//------------------------------// // 5. Re-Animator // Story: Dungeons and Dimwits // by Samey90 //------------------------------// A white pawn moved to h4. Sunny looked on the screen and shook her head in disbelief and captured the audacious pawn with her queen, smirking to herself. The game was definitely going well. She chuckled when her opponent offered to trade bishop; with two pawns up, all trades were going in her favour. She moved her queen, forcing the white knight back and pushed her own knight forward, launching a counterattack on the weakened king’s position. Her opponent only pushed a pawn, far away from all the action. Sunny moved the queen again, threatening checkmate, to which her opponent pushed the pawn in front of the king one square forward. Sunny clicked on the knight, preparing a check when she spotted another move. A much better one. “Oh, you don’t see that coming,” she muttered to herself. “I just capture the knight with the rook and you can’t take back because then the g-pawn is hanging and once it falls, you’re getting checkmated on the next move. And if you don’t take the rook, then I’ll sacrifice it on g3 anyway and if you don’t take it then, I’ll shove it up your throat until you choke.” She clicked on the rook and moved it to capture the knight. As she expected, her opponent took the rook.  “Of course, you’re a twelve-year-old who gets ADHD whenever playing online.” Sunny shook her head and captured the pawn with her queen, forcing the king into the corner, where he got checkmated on the next move. “You have a computer that goes faster than a Ferrari and you use it to play chess?”  A chill ran down Sunny’s spine. She turned around to see Indigo who apparently had walked into her room when she was playing. “Oh, not only chess,” she replied. “Dwarf Fortress, Simutrans… Dating sims…” “Sims?” Indigo chuckled. “I once tried to remove the ladder from the swimming pool and I somehow lit it on fire.” She sighed. “How do you light a swimming pool on fire?” “Knowing you, you filled it with gasoline, somehow.” Sunny looked at the screen, wondering whether to play a rematch before the rest of her friends would arrive. Indigo followed her gaze. “Crazy_Glue666?” she asked. “Isn’t it that creepy twelve-year-old who beat you at the finals of Crystal Prep Queen of Blitz Tournament?” she asked. “Don’t even mention it,” Sunny hissed, aggressively clicking the rematch button.  “You have white this time?” Indigo asked. “What is this?” “Budapest gambit,” Sunny replied. “She probably knows what to do when I capture on e5, so I’ll push d5 instead.” “I’ll make an intelligent expression and pretend that I know what you just said,” Indigo replied.  “Be quiet,” Sunny muttered. “I’m just declining her bishop this diagonal in case she goes for some bishop takes on f2 ideas.” Indigo nodded slowly and shrugged.  “I mean, she doesn’t gain anything by capturing on f2, but it’s a blitz game.” “Yes,” Indigo muttered. “I agree with all my heart.” “And she blundered a pawn.” Sunny shook her head. “Again, no concept of pinned pieces. Not to mention this knight is now in trouble.” “Of course, everyone could see this coming.” Indigo looked at the door, wondering when the rest of her friends would arrive. Of course, Sunny was fine, but sometimes Indigo felt that sitting with her alone was like that moment in a horror movie when the creepy piano music would go slightly faster. “Now that was just panic.” Sunny shrugged. “She traded her bishop for my knight and now my queen is also attacking her knight.” Indigo looked at the screen. “Did she just give you her queen?”  “I don’t get that either.” Sunny sighed. “Either she’s tilted or I’m on fire today.” “Maybe both.” Indigo replied.  “Possibly,” Sunny said. “Now my plan is simply to exchange everything and win.” “If I recall correctly, you once had a queen against a rook with her in that last game of Queen of Blitz and it was a draw. Which was all she needed.” Sunny’s eye twitched. “I told you not to mention that!”  