A Parable in Free Verse By Those Dudes as dictated by Abdul Al Hazared "So, what do you guys wanna do?" said Dingbat. "Nothing you mentally inferior weasel. Let us just sit around the inn this week. I'm still wounded." groused Rodent. "Didn't you go to the cleric like I told you to!" yelled Dingbat. "He was going to charge me a hundred gold to heal me!" said Rodent. "It's not as if I only have ten or eleven hit points like you slobs." "Ooooh! I think I resent that." grumbled Dingbat fiercely. "I have just as many hit points as you, I'll have you know! Or I would have, if us monks weren't discriminated against!!" "You're one to talk!" snarled Sauramud. "At least you can fight!" "And I suppose that makes a difference? You wizards don't need hit points anyway. You just hide behind the paladin!" scoffed Dingbat. "Well nobody asked you to charge that troll. Don't come whining to me if you're clawed up." said Rodent cooly. "Besides that, it wouldn't have noticed us if you hadn't run out there hooting, and hollering and waving." scowled Sauramud. "Duh, what's 'scriminated mean?" asked a bewildered Playdough. "That like when you have to give away most of your money and magic items." said Dingbat. "Only I get to keep all my magic items." "I don't think I like 'scrimination." said Playdough pensively. "What! I've never heard such whining." cried Sauramud. "You think you're hard done by! Well let me tell you about discrimination! No hit points, no armour, no weapons..." "No brains..." mumbled somebody. "Someone's suckin' fer a fireball up the kazoo!" said the wizard dangerously. "Why just last week..." "Anyway." interrupted the ranger testily. "Are we heading off to the dungeon or what?" "We cleaned that out last session, didn't we?" said Dingbat. "Yes, that's right." agreed Sauramud, consulting a grimy, much- folded map. "Well, yes." acknowledged Rodent, "But we never did search all of the walls for secret doors. Recall that dead-end corridor?" "You mean the one we spent half an hour searching?" asked the monk. "Well I still say there has to be door at the end there. If only the wizard had bought that treasure detection spell when I told him to." "I needed that other one more." explained the wizard. "I needed Leomund's Trap to keep the monk from rifling my backpack during his watch." "I didn't! Besides, you went through mine!" "Only to get my coffee cup back, you packrat!" "That was mine. I lent you the gold for it! Besides, mine was broken. And it was your fault!" said Dingbat. "What do you mean? How could it have been my fault?" "Well it was broken, wasn't it?" "Duh..." interjected Playdough, "What's a kazoo?" This brought the conversation - such as it was - to an abrupt halt. "I say." declared Dingbat. "Where's the Ranger buggered off to?" "There he is!" announced Sauramud, pointing. "Just riding out the city gates." "Well what does he think he's doing?" said Playdough angrily. "I say we just let him go off and die!" "Oh, we can't do that." mourned the monk. "That wouldn't be Lawful Good." "Well he's not Lawful Good." pointed out the magicer. "What! What is he then?" demanded Dingbat angrily. "He's Neutral good." said Sauramud distastefully. "The Chaotic Evil bastard!" swore the friar. "I wanted to be Neutral, but no he said. Let's all be Lawful Good, he said. Be pals, be chums..." froth was forming by this point. "Duh, don't blow a spaz! I wanned to be Neutral too." said Playdough. "You can't be Neutral, you're a paladin." said Sauramud. "Duh, well why did I have to be the paladin?" whined Playdough. "Why couldn't you be the paladin?" "Because I wasn't pretty enough to be the paladin you thoughtless bastard!" yelled Sauramud. "You and your verdammt seventeen, fancy- boy charisma! And you don't even use it to get women!" "Duh, I don't think I likes the tone of your voice." growled Playdough, fingering the hilt of his magical two-hander. "Well there's nothing you can do about it 'cause you're Lawful Good!" said Sauramud nastily. "Yaaarrrgh!" bellowed a voice like that of the ranger's from somewhere outside the city wall. "Will you get out here and help me?" "Holy cow! Something's attacking Rodent." yelled Dingbat. "Let's get out there and help him kill it so he doesn't get all the experience!" "Duh, I still say we let him die." "Well, I admit the idea has its points, but nevertheless, we are Lawful ... well, you know." "Well, I s'pose." said the chaste one charitably. They all packed and saddled their horses quickly. Stopping only to buy rations they raced for the city gate, then changed directions as they realized it was the wrong gate they were heading for. "Duh, which gate did he go out?" "OUCH!" came a cry of pain from outside the wall. "That one!" cried Dingbat, bounding