Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter 5

“Why do they call you Tony the Elf?” asked Dave as he, Jorn, and Tim struggled on their short legs to keep up with the long, graceful strides of the Ranger through the dark streets of the city.

“My name is Tony, and I’m an elf.”

“Nobody calls me ‘Dave the Dwarf’.”

“When we made our characters, Mordred told us that we needed character names. I didn’t feel like thinking up some stupid unpronounceable name with a bunch of Qs and Vs and apostrophes in it, so I just called myself Tony the Elf. Mordred, as you know, takes the game a bit more seriously than that. We didn’t make it three sessions before he sent us over.”

“Our group didn’t make it thirty minutes,” said Tim.

Tony the Elf laughed. “You guys must have been some serious assholes.” He leaned back against the side of a building and poked his head around a corner. “Let’s go.”

“Why are we being so sneaky?” asked Jorn. “Who are we supposed to be hiding from?”

“No offense,” said Tony the Elf. “But we’re hiding from people like you.”

She looked at Dave, and then back at Tony the Elf. “Like me in what way exactly?”

“Locals. You’ve probably noticed that we behave kind of strangely.”

“Well I weren’t gonna say nothing, but yeah. I’ve noticed some peculiarities here and there.”

Tony the Elf addressed Dave and Tim. “Learn this lesson as quickly as possible. Keep your distance from the locals. The cultural differences between us and them are vast. You never know when a seemingly innocuous word or gesture is going to set someone off and make them want to murder you.”

“We’ve kind of learned that lesson already,” said Dave, “when our friend Cooper chopped the head off a city guard.”

“Jesus!”

“It was before we got sent over.”

Tony the Elf shook his head. “It’s no wonder you guys didn’t last thirty minutes. Anyway, that’s not a good example at all because chopping people’s heads off is frowned upon in our culture as well. All clear, let’s move.” He led the party down the quiet empty street. Tim followed close behind him. Jorn followed behind Tim, with Dave taking up the rear. Somewhere above them, Ravenus circled in the dark sky.

“So what’s a good example?” whispered Tim. “Like when Dave’s girlfriend beat the shit out of me for mentioning her beard?”

Jorn slapped Tim in the back of the head.

“No, dammit!” said Tony the Elf. “Did you ever talk to women back home?”

“Not ones with beards.” That earned him a harder slap. “Fucking hell, knock it off!”

“You did that one fat girl in high school,” said Dave. “Carrie. She had a bit of a mustache.”

“Who?”

Dave laughed. “Don’t even pretend you don’t remember. The party at Pete Alderman’s house. You were both wasted.”

“Shit,” said Tim. “I remember.”

“You thought you were being sneaky doing it in the bathroom, but there was a line of people waiting to piss when you came out.”

“All right already! I said I remember. And sure, she was a little chunky, but she didn’t have a mustache.”

“Sure she did,” said Dave. “Why do you think everyone called her Hairy Carrie?”

“I thought they were calling her Hari Kari because she was suicidal.”

“She was suicidal?”

“I don’t know. I only assumed that because everyone was calling her Hari Kari.”

Tony the Elf stopped walking and turned around. “Hold on a sec. You took advantage of a drunk girl who you thought to be suicidal?”

Tim’s face took on the look of someone who Matlock had badgered into confessing in the courtroom. “I… she…”

“You disgust me,” said Tony the Elf. He turned his back to Tim and started walking again.

“I was the victim here!” said Tim. “You think I would have done that sober?”

“This must be one of those cultural differences,” said Jorn. “This all sounds very much like typical dwarven courting ritual.”

“We’re getting near the Piss Bucket,” said Tony the Elf. “The first person to talk before we get there is getting stabbed in the face.”

They continued along without speaking, but only made it about twenty yards further down the street when the silence was broken by the pained howl of a dog from a side street up ahead.

“What was that?” asked Jorn.

“Nothing,” Tony the Elf answered just a bit too abruptly. “Probably just two dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.”

