//------------------------------// // 1. You Must Gather Your Party Before Venturing Forth // Story: Dungeons and Dimwits // by Samey90 //------------------------------// The inn was on fire. Lemon Zest ran across the room, surrounded by the blazing aura of a Fire Tornado, trying to ignite as many undead as she could. Indigo swung the battle axe into the skull of another undead, spraying the bits of bone and brain around. “Stop it!” Indigo shouted, yanking the axe out and turning to face another attacker. “I have no fire resistance!” “If it’s any consolation, Sugarcoat doesn’t either.” Sour Sweet aimed her bow, shooting one of the undead in the throat. It didn’t faze them at all, though; the pale silhouette charged at them, swiftly avoiding both the fire and Indigo’s axe. “Do something!” Sugarcoat yelled from under the table, watching as the undead warrior shrugged off all of Sour’s arrows, baring his fangs and hissing at them. “What?” Indigo asked. “It’s your army, isn’t it?” “Not mine anymore!” Sugarcoat exclaimed. “Also, where’s Sunny?”  “Here I am!” Sunny dashed from the upstairs, holding a barrel in her hands. She rushed at the undead, hurling the barrel in their direction and quickly running away. “This should teach them!”  “What’s in the barrel?” Sour asked, watching as the barrel knocked their opponent down and rolled further, catching fire. “I swear, if it’s more gunpowder…” “Nah, it’s, you know, stuff.” Sunny shrugged. “I mean, this probably shouldn’t–” The barrel hit the wall, breaking and falling apart. Then, without any warning, the inn exploded. Twilight looked at the five girls in front of her, watching her with eager anticipation. She had a brief thought of running away; the very fact that she saw Indigo Zap in the library was too much of a shock.  “What do you mean you need a new DM?” Twilight asked, wondering if she’d be caught before she’d be able to hide in the narrow alleys of the geology section. “And why did you go to me?” “Well, we knew you’d be here.” Sunny Flare looked at her wrist device and tapped the screen a few times. “I took notes of your weekly schedule and–” “You might want to stop before you get a brand new restraining order,” Sugarcoat muttered. “Also, I don’t think we really need a new DM, but I’m afraid I got outvoted.” She looked at her friends and sighed.  “Well, you’re a good DM,” Sour Sweet said. “But why do you keep killing us?” “Yeah, we die like, in every session.” Indigo rolled her eyes. “I went through ten different characters during one campaign and I still died in the end.” “It’s not my fault all your characters are illiterate barbarians with a tendency to charge blindly at every monster,” Sugarcoat replied. “Besides, you didn’t die when we played Call of Cthulhu.” “Yes, first we went insane,” Lemon Zest said. “Then we died.” “Well, in Call of Cthulhu that’s pretty much inevitable,” Twilight said, deciding not to run away just yet. “Also, didn’t you play Vampire: Requiem with Lemon as a DM? That was when I was still in Crystal Prep.” The other girls looked at each other. Indigo winced, to which Sunny responded with a shrug.  Eventually, all their gazes focused on Lemon who smiled sheepishly. “For starters, it was Vampire: The Masquerade,” Sunny Flare said. “I got it ages ago. Also, somewhere halfway through the campaign it turned out that–” Sour furrowed her eyebrows. “Hey, we agreed not to talk about that.” “Who cares,” Sugarcoat replied. “The thing is, halfway through the campaign it turned out that Lemon was trying to turn us into a lesbian vampire posse, which was kind of fun and games until Sour and Sunny almost got into a fight over Indigo.” “You’re just jealous no one wanted to be with you,” Sunny said. “Also, I was finally adored, you know. And I’d totally give Indigo a makeover, with a side of making out.” Sugarcoat smirked. “I was playing a Malkavian. I can understand why not even the most depraved posse of disfunctional lesbian vampires in the World of Darkness would want to stick their metaphorical dicks in crazy.” “And eventually it got awkward, especially when Indigo remembered that she’s straight,” Sour Sweet said. “And since it was late at night and Sunny had one drink too many, she forgot that she’s–” She paused and looked at Sunny. “–whatever she is.” Sunny pouted. “Indigo almost broke my hand. I couldn’t move it for days.”  “I missed,” Indigo replied. “So anyway, since then we don’t let Lemon be a DM. Also, we wanted to ritually burn the rulebook, but Sunny said it may become valuable one day.” Twilight shuddered at the very thought of burning a book. “So, how do you want to do it? Do you need some time to create new characters?” “Owing to Sugarcoat taking sadistic pleasure in killing our characters, I’d say yes,” Sunny said. “Also, there’s plenty of space in my house and it’s already a nerd cave, so be my guest. Do you have any particular campaign in mind?” “Several.” Twilight’s eyes lit up. “I came up with a fun campaign, but everyone is busy as of late…” “We’re not.” Sugarcoat smirked and turned to Sunny. “Also, I’d rather make your characters’ lives miserable, but you keep messing it up by dying.” Indigo walked to Twilight. “What do you mean by fun? Will there be monsters?” “Plenty of them,” Twilight replied. “Also, pirates.” “What about ninjas?”  Twilight shrugged. “Could include some ninjas too.” “Awesome!” Indigo exclaimed. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to get another barbarian, then…” This particular room in Sunny’s house was dim and looked like it was mostly used to keep stuff she didn’t need at the moment or at least stuff she was rarely coming back to. It was full of discarded, half-dismantled electronics and rolls of fabric. One particular piece of cloth also had electronics on it, though it may have been some kind of Daft Punk cosplay. Twilight most certainly wished it was so – while she’d found out Sunny was in some ways similar to Rarity, her ability to deal with computers was almost uncanny, while Rarity needed garlic, a wooden stake, and the assistance of her sister to deal with anything more complicated than her phone. “Is that a jet glider?” she asked, looking at the large device lying behind an old armchair.  “Glad you asked,” Sunny replied. “That’s a working replica of a jet glider from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, although I wouldn’t bet on its airworthiness. I actually wanted to try it, but when Sugarcoat told me that she’d send the video to the Darwin Awards guys, I decided to reconsider. At least until I find a willing test subject.” “Have you tried some forums for weebs?” Indigo suggested.  “Several.” Sunny shrugged. “Turns out, most of them aren’t that stupid.” “Well, anyway…” Twilight sat down and looked at the table in front of her. It was mostly cleared of electronics, replaced with dice, notes, maps, drinks, and snacks. When it came to organising sessions, Sunny most certainly didn’t bother with half-measures. “Where do we start? I mean, I looked at your character sheets and I have several questions.” “Here we go,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Well, actually your elf ranger is fine,” Twilight replied. “Lemon, however…” “What? Again!?” Lemon exclaimed. “It’s enough I get this from Sugarcoat at the start of every campaign, but you too?” “No wonder,” Twilight said, looking into her notes. “We agreed not to use any homebrew spells and yet your bard somehow knows Fire Tornado.” “She likes fireshows,” Lemon replied. “Also, she’s a tiefling. No wonder she has infernal connections.” “No Fire Tornado.” Twilight sighed. “Also, if you apparently come from a noble family, then how did you end up as a travelling bard?” “The family didn’t like that either,” Lemon replied. “But hey, they still kinda support me.” “I noticed.Your equipment is heavier than you, Sugarcoat, and Sunny combined. You even have bagpipes and uhh…” Twilight looked into her notes again. “A pony.” “I have to travel from town to town,” Lemon replied. “Lots of people want to hear me play the lyre.” She shrugged. “I just realised I forgot to name my pony.” “Yeah, we’ll get back to that. I would ask since when there were noble tiefling families, but I assume they’re some kind of hell aristocracy.” Twilight turned to Indigo. “So, you’re a human barbarian called Fafhrd. I must say I like that reference.” “That’s a reference?” Indigo turned to Sugarcoat. “This is some kind of prank, isn’t it?” “I somehow knew you two cooperated