Humorous Story (Part one)
Michael McAleese
series we wrote about one of the gaming groups we were involved with, only
a few of which are free enough from inside jokes to be even remotely
comprhensible to others. The genesis was a D&D game set in the Judges
Guide module "Verbosh", which was a mini-campaign laced with bad puns and
subtle in-jokes itself. Let me know what you think...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Monk is a Monk
...and other stories not unfit to be told
(Part One of Two)
The priest heft a large, black tome onto the pedestal and dusted his
hands on his ceremonial garb.
"We shall begin today by reading a passage out of the Most Excellent
Writings and Teachings of Le Thick." he intoned. "For those of you who
wish follow along in your pocket editions, we shall be reading from Volume
eight, circa 120, Book of Remunerations, chapter seventeen, verses eleven
to eighty-nine." He opened the book to roughly the middle and began to
leaf forward and back through pages until he found the passages he wanted.
He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.
"11-And then An'rudak didst inquire of the most holy master _What
meanest this sign?_ 12-And thus did the master reply _Consider the eight
warriors..._"
"Oh, not another rehash of this tired old parable again." grumbled
Rodent, a rather large ranger in rusty splint armour, softly.
"What do you mean again?" asked Sauramud, a slightly plump wizard in
tatty robes, equally softly.
"We heard this one just last month ... oh yes, you were dead at the
time." muttered Rodent.
"Well hush then, because I haven't heard this one." shushed the
wizard. The priest continued to drone on.
"... and having slain the orcs who, being evil, were naught in the
sight of Le Thick. 20-The eightsome didst seek to divide the treasures
amongst them. 21-Eight ways wast the loot distributed, one eighth being
the size of each man's booty. 22-And it came to pass that the first
warrior didst divide his share in half and give a halfshare to the temple.
23-The second man too divided his share with the temple and so it was for
the third man to the seventh. 24-But the eighth man gave only one quarter
share to the temple and spent the remainder on wine and song 25-and it
came to pass that the eighth man didst vomit in his sleep and choke
horribly..."
Playdough, a burly, strapping lad in heavy banded armour leaned across
in front of the ranger to Dingbat, a scrawny fellow in drab monkish garb
and whispered,
"Um, did ya get anyone yet?"
"Don't worry." the monk whispered smugly. "Everything's under control."
"How many did you get?" asked Rodent, shoving the paladin back with a
metallic clatter.
"None yet - trust me! It's all under control." said the monk.
"You haven't screwed up have you?" asked Sauramud warily. "I hate it
when you screw up."
"I didn't screw up you precocious..." began the monk, but the peasants
in the adjoining three rows all turned and shushed them. The priest had
stopped to brush something off the page he was reading, then he resumed
squinting at the text.
"58-The temple didst transfer thirty percent from general revenue to an
orphanage tax shelter thus realizing a net five percent gain that quarter.
59-Le Thick did grin and was well pleased..." He continued to read the
passage, then rambled off a sermon which alternated between a shameless
plee for donations and veiled threats for remissness in tithing. At the
end he led the congregation in a quick song (hymn 43).
"Oh I was just heathen, sinner, scum with tight purse strings..." they
all sang somberly - all six verses - ending with "A-a-urum."
"Before you go." said the priest quickly as the bleary-eyed mass was
just standing to leave, "There are just a couple of announcements." He
hauled a scrap of parchment from one of his pockets and scanned it briefly.
"The retirement party planned for brother Ul Manuel next week is
cancelled. Sadly he snuffed it last night. The donations collected for
the party thus far will be diverted to general temple funds. Secondly,
The Great Dingbat is looking for hirelings and/or equal partners for a
surprise raid on the secret stronghold of Dragor a.k.a. Flesh Renderer,
Soul Eater, Widow Maker (see also one nasty MF)." He glanced up soberly.
"I don't need to tell you people anything about this guy that you don't
already know. You've all heard of the towns he wiped out a couple of
years back - all those victims turned inside-out by incomprehensible
forces..." he shuddered and crossed himself hastily. "You also know how
he seems to have eyes and ears everywhere, so discretion is advised. Keep
this one under your hats - if you know what I mean. Dismissed."
The party stood close to the exit, waiting for volunteers to step forth
from the congregation as they streamed by.
"Howscum they's swinging such a big path around us?" asked Playdough.
"I'm sure it's just you're imagination." said Rodent casually. "Though
it appears there are no hirelings to be had from this craven lot." he
added dourly as the last of the people slipped out the door.
"Geez, I was hoping to have hired at least two or three hundred
henchmen by day's end." complained Sauramud. "We're not off to a very
auspicious start."
"Gentlemen..." said a polite voice from off to one side.
"Five percent!" said Dingbat, jumping into action. "And no magic
items... oh, hello father."
"Gentlemen." said the priest again. "It is, of course, always a
pleasure when you four decide to drop into the temple. As you can see the
new wing is nearing completion. We have decided to call it the Playdough
Charity Wing - seeing as he paid for it."
"Duh, I like that name." said the paladin, preening disgustingly.
"I'm sure we're all very pleased to hear that," said Rodent, "But we
didn't come here to discuss construction father. We're looking for
hirelings."