Tim and Dave exchanged a dubious glance. As a rogue, Tim was better equipped to tell when someone was bullshitting him, but Dave didn’t need a Sense Motive check to know that Tony the Elf was blowing smoke up their asses. If anyone else had been fooled, it wasn’t for long.

“Stupid animal!” The voice was deep and guttural. Dave guessed half-orc. “See how you like it.” This was followed by another pained howl.

A closed tavern with a low garden wall occupied the street corner up ahead. Dave, Tim, and Jorn ran toward the wall to see what was going on.

“Wait!” said Tony the Elf. “Stop!” They ignored him.

Dave peeked over the wall. The dog in question was filthy and shaggy. It was a sheepdog, or else one of its parents was an old mop. It lay on its side in the middle of the street. The only indication it was still alive was the matted fur moving up and down as it breathed. The half-orc who stood over it wiped his boot over the dog’s body, leaving behind a streak of brown.

“That’ll teach you to take a dump in my path,” he growled at the dog.

“Ease up,” said the elf next to him. “I think the pooch has learned his lesson.” He took a swig from a glass bottle, and then poured some of the contents on the dog’s face. “Here poochie. Have a drink.” The dog didn’t respond.

“Looks like the poor thing’s all tuckered out,” said the half-orc. “Light up his tail and see if that stirs anything in him.”

The elf laughed. “Good idea.”

“What are they doing to that dog?” Jorn whispered.

“Let’s just get out of here,” said Tony the Elf. His voice was almost pleading, but nobody moved.

The elf conjured a small fireball the size of a billiard ball, and threw it at the dog’s tail. He missed by a couple of inches, and the flame fizzled out in a puddle.

“Idiot,” the half-orc said with a snort. “You’re so wasted.”

“Wasted?” Tim whispered. “Do people around here say…” He looked up at Tony. “Hang on. Are those assholes some of ours?”

“I’ll explain later,” said Tony the Elf. “Right now we just need to get out of here. Trust me on this.”

“What?” said Jorn. “And let them torture that poor dog to death? What kind of men are you?” She gave Dave a particularly vicious glare. “What kind of dwarf are you? Your fathers would weep to see you now.” She stood up and stepped out into the street.

“Shit,” said Tony the Elf. “They’ll kill her.”

Dave started to move toward Jorn, but it was too late.

“You there!” Jorn shouted. “What sorry excuses for men are you who would take pleasure in the pain of this defenseless animal?”

The half-orc and the elf turned around.

“Well well,” said the half-orc. “Looky looky what we’ve got here.”

“First!” said the elf. The half-orc shot him an annoyed glare, but then gave him a grudging nod. The elf took a quick swig from his bottle. “Ain’t been with a dwarf yet.”

They walked toward Jorn.

Jorn unstrapped the war-hammer at her side. The half-orc unsheathed a sword that must have weighed more than Tim.

“Remember,” said the elf. He sounded almost giddy. “Flat of the blade. And don’t beat her up too much until after I’ve been.”

“Calm down, man,” said the half-orc. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dave. “I can’t let this happen.” He stood up straight.

“Wait!” said Tony the Elf. “Fuck!”

Dave didn’t wait, and neither did Tim. Local or not. He wasn’t going to hide behind a wall while these two douchenozzles raped a girl.

“Stand down,” said Dave, taking a place beside Jorn. A shadow flickered across the magical light of a lamp post a short distance away. Ravenus was standing by in case things got ugly.

“We’ll only give you one warning,” said Tim.

The half-orc and the elf looked at one another and burst into giggles.

“Oh no!” cried the half-orc in mock distress. “The hobbit’s gonna kill me with his little dagger!” He spat on the ground. “You can have the dwarf,” he said to his companion. “I think the halfling’s cuter anyway.”

The elf laughed. “You’re such a fag.” He downed the last of whatever he was drinking and threw the bottle against the wall Tony the Elf was still hiding behind.