up and down on his horse, pointing. Sure enough, the guards at that particular gate seemed more animated than usual. In fact they were chewing their cud and leaning out to watch something nearby. The threesome rode up and attempted to ride past. The guards blocked the way solidly with their swivel ballistas. "I wouldn't go out there." advised one of them. "Why not?" asked Dingbat. The guard blinked myopically. "Umm." he said, thinking hard. He looked across at his partner. "Why not?" he asked. "I dunno. Maybe the Sarge will know. Ya wanna call him?" "Not me. Why don't we just let 'em go by?" "Yes, yes. Why don't you just let us go by." agreed Dingbat, tapping his monkish toes with impatience. "Well mebbe we should." agreed the second guard. "And then again, mebbe we shouldn't - if ya knows what I mean." He coughed and held out his hand. The wizard tossed him a silver piece which started the guard coughing even louder. "Thank god the ranger isn't here." groused the wizard, tossing over a handful of gold. (Note: Rodent was nortorious for his lack of understanding of the common forms of bribery. He was known to stare uncomprehendingly at an outstretched hand for minutes.) The guards disappeared back into their sentry boxes like rats into a hole with a last, "Right, off you go then." They steamed through and were awarded with the sight of Rodent battling fiercely with the ten remaining bandits. A small pile of bandit corpses lay about him like fortifications. Unfortunately, these were your standard berzerker-bandits and not known to retreat when taking unreasonable losses. Consequently Rodent was in deep trouble. He was weaving badly from lost blood and limbs. "You lucky bastard!" cried Sauramud as the other three came riding up to join the melee. "We wandered for two months through the wilderness looking for an encounter, and here you get jumped outside the city wall not fifty feet from the gates! These things had better not have treasure!" "Gak!" said Rodent, pointing to the chest tied to one of the bandit's horses. "Well that's typical you lucky, lucky bastard! I suppose you've got a map to their lair too!" "Uh uh..." gasped Rodent, holding up a bloodstained map as he toppled over backward. "Duh, are you just gonna stand there, or are yous gonna help us kill 'em?" demanded Playdough, decapitating one with a mighty swat of his sword. "KRACK!" went the prestidigitator's lightning bolt, arcing between several bandits. "Lucky bastard." he grumbled. "That's the last." panted Dingbat, trying to extract his joy- stick from the groin of a downed bandit. "Duh, let's check out the treasure." said Playdough, ripping the top off the chest. A green cloud spurted out of it and surrounded him briefly, but he sneezed it away. "Another thing about paladins!" snarled Sauramud. "They get such disgustingly great saving throws." "Why didn't you wait for me to disarm it!" said Dingbat. "'Cause you're too slow and yous only got a twenty percent chance." said Playdough. "Besides, if you do it, you get all smug." "I do not!" snapped Dingbat in a huff. He began rooting through the chest. "What a rip-off! It's just full of gold!" "Duh, what? No magic?" said the paladin. "Well you couldn't keep it anyway." said Rodent feebly. "You shut up, you're dead." said Playdough with a laugh. "Oh, yeah." said Sauramud. "Guess mebbe I oughta bandage him or something." He reached into his pack and began to extract bales of gauze and tape, ointments, splints, suture and thread, garlic, wolvesbane, and a trepanning knife. "Are you sure he's not dead?" asked Dingbat dubiously. "He's at minus four, but I think there's a chance I can salvage him." said the Wizard with genial overconfidence. "Just watch." "Stitch .. stitch .. wrap .. tie .. bleed bleed .. splint .. cork .. slice .. bleed some more .. stitch stitch stitch - oops - unravel unravel .. stitch .. wrap .. tourniquet .. glug glug glug ..." "Damn, that was my last healing potion." said Dingbat, flinging the empty flask angrily at the ground. "You and your bandaging." "Well I brought him up to minus three, didn't I? You only rolled a lousy three on your potion. If I hadn't bandaged him he would be MELBA by now!" said Sauramud defensively. "Pushing up the daisies. Buying the proverbial farm. Run down the curtain and join the choir invisible. He would be an EX ranger!" "Oh shut up." said Playdough as he heaved the unconscious Rodent onto his horse. "Fine." said Sauramud, his voice brittle. "I just won't help out at all from now on. Just stand me in the back of the party." "Good." snickered Dingbat. "You're one to talk. It's all your fault anyway!" snapped the wiz. "No it's not!" said Dingbat. "You can't just blame everything on me..." "Not