"Wait a minute." said Sauramud suddenly as a sputtering torch appeared
over his head. "Doesn't the temple have a squad of holy warriors which it
dispenses on holy causes now and again?"
"Yesss..." admitted the priest reluctantly. "I think I see what you're
driving at, and no."
"Not even a couple?" whined Dingbat. "Just like, on loan?"
"I am afraid," said the priest somberly, "That you are entirely on your
own in this matter gentlemen. The temple can in no way condone nor
otherwise involve itself in this mission - in fact I have been asked to
convey our deepest regrets that we must ask you not to return to this
temple until this entire matter is resolved."
"Say what!" cried Dingbat in alarm.
"What." said the priest. "Though I fail to see any good in that. We
wish you all the best, and naturally we will go out of our way to help you
in any unofficial way we can, such as setting up an alternate tithing
point for you..."
"Well that was holistically unhelpful." grumbled Rodent some time later
as the foursome were walking down the street away from the temple.
"Well he said they would be with us in spirit. That's worth something
ain't it?" asked Dingbat bleakly. Suddenly he perked up (one of his
typical monkish mood swings) and said, "Well, maybe someone will respond
to one of the notices I posted up in all the bars."
"I thought this was 'sposed to be a surprise raid we was plannin'."
said Playdough skeptically.
"Hell, I'll be surprised if we pull it off." said Sauramud, "let alone
this Dragor fellow." He received dark looks from many of the passers by
at the mention of that name.
Presently they arrived at the inn wherein they were staying to find all
of their gear - well, almost all - piled up outside the front door.
"We've been evicted." said a dumbfounded Sauramud.
"We shall see about that." snarled Rodent, cinching up his sword belt
and pushing forward his helm purposefully. He marched unerringly through
the swinging double-doors that gifted the front of the Gagging Wildcat Inn
and there ensued much shouting from within. A few moments later he re-
emerged.
"We've been evicted." he announced.
"Duh, if yous can't straighten the owner out then I will." said
Playdough angrily. He moved to shoulder past the ranger.
"Ahem." said Rodent. "Actually I suggest we get packed and moving
before the constables arrive...."
"Oh." said Sauramud cannily. He began scraping his gear together when
he was startled by a wail from Dingbat who had been rooting through his
own belongings.
"The fiends!" shrieked the monk. "Some stinker has stolen my authentic
monkish corduroy undershorts!"
"Corduroy! You're sick!" sneered the ranger.
"Philistine!" retorted the monk. "Those were a graduation gift from
the Grand Master of Daisies himself! Some thief is gonna eat fist!"
Before the others could stop him he ploughed through the front entrance
into the inn. One noisy scuffle and monk out the door later they were
strapping gear onto their horses and making ready for a hasty departure.
Dingbat was carrying on an animated (if one sided) discussion of his
exploits inside the inn.
"Didja see the size of that bouncer?" he burbled. "I mean, did you see
the size of him?"
"Another eighth level bouncer." said Rodent non-committaly. He hooked
his toe into a stirrup and swung up into his saddle. "There seems to be
an abundance of those."
"I've often wondered where they all come from." mused the wizard, doing
likewise.
"Well he'd better watch it." said Dingbat, struggling onto the back of
his horse. "In a few more levels I'll get the dreaded Monkish Stroking
Hand of Death. Then I'll show him a thing or two!"
"Hsst." hissed Playdough conspiratorially. "Don't look now but dere's
someone watchin' us from across the street."
"Where?" demanded the other three, turning at once to look. Indeed,
they saw, there was a lone hobbit regarding them with some amusement.
When he noticed that he had been spotted, he crossed over to them and
asked,
"Which one of you is The Great Dingbat?"
"That is I." said the monk regally. "And whom, sir, might I inquire,
are you?"
"Oh, well I'm just responding to this poster here." said the hobbit,
waving a tattered sheet at them. "I found it in a trash heap outside one
of the local bars."
"Hey! That's one of my bulletins I posted! You tore it down!" cried
Dingbat accusingly, losing all pretense of composure.
"I din't." said the hobbit, backing away a step. "I found it just like
I said. Am I hired? Do I get five percent of the take and everything?"
"Hmmm," said Rodent. "We can't just hire anyone. Can you wield a
weapon of any sort?"
"Can I!" scoffed the latter. "Why I was born with a falchion in my
hand! I can swing a glaive guisarme as well as the next hobbit!"
Rodent grimaced.
"Do you have any combat experience?" he persisted.
"Well I used to work in a butcher shop." said the hobbit. "Choppin'
meat - choppin' orcs. Same thing, ain't it?"
"Harumph." muttered Sauramud obliquely to the ranger. "Over-qualified,
this guy isn't."
"Nay." agreed Rodent, "But I point out that celerity is of the essence,
and we are not presently gifted with great abundance of prospective
applicants."
"Huh?" gawked the hobbit.
"He said we're in a hurry so you're hired." translated the thaumaturge.
"Oh. Yeah, I knew that."
"So, like, hurry off and get your gear." said Dingbat. "We'll meet you
at the south gate in twenty minutes."
"You mean... you don't supply the equipment...?" asked the hobbit slowly.
"Right." said Sauramud decisively. "He's out. Let's blow this joint
and go find this evildoer's hideout."
