by Robert Bevan
“You were right to be distrustful.” Tanner's muscles tensed briefly as he glowered down at the bar. “She and her two companions hiding in the next room sought to recruit and indoctrinate a halfling, as their kind has certain traits which prove useful on certain jobs.”
Cooper farted. “Fucking racists.”
“Once you fled, Lissa took her hybrid wererat form. She and her companions overpowered me easily. Once I was secure, they healed Tim with a potion, then put bags over our heads and escorted us through the sewers. When the bags were removed, we were locked in cages. They told us we would have to wait until the next full moon to see if we were worthy to commence training.”
“You mean to see if you'd successfully been turned into wererats,” said Frank.
“That seemed to be the gist of it, yes.”
“I went through a similar ordeal recently, thanks to our mutual friend Dave. Fortunately, it didn't take.”
“The gods be merciful, I was spared as well.”
“Hang on,” said Denise, causing several people to groan in anticipation of whatever horribly disgusting and idiotic thing she was about to say. “Ain't no way you guys stayed locked up through no full moon. The last one was just a few days ago, and Basil ate Tim well before that.”
Tanner frowned. “Ate Tim? Who is Basil?”
“That's my Basilisk,” said Randy. “Now he's my Special –”
“I'm askin' the questions here, Blackie,” said Denise. “And your timeline don't add up. Now you best start 'splainin', else I might have to question you like we do your kind down at the station.”
Tanner stared curiously at Denise for a moment, then turned away and tried to stifle a shiver after his gaze fell to her loosely-covered chest. “It is true, our incarceration was cut short by a most unexpected development. Two days after we were taken, some of our captors turned up with a poster featuring Tim's face with an extensive list of criminal charges written below it. They were most impressed. Tim leveraged this newfound respect to earn their trust, then worked his way very quickly up the ranks.”
“Impossible,” said Julian. “Nobody can earn that much trust from a criminal organization in that short a time, even with an amazing Charisma score.”
“He claimed to be able to give them something that nobody else could, and by the gods did he deliver.”
“Goddamn,” said Denise. “How good a head does that little prick give?”
Katherine glared at her. “Not another fucking word out of you.” She turned back to Tanner, fearful of what Tim might have done to impress him so much. “What exactly did he deliver?”
“Weapons, the likes of which I've never seen. They were like tiny steel crossbows which fired shaftless bolts. I don't know how to better explain it, except to say that they were far more devastating than I've just made them sound. He had some dire rats brought in for a demonstration.” Tanner's eyes glazed over as he lost himself in the memory. “It was a massacre.”
“Oh my God,” said Stacy. “These weapons. Were they extremely loud?”
Tanner nodded. “That was their one drawback, but easily canceled out by a simple Silence spell.”
Stacy shook her head. “You'd think that faking his own death might be as low as he could go, but he never ceases to amaze.” She pounded the table with her fist. “He's running fucking guns to this world.”
That was as much as Katherine could stand. Well aware of how far she was crossing the lines of etiquette given her relationship to the establishment, she finally helped herself to a glass of beer.
“Hang on,” said Cooper. “How can you tell us he faked his death? We all saw Mordred slice Tim's throat from ear to ear, then kick him off that flying island.”
Tanner gasped.
“And I saw Basil eat him,” said Randy. “Well, I caught the last part anyway.”
Tanner gasped again.
Cooper folded his arms across his chest, looking very satisfied with himself as he raised an eyebrow at Stacy. “You mean to tell us that you believe he'd put himself through all that and expect to survive?”
“Of course not,” said Tim, speaking in Tanner's voice and standing where Tanner had just been standing. “That would be preposterous.”
Katherine sprayed beer out of her mouth and nose. Stools and chairs skidded against the floor behind her and more than one blade slid out of their sheaths. Stacy's fist was cocked and ready to fly into Tim's face.
“Tim?” said Cooper.