everything, just what you cause! If you hadn't stolen my coffee cup, none of this would have happened." said Sauramud. "You... Oh!" sputtered the monk, prancing about angrily. "I don't know why I put up with this garbage. Anyone can see it was Rodent's fault..." "Oh yeah right! Blame a man who's down! How Lawful Good can you get!" snapped the ranger. "You shut up!" said Dingbat. "You're unconscious!" "Duh, are we's gonna get him cured up this time? Or are we gonna wait another month?" said the paladin, running his hands lovingly through the gold in the chest. "Yes, and hands off that gold!" said Sauramud. "You can't spend it, so you're just going to get depressed again." Playdough moaned in despair. "And don't forget to tithe this month either! I'm getting tired of dodging temple acolytes in the street." "Yeah, remember when we ran into the high priest in that bar?" said Dingbat. "Gosh, was that embarrassing." "Well if Playdough hadn't been drinking and gambling at the time, it might have been a little less so." pointed out the thaumaturge. "Well I hadda make up my losses from when that alchemist stiffed me on that poison." said the holy one. "Uh, I mean, poison antidote." "Yeah, sure." sniggered Dingbat and Sauramud. They arrived at the temple in short order. Playdough waved hello to the temple acolytes as they strode in, causing many to start with surprise and annoyance. "Well I'm surprised and annoyed to see you here." said the priest at the altar. "I should think you'd be ashamed to show your face in here after the excommunication." "Duh, what?" said Playdough as Dingbat and Sauramud exchanged looks of alarm. "Come come, didn't you hear the herald and see the postings?" said the cleric patiently. "I didn't see anyone. We've been out of town I guess." "Surely you got our letter?" "Nope." "Heard the tavern songs?" "Nope." "Not even the carrier pigeons? You haven't been out of town, boy, you've been comatose!" said the priest. "Well what of it?" snorted Dingbat. "His cures still work. C'mon guys, it's off to that other temple." "I can never pronounce that others guys name." groused Playdough. "Do we hafta go there? Why can't I just stay here?" "Because you've been excommunicated you git!" snarled Rodent, forgetting his state (once again). He took another two hit points for his gaffe. "Well, what is this excommunication?" asked the paladin. "Is it bad or sometin'?" "It means you don't have to pay tithes here any more." pointed out the monk. This earned him a withering glance from the priest. "Indeed." he said icily. "It has many dire consequences also associated." "No tithing." said Playdough greedily, looking back at the chest the wizard was carrying. His reverie was interrupted by a particularly loud groan from the ranger. "Look, he's bleeding on the carpet. Why don't you just cure him and we'll continue this discussion when he's vertical." said Sauramud, spooning through the coins meaningfully. "Well, for a suitable contribution, we will cure anybody." sighed the priest. "Temple policy and all." He snapped his fingers and the ranger leapt to his feet whilst a pair of temple bouncers man-handled the chest away from the wizard. One paused to throw him to the ground a couple of times. "Now now." said the priest to the second bouncer who was just getting his left foot into the melee. "Off you go. We'll have no overt violence on these hallowed grounds. Take that money to the store rooms and get counting." The bouncers dutifully strode off with a couple last kicks while Rodent, shaking off the effects of the cure, turned to confront the priest. "Where's the high priest!" he demanded peremptorily. "We are not accustomed to dealing with flunkies." "That's right!" said Dingbat. "You keep forgetting. We're all over fifth level now! C'mon boy, chop chop!" "That voice!" came a shout from the back. "Is *he* in here again?" The high priest came storming out of the back, tucking in his vestments hastily and frowning, beet red. He started at Dingbat with ill-disguised loathing. "Gee sir." said the monk sweetly. "How do you get your facial veins to stick out like that?" "I thought I left orders about this one! Where are the temple bouncers?" "They're in the back sir, counting up the treasure." said the priest with a sycophantic smile. "Shall I send for some of the town guards?" "Treasure? They brought treasure?" said the high priest. "Well that's okay then. I'll overlook it this time. Cheerio gents." He turned towards a gothic arch marked Office and made as if to leave. "Uh sir, there is a small problem." began the lower priest, thumbing toward Playdough. "Playdough my boy. Good to see you. You're looking most charismatic." said the high priest cheerily. "Sorry. Can't stop now, lots