"Did I mention that I know where this hideout is?" said the hobbit slyly.
Forty minutes later, the five of them rode south out of the city gate.
"Imagine them not wanting to sell us rations!" seethed Dingbat.
"Duh, an' they sure charged us enough!" groused Playdough, nursing his
sore money pouch. "An' when did that gateguard tell us to come back?"
"It's just an expression Playdough." said Rodent patiently. "Hell
doesn't freeze over." He turned to their new companion who was sitting
astride a new horse, wearing new armour, and sporting a new sword. "So
tell me Clyde, just how do you come to know where this secret stronghold
is?"
"I escaped from there." replied the hobbit. "When my village was
captured and taken there to be used as slaves, and later as food, I
feigned dead and crawled out during the night."
"And you're sure you can find your way back there..." said Sauramud
skeptically.
"Hey! I could find my way there blindfolded."
Three weeks later...
"You stupid hobbit! You've gotten us lost!" yelled Rodent.
"Again." added Dingbat.
"Have not!" replied the hobbit. He stood with his hands on his hips,
looking back and forth intently. "The entrance is right around here
somewhere, I know it is! I can smell it!"
"Can you smell this?" asked Sauramud, shoving a little ball of bat
guano under Clyde's nose. "It's the material component for one of my
nastier spells!"
"You're not casting that one while I'm around." growled Rodent, who had
been caught in the blast zone more than once.
"I don't think I'm gettin' a fair shake." said Clyde, sitting down on
the ground petulantly. "I think I'm on strike, I is."
"I am." growled Rodent, testily.
"Watch it, he's killed hobbits for less than that before." said Dingbat,
leaping gracefully from his horse. He did a pirouette and landed next to
the hobbit.
"What, he would kill me fer being on strike?" Clyde asked incredulously.
"Union bashers! Union bashers!" he began calling.
"He was correcting your common, and you don't have a union - you're a
hobbit." said Sauramud in a bored tone. He was looking forward to finding
this fortress before the end of the session.
"Yeah, right. I knew that." said Clyde quickly. "Look, all I want is
fer you guys to trust me."
"That's _for_ you diminutive cretin!" snapped Rodent (as you may have
guessed by now, Rodent hated mis-use and mis-users of the common tongue).
"Four? What, you're countin' him?" said the hobbit, jerking a thumb at
Dingbat.
"Why you..." sputtered the monk. He leapt to his feet and assumed
traditional monkish combat stance 42/6-b.
"What's crawled into your shorts?" asked Clyde, goggling at the friar
who was crossing and uncrossing his eyes ceremonially.
"Hyaaa!" bellowed Dingbat, booting the small one across the clearing
with one well-placed monkish alligator boot. Clyde sailed merrily through
a thicket on the far side of the clearing and all paused to listen for the
telltale 'thump' of his landing. Instead there was the distinct clatter
and thuds of somebody small, in armour, falling down a stone stairway.
"Oh boy! A dungeon!" enthused Playdough, drawing his glowing meat
cleaver. He charged after the trajectory the hapless hobbit had traversed,
closely followed by Rodent, and likewise the other two.
"That little bugger, I bet he planned this. He wanted to get down there
first so he could loot the place before we could!" cursed Sauramud, amidst
many less printable things.
"Oh don't be so paranoid." said Dingbat, bouncing down the stairs. "He
won't have enough of a lead on us to grab much of anything. Besides, we
can cut him open later to see if he's swallowed any magic items."
The foursome piled into a 10x10 room with only one apparent exit
discounting the one they had come in. There was a woven mat on the floor
in front of the lower exit bearing a grimacing piggy face on it and a
legend in some foreign script.
"That's orcish." said Sauramud, elbowing to the front. "Now all those
years of minoring in Orcish Practices and Breeding at Miskatonic Tech will
finally pay off."
"So, translate it." said Dingbat. "And spare us the autobiography.
What's it say?"
"It says, " read Sauramud, pausing to glare at the monk. "Roughly
translated of course..."
"Can you read it or can't you?" grumbled Dingbat. "What does it say?"
"Harumph." responded the wizard. "It says 'Ich snein klaust der heisen
meinfil dos monken ul verdammt katzenjammer dumbkoffen sveinhundt...' well,
it goes on a bit. The gist of it is Welcome to the secret stronghold of
Dragor a.k.a. Flesh Renderer, Soul Eater, Widow Maker and Monk Twaddler."
"It does not say that!" stormed Dingbat. "Does it really say that?
No! Really? What is that? I've never heard of twaddling, and I know
every type of combat known!"
"Who said anything about combat?" sniggered Playdough.
"Well I fail to see..." began Dingbat cooly when something seemed to
sink in. "Why you great smelly-armoured, overstuffed... pretty boy...!"
While the monk continued to sputter, Sauramud suddenly stepped in and said,
"Let's be off, before that little bastard alerts all of the guards and
they descend on us like a swarm of constables."
"Aye. Well spoken - for once." agreed Rodent. "Let us proceed down
this corridor."
"Wait, the exit is this way." said Sauramud, pointing.
"Yes, yes. That's the way we came in." nodded Rodent. "So come on,
you're holding us all up." Sauramud sighed and began to follow after them
at a respectable distance. Thus is was that when the trap opened under
them, he was the only one spared.
