Critical Failures (Caverns and Creatures Book 1) Read online

  Critical Failures

  By Robert Bevan

  Copyright 2012 Robert Bevan

  Special Thanks to:

  No Young Sook, who has believed in me from the beginning.

  Joan Reginaldo, without whom this would have been a much shittier book.

  Tom DeHaven, who made the difference between me wanting to be a writer and me really wanting to be a writer.

  Chapter 1

  Tim stared out through the grimy front window of the Chicken Hut. The red neon sign cast a pink glow on the parking lot, and Tim kept one hand in the pocket of his jeans to restrain against its natural impulse to flip off the switch. His watch said nine o’clock, Time to close. They hadn’t had a customer in over forty-five minutes, and he didn’t want one coming in now. He’d already had three beers and was well into a fourth. Thoughts of chicken and customers would have been well drowned out had it not been for the continued flickering and buzzing of that damned sign. It was a beacon in the darkness, inviting just one more fat asshole to come in for some chicken after all of the equipment had been shut down. But he couldn’t turn it off. The new Cavern Master would need the sign to find this place.

  He hadn’t noticed the dull banging until it stopped suddenly. His gaze turned from the parking lot to the interior of the restaurant. Everything was as it should be. Cooper was drinking a beer. Julian, Cooper’s coworker who he’d brought along for the game tonight, was engrossed in the Caverns and Creatures Third Edition Player’s Handbook. The banging started up again.

  “You guys hear that?” Tim asked.

  Julian didn’t look up from the book.

  Cooper got up and grabbed another can of beer from the refrigerator. “You mean that banging noise? Yeah. It’s fucking annoying as shit. This place wasn’t built on top of an Indian burial ground, was it?”

  Tim turned back to the window. “No, Cooper. I don’t believe it was.”

  Cooper made a sound that was something between a snort and a burp. “From the state of this shithole, I think it’s a safe bet that it predates any Indian tribes.” He put his feet up on the table and cracked open the can.

  “Nobody’s begging you to stay,” said Tim, turning around to glare at him. “Come on, man. Get your feet off the table. People eat here.” He looked back out the window. “Where is this Mordred character anyway? He was supposed to be here like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “He’ll show,” said Cooper. “Anybody willing to drive all the way from Biloxi just to play C&C with a bunch of strangers has obviously got a hardon for the game.”

  “That’s another thing,” said Tim. “What kind of weirdo did you invite to my restaurant?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cooper. “I just put an ad in the paper. Really, though. What was the alternative? I’m not going back to taking turns being the Cavern Master. It’s too much like being a designated driver.”

  “You mean in the sense that neither one of those responsibilities actually stops you from drinking?”

  Julian glanced up from the book. “What’s the difference between a halfling and a gnome?”

  “An inch or two,” said Cooper. “Your vagina will be the same size no matter which one you choose.”

  “I think I’m going to be an elf.”

  “Great.”

  “What is that noise?” asked Tim again. “It’s driving me nuts!”

  “Calm down, dude,” said Cooper. “It’s probably just some hobo fucking your mom against the side of the building.”

  “I can’t stand it anymore,” said Tim. He walked into the kitchen area. “Katherine!”

  “Yeah?” said his sister without looking up at him. She was in the office, looking at herself in the cracked mirror and applying a coating of red lipstick.

  “Do you hear that noise?”

  Katherine puckered her lips. “Yeah,” she said. “I think one of your friends got stuck in the freezer.”

  “Fuck! And you didn’t... Dave!” Tim ran to the freezer door and opened it.

  Dave stared at him through narrowed eyes. He pulled the Popsicle out of his mouth. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been banging on that door?”

  “Sorry man, the safety latch is broken,” said Tim. “You’re supposed to wedge this block of wood between the door and the frame when you go in there.”

  “Do you know how dangerous that is? I could’ve frozen to death.”

