Potty Mouth (Caverns & Creatures)

by Robert Bevan

  Tragnar, Giplin, and Grimly left the wagon and waddled off to a staircase that ran along the interior of the tower wall.

  Tim grabbed two of the cage bars. “Where the fuck are they going?”

  When the last of the dwarf feet disappeared into the second floor of the tower, Dave turned around.

  “Hey guys, it's me!”

  “What a big fucking surprise, Mr. son of Huevos,” said Tim. “What the hell is going on?”

  “You remember we were drinking by the river?”

  “Yes.” Tim looked at his feet. “Some of it.”

  “You all got shitfaced until you passed out, and then these guys showed up.”

  “Who the fuck are they?”

  “They call themselves the Hands of Trumble. They're some kind of dwarf supremacy group or something. They fanatically worship this Lord Trumble guy.”

  “Dude,” said Cooper. “I know nobody likes you, but these aren't the kind of guys you want to get mixed up with.”

  “Fuck you, Cooper. I'm not mixed up with them. I just had to make up a name and play along until you guys woke up and we could make a break for it.”

  “And when were you planning to do that?” asked Tim.

  “I was waiting for you guys to make a plan. I kept dropping pop culture references so you'd know who I was and that I was ready to jump in.”

  Tim frowned. “Oh, that's what all that was about? We thought you were just bonkers.”

  “Who cares?” said Julian. “We're all together now. Open the cage and let's get the hell out of here.”

  “I don't have the key. Giplin has it.”

  Tim shook the cage door. It was solid. The bars were too thick for Cooper to bend, even with his Barbarian Rage, and Tim had left his lockpick set back at the Whore's Head Inn.

  “They've got to come back and get us, right?” Tim looked at Dave. “As soon as Giplin turns the key, you put your axe into that motherfucker's back. We've got the rest of the plan covered.”

  Dave nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Suddenly, the sound of stone grinding against stone was deafening, and light started pouring in from above. Cooper looked up. A circular hole was opening above them as two sections of ceiling slid apart. Something from below them pushed up on the wagon's floor, and the hole in the ceiling started growing slowly closer.

  “Shit,” said Tim, looking through the bars at the floor of the tower, which Cooper noticed was moving away from them. “My plan is fucked.”

  Julian pointed at the golden circle which marked the spot where Dave was supposed to be standing. “Turn around. Keep up the act.”

  As they ascended, the unmistakable smell of sour urine grew stronger. Everyone looked at Cooper.

  “What the fuck? That ain't me!”

  The reached the second floor of the tower, but continued to ascend. Thirty dwarves stood at attention, their right hands raised toward a central altar, atop which sat the strangest-looking dwarf Cooper had ever seen.

  It was difficult to decide which was stranger. The fact that he was sitting naked in what looked like a solid gold kiddie pool full of age-darkened urine while multiple streams of fresh urine rained down on his head from platforms which jutted out along the spiral staircase that ran all the way up the interior of the tower, or the dwarf himself.

  Dwarves were known for being a robust race, so much so that they get a +2 to their Constitution scores during character creation. But this bloated sack of shit obviously regarded Constitution as a dump stat. His skin was tinted orange and thin to the point of translucence. His dull black eyes stared unblinkingly at the prisoners. Cooper would have thought he was looking at a corpse if the guy's tongue didn't occasionally flicker out to taste the dwarf piss running down his face.

  The only healthy-looking part of him was also arguably the strangest. His blond hair and beard were thick and lustrous, but seemed somehow unnatural. It was as though his head had been dunked in acid, then bandaged with the pelt of a dire ferret.

  When the platform stopped ascending, the strange dwarf raised his tiny right hand, barely more than a withered appendage at the end of his flabby arm, out of the pool. In it he held a golden scepter which, like the tower he resided in, was an obvious tribute to his allegedly massive dong, still hidden beneath a haze of stagnant piss.

  As if in reaction to the raised scepter, the urine streams from above all stopped simultaneously. In the absence of their trickle, the tower was silent enough for all to hear the mouse whisper of a fart that Cooper thought he was going to get away with. The entire assembly of dwarves, including their piss-drenched master, turned their heads toward Cooper.