"What a stroke of luck." cackled Sauramud with unholy glee. "I guess
the experience gets split up one way." Moments later the orcs blind-sided
him. He awoke with an aching noggin in a tiny cell and noticed his three
bashed and bleeding compatriots lying about him in various stages of
comatose repose. Fortunately his friends did not appear to have been
thoroughly searched and there were enough bandages to go around, even for
the monk.
"Nnng." groaned Playdough, sitting up groggily. Rodent echoed his
sentiments, though in a more eloquent manner. Playdough blushed and
covered his ears. "Duh, the high priest told me I'm not 'sposed to hear
stuff like that. He keeps hittin' me when I confess!"
"Well don't then." snapped Dingbat irritably, retying many of the
bandages that the wizard had applied rather too enthusiastically in tender
areas.
"Oh, okey dokey."
"Okay fellows, it's time to begin organizing our escape plan." said
Sauramud. "I suggest we build a vaulting horse and tunnel out from
underneath it whilst Dingbat jumps back and forth over the top."
"Why don't we just try the door?" asked Dingbat, turning the ring and
reefing on it.
"That never works." said the magicer shortly, pushing it shut again.
"There's probably a thousand guards outside there just waiting for us to
stick our heads out."
"I say, " called Rodent, who was tapping at the back wall with the
pommel of his bastard sword. "Does this sound hollow to you? Come here
and help me search for a secret door."
"No guys, I really think it is safe out here." said the monk. He had
hoisted himself up to peer out the grill high up on the door. He lowered
himself and pulled it open once more.
"Now I think that by scribing the proper pentagram on the floor I can
open a dimensional vortex leading straight to the treasure room." said
Sauramud.
"You can't do that." said Dingbat skeptically.
"You're just saying that because no one's survived it before." scoffed
the wizard. He pulled out a goat's bladder of ink and began inscribing
something arcane on the floor.
"I'm sure it was hollow a second ago. The echos are playing tricks on
my ears." said Rodent, tapping a few more chips out of the stone wall.
Dingbat, unnoticed, wandered out into the empty chamber beyond the door.
"Guys, I'm gonna scout around, okay?" he asked, just quietly enough not
to be heard by anybody. Without waiting for confirmation he skipped off
down the corridor.
"Whacha doin' Sauramud?" asked Playdough, snapping out of his
paladinical stupor.
"Wizard stuff." said Sauramud distantly as he frantically scribed some
complicated detail on his pentagram. Frowning he consulted his spell book.
"Nuts!"
"Problems?" said Rodent over his shoulder.
"There's something wrong, something missing." said the thaumaturge in
annoyance.
"Duh, well yous fergot to connect the dots." said Playdough, scratching
a line into the pattern with his magic greatsword.
"Noooo!" screamed Sauramud, leaping forward a second too late as the
entire pentacle burst forth into sulfurous flame.
"You putz!" screamed Sauramud. "Look what you've done!"
"Watch out!" called Rodent. "It's going to attack."
"What is?" said Sauramud, but before he could complete the thought a
large slimy claw raked down his back, tearing his wizardly garb into five
neat slices and knocking him kicking.
(continued in part two...)
--
* mmca...@cs14.UVic.CA (Michael McAleese) : I speak only for me... *
* "Life isn't fair, Calvin." *
* "I know, but why can't it ever be unfair in my favor?" *
* - Calvin & Hobbes *
Michael McAleese
series we wrote about one of the gaming groups we were involved with, only
a few of which are free enough from inside jokes to be even remotely
comprhensible to others. The genesis was a D&D game set in the Judges
Guide module "Verbosh", which was a mini-campaign laced with bad puns and
subtle in-jokes itself. Let me know what you think...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Monk is A Monk (Part II)
"Oh boy! It's huge! Think of the experience!" laughed the paladin,
winding up and sailing his sword into it. When his glowing sword whanged
off its hide, nicking the blade, his smile faded somewhat.
Dingbat, meanwhile, had found an adjoining passage and was thoughtlessly
exploring along without his compatriots. In the distance behind him he
thought he could discern some kind of commotion. He paused to listen.
"Look out! It's gonna breathe!" someone yelled.
"Watch out for the tail! Watch out for the poison spines!"
"YAAARRRGGH!"
"Ouch! Duh, that smarts!"
"Eat lightning slimeface!" <C R A C K>
"Oh my gods! It's bigger you idiot!"
"Well how was I supposed to... yaaagh!"
"Quick, quick, toss me the potion...!"
Suddenly a cell door came cart-wheeling past Dingbat and drove itself
into a stone wall.
"Hot puppies! A fight!" he cried, spinning and clicking his heels in
the air. He rounded the corner and sped down the corridor in monkish
over-drive, a cloud of floor tiles following in his wake. He arrived at
the cell and ducked through the skewed doorway. The cell, once dark, was
now liberally coated with globs of glowing ichor.
The first interesting thing he noticed was the glowing pentagram on the
floor, filled with swirling, glowing mist. Next to it the wizard had been
driven face first into the sod so hard he had dug a trench some three to
four spans deep. Rodent, who had fumbled in the last moments, staggered
past him with his sword firmly imbedded in his own helm, obviously mildly
discomforted as he kept muttering,
"Rats! Rats! Rats!..."