  “No you couldn’t have,” said Tim, grabbing a beer. “Look, this beer has been in there longer than you have, and it’s barely cold enough to drink.”

  “Whatever,” said Dave. “Listen, just don’t tell Cooper about this. I can only take but so much of his shit tonight.”

  “You got it.”

  “Hey Tim,” Cooper shouted from up front. “Time to stop jerking off back there. I think he’s here.”

  “Come on,” said Tim. He and Dave ran up to the dining area.

  Tim, Cooper, and Dave peered out of the window, squinting at the headlights shining at them. Julian remained where he was, his face buried in the book.

  “God, I hope it’s not a customer,” said Tim.

  “Oh, hey Dave,” said Cooper. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Glad to know I was missed,” said Dave.

  “Did you bring me a Popsicle?”

  “Here,” said Dave, handing a second Popsicle to Cooper.

  “Fuck,” said Cooper. “Orange?”

  “You’re welcome,” said Dave.

  A car door slammed shut.

  “Oh my fucking God,” said Cooper.

  A fat guy in a purple velvety cape stood next to the car, looking back at them. He had a good ten years on everyone in the Chicken Hut, and a lot more hair on his face than he had on top of his head. He drew up one corner of the cape, revealing a faded gray T-shirt underneath, and made an elaborate bow.

  “Katherine!” Tim gasped. He started to run back toward the kitchen and intercepted her just as she was walking into the dining area.

  “Fuck, Tim!” she said. “Watch where you’re going.”

  “Hey there, Kat,” said Cooper. “You up for a little fantasy role-playing later on?”

  “Go fuck an orc, loser,” she said with a fake smile and a middle finger.

  “Maybe you’d better go out the back,” suggested Tim, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “There’s a cop out front.”

  “Oh right, thanks,” said Katherine. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she turned back around. “Wait a second. I haven’t even done anything wrong yet. Why do I need to worry about-”

  The bell on the front door jingled as the door swung open. Tim lowered his head.

  Katherine’s silence behind him suggested that she was too shocked to actually laugh.

  “Is this where tonight’s tale of wonder shall unfold?” asked the new Cavern Master with alarmingly wide eyes and a broad smile.

  “On second thought,” said Katherine, “maybe I will just go out the back.” She slapped Tim on the back. “Have fun, bro,” she said, retreating into the kitchen. If she had left out of courtesy, she shouldn’t have bothered. The guys all exchanged uncomfortable glances as laughter rang from the kitchen.

  “You must be Mordred,” said Tim. “I’m Tim.” He put out his hand.

  Mordred accepted his hand disinterestedly and craned his neck to look past him. “I take it the lady will not be joining us tonight?”

  “No,” said Tim. “The lady will most certainly not be joining us.”

  The side of Mordred’s mouth twitched, and his nostrils flared. He refocused his attention on Tim. “Were you the one who summoned me here this eve?”


  “That would be me,” said Cooper, standing up. “I put the ad in the paper, if that’s what you mean. I’m Cooper, this is Julian. You’ve met Tim.”

  “I’m Dave,” said Dave after waiting a second to confirm that Cooper wasn’t going to introduce him.

  “You may address me as Mordred,” said Mordred. “Or Cavern Master if you like.”

  “Yeah,” said Cooper. “We’ll see about that.”

  Mordred inspected the dining area of the Chicken Hut. “Is this where you intend to play?”

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “This is where we always play.”

  “I suppose it will be adequate. However, I will require my own table.”

  “Right away, your majesty,” said Tim, sliding one of the tables from the cluster the guys had already prepared.

  “Thank you.” Mordred sat down and put a large duffel bag on the chair next to his. “Have you all prepared characters using the guidelines I emailed to Cooper?”

  “Yeah,” said Tim, pulling a piece of paper from a folder on the table. Dave and Cooper did likewise.