Tim rolled his eyes. “No.” He reached up to the back of his head, pulled out the mysterious hair clip that had been with his remains in the shit jar, then grew and darkened back into Tanner.
Cooper scratched the back of his head. “So Mordred slit your throat?”
“No,” said Tanner. “It was my throat that was slit, but it was Tim who did the slitting.”
Several people gasped. Katherine drank deeply from her glass.
“So it was you that Basil ate,” said Randy. “That makes a lot more sense now.”
“Not so much for me,” said Tanner. “When you say this Basil fellow ate me, do you mean... I'm afraid I honestly don't know how else to interpret it. On the surface it sounds quite unambiguous.”
“Ain't nothin' unamphibious about it, Hot Chocolate. You was gobbled right up by Randy's pet lizard.”
“Basilisk,” Randy corrected her. He smiled at Tanner. “That's why I called him Basil.”
Tanner looked horrified. “I was eaten by a basilisk? Then how...”
“You spent quite some time as a literal piece of shit,” Denise explained. “I reckon you was lucky we thought you was Tim, else Katherine here might not have gone to all that bother to bring you back.”
Katherine choked on her beer. Why would that hairy little bitch say something like that?
“That's absolutely not true!” she said when she regained control of her voice. “I totally would have!” The unwavering certainty only highlighted the bullshittedness of her claim. “Well, I don't know. Maybe not. But not because you're black.”
The silent cringes from all around the room were palpable. Katherine was afraid to dig herself any deeper and wished someone else would say something, anything at all.
Frank finally broke the silence. “I can't tell you how thrilled I am to hear that your brother's still alive and slitting throats.”
Katherine shouldn't have been so open-ended with what she wished someone would say. She frowned apologetically at Tanner. “Did something happen between you two? Was there a reason he would have wanted to kill you?”
Tanner shrugged. “He visited me in my cell the night before, claiming he had made a deal with the Rat Bastards. When I asked him if I was to be released, he looked at me the same way you look at me now, except more blearily due to the large amount of stonepiss he had obviously drunk. He said he did not want me to take personally what he had to do, and explained that my kind are not really people, constantly referring to me as an Enpici. I can only assume that is some kind of halfling term for drow.”
“NPC,” said Frank. “Non Player Character.”
Katherine let out a long sigh of relief. “Tim's so not a racist.” When everyone in the room but Denise shot her an annoyed glare, she shut up and allowed Tanner to continue his story.
“It was for the good of his people, he said. They had not the intelligence nor the courage to do what must be done in order to bring them safely back to their real lives.”
“He's got some fucking nerve,” said Stacy. Katherine thought it was a little unfair that nobody gave her the stink eye for interrupting, but she decided to be the bigger person and keep her opinion to herself.
“Not that they deserved it,” Tanner continued, clearly still bitter about having been murdered, thrown off a ledge, then eaten and shat out by a basilisk. “His words, not mine. Not after the way they had treated him. But such was his... I'm trying to recall his exact phrasing... cross to bear?”
Stacy laughed hollowly. “Jesus Christ.”
/>
“Yes, he did make several references and comparisons between himself and the New God. I'm afraid I was unable to comprehend most of them, due to both my lack of knowledge and his slurred speech.”
“I still don't understand what killing you was supposed to accomplish,” said Julian.
“Naturally I asked the very same question. He said his people – I now assume he was referring to you all – needed to see him slain by Mordred, so that you would go back to cowering in your tavern and not get in the way of his plan. He assured me that my sacrifice was also comparable to that of the New God, though perhaps not quite so much as his own. He would save his ungrateful people, delivering them from this world, and forgive them.”
“That's enough.” Stacy slapped her hands down on the table. “I can't listen to any more of this.”
Julian cleared his throat. “I know this isn't going to be a popular opinion, and I want to make it clear that I'm not condoning or defending Tim's actions in any way.” He paused, seemingly afraid to say what was on his mind. “But what if he really has a plan?”