Over in the far corner, Playdough, while asphyxiating in the reflexive
death-grip the daemon had around his throat, still managed to slam his
magic dagger into it enough times to snuff it. Having done so he slumped
unconscious.
Thought technically dead, the beast reared up to its feet and stumbled
a half-step toward the monk. Then, even as it began to topple that way,
Dingbat wound up and gave it a crushing karate chop in the breadbasket,
deflecting it back down into the hole. There was a sound like a Mac truck
backing over fifty cases of light beer and the hole vanished.
"That's that." said Dingbat nursing his bruised knuckles. He looked
around and assessed the situation with expert eyes. Rodent had stopped
staggering. In fact he had gone rigid and toppled over like a felled oak.
Dingbat expressed heartfelt concern.
"I'm not gonna have to get any of you raised, am I?" he whined.
"Gak. Potion... Healing..." mumbled Sauramud, feebly motioning toward
his pack.
"Hm? Well let's have a look." said Dingbat. "Hello. How did I miss
that?" He extracted a potion labeled "healing", carried it over and dumped
it down the ranger's throat, ignoring the wizard's pointed groans of pain.
"Ah, that's better." said Rodent, freeing his sword and resheathing it.
"Now let's see about the paladin." When the paladin had been revived and
healed himself the groans from the wizard stopped sullenly.
"Oh somebody bandage him." said Rodent. The monk went over and tied a
few bandaids onto the prone magicer.
"Well I'm conscious, I suppose that's something." he snivelled. "But I
would be so much more effective as a party member if someone would give me
a potion of healing..." He eyed Rodent significantly. Rodent groaned
theatrically.
"I suppose I can spare one." he said finally.
"ONE?" asked the others in unison.
"Surely you all visited the alchemist before we left and stocked up on
potions, didn't you?" asked the ranger.
"I stopped in, but they were all out." said Sauramud.
"Duh, just how many ya got there?" demanded Playdough.
"Hmm." muttered Rodent, ignoring him and rummaging through his bulging
backpack amidst a clinking of vials. "Let's see, invisibility, growth,
spanish fly, ah yes, extra-healing. Here you are." He tossed it to the
wizard carelessly, who juggled it for some moments before sucking it back
(nearly inhaling the stopper in his haste).
"I feel great!" shouted Sauramud, running up one wall, across the
ceiling and down the far wall. "Yowzers! Send out those orcs! I'll
murdalize them!"
"I hate him when he's on a potion high." said Dingbat to the paladin,
who morosely agreed. In due course Sauramud had been settled down and the
party, once more in peak condition, scuttled out and down the corridor.
"I can't believe they just left our door open." said Dingbat.
"I agree." said Rodent. "I suspect some ulterior motive."
At this point, the corridor evidently emerged into a large room up
ahead. The foursome advanced carefully, only to be half-blinded by a
directed light spell as they stepped through the opening. Behind them an
iron porticullis slammed down. The light rose, illuminating a packed
arena with our heroes milling at the edge of the blood-spattered floor.
Somewhere overhead a magic mouth spell intoned loudly,
"Humans, Demi-Humans and Humanoids! It is the great pleasure of Dragor
to present this evening's main attraction - four lowly adventurers being
slaughtered by Gronko the Grim!"
"Who's he callin' lowly!" said Playdough angrily. "I'm gonna kill
someone for that!"
A large figure in glowing black plate armor stood up in the imperial
box at the far end of the arena and leaned forward against the rail.
"So." it boomed hollowly. "These are the pitiful creatures who thought
to challenge my evil plans with a surprise raid. How pathetic. Now I
shall deal with you as all enemies of Dragor are treated..." he paused.
"By the way, which of you is 'The Great Dingbat'"?
"Oh no," cried the monk. "You're not going to twaddle me, are you?"
The others collapsed in laughter behind him.
"Excuse me?" boomed Dragor.
"You chaotic-evil bastards!" screamed Dingbat at his hysterical
companions. "You and your stupid..."
"What's that? Chaotic-evil?" said Dragor. "Maybe you boys are okay
after all. If you survive my champion, I shall consider your possibilities
as my servants."
"We fear no champion!" said Rodent haughtily. "Send us your worst!"
"Oooohhh!" went the crowd in awe, as Dragor boomed,
"So be it!" and waved its mailed hand regally.
"How about the second-best?" yelled Sauramud frantically. There was a
steady chinking sound from the far end of the arena as a massive steel door
slowly rose. It had risen some three feet and had yet to reveal more than
the ankles of something that lurked behind.
"Third-best?" asked Sauramud weakly.
"Duh, I hope this one can't breathe acid." said Playdough, examining
his melted shield.
"And fire." agreed Rodent, fingering what was left of his helmet plume.
"And..." began the wizard, but he was cut off by a massive bellow as
the giant figure reached an impatient hand under the door and slammed it
open. Revealed was a hideous thingie, barely humanoid and ugly enough to
curdle milk at fifty paces.
"I wunner if it's evil." mused Playdough.
"It matters not." said Rodent swinging his bastard sword experimentally.
"It's big and ugly, so we can assume it's evil too."
"Now statistically..." began Sauramud.