  “May I inspect them?” Mordred snatched the papers out of their hands. His piggy eyes ran back and forth across them as he made approving and disapproving hums and grunts. “A dwarf, a half-orc, and a halfling,” he mused. “Quite an unlikely group of comrades. You do realize, of course, that dwarves and half-orcs don’t get along, don’t you?”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard to role play. Dave and Cooper don’t get along anyway.”

  “Very well,” said Mordred. “If that’s what you want. Wait, why are there only three characters here?”

  “I didn’t make one,” said Julian. “I’ve never played before, and I don’t know-”

  “A virgin player!” Mordred exclaimed. “How wonderful!”

  Cooper choked on a swallow of beer. If Mordred had spoken a second earlier, he might have been rewarded with a coating of beer and Cooper spit. “Dude, if anyone in this room is a virgin player,-”

  Dave cut him off with an elbow to the ribs, for which he received a much harder punch in the arm in return.

  Mordred walked Julian through the steps of rolling the dice to determine his character’s ability scores. “What race do you think you might want to be?”

  “Jew isn’t an option,” said Cooper.

  “I don’t know,” said Julian. “I guess I’m cool sticking with white. That should be easier to role play since I’m new at this.” Cooper, Dave and Tim snickered, but Mordred merely offered a friendly smile.

  “In this game, races include human, elf, dwarf-”

  “Oh, that.” Julian’s face flushed. “I want to be an elf.”

  “Excellent,” said Mordred. “And what class?”

  “Choose upper-middle,” suggested Cooper.

  Mordred cut off any potential for further disruptions with an explanation. “Classes include fighter, wizard, cleric-”

  “I want to be a wizard,” said Julian

  “Really?” asked Mordred doubtfully.

  “What the fuck do you want to be a wizard for?” asked Cooper. “You only have an intelligence score of eleven.”

  “I want to use magic.”

  “Then be a fucking sorcerer. You’ve got a really high charisma score.”

  “I read in the book that an elf’s favored class is wizard,” said Julian, looking to Mordred for confirmation.

  “An excellent point!” said Mordred. “I award you three hundred experience points.”“What the fuck for?” asked Cooper.

  “For role-playing, of course,” said Mordred. “He has demonstrated to me that he put more thought into his actual character than he put into tweaking the numbers to get the highest bonuses.” He took another glance at Julian’s character sheet. “Besides,” he muttered, “with this character, he’ll need all the help he can get.”

  Julian shrugged and wrote down his three hundred points.

  “Can we get started now?” asked Tim.

  “But he isn’t finished yet,” said Mordred. “He still has to choose skills and feats, and buy equipment.”

  “Just let him take the starting package,” suggested Dave. “He’s never played before. If he has to sort through all that, we’re going to be here all night.”

  Mordred considered it. “Do you want to take the starting package?” He opened the Player’s Handbook to the appropriate page and showed Julian.

  Julian looked it over. “I don’t know what most of this means, but sure. Oh... except that I’d rather fight with a sword than with a quarterstaff.”

  “Wizards fight with sticks,” said Cooper. “If you wanted to use a sword, then you shouldn’t have been a pussy wizard.”

  “Ah,” said Mordred. “But swordplay is a part of elven culture. All elves are proficient in the art of the sword.”

  “Great,” said Julian, looking smugly at Cooper. “So can I get a sword?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Why not?”

  “A quarterstaff is free. It’s pretty much just a stick, after all. A sword costs money that you don’t have.”

  “Oh,” said Julian. “Okay.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Mordred. “Since you’re new to the game, I’ll throw in the magical materials you will need to summon your familiar. That’s a one hundred gold piece value.”

  “Can I sell it and buy a sword?”

  “You can pick up a sword anywhere,” said Tim. “We’re bound to fight someone with a sword sooner or later. Trust me, Mordred’s offering you good deal. Take it.”

  “What’s a familiar?” asked Julian.

  “It’s like a little animal friend that wizards and sorcerers can get,” said Dave.