“Not another step,” said Dave. He held his mace in front of him with both hands.

“Aw,” said the half-orc. “That’s so romantic. I’ll tell you what, little guy. I’ll let you watch.”

“That’s enough,” said Tony the Elf, finally stepping out of the shadows.

The half-orc lowered his sword and stopped in his tracks. “Tony. It’s so good to see you.” His tone suggested otherwise. “We were just about to have a little fun with these locals.”

“They’re not locals,” said Tony the Elf. “And you’re coming dangerously close to violating our truce.”

“Is that right?” asked the half-orc. “New recruits, eh? Where are you guys from?”

“Gulfport, Mississippi,” said Tim. He wasn’t really interested in having a conversation with these two, but anything that steered their minds away from murder and rape was a good thing.

“Me too,” said Dave.

“Boorgrummel,” said Jorn. “Stony Hills.”

The half-orc raised an eybrow and grinned at Tony the Elf. “Sounds like the lady’s a local.”

“Call it a night, Eric,” said Tony the Elf.

“You’re not the boss of us,” said the elf, who was all but hiding behind the half-orc. “We can do whatever we want. We had a deal, remember?”

“This isn’t up for discussion,” said Tony the Elf in a schoolteacher tone. “Now you two go home right now.”

“What if we don’t wanna?” said the half-orc. “We could kill you all right now, and who’s gonna know? I’m an eighth-level fighter. I can take you all out with my eyes closed.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Tony the Elf. “I just made level four. And you two are drunk. You’ll take penalties to your Attack Rolls.”

“What in the Abyss are you guys talking about?” asked Jorn.

The elf stepped out from behind the half-orc with a confident grin on his face. “I don’t need to be accurate to fireball you dorks.”

“We’re standing right next to each other, dipshit,” said Tony the Elf. “If you cast a Fireball, you’ll burn to a crisp with the rest of us.” That wiped the smug from the elf’s face. “Listen. You boys can break the truce if you want to. You might even kill us all. You’re higher level than we are. I get that. But I wouldn’t count on you both walking away from here. You know how the game is played.” He looked right at the elf. “It just makes sense for us to concentrate our attacks on the wizard first. Try not to take it personally, Scott.”

The elf took his defensive position behind the half-orc once again. The half-orc made a token show of bravado, stepping up into Tony the Elf’s face, but backed off easily enough when the elf tugged at his arm. “Let’s go,” said the elf. “Let the fags get back to jerking each other off.”

“This isn’t over, Tony,” said the half-orc. “I’m telling Mordred about this.”

They sulked off down the street. The half orc stepped on the dog’s tail as he passed. The poor thing didn’t even have the strength to yelp.

Jorn started after them, but Dave was able to keep her back with his hand on her shoulder.

“Just let them go,” said Dave.

“What a couple of dicks,” said Tim once they were far enough away.

“They’re kids,” said Tony the Elf.

“They’re what?” said Tim.

“Mordred ran a game for a group of middle schoolers,” Tony explained. “They weren’t sent here because they offended him. Just the opposite. They thought he was the best thing ever. They stroked his ego so hard that he decided to give them a gift.”

“That’s so fucked up.”

“It’s worse than that. They don’t seem to have a fully developed sense of… well, you just saw for yourself. They’ll kick dogs in the street for fun and do whatever they want with the locals. None of us had it in us to stop them when we could, and now there’s not much we can do but stay out of their way.”

“You wouldn’t have to kill them,” said Tim. “Maybe all they need is a good beat down to put them in their place.”

Tony the Elf laughed. “And who do you propose is going to do that?”

“We could have done that just now.”

“They would have slaughtered us.”

“But you said –”

“I was bullshitting. Eric could have cut us all in half with one swing on a halfway decent roll.”

“Fuck.”

“You think it’s bad now,” said Tony the Elf. “Just wait until they figure out that Mordred isn’t around anymore. They’ll be looking for answers. Your group would do well to lay low.”