to do and all. We really must have some tea and a chat someday. My regards to your two companions too." he said, turning to go once again. "Three!" said Dingbat testily. "And you forget about the matter at hand." "What? What matter?" he turned to face the priest. "What is numb-nuts here talking about?" "You know sir, the memo about..." he nodded his head toward Playdough. "You know I don't read those things." scolded the high priest. "Which memo are you blathering about?" "Well," he said, fawning disgustingly. "You know. Memo forty- seven stroke two-b? Paladins; excommunication thereof?" "Duh, he means me." said Playdough glumly. "What rot! Why would we wish to excommunicate Playdough?" "Well sir, you know those reports we've been getting. Innocents slaughtered, riots in taverns, Neutral Good companions, vestal virgins who aren't now..." "Reports! Reports!" stormed the high priest. "I'm sure they're all exaggerated. This is Playdough we're talking about here!" He stepped down from the front dias and wrapped a fatherly arm about the paladin's shoulder. "Why do you realize this boy has exceeded all tithing records for the last fiscal year? Mind you, he's a little behind on the monthlies..." his arm tightened noticeably at this until the paladin winced. "But he always makes good." "Uhhhng.." moaned Sauramud, rising groggily to his feet. "The treasure, what happened to the treasure? There was a couple of G's here a few minutes ago." "There, you see? He's a good boy!" Pat pat. "Well, I'm a busy man. I'm already behind in my interview for prospective vestal virgins. You there," he pointed at the priest. "We're not just paying you to stand and gawk, are we?" "Uh, nosir." said the priest quickly. He stepped back, leafed through his holy book and began in a high falsetto, "The sermon shall now resume. Ahem. So it is written, to give is divine, to give more, diviner. He who is holiest is also broke..." "Wait a minute!" piped Dingbat. "Holy-shmoly! A third of that treasure was mine!" "A quarter!" said Rodent frostily. "Oh yeah, you're awake now, aren't you." "Well what has that go to do with it?" "Nothing." said the monk airily. "Be that as it may." said Sauramud. "We are still broke, seeing as Playdough tithed away all of our earnings." "Duh, I guess that makes us holy. Hyuck hyuck!" chortled the paladin. "Down in front!" called a voice from the back pews, so the foursome elbowed their way down the center aisle and out to the street. Cutting their way through the beggars and other riff-raff they were soon standing beside their mounts and dithering. "So, now what do you guys wanna do?" said Dingbat. "Well, there is the map." said Rodent. "But I seem to have misplaced it somewhere between the combat and here. Sauramud, have you seen it perchance?" "Map?" said Sauramud blankly. "Oh, that map." he remembered as Rodent's hands made clenching motions. "I think I may have dropped it in my pack." He opened his backpack and fished out an ornate box. He bypassed the trap, undid the combination, lifted out the magical bag of concealment, removed the sealed scroll tube and uttered the necessary incantations to prevent it from exploding. "Here it is." he said, pulling it out of the tube. "Uh huh." said Dingbat, snapping it out of his hands. "I wonder what else you have in there?" "Why don't you tell me." said the spell caster snidely. "Better yet, why don't you just have a look in there for yourself? Pfffft!" "I've had just about enough of you. Watch your step, wizard! Or I'll clock your lights out!" he handed the map to the Ranger who studied it for a moment or two and announced, "It's in some kind of code, but I think we have to go north from here." "Duh, you always say that. Kin I see it?" "Oh very well, but you won't make heads nor tails of it." said Rodent. "Umm, well it looks kinda obvious to me." mused the Paladin. "That's what I thought." said Sauramud. "What are you two cretins talking about?" "Duh, well don't this 'V' stand for the city of Vermouth, and this 'W' stand for the town of Wartburg? An' this squiggly line oughta be the Great Smell River..." "Give me that!" snapped Rodent, snaffling the map away from Playdough. "It is obvious to me that this map is too complex for you two. What do you know of cartography? Now get on your horses and follow me!" He led them south. Two weeks and four extremely nasty encounters later they reigned what was left of their horses up half a mile away from what the ranger believed to be the lair of the bandits. "We're here." he announced. "The lair is just over that hill." "Good. Let's go in there and deal with them." said the wizard. "Duh nope, I'm still wounded." disagreed Playdough. "Oh for heaven sake Playdough, you're only down ten