  “Sorry,” said Cooper. He didn't know what the big deal was. It's not like anyone could smell it over the eye-stinging scent of ammonia filling the whole tower.

  “Who dares interrupt the shower of Lord Trumble?” bellowed the the guy who Cooper was pretty sure at this point was Lord Trumble. “Speak your names.”

  Dave stood there dumbfounded.

  “Julian,” whispered Tim. “You've got the highest Charisma score. Why don't you go first?”

  Julian stood tall and cleared his throat. “I'm Jul–”

  “SILENCE!” Lord Trumble slapped the surface of his pee bath repeatedly with his equally minuscule left hand, splashing yellow-brown droplets everywhere and releasing more of the cripplingly toxic odor into the air. His black eyes bulged and his furry hair bristled. “You will speak only when instructed to do so!”

  “I'm sorry,” said Julian. “You told us to speak our names. I thought –”

  “I never said that!”

  “Sure you did. Just a few –”

  “I SAID SILENCE!” Lord Trumble splashed in his pee pool some more, this time using both hands and kicking his feet as well. “I will not be contracepted!”

  Julian bit his lower lip, like he was debating whether or not he should say what was on his mind. “Do you mean contradicted?”

  Lord Trumble raised his scepter above his head as he let out a long inarticulate scream. His eyes bulged out further as his mouth opened wider than should have been possible. His scream echoed through the tower, seeming to shake its very foundations.

  A second scream harmonized with his as the top pissing platform of the tower cracked, sending it and the naked dwarf who'd been pissing from it hurtling to the floor. The falling dwarf's scream came to a sudden halt as he crashed into two more dwarves.

  Lord Trumble didn't even seem to notice that three of his worshipers had just turned into a broken and twisted pile of dwarf gore. His scream carried on for at least another thirty seconds.

  When he was done, he took a few deep breaths. His hair settled down, and his eyes and mouth returned to their original sizes.

  Tim leaned over to Julian and whispered. “Stop pissing this guy off.”

  “I didn't mean to –”

  “I am upset,” said Lord Trumble. “Who among you would like to kiss my ass and make me feel better?”

  Every dwarf that wasn't currently a bleeding puddle on the floor raised his hand. “Hail Trumble, Lord of us all!” they shouted in unison.

  Lord Trumble closed his eyes, nodded, and sniffled. “Very good.” He opened his eyes and scanned the congregation. “You there!” He pointed his scepter at Tragnar.

  “Yes, Lord Trumble!” said Tragnar. He grinned wide and his eyes were bright with childlike anticipation. Cooper was shocked. He couldn't imagine that asshole doing anything but frowning and sneering.

  “Come forward.” Lord Trumble turned around as he stood up in his pool. His ass was all yellow and pruney, and dripping with piss.

  “Oh man,” Cooper whispered as Tragnar waddled hastily toward Lord Trumble's exposed ass, licking his lips. “Don't do it.” He thought for a second. “No, absolutely do it. But fucking hell.”

  Julian leaned over and whispered, “I think that rod is the source of his power. It must have some kind of mind controlling effect on dwarves.”

  “Then why is
n't it working on Dave?” asked Cooper.

  Tim took a swig from his flask. “He probably made his Saving Throw vs. Mind Control.”

  When Tragnar reached Lord Trumble, he genuflected on one knee, then kissed Trumble's left ass cheek, followed by his right. He didn't linger long on either, and there was no accompanying smacking sound. They were the sort of kisses a very conservative couple might share at their wedding... except on each others' lips instead of on wrinkly piss-dripping ass cheeks.

  Lord Trumble sat back down in his pool with a grin on his face that was too goofy even to be called 'shit-eating'. “There now. That's better. Now tell me, Trevor. Who have you brought before me this day?”

  “Tragnar,” said Tragnar.

  Lord Trumble glared at him with his bulging black eyes.

  “I meant to say his name is Tragnar, my Lord,” said Tragnar.

  “No, it's not!” said Dave. “That's your name! I am Davos, son of –”

  “Silence, insolent fool!” said Tragnar. “Think you not that I know my own name?”