“He does have a plan,” said Stacy. “That's the problem.”
“How so?”
“Did Tanner not spell it out clearly enough? Tim's plan is running guns from our world to an organized crime syndicate in this one.”
Julian shrugged. “You've got to admit, it's thinking outside the box. With Mordred getting so powerful so quickly, maybe this is the only way to stop him.”
“You are defending him,” said Tony the Elf. “Is there no point at which you just admit he's a piece of shit and cut him loose? This inn is the closest thing we have to a home in this world, and now we have to burn it down because of him.”
Katherine's beer glass shattered in her grip, spilling blood and suds into a puddle at her feet. She might not be a vampire any more, she didn't subsist on blood and could no longer will herself into bat form, but she still occasionally felt those violent impulses, those sudden compulsions to punch someone's face into pulp or tear out their throat with her teeth. She could contain it well enough, but she wasn't about to let Julian take all the heat for defending her brother.
“Maybe he had a point about all of you sitting here on your asses. At least he's taking some action.”
“Actions are good,” said Stacy. “But the actions he's taking have the potential to be disastrous. Think of all the ways this could backfire. He's supplying a gang of criminals with deadly weapons. How long will it be before they turn on him? Hell, we turned on him, and most of us actually gave a shit about him. What happens when he outlives his usefulness and they figure out how to get back and forth to Earth on their own?”
Katherine frowned. “I'm sure he's considered that, and is taking the necessary precautions.” She wasn't at all sure of either of those things.
“What happens when Mordred catches on and starts arming his own rival gang?”
“We don't know that he isn't already.”
“Katherine, we know you love your brother. Look how far you went to get him resurrected. But you know him better than anybody. How much do you trust him alone with his thoughts, a flask of stonepiss, and a gun?”
Katherine's gulp seemed to echo in the dead silent tavern. “I didn't say they were necessarily good actions. She could feel her tears burning tracks down her cheeks. “I know he's a piece of shit. He know's he's a piece of shit. He's desperate now. The only choice he's got is to roll the dice and either redeem himself or die trying.”
“We've argued in these circles before,” said Frank. “Seeing as how we have to burn this place to the ground anyway, the sitting-on-our-asses option is off the table. We need –”
“Hang on just a second,” said Denise. “We was late to the party. Could you explain why, exactly, we got to torch this place?”
“We can't keep Mordred here,” said Tony the Elf. “This Mordred is very powerful. He's been sucking energy out of a magical tree or something.” He looked at Chaz. “Maybe you could explain that better?”
Chaz shrugged. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“The other Mordreds will come looking for him,” Frank explained. “And we can't just abandon the place because Mordred might lay a trap for any of our people who to come back.”
“What if we was to leave one or two folks here to guard it?” asked Denise. “I'd be happy to volunteer, on account of I probably shouldn't be doin' too much traveling anyway, what with my bein' preggers 'n all.”
“Preggers?” said Rhonda. She turned to Randy. “I thought you were...”
Randy looked annoyed. “They ain't mine.”
“They?”
“I was violated,” said Denise. “A scorpion monster lady pumped her fertilized eggs into my cooter.”
“Your cooter?”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Goddamn, Double Stuf. Do I got to draw you a diagram? The place where babies grow.”
Rhonda rolled her eyes. “You mean your uterus?”
“Let's split the difference. Cooterus. Happy now?”
Rhonda opened her mouth to speak again, but Frank cut her off.
“Your offer is very thoughtful. But after the little interrogation you gave him down in the cellar, I don't think it's wise for you to wait around for Mordred to turn up and find you.”
“I ain't afraid of him. I'll kick his tiny ass all over again.”
“There are more than one of him out there,” said Tony the Elf. “When he shows up, he's going to do so with enough firepower to kill everyone he expects to be here. You think one pregnant dwarf is going to stop him?”
