopelessly lost than ever, but Milo seemed confident, never stopping to ponder or second-guess his choice of direction.
They traveled for about two hours before Milo stopped dead in his tracks at the intersection of two large tunnels. The elevation was slightly higher here, and the water was thicker, barely covering the top of Milo’s hooves.
“Why did we stop?” asked Dave. “Are we near an exit?”
“Very nearly,” said Milo. He sniffed the air. “But I sense we are not alone.”
Squeaks echoed out from the darkness of the four tunnels surrounding them. Dave felt Tim’s arms squeeze him just a little bit tighter.
Cooper started to unstrap his greataxe, but Milo placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
“Your weapons will not harm them. I’ll handle this.” He called out into the darkness. “What cowards are you who hide in the shadows? Come out and make yourselves known!”
“Dude!” whispered Julian. “I think you need a few more ranks in Diplomacy.”
The darkness came alive with the sounds of squeaking, splashing, and feet squelching through shit on all sides. Two by two, eyes became visible, followed by forms. Some were dire rats. Some were humanoid. The vast majority were something in-between. A hybrid form with ratlike features, including whiskers and a long tail, but bipedal and human-sized. Some of the humanoids and hybrids were armed with daggers or small, rusted swords. They blocked every potential escape route, but did not advance.
Dave held tightly on the horse’s reins and whispered to Milo. “If they meant to kill us, they would have attacked already, right?”
“They are choosing which of us they want to eat and which of us they want to turn into one of their own,” said Milo. “Mind you don’t let them bite you.”
“Thanks for the tip, asshole,” said Tim. “How the fuck are we supposed to stop them?”
“There’s no need for that kind of language.” Milo addressed the crowd of wererats. “I demand you stand aside and let us pass, or surely you will know my wrath!”
One dire rat in front of Milo grew and morphed into his human form. It was the same one Dave had landed on upon entering the sewer.
“Silence, man cow! The elf carries gold. He and the Halfling would make fine additions to our family. Leave them, and the horse and dwarf for us to feed on, and you and the half-orc may leave unmolested.”
“And if we refuse?”
The wererat laughed, provoking his many, many companions to do the same. “Your bravery is commendable, minotaur. I’ll give you that. But we outnumber you ten to one, and you have no weapons with which to fight us. Satisfy our demands, or we shall tear apart every last one of you.”
“Your threats are as empty as your tiny, shriveled sack. Scurry back into the darkness, where your kind belongs.”
The wererat looked livid. While it wasn’t fair to compare his genitalia to Milo’s, even for a gangly human he was not particularly gifted in that department. He held out a hand. “Sword!”
A nearby hybrid rat person handed over his shortsword.
Milo took a long swig from his pitcher, then handed it to Cooper. “Hold this.” He addressed the wererat. “Speak your name, rat. If you die with honor, I shall compose a ballad in which your memory may live on.”
“My name is Roger,” said the wererat. “Please, tell me yours, so that I may label the trophy I mount on my wall.”
Milo snorted. “Very well. You may call me… The Minotard!”
The silence that followed was so complete that, had anyone blinked, Dave was sure he would have heard it. It didn’t last long. The wererats erupted in raucous, howling laughter. Even those still in their rat forms squeaked and wheezed until they could scarcely breathe.
“What?” said Milo, the surprise on his face bubbling up into rage. “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? STOP LAUGHING AT ME!”
Dave cradled his head in his hands. This was the saddest thing he’d ever seen.
Milo heaved and trembled. The wererats only laughed louder.
“STOP! LAUGHING! AT! ME!” Milo ran forward and kicked Roger in the face. The laughter was cut short by the crunch of hoof against bone. Roger bounced off the ceiling, then hit the floor so hard that he bounced back up to a standing position, where two of his companions caught him.
His face was completely smashed in, a concave mess of blood, flesh, and bone.
Milo stomped back toward Cooper with tears in his eyes. “Why do they always laugh at me?”
Roger’s face started to reform, like an inflating balloon made out of meat. When it was nearly back to its original shape, he shrugged off his friends’ assistance. When his teeth had all straightened out and his nose was once again facing outward, he started to laugh. “The Minotard?”