hit points!" said Sauramud. "Don't be such a wuss!" "It might be all they need." said the other darkly. "Yer one to talk, you're only down eight." "Yeah, but that's half for me!" "Whatever." "Look," said Rodent. "How about if we do something indirect then. We could poison their water supply and build a ring of fire around their camp in the middle of the night and fan it inward." "Hey, that sounds neat!" chirruped Dingbat, swinging from a tree overhead. "We can't do that." bemoaned Sauramud. "We're Lawful. Remember? Besides, the monk there can't use flaming oil." "So we use flint and tinder. It should be a piece of pie!" "Duh, why don't we just run in there and get it over with?" asked Playdough, with visions of a long and arduous discussion looming. Sadly his wise council was ignored. Many hours passed. "No no you fool!" said Rodent, slapping the magicer's hand away from the rather complex diagrams etched in the dirt. "If we came from the north side, with the wind blowing towards them we would be detected for sure!" Just then Dingbat came sauntering back into the camp. "Hullo." he announced. "I've been off scouting the bandits." There was a moment's dead silence. "Did I tell you to do that?" demanded Rodent fiercely. "You weren't seen were you?" "Pish! You forget I'm a monk." "I wish I could." mumbled Sauramud. "Well, how many of them were there?" asked Rodent. "Fourty-two." said Dingbat smugly. He polished his nails on his monkish lapels. "Damn!" cursed Sauramud. "Ah ha! That makes your entire plan invalid!" said Rodent. "You hadn't counted on more than thirty-eight. That means we have to go with my plan, with it's more subtle variations!" "Now just a second mister woodsy-wonder..." began the magician, "You might know your tracking, and you may have memorized the Boy Scout manual, but when it comes to plans, you have to take a back seat to me. All I have to do is alter a couple of variables here..." Playdough groaned and began to unpack his camping gear. Two days later, as the party ran screaming and swinging into the bandits' camp, they came up short. "They're all gone!" wailed Dingbat. "Impossible!" yelled Rodent. "Where could Forty-two bandits have disappeared to?" "Duh, whys don't ya track them and find out?" asked Playdough. "Don't tell me my job." said Rodent. "Let's see... Here's some tracks but they're a couple of days old. Wait a minute, these were made by monkish alligator shoes. They lead up to this bush by the edge of the camp and stop." The others regarded the bush - the only one like it within 200 metres. Dingbat feigned disinterest. "Yes, it looks like this bush was carried forward and placed in this spot, right next to the sentry trail. Hmm, what's this? It looks like sentry footprints approaching from the camp. They stop here some distance behind the bush and, hm, here they are running back to the camp again." "What do you make of it?" asked Sauramud, glaring at the monk. Playdough did likewise. "It would appear that some nameless monk attempted to use a bush for camouflage right here inside the sentry trail and was detected!" "I see." "Duh, when did the bandits leave?" "By my calculations, about a day and a half ago." said Rodent. "So he saw me." said Dingbat. "I didn't think he would do anything. I certainly wouldn't let one person alone in the woods alarm me... Mind you, he may have realized I was a monk. Yes, and seen the firelight glistening off of my brazen muscles. He was so awed by my overpowering presence that he fled in terror and..." "You screwed up!" screamed Sauramud. "You would have ruined my whole plan if we had followed it!" "It was a stupid plan anyway." mumbled Dingbat. He kicked dirt on the wizard's boots. "It was elegant in it's boldness and simplicity!" cried Sauramud, tucking a hand into his robes and assuming a Napoleonic stance. "Beautiful!" "Yeah." agreed Playdough. "Run in screaming and kill 'em all." "Be that as it may." said Dingbat quickly. "We must follow these bandits for they are escaping with our treasure and experience. Which way did they go?" "Hmmm." said Rodent, sticking his nose to the ground. "They appear to have gone west. Saddle up, we're moving out!" Another two days later the party paused at a cross-roads. They found tracks leading off two different directions. "They split up!" said Dingbat brightly. "They did not." said Rodent. "It's perfectly obvious to me that they turned south at this point." "Duh, it looks to me like some guys with a wagon crossed over their trail." observed Playdough. "What do you know?" asked Rodent scathingly. "I can decipher this entire scene as if it happened only yesterday - which it did. The bandits arrived here, one of them limping badly, and formed into a square dance. See, the