"Die, fell beast!" cried Dingbat as he leapt forward.
"Let's take him!" said Rodent, racing forward to the startled beast.
"Death!" screamed Playdough, launching himself forward in a Paladinical
frenzy. "Kill, kill, kill!"
"Oh what the hell." said Sauramud, and reefed out a scroll. "My last
one, but it's a doozy!" he cackled. The giant thingie was being stomped
pretty badly at this point, never having been set against adventurers that
actually ran towards it. Sauramud chanted off his spell and blew off its
left arm with a magical howitzer spell that shook the arena foundations.
"I hit!" he said gleefully. "It worked! They said it would just blow
up in my face, but it didn't! I'm great!"
"Don't get all smug." interjected Rodent. "It's still doing rather well
for itself." Indeed it had picked up its severed arm and was attempting to
beat Playdough senseless with it. This, however, was a fatal mistake, as
Playdough never had sense on the best of days. While it was so occupied
the others duffed it up _a treat_. It finally succumbed when Dingbat drove
half a yard of his monkish joy-stick into its right ear. While Sauramud
steadied a reeling paladin, Rodent and Dingbat looted the corpse furtively.
Finding little but a sweat-stained loincloth (which the monk pocketed in
the belief it was magical) they turned and regarded the black armoured
figure once again.
"So much for your little friend." said Rodent as he bandaged a nasty
cut he had given himself. "Playdough, had me that thumb, will you?"
As Dragor regarded them, a small hobbit-like figure began hopping up
and down next to him in the imperial box.
"That one in the monkish boots!" cried Clyde the Hobbit. "He's mine!
I gots plans for him, I duz!"
"So that's where you ran to, you dastardly minute microenphalic!" said
the ranger heatedly.
"What?" asked Clyde.
"He means you're a sneaking little brainless traitor!" yelled Dingbat.
"Come down and fight us!"
"Master! I wants 'em dead! Kill 'em, huh?" whined Clyde.
Dragor regarded Clyde momentarily, then snatched up the hobbit and
ripped off his head with a single smooth motion. It casually sucked the
blood from the corpse then tossed the messy pieces to one side and turned
to face the party.
"Now, I'm a reasonable being." Dragor stated placidly (most of the party
was woofing their cookies noisily at this point). "If you join me, you
can live out the remainder of your lives in power and splendor. Refuse
and you die... unpleasantly. Choose!"
There was a huddled conference.
"We accept." stated Dingbat regally, as Rodent appeared about to speak.
The ranger glared at him for a moment.
"That is true," Rodent said. "We have decided to join your little band."
"Yeah," said Sauramud. "We want to uh, help you plan your nefarious
schemes for the city of Vermouth."
"Duh, no we don't." said Playdough, but was shushed down by the others.
Sauramud took him aside to explain the virtue of lying once again.
"But I can't lie! It's not Lawful Good." whined the Paladin.
"Oh for goodness sakes, I'm Lawful Good and I lie all the time."
"Duh, like when?" demanded Playdough dangerously.
"Well," said the wizard. "Do you remember that time I told you paladins
could only wear two magic rings?"
"Duh, yeah." said the paladin, gazing longingly at the ring on the
wizard's finger and the two on his own. (You recall from previous tales that
Sauramud's ring of protection is actually the paladin's).
"Well you can wear as many as you want."
"REALLY?"
"No, I lied." laughed the wizard. "See, it's easy."
"What are you two scheming about?" demanded Dragor.
"Oh, nothin', yer vileness." said Playdough, winking at the ranger and
nodding knowingly.
"I see..." said Dragor, eyeslits narrowing. Sauramud slapped a hand to
his forehead in disgust. "Come, let us retire to my lair and discuss
Chaotic Evil things."
"Duh, I don't like this." whispered Playdough as they followed the dark
one out of the arena. A few dozen guards stepped out to follow them.
They walked down a dozen corridors, up many stairs and down many more.
They passed through a very large armoury, and again through one that was
even larger!
"It appears you are prepared for quite a scrape here." said Rodent,
looking up from the map he was hastily sketching. "How many troops did
you say you had?"
"When one plans to conquer the known world, one needs make many
preparations."
"It certainly seems you are well prepared." agreed the monk, looking in
one doorway at five hundred orcs doing jumping jacks with military ]
precision. "What kind of plans have you made?" he asked, faking mild
disinterest.
"Plans?" bellowed Dragor, turning to tower over the monk. "You wish me
to tell you my plans?! Why do you ask? Isn't it obvious? I shall raise
the mightiest army this world has ever seen!"
"And then?" prompted Rodent.
"I kill anybody who doesn't do what I say." said the dark figure
ominously.
"Sounds like one of the wizard's plans." said Playdough contemptuously.
"It does not!" snapped Sauramud, "Though one does have to admire its
elegant simplicity and bold vision."
"Thank you." said Dragor modestly. He opened a door at the end of the
hall they were in and stepped aside. "And now, after you gents." The
foursome brushed past him into an empty 20'x20' room and stopped abruptly.
"Hey, what gives?" demanded Rodent as the door clanged shut behind them.
"Where's all the furniture?"