  “Like a pet?”

  “No,... well yeah, sort of. But you share an empathic link, and it can run little errands for you and stuff.”

  “Like fetching the newspaper.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” said Cooper. “Just take the bag of magical shit and let’s get on with it.”

  “Fine,” said Julian. “Bag… of… magical… shit,” he muttered to himself while writing it in his inventory.

  “Okay,” said Mordred. “So we have a halfling rogue,” He passed Tim his character sheet. “A dwarven cleric,” he handed the sheet to Dave. “A half-orc barbarian,” he passed the paper to Cooper. “And an elven wizard,” he said, passing the last sheet to Julian. “This is your last chance to change your minds. I’ll warn you that a group like that isn’t likely to be accepted by certain areas of society.”

  “I’m a barbarian,” said Cooper. “I shun society!”

  “And society thanks you,” said Tim. “Now shut up.”

  “Fine,” said Cooper. “Let’s get this shit started. Do you want a beer, Mordred?”

  “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Seriously? The decision to wear that cape was a sober one?”

  Everyone laughed. Mordred frowned at Julian. “It’s a cloak,” he said.

  Dave held his eyes and his lips shut tight. Tim’s eyes started to tear up.

  “We haven’t even started yet,” said Mordred. “And you’re already acting like a bunch of drunken imbeciles. This is precisely why I have never partaken in the drink.”

  Tim reined in his laughter. Mordred wasn’t responding well to Cooper’s brand of humor.

  Mordred reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a black silk bag. Its surface shone like liquid metal, held shut by a silver braided cord. He placed the bag in front of him and ran a finger along its side, smiling an unnerving smile to himself.

  “How about a Coke?” asked Cooper.

  “Huh?” said Mordred suddenly as if waking from a dream. Cooper stood over Mordred, holding a Coke. Mordred let go of the bag.

  “What’s in there?” Cooper started to reach for the bag. “Your nuts?”

  “Back off!” Mordred screamed, snatching away his bag with one hand and swatting away Cooper with the other.

  “Jesus fuck, dude. I’m sorry
.”

  Mordred regained his composure. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is a special set of dice. They are rare and very valuable. I don’t let just anyone use them."

  He pulled a second pouch out of his duffel bag. This one was dull brown and leather. He poured a matching set of marbled blue plastic dice onto his table. They must have been brand spanking new.

  Tim poured his own dice from a Crown Royal bag. They were dirty, dull, and scuffed. No more than three were from any matching set. Among them was a Lego man’s head with the face worn off, a cockroach wing, and a pubic hair.

  Cooper grabbed another beer and sat down.

  Mordred closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Shall we begin?”

  Chapter 2

  “For months the four of you have wandered, a life of adventure having called you to leave your homes and families and seek your fortunes. Along the way, you have crossed paths and decided to travel together, putting aside your racial and philosophical differences. You come to the outskirts of a town.”

  “What’s the name of the town?” asked Cooper.

  “You don’t know,” said Mordred. “You can’t read the sign.”

  “Is it a magical sign?” asked Julian. “I can read magic.”

  “No,” said Mordred. “It’s an ordinary sign. He can’t read it because he’s a barbarian, and barbarians can’t read.”

  “So what does it say?” asked Tim.

  “In the common tongue, it reads ‘Welcome to Algor.’”

  “Al Gore?” asked Dave.

  “Is this a green city?” asked Cooper.

  “Algor!” snapped Mordred. “One word. No ‘E’.” His hand crept toward the silk bag beside him.

  Tim gave Cooper a pleading glance, and Cooper shut up.

  Mordred put both hands firmly on the table and continued. “A tall wooden palisade surrounds the town. The main gate is guarded by a single soldier, and traffic moves in and out freely, so far as you can tell. Outside the gate, on either side of the road, stand two big black menhir, relics of a people long since-”

  “Do they have to stand outside because they're black?” asked Julian.