caller stood there!" he pointed. The others looked with mild interest. "Then they spotted a wagon approaching with seven - no, eight men and fourteen women and children in the wagon. The bandits hid behind that tree there and ambushed them when they arrived. After killing the nine men and stealing the wagon, the bandits altered their course along the direction that the wagon had been originally going, and the women and children staggered off that direction." "Duh, where's the bodies?" asked Playdough. "Oh for crying out loud, they buried them over there!" said the ranger, pointing vaguely. "Hey look! The women and children had horses!" said Dingbat. "Don't be absurd." sneered Rodent. "Now follow me before the bandits get too big a lead!" The others decided that since he had the only tracking abilities they may as well believe him. They followed. In a day they came across a grassy valley with a small stone manor house and a placid stream running down its middle. They spied a lone shepherd tending his flock and made their way to him. "My good man, you haven't seen any bandits come by have you?" said Dingbat over the frantic shushing of the others. "So ye've run into them too, 'ave yer? Well oi've 'eard them called that - and much worse! Every bloody April, they're around countin' yer sheep, takin' yer money! All for yon laird!" "So this 'Laird' fellow, he's their head honcho is he?" asked Sauramud quickly jotting notes in wizardly shorthand. "Aye, that he is." nodded the shepherd solemnly. "Just what is your relationship to this 'Laird' fellow?" asked Rodent, eyes narrowing. "Why oi'm just an 'umble servant like all the other serf... " "Lousy, stinking, servant-of-a-bandit bastard!" cursed Rodent, wiping off his bloodied sword. "Oh great! Now we can't torture him fer information." lamented Playdough. "No matter. He has provided us with an essential element of my plan." cackled Sauramud. In due time the sheep had been gathered into a bunch and fed a rather nasty laxative that the wizard had originally earmarked for the monk's ale. Just as it was noisily taking effect, Playdough bashed the front door of the manor house off its hinges and Rodent stampeded the sheep into the main hall where a feast was in progress. The foursome stepped carefully after the bleating flock, after pausing to dispatch the gaping doorwardens. Rodent and Playdough opened up with repeating crossbows while Sauramud started in with the flaming oil. Dingbat had to settle for the poison tipped throwing stars after tossing the honey and swarming wasp nest at the head dude. Sauramud began merrily lobbing magic missiles into anything that moved that wasn't gagging, suffocated or bleating - and into some things that were. In time the battle was over. The party, covered with blood and other noxious substances paused only to clear out the servants and clean up the floor before searching for the treasure stash. "Perhaps it's behind large iron door." said Rodent as they searched the upper floor. "Help me look for hidden catches." "Hidden?" said Sauramud. "What about that big lock right in front?" "I'll pick it guys!" said Dingbat enthusiastically leaping at it with a bobby pin. A few minutes passed. "Drat!" "Mebbe we should just force it." suggested Playdough. Several minutes later... "My shoulder hurts." winced the paladin. Dingbat and Sauramud, who had been sitting back watching, offered sympathetic noises. Rodent merely snorted and berated the paladin for rolling too many fours and fives. "Wait a minute." said Sauramud. "You don't suppose that Laird back there could have had a key for this room, do you?" They returned sheepishly to the hall. "Yuck." said Dingbat, looking at the swollen corpse of the head honcho. "Don't just stand there, get the key!" said Sauramud. "I ain't touchin' him. It was your idea, you do it!" whined Dingbat, fanning away a stray wasp. "Duh, I'll get it." said Playdough, rubbing his sore shoulder. Several squelching noises later they returned to the iron door, this time armed with a large brass key. "Betcha it's the wrong one." grumbled the magicer tonelessly. "Click" went the lock. "Click! Clunk! Snap!" went several sounds in the wall. "Oh boy, traps!" said Dingbat in the false hope that he could disarm them. He reefed open the door and began nosing about for tripwires. "C'mon, we used the key so they'll all have been disarmed." said Rodent. "You want to go in first?" whispered Sauramud. "No? Then shut up and let him play." "Hey, I think I've found something...Yahhh!" screamed the monk. "Damn him and his twenty percent disarming chance!" snarled the ranger. "I'm okay!" called Dingbat from inside the room. "Fortunately I dodged most of them - and as for the fireball, us