"Nya ha ha ha!" came the maniacal laugh from the other side of the closed
door. There was a 'chunk' of several dead-bolts falling into place. "You
fools! You have walked right into my favourite deathtrap!!"
"Deathtrap?" cried Sauramud. "But I though we were all good pals! Is
that any way for a host to act?"
"Act?" screamed the voice from the other side which sounded like it was
slavering. "Let me tell you about acting! Do you think you Lawful Good
cretins could actually fool me into thinking you were evil like me?"
"Well, it was worth a try." muttered Dingbat. Then in a louder voice
he yelled. "What a stupid plan Sauramud! I could have thought of a better
one in my sleep!"
"I could arrange for you to sleep a very long time, my friend." said the
thaumaturge angrily.
"Cease this childish bickering." admonished Rodent. "Now help me look
for the secret door out of here before the walls start closing in or
something equally predictable."
"Don't be an ass." said Sauramud, sitting down dejectedly. "No logical
creature would put a secret door in a death trap."
Suddenly a small panel opened up in the wall next to the door and Dragor
poked its head into the room.
"Are you gentlemen comfortable?" it asked sweetly. "Yes? Good. Ah, I
see yon monk has noticed the grating in the wall to your left."
"Uh?" said Dingbat, who had been climbing it absently. "Oh yeah. Watch
it guys, it's sharp." He jumped to the floor and began to bandage his
freely bleeding hands.
"This grate shall slide gracefully accross the floor and make julienne
fries out of you fellows. Slowly." It grinned warmly, showing several
rows of polished and sharpened incisors. "Should you survive this test,
then the floor will slam up to meet the ceiling at warp five. If that does
not do you in, the lava and poison gas will! Then we release the flies on
what's left of you so that the maggots can..."
"WE GET THE IDEA!" said Rodent. "It's a typical silly deathtrap." He
turned and continued to examine the far wall.
"It is not silly!" stormed Dragor. "Nobody calls my deathtrap silly and
gets away with it!"
"So what are ya gonna do about it? Kill us?" said Dingbat, waggling
his fingers in his ears and doing monkish cartwheels of taunting. "Silly
silly silly! Dragor makes silly deathtraps!" he jeered.
"Argh! I have no time for these inanities. I have many important
things to do. None of which are SILLY!" It withdrew its head and slammed
the little window shut forcibly. This had the serendipitous effect of
drowning out the 'click' as Rodent popped open the secret door on the far
wall.
"Ha, I knew it was here somewhere. Come on guys." he called, stepping
through to the dark passageway beyond. The others followed on his heels,
Playdough clearing through just as the walls of the room whooshed together
behind them.
"Duh, where do you 'spose this corridor leads Sauramud?"
"Huh?" said the wizard.
"Ignore him, he's still in shock that the ranger actually found a secret
door - for once." said the monk, skulking monkishly down the corridor after
Rodent.
"Huh?" said Sauramud. He looked back once more in disbelief before
shrugging himself back to reality and plodding after the disappearing back
of Playdough. From ahead he heard the ranger walk into a wall and curse
noisily.
"Hush, there appears to be a secret door here." called Rodent loudly
over his shoulder. "Well don't just stand there and gawk, help me open it!"
"Well you were doing so well applying your helm to it." said Dingbat
snidely. They all pitched in to the effort and after only a few missed
die rolls, and much more cursing, they finally pried it open with the aid
of the paladin's two-hander.
"Hey! There's a harem through here!" said Dingbat delightedly.
"And look, they's all drugged." cried Playdough, distracted from
grumbling over the bent tip on his sword.
"Yup! Those are the best kind." cackled the wizard.
"Oh really." said Rodent icily, glaring at the wizard.
"Or so I've heard, I meant." amended Sauramud hastily.
"Yeeaah." said Dingbat somberly. "Say, I've got a whiz-bang corker of
an idea! We'll all disguise ourselves as houris and..."
"WE WILL NOT!" said the other three in unison.
"Sure, it's easy." said Dingbat. "Just watch. I do it all the... it's
easy!" He was reefing the silks off a zombified female whom he stuffed
unceremoniously into a closet. The others watched with mixed expressions
of resignation and disgust as he expertly pulled the fineries over his
monkish jodpurs.
"My gosh, are you ugly in a dress." sneered Sauramud.
"Up yours." said Dingbat. "Besides, you'll never know me once I get
the mascara on." Suddenly there was a stomping sound in the outside
hallway and some booming off-key humming.
"Oh no! Dragor is coming!" hissed Rodent. "Quickly, let us hide in
these three convenient alcoves." The four of them leapt into the three
alcoves. Dingbat and Sauramud scuffled over one of them until the wizard
won the battle and heaved the friar onto his duff in the middle of the
floor. Having time do little else, Dingbat wormed under the covers of a
nearby bed. From behind the alcove curtains the others heard the the door
open and Dragor stomped into the room.
"Yo ho ho my pretty ones!" it chortled. "I have just dispensed with
some Lawful Good types, and you know how that always makes me frisky."
There was the clank of armour falling to the ground. "And which of my
lovelies wants to play 'sword in the scabbard' tonight? You there, under
the covers!" There was a rustle of bedsheets.
"You're not going to twaddle me are you?" came an apprehensive squeal.
"Say, you're new here, aren't you... <THWUMP> ...ooooooohhh!"