Denise grinned. It was unnerving, as it always was. “Your answer's right there in the question, Peter Cottonballs.” She pointed at her bulging belly. “I got myself here a little insurance policy.”
Rhonda scowled and shook her head. “First, it's reprehensible that you'd use your unborn children as human shields.”
“They ain't human, you fuckin' racist. I told you, they's some kind of scorpion people freaks of nature.”
Rhonda closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “And second, what makes you think Mordred is going to show you any mercy because you're pregnant? Maybe he will, but maybe he feels the same way about NPCs as Tim does. You're risking those babies' lives on some pretty flimsy reasoning.”
“Ain't nothin' flimsy about it, and I ain't riskin' shit. Right, Randy?”
“What?” Randy stared back at her in wide-eyed shock to be asked for his testimony in the matter.
“Tell these folks what the High Cleric from the Temple of Life told me after she shoved her fist elbow-deep up my cooch.”
Everyone in the room cringed.
Randy thought hard. “I don't remember exactly. Somethin' about a tingling sensation?”
“Please,” said Tony the Elf. “We've heard more than we want to hear.”
All of a sudden, Katherine recalled what Denise was referring to, and it wasn't needlessly disgusting or horrible at all. In fact, it sounded surprisingly reasonable.
“She said the gods wouldn't let any harm come to either you or your children until you've given birth.”
“That's right.” Denise scanned the room frowning in judgment. “Y'all folks got some filthy fuckin' minds.”
Frank looked at Randy. “Is that right?”
Randy nodded. “The gods was real pleased about what we done. They gave each of us a gift. They brought Tanner here back to life for Katherine, they made Basil my special paladin mount, and they promised just like Katherine said about Denise's scorpion people babies.”
Rhonda rubbed her chins in thought. “What if we used that. We could go after Tim without worrying about getting riddled with bullets.”
“Now wait just a goddamn minute,” said Denise. “Ain't you the one who just laid into me about using my babies as human shields?”
“As much as I hate to say it,” said Frank, “I've got to agree with Denise. If the gods granted her this protection, I don't think they'd appreci
ate us taking advantage of it like this.”
“Is that any worse than keeping her here to protect your precious bar?” asked Rhonda.
“I'm not keeping her anywhere. If a pregnant woman, protected by the gods, wants to take shelter in this tavern, I'm not going to stand in her way. Any collateral protection that may provide to the tavern itself is incidental.” After pausing for further objections that didn't come, he continued. “The rest of us are going to split up. Some of us will need to babysit the Mordred we've got. We can't let the other Mordreds rescue him, so we'll need to hide him somewhere that he'd never think to look for himself.”
Katherine felt excited to be able to contribute something. “I know just the place!”
Frank waved his hands frantically at her. “Shut up!”
“You don't have to be a dick about it.”
“I'm sorry,” said Frank. “I had to speak quicker than I could think.” He turned to Denise. “Would you mind waiting down in the cellar with Mordred for a moment?”
Denise nodded and licked her lips. “You want I should see what information I can get out of him?”
“Jesus Christ, no! Don't touch him. Don't do anything. I just don't want you to hear this part of the conversation. It's better for everyone if you don't know where we're taking him.”
“Fine.” Denise started waddling to the door leading down to the cellar. “Come on, Randy.”
“Huh?” said Randy. “I reckon I ought to stay up here and see what I can do to help.”
“The fuck you talkin' about? I need you to stay here with me.”
“You'll be alright. The gods are protecting you, remember?”
“Yeah, right up until these freaks start eatin' their way out of me. I don't know the gestation period for bug people. What if I give birth here all alone? I might need you to shove your Healing Fist of Jesus up my hoo-ha.”
Randy frowned. “I'd probably just touch your arm or something.”
“It's okay,” said Frank. “She's got a point. I don't think any of us want to come back here and find a bunch of orphaned scorpion kids devouring their dead mother.”