The sewer came alive with a second deluge of laughter.
Milo balled up his fists, trembling violently. He turned around to face Roger.
“I can’t take it anymore,” cried Roger. He stopped laughing. “Kill them all.”
A dozen humanoid and hybrid rat men lunged at Milo. He punched the first two, and kicked a third, sending them flying in three different directions, but they quickly recovered from any damage he dealt, and there were more leaping onto his back than he could possibly fend off.
“Cooper!” screamed Tim. “Behind you!”
Cooper turned around and punched an approaching hybrid in the face, smashing Milo’s pitcher and blinding the wererat with horrible booze.
Dave swatted another away with his mace, while Julian jabbed at one with his quarterstaff.
“There’s an opening!” cried Tim. “Let’s get out of here!”
“What about Milo?” asked Julian.
The suicidally brave minotaur had fallen to his knees, cowering inside the flimsy protection of his leather coat. Wererats piled on top of him, and while he was able to gouge one here and there with his horns, it was clear his time had finally come.
“Milo’s done for,” said Dave. “There’s nothing we can do. This is our only chance. Let’s –”
“SHIT!” cried Dave and Tim as they fell to the sludgy sewer floor.
“What happened to the horse?” asked Tim.
Julian smacked a dire rat golf-style with his quarterstaff. It squeaked as it flew out of the range of his light. “Spell timed out,” he said. “I’ve gotten so used to them dying all the time, I forgot they had a spell duration.”
The opening Tim had spotted wasn’t completely free of wererats. It was merely less densely packed with them. Exploiting it would have required the mass and speed of a charging horse. With Milo secured, more of the wererats focused their attention on Dave and his friends, who were already having a hard enough time fending off the first wave with their ineffectual weapons.
Just as they looked about ready to charge en masse, one near Milo screamed.
“SILVER!”
The wererats scattered like shrapnel, running over each other to flee into the darkness.
Milo stood tall, his right fist raised. His violin-like instrument was strapp
ed to his arm, the long, double-pointed neck sticking out of the top of Roger’s head. The rest of the naked man hung as lifeless and limp as Milo’s giant dick.
“Milo!” cried Dave. “You’re alive!”
Milo lowered his arm, allowing Roger to slide off his instrument into a dead heap on the shit-covered floor. “It is unwise to traverse the sewers without silver or magical weapons.” He frowned at the instrument strapped to his arm. “It will require tuning.”
“That was amazing!” said Julian. “Did you see how fast they bolted? What a bunch of pansies!”
“I told you,” said Milo. “Wererats are cowardly by nature. They will put up a façade of courage only if they know they have no chance of losing. Now please, give me my –” Milo gawked at the busted tin pitcher on the floor, then up at Cooper. He had the crazy-eyes again.
“What?” said Cooper.
Milo clenched his fists. “I asked you to hold that for me!”
“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” said Cooper. “I had, like, a hundred rat fuckers to deal with!”
“You could have set it down.”
“Come on, man,” said Julian. There was Diplomacy in his voice. “Cooper didn’t mean anything by that. He got taken by surprise and that pitcher was all he had to defend himself with. We all saw it.”
“Lies!” roared Milo. He pointed his instrument at Cooper, still dripping with Roger’s blood and brains. “You judge me, half-orc. ‘Do you want another drink?’”
“Hey guys,” said Tim. “Let’s take it down a notch, huh?”
“I didn’t say it like that!” said Cooper. “I was offering you a fucking drink, and you punched me in the goddamn face!”
“You’re just like Lenore!”
Cooper grabbed his greataxe with both hands. “You keep saying that. I’m starting to think Lenore must have been an ugly fucking bitch.”
Tim shook his head. “Well I guess that’s that.”
“How dare you!” said Milo. His voice shook with rage. He brandished his weapon at Cooper even more threateningly. “Prepare to face the wrath of my vioLET!”
“Your what?” asked Dave, Julian, Tim, and Cooper simultaneously.