"Hey guys, Dragor's just some wimpy white guy!" They all stormed out
of their alcoves. True to the monk's words, there was a shrivled old man
writhing on the floor holding his groin.
"Gosh, he looked a lot bigger in armour." said Sauramud.
"All an act." said Rodent. "Lo, his false fangs lie there, and the red
eyes are naught but contacts."
"Unnngh." groaned Dragor in extreme pain. "... guards ..." he moaned
quietly.
"He's tryin' tuh summon the guards!" cried Playdough in alarm. "Let's
kill 'im quick!" As one they tied into the old duffer with many a chop.
'THWACK' went their weapons. 'CHOP DICE SLASH PUNCH CRACK ZAP REND
MURDALIZE PUNT' (bleed splatter) 'CRUNCH HACK POKE FOOSH PUREE...' - well,
I'm sure you get the idea.
"Hey, that was easy!" enthused Dingbat, sproinging up and down on the
bed.
"Took a lot of hit points though." said Playdough, examining the dulled
edge on his magical two-hander (to go with the bent tip).
"Yah, well he was out of armour with no weapons, surprised, stunned,
and his pants were down around his ankles. I doubt he fought at peak
efficiency." pointed out Sauramud.
"Never-the-less I believe we gave a good account of ourselves." said
Rodent pompously.
"Didja see the way I incapacitated him with my monkish gaunch pull?"
cried Dingbat excitedly. There was a pause.
"Uh, Dingbat, he's not wearing a gaunch."
"Ah." said Dingbat. "So." He whaffled for awhile then inexplicably
perked up. "Say, we should get a good price for his head!"
"Would you believe that was the head of the evil Dragor, a.k.a. Flesh
Renderer, Soul Eater, Widow Maker, etc etc?"
"Well, no. Probably not." said Dingbat with dawning horror.
"Dang." said Playdough. "I was looking forward to that reward money!"
"Well, we could still loot his treasure horde." said Dingbat, then his
sharp ears perked up. "Hist! The guards!"
"How could they have heard?" growled Rodent. "Somebody somewhere sure
blew a die roll!"
"Don't look at me." said Sauramud. "Quick, we've got to do something.
I know. Somebody scrawny can get into that armour and fool the guards."
All eyes turned to Dingbat.
"Ouch! Don't shove that on so hard! I'm not used to armour."
"Well I can't get this helm on if you're gonna squirm like that." said
Playdough, twisting it on firmly.
"Sauramud you fool. You're putting those leggings on backward."
scolded Rodent.
"I am not." <SHOOP> "Whups, I guess you're right. Well whadda ya
expect? I don't wear armour neither! Word of advice Dingbat, don't try
to kneel."
"Why?" demanded the monk, trying to peer about in his great helm. "What
will happen if I do?"
"No time, here come the guards." said Rodent, ducking back into the
alcove. The guards burst into the room agressively and took up defensive
stances.
"You called, Supreme Dark Commander." stated the guard leader blinking
at the monk's leggings and the bits of lacery poking out from the joints
of the armour.
"Ah, yes!" boomed Dingbat, voice booming oddly inside the volumous helm.
"I've been thinking, and I would really like for you to bring here all of
the gold in the treasury so I can - uh - count it."
"Oh Your Great Imperious Nastiness, you spent your last two coppers on
the orcish armour just this morning."
"Ah, yes, so I did." agreed the monk. "In that case I have new general
orders for you." Thinking rapidly Dingbat continued. "Order number one,
monks shall now be worshipped in the shrine in place of the dark gods."
"It shall be done." said the guards, bowing to touch their foreheads to
the floor.
"Secondly," said the monk, warming to the situation. "The password for
the day shall be 'Sauramud is a doofus'." He heard Rodent mutter something
about 'twaddling monks' behind him and he added, "And thirdly, all rangers,
if found - shall be gagged."
"All shall be as you say, Great One." said the guards all in unison.
"One last thing." said Dingbat slyly. "All guards shall fall on their
swords."
"Right-o" <CHOONK>.
"Nice work Dingbat." said Rodent as he stepped out of the alcove and
whacked Dingbat on the back approvingly. The monk, unused to balancing in
armour, fell forward to his knees awkwardly.
<CRUNCH> "Yaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"
"Ouch! I bet that hurt." winced Playdough.
"I could feel that one from here." agreed Rodent. Dingbat was ill
disposed to banter, having turned several shaded more pasty. He was
rolling about on the floor emitting peeping noises. "Come on, let's get
him out of the armour and bandage him or something."
Later, they emerged from the underground fortress, stepping over some
of the many guards, all with self-inflicted sword wounds through the heart.
"Well that sucked." groused Playdough, kicking at a corpse. "We didn't
get nuthin!"
"Except the experience." piped Dingbat, who had recovered enough to
bound about lamely.
"And precious little of that. No thanks to someone ordering the guards
to suicide!" said Sauramud testily. "I'll never reach seventh level at
this rate!"
"Oh don't be such a wet blanket." chimed the monk with forced
cheerfulness. "Such things pale when you consider the great, Lawful Good
service we have performed for the cause of righteousness and decency."
"Duh, piss off!" snapped the Paladin.
Endus Maximus