Indigo started to look around Sunny’s room, searching for something that could serve as a weapon in case Sunny turned ballistic. However, it didn’t last long. “Never mind, she walked into a checkmate,” Sunny said. “Someone call some human rights guys, it’s probably illegal to own kids like that.” Indigo sighed and shook her head. Luckily for her, the door opened and Sugarcoat walked in, followed by Sour, Lemon, Twilight, and Juniper.  “I have good news and bad news,” Sugarcoat said. “Good news is, Lemon drove the girls here, so she’ll stay sober today. The bad news, however…” She walked to Indigo. “Why did I have to take the bus today?” “I told you my car is broken,” Indigo replied. “While Lemon’s Yugo is in the working condition?” Sugarcoat shook her head. “Usually it’s the other way around.”  “Well, turns out that in my car you can’t just dismantle the carburetor and put it back together like in my dad’s truck or Lemon’s Yugo,” Indigo replied. “I saw a lot of electronics and it turned out it was fuel injection. And it turns out they only make those in Taiwan.” “You still got here by motorbike,” Sugarcoat said. “Yes, but you don’t like it anyway,” Indigo replied. “You said something like, ‘I don’t fancy becoming an organ donor’ last time I offered to drive you home. And, before you ask, Bulk won’t let me borrow his truck since that one time when I tried to help his father with timber and drove the damn thing into a bog.” “How did you even do that?” Sugarcoat asked. “It’s roughly the size of battleship Yamato.” Indigo smirked. “And this bog looked like the legit road. Then I was suddenly axle-deep in mud, suffering chuul-related flashbacks.” “I can totally see that.” Sour rubbed her back. “Also, I prefer your car. I think the company that made Lemon’s car also made guns, right? They sure do know how to inflict pain.” “It’s because they never assumed people can grow that big.” Juniper said, looking at Sour. “I mean, have you ever considered a career in mo– aargh!” She jumped on one leg, rubbing her ankle, and looked at Indigo. “Why did you kick me?” “Trust me, I’m saving your ass,” Indigo replied, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Don’t mention modelling around Sour or else you’ll see how sour she can get.” “Do I want to know why?” “No,” Twilight replied. “Also, are we getting to the game now, or does anyone need anything they’re addicted to? Like food, chess, beer, cigarettes, or snarky comments?” “You’re not getting beer today, by the way,” Sunny said. “Your brother asked me if we were drinking together and he really wasn’t happy. He thinks I have a bad influence on you, even though you went to a school full of junkies.” Twilight sighed. “You can’t just stay sober when someone kills a chuul using a halfling as a makeshift flail.”  “Amen to that.” Sunny nodded, turning away from her computer and walking to the door. “Onwards to the role-playing cave.” They walked downstairs, to Sunny’s basement-turned-gaming lair. Not much changed there since their last visit. The jet glider model was on the floor with its cover partially removed to reveal some electronics underneath. One of the old closets was open, its contents spilling on the floor. “Hey, what’s this?” Indigo asked. “Beneath all those old uniforms?” “It’s most definitely not a body pillow,” Sunny replied, pushing the old uniforms and most definitely not a body pillow back into the closet. “Ah, okay.” Indigo shrugged. “Was that girl on it even legal?” “She was,” Sunny replied. “I mean, I bought– I mean, I totally didn’t buy it from a very talented artist at a con I most definitely didn’t go to.” “Ah, I remember,” Lemon said. “I didn’t go to that con with you too and I remember I didn’t start to doubt your taste when you didn’t buy it.”  Juniper rubbed her temples. “My head hurts just from hearing that and I have a lot of acting to do today. Also, Katyusha? Seriously?” “Shut up,” Sunny muttered, blushing. “Can we talk about which Chinese cartoon is better later?” Indigo asked, searching through the contents of a paper bag she’d brought with her. “Anyone want spring rolls? Or sweet and sour chicken?” “Chinese cartoon?” Sunny hissed. Juniper furrowed her eyebrows. “Chinese cartoon?”  