  “Dave!” whispered Tim. “Shut the fuck up! You're fucking Tragnar. Just go with it.”

  Dave cleared his throat. “Sorry. I'm Tragnar. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  Lord Trumble scrutinized Dave with narrowed eyes. “Do you wish to join the Hands of Trumble?”

  “Sure.” Dave's attempt at enthusiasm was less than convincing.

  “Come forth and pay homage to your Lord.” Lord Trumble turned around and lifted his ass in the air. From this direct line of sight at Trumble's gaping asshole, Cooper suspected he used that rod for more than mind control.

  Dave leaned forward and looked over the edge of the platform, at least thirty feet above the floor, and a good twenty feet away from Lord Trumble's altar. “How am I supposed to –”

  The sound of stone grinding against stone filled the tower as a section of floor between their platform and Lord Trumble's altar began to slowly rise.

  “Oh,” said Dave. “That's how.” He looked to see that Trumble's ass was still to him, then looked back at Cooper, Tim, and Julian. “I don't think I can do this.”

  “You've got to do it,” said Tim. “We still haven't figured out an escape plan.”

  Cooper grinned at Dave. “Come on, Dave. Give him some tongue.” Being devoured by a cult of batshit crazy dwarves would almost be worth it if Cooper got to watch Dave kiss this guy's ass first.

  “Dave,” said Julian. “You've got a golden opportunity here.”

  Dave glared at him with eyes that were beginning to well up with tears. “Fuck you, Julian. I expect that shit from Cooper, but –”

  Julian raised his hands defensively. “My bad. Poor choice of words. I'm just saying that you can get us out of here.”

  “I can't kiss his ass, man. I'm sorry. I just can't.”

  “I'm not asking you to kiss his ass,” said Julian. “You can get right up close to him, though, and you'll have the element of surprise. Bury your axe in his hole and grab the scepter. Even if he holds on to it, it shouldn't be hard to pry away from his weird little baby hands. Once you have the scepter, you control the dwarves.”

  Dave nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.” He turned back around just before the path from their platform to Trumble's altar stopped ascending. It was level with their platform, but about a foot below Trumble's altar. No doubt a deliberate symbol of his superiority.

  Dave trembled as he trudged, step by forced step, across the raised path.

  Tragnar didn't seem bothered at all that Dave was holding his axe. He smiled broadly and nodded encouragingly at Dave.

  When Dave reached the edge of the pool, he looked at Tragnar. Cooper hoped he was just trying to get in one last survey of the scene to try and predict how the next few seconds were going to play out, but Tragnar seemed to think he was looking for guidance. He got on one knee, and gestured for Dave to do the same.

  Dave nodded, started to bend his knee, then raised his axe in the air. “FUCK YOUR ASSHOLE!”

  In the time it took for Dave to bring down his axe, about five better battle cries befitting this specific situation crossed Cooper's mind, but he supposed that one was pretty good for Dave, who sucked.

  The blade of Dave's axe cut deep into Lord Trumble's ass perpendicular against the crack, making it look kind of like a cross with a bleeding horizontal beam.

  Lord Trumble howled in pain as the piss pool turned orange with ass blood. He dunked his face in and started slurping it up. His hair grew rapidly longer down his back until it covered his ass wound, stopping the flow of blood. It was like a living mullet with first aid training.

  Cooper tried to comprehend what he was witnessing. “Goddamn, I've seen some fucked up shit today.”

  Even Tragnar appeared to be having trouble comprehending the situation. He stood gawking for a moment, then glared at Dave and pulled out his warhammer.

  “Shit!” cried Dave. He dived into the piss pool in search of the golden scepter.

  Tragnar stepped into the pool and waded around Lord Trumble.

  Cooper, Julian, and Tim sighed with relief when Dave stood on his feet, dripping with pee and coughing, but holding the cock-shaped scepter above his head.

  “I am your new leader!” said Dave. “I command you to henceforth no longer –”

  Cooper, Julian, and Tim winced as Dave took a hammer blow to the side of the head.

  Dave staggered backward and stumbled out of the pee pool, and Tragnar stomped through the urine after him.

  “I don't get it,” said Julian. “I was sure it was the scepter. How else is he controlling them?”