when I saw Sugarcoat’s character was called Gray Mouser.” Twilight smirked. “Though I was surprised it’s not a rogue.” “A cleric is just as good a profession for a hobbit as any.” Sugarcoat shrugged. “I’m just a simple hobbit trying to make my way in the universe.” “Halfling,” Twilight said. “There are no hobbits here.” “I prefer to be called a hobbit.” “Whatever,” Indigo said. “For me, you could even be a gnome.” “Speaking of…” Twilight raised her eyebrows. “Sunny, your character is the shortest half-orc I’ve ever seen.” “That’s because the other half is a gnome.” Sunny shrugged. “Mom told me the party was so hard she was glad I’m not barking.” “I’m not sure that’s biologically possible…” Twilight shook her head. “That’s what dad said.” “We didn’t even start playing and she’s already becoming one with her character.” Sour Sweet shrugged. “Before we finish, she’ll be insane.” She smirked. “Trust me, I know something about this.” “We know that you know.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “So, we have a tiefling bard, a human barbarian, a hobbit cleric–”  “Halfling,” Twilight corrected. “I can be whatever I want. I’m chaotic evil,” Sugarcoat replied with a smirk. “And to make it all complete, we have a pointy-eared ranger, and uhh… a half-orc, half-gnome artificer. Another win for diversity.” “Hey, you complained when we all chose the same race in Star Wars: Age of Rebellion,” Indigo said.  “That’s because you all randomly decided to be Gungans.” Sugarcoat sighed. “At least I managed to give you all a one-way ticket to the Death Star. Well, except for Sunny because she thought she could take on two stormtroopers at once.” “One of them had asthma,” Sunny replied. “I could hear his breathing. Not my fault the dice hate me.” Sugarcoat nodded. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”  “So, shall we start?” Twilight asked, pouring herself a glass of water. “Sit comfortably, because we start in an inn…” “Typical,” Sugarcoat muttered. “I look for the mysterious stranger sitting in a corner.” Twilight looked into her notes. “We’ll get to that.” The tavern, just like every evening, was full of creatures of all races. The town of sailors and merchants was open to anyyone who had money. No one would bat an eye on a tiefling bard sitting in the corner and entertaining the patrons with bawdy songs. Dwarves from the northern mines sat in another corner, discussing some shady business with a particularly ugly half-orc. The large, hulking barbarian took a sip of his beer and looked at the tiefling. “Chill out, Indigo,” the barbarian's companion muttered. “For gods’ sake, she has horns.” The barbarian called Indigo looked down – it took a while as his friend was a thin halfling dressed in a black robe, barely visible above the table. “My name’s Fafhrd.” “And I totally feel like choking on it all the time,” the halfling replied. “At least Gray Mouser is easier to pronounce.” “Calm down, Sugartits,” Indigo said. “Also, you’re supposedly chaotic evil. What’s wrong about tieflings?” “Opposites attract.” Gray Mouser pointed at an elf standing by the counter. “Now, if it wasn’t for my religion, I’d totally–” The elf turned back, furrowing her eyebrows and grabbing a bow. “Listen up, you little shit,” she muttered. “If you don’t stop staring at my ass, you’ll have to get an arrow out of yours.” “Well, I can’t really look much higher.” The halfling shrugged.  “Sorry for Sugarcoat,” Indigo said. “Me mom found ‘im in the mountains. Ran away from the circus or somethin’.” “What the hell is that accent?” Sugarcoat whispered.  “I’m a barbarian, after all.” Indigo shrugged. “Me friend prefers to fornicate with elves, rather than tieflings, but–” “How?” the elf asked. “Does he have a ladder?” “Unfortunately, he’s an eunuch.” Indigo shrugged. “Religion thing.” “I’m not!” Sugarcoat exclaimed. “Or maybe it’s just small, even for a halfling.” Indigo stretched her muscles. “Barbarians from The North, on the other hand...” “I really need to get some arrows.” The elf rolled her eyes.  “I know a place where you can get anything you want,” Indigo said. She leaned an elbow on the counter, casting the elf a smirky glance. “So anyway, what’s your name?” “Araralei,” the elf replied, pulling a knife from a scabbard attached to her belt. “And I don’t need any barbarians or lecherous halflings. I’m a strong independent elf. And I’m a hundred years old anyway.” “Ara–” Indigo groaned. “Can we just call you Sour Sweet?” “More like Sour Elf.” Sugarcoat chuckled. She stopped when an arrow flew past her, nailing her robe to the floor. “Are you crazy?” Sour Sweet smirked. “I’m fast.” “Go be fast somewhere else.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes and looked around the tavern. “Elves… Why do they even let them in? Armed, at that?” “Says a halfling.” Sour put her bow down and looked at the dwarves at the table. The discussion got heated; some of them were waving axes at the half-orc. “Hey, what’s going on there?” “Not your business, you pointy-eared scum!” one of the dwarves exclaimed. Sour grabbed her bow again. “Say that again, you garden gnome, and they’ll be sending you home in a shoebox.” “What did you call me?” The dwarf stood up. It wasn’t very impressive, but his axe made up for it. “Help me!” The half-orc exclaimed. Somehow, he was shorter than the dwarves, and even uglier. “They want to kill me ‘cause of that golden coin!” “Say no more.” Sour Sweet charged at the dwarf, kicking him and sending him back on his chair, which fell on the floor. Six other dwarves stood up, swinging their axes. “Finally something fun.” Indigo grabbed a large, two-handed sword and swung, knocking over a lamp and almost hitting an old man drinking his beer at the table behind her.  The man took a long sip of his drink and grabbed a chair. “Watch out, you uncultured swine!” “Sorry, grandpa!” Indigo charged at the dwarves, knocking over tables and chairs. Sugarcoat followed in her wake. The fight broke out in the whole tavern; some sailors decided to settle matters with the bard, while the dwarves stood in a formation and tried to surround the half-orc. This tactic didn’t quite work out: one of the dwarves ended up with an arrow in his throat while the other got nailed to the wall with Indigo’s sword. “Can’t pull it out!” Indigo exclaimed. “That’s what she said!” Sugarcoat replied, tripping one of the sailors. The tiefling bard jumped on the counter and smashed a lute against another sailor’s head. “Long live rock and roll!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, screw this.” Indigo let go of the sword and grabbed one of the dwarves, throwing him at the sailors. “Guys, let’s get out of here!”  “Wait a minute.” Sugarcoat looked at the dead dwarf by the wall. “I need to–” “Later!” Indigo yanked her sword out of the wall, narrowly missing Sour Sweet with it. Sour didn’t care; she was too busy massacring the sailors with her bow. Indigo grabbed the half-orc and rushed towards the door. “Where are you going?” Sugarcoat asked.  “Twilight mentioned–” Indigo stopped for a moment. “I mean, I’ve heard this town has a lot of guards! If they arrive here, we’ll have to fight our way out.” Sugarcoat shrugged. “First time I see you worried about a fight.” “Well, if you were the DM, we’d all die,” Indigo replied. “I prefer, uhh… a tactical retreat.” “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Sugarcoat replied. “If you see the guards, tell them that undead dwarves attacked people in the tavern. We’ll meet later.” Indigo nodded and ran out of the tavern, still carrying the half-orc. They ran across the town; there were indeed some guards running towards the inn, though none of them cared about a seven-foot tall barbarian running in the opposite direction. Indigo finally hid in the labyrinth of aisles and alleys surrounding the port. She put the half-orc on the ground and looked down. “I’m surrounded by little shits, really…” Sunny and Sugarcoat shot Indigo mean looks. Indigo blushed and shrugged. “Hey, at least in this game I’m tall!” she exclaimed. “To be honest, only I look like my character,” Sour Sweet replied with a smile.  “Keep telling that to yourself, Sour Elf,” Indigo said. “Also, we’re not even an hour in and you’re already killing innocent people.” “Said someone who nailed a dwarf to the wall.” Sour Sweet winced. “What is wrong with you?” “Good rolls, I guess.” Sunny looked at her character sheet. “Can we continue? I’m about to make my grand entrance.” “Oh no,” Sugarcoat whispered. “Yeah, let’s do this,” Twilight said, ignoring Sugarcoat. “So, you two ran away from the tavern…” “What is it all about?” Indigo asked. “Who are you? Why did those dwarves want to turn you into minced meat?” “I cannae tell!” the half-orc exclaimed. “Name’s Gmork, but I cannae tell. The cursed ship! The sailor dinnae know what that was, but I know! Gonnae ‘no dae that!” “Then tell me,” Indigo said. “Also, I see you’re doing the accent better than me.” “Yer accent all but disappeared,” Gmork replied. “I’m but a humble artificer but that sailor…” “What sailor?” Indigo asked. “I cannae tell!”  “You can tell me,” Indigo said. “I mean, if you don’t tell me, Su– I mean, Gray Mouser will talk to you. This, however, might be painful and not getting out alive is one of the better options.” “Gmork can tell,” Gmork replied. “But ma heid’s mince, ye ken…” “What did you say?” Indigo shrugged. “Speak clearly.” “I’m a bit dizzy, you dingus.” Gmork cleared his throat. “Anyway, Gmork has a small workshop in town and one day a sailor came to Gmork. A very feart sailor. He showed Gmork this coin.” The half-orc reached into one of his pockets. In fact, his whole outfit seemed to consist solely of pockets and pouches, full of tools and other utensils. Gmork produced a coin and shoved it into Indigo’s face. It was an ordinary golden coin, although none of the places Indigo had visited used this kind of currency. One side was empty; Indigo turned the coin to see an image of some strange, tentacled creature. The edge of the coin was sharp and it was covered in something that looked like old, dried blood, but aside from that it was a completely normal coin. “I think I failed a perception check,” Indigo muttered, furrowing her eyebrows. “Nice, innit?” Gmork chuckled. “Gmork suspected somethin’ but he wanted to go to them dwarves. They know such things. Well, those particular ones don’t know much anymore...” “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re ex-dwarves.” Indigo looked around. “Though I don’t see smoke, so–” She paused when an elf suddenly landed next to her, apparently jumping off the nearby roof. The elf looked around, waving her perfect hair, and turned to Indigo, bowing gracefully. “The guards are now battling the undead dwarves,” she said. “I suppose your companion will join us soon.” “Like hell I will…” Sugarcoat ran towards Indigo, panting and sweating. “Damn elves, running on roofs like it’s Assassin’s Creed… Some of us have short legs, you know. And that robe isn’t exactly great for jogging.” “Cry me a river, halfling.” Sour Sweet rolled her eyes. “Where’s that crazy musician who tried to light the inn on fire?” Indigo turned to Gmork. “If you want to hang out with us, you need to remember one thing: we always light buildings on fire.” “Gmork can light things on fire in more ways than ya think are possible.” Indigo nodded, but before she could reply, she saw a tiefling walking towards them with a pony. The poor animal carried a lot of luggage; Indigo noticed a lyre as well as a dress with a hole for the tail.  “I would light this tavern on fire, but I can’t cast Fire Tornado,” she said. “Still, my workplace is now full of guards and undead dwarves, so I might as well go adventuring with you.” “Who said we’re going adventuring?” Sour Sweet asked. “I went to a bar, I got ogled by a halfling, then I had to shoot a few guys to save this thing.” She pointed at Gmork. “What are you?” “Actually, he had this.” Indigo showed her friends the coin. “Can someone take a look at it? I think I failed a perception check on it.” Sugarcoat took the coin and looked at it. “There’s something written here…” “How did I miss that?” Indigo asked. “You gave up intelligence and wisdom for strength,” Sugarcoat replied. “As a result, you can’t read.” She looked at the coin again. “Especially since it’s some weird alphabet.” “So you can’t read it either?” Indigo rolled her eyes. “Just great. What are halflings good for, then?” “Well, we have a literal spawn of hell here.” Sugarcoat pointed at Lemon and showed her a coin. “What does it say?” Lemon shrugged. “Must be a different part of hell because I got nothing. Didn’t Gmork say where he took it from?”  “The sailor,” Gmork replied. “Gmork knows where he lives.” “Great,” Indigo said, looking at her sword. “Do you think he’ll need us to convince him to talk?” “Chill out,” Sugarcoat replied. “We’re gonna be diplomatic.” “Okay, so we’re going with Gmork to the sailor’s house,” Sugarcoat said. “It could be an ambush.” Sour Sweet looked at Sunny. “Can’t be,” Indigo smirked. “Sunny is our teammate, right?” “And there goes my attempt to introduce at least a bit of actual roleplaying.” Sour Sweet sighed, looking at Indigo. “Gmork will show ye the way!” Sunny exclaimed. Sour groaned. “You can stop being Gmork for a moment.” Sunny furrowed her eyebrows. “So when I’m roleplaying it’s bad and when Indigo’s just being herself all the time it’s bad too? Make up your mind.” “Indigo being Indigo is kinda normal, but when you’re a half-orc, it’s getting kinda creepy.” Sour shook her head. “And it’s me who’s saying that…” “Hey, at least it’s not lesbian vampires again.” Indigo shuddered. “And I won’t remind you who proposed that we strip to our underwear during the last session.” “Do I want to know?” Twilight asked, briefly turning away from her notes.  “Only if you’re amused by the fact that Indigo buys bras in the kids section,” Sugarcoat muttered.  “Shut up, Sugarcoat.” Indigo turned to Lemon. “Do you have something constructive to say or are you still thinking of lesbian vampires?” “I still didn’t name my pony,” Lemon replied. Indigo groaned. “Let’s just go to this sailor.” The sailor lived in one of the ramshackle inns in the city outskirts. The bartender shot Gmork a mean look when he entered. The look got even meaner when he saw Sour Sweet and Lemon Zest. He spat on a dirty rag he was holding in his hand and started to polish an equally dirty tankard. “We don’t serve elves and weirdos here,” he muttered. This soon turned into a scream, when Sour Sweet casually produced a knife and nailed his hand to the counter.  “I see Sour Elf is particularly sour today,” Indigo said and turned to the bartender. “Excuse me, have you seen the sailor called, uhh…” “Sinbad.” Gmork shrugged. “Sinbad the Sailor, yes.” “Could be, yeah,” Indigo replied. “We’ve heard he lives here.” “Upstairs!” the bartender cried, trying to get the knife out of the counter, but it was embedded firmly. “Just take this crazy elf out of here!” “Don’t worry, we have a cleric here, she’ll heal you,” Lemon said and turned to Sugarcoat. “Actually, is your character male or female? Because I heard that halflings are pretty well endowed, so–” “I don’t think you can ask such questions these days,” Indigo said. “Also, those rumours aren’t true.” Sugarcoat cleared her throat. “The sailor.” “Yes, the sailor.” Indigo nodded and they walked up the creaky stairs. There were several guest rooms there, most of them empty. The corridor was dark; the candles probably hadn’t been changed for at least a century. “Something stinks here,” Indigo muttered. “Yeah, probably that big puddle of blood on the floor.” Lemon shrugged. “Interesting.” “How do you–” “I’m a tiefling, I see in the darkness,” Lemon replied.  “Something tells me that someone already visited our sailor,” Sugarcoat said, pushing the door of the room open. “Indeed.” Sinbad the Sailor died in his own bed. Mostly. Indigo almost tripped over his wooden leg, lying on the floor, next to his lung and part of the intestines. Blood and chunks of flesh were splattered on the walls, but the sailor’s head was intact – aside from the fact that someone stuffed a sack with more coins into his mouth. “Gmork thinks he ain’t gonna tell us nothin’,” Gmork said. “I wouldn’t say so…” Sugarcoat looked at the corpse. “Do you think he’ll need trachea to talk? I mean, it must be here somewhere.” She looked around the room.  “Accio trachea?” Lemon prompted. Sugarcoat slammed her forehead with her hand. “Gmork can help,” Gmork said. “We need lightning, copper wires, a fresh corpse…” “I can do without copper wires.” Sugarcoat walked to the corpse and put her hand on its forehead. “Rise in the name of The Chained God!”  The light outside dimmed a bit and, even though the day was warm, a chill breeze blew across the room. The corpse lifted its hand, showing Sugarcoat a middle finger.  “Seems he wants to stay dead,” Sour said. “Nah, he just doesn’t have an index finger,” Sugarcoat replied. “Show me your secret!” The hand turned, pointing at a painting on the wall. It was rather small and dirty, with blood splattered on it, but they could still see that it depicted a storm at sea, with tall waves pushing a small ship on some dark rock. “Well, hope he doesn’t want to get us interested in art.” Lemon looked at the painting. “Do you think there’s something hidden behind it?” “A dead guy pointed at it,” Indigo replied. “There must be something in there.”  She removed the painting from the wall, revealing a small metal door behind it.  “Hmm, are there any traps in there?” Indigo shrugged, looking at the door. “I can’t see any.”  “Maybe let someone whose IQ is higher than the shoe size look at it,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Where’s Sunny? I mean… Bhaal dammit, Gmork, you’re an artificer, check that for traps.” Gmork looked at the door, furrowing his rather bushy eyebrows. “Gmork sees one trap. Move outta the way.”  He opened the metal door and ducked. They heard a sound of some string snapping, followed by a thud when a crossbow bolt flew across the room, embedding itself in the wall above the bed. “That’s a fine crossbow. Gmork will keep it.”  “Yeah, whatever.” Indigo looked into the cache. “There’s something in there…” She furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s some map, but I can’t read it.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “Give it to me. Also, why are you doing perception checks when you can’t even read?” Indigo shrugged. “Walking into traps won’t kill me as easily.” “That’s one thing you’re useful at.” Sugarcoat looked at the map. “Hey, isn’t it the same rock as on the painting?”  Lemon looked at the map, comparing it with a painting. “Same one. I can tell, I’m an artist.” “Musician,” Sour said. “That’s still an artist, Sour Elf,” Lemon replied. “So, uhh… We got a map to a mysterious rock hidden in a cache behind a painting of the same rock, and a corpse of a sailor stuffed with golden coins that make dwarves go crazy. What do we do about it?” “Gmork thinks we should stay outta it,” Gmork replied. “Gmork should keep his thoughts to himself,” Indigo said. “We’ll need a ship. Where can we get a ship?” “The port, obviously,” Sour Sweet replied. “How do you want to get a ship? Hire a crew? Steal one?” Indigo smirked. “We’ll think of something.” Twilight looked at the watch. “Guess we’ll have to get to the ship next time.” “Yeah.” Indigo yawned. “Though on a second thought, we have to kill the bartender.” “Why?” Lemon asked. “Exactly, why?” Twilight turned to Indigo. “I mean, I’d understand if Sugarcoat suggested it, but why do you want to kill the bartender?” “I mean, we walk into the bar, Sour nails his hand to the counter, we ask about the sailor, and when the guy goes upstairs to clean the room or something, he’ll find the sailor’s body parts all over the place. It’s gonna be hard to get a ship if we’re wanted for murder.” “For a barbarian you think a lot,” Sugarcoat muttered. “Also, if we kill the bartender, it’s gonna look even more suspicious.” “I can seduce him,” Lemon said. “No!” Sour exclaimed. “How exactly seducing the bartender will stop him from telling everyone about the dead sailor?” “I’m a tiefling,” Lemon replied. “I can seduce him so hard that he won’t notice the dead sailor even if we fuck on his bed!” “Eww…” Twilight winced. “It doesn’t mean I’ll do that,” Lemon said. “Also, it was you who described to us in great detail in how many pieces the sailor’s liver was when we found it, so don’t be so delicate now.” “Okay.” Twilight smirked. “Seduce the bartender.” “Can I just do a charisma check?” Lemon asked. “No, go on.” “Uhh…” Lemon shrugged. “We have a nice day, right? I mean, aside from random elves, it’s a totally nice day.” She smiled. “Have you ever gotten a blowjob from a tiefling?” Twilight raised her eyebrows. “I think we’ll go for a charisma check.” “If you’re into it, I can kick your ass and shout mean things in infernal,” Lemon said. Twilight rolled the dice. “He’s into it, as long as the elf joins you.” Sour Sweet froze. “I changed my mind. We should kill him.” Twilight smirked. “Good luck with this one…”