Sugarcoat chuckled. “Chinese cartoon. Good one, Indy.” “My sister made chicken for you?” Sour asked. “Watch out, her cooking is rather poisonous.” Indigo sighed. “I said ‘sweet and sour chicken’, not ‘Sweeten Sour’s chicken’. Who came up with that name anyway?” “Keep digging, Indigo, there are at least three people in this room you didn’t offend yet,” Sugarcoat said. “Or maybe two because I’m still mad at you for using me to beat a chuul to death.” “Oh, chill out,” Indigo replied. “We’re gonna heal you soon.” “Unless we ended up in some shithole where everything tries to kill us.” Sugarcoat looked at Twilight. “Which seems to be the case.” “Oh, don’t worry.” Twilight smirked, opening a file with her notes.  Indigo frowned, seeing a pile of papers that nearly spilled from it. “What is this?” “Oh, I did some rewrites to suit your playing style more,” Twilight replied. “Although soon we’ll do some serious dungeon crawling, so be prepared.” “Okay,” Sunny said, taking her seat. “Bring it.” Upon closer inspection, the village turned out to be empty.  Well, not completely empty. The huts were abandoned, although at least one of their former inhabitants was currently hanging from the tree, half-eaten by birds or something even worse. There was, however, one building with the smoke still coming from the chimney – the large inn in the middle of the village. “Odd,” Sour said. “The cultists massacred the village but left the inn intact.” “Maybe they need to crack open a cold one too,” Fafhrd replied. The barbarian was still carrying unconscious Gray Mouser, who didn’t seem like Lemon’s healing helped him at all.  “That or they’re the new owners,” Lemon said. “Then I’m afraid their choice of drinks may have changed.” “For once Bloody Mary will have actual blood in it.” Gmork chuckled. “So, do we explore the place?”  “Well, maybe there’s beer inside,” Fafhrd said, walking towards the door. It was slightly ajar, with some marks on it, as if someone tried to break it with an axe. “I sense no traps,” the barbarian said. “I don’t believe you. You could walk for weeks in the most interesting districts of Bangkok and you wouldn’t find a trap either. ” Sour walked to the door and looked at it. “Okay, there are no traps, but someone is definitely inside.” Fafhrd raised his hand with unconscious Gray Mouser in it. “I’m armed and dangerous.” “Dangerous? To whom?” Lemon asked. “Okay, let’s get inside.” The inn was dark, but didn’t look abandoned otherwise. There was no dust on the floor and the tables were standing neatly, with chairs around them. The air was filled with the smell of beer and, much to the heroes’ surprise, scrambled eggs.  “Get out, whoever you are,” Sour muttered. “In the name of Solonor Thelandira, reveal yourself!” An overweight, scruffy man emerged from behind the counter. He held a crossbow, but he lowered it when he saw his guests. “Not everyday you hear the names of elf gods in this cursed valley,” he said.  “We noticed,” Fafhrd said, putting the unconscious halfling on one of the tables. “Our friend had an unfortunate meeting with a chuul. Can we stay here for a few days?” “Don’t count on much to eat,” the bartender replied. “The merchants don’t show up here anymore. Well, not in one piece.” “We also noticed,” Gmork said.  The bartender looked at Gray Mouser. “Is he a cultist? Wouldn’t be the first halfling among them.” “Don’t worry, he’s the follower of Tharizdun,” Lemon replied. “I know this is usually not good news, but well, better the devil you know.” The bartender looked at Lemon. “I see,” he muttered. “As I said, we don’t have much food.” “We have some deer meat,” Sour replied. “Also, there’s a fried chuul somewhere across the ridge, though I’m not sure whether they’re edible.” “Maybe for half-orcs.” Gmork shrugged. “I hope ye have some beer at least?” “Beer? Yes, whatever we managed to hide from the cultists,” the bartender said. “Charlene!” A short girl with curly hair, dressed in a simple woolen dress walked out of the kitchen. She froze, her eyes widening, when she saw the colourful group of adventurers standing by the counter.  “Bring the beer and something for this little fellow.” The bartender pointed at Gray Mouser. “Where did you find that peculiar creature?”  