  “I don't think it's magic,” said Tim. “I think they're just really that stupid.”

  Cooper scratched his ass. “Come on, man. Nobody's that stupid.”

  Dave backed away from Tragnar and rubbed his face where he'd been hit with the hammer. “Listen, Tragnar. I –”

  “My name is Trevor!” Tragnar swung his hammer at Dave, but in his fury missed by half a foot.

  “Then again,” said Cooper. “I've been wrong before.”

  Tragnar pointed his hammer at Dave. “You are a traitor to your people!”

  “You crazy assholes aren't my people.” Dave backed away from Tragnar, stepping carefully on the raised path. He pointed back at the cage. “Those crazy assholes are my people!”

  Julian frowned. “That was sweet, but we're all definitely going to die now, right?”

  Tragnar stopped following Dave at the edge of Lord Trumble's altar. “Good. Go to them. When Lord Trumble recovers from your betrayal, he'll decide what to do with you.” He shook his head in disgust. “You're no better than a filthy elf.”

  “Okay that's it,” said Julian. “What is your problem with elves? Look at Cooper. He's a thousand times filthier than me. Hell, look at yourself. You're literally soaked in piss from the waist down.”

  Tragnar nodded. “Aye, 'tis true. None of you non-dwarf races are better than any other. But elves are a particular nuisance in these parts, invading our territory to steal our crops and rape our women.”

  “What women? I don't see any women.”

  “We keep them locked in a pen outside so as not to tempt us with their lusty bosom sorcery.” Tragnar looked distracted for a moment. He looked down at the congregation of dwarves on the floor. “Horace, did you feed the women this week?”

  One of the dwarves below scratched his beard. “Um... No, I don't think so.”

  “Well make sure you get around to it in the next day or two. We don't want those pigs to start eating the younglings again.”

  “I'll get right on it, Trevor.”

  Tragnar nodded. “And take a few of them around to piss on the crops. Lord Trumble has not blessed us with much rain as of late.”

  “Very good.” Horace raised his right hand. “Hail Trumble!”

  “What crops are you even talking about?” asked Julian. “You're surrounded by swamp.”

  Tragnar glared at Julian. “Nonsense!
Lord Trumble drained the swamp.”

  Julian turned away from Tragnar and looked through one of the third tier windows. “No he didn't. See for yourself.”

  Tragnar glanced at the window Julian was pointing at and smiled. “Beautiful fields of golden barley all the way to our great wall.”

  “Are you insane?” Julian was beginning to lose his shit. “If anything, the wall is further stagnating the water, making this sewer you live in even swampier than the swamp surrounding it!”

  “Be that the case, elf, then why are your kind always so keen to invade our land?” Tragnar looked very smugly satisfied with his retort.

  Julian frowned. “That's a good question. They're invading right now.”

  Cooper leaned close to Julian and looked toward the window. Sure enough, two elves were climbing over the top of the wall.

  “Impossible!” barked Tragnar. “The only part of the wall yet to be finished is guarded by twenty of our fiercest warriors. I hear no cries of battle.”

  “They're using ladders to climb over the wall, you fat stupid fuck.”

  Tim tugged on Julian's serape and put his finger over his mouth.

  Julian shook his head. “I don't care. This guy is pissing me off.”

  Tragnar laughed and addressed the congregation below. “Ladders, says the elf! Next he'll be filling our heads with tales of tools capable of burrowing through solid earth!”

  The dwarves at ground level all had a good laugh at that.

  “Are you talking about shovels?” asked Julian.

  Tragnar laughed even harder. “Oh! He has a name for those too!”

  The dwarves down below were falling all over each other with laughter.

  Cooper, Julian, and Tim looked at each other in bewilderment. Then Cooper caught sight of two more elves over the top of the wall. They lowered additional ladders to the elves who had hopped down to the near side.

  “This is what Lord Trumble warns us about,” said Tragnar when he regained control of his composure. “Do you know what the elf had in his possession when we found him?” He paused dramatically, then continued. “A book!”

  The congregation let out a collective gasp.

  “Aye, 'tis true! Poor Giplin even caught site of a word!”