monks take no damage when we make our save. It's all clear!" Having experience with monkish trap removal, the others waited patiently. "Oh come on guys!" called Dingbat, trotting over to the door. "Twang!" "Yeouch!" "Okay, I think he's cleared it now." said Sauramud. The three pushed and shoved their way into the room and goggled at the bags of coins. Dingbat was hastily bandaging himself in the middle of the room, a still-bloodied arrow kicked furtively into the corner. "See, I told you I cleared it!" he announced loftily. "Look at all this money!" slurped the wizard. "Five, maybe six thousand! I'm rich!" "We're rich." corrected Dingbat, counting frantically. Then he shrieked in ecstasy. "A potion! There's magic in here!" A veritable snowstorm of coins flew through the air as the party frantically searched the piles of coins. "Nothing!" said Sauramud in disgust, nails bleeding like everyone else. "Well let's dice for the potion and get out of here." said Rodent. "What type of potion is it, Dingbat?" asked Sauramud. "Here, lemme look." He snatched it out of the unsuspecting monk's hands. Ignoring the tantrum that followed, he examined the flask with growing annoyance. "This stupid thing is a flask of oil!" he cried. "And it's got Dingbat's mark on it!" "Oh, maybe it fell from my pouch while I was crossing the ceiling..." said the monk. "YOU BRAIN-DEAD BUFFOON!" screamed Rodent, throttling Dingbat wildly. "How dare you get our hopes up like that..." "Duh, maybe this is a magic scroll." said Playdough, holding up a sheaf of parchment. "This is interesting. The coin bags all have the royal symbol of Vermouth on them and 'Tax Collection'." said Sauramud. "Lemme see that scroll." said Rodent. "Hmm. It's a writ of taxation for the baronies south of Vermouth." He thought a moment. "Do you realize what this is?" he cackled, hands shaking with excitement. Three blank looks later he continued. "It's the taxes collected for the southern regions! These dirtbags must have stolen it!" "Well it's ours now." said Playdough, hugging a sack of coins. "For shame, Playdough!" said Dingbat grandly. "We must return this gold to its rightful owner, for I am sure there is a reward for its return!" "Now wait a minute..." began Sauramud, but he was cut off. "Yes, that's right!" agreed Rodent. "Come on, let's load it onto the horses and get it back to the king! The faster it get's back, the faster good works can be done with it!" "From our king?" asked Sauramud, referring to the sleazebag who passed for a king in these parts. In time, the foursome were led into the king's presence. "Your Majesty!" said Rodent, bowing low. The others were gawking about and scratching themselves vigorously. "My shorts would choose this time to ride up!" muttered the wizard, hitching up his robe and tugging at his motheaten gaunch. "We have returned that which was rightfully yours, your highness." said Rodent smoothly. "Seeking no reward save that of your favor." "Duh, no we didn't, we wanted the gold." said Playdough. "Wher'd ya get this cash?" asked the king, picking his nose in a bored manner. "From some bloodthirsty brigands who had waylaid your tax collectors, your near-divineness." smarmed the ranger. "My lord!" said the king's advisor. "Your tax collection team in the north was attacked by bandits not two days ago! The entire household was wiped out! This must be the taxes!" "And we found the despicable bandits and rescued the gold!" added Rodent triumphantly. The king, slightly more animated now, flicked something at the monk and turned to examine the loot. "That's my symbol all right! You've done good, guys, and I'll remember that." He turned to his advisor. "Show them out - and reward them richly!" Minutes later, the foursome was ushered swiftly out the servant's entrance to the castle and escorted by guard out the walls. "They call this a rich reward?" griped Rodent. "I suggest we go back in and demand more." "You're the one who said - and I quote - 'seeking no reward other than your favor' - end quote." said Sauramud sarcastically. "Aw c'mon!" said Dingbat, bounding around. "We got a whole hundred gold - each! There are people who work a whole year without earning much more than that." "Duh, I only get to keep ten of it." said Playdough despondently. "I knew this would happen." said Sauramud. "We should have just kept the gold I said, but oh, no..." "When did you say that?" enquired Rodent. "Well, I would have said it, but you were all so set on returning it..." "Cretin!" "Pompous Ass!" "Twit!" "Dweeb!" "Dingbat!" "Huh? Whaddya want?" The End ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Those Dudes" are mmcalees@csr.uvic.ca (Michael McAleese) and David_Braun@panam.wimsey.bc (David Braun)