Fafhrd shrugged. “I was just hanging out in some halfling village, completely without a job, and I saw a poster saying that–” “Wait, you can read?” Sour asked. “Another halfling read it for me,” Fafhrd replied, smiling sheepishly. “It said that Jolly Sackville-Baggins would be burned at the stake for necromancy, sorcery, murder, kidnapping, and stealing a set of silver spoons. So naturally I had to take a look at it.” “And you helped him escape?” Sour asked. “Also, is this some kind of a tradition? Wherever this halfling goes, he ends up at the gallows?” “Nah.” Fafhrd chuckled. “Bloody halflings can’t burn anyone properly. So I wanted to show them how it’s done, when he kicked me in the nuts and ran away.” The bartender looked at Fafhrd and then at Gray Mouser. “How could he kick you in the nuts?” “Maybe it was a headbutt.” Fafhrd shrugged. “Hell only knows. Those halflings are fast.’ Gray Mouser opened one eye and groaned. “Jump, flip, and kick. The ancient art of hobbitsu.”  “Is biting the ankles a part of it?” Sour asked.  “Only when elves are involved,” Gray Mouser replied. “Also, I’ve been wondering–” “While unconscious?” Lemon asked, looking at the bartender’s daughter who just put a tankard of beer in front of her.  “I can wonder while being unconscious, you know,” Gray Mouser muttered. “I mean, if those cultists put a bog full of chuuls here, they may have something else in store for us. We need more firepower.” “What about a catapult?” Gmork asked.  “That’s a bad idea,” Sour replied. “There has never been time in history where a catapult was a bad idea,” Gmork said. “Every problem in the world can be solved with enough catapults.” “And what will we build them off of?” Fafhrd asked. “And who’s gonna drag them through the mountains?” “To think about it, we can get an army,” Gray Mouser said. “No mercenaries,” Lemon replied. “We’d have to share the money and I’m pretty sure those cultists aren’t that rich. Not to mention that seducing all the mercenaries to make them forget that we were supposed to pay them is a lot of work.” “Not to mention that critical failure always hits when you least expect it.” Fafhrd chuckled, but his laughter died down when he looked at Gray Mouser. “Wait, you’re not planning to bring an army of the undead here?” Gray Mouser only smirked. Twilight sighed and looked at Sugarcoat. “Remind me, exactly how many undead can you control at the same time?” Sugarcoat shrugged. “I think I lost count a while ago. But then, they come and go… I mean, this spell only works for twenty-four hours anyway.” Twilight shook her head. “Let’s pretend that I believe this. Sunny, how many barrels of gunpowder do you have left?” “About two,” Sunny replied. “Two-ish. Also, why don’t you ask Sour how many arrows she carries?” “I know better than to count Sour’s arrows,” Twilight replied. “I just assume I won’t get a straight answer and move on.” “How many arrows do you have anyway?” Indigo asked.  “Enough,” Sour Sweet replied.  “What I thought.” Twilight sighed. “Also, Sunny, I don’t know how you are planning to bring siege engines into this, but I’d like to see you try.” “Sure thing.” Sunny chuckled.  “By the way, that reminds me,” Juniper said, grabbing her bag. “Sunny, you’re a fan of sports anime, aren’t you?” Indigo rolled her eyes. “Damn weebs. Can you just stick to being the innkeeper and his daughter?” “His daughter is mute, so I don’t have much to do there,” Juniper replied. “Also, my question still stands.” Sunny shrugged. “Well, sports anime is fine by me. How do you know?” “From the Girls und Panzer not-body-pillow.” Juniper smirked, producing something from her bag. “Are tank battles a sport?” Indigo asked. “The same way Die Hard is a Christmas movie,” Sour replied. “Which it is, and you can’t deny that.” “I got that ski jumping manga.” Juniper gave Sunny the manga. “Guess you’ll like it.” “What is ski jumping?” Lemon asked.  “I tried it once,” Indigo said. “It was painful.” “Exactly what it says on the tin.” Twilight sighed. “Also, are you done talking? I want to know your plans on how to take on the cultists.” “Yeah, right. To thwart them all?” Indigo chuckled. “We’ve been through this with Sugarcoat. Also, I still wonder by what logic is riding a tank and shooting things a sport? I mean, it sounds fun, but–” “You should stop playing barbarians,” Sugarcoat said. “You break character, but still stay stupid. I mean, you have running, right? That’s a sport. But you also have car racing, which is a sport too. The idea is the same, but with machines. Now, you also have combat sports. Add machines and what do you get?” Indigo shrugged. “Robot fights?”  “I don’t know how you do that, but that’s both stupid and awesome.” Sugarcoat shook her head.  “I’m a natural,” Indigo replied.  Twilight cleared her throat. “Can we get back into the game?” “Sure, go on,” Sunny replied, taking a look at the manga Juniper gave her. “Gray Mouser, what are we going to do tonight?” Fafhrd asked, watching the halfling read some old tome of, most likely, eldritch lore.  “The same thing as every night,” Gray Mouser replied. “We’re gonna try to fuck up those cultists.” “Well, I see Gmork is preparing more barrels,” Fafhrd said. “Is it gunpowder or what?” The half-orc adjusted the protective glasses. “Among other things. I’m putting some spells into it to increase damage. Also, I’m experimenting with other explosives.” Behind Gmork, one of the empty huts suddenly turned into a ball of fire. Fafhrd ducked; debris and burning planks flew above him, hitting the broad side of the inn. “Okay, this is a bit unstable,” Gmork muttered. “By the way, are there any glowing rocks in the mountains where ye live? They make ye feel sick if ye keep ‘em for too long.”  “Nah, nothing like that,” the barbarian replied. “Why are you asking?” “Well, I think that if you get a big enough barrel, fill it with those rocks, put some gunpowder in there and get some dwarf inside so he’d launch the charges when the time comes, the effects could be well beyond what we can imagine. Just enough energy to start the chain reaction and then we’d have an explosion to end all explosions. No castle would resist such a power.” “What about the dwarf?” Sour asked. She was busy shooting her bow at Charlene, the innkeeper’s daughter, each time missing her by a fraction of an inch and causing the girl to squeal and make rude gestures at her. “They’d never find the body.” “I can get behind that,” Sour said, firing another arrow at Charlene, hitting the wall inches from her left hand.  Lemon shook her head. “Have you ever wondered why everyone thinks elves are dicks?” “No idea.” Sour shrugged. “Guess lesser races just can’t appreciate–” “I think lesser races really appreciate not being shot at,” Lemon replied. “Leave that poor girl alone.” “Eh, she’s just an innkeeper’s daughter,” Sour said. “I mean, there’s plenty of innkeepers in the world and most of them have some kind of a daughter. Now, when it comes to elves…” “For all we know, she might even be a Wu-jen Mystic with Mastery of Fire,” Lemon said. “Elves always judge a book by the cover, not to mention that with this attitude you’re just getting hate from all the other intelligent races.” “Other races are intelligent?” Sour asked. “Fafhrd needs a map to tie his shoes. Also, how can you tell an innkeeper’s daughter is a Wu-jen Mystic?” “Mystics have quirks,” Lemon replied. “And she walks barefoot.” “By this logic, our Jolly Sackville-Baggins is a Mystic.” Sour chuckled. “Or all halflings, for that matter.” Fafhrd walked to them. “You’re talking about Mystics? I knew one of them. He’d drink vodka and talk to his imaginary friend.” “Mystics drink vodka?” Lemon asked. “I only met a boring teetotaler, who resisted seducing for far too long.” “Well, some of them don’t,” Sour replied. “But others only reach mystical state by getting shit-faced.” “Our Mystics prefer mushrooms,” Fafhrd said. “I ate them once and then I had a dream that I was playing dragonchess with Asmodeus. And I can’t even play dragonchess.” “I once won against him,” Lemon said. “I mean, he gave me a warrior odds, but still.” Suddenly, they heard a loud explosion and saw Gmork covered in soot, sitting with the remains of a flask in his hand. “This was almost stable,” Gmork muttered.  “So our plan so far is blowing up all the cultists?” Gray Mouser asked. “It worked in Call of Cthulhu,” Fafhrd replied.  “Yes, but we all died,” Lemon said. “And we don’t want to die here because unlike the poor Call of Cthulhu cultists, those cultists apparently shit gold coins, so we want to get rich and kill everyone so they don’t track and kill us like the late Sinbad the Sailor.” “So basically, we need an army that will deliver the explosives to the cultists in our stead and won’t ask for money in return.” Gray Mouser smirked. “And I happen to have a solution to both of these problems.” Sour groaned. “If you brought here an army of the undead, I’ll fucking kill you.” The halfling smiled sheepishly. “Well, actually…” He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Several undead emerged from behind the bushes. Even more approached from behind the ridge, walking towards the village in an oddly mechanical fashion. The heroes recognised some of them; skeletal pirates walked in a formation with the city’s executioner and his assistant, as well as the woman Sour had shot, with the arrow still sticking from her forehead. There were also older zombies, almost decaying. Some of the skeletons were small, probably belonging to halflings.  All of them were armed with a wide range of weapons, from rusty swords and cutlasses to spears, scythes, and slingshots. Two large orc zombies dragged a catapult behind them. It was as old and decaying as its users, but a skilled artificer could probably bring it back to working condition. What was more, it was followed by more orcs. They were all undead, but it didn’t matter much – they smelled almost the same as when they were alive. “Hey aren’t those the orcs that besieged that one shithole we lived in?” Fafhrd asked. “There’d be no siege if you didn’t tell their leader that his mother was a whore and that you’d be his father but a dog was faster than you,” Gray Mouser replied. “Not my fault.” Fafhrd smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t know the city walls were in ruins.” “Well, now the whole town is.” Gray Mouser sighed. “But at least I borrowed that orc company you’ve slain and told them to wait in some cold cave so they wouldn’t decompose too much.” “How do you even control them?” Sour asked. “I mean, you have to roll the dice constantly to keep them under your control, right?” “Well, yes.” Gray Mouser chuckled nervously, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Sour, for the love of Tharizdun, shut the fuck up before Twilight–” “Sugarcoat!” Twilight looked at Sugarcoat, the lenses of her glasses almost glowing. “Are you sure you can control this many undead?” “Well, under some circumstances…” Sugarcoat smirked, throwing nervous glances around. “I mean, I can neither confirm nor deny that what once thought to be impossible may be now, upon careful consideration, more likely to occur, even though the chance of such an event to happen may seem like it’s impossible, uhh…” “Tell her you smoked weed but you didn’t inhale,” Lemon prompted. “Why would I do that?” Sugarcoat asked. “Yeah, I always inhale too.” Lemon shrugged. “But yeah, a whole army of the undead seems a bit above your level.” “Bullshit,” Sugarcoat replied. “I can roll the dice to prove it.” “Okay,” Twilight said. “But if you don’t pass, then all those undead will rebel against you.” “Make sure she doesn’t use weighted dice,” Juniper whispered. It was a pretty good stage whisper, causing Indigo to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” Juniper asked. “When I was fourteen, I tried to make weighted dice and I blew up the microwave oven,” Indigo replied. “Just my luck. My parents didn’t let me play video games for a month. They thought that I decided to become a terrorist after playing Counter-Strike.” “Fascinating,” Twilight said. “Okay, Sugarcoat, show me what you’ve got.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes and grabbed the dice. With a groan, she tossed them across the table. They landed on the map, one of them bouncing off Sour’s plastic cup and nearly knocking it over. “Well, crap.” Sunny looked at the dice and shook her head.  “What’s going on?” Indigo asked. “Not everyone can add all those numbers so fast, you know.” Sunny sighed and looked at her character sheet. “Well, the situation is normal,” she said. “All fucked up. Bend over, here it comes again.” Indigo froze. “Ouch…”  Sunny nodded. “Yeah, the dice just killed us all…”